#i read somewhere that the best way to face your fears is to prepare for it

[danothan]

if all driving was just driving on the highway, then i would be a driver. but alas. there are intersections to be dealt with.

[writeroutoftime]

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind. 

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind. 

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble. 

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately." 

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master. 

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin. 

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn. 

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?" 

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure. 

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin. 

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend. 

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump. 

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.  

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before." 

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare. 

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group. 

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love." 

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel." 

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in. 

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"  

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days. 

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room. 

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss." 

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death. 

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games. 

"What?" 

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence. 

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you." 

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation. 

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us." 

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him? 

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love." 

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment. 

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting." 

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?" 

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out." 

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back. 

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected. 

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside." 

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded. 

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life. 

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes. 

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came. 

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss." 

Again, no response. 

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses. 

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up. 

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room. 

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand. 

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel. 

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled. 

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you." 

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe. 

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research." 

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words. 

"Y-you heard all that?" 

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes. 

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate." 

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. 

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family. 

"It worked!" 

"You're awake." 

"The two of you are mates?!" 

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after. 

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 19

RotTMNT x Reader

@anixolt is back this week with yet another stunning piece! What's bothering Donnie? Read on to find out!

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“… Can stacking competition certificate, cup stacking competition certificate, Oreo stacking competition certificate…” Mikey counted off each accolade with a tap against a fine tablecloth.

You were trying not to laugh the food out of your mouth.

“I have a whole folder dedicated to stacking related awards! I could go on!” While that was what he said, he actually went to take a bite of a piece of bacon.

“W-why would Oreo hold something l-like that?” You got your bite down.

“Big Nabisco works in mysterious ways!” He took on a mind blown look before he came back down. “This is nice. I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”

You had an ‘of course’ loaded, but you’d also taken another bite of croissant.

Mikey accepted an enthusiastic nod instead.

The brunch restaurant was gorgeous.

The crowds were thin.

The food was exquisite.

Your server rarely returned.

You were in great company.

It was the making of a perfect day.

“Sorry… it’s been awhile…” You eventually got out.

He blew a raspberry and waved you off.

“No… I am!” You pressed. “This is the… first time in… over a month?”

“Counting or not counting the grubby run in at the lab?” Mikey’s attention bobbed somewhere behind you.

You stiffened and looked over your shoulder to find a waiter heading your way.

You sank down into your seat so you could prepare your retort for the staff.

You would shake your head if they asked if you needed anything else.

You would nod if they asked if things were good.

You couldn’t mix those up.

“Can I help you?” The waiter asked kindly.

Your eyes shot wide as both your prepared actions couldn’t answer the question. 

“Oh, oops! Actually I was…” Mikey trailed off before chuckling. “You know what!? I’ll get something else! A stack of pancakes, my good man!”

“You got it!” The gentleman’s shoes slipped away from your view.

You peeked at your best friend.

“Apparently I flagged him!” He laughed.

You remembered the wave and came up with wobbling lips.

“I really was debating cakes, no worries. Must be fate!”

“Fate pancakes.” You smiled.

“Fate flapjacks!” He adjusted.

“Alliteration is good… um…?” You thought hard. “Fate… crepe?”

“Oh, a slant rhyme, I dig it!”

You felt satisfied and cornered off some eggs with your fork.

“But yeah, dating’ll do that to ya! Especially when you’re obsessed with each other like you guys are!”

You almost got the food to your mouth and froze.

“Like, Leo is the worst!” Mikey sang the phrase. “He gets so absorbed when he’s crushing! At least when Donnie’s face is glued to his cell, you know he’s not listening. Leo could be looking right at you, be in a conversation with you, actively answering what you’re saying, and he’ll just suddenly be like, ‘Do you think so-and-so likes pizza?’ Like bro, we were talking beach episodes, where are you even?!”

You heard a plop as your forkful flopped back down on your plate.

“Raph’s the best. He’s cute because you can drop a name and he’ll explode with embarrassment! He turns his signature color straight through the green, but otherwise, he’s the same. He listens. He’s there for you and by that I mean me. He makes an effort. You make an effort and I am talking about you this time!” He slapped his own palm in emphasis.

You scheduled brunch, you reminded yourself.

Mikey had told you he wanted it, but you had pushed to make it so. 

You made time because it had been awhile.

You missed your best friend. 

It still stung as you thought maybe you weren’t making as much of an effort or showing that as much as you could.

“I get it with you guys though! Your whole start to dating was messy so you’re making up time! Plus, you always text me! I’m only feeling like… a little left out like…” Mikey pinched his fingers in demonstration and they almost came together. He then peered through the microscopic part at you. “Maybe this much?”

“T-there haven’t been many family events…!”

“True!” He nodded his head in a sort of time.

“Mikey… I can’t stress how import-”

“We should plan one!”

You shared a look.

He broke out into a grin first. “What’s important?”

You looked away with a fluttering heart. “You.”

“Aww…!” He gushed.

“Donnie…” You returned your gaze for a different glance.

Mikey’s expression shifted for further affection.

“All of you. The Hamato. I’m so glad… we met…”

“Stop!” He tittered and almost flicked his wrist again, but thought better of it. “No more thanking parade! You’re onto the enjoying part! The easy part!”

“Easy…?” You sent him a knowing look.

“Okay so maybe you and Donnie started out as mortal enemies and then preconceived notions kept you two apart, which lead to only like a month of misery, but basically the same thing happened to us.”  

You waited.

“Except…” He turned to you. “The enemy part, but everything else!”

Your head tipped the slightest amount.

Right on time, Mikey buckled under the pressure. “Okay, it’s nothing alike!”

His pancakes arrived like a predestined cue to free him up. He forgot all about his through line and instead started talking about maple syrup. The one on the table was apparently the real kind and tapped upstate. You listened attentively, asked predictably if Mikey had ever tapped trees to which the answer was yes, and he explained why the boring process was one he never bothered to go through again.

All the while, you couldn’t stop thinking about his easy comment.

Were things easier now?

You didn’t really check in with your anxiety now because it had hit a steady current. It was there, you were better equipped than ever to handle it, and your goal of going out was getting easier and easier. After your last mega list entry, you and Donnie had decided that you were both due for regular dates first until a theater production caught your eye. You and your boyfriend discussed going at length until it was decided that you should. It was coming up soon and you were excited, but the company you kept was never a problem.

Being with Donnie was easy.

Though it bothered you that he seemingly always had his brain churning about how to act around you, it also seemed like that was something his mind did in general. You sympathized to an extent because you did the same, only it was for every other thing, but him. When you were with him, your cares were erased and energy appeared to flow. Whether it was speaking to him or moving with him, you felt like the two of you were in constant motion. Being together was a rehearsed dance that came with intrinsic steps.

“It is… easy…” You spoke the fondness you felt.

Mikey only hummed like he could read your mind and slid his plate over so you could have some pancakes as a reward.

“Let’s plan t-that family hangout…” You readied your fork.

“Yes!” Mikey beat his dish like an excited drum. “Okay, let’s see… What should we do…?”

“Uh… b-before that…O-one more t-thing…?”

He paused and looked up breezily.

“Did y-you… well… forgive me…?”

He blinked rapidly. “For what?”

You verbally chased Mikey around the flapjacks, but he never quite recalled having said you needed to be.

-

Donnie could barely take his eyes off you.

Since you started dating, the burst of your existence seemed to never cease. You were a constantly collapsing neutron star and he was haplessly caught up in the surrounding nebula. As novel as you were, he also couldn’t imagine you any other way. You reached right through his very being to grab the long shielded raw side of his psyche and begged it to stay.

He found himself lighter. He laughed more often. He had an endless expanse with which to exceed some romantic lines he’d been holding onto for literal years and you accepted them as they were. You never faulted him for his theatrics and instead did your best to play along.

He adored you.

Which was why as you triple checked the off-Broadway booking before you even left the lair, he was entranced. Scrolling on your phone appeared like an event and the finer clothes you wore for the occasion only illuminated the backdrop of you. He withheld himself yet again, as he often did since his feelings were announced because, yet again, he was chancing moving too fast.

It was a welcomed speed, but he also wanted to savor it.

His favorite flavor of paradox, it was the oxymoron by which he lived his life. He craved structure and yet he also thrived on destruction. When rules were laid down, he appreciated living within them while also prodding them for their every hole. It was a scientific principle by any name and he adored the field.

Thus as you confirmed the tickets were still in your inbox, he happily took your hand to depart. It was one lulled car ride over to the theater. Instead of filling time with conversation, he allowed the show's mounting interest to linger. One you had both immediately been keen on, he snapped up seats and you prepared the checklist. Everything fell into place as it seemed to always do with you and you were soon mingling in a lobby with others.

A check at a counter waved you through and you were flighty on the way to the seats. You’d expressed concerns about being locked in which Donnie dispelled both by citing the Fire Codes of New York State among other things. The worry clearly persisted by your anxious head swings, so he snuck in close behind you. “Good afternoon, my darling passenger.”

You looked back at him with a curious tilt.

He wanted to whisk you away.

He wanted to keep you in his lab.

He’d study why you did the things you did to his heart on a molecular level.

Ah, but you just had to be cursed with autonomy.

“This is your pre-show announcement. We are about to sit down for our show which has a duration of about two hours and seven minutes…”

You giggled as you caught on and addressed him with your full attention.

He languished in it. “While you might be expected to stay in your seats, there is no seatbelt sign. Instead, it is asked that while the stage lights are on that you are to only keep silent.”

You nodded dutifully.

“Our emergency exits…” He brought up his hands as flags and conducted outward. “… are located there by the back right of the stage and behind me where you surely entered. These doors will remain unlocked during the performance in case of emergency or if you simply want to take a call.”

You patted one of his limbs. “I’m okay…”

“You are.” He leaned into you and you leaned up for his favorite move.

Kissing you was one thing.

Hugging you was another.

Seated in a press was rapidly rising up the ranks, but the act where you tucked your nose underneath his chin was his favorite intimacy. By any other eye, it was nothing, but a tap, but for Donnie it was the pinnacle. It was not only the first contact you ever willingly exerted on him, but it also came with closed eyes from you which was a sign of pure relaxation in his eyes. You always came away from the exchange especially endeared to him and it was his dream to spend a night sleeping just like that.

Which was far in the future, he scolded himself.

You leaned away and took your own flight attendant pose to gesture him down your row. He bowed in courtesy and led the way to the seats. The flapped hinge on the retractable seats made it easy to get down the line. It had been his choice to select seats in the dead center of the auditorium as it gave optimal viewing. He watched you test getting your seat down first, before he moved to join you.

The immediate crawl through his sleeves shook him to his very core.

As you looked back and forth between the stage and exit door, Donnie pinched the scratchy armrest. The fabric coating the chair had the quality of burlap and, with one flick of his fingers, he pinched off a fuzz. That meant more would soon coat his clothes, which was another irritant. He shifted at the prospect and again his skin lit. He would have dressed differently had he known. His current coverings were inoffensive, but weren’t designed to act as a barrier. They prevented direct contact with the shoddy seat, but they also rubbed which made him all the more aware of the wretched texture.

Donnie’s eye was on a never ending twitch when you finally settled. “How did the tickets look?”

Data would soothe him. “When I last checked the system, we were looking at 74% capacity.”

Your eye left him to watch the stream of people coming in.

Two hours and seven minutes.

Could he handle that?

All signs were pointing to no, so Donnie went on the mental offense.

There were all sorts of stores nearby and he could purchase any sort of drop cloth.

As long as it was thick enough then he’d be able to stand sitting here.

That meant leaving you.

The option was deleted from his idea pool.

He refused to be anything other than attendant.

He could take you with him.

That proved difficult only because that would be a last minute change.

You had done fabulously and the day was impossibly agreeable to you for your next mega list item.

Could he interfere?

He certainly didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to blemish his amazing boyfriend track record.

He wouldn’t trade one discomfort for another.

He could stand it.

He had dealt with other sensory nightmares.

What was one more?

If he stayed perfectly still then it almost wasn’t noticeable.

There would be the show.

It would be distracting.

He could go into enough stasis with both those things that it wouldn’t be an issue.

He would have to forsake any show cuddling, but he could bear that cross.

He would hold you afterward.

Walk with you and talk about what you had seen.

It helped.

He felt his roiling epidermis cool to tiny popping bubbles.

The heat was turned off.

He would cool down.

“You okay?”

He moved only his head to look at you. “Pardon?”

“You seem… distracted?”

That was one way to put it. “I want to be in the right mindset to evaluate the performance.”

It wasn’t a lie.

You would surely accept that answer.

“Should we have…” Your fingers flexed. “… a program?”

“Playbill and not all productions create them.”

“Oh…” Your crest fell.

He could get up and look.

There was a chance they’d forgotten.

That meant he would have to sit down again.

He perished the thought.

“I’m…” You perked up on your own. “… going to… go check… I think.”

You looked at him with determination in your eyes.

He would deny you nothing.

There was a chance he could bum a cover from the box office.

Any theater production worth their weight in salt had excess fabric lying around. 

That was a workable solution and he berated himself for not coming to it sooner.

He prepared himself for the scrape of standing.

It would be his last uncomfortable movement. 

“I’ll go.” You tapped his arm. “I’ll be quick… Save our seats?”

You had a prepared gleam in your eye.

You were already in the process of standing.

A mega list item was designed so you could exercise your strength.

You were going to prove to yourself that you could do anything.

He was your back up.

You garnered strength from him.

If only you knew upholstery. “They will go nowhere under my watchful eye.”

“That and the stage…!” You took a few steps away. “D-don’t let them start without me!”

“Never.” He watched lovestruck as you shyly slipped around people to exit.

That left him alone with this fucking chair.

He would no longer be civil and scooted toward the edge of his seat. It freed most of his thighs, his limbs, and the edges of his body from the prison of repugnant fabrics. Now only the clip of his ass was tensed through its layers and he debated standing. Looking up for refuge, he debated getting a closer look at the stage for the sake of it.

A tinny sound came from his left.

Donnie looked to find several musicians readying to lay down the soundtrack. Live music had its advantages and a few preparatory notes would come next as they made sure their instruments were in order. Music had always been a faithful distraction and he was no stranger to numbing volumes. He breathed deep to let the congruent sounds wash over him when the trumpet lifted.

It gave a limp squeal that spoke of an obvious malfunction.

The way the other musicians descended on the player perfectly mimicked the way bugs assaulted Donnie’s skin. They writhed and squirmed their way through his pores until his very being shook. His teeth would chatter if it were any other sense. Instead, he slammed his enamel together and squeezed until his jaw threatened to pop because at least that pressure was one he could control.

It was going to be one of those days.

He was no stranger to overload or meltdowns, but it had been awhile. He had long learned to heed the symptoms and work with them. Two maladies in less than 10 minutes said he was already on the sensory edge which meant he needed to look further back. He could categorize the signs to give himself better projections of how long his fortitude for irritants would last. Though it wasn’t acute, there had been a few notable instances since the day began. He had been unable to stomach what was on the menu for breakfast and lunch. He also snapped at Leo exactly three times though when it was happening it seemed justified.

At the time Donnie chalked them up to excitement for the mounting date, but now they read as trigger symptoms.

He was on a much shorter timetable than he anticipated. 

If he didn’t crawl into a comfortable hovel soon then he was teetering on edge of mental collapse. 

Sighing and immediately remembering he couldn’t slump back, he stared out towards the stage. A lighting technician was adjusting something and the cover to the strobe spun as a result. It singed Donnie’s eyes and he felt that dip in clarity towards rage. Years of washing out his temperament flared as a result and it was the only thing that kept him from yelling out about the terrible preparations the crew was going through.

It wasn’t their fault.

It wasn’t their fault.

This was how plays went. They made sure everything was perfect right up until the last moment. The lights had long been tooled for hitting their marks. Someone must have noticed it was the slightest bit off so it was getting that fine tuning. Instruments were fickle beasts that needed care. It sounded like the trumpet’s mouthpiece was off. That spoke to a recent cleaning and replacement must not have been set just right. It would be corrected. That was why musicians warmed up. That was why any of these pre-show tests were occurring; issues needed to be found now and not during a performance. 

They would all be fixed.

Donnie heard you apologize to some people who had sat further down the row.

You looked flustered, but not as put out as he had seen in you in the past when trying to get out of someone’s way. You had two white slips pinched close to your chest and you flicked him an excited gaze. So, it was success that was offsetting your fear. He loved that.

You were on your way to share your victory.

He needed to cancel.

He needed to call this date off.

As much as he wanted to indulge you, if he crushed your current spirit then there was no way he could live with himself.

If he did it now, he would minimize damage. 

It was better to have a controlled burn than torch the entire day. 

You wiggled down the row and were getting closer by the second.

He had to decide.

Either way he was squashing a portion of your spirit, but it was the amount of which that mattered. 

He supposed there was always a chance he could muster the strength to carry on.

“Donnie!” You couldn’t help but give a hushed shout when you were a few sets away.

He would harbor any port in any type of weather for you. “Seems you were successful.”

“They t-thanked me…” You got to your seat and basically slapped it down to sit. “They almost forgot to pass them out. H-here…”

A piece of paper was innocent enough.

He reached out to take the leaflet.

It had a strange composition and he could feel the rough fibers.

“They’re handmade… like… all of it! The paper too!”

“Huh…” His voice had an even keel compared to his mind.

His skin was being torn apart by the playbill.

His fingers were unraveling to bone. 

At the top of the page was one errant strand.

Something akin to the size of a hair.

It marred the already marbled surface.

It was the stuck pixel ready to break an otherwise perfect television screen.

“Now you can know who each actor is…” You looked over the page without the same disdain.

“Are you sure you want me to be able to pair a name with a face?” A voice like his own teased. “I believe the actors will be in the lobby after the showing. Rife time for questions, comments, or concerns.” 

“Uh oh! A Donnie review m-makes or breaks a performance.” You pretended to be concerned, but there was a rustling on stage. 

The hands marched off which signaled it was nearly curtain call.

The musicians took their places and Donnie could feel each valve press the trumpet did as he practiced his notes.

They decompressed his cranium.

In his hand, that splotch at the top of the playbill appeared to get larger and larger.

Its ink bled and dripped into the writing.

The scrawl there warbled as if ready to fall into his lap.

There were several pieces of fuzz that had already somehow peeled off the chair and landed on his lap.

They weighed thousands of pounds and crushed his legs.

He stared at them with wide eyes.

How did they get there?

When?

He hadn’t moved.

He could count each muscle group exerted.

The lights fell.

In time, Donnie’s head rose.

The auditorium doors were closed audibly.

You shuffled in your seat.

This was the supposed lock in.

Donnie was his own captive.

The crowd hushed.

A man walked out to start the play.

His suspenders had buckles.

The buckles caught the light.

The light went in Donnie’s eyes.

The man kept moving.

He monologued and Donnie guessed the terminology should be adjusted.

He used far too much of his body.

It kept reflecting his damned buckles.

Then he was leaving and it felt like relief until the band took a breath.

They played.

The notes went in harmony.

All technically in tune.

The breath is what grated his tympanum like cheese.

He was peeled each time they had to inhale.

Which was all of it.

Every note.

Every wet gasp.

Spit gathered in reeds and catches.

It spewed out into aerosol.

He was inhaling it.

The sound was choking him.

Actors flooded out.

Talk.

Dance.

Movement.

Loud.

They stepped in it.

They expressed their own.

Spit.

Drivel.

Sputtering.

His chair was soaked.

He hunched forward and caught how his veins pressed against his flexed hands.

Inside him.

The bugs.

Your voice sounded miles away and you grazed his arm.

He didn’t look as his head spun.

The exit was flagged.

He looked through mental code.

Too many people in the way.

He calculated the trajectory.

With one press down against the miserable chair, he leapt.

Behind him, it smacked against itself in a flap and cast his decision in concrete.

He landed at the auditorium doors, but their metal bar was stricken with smudges.

Bacteria.

It coated everything like saliva.  

He manifested a simple block with his ninpo and shoved.

It touched the door to open it.

He had to immediately dispel it because the thought of spittle even touching his constructs made him ill.

He made enough of a crack.

He slipped out into the hall where the fluorescence screamed.

It drowned his tympanum and knocked him off his feet.

He stumbled and thought of shoes.

People stepping on New York sidewalks.

Spit.

Piss.

He couldn’t fall in that. 

He hobbled one way and then another.

It was all coated.

All unclean.

UV light.

The thrum of electricity would kill him, but he tried.

He flicked his ninpo like a lighter without fuel and tried to make a lamp.

The components of the filament alluded him.

He heaved.

He wasn’t breathing.

His ninpo wasn’t working.

Everything was sludge.

It slipped through his palms and splattered heavily on the floor.

He felt his vision burn up.

The singed edges as he caught fire instead.

There was yelling.

His hands flew up and tossed his goggles clean off.

Why weren’t they working?

Silence.

He needed quiet.

This was a performance.

Why was anyone shouting?

Someone touched him.

He snarled at them.

They disappeared.

No one was there.

Blinks.

His eyelids were wet.

His pupils picked up the moisture.

He clawed them shut.

He felt a shove.

He swatted back, but whatever push broom was being used to shoo his feral form was a wily one.

It hit him again and again until he saw an opening.

A door.

He dashed towards it.

There was no data past the frame.

He was out of memory.

He crumpled there on the safety of carpet.

Not the scuffed linoleum.

Instead, it was the patched kind for easy cleaning.

His hands hit it and found a tolerable scratchy quality.

He was curled up in an instant.

Made himself as small as possible.

Drowning everything out.

Minimizing all contact.

Disappearing into himself.

Him.

Only him.

Nothing else.

He could hear his breath so he stopped.

Within the cave of his arms then came his heart.

It pounded thick with the blood it surged.

It moved the wet inside him around.

Right atrium.

Superior vena cava.

Inferior vena cava.

Tricuspid valve.

Right ventricle.

Pulmonary valve.

Pulmonary artery.

Lungs.

Oxygen uptake.

Left atrium.

79 BPM.

60.

42.

39.

27.

Donnie took one breath.

His lungs whistled at their fill.

They were dried out.

He filled the husks.

Lucidity came with a pounding headache.

He didn’t know where he was.

His arms were over his head and numb.

He unfurled them and they came loosely.

The blood flow had been cut off.

He stared at them as if that were marvel until pins and needles pricked him.

They were asleep.

He found his knees next.

His feet were awake with a wiggle inside his shoes.

Then came the carpet.

Some cheap kind that was easy to clean.

Fools always alternated the swatches for aesthetics, but that made it harder to vacuum.

Why ruin utility?

His head lolled upward.

White walls with weathered clippings stuck to them.

Something old.

Something utilitarian.

Something nostalgic.

Was he in an office?

His chin moved in its perpendicular placement to his throat.

There was a being in front of him.

Their back sat rigid and they faced the door.

They were between him and the door.

They were you.

You were between him and the door.

He blinked a few times as the night rushed him.

All the data had been held from the crash in a log. 

His meltdown.

He’d run from the theater production.

Where was he now?

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t vibrate his vocal cords.

His eyes welled at the sight of the back of your head.

What were you doing?

You turned your back on him.

He failed you.

His chin slammed into his Adam’s apple and he saw something white beside him.

It took moving his pinched legs to the other side, but it revealed a stack.

Two water bottles.

One cold with condensation.

The other room temperature.

A bag of crackers.

Expiration date in three weeks and two days.

A snack cake without branding.

A bottle of equally chilled apple juice.

His goggles.

Carefully laid atop what a cleanly folded square of fabric.

A blanket.

One that was clearly soft and aged.

He touched the last item first.

The threads were worn, but felt familiar.

He put his goggles back on, picked up the cloth, and it unfolded along the way.

He pressed it to his snout and it caressed his cheek.

He nuzzled it, building strength.

Its scent said it wasn’t his, but it was now.

He was absolutely going to steal this.

To solidify his ownership, he slung it over his shoulders.

It curled around his head and felt like a snug neck pillow.

He reached toward the water next.

The cold one warned his fingers away so he grabbed the room temperature one.

It went down like nothing.

Flavorless.

His current preference.

He remembered his goggles and it took one tap to the left headset to activate the noise canceling mode.

Now in his controlled environment, he searched the room.

This was clearly an office. There was a desk behind him and a bookcase on the wall. A few stacked boxes held programs and deliveries that weren’t yet opened. A messy spill of papers threatened to leave the desk. Business was done here.

What were you doing here?

Donnie didn’t attempt to talk, but looked up at the door.

It was shut tightly, but he couldn’t tell if it was locked.

It also seemed discolored, but not dirty. 

He stared until he realized that it wasn’t from paint, but some sort of light was reflecting against the pearl sheen of varnished wood. 

It appeared in maroon tones that read the lightsource must have been purple. 

It lowered Donnie’s eye to you.

He studied your shape until he caught your rim was light.

You were holding something.

He tipped his body to one side and his perspective shifted.

Something was glowing faintly in your arms.

Something a fuchsia color.

Something of his.

An incomplete projection of his ninpo.

One of his palms hit the floor to keep him from falling and you startled.

You didn’t look back and only seemed to strengthen your resolve in staring at the door.

Were you that mad?

He inched further to the side to catch a glimpse of your face.

You didn’t have just one object.

He counted at least four.

They appeared to be half manifested lamps.

He didn’t remember making those. 

Why were you coveting them?

You held them as if it were your solemn duty to guard them.

He gave no such command.

In a flick of his wrist, he allowed them to disintegrate.

You looked around in dismay and scrambled to catch the pixels.

They alluded you and you finally looked over your shoulder.

Your eyes were misty.

Your expression warped.

Donnie could only gape.

“I’m… sorry…” You spoke in your best hushed tone. “I tried to h-hold on… I d-don’t know why they…”

You groped the empty air.

He gestured to his chin and out with fingers to sign that it was ‘okay.’

You searched his hands wildly.

Right, you didn’t know ASL.

He hoped to teach you one day under better circumstances.

“Mine…” His voice was hoarse.

Your spine snapped to attention. “D-Don’t f-force yourself!”

He shook his head and held up a hand in a mimic of how you held those ill-formed lamps.

Your pupils flicked up and down in a study. “Those… things… were… yours? T-that’s why I tried to save them…”

He let his limb fall.

You only partially understood. 

He needed to try something else. 

He pointed to himself again with renewed intent.

You thought with your entire being before you chanced meeting his eye.

He sent all the information he could there.

“You… y-you made them… go away…?” You finally allowed yourself to wonder.

He smiled.

Weary and small, but it came into his face like it barged in.

You returned it.

You were so good.

He snapped his fingers while signaling ‘bingo’ because he couldn’t help a bit of flare. 

It sparked flickers of pixels like a lighter that didn’t catch. 

The fuschia color danced a reflection in your eyes. 

“That’s… your… ninpo…?” 

He gave a single nod. 

“You make things…?” You softened. 

His head bobbed a second time. 

“You create…” You spoke to solidify the concept with overflowing affection. “What a perfect expression of you…” 

He’d immortalize that smile in his ninpo if he could. 

Without time or energy, he supposed he had to move onto more pressing topics. 

He spun a finger in the air and cocked his brow for curiosity.

“Where… are we…?”

He nodded.

“We’ve… well I… uh… commandeered the office…?” You sheepishly glanced back at the door.

Had you broken in?

It dawned on him.

He could see everything from an omnipotent view.

His mind churned out a top-down replay of what had occurred after his figure ran from the seating area.

You chased after him.

You bumped legs and saw no one in the process.

Out into the hallway, he nearly collapsed and you tried to get his attention.

He couldn’t give it and presumably the attendant on duty saw you.

Not one to bother others for help, you’d moved on sheer instinct. 

You of all people would know if he couldn’t entertain you then no one would be good enough. 

You sought the closest door that had a hope of giving him shelter. 

This office was unlocked because a certain someone had asked for copies of the playbills.

He ran inside and you followed before the attendant could catch you.

The door was locked then.

You had been guarding him and it ever since.

While he cocooned himself, you scoured the office for items that could help.

You probably dug through the desk drawers for the snacks. 

From the cold bottle, he bet there was a mini fridge behind the desk.

You would be in so much trouble.

You didn’t care.

Or, at least. 

You didn’t appear to. 

Amongst it all, you found time to supposedly save the random ninpo constructions he’d mistakenly built.

He needed you, now more than ever. 

Could he stand it?

He didn’t even care if his body argued otherwise.

He swooped his arms out and the blanket turned into a cloak.

You made a surprised noise and he swallowed you up with the fabric.

You squirmed against his hold.

He gave you only enough space to breathe.

“Donnie! Are y-you sure…?”

He nodded against the side of your head.

You were stiff for a few more moments until you relented into his hug. It was there that your body language read awkward, but you daintily tested your nose beneath his chin. With a drop of his head, he pinned you there and you breathed warmth against his neck. Both in concern and growing affection, you eventually slacked against him. It perfectly hid you away against his body and he gave a satisfied hum that he had you to himself.

You sat like that for both an infinite and painfully finite amount of time.

He then felt the pull of Earth’s orbit and tucked his beak down into his blanket folds. He found you there and nosed your forehead until you giggled at his snuffling.

“Donnie…” You protested without a single complaint.

“You’re wonderful.” He spoke muffled against your head and plied you with a few pecks.

“Donnie…” You tried again, this time mustering up the slightest objection.

“You’re going to get in trouble… for me…” His voice oozed mirth.

You stammered on an unknown syllable.

“My betwitching nova.”

You stilled instantly. “Nova…?”

“Super.” He only clarified.

It wasn’t enough to answer your question.

“The stunning core collapse of an aged star. The end of an era. The most powerful explosion any being could ever hope to see.”

You pushed.

He released you from his cage of limbs.

You moved only far enough away to look him right in the eyes.

You wanted to see if he meant it.

You found he did.

He gave you a lopsided grin.

“I’m so glad I got to see your first crime…” He brushed your cheek with the soft cotton.

You leaned against it and pouted. “Not… the play…?”

“Who cares about the play?! I’d repeat what happened tonight a thousand times just to see you break the law again.”

“H-hey! That’s not-!”

He reeled you back in to silence you.

This time you easily fought back and he didn’t bother to keep you.

You got away on your hands and knees before turning right back around on him.

You were adorably feisty.

The fight fell right off you and what was left was equally cute concern.

“Are you…?”

“I’m okay. Tired, but okay.”

You nodded relief.

“Thanks to you.”

Nerves at the gratitude had your shoulders pinching. “O-Oh well… B-been there… or… something like that…”

“Autistic meltdown.” He identified his calamity for you. “A distress not dissimilar to a panic attack, but completely different triggers and experiences.”

You attentively nodded.

“I’d like to ask one more illegal act from you.”

You squeaked to attention.

“Break us out? I… can’t deal with anyone else. Only you. I want to go home and curl up with you. I have a sensory mode in my room. That’s what I need.”

You weighed the scales of crime against his desire and he was more than pleased to see he came out on top.

“Give me… a f-few minutes…” You nodded to him dutifully before going to check the door.

He decided then that you would never burn out.

His precious neutron star. 

Not if he kept fueling the fire.

NEXT

Me burying my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 in chapters: I love my betas!

[ryujinbrat]

#12 quiet love

the stream (written chapter)

STREAM IS ONLINE•

"hey guys, it's yunjin. welcome or welcome back to my stream! today, i'm joined by hanni, y/n, and our two very special guests, winter and ningning!" yunjin said, facing the stream.

"hi guys!" winter said excitedly.

"what's up" hanni muttered.

"hiii twitch" ninging said as she waved like a kid seeing their best friend.

y/n only waved to the camera shyly, still feeling a bit down about the hate.

"so guys, today we'll be playing minecraft and answering some questions from everyone in the chat. be sure to leave us some good questions in the chat!" yunjin said, loading up the game.

"oh, i have one already," hanni perked up. "@somisgf asked, 'what's it like to be a streamer versus being a youtuber?'"

"ohh that's a good one," winter said, punching a tree in the pixelated game.

"also your username is so real," ningning fake swooned in her seat causing hanni to roll her eyes.

"no way you have a crush on somi."

"doesn't everyone?" the chinese girl chuckled as the rest of the girls shook their heads no. "well aren't you guys friends with her? you can put in a good word for me."

y/n nodded her head in thought, "will do. you guys would make a cute couple."

"hello?? nobody's answered the question," yunjin said adjusting her headset and letting out a playfully annoyed sigh.

"right right umm being a youtuber takes a lot longer when you have to film and edit to produce multiple videos a week, while streamers can easily just start up a stream and play a game," winter began.

"do you seriously think that being a youtuber is harder than streaming?" yunjin asked with disgust on her face.

"well duh," ningning and winter said in unison.

"i propose a challenge," y/n spoke up.

"go on."

"how about we all switch jobs for a week? all of the streamers will make youtube videos and all of the youtubers will stream. and at the end whichever group gains the most followers wins," she finished.

"and what do we win?" hanni questioned whats excited to be number one.

"bragging rights and the loser does whatever the winner says."

"deal," the five girls agreed together as they did a virtual handshake.

"okay next question," said ningning, "this one is from @rinasworld and they asked 'when did you guys become friends?'"

"the 3 of us have been friends for a while," yujin says gesturing to hanni and ningning, " but this is the first time y/n is meeting winter and ningning and it's winter's first time meeting us!" she finished briefly, her main focus being building a house for her and hanni.

"but we'll all definitely hang out in person soon and do more streams!" said y/n, eager to hang out with ningning and winter for no particular reason.

"someone said 'are you guys not friends with rina anymore?'" winter read aloud, "that's such a stupid question why wouldn't we be friends anymore."

"jimin and y/n have no bad blood and even so we're allowed to be friends with whoever we want." ningning said, getting a bit upset with fan's assumptions.

"in fact, y/n actually has a bit of a crush on karina don't you y/n" hanni said, hitting y/n's character in the bloxy game.

"stop that, and no i don't," y/n scowled in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"yeah you do, remember when you called her pretty?"

"and all of those tweets on your priv," yunjin added, anxious to get in on exposing y/n.

"ohh what tweets i wanna see," ningning nearly jumped out of her seat with excitement.

y/n gave ningning a death glare.

"or not," ningning smirked in faux fear.

"okay yes, i did call her pretty but it wouldn't go anywhere. especially not after that twitter stuff that hanni caused" y/n said rubbing her neck shyly.

"stuff that i caused??? that's just false," hanni rolled her eyes once again, "i was simply being real."

"so you admit that you would want a relationship with rina to go somewhere?" winter questioned fully prepared to play match maker.

"well duh have you seen her? she's insanely pretty but-"

"but nothing," ningning cut y/n off, "we'll make it happen for you."

"mission girlfriends2 is a go," winter nodded.

"girlfriends2???," yunjin squinted her eyes giving a puzzled look.

"we don't talk about girlfriends1," ningning sighed obviously remembering something.

"no guys it's fine and plus i wouldn't want to bother her anymore than i already have," y/n muttered sheepishly.

"you wouldn't be trust us."

"yeah you guys should see jimin's priv tweets," winter chuckled.

"HER WHA-"

STREAM IS OFFLINE◦

masterlist next

taglist ⌗

@ehcyps @justme-idle @sewiouslyz @awkwardtoafault @jisooftme @boohirai @jeindall777 @yoontoonwhs @masuowo @bzeus28 @juhyunsthirdwife @kimsgayness @mightymyo @neuftaeng @rgxjsss @naviesweloveyou @baebeefyburrito @nasyu-kookies

[moxfirefly]

Pretty please do Donnie x Frem!Reader 🥺🙏 Jealous/possessive Donnie, maybe he snaps at some guy for coming onto the reader and then feels a little insecure about the relationship and needs reader to remind him that he's all they want. Maybe Donnies a little rough/possessive during the sex(feel free to disregard this if you want) and preferably private sexy times if you could. 💜💚

[HOLD] for one muse to slide their arm around the other in a possessive way.

[REMIND] for our muses to have passionate sex meant to remind one party who they belong to.

To eachother:

"Tell me you're mine." and " no one else is ever gonna have a chance with me. You're it. You're all I want."

To a third party:

" don't you dare touch them."

You know I love my mans, so let’s do this.

“That I miss you when it’s quiet”

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

He often wondered if these little appreciation events were worth it. For the most part they were usually held at a secret location and aside from themselves, Chief Vincent and close friends; it was filled with known faces.

A majority of the police force was also invited. Donnie knew them all, not from speaking with them. He had files on every single person who knew of their existence. He had to be a step ahead naturally, contingency plans weren’t an easy thing to prepare but he had them.

He hadn’t quite developed one for jealousy though.

This was jealousy of course. He could feel how it vibrated everywhere within himself, from the clench to his jaw to the tension at his fingers. The rookie he’d refer to him, he was the one with less experience in the force compared to his comrades. It had dawned on this individual to start chatting you up, and maybe a few cocktails into the nights festivities had egged him on to be bold. Because as he laughed at, no doubt a shit joke, he thought he could slide an arm around your waist.

You had recoiled, a nervous smile trying to ease the movement.

But it’s all the incentive he needed.

Because Donnie marched his god damn ass over to the two of you ready to put one of his contingency plans in motion. He very sure of himself when he wrapped and arm around you, large three fingers digging into the side of your waist. You opened your mouth, relief washing over you that Donnie was there but his gaze was zeroed in on the tipsy man.

“Hey big guy! Havin fun?” The rookies splotchy red cheeks painted a picture of just how inebriated he was becoming.

Donnie tugged you close, nosed the crown of your head and simply whispered for you to go somewhere and wait for him.

As you walked away, you looked over your shoulder to see Donnie grip the man’s shoulder in what could’ve looked as a friendly pat.

You didn’t catch his words, muffled by the chatter and music.

Didn’t quite see as he tugged the man close and leaned down to his eye level.

“Don’t you dare touch her” He deadpanned, eyes focused and reading that whatever came out of this man’s mouth could be his saving or his downfall. It served to sober him up enough and the man staggered backwards with fear in his eyes.

Exiting the party felt like a blur, there was a quiet almost volcanic feel to the ride back to your apartment. You figured you’d turn in and forget this messy end but when Donnie pushed open the window as your closed the door to your apartment you knew other things were in store for you.

There was an apprehensive jitter to his movements, a second guessing that brought you back to the early stages of your relationship with him.

When you had approached him, hands landing on his rough plastron in a comforting rub. You could feel his early need to recoil.

But he didn’t.

He placed his hand atop your own and rubbed. You kissed him, did your best to quiet that mind of his that ran a mile a minute. With those kisses you had soon found yourself at the mercy of his hand undressing you and taking you to your bedroom.

It had been there that he found that all those feelings, all those drowning sounds that sounded much like his own voice, could finally quiet themselves. He need not remind himself that when he had had you beneath him all he needed was to simply loose himself inside of you.

And that he did.

You felt his hands slide beneath you to grip your rear and further glue you to the bed. His face was stuck to your neck and with each thrust you felt his groans vibrate all across your skin. His teeth found that sensitive spot, your his quickly melted into a moan as he angled his hips. You wanted to see his face, wanted those beautiful eyes of his glued to you but just as you tried to stick your arms out from beneath his own he spoke.

“Tell me you’re mine” He mutters out against your cheek, huffs of warm air hitting you just as you lift your legs a little more.

His words aren’t playful, they don’t have that hint of flirtatious undertone that they have. When his eye do land your face, when you see how naked his gaze his, it hits you that he’s needs this.

He needs to be reminded that you belong to every inch of him.

You managed to unstick a hand and grip his chin, his thrusting slowing to a gentle rocking. You held his gaze, mouth dry from your exertions but you smiled, honest and sincere.

“No one else is ever gonna have a chance with me. You’re it. You’re all I want.” Your thumb ran across his lower lip, and every beautiful and meaningful look you had give him before did not compare to the way you looked at him in that very second

You watched his eyes, shiny and moist and holding back simply breaking apart on top of you.

“Im yours, Donnie”

He dove into kiss you, so feverishly and so desperately.

[gullableh]

•★  SICK🌌🪐

JULIAN. LOKI X MALE! READER.

★•° Warnings : boy x boy, cringe, very fluffy,

Swear words, fruity af.  Crack treated, like seriously crack treated

Reader is a simp.

Highschool AU

(I'm not good in french even though I got a 9-

I will use Google Translate mostly. So if youre reading this and you're french, im sorry if i made a mistake or two, you can correct me if I'm wrong ^^)

★•° summery :reader and Julian supposedly had a date. But sadly reader got sick and couldn't come. So Julian decided to pay his lovely boyfriend a quick visit, just a quick one...

★•° a fluff story so no dirty thoughts.

• usage of pet names

• relationship goals

• probably ooc since I'm not the best in   writing oc 

Music you could listen to while reading:

------------------°•©

Écoute chérie; 

Vendredi sur Mer

              The moon will sing;

                                           Angus & Julia stone 

Back to the old house;

The Smiths                     

              Lamp;

                                                     Yume Utsutsu

                

                                (Enjoy ^v^)

----------------------

Readers pov:

*Sigh*

This. Was. The. Worst. Oh you wanna know what happened? Oh well you probably already had read the summery, you still want me to tell? Okay sit down and listen carefully. Also next time read the summery some people aren't as generous as me to explain why my day is ruined. And the people who have read the summery. Good job here have a cupcake *gives the cupcake to you* ^v^

Anyways where was i? Oh yeah, listen carefully...

It was any normal day, I woke up went to school met up with my lovely boyfriend🥰

And I remembered after school we have a date, great right? Well I'm not finished.

After school I went ahead to go home and get prepared for my date with my boyfriend. 

I got home, had an outfit ready, and I was about to go when suddenly.

*Chough* *Chough*

I have no idea if mothers have mother senses (it would be cool if they did) but as if she had a spidersense of her own she grabbed my arm, shut the door and made me sit on the couch.

Then she went on a full on ten minute long lecture about how I was sick and that I should stay home. Wait stay home? But I was about to go on a date. Mother couldn't possibly do this to me, oh but she could.

Well anyways, now I'm here in my room, in my bed all depressed because I couldn't hang out with my boyfriend )': I had already told him, well, texted him that I wasn't able to attend our date since I was SiCk. Oh please, as if I would die.

I was moping in my bed all pouty, from disappointment because I couldn't see my boyfriend, but also from pain. (stupid migraine) It was I think around somewhere in the night, after dinner. when I heard something. I stopped moping and listened carefully where that sound came from

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

It was as if someone was knocking against glass, again I stayed quiet and listened attentively

*Tick* *tick* *tick*

Wait it sounded like it came from my window. I got up from my bed, fear slowly creeping up, I went to my bedroom window, and shoved the curtens to the side slowly, and then i saw....

Third person pov:

There he was, Julian Loki Infront of your window, the best soccer player in your school, also one of the kindest people in your school. And most importantly, your lovely boyfriend that you where thinking about the entire day.

A smile made its way to youre lips, but confusion was visible on [readers] face. What was he doing here, it's somewhere between eleven o' clock and twelve o' clock, shouldn't he be home alseep? Worry was also evident on the boys expressions. [Reader] quickly opened the window and let him in.

"Julian what are you doing here?"

"Mon chéri, sorry I wanted to come here earlier but my mother wouldn't let me out of the house."

He said with a sweet and gentle smile towards you. You see why I'm so smitten over this guy? 

Julian is always so sweet and gentle, he's like that towards everyone, but towards you he is even more gentle.

"Speaking of, why are you up so late?

You said you where sick, you should be resting Mon amour."

He said, he spoke with such a gentle tone, it was angelic, he was an angel that's why. He ushered you to bed like a mother would to their child. And you being such a simp for you're boyfriend, obliged and laid down on you're bed. Oh yeah did I tell you that he had a bag with him, well he laid the bag on the ground and started to rummage trough the supplies in the bag. He grabbed what seemed like medicine and food, that could help [reader] with his sickness.

"I also might have paid a quick visit at the infirmary."

He said with a smile that could blind you because of how bright it was. He grabbed a container with some liquid stuff, probably soup.

"Have you already eaten? It would be great if you did, but that would mean I bought this for nothing"

He said with yet again, another blinding smile.

Because of the stupid migraine and the fact that the sickness made you not hungry, you nodded you're head a no. You where indeed hungry but because of the sickness, you felt like throwing up everytime you're nostrils smelled the slightest bit of food.

"I'm not hungry, thank you Julian but there was indeed no need"

That was a big ass lie, and the both of you knew that all to well, he looked at you with a worried expression, yeah there was no way that he didn't know I was lying

"Mon chéri please tell me the truth"

Yup, now I feel guilty about lying yippie :'D

I took a deep breath and told him the truth, that shows how much of a sucker I am for this man. He again looked at me with a worried expression on his face.

"très chère chérie, if you want to get better you should eat healthy things, i don't like seeing you sick and in pain."

He gave me a sweet smile, but behind that smile was clear that he was still very worried.

I smiled at him back with as much gentleness.

"Im sorry Julian, I didn't exactly mean to lie, it just kinda slipped-"

"It's all right Mon amour, just please don't lie to me like that again."

He cut me off before I could even properly apologize, I smiled at seeing his gentle smile reapearing on his lips again. He grabbed the container with the liquid stuff in it, he opened the container and low and behold chicken soup. He grabbed the plastic spoon that was in the container with the soup.

"Open you're mouth mon chéri I'll feed you."

He said with a smile as if he didn't say the most flustering thing, I felt my face heat up specifically my cheekbones. The spoon with the chicken soup was right Infront of you're mouth, slowly you opened you're mouth a bit, until it was wide enough for the spoon to fit, for some reason this felt so embarrassing even if there weren't any people around, it was just so embarrassing being fed by someone. A while later and the soup was finished, you felt a bit better now that you weren't hungry anymore, but the migraine was still haunting you. Luckily you're savior in need is here to help you from you're misery.

Julian again rummaged trough his bag that he had brought along with him, he let out a small 'aha' as if to say that he had found something. He brought the thing out of the bag and let me have a closer look, it was painkillers, he really though of everything.

"I've brought some painkillers."

He wouldn't stop smiling, as I said such a sweet angel. He gave you the painkiller and abit of water to drink with, in one swift motion you chugged the painkillers with the water down in one sip. The painkillers where helping a bit but not as much as to make it completely go away.

"My head still hurts"

"Would you like me to massage you're scalp Mon amour?"

Definitely did not expect him to suggest that, but who would say no to that offer? So you nodded youre head with a smile and gestured for him to sit next to you on the bed, I patted the empty place beside me, he made his way towards me and then sat next to me on the bed. He laid my head down on his chest, so that he could carefully massage my scalp while I was in a comfortable position. My head was laying on the side where his heart was, his heart beats where so soothing I could just fall asleep. Not long after did his hands began to gently massage my head, all of this was so very calming I could already feel myself geting tired and sleepy slowly and slowly.

"Is this alright mon chéri? If you're uncomfortable just tell me alright?"

I was already half asleep so I just let out a small 'hmm' so that he would know that I was still listening to him. He laughed at my tired state, he looked so adorable while laughing.

"Goodnight mon vie"

He said before giving youre lips a small peck. Not caring if he would get sick later, all he cared for now was that you where comfortable and safe. The rest didn't matter all that matter to him was you. 

Fin:D

★°•BONUS+

THE NEXT DAY

 you woke up from a very nice dream, you felt much much better after last night, guess Julian took very good care of you. you expected to wake up in you're own bed wich you did, but you specifically woke up in someone's arms, Julian's arms. he was still sleeping, so the ever so kind boyfriend you are, you let him have his rest and sleep. And seems like he had it enough because not even a minute after you woke up, was he starting to wake up. His eyelids slowly lifted up, revealing his golden brown eyes. They look so beautiful in the morning. He looked at you before a smile was forming on his lips, how cute this moment was. 

"Morning mon soleil"

Two boys waking up from eachothers arms, oh how adorabl-

*Chough* *chough* *chough*     

That was not me I swear. Oh it was julian, seem like he got invected when he kissed you goodnight last night....

Well then, atleast now you could repay him back with taking care of him this time.

Fin (fr this time)

-----------------------

This was so crack treated and cringe, I apologize if you felt second hand embarrassment-

[smilingbluetiger]

"No one speaks so beautifully of being afraid of love as you do."

(Severus x You)

I don't know how to tag

Tags: #severus needs a hug #you need a hug #"i love you" #no happy ending

This is the first time to publish such a long text in English. I ask for your understanding. The title is taken from a Polish song. It seems to me that these words are very suitable for Severus. Enjoy your reading.

----------------------

Severus lay together with his companion on the couch. Severus used the woman as a pillow and let her play with his hair in return. It was really nice with music playing in the background and the fireplace burning.

The woman's eyes looked at the man's calm face. His eyes were closed, the wrinkles had softened and he now looked much more his age. The woman, who had not spent the first evening with him, felt that she could have stayed there forever. At this exact moment.

"Severus..."

"Hym?" She got the sleepy reply of a man tired after a whole week of work.

"I think... I think I love you."

"Stop."

In an instant, black eyes looked at her alertly, and wrinkles appeared on his face again. The woman's lips parted because she wanted to say something, but she didn't manage.

"Don't say anything. And if you must, don't say those words." He said firmly and resolutely. He did not take his eyes off her, and the woman felt apprehension to speak up.

"But... Why?" The woman's hand wanted to stroke his hair again. He caught it and squeezed it more than necessary. The gaze of black eyes focused on the hand he held, as if she was the culprit behind his change in mood.

"Because these words always destroy everything." His voice indicated that he was reaching back with his memory somewhere very far. "If you want to continue our arrangement, you can never say that."

Black eyes focused again on the woman lying beneath him. Severus could see the emotions flowing across the face of the woman, who had been a vital part of his private life for some time.

He watched as she yanked shis hand away and massaged wrist. He gripped it too tightly... He moved away and sat down on the couch giving the other person space. The woman did not move.

Dark eyes focused their gaze on the fire. The silence lasted for several drawn-out seconds.

"Even if I feel it? Is it just about the words?"

"... Don't cross that line. It's for the best. It's fine the way it is." He replied still focused on the fire. His hands were clasped tightly together to prevent his fingers from breaking off. He must not show weakness.

Another long seconds of silence.

"Yes... Straight up a dream arrangement." He felt the person next to him rise to sit down and get up from the couch, but he continued to stare at the fire. From hearing, he recognized that she had gone around the couch and was walking around the room. He allowed himself to close his eyes. He prepared to hear the sound of teleportation from the fireplace. So far, he only heard her stop somewhere behind his back. He clenched his eyelids and fists tighter to resist the urge to turn toward her. He also resisted the prompting to use legilimency. The fear of seeing himself through her eyes now was too great, and if she realized.... She would then realize how foolish it would be to even consider a relationship with someone like him.

The music was still playing, but no sound came from the person still standing behind him. The potions master's nails, despite being cut short, dug into his skin in anticipation. Let it happen already. Let him taunt him and leave.

But instead he felt hands on his shoulders. He shuddered at the sensation, but the hands did not retreat and began to massage his tense body. A sigh of relief was unconditional. She knew what to do. The man was aware that he had let her in far enough that she knew his weaknesses. A fool... But he couldn't resist it when her movements and presence gave him a relief he hadn't experienced even during his encounters with Lily.

He didn't even know when he was leaned with his back on the couch, his head resting on the headrest. He felt the top of his head touch her stomach. His eyes were still closed. He let her do whatever she wanted with him.

Pathetic. He was so pathetic in his desire to touch her. She had power over him. She didn't interrupt the massage, but only changed places, mussing his neck, his jaw, until she reached his cheeks. He felt her brushing his hair away from his forehead. He felt her warm hands place themselves on his cheeks and gently stroke his dry skin.

He tightened his eyelids again.

He felt that she was looking at him. He is the center of her attention. Attention he doesn't deserve, but needs. But he doesn't intend to admit it.

He wants to break out of this embrace that gives a feeling of security, peace, attention, a sense of being important and valuable.... Because it can't be true.

The man is stopped by the weight of the pressed forehead against his own. He opens his eyes in surprise and sees the woman's hair. She now has to kneel behind the couch to hold him with her hands and forehead. This can't be comfortable for her.... That's what Severus thinks, but then he feels wetness in his hair.

She is crying.

This thought is enough for him to slip out of the woman's grasp in an instant kneeling on the couch facing her.

The woman withdrew her hands from the back of the couch the moment he did. She lowered her head so that the man could not see her face from his position. But he could see her raise her hands to her face to wipe away her tears.

Severus felt his hands tighten on the back of the couch.

"Why don't you just leave?" He couldn't stand it. He didn't know where he felt anger from now, but he knew it shouldn't be like this. She shouldn't cry, she should go out and be with someone as good as her. SO WHY DOESN'T SHE DO THAT!

The woman was still kneeling. After a long moment, which was surely to make sure her voice did not fail her, she raised her head to look at the man above her.

"Is that what you want?" She asked him, and her voice was unnaturally colorless. Only the wet marks on her cheeks and the redness, betrayed the earlier tears.

Severus' clenched lips delayed the answer. "Yes. That's what I want." He replied withstanding her stare. This battle of glances lasted for a while before the woman began to rise from her knees and stood in front of the man.

Her hands touched his cheeks again. Only by a miracle did he not close his eyes and snuggle into her touch. No, it wasn't a miracle. It was damned pride that prevented him from giving himself that final goodbye. He knew that this is what was happening now.

The language of touch had always been more important in their relationship than words.

"You know Severus... No one speaks so beautifully of being afraid of love as you do." She smiled at him, and the touch became even more tender. Snape's dark eyes looked at her and saw that smile break her soul. That smile must be enough for him. He knew that her image would be etched in his memory.

He did not answer her. He removed her hands from his face and looked away. He rose from the couch and, as if nothing had happened, approached the bar completely ignoring the presence of another person in the apartment.

Somewhere between opening the bottle and pouring the alcohol into the glass, he heard the crackle of teleportation from the fireplace.

He lifted the glass to his lips and let the tart alcohol burn his tongue and esophagus.

After emptying the glass, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the apartment, silencing the gramophone and the music.

[boba-at-323]

Family First

Note : Food mentions! || The reader is pregnant, so if you're uncomfortable with such genres, I recommend not reading this || though omg why have I even written this when its one of my biggest fears

You woke up to a weary feeling, one a little more tired than usual. As your pregnancy progressed, your growing belly made it difficult to get comfortable at night. In fact, it was hard to even get a good night’s sleep with the baby moving around so much.

As the sunlight entered your bedroom through the spaces in the blinds, you shuffled around trying to find your husband. However, his usual spot next to you was empty. Disappointed, you tried to sit up still wondering where on earth could your husband have gone so early.

After a while of reluctantly convincing yourself to get out of bed, you decided to freshen up to start the day. With a little stretch, you left your bedroom.

To your surprise, you were greeted by the smell of waffles and eggs wafting through the air, along with the strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Despite being nauseous, your empty stomach was practically pulling you towards the source of the smell.

"Good morning, beautiful," Renjun said, once he saw you entering the kitchen.

Renjun's little compliment made all of your tiredness melt away. You couldn't help but smile, feeling lucky to have such a sweet and caring husband.

"Good morning," you replied, rubbing your eyes, “What’s all this?”

“Oh nothing much,” Renjun shrugged it off as if it was nothing, a smile resting on his face.

He made his way towards you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He then pulled out a chair for you on the dining table and helped you sit down.

He disappeared into the kitchen again, only to come back with a tray full of the dishes he had been preparing. When he started serving you, you found out that Renjun had even prepared a plate of fresh fruit and a glass of orange juice for you, knowing that you needed all the vitamins you could get, both for you and his baby. Once he was done, he seated himself on the chair next to you.

As you ate, Renjun couldn't help but marvel at your beauty, even in the early hours of the morning. When he found out that he was soon going to be a father, he had put all his heart into finding resources and reading articles on various topics related to pregnancy and parenthood. He had also read somewhere that when someone was expecting, they usually didn’t feel so great about themselves and their appearances. So keeping that in mind, Renjun made sure to compliment his beautiful and amazing wife every now and then, just so she felt confident about herself.

You weren’t even halfway through your food when your baby started moving around again. You let out a small groan and looked down at your belly. Noticing what was going on, Renjun chuckled and placed a hand on your belly, feeling the baby kicking inside.

"Hey there, little one," Renjun cooed softly, "Are you hungry too?"

"I think so," you laughed as you placed a hand over your husband’s, feeling the warmth of his hand, "But not as hungry as your wife over here."

Renjun grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "Hey now, I made sure to cook you a big breakfast."

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness and support. You wondered what you would have done if you didn’t have him beside you. Even since your pregnancy, he became the greatest source of comfort for you. Every little gesture of his was full of love, and you knew that he was trying his best to be the perfect husband as well as the perfect father for his little one. Just the thought of how he had become even more caring brought tears to your eyes.

"Thank you Renjun," you continued, looking at him with glossy eyes "You know, I never thought I'd be one of those women who gets emotional during pregnancy. But every little thing seems to make me tear up these days."

"It's the hormones, love," he said, bringing his other hand to your cheek "They mess with your emotions. But don't worry, I'll be here to wipe away your tears."

“Cheesy…” you laughed light heartedly at his response, “But I’d love that.”

“I love you so much.” Renjun smiled back at you, feeling his heart swell with love.

As if on cue, you felt the baby kick again, causing both you and Renjun bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Looks like someone is jealous.” you addressed your belly, continuing to rub circles over it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I love you a lot too. Go easy on your mom, will you?” He scolded playfully, never letting your smile fade away.

Both you and your child meant the whole world to him, becoming his top priority. He knew that he was about to embark on a new chapter of his life as a parent, but he was ready to face any challenge that came in his way as long as he had you by his side.

Title : Family First || Word count: 844 || Genre: FLUFF || Pairing: husband! Renjun x wife!Reader || GUESS WHOSE POSTING AGAIN ???

[imkylotrash]

I used to get lost in your eyes

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (first person).

My hands are shaking. Any minute now, he'll come walking through that door and I'll have to break both of our hearts. Any minute now, I will have my last moment with him, and my bones are threatening to break under the weight of that knowledge. Keys rattle on the other side of the door, and I take a deep breath to stabilize my thundering heart. It does not do the trick.

"Hey, how was..." His voice trails off when he sees my packed bags by the door. There's no reason to try and hide the tears making their way down my cheeks. He'll know soon enough what will happen tonight.

"We need to talk." The four worst words in a relationship. My voice remains steady despite the cold making a home in my veins.

"What's going on?" He still has one foot out in the hallway as if not fully entering the room will change the outcome of tonight. It won't.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep waiting for you to let me in, because I don't think you'll ever be ready. And I definitely can't continue to be shut out when you're struggling. It hurts too much." I feel my bottom lip quiver as I try to reel back some of the feelings threatening to rip their way out of my heart. For so long, I've managed to keep them contained, but I can't do it anymore. I am tired.

"Please, don't. You know I've been working on this. You know I'm trying to-to-I don't want to lose you." Finally, he enters the room to walk over to me and get on his knees in front of me. For once, I can read him as an open book. The fear of losing me, the broken heart already demanding to be felt even though I'm still here. I see it all, but it's too late.

"I can't keep clawing at your walls, darling. My nails haven't even managed to make a single scratch." Nothing on this earth could prepare me for the feeling in my chest as I watch all hope evaporate from his face. I have to consciously remind myself why this is necessary. How many evenings I've sat waiting for him to come home, to tell me what troubles him. How many times I've gone to bed alone because he'd rather stay in his study and ignore the world. Once, I was naive enough to think that I might one day become his world. That he'd trust me enough to let me see the sides of him that were less than perfect. I did not harbor such sentiments now.

"There must be something I can do," he argues but I've made my decision. It will do none of us any good to dwell on what might have been.

"I'll stay with Lily and James for a few days until I find somewhere to go." It's selfish to bring his best friend into this, but I have nowhere to go and Lily is my best friend. It's only natural to seek her comfort right now. I tell myself it's only for a few days. And it's not as if James won't be able to come over and see Remus. I'd never get in the way of that.

"Please stay." With unsteady legs, I stand up and step to the side to pass Remus still on his knees.

"Please," he whispers so quietly, I almost miss it. If there is something smaller than a quark, I believe that would be equivalent to the size of the broken pieces of my heart lying shattered on the floor. He grips my wrist to keep me from taking another step, but I cannot stay. I cannot destroy myself to make him whole.

"Let go of me, Remus." It comes out as a plea rather than an order, but I cannot bring myself to cause him any more pain than necessary. Fire spreads where his skin touches mine and I curse how weak my body becomes by his touch.

"Don't make me do it myself. Please just let me go." I don't want to have to pry his hand off of me. I can't have that be my last memory with him. After a full minute, he finally lets go of my wrist.

"You are worthy of love, my darling. I'm just not the right person to give it to you." I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead as a final goodbye. The sight of his tear-streaked face will haunt me from this day forward, but I still walk out the door. And he doesn't stop me this time.

[strophalosx3]

HC about the ships I have for Claudio.

Claudio x Zafina

Their personalities are different. She tends to be more talkative and outgoing. She likes to see places and be filled with adventures. Claudio is much more about being at home and going out to discreet places for dinner or lunch. He is quiet but likes to listen to Zafina.

The one who took the first step to start their romance was Zafina. She was just very careful to confirm that he felt the same way. She kissed him one afternoon when they were walking in the streets of Egypt. Claudio did not wait for that movement. A little embarrassed, he returned the gesture and smiled.

When they spend nights together, Zafina is the one who mostly takes the initiative to have sex, but Claudio always has control over what happens in bed.

Zafina doesn't like to cook but she tries her best to prepare something for Claudio, he knows this, so they both cook together.

They usually argue because they have different opinions on esoteric or paranormal topics. Claudio does not believe in astrology and zodiac signs. Zafina always tries to explain why the stars guide human lives. Claduio listens to her but without changing his posture.

Claudio likes Zafina to tell him about her past and when there is a sad memory and she is bulnerable, he hugs her and kisses her forehead. "You're not alone anymore, you have me" He says when he hears her crying.

They both talk about their emotions and how they feel, Claudio understands emotional responsibility since he understood that he was treating Xiaoyu badly, that is why he does not want to make mistakes. Zafina always tries to communicate, although sometimes she can't find the words. Little by little they have connected and understood each other.

However, they are both scared by the idea of ​​marriage. She does not want to leave her land and Claudio would never leave the Dome. It is a topic that is not talked about at the moment.

Zafina has no family, only the people in her town who love her. Upon meeting Claudio, they doubted him a lot, they feared that he would hurt her because he was a man from another social sphere. Claudio tried to win over Zafina's people, but it was complicated, because everyone preferred Lars. Claudio's family accepted Zafina immediately, because she had many things in common with him.

Claudio x Dragunov

(Yes I ship them)

They are a stable and calm couple. They are both very similar. They love the tranquility of home, the silence of the city. Get engrossed in your hobbies or your work.

If you live together, the house will be a refuge or a bunker, the safest place in the universe. They both prepare food, share household chores, watch movies, listen to music. Claudio is amused by hearing Sergei sing.

Claudio is such an intuitive and analytical person that he learned the silences from Dragunov. The gestures on his face and the vibe he conveyed were easy for him to read. For Dragunov it is a gift that Claudio is not so talkative and says what is necessary or what should be said. Especially when they go out to restaurants.

How their relationship happened may be a mystery to many and something that no one expected. They both knew each other's existence. Dragunov always found Claudio very attractive. The beauty it projected was too surprising for him. Claudio knew the effect it had and found it amusing. Claudio played around a bit and kept control of this shameless flirting until Dragunov got the upper hand and cornered him somewhere. Claudio understood that he was there for him. He continued to tease him until they established the definitive role of a relationship.

They both wish they were more sexually active and fucked every damn night, but their jobs are very demanding. They see each other so rarely that they get frustrated. They have made sexual video calls as a means of consolation. They write and call each other very frequently to find out each other's status. When days off or vacations occur, they fuck like desperate people. Dragunov is the top and he has already broken two beds.

Living together of course is a great idea. A neutral country would be fine, because they both work for organizations in their countries. Knowing that they have each other forever gives them peace of mind. Security is what they are both looking for and calm.

They take care of each other. Dragunov's sense of protection and provider became more intense when they decided to live together. On his days off he prepared lunch for Cladio when he had to work.

In reality, none of their families care about their sexual orientation. Seeing them happy is what's worth it.

Claudio x Eliza

This relationship may be very toxic and probably dubious.

Eliza caught Claudio that time, drank his blood and created an unbreakable bond between them. He is bound to her for all eternity. Claudio hasn't told anyone about this, he doesn't want them to see a weakness in him. He is upset with himself for getting caught.

Obviously it is not a normal relationship. She is a vampire and drinks Claudio's blood to live. She appears at night in his room to eat, fuck and play with him a little, that is, fight. Claudio hates her at first but then he gets used to it.

She fucks like a nympho. Claudio spends many sleepless nights. Some colleagues have noticed his fatigue.

One day he decided that things could turn in his favor if he was smarter. So he invited Eliza to talk, to get to know each other, they were going to spend the rest of Claudio's life together, they had to be reasonable. Eliza showed her human side, she told about how she became a vampire and before becoming one she was a normal young woman who only wanted to get married and have children. He showed a human side that Claudio did not resist.

Eliza is in love with Claudio, too much. She idolizes her existence and her beauty, keeping this feeling a secret. Claudio is hers and it is enough to make her happy. He loves his suffering and his pleasure. Forcing him to blaspheme and do things degrading to him. He loves to break him and destroy his sanity. She wants him to be completely hers.

Claudio does not know the effect it has on each of them.

[ncsdlr]

Pick and Choose - Blossoming Love

Riverdale

Warnings: cheating (I do not encourage this), CHONI, hints of depression, talks of past trauma.

Pairings: Cheryl Blossom x fem!reader

Word Count: 1566

AN: Well, I finished this way faster than I thought I would, so here we are. I hope this isn't as shit as I think it is. 😃

_____________

A month. A whole ass month's worth of all this chatting, dating, and being clingy. You were so tired. You wanted a break, at least for a few minutes. In complete honesty, it wasn't all bad. You appreciated the gifts, the words of affirmation, and the romantic dates. All you wished for was a little distance. Everything was getting so serious so fast, and the fact that Cheryl made you feel so good about yourself didn't sit right with you.

Vulnerability wasn't your strong suit. It made you feel small. It made you feel like you were weak. So, to have someone act so close to you, made you feel things you didn't want to feel. "My love, what is on your mind?"

You tore your eyes away from the invisible speck on the ground and focused on your lover. You shook your head, "Nothing."

"I fear I don't believe that. Something else on your mind must have stolen your attention away from my gorgeous frame."

You internally cringed, not knowing whether to make an excuse or tell her exactly what was on your mind. "I'm just thinking of... things."

"Anything I can assist you with?"

You wrapped your arm around yourself and rubbed it on the bicep it landed on. Cheryl eyed your hand and squinted at it. "Not really. They're pretty mundane things."

Cheryl let you slide and opened her phone as it pinged. She grinned but rolled her eyes at the message she received. It read, "Fine, you win." Cheryl intended to ignore the message entirely, but then she got curious about how things would turn out. So, Cheryl being Cheryl, she let herself fall into the moment. "Meet me on our spot at Pop's."

"Dear, Y/N, I apologize, but I must leave. Something very important has come up. But do expect that once I get back to you, I will have very exciting news." Cheryl gave you a smile before she stood up and left, seemingly in a hurry. You didn't even get a word in, not that you minded.

Finally, peace and quiet. 

On second thought, your book gently fell back against the table as your mind wandered off somewhere no one would ever find. What could it have been? Cheryl would stay with you the whole day, and when she would tell you that she had to leave earlier, she'd let you give out a response before changing her mind and staying instead. You were so curious, it was, honestly, killing you. 

It took every fiber in you to take your book seriously. It was a good book. You didn't want to miss out. 

----

Toni sat there in all her glory waiting for Cheryl's striking entry, wearing her serpent jacket. She had made sure to dress up the way Cheryl wanted her to, knowing that if she did, their chances of getting back together would be higher. When the bell attached to the diner's door jingled, she turned her head to it, visibly lighting up as she spotted her favorite redhead strutting up to her. 

"I knew you couldn't live without me, I am, simply, the best thing anyone could ever ask for. So, dear Tee-Tee, I hope you've prepared a speech to move me enough to take you back." Cheryl sat on the stool to Toni's right and faced her ex. 

"Cheryl, I know we both can't live without each other. I can feel it. it's like we're bound together by some invisible string that makes us tied to each other. Cher, we complete each other, and this past month without you has been painful as hell." The way Toni spoke was gentle and soft. Cheryl loved this about her Toni. Her Tee-Tee could match the sensitivity of a situation with her words, and that made Cheryl feel safe. Toni handled her with so much care and patience, and she fell in love with that. She fell for Toni so hard and so fast. 

Toni meant everything to Cheryl, and losing her might as well be the world's end. With Toni, it was all or nothing for Cheryl. It was either commit or don't commit. She wanted to commit. They both did, but for Cheryl, something came up. Sure, she still wanted Toni, but not as much as before. Now, she only wanted Toni at a certain level.

They love each other dearly. They cared for each other. But there was this large strain in their bond that made it seem like fixing things or talking it out would not suffice as a fix. They felt compelled to hear the three words they dedicated to each other again, but Cheryl had restraints now.

Then in the heat of the moment, Cheryl found herself leaning back against the counter while Toni pressed her body against her's for a big kiss. It was slow and passionate, something they'd been yearning to experience from each other again. Now that Cheryl had Toni again, everything else just didn't matter, or in Cheryl's mind, fuck it.

They found themselves in Cheryl's bedroom at the Thistle house, making out against her door like they would die if they stopped. It just felt so good. Their hips gyrated against each other, the moment proving to grow hotter by the second. As Cheryl's back hit the soft mattress of her bed all the while keeping her lips locked onto Toni's, it sealed their fate for the night.

When they awoke the next morning, they did their morning routine. They shower together while making no effort to keep their hands to themselves, cooking breakfast, and holding onto each other on their way to school. They were both still reeling off from their midnight escapades the previous night, so the world was pretty much blurred around them. Their focus remained on each other, not even bothering to hide their very couple-ly PDA.

You noticed, of course. I mean, they were everywhere and they were the talk of the school. Most students murmured about Choni being back together, while the smaller half muttered sick comments saying how Cheryl used you to get Toni back.

You weren't going to lie and say you weren't hurt. You were, but not as much as you should be. Were you hurt? It wasn't like you cared about Cheryl at all. It's not like you weren't just starting to get comfortable enough to open up to her. Funny enough, you were, actually, planning on telling Cheryl everything tonight. Oh, well. It didn't matter anymore. She finally had what she wanted.

You proceeded with your day like normal. I mean, nothing really changed, it wasn't a big loss. That's what you told yourself at least. As the day dragged on, you forced yourself together, squeezing your eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again to relieve some of the drowsiness you felt. When all of your classes for the day finished, you headed to the library and sat down on the floor between two aisles of bookshelves, resting your head in the palm of your hands as you curled your knees up to your chest.

Life, for you now, is uneventful, other than the whole Cheryl thing. Your life before coming to the North side of Riverdale was hell, but it was perfect nonetheless. Your parents were there, your family, your grandmother, your home, your serpent family. It was all you knew, so when you had to move due to Hiram's work, it really crushed your soul. Then came the day of your family slowly being ripped away from you. It was like your heart was being gripped very tightly, thus causing you to feel as if it had stopped beating entirely. But it still was. It just took you a while to realize it. 

After those traumatically tragic events, you opted to just go with the flow, sitting alone and keeping to yourself. You still hung out with the Serpents, of course, they are your only family left after all. But even if that is the case, you still felt like you were the only one who was left in the moment of grief. It looked, to you, like you were stuck in a ditch with no chance of getting out any time soon. It took something that shined as bright as the sun to find a way out, but even then, time was at a standstill for you.  

Along with that came the emptiness you felt. It was like you had something to do, but you didn't know exactly what that thing was. You were in a very complicated ditch, and there wasn't anything to grab onto around you. But there was one, only it was all the way on the other side, and you didn't have enough energy to get up and get to it. You wanted help, yet you were too tired to seek it. For you, it was exhausting to even think about, getting up to help yourself and all that. 

In this ditch, it was dark and cold. It felt like there was this big storm coming and it was nighttime, and there was no safe place around for you to nestle yourself in for, at least, the shortest amount of time. It was like, wandering around the desert, stressed, tired, and cold. It was pressuring. The world was pressuring. It motivated you yet diminished your confidence in conquering its trials. It tested your patience greatly.

And you aren't the most patient person to ever exist.

[flowerpottlady]

Icy

Day 4 of my domestic Jily series! All inspired by @jilymicrofics. I really have to thank all of you for your continued support, it means more than anything to see that people are reading and loving my stories <3 There is so much more to come and I cannot wait to share with you all!

***

The tension was thick, icy, and Lily’s stomach was in knots. Had been all day really - ever since her former headmaster had sent them a letter early that morning, informing the young couple he needed to stop by that evening. 

At first Lily had thrown herself into cleaning their flat, commanding James to vacuum the sitting room while she waved her wand around the kitchen, hiding away empty take-away boxes and dirty plates. But now, hours later and just moments before Professor Dumbledore was to step foot in their home, Lily succumbed to the nerves that enveloped her body.  

She sat on the sofa, her hands tucked under her legs to stop them from shaking, as James paced across the floor - eerily quiet. 

“I’m… I’m sure it will all be fine Lil. Maybe there’s just been a change in missions…” James rationalized, refusing to allow himself to think the worst. 

“What if somebody else died? We’re in a war James… we are used to getting this type of news by now.” Lily said softly, looking up at her husband as he stopped in his tracks. 

He marched up to her then, taking her face between his hands, stroking his thumbs across her cheeks, pushing her soft locks behind her ears and pressing his lips gently against her forehead. He kneeled down then, his panic-ridden hazel eyes softened as he spoke to her. “Whatever it is, we’ll be fine.” Although James wasn’t sure of it, for the first time he wasn’t sure of anything - only the gnawing ache growing deep in the pit of his stomach. 

There was crackling in their fireplace, and they both turned to witness Albus Dumbledore materialize into their flat.  It was definitely odd, seeing their former headmaster, so far out of his element, standing in the middle of the living room of two twenty year olds.  His long white beard covered in soot, deep burgundy robes swiping across the floor. 

What haunted Lily though, was the utter discomfort etched across his face. The devastation in his blue eyes, that once twinkled behind his half moon glasses, now looked at the two young soon-to-be parents in misery. 

Lily made no attempt to move, dread filling her. She fought back tears, preparing herself for the worst. Sirius had been on a mission to Bulgaria for the past three days. The news must have been about him.

Or her sister, Lily hadn’t heard from Petunia in over six months. But she wouldn’t put it past the death eaters to go after her remaining family members. 

“Professor,” James said by way of greeting, standing up to shake the wizened wizard’s hand. 

“James, Lily. Thank you for inviting me into your home.” 

Lily refrained from scoffing, she would never willingly invite the bearer of such dark news into her home.  

“Can I get you anything to drink? Lily just put the kettle on, but we have mead too… I might have some brandy somewhere.” James spoke smoothly, but Lily knew the  fear etched into his tone. 

“That’s very kind, but I think it best we move forward with this conversation.” Dumbledore had said, staring at Lily in a way that made her want to hide away, “may I sit?” 

“Of course, of course…” James said, gesturing to the red accent chair that sat across from the sofa.  He tugged at his hair, turning around to take a seat next to Lily, giving her a wide - encouraging smile. 

Dumbledore had settled into his chair, carefully crossing his legs at the ankles while he looked between James and Lily, seemingly trying to find the best way to relay his news. 

Lily was not in the mood for pleasantries, did not have the patience to beat around the bush. “What is it?” She spat out - unwilling to care about just how rude she sounded at that moment. 

“Lily, if I may ask. Do you know yet if you are having a son or a daughter?” Dumbledore began, gazing at the bulge in her stomach. 

Her hand instinctively moved to her bump, hoping to feel her child kick her, to ground her. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” James asked quickly, his leg beginning to bounce.

“It brings me great sadness to have to bear this to the both of you. I understand how much joy is in your lives - expecting a child right now.” Dumbledore paused, and Lily tensed, a distinct feeling of cotton filling her mouth. “But I’m afraid a prophecy has been made. And I take great stock in believing it to be true.” 

Confusion seeped into the room then, Lily fighting hard to understand what a prophecy would have to do with her baby.

“A prophecy Professor?” 

“I met with a woman whom I now believe to possess the sight. I was contemplating hiring her for the divination position at Hogwarts, and to be quite honest I had a bit of a hard time believing her at first.” He paused, taking a deep breath and meeting Lily’s eyes. “But she stunned me as she had a vision then. A prophecy that declared a child would be the one to defeat the dark lord.” 

She couldn’t think then, she couldn’t breath. “And you think that is my child then?”  

James sighed next to her, leaning forward, his elbows resting against his knees and burying his head into the palms of his hands. “What do you mean?” He asked, “some crackpot wannabe seer makes a prediction and you assume it’s our child?” 

“I understand this is quite hard to believe. But there are a few specifications that lead me to believe the prophecy is about your son. Yes.” 

The room suddenly became very hot, and an unbearable weight settled into Lily’s chest. “We don’t know if I’m having a boy.”

Dumbledore chose to ignore that, powering forward with the words that would forever alter the lives of James and Lily Potter. “The prophecy spoke of a boy, born as the seventh month dies, to parents who have thrice defied Voldemort.” 

James sprung into action then, standing up as he spat out. “So you believe this then? Some woman tells you that Voldemort is going after a child and you come into my home…. You tell my pregnant wife that it’s our baby Voldemort is after?” 

Any other time Lily would have pulled James back down, rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. Now was not that moment. She kept her hand on her bump, warm tears spilling from her eyes. 

“James, please.” Dumbledore began, and James walked toward the fireplace, setting his hand on top of the mantle, the muscles in his back tense in anger. 

Lily cleared her throat then, shaking her head. “It’s not a boy.” 

“Lily. I am deeply sorry I have to tell you this. It seems that Voldemort knows about the prophecy, he has chosen to believe that the child you carry will defeat him. Voldemort has marked your child.” 

The room filled with silence, and Lily was at a loss - knowing only that she would do whatever it took to keep her baby safe. 

“How?” She asked suddenly, “how does he know?” 

If the prophecy had only been spoken to Dumbledore, then how could Voldemort have heard it? 

James turned around then, his ears tinged red, his face contorted into uncontrollable rage. “How does he know? How does he know that Lily is even pregnant?” 

“It seems that I was not the only one who heard the prophecy being made.” Dumbledore took a deep breath, knowing full well the implications of his next words. “Severus Snape was standing at the door. Listening. He relayed the information to Voldemort.” 

The deafening silence that followed this admission, was broken the the slam of a fist into the plastered wall, and a pained groan escaping Lily. 

She stumbled back, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. “No… no that can’t be you are wrong!” She shouted at her headmaster. “Severus… he would… oh… oh my god.” 

James raced towards his wife, cradling her now broken fingers in the palm of his hand - taking deep, long breaths hoping she would mimic him. “Lil. Lily, love, sit down.” 

He led Lily back to the sofa, sitting beside her as he pulled out his wand. Delicately touching the tip to her bleeding knuckles and listening to her horrified gasp as her bones snapped back into place. 

“We must talk about the next steps.” Dumbledore began, “I suggest you two go into hiding. Tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Lily asked, her voice weak and defeated. 

“There is a safe house. In Godric’s Hollow.”

James and Lily looked at each other, neither knowing what to say or how to proceed. 

“Alastor is there now, putting up wards. He’ll be here within an hour to escort you.” 

“We are leaving our home? Tonight?” James asked, grasping tightly to Lily’s undamaged hand. 

“I will be by in the morning. To go over the details of hiding. Pack what you can now.” Dumbledore said, standing up and bowing his head. 

“I implore you to remember there is a spy in the Order. And I urge you to be sparse with the details you share.” He turned to look at Lily, giving her the faintest of smiles - an act of ill-perceived comfort. “Lily. Nobody must know when you deliver the child. There is a witch in Godric’s Hollow - a midwife, she will help you with delivery.” He stepped towards the fireplace, “you must not leave your home. All of your duties for the Order will be forgotten for the time being. Your priority now is to hide. Do you both understand?”

Lily could only nod, her vision obscured by the tears that now seemed endless. 

“Professor. Wait!” James began - but Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

“I am deeply sorry to both of you. I will see you in the morning.” And with that he threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, and disappeared. Leaving a distraught James and Lily in his wake. 

“It’s not a boy.” She said, so fierce she almost believed it herself. 

“Oh Lily,” James whispered, enveloping her into his arms. Hot tears flowed freely down his face, his wife pressing her nose into his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair, reaching his hand around her waist, holding the child in her belly. For the first time, James could not reassure his wife that all would be well.

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 Days of Potters

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg yay!! I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 2. As you saw, it's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. 😅

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

LOL girl I don't blame you for being distracted. The mental image of Dean manhandling in Protective Mode does things to me too. 🤣

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

You just wanna go:

Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships. Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

Oh my God, yeah. I considered having her be the one to face her "mistake" and talk to the mother, but I felt that having Sam take that on would be better, even as it added to the reader's guilt (and it would keep the story moving).

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

Lmaooo I knowww, I'm sorry! All the angsty feels in this one. 😭 Now you see the full weight of why Dean popped off the way he did. He just feels things so deeply, it comes out sometimes in anger, when at the root of it all, it's fear.

Thank you though for that compliment! I think this is the only time I've written that Dean trope. Because I honestly think it's overused, but I tried to do it in a way that made sense for the ultimate growth of their relationship and who Dean is.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

Thank you so much!! 🙏🏽🥹🥹 Yeah same, and it's definitely a contrast with Dean, who obviously cares about helping people and takes way too much responsibility on his shoulders, but he's been doing this so long and seen so much that he's learned to compartmentalize a bit more.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Oh girl yesss! If you make it to the last two stories in the series, remember this moment. 😏💜

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless. And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Ahaha thank you so much!! I LOVE me some salsa music, and it was a fun challenge to try and transition between these scenes. From one writer to another, I always appreciate those "technical" observations. 💓💓💓

Oh big YEP!! "Devorame Otra Ves" was the first song I thought of when the salsa idea came. Dean, in fact, is that guy. 🤣🤣

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

LMAO Oh yeah, the gif was a dead giveaway for what was coming later on. 😏 And thank you for shouting out the “What, now you’re shy?” line! It's a special kind of intimate, I thought, for her to be kind of embarrassed about what she's just done, but Dean like, "uh-uh, you're not getting away that easily." 😂😂

Also I love you for using a Chicago Fire gif!! loll Was a big fan of that show back in the day.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

Awww thank you! I love me some fun giggly romantic smut. 😂

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

Lol but seriously, I really appreciate that, thank you!! This story was definitely an emotional rollercoaster. I'm so glad you enjoyed it though!! 💕 ...And Sam's little mishap LOL. Dean has very little shame -- something he's going to prove later on again in the series. 😂

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. ��I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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[mythgrippa-blog]

Envious Encryption

A day or two ago, while I was on my way somewhere I bumped into with one of friends who was with his girlfriend, it was the first time I've seen her and despite that it already felt like I knew everything about her. I'm happy for the guy, they look perfect together and its obvious that he's very happy.

Seeing them together, seeing her specifically triggered something in me, I didn't realize until the next day when I saw him again when he said hi to me. He wasn't with his girlfriend but when I triedto remember what she looked like I couldn't help but think of another person I really cared about, someone who used to make me as happy. I've been feeling particularly lonely and lataely it feels everyone around me has someone except for me.

However, I thought I was okay with that, but it turns based from the jealousy I'm feeling that I still want something of my own. Envy, who would have thunk?

Envy, is a lot like encryption in the sense that it hides a lot of complex emotions, disguising itself as ambition, admiration or happiness but instead its something that slowly eating away from your vary soul. We encrypt our true feelings only for them to get decrypted by some random girl who looked like a person you knew.

Well yeah... thats it actually, I am just going to try and study or something, because I've been really letting these emotions devour my core being.

I'm really trying... at least I'm not giving into my addiction, instead I'm adeep in this game

Itchio has a lot of free random games, so that keeps me occupied for a while, well I think thats all from me. Thanks for reading, btw my project is about to end which is why you pro bably started reading but yeah.

The website, I wanted to add the Orcust system but the project doesn't seem to need any more features just bug fixes and preparing our presentation.

I did make a prototype of the Orcust system, it simply takes uploaded code and dockerizes it, it took longer than expected like 6ish hours to make a python script that properly does that. The docker library wasn't reliable at running newly created containers or images, so I made use of the commands.

I'll probably make the Orcust system a separate open source project. For quick and easy deployment of files. The way it works is that the uploaded script is suppsoed to have an endpoint open that the manager will expose and map to the host computer/server. The one issue I faced with this is that the containers would weigh about 150mb per container, so a 1000 containers would be 150gb of storage and then processing power for each container. Hosting this would be very expensive, maybe there are inexpensive options or secret ways of optimizing containers or images or perhaps docker optimizes loads of running containers. Not too sure but that was the issue. But the issue should have been an obvious flaw of using containers, I can't help but feel stupid haha maybe I should just ditch it. It won't be in the final project nor do I think anyone would be able to run this expensive library.

Well I suppose thats life, you live and you learn. Let me post the project now to github and I'll see it later.

Well yeah thats pretty much all of the update. Actually let me talk more about personal life, I've been talking with my friends more so thats something. I have a fear of being replaced, so seeing them hang out with others does break my heart a tad however thats okay because I can't always be there so it makes sense to hang with those you hand with and there's nothing really special about me anyway.

I've been listening to a lot of traumacore type music, like Mitsiki and junk before I sleep, its almost as if I want to hurt myself mentally. Told my best friend we have to talk in a couple of weeks, she said she's scared and I don't blame her, what could this be about? I just want to share myself one more time, like really share everything about me and see if she'd still want to call me her best friend. Like am I still worthy?

[words-of-a-venus]

When your name is read, said, or written, a lot of different emotions flutter around below my ribcage. Rather, I suppose, there are placeholders for those emotions. Bookmarks. I used to look at you and feel everything on the emotional spectrum: all-consuming love, hope, confusion, anger, sadness, resentment. Those feelings are already so foreign and far away to me. I think it's the manner in which you left me. Why shouldn't I disconnect my emotions from someone who found it so easy to leave me? It doesn't matter; right now, I'm being told to write about the anger. Thanks, Sara.

We started off in an absolute whirlwind, our love tinted by rose-colored glasses and peachy Florida sunsets. Like fire and gasoline there was an instant, momentous connection. You waxed eloquent to me, and you did it so effortlessly. You assured me that our love was forever, holding my face in your hands just as gently as you promised you'd hold my heart. From the moment I saw you, it felt as if I'd known you forever. I knew I'd want to spend the rest of my life trying to figure you out. That is, until you stopped wanting to know me.

I could see the fear building inside of you before we even left for Louisiana. To be honest, you probably should have broken up with me when you said you were going to. It was the day I'd gone to Disney with my best friends. I know that's when you really, really wanted to. Even with your reassurance, I could hear the hesitation underneath your words, hushed like a child that should remain silent. We had our going away party and while everyone celebrated and enjoyed the night, lighting joints and sipping caipirinhas, I knew you far too well not to notice the screaming that you'd stifled inside your head. I could hear it, silently and telepathically, from a mile way.

You were terrified to the core, and moving away was the last thing you wanted to do. The only feeling that measured up was your fear of losing me. Maybe I should've said something, pressed you more. But time and time again, you convinced me that - against all odds - you wanted to make it work. I think, instead, you were actually trying to convince yourself. Regardless, it doesn't matter how much you "want" to do something when "want" is just a word for you. It didn't hold any weight, any action, any movement. It wasn't a verb. It was a cold, lifeless word.

I knew on the drive up here that we weren't going to make it, though I pushed that thought as far down as I could. It was a nagging, shrill voice hiding in the back of my skull. You were trite and lifeless the entire journey. You didn't attempt to have fun, or make the most our trip. It was a long, tiring drive. I had a restless cat in my backseat and had never left home before (that is, for any distance farther than two hours from my parents). Still, I was prepared to laugh and smile through any obstacle because you were at my side. I wanted to soak in every second of a new adventure together. It was an adventure that I knew would take place somewhere we wouldn't be in forever, but I was ready to do it with you. You, on the other hand, were as cold as ice our entire stay at the AirBNB. You barely spoke to me, and the air felt heavy and stiff. I moved through it like molasses, my words catching in the air. I felt as if I'd walked into the life of a man I didn't know.

We lived together for only seven months after that. I know that I had pushed you away in some forms. I love hard - selflessly, deeply, and with all of my being - almost to a fault; sometimes that means I feel every other emotion at no less than 100%. For that I am sorry - I know that being with someone who is constantly and consistently at a ten, regardless of where on the spectrum, must be tiring at times. But I never pushed you away from a lack of loving you. All I ever wanted was a partner that was willing to work through any and every obstacle. Even then, it seemed that with every challenge we faced, you only pushed me further and further from you. You say you tried, but I rarely saw it. I never felt it. Inside me lived this gnawing, miserable feeling that you lived with one foot out the door. And I guess, emotionally, you always were.

Despite my - far apart, yet regular - emotional breakdowns, I tried to do and be everything for you. You're lonely? I'll find you some friends, invite you to parties and work events so you can mingle and connect. You won't plan dates for us, or put any effort into trying to enjoy the town we'd moved to? I'll find fun activities and events. I'll plan nights around things that I know make you truly happy. I'll shower you with words of adoration, praise, and all of my affection. I'll leave sweet little notes around the house for you to find. I'll make you your favorite comfort foods. I'll surprise you with snacks. I'll find fun games that can bring us closer together and help our bond to grow stronger. I'll even suggest that if you're homesick, you go home a month or so at a time until our lease ends, just so you can be around the people that you need. I even went so far as to promise you that we would go home together after our brief stint here; I was prepared to completely shift my career goalpost, all in the effort to make you happy. I'd have done anything to make it through. But it wasn't enough. To you, one of my downfalls was that I didn't always dust. I left one too many dishes in the sink. My bad.

Anger is an emotion I'm familiar with, but am disconnected from now. She's a family member that I know exists, but she doesn't play a role in my life anymore. Still, I know what she looks like, and what she hated:

All you ever did was whine and complain, focusing on impending and inevitable dread. No moment held sunshine, and if it did, you couldn't bask in it. It peaked out from behind the clouds, only to slip into hiding once more. Look at the black sky, focus on it. Rain is coming. Rain was always coming.

You were closed minded. I don't care what you say, or how much you try to convince me that you weren't. Disapproving of all abrahamic religions, denouncing that faith has any sort of benefit to anyone, is closed minded. Maybe you were wary of the paranormal towards the end, but I think maybe I'd rubbed off on you. I imagine you're set back in your ways.

You always had to be right, even about pettiest things. Everything you were correct about boosted your ego, like a fifth grader getting gold stars. If it couldn't be proven, seen, or quantified, you wanted no part of it. If someone disagreed, your phone was unsheathed from your pocket within a millisecond, ready to fact check something so insignificant. Do rings in trees actually signify their age? Do male octopi have one tentacle that is shorter than the others? It didn't matter the topic, you were going to find out. If the other person was wrong? Heh. You were right, you always knew it. If they were right? Well, let's move on.

You didn't pick up a single thing around the house, which I know now is a gripe you had with me. I'd come home to sinks full of dishes, an unmade bed, sweatshirts and shoes strewn about. You helped me only when you saw me start a task, as if you were coming to the rescue, making my life so much easier. Here's a hard truth: men aren't making your lives easier, unless they were first making it harder.

You were always late. Both times to the airport, you were late by at least an hour. Leaving the house for events, wanting to go somewhere. Late. I think the incidents with the airport infuriated me the most, though I brushed it off at the time because y'know what? I loved you, and when you love someone you pick your battles. It's what you do. But after hours of being in a cramped plane with strangers, the last thing you want to do is stick around a cramped airport with more strangers.

Everything was a chore for you, even the fun things. Headaches, stomach aches, sore feet, sore everything. Nothing could happen without some sort of gripe. The weather, how long the days were (that you didn't plan, especially not toward the end). Why couldn't you just bask in the happiness I tried to share with you? Why was that too much to ask?

Physical intimacy was a mess.

To be honest, I'm glad you're gone. The growth and progress I've made without you could never have been achieved with you by my side. Your aura, your very being, began to ooze a negativity that was black and palpable. Your version of homeostasis was miserable - it almost made me feel guilty if I didn't live my life in as much misery as you. As if my joy was salt in your wound. Fuck that. I have a lot to work on, and a lot of the life that I live within my head has yet to line up with the moral character I exude, but I'm getting there. Slowly. I'm learning. I know without a doubt that my life will - to the best of my ability; I am only human, after all - be lived with light and love first. I am a being of hope, and I find joy in the smallest of things now. Unapologetically, I've begun to embrace childlike wonder again. No one can take that from me. Especially not you.

I don't hate you. I hate the way you gave up on me. Your hallmark, or so you claimed, was open and honest communication. You never truly gave me that. I begged you to let me in; I tried to dig to your core for months. All I ever wanted was to break past the dam that you had built around yourself. I didn't care that I'd drown in the floods, I wanted that. I wanted for you to fall into me and say, "look, here I am. vulnerable, with all of my mess. here you are with yours. let's grow and clean them up, together". Despite it all, you were a rose I was prepared to bleed for. I'd have moved mountains for you. I'd have gathered all of the stars and made them into crowns and glittering jewelry if you'd asked me to. If you had shown any indication that you were ready to work together, I'd have poured my heart out to you. Instead, you walked out on me. You did it with ease, and never looked back.

Fuck you for taking the dog.

2/9/23.

[foxtwink]

i think one reason why i love reading so much, especially poetry and prose, is the depth of emotion i can feel without any real risk to myself. a book is a guided tour, a multicourse gourmet meal you can trust the dedicated chef to deliberately prepare. a book is the drop of a roller coaster: the incarnate knowledge of safety and unreality, despite my suspension of disbelief, despite my inherent fear in the moment. so when i hurt i pick up a book and I try to follow the characters without writing myself into them. but somewhere along the way minds meld together- like smoking weld, two perspectives becoming one. two shards of sharp metal that hurt each other and melt each other and dissolve each other, absolve each other; two corrosive chemicals mixing in a thermal reaction (and a cloud of smoke). i blink and suddenly i am here in a world where you alternate between yourself and a shadow of a character written by some meditation/crystal go-getter in a plush couch.

you know, if you love someone so fiercely that becoming anything more would kill you, you'd rather not love at all. that's me. and if you've lived your whole life destroying things (yourself and others), then one day you start choosing the being alone over the everyone else. that's you. i've been burned so many times by so many different things (the sun and the stars in your eyes). my aversion to fire is strong but not as wildly magnetic as my attraction. you know, my best friend loves the water. as a child, she used to throw herself into open water, into pools and lakes. you know, there was a girl at my elementary school who threw herself off the very top roof of our play structure because she believed so confidently that she could fly. she even tried to convince us all that we could too. they had to call an ambulance. you know, one time asa a child i believed i could tumble, so fiercely that i launched into a flip knowing nothing. i landed on my face, smashed my skull into a corner table, and bled.

i don't know what these things mean; we are deluded and desperate. i don't know what it means when i keep making excuses to see you, refusing to look directly into the desire. see, you are not something i allow myself to explore too closely. like a tantalizing alley, like the twisted dark corridors of an abandoned building. you are dangerous and you are on fire and you are the slowest beating heart i have ever met. you are the glassy surface before a riptide, the great ocean shielding its deep mysteries below. i breathe, exist, simply be within the space. i don't jump down the crumbling walls of empty shafts, don't lay on eons-old furniture and stomp like a rowdy paranoid group of teenagers; don't poke my head inside the doors of musty shops and around corners of heavy shadows. i don't dare swim out into the waves, don't allow them to crash over my face; i don't learn to dive, don't set off with headlamps and harpoons. but i can't stop myself continuing to come back to you, over and over. like those infinite drives to the beach, or the heady smell of pines in the Santa Cruz mountains, over and over again in my mind. some unstoppable will, some hidden knowledge that i am inherently closer to what i seek when i'm around you. can't help the thought that you are mine, that i don't wanna share you, in the ways that an expert carefully guards their secret methodologies. like a particularly whimsical forest clearing, or a hotspot in the sea filled with rainbow fish. you make me feel like running in the rain, or in the dark. breathless, calamitous calm. the soft embrace of a dangerous thing trusting you, of settling dusk upon your shoulders. the ease of putting your bare hands inside the mouth of a malinois dog.

in many ways i return to you with my guards and filters the way i return to all the places that are not mine. like sitting on the beach, watching dolphins leap and spin just a few meters offshore. or the abandoned insane asylum, how i keep refusing to return without proper masks and gloves. there is even a certain apathy in my will to go back to santa cruz and see old friends, to ruin magical memories with fresher, more mundane ones. i know i could put in a little more effort, learn to take the bart and find my way to someplace that feels like a home. instead i watch and allow two threads that crossed to uncross, yanking at the loose end of a bracelet and finding the whole thing built out of slipknots. i watch crumbling history that no one cares about, stand with my feet on the earth and inherently hear the voices of the people, the trees, the wide open sky. i ask if you have work, but i don't ask if you need to go home because i know the ways we are: dancing around each other. an ocean and a wildfire, afraid to touch, afraid to extinguish. i don't know if i'm afraid even just to see you. these days, i don't know anything.

but some nights the last thing on my mind is how severely i shove away the hope of it all. the uncertainty, the doubt, the contained possibilities within an "i don't know." we never want to find out, so you spare me. because you don't want to hurt me, or because you don't want to hurt yourself. and i know you're right; i've been burned a few times. somebody like me, we don't get so close to the sparks and expect to come away clean. when i angle grind i lean my face over the piece, watching with precision while i guide my hands. i feel the sparks prick my face, my arms; i feel them stab and burn even as i stare in meditative stupor at their beauty. but those are sparks, and these? these are fireworks. these are bombs. it's true, i'm very safe in a lab; but i have never stopped a fire. when i play with my lighter you take it away. and the one in a million chance that we can set off something brilliant vanishes over the horizon with all our fears.