#could go on forever but the emphasis on finding love and ‘settling down’ as a necessary milestone is damaging in many ways

[not-that-debonair]

society would be much improved if it were at least 10% more aromantic and I mean that earnestly

[thornedrose44]

Hi! Love your fics ♡

Either dialogue prompt 2 for leatin or 8 for shoni? 😊

Rana’s shoulders caved forwards, finally allowing herself to feel the weight of the day as she pushed open her front door and stepped inside. Her head was pounding and her jaw ached from clenching it tightly during throughout the mediation sessions aimed at producing an amicable divorce - impossible, Rana had scoffed, he’s on trial for sponsoring an insane experiment that tortured our daughter, I am getting custody and the house or I am burning his entire world to ashes. 

(Her lawyer, a far too charming woman that made Rana’s heart do funny hiccups in her chest, had smiled and said if you only get custody and the house, I haven’t done my job right.)

Rana dropped her bag in the hallway, moving further inside, her headache easing in counter to standard wisdom as she approached the noise and ruckus that could only be generated by her children. She stopped just outside the kitchen, leaning against the doorway as she watched Fatin and Leah competitively roll out pizza dough, debating toppings and proper kneading methods as they were cheered on by Kemar and Ahmad. 

“Kemar, don’t listen to Leah, I’ll teach you everything you knead to know.” Fatin winked, throwing the dough in her hands down on the countertop for emphasis.

“Hey Ahmad,” Leah said, nudging the other boy with her elbow, “what kind of person doesn’t like pizza?”

Ahmad, cheeks red and eyes squinty already from multiple bouts of laughter, shrugged, “Don’t know.”

Leah leaned forward, putting on a conspiratorial air, “A weir-dough.”

Ahmad and Kemar both let out simultaneous groans, whilst Leah threw her head back and laughed maniacally. Rana took in the scene quickly, but couldn’t help but focus on Fatin in the burst of noise and motion.

Fatin was watching Leah with the softest of smiles, eyes wide and vulnerable as if the sight of Leah laughing was something to be utterly transfixed by. She could see her daughter’s breath catch, could see her light up, the walls Rana wasn’t even aware she was still holding up falling down to ground level for the briefest of flashes.

Rana blinked and Fatin was laughing bright and brilliant, moving from awe to something settled once again.

“Leah, that was terrible.” Fatin declared.

“What?! It was brilliant.”

“You stole my pun.”

“I re-purposed your pun.”

“Plagiarism!” Fatin accused, throwing the dough down once more like a gavel, rallying the boys to her side. “Creative theft!”

“You are such a dork.” Leah chuckled, shaking her head fondly.

“Yeah, well, your pun game is weak.” Fatin scoffed, tapping Leah on the nose to leave a flour-y fingerprint. 

Rana took the slight lull that followed, Fatin and Leah staring into each other’s eyes for a long beat as the boys tried to steal some grated cheese, to walk fully into the kitchen. 

“Mom!” The boys yelled, abandoning their cheese heist to run over to her and give her a hug; Rana accepted their embraces immediately, swallowing down the lump that formed in her throat, not yet used to her children being excited and happy to see her. It was always Samad they ran to hug, never her and she was finding that whilst she lost her husband, the trade-off was so much more in her favour than she could ever have anticipated.

“Hey, Mom,” Fatin greeted, approaching slower than her brothers but giving her a quick, light hug that really made Rana’s eyes prickle. “We’re making pizzas.”

“I think you’re actually making terrible puns.” Rana teased earning an over-the-top pout from Fatin and giggles from the boys. “Leah, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“Hello, Ms Jadmani.” Leah replied, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Rana sighed and glanced at her daughter, “Is she ever going to call me Rana?”

“Unlikely.” Fatin answered fondly, “She wants to make a good impression.”

Rana hummed, holding herself back from saying Leah would be welcome in her house forever if she continued to make Fatin smile like that, make Fatin look young and carefree in a way that Rana had never allowed her to be for years and now regretted more than she could bear to admit.

“She already has.” Rana settled on simply.

“I’ve told her that.” Fatin huffed.

“Need any help with dinner?” Rana offered.

“No, we’re all good Ms Jadmani.”

Rana left them to it, going to shower and change into more casual clothes, the pizzas were coming out of the oven as she came back downstairs. They ate at the table, the boys telling her all about their days whilst Fatin recounted with pride how Leah had scored top marks in their last English exam. Once done, Rana insisted on washing up and pushing the children to pick a film. Kemar and Ahmad dragged Leah away to help them pick from the favourites they were desperate to share with her.

Rana was halfway through washing up when Fatin appeared at her side, accepting the rinsed plate from her hands with a small smile, offering to dry.

“So how long have you and Leah been dating?” Rana inquired, trying to keep her tone light and encouraging.

The plate in Fatin’s hand slipped and she juggled it for a few seconds before regaining her grip on it.

“Uh… I would say good save but that seemed needlessly dramatic.” Rana mused.

“We-I-... Leah and I aren’t dating.” Fatin stammered, staring straight ahead, holding tight enough to the plate that Rana feared she would snap it in half. 

“Oh… I’m sorry, I… I assumed and that was wrong of me-” Rana began, mentally reprimanding herself - her relationship with Fatin was more fragile than china, or fractured glass, and she had seen a lowering of her daughter’s walls and tried to pole-vault over them without invitation. 

“I’m that obvious, aren’t I?” Fatin murmured despondently. “God, I’m such a fucking dork around her…”

Rana resisted the urge to reach out and make contact, the task of washing up seeming to make Fatin feel less scrutinised. “I think that’s one of the things Leah likes most about you.”

“Pfft… yeah, right.” Fatin said, shaking her head. “No offence, Mom, but I know what gets people’s attention.”

Rana grimaced at that, acutely aware of her daughter’s proclivities that Samad had knowingly encouraged; she knew her daughter used to go out drinking but knew she was sensible and had assumed the parties she attended were a few degrees more innocent than she was now knowledgeable of. 

“And anyway, it wouldn’t work out.” Fatin mumbled, head dropping low.

“What makes you think that?” Rana prompted.

Fatin side-eyed her, lips pursed tight, and expression defeated. “You and I both know I’m more like Dad than we care to admit.”

Rana froze, heart splintering in her chest at the confession. 

There weren’t many occasions where Rana felt like she was a capable mother, like she knew what to say and do in any given moment. It was probably the worst part of mother-hood, not knowing if she was actually helping, not knowing her impact until years later when she could finally see what had grown from the seeds she’d sown.

There was the time Fatin came home crying because a boy had pushed her over, mud on her new clothes and knees bloody - Rana had cleaned her up, wiped away her tears and told her she would take care of it; Fatin had hugged her tight and believed her, especially when the boy was removed from Fatin’s class and stayed as far away from her as possible. There was the time Kemar struggled with his algebra homework and Rana had helped him every night for a month, watching his understanding grow and grow until he stopped throwing his pens and paper across the table in frustration. There was the time Ahmad grew obsessed with a new video game and Rana took the time to play it with him, to listen and learn all about it, Ahmad practically glowed with pride and even now came to her so excited to share new theories about the game series.

It wasn’t often that Rana knew she could fix something, say the exact right words. But she knew in that moment that she could and it was the single greatest relief of her life.

“Your Father isn’t a dork.” Rana said, drying her hands and turning to face Fatin directly. 

Fatin frowned, “Yeah, I know. He is an asshole though.”

“Agreed, however, I mean your Father was never anything other than polished and charming. He was a smooth talker at all times, he didn’t make pun jokes, he didn’t do silly or whimsical. And…” Rana hesitated, “he didn’t let me do those things either.”

Fatin’s expression shifted from confusion to sympathy, and Rana could not fathom how her and Samad’s selfishness had cancelled out to create someone so empathetic.

“We had to be perfect. We had to be charming, and enviable. I never got to be… messy. If I told a terrible joke, he would roll his eyes, not in amusement but in reprimand. You are not your Father, Fatin. You are not me, either. And I am so unbelievably grateful every day of my life for that fact. You get to be dorky and tell puns, and you love it when Leah does the same. You don’t ask for perfect and neither does she.”

“But-” Fatin began, still unconvinced and uncertain.

“Do you love her?” Rana asked.

Fatin swallowed, looking away before nodding slowly.

“And I assume a large part of that is due to things you would not normally associate with getting people’s attention at parties, correct?”

Fatin nodded once again, brow furrowing thoughtfully now.

“Fatin, you are not like your Father but if you think you have to appear perfect all the time and expect the same of those you love, then you will be. Be dorky, be brave and for the love of all that is holy, tell that girl how you feel.”

“I don’t know many pep-talks that involve telling someone to go make a fool of themselves.” Fatin grumbled, but there was an uptick to her mouth.

“All pep-talks are about that, they just make it sound like it's the cool thing to do.” Rana replied.

Fatin considered this, “Fair.” She smiled at her, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll… I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s all I ask.”

They watched an animated film that Leah had picked from the boy’s suggestions; popcorn bowl moving between them all. Rana sat on the sofa with the boys, whilst Fatin and Leah occupied the smaller loveseat, Fatin watching Leah’s profile thoughtfully for most of the film until Leah shifted and rested her head on Fatin’s shoulder leading to Fatin looking like she had won some impossible prize in response.

Once the film finished, Rana ushered the boys up to bed as the girls tidied and Leah prepared to head off. With the boys safely tucked into bed, Rana headed back downstairs intent on pouring herself a glass of wine as she read a chapter of her book, only to come to a stop halfway up the stairs, not wanting to interrupt whatever was happening at the front door.

Fatin’s head was ducked shyly forward, and she was shifting nervously in place in the doorway as Leah stood on the other side of the threshold, expression so unbelievably fond and proud. Rana couldn’t hear what was said, but she could see Fatin tensing up as she finished saying something and then there was a pause and Leah was leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Fatin’s cheek. 

Fatin’s jaw dropped and Leah pulled back, said something, winked and walked away leaving Fatin stunned and gaping in the doorway. 

Rana finished moving down the stairs and approached her daughter.

“You took my advice?” Rana guessed, causing Fatin to jolt in place, jaw snapping shut.

“Uh… yeah, I… took your advice.” Fatin shrugged, failing to regain a sense of cool composure (Rana couldn’t help but think the ruffled, flappable look suited her).

“And?”

“And… she thinks I’m a dork, but she also… likes that about me.”

[ptergwen]

hi I saw your requests were open if there not anymore you can completely ignore this :). but could you do a boyfriend!peter x reader where he loves it when reader gives him those little kisses on his nose and freckles with head scratches please. feel free to change or completely ignore this <3

thousands of tiny stars

pretend i haven’t used this

warnings: a couple suggestive jokes but the rest is just floofy fluff

a/n: i got carried away as per usual and i did end up changing it a tiny bit :/ emphasis on tiny tho lmfhsjfh you’ll see ! either way i hope you enjoy mwah

-

one thing about peter is that he absolutely can’t sit still under any given circumstances. he’s restless, like a burning ball of energy that’s brightness never dims.

because of this, he tries to and needs to keep himself occupied and be kept occupied every second of every day.

it’s sometimes playing with his fingers or your own, which peter prefers because he gets to hold your hand. other times, it’s tapping his favorite pink glitter pen relentlessly against the kitchen table while he conjures up homework answers.

aunt may isn’t very fond of that one.

this time, it’s constantly shuffling about the couch in the name of finding comfort.

peter starts off with an arm around your shoulders and a content grin on his face. you two agreed on mean girls for the first movie of your marathon, your head resting against peter’s chest as the tv steals your attention.

a few minutes in, peter decides he feels like being held rather than holding you. he sneaks his way down your body, lets himself nudge your thighs to wordlessly communicate what he wants. you of course oblige and switch positions accordingly.

peter lays his head in your lap, taking the opportunity to stare up at you instead of at the screen.

he finds himself shifting around again not too much later. now laying on the couch’s armrest on his side, he kicks his feet into your lap where his head just was.

you’re becoming slightly annoyed with his fidgeting. his explanations of sorry, just trying to get comfortable and innocent smiles are what stop you from complaining.

“that’s strike three, parker,” you joke, eyes leaving the movie to fix on him. peter crosses his arms over his chest. “i dunno what you’re talking about, y/l/n,” he insists. “i haven’t done anything remotely strike-worthy so far this evening.”

flicking his sock clad foot, you mutter your response. “debatable.” peter dismisses you with a huff. “whatever. c’mere… i miss you.” he makes grabby hands for you, like the big baby he is.

it’s quite endearing, though.

“i’m right here, pete,” you laugh out and return your gaze to mean girls. “and yet, you’re so far,” peter counters. “come gimme cuddles.”

you sigh lightheartedly, your ever so clingy boyfriend still reaching out for you. a smirk pulls at your lips.

“well, there’s an offer i can’t refuse.”

peter adjusts so he’s sitting criss cross, bouncing excitedly in his spot. his chocolate brown curls fall in all directions, form being swallowed by an oversized stark industries hoodie that he keeps having to roll up the sleeves of.

he looks so soft and snuggly in anticipation of your cuddle session. you can’t believe you were ever annoyed at him.

slightly annoyed.

he’s so eager that when you scoot the tiniest bit towards him, he literally pulls you into his lap. peter’s arms hug you around your lower back, you laughing quietly as he peppers a trail of kisses from your cheek to the side of your neck.

the movie long forgotten about, you wind your arms around his neck and tilt your chin up.

“pete?” you breathe out. peter pecks your cheek once more, then your other, beaming. “yeah, babe?” he wonders. with a half serious half teasing glare, you wonder, “are you comfy now?”

peter ponders your question, and from the skeptical furrowing of his eyebrows and biting of his lip, you have your answer. he’s about to make you regret asking.

it seems that as soon as you settle, peter gets antsy.

“uh, actually…” he strokes his thumb along the underside of your chin, smiling apologetically. “you mind if we lie down? ‘m kinda tired.” there it is. you roll your eyes. “how could you not be? you’ve been playing musical chairs all night.”

your words earn a chuckle from peter, though they’re at his expense. “this’ll be the last round, promise,” peter swears and seals the deal with a kiss to your chin, which is currently grasped between his fingers.

you know it won’t be. the game goes on forever with peter, unless you end it yourself.

“damn right, bug boy. move another inch after this and you can consider your cuddle privileges revoked,” you grumble, getting off of peter’s lap. he stares at you in pure horror, gasping. “you wouldn’t…” “i would,” you correct him.

not aiming to test that theory, peter quickly fumbles around and lays flat against the cushions. he wills himself to be stiff as a board. you seem satisfied with that, climbing on top of him with your face hovering above his.

peter sets his hands on your hips, grip strong. he closes the space between you both with a short kiss. you reciprocate and deepen it, turning short to long as your parted lips slot with his. his tongue darts out, already skimming over your bottom lip for more access.

you hum into his mouth and allow his tongue to slide in. peter kisses you so tenderly as he rubs circles on your hips, your fingers tangling in his locks simultaneously. you weave them up to his roots, using your nails to gently scratch at his scalp just the way he likes. he breaks the kiss to let out a noise close to a moan.

“that- that… oh, god yeah,” peter praises, his eyes fluttering closed. you’re amused at how easily pleased he is. “don’t cream your pants yet, pete. i’m just getting started,” you purr. peter squeezes your hips in response. “feels better than an orgasm, babe. i’m serious, too,” he murmurs.

you continue your handiwork in his hair and lean in for another kiss. peter merely pecks your lips before jerking away.

“wait, hold that thought,” he exhales a breathy laugh. “i gotta pee.”

he has to be kidding. again with this?

“oh no, you don’t,” you deadpan, pushing against his shoulders to hold him down. “oh yes, i do,” peter retorts. “let me go, y/n/n.”

peter could definitely slither out from underneath you if he truly wanted to. he has super strength, so the might of his teenage girlfriend doesn’t quite compare.

pinning him in place, you straddle his waist. “nope, you’re gonna stay. i’m not giving you a choice in the matter.” peter attempts to pry you off of him, but you won’t budge. “y/n, my bladder is gonna explode-“

he cuts himself off with a giggle when your lips begin to attack him. you kiss down the bridge of his nose lightly, peck each freckle dotting his skin, and the amount of them is infinite. peter’s fit of giggles continues as you smooch that pretty face of his, his cheeks dusted pink and hands coming up to support you by your sides.

he’s always been a little insecure about his freckles. they don’t suit him, there are too many of them, blah blah blah. you obviously couldn’t disagree more. you think they’re sick.

you’d once even told him they look like thousands of tiny stars, and peter does love stars. he also loves the kisses you tend to randomly surprise him with to remind him to appreciate his freckles the same way you do.

“okay, okay! i’ll stay!” peter concedes, you ruffling his hair and pressing a final kiss to the tip of his nose. he grins despite himself, and secretly wishes you wouldn’t stop. “but, if my kidneys fail… it’s on you.”

you pat his chest definitively.

“good thing you’re a fast healer.”

[spenciegoob]

Dethroned (Requested)

A/N: I know the request said the relationship between Reader and Luke is platonic, but I kinda dropped subtle hints that Luke is slightly pining for Reader... oop.

Request: smutty post-prison Reid being jealous. Like him just being absolutely in love with reader, like he had been since she joined the BAU but was too nervous to say anything so settled for being mega close best friends. Then when he returns from prison he finds out that her and Luke have become close friends whilst he’s been gone (its simply platonic though) and he ends up snapping and just absolutely annihilating the reader over her desk in the office after everyone else has left

Pairing: Post Prison!Spencer x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: jealous!spencer, exhibition, hair pulling, degradation/praise, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.9K

______

It was a gradual realization on his part. Spencer was so overwhelmed with coming home, his mom and Cat to even really take notice in the shift of your attention from him to Luke Alvez.

It wasn’t like you completely ignored him since his return. You were Spencer’s best friend, the title he settled on all those years ago when you all but skipped into the BAU and into his life.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t have other male friends. Before his leave, Derek and you had gotten along pretty well right off the bat, and Spencer never thought about it twice. If anything, he was ecstatic that two people that were so important in his life were also important to each other.

But when Spencer was stuck behind physical bars that represented every feeling for you he’s tried to keep at bay, you found comfort in Luke. He couldn’t blame you for that either, especially when the first time you visited him all he could see was hurt in your eyes, and all he could do was stare back with the same expression.

The first time he noticed the shift was after everything had settled, and the groove of life, for the team at least, was back in motion. You all had decided to go out and grab a drink, and the second you agreed, Spencer was also on board. He would follow you just about anywhere if it meant the smile on your face when he said yes stayed forever.

Luke had whispered something in your ear, the music in the bar too loud for Spencer to catch what it was. It had to be hilarious by the way you threw your head back in laughter, Luke’s eyes immediately dropping to the newly exposed skin, before nudging his shoulder with yours. 

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off the conversation in front of him. He should have when the grip on his glass was so hard it could’ve shattered. 

“You know, kid, if you talked to her, she’d know how you feel,” Rossi had told him that night.

“That’s exactly why I can’t,” Spencer thought in his head, but merely gave Rossi a whatever, and walked away to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror that night, hoping the disgust he felt for how angry he got whenever he saw you with Luke was enough to make it disappear.

It never did.

Like right now, Spencer sat at his desk, a rubber band ball being suffocated in his hand as he watched you perch yourself on top of Luke’s desk. It was an innocent act on you part, but the way Luke leaned back in his chair, opening himself up to you, and allowed his eyes to flicker to your bare legs that were swinging back and forth softly was definitely not innocent... not in Spencer’s book anyway.

It came as no surprise to Spencer that Luke would at the very least find you attractive. You were, in every aspect. Spencer could stare at your for hours, and sometimes, he did.

He would look at the way your skirt hugged your curves in the best possible way, or he would stare at your neck when you leaned back to stretch out. He would watch the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs, a nervous habit you’ve always had. Spencer would think about how soft they probably were, like silk rubbing against each other.

But now Luke was also looking at you like that while you talked about what you were going to do this weekend. 

“If you’re not busy, you should totally come,” you told him, obviously excited with the idea of Luke tagging along to wherever you planned on going.

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” he agreed, and when he did, you jumped up off his desk, enthusiasm practically dripping from you.

“Yes! It’ll be so much fun, I promise!” And then you did the one thing Spencer silently begged you would never. You kissed Luke on the cheek before scurrying back to your desk.

Of course you would kiss him on the cheek. To you, that was a seemingly innocent and friendly action, one that Spencer had been on the receiving end of for the past 10 years. 

But now, Luke stole his crown and was flaunting it in front of Spencer’s face like an older brother who just got an XBOX for Christmas. Okay, maybe Spencer was a tad on the dramatic side, but how could he not be when Luke all but physically railed you over his desk when his eyes unashamedly did?

There were many things Spencer could take and get back up like nothing had happened. He’s been shot, punched, kicked, framed for murder and hell, he even stabbed himself, but none of that compared to the deep rooted anger that blossomed in his chest like a flame to gasoline when the thought of Luke touching you swarmed his brain.

Enough was enough.

“Alright, you’ve all worked enough today. Please, go home and get some rest,” Emily’s voice traveled from outside her office door to the agents that still inhabited the bullpen like a second home. Most, including Emily in its rarity, gathered their stuff to finally call it a night.

“So, you’ll text me the information?” Luke asked you as he was putting his jacket on. You had yet to move from your slouched position over whatever paperwork you insisted on finishing before leaving. 

“Yeah, definitely!” You beamed up at him before returning back to your case file immediately. Luke walked away with a little more pep in his step than usual per Spencer’s analysis. 

“Hey, Spence. Do you think you can hang back a second and look over this for me?” You asked him, catching the attention of the stumbling genius as he tried to get back to his apartment as fast as possible and deal with his... issues with you and SSA Luke Alvez.

He was going to say no, really he tried, but when he looked up to your puppy dog eyes and slight pout, how could he? Spencer knew you were giving him that face on purpose, he had told you in the past that if you were to ever give him your best puppy dog eyes, he could never refuse.

Now it was coming back to bite him in the...

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer made his way over to your desk that was piled high in paperwork more than anyone else’s.

“I took a bunch of work home, and I accidentally dropped all my files and they scattered every where. So now, all the paperwork is mixed up and Emily needs these by tonight. Basically I’m screwed, but I just wanted to make sure the arsonist in Kentu-”

“I’ll help you,” Spencer interrupted your rambling once he got a grip on himself after adjusting to being so close to you. The smell of your perfume wafted into Spencer’s nose and got him drunk faster than any alcohol could ever. 

“Oh no, Spence. Don’t worry I can handle this,” you immediately shut him down, but Spencer was not easy to convince, and once his mind is set to something, there’s no changing it.

“I want to, trust me.” Spencer had started to roll his desk chair over to you. You sat there momentarily stunned for two reasons:

1. He had dropped everything to help you.

2. He wasn’t affected by the close proximity of you two the same way you were, or at least knew how to hide it really well.

The buzzing of your phone on your desk pulled you from your trance as Spencer settled next to you and went to pull a new file from your overgrowing pile. 

You picked it up to find a text from Luke, opening your phone to a picture of Roxy enjoying the toy you got her last week.

Spencer turned to you to find you smiling and letting out a breathy laugh at your phone.

“What?” He asked, more sarcasm dripping from his tone than expected. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.

“Just Luke and Roxy. I love that dog so much,” you said while putting your phone on silent and setting it face down. You didn’t look up at Spencer, but if you did you’d find him beet red with anger, and holding the armrests of his chair a little tighter than necessary. 

“Hm,” was all he mumbled in response. This, you didn’t ignore.

“Is something wrong? You really don't have to do this with me,” you fumbled over your words, worried that your clumsiness and disorganization was what was annoying Spencer.

“No no, it’s not this. I like paperwork, actually.” You finally looked over at Spencer to find him already staring at you. His gaze bore into you like a blade to the gut, his intensity something you had never been on the receiving end of. It would be a lie if you were to say it wasn’t making you nervous.

“Then what is it.” Your words were not meant to come out as a whisper, but with Spencer’s intimidation and the way it made your stomach flip, you were overwhelmed already.

“Nothing, just, uh,” his confident persona was gone just as quickly as it came. “You and Luke, huh?”

Now it makes sense. You couldn’t help the small smile that etched across your features at his unknowing admission. Spencer Reid was jealous, actually jealous.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend.” Your emphasis on the word friend did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting the words crawling up his throat out.

“I’m sure he thinks the same about you. The profile in this case fi-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Two can play at this game, and if it was going to end the way the two of you were unknowingly both hoping, you would have to succumb to the rules.

“Hm? Oh! So you’re oblivious to the way he looks at you?” Spencer spat back, jealous intimidation turning to full anger now.

“Jesus, Spencer. Of course I’m not oblivious, but that doesn’t mean I look at him like that.” At this point, you stood up from your chair, Spencer’s approach throwing you off and getting you more worked up than you cared to admit.

“Besides, I have eyes for someone else,” you mumbled quietly under your breath, but Spencer caught it. “I’m calling the night. I suggest you do the same.”

You picked up as many files you could, not wanting to reach over Spencer before turning around to make you descent home.

Before you could get far, though, Spencer grabbed your elbow and spun you back to crash into his hard chest. You gasped, not making eye contact and instead opting for staring at his lips.

“Who?” Spencer asked, also not looking up from your lips. Both of your minds swarmed with the desperation to feel each other’s against your own.

“You.” And that was all he needed to finally succumb to his mind’s wishes. Your lips moved together like a violin bow to a string, creating a perfectly conducted symphony of files falling from your arms and deep inhales of each other.

Spencer reached out behind you, never taking his lips off yours and pushed anything that was on your desk with a deafening crash. Pens, papers and tape now littered the bullpen floor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when all you could feel were Spencer’s hands gripping your waist as he hoisted you up to sit you on your now clear desk.

His lips finally detached from yours, the need for oxygen getting in the way of a kiss you wish could last for eternity. They didn’t go very far, Spencer attacking your neck with little nips, surely to leave incriminating bruises. Your hips started to involuntarily roll forward, searching for friction from his hardening member still constrained by his work slacks.

“Spencer, please,” you begged, needing to feel him, all of him at this moment. His lips abandoned your neck to slowly pull back and scan your body like a predator indulging in his final prey one last time before he answered.

“Please what, Princess,” Spencer whispered, his hands moving down to grip your thighs that were attempting to squeeze together at your new pet name.

“Please, fuck me,” you whimpered back. His deep chuckle resonated through you as he leaned closer until he was directly next to your ear, his hot breath fanning down your neck causing you to arch your back slightly.

“Right here on your desk like a little whore,” he whispered against you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. Spencer shook his head slightly as he pulled back to grab your chin lightly with two fingers, forcing your head back.

He leaned in as close as possible to whisper against your lips one last time. “Only for you.”

Time stopped as hands sped up in a frenzy to rip each other’s clothes off, lips molding together like a lock and key never wanting to separate, and hips involuntarily grinding against each other in search for some friction in an overwhelming search for release.

Only when Spencer gave up on your shirt buttons and ripped the fabric apart, adding drums in the form of buttons hitting the desk and floor to the song you two collectively decided to dance to tonight, did he allow his lips to leave yours. Slowly, he nipped his way back down your neck, pushing you back softly until your body fully rolled down on the cool wood underneath you. 

Spencer’s eyes found yours again as his hands inched behind you, silently asking for permission to break down yet another barrier between your two bodies. After a pleading whimper from you, he unclasped your bra and slowly pulled it down your arms. 

Spencer maintained eye contact as he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the peak before sinking his teeth in teasingly. Your back arched into him, a strangled whimper leaving your body as the heat between your thighs increased significantly.

“Spencer please hurry. I need you,” you whimpered softly, pulling his hair back from the top of his head in hopes of getting him in an area far more dire in need of attention. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Spencer mumbles in between kisses inching back up your body. His hands make their way under your skirt as he continues. “I want to take my time with you, but given our circumstances,” he paused to take a look at the deserted bullpen. “I’ll give you what you want, and fuck you like a whore.”

There was no other way to explain the way Spencer ripped your panties off so hard the lace snapped under his force than animalistic. He wasted no time stuffing them into his back pocket, and fully separating from you to stand straight and unbuckle his belt. Spencer’s eyes stared down at you, taking in every part of your body to file away in his brain in case he ever needs it. His once honey brown orbs were now absorbed with black, his pupils full and his eyes displaying a kind of fire only lust can fuel.

Once his belt was fully off, he smirked and folded it in his hands. Staring at the new object of his desire, he tantalizingly shook it back and forth slowly, watching the way it bounced with his movements.

“Should I gag you with this so you don't alert the whole goddamn building of how desperate you are?” Spencer looked back at you to find your cheeks a deep shade of red, partially at his degrading tone, but mostly at the idea of being gagged.

“No, sir. I wanna feel you.” The title slipped past your lips with no control or hesitation. Your cheeks burned further as Spencer’s movements stopped, his eyes widening slightly. 

“Fuck it,” he whispered before throwing the belt on the floor and unzipping his pants with more speed than you've ever seen him move. 

Spencer gave you zero time to even register his size before he was stepping in between your legs, lining himself up and slamming into you to the hilt with one hand, the other grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back hard, all while never taking his eyes off you.

You couldn’t stop the loud gasp leaving your body as Spencer groaned at the feeling of you around him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight, Princess,” he grounded out, the soft growl in his tone causing you to whimper and clench around him.

When he felt you start to squirm underneath him after adjusting to his size, Spencer started to move, setting a brutal pace immediately. Your entire body felt like it became engulfed in flames, the feeling of Spencer repeatedly hitting the sweetest spot inside you over and over with a force unmatched was too much to handle.

Tears started to well in your eyes as the soft whimpers and pleads left your lips. Spencer pulled himself from his position tucked neatly into your neck to stare down at you, never relenting on his pace.

“What’s wrong, Princess,” he teased, a smirk growing across his features at your tears. “Is it too much for your little cunt? What happened to the girl that begged to be fucked like a whore?”

Spencer let go of his grip on your hair to wipe the tears blackened with mascara that were running down your face. 

“So good, sir. Please don’t stop,” you mumbled, only half coherent. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Spencer filling you completely. His dark eyes flickered down from your face only for a second, but when he looked back up at you, excitement joined the lust in them, a swirl of emotions destined to destroy you in the end.

Spencer grabbed one of your hands that was gripping his shoulder, nails digging into the skin and leaving marks he wished would last forever. He placed in on your stomach, and confusion filled your mind for a moment until you felt the tip of his cock hit your hand.

“You feel that, Princess? You feel how deep I am? I’m gonna fill you up.” Your back arched, and you finally released a loud, wanton moan at his words. Spencer didn’t miss the way you clenched around him tighter at the thought. “God, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, make you - fuck- carry my child. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

You felt the knot in your stomach growing tighter with each word, and when Spencer lifted one of your legs into the crook of his elbow, hitting you impossibly deeper, you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

“Oh G-god, Spence. I- I’m gonna....”

“It’s okay, Princess. I’ve got you,” he groaned back, lifting two fingers to your lips before forcing them into your mouth. Instinctively, you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked on his digits. “Let go, Princess.”

All you needed was his permission before letting your orgasm rock through you, the muscles in your body seemingly losing and gaining all the tension in the world at once, your vision going white, and your mind blank except for one thought; Spencer.

Your loud moans were blocked by his fingers pushing deeper down your throat, catching them before any unwanted guests could hear. 

Your moans started to turn to whimpers around his fingers as the overstimulation kicked in. Spencer could sense it by the way you still clung to him as tightly as possible.

“Fuck that’s it. You’re doing so well, Princess, taking all of me,” he growled out, his hips losing their rhythm, signaling his own impending orgasm. Spencer leaned down further, pushing your leg farther up in the process, and again, hitting you deeper than imaginable.

Two more sloppy thrusts in that position, and Spencer was coming deep in you with your name and different praises being groaned in your ear. He bottomed out once more, coming to a stop buried deep, both of you trying your hardest to catch your breath.

When he started to pull out, you whimpered immediately at the feeling.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m almost done,” Spencer whispered, caressing your cheek as he fully unsheathed himself. The abandoned weight of him on top of you, and the loss of his cock filling you up left you cold as he went to rummage through your drawers for tissues, but all you could do was stare up at the lights hanging from the ceiling, your body still slightly twitching.

When Spencer returned to you, he sat you up and kissed your forehead before reaching in between your legs to clean you up. The second the tissue hit your sensitive cunt, you winced.

Spencer looked back up at you but before he could say anything, you cut him off.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you reassured him, smiling softly as you reached up to caress his cheek. Upon your approval, he went back to cleaning you up. “Actually, I’m more than okay. That was.. That was-”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. “I know, right?”

“Maybe we should thank Luke,” you teased him. Immediately, his smile faded and he looked up at you with an expression that can only read “Seriously?”

You let out a full laugh now, obviously still entertained with the idea that the Dr. Spencer Reid was jealous of Luke Alvez.

“I’m joking,” you said, your smile turning from one of hilarity to adoration as Spencer straightened back up to stand between your legs and wrap his arms around your waist. “And Spence, it’s always been you. Not Luke, not anyone else. You.” You emphasized your point by jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Good, because that would make this really awkward,” he said back. You tilted your head in confusion to which he laughed at before continuing. “Do you want to go grab dinner?”

Your cheeks blushed profusely as he asked you out as if you didn’t just let him take you over your own desk at work. 

“I would love to say yes, but I still have to finis-” When you turned around to look at the pile of paperwork you had yet to complete, it was no longer on your desk, but scattered around it. During the rush of trying to feel each other completely, the two of you failed to notice the stack of files that started this whole thing had fallen all over the bullpen floor.

“Emily is going to kill me,” you said, turning back to Spencer who was still staring at the now empty spot on your desk.

“Actually, she has two reasons to kill us now.” You threw you head back in laughter, Spencer joining you at the thought of Emily finding out about the last 30 minutes. “But seriously, you go deal with the security footage, and I’ll deal with the paperwork.”

“Hmmmm...” You pretended to ponder the thought of not having to do all of that paperwork by yourself anymore. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Spencer repeated back, smiling softly before kissing you one more time.

__

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[jensengirl83]

You’ll Accompany Me- Prologue

Jensen x reader

Word Count-1244

Warnings- Language, a little fluff.

A/N- I want to say thank you to @deangirl93 for being my beta, and I need to thank @wonder-cole and @flamencodiva. Thank you guys for giving me the push to write this series when I didn’t want to some days. I appreciate you so much!

Jensen sat down with a huff, wiping the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t intended to move to Toronto to film, but he needed to get out of Austin for a while after his divorce, and this would be a good reprieve for him. It wasn’t as if he was planning on staying forever, just while he filmed for The Boys. His thoughts were cut short when a can of beer landed in his lap.

“Looks like you needed that,” she smiled, taking a place beside him on his couch.

Y/N had been his personal assistant when he started Supernatural, and she had stayed the entire fifteen years of filming. They had become fast friends, and he trusted her just as much as he did Jared. In fact, that’s why she was there, not only helping him move in, but she was going to be his PA on the set of The Boys. He knew that he wouldn’t want anyone else to spend his days with, and she already knew him so well it just made sense.

“Thanks,” he smiled, popping the tab on the can and taking a long drink, “I don’t know what I’d do without you short stack.”

“Funny, Ackles,” she smirked, feigning annoyance, “You’re a fucking comedian.”

“You know you love me,” he laughed, giving her his best smile. She always called it his ‘panty-dropping smile,’ but he laughed it off most of the time.

“Do I?” she chuckled at the fake hurt on his face, “You know I do, or I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off in Canada with you!”

“Yeah, but you are getting paid to be here,” he chuckled at the expression on her face. A look of, are you kidding me.

“I wouldn’t have accepted a PA job here if it wasn’t working with you,” she rolled her eyes for extra emphasis, “Especially now that I have to find an apartment.”

“Why don’t you stay here? I have two guest rooms. It would make it easier on both of us,” he offered without hesitation. They were so close that it wouldn’t be an issue to be roommates.

“I can’t put you out like that.”

“How is it putting me out? I’ve paid for the place already. So it isn’t making a difference if you stay here. We can carpool to set, split on food. It just makes sense to me,” he smiled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Are you sure? What if you want privacy? I don’t want to be in your way,” she asked nervously.

“Privacy? For what? After the divorce, I have no plans on dating any time soon.”

“If you’re sure…,” she whispered, not wanting to feel like she would be invading his life.

“I’m sure, Y/N. In fact, it will be nice not to be alone every night. So, what do you say? Roomies?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and eliciting a giggle from her.

“What about Danneel? Will it cause problems when the kids come to stay with you?” She didn’t want to cause any issues in their recent split. It had been amicable, and she wanted it to stay that way for his and the kids’ sake.

“Y/N, Dee loves you, too. You’ve been around since before I met her, and you’ve been around the kids since the day they were born. She knows we’re friends, and she won’t have a problem with us being roommates, I promise.”

“Okay, fine. Roomie,” she cackled as he tackled her on the couch in a hug.

“Now that it’s settled, how about we order a pizza? We have to get you unpacked now, too,” he winked, making her laugh again.

“Sounds good.”

He was excited at the idea that she was going to live there. It’s not that he couldn’t be alone, but who enjoys it? Other than Jared, she was one of the best friends he had. Her living with him would be fun and just another adventure for the two of them. And, he wouldn’t say it out loud, but that woman could cook! He could too, but not as well as she could, and he was looking forward to getting her cooking on a more frequent basis. And how could he not offer to let her stay after she agreed to follow him to Toronto?

“Alright, let’s get back to it. We have a lot of shit to unpack,” she sighed, standing up to stretch, bringing him out of his reverie.

“Okay, I’ll order the pie and meet you in the kitchen to finish in there, sweetheart.”

“Jensen, your Dean is showing,” she grinned before leaving him on the couch to make her way to the kitchen.

“Smartass,” he mumbled under his breath but with a smile.

“I heard that,” she yelled back in a sing-song voice, making him laugh and shake his head.

Later that night, after the pizza was eaten and the kitchen and bedrooms were unpacked, Jensen sat at the foot of her bed as she put away the last of her laundry. She was thankful that he had offered to let her stay. She was hesitant at first, not wanting to infringe on his lifestyle, but it would help her in more ways than one. Not having to pay rent and all the utilities were a big help all in itself, let alone having her best friend to hang out with at the end of the day.

She should have known that he would make her an offer to stay. He was a very generous and kind man, always trying to help people any way he could. That was one of the qualities she loved most about him. Becoming a celebrity had never gone to his head, and he remained the loving, caring person he had always been. Now able to help more than he could before the fame and fortune.

“Well, roomie, we got a lot done today,” he said, effectively bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Are you going to stop calling me that at some point,” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“One, your eyes are going to stick in the back of your head one day as much as you roll them, and two, I can always go back to calling you short stack,” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” she quipped, throwing a t-shirt in his face.

“Okay, fine,” he laughed, throwing her shirt back at her, “Any plans tomorrow?”

“Not really. I was going to look for an apartment, but that’s a moot point now,” she shrugged, “So, I’ll just hang around here and get some unpacking and cleaning done. What about you?”

“I have an interview tomorrow. Other than that, I’m free,” he said, leaning back on her bed.

“Well, good. I won’t have to do all this by myself. I’ll save the hard stuff for you,” she giggled, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Of course you will,” he huffed, returning her gesture by sticking his tongue out.

“What time is the interview?” she questioned, still laughing at their antics.

“Nine am, why?”

“Because it’s already after midnight. You may want to get off my bed and go to your own,” she said, shooing him off her bed and to her door.

“Fine, good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Jensen. Good luck with the interview tomorrow,” she told him, giving him a hug before he shut her door behind him.

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[alonfic]

second nature

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader genre: college + bff to lovers au | fluff, pining pining pining wc: 4,767 description: love is complicated; it tends to bloom in desire, in impulse. sometimes you just need to stop the overthinking and just do. in other words, you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend and decide to take matters into your own hands. author’s note: completely self-indulgent. i just wanted a scene where mc jumps into kuroo’s arms and kisses him after a win. sue me.

People do stupid things when they’re in love. You don’t know who said it, if this is some universal conclusion, or maybe Hercules’s Megara is a love genius who you should take notes from. Then again, she did twice, and was saved by her destined lover the second time around. You aren’t all that sure this is a fate prescribed to you by the stars nor is it one that you want for yourself, but it makes you wonder if your love life would be easier if it could have that Disney-esque theatrics just for a happy ending.

Then again, you don’t think Disney has any love stories about best friends turning into lovers, just strangers to lovers. But how do you fall in love with someone you haven’t spent years together cultivating memories with? How do you not look back and smile at the stories of chasing fireflies in the summertime or running from the ocean’s kiss because it’s just a tad too cold even in the late spring? Could it be possible to imagine a love built out of the blue?

Perhaps that part of unexpectedness could be the suspect. Being around him is comfortable; easy as breathing. He’s always been there, always a faint image in the back of your mind as you walk down memory lane, and still there as you walk down this strange path of adulthood. He’s never one to push too hard or let you fall without reaching a hand out to hold you steady.

In truth, you don’t think about loving your best friend. At least you try not to at first. It isn’t something you’re supposed to do or anything that could proceed painlessly, and you’re no masochist. Maybe you are. Wouldn’t you have extracted yourself from the situation sooner if you weren’t?

Then again, you didn’t choose to love him one morning, it just happened.

/

You consider ignoring Kuroo when it happens. Or if there’s any chance of going back.

It isn’t anything against him because you obviously wouldn’t feel the way that you do if you considered him a shitty person. But that’s the problem. Well, not the problem, more like the reason. The heart of your pining has always been a consistent figure. A loving one that has always had your back even when you both were kids; him the notoriously shy boy who clung to his father’s leg when you and your mother first stopped by, and you the painfully hard-headed one who lacked control when you came bounding up to him with the intent of friendship.

Funny how things seem to take on a reverse effect as he approaches you in the same confidence. His smile unaltered by the slight changes in you, how you tense up ever-so-slightly and squeak affirmations when he mentions going out later that night as a treat for surviving midterms. It shouldn’t mean anything more, really, these are normal interactions for you both. The small celebrations are your favorite things to do, so you hope it doesn’t feel weird when you say yes and he looks at you like he’s over the moon kind of happy.

You don’t say a word when his hand is on the small of your back in the slightly crowded ramen shop. It’s been a longtime favorite of your and his, and surviving the quarter is a celebration in and of itself. Everything is normal. These things, like guiding you to a table, are normal. Your hyperfixations on them are hardly normal though.

Was he always this touchy? Of course, you ponder this. It’s your brain wondering and hoping to figure out what the motivations of these actions are even if he’s done them before. He’s always been keen on physical touch with you. Ever the one to wrap an arm around your shoulders while you two walk around shopping centers or the park to keep potential intruders away and to keep you from getting swept up in the crowds. Sometimes holding your hand when things get tense and he wants you to know he’s there. They’re normal for him by all accounts, and there hasn’t been a time where any of that has felt out of place, at least until now. And it isn’t because of him, it’s you.

If you had an allowance to dream and believe in your idealistic side, this would be a new beginning and his way of easing you into intimate gestures. You don’t though. Your realistic side won’t let you. He just doesn’t make it very easy on you as he sits in front of you under very grainy incandescent lighting—the very non-ideal kind to consider one’s love for somebody—and still manages to get you feel the same things you had when you awoke to him cooking breakfast in your kitchen after a late night study session. The very stupid morning that brought you to this conclusion.

When he says your name, you realize the server is there. You’re naturally a little embarrassed because you haven’t even had a chance to glance at the menu, still a little more spaced out than usual, though it shouldn’t be that big of a problem. You already know what you want, and so does Kuroo. 

He jumps in and asks if you want your usual choice, to which you simply nod so he can tell the server who leaves just as quickly as they had come. Kuroo looks like he wants to say something, probably ask about what’s going on with you, but instead something else catches his eye.

He leans over the table and his fingertips find some stray locks of yours dangerously trying to kiss the corner of your lip. His fingertips graze your cheek rather slowly. Painfully slow, even. It doesn’t help the sweat on your palms or the pounding of your chest. Hell, your heart feels like it might fall out if he continues going at such a snail’s pace, but eventually he gets the strands behind your ear.

He smiles at you again, and this time you know it’s all over.

There is no going back.

/

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You almost deny it altogether, almost. But this is Kuroo. You know better than to try and lie to the boy you’ve known since middle school, the same boy who knows when something’s wrong before you even have a chance to register that something’s wrong. It sometimes makes you want to curse at him and wish this whole thing would just come to a halt instead of continuing on this weird precipice of change. But you stop yourself and step aside so he can enter your apartment, making his way through the long hallway and turning right to take a perch on the barstool at your kitchen isle.

He’s right anyway. It’s been days since you realized your feelings and even more since you two went out to get ramen together. But you’d be damned to admit the truth.

“Been busy.” You settle on this because it’s a safe answer, at least relatively so, though he hardly looks even the slightest bit convinced. The fact that you lean on the opposite side of the granite countertop is enough to solidify his doubt, but you decide to play the fool anyway. “What?”

“Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?” Kuroo asks this genuinely, and you can tell most definitively by the slight crease in his brow and the small line his lips have become. It isn’t a frown by any means, it’s his pensive expression. He must be trying to think back on anything he’s either said or done in the past couple of weeks, but you know he wouldn’t be able to guess it.

Not that “it” is all that major. How do you even describe the sensation of falling in love with your best friend? How do you even dare face them after you’ve done it? And where do you even go from there when it’s happened? These are the things you’ve mulled over; they’re also the things that have stopped you from immediately treating your friendship with Kuroo like business as usual. You don’t think there’s any going back once you say something. No matter the times you’ve imagined what could happen or what it would be like to cross that bridge, a bit of reality grounds you from all impulsive acts.

Of course, you would love to just kiss him and run your hands through his beautifully soft sable hair. You wouldn’t hesitate to finally tell him your feelings if you didn’t think there was anything to lose or if you weren’t in the right state of mind, at least there’s the cushion of not caring and simple selfishness in all of that. It takes a lot to shake it all out of your head, at least to just try to, as he watches you in that unnervingly analytical way.

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything?” You can tell he’s trying to probe now, perhaps hoping for an opening to atone for any misgiving he might’ve done without realizing. His voice is soft, comforting. “If I did, I really am sorry.”

You shake your head again, this time for him and his question. You’re starting to feel a little bad for keeping this from him. “You haven’t done anything, I promise. I’ve just been preoccupied with some things. It’s getting better, so really, no need to worry.”

You hope the half-truths are enough to keep his interrogative questions and inquisitorial stare at bay. At least enough to change the subject, he’s the one who called about coming here, after all.

“If you’re sure?” He tries once more, just to give you an out. It isn’t like you to keep anything from him, and he knows this, but you can’t help but want to keep this one thing under lock-and-key. At least for now, or forever.

You nod. “What’s up anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been missing my best friend like crazy since someone’s been ghosting me for the past two weeks.”

The emphasis on ‘someone’ makes you snort, just a little and only for a moment because he shoots you a playful glare. You hold your hands up in surrender in hopes of spurring the conversation forward. Just because you wanted to avoid him to keep the truth under wraps doesn’t mean you haven’t missed the cheeky bastard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, with a faint smile. “Has it been that hard without me?”

“The hardest! Kenma’s sick of me, you know. Him, I’m used to wanting to keep me away. But you? That’s a different playing field.” It’s all in a playful jest, of course, and whatever the case may be for you, you know that Kuroo doesn’t mind. He knows it would be for a good reason, even if you don’t think this is all that good of a reason to try and push him away. It’s a hard thing to do when it’s clear that he has no intentions of being set aside, and how can you, given the history here?

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, o’dramatic one?” Of course, you’ll play it off, just to see the toothy grin on his lips, and watch the light dance in the hickory of his eyes as he considers his next quip. You wonder if he’ll have you do something stupid just to make up for the sudden separation, although you’re grateful that he’s a more benevolent schemer where you’re concerned. You expect him to charge you a free coffee or something.

“Come to my game on Saturday, please,” Kuroo coughs the last word, as if it might be painful for him to say, or maybe he’s trying to play off sounding forceful, which has never been his forte.

You can’t help but smile albeit confused at the sudden news when it feels like it’s been ages since his last high school game. “A game? With who?”

“It’s just a reunion game against Karasuno, since it’s a rare occasion where we all happen to be free at the same time, and you know us. We’re always hankering for another Battle at the Garbage Dump.”

Before you can say anything, he adds, “If you love me, you’ll come!”

You probably miss the way he looks at you a little more longingly than he once did, as if there’s something he means in these cheeky words. They should mean nothing more than provocations, a mild itch of guilt tripping, but only in good nature. It couldn’t possibly mean anything in the way that you’re hoping. No, not at all.

You know he only means it all in a lighthearted way, but you can’t deny the way your heart seems to rumble with a very distinct sound of early springtime thunder and you feel the back of your throat go dry. Of course, you can’t deny this truth, not even when it’s disguised like this. And anyway, who would you be if you missed out on one of his games?

Of course, you’ll go. 

/

When Kozume calls you over, you already know it’s a mistake to oblige.

The moment you get there, he’s playing a game though he pays a little more attention to you when he sees how much you tense up at the sound of Kuroo’s name. It’s enough for the conversation to completely focus on the former Nekoma captain, and you’re almost certain you want to go home already. If anything, you might be able to cite that you had some homework you need to sort out before the big game.

“You shouldn’t keep lying to yourself. Plus, I know you finished all your homework so you wouldn’t be distracted for the game,” Kozume points out, shooting you a brief pointed look. “You’ve been avoiding me too, you know.” 

And this is why: visiting Kozume means speculations, and speculations means hopes, and those mean disappointments because reality is just that cruel. You tell him so in your apology, even when he pointedly ignores the question and instead asks you one.

“When do you think you’ll tell him?”

You look at him incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

The sheer idea is preposterous; confessing to Kuroo might invite trouble for the two of you and the state of your friendship. Sure, you tried ignoring him and seeing if that could help, but that was a bust. Telling him would probably be even worse. Probably the worst thing you could do in this situation. Is it even possible to be okay after confessing to your best friend?

“You’re both idiots who deserve to be together. Why else would I ask?”

He isn’t even looking at you as he says any of this, instead focusing his attention on the characters in his game. His own little fantasy. A part of you is envious of the escapism, wishing for a bit of that for yourself at the moment. At least you can forge a love story from camaraderie there, and in a game world like that, it’s acceptable. Loving your best friend in the modern reality? Not so much.

You’re a little confused at Kozume’s wording. What was he trying to say? Kuroo liked you back? The thought makes you shake your head.

“Easier for you to say,” you roll your eyes at him, certain he hasn’t seen it, but he clicks his tongue at you anyway.

“If you did something, or let yourself do something, life would be so much easier for the both of you.”

“You say this with the assumption that he feels something too,” you point out, still in disbelief. After all, why would Kuroo love you back as more than a friend?

“Why do you even love him anyway?”

You can’t help but reply so nonchalantly when it’s the first thing that comes to mind. “Why not?”

There are many answers to that question, probably more than you care to admit, let alone to Kozume. Even without meeting his eyes or saying a word about any of it, he seems to know already. It’s unnerving. Have you always been this easy to read? Does Kuroo know too?

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“It’d make things too complicated.”

In other words: it’s easier to tell the truth when you’re not speaking to Kuroo about the whole thing. Hell, it’s easier to address it when it isn’t directly to him. It happened, and obviously there’s no way to strip the power from it now.

“Is that what’s really stopping you?”

You take a moment to consider this, and maybe the large part is the fear of consequence, if there will be one, what it will be, that sort of thing.

“Yeah…”

“Then stop thinking and just do something about it. I’ve never known you to take things lying down. Talk to him after the game or something.”

You don’t say anything, but you consider it.

/

The day of the game is supposed to be simple. It isn’t like it’s supposed to bloom into anything, and yet you find yourself thrumming with excitement when Kuroo easily finds you in the crowd before he’s set to enter the gym.

You don’t care to admit how much you enjoy this or the sight of seeing him in that vibrant shade of red. The same way you’ve seen him in countless games. It stirs something in your chest as you’re reminded of those days, like this revelation of your feelings might have bloomed sooner than you realized.

“Come find me after the game,” Kuroo tells you with that beautifully toothy grin of his, and you find that you can hardly breathe. “I have something to tell you when I win.”

When did he get so damn good looking? You want to wonder, though that would only be one of many ponderings. You don’t know what his words mean, or why the implication makes your heart react the way it does, but you hope against your own ideals just to remain in reality. At least you try to.

It’s hard once the game begins.

/

Watching him play feels like falling in love again.

You don’t know what it is in the way Kuroo carries himself or how he seems to dance across the court with a hitch in any of his movements, but it’s addictive to watch. How easily he remains himself even on the court. The very cheeky grin flashes at his opponents, particularly Tsukishima, who looks more and more fired up as they contain their rally. They don’t look much different than when they first played against one another in high school, though they all seem to carry a newfound sense of wisdom in this game they’ve been destined to play time and time again.

Each rally feels like it goes on for longer than the last, as if everything will be gone in a single drop, and perhaps it’s true to say that this mirrors that of love. How you may try as you might to keep the secret of loving away from reality, but it all comes crashing down eventually. It feels that way when you see the final round reach a neck and neck standstill. Neither side wants the ball to drop, to allot victory to their opponent, of course.

It’s Kuroo’s determination that stands out to you. The way he seems to cheer his team on even without words as he tries his best to keep the orange, green, and white ball in play. He’s never been one to give up no matter the circumstances. He’s always found a way to move things in his favor, and he’s never once wavered, even in the beginning of his time with volleyball, he’s always tried, even with losses under his belt.

It’s strangely beautiful to bear witness to this play once more. You don’t know what it is when he looks back at you before his notoriously accurate block with a small, yet triumphant smile, like he knows this’ll win the game, or even so, bring them closer to it, but it rouses something even stranger in your chest as you cheer alongside everyone else in celebration of the first point of two needed to finally win the game. This is by no means a big game like the Inter-high or anything, but it feels that way. Maybe that’s why everything seems to stand out to you. It feels like something big might happen.

Simple as this game might be, it feels like everything when they reach the end of the rally.

They win, and you rise from your seat without a second thought. 

/

You don’t think about what you’re doing.

Your limbs seem to move on their own accord as the rest of the team does a final bow to the audience. You don’t bother stopping to wonder if Kuroo’s searching the crowd for you as you make your way down the stairs, or what the little frown on his face means when his gaze lingers on the spot right behind the banner as soon as you reach the hallway across from the court. Your spot.

No, you don’t stop to think about it.

You don’t even stop moving as you call his name or as you see the light come back to his beautiful hickory eyes. You don’t stop to consider what that might mean either.

Instead you run to him at full speed without bumping into anyone, truly a miracle in and of itself, and instead of stopping right before him with your feet planted firmly on the ground like any other person, you choose to jump. You don’t know why. You don’t think about why either. You just believe that he won’t drop you because he’s never given you a reason to believe otherwise. In fact, you absolutely trust him to catch you now more than ever, and to no one’s surprise, he does.

There are so many things you want to do—reasonable things that any normal best friend supporting their best friend would do. You want to say congratulations. You want to just hug him and jump down because you want to believe that this will be like any other hug you’ve shared with this man you’ve known for years. And maybe it could’ve been that simple if you had just stopped to consider what your actions would mean to him, you, and everyone else. But you don’t bother with the frivolities, you don’t want to yet.

Because when you really look at Kuroo, you catch sight of something beautiful. A sight all too familiar to you and the years of memories you’ve shared together. It’s him in his most purest form; little drops of sweat falling at the sides of his face, an elated grin in all its toothy glory, and the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more and more prominent. And yet, there’s something a little too new in the way that he looks back at you, the way his gaze lingers on your lips and only snaps back up to your eyes when you say his name. 

Your grip around his shoulders tightens and his lips fall a little closer together like he might say something, but you don’t give him a chance. It’s hard when you find yourself on a roll of impulses, like you’re untouchable from consequence.

Maybe you’ve watched too many romance movies, or maybe read too many stories where the best friends finally get together after years of pining and being called idiots by everyone around them. You know it’s all too silly, and you and Kuroo have spent evenings mocking the theatrics of boombox accompanied confessions and singing over the loudspeakers with the marching band as the main male lead’s instrumental track. They’re endearing in the moment, but so painfully unreal, you almost wish this world was entirely fantasy for just a taste of what could be with Kuroo. That’s the true villain, maybe. You can’t stop yourself now.

Everything everyone has ever speculated about you two flies over your head, and for once in a great while, you stop caring enough to just do what you’ve always wanted to do, to finally actualize the fantasies you’ve played out over and over in your head.

Fuck it, you decide. If there’s any time to do this, it’s now. The extra shit can wait.

So, before any words, you kiss him.

You take note of the way he responds so gently to the initiation. It’s a tentative pressure, as if he’s testing the waters to see what you can handle before you pull away. But you don’t. You remain, and maybe part of that has to do with the adrenaline coursing through your veins or maybe it’s the part of you that seeks this wish fulfillment and wants to bask in it before reality sinks it.

The whole thing is indescribable. Of course, it is. All of your fantasies have never gotten you as far as the real deal. You wouldn’t have guessed just how close to peppermint he would taste, or that there would be a slight hint of honeyed lemons in the aftertaste. Like the treat promises, you feel invigorated, rejuvenated, and maybe even worst of all, hungry for a little more.

This is why you readjust your grip around his shoulders as you attempt to deepen the kiss. In response, his grip on your thighs tighten, as if he might be afraid you’ll disappear. And to your surprise, he kisses you back with just as much fervor, like it might be the last time.

You don’t remember what draws you apart, whether it’s one of his teammates jeering at you two or if it’s your respective needs to breathe, but you’re inclined to etch this new sight of him to memory. The way his chest heaves, his pupils dilated, and his lips all pink and swollen. It’s new and beautiful, and you wonder if it’ll happen again.

And then it hits you.

What you’ve done. Your head spins just a little.

“I’ve fucked us up, haven’t I?” Your words are no louder than a whisper, but it feels like it’s only you two right now. Nothing else to cut into this moment, though you almost sort of wish for an opportunity to sink into the ground because what the fuck did you just do?

All you can do is try to shake yourself away from him, back down to the ground, back to reality.

Kuroo keeps you in place and takes the chance to really look at you. His eyes scan your face for a trace of truth, not that this would be a hard feat anyway. You’ve never been good at hiding anything from him, not when you were kids, and most certainly not now. You wonder if he can read, “I’m totally and utterly in love with you” from your eyes or if it somehow materialized across your forehead like Kozume and Nobuyuki have always teased you.

“That’s not entirely fair,” he says, still faint with his usual teasing.

“Huh?” Your eyebrows knit together, and your lips seem to pull into an involuntary frown.

“That implies that you were the only one who compromised our friendship…” he pauses for a second as his bottom lip trembles and he gives an inaudible swallow, “right?”

“What are you getting at?” Simply the implication is enough to bring lightning to your skin, as if to resuscitate you back to a more serene state. Your heart can’t seem to handle this overload, however. You wonder if he can hear it.

“I think you know what I’m getting at...”

His cheeks have gone pinker than the cherry blossoms in spring. Of course, it should’ve been enough to confirm your suspicions. You could’ve left it at that, but for your sake, for your very own heart, you tell him what you need.

“Say it.”

One more look at you and it’s enough for him. Somehow you know that without being told.

“I love you.”

Your heart trembles, even louder now, like a thunderstorm. That strange calmness remains. The kind only he can elicit in you.

Kuroo looks at you in wait, in wonder, as if your answer wasn’t as clear as day already. You laugh a little and the corners of his lips turn upward.

“I love you too.”

He lets you drop down, of course, but only after another kiss.

You hold his hand and walk through the double doors you entered through.

This time together.

[feliix]

more than friends (with benefits) ↠ felix

↠ Felix x Reader

↠ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, FWB!AU

↠ Rating: M (18+) ↠ Word Count: 2k

↠ Summary: You always thought being friends with benefits with Felix was a dream. At least, that was until the benefits starting outweighing the friendship and your feelings got sucked in.

↠ Warnings: friends to lovers, fwb to lovers, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, praise, multiple orgasms, mutual pining

↠ A/N: hi sorry this is very unedited I might go in and fix stuff later sorry Im lazy right now and banner creds to me okay enjoy!

“So wet for me,” his deep, gravelly voice fills your ears, the room spinning around you with each buck of his hips. Teeth sinking into your lip, you grasp for the sheets beside you. His rhythm is quick, persistent, and you’re unable to catch your breath.

“Felix,” his name leaves your lips in a high pitched whine. It's getting harder to hold on with a pace like this. Had you not already cum twice just tonight, maybe your stamina would be a bit higher. But the familiar knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter as his thrusts persist. 

It's not long until you're coming undone around him. The force of his hips driving into you, the firm grip his hand has on your ass sets you aflame. Just a few more powerful ruts; he’s angling himself just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. And that's when your legs begin to shake, the force from your third orgasm taking over.

A gentle scream escapes your mouth as you ride out your high, Felix’s pace only quickening to grant himself an orgasm of his own. Oversensitivity sets in quickly causing your eyes to slam shut in dismay; mind blurry with small white stars as your pussy continues to spasm around him.

“So fucking tight,” Felix’s thrusts persist through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking and all you can offer is the tightening spasms of your pussy. You clench around him rapidly, enticing him to come to his finish. “ Fuck, baby. Such a good slut for me.”

Unable to catch your breath as your orgasm begins to subside, the sound of his voice shooting right to your core and letting out an extra gush of arousal. Felix takes this as a sign to go harder, busing himself by pounding into you. Each time his hips meet your ass he leaves a gentle slap on your supple skin. When he bottoms out your back arches instinctively. The pressure of his tip on your sweet spot drives you wild, your fingers grabbing for the sheets underneath you to hold onto. 

But him fucking you from behind causes you to miss the sweet contortion of his face as he reaches his high. You can only feel the grip he has on your waist tighten, the pads of his fingers pressing deeply into your skin as he ruts into you with such fervor. 

He doesn’t pull out, you’ve already told him that he doesn’t have to. All that's on your mind is being filled to the brim with Felix’s cum. “Fuck,” you’re aching for his release, squeezing your core as hard as you can to ease it from him, “want you to fill me up.”

With a few especially hard thrusts Felix is collapsing over you, holding you close as his cum paints your walls. The pace of his thrusts slows as soon as his hot body presses against yours, eyes fluttering shut as you both come down from your highs.

If you didn't feel his heavy breathing fanning over the back of your neck you may have forgotten where you were. The labored sound of breathing fills the room around you. His rapid heartbeat pounds against your back; it's slowing now, that's how you know he’s about to pull out.

It's the same routine every time. He comes over, you fuck, you cuddle, he leaves.

Which is okay, the two of you aren’t dating or anything. You’re friends with benefits; emphasis on the benefits half and a little less stress on the friends part. This isn’t how it’s always been. Things used to be the other way around, ironically. 

Felix was your best friend, it wasn’t until you initiated this little arrangement that things changed. 

It’s a blur how it all came about actually. Just one day you got a little too worked up while looking at his plush lips, making a move and changing the dynamic between the two of you forever. After letting him fuck you once, you never came back from that.

The Netflix nights faded into the dark as the Netflix & chill nights came more frequently. It isn’t something that you noticed at first, you were into it, gosh, why wouldn't you be? So many girls would love to be in your place – hooking up with their highly attractive guy best friend. But over time you began to miss the relationship you used to have. Watching a movie without pausing halfway through to have sex is unheard of now. You can’t remember the last time you were actually able to do that. 

The worst part is you think you might be missing something else. The more you hookup the more you find yourself longing for him – not just his touch. When he leaves, you feel lonely. Not just the ‘I’m alone’ lonely, either. You want to be with him all the time, spend time doing fun couple-y things in addition to the hot sex you have every night. You want more from this, you need to be more than friends.

And before you know it, Felix’s body is relaxing as he pulls out of you slowly, a trail of cum following in its path beginning to drip down your thigh. A deep sigh leaves your lips when the weight of Felix’s body flops down onto the mattress next to you. You want him to know you’re bothered, you’re just too scared to bring it up on your own.

It doesn’t seem that he notices, though, he just lets out an exhausted grunt in return. In a split second reaction, you sigh again, trying to cover it up by extending your limbs to look like you’re stretching. The second one may have been a bit too dramatic; Felix noticed it this time, the look on his face riddled with confusion.

“Something wrong?”

Oh, great. Well, you got what you wanted, not having to start the conversation but you’ll definitely be the one to ruin it. You could just deflect, say ‘nothing’ and carry on the way you were – but that won’t do much to help your own feelings. 

“Actually, yeah.”

The phrase surprises you just as much as it surprises Felix, you just do a better job of covering it up than he does. His eyes are wide, head turned in your direction now as he begins to sit up. Luckily both of your clothes were in close vicinity – this probably isn't a conversation that neither of you wants to have naked.

Or have in general, for that matter. But getting dressed is a nice way to avoid eye contact, which seems to be the only thing you’ll be able to avoid in this awkward moment.

“What’s up?”

The concern in his voice is prevalent. He’s doing what he can to stay calm but deep down he’s worried. The meek thought of you cutting him off crosses Felix’s mind briefly; a pang of anxiety cuts through him like a knife. And he doesn’t do a great good job of hiding it, but thankfully you’re too caught up in putting on a shirt that you don't notice. 

Guilt starts eating away at you once you realize what you’re doing, what you’re about to tell him. This could ruin everything between you. You don’t think he’ll cut you off, no; but chances are you tell him and things will change forever. The second you speak up about it will determine your future with Felix – if there even is one.

“Have you ever thought about,” your voice stalls, letting a deep breath pause your thoughts in an attempt to ease your mind, “not just having sex anymore?”

“You wanna stop hooking up?” 

“N-no, that's not what I meant!” The words fly out of your mouth more forceful than you intended, and before you're able to stop yourself from spilling them. A puzzled look quickly crosses Felix’s face as he waits for you to continue. There’s a strange tension beginning to surround you, making your palms sweat and stomach twist. 

The air is feeling heavier as thoughts are flooding through your mind. The longer you prolong this conversation the more it's going to hurt you in the end, “Things have just...changed.” 

His head nods along with your words, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his face sinks. Somewhere along the timeline of between being best friends and friends with benefits, that friendship you had was lost. It isn't just you who realized that.

“Because I have feelings for you?”

“Y-you what?” 

You have to pinch yourself to make sure that this is real and what you heard Felix just said was true. But he finds humor in your response, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as your jaw slowing drops. All this time and you both have been oblivious to each other's feelings…

“I thought you knew that…” His voice is soft, trailing off at the end as embarrassment creeps up. A rosy blush tints his freckled cheeks, soon covering them as he buries his head in his hands. 

“You never told me that,” you chuckle endearingly, butterflies pounding at your chest as heat rises to your cheeks, “did you know that I have feelings for you?”

“Noooo,” his voice is playful, head sinker deeper into his hands as small giggles leave his lips.

It a split-second reaction your hands are taking hold of his wrists, gently moving them from his face to look at his eyes. They’re narrowed into squints, his face squished into a smiling mess as his ears are red with embarrassment. 

“So were you just not gonna tell me?” You say in a joking tone, doing your best to ease Felix’s nerves. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

The mood of the room suddenly shifts. Felix’s smile is quick to fade, his cheeks settling back to normal as his eyes slightly widen. Your heart twists with his words – the thought of losing him to something so silly hits you like a million bricks. Sucking in a deep breath, he reaches for your hand, noticing the change of your expression and giving a sympathetic smile. Your eyes follow the trace of his tumb over your hand, stroking the skin lightly as you sit in silence. 

You wonder if that thought has weighed heavy on his mind for a while, how long he’s had feelings for you. It must have hurt him feeling like this was nothing more than sex to you; if only he knew.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s eyes light up at your words, his hand gripping yours a little firmer now. The butterflies you first felt are still there, flapping away in your stomach each time the corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Just when you thought you couldn’t fall any harder there he is, cheeks blushing as his head turns to face you. A swift hand is brought to your neck, holding it as he effortlessly moves in towards you. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as he moves closer, focusing your eyes on each of his features; catching his tongue swipe across his bottom lip. His face is just centimeters from yours, his eyes staring down at your lips and his hot breath fanning across the soft skin of your cheeks.

“I love you,” his deep voice whispers over your lips. You aren’t given enough time to return the words before he’s moving in closer.

Time stills in slow motion when his soft lips meet yours; the world could stop turning but all that would matter is that you are here, right now, in this moment with Felix.

‘More Than Friends (With Benefits)’ is copyright 2020 @chaangbin​​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[dwellordream]

“…Now, if people are taught anything at all about medieval history it often is English medieval history. People with absolutely no other frame of reference can often tell you when the Norman Conquest of England took place, or the date of the signing of Magna Carta even if they don’t know exactly why these things are important. (TBH Magna Carta isn’t important unless you were a very rich dude at the time, sooooo.) If you ask people to name a medieval book they’ll probably say Beowulf even if they’ve never read it.

Here’s the thing though – England was a total backwater in terms of the way medieval people thought and was not particularly important at the time. How much of a backwater? Well, when Anne of Bohemia, daughter of my man Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV (RIP, mate. Mourn ya til I join ya.) married King Richard II of England in the fourteenth century there was uproar in Prague. How could a Bohemian imperial princess be sent to London? How would she survive in the hinterlands? The answer was she was sent along with an entire cadre of Bohemian ladies in waiting to give her people with whom she could have a sophisticated conversation.

This ended up completely changing fashion in England. Anne is the girl who introduced those sweet horned headdresses you think of when you think of medieval ladies, riding side-saddle, and the word “coach” to England, (from the Hungairan Kocs, where the cart she arrived at court the first time came from). Sweetening her transition to English life was the fact that she didn’t have to pay a dowry to get married. Instead, the English were allowed to trade freely with Bohemia and the Holy Roman Empire and allowed to be around a Czech lady. That was reward enough as far as the Empire was concerned. That’s how much England was not a thing. (The English took this insult very badly, and hated Anne at first, but since she was a G they got over it. Don’t worry.)

If England was unimportant why do we know about English medieval history and nothing else? Same reason you’re reading this blog in English right now, homes. I’m not sure if you know this, but in the modern period, the English got super super good at going around the world an enslaving anyone they met. When you’re busy not thinking about German imperial atrocities in the nineteenth century it’s because you’re busy thinking about British imperial atrocities, you feel me? So we all speak English now and if we harken back to historical things it gives us a grandiose idea of English history.

Say, then, you are trying to establish a curriculum for schools that bigs up English history, as is our want. Ask yourself – are you gonna want to dwell on an era where England was so unimportant that Czechs were flexing on it? Answer: no. You gonna gloss right over that and skip to the early modern era and the Tudors who I am absolutely sure you know all the fuck about. The second colonial-imperialist reason for not learning about medieval history is that medieval history doesn’t exactly aggrandise the colonial-imperialist system.

Yes, there are empires in medieval Europe. In addition to the Holy Roman Empire there’s the Eastern Roman Empire, aka the Byzantine Empire, whose downfall is often pointed to as one of several possible bookends to the medieval period. You also have opportunists like the Venetians who set up colonies around the Adriatic and Mediterranean, or the Normans who defo jump in boats and take over, well, anything they could get their hands on.

Notably, when these dudes got where they were going, they didn’t end up enslaving a bunch of people, committing genocide, and then funnelling all resources back to a theoretical homeland. The Normans settled down where they were eventually creating distinctive court cultures, and the Venetian colonies enjoyed a seriously high level of trade and quality of life without major disruption to local customs. Force was certainly used to take over at the outset, but it wasn’t something that resulted in the complete subjugation and deaths of millions halfway around the world from where the aggressors started.

No, the European middle ages are a lot more about local areas muddling along with smaller systems of rule. That’s why you have distinctive areas like say, Burgundy or Sicily calling their own shots and developing their own styles and fashions. Hell, even within imperial systems like the Holy Roman Empire Bavarians or Bohemians saw themselves as very much distinct peoples within an imperial system, not necessarily imperial subjects first and foremost.

You know where you would go to find some history that justifies huge imperial systems that require constant conquest and an army of slaves to keep them afloat? Ancient Rome. Remember how you got taught how great Rome was? How it was a democracy? How they had wonderful technology and underfloor heating, and oh isn’t that temple beautiful? Yeah, that’s because you were being inculcated to think that the ends of imperial violence justifies mass enslavement and disenfranchisement.

In reality, Rome wasn’t some sort of grand free democracy. Only a tiny percentage of Romans could actually vote. Women of any station certainly could not, and even men who were lucky enough to be free weren’t necessarily Roman citizens. Freedom here is particularly important because by the 1 century BCE 35 – 40% of the population of the Italian peninsula were slaves. Woo yeah democracy. I love it. And that’s not even taking into account all those times when an Emperor would suspend voting altogether.

Those slaves were busy building all the grand buildings your high school history teacher was dry jacking it about, stuffing the dormice that the rich people were reclining to eat, and basically keeping the joint running. Those slaves also necessitated the ridiculously huge army that Rome kept going because you had to get slaves from somewhere after all, so warfare had to be continuous. How uplifting.

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that this Roman nonsense is pretty much exactly what was going on during the modern colonial imperial age. You can say whatever the fuck you want about how free and revolutionary America was, for example. That doesn’t change the fact that only a handful of white property owning men could vote, and that the entire project required the mass enslavement of Africans and the genocide of Native Americans. That’s why you’ve been taught Rome is great. It helps you sleep well at night on stolen land because, really, haven’t all great societies done this? I mean without a forever war against anyone you can find, how will you keep a society going?

Our imperialist ideas about history lead to some weird historical takes. People love to tell you that no one bathed in the medieval period when medieval people had pretty much exactly the same sort of bathing culture as Romans. People laugh at medieval people believing in medical humoral theory despite the fact that Romans believed exactly the same thing and get a total pass on that front. The Roman ban on dissection is often taught as a medieval ban, shifting Roman superstition onto the shoulders of medieval people.

On-going Roman warfare is reported in glowing terms with emphasis on the “brilliance” of Roman military technique, while inter-kingdom warfare in the medieval period is portrayed as barbaric and ignorant. The Roman people who were encouraged to worship emperors as literal gods are used as an example of theoretical religion-free logical thinking, while medieval Christians are cast as ignorant for believing in God even when they are studiously working on the same philosophical queries as their predecessors. None of this makes any fucking sense.

But here’s the thing – it doesn’t need to. In a colonial imperialist society we have positioned Rome as a guiding light no matter what it’s actual practices and that’s not a mistake. It’s a design that helps to justify our own society. Further, this mindset requires us to castigate the medieval period when rule was more localised and systems of slavery had taken a precipitous dive. If only there had been more slavery, you know? Things might have been so much better.

Historical narratives and who controls them are always in flux. That old adage “history is written by the winners” comes to mind here, but that’s not exactly true. What the winners do is decide which histories are promoted, taught, and broadcasted. You can write all the history you want and if no one reads it, then it doesn’t really matter. That’s the gap that medieval history has fallen into. Colonial imperialism hasn’t figured out how to weaponise it yet, so it’s ignored. You could write this off as a “so what”, of course. Sure, maybe teaching the Roman Empire as a goal is a negative, but is ignoring medieval history really that bad a thing? You will be unsurprised to learn that I definitely think it is a bad thing, yes.

Ignorance about the medieval period is one of the things that is allowing the current swelling ranks of fascists to claim medieval Europe as some sort of “pure” white ideal. Spoiler: it was not. However, if you don’t know anything about medieval society how are you gonna argue with some chinless douche with a fake viking rune tattoo?History is always political. We use it to understand our world, but more than that we also use it to justify our world. Ignoring it helps us prop up our worst impulses, so let’s not.”

- Eleanor Janega, “On colonialism, imperialism, and ignoring medieval history.”

[woogyu]

6.“What are you doing here? It’s late.”

8.“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

39.“I really want to kiss you right now.” | “Then do it.”

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# that cute shit

notes; anxiety, trouble sleeping

wc; 1270

Drabble Game Requests | OPEN (but VERY VERY slow 25 requests in my inbox rn) | Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny

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It started with not being able to fall asleep, and before long, you were panicking about never being able to fall asleep again. This happened to you sometimes, when you were stressed or worried about something. Your brain couldn’t calm down, and you were left tossing and turning until daylight filtered through the curtains.

Today, however, you couldn’t fall asleep because just hours before your best friend since well forever had told you that he was in love with you. It caught you off guard, you had never considered that dating could even be an option with Seungkwan. That’s why you told him you had to think about it. You didn’t want to give him an answer until you were sure, the last thing you ever wanted to do was manipulate or play with his feelings.

At first, you told yourself that you were going to have to just let him down easily. Tell him that you didn’t think of him in that fashion. But was it the truth? Well, that’s why you currently found yourself awake, thinking about your feelings and what you had maybe come to take for granted.

You and Seungkwan were more touchy-feely than a lot of your other friends, a fact you thought was just because of your personalities. Upon further reflection, you realized that no, you didn’t want to cuddle with other men the same way that you did with Seungkwan. You didn’t want to watch him fall in love from the sidelines. That was really the kicker for you, thinking about him in a relationship with someone else. The more thought you gave it the more you realized that, yes, you did share his feelings. You wanted him all to yourself and you didn’t care how selfish that thought was.

After coming to terms with it there was no way you were going to fall asleep. You felt so itchy, having told him before that you were unsure how you felt. You wanted so badly to correct it, but it wasn’t a topic best approached over text.

Sleep-deprived and a little anxious about the whole thing, your brain thought the best decision would be to walk to his apartment... in the middle of the night... in the pouring rain. With the added factor of being in such a rush, you left in your pajamas and slippers, and without a raincoat or umbrella. You didn’t care about how you looked right now, you needed to talk to him. You needed him to know about... well everything. He needed to know that we're probably in love with him too, just a little slower on putting together and understanding those emotions.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You knocked on his door, watching dripping off of your soaking hair and clothing. You waited a few moments, anxiety building as you waited for him to open the door. You heard faint mumblings coming from the other side of the door, biting your lip as Seungkwan opened it up. He was rubbing at his eyes, obviously still half asleep as he looked at you.

“What are- oh, y/n” he started, pausing when he realized it was you before confusion settling into his brow.

“What are you doing here? It’s late” he said, his brain slowly catching up with what was going on. “God, did you fall in a lake or something?” he asked, gasping when he realized you were dripping water.

“Come on, get inside and I’ll grab you a change of clothes,” he said, moving aside to let you come in. Just seeing him made you feel a little better, the anxiety in your chest calming momentarily before you remembered why you had come here. He moved to leave, presumably to grab your clothing, but you reached out and took his hand to stop him.

“Just… let me say what I came to say… before I chicken out” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly as you took a composing breath.

“Is this about earlier? I told you that you could think it over y/n” he said with a crooked smile, his thumb brushing over your hand in calming motions. “You didn’t have to rush all the way over here in the middle of the night and in the rain just for that,” he said softly but turned to face you.

“I had to!” you said quickly, gnawing at your bottom lip as you struggled to find a way to articulate your feelings. “I did think it over, and I had to come to tell you that…” you trailed over, eyebrows drawing together in frustration at not having the right words.

“I… I never realized it before, but you’re the only one I want to cuddle with while watching movies and visit new restaurants with. You’re the first person I think of telling when I get good news, and the person I want to celebrate big life events with.” You let out a shaky breath, while his smile grew with every word that you were saying. “The thought of you seeing or dating someone else makes me… jealous… and despite knowing it is incredibly selfish, I really want to keep you all to myself.” You rushed out, closing your eyes as your heart pounded away in your chest.

You peaked out at him, breath hitching when you saw he was just beaming at you, giving you one of those full smiles that you loved.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy” you mumbled, blushing as you looked down at your feet. You heard him chuckle softly, taking a step closer to you.

“I don’t know when or how or what lead to me feeling this way about you, but I think I might be in love with you too. That’s why I’m here, I couldn’t sleep without telling you, without you knowing how I really felt” you said, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

“I really want to kiss you right now” he whispered, letting your hand go as he reached up to cradle your face in his hands. He gently urged you to look at him, your heart rate picking up again when you saw the deep emotion swimming in his eyes. The love he had for you, the devotion, it was all there. He was ready to give you everything and anything you wanted, whatever would make you happy. He wanted to give himself to you entirely if you would have him.

“Then do it” you answered, your eyes flicking down to his lips before up to his eyes. Not a second after those words were out of your mouth, he captured your lips in a deep and rushed kiss. You poured your hearts and souls out to each other, and it was all echoed in that kiss.

When you pulled back panting and breathless, he pressed his forehead against yours. His thumbs stroking along your cheekbones.

“I would love to stand here and kiss you until night becomes day, but you are literally shaking right now, and I’m worried you’re going to catch hypothermia” he breathed, reluctantly pulling away from you. “Warm clothes first, and kisses second,” he said, reminding himself of the priorities. You laughed a little bit, watching as he scrambled off to his room.

Sometimes being awake at 2am wasn’t the worst thing in the world, especially when you had good company.

[thedevillionaire]

Four Days, Mostly

A supernatural soap opera instalment. Cerberus and Kia, one of those domestic-couple moments kind of thing. Any questions, as always, please do ask me to explain myself! Thanks for spending some time in my ridiculous world. I heart you.

---

Kia feels like she’s practically been living in the Vampirism archives, when she hasn’t been on the mortal plane, that is. She’s sure the last four days have actually taken a week, such was the amount of things to do that had somehow been crammed into them, and she sighs quietly.

And she’s hardly seen her beloved for more than five minutes over those days; she’s not been the only one with scarcely a moment to take for herself. What with the disastrous destruction of the Lightning chambers and the resultant seemingly endless fallout from that pouring demand upon demand on Cerberus, they’ve barely crossed paths, let alone managed any quality time together. Any time at all, come to that.

But she’s been assured he’ll be home tonight, and a small smile crosses her face as she reaches the front door at last. She’ll be glad to get into the guaranteed warmth of the manor too – the windwhipped, winterchilled walk home has been…brisk, to say the least.

Whoa.

Warmth is one thing, inferno another. An intense, practically visible heatwave encompasses her the moment she crosses the threshold, and she closes the door behind her, removing her coat posthaste.

Well, he’s definitely home. She shakes her head, a faint smile on her face as she unlaces and removes her blouse and bodice also, untucking her chemise for good measure. Damn, it was hot. “Hon, think you could dial it back a bit to, I don’t know, something maybe a bit less…I don’t know, diabolic?” she calls out as she walks through the foyer into the loungeroom, where she expects to find him, but…apparently not. Hm, okay. She pulls her hair into a makeshift ponytail, twists it upon itself to hold it in place, wonders whether she should Mindsend him a greeting or just wander about the house until she finds him, when her attention is dramatically redirected by a sudden, powerful sneeze.

Ah. She smiles a little self-indulgently, turns. Answers that question.

With a Mindsent blessing, she continues down the hallway, making her way over to where Cerberus sits at the library desk, his face buried in a tissue…which, as she gets closer, she recognises as being far from the first time he’s done this today. “Oh, honey, you’re not well?”

More of an observation than a question – the tiredness apparent in her nonetheless stunning bonded’s eyes as he smiles at her somewhat wanly despite his clear pleasure at her return, not to mention the telltale hint of red to his nose, providing more than enough of an answer. He neither confirms nor denies it – not verbally, at any rate – and for now she chooses not to press.

Explains the extra heat, too.

With a soft sound of sympathy, Kia moves to stand behind him, placing a tender kiss on the top of his head and gently massaging his shoulders. “Hey there, you. How long’s it been since you took a break?”

Cerberus murmurs a quiet hum of pleasure, closing his eyes briefly and leaning back into her touch as Kia drapes her arms around him. “Gods, I’ve missed you, love.” He sniffles again, takes another tissue, wipes his nose, and looks up at her apologetically. “Sorry about all the damn sniffling. The week’s catching up to me a bit, I think.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” Kia says, adding a Mindsent :Stop avoiding the question: with a quiet, slightly dark laugh. She moves to push some papers aside and sit on the desk, facing him, and leans forward to kiss him, softsensual, lingering. :I’ve missed you too.: She leans back again, looks at him in gently insistent challenge. “Your last break was…?”

“Nowhere near as beautiful as this one, I’m sure.” Another determined sniffle, and Cerberus presses the tissue underneath his nose as he regards Kia’s state of dishevelled semi-undress, a playful approval evident as he does so, and raises an eyebrow. “If you want to convince me to lower the temperature, darkling, I’m not sure *snf!* that this is the best way to go about it.”

“Okay, I know these four days have felt like forever but you do remember I’m happy to strip for you without being practically on fire, right?” Kia laughs. “Babe, it’s a sauna in here!” With a look of good-natured admonishment, she holds his gaze and smoothly slips out of her skirt, lets it fall to the floor, runs a tapered fingernail along the angular contours of his jawline, and purrs, almost a whisper, deliberately teasing, “What if I didn’t let you touch, though? Because, I mean…I’m just too…hot.”

Cerberus chuckles quietly, sardonically. “Harsh terms, love.” He accedes with a wave of his hand, the atmosphere settles to a more generally comfortable ambient heat, and he gives his nose another firm wipe before vaporising the tissue, making a small but unmissable sound of irritation as he does so.

“And how long has this been going on for?” Kia lightly traces a finger down the length of her bonded’s nose, gives him a brief yet knowing look as he takes a sharp breath in response, his expression crumbling to a mixture of mildly panicked betrayal and helplessness.

Cerberus turns from her rapidly, not enough time to claim a new tissue, and brings his elbow to his face in surrender. “Huh-AHSSCHuu! *SNF!*” Crushing a firm hand against his nose, he frowns at Kia in gentle reprimand, and shakes his head wryly. “Gods, love.” He sniffles again, wetly and repeatedly. “Pardon me.”

“Aw, sorry, sweetheart,” Kia, not particularly sorry at all, confirms a suspected sensitivity notably greater than usual and offers him a softsmiled semblance of penitence regardless. “Bless you.” She passes him a tissue, pauses a moment as he blows his nose, touches a hand to his forearm. “Seriously, though, hon – how are you doing?”

He sighs. “Ah, darkling, I’m alright.” Well aware she was unlikely to accept that, he continues without leaving her enough time to interject. “Mostly. It’s just that it’s all been…rather nonstop of late.” He sniffles strongly and wipes his nose again, which seems increasingly determined to not give him a moment’s peace. “Gods. Excuse me.” Clearing his throat, he refocuses. “This ridiculous weather we’ve been having doesn’t agree with me terribly well.” Another sniffle brings timely emphasis to his words, and he notes the dubious look in Kia’s eyes. “It’s just a slight chill, love. It’ll pass soon enough. And anyway—” He pushes the chair back from the desk, stands, curls a strong arm around Kia’s waist, toys with the strap of her chemise, his voice deep velvet and desire. "—my irresistible supervisor seems to believe I ought to take a break…and that is not a directive I can refuse.”

He tilts her head towards him, pulls her close, kisses her with an urgency his beloved cannot miss, an urgency she fully reciprocates. They’ve not been apart for this long since they first became a couple, almost three years ago now, and it feels like an aeon, it feels volcanic.

“Mmm…” Kia, still seated on the desk, wraps her legs around him and returns his kiss with rich promise, weaving a hand through his hair. :Babe, want to move this to th…:

Cerberus completes the teleport to the bedroom before Kia completes her Mindsend, and she laughs upon their arrival. “I’ll take that as a…” she begins but she’s interrupted again, Cerberus raising a finger and managing a hurried, breathless “Sorry, love, I’m g…” and turns from her mere seconds before he’s possessed by unstoppable need.

“Huh-HH… Huh-hhAHTSSCHhuu!”

Heavy, absolute, and not enough; he gives a brief shake of his head, blinks rapidly, moves to claim several tissues from the box on the bedside table in expectant preparation, inhaling deeply, entirely surrendered, and after a tremulous pause, on the edge, he gives over and sneezes again, powerful, ferocious.

“AAHHTSSCHHUU!” He sniffles fiercely and rubs his nose with determination, repeatedly, in an all-too-brief recovery he already knows is only temporary, his breath still catching and brow creased, and takes another series of tissues, his eyes watering. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu!”

Kia’s breath catches also, though differently. “Oh, bless y…”

“HAHH-TSSCHUU! Uhh…” The demanding strength behind the sneezes taking a level of energy he really doesn’t have, a soft groan escapes him as he pushes newly disordered ebony chaos from his eyes and glances upwards in silent entreaty but no respite is granted; he inhales in fragmented and escalating anticipatory need for release; desperate, encouraging. “Hh… h-hh… Hh-HH!” He buries his face in the tissues once more. “Huh-AAHTSSCHHuu!! Ah, gods.”

The last sneeze comes followed by an unexpected, searing sharp sting in the back of his throat and a wave of foggy disorientation, and his gaze snaps across to Kia in alarm, his previous belief that this was just a passing overreaction to exposure and stress categorically destroyed in one stark moment of recognition. “Fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing first the tissues then a rough hand under his nose. He touches a hand to his throat and swallows with difficulty. Fuck. “Pardon me. *SNFF!*”

She remembers to exhale. “Bless you, honey.”

Cerberus sighs heavily, murmurs, “Thanks, love,” and presses his index finger under his nose in a willfully firm refutation of any more of this nonsense, though he isn’t exactly full of confidence in that regard, and sniffles again. “Excuse me.” He blows his nose, another series of sniffles ensuing in short order, and takes a further few moments to gather himself before eventually looking over to his bonded, somewhat chagrined. He clears his throat. “I, um…think there’s a chance I may have lied to you about being alright.” The congestion now dulling his consonants tells a similar tale.

“Mostly alright.” Kia gives Cerberus a gentle smile. “Thought you might have.” She arranges herself amongst the bedsheets and lightly pats the space beside her in invitation. “Aw, sweetheart,” she says, noting his expression of faint confusion that she’d have had reason to doubt him, “I know you didn’t deliberately lie to me. It’s not your fault you’re a hopeless optimist.”

She laughs softly as faint confusion now combines with a flash of indignance. “How am I…” he begins, and this time it’s Kia’s turn to interrupt.

“It’s alright, babe, I actually love that in you. You just never think you might, you know, fail.” Blowing him a kiss, she adds a Mindsent :Not that this needs to count as a fail:, beckoning him to her with crooked finger. “Come here,” she insists in a satin whisper, fluidly removing her chemise as she does so.

Cerberus, suddenly and thoroughly spectacularly reminded of just how long four days can feel, takes up Kia’s invitation to join her on the bed, though with a measure of forced reluctance that he thinks perhaps, in good conscience, he should…probably have. His will to obey that conscience, however, is far from assured, despite the returning itch that he can do even less about, and he turns quickly to stifle another sneeze against his forearm. “HXTchu! Uhh…” It’s not enough and he hurries another apology, internally curses the manifestly ridiculous timing of it all, inhales deeply and sneezes again.

“hh-AHH… Ah-TSSCHHhuu! Ah, gods, sorry. *SNFF!*”

“Bless you,” Kia murmurs, surface nonchalant, heartbeat wild, and moves to unbutton his shirt.

His resolve already verging on the nonexistent, Cerberus tries not to think about how very much he’s missed his beautiful bonded, how very much he just wants to immerse in her company right now, and makes what he knows is likely a last-ditch effort. “I don’t want to get you sick, love. I’m not sure if I can…”

“You certainly feel like you can.” Kia gives him a sultry, wicked grin.

Cerberus chuckles quietly, curls his fingers through her hair, sniffles lightly. “Alright, well, I’m not sure that I should.”

“Oh…no, I think you’re pretty sure.” Kia presses herself against him, kissing him with exquisite, slow intimacy, removing his belt with deft touch as she does so, and Cerberus gives up his last tenuous hold on resistance, returning her kiss with incendiary passion, undeniable need.

Kia hums a languid sound of delectation. :That’s more like it.: With a soft, indulgent purr, she moves astride him and wraps her arms around his neck, murmuring in a gently teasing undertone, “And I thought for a second there you were actually going to deny me.”

Cerberus pulls her closer again in strong, warm embrace, desire for her eclipsing all else, and claims her mouth with his own as he takes her smoothly, deeply, deliciously, Mindsending with a rising heat suffusing every word, :What kind of self-control do you think I have?:

---

[elspethc22]

Let's Talk

Sciles Week Day 6: Talks we should have had

Pairing: Scott/Stiles

Word Count: 2621

The school year had finally ended, and Scott was more relieved to done with school than he ever had been before. He’d had nearly three months of freedom and the only thing on his to do list (other than work and whatever chores his mum asked him to do) was spending time with Stiles.

So that’s what he was doing – heading over to Stiles’ house to, most likely, wake his best friend up. For Stiles, summer meant sleeping in and doing absolutely nothing when he didn’t have to, which is exactly what he’d spent at least sixty percent of his summer doing. And since he knew Stiles wasn’t ‘helping out’ at the station today (also known as monitoring his dad’s eating habits up close, filing reports and trying to sneak looks at case files) chances were he would still be in bed even though it was nearly noon.

After knocking and getting no answer, Scott let himself in with the key Stiles had had made for him (he’d thought it only fair since he had one for the McCall house). Heading up the stairs, Scott made his way to Stiles’ bedroom, opening the door and walking right in.

‘Stiles. Stiles, dude. Wake up.’ Stiles stirred once, then stopped, still deep in sleep. Scott looked at him considering, then kicked off his shoes and pounced.

He landed right on Stiles, who shot up, eyes opening wide.

‘What – Scott? What the hell? Dude, what was that for? I was sleeping!’ Stiles asked, still looking around wildly, as if expecting an attack. When he found none, he flopped backwards, throwing an arm over his face. His face which was half-covered in lines from where it had been pressed into his pillow in his sleep.

‘Stiles, dude it’s already noon. We only have like two weeks left of summer, so come on, get up.’ Scott grabbed Stiles’ arm and dragged it off his face, giving him a little shove.

‘Do I have to?’ Stiles whined, and Scott laughed.

‘Yep. Unless you’d prefer… ’ Scott trailed off but lifted his hand to move his fingers against Stiles’ side, making him squirm.

‘No.’ Stiles protested, moving away.

‘Well those are you options – get up, and please shower, or I do it again.’ He wiggled his fingers threateningly, and Stiles lifted his head to glare at him.

‘I hate you.’ He said, sitting up again, keeping his eyes on Scott’s hand. He was the only person besides his dad who knew Stiles was ticklish, and unfortunately he wasn’t afraid to exploit that knowledge when he wanted to get his way.

‘You know you love me.’ Scott said, laughing and Scott thought he saw Stiles blush before he turned his head away, climbing over Scott and out of his bed.

‘Whatever. Give me ten minutes to shower.’ Scott watched Stiles head out of his room for the bathroom, and relaxed back on Stiles’ bed to wait. While he waited, he thought about Stiles reaction to his words. Why would Stiles blush from Scott telling saying Stiles loved him?

He tried to think of a reason, but while he thought, all that came to mind was a conversation with Stiles a few months ago. ‘This new-found heroism is making me very attracted to you.’ Then another conversation before that. ‘Am I not attractive to gay guys?’

He was deep in thought when Stiles came back in to his room, towel sitting low on his hips as he moved to his closet to find some clean clothes. The movement caught Scott’s attention and he propped himself up on his elbows, and found himself staring at Stiles’ back as Stiles’ words kept echoing in his mind.

‘Scott? Yo, Scotty!’ Stiles turned to look at him, letting the towel drop to the floor as he’d pulled a clean pair of boxers on underneath it, and was even now stepping into some clean sweats. Suddenly Stiles was clicking his fingers in Scott’s face and Scott blinked, leaning back.

‘What?’ He asked, blinking at Stiles who rolled his eyes.

‘Where’d you go man? I was asking you what you want to do today? Movie? Video games? More lacrosse practice?’

‘Oh, uh, I don’t know. Whatever you want.’ Stiles pulled a t-shirt over his head, narrowing his eyes at Scott as his head popped through. ‘What?’

‘Ok, what’s going on? First you were came in here, woke me up, all raring to go do something and now you’re spacing out on me and don’t care what we do? Seriously, what’s up?’

‘Do you like guys?’ Scott blurted out, then snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening in surprise at his own words, wishing he could take them back. Stiles just stared at him, frozen in place. For nearly a minute, neither of them moved, processing the question that had just come out of Scott.

‘Um – ’

‘Oh my god, dude, forget I asked that. That was so not cool. I don’t even know – ’

‘Yes.’ Scott stopped his rambling apology, looking up at Stiles who was still standing in front of him.

‘Yes?’ Scott asked, and Stiles looked away, took a deep breath and then turned back, nodding.

‘Yes, I like guys. I mean, I still like girls, I wasn’t lying about that or anything, but… I like guys too.’ Stiles told Scott, his voice soft.

‘Wow.’ Scott could kick himself for only being able to come up with that, but his brain was apparently a little slow on the uptake in this conversation.

‘Yeah. Wow. Um… what made you ask that?’ Stiles asked, and Scott looked at him.

‘First – I’m so sorry I just like, asked you that like that, that really wasn’t cool of me. I was just… you blushed, earlier, when I said you know you love me and then that made me think, about why that would make you blush and then I remembered when you were asking me if you’re attractive to gay guys and then saying that my new heroism or whatever was making you attracted to me and we should make out and I was starting to think that maybe you weren’t joking and then I just… blurted the question out.’

Scott placed his hands in his lap, watching Stiles for a reaction as he explained his train of thought. Stiles stared at him for a moment, then sighed, running his hand through his newly grown out hair. Then he moved, sitting on the end of his bed, facing Scott.

‘It’s ok Scotty. I’m not upset you asked, I know you weren’t trying to be like… it just caught me off guard I guess. I wasn’t expecting it.’ Scott nodded, and was thankful his best friend wasn’t angry at him.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He asked, his voice soft, and Stiles looked at him and shrugged.

‘I don’t know. It was never really like a plan to not tell you, I just… I was waiting for the right time and then, everything went crazy and I just… didn’t.’ Stiles told him, and Scott nodded even though he wished Stiles had felt he could tell him.

‘You know it doesn’t change anything, right? I mean, like, I don’t care one way or another.’ Scott tried to explain himself, trying to convey that he didn’t care who Stiles liked, they were still best friends, and Stiles just laughed.

‘I never thought it would, Scott. I know you, you’re like, the best person I know, you’d never care if I liked guys.’ Stiles told him, and Scott smiled, but there was still something nagging at him.

‘Do you… do you like me?’ Scott asked, then bit his lip when Stiles’ head shot up to look at him, eyes wide, mouth open in surprise.

‘I – I mean – of course I like you, dude, best friend forever, right?’ Stiles said, trying to bluff his way out of an answer by pretending to misunderstand the question and Scott knew.

‘I mean do you like me, Stiles.’ He repeated, changing his emphasis, moving a hand to Stiles’ wrist to keep him from standing and moving away. Stiles blinked once, twice, then looked down at Scott’s hand. When he looked back up, Scott’s heart hurt when he saw sadness in Stiles’ eyes.

‘Yes.’ Stiles breathed out. ‘I’m sorry, Scott, I – ’

Scott cut Stiles off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to Stiles’. Stiles let out a sound of surprise, but when Scott brought a hand up to cup the back of his head, tilted his own head to change the angle and make it easier, Stiles let his eyes shut and let himself sink into the kiss and enjoy it.

When Scott pulled back slowly, he let his hand slip down to settle at the base of Stiles’ neck, his thumb moving gently back and forth over Stiles’ skin just about his t-shirt.

‘Why did you do that?’ Stiles asked in a whisper. Scott took a moment before he answered, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He wasn’t completely sure why he’d done that – he couldn’t lie and say he’d wanted to do it for a while, it hadn’t occurred to him to try before today. But as soon as he’d thought about it, it was all he could think about.

‘Because I love you. And I have to be honest, I don’t know if I feel about you exactly how you feel about me, and I haven’t really thought about it before but I thought about kissing you and I just – I couldn’t notdo it.’ Scott said, hoping Stiles could make sense of his words. When Stiles didn’t say anything, he started to panic, thinking he’d just ruined things.

‘What about Allison?’ Scott was shocked that that was Stiles said next, but then he realised it made sense. This was completely out of the blue, and the last time they’d spoken about anything Scott had told him he was going to wait for her then get her back.

‘Honestly? When she broke up with me, it hurt, a lot. And I wanted to speak to her every day, try to change her mind, especially for the first few weeks. But recently?’ Scott paused, shrugged as he tried to explain it. ‘It still sucks, but now it more about how it all ended then the fact that it ended. Thinking about her, it doesn’t really hurt now, and I don’t think about her that much, not like I did right after we broke up or at the start of summer. I haven’t wanted to call her in weeks.’

Stiles was watching him closely, as if trying to pick out any lies. Scott just sat patiently, waiting for Stiles to react.

‘And what about me? I mean, you know I like you, I’m pretty sure I love you, and you just kissed me. Was it, like, a test?’

‘No, Stiles. I wouldn’t do that, especially not to you. I meant what I said, when I started thinking about it, it was like I hadto do it. And… I’m really glad I did. It was amazing. It felt like… it felt right.’

‘So you think you like guys too?’ Stiles questioned, and Scott shrugged.

‘I don’t know. It’s not really about you being a guy, it’s more about you being Stiles. Does that make sense?’ Stiles gave a small nod.

‘Kind of, I guess.’ Scott could tell Stiles didn’t really get it.

‘I mean, I know we’ve talked about girls we find attractive before, but I don’t… it usually takes me a while to really be attractedto someone. Usually, I really have to know and like someone before I feel like I want to do anything… physical. I think that’s why the idea of kissing you took so easily. Like, I know you’re an attractive person, but I never really thought about you or us in that way before, but then when I did…’ He tried to explain, knowing he sounded awkward. He’d never tried to put it into words before.

‘But what about Allison? You were like, zero to sixty with her.’ Stiles said, and Scott nodded his understanding. That had been a big surprise to him, and he’d been thinking about it a lot since they broke up.

‘I think that had more to do with the wolf. It was really weird because like, I’ve never had that instant attraction to anyone before so I didn’t recognise it at first, and then at first I thought it was cause I’d never met the right person. But I kept having these feelings like I was fighting with myself – there were times where all I wanted to do was touch her and kiss her but then I’d stop and think well, let’s just get to know her first. And obviously, then I did get to know her, and… but I think those first few weeks was not all me.’

Stiles looked at him, cocked his head.

‘So you’re saying the wolf had the hots for Allison first?’ He asked, and Scott rolled his eyes but nodded. ‘Ok. Ok, that sort of makes sense. It’s a little weird, but then, what isn’t in our lives nowadays?’

Scott laughed in agreement, and Stiles smiled.

‘What does this mean then? For us?’ Stiles asked, and Scott smiled.

‘It means… I think, I want to try this. If you do.’ Scott told him, and he could hear the hope in his voice.

‘What if it doesn’t work?’ Stiles asked, and Scott heard, and understood, the fear.

‘What if it does?’ Scott countered, and Stiles smiled fondly at the typical optimism. ‘I think we need to promise each other, if we decide to do this, that our friendship comes first. If anything goes wrong or it just doesn’t work, we can take some time, but we’re always friends.’

‘Do you think that can work?’ Stiles asked.

‘I think we’re Scott and Stiles – ask anyone, if we decide we want to do something, we’ll do it no matter how many people tell us not to, or that we can’t.’ Stiles rolled his eyes at the reminder of the many, many times they’d been told their ideas were crazy or impossible or just plain not allowed (or illegal). But it was true – anything that they’d really want to do, they’d found a way and they’d done it. And then when necessary (at least fifty percent of the time) they’d found a way back out of whatever situation they ended up in.

‘Ok.’ Stiles said, nodding. ‘Ok. We promise that no matter what happens, we’re friends first and always.’ He held out his hand, fingers curled except his pinky. Scott looked down at it, then up at Stiles and smiled.

The first time they’d made a promise to one another, Scott had held out his pinky to a very confused Stiles. When he explained what he knew about pinky swears and how they couldn’t be broken, Stiles had nodded enthusiastically and stuck his own out to complete the process. Since then, every important promise they’d made had been sealed with a pinky promise.

Scott moved his hand off Stiles’ wrist and looped his pinky around Stiles’.

‘I, Scott McCall, pinky promise that no matter what happens between Stiles Stilinski and I in our romantic relationship we will be friends first and always.’ Stiles smiled at the words romantic relationship.

‘I, Stiles Stilinski, pinky promise that no matter what happens between Scott McCall and I in our romantic relationship we will be friends first and always.’ They grinned at each other, and then Scott used the hand still on the back of Stiles’ neck to reel him in for another kiss.

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter Eighteen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2195

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Bucky being sad

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Masterlist

I woke up that next morning with a crick in my neck and something weighing me down, along with something warm tickling the back of my neck. I slowly opened my eyes, not used to the bright morning sun, and looked around. I was on the ground, not my mattress. I tried to roll over but an arm was stopping me, Bucky's arm. I smiled to myself as his grip around my waist tightened a bit.

“Bucky,” I whispered, trying to turn myself around in his arms.

“Hum?” He hummed out.

“Can you loosen your arms? I’m trying to turn around.”

“Hum,” He hummed out again, this time without a questioning tone. His arms loosened thor grip around me and I was then allowed to turn to my other side. The new position gave me a perfect view of Bucky’s slumbering face. It was a lot more peaceful looking than it usually did when he was sleeping.

I only got one good look at his face before he started to nuzzle into my neck, pulling me closer to him. I lit out a soft giggle before looking over to the far wall at the clock. I had thought it was early morning but with one look at the time, I was proven wrong. The hands were pointing at fifteen past one in the afternoon. My heart jumped at that. We slept almost the whole day away.`

“Bucky sweetheart, we need to get up.” I cooed at him, trying to lift his arms away from me.

“No.” He finally spoke out in a gravelly voice.

“It’s way past lunch, Buck. We need to get up.” I tried lifting his arm off of me again, only to fail. “Bucky.” I started to poke him in the side firmly repeatedly. He quickly moved his arm from around my waist and reached between us to grab hold of my hand. I pushed away from him and rolled onto my stomach so I could drag myself up. I look over at him as he groans loudly.

“My head is killing me.” He mumbles out as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“I know,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen to fill up two glasses of water. When I walked back to where he was laying I held out the glass and placed it into his outstretched hand. “Here, this might help a bit.”

“Thank you.” he sat up then tipped his head back and gulped down the water like he hadn't had any in forever. After all the water was gone he gasped a bit for air.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked as I took sips of my own water.

“Yeah, I do.” We stayed quiet for a few minutes after that, just enjoying the company of one another.

“Well, we’ve slept almost the entire day away so what would you like to do with the few hours of sun we have left?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.

“Would you like to go for a walk? I think I remember us going for walks every Sunday afternoon.” He eyed me through his hair.

“I would love that, let me change and then we can go.” I quickly got up off the floor and grabbed a change of clothes before making my way into the bathroom to get ready.

Upon exiting the bathroom I spotted Bucky in the kitchen pouring something into a bowl. He turned around when I shut the door. “I fixed cereal,” He said as he put the milk back into the fridge and then picked up the two bowls in order to bring me mine.

“Thanks,” I took the bowl from his hands and sat cross-legged on the loveseat, Bucky sat across from me at the dining table. We ate in a comfortable silence until we had both finished and then we left.

We walked down the streets and a couple of small alleyways before we eventually made it to one of the parks a few blocks away from the apartment building. We strolled leisurely through the tree-covered area, stopping every once in a while to just take in what was around us. Thankfully there weren't many people in the area we were walking in. We were still a bit nervous about being recognized.

I watched as Bucky quickly strode in front of me towards something I could not see just off the pathway. He came to a stop and bent down, he was picking something up. Slowly he turned around as he stood back up and in his metal hand were three flowers. As he came closer to me I began to see the tiny bouquet. They were a soft lilac with three delicate petals that came to a point and three smaller petals directly in the center.

Bucky held them out to me and I took them gently from his hand, bringing them to my nose to smell their sweet scent. I sighed out and flicked my gaze up to his eyes. He was watching me constantly. I flashed a smile at him before taking a step forward so I could interlock my arm with his.

“These are beautiful.”

He gave a small laugh before running his metal fingers through his hair. “I know I used to get you flowers on our walks.” I just nodded at him. We started back to walking and eventually, we made it to the edge of a pond. The sound of the water was relaxing and in the distance, I could hear the faint sound of a piano. I liked it here, I had a feeling I never really wanted to leave. Just stay here, build a new life with Bucky. It sounded like a good idea.

“Hey, Buck?” I questioned.

“Yeah, Doll?” He said casually. I almost tripped over my own feet, if Bucky wasn’t holding onto my arm then I would have fallen face-first into the concrete. His saying the endearment was more shocking to me than when he said my actual name for the first time. I didn’t say anything about it though, instead, I just went along with what I was initially going to say.

“What do you think about settling down here? Save up some money, get a house and just live a simple life out in the Romanian countryside. We won’t have to worry about anything, no fighting, no HYDRA or SHIELD, just us two.”

He was quiet like he always was nowadays. Then he nodded. “That would be amazing and we could have that farm we talked about right after you graduated.” I smiled wide as he remembered something we had talked about years ago.

We continued our walk all the way around the park. It was almost five before we made it to the block our apartment was on and by that time the sun was beginning to get lower in the sky. At some point Bucky had unhooked our arms and was now holding onto my hand, our fingers interlaced.

“Why don’t we get takeout for dinner? I don’t feel like cooking today.” I suggest when I spot one of the small pizza places by the apartment.

“Yeah, I’ve got some money.” He tugs me into the restaurant and places an order. After sliding the cashier a few bills he walks back over to me so we can wait for our food.

Several weeks had now passed and it was nearing the beginning of September. After the walk, we had in July things changed, for the better of course. Bucky had found a second twin-sized mattress and we had pushed them together to make a king-sized bed on the floor. He began to hold me close to him when we slept, his head always buried in the back of my neck. His nightmares had almost come to a complete stop, he only had one once during August and that was it.

After our talk of getting a house, we both got some small, under-the-table jobs. Nothing dangerous, just something we didn’t have to provide identification papers for. It would take a while for us to create new identities here.

Today was an off day for me. Bucky had gone off to a job early this morning and I just stayed home relaxing and reading. There still really wasn't anything to do in our small apartment. When I inevitably got bored I started cleaning. You would think with this just being one tiny room and a bathroom, it wouldn't take long at all to clean, no it actually took almost all afternoon. By the time I was finished the place was practically shining.

Around five I started making some dinner, knowing that Bucky would be back soon. He ended up strolling through the door right after I put away the dishes I had dirtied up to fix food.

“Something smells good.” He started as he walked to stand by my side at the stove. He looked into the pot and smiled seeing the roast and potatoes. He reached out for the fork I was handing him. I sat a bowl down in front of him and another in front of myself.

“Dig in,” I said before pausing to look at him. “I think after we eat I need to cut your hair. It’s past your shoulders.”

He stopped, dropping the meat from his fork into the bowl. “No, you are going nowhere near my hair.”

“You at least need a trim, I won't chop it off if you don’t want me to.” I reasoned with him as I began to shovel meat from the pot into my bowl, along with a bit of the broth. Bucky eyed me suspiciously. “What? I mean it.”

“I don’t know, I seem to be remembering that the last time you said you were cutting someone's hair, Steve ended up with a stripe of hair missing.”

“That was not my fault,” I scoffed. “I told him to be still and he moved his head because you,” I poked him in the arm for emphasis, “decided to throw a ball at his head right as I put the clippers to him. So if you’re worried then you better not move your head.”

He said nothing as he continued to place more meat and potatoes in his bowl. I shook my head and went to sit down at the table, Bucky followed shortly after.

“Fine, just a trim.”

After dinner, Bucky cleaned up our dishes while I got the bathroom ready so I could cut his hair. I dug under the cabinet for a minute before finding the pair of scissors I bought a couple months back so I could trim my own hair.

Pretty soon Bucky made his way into the bathroom and I sat him down on the chair I had placed in front of the mirror.

“Okay, let's get started,” I said enthusiastically as I grabbed the spray bottle of water from the counter, as well as the comb. I wet his hair and gently combed through the knots, when his hair was nice and smooth I sat the spray bottle down and reached for the scissors. Placing my hands on his head I maneuvered him to where I needed. “Don’t move, or else.” I threatened.

He gave a short laugh before saying, “I won't.”

When I had finished cutting his hair, it was probably a little shorter than it was in January. I quickly dusted the hair from around his shoulders and sat the comb and scissors back down on the counter. “Okay, you’re done.”

He stood up from the chair and leaned forward to look in the mirror. “It looks great Doll, thank you.” He turned himself around in the tiny space, reached over the chair to me, and placed a small kiss on my cheek.

“Um- why don’t you go take a shower so you can get loose hair off,” I say as I grab the chair to drag it out of the bathroom. He nods at my suggestion and I slowly shut the door behind me as I walk out.

I scooted the chair back into its spot at the dining table and then went to lay down on the bed. I grabbed the book I had been reading so I can have something to do while I wait for him. Only about five minutes pass before Bucky is exiting the bathroom with damp hair and pajamas on. He comes and lays down next to me and grabs his book as well. He was still reading ‘The Hobbit’, I think this was his third time through it.

The longer I read the more tired I became until I eventually laid my book down and closed my eyes. I turned on my side so I could curl up next to Bucky's side. I felt him shuffle around to accommodate me before I heard him start to speak quietly. It took me a second to realize he was reading aloud to me. I smiled and sighed contently as I listened to him read something about trolls.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au -3

Part 1   Part 2

He is not a fighter. He does not particularly want to be one either.

He thinks sometimes- when he is forced to duck under the table of a bar after a brawl has broken out clutching his lute and repeating the chorus of whatever song he’d been singing last over and over again to keep himself from shifting- that people have forgotten the dangers of violence.

How the extra scrap of land one might force from the neighboring pack will never be worth the life of your cub or brother or mother and that every time you engage beyond the snapping of teeth you risk losing them forever. Risk burying your loved ones or at very least seeing them hurt.

He thinks- sometimes- that people with their medicine and magic and often overly abundant food forget the price of violence. Picking fights for no good reason and hurting just to feel something. To make others feel something.

He is always grateful when Geralt yanks him out from under the table and hauls him outside. Carries him clear of the senseless violence until the adrenaline stops pulling him towards different shapes.

There was, of course violence with sense. He always thinks of the wolf pack he’d run with during one summer break at Oxenfurt. He wasn’t a good hunter. Didn’t know the first thing about tracking or being stealthy or taking down elk. He didn’t want to. He’d been a deer before and would really rather not know what being caught and eaten might feel like from the other side.

But he was a good raven, finding them their meals. And they shared with him- wolf or raven- perhaps in part because he promised not to stay for the winter when the meals grew thin and far between and counted him as friend, if not pack, at very least.

Their violence had sense. He’d been a deer before but he also been hungry and he couldn’t blame them for eating. A wolf couldn’t live off of grass. Couldn’t blame them for trying to drive off the stray dogs that passed through or fighting back when monsters came for them. Protecting their home and family.

Geralt’s violence had sense, unlike the tavern brawlers. He did not hunt monsters that stayed out of people’s ways, did not initiate bar fights or kill unnecessarily. Geralt understood the cost of violence when some days it felt the rest of the world forgot.

He loved him for that. That he’d not let his profession of violence make him violent. That he’d chosen and fought to stay gentle.

He did his best to soften the word for Geralt. Reduce the senseless violence he faced. Protect the gentleness in him the only way he knew how- through story and song.

Well not the only way.

He’d stumbled blindly- human eyes were terrible in the dark, not the worst, but still terrible- into the woods to relieve himself when he heard them chattering.

Horse. Dinner. Food.

Wolves.

The shape came to him with barely a thought. He loved this form- the thick brown fur that kept him toasty at night. He loved all his forms to be fair. They were all him and he was wonderful so he loved them all. Couldn’t take a form that wasn’t him. A form that he didn’t love.

They reacted with suspicion, fair, when he called out a greeting to them. He’d won over plenty of folks who’d thought him suspicious.

But as they shoved past him towards the seemingly easy meal of a tied horse, he wasn’t sure he had time for that.

He told them they were mistaken- this was not an easy meal but one that would have them slaughtered. The human was a Witcher- a hunter of the greatest beasts- and he’d show no mercy if they bared their teeth at what was his. Specifically the horse. Offered to help them find something less dangerous to eat.

Still they advanced.

Why didn’t anyone ever listen? He ran in front of them barking his protests.

Distantly he heard Geralt shift, woken by the noise. They bared their teeth at him, circling. His hackles raised fluffing him up bigger.

Not big enough.

He shifted bigger, his irritation and protectiveness spilling into a bigger and bigger form until they hesitated.

Wolves didn’t mess with grizzlies bears.

He growled. Slammed a paw for emphasis.

He honestly couldn’t have taken them, even in this form. But they didn’t know that. Didn’t want to risk their brothers and sisters and parents and cubs. Their family. Not for a meal they’d been told was nothing more than a honey trap.

They retreated just as Geralt stepped into the space, steel ready.

He took a nervous step backwards as Geralt surveyed the trees with his peripheries.

Looking for?

“Jaskier?” Geralt called into the dark canopy.

Oh.

Looking for him.

If that didn’t have him wanting to pop down into his wolf form and wag his tail well-

But. But he couldn’t do that. Even as he felt the shape collapsing around him- he didn’t want to be a bear right now and that made it hard to be a bear.

He took another step backwards as Geralt’s nostrils flared. Too reflective eyes locking on his.

“Jaskier?”

He was running. All he could hear were cages and door and locks slamming closed. Don’t shift in front of people- do you Want to spend the rest of your life in a cage Julian?- echoing in his ears as the form collapsed under him.

That was fine he- he could be a wolf instead except- except he couldn’t. Except that form collapsed under him too and then then the fox and the lark and he just wanted to shrink and hide but the squirrel and the mouse wouldn’t hold either and and-

And he was crying. In the woods. In the middle of the night. He couldn’t hold a shape because none of them felt right and there were cages with collars and shackles closing in around him. Crying and shrieking and bleating and bawling and and-

“Jaskier?”

Only some of his eyes could see Geralt in the darkness. Shifting too rapidly to do anything more than paw himself backwards.

Geralt shifted something off his shoulder and a plaintive whine escaped him.

Geralt wouldn’t hurt him. The rational part of his brain knew Geralt wouldn’t hurt him.

That was not the part of him that was in control. No part of him felt in control.

“Jaskier. You can’t play like that.”

His eyes shifted and he could see the lute in Geralt’s hands.

Paws to hands reached out and took it. Cuddled it to his chest. Fingers running down the strings and soundboard.

His fingers settled into a chord. Strummed it once.

Geralt gave him a small smile.

He set the lute gently down and hopped into Geralt’s chest who caught him. Held him to his chest, petting his long brown ears flat against his head.

Geralt hooked the lute over his shoulder before holding him against his chest and standing.

“Let’s go back now.”

He nodded and Geralt carried him back to camp, large calloused hands gently smoothing his fur until he fell asleep.

[sofreddie]

Serendipitous Souls 11

Summary: The brothers find out what's been causing deaths.

Characters: Dean, Sam

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,280

A/N: More plot. Because this story decided to just do its own thing.

Dean cursed under his breath as he struggled against his bindings. He and Sam had come a few minutes before, realizing they were tied to chairs, arms tied behind them, ankles tied to the chair legs.

The woman - a witch they had assumed - was living in the hotel’s penthouse suite. They had figured out she was inducing lust - though they hadn’t pinned down how - and feeding off of the sexual energy produced during the lust-fueled marathons. But they also weren’t sure why, to what end.

Deciding that where and what she was was enough, they proceeded with the hunt. Unfortunately, she was expecting them and knocked them out quickly with a flick of her wrist.

“You’re awake,” the woman’s voice chirped happily. The brother’s heads snapped up simultaneously as they looked forward at the woman now standing before them. She was pretty, with a manically happy smile and demeanor and a well-fitted golden and gilded gown, “I was expecting you.”

“I noticed,” Dean huffed, tugging on his restraints for emphasis.

“I’m such a big fan of you Winchesters,” she grins, and her smile gets brighter when she sees that look cross their faces, “Oh yeah. I’ve been tracking you as long as God has. Since your souls were created.”

She sat in a comfy armchair facing them, crossing her legs and settling her gown. She interlocked her fingers and rested her hands atop her crossed knees, smiling between them once more. She looked somewhere between an adoring fan and proud mother. It made the brothers cringe.

“And…who are you exactly?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I’m The Caretaker,” she said, a hand upon her chest as she introduced herself, before resting her hands together once more, “Or at least I was,” her brow furrowed and she pouted. It was the first time she showed anything other than utter happiness. She shook her head and that bright smile was back on her face once more.

“See, once upon a time-”

“Ugghhh,” Dean groaned dramatically, letting his head roll back before meeting her eyes once more, “Why do they always monologue?” he groaned, looking over at Sam as if he was in genuine pain. Sam snorted and shook his head, before turning his attention back to her.

“I love when you do that,” she suddenly spoke and they looked at her curiously, “The silent communication thing,” she clarified, pointing between them, “I mean, I know you ‘covered’ it with whatever that was,” she sighed, “Just listen, okay?” she grinned again, as if nothing had transpired and they were just friends having tea and gossiping.

Minus the part where she’s apparently awesome at knot tying and managed to pick them clean of every possible hidden pick or knife they could have.

“Where was I?” she said, humming in thought with a finger on her chin, “Oh yes! Once upon a time, God was in the cosmos banging out souls at his workshop. As he made the many souls, he needed a place to store them until they could be born into being. So they were held in a sort of Soul Nursery until their time. It was my job to take care of the souls there.”

“The Caretaker,” Sam nodded, “Makes sense. What does this have to do with us?”

She sighed dreamily, “I saw every Sam and Dean he ever made come through there. I knew each and every one was important. To Him at least,” she said with a smile, “I talked to all the souls - nurturing, you know - and I had such high hopes for all the Sams and Deans,” she sighed once more, this time a little sad with a shake of her head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dean huffed a laugh.

“I got the broken souls too,” she continued, “If they broke while he made them he threw them out. I had to dispose of them. He didn’t like broken souls at all, you understand,” she pressed and the brothers nodded, “So, one time, I was checking on the souls as part of my duties,” she said, growing nervous and squirming as she started darting her eyes. Dean knew something bad was coming.

She let out a huff of breath, “So I came across you two and was just checking in, you know. And I’m not sure what happened, b-but both the souls fell,” she was lost in recalling it and the brothers started squirming at her tale too, “A chip broke off of each-”

“You broke our souls?” Sam gasped out, like suddenly everything made so much more sense, “Seriously?!” he growled, tugging at his restraints again.

“I tried to fix it!” she exclaimed, rising from her seat and shouting back, “But the pieces wouldn’t go back together. The souls were still viable and I didn’t want Him to throw them out. So I just put them back and I kept the pieces. I was hoping I could figure something out,” she defended desperately. Dean was pretty sure she’d had this argument before.

“Then what happened?” Dean asked, needing to know the rest of the story. Sam was huffing beside him, his anger getting the better of him.

“Then you were born,” she said to Dean, “Your soul took off like it’s meant to. But the shard, it was still with me but it was lit up,” she said with bright eyes and awe, “Then when Sam was born, his piece lit up,” she continued, “I was examining them when they suddenly shot together and fused and, a-and…it became a new soul,” she breathed out, reliving the moment, “So I ran, and I told Him.” she shook her head, slowly sitting back in her seat, right on the edge, “He wasn’t happy about it. He left your souls alone since you were born already. He was gonna destroy the new soul, but he decided it might be useful. So he tucked it away where no one would know where it is or what had happened. Then he cast me out.”

Dean was in shock, trying to take in what she’d said. Luckily, Sam’s anger seemed to keep him more on track.

“How does any of that have to do with what you’re doing here?” Sam growled at her accusingly.

“Because as The Caretaker, I was powered by the life force of the souls. Without their connection, I can’t feed off of life force directly. Sexual energy is the next best thing, and it produces enough to sustain me, usually,” she shook her head, “These last few didn’t have the energy or stamina to withstand my feeding and they died.”

“That’s why there was one survivor,” Sam mumbled to himself and she nodded.

“He was the only one who had the stamina to take it.”

Dean snorted, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m glad you found her,” she said meekly and both brothers sobered at the comment, “What happened was an accident. And her existence was an accident. But it was the first case of soulmates,” she explained dreamily, “And I later learned that He started experimenting with breaking souls and creating soulmates after the accident. And then I guess he just decided sending angels to zap ‘em together was more efficient.”

“It really is a cosmic joke,” Dean mumbled to himself, but Sam heard clear enough. The defeat and sadness in his brother’s tone.

She let out a long sigh, “So I guess this is the part where you kill me, right?” she said, flicking her wrist and undoing their bindings, “I didn’t mean to kill them. But I understand what you do,” she relented with another sigh as the brothers stretched out their aching muscles and exchanged a long look.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Serendipitous Souls:

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@xhannahbananax03

@440mxs-wife

@crist1216

@deans-baby-momma

[yuzukult]

effortlessly pt. 6 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (no smut in this chapter) words: ~4k notes: longer than i thought but closer to the end!! possibly 3 chapters left if i planned this right ;___; sorry for the delay! days pass by so quickly... and i’m always napping after work....

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

“Hey, you okay?”

His palms are clammy, you take note of this because the leather of his steering wheel evidently shows the residue left from the moisture on his hands. He’s anxious, it’s more than obvious, and you could potentially pinpoint the reason behind his uneasiness but you want to hear it from the man himself.

“Uh, sure. Kind of. Something along those lines.”

“You’re acting rather suspicious,” You say, paraphrasing the words he had used on you previously. “Talk to me, I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

The windows are rolled down and the sunroof is open, with the breeze flowing into the car yet you can still feel the heat of tension radiating between the two of you. He’d been silent the past couple days, head so focused and lost into just swimming during his practices, but that was all he did. Practice. Practice, practice, practice. Jungkook did it like a ritual, every single day at the same time, and performed it as if it was his religion. He hasn’t cooperated by eating enough meals during the day and although you guys didn’t share every class together, it had been apparent that he was behind on schoolwork. 

He’d completely gone insane.

“So... the finals are coming up soon,” He manages to choke out, hands still tightly gripping on the steering wheel and eyes never leaving the road. He never said where the destination was when he sent you a text, prior to picking you up from your house on a Saturday afternoon, but you figured as much that he needed some time out so you complied. “And I heard that recruiters are coming. Well, rumor has it.”

“Hey, that’s great! You can finally show those guys your talents.”

“Yeah, but... what if I don’t get anything?” His voice is shaky, full of fear and angst. Although he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could tell that his chocolate orbs were mixed with ambiguity. Jungkook lived his entire life with the prospect that his dreams and aspirations were unattainable because he didn’t have the means to reach them. He lacked what many of his colleagues had— experience in competitions at a young age, training by professional coaches, and support financially from his family. He was at the bottom of the totem pole, knowingly still attempting to climb to the top despite of the downfalls, yet dismay always lingered.

The drive is quiet. The only sounds are coming from his old car, so worn out that the bumper is hanging on by duct tape. You regularly questioned Jungkook how the tape is so strong, and oddly enough, figuratively you realize that no matter how fucked up things are, you are the tape to Jungkook, who is holding onto his bumper of dreams. This situation wasn’t any different.

“Jungkook, I’m sure you’ll hear something. But even if you don’t, that doesn’t mean your journey ends there. And... you’re not alone. I’ll be with you even surpassing the end.” 

It takes a moment for your response to sink in, but the edges of his mouth twist into a soft smile, your comforting words warming his heart. He feels as though he’s on top of the world when he’s with you, and it’s a reminder that nothing is out of reach if it means that you’re by his side.

Weeks later, Jungkook spends less and less time with you as time progresses on.

You’re trying to be understanding— again, emphasis on the trying, because he’s leaving classes and briskly moving straight to practices. He had made it through consolations with ease, but moving up to finals meant that the biggest competitors would be there however his colossal adversary is himself. Nonetheless, you miss your best friend, and it hadn’t been long after you’d been dating that he’s back immersed with his passions, long forgetting you. Or so, you mention dramatically. 

“Why do you look so... sad?” Yura says, almost hinting disgust in her words. The two of you were out, looking for something to eat yet again, with Yura’s never ending black hole of a stomach. 

“Because I haven’t hung out with Jungkook in forever.”

“You just saw him yesterday. Is this what puppy love is?” You roll your eyes at your friend, pushing her to a food stall on a street when the aromatic scents coming from the vendor invitingly enhances your senses. “No, I barely actually hung out with him. I came to his practice then he drove me home.”

Grabbing a couple sticks of fish cakes, Yura shamelessly shoves one in her mouth in one go. “What about today? I’m surprised you’re even hanging out with me despite the fact he has practice.” You frown, knowing that the guilt would eat you alive later, but you told your significant other you were ditching the one session since you’d been going back-to-back every single day. It had become a bit exhausting trying to keep up with his antics. “I... was going to go, but I’m tired. I’ve been going everyday for the past three weeks, I need a break.”

“A break from Jungkook?”

“No, not a break from Jungkook, a break from going to his practices.”

“Hmm,” She hums, cheeks full of rice cakes as you lean over and steal a stick of fish cake from her. “Well, you look hella sad. Why don’t you just tell him that you want to spend one on one time with him without the smell of chlorine in the air?”

“It’s so hard to talk to him.” 

“No, you’re just being a weak ass bitch,” Yura snaps, your eyebrows raising at her choice in words. “You can tell Jungkook these things when you guys weren’t dating, why is it so different now? Because you actually care about what he thinks of you? Stop being so stupid, he loved you back then and he still loves you now.”

“OK, but won’t he think I’m too needy?” Immediately, it’s Yura’s turn to roll her eyes, groaning at your response. “Stop being one of those people! You want something, go get it. Beating around the bush doesn’t get you anywhere, yaknow.”

Yura makes a point. She always does, but like usual, you don’t let her know that. 

“Did I tell you that Taehyung confessed to me?”

She coughs— nearly choking on the rice cake that she stuffs into her mouth momentarily before you mention the confession. “What the fuck— what? Kim Taehyung? The prodigy that graduated before any of us then got that wicked ass scholarship to study abroad and swim?”

“The one and only.” You remarked, taking a bite out of your food. “I rejected him, obviously. I told Jungkook about it since then, and we talked. Everything was fine, and still is fine, but I guess with the paucity of attention, it’s starting to eat me up inside and believe that it’s why he’s been ignoring me.”

“I mean, I doubt it. You rejected Taehyung. What else did the guy say?”

Fingers fiddling with the stick, you’re waving it in front of Yura’s face playfully as her eyes follow the goodness. “He just wanted me to know. I think it didn’t sit well with him if he didn’t at least try.”

“Do you think it bothers Jungkook knowing that if he didn’t confess, you’d be in the arms of the great Kim Taehyung?”

“Possibly. But he’s been so focused on swimming lately, I don’t think he even notices.”

That’s when the feeling drowns into your stomach— you know it’s not the food because it only happens when Yura mentions the words that bring your mind into overdrive. You’re overthinking now, there’s no way around it, and although you want to confront Jungkook about his new actions, you know he’d be the old him again soon after.

Your hands are equally muculent as if you’d just dipped your hands in the pool water with how much sweat you’re perspiring. 

The chlorine in the air is an all too familiar feeling that you resent but yet again, you’d find yourself here frequently that the smell doesn’t quite grind your gears anymore. You’ve gotten used to it since you and Jungkook had become a thing, your love for him is a lot more indisputable and something you want to display.

He’d been giving you less attention lately, but he never fails to drop a quick peck on your lips before starting his practices. Today was different though.

Today was the finals.

You showed up in his locker room with an apple in hand and a cute little post-it note for support and motivation, and he gifts you his signature before-practice kisses, despite today being a swim meet. He’s distressed and fidgety; you’re pretty much the same. His team pats him on the back, pushing him with an inspirational chant which he lets out a laugh to—a laugh that is so nostalgic it reminds you of a time before the release date for the finals.

Sitting in the bleachers feels weird today. It’s not the bleachers at your school, for one, and two, there were just so many people in the crowd, you think Jungkook won’t be able to find you.

“Hey, if you sit here, Jungkook will be able to see you.” His name perks up your ears, turning to the owner of the assumption when you meet your eyes with Taehyung.

He looks... unfamiliar in this lighting. More mature, if you had to describe him in a word. 

“Sure, I guess I could join you,” You respond, exchanging a smile with him as you settle yourself on the bleachers. The humidity in the arena was disgusting and you could almost feel your hair going insane with the frizz. But that was the least of your worries. “I’m kind of scared for Jungkook, even though I know he’s going to do fine.”

“Of course he’s going to do fine, he’s going to do better than fine. He’s Jeon Jungkook. Plus, he has us, his personal cheerleaders on the sideline for him and the rest of his team backing him up. He has all the support he needs, and he’s full of talent so he doesn’t even need luck on his side.”

You want to believe him because everything he says is true. But the word luck doesn’t sit well with you.

The introduction starts, informing the audiences what the relays would be, and a couple of the matches begin. Your brain can’t even fixate itself to watch the other players on Jungkook’s team because of how restless you are about Jungkook’s portion, but from what you hear beside you, Taehyung says that they’re all doing well.

Then it’s Jungkook’s turn.

He’s standing on the platform, dressed in his swim tights and cap, goggles in hand. Shaking to warm and loosen up his body, he looks like he’s shivering in fear. You don’t think he even takes a glance up at the crowd to find you and a bit of disappointment settles in.

Back crouched over, he’s taking in a couple breathes before preparing himself for the initial push. It’s like any other swim meet, is what he repeats in his mind but he knows that this isn’t just any swim meet. He knows that amongst the people in the crowd are recruiters, people who could determine the fate of his future, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at the sidelines. Too many emotions would sit in him and he possibly won’t even be able to swim if he did.

The whistle blows.

Jungkook dives off the platform, swimming away in freestyle mode. He’s admirable when he’s swimming, like he has all the freedom in the world without any burden on his shoulders. The words he mentions previously about his aspirations ring in your ears again. When I’m in the water, I’m floating. Floating without a care in the world, without anything pushing down on my shoulders. All I can think about is how I’m just surrounded by the water, how it sounds in my ears and how it feels on my fingertips. 

Seeing him in his true happy place made you a bit envious. Envious that you didn’t find anything in close resemblance to how swimming made Jungkook feel, how you couldn’t even commit yourself to hobbies. What he said in the car weeks ago is a reminder that it’s okay for you to feel this way, that no matter what happens to you, Jungkook would always be there. There was some comfort in that.

He’s doing well, from what you can tell. He’s not overexerting himself in the water, and he’s switching between different types of strokes in order to ease the pressure off himself and quicken his speed. He’s neck and neck with his opponent, and you think nothing of it because it’s the exact scenario as some of his swim meets.

But then— you’re unsure what happens. It’s a moment of hesitation, possibly, but his opponent does one last push and he makes it.

Jungkook won second place.

It’s hard to tell exactly how he’s feeling. His eyes that once were bursting with excitement and happiness were filled with despair and anger yet his voice is calm and soft when he speaks to his teammates.

He doesn’t even look directly at you and you feel a certain way, but you don’t let that feeling eat you up inside knowing he’s upset with his performance.

The car ride is utterly quiet. So quiet that you don’t even hear the engine of the car sputter or roar during the drive, almost like even the car could feel the tension in the air. 

“Jeon, you okay?” You barely say, voice as quiet as a mouse squeaking. He’s like a ticking time bomb at this point, and there’s uncertainty on what can detonate his anger.

He doesn’t respond for a couple minutes for exasperating a long and heavy sigh. “You already know the answer to your question. What’s the point of even asking? It’s a waste of breath.”

“Hey, you won second though. That should take account for something. You did well, I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Are you definitely sure?” He snaps. His tone is harsh and the volume is increased a bit but you brush it off thinking it was an impulsive decision on his end to respond that way.

“Of course I am.”

“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have dreams that just got ruined. Your goals don’t even exist for that— this swim meet was my chance to show those recruiters what I’m capable of. These were the fucking finals! I could be living the way Taehyung is, training for my life, given a coach that actually has the ability to show me tricks and tips that ours couldn’t.”

This... wasn’t the Jungkook you’ve come to know and admire. His aspirations were eating him alive, and for a brief moment, he’d abandoned the love he had for swimming, and just swimming alone, the only thoughts flooding his mind was winning finals. Swim meets weren’t even his favorite thing, he’d only did them because they were stepping stones to continue swimming and to do it as a career.

You push the tears back from brimming in your eyes, arms slipping into your jacket in preparation to get out the car. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m just some lost chick who stood in the bleachers, so dumbfounded and blinded by your love and affection. I won’t understand because I never will, I don’t have those passions or goals like you do.”

“Wait—“ Glancing over at you and before he can finish and say your name, you sling your backpack over your shoulder. “Stop the car. I can walk home or grab an Uber.”

“I was just mad in the moment—“

“You said what you said, and you meant it. I’ve been trying to be patient, but I’ve had enough. Stop the car, Jungkook.”

Abiding by your instruction, he pulls over to the shoulder of the road, turning to look at your expression. His face didn’t shone in antagonism anymore but that same fear he had before he went in for his swim meet earlier. 

“Where are you going?” He says, voice wary. “Don’t go.”

“Home,” You respond abruptly and sharply, unlocking the seatbelt that embraces you before opening the door. “I can walk myself home. Don’t follow or wait up for me.”

He doesn’t comply with those orders though. Instead, as you’re walking on the sides of the street, he trails behind you silently, understandingly giving you your space despite the fact he didn’t want to. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize. Apologize for letting his anger get to him, saying things to you that he didn’t mean. 

Cars are beeping behind him, cursing and sticking their middle fingers up at Jungkook as they go around him, but he could care less. His day has gone so far down— potentially losing the love of his life and the route of his career.

Finally reaching to the front of your houses, he watches as you enter in as he makes his way into his own. Once he reaches his room, he quickly attempts to get your attention from his window. Jungkook figured, even when you’re mad, you couldn’t resist seeing his cute face from across the little space between your houses. 

Excited with a smile on his face, he peeks through the glass, only to see that you’d already closed the window and dropped the blinds. His smile dissipates within seconds.

Jungkook concludes he’d let you calm down for the night and try again tomorrow.

The sun peers through his blinds, and shone on his face as he grunts in displeasure. His body is sore from the amount of practices and the swim meet from the day before, but nothing in comparison to the thought of hurting you.

His phone rings and almost immediately, he jumps out of his bed, still in his boxer briefs and without hesitation, he exclaims a “hi!” without checking the caller ID. Once he realizes that the voice on the other line doesn’t belong to you, his enthusiasm sizzles out.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ah, yes. That’s me. Can I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m one of the recruiters that came to your swim meet yesterday. I’m so sorry for not getting to meet you afterwards, I’ve been so swamped in my personal life, I didn’t get the chance. Do you have a moment to speak?”

[luninosity]

And - final @evanstanweek fic!

Prompt 7, “holidays,” this time...which, um...became International Talk Like A Pirate Day. And implied imminent sex, and piratical roleplay, and terrible, terrible jokes. And maybe something like a marriage proposal. 1,490 words, no warnings.

Read at AO3 here! Or here on tumblr below.

#

“Hey, Seb,” Chris says.

 Sebastian, lazily settled against Chris’s chest and halfway through reading a script for a potential upcoming Shakespeare adaptation, looks up and says, “For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”

 Chris laughs, and retorts with, “I do love nothing in the world so well as you,” because Chris knows Much Ado About Nothing decently well, too. “Know what day it is?”

 “Saturday?”

 “Yeah, but also International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Scott just sent me like ten terrible pirate jokes. What does a pirate use his cellphone for?”

 “Oh my god,” Sebastian says.

 “Booty calls.”

 “No.”

 “Come on, that was awesome. All of these…arrrr.”

 “I’ll divorce you,” Sebastian threatens, not seriously because he’s extremely comfortable right here in morning sunshine on the pillowy sofa with Chris at his back and Dodger draped over their feet.

 “You like terrible puns,” Chris says, “I know you do,” and then, “wait, we’re not even married!”

 “Exactly,” Sebastian retorts, with emphasis, and goes back to squabbling Shakespearean lovers.

 “You’re thinking about us being married.” Chris points a finger at him. “You love me. And the terrible puns.”

 “If you say anything about a Jolly Roger,” Sebastian says, “we’re not having sex for like a week.”

 “Can I ask if you’re prepared to be boarded?”

 Sebastian sighs, sits up, and kisses the love of his life, mostly because that’s always a good distraction. It works like a charm; Chris dives into kissing him and being kissed with every drop of enthusiasm that makes up that huge rainbow-hued exuberant heart.

 Kind of unfortunately, Sebastian’s head also briefly pictures Chris in a pirate’s hat. With a parrot.

 He resolutely ignores that image, and climbs into Chris’s lap, instead.

  Around lunchtime, Chris asks what he feels like as far as food. Sebastian opens his mouth, and then Chris says, “If we were pirates we could get barr-beque,” and Sebastian throws a couch-pillow at him.

 Chris apologizes for that one, though he’s laughing. Sebastian sighs.

 They get pizza, in the end.

  “Hey, Seb,” Chris says later, as they’re turning toward home, out with Dodger in the afternoon breeze, wandering around under trees like ruffled green dancers beneath a big blue sky.

 “Don’t you dare,” Sebastian says, hand held securely in Chris’s.

 “Why couldn’t the pirates play cards?”

 “Because the captain was standing on the deck,” Sebastian says.

 Chris’s whole face lights up. “You know that one?”

 Sebastian narrows eyes at him. “It was the logical answer!”

 “Why’re you anti-pirate?”

 “I’m actually not,” Sebastian says. “I’m kind of pro-pirate. Plundering, specifically. Getting, um, pillaged behind that tree.”

 “I love your ideas,” Chris agrees, and pushes him up against a friendly tree trunk and kisses him and gets hands all over him, pinning his wrists to tree-bark, sneaking under his shirt, pushing between Sebastian’s thighs, with Chris’s body large and hot and hard and adoring and pressed up against him. They make out in the woods until they’re both breathless and giddy and Sebastian’s about one caress away from coming in his pants, laughing, clinging to Chris, a leaf in his hair and mud on his boots, loving everything about his life.

  Chris kind of gives up on the talk-like-a-pirate day jokes, after that. Possibly this is because Sebastian’s distractions via sex have worked, or possibly not; either way, Chris seems apologetic about it, and even makes dinner, one of his mom’s cozy classic pasta recipes. He also opens a new bottle of decently expensive red wine Sebastian hadn’t known they had, and grabs the space-themed wineglass, the one etched with tiny stars.

 “I don’t mind your terrible pirate puns,” Sebastian says. Chris prefers beer, he knows.

 “Yeah, I know. I don’t know.” Chris shrugs. “Just felt like being nice to you.”

 “Why pirate day or whatever it is, again?”

 Chris shrugs again. “Just kinda fun? Random?”

 Sebastian considers Chris’s face, and the wineglass, and his own love. And then looks down at his toes, and tells Chris, “I’m wearing the wrong socks, then.”

 “Huh?”

 “Y’know, for the whole pirate thing. They should be, what…arrr-gyle?”

 “Oh my god,” Chris says, “I love you, I fucking love you, Seb.”

 “I might need more wine,” Sebastian says. “Especially if it’s from the…sand bar.” It’s the actual worst joke he’s ever made.

 Chris starts laughing so hard he has to grab the counter, and also Sebastian’s shoulder.

 Sebastian grins. Even his socks feel smug.

  They’re too full after pasta to do much about pillaging, so they flop down on the sofa and watch a documentary about Mars for a while. Chris gets a fire going, and the wind purrs outside, and Dodger’s snoring in his bed, and it’s so domestic and so perfect that Sebastian’s eyes get a little prickly and his heart feels a little shaky. Sometimes he still can’t believe it: being here, being part of Chris’s life. Himself, Sebastian Stan. Loved so deeply and so well.

 Because he loves Chris so damn much, he leans over to bite Chris’s shoulder. Chris grins and pets his hair, and even tugs slightly, because they both know how that dominance goes right to Sebastian’s head and stomach and happy cock; it does now, too, as usual.

 “You want me to do something about that,” Chris beckons, “maybe take care of you a little, if you’re needing some attention, Seb?” and his voice turns all low and rumbly and commanding, and fuck yeah, but:

 “One sec,” Sebastian announces, and hops up, and runs to their bedroom. He’s got a plan.

 He doesn’t have a whole lot that he can work with as far as costumes, pirates not having been a feature of most of his random daydreams, but he’s come up with a few ideas. A loose open white shirt, skinny black pants, a scarf tied around his waist. Some eyeliner. Some of his older jewelry, chunky extravagant rings and necklaces. He grins at himself in the mirror: some sort of haphazard pirate-steampunk-twink grins right back.

 He runs back out to the living room, where Chris is sitting up and being kind of puzzled, though that expression shifts the second Sebastian pops back in. Chris groans, “You’re just doing this to fuck with me, now, aren’t you…”

 “I was kind of hoping you’d be doing the fucking,” Sebastian says helpfully. “You know. On board with that. You can, um, come bury your…treasure…right here.”

 “Jesus,” Chris mutters, but he’s shaking his head, smiling, trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay, point made. Got it. Aye, captain. Or something.”

 “You’re right,” Sebastian says. “This is fun. Come claim my booty. Your booty. However that works. I’m all yours anyway.” He is. Body, heart, soul: everything he’s got, everything he is. He’s Chris’s.

 “I love you.” Chris gets up and comes over, hands settling on Sebastian’s shoulders, drawing him in close. “Where’d you find the scarf?”

 “It’s an old one. I thought maybe you could tie me up with it. Bend me over the bed—the railing, the captain’s bunk, whatever—and have your way with me.”

 “Are you the pirate, or am I?”

 “Maybe I’m your captive,” Sebastian considers. “You know, the dashing daring pirate adventurer that you keep chasing, good upright naval officer that you are, and you’ve finally caught me.”

 “And I’m about to do everything I can think of to you,” Chris jumps in. “Make you beg for mercy. Make you bend over for me, and spread those pretty legs. Make you take my cock, and like it.” His hand lifts Sebastian’s chin, fingers biting down: not too hard, and he’s grinning, eyes made of wicked loving conspiratorial blue. “That what you had in mind?”

 “Totally,” Sebastian says. “I mean, aye. Yarr. Yo, ho, ho, and rum, and all that. I think I like your holiday. Um. Chris?”

 “Yeah?” Chris’s thumb strokes his cheek, too gently for an angry naval officer. “Somethin’ you need, before I haul you off to my cabin?”

 “What I said earlier,” Sebastian says, “about being married to you…about us getting married…I mean, this isn’t me asking, it’ll be way more perfect whenever that happens, don’t worry, but…I just wanted to say…yeah. I do think about that. I kind of think about that a lot. I want all the weird random holidays with you. Forever.”

 Chris’s smile’s so wide and bright that it fills up the world, every fantasy and every holiday all rolled into one expression. His hand’s still cupping Sebastian’s face; the other comes to rest on Sebastian’s hip, over the scarf, with something like reverence. He says, “Guess what, Seb.”

 “Something about pirates and being a good…mate?”

 “Well, yeah, obviously that. My mate.” Chris leans in to kiss him; Sebastian’s entire body thrills to the claiming. “But also…we’ve been pretty much thinking the same things, about that. If you were wondering. I want all the weird random holidays and terrible puns and fucking perfect pirate role-play, forever, with you.”