#jesus mary and all the angles on their perches

[pollyna]

I read this fic on ao3 where Mav tells Ice they aren't worth risking it all, because Mav worked too hard to be in a good place and he doesn't want to lose that. And it made me thing. Mav says they aren't worth it, that whatever love they could have isn't worth it and he doesn't regret it. But Ice doesn't stop loving him or resent him for that: he takes all this love and tries to help Mav to stay where he wants. For Mav, maybe, their love isn't worth it, but for Ice? For Ice is worth everything, even years later, when they hadn't talk to each other in years. It's worth it, because Mav is worth it.

[e-m-christina]

Heathens Pt3 (Ivar X Warrior! Reader)

   For the first time, silence hung in the air as the eyes of the Norsemen scoured you for an answer. The silence made your blood as cold as the autumnal air that crept through your clothes. Your blood did not run cold because of fear or intimidation, but because you were considering Ivars offer. You were really thinking of agreeing to something those Heathens, no, those devils were asking you to do. Bereft of any wind answer, Ivar rolled his eyes and whipped out a knife, pointing it at your stomach. 

   “Do not make me have to kill you Y/N.” Ivar hissed in a low voice as his blue eyes bored into yours like a bird of prey, but you were not swayed by his threat...Or warning. You watched as his eyes flicked from you, to the men that were watching before teeth bit down on his bottom lip. Was it anger or concern? You could not tell. 

   “Why don’t you give me the knife?” You said at last. Ivar paused, and looked down at you. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took a seat before offering you the knife. Your hands slick with mud and blood took the blade. The dagger lay cold in your  hands. It was short at five inches but so sharp even the gentlest of touches to flesh would result in a free bleeding cut. Whispers sounded through the crowd of Norsemen as you angled the blade towards your very own stomach. You were very aware of Ivars eyes trail your every movement like a hawk, his hands gripping the sides of his chair as he leaned forward. 

   “Die! Die now!” Savagely screamed a Norseman as you silently approached him. The only part of your body language that conveyed your emotions was your seething eyes burning like a raging fire as you stopped in front of the man with an almost blank face. You hissed as he spat in your face, before carrying on his barbaric screams. Out of all the people there, he was the only one that was making a noise, everyone else was deadly silent; listening, watching.

   “Depart from this earth, ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. And shall cast ye into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." You growled before flipping the blade around and driving it forward. The knife met flesh, soft and pudgy, and made a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough into the man to make him scream. You twisted the blade in your hands, all the while sinking it deeper and deeper into the man's chest. Guttural chokes mixed with an agonized roar gargled from his throat as he sank to his knees, continuing to scream, convulsing and trembling like a rabid animal as thick blood flowed freely from the gaping hole. You threw the red knife to the ground with a clammer before turning back around to Ivar. Your heart rammed against your rib cage; you did not like killing, but it was in times necessary. Ivar had lurched to his feet, keeping a hand on the table as he stared at the lifeless corpse in disbelief. Was he angry? You watched his unreadable face melt into one of absolute amazement as a grin started to form.

   “I think she will fight with us!” He roared, grabbing your arm and thrusting it into the air. 

      Your eyes glimmered in the candle lit room as you watched the full moon that hung brilliantly in the dark night sky from the window. You were now free from all bonds, hands and feet free from all shackles or restraint. 

   “And then appeared a great wonder in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon beneath her feet. And upon her head, a crown of twelve stars.” You said, gazing at the silver light that omitted from the moon. 

    “Who was the woman?” You turned around to face Ivar. He was perched on a stool in front of you, with a cup of mead in one hand and a slice of bread in the other. 

   “The virgin. Mary, mother of our God, Jesus Christ.” You said, watching as Ivars eyebrows knitted together.

   “If she was a virgin, how could she be a mother?” He asked, half in disbelief and half in mockery. 

   “It was a miracle.” You said, shooting him a glare before turning back to look out of the window.

   “I would say so.” He snickered before taking a gulp of mead. You frowned and fully turned around. You clasped your hands in front of you and raised an eyebrow.

   “Are there not many miraculous things in your faith? Like the serpent that holds in the sea with its body.” You said.

   “That is not a miracle, that is true.” Ivar took a hold of his crutch, before pulling himself up from his seat. 

   “Ah.” You said, before turning back to the window, resting your arms on the ledge as you peered back out into the night with a small smile grazing your lips. Does he honestly think a serpent actually incircles the sea? You could hear Ivar drag his crutch along the ground towards you, but you did not budge an inch.

    “The moon is a woman. That is true. But not a woman you can trust. A devious woman. A woman that drives men insane.” You felt a cold blade kiss your cheek as he stopped behind you, pressing a knife against your skin. 

   “She promises them her love. Her favours. But then she changes her mind, cheats on them. Goes with someone else.” Ivar carried on. You felt him dragging the blade down your cheek gently. 

   “Do you understand what I am thinking, Y/N?” He asked, leaning forward. 

   “You are thinking that I cannot be trusted. That my promises are worthless. That  I will be as fickle as the moon.” You said, choosing your words carefully, aware of his hot breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

   “In my experience it happens.” Ivar said, pressing the blade harder into your cheek.

    “But if you kill me now you deny yourself the pleasure of proving yourself...right.” You bit your lip as the blade lifted from your skin, making a metallic noise as he placed the knife back into his sheath, though you still did not dare to turn around.

       “Y/N, I do not want to be right. I want to believe in you. I want to believe that in this world, there is someone who never lies, who never cheats, or compromises.”  You slowly turned you around, looking Ivar in the eyes. You held your breath as he gently ran a thumb over your bruised cheek. “Who is always noble.” He continued as you fought against a tremble in your voice.. 

     “I am the one, Ivar.” You said quietly. Within seconds, Ivar regained his usual poise before quickly dropping his hand. 

   “We will see.” He  whispered before turning away. And for the first time a genuine smile graced your lips. Maybe these Heathens were not so bad afterall. 

--

Thanks for reading! Part 4 coming soon! Requests are still open! I am working on a Hvitserk x Reader request and an Ivar x reader request, both of which will be posted in the next few days as well!

 @youbloodymadgenius

@angelofthorr

@pieces-by-me

@krissyclayton

@xceafh​

@peachydiminie

@1950schick

[lawrenceop]

Holy Land Retrospective - Day 1

A JOURNEY OF FAITH: INTRODUCTION

One year ago, on the feast of Divine Mercy, I made my way to Heathrow airport after Mass, for my first pilgrimage to the Holy Land. This journey, organised by 206 Tours, was an answer to my prayers. Until recently I did not feel ready nor worthy to walk in that place where “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14). But shortly after I returned from studies in Washington DC, I felt this yearning to see the Holy Land, and so I prayed for the opportunity to go, and I left it in God’s hands. Two weeks later, an email arrived inviting me to serve as one of a team of spiritual directors on a unique pilgrimage to the Holy Land in the company of Jim Caviezel, and led by the wonderful Fr Donald Calloway MIC. Truly, God is provident, and his generosity exceeds our asking! 

Divine Mercy Sunday 2020 was the 28th of April, and I flew out on a night flight after a rather gruelling round of questions at the airport. At one point, I did not think I would be allowed to board but I kept clutching my Rosary and saying prayers silently. I entrusted all to Jesus who, it seemed to me, had arranged this pilgrimage for me at this opportune time, just after the Easter Octave.

On this nine-day pilgrimage, I took 1453 photos on my phone, and I shared the best of these on Facebook as we went. I often find that this is the best way to share my experiences with my family and friends. I also had my DSLR camera with me, and I took 1416 photos with my camera. I have been sharing these photos on my Flickr page, posting on liturgically appropriate days. For example, on the feast of the Annunciation (25 March) I shared this photo of the site of Mary’s house in Nazareth where the Word became incarnate in Our Lady’s womb.

Now as the liturgical anniversary of this wonderful pilgrimage comes round, I wanted to relive those days; to give thanks to God and Our Lady for this trip; to remember the places we saw, and the people I met; and to reflect theologically and spiritually on this pilgrimage with the aide-memoire of the photos I took. It shall be a novena of sorts. 

For, in what follows, for the next nine days, I will post no more than nine photos a day (sometimes fewer), and I will choose photos taken on my camera only, and which I have not already uploaded to Flickr. Clicking on the link for each photo (links are all in red text) will take you to the Flickr page where you can see the photo in larger sizes. This exercise is meant to help challenge me to look at the entire photo collection again with fresh eyes. I hope it will help you, too, to see the places associated with Christ and the mysteries of our salvation. Thank you for joining me on this journey of faith.

ARRIVAL IN THE HOLY LAND

I arrived at daybreak in Israel, on the Monday of ‘Low Week’. The drive to Jerusalem took about an hour, and my eyes soaked in the landscape before me, the topography that Jesus had also looked upon; the dusky green foliage; a field heavy with wheat and ripe for the harvesting (cf Lk 10:2). And we went across hills and through rocky ravines, going from the seaside city of Tel Aviv to the ancient hill-top citadel of Jerusalem. As we approached the words of Psalm 48 resounded in my mind: “His holy mountain rises in beauty, the joy of all the earth.Mount Zion, true pole of the earth, the Great King’s city! God, in the midst of its citadels, has shown himself its stronghold.”

Green wooded hills gave way to white stone as various dwellings and buildings were perched on the hills, and soon, I saw banners with the lion of Judah on them: we had arrived in the Holy City of Jerusalem. But, above all, that first morning in the Holy Land, I noticed the light, as photographers are wont to do: as the sun rose, the skies turned pale blue, and the light grey clouds were tinged with gold and orange; it seemed to me a divine light, full of promise.

We didn’t have anything planned until the evening, so I had the whole day to explore. Tired from the flight, but too excited to sleep, I went and had breakfast in the hotel – the food, throughout this pilgrimage, was delicious and healthily Mediterranean, with many salads, fresh produce, and honey from the comb. And then, I went to explore this most ancient and unique of cities: Jerusalem, the abode of peace! My first stop was the Holy Sepulchre, and I went without any cameras. It’s important, where possible, to just be present in a place, to look and observe, and take in the experience through every sense. Only on subsequent visits would I use my camera to transmit what I had first contemplated. 

PHOTO 1: This was taken from the rooftop of the Christian Information Centre, just within the Jaffa Gate, which was about 10 minutes walk from our hotel. From here, one has a panoramic view from the edge of the Christian Quarter. We are looking at the complex that constitutes the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and beneath the large dome is the Aedicule, which is the structure that enclosed both the Empty Tomb of Christ as well as the spot where the angel had sat upon the stone which had been rolled away from the opening of the tomb. 

Now after the sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the sepulchre. And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. (Mt 28:1-2)

Looking at the Holy Sepulchre from this angle, I notice that the church is flanked by two minarets, and to the right of this shot, the Temple Mount with the Dome of the Rock is prominently visible. As always, the three Faiths which regard Jerusalem to be a sacred site, are always present and very evident; the three photos I have chosen for this day demonstrate this. And yet, here, in this photo, beneath this dome that crowns the Holy Sepulchre, is the centre of the world. For here, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son of God and universal Saviour, all creation was redeemed and is for ever transformed. 

He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead, that in everything he might be pre-eminent. For in him all the fulness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Col 1:18-20).

PHOTO 2: I met some of my fellow pilgrims from this large group (we were about 240 in total!) in the Holy Sepulchre, and they wanted to visit the Western Wall next so I went with them. Here, the monumental stones impress upon us the grandeur and antiquity of Jerusalem. In fact, everywhere, we walked upon ancient slabs of stone, and I was always aware of the history of the city, and I wondered how many millions had walked those same paths as I was now on; who else had seen these buildings and pilgrimaged to these place? In places like Jerusalem it seems like all of humanity has passed through it, and I am humbled – aware of my paucity in the face of the enormous procession of people who have been here over the millennia. The stones of the Western Wall were already here when Jesus came to the Temple; when he came here as a boy and was found teaching in the Temple they were just a few decades old. Looking upon these walls, and indeed, upon the walls and gates of Jerusalem, such as the Jaffa Gate which I entered every day, I would think of these lines from Psalm 122: “I rejoiced when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the LORD.” And now our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem... For the peace of Jerusalem pray, “May they prosper, those who love you.” May peace abide in your walls...”

PHOTO 3: The various ‘Quarters’ of Jerusalem run into each other, and although we approached the Western Wall through the Jewish Quarter, we returned to the Jaffa Gate through the Muslim Quarter and via the Holy Sepulchre at the heart of the Christian Quarter once more. Here is a typical street scene taken in the Muslim Quarter, although it was less crowded than usual. Shops line the street, with shopkeepers calling out like sirens to entice you in. But what caught my eye was the texture and size of the stones beneath our feet, and the way the bright sunlight was filtered through the awnings above, and the patterns of shade and dappled light on the ground. 

The Lord is your guard and your shade; at your right side he stands. By day the sun shall not smite you nor the moon in the night. (Ps 121:5-6)

"For love of my brethren and friends I say: "Peace upon you." For love of the house of the Lord I will ask for your good." Amen. (Psalm 122:8-9) Tomorrow: DAY 2 - Gethsemane and Ein Kerem.

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach 10

I blinked, I swear I must have blinked because it was THE DAY. Graduation day. I felt like I’d counted down since the first day of school, so how did I miss the last two days?

Negan woke me with a phone call as the sun had just peeked above the horizon. “Morning, Amara.” I smiled at the gruff tone of his voice. He must have just woken up. “Just think, princess, tomorrow at this time we won’t need the fucking phone to have this conversation.”

I settled back into my pillows. “Maybe we should keep them fully charged, just in case face to face is awkward.” His laugh was as low as his voice. I hummed. “I get to wake up in your bed, with your naked skin pressed against me, and I am fairly certain that I will think I’ve died and gone to-”

“AMARA!” Fuck. “Mara, open this door right now.” For fuck’s sake.

“Hang on, Negan.” I put the phone against my chest and opened my locked door once I’d extradited myself from my bed. “What is the emergency, MOTHER?!” I could feel Negan’s laughter through the phone vibrating my chest.

“Today’s the day, sweetheart.” And behind her stood the maid of the week, carrying a huge tray. “Breakfast in bed.” Or it would have been if I’d been allowed to stay in bed. “Come on, say goodbye to Mr.-” My glare stopped her. “Say goodbye to Negan, we’ll see him later.” Yeah, WE.

“Bye, Negan.” I said, rolling my eyes as my mother ordered the maid to clear a table and round up two chairs. “I’m having breakfast beside my bed, apparently.” I turned away and stage whispered, “tomorrow I get to have YOU for breakfast, right?”

His laughter carried me through. Through breakfast with my mother. Through a forced spa day that I salvaged by inviting Eric and Mary along last moment. Look, it was my fucking graduation day, if I allowed myself to be tortured into hair and makeup, then I was taking my two best bitches along for the ride.

By that evening, mere hours before walking across the stage to be handed our diplomas, we were once again in my room getting ready together. I wondered, as I watched Mary tease Eric about Steven and going away for school if it would be the last time.

“Shit, I think we’ve triggered Amara’s nostalgia button.” Eric’s eyes met mine in the mirror. He came up behind me and bent down to snuggle into my back. “What’s got you looking so sad, Mara?”

“Is this the last time we do this?” I glanced around, knowing I’d be packing my room up. That I’d be moving with Negan to a different school from the two of them. I was trying hard not to look at the downside, but I loved these two assholes. “Get ready for a major thing in my room?”

“Course not,” Mary answered, cuddling into my other side. “We’ll do it when we graduate from college, different rooms, but all together. We’ll do it again when you marry Coach.” I felt my eyes go wide. “Not soon, you dumb slut, but eventually. And then when Eric calms his dick down enough to pick one, we’ll do it again then. And one day, a VERY long fucking time from now, we’ll do it when I win an Oscar.”

I laughed and so did the two of them. Jesus. I was going to miss this. The two of them and me. “Texts,” I demanded, my hands grabbing one of each of theirs. “Calls, and texts, constantly.”

“Like you needed to fucking command it,” Eric rolled his eyes. “How am I gonna get that pic of Coach’s dick if I don’t stay in touch?”

  Graduation itself wasn’t all that memorable. Negan in a suit was a highlight, as was the announcement that he was leaving the faculty to move on to a new opportunity. His eyes met mine in the crowd of my fellow students and he mouthed ‘I love you’. And then, it was over, and caps were tossed and we were off.

My parents insisted on driving me to dinner. A small concession, since Negan and I were leaving together. I listened as my mother babbled on and on about this person’s kid and that person’s embarrassment. When she mentioned Eric’s name I looked up.

“Why didn’t you tell us that Eric had been made Valedictorian?” Oh right.

I shrugged, my gown still covering my dress, best to leave that surprise until there were witnesses. “I guess I take for granted how smart he is.” And Mary and I had tried EVERY bribe we could to get the programs to read ‘ERIC SULLIVAN-VALEDICTORIAN’. We even tried to get Negan in on it, but to no avail. The three gift bags holding Mary, Eric, and Steven’s gifts were on the floorboards, handles up so when the car stopped to let the valet park, I grabbed them in one swoop and started to get out.

“AMARA.” Fuck, what now? “The gown-” Oh right. Here goes.

I unzipped the cheap polyester graduation gown and slipped it off and tossed it into the car. Silence. Shit. “Let’s go see if our table is ready.” I tried for perky, but when I looked up I saw Mom’s mouth gaping.

“Where’s your dress?” She gasped and I felt Negan’s heat press up against my back.

“Found it,” his hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me tighter against him. “Amara, you look-” I felt exactly how he thought I looked, it was pressed against me. “Edible.”

“I really have a taste for a buffet.” I shrugged and his lips touched my cheek. “Later?”

“Not much.” He whispered, staying right behind me.

“Why would you need to eat at a buffet later?” My mom was muttering, trying NOT to draw attention to her scandalous daughter and her scandalous daughter’s date. “He really does look like a pit-boss.” Jesus, kill me now.

“Mrs. Kendall,” the host had found her in a crowd. My mom,the leader of the pack. “We have your table waiting, and I believe part of your party has already been seated.” Thank fucking god.

Eric and his family were seated. Mary and hers were seconds behind us. Then Steven and his. Once seated, Mom assuring us that she’d taken care of our orders, we settled into the faux casual conversation that came naturally to the Kendalls and anyone unfortunate enough to dine with us.

“Coach Negan,” Eric’s voice, and I was drawn out of my happy place where Negan’s hand had been playing with the bare skin of my back. “You’re getting out of town too, huh?” I bit my lip. They’d known the day after he showed me. “Wherever will you go?” His eyes were twinkling and I bit back a laugh.

Negan’s smile was evident in his voice. “I had a job offer.” He mentioned the school and my mom shot me a look. “It was too good to pass up.” I looked up at him and smiled.

“Aren’t they too freaking cute?” Eric practically squealed, causing other tables to look our way. I couldn’t have planned it better.

“Kiss me.” I whispered and Negan’s grin grew.

“Thought you’d never ask.” And his lips met mine and the room hushed. Of course, I could have just gone deaf from the actual fucking NEED I felt for him. He pulled back and rubbed my nose with his. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Coach.” I winked and we refocused on dinner.

 Eventually the noise level rose back up. Our table wasn’t the focal point for long and we actually started to loosen up as a group. Present time came and Negan handed Eric the bag for me.

“You should know,” I said, as he started to reach inside. “Negan helped pick it out.”

Mary’s laughter was musical as Eric’s eyes widened in happiness. “You got me a fucking crown.” He perched it on his hair, and Steven, proving he was totally boyfriend worthy, fixed it so it sat just right.

“Haven’t you tried to convince me that you are a QUEEN our entire lives?” I asked, taking a sip of my water. “Figured a queen must have a crown.”

“This is why you’re my favorite.” He smirked as Mary smacked him. “I can have TWO favorites.”

My parents had given everyone a gift certificate for dinner. I got a pair of diamond earrings from Mom, the matching bracelet from Dad, and when Negan pulled a small box from his suit pocket another gasp went around the table. Not a chance, I rolled my eyes at their idiocy. The diamond necklace made the trio complete. I kissed him and he whispered just loud enough for me to hear “soon”. My stomach clenched and sighing I pulled away.

Mary had gotten me a gorgeous dress. Eric, the gift I both couldn’t wait to see, and almost wanted to open in the ladies’ room, just in case. Ripping off the wrapping paper, I heard Negan choke on the drink he’d taken as he saw what Eric had gifted me with. That little shit. A gorgeous platinum frame, with a blown up copy of the photo I’d sent him of Negan’s happy trail.

“Let’s see,” my mother urged, and I shook my head. I’d kill him. Stone cold dead.

I put my hand over the picture and held it up for her inspection. “Isn’t it the most wonderful FRAME, Mom?”

“Hand it here, the light is bouncing off it at that angle.” Fuck. Really?

“I’m afraid I’ll drop it,” please Jesus a bone. “I’ll show it to you at home.”

“Just pass it down the table, Mara.” She rolled her eyes and I wondered how many glasses of wine she’d had.

Down the table meant the frame would pass Negan, Eric, Steven, Mary, Dad, and then make it to Mom. Fuck. “Break it and I’ll promise you oral sex on demand from the moment we leave until the day I fucking die.” I offered Negan, but the devilish smile on his face told me he knew he had that already. Damn it.

And so, I watched as EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE, except Dad studied my hot as fuck boyfriend’s abs before it made it to Mom’s hands. And each and every one of them, from Negan on down, made a comment that could be taken in a very innocent, or very fucking dirty vein.

“The craftsmanship of this is very good, quality, but I think a couple more hours under the heat would have made it harder.” Fuck Negan.

Eric, not to be outdone, “I don’t know Coach, do you really have to screw with perfection on the off chance it gets better?”

Steven was a quick study and offered this gem. “Silver, I’m sorry platinum ages so well, doesn’t it?”

And Mary, my ovaries before brovaries, winked at me and said. “Damn, these background pictures are looking close enough to touch or taste.”

Dad barely glanced at it, but then again, his meal was clearly more interesting. And then Mom. “It is a lovely frame.” She squinted. “What is this background? Some sort of mountain range?” She brought the frame closer to her face. “Why that looks just like-” And then she sat the frame down and I could see her trying to decide who to glare at first. “Put your gift away, Amara.” And the frame came back down the table, ignoring the other side with my friends’ families.

“You’re in trouble,” Negan whispered, hot against my ear. “How did Eric get that picture, Amara?” Shit, he didn’t mean with Mom.

“It was the least risque one I had.” I muttered back. “Need I remind you of the night of the cilantro?”

His chuckle vibrated my chair. “You win that one.” His hand was on my bare back again. “I want you, princess. Now.”

I bit my lip. “I think I need to excuse myself, Mom.” She met my eyes and nodded. “Dad,” he glanced up with another nod. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Or an hour.

I stepped outside of the dining room and waited. A few minutes passed and then Negan walked out. “Your mom was glaring at me the entire time I was standing up from the table, sweetheart.” He was grinning. “Looks like I’m in trouble too.”

“Come with me.” I took his hand and walked to the end of the hallway. Opening the door, we were on the dock. “Remember when Mom wanted to do dinner on a boat?”

“And you shot her down?” He smiled, tugging me closer to him. “Vaguely.”

“Wanna have dessert on one?” I tilted my head up and his grin was bright.

 Now, I have to admit, when I asked to have dessert on a boat, I clearly meant sex. I meant sex in one of the below deck rooms, but sex was very high on my expectations. Negan, however, decided that sex below deck in a comfortable bed or on a sofa was too blase. We were going to have an entire night in a bed. Let’s celebrate.

And that’s how we ended up on the bow of the boat, him pressed against my back and me looking for all the world like a really strange figurehead. The skirt of my dress was already indecently short, and when he bent his knees just right, well, you get the picture. And we were in that position, fucking quietly and slowly, when my MOTHER and FATHER showed up.

“Amara? Is that you?” Please go away. “Honey, what are you to up there doing?”

Negan chose that moment to hit THAT spot and I had to bite my lip hard to stop from making a sound only dolphins would understand. “We’re,” I was breathless and strangely not anywhere near out of the mood. “Reenacting that scene from Titanic.” Call me fucking brainless, but he shifted again and I lost my entire mental functions.

“Titanic?” Negan’s lips were touching the shell of my ear and I had to swallow a moan. “Like my-”

“OH MY GOD!” Eric, of course, with Steven. My night is complete. “What are you two up there doing?” You know, because you’re at just the right angle, is that your phone?!

“You two look so darling up there,” my mom was saying, and I shit you not, drew her own phone out. “Let me take a photo, so you can have it forever.”

Sure, of us screwing on a boat that doesn’t belong to us, on graduation night, during dinner. Fuck. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Kendall, I’ve got it!” Eric’s voice rang out. “I’m sure the angle from here is MUCH CLEARER.”

Negan bit into my neck slightly as he rushed over taking me breathless along with him. Fuck. Shit. “Damn, sweetheart, I think-Fuck.” Yeah, no shit. He held me as we both got our breath back, me assuring Mom we’d be in to say goodnight shortly and throwing Eric such a death glare that he should have keeled right the fuck over.

“See you inside, PRINCESS.” Eric offered over his shoulder with a wink. UGH.

Negan was cleaning me up once our audience left and I was trying desperately to not toss myself into the man-made lake. His laughter made me look down. “You do know that Eric saw not just your dick, but your dick in action, right?”

He nodded and looked up at me. “He definitely did, but fuck if I don’t want a copy of it.”

I found myself laughing. I swear I was surrounded by crazy people. “Thank god for Mom’s wine intake.” I offered as he stood and kissed me. “Otherwise she might have asked why you weren’t screaming you were ‘king of the world’.”

“Gotta save something for home.” And our laughter rang out across the lake.

[sunlightdances]

lately

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader (Third person, Dean POV) Rating: M Warnings: Smut, angst, temporary unhappiness? I don’t know if that’s a real warning, but if you don’t want to read something that will at least partially bum you out, probably avoid this? Summary: Anon requested: “a Dean POV where Dean is watching the reader (doing research or whatever) and he imagines how life could be if they were not hunters. Some angst or fluff about Dean wanting out of the hunter life.” Author’s Notes: Okay, full disclosure, Dean looks super angry in this gif but also contemplative, which is mostly what I was going for. Also: this is in Dean’s POV. Just a reminder. Song used for inspiration is “Lately” by Dan + Shay.

I've been thinking bout us And I know the going is rough And it feels like a little too much Maybe I don't say it enough

Dean watches from across the room and smiles softly at that little crease that appears between her eyes. It’s not often that it shows up - just when she’s particularly curious about something. 

Not to be creepy, but -- well, he watches her like this a lot. Whenever there’s a quiet moment, which, let’s be honest, there aren’t a lot. He watches her and lets himself get lost in “what-ifs” -- what if they weren’t hunters? What if they could just have that normal, all-American life? What if they didn’t have to worry about demons and vampires around every corner?

When he really lets himself think about it, he thinks about her in a white dress. That’s usually when he stops himself, because there’s no point. It’s not like he can’t see it ever happening. He knows plenty of hunters that get married, but he can’t see it for them. Plus... he’s still stuck thinking that he’s not lucky enough to get to keep her forever.

“You’re staring.” She murmurs, not looking up from the book in front of her as she scribbles something down in a notebook. 

“Am not.” 

She snorts. “Give me two seconds to write this sentence down and then I’m going to kick your ass.” 

Dean grins, his heart picking up its pace like it always does when she smiles, and especially when she gives it back as good as he gives it - the banter between them one of the first things that made him attracted to her.

“C’mere.” He says, quietly,  pivoting his chair away from the table slightly. 

She rolls her eyes, but gets up anyway, stretching in a way that has her shirt rising up her abdomen and his breath catching. She moves to stand in the vee of his legs, smiling down at him softly as his hands find the sides of her thighs, softly running up and down her legs. 

Dean urges her to sit astride him, her legs dangling off the armrest as she sits sideways on his lap. His right arm bands tight around her waist to keep her steady, and the other rests across her knees, drawing small circles on the tanned skin there. “You’re working too hard.” He tells her, and she scoffs.

“We’ve only been researching for an hour. You just hate researching.”

“I mean... yeah.” Dean says, earning him a light smack on his chest. “You ever think about what life would be like without all this?” He asks, his thoughts escaping him. 

She angles her neck to look at him, her eyes concerned. “I guess so. Why?”

Dean shrugs. “No reason. Just-- sometimes I... sometimes I really hate this life. Not-- not you, or Sam, or Cas. Just... the way that we live. Sometimes it gets so tiring.” 

She’s quiet long enough that Dean starts to fear that he’s said the wrong thing, that she’s going to get up and leave and never come back. 

“I think about a different life sometimes, but I don’t wish for it.” She says after a while, her hand lacing with his draped over her legs. “If it weren’t for this life, I would have never met you. Or Sam. Or Cas, or your Mom.” 

Dean sighs. “That’s not--”

“I know that’s not what you meant, but... Dean, there’s no point in wishing, is there? As much as I want sometimes to just get some rest and stop saving everyone all the time... I kind of love it, too.” 

Dean knows she’s right. He tried quitting the life once, and it came right back to find him. Maybe there’s no point. “For just one day I wish I didn’t have to worry about losing you. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“Hey.” She says, tugging on the front of his shirt to get him to pay attention. “I worry about that too, you know. But without it... what would we even do, Dean? Go get a job somewhere? Maybe that would be fine for a few weeks, but we’d go stir crazy.” 

Dean sighs again. “I know. I just... I can’t help thinking that there’s only one way this life is going to end for you and I. Any chance I can take to get you out of it, I want to do that.” 

“That’s enough.” Her voice is hard, and fierce. Dean’s taken aback for a minute. “I’m here with you, okay? And there’s no way I’m going to go live some boring-ass nine to five life without you. So if there’s a way... we’ll think about it, okay? But I’m not going without you or Sam. So whatever plan you think you have to get me out of this life, you better forget about it.”

Dean stares at her and for the millionth time wonders how the hell he ever got lucky enough to meet her and convince her he was worth her time. He doesn’t think too long about it though, because he’s more concerned with making sure she knows where his priorities are.

He leans down as far as he can to capture her mouth in a hard kiss, the kind that makes her melt into him. God, he’s such a goner. “I just want you.” He tells her raggedly when they break apart. “For as long as I can have you. I want you.” 

Her eyes well up with tears, and that’s the opposite of what he wants, so he kisses her again, trying to tell her without words what he’s feeling. He hoists her up so she’s straddling him, and with better access to her neck, he presses hot kisses up and down the elegant column of her neck, hearing her sigh of pleasure above him. 

“Dean.” She breathes, and it’s like goddamn music to his ears. Her hands find their way to his hair, and she tugs a little bit too hard, but it has a jolt running through him. 

He pulls her shirt off as she works on his buttons, and when they’re skin-to-skin, it’s his turn to groan as he feels how warm she is against him. Her hair tumbles down her back and he takes a minute to admire how she looks on top of him, her body warm and pliant against him. 

Her mouth comes back on his a moment later, a muffled groan escaping him when she deepens it immediately, her tongue tangling with his. He lifts her up slowly, working at the button of her jean shorts. She tilts backwards away from him in order to give him more room to work, and he starts talking to her, trying to make her as out of her mind for him as he is for her.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby. Have I told you that lately?” 

“... Think so,” she says, trying to concentrate as he lays kisses along her chest. 

“You are. You’re so gorgeous, you make me so crazy.” 

“God, Dean, stop teasing.” 

He lifts his hips to grind into her slowly, and her head tilts back, a low groan escaping her. It’s up there with the hottest things he’s ever seen her do, and he can’t resist repeating the action a few times until her grip on his shoulder is so tight it borders on painful. 

“Want you to use me to get yourself off.” 

“Jesus Christ, Dean.” She exclaims, lifting herself off him long enough for him to work his jeans over his hips. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. I want to see it.” 

When she sinks down on him, Dean swears he sees stars. She’s so tight and so hot, and so, so perfect. He groans with every thrust, biting his lip so hard he’s worried he might draw blood. She moves over him so beautifully, and he truly wants to see nothing but this for the rest of his life. 

“Dean-- please, Dean.” She says breathlessly, and he increases his tempo, his hand reaching down in between them to press over her clit with enough pressure to set her shaking. 

“God, honey--” Dean chokes out, thrusting up into her erratically as she slumps over him. 

They stay like that for a few minutes before he stands on shaky legs, grabbing their clothes and walking to the closest bathroom to get them both cleaned up. He says a prayer that Sam and Mary both went to the grocery store. 

“For the record,” she says as she watches him get dressed from where she’s perched on the edge of the sink, fixing her hair, “If that kind of life was in the cards for us, I’d want it. But... any life with you is good enough for me.” She tells him, and something clicks into place. 

He abandons his flannel and takes her face in his hands, kissing her gently. “It’s more than good enough for me, too.” 

Have I told that I love you That you're funny that you're sweet And I love what's outside and everything that's underneath Have I told you that I miss you every second I'm asleep And I love the way you smiling when I kiss you in my dreams