#i’ve never done a writing stream before but I’ve been considering it for months

[solarpunkani]

Homies I was rereading my solarpunk zombie apocalypse story to see if I’d want to try continuing it for reaping week and

Homies I kinda cooked

Maybe I’ll do a writing stream Monday

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hiiiii cal!!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying writing this way because I love getting to read these snippets - it’s like a bunch of mini cliffhangers that prompt my imagination to go wild and it’s so much fun!! I’ll be sending emojis for as long as you’re wanting them!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️(they’re getting a house! And about to get married!!! And i might be misremembering but i don’t think you’ve done a detailed buddie wedding in any of your fics yet? I’m very excited to see how you do it!!)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨(the shenanigans and tomfoolery of being bad at hiding a secret relationship… it amuses me so!)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(as i’ve said many times before, my love for this fic goes beyond words!! And you’re venturing into truly riveting territory here i’m so pumped!!)

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮(my heart breaks for babby - my typo for baby bobby and i’m keeping it - my dear sweet babby)

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(i can already feel this one becoming my new obsession! Idk why i thought it was going to be something shorter when you first started posting about it but i was thrilled to see that anticipated chapter count on ao3!)

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑(islands in the stream has been stuck in my head all day and i blame you! I’m so looking forward to the madney sweetness!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼(oh my god cal the angst! It’s angsting!)

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐(huge fan of mays crush being named april - it makes me giggle every time)

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮(cranberry my baby! And the covidness of it all is so vivid - i’m loving the buck-chris dynamic!)

I never count the amount of emojis i type as i go so i’m always a bit shocked at how many sentences i’ve requested of you when you post the reply 😬 thank you so much for putting up with my crazy requests it brings me such joy!

I hope you have a lovely weekend and week!!

SO AS I WAS FILLING THIS OUT MY FUCKING LAPTOP CRASHED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT HAS TAKEN ME HOURS AND HOURS ACROSS TWO DAYS. FUCK. Let's see if I can find the sentences I wrote again.

For TWATYTK and Zombies, those parts have already been posted, because as I said, this was taking so long. GAH!

I had a whole message typed out about how much I appreciate you. You are so kind! IT'S LOST TO TIME NOW.

I think this was what I had for ⚡️:

---

Their next call is to the scene of a fire. 

This should not be especially eventful, considering that they are firefighters and all. And, for the drive there, it isn’t. The transit process? Just fine. 

It’s the rest that sends Buck into a tailspin. 

He spends the ride seated next to Eddie, thighs touching. They’re back being partnered together. Sadie earned her shield a couple months back, and has been working as Ravi’s partner since. Buck is pretty proud of her - and himself, for training her. He liked working with her a lot. But he’s happy to be back where he belongs, in terms of workplace duos. 

Buck and Eddie - okay, mostly Buck - talk everyone’s ear off about the house for the time it takes them to get to the fire. They should possibly be a little less giddy headed towards an actual three alarm fire, but at that point, Buck thinks his mood simply can’t be shaken. How naive. 

It is perhaps due to this focus on the house, which is nowhere near the direction they’re headed in to get to this fire, that Buck doesn’t realize what is in the direction of the fire. In his defense, neither does anyone else! Not even Eddie! Even Bobby, who knows better where they’re going, doesn’t put the pieces together. 

Maybe it’s because they spend so much time driving around the city. Here and there. Fires and car accidents and medical emergencies everywhere. Everywhere looks familiar! They could all be city tour guides. It’s not like driving through a city where you only know a few places, so the places you know feel like beacons.

Or Buck is just making excuses for his lack of attention. Either way. 

Really, it’s not until they turn onto the street that Buck notices. Though, it’s a long road, and they’re still a few miles out. 

“This is weird,” Buck says. 

“What is?” Sadie asks. She’s sitting across from him. Noticing his sudden onslaught of nerves. 

“We’re on the same street as the wedding venue.”’

That makes Eddie look. He’d been typing a rather long message to his mother and not paying much attention to where they’re going. At Buck’s words, his attention snaps to the window.

“Shit, you’re right.” 

Well, obviously Buck knows he’s right. 

“Bobby,” he asks. “What’s the address of where we’re going?”

“Uh, it is…” Bobby reads. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Buck repeats. He grabs Eddie’s arm. “Oh? Oh, what?”

“Okay, well first let’s remember we don’t know how bad it is yet,” Bobby says, maintaining a steady facade. 

“Bobby, it’s a three-alarm fire!” Buck exclaims, voice raising an octave.

“And the wedding is in days,” Eddie adds, voice wavering with stress. “There’s no time to do any repairs, even if it’s not totally ruined.”

Days. Days. What the fuck are they going to do?

“Okay, let’s not jump to any conclusions. Technically, the address is for the building next door,” Bobby explains. “Everything might be fine.”

Everything is not fine. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

Two minutes after his painstaking revelation, Buck finds himself standing next to his fiancé on the street in front of their wedding venues, watching it plume with smoke. The wind blew the flames from the building next to it, and the roof caught. It won’t fare as badly as the other building, but it certainly won’t be available for their wedding. 

They are getting married.

In three days. 

Their wedding is in three days. 

Their wedding is in three days and has no venue. 

Because their venue is burning right in front of him. 

Their venue was also their caterer, so add that to the fucking fire. 

“Buck! Eddie!” Bobby calls. “Work first, react later!”

Easy for him to say! It’s not his wedding venue! 

“Come on.” Eddie tugs on his turnouts. “We’ve got to go.”

Buck feels like he’s been possessed by a heap of barbed wire. 

He turns his head to Eddie. His eyes are bugged out so wide they might pop from his head. An absurd but sticky thought pops into his head. 

“You jinxed us,” Buck accuses. 

“Buck!” Eddie complains.

---

And 🚨:

---

“Okay, that makes sense. Was it his family?”

Buck nods. “They were religious. Conservative. Southern.”

“I can relate,” Eddie tells him. 

“Eventually, I just wanted to be able to relax, though,” Buck says. “I made him promise we’d do it at the end of the tour. Not to his family. Just, to friends… And in public.”

Eddie’s expression softens as he realizes.

“And then he died.”

“Yeah.” 

And then he died. 

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie exhales.

Buck shakes his head. His eyes start to sting. 

“It’s stupid, Eddie. I know there’s no logic behind it. It just feels like once something is out loud, it can be taken away.”

Eddie nods, understanding the thought process. 

“We both know I can’t promise you I won’t spontaneously die,” he says. “Especially in a global pandemic.”

“I know,” Buck nods. 

“But, uh…” Eddie sighs. “It’s like you said when I was worried about Chris, right? I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“Prove it to me?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “I’ll just prove that we get to have a life together. Even if we’re both a little bit scared of dying.”

“I’m scared of you dying,” Buck reminds him. 

“Okay, well we’re at an equal risk, so… Not the point, actually. Buck, the point is, I’ll show you every day, alright?” Eddie promises. “We get to have this.”

Buck takes a deep breath. He leans forward in bed and grabs Eddie’s hand. 

“I don’t know if I’d believe anyone else,” he says quietly. 

Eddie shuffles up the mattress, closer to Buck.

“Believe me,” he says. 

“Okay,” Buck relents. “But only because you’re very pretty.”

Eddie smirks. “It’s a gift.”

“Mmm, or a trick.”

Eddie chuckles and kisses his temple, right beside the birthmark. 

“I love you,” he says. “That’s not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay,” Buck breathes. 

He decides to try his best to believe him. 

---

And the 90 sentences I wrote for this damn 🩸:

---

But it does show Buck what she’s up to. 

It kind of makes him mad, actually. Eddie has gone to such intense, devastating lengths to hide himself. Meanwhile, his attacker has been out here, just living life. Posting about walks through the park and her latest baking experiment. How is that fucking fair? 

It’s not. 

It’s not fair. 

And while Buck knows what he has to do isn’t fair either - isn’t right or human or good - he tries to keep that in mind. 

She ruined Eddie’s life. Twice. She didn’t have to do that. Now, what choice does Buck have? 

February 10th, 2025

Eddie does something on Monday that he perhaps should not do. Something the tiniest bit risky. After his call with Adriana, he’s feeling that a bit of risk taking to get his life back where it needs to be is necessary. And anyway, he’s not doing anything illegal. Not doing anything wrong. Nothing he can be arrested for. 

He’s picking his son up from school. 

Chris pauses, exiting Durand School to see Eddie in the driver’s seat of the truck. His eyes widened with nerves for a moment. Eddie felt a rush of guilt. He doesn’t want to make Chris worry. Doesn’t want to cause any undue stress. He just wants to feel like a normal dad again, picking his kid up from school. 

But then Chris breaks out into a wide grin, and Eddie feels his whole body relax. 

“You came!” Chris exclaims, surprised, when he reaches the vehicle. 

Eddie climbs out to help him into the front seat. Not that Chris needs a lot of help anymore. Mostly just someone to hold his crutches and bag. 

“I did,” Eddie confirms. He tries to keep his voice even. 

“You’re not worried?” 

“No,” Eddie says. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m not doing anything I’m not allowed to do.”

Chris thinks about this. “I’m glad you came today.”

“Me too,” Eddie decides. “Do you want to grab ice cream or something on the way home?”

Chris narrows his eyes. “I’m not a little kid, remember?”

“Jeez, I didn’t know ice cream had an age limit,” Eddie frowns. “Buck will be devastated to hear this. You know how seriously he takes his Neapolitan.”

Chris smirks. “Fine. Okay. I want ice cream.”

Eddie grins. “Thought so.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting on a little patio, under the shade of an umbrella. Eddie is in the darkest seat, also covered by sunglasses and a hat. Chris sits in the sunshine, spooning strawberry ice cream from a little paper bowl. 

“So, I wanted to run an idea by you,” Eddie says. 

“Me?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah, you. Who else?”

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “What is it?”

“Well, I think I need to get a job,” Eddie says. 

“But you can’t be a firefighter,” Chris fills in.

“No,” Eddie says. “I don’t think I can.”

“So, then what?” 

“Well, May suggested I look into telehealth services. Like a hotline for medical advice or something,” Eddie says. 

Chris nods. “You’d be good at that.”

“Thank you,” Eddie replies. “But, uh, I did a little research and I think I found something different that suits me even better.”

“What is it?”

“Well, there’s this nonprofit that operates out of Los Angeles looking for people with medical experience. Nurses. Doctors. Paramedics.” 

“Like a charity?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah, but I’d get paid,” Eddie says. “It’s a job. Bringing emergency medical care to people who maybe don’t feel safe to call for help.” 

“Like… You?” Chris whispers the last part. 

“Yeah, but not just like me,” Eddie explains. “All kinds of people. People facing deportation. Homeless people. People who can’t afford an ambulance ride. Stuff like that.”

---

This is easier to count again haha 🔮:

---

Buck wakes up with his cheek pressed into the bannister support poles of Bobby’s apartment stairwell. He can feel their imprint as he woozily pulls his upper body upright. His head is pounding and he feels vaguely nauseous. Almost like he’s been drugged. Though, the comedown when they’d been spiked with LSD had been far more gradual than the sudden, brutal snap back to reality that had been whatever that was. 

Not a coma, he realizes. If he’s sitting in the stairwell to Bobby’s apartment, not a hospital room, then it wasn’t a coma dream. Kind of an insane regular dream, though? And why had he passed out in the first place?

Acutely aware he won’t find any answers here, parked on his ass, Buck pulls himself to his feet. Slowly, and gripping the bannister for support, just in case, he straightens out his body. His legs give a little wobble. 

What the fuck happened to him?

Partway down the stairs, Buck looks up and down. Should he go out to the Jeep and risk driving home? Feeling like this? He supposes he could call Eddie. Eddie would come for him, no questions asked. He knows he could ask Bobby for help, too. No matter what just happened between them. But his brain is battling two contradictory memories; the fight he had with Bobby in the kitchen and the memory he somehow intruded on of Bobby at his father’s funeral. If that was even real. The easy thing to do would be to go downstairs and call Eddie, not deal with any of it. Hold onto the only thing he knows really happened. 

With a sigh, Buck turns and climbs the stairs. Up towards Bobby’s. 

The moment his foot hits the landing on Bobby’s floor, Buck sees the breathless, similarly disoriented face of his captain jogging down the hallway. He looks pale. Hair a little mussed. Half his face is red, like it’s been pressed against something, too. 

---

A bunch for this guy here 🧟:

---

“May is awake and lucid,” she says. “She’s asking for you.”

Athena grabs one of Hen’s hands and squeezes it. 

“Thank you. Thank you.” 

Then she hurries off in the direction of her daughter’s sickroom. 

Hen doesn’t go after her. She waits, lingering, to speak with Bobby. 

“Did you find Michael?” She asks. 

Bobby shakes his head slightly. 

“It looks like he was infected in the initial outbreak or sometime soon after.”

Hen’s shoulder sag. “Damn it. Poor Athena. Poor kids.” 

Bobby nods. He doesn’t know what else to say. Yes. It’s horrendous. Everything is always so horrendous and everyone’s families are always dying. 

“We should ask her to stay,” Hen says quietly. “She’s a friend. We trust her. The kids will be good for Denny.”

Bobby knows they have enough food to stretch to more than just the three of them. Plus, more hands means more potential to harvest more. Fish more. Preserve more. 

“It’s not just my decision,” Bobby says. “We’ll have to discuss it as a group.”

“No, but it’ll go whatever way you want it to go,” Hen says. “You know that.”

He does. 

“I think it’s a good idea, Hen. But I want everyone’s input.” 

“Like you did with the radio?” She asks.

Bobby raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Buck told you?”

“Oh, yes.” She says. “Wanted to get ahead of it, I guess.”

“Do you think I did the wrong thing?” Bobby asks. 

Hen might be the only person he’s willing to ask this of. The only person whose answer he really wants to know. 

“No,” she says. “I don’t think you did the wrong thing. But I’m worried about him anyway.”

“Me too, Hen.” Bobby admits.

He’s always worried about Buck. All the time. Every minute. Even when Buck hasn’t done anything deserving of Buck’s worry. 

One day, Buck is going to finally let himself realize they’re all dead. Maddie. Abby. Every person he knew and loved before this. He’ll realize they’re all gone. And Bobby worries, every moment, that it will destroy him. He worries he won’t find a reason to keep pushing forward.

---

A few here 👑:

---

Chim finally gets a chance to talk to Hen about it, privately, somewhere around four in the morning. They’re in the ambulance, driving back from yet another party gone wrong that resulted in a hospital transport. At least this time no one puked. Just a badly broken ankle from a drunken trampoline adventure. 

“So you forgot to get her number,” Hen says. “Can’t you go back?”

“Stroll up to a gated mansion tomorrow and say, ‘hi, I’m the guy who kissed your daughter while you were trying to set her up with rich hedge fund types?’ I don’t think so, Hen.”

“She’s probably trying to find your information, too,” Hen tries. 

“I hope,” Chim grumbles. 

“And, hey, you’re very findable on social media,” Hen adds. “She won’t have trouble.”

“Should I message her brother?” Chim asks. “Is that crazy? He was nice!”

“Mmm, maybe wait until you’ve slept for all forms of communication,” Hen advises. “She knows you’re at work, anyway. She won’t be expecting to hear from you.”

“Right. Right. You’re so smart. Why are you so smart?”

“I had a nap in the bunk room while you were at the party.”

Damn. Yeah. A nap would make him sharper. 

“So, it’s just a waiting game for now,” Chim sighs. This is not helping with the resounding feeling that he may, in fact, be a complete fool.

“I think so,” Hen agrees. “Sorry, Chim.”

👑👑👑

By some stroke of fate, he’s not waiting very long. 

When they park the ambulance in the engine bay and climb out, sore and tired, Chim is met with the sound of a strangely familiar voice. One he thinks he may just be hallucinating. 

“You’re the captain? That’s so cool!” He hears. “That means you’ve been doing this forever, right? You know a lot about it?”

---

OKAY BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING! THAT IS WHERE MY LAPTOP ABANDONED ME.

30 for 🔼:

---

She accepts the cards she’s been dealt, just like last time. After all, didn’t she shuffle the deck?

She sees her son as much as she can. She goes back to her office admin job as soon as she’s able. She misses Eddie’s shield ceremony. His request. She avoids his parents while they’re in town altogether. Her choice. 

Other than coworkers, she really has no adults to see. Compounded with that, she and Eddie have made the decision not to tell family - even Christopher - until her second trimester. So Shannon finds herself existing in this strange vacuum of silence. Again, one of her own making. But difficult to navigate nonetheless. 

That changes about seven weeks after her accident. Completely unintentionally, she might add. 

None of it was ever a plan in her head. 

She’s been seeing a physical therapist for her shoulder. Her ankle has healed on an intended timeline, not causing her much additional trouble. Her shoulder, on the other hand, has been a source of difficulty. Perhaps with everything else changing in her body, it can’t quite figure itself out. It wouldn’t be the only thing. 

She’s thirteen weeks along now. Almost at that second trimester mark. Almost at the point where not only will they be able to tell people, but they’ll have to. Namely their son. She’s not really showing per say, but she certainly feels bigger and tighter. Her chest is another matter entirely. 

So, to paint the picture, there she is; thirteen weeks pregnant with a man whose trust she shattered, shoulder hardly functional, sitting in the waiting room of her physical therapist in loose sweats and her baggiest tee shirt because nothing fits her boobs properly anymore, and who walks in? Or hobbles in, rather? Her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s best friend. 

---

33 for 💐 (YEAH THANKS I THOUGHT APRIL WAS FUNNY):

---

She orders a wine spritzer. April orders a cider. They sit in a corner booth and for a good few minutes, it’s awkward as hell. Neither of them really seems to know where to start. Which makes sense, because they didn’t exactly have any solid communication foundations to begin with. May is reminded, strangely, of the time Sue left her and Claudette to sort out their issues in the quiet room, right before the fire at Dispatch. Not that she thinks this will end the same way, obviously. 

“Listen,” May starts after the server brings them their drinks. “I’m sorry if I misunderstood things. I really got the sense you didn’t like me.”

April frowns. “I’m not sure how, honestly. I was trying pretty hard to get to know you.” 

“I think I definitely, uh, read things wrong,” May admits. “I’m definitely… Confused about things. But, come on, April. You have to admit, you were acting super competitive with me in class.”

Her brows furrow, hazel eyes giving the impression she’s sifting through memories. 

“Was I that bad?” She asks. 

“Yes,” May insists. “You disagree with everything I say. You compete over grades. When you did better than me on the criminology midterm exam, you literally said April always comes before May.” 

April’s cheeks redden. 

“Oh my god,” she mumbles.

“You did say it!” May reiterates. 

“No, I know,” April says. “I’m sorry, I just… God, it’s stupid. You thought I was serious?”

“Well, yeah?” 

April takes a long sip of her cider.

---

45 for darling Cranberry! 🦮:

---

Cranberry brings Chris the ball, pressing it eagerly into his hand. 

“Ew, so much slobber,” Chris complains, wiping his hand on his pants. Luckily, laundry day is tomorrow. 

“Well, you’re the one who keeps throwing it for her,” Buck says. He’s just been snapping photos to send to Eddie. 

“Gross, Cran,” Chris chides, and throws the ball again, a little absentmindedly. This time, the ball goes high. Higher than Buck would have liked. And at an awkward angle.

Cranberry twists her body as she jumps, catching the ball midair. When she comes back down, she fumbles, front left paw hitting the ground hard and buckling under her. She yelps and stumbles forward. 

“Cranberry!” Chris shrieks. 

Buck lurches forward to where they’re playing, straining his leg. 

Cranberry stands and stumbles a little again. She lifts her injured paw, favoring it. Tail tucked between her leg, she limps towards Buck, seeking comfort.

Buck lowers himself down as quickly as he can manage to examine her. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks. 

“Did she break her leg?” Christopher asks, bottom lip trembling.

Buck lifts Cranberry’s injured leg. It doesn’t look broken. He flexes it. Her elbow and shoulder move without resistance, but she fights him when he tries to straighten her wrist. It can move, it just hurts her. 

“Is she okay?” Chris asks again. 

Buck feels a pang of annoyance. 

“This is why I asked you not to throw it too high,” he grits out. 

Tears spill out from the boy’s eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry, Buck.” He blubbers. “I didn’t mean to hurt her!”

Buck clenches his jaw. He feels unreasonably angry and panicked. If Christopher had just listened this wouldn’t have happened. 

“I know it was an accident,” Buck manages. 

“I’m sorry, Cranberry,” Chris cries. He takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. 

“I think it’s just twisted,” Buck says. “I’m going to bring her inside and call the vet to see if she needs to get checked out. Okay?”

[cowboycakes]

Do You Get My Letters

✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader

✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist

✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.

✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.

✥ Word Count: 2.2k

(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)

Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽‍♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!

Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.

---

Dear Reiner,

I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.

In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.

I’m pregnant.

I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.

I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.

I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.

Sincerely,

Reader

---

The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.

The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.

You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.

“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”

You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.

“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.

“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.

You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.

“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”

“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”

You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.

“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”

“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”

You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.

He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.

“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.

You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.

“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.

---

Dear Reader,

I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.

The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.

Eren Jaeger

---

Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.

You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”

Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”

You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.

Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.

You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.

Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.

“Absolutely not.”

---

Dear Reiner,

Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.

How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.

I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.

I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.

Levi

---

You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.

The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.

You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.

The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.

“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”

He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.

The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.

Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.

You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.

Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.

You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.

“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”

Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.

“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”

—-

Dear Reiner,

She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.

Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.

If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.

She has your eyes.

Sincerely,

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.

I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.

Are you even alive?

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.

I still wonder about you. After all these years.

Reader

—-

Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.

That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.

You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?

You pry at it until it comes open.

Letters.

Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.

You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.

You pull out the second bundle and gasp.

—-

Dear Reader,

Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.

I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.

Love,

Reiner

—

Dear Reader,

Do you get my letters?

I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.

I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.

Love,

Reiner

—-

To Levi,

You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.

Reiner

—-

There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.

You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.

You are the farce, Levi.

But, why? He was just protecting you, right?

The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.

You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.

“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”

“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”

“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”

Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.

༺♥༻

I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)

༺♥༻

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around. 

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear. 

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth. 

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said. 

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass. 

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning. 

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked. 

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch. 

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked. 

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said. 

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said. 

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye. 

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

“I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car. 

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said. 

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said. 

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said. 

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it. 

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours. 

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it. 

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.” 

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said. 

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said. 

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin. 

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes. 

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly. 

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved. 

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

[writingabouteverything]

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly 

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:)) 

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever. 

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex? 

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish. 

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that. 

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again. 

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle. 

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar. 

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.  

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird. 

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.” 

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.” 

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health. 

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.” 

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have. 

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.” 

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh. 

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.” 

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.” 

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.” 

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible. 

 I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut. 

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” 

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?” 

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach. 

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.” 

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.” 

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.” 

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.” 

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!” 

--

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go. 

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.” 

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.” 

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?” 

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.” 

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black. 

--

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between. 

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.” 

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.” 

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.” 

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.” 

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.” 

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.” 

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.” 

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--” 

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse. 

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.” 

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.” 

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.” 

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.” 

[machine-gun-casie]

tavern music

synopsis: corpse hears tavern music coming from your room (gn!reader)

warnings: rpf, reader gets cheated on, kind of unrequited feelings, mostly hurt/comfort and physical affection tho (what im trying to say is that this is mostly self indulgent)

wc: 1.7k

a/n: havent written in a while but i found this in my arsenal, fixed it up a bit and viola. original plans for this was definitely something longer that would end with them being together but im not up for writing rn. been feeling really shitty lately and ive been needing something like this in my life. hope u guys like it ♡

He couldn’t hear it at first. His headset was on and everyone was being so loud on the discord call. When he started the stream, he really thought it was gonna be a long one. But he’s only two hours in and he’s ready to get the hell off because something was definitely wrong.

“Corpse?” His name being spoken finally broke him out of his trance, he only hummed in response. “You’ve been really quiet. Are you sure you’re up for another game?”

“Actually,” he starts as he closes a few tabs, “I think I’ve gotta go. Today was fun, though. Thanks for having me guys.”

After a chorus of ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you later’s, Corpse disconnected from the discord call. “Thank you guys for being here,” he addressed the chat, “sorry I’m ending so early today. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time. Take care of yourselves. Later.”

After hanging up his headset and getting out of the chair he’s been sitting in for far too long, Corpse made the short trek to your room. 

You had only been roommates for less than four months, but Corpse could confidently say that you have become one of his closest friends. Getting a roommate was the last resort that he never wanted to actually resort to. But alas, medical bills were piling up and youtube and music don’t make half as much money as people think they do. So cutting rent in half was the best plan he could come up with. He did have an extra guest room that no one ever stayed in. Of course having someone move into his personal space was terrifying to him. He didn’t just want to post an ad on craigslist or something. So he asked a couple trusted friends to ask a couple trusted friends… And that’s when you came in.

You were the trusted friend of a trusted friend of a trusted friend. When you met, you didn’t make a comment about his voice. Your face sure as hell showed your surprise but you didn’t say anything. To Corpse, this meant one of two things. You either knew who he was but didn’t want to freak him out, or you didn’t know about his online persona and were just genuinely shocked by his voice. It only took a few minutes of knowing you to know that it was the latter. Thank god. You were like anyone your age with social media. You had a few accounts, followed a few people, but mostly used it to stay in contact with friends. 

It only took you guys a week to realize you had way too much in common. After many a late night when he wasn’t streaming, and many an early morning when he was just done streaming, you two became inseparable. Nothing could keep you apart.

Except for one thing.

You had a boyfriend.

There was nothing wrong with your boyfriend, per se. Just the fact that he was your boyfriend and Corpse was not. 

Yeah, Corpse definitely had feelings for you. 

But right now, feelings didn’t matter when he could hear tavern music coming from your room.

He knocked lightly and pushed the door open slowly. “y/n? Can I come in?”

No response came, just sniffles and sobs. The lack of refusal on your part gave him the courage he needed to open the door wider and step into your room. He had only been in your room a couple of times since you had moved in. But he had never been in a room that gave off the feeling of a person so well.

You were curled up on your bed, facing your open laptop screen and the tavern music coming from its speakers. With every sob shaking your chest, Corpse felt his heart break. “y/n,” he murmured softly, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s not working.” Came your reply, heavy with tears. “You said it would make you feel like you're going on an adventure but I still feel like crap.”

“What happened?” Corpse asked as he sat down on your bed, facing you. You slowly sat up and crossed your legs at your ankles in front of you.

“He-” You sighed heavily. “He cheated on me.”

“What?”

“He cheated on me -has been cheating on me- with my best friend. My little brother found out.” You groaned and dramatically dropped your head onto Corpse’s thigh. His hand immediately came in contact with your cheek as he brushed a few stray tears away.

There was rarely any physical contact between you and Corpse. Sometimes you’d give him a high five, sometimes he’d give you fist bump. And there was that one time you came up behind him at the grocery store and hugged his arm to your chest. You immediately whispered something along the lines of ‘creep won’t leave me alone’ followed by a loud ‘hey babe!’

Corpse could barely admit to himself how much he liked that.

But this? This felt good. Corpse’s large warm hand on your face somehow made you want to cry more but in a good way. The tenderness with which he held your face made your heart squeeze as it remembered moments like this with your boyf- ex boyfriend. But then it remembered your brother’s words.

“Hey, what’s up?” You spoke as you answered his call. Your brother wasn’t much of a caller, so it made you worry. 

“Hey, where are you right now?”

“I’m home, why?”

“y/n… There’s something I gotta tell you.” He sighed and you could clearly hear the guilt.

“Did you break my DS!” It was your first thought as you had given it to him the last time you had seen him. “Dude! I’ve had that since I was seven!”

“No no, I called about something else.” He cut you off mid-whine. “But also I did lose the pen.” You huffed out a sigh of frustration but stayed silent so he could tell you what he wanted to tell you. “I saw your boyfriend at the park today.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “And?” How did this warrant a phone call? 

“He was with Bob.” 

When you had met your best friend, your brother was only a toddler. He had decided that her name was Bob, so it stuck. You always called her Bob, she was saved as Bob in your phone, your whole family called her Bob. But you still didn't understand. Why was he calling you to tell you that your boyfriend and your best friend were at the park? 

“Why are you calling me about this? You know that they’re friends, right?” You let out a chuckle, albeit still pretty confused. “They’re allowed to hang out without me.” 

“They weren’t hanging out.” You could hear your brother push out a strained sigh. What wasn’t he telling you? “They were making out on the swing set. As in, both of them on one swing. And I double checked, it was definitely them. I-I told mom and she said not to tell you, but I couldn’t not tell you when I’m the one who saw it!”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

There was no lying to yourself, you had doubts about your best friend and your boyfriend. But you constantly brushed it off. He wouldn’t hurt you like that. Hell, she couldn’t hurt like that. Not after everything you had been through together. 

But you had seen his call log by accident one time, he called her more than he did you. She face-timed him one time to ask his opinion about a dress she was going to buy while you were in the changing room. She had done a handful of things since your relationship with your boyfriend started that made you uneasy. If this was their first kiss, which was something you doubted, then they’ve both been emotionally attached to the other for far too long.

All those tender intimate moments, all those dates, throughout everything, he wasn’t faithful. Not emotionally, at least. None of those moments that you cherished meant anything to you anymore. He had played you. With none other than your best friend since middle school. You didn’t know who to be more mad at.

The thoughts of betrayal from someone who you considered a sister and the hurt of being cheated on made you nauseated.

So when the large warm hand on your face stroked your cheek again, you didn’t mind it. This was Corpse. Not your cheating boyfriend. Not your lying best friend. Corpse. And you knew that he would never hurt you.

“He’s been cheating on me for a while I think.” You mumbled against his sweatpants. “Maybe a couple months. I don’t know.” 

Corpse furrowed his brows in thought. You had told him you were going to visit your boyfriend for your one year anniversary next week. “Weren’t you go-”

“Yeah.”

“And Bob’s been your friend since-”

“Yeah.” Your chin wobbled as you answered. You brought your arms up around Corpse’s thigh and hugged it. It was a strange position, but you didn’t care. He was so warm and nice and hugging him properly required more movement on your end than you were willing to do.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Corpse sighed and reached out to untangle your arms from his leg. He gently pulled you across the few inches of bed between you and sat you in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, immediately sobbing into his shoulder. “Do you want me to turn off the music?” You shook your head no against him and he chuckled before he solemnly sighed. “When did you find out?” 

“When I came home.”

“But you came home hours ago. Have you been in here this whole time?” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were streaming, didn’t wanna interrupt.” You shrugged.

“y/n,” he sighed disappointedly, “you’re my best friend. I can end a stream if you need me.”

“Okay.” Your voice, broken and weak and tired, made him feel so guilty. You had been crying your heart out for over two hours just down the hall from where he was.

He gently grabbed you by your hips and tried to push you away, but you only held on tighter and whimpered. “I just wanna get you some water.”

“I don’t want water.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.” You whispered. “Please stay.” 

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

So he stayed.

[lilysdaydreams]

The Artist and The Musician

→  I do not claim to know corpse- therefore please don’t think that this is what he would actually act like, or that any details about his life are actually true. this is fiction.

→ Pairing: Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader

→ Genre: Fluff.

→ Words: 5.6k

→ Request:  Hey! It’s me again lmao I was curious maybe like sykunno or raes little sister (like 2 or 3 years younger) meets the group and her and corpse just click. How would either of them react to them hearing the news that their little sis is dating corpse and like they’ve moved in together and everything idk I thought it’d be cute💛

→ Warnings: Swearing.

→ Authors Note: Its been a hard couple of weeks and im really sorry that this took so long to be done but depression rlly hit me and I could barely move myself. I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, please comment some words of encouragement or feedback 💛

→  if you have some spare change , consider buying me a coffee.

You sighed as you finally dropped the last box in your new room, stretching to get rid of the pains in your back. Grabbing your phone, you moved over to Sykkunos room, knocking before sticking your head in.

"You want subway?" you asked when he looked up from the computer. He nodded with a quick smile, and as you closed the door behind you, you could hear him talking to the stream, letting them know that it was just his sister. Quickly ordering on Ubereats, you slumped on the sofa, closing your eyes and resting for a bit.

You had decided to move in with Sykkuno a month ago, the same week you'd decided to drop out of college. It wasn't something your parents were happy with, but after seeing how big your art and business had gotten, they had let you drop out. You'd dropped out and moved to LA, moving into an apartment with Sykkuno since he had to leave the OTV house. Sykkuno had moved in a week earlier which was why his room and computer was all set up. You'd only moved in today, spending a few weeks at home with your parents before leaving for LA. Stretching, you grabbed your phone, checking how long it would be until the food came, and then clicking on Instagram. Your most recent post was of this morning, a photo of you sitting on top of half the boxes in your room, throwing a peace sign at the camera. Sykkuno had taken it for you, the whole process taking 10 minutes cuz you made him take it at 45 different angles. Scrolling through the comments, you liked a few, replying to the ones by your best friends.

@selinaissss: "HOW DARE YOU LOOK THIS PERFECT AT 8 IN THE MORNING????"

→ @junefarie: i look like a racoon dont u dare

@onlyalyssa: "we need a house tour"

→ @junefarie: bitch I dont even have a bed yet

You grabbed the subway order when the bell rang, saying a quick thank you to the delivery man. You left yours on the table, and went to Sykkunos room, yelling "Sykkuno catch!" before throwing it at him, giggling as he leapt forward from his chair to catch it. Closing the door softly behind you, you jumped onto the couch, sitting cross-legged, grabbing your sketchbook and pencils from your backpack and setting them on your lap. It was time to wind down a bit.

~

It was a week later and you had unpacked fully, now focusing more on creating new pieces of art for a shop update. You were also working on some designs specifically for shirts and hoodies. Sykkuno found you in front of your computer, blanket wrapped around you and glasses perched on your nose as you emailed the manufacturer you were working with for the hoodies.

"Un, y/n?" he said hesitantly knocking on the door. You spun around in your chair, raising your eyebrows at him. "What's up?"

He walked in, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed and you got your water from the table, taking a sip as you wait for him to talk.

"I um- You know how I- I play Among Us right?" he asked, scratching his neck.

You hummed in response, urging him on with a nod. Sykkuno was almost never this nervous around you. Most of the time, you guys talked normally, joking and teasing each other. For him to be stuttering around you, he must have been extremely nervous.

"Well, you know Rae right? She um, she asked me to make a lobby," he said, standing up and pacing now. You furrowed your brows, confused as to where this was going.

He was explaining what a lobby was (which what the fuck, you watched his streams, of course you knew what a lobby was, why was he explaining that) when you cut him off, getting up and grabbing his shoulders to stop him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, holding his shoulders with both your hands.

He sighed and slumped into you, his head coming to a rest on your shoulder.

"Rae asked me to make a lobby and it's the first time I've ever made one and I'm really nervous about it. I've already invited people, but um I was wondering if you wanted to join as well? I- It would help me to have you there." he muttered, the words muffled as he spoke into your shoulder.

"Me?" you asked, a little shocked because you had never played among us before.

He nodded against your shoulder.

"Um sure!" you said, wrapping your arms around his middle, "It'll be fun!"

"And hey," you added on when he didn't say anything after that, "I can meet all your friends as well!"

He finally lifted his head a little, smiling as he muttered out a quick "Thanks y/n."

"However," you added, jumping back onto your seat and wiggling your eyebrows at him. "You have to buy me pizza for tonight's dinner."

He chuckled, grabbing his phone and already mutterng the order to himself as he opened up the ubereats app and walked out of the room.

You turned back to the laptop humming a tune under your breath. From interactions like this, most people would probably assume that you were older but the truth was that Sykkuno was 5 years older than you. Your roles were reversed and you were probably more protective over him than anyone else. Once in high school a girl had called him cute and asked him for his number only to write it on the bathroom walls. After the first three prank calls, you'd taken the phone from him yelling at anyone who called that if they called again, that you'd personally track them down and shove a dildo up their ass.

Both of you had always been close, but with the amount of bullying and teasing he got in high school, you'd got even closer, eventually becoming his best friend in a way. Seeing Sykkuno grow as a person, get new friends who were genuinely nice and kind made you the happiest person alive. When Sykkuno had first started streaming you'd been worried, scared that people online would say something mean. When he had first started streaming with other streamers and then met Lily and all his other friends, you had been anxious, worrying that they might only be putting up a friendly facade. You were also the happiest though when he grew even closer to them, when he smiled more, laughed more, talked more.

You had yet to meet or talk to any of his friends, mostly because you'd been in college, and the pandemic had made it harder. Maybe it was finally time.

~

The day came and you sat in your room, once again a blanket wrapped around you, glasses perched on your nose as you accepted the discord invite Sykkuno sent you.

"DO I GO IN THE CHAT THINGY?" you yelled to Sykkuno, hearing a "YES" before clicking on the voice chat.

You mumbled a "hello", wondering if your mic was on.

"Hey, yeah I can hear you y/n."

Breathing a sigh of relief, you logged into the game, smiling as you heard sykkuno introduce you to his chat. "Hi everyone," you said, feeling a bit weird only talking to a screen. You rubbed your hands, a little nervous to be doing this.

Just then someone else joined and before you could even speak another three people joined as well, all of them yelling hello as they joined.

"He- Hey guys, how's everyone doing?" started sykkuno.

"Im doing great oh my god, guess what guys, I'm-" started Rae, cutting herself off. "wait, whos um "ms snores a lot"?

You were a bit confused for a second, furrowing you eyebrows for a second before realising what had happened.

"SYKKUNO YOU ASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCK?" you yelled, staring at the name underneath the voice channel that you now realised belonged to you. You could hear Sykkunos laughter from the other room but you just spluttered indignantly. He was the one who had set up everything on your computer yesterday because technology was something that you rarely messed around with.

"Sykkunooo" you whined, when he kept laughing, "How the fuck do I change it now?"

"Um wait, sykkuno who is this?" asked Rae, the other three echoing her. You glanced at the names and from the voices figured out that it was Rae, Toast, Sean and Corpse in the lobby.

"Hey okay, so guys this is my sister, her names y/n and we recently moved in together, so I asked her to be in the lobby because... um.." he said stuttering at the end to find a reason.

"Because he wanted to embarrass me apparently!" you exclaimed, giving him a way out.

"Oh god, um - you can change it in settings, at the bottom near where your name is."

"Ahhh," you said finding it and then simply typing in your art business name.

"Its nice to meet everyone by the way," you started. "I've been watching your videos for ages so it almost fels like I already know you"

Raes voice started in your ears and you winced at the volume befoe turning it down a bit.

"I would love to say that Sykkuno has told us a lot about you, but the truth is that he keeps a lot of secrets and I didnt even know he had a sister, I AM SO SHOCKED RIGHT NOW"

You gasped. "Sykkuno what the fuck, you didn't even tell Rae?"

"You told me not to tell a lot of people!" he protested.

You heard someone saying "they're so different!' but you ignored it and kept talking.

"Yeah at the start! and on stream! I can't believe you never even said you had a sister." you spluttered out, followed by another gasp.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" you whispered dramatically.

"N-What no of course not!" he exclaimed, and you could also imagine how wide his eyes would have gotten.

You giggled before telling him that you were only joking.

"Um since sykkuno is embarrassed of me," you said jokingly, "I'll just tell you myself."

"I'm like five years younger than sykkuno, I'm a June baby, I do art, my star sign is cancer, I'm 5'4, I recently moved in with sykkuno, and my favourite colour is purple!"

"Oh is that why your username is junefarie? Because you were born in June?" asked Sean.

Before you could say yes, someone else cut in.

"Wait, junefarie?" asked corpse, "like the artist?"

Your eyes widened as you realised that he knew you. Sure you had quite a few followers, but you never expected any of Sykkunos friends to know you from there.

"Um yeah," you said letting out a shocked laugh, "I didnt expect anyone here to know about me."

"Dude, your art is fire!" he exclaimed, voice louder now. "I was honestly thinking of buying a piece soon, I've followed you for ages!"

"Wait, I wanna see as well." whined Rae, "Ima look you up, are you on Instagram?"

"Um," you said still shocked by the fact that somone this big knew you. "yeah I'm on instagram, its just junefarie." you said first replying to Rae, "Um corpse, thankyou so much! thats so nice of yo!"

"Um my art isn't that great yet," you chuckled, embarrassed by all the attention now. "I'm hoping to improve a lot more and I have a bunch of ideas for it as well. I'm hoping to work more now that I moved in with Sy."

"Oh my god, this is amazing," whispered Rae, Toast and Sean echoing her. You ducked your head even though no one could see you. Your cheeks were blazing hot and you pressed your hands to them to cool yourself down.

"Thankyou," you mumbled, not sure what to say.

Someone else entered the lobby, and said "hi" and you welcomed the source of distraction.

"Hi! I'm Sykkunos sister, y/n!" you said , wanting to move away from the topic of your art.

The reply of "sykkuno has a SISTER?" made everyone laugh, successfully moving the attention to Sykkuno and off your art. Finally Sykkuno started the game and you breathed as you lost yourself in the art of gaming.

"OH MY GOD!" yelled Rae as the game ended and everyone appeared in the lobby. "That was like amazing, Y/N I cant belive you pulled that off!"

She was talking about the last game where there was 50/50 between corpse and Sykkuno (because you refused to kill sykkuno when you were imposter) and you somehow managed to convince Sykkuno that it was Corpse.

"Honestly, neither can I!" you exclaimed back staring at your screen, eyes blurring the screen because of how tired you were.

"I can't believe Sykkuno," mumbled corpse. "I literally said I saw her vent and kill toast and Sykkuno was still like "hmmm, I don't think so."

Giggling at Sykkunos yell of "SHES MY SISTER" you yelled out a bye as everyone started leaving and then struggled to find a way to end the call.

"Wait, how do I end it," you muttered to yourself.

You jumped as Corpse talked, not expecting anyone to be there.

"You can see yoru name at the bottom left right? Its above that but a little to the right." he said chucling a little.

"Oh." you said, you cheeks heating up. You didnt know if it was because of him or because you were utterly useless with technology.

"Um thankyou," you said awkwardly.

"No problem."

You exited out of the call, a small smile at your lips.

Sykkunos friends were nice.

~

After the stream, your fanbase grew, and with it, the number of orders as well. For the next week, you were buried under orders, only leaving the house to go to the post office.

An Instagram post on @junefarie account: 

[ID: A photo of y/n and sykkuno standing in the middle of the living room, packages scattered everywhere. Y/n is hugging Sykkuno tight and Sykkuno is staring at the camera, a distressed look on his face.]

Caption: Thankyou so much for all my supporters and all the love shown to me. Sending out loads of orders and I cant wait for you gusy to get yours! Special thanks to @sykkuno for helping me send out orders. luv yu.

Comments: 

@Sykisacutie: best sibling duo!

@valkyrae: hope my order is in their as well.

→ I SCREAMED WHEN SY TOLD ME THAT WAS YOUR NAME.

@corpse_husband: sykkuno looks like he's accepted death.

→ @sykkuno: I would have welcomed death at that point

→ @corpse_husband @sykkuno: okay ill be honest, I would have welcomed death as well.

@ariesin: go best friend, go! we need to get together to paint soon !!

→ SOONNNNNN

~

You flopped onto your bed, every part of your body hurting. Carrying boxes filled with orders down the stairs had tired your whole body, which wasn't used to any exercise at all. That had taken practically the whole day and then you had to clean your room because the mess from the orders had barely left any room to move. You flung your hand to the side, grabbing your phone from the table and bringing it up to your face. The "1:02" was clearly visible on your screen and you unlocked the phone, heading to Twitter. Scrolling through your feed, you liked a few tweets from friends before gearing yourself up and moving to the messages. Ever since you'd played with Corpse, Sykkuno and everyone, you'd been getting a lot of messages. Most of them were just the streamers fans, asking you if you know them or telling you to take care of sykkuno. There were a few though that targeted you, telling you that your art sucked, that they didn't know why Corpse could like my art. You'd taken to deleting them before sleeping so that your inbox wouldn't get cluttered and you could still find any serious requests or messages from your followers. Therefore, you didn't really think anything of it when there was another message from someone with a Corpse icon and you clicked on it only to see the message and gasp, immediately sitting up in bed.

Corpse_Husband → Hey, I was wondering if I could work with you on something? I really love your art and was wanting to commission or collaborate for an album cover or some merch designs. Message me on this number cuz I barely see my dms.

Underneath was a number.

"Oh my god," you whispered, unsure as to what to do.

When you had decided to drop out of college, you had expected hard days. You had expected your normal orders and mostly just improving your art and marketing it more. You had expected long days and not much money in the bank account. You certainly had not expected the immense amount of orders you'd gotten. Along with that, the amount of love and support had taken you by surprise and you had spent the last night crying because of how much love you and your art were getting.

You had also not expected such a big opportunity just landing at your feet.

Quickly you clicked on the number, putting it in your contacts with the name Corpse and then writing a quick message.

"Hey I got your twitter dm! I've personally never done art for merch or album covers but I would love the opportunity!"

You bit your lip, confused as to whether that was enough before deciding it was fine and just sent it.

Your heart beat a little faster as you slumped back onto the bed.

~

@junefarie Instagram story:

[ID: A zoomed-in picture of a drawing, the only part that was visible was curly hair. The text read: "Working on something SO COOL"]

~

Your phone was ringing. Stuffing the rest of the pizza in your mouth, you swept your hand over the covers of your bed, trying to find it. With a muttered "aha", you grabbed it and swiped on the call before it ended. Pressing the phone to your ear, you mumbled a "hello", still chewing the pizza bite.

A low rapsy voice came out of the speaker, one that you definitely didn't expect. You choked on the pizza, coughing out pieces onto the bed.  Sure you guys had messaged each other a bit (you kinda had to because of the commission), but you hadn't expected him to call out of nowhere.

"Um I hope this isn't a bad time," he said when you didn't respond for a second. Of course, he didn't exactly know that hearing his voice so close to your ear had you frozen for a second.

"Um no," you replied, coughing slightly to clear your throat. "It's fine! What did you wanna talk about?"

"Oh, um I know you're already working on the commission and its looking great! I can't wait to work with the merch team to create something really cool with it, but um-" he broke off for a second sounding hesitant. "I really wanna get another commission done as well."

"Oh?" you said after a second when he didn't reply. "I'd be happy to do another one for you!"

"Uh yeah, but I'm afraid that I might be a bit late, You see I was wondering if it could be done before Christmas?"

You sucked in a breath as you counted the days in your mind.

"Hmm, it depends on how big it is tbh. There's still 2 weeks to go till Christmas so I could fit it in," you mumbled, biting your lip as you remembered the onslaught of orders you still had to send out.

"Well," he started and you smiled a little as the excitement crept into his voice. "You know that Sykkuno, Rae, Toast and me are called the 4 Amigops right? I kinda wanted a portrait of all 4 of us, in our um among us colors, and I basically wanted to print it out and send to each of them for Christmas."

"Aww, that sounds like such a good idea, I'm sure they'll all love it!" you smiled, thinking about how much Sykkuno would appreciate that.

"Uh thanks," he mumbled, "do you think you can get it done?"

"Sure!" you replied immediately. You did have a lot of orders, yes, but like, you could fit Corpse in. If you pulled a few all-nighters. "I'll send you the sketches soon okay?"

"Oh thank god, thankyu so much for this y/n, I really appreciate it. Youre one of my favourite artists and I'm really happy that I could finally commisison you after so long."

"So long?" you questioned. "Since when have you known about my art?"

There was a moment of silence and then "Um, around the time you still posted your sketches and stuff I guess?"

You furrowed your eyebrows thinking for a second before letting out a gasp.

"Corpse that was 4 years ago!"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, oh my god, I cant believe you've seen those, I was so bad then!"

"No no, they were really good at that time as well! I was so shocked when Sykkuno told us you were his sister because like, I'd been following you for ages and I had absolutely no idea. You guys are like really different."

"Hah yah, Sykkunos so soft, and then there's me. An actual devil."

"Your usernames so different as well! I remember when I first saw a picture of you on your account and I was kind of shocked because based on the name junefarie, I was expecting someone very soft I guess but then you were literally the opposite and wearing actual devil horns."

"Oh god, that was one of the first few photos I posted of myself. that was on Halloween I think,", you took a deep breath still shocked that Corpse had known about you for that long,

"Yeah, I chose junefarie because...”

It was 2 hours later when Corpse said that he should probably be working on his music.

"Oh I'm so sorry," you apologized, "I didn't mean to keep you,"

"Oh no, I um, I liked talking to you."

Your breath caught for a moment and you smiled like a lunatic at your Pokémon covered bedsheets.

"I liked talking to you as well," you whispered out, heart sinking a little as you realized the call would be ending soon.

"Um, do you, maybe want to stay on call? like I'll just be writing and we can just chill?" he asked and you felt like your prayers had been answered.

"yes" you said quickly, not giving him a chance to back out.

He chuckled, and you fell in love a little.

Just a little.

~

You continued like that, calling each other every few days, talking so much and then at times, not talking at all, simply content with each others company.

He had even started facetiming you, the first time with a mask and then the second without it. You hadn't made a big deal about it, but the first time you saw him, you could barely breathe.

There were five days left until Christmas when you got the idea.

You were entirely not subtle about it, because, well to be honest, there wasn't a subtle bone in your body.

"Hey Corpse, do you like surprises?" you had asked, in the middle of colouring Raes hair (her hair was the last thing left before you could finally print the goddamn thing)

"It depends," he had murmured after a second, voice sending shivers down your spine like every time. Now whether that was because of his voice or because of him, you weren't entirely sure.

"on what?" you prodded when he refused to answer.

"On whether its a good one or a bad one" he had huffed out.

You had hummed, waited for a second and then blurted out that next question because you did not have a cent of patience.

"So what are you doing at Christmas?"

"Sleeping, if I can manage it," he replied, his voice taking on a sardonic tone, eyes flicking to you on the screen. The only thing he could see though was the top of your head because you had your iPad on the bed and were laying over it as you drew.

"Not with that attitude you aren't," you replied right back, making a small smile appear across his face.

"Hmmm, okay!" you said when he didn't reply.

He looked back over, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opening as he started to question you.

"Hey did you see the video I sent you?" you quickly asked distracting him from his question.

He would probably guess the surprise but that was okay. You only wanted to make a smile appear on his face. And honestly, for someone with anxiety, a small warning of a surprise was definitely needed.

~

It was Christmas day and you woke Sykkuno up at 6 in the morning with the promise that you'd buy him McDonald's. 30 minutes later, you were both in the car, yelling the lyrics to "All I want for Christmas" at the top of your lungs.

You had told sykkuno of your plan a few days ago and he had smiled at you with that stupid smile, agreeing with a small "alright."

You'd immediately realised that he knew. Even though you pretended otherwise, Sykkuno was the older one and the thing about older siblings was that they always knew.

They always knew.

So there you were, snacks loaded into your car, McDonald's fries practically everywhere, and a cake you had made in the backseat, on your way to Corpses house.

There was a lull in the music, and you were only 30 minutes away from his place, butterflies fluttering in your stomach when Sykkuno asked you a question.

"You like him right?" he murmured, head leaning against the window, eyes closed.

There was a moment of silence as you thought about what to say. Did you like Corpse? Of course, you liked Corpse! He was funny, he was nice, he made you feel like you were the only person that mattered and your heart beat faster than ever whenever he looked at you. Hell, that was through a screen, in real life, it would probably be even worse. So of course you liked him! The question was, did he like you back?

"Yeah," you answered Sykkuno, eyes straight on the road.

A second passed and then he smiled. "Good," he replied. and well. That was that. You sighed.

At least you had your brothers blessing.

~

Pulling into the apartment building, you breathed in, your heart beating a million times a second and the butterflies in your stomach had turned into snakes. Maybe, maybe this wasn't a good idea at all. I mean, you expected Corpse to get the hint but what if he didn't? and what if he didn't want you to come? Maybe you were being too quick. After all, It'd only been a month since you'd met.

These thoughts plagued your mind as you trudged up the stairs, turning to Sykkuno as you reached the door.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come," you whispered to him.

He looked at you, eyebrows high, "We just travelled two hours to get here. There's no way im going back without at least giving him the print."

"What if he doesn't want us to be here?" you hissed.

"Then we'll go away." he stated, "after we give him the print."

"But what if-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the door opened and you both jumped, turning to face the person standing in the doorway.

You forced yourself to breathe as you finally saw him. It was him. Wearing a black beanie, half his hair spilling out the sides, stubble clear on his chin... it was him. At that moment, there was only one thought in your mind.

You were gonna marry this man.

"You suck at whispering," he said, and you huffed out a laugh, jumping onto him without even responding. You wrapped your arms around him, not letting go until Sykkuno cleared his throat from behind you.

You turned back immediately, grabbing the stuff in Sykkunos hands so he could greet Corpse too. As they awkwardly did their handshake/fistbump thing, you walked over to the couch behind them, putting down the print and the takeaway bags, and putting the cakebox down on the table.

You turned around to see them both standing there staring at you.

"Surprise?" you said when no one else spoke. That broke the ice a little and you grabbed the print from the couch thrusting it at Corpse.

"Open it. Open it. Open it." you mumbled, your heart beating fast as he carefully ripped the paper off. The smile that overtook his face made your heart immediately calm.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, eyes roaming everywhere, trying to take it all in. Clearing his throat, he nodded his head further into the apartment, mumbling that he was going to put it in the room, eyes still on the print as he walked there.

"You smile is gonna blind me," muttered Sykkuno.

"Oh shut up."

~

A few hours later, you stood in the kitchen, putting the leftover cake into Corpses fridge. You had all chilled, eating cake and the takeout that you and sykkuno had bought, laughing every few minutes. It felt like you were all on an adrenaline rush. You had facetimed Rae and Toast, Rae shrieking when she realised where you guys were. Sykkuno had just fallen into a nap, still tired from being wakened up so early, you assumed.

You leaned against the kitchen bench, smiling as Corpse walked in.

"Thankyou." he said as he came to a stop next to you, matching your position.

"For what?" you mused, even though you had a good enough idea.

"For the print. For coming here. For making my Christmas, a much happier affair than it has been my whole life." he stated, chuckling at the last point.

You turned your head sideways, and you didn't know what it was, but something about his face made you spurn into action. You grabbed his collar, pulled him down, and kissed him before he could even say anything. It would be too cliche to say that fireworks erupted. And if you were being honest they didn't. Instead, it felt like everything was finally right. You fit perfectly in his arms as they wrapped themselves around you, and you smiled into the kiss as he lifted you up, making you sit at the counter. You twirled the hair at the nape of his neck with your left hand, taking a deep breath in as you both slowed down and pulled away.

"Well," he whispered, "that was unexpected."

You raised a single eyebrow. Honesty you'd done a lot for this relationship. You just drove for nearly 3 hours! If he wanted it to progress, he was gonna have to say it himself.

"But not unwelcome," he continued when you didn't speak. A moment passed, where you could see that he was psyching himself up to say something. Finally, with a heaving sigh, he whispered  "Darling, would you do me the honour of being called yours?"

You melted right there.

A nod was all he needed before he grabbed your lips with his again, both of you giggling when he accidentally hit the side of your mouth instead of the lips.

The sound of a picture being taken filled the air, making you spring apart and swing your heads over to the doorway, which had sykkuno leaning against it, his phone in his hand.

"Thank god. Rae and Toast bet that you wouldn't confess until after Christmas, so now they both owe me 20 bucks." he said, now fiddling on the phone. "Dont worry Corpse, I'll add a circle over your face or something."

Your mouth dropped open as you stared at your brother.

"You bet on my love life?" you scoffed, still shocked.

At his nod though, you swung off the bench, marching until you were eye to eye to him.

"I want half the winnings."

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the living room, jumping onto the sofa.

"C'mon, let's watch one more episode before heading back," he said and you jumped in next to him, patting the space next to you as Corpse came in behind you.

You grabbed Sykkunos hand and squeezed it, letting him know that you were grateful that he didn't make it such a big deal. Leaning your head on corpses shoulder, you smiled to yourself.

You'd have to leave in 30 minutes, to drive back to your parents and spend the rest of Christmas with them, leaving Corpse behind. And that made you a bit sad sure, but it couldn't overpower the feeling of pure happiness at being here. At giving him a happier Christmas. You smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Nothing could overpower this feeling of absolute happiness.

fin.

Corpse husband taglist:  @mythicalamphitrite @ramble-writes @atsumubabe @anxiouskat5646 @itssierramcquade @xaestheticalien @jotaroslightning @starstruckllamapuppy @gxldenskiez @shinyshimaagain @cavanana @fee-btheweeb (send an ask to be added!)

[love-and-monsters]

Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

“Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Be My Valentine?

AO3 Link: Read here

Square Filled: Squirting

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 8,770 (oops. Sorry).

Rating: Explicit 18+!

Summary: It’s Dean and Y/N’s first Valentine’s Day, and he has a romantic evening planned, with surprises which he can’t wait to share with her.

Warnings: So much fluff. Like, so much. Dean being sweet and romantic (yes, that’s a warning). And then so much smut. Swearing, Dirty talk, D/S elements, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex (Female receiving), Vaginal fingering, Squirting, Gags, Brief impact play (belt), Restraints (belt), Brief spanking, Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it, guys), Rough sex. More fluff.

Music: Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton (Dean and Y/N street scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist 

Created for @spnkinkbingo

A/N: The first time stamp*! Wooo! I’m so excited for you guys to read it, I really hope you love it, because I sure had a great time writing these two again, all loved up and ready to celebrate Valentine’s Day! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

*This is a time stamp for my series Life’s Lessons so it’ll make more sense if you’ve read that first, but I do think it can enjoyed as a sweet and smutty Valentine’s Day fic! ;)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics

Dean stood at the kitchen bench and smirked as he stared down at the date on his phone. The coffee brewed in the machine behind him, as sunlight streamed in through the little picture window. It the most important date on the calendar that all couples go through, and he was excited.

It was February 14th. Valentine’s Day. The designated day you show the person you love most how much they mean to you. This time around was going to be the most special this little holiday had ever been for him, because this time around he had a woman who was truly, undoubtedly, his.

Y/N was the woman he had been waiting for and he couldn’t wait to make tonight a great night for both of them.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee and some for her in a travel mug, Y/N walked into the kitchen, dressed in a tight, high-waisted pastel pink skirt and white shirt, with a small white with pink polka dots scarf tied into a bow under the collar of the shirt. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had her red glasses on. Dean felt his body heat up, knowing how much he enjoyed her fulfilling his teacher fantasy, so much so that whenever she got dressed for work, he always needed to calm himself down.

Y/N smiled at him as she walked over, kissing him softly as he slid a plate across the bench, some toast and a little bacon which he had already made, ready for her.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing him again before digging into her breakfast.

“No problem.” He smiled as he leaned against the bench, facing her. He continued to drink his coffee as she ate, both of them in content silence.

“I’ve got a half day today,” he informed her. “Ready to take you out tonight and tomorrow off, too.”

She smiled, unable to hide how excited she was for their night out. He was being incredibly secretive, and she was dying to know.

She ate quickly, washing up her plate once she was done. As she walked away from the sink, she laughed as Dean took her hand in his, pulling her against him. Whenever they had a few spare moments in the morning, this is how they spent it.

“So… what are you planning?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked up at him.

He smirked, shaking his head as his hands rested on her hips. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out later.”

She frowned, a small pout forming on her lips. “There’s no such thing as secrets on Valentine’s Day.”

She knew it wasn’t true, but she just wanted him to tell her what he was planning so that she could coordinate her lingerie accordingly.

“Babe, don’t start making crap up just because you’re curious.” He called her out, throwing his head with a boisterous laugh as she stared at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open in shock.

“Well, then I guess it’s just going to be you and your hand tonight,” she threw back, feigning upset.

“Hey,” he warned, staring down at her as he pulled her closer. “Do that and you won’t find out what I have planned.”

“Fine,” she sighed, as she rolled her eyes. Looking at him, the frown returned but with a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re really annoying, sometimes.”

“I know,” he shrugged with a grin. “But you love me.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, unable to pretend anymore. “Fortunately.”

“Very fortunately,” he said, leaning down to kiss her softly. He bent down further, kissing her neck which made her groan, sadly.

“I’m going to be late for work,” she said, pushing him away slightly.

He moved back down, attaching his mouth to her neck again. “I was about to give it to ya good and proper, sweetheart,” he mumbled against her skin, between kisses.

She laughed as she lightly pushed him again, kissing him softly on his pout. “You can do that tonight. A good, proper,” she kissed him again, “hard, rough,” another kiss, “fucking of a lifetime.”

He groaned, closing his eyes as he thought about what he had planned for them. She really had no idea what was going on and he was excited for her to find out.

“You’re so on, baby,” he muttered, before pulling her into a searing kiss.

She reluctantly pulled away from him, frowning. “I better go.”

“See you tonight,” he said, smirking at her.

“I can’t wait,” she smiled, leaning in and kissing him again.

Dean watched on as Y/N picked her bag and slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her keys in her hand. She slipped on her nude heels as she picked up her fawn coat, turning and blowing him a kiss before walking out the door. He smirked as he thought about what she just said, and how he could incorporate it into the night he had planned. After she had made his birthday one that he would never forget, he didn’t want to wait for so long until hers to do the same.

Luckily, the most romantic day of the year was upon them, and it was the perfect opportunity to make it a memorable night for both of them. He had never really believed in a day to celebrate love, considering he never had much luck with it in the past, but now he was thankful to whoever decided to profit from February 14th and made it a big deal.

Dean got ready for the day and headed to work. He was happy knowing there wasn’t much to do that day with his half day of work. He was relieved when Y/N had managed to take leave for the next day just like him, knowing that his plan would succeed. After the big restoration job that he had told her about months ago had been paid them in full by the customer, they were doing amazingly well at the garage. It had been a lot of money and there was more than enough to go around. Dean was able to pull out all the stops for the night. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face at work, getting questioning looks from Benny, Garth, some of the other guys and even Ellen. The guys teased him all day, but he paid no attention to it. If they had a woman as wonderful as he did, they’d have a huge smile on their face all day too.

Y/N smoothed down her maroon, velvet, off-shoulder, knee-length dress as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had contemplated the style for a long time in the store a few days ago, wondering if she should go for a brighter red or shorter, but this caught her eye straight away. She just hoped Dean would like it. She also hoped he would like her strapless bra and panties set, of the same dark colour. She kept her eye make-up simple but went with a slightly dark red shade for the lipstick, and gave her hair a slight wave, sweeping it over one shoulder. She gave herself a nod as she smiled at her complete look in the mirror.

Y/N heard the front door opening, signalling that Dean had arrived, even if he was a little early. With one last check in the mirror, she picked up the gift she had for him from her bed and walked out of her room, her black heels clacking on the wooden floors. As soon as she saw him, her heart skipped a beat. He wore black dress pants and loafers, with a maroon sweater. He looked so unbelievably gorgeous that she just had to stand there for a few more seconds to appreciate him. He had his hands behind his back, and she knew it had to be something for Valentine’s Day.

“Who clued you in on maroon?” she laughed as she approached him.

“I… may have snuck a peek in the bag when you brought it home,” he replied, smirking as he took her in. She looked incredible and he was going to have a hard time keeping things PG for the first part of the night. “You look amazing.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” she whispered against his lips as she leaned in and kissed him, softly. “This is very couple-y of us, though” she joked.

He shrugged, laughing. “It’s Valentine’s, baby.”

With that, he brought his arms forward, showing her the bouquet of lilies (she wasn’t a fan of roses; too overrated) and the heart-shaped box, no doubt filled with little chocolates.

“Be my Valentine?” he asked, chuckling.

She shook her head, laughing at his goofiness. “Of course.” She took the items from him and handing him his.

He smiled as he took it, quickly unwrapping the red wrapping around the small box. Opening it, he lifted the coffee mug out, smirking at the design. It was him and Y/N in animated form, with her leaning in to kiss his cheek, a little heart above their heads.

“That’s cute,” he said, smiling at her.

“It’s not too cheesy, is it? We said things that didn’t cost much, and this was relatively inexpensive. All I had to do was give the artist a picture of us, and she did the rest,” she explained, wondering if he really did like it and wasn’t just making her feel better.

“No, it’s not. I love it, really,” he reassured her.

She leaned in, happily letting him cup her face in his hands and pull her into a steamy kiss. It was over quicker than she would’ve liked, but as she looked into his eyes, she noticed a spark that wasn’t there before.

“Okay… put those in water and then pack a bag. Just essentials, clothes for tomorrow, that’s it” he instructed, rubbing his hands together.

She frowned, blinking a few times as she made sure she heard him right. “What?”

“Part of the surprise,” he said, not giving her anything else as he gestured to his watch.

“Okay…” she huffed as she snapped out of her trance, her mind reeling as she tried to figure out where he was taking her.

After putting the lilies in a small vase with water, Y/N went into her room and quickly packed a bag. Just her skincare and clothes for the next day were all she needed. She really had no idea what Dean was doing or where he was taking her, but she was now even more restless to find out.

Walking back into the living area, she saw Dean waiting by the door. He smirked as he reached for her bag, dragging it out for her as she picked up her purse and put on her black coat, locking the door behind her. Dean put her case in the trunk and then proceeded to open the passenger door for her. She snuck a quick kiss before she sat, putting her purse in her lap. Dean was on the driver’s side in a flash, quickly taking his seat and starting the engine.

“So… still no hint?” she asked, smiling through her impatience.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Fine,” she sighed, sitting back in her seat properly as Dean pulled away from the curb.

She decided to stop asking. He always said he wasn’t great with romantic gestures but that he was trying with her, and she really appreciated that about him. He was expanding his comfort zone even though he didn’t have to. He wanted to.

They asked each other about their days as Dean drove towards the city. The anticipation for their night was overwhelming, and he was glad that Y/N kept talking. No doubt distracting herself just as much as him. As they reached their destination, he saw her eyes light up as he parked the car outside the restaurant, their first stop.

“Dean!” she exclaimed as she turned to him. “This is already too much! More than what we agreed on!”

He smirked, knowing that the fancy Italian place was one that she had wanting to go to for a while. It was definitely pricey, but his latest customer was making tonight possible. He really had to find a way to thank the guy.

“Not tonight it’s not.” He winked at her as he opened his door and got out of the car, a squeak coming from the hinges as he shut it.

He walked around the front and to her side, opening the door for her. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes as she stood up and looked at the building, suddenly launching herself into Dean.

“I’ve told you before; I don’t need all of this to make me happy. You know that, right?” she asked, frowning slightly. She was worried that he may feel like he needed to do this just to make things special.

“Yeah, I do, sweetheart,” he replied, as he pulled back slightly from their embrace to look at her. “But if I can afford it, then why the hell not?”

“And you’re sure you can?” she asked, a frown still etched on her face.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes! Y/N, we wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t. We did fucking great because of that big restoration job. Trust me.”

He had to wonder how she would react for the next part of the surprise if she was already shocked by the restaurant. Hopefully once he reassured her it was fine, and that he wasn’t doing this when he couldn’t afford it, she would relax.

“Okay.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before it grew.

Dean smiled wide as he saw her face light up. He held out his hand for her, ready to start their night. “Let’s go.”

Y/N took Dean’s hand instantly, linking their fingers together as they walked to the entrance of the Italian restaurant. As they made their way in and Dean gave them his name, they were immediately led to a table in the back, away from most of the chatter of patrons. Dean helped Y/N with her coat, draping it over the back of her chair, doing the same with his. She smiled as she sat down across from him, causing him to smile back. His eyes wandered up and down as he looked at her, taking in her beauty. She always looked stunning, no matter whether it was casual or a bit dressier.

A waiter brought over the wine list, which Dean discreetly handed over to Y/N considering that wasn’t something he knew anything about. She gave him a wink as she looked over several pages before deciding. Dinner was far more delicious than either of them were expecting, so between the great wine and even better food, Dean was very happy he brought her here.

Once dinner was cleared, and the chocolate cake they ordered to share for dessert arrived (after he lamented that there was no pie), Dean let her dig in first as he folded his arms on the table, watching her. He smirked as she stabbed a piece with the fork and held it out to him. He winked at her as he took the bite, seeing her visibly shiver. He chuckled to himself as he chewed, watching her drop her head and focus on the cake.

“Stop,” she laughed, trying to avoid his intense gaze. He was trying to kill her; she knew he was.

“Can’t,” he said, joining in with her laughter.

They both continued to devour the cake until there wasn’t even a crumb left, both sitting back as the waiter cleared the plate and glasses.

After paying, Dean took Y/N’s hand in his and left the restaurant. Their walk down the street turned into a relaxed stroll, enjoying the glow of the city lights despite the cold weather of February. As they continued towards the car, a group of street musicians was playing, also not bothered by the chill in the air. As they continued to play, Dean slowly spun Y/N around, causing her to laugh in surprise at his sudden gesture. His hands slipped down to her waist and pulled her close as he began to sway them to the music, looking into her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, refusing to break her gaze away from him. The slow melody of the familiar song caused them to get lost in each other, blocking out the noise of the street and cars rushing by.

In his arms, Y/N felt safe. She felt as if nothing bad could happen to her, ever again. She felt like Dean would always be there to hold her up and never let her fall. He would never hurt her, knowing her past and making sure she never felt that way ever again. She thanked all forms of a higher power every day for bringing this man into her life.

In her arms, Dean had never felt more loved. With her, he had everything he ever wanted in life. Love, comfort, passion – feeling wanted. Someone who would never make him feel any less than he was. He knew how lucky he was to have her.

Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss becoming deeper and more passionate as he pulled her a little closer. Y/N’s hands combed into his hair at the back of his head as she kissed him. After a moment, Dean pulled away from her caress, his breathing slightly heavier.

“Come on,” he grinned, moving away from her and taking her hand in his again, leading her down the street.

As he drove, Dean’s mind kept swimming with possibilities of what would happen next. He looked over at Y/N, smiling at her as she gazed up at the city lights from the window, completely oblivious to the thoughts that were going through his head. He watched as she frowned, the destination now right in front of them. She looked up at the sign, gasping loudly. He had brought them to one of the best hotels in the city and her heart began to beat just a little faster.

“Oh my god!” she yelled, looking at him as he pulled into the valet parking of the hotel. He got out and walked over to the trunk, taking out her small suitcase and pulling it for her, as she got out of the car.

Y/N stood in shock as she watched him warn the valet about the car, and then hand over the keys. As the Impala rolled away towards the main parking, she looked at Dean and shook her head as she walked over to him.

“Dean, this is-” she started but he stopped her as he took her hand and tugged on it, softly.

“Save it for upstairs, sweetheart.” He smirked as he brought her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

They walked towards the entrance, a doorman opening the glass door for them.

“Where’s your stuff?” she asked, as she suddenly noticed he lacked an over-night bag.

“I checked us in during the day after work, before I picked you up,” he replied, as he walked them through the huge lobby and towards the elevators.

Y/N marvelled as she looked around. Her stomach flipped as she couldn’t believe she was in such a swanky place.

The elevator arrived; announced by a soft ding as the doors opened. Dean stepped in with Y/N by his side, pressing the button for their floor. Y/N looked over at him, unable to contain her smile as the elevator moved up the floors. Dean leaned over, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her, passionately. She hummed as she grabbed the lapels of his black coat, pulling him closer. They broke away from each other, however, when the elevator stopped, letting in another couple. They were slightly older and both of them grimaced as they witnessed the young couple with their lips locked. It was the clichéd scene you would see in every rom-com or steamy romance, but neither of them cared.

Once they reached their floor, they left the elevator and walked down the hallway. Dean walked a little ahead of Y/N, wheeling her suitcase behind him. He reached their room, taking out the room card and sliding it in, the beep and green light signalling he could open the door. Y/N walked in, as he held it for her and quickly slipped the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign onto the handle, closing the door behind her.

If Y/N was smiling before, then she was practically beaming as she walked further into the room. The big window overlooked the gardens outside, and the room held a chic armchair with Dean’s brown leather duffle sitting on it, a round ottoman in front the armchair, a large bed with crisp white sheets, big pillows and royal blue cushions. Rose petals were scattered over the sheets with a tray that held little chocolates, an ice bucket with a bottle of Champagne and two champagne glasses on it, at the centre of the bed.

Y/N’s felt Dean’s arms wrap around her waist as he stood behind her, pulling her close to his body. She sighed contently, leaning her head against his chest.

“I know you’re not a fan of roses, but this is all they had,” he informed her, softly in her ear.

She shook her head, turning around to face him and instantly wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s perfect. I love it so much.”

“Yeah?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

“Yes,” she sighed, smiling up at him. “I love you so much, Dean Winchester. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for loving me.”

“Well, you make it real easy, sweetheart,” he said, smirking.

“You make it easy to love you, too,” she whispered against his lips, and kissed him once, twice.

“So… champagne?” he asked, grinning.

“Yes,” she replied, without missing a beat.

Dean moved away from her, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the armchair. Y/N took off her coat and hung it up in the closet, taking a chance to look around the room. She wandered into the bathroom, biting her lip to keep from grinning as she saw the bathtub filled with water and rose petals along the surface. She fully intended to make use of it later. The bathroom also had another ice bucket and champagne with glasses kept near the tub, along with some chocolate covered strawberries, making her shiver at the possibilities of what could happen.

Y/N walked back out to the main part of the room, watching Dean open the wrapping from the top of the champagne bottle. He held the bottle carefully as he twisted the cork, letting out a “son of a bitch!” when it popped loudly. He poured some in each glass and handed her one as he took the other, his other hand slipping into hers. They looked into each other’s eyes as they clinked their glasses together.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he said, smirking.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean,” she sighed, her eyes sparkling with love as she looked at him.

As they both took a few sips, it was clear that no matter how great the champagne was, that wasn’t where their focus was at that moment. As Dean looked at Y/N, he knew he couldn’t waste another minute not touching her. In one big gulp, he downed the champagne and placed the glass on the tray. He moved it off the bed and placed it on the ottoman, turning back to her to see she had emptied her glass as well. She walked over to the ottoman slowly, the swing in her hips seductive and teasing him. As she bent down to put the glass on the tray, the curve of her ass looked glorious in her tight dress, leaving him powerless to resist.

Dean walked up behind Y/N, his hands slowly moving over the curve, feeling the soft velvet of her dress. He moved them up to her hips, swiftly pulling them back to meet his. Y/N bit her lip as she pressed her back to his chest, feeling his cock begin to stir through the fabric of his pants.

“You have no idea what I’m gonna do to you,” he whispered in her ear and placed a small kiss behind it.

She shivered as she felt his hands move up her body, lightly grazing over her breasts before moving back down to her hips. She took his hands and moved them up again, cupping her breasts and causing a soft moan to leave her lips. She smiled mischievously as she began to grind her hips back into his, feeling him become more aroused. Dean had instant flashes back to their first date, the night she did exactly the same thing on her front porch.

He suddenly flicked her hands off his and moved them down, grasping her hips and halting them. “You think you can do that again, sweetheart… you’re wrong.”

“Dean,” she whined, her frustration getting the better of her. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling herself getting wet between her legs already.

“Tonight, is all about you,” he told her as his hands moved to the back of her dress. He grasped the zip, pulling it down at a teasing pace. “Tonight… you’re all mine.”

A whimper left her lips as the dress opened in the back, and Dean’s pace suddenly changed. He roughly pulled at the dress, shoving it down her body and letting it fall to pool around her feet.

Turning them around, Dean faced Y/N towards the large mirror on the wall. He admired her dark red, lacy push-up bra, matching lace panties and black thigh-high stockings, as his hands roamed her soft skin. Their eyes met in the mirror, causing Dean to smirk at her and give her a wink. His right hand travelled down her body and over the lace of her panties, his fingers lightly teasing over her skin and the seam of the fabric. Her breath hitched in her throat as her left hand moved forward, trying to reach for his. She gasped as he roughly grabbed it and held it down by her hip, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to keep from moving.

“Only I get to touch you, Y/N,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. His hand moved down between her legs, his fingers rubbing along the lace and feeling her wetness through the material. She moaned, pressing her lips together to keep herself quiet.

“Already so wet for me,” he groaned, continuing to move his fingers in a moderate pace. “But… I want you practically dripping.”

Y/N moaned wantonly as Dean removed his hand and made quick work of taking off her panties, bending down behind her as they slid down to her feet. He helped her step out of each heel and her panties, smirking as an idea came to him once the fabric was in his hand. He quickly slipped them into his pants pocket as he took her hand and guided her towards the bed. Staring into his eyes, she saw them darken even more as he lifted his hands to her shoulders and pushed her, a squeal leaving her as her back hit the bed. The scattered rose petals bounced around, breaking the even pattern, as she moved up slightly on the bed and pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him.

Y/N smiled as she bit her lip, her eyes never leaving him as he lifted up his sweater and pulled his arms through, throwing it on the floor. He did the same with the white t-shirt he wore underneath as he moved closer to the bed. She reached over and hooked her fingers into the top of his pants, desperate to feel him against her. Before she could start working on the belt, he grabbed her hand with a firm grip.

“What did I say about touching, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough and authoritative.

A shiver ran down her spine as she looked up at him, unable to speak. His eyes were dark, and his face was unreadable, a commanding air around him. He was dominating in bed but never quite like this, and that had her excited to see what he would do.

Dean’s jaw clenched as he looked down at her, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops. He gathered it in his hand and waved it at her. “One more time and I’ll have to use this.”

She nodded, still too stunned at his demeanour to speak. She breathed heavily as the anticipation got to her, wondering what his next move would be.

Dean placed the belt on the bed, close enough to reach for it when he needed. He quickly rid himself of his shoes and the rest of his clothes, pulling down his pants along with his boxers, dropping them on the edge of the bed. His cock twitched, hard and leaking pre-cum which she desperately wanted a taste of. He knelt on the bed, swiftly picking up both of Y/N’s legs and holding them up. He made quick work of taking off her stockings, rolling them down her legs and pulling them off, before leaning down and kissing her, roughly. She moaned into his mouth as she fisted the sheets in her hands, knowing she couldn’t touch him or herself. Dean continued to roughly kiss her as he reached under her and unclasped her bra, pulling it away from her body and flinging it across the room without looking.

Dean made a rough path of kisses down Y/N’s jaw and neck, reaching her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the nub and pinched the other between his fingers. She moaned, throwing her head back, incredibly desperate to lift her hands and place them on his head to bring him closer. He continued his path down her body, finally reaching between her legs. She looked down to see him wink at her, his tongue slowly flicking out as it grazed her sex.

“Dean” she whimpered as she tried to move closer to his mouth.

Before she could say anything else, his head dipped down, his mouth covering her folds completely. His hands grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders roughly, causing a shocked huff to leave her lips.

“Oh my god,” she gasped loudly, her fingers clenching the sheets. “D-Dean, yes.”

His tongue moved over her clit in tight circles as his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, pulling her even closer. He moved his tongue up and down her folds, her juices coating his mouth as he moaned at the taste of her. She choked out a whimper at the vibration that ran through her as she looked down at him, their eyes meeting.

Pulling away slightly, he looked at her as he sucked at her clit. “Taste so fucking good, sweetheart.”

“Dean, please,” she begged, looking into his eyes. “Please, more.”

“Patience, Y/N,” he playfully scolded, smirking at her.

He continued to lap at her folds, the sounds of his moans and her wetness getting to her. She needed to touch him, but if she did, he’d restrain her. She wanted nothing more than to risk it and tug on his hair like she loved doing, but she couldn’t. He smirked against her as he continued his ministrations, lifting his right hand and inserting a finger into her wet canal.

“Shit, yes” she cried loudly, unable to stay quiet despite being in a hotel room.

“You like that, gorgeous?” he asked as he pulled away briefly, inserting another finger. He thrusted them in and out, his pace quick as she became wetter.

“Yes,” she gasped, nodding frantically. “Yes, I-I love it.”

He gave her a cocky chuckle as he took her swollen nub in his mouth again, his eyes never leaving her. He continued to thrust his fingers inside of her, his tongue licking at the bundle of nerves. He watched as her hands left the sheets and cupped over her mouth, her moans muffled under them.

Dean kissed and sucked at her clit, his fingers sliding in and out of her as he moved them along her walls quickly. Y/N’s hands barely covered her mouth, her moans loud as she couldn’t control herself anymore. He reached for his pants and quickly took her panties out of the pocket, knowing that if she got louder, she would need them.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he said as he placed the lace near her lips.

Y/N opened her mouth and let him slowly work the material in.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he looked down at her. His cock throbbed at the sight of her mouth stuffed with her dark red panties. He continued to work his fingers into her, picking up the pace. Her moans came out stifled around the fabric in her mouth, as she urgently grabbed at the sheets again.

Dean worked his fingers into Y/N, his pace getting quicker as they began to hit her g-spot with precision. He lifted her leg onto his shoulder as he sat up on his knees, his fingers never slowing. Y/N got louder despite her panties acting as a gag, her eyes shut tightly as she let out a string of muffled moans. He could feel her getting wetter with every passing second.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this, sweetheart. All spread out for me, desperate to cum,” he grunted as he worked his fingers at a faster speed. “You wanna cum, don’t you?”

She nodded wildly, too scared to open her eyes and look at him. She could feel something building inside of her, the coil in her stomach tighter than it ever had been, as if it was holding something at bay. She could hear how wet she was as he worked the digits inside her at a frantic speed, the squelching noises louder than her moans.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

She cried out around the fabric in her mouth, the only way she could communicate at that point. Hearing him call her that always drove her crazy. He felt his fingers getting wetter, knowing she was closer than ever.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned; his fingers moving so quickly he could barely see them. “Fuck, cum for me, sweetheart. Fucking soak my fingers.”

Y/N threw her head back, her neck straining as she let out a stifled scream of his name around the material of her panties. One of her hands left the sheets as it latched onto his arm around her leg, needing to hold on. The damn within her broke, Dean pulling his fingers out as jets of liquid spurted out of her, drenching his hand. The vision behind her closed lids turned white, as a wave of the purest release she had ever felt washed over her. Her body shook as he held her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself. Her muffled scream turned into whimpers as she continued to come down from her high. She had never felt this way before as she continued to shake, unable to stop the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Dean bit his lip, watching as Y/N slowly began to come down from the peak he took her to. That was a surprise, even for him. He didn’t know she was capable of that, but he was a little proud that he was the one to make it happen. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the room. She rolled her head to the side, looking up at him as her chest heaved, her breathing erratic. He leaned forward, taking her panties out of her mouth, a harsh sigh leaving her.

“Oh my god,” she exhaled, still trying to catch her breath.

“It’s actually Dean,” he joked, a wide grin on his face.

She lazily lifted her hand and tried to hit him but couldn’t even manage that.

“You…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she still couldn’t believe what just happened. “You made me squirt.”

“Sure did.” He nodded as he looked down at her, the smirk not leaving his face. “That was awesome,” he stated.

“It was.” She hummed as she smiled up him. That was first time anyone had managed to do that, and she was happy that her first experience of that was with someone who loved her so much. Someone who wanted to bring her pleasure before himself. His pleasure came from hers. She had never been with someone who cared like that.

“Shit,” she sighed, closing her eyes. Her whole body felt like it was buzzing. “I’ve never… done that before.”

“That was so fucking hot, sweetheart,” he declared, smirking as he looked down at his lower body and his hand, both wet from her unexpected release.

She stared up at him as she bit her lip. The fact that he found it hot had aroused her even more. The fact that he was so completely turned on by her and her body, gave her a confidence in herself that she never had before.

“You’re definitely trying that again, sometime soon,” she laughed, winking at him.

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” he stated, putting her leg down.

“Really?” she asked, amused by his eagerness.

“Yep,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Oh and Y/N…” he trailed off, gesturing to his arm that had been wrapped around her leg.

Y/N looked down and cursed inwardly, seeing her hand wrapped around his wrist. However, a small smile spread across her lips as she looked at him, trying to act innocent. “Oops…”

Before any more words could leave Y/N’s lips, Dean tugged on her hand and flipped her over, pushing her down on her stomach. He groaned as he looked at her ass, running his hand along her skin, grasping it in his hand. He picked up the belt, folded it and held it tight in his hands. Lifting it, he twisted his wrist and flicked the loop lightly across her right cheek, gaging her reaction. She moaned as her head dropped forward onto the bed, her hips wriggling, taunting him. He couldn’t see her face, but he was certain she was wearing the little mischievous smile of hers that he loved so much.

“Harder,” she told him, her voice firm. No hesitation.

That was the only confirmation Dean needed. He lifted his hand again, bringing the belt down on the same area, slightly harder than before.

“Fuck,” she moaned, humming at the slight sting.

Dean leaned down, placing a kiss and small nip on the cheek. “Love this ass.”

Dean held Y/N’s hands together and wrapped the belt around her wrists, making sure it was tight enough so that she couldn’t get out of the binds. He buckled it, tugging on it a couple of times to test it. She whimpered softly as she laid the side of her face on the bed, excitement coursing through her. She felt him grasp her hips and pull her up onto her knees, her bound hands on her back. That feeling of thrill rose within her as she sensed him move behind her.

Dean stroked his cock as he lined himself up to her entrance, Y/N’s hips levelled with his. He entered her swiftly, a strangled moan leaving his lips as he felt how wet she was, his cock easily sliding all the way into her. A choked cry left her as she tried to move her hips back, but he grabbed them in his hands to stop her from moving. He slid out and back in, then quickly began to thrust in and out of her at a fast pace.

“So fucking tight and wet, sweetheart,” he groaned as one hand came up to hold onto her bound hands. “So perfect… like you were made for me.”

With each thrust, she moaned louder and louder. Dean wondered whether he should gag her again, but quickly thought against it. Everyone else in the hotel be damned. He needed to hear his girl.

“How does that feel, Y/N?” he asked, as his hand on her hip grabbed her flesh tight, his thrusts relentless.

“So fucking good,” she moaned loudly, her mind delirious with pleasure. “Your big cock feels so good inside me, Dean.”

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this.” He let out a grunt, feeling her walls clench around his cock with each thrust. “Tell me.”

“Oh fuck” she gasped, unable to think clearly. “Y-You-”

Suddenly, a hard, resounding spank landed on her right cheek causing her to jerk forward as she yelped in surprise.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled, his grip tightening on her bound hands.

She huffed a small laugh, completely overwhelmed by what she was feeling. He was hitting that sweet spot inside her so perfectly with every thrust. His words had her spiralling by the second, and his grip on her, both mentally and physically, had left her completely at his mercy. It was an experience unlike any other; one that she had expressed she wanted just that morning, but she had no idea the delivery would exceed her expectations.

“You’re the only one who can make me feel like this,” she moaned, loud and shameless. If someone else in the hotel was getting railed as thoroughly as she was, they’d be shameless about it too. “The only one who can make me this good… so fucking good, so full.”

She struggled against the belt around her hands, the leather digging into her skin in a delicious sting. Her legs felt weak and limp under her, quivering as she could feel herself quickly losing resolve.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His undulating hips picked up speed, as he grasped hers tightly.

Her walls continued to clench around him, signalling she was close. The only other sounds that could be heard apart from their moans and groans were the smacking of skin as their hips met, and wet, squelching sounds of her sex as he continued to pound into her.

“De… fuck, I-I I’m close,” she cried out, lifting her head to try and look back at him. The same feeling that she had felt before had returned, as if she was holding something back. “I-I think-” she shook her head, unable to speak.

Dean’s hips started to falter, his release fast approaching. “Cum with me, Y/N.”

“I-I-I’m,” she stuttered. She felt lightheaded, overstimulated and overcome by the pleasure coursing through her.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he reassured her, his left hand leaving her hip and moving down between her legs. He rubbed her clit in tight circles, bringing her closer to her release. “Let go for me, sweetheart… soak my cock like you soaked my fingers.”

“Oh god… Fuck! Dean!” she screamed.

All concern for the people in the other rooms went out the window as they both reached the peak of ecstasy.

Y/N’s whole body convulsed as Dean let out a roaring moan, quickly pulling out as her release gushed out of her, drenching his cock as his cum spurted over her folds. Her legs gave out as she fell forward and flattened out on the bed as she tried to catch her breath. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, carefully unbuckling the belt around her hands, releasing her from the restraint. Her arms moved up the bed weakly, one hand cupping over her eyes as she began to chuckle. He looked down at her with a quirked eyebrow, confused as to why she was laughing.

“Y/N?” he called her name, getting no response.

She descended into a fit of laughter, slowly turning onto her back as she cupped both hands over her eyes.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asked, his mouth lifting up slightly into a smirk. He was amused by her reaction.

“That was… that was amazing,” she said through laughs. “I just… I can’t believe you did that. Not just once but twice!”

Y/N continued to laugh, causing Dean to join in as he leaned down and gave her a kiss. She lifted her shaky hands and cupped his face, kissing him deeply and moaning at the taste of herself that still lingered on his tongue. Pulling away, his legs almost faltered as he got up from the bed, but he held himself steady as he moved towards the bathroom. He wet a washcloth and then walked back out to the bed. He cleaned between her legs, the warm cloth ridding her of his release and her own. As he did, he was relieved to see they hadn’t ruined the sheets from both of their orgasms, his lower body taking the impact of hers. He cleaned himself off and got up again, discarding the cloth under the sink of the bathroom.

As he walked back out, he spotted the ice bucket and quickly swiped a cube out before he laid down next to her, both of them on their sides. Picking up her right hand, he smoothed the ice over the angry, red lines across her wrist. She hissed slightly at the chill on the heat of her skin but sighed as it cooled the sting. He looked at her as he did, smiling softly when her gaze lifted up to meet his.

“I… that wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, his voice low and calming, but slightly nervous. He hoped that he hadn’t gone overboard.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No. It was perfect.”

She leaned forward, kissing him deeply. She sighed into the kiss, feeling more content than she ever had in her life. The feeling of being safe with him had been there throughout, and she loved him even more for being able to make her feel that way as he dominated her.

“You sure?” He needed to be certain. “I just gotta-”

She cut him off with another kiss, before pulling back to look at him. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. It was everything I wanted. A good, proper, hard, rough… fucking of a lifetime.”

He smirked, satisfied with her sincere answer and leaned forward, kissing her once, twice which led to them giving each other small kisses on every bit of skin they got reach. Dean gave her other wrist the same attention, before the cube could melt into his hand.

“Now I can’t wait for you to fulfill another fantasy” she smiled, a naughty glint in her eyes.

“Yeah?” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows at her. “What is it?”

She hummed as she moved forward, pressing her body into his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe I want a certain mechanic to tell me there are other ways of payment when I can’t afford for him to fix my car.”

He groaned as his eyes shut tightly, feeling his cock begin to stir again. “Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t wait for that either.”

He leaned in, kissing her passionately. His hands smoothed down her back and softly soothed the sting on her ass from the brief belt treatment and spanking she got.

“Bath?” he asked, tenderly as he pulled away from her lips and nuzzled his nose against hers.

She nodded with a small smile on her lips, feeling the mattress dip as he got up first.

Dean offered his hand to Y/N which she took instantly, allowing him to lift her up from the bed. Her legs shook as she stood, still weak from the amazing sex they just had. Suddenly, he leaned down and placed his arm under her legs, the other around her and lifted her up, a little laugh leaving her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As he walked past the ottoman, she reached down and grabbed the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and the glasses, placing them in her lap and holding the bottle so it didn’t fall. They looked into each other’s eyes as he carried her into the bathroom and over to the tub.

Y/N slowly dipped her toe in, sighing in relief when it wasn’t searing hot. She held the bottle and glasses as Dean slowly placed her in the water, the petals dispersing once she was in. She took out the other bottle of champagne from the ice bucket in the bathroom and put the open one in, after she poured a generous amount into each glass. Leaning forward, she smiled as he got into the tub and rested against it, allowing her to lay back against his chest. Clinking their glasses together, she took a sip and sighed as she made herself comfortable against him.

“I’m half expecting someone to come knocking on the door about the noise,” she told him, laughing.

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, no one’s coming up here to warn us on Valentine’s Day.”

“I sure hope so,” she said, taking another sip of champagne.

“I did put the “Do Not Disturb” on the door on the way in, though,” he grinned, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Just in case.”

“Always prepared,” she joked, turning her head up to look at him.

“You know it, baby.” He smirked as he leaned down, kissing her softly.

“Thank you so much for tonight,” she whispered against his lips as he pulled away from the kiss. “It was perfect.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to hers again. The kiss deepened, causing a small moan to leave her as she reached up and ran her hand through his hair at the back of head.

She pulled back, slightly out of the breath as she bit her lip, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I can manage it tonight, but you can expect me to ride you into oblivion tomorrow as a thank you.”

His eyes widened as he nearly choked from the shock of her statement. He shook his head as he looked at her, wondering once again how she could be so innocent one minute and turn into a vixen the next.

“You better not threaten me with a good time and then not deliver, Y/N,” he warned her, a small smirk playing at his lips.

She shook her head, her gaze flicking between his and his lips. “It’s a promise which I absolutely intend to keep.”

“Shit,” he hissed, putting his glass on the ledge behind him. “Thank fuck I got a late check-out.”

He took hers and did the same and then moved his hands under the water, turning her around so that she was facing him and straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed into his chest as she leaned in and kissed him, passionately. She pulled away after a few moments, looking into his eyes.

Y/N reached over to pick up a chocolate covered strawberry on the tray behind Dean and held it to his lips. Smiling at him as his plump lips closed around the fruit and bit into it, the juice ran down his chin as he moved his head back, trying to get the bite completely into his mouth. The fire that burned for him within her, that never extinguished, flickered at the sight of his beautiful, sinful mouth slightly stained by the sweet. She leaned in, kissing and licking the remnants of strawberry and chocolate from his lips. As he looked at her, he felt that feeling of being the luckiest guy on Earth wash over him again.

“I love you,” she whispered, a big smile spreading across her face.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, his smile as big as hers as he pulled her back into their impassioned embrace.

They stayed that way until the water turned cold, and Dean carried Y/N back to the bed. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, their slumber peaceful as they both knew they were in the arms of the person who loved them unconditionally.

The next morning, Y/N kept her promise. Once they came up for air, they enjoyed a wonderful breakfast at the hotel before they finally made their way back home.

The rest of their day continued the way it began, locked in each other’s loving arms…

With promises made that they absolutely intended to keep.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05​ @kyjey​ @halesandy​ @440mxs-wife​ @stoneyggirl​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @redbarn1995​ @marianita195​ @babypink224221​ @deans-baby-momma​ @parinarain​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @mandalou29​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @supraveng​ @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @prettyboyswow​ @lunarmoon8​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

~

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

*

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

*

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

*

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

[wildlyglittering]

A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors. 

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.  

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.  

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.  

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive.  I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

[goldensstateofgrace]

Dream Of How You (Tasted) - Chapter One -

(So... my first Series!!! I’ll be working on this a lot, and i want you to know it’s not gonna be perfect because I’m not perfect and my writings definitely not perfect, so bare with me on this journey please!! Who’s ready for some Camgirl!y/n??)

A story about Y/N becoming a camgirl because she needs the money but also because she gets off on the praise she gets from total strangers. She enjoys helping other’s get off while doing so herself. When talk about a one on one session with a guy who always watches her streams becomes reality, what happens when she finds out it was her crush/best friend all along?

I hope you guys are excited!! bc I know I am!! Hope you enjoy, happy reading!!

(Also, i picture Harry as long haired harry, but you can picture him however you’d like!!!)

Word count: 1.7k (4 pages) (i promise the other chapters will be longer!)

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Y/n didn’t know college could be so expensive, her job at the coffee shop on campus just wasn’t cutting it anymore. She needed to find something else to help pay for school and her rent. 

She’s in her second year of uni, all the book costs and the rent for having an apartment so close to campus is outrageous. She tried to find a second job to help with the money problem she was currently having, but couldn't find anything that could work around her classes and coffee shop schedule. 

Her best friend, Harry, tried to get her a job alongside him at his job, but again the schedule didn’t work for her and they couldn’t change it. So now, she's stuck trying to find something to do so close when she needs to pay her rent. 

It was outrageous how much the rent was for a one bedroom apartment close to campus, it’s a thousand - some dollars a month just to be close to campus, but that’s including her light and water bill so she can’t complain too much. 

Harry had offered to let her move in with him to cut down the cost, so she could save some money for school. But she declined because her boyfriend at the time didn’t feel comfortable with it, only to find out on their one year anniversary that he had been cheating on her for a while. Asshole. 

Nothing has been said since, but she wished he would. Moving out of her apartment would help so much, but she didn’t want to ask. 

Lost in her thoughts she didn’t even notice Harry walking beside her, as she walked across the courtyard to class. 

“Why so glum” he nudged her in the side with his elbow, startling her out of her thoughts. She slaps in on the arm, chuckling, “Harry! Don’t do that!”

“You didn’t answer the question, What’s wrong? And don’t give me the ‘Nothing im fine!’ thing you do,” he says, mimicking a higher pitched girly voice, chuckling once he was done. 

“Heyy! I don’t sound like that you twat!” you backhand his abdomen making him rub his stomach area as he grimaces in slight pain. 

“But” she starts, “i’ve just been struggling again, i tried looking for a job but, just like last time the schedule didn’t line up with any of my classes or with when i was working at the coffee shop.” she says, huffing in annoyance. 

Harry nods his head as she talks, listening to her, wishing he could help in some way. He tried before, but she turned him down, she didn’t even tell him why. He figured it had something to do with that cheating ex of hers. 

“Y/n, if you need help, all you have to do is ask. I’ll always be her to help you in any way I can,” he tells her, his eyes flickering over her face, showing nothing but seriousness, a drastic change from his happy light hearted self he was just a few minutes ago.

She casts her eyes away from him, focusing her eyes on the pavement under her feet as she walks. She doesn’t say anything for a while, but eventually she looks up at him, tears filling her eyes. 

“I know” she nods, “Thank you, Harry. You don’t have to, but thank you,” she says, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill down her cheek but they don’t get the chance as she wipes them away before they do. 

Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and placing a kiss to her head, “I may not have to, but i want to.” he mumbles into the top of her head. 

Her arm wraps around his middle as they continue to walk to their second class of that morning, “Thank you.” 

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“You know what you should do?” Harry's friend Niall says as y/n, Harry, Niall and y/n’s friend Amy sit around a table in the coffee shop having lunch. Y/n quirks her eyebrow up as she takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, motioning him to go on.

Y/n had just got finished telling them about how she was in search of another job, and about how she needed the money to pay rent soon. 

“You should do only fans, or p*** h**, they make lots of money and that way you get something out of it other than stress and tiredness.” he says, making her almost choke on her sandwich. 

“W-what!”  y/n says just as Harry says “Dude! No!” 

“What’s the big deal? Lots of people do it, and you don’t even have to show your face. You could even go by a different name!” Niall reasons. 

Y/n was shocked by his suggestion, but she wouldn’t lie and say she was put off by the idea. Nobody would know it was her, and he did have a point about her not having to go by her own name. 

She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this but, you have to do what you have to do. 

“yeah uh” she clears her throat, “good suggestion Ni, but i think i’ll just stick with trying to find a job near campus” she says, chuckling as she takes another bite of her sandwich. 

“eh, it was worth a shot,” he laughs, before the conversation steers to assignments everyone had to get done and ones they’ve already done. 

After they all finish eating they sit around talking for a little bit before Y/n and Harry had to head for their last class of the day. 

As they walk to class, Harry’s arm that’s thrown over y/n’s pulls her into his side, “You know Niall was coming from a good place, right. He didn’t mean to offend you or anything,” he says, making you look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“yeah , i know. I didn’t take any offence to it, but…” she trailed off, “What?” harry asks, motioning for her to continue as they walk past a group of people blocking the sidewalk. 

“Would it be so bad? I mean he had a point about me not having to show my face or use my actual name” she said, her eyes flicking over his face for some kind of clue into what he thought of it all. 

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while, it’s just as they were about to walk into their class that he pulled her to the side and let their other classmates go in first, “I don’t have a problem with it, it’s your body, you have the right to do whatever you want with it. If you decide that that’s what you want to do to make the money you need i’ll support you 100%, if not i’ll still support you, no matter what,” He tells her, looking into her eyes with nothing but seriousness splayed across his face. 

Y/n nods, standing up on her tiptoes and reaching her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, “Thank you, Harry. I honestly don’t know what i’d do without you!” she mumbles into his neck as his arms wrap around her waist pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. 

“I don’t either honestly” he laughs, pulling away from her with a huge contagious smile across his face, only making her laugh and smile too. 

“Come on, let's go to class,” he said, throwing his arm back around her shoulder and leading her through the classroom doors. 

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It was later that night, y/n couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts running wild with what could happen if she did decide to become a camgirl, or whatever it was called these days. 

She was laying in bed, trying to find out more about what comes with being a camgirl, what she needed to do and what other people were looking to watch. 

She had found a girl, her page consisting of videos showing off her curves and sexy lingerie, along with videos of her using toys on herself. All of the videos have over thousands of views, y/n decided that she would message the women who went by ‘daddiespet20’. 

Rewrote her message so many times she lost count before she finally found what she wanted to ask and sent the message,“Hey! I’m y/n, i was wondering if you could maybe help me, i’ve been looking into getting into only fans. Could you maybe help me with some questions I have?”

She waited a while for a reply back, along with going down a tiktok rabbit hole, laughing at the stupid tiktoks Harry posted the other day. Her phone finally pinged with a notification, she quickly pulled the notification bar down to see it was a reply from the women she had messaged, “Daddiespet20: Hi! Yes ofc, ask away.”

She honestly wasn’t expecting to get a reply back, thinking the women must have thousands of people messaging her all day every day. 

Y/n quickly wrote out a message of the main questions she wanted answered, “Thank you sm! It’s only a few questions, 1: does the amount you get paid rely on the amount of views you get on each of your videos?, 2: how did you gain your audience, and keep them interested in what you were putting out?, 3: Do you have any tips on where to start (seeing as I'm new to all of this)?”

The woman answers all of y/n’s questions with no problem, along with telling her some tips on how to get started and how to gain followers. The conversion ends after messaging back and forth for almost an hour, y/n’s walking away with all the information she was looking for plus more. 

Talking to her really helped y/n come to the decision that this is what she was going to do, she was going to make videos of her showing off her body and pleasuring herself. Never in a million years did she think she would come to this just so she could keep a roof over her head and stay in school. 

Now all she had to do was buy some sexy lingerie and some toys, well more toys. What? She’s not a prude!

 It was getting late so she decided she would go to bed and figure everything out tomorrow, along with ordering her underwear and the toys online. She definitely didn’t need anyone from school seeing her by that stuff. God, she could just imagine the embarrassment she would feel if that happened. 

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Feed back is highly appreciated!! Hope you enjoyed 🥺🥰

[holycow99]

石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 2

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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*Someone asked about Choujin X.

I: I’ve given the manuscript for chp 8. It’ll be released in a few days. I don’t really have much to say about this. I wanna write this month’s goals for Osushi. The big plan is to fix(?) chp 8. Then, I wanna release another two chapters this month. Chp 8 has 20 something pages. I want to at least draw the chapters in a weekly pace. What I mean by that is I wanna draw 72 pages per month. If I could draw 72 pages a month, I drew 18 pages per week during Weekly Young Jump too. So, I wanna draw 18 pages per week, which is 72 pages per month. That’s the amount of pages for weekly publication. It’d be nice if I could draw at least this much by myself. If I drew 25 pages weekly for three weeks, It’d have a total of 75 pages. I can currently get it done. If I updated 3 chapters a month, I’d have a total of 70-something pages per month. Then, nobody will complain. It’s not like anyone is complaining. It’s so that I won’t complain to myself. This is directed towards me as a challenge. Of course, it’s okay if I couldn’t do it. It doesn’t matter if I can or can’t, I thought it’s better to have a goal.

C: And the fact that you’re streaming right now is amazing!

I: Right? I spent a lot of time at the end of August doing rectifications, plotting, etc. They’re all important things to do. Since I have a little bit of free time, I thought of streaming.

C: It’s okay to draw the chapters slowly. Do you concern about maintaining the quality?

I: The quality is as usual. I mean, that’s one of the reason. It’s also to match the quality of the work. The drawing style in Choujin X is different, so of course the drawing will be different too. There are things that have changed. I want to match the vibe of the work, and also, I wanna prioritise speed over the quality. By speed, I don’t mean I wanna write them in a hurry. I want them to have a quality that’s easy to balance. I’m still playing around with it.

C: Until what chapters do you plan to release the physical copy?

I: I can just release it. I do have a plan for it, like releasing 2 volumes altogether.

C: I’m okay with anything as long as you don’t collapse later on.

I: You’re exactly right. I’m doing it with ease. So that the serialisation will go well, I’m adjusting my pace. This is just my ideal, but I wanna serialise another manga. It doesn’t have to be serialised, I have another stuff I wanna release. I’m finding the time to make one. If I make it a rule to do other things after I’ve done 75 pages per month, I don’t have to draw more. I could use the time to do other stuffs.

C: Don’t push yourself.

I: I’m not.

C: Are you overworking?

I: Not at all. I have many hands.

C: Did you play JJ?

I: I played the game like hell.

C: Is it easier to not have assisstants?

I: That’s a good question. This is kinda weird, people say that your work will progress more if you have more assistants, but that’s not the case. I did TG without knowing that. People will ask you to check on their works. So, the more the people, the more the workload. There’s probably an appropriate number of people you should have. 4 people would probably be enough during TG. But there were more people, like the helpers, but they did regularly help. It was quite a lot. I won’t be able to do my own work when there’s a lot of staffs. I don’t have assistants for choujin X so that I can do it with ease, and umm… It’s the fastest way for me. Of course, I do think the quality of the work will increase if there are staffs. I’m trying to see if I can speed up my work to a certain extent without having to check on others’ works and consider about other people, while creating the quality contents I’m capable of.

C: Working alone or with assistants finish faster?

I: It depends on the stuffs you’re making. For choujin x, I think it’d be hard for me to draw them if I had assistants. It’ll be great if we can have divisions.

C: Are you gonna hire a care assistant? (t/n: The Japanese word is Meshistant, which means assistant who mainly takes care of the mangaka’s meal, chore, etc. So, I just put it as care assistant.)

I: Definitely no. I didn’t let my assistants do the chore. I even cleaned the toilet myself. I kinda hate it. I hate the label they give to such people. Meshistant. I don’t like people who call them that. I don’t mean you. I probably won’t be fond of mangakas who use that word. They’re your staffs, right?

C: Do you think of the story all by yourself?  

I: Yeah. Sometimes I do get ideas from my surrounding. But, most of it came from mine.

(t/n: I’m not sure if the last sentence is correct. I couldn’t really understand what he meant, but it’s something like that.)

C: I’m having a hard time to sleep. Recommend ways for me to sleep well.

I: Probably read books. It can make your eyes feel tired. Then, maybe by not sleeping? But you might think it’s better to sleep. I understand. I wanna keep trying to fall asleep, but then I’ll watch movies while lying down. I have trouble sleeping lately. I used to sleep a lot.

C: Meshistant is also an honourable job.

I: Then, why not just hire people who specialised in that. Like housekeepers. They have that, right? Something like a home helper. That is better, isn’t it? Using assistants who’re enthusiastic to draw manga to do stuffs like that is awkward for me.

*Someone commented about hiring maid.

I: Maid? Then, I’d like that. Hahaha. Should I hire a maid? I’m recruiting maids.

C: Even at the age of 250,000, you still have trouble falling asleep.

I: Yeah.

C: Are they hired to make meals?

I: Yeah. There’s various types of assistant in the manga industry. This one refers to an assistant in charge of meals.

I: What did I wanna talk about? Oh yeah, about Animal Rap. I’m thinking whether or not I should upload animal rap video during stream, but where is the file? I’ve decided to upload it after this stream ends. What was it that I wanna talk about? Can you tell me about my current status, such as about the Sui exhibition in Osaka and Nagoya, or about Ms. Towada’s illustrations?

C: How about a live rap?

I: Good idea.

C: About the plan for 30,000 subscribers.

I: That’s right 2x. We’re talking about what to do to celebrate 30,000 subscribers.

C: I can be your maid for free.

I: I’ll definitely pay you. If it’s for free, then you won’t feel your sense of duty. I’ll give a huge salary and pressure you so that you’ll work responsibly.

C: Ms. Towada can both write novels and draw. Amazing!

I: I also can. Hahaha. I also…ah, but I can’t write novels. I won’t lose to her.

C: Do you have double eyelids.

I: Mine is hidden one.

C: Appear in First Take.

I: I won’t.

C: Are your eyelashes long?

I: Yes. My eyelashes are long, I have hidden double eyelids, I am of medium build…but I’m already worn-out.

(t/n: He used the word ‘boroboro’. I couldn’t really find the proper word to translate it in this context. Worn-out is the only one I could think of that suits the context.)

C: Are you handsome?

I: Well…I’m pretty good looking.

C: Have you been going to the gym?

I: No, I haven’t, since I was busy with work. I wanna go though.

C: I wanted to go to Mr. Kunimitsu’s concert.

I: Me too.

C: Which one is more handsome? You or Kaneki?

I: Wouldn’t that be Kaneki?

C: How about another stream with Ms. Towada?

I: I re-listened to the stream with Ms.Towada. For some reason, she was laughing a lot in the stream. Though she always like that. It’s slightly embarrassing. She’s acting like she’s at home. It felt like she’s disclosing my family situation, so it’s a bit..., but I can do that again from time to time. When I wanna do something related to JJ, then I’ll call her. That’s the most suitable content.

*Someone asked him to invite his younger sister.

I: It’s impossible to invite my younger sister.

*People wanted Goubaru to be the guest.

C: Goubaru, huh?

C: Do you have someone you wanna invite?

I: No, I don’t. The corona is one thing, but I’m completely okay with not meeting people. I do talk to people I’m close with. I think that’s already enough. It’s not like I have someone I’m involved with. I do usually talk to Mr. Kunimitsu.

*People want Hanae Natsuki again.

I: Hanae? That’s definitely impossible.

*He’s talking about Japanese youtubers.

C: Can you beat boxing?

I: I’m practising at the moment.

*Currently taking about Japanese artists.

* Someone asked who he thinks could be the next popular artist.

I: Lately, I only listen to instrumentals. The one that I like recently is the girl band called Chai. The group’s vocalists are twins. The group is great. It’s not like I like the band because there’s someone who caught my intention. I listened to their songs first before I decided whether I liked them or not. I thought this kind of voice also exists.

C: Congrats for TG’s 10th anniversary.

I: Thank you. Thank you to Brazil as well. (t/n: Someone commented Brazil.)

*He pinned his Chai comment.

C: People who just came don’t understand what’s going on.

I: It’s okay if you don’t. Hehe.

C: Sensei, can you eat choco mint?

I: I can.

C: I thought the bgm was from Animal Crossing.

I: This is Yorushika’s Escape.

*Still talking about Japanese artists.

C: Have you seen Midsummer?

I: Yes, I have.

(t/n: He said something about the new evangelion movies. But I couldn’t really translate that part properly. He basically watched the Rebuild Evangelion movies from the start since he never watched it before. He planned to go to Yamaguchi prefecture, the birthtown of Evangelion’s author to watch the last movie.)

Y****: I’m reading Toro Hedoro! I recommend it!

I: I do read that. Don’t underestimate me! I do read One Piece as well, but half-way through.

C: You can watch the Evangelion movie on Amazon Prime.

I: I wanna watch the final movie at the cinema. Has the final movie come out? It has? But I’m still gonna watch at the cinema.

C: Have you read Tokyo Ghoul?

I: Nope.

C: I recommend Tokyo Ghoul!

I: Is that so? I have a story regarding TG, but it’s probably gonna be quite deep.

C: One Piece has reached 100 volumes!

I: That guy and Odacchi have reached 100 volumes, right? Hahaha. That guy is Luffy, while Odacchi is Oda sensei. Hahaha. I can’t call him that. Odacchi is Oda sensei and Kishikage is Kishimoto sensei. I see, that guy has reached 100 volumes? Way to go! Hahaha! No one is watching this anyway. I’ll properly lick his boots if he’s in front of me, since he’s the real deal. I’ll be very obedient and sucking up to him.

(t/n: Ishida was using the word ‘aitsu’ to refer Eichiro Oda. As far as I know, it’s an impolite way of calling someone older or in higher status than you in Japan.)

C: He’s scarier than Hikakin (a Japanese youtuber.)

I: Right. We are in the same industry after all. But I think Young Jump and Jump are different subsidiaries. Although, Hara sensei seems to have met with Odacchi, so maybe there’ll be an opportunity for me to meet him. But probably no. Someone like me won’t be able to meet Eichiro Oda sensei. I won’t meet him. He seems like a unique person.

*Ishida talking about an illustrator and youtuber called Saito Naoki.

(t/n: I couldn’t translate the first half of this part because they’re talking about something that had happened, and I don’t know the context of it.)

I: The name ‘Saito Naoki’ is very nice. Is it a pen name? It totally sounds like a real name though.

C: Are you close with Kishida Mel? (t/n: Kishida Mel is an illustrator and a character designer.)

I: I’ve never met him, but Kiyoppi, Kiyohara Hiro sensei and Melcchi are good friends. He’s like a friend of my friend. You have things like that, right? 

C: The name ‘Ishida Sui’ is cool!

I: I seriously wanna change my pen name. I wanna change to something like Gengoro. I wanna change to a manlier name. I didn’t give a thought about my name before. I used that name because I thought I was gonna be famous in the future, so I didn’t wanna use my real name. I seriously thought that I couldn’t become a mangaka if my real name was exposed. I was like “Since I’m gonna be famous, let’s avoid using my real name.” I was being vigilant about it, so I half-heartedly named my pen name.

I: The name Gengoro is nice. Tagami Gengoro. Tokyo Ghoul’s author, Tagami Gengoro. The Tokyo Ghoul’s author, Tagami Gengoro’s exhibition is now open. I’d definitely sounds like a bearded fatty. With round glasses to top it off. Isn’t Tagami Gengoro a character from a gay manga?

*Ishida searching for Tagami Gengoro.

I: Everyone, don’t search for it. I’m scared something dirty will appear. Is it not? Oh, it isn’t. what’s the name again? There is a character named something Gengoro, right? It’s Tagame Gengoroh! I got it now! Tagame Gengorohw as born in 1964 and a Japanese mangaka. He calimed himself to be a ‘Gay Erotic Artist’. This is the one! It’s Tagame Gengoroh sensei. 

*Ishida was looking at Tagame Gengoroh sensei’s illustrations.

I: This one. Wow, this is indeed gay! Hahaha.

C: I can’t believe it came out of your mouth.

I: Surprisingly, I do talk about these kind of stuffs. (t/n: I mean, he’s the man who wrote a whole R-18 chapter.)

I: So, I can’t use the name Gengoro, since there’s someone with this name.

C: Is the name ‘Ishida Sui’ an anagram of your Surname?

I: Yes, it is.

C: Are you gay?

I: Hahaha! Even if that’s true, you didn’t have to ask that kind of question! Let’s just say that I’m okay with both.

C: Kuso Miso. (t/n: Kusomiso is a gay manga.)

I: Of course, I’d be reading them (probably referring to gay manga). I mean, manga like Kuso Miso Technique are popular, right?

C: Ishida GayGoro.

I: Hahaha. That’s just gay.

C: You’ve been to a gay bar before, right?

I: Not at all. When I was hanging out with the staffs, Goubaru said he wanted to go to a Okama bar while crying.

(t/n: According to the internet, Okama is a term referring to guys who adapted female characteristics.)

C: I think it’s completely normal to be gay nowadays.

I: We’re talking about gay now. It’s not normal in the first place. It’s just a sexual orientation. If you pick on every little thing, everything will become a problem. Those who deliberately say they’re not prejudiced against gays are actually are. Even if you tell that to people, they’ll probably filter what they wanna say. They’d be conscious of every single thing they say. Things like that don’t matter.

C: Sensei, let’s talk about something else.

I: Why? I’m okay with it.

C: I’m bi.

I: Does it matter? It’s okay.

C: It’s difficult to say something regarding gender issues, right?

I: Well…It’s difficult, since it’s concerning your mindset. It doesn’t only apply to gender issues; you can hurt someone by making careless remarks.  It’s just that you sometimes accidentally let out your opinions. I also think I sometimes make unnecessary remarks, so I might do that.

C: I want to be embraced by Masataka Kubota. (t/n: Masataka Kubota is a Japanese actor who played as Kaneki in the live-action.)

I: That’s right. Must be nice. I want us to embrace each other.

Part 3

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello! Fic request please. Okay, so TK and Carlos never got together. During the Boba date, TK let Carlos know that they should be friends and Carlos understood. So they became good friends but TK just self sabotages a lot so he loved Carlos then but didn't want to let Carlos in so he thought it better to just let him go and settle for a friendship. So one day, they decide to check out this new place for lunch. TK excuses himself for the bathroom and he hears this huge explosion and feels the impact. When he gets out, it's a fiery mess. All that is on his mind: I have to find Carlos. Even when the 126 respond to the explosion, TK refuses to leave until he has found Carlos. Carlos is found unconscious, injured and with severe smoke inhalation. 📍

holly's august extravaganza day 13: couldn't utter my love when it counted

thank you! you've given me such wonderful prompts and it's been a pleasure to write every single one of them! 💚😊

ao3 | 3k | canon divergence, explosions, major character injury, angst with a happy ending, love declarations

TK has made a lot of mistakes in his life, but undoubtedly one of the biggest was letting Carlos Reyes go. He hates the person he was back then, the one who was too blind to see that what he needed—what he wanted—was right in front of him, in a very literal sense.

“How long are you going to avoid talking about it TK?”

“Us?”

“What are we? Are we even a ‘we’?”

TK wants to say yes. He looks at Carlos with his soulful brown eyes and kind tilt to his mouth and he just knows that this is someone he could let in. He’s already seen some of TK’s darkest depths, and yet he’s still here, still asking, still wanting to be with him.

Then again, Carlos isn’t the only one who has been with him despite, and the last person who did that ended up growing tired of him. Carlos would promise against it if he knew what TK was thinking, but it’s an impossible promise to make, far easier said than done. He isn’t that kind of person, TK knows this—but then, neither was Alex, until he was.

He can’t risk it. Besides, he barely recognises his life anymore, and he can’t ask Carlos to hang around indefinitely until he can get his head in order again. If there’s one thing TK is certain of, it’s that Carlos is a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with all of TK’s bullshit, however much TK may want it.

So. That’s it.

“I like you, Carlos. I want to get to know you better. But as friends. I’m not in a place for a relationship—I don’t know if this is where I belong, or even if I can be a firefighter anymore. And I just. I just think that I have to work out who I am before I can let someone else in on that, you know? So… Can we? Be friends, I mean?”

Carlos would be well within his rights to say no, after all. But instead he smiles, a little sad, but still as gentle as ever, and says, “Sure. I’d love that.”

TK realised three things pretty quickly after that moment.

One: Austin is his home.

Two: He belongs at the firehouse—but as a paramedic.

And three: He is in love with Carlos Reyes.

But his moment has come and gone. That conversation is the kind that can’t be taken back; the damage has been done, and now TK has to live with the consequences. It’s not all bad—he still has Carlos in his life, and things are… Things are good. They hang out regularly, they have an ongoing text thread, there’s no awkwardness or resentment between them. All things considered, they’re in a better place than they were back during their pseudo-dating phase.

But still, TK misses him.

It’s a strange feeling, missing someone who’s right there beside him. TK hadn’t realised how much he would lose when they became ‘just friends’ for real, but now he finds himself noticing more and more the absence of a flirty twinkle in Carlos’s eye or the suggestive lilt to his words. There’s still an air around them, a sense that, if he just pushed a little, they could easily tip over into more. Into whatever they were on their way to becoming before TK drew his line in the sand.

He won’t, though. It wouldn’t be fair—Carlos has already put up with so much from him that it’s a miracle he’s even still around at all—and TK is not willing to risk what is now the best friendship of his life. If having Carlos in his life means keeping his hands to himself and forever refusing the urge to kiss him senseless, then it’s a small price to pay.

*

“You’re such an ass!” TK shoves Carlos lightly as they walk down the street, rolling his eyes at the smirk sent his way. “Why can’t you just suck it up and accept that maybe you don’t know Austin as well as you think you do?”

Carlos raises a solitary eyebrow. “Because I’ve lived here my entire life?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Besides,” he cuts in, before Carlos can come back with some other stupid, logical argument, “this place only popped up a few months back so there’s no way you’ve had enough time to make a proper judgement.”

“And you have?”

“Shut up.”

Carlos laughs and, though TK tries to glare at him, he can’t help but be drawn into it. He shakes his head and looks down to avoid Carlos’s eyes, only for his gaze to catch on their hands, swinging in sync mere centimetres apart. How he aches to close that distance and thread their fingers together; to tell Carlos everything he’s been pushing down for months—

Carlos lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair, and the moment is broken. If he noticed TK’s lapse, then he doesn’t show it, instead turning to him with an amused smile. “Alright,” he says, “how about this? You take me wherever this is, and next time, I’ll take you to the actual best pizza place in Austin; then we’ll see who’s right.”

TK wishes he could kiss that self-satisfied smirk off his face. See how smug he is then.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Prepare to eat your words, Reyes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

God, TK hates him.

*

Carlos is being infuriatingly quiet as they eat, and it’s grating on TK’s every nerve. TK is well aware he’s doing it for that exact purpose, but he’s never been known for his patience—a fact which Carlos knows all too well and is rudely taking advantage of.

“So?” TK demands, folding his arms on the tabletop. “Was I right, or was I right?”

Carlos hums, pretending to consider the slice in his hand with great care. Then, he meets TK’s eyes and drops it back on the plate, re-settling in his seat with a shit-eating grin. “It was okay.”

TK’s mouth drops open. He blinks at Carlos for a good few seconds, then snaps his jaw shut with a click, shaking his head and sighing. “I hate you,” he grumbles, refusing to look Carlos in the eye.

Carlos has the audacity to actually laugh. “No, you don’t,” he says, and he doesn’t know quite how true that is. TK feels a blush start to rise on his cheeks, which cannot happen, so he clears his throat and slides out of his seat.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says. “Maybe you’ll have reconsidered by the time I come back.”

TK can’t stop a grin from forming the second he turns his back, his heart doing a stupid little dance in his chest. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is bright red, and he’s going to have to splash a significant amount of water over him before he can even think about facing Carlos again.

He takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken.

For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

He’s floating.

He’s… He doesn’t… Something’s not right. Something…

Underwater. He can’t hear anything and he’s floating and he’s underwater, except he can’t be because he was just in a restaurant with Carlos and they were talking and—and—

The world slams back into him with the force of a freight train and TK coughs as he instantly feels like his entire body is being compressed, his airways closing up. It takes a few seconds to realise his eyes are closed and several more before he can open them, only to be met with even more darkness.

He blinks—so he definitely has opened them—but he still can’t see a damn thing. Is he… He can’t be blind. He can’t.

TK’s chest tightens even further and the panic causes his limbs to twitch, to scrabble at the ground, and the movements must be enough to dislodge something because suddenly there’s light streaming into his eyes. He slams his eyelids shut instinctively, and it’s a long moment before he can crack them open again.

His surroundings come to him in bits and pieces. To his left, a pile of cracked porcelain—the sink, he realises. The floor glitters with a material TK can’t identify until he catches sight of his reflection in a shard of glass just in front of him. And on top of him, something heavy, rough—wood?

The door!

Slowly, agonisingly, he manages to shift to all fours, then to his knees, then finally staggers to his feet. He sways in place, watching the bathroom door hit the floor, and—that’s strange. It doesn’t make a sound.

He can’t hear anything, actually, aside from a faint, high-pitched ringing. The paramedic in him tells him that this is a bad thing, but he feels separate from both his brain and his body; he’s floating somewhere outside his body, this whole situation feeling like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare.

A thought drifts through his mind then. No, not a thought, a name.

Carlos.

He was with Carlos. He has to find Carlos.

TK stumbles forward, grabbing onto anything within reach as the battle to stay upright gets harder with each second that passes. An intense heat hits him as he makes it into what he thinks is the main seating area and the change in atmosphere is instant—thick, black smoke invades his lungs, sending him back to his knees, body heaving with coughs.

The restaurant is on fire and TK can barely keep his eyes open as he searches for any sign of Carlos. He forces his aching body further, any pain taking a back-seat as the need to find Carlos grows. He’s still not sure what’s happening or how they got in this mess, but he knows that Carlos is in danger, and TK isn’t going to let him die. Not now. Not ever, if he can help it.

He crawls through the restaurant, blind and deaf to where he’s going, but he’ll know it’s Carlos when he finds him. He knows he will. There’s nothing that could stop him from recognising Carlos.

TK doesn’t know what’s happening when he suddenly feels himself being lifted, something bulky being placed over his face. It’s a shock, the sensation of being able to breathe clean oxygen, and it goes to his head for a moment, the dizziness growing even as his vision begins to clear up.

He catches sight of 126 emblazoned on a helmet and familiar, worried eyes looking down at him, and that’s when it connects. His family are here, they’re here, but Carlos is still somewhere and TK is not leaving without him. He struggles in his father’s grasp, managing to squirm and flail enough to get his feet on the floor and for his dad’s grip on him to falter.

But the relief is momentary; no sooner is he standing than the vertigo and nausea takes over, and he crumbles.

This time, when the world goes black, it stays that way.

*

They tell him it was a gas explosion in the restaurant’s kitchen. They say he’s lucky to be alive, that his trip to the bathroom saved him. They say he needs plenty of rest and time to heal.

They don’t tell him anything about Carlos.

TK asks, he’s been asking since the moment he woke up in the hospital. But the team knows nothing and the doctors keep saying to focus on his own injuries rather than worrying about someone else.

Someone else, as if that’s all Carlos is. He’s the love of TK’s fucking life, but they might never get the chance to be anything more than friends; TK has seen the news. His dad had switched it off the second he caught him watching it, but he’d seen enough to know that survivors are few, and, of those, most of them weren’t as lucky as TK.

His injuries were serious, but they’ll heal. He’ll probably have scars from the shrapnel from when the explosion first went off and from the burns he acquired looking for Carlos, and he’s going to have one hell of a tinnitus case for a while, but it’s nothing. Less than nothing.

He’s alive, which, if Carlos is dead or dying, is far more than he deserves.

*

On his fifth day in hospital, they tell him he can go home later. He should be grateful, but it just feels like another thing that’s happened to him in a long line of things. He’s waiting for his dad to come back from picking his prescription up when there’s a knock at the door, and TK looks up to see an older Latino couple, the woman looking at him with a deep sadness in her eyes.

“I… Are you TK?” she asks haltingly.

TK frowns and nods, surprised by the relief that floods her face when he does. He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though.

“I’m Andrea. Carlos’s mother. This is his father, Gabriel.” She gestures to the man next to her, who nods at TK, his mouth pinched. TK swallows nervously, terror building in him at the thought of what Carlos’s parents could be doing here. “The doctors tell us you’ve been asking about our son,” Andrea continues. “We wanted to come and talk to you and give you the news ourselves.”

TK swears his heart stops in his chest. “Is he…”

He can’t get the words out, can’t put the idea into existence, but Andrea clearly picks up on what he’s thinking as she crosses the room, taking his hands in hers.

“He’s alive,” she says. “He… He lost a leg in the explosion and his lungs were damaged from the smoke, but the doctors have told us that the worst danger has passed. We’re just waiting for him to wake up now.” Andrea pauses, biting her lip. She looks at Gabriel, then back to TK, releasing his hands. “How do you know our son? Are you…”

“We’re friends,” TK says, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “He’s the best friend I’ve got. Thank you for telling me.”

*

He leaves his number with Andrea and Gabriel, and they promise to keep him updated on Carlos’s condition.

Four days after TK goes home, he gets a phone call to say that Carlos is awake. He’s back at the hospital within the hour, racing as fast as he can (which, infuriatingly, isn’t very fast right now) to the room number they gave him.

The sight he’s greeted with just about takes his breath away.

Carlos smiles at him, and he’s covered in bandages and scrapes and he’s clearly exhausted, but he’s smiling, and TK swears he’s never looked more beautiful. He stands in the doorway for a long time, just staring at Carlos for the first time in nine days, so captivated by him that he doesn’t notice the knowing look that passes between Andrea and Gabriel.

“We’ll give you boys some time to catch up,” Gabriel says. He pats TK’s shoulder when they walk past him, and it’s enough to spur him back into action.

TK crosses the room in three quick strides, reaching for Carlos’s hand the second he’s settled in the chair. He almost sobs when he feels Carlos squeeze his hand back; it’s weak, more just a twitch of the fingers, but it feels like everything.

“Hi,” Carlos says, his voice quiet and raspy.

TK sniffs, opens his mouth to say hi back, but maybe the explosion knocked him about more than he realised, because what comes out instead is, “I love you.”

Their eyes widen at the same time, a flush rising on TK’s face as he processes what he just did. “I—I’m so sorry, Carlos, I—” He shakes his head and tries to pull his hand back, but Carlos’s grip tightens, keeping him firmly in place.

“Say it again,” he demands.

TK blinks. “What?”

“Say it again.”

He hesitates another second, but the slight uptick to Carlos’s lips gives him the confidence he needs to look Carlos in the eyes.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t see it before. I was scared, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle a relationship, and I figured it would be easier to let you down than risk hurting us both when we inevitably realised it couldn’t work out.

“But I was so wrong, Carlos. Back at the restaurant, after the explosion, all I cared about was finding you and making sure that you were okay. I couldn’t stand the thought that anything might have happened to you, and I’ve been going out of my mind since it happened because I didn’t know how you were. I—I can’t lose you, Carlos.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the tears beginning to gather in his eyes, attempting a trembling smile to match Carlos’s own. “I love you,” he whispers. “If it’s too late, then I understand. I just. I need you in my life. I need you, Carlos. However you’ll have me.”

Carlos holds his gaze for a long time after TK has finished speaking, and it feels like he’s seeing right through him. Eventually, after so long that TK’s lost all sense of time, he slowly raises his hand, brushing his knuckles across TK’s cheek, then coming to rest on the back of his neck.

“I love you, too.”

And the light pressure from Carlos’s hand is all the invitation TK needs to close the distance between them, his heart pounding as he kisses Carlos for what feels like the first time.

Hopefully, it’s the first of many, and the first of the rest of their lives.

[after-witch]

Just One Night (Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Title: Just One Night (Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Synopsis: It’s been almost a year since you’ve been kidnapped by Kai Chisaki. With your small captive world relatively calm in the past few weeks, you dare to voice a request: to attend an annual production of The Nutcracker ballet.

Note: yandere, kidnapping, controlling behavior, and self-indulgence since I’m writing this vaguely me trying to process not seeing The Nutcracker ballet at Christmas time because of covid-19, breaking a 25 year streak

Word Count: 1300ish

You take a deep, steadying breath before you rap firmly on the door leading to Overhaul’s--Kai’s, you correct yourself, he likes you to call him Kai--office. Your new bedroom is right next door, although the layers of soundproofed insulation keep you (blissfully) ignorant of anything that goes on when you’re not inside.

“Come in.”

Your stomach twists in anxious anticipation. Before you touch the handle, you tuck the tickets deep into your pocket and hope he won’t see them until after you’ve asked.

You open the heavy white door and shut it carefully behind you, before turning to face your captor, who is--as usual-- sitting at his desk. He types away at a laptop, glances at his phone screen, and checks paperwork in the span of a few moments. He’s productive, that way, you think. You remember when you used to have a laptop, and a phone, and a job. You swallow the pang of bitterness down, knowing that it will seep through your words easily.

“(Y/N)?”

You realize you’re simply standing in front of the closed door and you force your legs to obey you as you step closer to his desk. The tickets feel like rocks, thick and heavy and weighing you down with every step. You don’t want to appear nervous, so you clasp your hands politely together. Maybe he won’t notice the slight trembling.

“I… that is…um.”

He stares at you, masked face and eyes impassive.

You feel stupid. How could you possibly ask something like this from the man that kidnapped you, brought you to some secure hideout, and forced you to obey his bizarre, rigid rules? You had to be “good” for almost 2 months and plead like you’ve never pleaded before just to convince him to let you watch a movie.

“Did you need something, angel?”

You feel like your heart skips at the sugar-laced nickname. He started using them recently, ever since you started “behaving” for him. It was around the time he’d granted the movie night, now that you think of it. His sweet words still feels like poison in your ears, but poison that you can maybe work with.

You take another steadying breath.

“Kai, I want to ask you something.”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Now or never, you think.

“That is, I wanted to ask you for something.”

At this, you see his eyes crinkle slightly. He’s smiling--you learned this expression only recently as a result of your good behavior.

“Ah, of course. You know that I want you to be happy here. What do you need? A new book? Different paint?”

You swallow the thick feeling that has grown in your throat and nervously bite softly on your lip. You hate the gesture--it makes you feel childish, insignificant. Especially if you stop for a moment to consider the ridiculous power imbalance between you and your captor, a gap you can never even hope to bridge.

“Well, it’s not a thing.” You look to the side to avoid his gaze. “I mean, it is a thing, technically… I mean, what I want is, I--I want to go see The Nutcracker. You know, the ballet.” You pause, then add quickly: “With you, I want to go with you I mean, not alone.”

You find yourself talking rapidly, hoping to get ahead of whatever justifications he may have against the idea: “I promise I won’t try to run away, and I’ll stay by your side the entire time. I won’t even go to the bathroom, and we can go right home after or even before the applause if you want and you don’t even have to spend money because I already have the tickets.”

Your rapid-fire plea finished, you cross your arms protectively across your chest and wait.

It only takes a moment for Chisaki to speak up. When he does, you realize that he’s close--he stood up during your initial plea, and you fight an instinctive flinch that wants to thrum through you.

“How did you get tickets?” His voice is sterner and there is an accusation laced in his tone. You realize that he thinks you stole a phone to buy them, or something like it.

You quickly reach into your pocket, hands shaking visibly now, and pull them out. “It’s--it’s not what you think, I already had them! In my things. From my apartment. The box you let me have. I was using them as a bookmark.”

Chisaki gazes at the tickets in your trembling hands. “Ah, I must have missed them…”

The weight of the tickets, printed with the once familiar sight of a row and seat numbers on them, gives you something akin to courage. You look at him with what you hope is a sweet, pleading gaze. You want this so badly.

“So… can we go?”

Your see his impassive eyes and your hopes are dashed before he even says the words out loud: “No.”

“But--”

“We can’t go to a theater, (Y/N). It’s not safe for you.”

“You can bring bodyguards or whatever! We’ll buy extra tickets!” You gesture with the hand holding the tickets tightly. “They might not be in the same row but we’ll figure something out, okay?”

“No, (Y/N). I’m sorry. I know this must make you feel upset.” Chisaki’s eyes crinkle with something akin to sympathy, or at least you think that’s the impression he wants to give you. He’s never really felt sorry for anything he’s done to you. Not now, not ever.

“Please.” You swallow a lump in your throat. Your eyes sting with hot tears and you wipe them away furiously. You hate crying in front of him. “Please, Kai. Kai,” you repeat, hoping the emphasis will help your case. “I’ve seen The Nutcracker every year since I was 5. My mom and used to see it and… I saved up… I always save up…” 

The thought of your mom, dead for a few years now, makes the tears even more bitter. Your voice is hoarse and tight now. “I never miss it. Please. Please.”  

You don’t care if you seem childish, you don’t care if he thinks you’re being ridiculous. The thought of sitting in the audience and feeling the electric hum between everyone as the curtain rises and the orchestra places and the dancers move creates an indescribable deep longing in you. 

“(Y/N)…”

His gloved hands wipe away your tears and you choke back a sob.

“I just want to go to the ballet,” you whisper. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He tuts at you sympathetically. Then he takes the tickets from your trembling hands and rips them in two.

“Oh--” Your heart wrenches as you watch the pieces unceremoniously fall on the ground.

You feel bitter, disappointed tears streaming down your cheeks as he pulls you close to him. You’re shaking from head to toe--from anger, from sadness, from helplessness. He rests his chin on your head and pats your back sympathetically. The gesture is hollow and empty. You feel So. So. Stupid--for thinking he would ever let you leave on your terms.

“We’ll set up another movie night, angel. There are plenty of filmed versions.”

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

i have only one wish for the egg vines arc, and that is i do not want tommy to take it over, like no hate to him but i would really like if the focus stayed on the badlands+ puffy, its a really interesting plotline and im happy that its gunna be center stage and get the attention it deserves but i dont want tommy to take it over and move the attention away from the badlands +puffy.

I’m hoping that this is more of a temporary thing or like, his involvement is just as a side character.

This was good for getting new people to actually pay attention to the plotline though, because if Tommy never once acknowledged the vines then everyone would continue thinking that it was an irrelevant side plot (which is a bit unfortunate)

The Egg plot’s been kind of overlooked or seen as silly or unimportant the past months, but Bad’s really worked hard on it and he’s really enthusiastic about what he’s been up to :( A lot of the time it was just that “dumb, wacky side plot” that could be ignored, I guess. The plot’s weird, must not be canon to the main storyline, right?

Bad’s done so much work over the past months to develop the exposition of the Vines, to get other people who aren’t usually involved in the “main” plot like Eret and Puffy involved in this one. 

I dunno. I don’t want to sound overly bitter or petty (I hope I don’t come off that way)

Like, I get it. The Egg lore streams happen at weird times and people obviously don’t need to keep up with every single plot if they don’t want to. That’s completely fine! That’s not what I’m bothered by at all!

I’m instead bothered by the idea that the Egg plot wasn’t worth taking seriously as its own thing until it became relevant to Tommy. 

I mostly just wish it didn’t take Tommy streaming a plotline in order for it to be seen as an actual, valid thing, y’know? To be considered canon? 

Because if we as a fanbase want to have plotlines where Tommy doesn’t have to be the main protagonist all the time, we also gotta be able to take plot lines seriously without him in them too.

Arcs where Tommy isn’t the main character have happened before. He hasn’t been the main character 100% of the time. 

It got a lot better in this regard with Season Two. Ranboo’s character arc’s been amazing, the season started off with a great plotline around Fundy’s character, Quackity’s fight with Dream and the Dream Team split, the development of the Blood Vines plot, etc. etc. A lot more happened in Season Two than just the Exile Arc.

That was one of the reasons why I was always a little iffy on critiques of Season Two’s writing saying there was too much going on. Like, those are valid critiques, it was very chaotic, but changing Season Two’s writing to be more like Season One’s would’ve meant more cohesion at the cost of Tommy being the only plot going on, and I honestly just prefer the chaos if more people get to be involved, y’know? That’s just my cup of tea.

I dunno. 

Sorry for doing this whole rant thing, I know it probably sounds super salty (though I hope it didn’t come off that way, or like I’m being whiny)

 Just wanted to get some thoughts out, I guess! I’ve got optimism that Season Three will continue on the path of Season Two with everyone continuing to handle their own characters’ arcs and just having them intersect more, which would be amazing.

I am happy that Tommy and Tubbo are involved, especially if it means Tubbo and Fundy bringing the Dreamon Hunters back in collaboration with Badboyhalo.

Bad’s spent over a month carefully cultivating and planning out this plotline. It’s worth paying attention to and appreciating how much work he’s put into it with the rest of the Badlands! 

(And as always, everyone is welcome to disagree! This is just about my personal taste)