#key take away ig is that there is a lot of room for discussion of Georges treatment of Paul

[tiramisumin]

i see it in your eyes

pairing: park junmin x f!reader 𝜗𝜚 word count: 1.32k 𝜗𝜚 content: fluffish, suggestive towards the end, swearing, best friends to more ig, 🗣️ DIE FOR YOU JUNMIN MENTIONED!!!!!! u have been warned, that performance changes the trajectory of readers life, hunjae stirring the pot before they even know the pot exists, a very Passionate kiss, not beta’d or proofread! u alr know

synopsis: you had never thought of junmin in this light prior to tonight, but you don’t think you could ever see him the same.

୨ৎ watched a fancam that happened to be from one year ago last night and well… let’s just say my fingers had a mind of their own! ur welcome :3

You think you’re going crazy.

Scratch that. You’re positive that you’re going crazy.

One would think that being best friends with Park Junmin of xikers was probably a dream come true. To an extent, you guess you could agree. Junmin was the attentive type. He always had this sixth sense for whenever you needed something. But that was just who he was a person, an idol or not.

Right now, however, you were wishing that you weren’t best friends with Park Junmin.

He, so kindly, invited you to a show of their first tour and as you watch his unit stage with Hunter, you feel yourself slowly descend into insanity. As long as you’ve known him, you have never seen this side of Junmin before. He’s done a pretty good job at separating his idol and personal lives, so even when he was practicing, he’d never let you see. Now you know why.

The way he moves to the song, Die For You by The Weeknd, has your heart stuttering in your chest. You’ve known since his trainee days that he was a good dancer, but for him to evoke such strong emotions from you… Yeah, you were screwed. Royally.

And to put icing on top of the cake, he pulls up his shirt to show the audience his fucking abs. 

Under the blue lights and the spell that entrances him every time he performs, Junmin looks breathtaking. Anybody with eyes could see visually that he was attractive, yeah, but for the first time in your friendship, you’re finally seeing it for yourself. His skin glistens ethereally and his expressions capture the mood of the moment perfectly. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were drooling with how awestruck you are.

Minjae, who was observing the two from off to the side of the stage with you, can’t stop himself from laughing at your reaction. He pats your back as the song draws to a close. The action is supposed to be comforting, yet it’s anything but, considering he was poking fun at you not even two seconds ago. You wish the ground would swallow you whole.

The rest of the concert is kind of a blur, your brain hyper fixating on Junmin’s Die For You performance. Time has long since passed, and the lot of you have found yourselves all crammed in the dorm with a table full of food. Your appetite is hardly there, nerves eating away at you as you sit beside your best friend, unable to look him in the eye. 

The two of you haven’t had the chance to talk about the show yet, and you can tell he’s just itching to ask for your opinion. He frowns when he realizes you haven’t touched your plate, something very out of character for you. You’d had an entire discussion about not eating much before the concert so you could enjoy this grand meal with him and his members.

”Is everything—“

Hunter interrupts him with a clearing of his throat. “So, Y/N, how did you like Junmin and I’s stage?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you and it takes absolutely everything in you not to burst into flames. You dig your nails into your palms before answering. “If your goal was to seduce the crowd, then you guys did a really good job!”

The table erupts into laughter and you silently praise whatever higher being exists that you kept your cool. Minjae makes eye contact with you across the table, pretending to zip his lips and throw the key to the other side of the room. You mouth a ‘thank you’ to him, jumping back into the conversation when someone else asks you about the show. 

Ultimately, your dinner continues without a hitch. No one finds out how you truly felt in regards to the Die For You performance, and you assume you’ve made it out scot-free. You should’ve known your best friend was too perceptive for his own good. Especially when it comes to you.

One of the group’s drivers brought you back to your apartment and, of course, Junmin tagged along to ensure you got home safely. The entire drive over there is silent save for whatever music was playing lowly on the radio. There’s a weird tension in the air between you, even as he asks to walk you to your door. As you’re unlocking it, Junmin stops you. 

“Did I do something?” He blurts out, halting you from entering your apartment. His hands shove into the pockets of his sweatpants nervously.

“Wh— Huh?”

“You haven’t talked to me much since we got back from the concert. I thought it was just in my head at first, but then we were in the car together and you didn’t say a single word to me. Did I do something to upset you? Please, let me know so I can apologize and never do it again.” He explains. 

“No!” You shake your head profusely. “You did nothing wrong, Junmin… I’m just— I’m the one being weird.”

”Can you tell me why at least? It’s gonna bother me all night until you do.” He fiddles with his fingers, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Part of you is way too embarrassed to admit the true reasoning behind you avoiding him. Though, the bigger part of you is well aware that he would never judge you. And the last thing you need is to keep secrets from your best friend.

“Don’t laugh, okay?” You raise your pinkie, and when he locks it with his own you let out a heavy sigh. “I… can’t stop thinking about the Die For You performance…”

His eyebrows furrow together, eyes cast down at the carpeted floor beneath you in deep thought. God, even when he’s confused, he looks so cute. You might actually explode right here in the middle of the hallway. You had never thought of Junmin in this light prior to tonight, but you don’t think you could ever see him the same. Because of that, you needed to tell him how you felt. 

“I don’t underst—“

”I couldn’t stop staring at you, Junmin. You’ve never let me see you that way. You’re always so modest and so shy and I don’t know I— seeing you let go of that on stage, seeing how confident you can be made me feel…” You trail off, averting his intense gaze. 

He takes a step closer to you, unwavering when his index finger slides under your chin, lifting it so you’re forced to look at him again. “‘Made you feel’ what exactly?”

Your lips part in surprise, that same confidence from earlier controlling him. His eyes are darker than usual. You swallow thickly when you say, “Like I could fall in love with you.”

Junmin wastes no time connecting your lips in a sweet, passionate kiss. Despite never imagining what it would be like to be in this situation, it’s somehow simultaneously everything you thought it would be. Sparks ignite from where your mouths meet all the way to the tips of your fingers. One of his hands comes up to cup your jaw and the other rests on your waist. Meanwhile, one of yours tangles in his hair and the other fists at the front of his shirt— fittingly a white tank top. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispers against your lips, eyelashes brushing your cheeks. “How long I’ve been waiting for you to look at me this way.” 

It’s difficult not to gasp into his kiss, a small whine escaping you. Perhaps they weren’t lying when they said boys and girls could never just be friends. You slot your lips with his once more before parting gently, peering up at him with the softest of smiles. “Then show me.”

He doesn’t think twice about urging you into your apartment.

© 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏.

[phoneybeatlemania]

Sorry to discourse at you, you can ignore this if you want. Regarding George's humor, this is a big area where I struggle to like George. Particularly in his relationship to Paul, but also just overall. Like, my sisters and I will make some pretty mean jokes about each other, but we would never make them in front of our extended family. There's a public/private divide with that kind of humor. If that makes sense? And I try not to be too hard on George, because maybe when you're that famous (2/2)

Anon Ask 2: ...it stops being fair to ask someone to censor the sense of humor. But I just get uncomfortable knowing that George knows that some portion of the audience will take the joke seriously and telling it anyway. And I feel like this is particularly prominant with Paul, who he has also said bad stuff about publicly in a non-joking way. I don't actually know what I'm asking here. I'm just blurting this out to you because engaging with how George's humor interacts with his celebrity is hard for me.

Reference to my post and original gif set which sparked this discussion

Hiya anon! No worries about sending an ask, Im happy to talk about this topic in a little more depth :) 

So something I didn’t really touch upon in my last post was that I do actually believe there were some Bitchy (for lack of a better term) things George said to Paul, particularly throughout the early 70s, which I think clearly went beyond harmless joking and were legitimately Mean Things to do or say. It’s not that I think these moments between George and Paul should be looked at in isolation, because there obviously was a long history between the two (and as well, the early 70s was just Complicated in general for everybody), so that should be accounted for if were going to criticise George for this. But despite the long history, I still think a lot of these things were unnecessary, and we should recognise that (and to be honest, not feel like we Always Have To Justify Everything? Sometimes people just do shitty things, and we can say that, and not have to victimise or vilify them for that). 

I feel like this is the type of point where George fans are gonna read it and think “okay so she *hates* George” and vice-versa with Paul fans—but to be honest, this isn’t really an area where I feel like its necessary to take sides. I feel like there can be a tendency to forget, especially when we’re trying to Psychoanalyse or Understand [or whatever you wanna call it] celebrities, that they’re all just human beings. Like everyone has said nasty things to other people, and everyones had nasty things said to them—but a period of hostility between two friends isn’t necessarily representative of what their relationship is really like, if you catch my meaning. My point I guess is kind of that, 50 or so years on, we should be able to recognise that Sure That Was Kind Of A Shitty Thing To Do, but theres a difference between recognising and critiquing something, and then actually passing judgement on an individual and Taking Sides, which often leads us to trying to justify Everything one person did while critiquing the other to excess. And real judgement seems fairly pointless to me in the case between George and Paul, because I think at the end of the day, they both just did Shitty Things to one another—but try being friends with someone for 15+ years without that happening. Im not saying that it means we should ignore aspect to their relationship or that it makes it licit, but I suppose what seems to be of more importance to me is that I think they both eventually tried change an adapt for one another.

I see what you mean as well when it comes to a public and private divide with humour; there are jokes you’d make in front of your closest friends/family, but wouldn’t make in front of other people. In this specific case though (with the “Paul has no good songs of his own” comment), I honestly just think this was Something Funny that came to Georges mind in the moment, and he wasn’t taking into the wider contexts, i.e music critics. And while I don’t want to Project or anything, just speaking from my own perspective I can say that irl Im the type of person who will say just about anything that comes to mind for me in the moment if I think its funny—and I get that impression from George too. I just feel like me and (probably) George are the types who just like to joke a lot, and are always looking to make other people laugh (as well as ourselves)—which kind of leads me to believe that when George makes a joke like “Paul has no good songs of his own left”, I think his expectation is that Paul is in on the joke, rather then just the butt of the joke. I guess thats really up for your own interpretation though (and as aforementioned, I think there were jokes in other periods of their lives where I wouldn’t feel this really rings true). 

I think as well, George must have known the music industry well enough by this point to be aware that sure, there were music critics and people sitting at home watching who genuinely would have Thought That. But again, if we’re speaking about intentions, I don’t get the impression that this was it, because as I mentioned before, I don’t feel like there was even any real intention behind the joke; I really just think it was a funny thing that came to mind for him; whether that makes it okay or not is up for debate (and to be honest, its your call really). Lowkey as well, I actually kind of think the people who Actually Believe Paul had no good songs of his own left (and so was Practically Forced to use some of Johns 😩) are really the butt of the joke? Like it rubs of as very dry, sarcastic commentary on those types of critics to me. 

I guess also if you look at most British comedians, a lot of humour relies on deprecating other people—especially on things like panel shows. Again thats obviously a different situation to the one George was in, but I think the general point is that when you have a very dry and sardonic sense of humour, you’re very prone to mocking other people, and that can be malicious—but at the same time, for a lot of people it really is just their way of telling jokes, and no Actual Offence is intended. 

But to return to the original point, I do hear what you’re saying in that ‘he has also said bad stuff about publicly in a non-joking way’, and I don’t really disagree. But what I was thinking with my response to that post specifically was like, there are genuinely mean things he said to Paul that I think are very-much worth discussing, but this imo just isn’t one of them? Like the way Im seeing other people respond [and this goes out to both the Staunch Paul Defendants AND the people saying “George was telling the truth!!” btw] just feels like an overreaction to me. So yeah—obviously I have no idea who you are anon, but tbh, I think if you wanted to get a discussion going about Georges treatment of Paul, theres a lot of room for that and Id be interested to read it! I just don’t feel that the joke we’re discussing here today greatly exemplifies your overarching point. 

But thats just my thoughts on this :) and tbh, I think I feel especially defensive of George in this specific instance just because Im Well Aware that his joke is the exact sort of thing I would say to people irl. Maybe its just a Sibling Thing, if you see what I mean—I think if you have a big family, everyones always trying to get the last laugh in also feel like this is an Irish Catholic Family thing but maybe thats a talk for another day lol.

[bby-ahgastay]

Smoking Buddies (pt.2/?) - H.J.S.

a/n: this is pretty long ig huh. sorry it took so long, i had like three different versions for a second and it took a while to actually end up with this. anyways, can y'all tell i've been in a very soft mood lately? this might be fluffier than you guys (or i) expected but i miss my crush and i just want to hug him again, so i showed it through this i guess :(. hope you enjoy it thank you for reading!

member: han jisung (stray kids)

summary: after a heated make out session right behind chan and changbin you and jisung go back to his apartment for soft and sorta sleepy sex.

word count: 3.5k

(1) / (2) / (3)

warnings: mentions of smoking weed, oral (female receiving), soft cuddly sex.

when jisung and you arrive at his place he doesn't hesitate to push you against the door as soon as it closes. he still manages to be so gentle with you, staring lovingly into your eyes. the two of you have come down from your highs considerably by now, a sleepy feeling beginning to come over you both.

"god, i'm so happy this is actually happening... i can't wait to get to know every part of you," the words are mumbled and make your face heat up. he moves down to kiss you, slow and passionate. his lips move over yours tenderly, everything slowing down around you as you fall further and further into just him.

as you lose yourself in his touch it's hard for you to remember the point in time you would go back your dorm and see your roommate still up, waiting up for you to get home from hanging out with changbin, han, and chan. this was when you had started getting more comfortable around the boys and were just starting to spend more and more time with them.

ryujin always knew when you'd be coming home late and had no doubt that you would be ready to go on about jisung. so she waited up to let you talk to her about him, knowing you needed someone for that. and one time she told you that, too.

"start coming home earlier, y/n-yah! i miss that extra two hours of sleep!"

"hey, no one said you have to wait for me! i have a key, too, you know," you pouted back her. she had given you a dramatic eye roll and sigh in return, deadpanning back to you afterwards.

"you know it's only because i know you're getting a crush on that jinyoung kid, right?"

"jisung, he’s older than us and therefore not a kid, and no i'm not!"

"yes you are, like i'm so sure you are. and i know how much i usually want to talk about my crushes too. so i'm just helping you out, love."

after that night you had stopped talking about him so much. you still thought of him plenty, but no one had to know that. ryujin is still your roommate, and your best friend. you can’t help wondering what she’ll say when you tell her about all this. she's older than you but not even by much, you two were still born in the same year. but something about how she carries herself made her seem so wise and made you feel like her opinion matters a lot for some reason. maybe you could say you'd admired her a little.

when she told you this though, you were definitely a little embarrassed. all three of them flirted with you by then so you had figured that it all meant nothing. and with that decided, you thought han would never like you.

but now his tongue runs over your bottom lip, taking it in his teeth playfully. you look up at him smiling when he pulls away. "i feel so lucky that you’re kissing me right now, sungie... it’s like a dream come true," you giggle, one hand on his bicep and the other combing through the front of his hair tenderly.

his heart flutters at your words for sure, especially with your eyes sparkling up at him like that. he's wanted this for a long time, too. as long as he's known you. he never would have thought that he could actually have you alone and in his arms, letting him kiss and touch you.

there were many nights he would go bother either of his hyungs to talk about you, laying his head in chan's lap or laying on top of changbin’s back. he’d sigh wistfully as he spoke about how you found stupid things funny, and how you seem like a good dresser, and how he thinks you do your makeup nice, and just about anything else he could think of. at first they just thought their hannie was excited to have a new friend, but when they saw it wasn't just that they immediately turned it into a joke.

"you like her! you like our little baby y/n?!"  they exclaimed on the day they had cornered him. the two elders were discussing not only how jisung talking about you had started to seem almost constant, but also how he was sounding a bit smitten too.

his denial was what had caused them to start flirting with you in the first place. "if he won't admit it, we'll break him into admitting it," chan and changbin had shared many giggles and many blunts while going over the matter together. after so long they both began to wonder if it was almost a little evil, forcing their younger friend to watch them flirt with the girl they knew he had liked. but hey, it worked right?

jisung knows that he's the lucky one here, he has no doubt about it at all, and hearing you say that you really think otherwise could probably break his heart. but no way would he let you know that you're affecting him like that. not right now.

so to recover from the moment he just shakes his head and kisses you again. he doesn't even have to say anything, his lips on yours speak a thousand words and it's enough for you. then you're both just focused on each other again. his lips are back on your neck in no time, only adding to the seemingly endless collection of hickeys you've gathered from him today.

"fuck, i just remembered how bad i wanted to taste you earlier... come on, baby, let's go to my room," he whispers in your ear, and you feel as if you were in a trance. when you look at him, you see a harsh and demanding demeanor barely hidden behind the sweet facade his eyes hold. just the look he gives you is enough to get you to nod and follow him eagerly to his bedroom.

not that you’d even need any guidance to the room. you’re as familiar with this apartment as you are your own childhood home. and there were definitely many nights you would have to text ryujin that the boys had once again convinced you to stay the night. sometimes the four of you would set up a huge bed of blankets on the floor in the living room, watching movies and smoking and talking until you knew you had to go to sleep. but other times, if maybe one of the boys had something to take care of early or if you had a morning class, you would all agree not to go all out.

so instead you would always end up staying in jisung's room, him just usually the first to offer. the first few times you slept in there he insisted on sleeping on the floor, a fight you were never able to win. then there was eventually a night where he gave up easily, a bad day leaving a strong craving for his bed that night, and being close to you sounded like a huge bonus. 

you had let him fall into your arms, soothingly running a hand through his hair as the other rubbed his back. he still thinks about how you sat and listened to him, making soft sounds every once in a while to show you were paying attention. he’s pretty sure that’s the night he realized he loves you. and after that it was no longer weird for you to cuddle and share a bed, something that he was proud of even though it was purely innocent in his mind.

once the door is closed behind you guys, jisung stands in front of you to look down at you with fond eyes. you're both in a daze, the drowsy feeling from coming down mixed with just touching each other leaves your eyelids hooded and chests heaving. one of his thumbs brushed across your bottom lip, his other hand rubbing your hip underneath the baggy sweatshirt.

you can't look anywhere but at him, everything else dulling in comparison to the way his eyes are sparkling even with how the fatigue is beginning to darken the area around them. his hands run across your body on top of the fabric as he moves up to unzip your sweater, pushing it off of you completely and sliding his hands over the skin on your sides. stepping away for a seconds he slides his hands under your tank top to move it up, watching the way your boobs bounce slightly when they’re freed from the thin material.

his hands don't stop wandering your body; groping your ass over your sweatpants, digging his fingers into your hips to drag you against his clothed bulge every once in a while, running up and down your back, brushing against your boobs attentively. the way his touch makes you light up gives you the urge to touch him as well, wanting to feel all of him you can.

your hands go under his shirt and he's nearly amused by the cute little pout you get as you push the material up, your eyes asking him to take it off. thinking about you in the way he's gotten to know you so well, it's really quite funny to think about how needy you're getting for him right now. the only thing that keeps him from laughing is just looking at you. it kills him how you still manage to look so innocent, your small figure staring up at him with your bottom lip out and your eyes wide.

you're glad when he pulls his shirt off, but he doesn't give you much time to enjoy it as he begins pushing your sweatpants down. your panties go down with them, jisung letting you hold his hand while you step out of your shoes and pants.

after you kick the pile aside on the floor his hands are on your hips, guiding you backward towards the edge of his bed. he lowers you onto the foot of the mattress and kneels on the floor in front of you. gazing down at him in excitement, you feel his lips on your thigh already start to make you feel so, so good.

he places his hands on your stomach and gently pushes you back to have you lay back as his kisses inch closer to your heat. you breathe heavier in anticipation, aching for him to touch you. his hands go to your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders so he can get closer to you.

jisung has a hard time taking his eyes off of you laid out for him like this. he's imagined this for a while now, and he couldn't be happier that he's finally going to be the one who gets to please you. he has take a second to appreciate it all, like how you're already breathing so heavily just thinking about him touching you. or how your hands are so naturally resting on your tits, not even realizing yourself gently kneading and pinching at them.

you look more beautiful than he could ever imagine, and having you laid out waiting for him to do something to you has his cock aching in his boxers.

when you first feel his tongue run over your folds a moan falls past your lips before you can even realize it. you blush a little and one hand goes to cover your mouth but jisung just smirks against you.

"no one is home yet, baby, don't worry... let me hear your pretty sounds, okay?" you look down at him, his lips glistening with your juices. you nod slowly as he licks his lips, head falling back when he returns to your core. the way his tongue works on your clit and moves to push inside you has sounds pouring from your mouth, only encouraging him further and further.

you slightly roll your hips up, wanting more. one of his arms falls across your hips to push you down and the other hand goes to push two fingers inside you. you gasp at the feeling, clenching around his digits.

it doesn't take too long, and maybe it is just a little too quick. but with the way it feels to have his long fingers inside of you and his mouth so deliciously attached to your clit, not to mention the drug still amplifying every sensation, you know you're already close. you don't usually cum so quick, but han jisung just knows how to make you feel amazing apparently. how did you not do this sooner?

"oh, fuck, y/n," his head comes up, hair in his eyes as he looks up at your whining figure. "you're gonna cum already, huh? i can fucking feel it with how much you’re clenching around my fingers, baby," he groans, watching his fingers moving in and out of you.

he speeds up and seems to hit that perfect spot every time his fingers are pounding back into you. all that's heard in the room is the sound of his fingers moving in you and his name leaving your mouth repeatedly as you're pushed closer to the edge.

once he ducks his head back down to suck at your bundle of nerves you know that's it, and you're letting out high pitched moans as you come around his fingers.

"you're so hot, i swear," he groans while watching you. his eyes linger a moment on how your walls are gripping around his fingers. you look up at him as he slows down for a moment, meeting his eyes and seeing the cocky glint in them. "and so tight, jesus... if you're this tight around my fingers, i don't even know if you can take my dick, jagiya," you can tell he's half kidding, but a smug expression is stuck on his face as he chuckles a little.

and the joking undertone reminds you for a moment that he's still the same jisung you've gotten to know. the one who has always been there to make you laugh and who you know you'll always be more comfortable around than anyone else in the world. the one who you think you may have come to be in love with.

your thoughts are mushy and way too sweet for the way he looks up at you so sure of himself, the wetness from your pussy still glistening on his lips and chin. he looks hotter than you could ever process, you almost feel flustered. but you don't want him to feel the satisfaction of that fact, so you roll your eyes and look down at him again. "i'm so sure," you tease him. his eyebrows go up a little, fake shock and hurt on his face.

"are you saying you think i'm small?" he gasps, standing up. you crawl further up the bed, sitting near the pillows and shrugging. your eyes don't leave him as he goes to his dresser, pulling open a drawer and taking out a condom. he tugs his pants off to roll it on. you watch and take in every detail you can, noticing one vein that’s especially prominent on the side. well, he's definitely not small.

and then in a second he's hovering over you, eyes still just as confident as he looks up and down your entire body. he's good at playing the whole smug guy character, but you can still see the sweet look behind it all. 'i guess you really are good at hiding it, han jisung,' you think adoringly to yourself, 'but i still know you're just a smushy little shy boy.' it will be a cold day in hell when you don't let him take control over you, though. and you already can tell there's going to be many levels to his dominance all to be explored eventually, an exciting thought for sure.

"well then i'm just gonna have to shut you up," he brings his hand up. you know exactly what to do for him, opening your mouth to take his fingers in and sucking them clean of your own juices. and then he's pushing into you without warning, your mouth falling open as he does. stopping for a moment, his fingers are pulled from your mouth as he looks down at you.

your jaw is taken in one hand to make you look at him, his touch ever so gentle. concern is written over his face, silently asking if you're good. you hum and nod, smiling from the satisfying feeling of him stretching you out. as he rocks into you slowly, sweet kisses are left all over your forehead and cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere else he can reach.

you look up at him as his member drags against your walls delightfully. he really does look sleepy and you're sure you do too, but his fluffy hair and swollen lips make him look so soft and cuddly in the most charming way. his hands pin your hips to the bed, one of yours going to run through his hair and the other going to his cheek.

while the pace is slow, it still feels better than any you've ever had. the fact that the first time you two are having sex is so mushy and loving like this definitely makes it better in your mind, you know it will always be a heartwarming memory no matter what happens between you two.

"sungie, oh my god... shit, you feel so good," you breathe out, head falling back into the pillows. he leaves a kiss on your neck before bringing one hand to lift your head back up, pressing his lips on yours as you clench around him.

he was right before, you really were so tight around his cock and it was driving him crazy. that and the sight of himself moving in and out of your wet pussy had him already close, but no way was he going to miss seeing you cum again.

"you feel good around me too, baby. i guess i did fit, but you are so fucking tight y/n. jesus," he gives an extra hard thrust, forcing a moan from you. you let out a low, pleased hum as he begins pounding into you harder and deeper, your eyes rolling back as he hits unimaginable spots. the smirk never leaves his face as the way you moan his name is almost unintelligible, your words slurred from pleasure and the sluggishness starting to take over. fortunately his dick is more than enough to keep you awake.

one hand goes down to rub circles into your clit, his hips speeding up slightly. him drilling into you just right has you pulling him closer to you to attach your lips again and moaning against him. his other hand is tangled in your long hair, elbow near your head to support himself. you know for a fact that you're still a little stoned, your body is tingling comfortingly and it makes you feel jisung's touches twenty times better. your body is on fire and there's no way to keep you from cumming anymore.

jisung has to pull away from the kiss as you release around him, the feeling triggering his own orgasm and pulling a few throaty moans from him. you both clutch each other tightly, your head buried into his neck as he continues to fuck you, sloppier now, just to work you both through your highs.

you whine a little when he pulls out of you, squirming under him a bit. leaving a kiss on your forehead he stands up to throw away the condom.

you catch your breath and watch him as he moves, getting comfortable by curling up under the blanket with your head peeking out on top of his pillows. just yesterday you'd think it would be impossible you would ever get to do that with jisung. but you're beyond happy you did and not a single fiber of you regrets it.

especially not while you watch how he hurries back over to the bed from the trash can near the door, lifting the covers up and diving in with you. he comes up behind you and hugs you close, nuzzling his head into your bare shoulder. a chuckle falls past your lips as you look back him, mumbling a small 'what.'

"i heard my hyungs in the kitchen, who knows how long they've been back," he cringes at you, his nose scrunching up adorably. your mouth falls open and you shift to face him.

"oh my god!"

"i know..."

"aw, no... do you think maybe they might have not heard anything?" you pout hopefully up at him.

he winces and shakes his head. "ahh, they sounded pretty settled in, like they've been here a while. i'm sure they did hear you moaning my name at some point," his tone is purely playful but you still whine, hitting his chest lightly.

"shut up."

"never."

and neither of you say anything else, his arms pulling you tighter against him. he leaves a small kiss on your nose, then he closes his eyes and settles in more. it's not long before you hear his soft snores. and you know it won't be too much longer before you're out too.

no other time you've been in his arms has been so blissful. any other time has always been borderline painful, your mind never letting you forget how he didn't feel the way you did. you're glad you were wrong. 'i definitely love him' you think to yourself.

you nearly feel overwhelmed with how your heart fills to the brim with love as you stare admiringly up at the peaceful looking boy. stopping yourself from reaching out to squish his cheeks isn't easy, but you manage. instead you bring a hand up to push aside some hair that was falling over his eyes, stroking his cheek lightly after.

being in his arms makes you feel just so completely and absolutely safe. it's so hard to remember that this is real. you stop looking at him and rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes and letting sleep take you.

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Seventeen

2600 words

November 8th 2017

Nialls POV

The positive reaction from the fans for the album was beyond your wildest dreams. They had already started to sing along, clearly having been on youtube and seen fans recordings of previous shows. It had been great getting back on the road again, tour bus life was something you had been use to and actually enjoyed. Even the living out of a suitcase and backpack part.

Something you were not enjoying however, was being separated from Callie. Since you'd got together just over two months ago you'd spent some of your nights together and some apart. You obviously preferred to be together, but had been fine for the week when you'd gone to Scotland for the golf event you had attended. However knowing that her being on the other tour bus was the reason you were apart was driving you crazy. Callie had been adamant that she would travel as contracted with the crew. The agreement being that when you were in a city for more than just the show night and not travelling to the next city inbetween, then she would stay with you in your room of the hotel. 

However the last time that had happened was 8 days ago, and you were missing her. 

The crew often headed off before you, as you had interviews and things to do. And when you had been at the venues it had been hectic and you'd had hardly any time alone.

The night of the CMA's was the same. You'd spent time with her and the band when you were rehearsing with Maren Morris. Introducing Callie as your guitar tech and girlfriend to Maren had felt amazing. You felt proud when she spent time chatting with her and her team, getting on well. Which was handy since Maren was due to tour with you next year.

With so many acts appearing at the Country Music Awards, you had a small dressing room and the crew and band had stayed mainly out on the tour buses. You would all be leaving straight after anyway, as you had a show the next night to travel to. 

Tonight was a big night for you, performing with Maren at the awards show was going to be a highlight of your career. Sound check went without a hitch and you then headed off for food and to get changed. Ellie had got you a custom made navy blue tux with some silver floral details on the lapels. Sienree spent some time doing your your hair and face, trying to keep your nerves at bay with some banter.

While she was finishing your hair you opened up your IG and noticed that John had put on a story. It was video of Gerry your drummer, Conor your violinist and Callie, having a laugh backstage. Conor was playing his violin, a familiar Irish folk song and Callie and Gerry were attempted some sort of Irish jig. You laughed at their attempt, both of them looking ridiculous.

It was so stupid to think that you missed her. The lack of quality time alone with her was beginning to take its toll. You only had tonight and two more shows before you could have a couple of days off in Nashville together. There was an amazing guitar store there that you were desperate to show her. Plus you had a couple of nights in a hotel to look forward to. You were not going to lie, the lack of intimacy left you yearning for her. Having to make do with the odd kiss here and there was rubbish. You wanted to cuddle her to sleep, stroke her hair as you lazed about and watched a film.

Just 3 more days.

As you were walking the red carpet that evening you spotted Maren up ahead with her fiance Ryan Hurd. You posed for photos with them and were soon guided towards the reporters. You spent a few minutes with each one, letting Maren take the lead as this was her home ground. Everyone was asking about your performance and tour plans for next year.

One particular reporter, a guy you'd met a couple of times at events asked Maren about her upcoming nuptials. She and Ryan were getting married in a few months and she launched into a chat about you singing as she walked down the aisle. Everyone laughed as you joked about it.

The reporter soon asked if you were single or not and you couldn't help but blush and try and guide the conversation away from discussing Callie. You got the impression that the reporter was just asking the question on everyone's mind, rather than knowing about the pictures floating around on fans social media accounts of you and Callie.

"Oh, look at his face." Maren said as she patted your cheek. "He's blushing!"

"Oohhh have I struck an exclusive?!" The reporter asked smiling.

"Um no, just know that I'm very happy at the moment the way things are." You replied trying to keep your answer as vague as possible. 7 years of media training helps with that.

"Well, good luck and all the best for whatever is happening. And also for your tour that I know you're in the middle of."

You were grateful that the reporter left it there. It was good to remember that not everyone wanted to know about who you were dating. Also, to not press you when they could see you weren't interested in discussing it further. Not every reporter was so desperate for an exclusive that they had to make the artist feel uncomfortable to get the information they craved.

You thanked the reporter and answered a few questions about Maren joining you next year before moving onto the next interview. No one else asked you about your personal life but there were lots of questions about your song for that evening.

The whole evening was a complete success. The performance went well, the other artists performing were amazing and you got to network with some executives you hoped to work with in the future. It was then that you realised how much you would've preferred to have had Callie by your side. You had never ever wanted to walk the red carpet with anyone before, but with Callie things were already different from anything you had ever experienced. You would have to see how the next few months went and if the opportunity arose, then you would definitely want her by your side.

You arrived in Nashville at dinner time after a 250 mile drive from Atlanta where last night's show had been. Getting everyone checked in for the next few nights was taking its time, and you were desperate to be alone with Callie.

"Niall, are you ok?" She asked, sensing that something was up.

"Just wish they'd hurry up." You whispered back to her. "Just want to get a shower and some dinner so we can be alone."

"I know baby." She whispered, so no one could hear. "I can't wait to be alone with you too."

Oh why did she have to say that?

You had spent the whole journey thinking about what you wanted to do to her. You had never felt more desperate for someone before. It was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

She turned back to Sam who was handing out everyone's keys after taking a note of them all. With the key in her hand you grabbed the bags, made idle chit chat with everyone before scurrying off to the lift.

Callie opened the room door and made her way inside, pausing to place her phone and bag on the desk. Dropping the suitcases by the entrance you double locked the doors and made your way over to her.

"So what do you want to...." She asked before you covered her mouth with yours.

A few seconds of shock and she melted into your arms. You'd kissed her like this over the last two weeks, but you had always been worried of someone interrupting you. Someone just walking into your dressing room while you were mid kiss. She tangled her fingers into your hair, pulling you closer to her.

You kissed her fast and hard, never breaking the moment even as you walked backwards to the sofa. Your mouths finally parted as you sat down, both of you taking a large breath before she settled herself on your lap, her legs straddling yours. She lifted her top off over her head as you leaned forward giving yourself some space to do the same.

"God I need you so much." You managed to mumble out.

She moved backwards, her knees resting on the floor and began opening the zipper of your jeans. You lifted your bum as she eased them down your legs, pausing to eye up the very prominent erection in your boxers. She slipped off your boots and socks, as you sat there panting with anticipation.

When she stood up to take her converse and jeans off, you couldn't help but stare up at her in awe. You could tell in that moment that she was as desperate for you as you were for her. Palming yourself over your boxers as she slipped off her underwear, she looked fucking phenomenal. A white lace bra and knickers, a new set you didn't recognise was tossed to the floor. You didn't hesitate then to pull down your boxers, your cock springing out. The tip bright red, pre cum already glistening there.

You reached for her then, pulling her back to straddle your legs. Running your fingers across her centre you could feel how much the last five minutes had effected her. She was dripping and you couldn't help but bring your fingers to your mouth and suck them. The blush that ran up her cheeks at your actions was sweet, but you knew she was anything but innocent. Especially when she took hold of your cock and pumped it a few times before sliding down into it. She sank down deep straight away and you threw your head back against the cushion of the sofa, breathing out a sigh.

She felt amazing, warm and tight. Staying still for just a few seconds before she started grinding against you, then lifting up and slamming back down on you. You were a complete withering and groaning mess at this point and you'd only just begun. Her fingers slid around your neck and found the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"This what you needed Niall?" She asked.

"Yessss......." You managed to whisper.

When you opened your eyes she had a smirk on her face. She knew she had complete power over you at this point. With your feet flat on the floor you managed to push your hips up as she continued to bounce up and down on you. That got her you thought, as a low moan rolled off her tongue.

She continued to ride you, her boobs bouncing up and down in your face. Leaning forward you took one of her nipples in your mouth as she stroke her hands through your hair. The feeling low in your stomach told you that you were close already, but you were desperate to make sure she got off to. You let her nipple slip from your mouth as you looked up at her.

"Baby I'm so close, you gotta slow down." You panted.

"I don't want to. I want you to cum.......hard."

Your hands tightened on her hips as you felt her lean back. Her hand slowly moving down towards where your bodies met, her fingers sliding across her clit. You had never watched a girl do this before, you had always been the one to touch them in that way during sex. Looking down, you watched how she put pressure where she needed it most as she continued grinding down on your cock.

She was panting as she came, a low whisper of your name as she rode it out. Clenching herself around your cock was enough for you to tumble over the edge with her. You held her body against you and stilled as you came inside her. She fell forward then, her head landing in the crook of your neck. Running your fingers up and down her back you felt the goosebumps appear like they always did as her body temperature got back to normal.

Placing kisses on her cheek and jaw as she snuggled into you. When you felt yourself soften inside her, you helped her get up, steadying her wobbly legs. Guiding her towards the bathroom, you turned on the shower before telling her to hop in while you got the toiletries from your suitcase. You got what you needed a few minutes later and joined her in the warmth of the shower.

"Fuck, I love you so much." You said as you wrapped your arms around her as the water covered you both.

"I love you too Niall, more than you can ever imagine."

You headed to Gruhn Guitars the next day with Callie, Adam, Tara, Mark, Conor, John, Gerry and Jake. There are a couple of guitar shops in Nashville that you liked to visit, and this was one of them. You hadn't had a chance to visit it earlier in the year when you'd been in America for interviews and events. 

Callie's eyes lit up when she walked in. You broke off into small groups, you of course followed Callie, Mark keeping a look out by the door for a bit. He liked to wait to see if you been seen coming into somewhere.

The store had a couple of customers, George the owner wasn't around but you spotted Rob the Sales Manager who you had met before. He approached you and shook your hand, greeting you warmly. You introduced him to Callie, telling him that she and Adam were guitar technicians on your latest tour.

He offered to give you a tour of the store and chatted enthusiastically with Callie who hadn't stopped smiling since she arrived.

"This is the best guitar store I've ever been in." She whispered to you.

She stood captivated by one guitar in particular, a Gibson Johnny Smith 1978 acoustic. Rob took it from the display and passed it to Callie, she looked nervous to take it, probably because it was priced at $7,500. When she had first started working for you, she knew some of the guitars you had in your collection were vintage and expensive. She soon got over the nervousness and would happily assist you with tuning them. Rob told her all about the guitar and some to her like it, this was like heaven for a guitar technician. She began taking photos of a couple of them, to show her Dad she had told you and Rob.

Rob left you to browse for a bit and you met up with the others. Mark had joined you to and offered to take a group photo in front of a display of Gibson vintage guitars. Everyone huddled up together, you in between Gerry and Callie. This would be one to post later and see the reaction of fans.

As much as you didn't want to go public with Callie officially. You thought that by showing Callie in some of your posts, it might get the fans seeing her in your life.

And you always wanted her in your life.

Part Eighteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183788555463/you-me-part-eighteen

Tag list

@niallersdirtylaundry

@youvegotyourvictory

@fireawayniall

@sugarwithlilspice

@juicyfruitlove

@ihearthemcallingforyou

@klairelavarias

@lizziespidiepridie

@irishfireandice

@someoneunimportantxx

@awomanindeniall

@loulouloueh

@sing-me-a-song-harry

@niallergirl1d

@niallspeachybooty​

@roseytattoo

[junionigiri]

A a a I'm trash and I love the way u write todochako so uh,ig a cute prompt would be idols! (I love idol aus so much and I love idol ochako even more) I love ur writing so so much!! I hope you have a good day!!

Awww thanks so much beb!!! Thanks so much for your request! This actually helped me reorient myself in a Todochako mood again so I can keep on working on my other fic hehe :)

Urabitii hasn’t felt this nervous for a long time, and ironically it doesn’t happen on stage, where thousands of her fans gather to watch her newest flashy performance. Nor does it happen during in a talk show, where multiple cameras are poised on her face while a TV host asks her a variety of nosy questions about her private life.

“Uraraka-san, are you ready?”

No. It doesn’t happen in public. It doesn’t happen under anyone’s admiring or scrutinizing gazes, not in front of those who really has a say on which direction her career as a pop idol goes.

She nods, swallowing as subtly as she can. “Yes. Anytime, Todoroki-san.”

Todoroki Shouto nods back with a small smile. Without another word, he faces the piano and plays out the opening notes of his new song.

Ochako struggles to count the beats in her head, almost in desperation, as she watches his long fingers fly across the keys with an ease and finesse she hasn’t appreciated on anyone else playing the instrument before. Very mesmerizing, but not as mesmerizing how his eyes look as he plays–focused, calm like ice but somehow holds a fire burning low, the flow of music from within him unstoppable.

She decides ultimately to close her eyes to keep herself focused on his music. She opens her mouth and lets his words out,

Like stars across the twilight, let me burn for you.

The song is less upbeat and more melodic than anything she’s recorded before, the words less cute and more intimate. Less kitschy, as is her trademark. More melancholic, somehow.

She doesn’t know why the former-pop-idol-turned-award-winning-songwriter would write such a song with her in mind. Even Manager Iida was surprised when Todoroki’s management suddenly contacted him and discussed the possibility of a collaboration. But while flustered, both of them decided to jump at the chance, Iida because it isn’t in his nature to turn down an opportunity as this, and Ochako because of the same reasons as Iida…

Like the cold blue of midnight, let me surround you.

… and also because the pop idol Shouto of five years ago is one of her main inspirations, perhaps one of the solid reasons why she’s here in the first place. When she was a nobody in Mie-ken with a guitar, a bad camera phone, and a Youtube account, she sang one of his lesser-known songs (Patchwork Calico, an autobiographical song about isolation according to the fanbook, one that’s a little too heavy for many fans but resonates with her the most). It was early in the morning, the sun rising behind her head and over their tiny front yard, just her voice and her guitar.  

She doesn’t know how it happens, because the lighting is so poor and the sound only just cleaned with her poor sound editing skills, but that gains her a million views in a week and a lot of followers and a lot of expectations that she fulfills somehow. Soon, real offers come in, and she meets the tenacious Iida Tenya, and the rest was history.

Like smoke from the hearth, let me float to you.

And history continues to happen, as the song ends and she opens her eyes and focuses on him.

She doesn’t understand his stare at first. His heterochromatic eyes look turbulent for a few short moments that she wonders are even real. A small smile slowly and undoubtedly makes its way over his mouth, though, forcing her heart into a crazy rhythm that almost hurts her chest.

She takes a deep breath–she doesn’t realize how breathless she is at that point–returns the smile as best as she can. “Is… this okay, Todoroki-san? I feel like I was flat at some parts–”

“No. You’re perfect,” he says easily, infuriatingly so. Ochako feels like dying at that sentence and almost misses his next words. “I think the words could use some work though.”

“You think so?”

He hums, shifts to the side of the bench to give her room to sit. She does so, as coolly as she can, as impossible as it is to keep her blush down.

He doesn’t pay it any mind, if he notices at all. Likely he hasn’t. From the past two sessions of them working on the song, Ochako has learned that when it came to his music, Todoroki tended to shut everything else outside of the sound of his instruments and her voice. She can go there wearing nothing but a potato sack during their sessions and he wouldn’t notice, as long as she sings.

He’s a professional after all. He might have offered the collaboration because he saw a potential in her voice that he wanted to exploit, and nothing else apart from that. The thought keeps Ochako sane, somehow, keeps her from imagining that their time together is anything more than–

“Uraraka-san, how does the song make you feel?”

She blinks thrice. “Oh… me?” she sputters dumbly.

He nods, waits for her answer quietly in a sincere silence while her brain is on the verge of malfunction. Why would he ask, why would he care, what is she gonna say except ahhh it makes me want to melt because it’s you and I really idolize you and here you are making a song for me and–

Now that she thinks about it, she has been singing the words, but not really absorbing what they mean. She taps her fingers together as she rushes to understand the meaning.

“Well… because it’s you, Todoroki-san, performing the song makes me really happy.”

She flinches internally, realizing that she’s using her ‘idol voice,’ a measured cute one reserved for fan meets and TV appearances. Todoroki might have noticed, judging by the way his eyebrows raise.

She bites her lower lip in the next moment, forces some honesty in her words. “It’s… really melancholy, though. The words, and the melody. The songs I write and others write for me are usually about feeling giddy and head-over-heels and this is way different. Probably more genuine than anything I can come up with, and…”

His stare doesn’t go away. She swallows hard, the blush coming on mercilessly. “I don’t know… I feel a little afraid to sing it, to be honest. Like, finding a way to someone’s side that I won’t ever reach. I wonder if I feel what I’m supposed to feel when I sing the song.”

She feels quite stupid admitting it, because the song’s words are vague, quietly poetic. Todoroki probably doesn’t mean to put in the stupid pining she feels when the words come out of her mouth.

Yet, he is oddly captivated as he listens to her rambling. Eyes never leaving her, he says, “So that’s why it sounds different.”

“Different?” She can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes her. “I know, I know, I probably ruined the song, I’m stupid for saying so, and–”

He shakes his head. “It’s not stupid. The song is… different than expected. Your voice made it better, but the words are mine. I don’t think it does justice to what you can do for the melody.”

“Oh,” is all Ochako can say, without blubbering herself into oblivion. Trying to recover, she says, “You don’t mean that, Todoroki-san! I mean, I’m just another pop idol, my range isn’t that magical, and–”

He seems amused by her expression. “Uraraka-san, do you know why I asked to collaborate with you?”

She stops mid-ramble to stare at him dumbly.

It seems to take him a few moments to gather his thoughts. She’s worried about the turbulence that appears briefly in his mismatched eyes, floored by the tenderness that comes after. It’s hard reading Todoroki Shouto. She always feels like she’s on the verge of cardiac arrest when she looks into his eyes and tries to figure out what he’s feeling any given moment.

“I… saw it. Listened to it, I mean,” he tells her with an odd sincerity. “When you sang Patchwork Calico on Youtube.”

Oh. If her face was warm before, now it’s hot, her blood searing lava through her capillaries. She squeaks indignantly and hides her face in her hands. “Oh my god this is embarrassing, you of all people should not have seen that–”

The sound of a low chuckle disarms her momentarily. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I enjoyed it.” She feels a cold hand over her arm, making her look up at his eyes, suddenly so close to hers she sees the amused gleam of sapphire and onyx at a blinding frequency. “I loved it, in fact. I didn’t think my song could sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… a sunrise.” She makes it obvious that she doesn’t understand, and again he chuckles. “It’s not only because you sang it as the sun rose. I mean… “

He exhales, as if deciding how much to say. In that moment, Ochako tries to remember the words to Patchwork Calico, the feelings of loneliness, of brokenness. Of scars that won’t heal.

She wonders why the song resonates with her so much, because it really is heavy. She doesn’t think that she has any of Todoroki’s struggles when he wrote the song. But like many kids she has had to deal with loneliness, of fear because of how unstable her family was then, of a broken heart when the boy she has loved for years never loved her back.

Still, she’s surrounded by love. Her parents love her, her friends love her. And she thinks she knows how to love back. She thinks of them when she feels tired and broken. She thinks of them many times when she’s on stage and offers her voice to the crowd.

Finally, Todoroki speaks up, utterly surprising her. “… it sounds hopeful? That there’s something beyond the isolation.”

His eyes are on hers again, unwavering. “I never thought that anything I wrote could sound like that. It’s… captivating.” One hand goes to the piano, playing out the notes to his song again, somehow sounding different this time. “I… wanted to see if you could do that again.”

“That…”

He smiles softly. “Change the music.”

In the way that only you can. She inhales, suddenly breathless once again.

“All right,” she says, returning the small smile. “I’ll do my best, Todoroki-san.”

They speak in low, intimate tones. Pen scratches along paper, hands press on the keys in broken melodies. Ochako sings his notes and her notes in an honest way she’s never tried before. She knows she doesn’t imagine the captivated look in Todoroki’s eyes as she does, and it makes her heart go into overdrive.

They compose the song successfully, and release it days later, filmed from the intimate setting of Todoroki’s home studio. Her honesty gains her some fans, and her melancholy makes her lose some, but it’s certainly a memorable performance that has people talking for weeks after that.

Needless to say, it isn’t the last collaboration between the pop idol and the songwriter. 

[oceansborn-blog]

intros: next gen verse, pt. 1

ALICE LONGBOTTOM: seventh year, hufflepuff, head student, halfblood, cis female, she/ her. fc: milena tscharntke. pinterest. 

Mum Friend™ 

alice is like... very nurturing, honestly. she likes to be there for people and take care of them -- they come first, in her mind, and she comes second. definitely considers most people around her more important than herself -- she doesn’t have a bad self-confidence, really, but putting herself first isn’t something she’d think of?

even from first year she’d be the kid others could come to if they couldn’t sleep and she’d make them some tea and stay up with them 

favourite subjects are care of magical creatures & herbology -- just loves everything about nature and all the creatures in it 

her room at home is full of plants & she joined the herbology club at hogwarts as soon as she could so she could help out in the greenhouses; makes her feel like home and less homesick, though having her siblings and parents at hogwarts now definitely helps 

her tag is ‘steady flame’ which i tend to think pretty suitable for her -- she’s not a bright, roaring wildfire or anyone that sticks out particularly much, but she’s steady in her light and her love and she’s always there to provide some comfort 

always tries her hardest in her classes but if she has to help a friend out that takes precedence -- she cares about her grades but not as much as helping people, so if she needs to skip out on revising more for a test to comfort a friend, she will 

takes her prefect responsibilities quite seriously and now her head student ones, but isn’t a stickler for the rules in the sense that she always tries to understand the reason behind why a student got in trouble and if exceptions should be made 

her biggest passion is dragons and they have been her favourite animal since she was a kid her heart just !!!! soars when she thinks of them 

her dream job is to be a dragonologist but she hasn’t really... committed to it because she’s like... afraid of leaving home? she doesn’t want to be somewhere else if people need her? in a way ig she considers herself a bit more important than she is -- people will be fine if she moves elsewhere, the world will not fall apart, people will be happy for her -- but simultaneously she’s afraid to leave if like. nothing changes when she’s gone? and she’s not as important and necessary here as she thought? idk she has Conflicted emotions so her solution rn is just to let that dream remain just a dream 

hopefully she’ll get her act together and go for it one day 

but rn she’s considering a herbologist career instead even tho her heart is yelling at her to work with dragons 

AISLINN FINNIGAN-THOMAS: seventh year, hufflepuff, vampire, cis female, she/ her. fc: inbar lavi. pinterest.

bde: big dumbass energy

chaotic horny

kind of spoiled in the sense that she has both her dads wrapped around her little finger and kind of... charms her way into avoiding punishment?

gets away with a lot of shit she shouldn’t and has since she was a kid

maybe that’s why she’s such a disaster now! whom knows

was sorted into hufflepuff not so much because she admires or embodies the traits, necessarily, but because hufflepuff takes the rest and she really couldn’t fit anywhere else

she’s really just here to have a good time and wants to accomplish that in any way possible

she’s really... not interested in anything that doesn’t involve having fun. schoolwork? serious matters? will gladly ignore!

she Loves her friends and family but might not be the best person to always turn to for emotional support? or ever gfhsjd. her strategy for anything painful is ignore, ignore, ignore! and that tends to be her advice to others. she’s for sure nice to turn to if you want to distract yourself and do something fun, but in terms of actually discussing things and trying to process them? really not the right gal

‘mate, am genuinely jus here for a laff x’ in a person

gets into A Lot of stupid and reckless and dangerous situations just because she’s a person who tends to follow any half-rotten idea she gets. could be seen as brave, i suppose, since she’s not really scared of much --- but it’s more because she doesn’t think about it or linger on what consequences could come long enough to actually get scared

really doesn’t have an ambitious bone in her body. she’s never been one to even plan a week ahead but just lives her life a day at a time. teachers might try to get her to settle on a career and plan for it but she’ll just say a goal and by the next meeting drop another random career that she has no intention of trying for. probably drives them up the wall

does just well enough to scrape by in her classes so her parents can’t complain but no more than that

makes a lot of bad decisions, especially if she’s drunk

key example: deciding that knockturn alley seemed like a good place for a hookup and went there late at night, alone, and drunk as hell

did not find a hookup, but a vampire found her

woke up the next day feeling like absolute shite and with a very obvious bite that aislinn in true dumbass fashion thought was the ugliest hickey in the world

really hasn’t.... processed being a vampire? she’s like eh! can be ignored! i’m not emotionally and spiritually a vampire which is all that matters!

insists on still doing stuff she can no longer do, like eat a shit ton of garlic bread and lie out in the sun when she’s fucking nocturnal now

she’s quite sweet but her disaster energy brings a lot of stress to the logical people in her life

ISABELLA POTTER: fifth year, ravenclaw, disaster, halfblood, cis female, she/ her. fc: lana condor. pinterest.

she’s like the really trashy love child of leslie knope and ben wyatt?? mostly their bad sides lmao??? she too would be referred to as a human disaster on national tv

she’s a descendant of the part of the potter family that moved to america ages ago, so until she transferred to hogwarts in her fourth year she didn’t know the other potters?? like obviously she knew of them what with harry saving the wizarding world and all, but they hadn’t met each other before. she’s an only child with no close cousins so like meeting the potters and the huge fam that comes with them was kind of like ………………… wait what for her and she’s still like??? doubt we’re actually related sorry can’t live up to you all

but yeah it was just her & her parents growing up and she was quite close to them when she was younger, but her dad is a politician ( now the president of the magical congress of the us ) and her mother is a healer, and they’re both just really ambitious, hardworking people so they didn’t have a lot of time to dedicate to their home life?? and when isa went off to boarding school they drifted further apart, so at this point they honestly don’t know each other that well?? and tbh they’re not bad parents per say, if you don’t count how focused on their careers they are rather than supporting her, it’s just that they’re both so focused and confident i don’t think they ever consider that isa might,,, not be?? and she really, really isn’t.

her self-worth is so low and confidence is basically nonexistent, and when she’s nervous or struggling a lot with anxiety she tends to ramble a lot, which her parents just interpreted as her being talkative rather than there being an underlying reason for it, and basically there was just… a lot of misunderstanding between them? like isa still loves them, but whenever she was home she just didn’t feel good, and she hates herself for it because they are good people, but she just doesn’t know how to change that??

somehow did not end up nearly as charismatic or smart or anything as her parents tho and is just a mess™ so she mostly introduces herself only with her first name and tries to like not think of the fact that that her dad held such an important position bc she doesn’t want to bring more embarrassment to the family than she already has lmao

she really wants to make her parents proud and everything and tries to behave properly she’s just ??? failing epically. always finds a way to embarrass herself and put her foot in her mouth and once it happens her pride kicks in and she just makes it worse and worse because she can’t just admit that she did something wrong so she just continues to dig her own grave like every second conversation it’s amusing to watch but she’s just a tragic mess

with her father being the president and her mother out there literally saving lives she was like i gotta do something good with mine!!! she doesn't see becoming an author as good enough in comparison, so she's gonna study to become a healer like her mom after she graduates but like,,, it’s so not the right career choice for her, she'll probably would dropp up halfway through training

when anything remotely bad happens she’s like this is THE worst thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life and i cannot show my face ever again so basically,,, the ppl in her life are probably used to her Dramatic self by now. tho i guess now that there is an actual apocalypse going on, everything sort of is the worst thing that’s ever happened in her life?? anyways 

when it comes down to it isa is just a mess™ who just. gets into embarrassing situations Constantly because she never shuts up. she is often awkward and anxious and always puts her foot in her mouth and once that happens her pride kicks in and she just makes it worse and worse because she just can’t admit that she did something wrong so she just continues to dig her own grave like every second conversation. amusing to watch but a terror for herself she’s just a tragic mess who Cannot shut up for two seconds 

her mouth just runs on it’s own and her brain struggles to keep up so she just says weird shit sometimes 

it is honestly a surprise she hasn’t run off to live in the woods and write trashy romance novels yet 

that’s genuinely a thought she has daily djhasg she loves her family so much so she wouldn’t but like. she thinks she should not be allowed to talk with other people because she Will fuck it up and she’s proven that again and again

lowkey terrified of actually falling in love despite how often she gushes about it and just runs away at the thought. quite literally. she will ramble and then run as fast as she can she’s gotta GO

VERA WOOD-KRUM: fifth year, gryffindor, broom racing mess, halfblood, cis female, she/ her. fc: brittany o’grady. 

vera is entirely her fathers’ daughter and that becomes clear to everyone who has heard of them like .5 seconds after meeting her

she is Loud and she Will Not be stopped!! 

so yeah she’s the daughter of viktor and oliver, and at this point they’re even more iconic than they were when they were younger tbh. even their ‘love story’ is pretty famous around the wizarding world, their rivals-to-eventual-friends-to-lovers story touching many, not to mention being one of the first openly gay couples in the quidditch sphere

vera will always argue they’re the most iconic couple at the very least in the quidditch world but also probably in the wizarding world but lbr she is Biased 

she has three siblings, a younger brother named max who is... probably in his second year at this point i wanna say, and two older siblings, katya & alex, who are a bit closer in age to her. oliver and viktor used surrogate mothers and mixed sperm and have their kids, and yeah long story short vera is fiercely loyal to her family and would highkey die for them. 10/10 always ready to fight for them if someone talks shit 

very grateful for her family and her happy upbringing and they mean more to her than anything in the world 

obviously comes from a very quidditch centred family, and tho neither of her parents would force their kids into any career, they did have her join a little league quidditch team as a kid to encourage a healthy lifestyle and bc it’s their favourite sport in the world lbr. vera started out as a chaser but the coach decided to switch her position to seeker because he thought it would be a more suitable position --- which it definitely was, only more so than intended. her time in the little league quidditch team made her realise her intense love for broom racing, and she quickly lost interest in the actual game, racing off the pitch before quickly crashing and being brought back by the coaches fgjgdsfjhs

has been set on becoming a professional broom racer since she was a kid, basically, and is as obsessed with that as oliver is with quidditch --- if not more. like father, like daughter fjhsdgfhjs 

basically all her birthday and christmas wishes since then has been related to it, whether for broom polish or workout clothes or books on the matter, even sometimes wishing from brooms when a new version was released 

always makes sure to keep up with the latest news regarding anything from brooms to quidditch 

anytime one of her fathers went to diagon alley, she would hound them into bringing her so she could hang out in broomstix, overtime annoying the old owner into liking her LMAO, becoming something like the granddaughter he never had 

she worked there over summer and helps out a bit now during christmas break as well 

but yeah vera was sorted into gryffindor like .2 seconds after the sorting hat touched her head HFJSDGFJS she was so far from a headstall it’s ridiculous 

she takes after oliver a lot which i think is one of the first things ( and sometimes only if they don’t get to know her ) people notice about her --- she’s vivacious and loud and dramatic and incredibly competitive and is absolutely ridiculous, most of the time, especially when it comes for the lengths she’ll go to when it comes to broom racing. but she holds viktor’s kindness and loving nature at her core and she has quite a fixed 

definitely wouldn’t be wrong to call her a daredevil, one of the things she loves about broom racing is flying around obstacles and how wrong it can go if she’s not good enough gjhdsgfj 

has been in and out of both the hospital wing and st. mungo’s many, many times for a sixteen-year-old 

her whole family is very supportive of her dreams which she is So grateful for, partly because they just want to see her succeed and be happy but also to reduce the amount of injuries she gets hsdhjfgs viktor especially trains her a lot with his seeker experience in mind, a role which her older siblings took on when she started hogwarts 

that said, the wood-krum siblings are just as likely to encourage each other to get into trouble as to help each other so she ends up in trouble a lot hjsdghfj she Loves it tho all the professors probably think she is a pain in the ass, albeit a charming one

vera always tries to get around hogwarts by broomstick or longboard so like. rip in peace to the rest of hogwarts’ inhabitants bc the amount of detentions she gets doesn’t face her, she is set in her ways 

[youngsoutheastasianleaders]

Hard to Analyze Love When You’re in it.

“I’m in the land of pine and air

Of mountain, squirrel and grizzly bear,

In the land of bitterroot and sagebrush, too.

Where trout filled streams are not a few.”

I’m in Montana and it is LOVE. And I give a nod to John Steinbeck when he said it’s hard to analyze love when you’re in it.

My YSEALI experience can’t be written in 140 characters. IG stories can’t speak enough about this 5-week academic institute. It’s more than just an Fb photo, more than just a blog. While all these can’t capture the littlest details of my journey, my heart can never lie on how much love this program can ever bring. Indeed, there’s no better way towards self-discovery than YSEALI.

And since it’s overwhelming, let me squeeze these countless experiences in 10!

The American University

I never thought that university settings in American movies would come to life! We just felt so privileged to be hosted by the University of Montana (UM) which is on the top 2.4% of Universities Worldwide (Center for World University Rankings). Over a couple of nights, our consciousness grapples with book chapters and case studies to prepare us for an exposure inside a “legit” American classroom, joining both bachelor’s degree and graduate school classes.  Every morning was colder than expected but we have to get our bikes unlocked and cross a bridge to reach school. Two well regarded UM courses –“Conservation Without Borders” with Dr. Len Broberg, and “Introduction to Climate Change” by Dr. Nicky Phear- were participated in by the fellows. We experienced watching a Shakespeare in the park play while sitting on our picnic mats, studied inside Montana’s largest 5-level library, enjoyed free food and souvenirs during the welcome feast, felt amazed by their Star Gazing Room, and joined an exclusive supplementary discussions at Davidsons Honors College. Students are very welcoming and bubbly but turns focused when it comes to studying- something that everyone should ponder in striking a balance.

Good Food, Good Mood

Bacons, eggs and patties wake us up with vigor! While most Asians are rice-eaters we took the time to enjoy a wide variety of salad and a daily vegetarian selection. The Food Zoo which is the university’s primary café serves rotating choice s of entrees, fresh fruits, desserts, and traditional fast food favorites. We were also introduced to cuisines from China, India, Vietnam, and Thai while savoring the flavor of fruits from Downtown Farmers Market up to the Cajun fries and Po Boys of Louisiana.

Service Projects

Roll sleeves and we’re ready to serve! Americans are sympathetic and openhanded.  They don’t only share; they assure the quality of what they share, since community involvements and civic responsibilities are known to be key aspects of American society. We harvested produce in the PEAS Farm which is also used for personal rehabilitation of troubled youth and adults through service education; repacked pretzels in Missoula Food Bank for distribution to school children; contributed to the maintenance of young poplar trees in Misssoula Hybrid Poplar Water Reclamation Project; and finally volunteered in D.C. Central Kitchen which uses food as a tool to strengthen bodies, empower minds and build communities.

Educational Study Tour

Authentic learning is also found beyond classrooms. While based in Missoula, we enjoyed a variety of field trips throughout Montana. Lips can’t lie when it says “The snow glows white on the mountain tonight”, because the Glacier National Park handed to us our first trail, first slide, and first snow fight. I must say, the cold never bothered us anyway. Meanwhile, evening lecture on Apex Predators and Wildlife Conservation in th e Crown of the Continent as well as the Nat Geo’s Geotourism Project gave us a glimpse of their preservation initiatives. We also visited the state capitol in Helena, Anaconda Company mining of Butte and Miltown, and the Flathead Indian Reservation of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes. Jam-packed as it may seem, all these tight schedules and long travels were unfelt when you just have karaoke buddies singing out loud over a carpool!

School Visits

I admit I missed home. But whenever I visitt other schools, I miss my own workplace, colleagues and my students even more. There’s a legit High School Musical feels as we paced along the hallways of the Arlee High School where we also played a Native American sport called “Lacrosse”. Also, the visit in Montana Tech University provided us with discussions on mining technology. What’s most interesting though is that young American students in Lewis and Clark Elementary School seemed to be native Filipino speakers after learning our language and culture. In fact, it wasn’t hard to handle them because they have such inquisitive minds and are ever curious about the world.

Outdoor Exploration

Our adventure spree kicked off by riding a chairlift to see the scenic view of Snowbowl Mountain Resort miles above the ground. This serves as ski resort during the winter and popular location for outdoor pursuits such as mountain biking and hiking in the summer. Most of the days may be freezing cold, so we look for ways to sweat a lot! We went on foot for a hike to the “M” on Missoula’s iconic Mt. Sentinel; conquered our fear of heights with the ropes course and climbing wall; and sailed the Clark Fork River in a whitewater rafting. There are a lot to explore from First Friday gallery night in Downtown Missoula to a Saturday Market with local artists and producers. “Go Griz” is our battle cry! We can’t help but scream in awe to show our support for UM’s Grizzly football game in America’s most popular sport. Indeed, our “Touchdown, Montana!” yell was more than literal!

One ASEAN

YSEALI is United States’ signature program to strengthen leadership development and networking in Southeast Asia. And as chosen representatives of our countries, we discussed environmental concerns we face at home which made us reflect on our social responsibility and illuminated the many issues that transcend national borders. All of us were exposed to an array of seminar-workshops on climate change, forestry, water resource management, environmental impact assessment, ecological restoration, food security and transboundary issues where our speakers are the book authors themselves.  I must say, thi s US program went beyond just learning from every other ASEAN young leader—it forged linkages and created bonds which time can never erase. In fact, we don’t worry much anymore in travelling the world because we know at least one passionate leader and best friend who thrive in each of the ASEAN countries!

Homestay Experience

We definitely found a family away from home! We spent quality time with our host families over a weekend to experience first-hand how Americans live in a daily basis. Eating home-cooked dishes, hiking and biking for a hilltop picnic, exploring local restaurants and markets, discussing politics and similarities among countries, playing gamelan, and most especially taking the longest sleep in the whole program duration, were only few of the many experiences that made us feel at home amidst distance.

To the “Big Easy”, New Orleans

Big Hello to the Big Easy! This nationwide educational tour took us to New Orleans and Lafayette, Louisiana in order to study watershed management, natural disaster mitigation, and coastal climate change after Hurricane Katrina in 2005 which was an extremely destructive and deadly tropical cyclone that hit the gulf coa st of US. Meanwhile, we grabbed the chance to venture French Quarter which reflects the neighborhood’s deep history seen in its beautiful 18th-century architecture, strolled the streets of Central Business District, and discovered Tremé which serves as a hub of African American and Créole culture in New Orleans. Also, the swamp day tour by boat through the Atchafalaya Basin took as into adventure through moss-draped trees and lingering alligators, while the Cajun culture got as dancing in a full night of music that keeps “joie de vivre” alive and flourishing.

US Capital City- Washington D.C.

We spent the final stop of our program in D.C. to learn about the formulation and enforcement of environmental legislation. The formal feels and busy vibe around the city brought our feet to the iconic memorials of the late presidents Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln, while reading all remarkable quotes of Martin Luther King, Jr. Moreover, our visit in the Ocean Conservancy and the Greenpeace wrapped up our exposure with the most successful environmental organizations worldwide; and of course, the experience won’t be complete without a glimpse of The White House and the US Capitol.

All these myriad escapades taught me how to love a country that’s not my own. And this same love translates into a mission to serve my home. As a young millennial leader, 140 characters, IG stories, Fb posts and blogs can never fully express how grateful I am to have witnessed the brilliance of the outside world, the brilliance of drawing lines from the dots that connect us, and the brilliance of life that made these days happen.  I have had lots of stories to share. And these stories shall give life to little dreams built by love.

[melanatedbruh-ff-blog]

Shoot Your Shot

Damien

Ass and titties, titties and ass. The strip club had two of my favorite things, and all I had to do was throw a little money to get the women to do a dance for me. It  was a frequent stop of mine when my fiance, at home, was getting on my nerves, or when I needed to detach myself from my family. Recently they’d been on my case about proposing to Mariah before actually telling them about it. I would have told them, but they never liked her from day one. My mom mainly said she was a gold digger, and was only with me for the money promised to me. They didn’t see her like I did, and that made it awkward between all of us.

Tonight I needed to get away from all the wedding planning. The day was filled with looking at venues, flowers, and tasting nasty cake. What made it worse was that my brother Dante was blowing up my phone trying to get me to take on another client. Currently, I was managing a rapper, a girl group, and an Instagram thot. The IG vixen was one of most recent mistakes, in my mother’s eyes, but she was holding up her end of the bargain by bringing in good money for me. I wasn’t the fuck up that my family thought I was.

“Maaaaaaan, all this wedding planning shit is meant for the females. Just let me take care of my tux, best man, and vows. She can handle all that other shit. Talkin about should we have periwinkle flowers.” I scrunched up my face. “Fuck is a periwinkle.” I laughed with the boys.

“You the one got on that bad knee, and proposed.” My homebody Gavin from college chimed in.

“This bad knee will still cross ya ass up.” We laughed.

My circle was small, and stayed the same when I graduated college. My father always told me that users sought after people with success, and that I had to be careful who I brought around. It was a life lesson I would always keep at the front of my brain.

“I think that’s the new girl they were talking about.” The group of men looked up on stage.

Anabelle

It was my first night, and my heart was pounding through my chest. I still couldn’t believe I was getting ready to do this, and make my dad turn over in his grave. I had to get those thoughts out of my head if I planned on making any money tonight, because I’m sure they could smell the fear like a predator sniffing out their prey. I took a shot of Gin, and walked out onto the stage seductively when “Brown Sugar”, was announced.

The music started playing, and all the eyes that were on me disappeared. My body began moving as if I had been trained to move in this way. To everybody gathered around the stage my thickness was a gift that they wished their girl at home had. As I started popping my rump the money started falling, and I could tell that they liked when I threw it in a circle. At first I wasn’t sure I was going to like money being thrown at me, but as the song played out I started to like it more and more.

I’d made it to the pole, and by this time the liquor started to settle in. Not hesitating, I showed out on the pole making sure all the whispers about me not being ready backstage were going to be put to a stop by the time I finished. They didn’t think I had it in me, and I didn’t know I did.

Damien

Shorty was thick, and it looked like she wasn’t a newbie to the strip game. She was doing an amazing job, but it was going to take more for me to shower her in dollars. When she slid down the pole we made eye contact, and I could tell she realized I hadn’t made it rain on her yet.

“Gotta do more than that baby girl.” I said out to her.

That’s all it took for her to come off the stage, and make her way over to me. I sat back in my chair, and spread my legs to give her enough room to do her thing. When the ass hit my lap it was softer than I expected. Shorty wasted no time showing me how she rides the pipe, and I took it upon myself to give her ass a tap. That only excited her, and she really gave me a lap dance that made it impossible to not shower her with all of my money. Whoever Brown Sugar was I was going to need her to keep working here.

Wifey: I’m going to sleep. Be safe, and I love you.

I wasn’t aware of how late it was until my girl texted me. It was hitting four in the morning, and way past the time I should have been in the house.

“Aight yall I’m outta here.” I got up from my seat.

After the lap dance I got the rest of the night went by smoothly. Brown Sugar was nowhere to be found, but the usual faces made sure to show me a good time. It was a loss on her part, because I was ready to show the new girl what she had to look forward to if she stuck around.

“Damn, my bad I wasn’t looking.” My head shot up after I collided with the girl in front of me.

“Your good, I should have been paying attention.” She looked up at me.

It took me a minute to realize who it was. “Brown Sugar, right?” I smirked.

“Yeah that’s me.” She giggled. “You’re the lap dance guy right?”

“I look different outside the club or sunthin? Lemme know.” I chuckled.

“No, I was just making sure I had the right guy. At some point the faces all look the same.”

“Let me guess dollar signs?”

“You must have been a stripper before or something.” We laughed together.

“Nah, I just frequent them a lot.”

“Oh, well I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime soon.”

“Most definitely. Be safe out here.”

I walked off to my car. Once inside I got in, and rolled the window down.

“What do you mean you can’t come get me? What was the whole point of me letting you keep the fucking car tonight if- Hello?”

I heard her from my car, and by the sounds of it she was stranded. After the performance she gave tonight it was only right that I help her out. I put the key in the ignition, and pulled up to the entrance.

“You need a ride?” I rolled the window down.

“I’m good. I’ll just get an Uber.” She smiled, but I could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I aint no creep or nothing, and I’m only gonna ask if you sure once. You sure?” It was going to be up to her if she wanted to get in the car. I was ready to be in my own bed, and was only helping because I felt like it was my duty as a citizen. Plus, she was easy easy on the eyes.

She hesitated at first, but then walked towards the car. “Ok, but just to let you know this purse ain't just for show. I have all kinds of tricks in my bag.”

I snickered, but could tell she was serious. “Damn, it be like that for you?”

“Can never be too sure with the creeps, or the bitches at theses clubs. Aint about to catch me slipping.” She put her seatbelt on.

“I feel that.” I glanced over at her, and then pulled off.

Desmond

“What do yall think?” I opened my arms, and spun around the open area of the club.

Today I was showing my parents the recent piece of real estate that I purchased, and letting them in on the ideas that I had planned for it. I knew my mother was going to look at it as a business move, but my dad was going to see it as me stepping out on my responsibilities at the real estate company. I wasn’t planning on going out on my own just yet, but this was going to be my foot out the door. They just didn’t know that yet.

“It’s nice, and spacious. The location is good, but I think the interior needs a little remodeling.” Vivianne scanned the room with her eyes, and nodded in approval.

I had a feeling she was going to be with the masterplan, but my father was going to play hardball. Anything I did he over analyzed it, and gave me a hard time before he agreed to it.

“How long before it’s up and running?” He spoke finally.

“I’m banking on a few months.”

“Employees?”

“Not yet.”

“Permits?”

“Working on them.”

“The menu, DJ, or security?” He grilled me, and I could tell I wasn’t pleasing him with my answers.

“I just bought the place a few weeks ago, and with all my work with the family business I haven’t had the time.” I knew bringing up my workload at the real estate company was going to get him started.

“So you’re saying you put too much on your plate? You do this every time Desmond, and bite off more than you can chew.” He shook his head, and his face read disapproval.

“Pops, you be wanting me to have all this stuff right off the bat knowing it takes more than a day to have these things ready. Cut me some slack man.” This argument I was standing my ground, but also trying to get him to be patient with me.

“Because we’ve been down this road before. You get these grand ideas, and then they end up falling to the wayside never to be touched or looked at again. I’m just asking the questions your yes team won’t.” He glared at me.

I hated that stare, because being the oldest I received it my entire childhood. He always expected me to be great, and perfect. My brothers didn’t understand the pressure it put on my shoulders, and how drained I was. It took one failed business attempt, and now when I tried to do something he threw it in my face.

“When are we going to stop bringing up the restaurant? Gah damn, man.” I exhaled angrily, and threw my hands up in defeat.

“Fine, you want to act like a baby and throw a tantrum that’s on you.” Fed up with me, he walked away from the discussion. “I’ll be in the car.”

I was irritated beyond measure, because this was actually something I had a vision for. The club was going to be a big success, and even though I told myself it didn’t matter if he thought it was, it did.

“Baby calm down. Your father is just extra hard on you, because seeing you fall and crumble is hard for him. You’re a grown man, and coming to save you every chance he gets can’t happen anymore. He’s just making sure you’ve thought it through that’s all.” She looked at me with warm loving eyes.

“That’s fine, but come with a positive attitude so I’m not second guessing my decisions.” I was annoyed, and wasn’t even excited about the club anymore. I walked over to the bar, and took a seat on the stool.

“I’ll talk to him, and try to at least get him to be open to the idea. Alright?” She smiled, trying to get me to return one.

“What’s the catch?” I raised my eyebrow. I knew my mom too well. Majority of the time she was on my side, but this was a little much. There was another agenda.

“There’s no catch, but I would like you to go on this date I already told this young lady you already said yes to.” She spoke fast as if that would change what I heard.

“Ma, what?” My eyes got wide, and I couldn’t believe her. “Ma, no. I’m good with the whole dating thing right now.”

“C’mon you’re practically 40, with no kids, and have never been married. I want grandkids, so it’s time for you to get out there and mingle.”

“But on my terms. The blind date thing is a dub. I’m not going.” I dismissed it immediately, because if Chloe found out about it that was my ass.

“Dezzy it’s tomorrow, and I already made reservations at The Rooftop and you know how expensive it is.”

“That ain’t my problem. Go ahead, and call her to let her know I won’t be able to make it.” My foot was firm, and planted on the ground for this one.

“I can’t, because she also just flew in from LA. Also, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll have my assistant email you the details.” She walked up to me, and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I love you.” She smiled, and exited the club.

“My mother is trying to kill me forreal.”

Dante

It was late, and creeping past midnight. Initially I planned on only being at the office until 10, but that changed when one of my clients went psycho on social media. Reality stars were the worst to manage, because anytime something didn’t go their way they threw a fit on the internet. Now promoters were questioning if they were a good look for their business. A headache that I didn’t want to deal with, but had to.

“Knock, knock.” A soft voice entered the room.

“Wassup, you still here?” I looked up, and smiled when it was Rai.

“Yeah, I don’t leave until the boss does. Can I come in? I brought food.” She held up the bag.

“Always when there’s treats involved.” I laughed lightly, motioning for her to enter the room.

I’d been working with Rai for a couple days now, but still hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her one on one. Most of the time she was out with my mom, and today when she was in the office I was handling an emergency.

“You know you could have left when everybody else did.” I reached over, and grabbed the plate of food she offered me.

“I know, but I wanted to make a good impression and show you that I’m serious about my job.”

“I’m the last person you have to prove anything too.”

“Not really since you’re one of the princes around here.”

We laughed together, because hearing that out loud was funnier than I’d imagine it to be.

“Then you bring buffalo wings, and fries. Who told you my favorite?” I squinted my eyes at her with a smirk on my face.

“I might have asked around a bit.” She giggled, opening up her container filled with three well stuffed tacos.

“And she knows how to eat. You’re looking more, and more like my type of chick.”

“The body fools everybody, but I’m sure I could out eat you.”

“No doubt.” I nodded in approval. “Let’s go sit over there.”

I rose up from my desk, and carried the food over to the seating area to the left of the room. I had this brought into my office for nights like this. Before my divorce was final I spent many nights here just to escape the toxicity that was my ex wife. It became my second home even when I didn’t want it to.

“You must don’t have a man to go home to if you’re working hours like this.” I asked, taking a fry into my mouth .

“No, I’m single because most men don’t appreciate a hardworking woman. They want me home catering to them as if doing both isn’t possible.”

“All I know is a woman doing both. Look at my mom.” I chuckled, happy that there wasn’t a guy in here life I was going to have to push out eventually.

“She is a rockstar.”

“She aight.” I chuckled. “You live close tho, right?”

“I’m a big girl. You don’t have to worry about me.” She brushed her hair behind her ear.

“But I am.”

“You don’t have to though.”

“But I want to.”

For a second we just looked at each other, and then started eating again. Hopefully she was catching my drift.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

8x02: Details and Themes

Morning Everyone! Today I’m going to go over details from the episode I didn't mention on Monday, and some themes I saw running through the episode (which might also end up running through the entire season or at least 8a).

Details:

In the first scene with the Saviors, there's some kind of belt or possibly dog collar on the table. The woman, Mara, also calls her people "fishies." Oceanside reference? When she got on the walkie talkie, she calls three people. The first two don't answer. The third one does. (Once again, lots of threes in this episode.)

At one point during the fire fight, we see a 101D on the building in the background. Kind of interesting as this was episode 101.  

It occurred to me Morgan's "I don't die," might have actually foreshadowed the deaths of Freddy and Andy. I think so mostly because of what Lennie James said on TTD. He said in the moment, Morgan was trying to warn them to stay away from him, because he doesn't die, which means people around him might. They did. I know a lot of people think it's foreshadows his death, and it still might, but it definitely foreshadowed the deaths of the two men he said it to.

Dwight's Note:

It also mentions "Browning." That's a type of gun Dwight is telling them to look for. The interesting this is Beth's knife (the one that's been missing since S6) was also a browning. It's looking more and more like symbolically, Beth is the weapon they're searching for. It's also very interesting that, for right now, the weapons seem to be missing.  

Oh, for the Xs? There were two sets of 8 Xs each. Kind of interesting.  

Someone suggested not everyone might understand what I meant when I said Shepherd was a big deal. Remember there was an Officer Shepherd at Grady, played by Teri Wyble? She's one of many of the Grady crew who've put suspicous things on social media in past months.  

Here's another cool detail I missed but @wdway caught: the ceiling above Daryl is broken and open in this shot. 

It looks very similar to the ceiling here in Still. 

Remember my Hole in the Roof Theory? Check it out HERE. Because we've seen this during key episodes and sequences around Beth and her arc, this gives me tons of hope that this situation with Daryl is about Beth and will lead to her.  

Female Room  

Wanted to give some screenshots of this room. Originally I thought the little red flowers on the pillows were lady bugs. They're not, but I'm still side-eyeing them. 

Lots of candles on the tables and a covered (hmm, could that be “hidden”?) lamp. Three of those big ones can be seen, but two sets of three hanging on the wall in sconces. Then there are those red/green curtains.

Gracie’s Room

I wanted to look more closely at the baby's room. @wdway caught this picture. 

We're pretty sure the back of the chair, seen in the mirror, is painted with three hanging POSSUMs. *coughs Beth*. Now that I’m looking, I think there’s also an eagle with spread wings above them, much like we saw on the wall in Still. 

There’s also a yellow truck of some kind. There are many animals in the mural on the wall and in the mobile hanging over the baby's head. I mentioned on Monday the dog and the frog, both of which are Beth symbols we've seen before. Others we could read into, but most I can't connect specifically to Beth's arc. The tiger could = shiva. Various meanings for lions and elements. One super-interesting thing is that the 8th thing on the mobile is this: the same symbols we saw made by the Scavengers when they surrounded TF in the junk yard. Hmm.

Rabbit  

This has been circulated a lot in the past few days. I'm sure many of you have seen it. As far as I'm concerned, we're looking at a few distinct possibilities here. Remember that we’ve seen the rabbit motif around Beth a lot. (X)

1. Possibly this little girl is Gracie rather than Judith. If so, it's possible certain spoilers I posted about HERE are wrong, and Judith may die. Let's hope not.

2. The little girl in the flash forward could still be Judith. Maybe Rick takes care of Gracie too, and Judith is just playing with Gracie's doll. Gracie's in another room or with someone else.

3. Maybe Gracie dies (Gimple alluded to something ominous on TTD) and Rick takes the doll and gives it to Judith.  

4. Could be purely symbolic. I actually like this option the best. Why? Because I think it makes a great case for Beth. By showing the rabbit in the dream/flash forward with the girl we'll assume for the moment is Judith, it creates a statement about the relationship between Rick and Judith. Judith is Rick's daughter, but not biologically. They went out of their way to tell us that last season. He just began caring for her and now she is his daughter. If the same is true of Beth and Gracie, the doll could symbolize that. Another sheriff (the new one in town) is taking care of Gracie and is pretty much her parent, or will be, even if the child is not biologically hers. Just a theory. And a head canon. ;D

5. @Brynn_81 (IG) also suggested it could be a link to Sophia. I've talked before about the "missing girl" theme that connects Beth and Sophia. Remember Sophia had a doll Daryl found in the river. I think that option has a lot of promise as well. Will be interesting to see if Daryl actually picks this doll up out of the crib. The river he found Sophia's doll in in S2 could feasibly be linked to Oceanside.  

6. Then there's this:

They COULD be lying purposely about this being Judith, but I kinda doubt it.

The thing is, we have pretty good evidence that the Old Man Coda isn't reality any more than the picnic scene was. It's Rick's vision of a perfect future. I don't think we should necessarily take the stuffed rabbit's presence as entirely literal. Just my two cents.  

As far as the handcuffs Daryl found, @thegloriouscollectorlady pointed out that, in order to get out of those cuffs, the person's hands would have to be small. Merle cut off his hand in S1 because it was the ONLY way for him to get out of the cuffs. Men generally have bulkier hands than women. The blood shows that whoever it was probably scraped up their hands seriously pulling them out of the cuffs, but they managed it without lobbing off a limb, right? It just stands to reason the prisoner was either a woman or possibly a young person/child. Though honestly most young people/children would be too intimidated by the situation to break out.  

And yes, if you hadn't figured this out yet, we're hoping the person who was in the cuffs and who possibly stayed in the Happy Room is Beth. She escaped/is missing and, though they don't realize it, is probably the "weapon" Rick and Daryl are searching for. Hopefully. ;D

Another thing we discussed was Sherry's pregnancy test in S7. It was negative, and obviously not enough time has passed for Sherry to have had a baby. I'm not saying she's the mother. But it may have been symbolic of something. I think it was a necessary element in 7x03 for Daryl to completely understand the situation between Sherry, Dwight, and Negan, but even so. We often see symbols operating on many levels, and I think it also may have foreshadowed this arc. That one of Negan's other wives got pregnant at some point, perhaps? That he's hiding a baby who would come into the narrative? Will probably make more sense as we go along.  

Horse Picture

I think this is pretty well-circulated too. I totally missed it and @katkhaos pointed it out to me. We see the picture taken from Hilltop in this shot. Why is that important? Horse Theory. Black horse = Daryl, white horse=Beth. The taking of the picture was obvious a purposeful plot device, since it was totally necessary for Simon to confiscate it. What are the chances it randomly shows up in this shot a handful of episodes later? If white horse = Beth, I think someone's about to stumble upon her.  

Episode to Episode Parallels

So here's something we talked about in the Safe Zone, and most of the credit for putting it together in a cohesive way goes to @katkhaos. It occurred to us how many parallels there are between S8 and S1. Yes, we already knew that. I don't just mean with symbols and repeated sequences/shots. I mean episode parallels. Check it out.  

Episode 1x01: Rick at gas station and meets Teddy Bear Girl.

Episode 8x01: Rick and Carl at gas station. Repeated shots. Meets Teddy Bear Girl (same actress).

Episode 1x02: Rick meets Morales in Atlanta.  

Episode 8x02: Rick meets Morales on the 4th floor of the Savior's compound.

Episode 1x03: Rick meets Daryl. Morales is there.  

Episode 8x03? 

Obviously Rick and Daryl already know each other this time around. But I think it's interesting that Daryl specifically wasn't present when Rick first saw Morales, to "echo" (Gimple's word) season 1. We didn't see Rick, Daryl and Morales all in the same place until 1x03. I'm assuming the same will be true in 8x03. Daryl's not far, after all. It's just a matter of time before he sees Morales too.  

Another thing to take into account? Episode 3 is where Rick reunites with Lori and Carl. A.k.a the sheriff reunites with his long-lost family after a journey to find them.

So I'm gonna throw this out there. I know I've said pretty strongly I think she'll return in episode 4. I still think it'll be an important episode because of the Alone head stone, and she may still return in it.  But I'm cautiously hopeful about episode 3. We have a lot of things pointing to it, and then there are these absolutely perfect episode parallels, the callbacks to Merle, etc. I won't be bummed if we don't see her this week (not any more than with any other time we haven't, anyway ;D) but I think it's a real possibility. *fingers crossed*

What @katkhaos suggested is that, especially as Gimple said the things about episodes 1-4 melting our brains, maybe the plan was always to parallel 8x01-8x04 with 1x01-1x04. Episode 1x05 is when TF gets on the road and goes to the CDC + leaves Jim behind. All of episode 6 is with Jenner at the CDC. Episodes 1x01-1x04 revolve around Rick waking up, finding his family, reunions, and Merle going missing. It'll be very interesting to see what episodes 8x03 and 8x04 bring us.

Re-Watching, I noticed this picture. During his fight with the savior, this cabinet ended up across the door of the Happy Room. That’s super-suspicious to me. Again, I think maybe Beth was staying in this room at some time. The first thing this reminded me of was when Daryl pushed the shelf over-top of Noah in 5x06, and he became trapped, with a walker trying to get through the door to get him. The other thing it could parallel to is Shane pushing a bed in front of Rick’s hospital room door. If that’s the case, you can see how this might parallel Beth and be a S1 callback.

Themes:

I noticed several times throughout the episode, various people mentioned things about how their friend or comrades weren't there, but would be soon. It was said several times by the various groups. @thegloriouscollectorlady and I also talked about how Rick and Daryl climb up to the fourth floor of the building. Now, there were a lot of parallels to Grady here, just in terms of the building/spatial layout. They climbed up an elevator shaft. It definitely wasn't on the ground floor. They were searching through lots of hallways and closed or locked doors. (We saw lots of keys and locks at Grady.) 

But Beth was kept on 5th floor of Grady, not the fourth. I'm wondering if this is part of the same theme: Almost there, but not quite. If Beth is running around here somewhere (like she was in the cuffs or staying in the Happy Room, it might also explain (symbolically) why she's not there. Why everything's empty and Rick and Daryl haven't found what they're looking for yet. They're almost there. Almost to where someone will return, but not quite yet. I don't know if this is just a theme for this episode, or if it will keep going for a handful of episodes.

The other theme had to do with confidence. There was a lot of talk of confidence or the lack there.  There was all of Ezekiel's talk and speech to Carol about being confident, even if you were faking it. We saw this theme in actions too.  

It specifically showed Freddy shaking before they opened the doors, and then he was killed. And then there was Eric. There were several times in the first part of the episode where Eric got this determined look on his face and did something brave, like shoot more saviors or provide cover for the others in his group. As time went on, things got worse. Francine was killed and Tobin was shot in the shoulder, and Eric started to look very scared. It was only after his lack of confidence took hold, that he was shot.  The idea is that confidence is more likely to win out, and usually does. When people give into fear, they're more likely to be injured and/or killed.

I actually really love this theme because there's so much truth to it. If you know anything about the law of attraction, you'll know what I mean. It's definitely something the writers are pushing this season. It actually goes hand in hand with other themes I've mentioned before, such as characters not actually dying until they accept their own deaths. Anyway, just really interesting.

One final thought from @bluesandbeth about Morales being alive. She said it's obvious Gimple doesn't like loose ends. If he just HAD to tie up Morales' story line, then Beth's must be driving him nuts. Even if we're totally wrong and she isn't alive, at the very least we'll have to see those missing 17 days/unexplained scenes at some point.  

But @bluesandbeth was reminded of Abraham's line in 6x06 (major Beth-symbolism episode). "Loose ends make my ass itch." Kinda thinking Gimple penned this line with an evil grin on his face. ;D

Okay, that's it for today. Anyone have anything to add?

[teamfreewill-imagine]

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Eighteen

Summary:  You talk through the idea of being adopted by the Ackles’ with Jared and Gen. Jared has reservations, but realising the reasoning behind it helps all of you make your decision. Words: 3k Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Danneel, JJ, Kim, Briana Warnings: uncomfortable conversations, mild angst Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

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Jensen escorted you to the Padalecki house despite your insistence that you could walk over on your own.

The incident with your mom in the airport was still fresh in his mind, it seemed.

Gen was in the yard with the boys, tending to the chickens, and you were grateful to have some time alone with Jared once Jensen had left.

“You feeling better?” Jared asked as the two of you walked through to the kitchen so you could get some water.

“Much,” you assured him, hopping up onto the counter beside the fridge.

“Yeah?” he asked, handing you a bottle with a hopeful expression.

“Yep,” you confirmed, grinning as you twisted the cap. “Baby Dits kicked this morning.”

His entire face lit up with wonder as his hands instantly reached for the hem of your (well, his - you were wearing his clothes again) tee.

You let your legs fall open so he could step between them, lifting your shirt so that his hands could cover your stomach.

“My baby gettin’ restless in there?” he asked, and you nodded.

“JJ was talking to the bump and it just… happened,” you smiled, taking a sip of water. “It was weird.”

He was positively giddy as he crouched down so he was level with your belly.

“Hey, baby,” he spoke quietly, trying to contain his excitement. “It’s your daddy. I hear you’ve been movin’ around in there. Wanna put on a lil’ show for me?”

There wasn’t so much as a flutter and you sighed, carding your fingers into his hair.

“Must be worn out after all that kicking earlier,” you reasoned, and he shook his head, moving even closer so that his lips were almost touching your skin.

“C’mon, baby,” he insisted, feeling around your bump. “Move for Papa.”

Still nothing.

You could sense his frustration, and you desperately wanted to share this with him, but there was nothing you could do to help him.

“So, what, you like JJ better than you like Daddy, huh?” he complained, still talking to the baby. “You’ll move for Justice Jay Ackles but not for the man who brought you to life, is that how it is?”

“Baby Dits loves Auntie Tex, what can I say?” you offered, apologetically.

“And you don’t love your daddy, huh?” he complained again.

His tone was teasing, but you could sense his hurt.

“Should I be concerned that you’re trying to convince our baby to kick me?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He looked up at you, catching the concern in your expression before he let out a soft laugh, straightening up.

His hands reluctantly left your bump to cup your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss.

“Our baby,” he repeated, murmuring against your lips. “I love the sound of that.”

You smiled, kissing him again as you wrapped your legs around his.

“Not gonna love the sound of it when it’s 3am, we haven’t slept properly in weeks, and we have to be on set at seven,” you reminded him, and he laughed as he pulled back.

“I’ll just run back across to my own trailer and leave you with the screaming baby,” he teased, and you cleared your throat, nodding.

You knew that was the perfect time to bring up the idea of moving, so you took another sip of water as you built up the courage.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began as he stepped away, holding out his hand to you and helping you down from the counter.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, letting him lead you through to the front room.

“I’m serious,” you told him, deciding to wait until you were sat down before continuing the conversation.

To your surprise, Jared took a seat in the armchair, pulling you down to sit across his lap.

“So,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you, “What have you been thinking about?”

You took a deep breath, leaning back into him so you had an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“Living arrangements,” you admitted.

You could feel him nodding, his arms flexing around you.

“Right,” he prompted, and you sighed.

“I don’t want my baby growing up in a trailer,” you explained. “Even if this is my last season on the show, for this baby’s first few months… I want a home.”

He didn’t reply for a moment as your heart hammered in your chest, nervous for his reaction.

“Can you elaborate?” he requested, softly. “I’m not sure I totally understand.”

“Yeah,” you laughed gently, realising that you were being unnecessarily ominous.

Communication was key in this relationship, and you didn’t need to sabotage everything you’d built just by hedging the subject.

“I want to get a place in Vancouver,” you explained. “I’ve been looking into it, and I’ve found a couple apartments in my budget. Big enough for me and Baby Dits to be comfortable.”

“Okay,” he murmured, one hand spreading protectively over your stomach. “And… what about me?”

“You can stay with us, too,” you shrugged. “Especially when the baby is little and crying all the time. You’re not getting out of Daddy Duty by hiding in your trailer, Sur.”

You felt him nod again, but you could feel that there was something still unspoken hanging between you.

“Y/N… I have a family here,” he murmured, and you frowned slightly until you realised the weight behind the words.

He thought you were asking him to choose.

“And we’ll still be here for hiatus, and vacations,” you continued, feeling him relax at your clarification. “The places I’ve been looking at have three bedrooms, so if we’re filming and the boys don’t have school... It won’t be as roomy as this place, but we could be together.”

Jared placed a kiss just below your ear, and you flinched slightly at the scratch of scruff on your neck.

“I want a place - I need a place - that’s mine,” you told him, turning your head to look at him. “I can’t explain why, but it’s important to me that I do this.”

He nodded, reading your expression with a soft gaze.

“So you don’t want me to help?” he clarified. “Financially?”

You shook your head, answering before he had a chance to protest.

“When I officially move in here, after the baby,” you began, holding eye contact, “And for vacations and stuff, you’re not expecting me to pay rent.”

You’d discussed your post-baby living situation when you agreed to move to Austin with them.

Once Baby Ditto was born, everyone would know Jared was the father and, no matter what people thought of you because of it, you wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore.

“Of course not,” he frowned, and you nodded.

“Right,” you agreed. “So you shouldn’t have to pay anything for my place.”

He didn’t look convinced, so you decided to change tactic.

You shifted in his lap until you were straddling his legs, your fingers scritching the nape of his neck softly.

“We’re a partnership, right?” you asked. “We’re equals in this?”

“Right,” he confirmed, his hands naturally finding your waist.

“So… you pay for the Austin house, I pay for the ‘Couver apartment,” you explained, simply. “Partnership.”

He nodded slowly, and you leant in to place a gentle and chaste kiss to his lips.

“I know your inner caveman wants to provide for your family, but you already do so much,” you told him. “Let me have this?”

You held your breath as you awaited his response, and he exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” he agreed, his eyes flicking between your own. “You want to do this, I support you.”

You grinned, kissing him firmer this time as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you murmured between kisses. “I can’t explain it, but it means a lot to me.”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” he reminded you, resting his forehead to yours. “Thank you for including Gen and the boys in your plans.”

You smiled, pulling away and sitting back on his knees.

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” you repeated, and he laughed softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Partners?” he asked, offering you his little finger.

You linked your pinky with his, pressing your lips to the knuckle of your thumb.

“Partners.”

You realised, over a picnic lunch in the garden with Gen and the boys, that you should tell them about the whole adoption thing.

You knew that Jared saw Jensen as a brother, so for you to have him as a father… it was definitely something you needed to discuss before making a final decision.

After you’d eaten, Tom and Shep were playing with the dogs out on the lawn while you, Jared, and Gen watched on from the porch.

“Baby Dits will be running around with them in a couple years,” Gen commented, and you laughed slightly.

“Hopefully by then Baby Dits will have a better name,” you mused, yet another thing you needed to discuss.

Jared shrugged.

“We’ve got months to come up with a kickass name,” he reminded you. “And Baby Ditto is cool anyway.”

Gen nodded in agreement, and you rolled your eyes, knowing from conversations with both of them that Jared liked to wait until the last month or two to seriously talk about what to name his kids.

“Speaking of names,” you began, knowing it was a bit of a segue but not sure of another way to bring it up, “How would you guys feel about me becoming an Ackles?”

You were looking out onto the lawn so that you didn’t have to make eye contact, not wanting to see their initial reactions in case they weren’t positive.

“Y/N, babe, you’re being really ambiguous today,” Jared pointed out, and you looked across at him to find him frowning in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, nodding to yourself.

“Sorry, I-” you cleared your throat, your eyes flitting between the two of them, focussing on nothing in particular. “What would you think about Jensen and Danneel adopting me?”

For a moment neither of them reacted, but then Gen sat forward in her chair.

“For real?” she asked. “Like, officially?”

“That’s the idea,” you confirmed, and she grinned.

“Sweetie, that’s incredible,” she told you. “When?”

You looked over at Jared, trying to figure out what he was thinking as he stared straight ahead.

“As soon as I decide whether I want to be adopted,” you murmured, desperate for him to make his feelings known so that you didn’t have to keep assuming the worst.

“I think it makes sense,” Gen prompted her husband, realising you were waiting for him to okay the idea. “It would take away your… your birth mom’s rights, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t have any power over you, any legal connection?”

Jared looked up at that, looking at Gen before meeting your worried gaze.

“That’s… is that right?” he asked, and you nodded.

“All ties to my previous parents or guardians will be ‘severed’, apparently,” you explained. “She’d have no rights as mother or grandmother.”

“Do it,” Jared told you, instantly.

The suddenness took you by surprise, but he was looking at you with such sincerity that you knew he was serious.

“If it gets her out of your life for good, you should do it,” he reiterated. “I don’t want her to have anything to do with you or our baby.”

You nodded, knowing exactly how that felt.

“And the fact that Jay and Dan would be my parents?” you pressed, and he took a breath, nodding.

“That’s… I’ll get over it,” he told you, shrugging one shoulder. “It’ll be a bit weird, but I can deal with weird if you’re happy and we’re free of your- of her.”

“The main purpose of the whole adoption is to cut her out and change my name,” you assured him. “My relationship with them won’t change much from what it is now.”

“I really think you should do it,” Gen told you, smiling kindly. “If it’s what you want, and you’ll be happy, you should go for it. Become an Ackles.”

Jared nodded, finally cracking a smile.

“You just want to be able to say you’ve bedded an Ackles,” he teased, and Gen winked at you.

“That’s definitely a bonus,” she agreed, “But the main factor is that you’ll lose your mom’s name.”

You sighed, thinking back to Asylum when you told the fan that your surname will end with you.

Once you’re adopted, it wouldn’t even get that far. It would end with her.

“Her name wouldn’t be anywhere near Baby Ditto’s birth certificate,” you agreed, and Jared frowned.

“Wait, so the baby would be an Ackles, too?” he asked, but you shook your head.

“Oh, no. This baby has been a Padalecki since it was conceived, I’m not changing that now,” you promised. “I meant my name on the certificate. Baby Dits’ mother will be an Ackles, no connection to my mom.”

He nodded in understanding, and a slow smiled grew on Genevieve’s face.

“What?” Jared asked, and she shrugged.

“Just thinking,” she grinned. “Baby Ditto’s parents are a Padalecki and an Ackles.”

You frowned fondly, confused as to where she was going with this train of thought.

She laughed, leaning over to pat your bump and kiss your cheek.

“You’re carrying a Padackles.”

Talks with the Ackles family lawyer began the very next day, everyone keen to get the adoption finalised as soon as possible.

You were relieved when it turned out that your mom didn’t have to consent to the adoption; she wouldn’t even have to be informed, meaning that there was no way she could fuck this up for you.

Apparently, it usually took around sixty days for applications to go through but, given the circumstances and how keen all of you were to get it done, yours was likely to go through in thirty.

A brief court appearance in a month’s time, then you’d officially be an Ackles.

You couldn’t quite believe the simplicity of it.

At Phoenix Con, you, Jensen, and Jared kept the adoption a secret between the three of you.

You trusted other cast members - in fact, you desperately wanted to tell Kim and Briana when they took you on another ‘Hot Supernatural Mamas’ lunch - but you were aware that if more people knew, there would be more of a chance of your mom finding out about it.

You couldn’t risk another confrontation in the airport on your way back.

You managed to keep the secret from the fans without any slip-ups, which was somewhat of a surprise looking at Jared’s terrible secret-keeping record.

To be honest, most of the fans were too distracted by the fact that you finally had a visible bump to ask any leading questions that you didn’t want to answer.

Danneel and Gen had taken you shopping for maternity clothes before you left and, despite your reservations, you didn’t hate the clothes you returned with.

When you pictured maternity wear in your head, it was frumpy dresses with frills over the bump, unflattering patterns and ugly colours.

As it turned out, your views were archaic.

All of the clothes were just… normal clothes with room for your growing bump and boobs.

That was something you thought would be a perk of pregnancy - your boobs getting a little bigger.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The difference in cup size was nowhere near worth the painful sensitivity of your chest.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Gen had told you when you complained about it, “They look great.”

You’d rolled your eyes and made some sarcastic remark about how pointless it was for them to look good if it hurt to touch them, at which point Danneel had told the two of you to stop flirting while she was around.

“My best friend hitting on my almost-daughter isn't something I need to witness,” she reminded Gen, who had shrugged in response.

“She was with me before she was your daughter,” she shot back, a grin firmly plastered on her face as Danneel had relented, putting her arm around you and leading you in the direction of maternity swimwear.

You hadn't even realised that was a thing.

All in all, it had been an eventful shopping adventure/learning experience.

Jared and Jensen didn't let you out of their sight when you got back to the airport in Austin.

For once, you were grateful for their overprotectiveness.

Logically, you knew that she wouldn't try anything again so soon, but the knowledge that they were right there with you made the experience much calmer.

Fans were kept away from you by the security team, and Jared left you and Jensen briefly to explain that you’d had a bad experience with ‘someone’ in an airport so you had to protect yourself and your baby.

Luckily, they were all understanding and just wished you well.

You supposed that the reason they were all so cool about it was that they must live nearby anyway. There was always a ‘chance’, however small, of running into the three of you out in the city.

Gen and the boys were at the Ackles house when you returned, and checking that you were okay was the top priority for all of them.

Predictably, JJ didn't leave your side at all for the rest of the day.

You didn't mind that at all. In fact, you turned down an invitation to sleep at the Padalecki’s in order to have more Ditto and Tex time.

Your little meltdown on her birthday was still at the forefront of your mind and, even though she had forgiven you and forgotten all about it by now, you wanted to do everything possible to remind her that she was your priority, too.

So, instead of a sleepover with Jared and Gen, you had a slumber party with JJ.

The sacrifice was worth it when she fell asleep with her head on your shoulder and her hand on your bump.

tags are closed because this always takes me 20 years

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[imagineteamfreewill]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Title: Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Pairing: Reader x Dad!Dean

Word Count: 2,792

Warnings: Brief mention of underage drinking and partying

Theme Song: Not All Heroes Wear Capes by Owl City

Beta: @jpadjackles

Summary: After retiring from the hunting life to settle down with the love of his life, Dean Winchester lives a pretty domestic life, and the only battles he finds himself fighting are the ones with his teenage son.

A/N: Listen to the song and tell me it’s not Dad!Dean. Go ahead. I dare you. The poem near the end of this story is composed of the lyrics from “Not All Heroes Wear Capes” by Owl City, and all credit goes to Adam Young. It does not belong to me.

X

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________________

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Lily’s quiet hiss pulled Dean from sleep, and he slowly opened his eyes to see his daughter standing in the bedroom doorway, clutching her stuffed elephant with both hands. She looked terrified, and Dean’s mind immediately began to list off all the things that could have scared her—ghosts, demons, angels, werewolves…

“Daddy, I’m scared,” Lily whimpered.

Pulling back his covers, Dean crawled out of bed, being careful not to wake Y/N, and shuffled over to his little girl, now wide awake. He crouched and looked her in the eyes, keeping his voice soft as he spoke.

“What’s scary, Lily?” he asked, trying not to sound as angry as he felt. Deep inside, he vowed that he’d kill whatever scared her, no matter how much time it took to hunt the thing down.

“I heard a noise from downstairs,” she whispered, lower lip quivering. “A funny sucking noise and then there was a big light and clanking.”

Dean’s mind whirled. He couldn’t think of a single monster that made noises like that, and after a long moment, he realized exactly what he was up against.

Sighing, Dean scooped Lily up and situated her on his hip, using his free hand to rub the crud from his eyes. Lily immediately rested her face against his shoulder and closed her eyes, no doubt ready to go back to sleep. Heading down the short flight of stairs, Dean silently padded across the hardwood floors and toward the kitchen. He hadn’t lost his touch; not a single sound was made as he set a now-sleeping Lily down on the couch. With his hands now free, Dean was able to move freely, and he quickly made his way into the kitchen.

Sure enough, a tall, shadowy figure was silhouetted against the white light from the refrigerator, just as he thought.

“Cameron,” Dean said, keeping his voice firm. He didn’t mind the sleepy growl that was still there; it made him seem a lot tougher than he felt at three o’clock in the morning, especially when all he wanted to do was go back to sleep and hold his wife.

Cameron jumped, whirling around to face his father with the bottle of beer he’d been about to take from the fridge still in his hand. It slipped, falling to the floor with a loud crash.

“Dad! What the hell are you doing up?” Cameron asked, his eyes wide with fear. He knew he’d been caught, and he knew what was coming next.

From the top of the stairs, a faint light could be seen, no doubt from the master bedroom where Y/N had been woken up by the sound of the amber bottle smashing against the kitchen tile.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dean replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “What were you planning to do with that beer?”

“N— Nothing, I swear! I was just moving it out of the way so I could get to something behind it!”

“Uh-huh,” Dean mumbled. Making it clear he wasn’t convinced, he inhaled and raised an eyebrow at his son. “You gonna tell me where you’re planning on going?”

“Nothing, I—”

“Dean? Cam?” Y/N sighed, shuffling into the kitchen and rubbing her eyes, her robe tied tightly around her waist. She ran a hand up Dean’s back and sidled up beside him, blinking against the fridge’s bright light. Dean remained silent as she took in the broken beer bottle, Cam’s terrified expression, and the fierce look on his own face.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she looked between them.

“Our son is trying to take some beer and go out to a party,” Dean grunted. “Our eighteen-year-old son.”

“Dad, I’m not—”

Y/N held up a hand to stop him. “Cameron, clean up this mess and head to bed. Dean, go put his car in the garage. Hand over your keys, Cam. You’re not going anywhere until this whole thing is straightened out. Understand?”

Both boys nodded and followed obediently as Y/N went to take Lily back to her room. She’d slept through the whole ordeal, thankfully, and Dean watched as Y/N gathered their little daughter up in her arms and carried her up the stairs.

By the time he’d put the car away and made sure Cameron had cleaned up the mess, Dean was ready to crash again. The adrenaline from Lily waking him up and then confronting Cameron had exhausted him, and as he crawled into bed, he realized that Y/N was already sleeping. So, he simply pulled her against him without a word and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head before letting himself drift off once more.

The next morning, Cameron didn’t wake up until almost noon, and at that point, Dean was ready to storm into his son’s bedroom and drag him out of bed himself. Y/N, on the other hand, reassured Dean that no matter when Cameron got up, he would still have to face them at some point, and then Dean could resolve the matter.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Y/N chimed when Cameron finally shuffled into the kitchen.

Cam remained silent, heading to the coffeemaker on the counter to make himself something to drink. Dean watched him intently, fuming in silence until Y/N sat beside him and placed a hand over his. He looked over at her, smiling a little in response when she gave him a tiny, reassuring smile.

After making himself a cup of coffee and preparing it the way he liked, Cameron sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal. He sat across from Dean and Y/N, but he completely ignored them as he ate.

Finally, Dean couldn’t take it any longer. “Well? Are you going to explain why you woke your little sister and your mother and I up last night?” he growled.

Cameron’s head snapped up at his dad’s angry tone. “I wasn’t trying to wake anybody up,” he snapped. “Like I said, I was just getting something from the fridge.”

“You were getting beer for another party, weren’t you?” Dean replied, his voice rising a little in anger.

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his arm, attempting to soothe him. “Lil’s taking a nap, Dean. Calm down. The three of us are going to discuss this as adults, without yelling,” she said, looking between the two of them. Both Cameron and Dean nodded, the latter somewhat reluctantly.

“Now,” she continued, “where were you planning on taking that beer, Cameron?”

He didn’t reply.

“Answer your mother, Cameron,” Dean ordered. His voice was teetering on the edge of dangerous, and Y/N shot him another look, telling him to calm down. She could handle himself, he knew that—it was one of the reasons he fell for her in the first place—but something about his son disobeying the rules riled him up. The rules they had were to keep Cameron and Lily safe from just about everything that would want to hurt them, monster and human alike. Plus, Cameron was underage and Dean had met his friends; they weren’t careful, and Dean didn’t want Cam to get in any trouble with the law for drinking. He’d had his fair share of felonies and misdemeanors due to hunting, and he wasn’t about to see Cameron have the same bad start that he’d had as a kid.

“To a party. Okay? I wasn’t even gonna drink any, anyway. It was for everyone else, I just got stuck being that one who had to bring it.” Cam slumped down in his seat, arms crossed defensively. “I’m eighteen, why do you have to treat me like a baby? Why won’t you just trust me?”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair and glancing over at Dean. “We do trust you, sweetheart. It’s just… We worry about you sometimes and we want to make sure you make good decisions,” she said, her voice soft.

“I don’t want you to end up like me before I met your mother, Cam. Okay?” Dean’s words surprised himself and he instantly wished he could take them back. He never talked about hunting with the kids, except to tell them that they should talk to him if they saw something strange, and he knew that Cameron was constantly curious about what it was his father did before he became a mechanic for classic cars. Y/N was giving him the same surprised look that was mirrored on their son’s face, and Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“My point is that you’re not allowed to bring beer to parties—especially parties we don’t know that you’re going to late at night—because you can still get in big trouble with the cops. Got it?”

Cameron nodded.

“You’re not allowed to drive anywhere except school and back for two weeks, Cam, and I want you to help watch your little sister since you’ll be home more in the afternoons. I know that you know better than this. It’s not going to happen again, right?” Y/N asked.

Cam nodded again, looking relieved that he wasn’t in even bigger trouble. When Dean nodded at him to leave, he quickly gathered his dirty dishes and put them in the sink before heading up to his room and shutting the door.

Y/N sighed and leaned over on Dean, resting her head on his shoulder. Underneath the table, her hand found his and she laced their fingers together. “Are we doing this right?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Dean whispered in response. “I hope so. I don’t want to mess him up. He always seems defensive and pissed at me lately.”

“He’s just growing up, Dean. He’s ready to go to college, I think,” Y/N replied. She squeezed his hand before turning her head and pressing a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. “Our baby’s all grown up.”

“He sure is,” Dean sighed, looking at the door at the top of the stairs behind which Cameron had disappeared. “He sure is.”

_______________

“Daddy! We gotta go! Mom says we gotta go!” Lily screamed from somewhere by the door that led into the garage.

Dean sighed, staring at himself in the bathroom. He knew that Cameron’s graduation was important to him, and he didn’t want to look like one of those dads that didn’t know how to dress to look nice. Today was one of the few days that Dean wanted to do everything in his power to make sure he didn’t embarrass his son. Graduation was a big day, and since Dean didn’t get one of his own, he wanted Cameron’s to be the best that it could be.

Sighing, he straightened his tie one last time before grabbing his suit jacket and heading downstairs. He was already halfway down the flight when he ran into Y/N, who was climbing up to come find him.

“Hey,” she smiled, “I was just about to come look for you, honey.”

“I’m here,” he replied, smiling back at her. “I look okay? I don’t want to embarrass him by looking like some… Some…”

“Some dad?” Y/N finished, trying not to laugh.

Dean sighed, giving her an exasperated look.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chuckled. Y/N shook her head, smothering her smile and then smoothing a hand over his chest. “You look perfect, Dean.”

Standing still, Dean let her straighten up his tie even more, then slipped on his jacket. Once he’d gotten her nod of approval, he finished going down the stairs, helping Y/N so she wouldn’t fall in her heels.

Lily was sitting on the bench by the door to the garage, her chin cupped in her hands. When she saw Dean and Y/N, she smiled wide, showing off the gaps in her smile left by the teeth she’d lost recently.

“Daddy!” she cried. Dean barely had time to brace himself before she was on her feet and barreling toward him. Lily grabbed onto his legs and grinned up at him before he leaned down and scooped her up.

“There’s my princess! I love your dress!” Dean exclaimed, following Y/N into the garage and locking the door behind him.

Lily beamed. “Do you think I look pretty?” she asked.

Dean nodded and pressed a noisy kiss to her cheek, causing Lily to laugh. Using his free hand, he pulled open the backdoor of the Impala and helped Lily get situated in her car seat.

“Are you ready, Lil?” Y/N asked once Dean had buckled up. Lily cheered from the backseat, and soon the Impala was rumbling through the wide suburban streets, heading toward the high school on the outskirts of town.

When they arrived, the ceremony had already started, and Dean gathered Lily in his arms so they could silently slip into the few seats that remained open in the back of the school’s field house.

“—statewide competition. One of our very own received first prize for his poem titled Not All Heroes Wear Capes, which is, in the words of the contest judges, ‘an exploration of what it means to live in admiration of the men who sacrifice everything for their children and the perspective from which a child sees his father as an adult.’ Please help us welcome 2017 William J. Lark High School graduate and winner of the Kansas High School Poetry Contest and Scholarship Competition, Cameron Winchester.”

Dean looked up from the program, surprised. Cameron had never expressed any interest in poetry, and when he glanced over at Y/N, Dean could tell that she was surprised as well.

Standing tall, Cameron walked across the stage and shook the woman’s hand, then placed his hands on the podium and smiled at the audience. “Thank you, Principal Hicks,” he said, effectively silencing the last of the applause. “My poem, Not All Heroes Wear Capes, is written about my father. We don’t always agree, but he’s the best man I know. So, this one’s for you, Dad.”

“He doesn't fight crime or wear a cape, he doesn't read minds or levitate. But every time my world needs saving, he's my Superman. Some folks don't believe in heroes 'cause they haven't met my dad. He loves his workshop and rock and roll. He's got a hot rod and a heart of gold. And you could say he's a man of few words, but he talks a lot within, and even though I'm a little taller, I still look up to him.

“He built me a house in the arms of a tree. He taught me to drive, and to fight, and to dream. When he looks in my eyes I hope he can see, that my dad's a hero to me. Rust-ridden fenders, and doors full of dings; somehow he can fix about anything. I didn't think he knew how to cry till our dog died that year. He doesn't always say I love you, but I can hear him loud and clear.

“He built me a house in the arms of a tree. He taught me to drive, and to fight, and to dream. When he looks in my eyes I hope he can see, that my dad's a hero to me.”

The field house was silent as Cameron slowly folded up the paper he held. After a brief moment, the audience exploded into applause, Dean, Y/N, and Lily included.

Slowly, Dean got to his feet. The poem had made him tear up a little, which was something he’d never admit to anyone besides Y/N, and it relieved all feelings of apprehension he’d felt about coming to the ceremony.

Ever since Y/N had told him she was pregnant with their son, way before he’d left the hunting life, Dean had worried about messing up. He’d worried about every little thing he’d done that involved Cameron, from how he held him as a baby to how he punished him as a teenager. But now, knowing that Cameron thought of him as a hero, even without knowing all the times he truly had saved the world as a hunter, Dean knew that he hadn’t messed up as badly as he’d thought. He’d done something right along the way, and thanks to that, Cameron was going to be okay on his own.

Somehow, Dean met Cameron’s eyes across the large expanse of seats and gave him a proud, watery smile. He gave him a thumbs up with one hand as Y/N stood and took a picture of their son on stage. Cameron smiled wide and returned the thumbs up with both hands, then climbed down from the stage, the smile never leaving his face.

_______________

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[runwiththieves-blog]

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,�� he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

It’s when you’re sitting on the couch next to him that you have your ’oh god’ moment where you realize that you’re actually really into him.

Harry hasn’t done anything to provoke this. He’s literally just sitting there, being his angel-like self because he can’t help it, it’s just who he is and you’ve accepted that. He’s beautiful and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. But you can feel it down to your toes when you look over to him and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest because he’s already looking at you, like he knows.

“’S wrong, pet? Not in the mood t'cuddle w'me today?” His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence you had fallen into, and you feel yourself flush down to your chest because this is Harry calling you out for being weird with him. You’re pretty sure there’s supposed to be at least a three month pining window before he starts to notice.

He’s Harry, though — not megastar Harry Styles, or the Harry his fans have dreamed up in their fantasy worlds where he takes them on luxury getaways whenever he has downtime (you guess they have no idea that he would rather watch romantic comedies and drink wine on the comfort of his own couch). To you, he’s the Harry who held your hair back while you threw up the first night you met at one of Nick’s parties. He’s the Harry who then proceeded to make his home, whenever he got to hangout with Nick and the rest of his friends, right beside you. He’s the Harry who insists that you sleep in his bed with him whenever you’ve had a bit too much to drink (and when you haven’t), instead of crashing on the couch (there are a gazillion fully furnished bedrooms in his house, you’d never have to crash on the couch, but you always crawl into bed with him instead of pointing that out). He’s the Harry who sort of just wiggled his way into your life and heart four years ago and forced you to be his best mate, whether you liked it or not, because he liked you.

So of course he notices when something is off with you. He always has, so you’re not entirely sure why you thought he wouldn’t notice when you went dead silent and put three miles between the two of you, when you had just been curled up against him like you always were on nights like this (and nights not like this, just kind of whenever the two of you were in the general vicinity of each other).

“Jus’ getting t'be a bit sleepy, I think. Think ’m gonna call it a night soon,” you say, and then you spare a glance to the clock on the wall, and it’s barely half ten, and Harry knew damn well that you almost never fell asleep before midnight, and if you did you’d wake up at three in the morning unable to get back to sleep.

The lie seems to do it’s job, though, because he doesn’t press you for further explanation, despite the fact that he’s looking at you in a way that lets you know he knows you’re bullshitting him and he’s bound to find out whatever it is that’s clearly bothering you. It almost feels like a challenge, but you know that this isn’t a game, and Harry gaining knowledge of your newest revelation would change everything, and probably not for the better.

It’s when you’re putting your answer into action that he presses further, because you’re grabbing for your keys, instead of announcing that you’re going to sleep with a kiss to his cheek, or wherever you can reach, and heading up the stairs to his bedroom. “Y'not staying?” He questions, and he’s got a pointed look about his face, and he really looks genuinely concerned, because you’ve never not stayed after a night like this. “’M supposed to meet m'mum for brunch,” you say, and you know it’s a lame excuse, because you’ve stayed over at Harry’s and went to work the next day with no problem. It also doesn’t help that he knows there’s no way your mum isn’t in town, because she would have texted him and made dinner plans a week in advance. They were close like that and you momentarily hate them for it.

He’s looking you over from where he sits and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more small or intimidated in your life, and all he’s done is look at you. That’s all he’s done all night, really, and you feel like you’re about to claw your way out of your own skin because of it.

The three month pining window would kill you, probably, so scratch that.

“Has anyone ever told you what an awful liar you are? I mean, I know I haven’t, but that’s because you’ve never lied t'me,” he says, and the words send chills all over you skin, because you’ve been maybe not necessarily caught, but he knows there’s something going on, and you don’t know how to get yourself out of this one.

“I’ll cancel,” you finally tell him, accepting defeat, but not admitting to the lie. The fact that there is nothing to cancel isn’t something either of you bring up, even though you both know it.

“Wanna tell me why you’ve been a mile away fr’m me all night, while we’re at it?” He murmurs, and you just shake your head, setting your keys back down on the coffee table and fitting yourself into Harry’s side. “I just didn’t want t'bother you, s'all. You’ve had people all over you for a month now, w'your album 'nd all. Wanted t'give you your space,” you explain, even though you know he’ll see right through that excuse, too, if he really thinks about it, but it’s not nearly as opaque as the brunch thing.

It’s when he calls her cute and tucks her head under his chin that she knows she’s in the clear, for now at least, and she smiles silently. 

—–

You’re in his dressing room helping him get ready for one of his secret shows when it happens again.

It’s nothing different from what you’re usually doing when you get to go to one of his shows, even did it the last couple of years that One Direction toured. You’ve seen all his bits and helped him cover each and every part of them at some point or another, so seeing him without clothes has never had a very strong effect on you (okay, well it did, because you’re human and you’re not blind to the fact that Harry’s gorgeous, but you did a damn good job of hiding it).

And he’s not even naked now, not really — he’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s got his shirt covering his arms, and you’re standing in front of him buttoning (and smirking up at him when he unbuttons one more of the top buttons, even though you know not to even try to start at the top and fix him up proper) from top to bottom, like you always do. It’s become something you just do, no questions asked and for no real reason, because Harry is perfectly capable of buttoning his own shirt. You just like to do it, you suppose, and he’s never had a complaint.

Your fingertips drag across his lower abdomen by accident, before you’ve finished, though, and you swear you feel like your entire body’s on fire, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“I like this shirt,” you tell him as you drag your hands over the fabric covering his tattooed chest to smooth it out. You don’t even know why you said it, it’s like you were trying to distract him from the much more intimate, in your head at least, touch before, even though he probably didn’t even notice or think anything of it if he did.

“’S the ruffles, innit? Makes all the girls wild f'me,” he says, and you know he’s teasing, but his smirk lets you believe for just a moment that he’s flirting with you.

He’s not. It’s something you decide quite easily for the both of you, because it’s easier to shut your brain down that way than let it wonder if, maybe, possibly, he might be feeling everything that you are. You’re a very humble and grounded person, and ironically enough, you pride yourself in being just that. You wouldn’t dare let yourself believe that Harry Styles would ever have any romantic interest in you.

“’S too bad I only care that this one’s wild about it,” he says, kissing your cheek, but it’s so close to your lips, just barely brushing against the corner of your mouth, that you feel dizzy from more than just his statement.

Well. Maybe that changes things little bit.

Because you’re the only one in the room with him, so it’s not like there’s some other girl lurking in the shadows that you didn’t know about. Also, he almost kissed you. Like, really kissed you. Mouth to mouth. Does he know he almost did that? Does he know that you feel like you’re going to pass out the more you think about it? Also, what does that even mean? Why does he only care that you’re 'wild’ about him? There are so many questions and you feel like you’re going to start screaming any second, so you decide a shot of tequila is the best option right now.

–

You’re standing at the side of stage when you realize there’s no coming back from this.

He’s performing 'Woman’ and you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed anything as provocative as this. He’s really into the song, is the thing, and you’re certain he could tell any girl in the building to drop her panties for him, and they would in a heartbeat. You’ll pretend that you aren’t part of that group.

Until he’s looking to the side of the stage, like he’s looking for someone, and once his gaze finds yours and stays there, you realize it’s you that he was looking for.

And oh. Oh.

You are definitely, undeniably part of the Drop-Your-Panties-For-Harry-Styles group. Very much so, indeed. 

He’s got the microphone stand between his legs and he’s practically grinding against it as he just stares at you — he’s been doing that a lot lately, and that’s another one of the many realizations you’ve had in the past week with Harry.

You swear you nearly pass out when he sings the line ’you flower, you feast,’ with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen before he’s looking back towards the crowd.

And then you have to go. You have to leave and go to his dressing room for the rest of the song, at the very least, because you’re so fucking confused. Where did all of this even come from? Why is he suddenly acting as if he just can’t resist you anymore, like he’s been longing for you this whole time. Was he just lonely? Horny and unwilling to put any effort into finding someone to get his fix with? Was it just a joke? Because the ache in your heart and between your legs was no joke.

You consider leaving the entire establishment when you hear the beginning chords of the last song on the setlist, so that you don’t have to face him afterwards, but instead you find your way back to the side of the stage and watch proudly as your best friend absolutely rips this crowd apart with his talent. You want to cry sometimes because you’re so proud of Harry, you really do. You think you probably will when he heads off on his first headlining tour in a few months. Cry because you’re proud, but also because you’ll be without him for the majority of those three months. The thought tugs at something in your chest, probably your heart, and it makes your eyes sting just for a second, until you’ve pushed the tears off for the moment.

For now, you’re watching on with a smile you just can’t help as he belts out the last few lines of 'Sign of the Times,’ and you want to join in, but you’d die if his microphone were to pick up your awful howling, as well. So, you wait for the end, and then you cheer and scream with the rest of the crowd in front of him. You notice that he spares a glance back at you, and you send him a nod back as you continue your cheering, watching as he practically personally thanks each and every fan in the crowd until the stage has gone dark and the lights in the main establishment have come up, and everyone’s pushing and shoving their way out.

You’re grinning because the star of the whole goddamn show is walking over to you before he is anyone else, and you’re beaming as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You were fucking incredible,” you tell him against his neck, and you take the kiss to the top of your head as an acceptable way to say 'thank you.’

–

It’s when the two of you are back in his dressing room that you feel the tension build again, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you replay his question over and over again: “Where did you go after 'Woman?’”

You want to scream, shout, throw things; not because you’re angry, but because when the hell did Harry get so confrontational? Or was it just something he was doing because you were being noticeably weird with him?You don’t like it at all, despite the fact that you’re always telling him he needs to speak up more. You never meant with you. 

“Had to use the loo,” is the answer you give him, and he cocks an eyebrow at you not a moment after you’ve spoken.

“You feelin’ okay, then? You were gone for four songs after that, and I talk a lot,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that you know he sees right through you, just like he had the other night when you told him you were going to brunch with your mum.

When you don’t say anything for a minute, he presses on, stepping closer to you. “I don’t understand what you’re tryin’ so hard t'hide from me, babe. First the other night, now this — what’s going on?” He questions, and his stare is intense, and it wouldn’t be if were anyone else, but as always, he’s Harry.

“I’m fine, H, just have a lot on m'mind,” you try, feeling absolutely defeated, because try as you might, it really is impossible to lie to Harry, especially when he’s looking at you the way he is. He knows something is up, because you’ve never hidden anything from him. He knew your deepest, darkest secrets three days into your friendship. He knows more about you than any of your exes ever have, and you think that could be part of what scares you so much about him. You feel like if he ever finds out, the chances of you losing him are far greater, and the idea puts a pain in your chest, because what would you ever do without Harry?

You can’t help but miserably stutter and stumble over your words when he asks you who you’ve been thinking about, rather than what, but what catches you even more off guard is him stepping until he’s nearly got you pinned against the wall of his dressing room, and you’re breathing is heavy as you stare up at this beautiful, sweaty boy who just wants to know why you’ve been treating him so differently.

“You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about, 'f that’s any sort of encouragement,” he tells you, and you want to speak, you do — you want to say something, fucking anything, but you’re frozen and your heart is about to beat right out of your chest.

“You don’t mean that,” is what you say, for whatever reason, and you feel awful as soon as you see the way Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his lips form into a tight line, but he’s not moving away from you at all. If it were possible, you feel like you’re drowning in him even more so.

“I — of course I fucking mean it,” he argues, his eyes unmoving from yours. “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that. Have you not noticed that I spend every bit of free time I have with you? You’re the first and last person I talk to every morning and every night, and the first person I run to when I have news, 'r just something to say. You’re the first person out of everyone I know that I run to after I come off stage — of-fucking-course you’re all I think about,” he says, and although his words are nice and make you feel all warm inside, he sounds angry, and that scares you, because Harry’s never been actually angry with you.

“Harry, I — I’m sorry,” you say, and your voice is nearly a whisper and you feel like crying, because he was honest with you, and you all but said you didn’t believe him, and honestly, how could you be such an idiot? You’ve got the most beautiful man in the world standing in front of you, telling you you’re all he thinks about, and you tell him he doesn’t mean it — who does that?

“I really — I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just — it’s kinda’ hard t'believe, innit? That the person you’ve got feelings for has them for you, too?” And you realize there really is no going back after you’ve said that out loud, but hopefully it could fix what’s just happened here if he knows the only reason you said it is because it’s just a tad bit unbelievable.

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front 'f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

–

At least, you thought you were dead because you’re pretty certain Harry’s pillowy soft lips are what Heaven is made out of, and if you were experiencing those, you had to be dead, right?

Except now, he’s got you in the back of a car, and his hand is sliding up your thigh, beneath your skirt, and it’s then, with his lips on yours, that it happens again.

You realize that he’s probably not going to be able to come back from this, either. You don’t know when it happened, or why it seems that you both had the realization that you’re fucking mad about each other at the exact same time (not that it isn’t convenient, it’s just strange), but you’re here with him and it feels like he’s using his mouth to promise a lot more than just a few heated kisses.

You pray that this isn’t just some dare, or an adrenaline thing, because you’d have to be blind or just not paying attention to not see that Harry gets hard each and every time he performs to a crowd. Like, fully erect, you’d noticed, and of course you had always teased him for his evident praise kink (’even the twitter fans know, Harry, it’s not a secret’).

But from the way he’s pulling away to whisper praises in your own ear, about how badly he wants you and all that he wants to do to you, how long he’s wanted to do these things to you, you’re starting to realize that this is very real and you aren’t being fucked with at all.

Well, you will be, hopefully, but in an entirely different sense of the word.

You’ve somehow found your way onto Harry’s lap now, because apparently the silently pining over each other thing did a bang up job of sexually frustrating both of you, so you jumped at the opportunity. If you died in a car accident on the lap of Harry Styles with his tongue down your throat, so be it.

–

It’s only five minutes later when you realize you’ve pulled into the driveway, but it feels like it’s been hours, and your lipstick has gone to hell already, and your shirt is hanging off your shoulders, and so is Harry’s because as it turns out: you’re just as good at unbuttoning his shirts as you are at buttoning them.

Despite your messy states, you both thank the driver as you exit the vehicle, and the rush to get to his front door would be funny to absolutely anyone else, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get into bed with someone. Hell, he could get the door opened, closed, and locked again and take you in the corridor and you wouldn’t care. You don’t need a bed, you need his cock. And then you wonder when your self conscious started talking like a porn star.

“Are you goin’ to laugh a'me 'f I try t'dirty talk you?” He asks, and it’s a ridiculous question, because he has no idea how much you’ve fantasized about being the one he’s whispering filth to. “Absolutely not,” is of course your answer, and it’s breathless and you’ve already let your shirt hit the floor, and you’re dropping your skirt at the bottom of the stairs, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, which are totally cotton and not matching and not sexy at all, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, because he’s pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and is picking you up to carry you up the stairs a second later.

“Take me t'bed, please,” you murmur in his ear, kissing along his jaw with your arms and legs wrapped tight around him. Everything about this is so, so, so urgent and is happening so fast, and you wish you could slow it down, even if only for a second, because it’s all so much, but it’s not enough at the same time. And you kind of want it to be perfect and remember every little thing, as cheesy as that really is.

He’s got you on his bed in no time, though, and you’re practically shaking, because that’s when it happens again. That’s when you realize this is really about to happen. You’re about to fuck your best friend, and the thought should be terrifying, if for no other reason than all that you’re risking in doing so, but you’re smiling up at him as you grasp the nape of his neck and pull him down towards you so that he’s fitting between your legs and his lips are back on yours for the first time since you got out of the car. “Want you,” you whisper against his mouth, and you realize when you press up against him that there’s no foreplay even needed, because you’re already soaked through the fabric of your panties, and you can still feel where he’s been hard since he left the stage tonight.

“’S that — do you want that?” You ask, and it’s sudden and probably sounds ridiculous, considering the situation you’re currently in, but you think it’s an important question to ask. “This, I mean. Me,” you clarify, blinking up at him, and you doubt seriously that he thinks your awkward quirkiness is cute at all right now, no matter how many times he’s implied how adorable you are because of it.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know,” is his answer, and you’re starting to think you’ve heard more insults tonight than compliments, which is weird because you always thought Harry would be the type to tell you that you’re beautiful and kiss every inch of your skin. Turns out, he’s still just as good at picking at you even when he’s got you pinned to his bed and your lips swollen from kissing him so much. “Yes, I want that. This. You,” he says after a moment, and you’re blushing as he repeats your own words back to you in confirmation.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” is the next thing out of your mouth, because apparently filters don’t exist anymore, and he shrugs before shaking his head. “Was hoping t'get my mouth on you first, actually,” he tells you, licking over his lips, and you’d swear it was for dramatic effect, but it was also really ridiculously hot, so you can’t even be mad at him for being a walking cliché.

As much as you want to argue with that, because you want him inside of you now (and you also argue with him about whatever it is he wants to do before you eventually give up and do it), he’s looking at you like he might die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt in the next two minutes. How could you deny him, really? It’d be wrong and unjust. 

Or: you really want his mouth on you, too, but you’re willing to let Harry seem more desperate to please you than you are desperate for him to eat you out, even though you’re certain that’s not the truth by any small means.

You don’t know when he took his pants off or your underwear, you must have missed it, unfortunately, but you’re watching him as he kisses over your thighs, and you feel sort of like you just got to fast forward to the good part. It’s when he licks over you completely and presses harder on the upstroke against your clit that you know that’s what happened.

You don’t know if you moan or if you scream, because you’ve tuned everything that isn’t Harry’s mouth on you and the little noises he makes against you all the way out, and you feel a little bit like you’re floating as he sucks at your clit, and your hands had flown to his hair the second he’d started that.

“Fuck, Harry, please,” you whine, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you know you need more of anything he’s willing to give you. “Taste so good, baby. ’S it feel as good as y'taste?” He murmurs against you, and his voice vibrating against you may be hotter than anything you could possibly think up for him to do to you — and you’ve thought of a lot. All you can do is nod and give his hair a tug, grinding up against his mouth, and you wonder if he notices that you’re practically riding his face while he fucks his tongue into you, licking in and around your entrance, and you could cry from how good he’s making you feel. But also because it’s Harry who is doing this to you.

It’s the Harry who would rather stay in and cuddle with you than go to a party packed with A-listers. It’s Harry, whose preferred method of clearing out a cake batter bowl before putting it in the dishwasher, is the the two of you licking it clean. Harry, who would do anything and everything for you, and never make you feel like it was anything less than what he wanted to do. It’s Harry, and he’s told you a million times how much he loves you, and even if you roll your eyes at the sentiment from time to time, you know he means it, and you always say it back.

“Harry,” you say, looking down to him and the pleasure is almost overwhelming, so it pains you to make him stop, but you just want to be as close to him as humanly possible. He can devour your cunt afterwards, or later, or something. You’ll fit him into your schedule. “I — Harry, up. Come back up here, please,” and your voice is cracking, so you swallow as you look down at him, and you don’t know why you’re near tears, but you definitely are, can feel them welling in your eyes.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” He whispers, holding you by your wrists, his thumbs gliding against the skin soothingly. “Why’re you cryin’, sweetheart? Talk t'me, please,” he murmurs, and he sounds so panicked, and it makes you feel bad because how could he ever think he’s done something wrong? This perfect, wonderful, amazing man hovering over you is clearly unaware of how fantastic he truly is. He’s looking at you with concern in his eyes, and you know he wants to comfort you, especially when you feel the warm tears trickling down your cheeks, because it’s Harry, and he won’t leave your side for hours if he ever catches you crying. Which, you don’t mind so much. But you know he needs his answer now, or he’s going to end up thinking he’s done something wrong, or to hurt you, and it’ll all be over, and you refuse to let that happen.

“No, no, no — ’m fine. Perfect, actually, just — I love you, ’s all,” is what you say, and you give him a watery smile, even when your voice gets a bit quieter and doesn’t sound nearly as rushed there at the end, because you know he knows that, especially now. There’s no way he could ever doubt it, you don’t think. He lets out a throaty laugh as he pushes his hair back where it’s fallen against his forehead, his hands dropping down to yours, holding them tightly as he leans down to kiss you for maybe the hundredth time since you first started about an hour ago, even though it feels like it’s been a lifetime. “I love you, too, you silly girl,” he assures, kissing you once again.

“No, Harry — I mean I really love you,” you murmur, breaking the kiss for a second just to say that, because you need him to know that it’s not just something you’re saying, or even being said in the same sense as you’ve always told each other. He’s looking at you with an amused expression and shaking his head, but in the fond way that doesn’t hurt your feelings. “That’s what I’ve always meant, Y/N,” he confesses, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, because it really feels like everything suddenly makes sense and all is right in the world, a love song is playing in the distance (and it’s not just in your head, so you must have missed when he turned that on, too), all the dumb things that are said in books and movies are happening to you, and you want to appreciate the moment for what it is, but you’re also going to scream if he doesn’t fuck you into his mattress soon. There’s time for talking later.

“Please, please, please fuck me. Now. Please,” and you don’t realize you’re begging for him until you’re begging for him, and it has you blushing down to your chest. “Haven’t even gotten m'dick out yet, 'nd you’re already beggin’ f'me? Love me that much?” He teases, because of course he does, but you look up at him with a new sort of determination your eyes.

You’ve got your hand on the bulge of his briefs not a second later, working over him through the fabric, and it makes your legs spread instinctively when you feel the patch of wet where the head of his cock is pressed against the fabric. It’s then that you decide you’ve had enough, and you’re doing your damnedest to try and push his boxers down. You eventually give up and he laughs and stands to tug them the rest of the way down, and it almost sounds animated, the way you gasp when you see him bare, hard, and leaking for you.

It’s not that you didn’t know Harry was a monster — he’s woken up with enough morning wood pressed against your ass and your thigh for you to be more than completely aware of just what you’re getting yourself into (or what’s getting into you, actually). But knowing it’s all for you and because of you that he’s this hard is a lot to take in.

“Y'still wan’ me?” The question catches you off guard, but you nod almost too enthusiastically for it to be anything other than embarrassing. “Tell me,” is the next thing he says, and your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion, but your features soften as he lays you back against the bed again and offers more information on what he’s wanting from you exactly. “Tell me how bad you want my cock inside your wet cunt,” he says, and it makes you bite your lip to keep from moaning, just because Harry’s filthy, as it turns out, and your thighs are glistening with how wet you are from it all. “Want it so bad, Harry. Want — wanna’ feel you, please, all of you, every goddamn inch of your cock. Wan’ you t'fuck me until I can’t take anymore,” you whisper, and it seems to have done the trick, because the head of his cock catches on your entrance where he’s sliding between your folds, and you can feel him start to press inside of you.

You really think you could blackout when you feel the whole of him settled snugly inside of you, but it’s not until he starts to move that you have dig your nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back as he fucks back into you. “Fuck me,” you moan, your head tossed back and your hips grinding up against his. It feels so good, is the thing — he’s so big, not just his cock, but everywhere, and he’s got you pinned to the mattress as he drives into you somewhat relentlessly, and he’s stretching you so wonderfully, because he’s thick, too, and it hurts in the best kind of way.

“Wanna’ ride you.” The words leave your lips before you’ve given them permission, but Harry’s smirking at you wickedly, so clearly he’s on board with the idea. You know he is when he’s pulled out of you (and you want to die because of that) and he’s got you on top of himself now and is unhooking your bra. “Feel like I owe your tits a personal apology for not paying attention t'them sooner,” he tells you, and you lean down to kiss his stupid mouth, rocking back over his cock. You tease him like that for a long minute, just grinding against him and feeling him against you, before you’ve decided that you quite miss the feeling of him inside of you.

You start to tell him that, but then it hits you that you’ve got the power now, so you take him into your hand after that, lining him up, and you sink down on him slowly, smiling into the kiss you’re giving him, because you can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve dreamed of this moment exactly. It feels so good to be fucking yourself on Harry’s cock, and you don’t pass up the opportunity to tell him that this time. It makes him groan as he stares up at where you’re properly bouncing on him, and you notice when his eyes drop down to watch where he’s fucking in and out of your pussy, and you swear you feel him twitch inside of you at the sight. “Takin’ me so well,” he praises, and apparently you’ve got a bit of a praise kink, as well, and you throw your head back when you feel him begin to thrust up into you, the head of him nudging against your most sensitive part each time. “Harry, fuck,” you breathe, your fingers curling and nails digging into his chest.

You’re so torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to hear everything he has to say, that you’ve settled for just kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving a lovebite or two in your wake, listening while he tells you how beautiful you are (you were right, he is into that), how good you feel, how you’re going to make him cum, and God — you hadn’t even allowed the reality of that sink in yet. Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you had a goal, something you wanted to accomplish, because all you’ve wanted is to be as close as possible to him this whole time.

Now, however, you really want to make him cum, and you want it inside you (you’re very much on birth control and if you were to get pregnant, having a baby with Harry wouldn’t be the end of the world, and he wouldn’t be the first former member of One Direction to become a father). “Want you t'cum inside me, yeah? Fill me up,” you tell him, and you feel it when his grip on your hips tightens and he helps you fuck yourself over him faster. “Not until you cum on my cock,” he replies, and you clench around him at that, fucking down harder each time. “Need y'to touch me,” you whisper, grabbing for his wrist and guiding his hand towards your clit, “here.”

Your moans get louder the second he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rocking your hips harder, with more determination to get off. “I wanna cum,” you whine, and you want it so bad, now that you’ve remembered that’s part of all of this, that you could cry. You were a bit spoiled when it comes to getting your with Harry, you could say, because his fingers are quick and just right on your little bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight circles and applying just enough pressure. “Know y'wanna cum, baby. Wan’ y'to. Wanna feel y'squeezin’ me,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing over your ear. “Can y'do that f'me, angel? Come for me,” he continues, but his voice is so low and he sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and you can feel his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

And then you’re pretty fucking sure you did, in fact, die this time.

Everything goes black, your lips parted in a silent scream, but not because you’re not trying, but everything feels too fucking good and you can’t even make a sound, aside from the pathetic sobs you’re letting out into his shoulders. You can feel your cunt pulsing around him, your clit throbbing beneath his fingers, and you’re sure he’s drenched with you, but it evens out because you feel him releasing inside you not even a minute later.

This time you moan his name, grinding yourself on his cock while he empties himself inside of you, fucking him through his orgasm, despite how tired and sensitive you are, praising him and thanking him with each and every movement, milking him for all he’s worth as you listen intently to the string of curses and your name falling from his lips.

You feel him dripping down your thighs the moment you slide off of his cock, but you only move to straddle the lower part of his torso, making a mess of his abs, and you can’t begin to explain how little care about that when you lean down to kiss him. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you don’t know why you say it, but it feels like something that needs to be said, because you are thankful for everything that’s just happened.

“I love you,” is his response, a smile tugging the corners of his lips up, and you can’t help but kiss him again. “For how long?” You question, and you’re about to explain what you mean, because you just want to know how long he’s known he loved you, like this, but he answers you with “probably forever” before you can elaborate, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He’s decided to answer the question in the ‘how long are you going to love me’ sense, you realize.

You blink down at him, like you’re surprised, but he’s just wearing his signature smirk and you feel a bit lightheaded. He seems so sure of everything he’s told you in the last day or so, and it’s so scary, but it makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way and how he figured out that you finally realized that you felt this way, too. Was he sitting on the couch beside you, staring at you instead of paying attention to The Great British Bake Off, too?

“How’d you figure out that I was just cranky ‘cos I realized ‘m in love w’you?” Is the next question you ask, and he shrugs, staring up at you and letting his fingertips drifts over your skin. “Jus’ know you, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “‘Nd I remembered how red y’had gotten when y’mum told y’that we’d end up t’gether, ‘nd then y’started tryin’ t’push me away, ‘nd I knew you’d realized she was right. Plus, I did the same bit t’you when I realized. Remember when I’d hardly talk t’ya’ when I was in Jamaica? Wasn’t just ‘cos I needed t’focus on m’album,” he explains, and you laugh, because everything really does make sense now. 

You’re laying down beside him, curled into his side in what has always been your favorite position when you speak again. “I love you, too,“ you nearly whisper, and you’ve got a smile curling your lips, your hand wrapped around his wrist and your other arm slung over his chest where you’re resting your chin to look up at him. “Probably forever.”

[fandom-obsessed-girl]

Different - Chapter 1

Author Notes: This is my very first Fanfic so I would love to hear feedback (good and/or bad). I’m going to make this a series but don’t expect the chapters to come out quickly, I have a lot on with school, personal health and I have a terrible memory so i will most likely forget about this on more than one occasion, I also sometimes find it hard to find writing inspiration. // This is a re upload as I’m moving all my writing onto this one account. This imagine was originally posted on @josh-washington-x-reader-trash

Warnings: Suggestion of under aged drinking

Ship: Josh Washington X Reader

Words: 1,467

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key:                                                                                                                     (Y/N) – Your name                                                                                         (Y/N/N) – Your nickname

Ever since you met Josh he always flirted with every single girl, except from you.

You didn’t really mind that he didn’t flirt with you; in fact you felt it meant he had a little more respect for you than other girls but you often found yourself wondering why he didn’t flirt with you. What made you different from the others? Did he not think you were pretty? Did he not like your personality? Was your friendship completely fake or where you just simply not his type? Then that lead in to what even was Josh’s type?

You weren’t quite sure why it bothered you so much, it just did.

“Josh is excited to see you again” Your best friend Beth said through the silence of your thoughts. Trying not to seem too eager you continued to gaze out the window and just nod your head and hum in reply.

You were on your way to the Washington’s Lodge on Black Wood Mountain for a summer week away with the ‘gang’ and currently you were sitting in a cable car with Beth and a couple of bags filled with numerous things, some with clothes, some with food and some with alcohol.

After a couple more minutes of comfortable silence the cable cart came to a rickety stop and you and Beth emerged carrying your bags.

Walking up the path to the lodge you and Beth started discussing what you would all get up to during this week. All the stuff that would normally happen; truth or dare, spin the bottle, taking a little hike and of course, getting drunk. “How’s Hannah’s crush on Mike going?” You say through giggles. Hannah had a pathetic crush on mike for a year or so now and you just couldn’t get what was so special about him. The only thing decent about mike was his looks. You always found Mike to be manipulative, you saw the way he played Hannah and you hated it but you also found humour in how head over heels she was with him.

Beth rolled her eyes and sniggered at the thought “Same as always.” She paused for a moment and sighed “She thinks she’s starting to get somewhere” “She needs to be careful, Emily will do something soon if she doesn’t calm it” Beth nodded. You stopped for a moment and readjusted your grip on your bags, taking a moment to take in the scenery.

The trees seemed to breathe in the gentle wind causing the vibrant green leafs to rustle against one another. The sound of various animals carried through the wind and you let yourself be immersed in your surroundings.

“You coming?!” You snapped your head towards the voice to see Beth a few metres ahead of you, smiling at your reaction to the mountain. “Yep!” you shouted over before trotting over to Beth. “Do you ever get used to everything here?” “Not really. I’m not quite as amazed by it now as I was but it still surprises me every now and then. Little things that I haven’t noticed before that then seem to make all the difference”

Walking at a steady pace the lodge soon came into view. Yours and Beth’s stroll soon turned into a heavy run as you came to a non-verbal agreement that it was now a race. Almost there, you dropped your bags and sprinted the rest of the way, leaving Beth behind and you victorious. You came to a stop and clung onto the lodges decking railing to catch your breath.

“I w- I win” you spoke through heavy breaths. Beginning to stroll over to Beth you raised your hands in triumph before putting them to your knees to catch your breath again.

“You cheated” She wined between shallow breaths “No one said anything about rules” you defended with furrowed eyebrows “Don’t worry, she’s just a sore loser” You heard from behind you making you swivel on the spot to face the voice. Now facing the voice you are greeted with a smiley Josh standing on the steps of the decking.“No I’m not!” protests Beth “you weren’t even here to see it!” she points an accusing finger at Josh while he just raises his eyebrows in response. “See. What did I tell ya, sore loser” he said while sauntering past you to your bags that had been abandoned half way though the race, picking them up.

You walked inside into the living room trailing behind Josh as Beth was still outside struggling with her bags and muttering words of not being a sore loser. You suddenly felt arms tangle around your waist from behind, causing you to let out a little yelp. Swivelling your head around you faced the culprit. “Chris! What are you doing?” you spoke through giggles. Chris lifted you up slightly making a little grunting sound before placing you back on your feet again “Just wanted to say hi to my friend”

Still giggling you pried Chris’s arms away from your waist and looked over to Josh. Josh was stood on the stairs waiting for you, still holding your bags, one bag in his hand and the other slung over his shoulder. A smile was spread across his face but it seemed to fail to reach his eyes. You started walking over to him backwards, still facing Chris “I just need to sort out my bags and stuff with Josh but I will be right back, I promise” “You better be, maybe then we can finally get this atmosphere going” Chris headed to the kitchen, presumably to start on the alcohol.

Still backing up you span back around to face Josh, stumbling slightly when you realized how close the two of you were. Josh quickly used his free hand to help steady you, placing it on your hip. His touch sent a warm sensation through your skeleton making you feel a light buzz run through you. “Careful there girly” Josh scoffed playfully. Once you were finally stable Josh seemed to realize where his hand lay on you and recoiled it immediately leaving a flushed look on his face. “Uh, just follow me” Josh lead the way upstairs and to Beth’s room, opening the door for you to go in first “I’m guessing you’re staying in here right?” “Yeah, yeah I think so” you nodded, taking the bags from josh placing them on Beth’s queen sized bed “Is anybody else here yet?” you question while your eyes take a scan of Beth’s room, smiling when you notice a few pictures of the two of you.

Leaning up against the doorway josh shook his head “Not yet but Hannah and Sam should be here soon and then the others are coming a bit later on” Josh started to stroll over to you. Sitting on Beth’s bed he watched you start to unpack your bags putting your clothes in a draw Beth had freed up for you. You could feel his eyes burning into your skin as you went back and forth between your bags and the draw.

You often felt that something was stopping Josh from being himself around you; stopping him from being how he was around the others, Joking, playfully flirting and being out spoken. Sometimes when he forgot you where there for a second or didn’t notice you coming to join the group you would see the real Josh for a moment and you liked that.

Slowly you went and sat down next to Josh at the end of the bed. Your leg brushed with his and at the contact Josh shifted a bit, seeming to be settling into his seat. The silence that currently occupied the air of the Beth’s bedroom wasn’t an uncommon thing between you and Josh, more often than not the silence was comfortable but it was still something you disliked about your relationship. Words seemed to come to you easily when you’re with the others and it seemed like it was the same case for Josh.

A stuttering sound croaked from Josh’s throat as if he wanted to say something, as if trying to figure out how to form the words that where stuck in his throat. He slowly turned his head to look at you and began to open his mouth. His mouth stayed open for a couple more seconds, then closed and then opened again. This cycle continued a while longer as you sat with a raised eyebrow and watched his failed attempt to talk.

Finally he manages to come out with “so…” he takes a long breath “you and Ch-“ suddenly yours and Josh’s head snap towards the door at the sound of Josh being interrupted by a shout from a voice you knew all too well, Hannah. Her shout was repeated “(Y/N/N)!?”

Link to original here

[myriadimagines]

Now That We’ve Kissed Once, I Don’t Want To Stop

Sherlock One Shot

Characters: [GENDER NEUTRAL] Reader x Greg Lestrade + Sherlock Holmes & John Watson

Warnings: a tiny bit of alcohol consumption, mentions of violence and killing

Request: “One shot about reader’s first kiss with Lestrade?” - anonymous

Word Count: 1,726

A/N: first Lestrade one shot I think !! and tbh i write a lot about kissing for someone who’s never kissed before

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Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he looked between you and Lestrade. You ducked your head to avoid eye contact as Lestrade busied himself with the papers on his desk, before Sherlock finally rolled his eyes and leaned back further in his chair.

“Alright, spit it out.” Sherlock waved his hand and gave Lestrade a pointed look. “How long have you and y/n been dating?”

“Dating?” John looked up, pleasantly surprised. He smiled at you and Lestrade, the both of you now furiously blushing. “How have I not been told earlier?”

“They’re trying to be professional by keeping it a secret,” Sherlock explained, and you sighed. “But obviously, they’re not being very subtle. You can practically feel the tension in the air.”

“To everyone else, we are.” you clarified, shooting a Sherlock a look as he smirked. “No one else has caught on.”

“Well, everyone around here are idiots.” Sherlock shrugged, and you couldn’t help but smile. John shook his head, stepping deeper into the room.

“Alright, back to the topic.” he said, unable to contain his giddy smile. “So how long have you been dating?”

“That’s not the original topic, we’re trying to solve a case here-” Lestrade tried to interrupt, but you couldn’t help but smile at John’s excitement.

“Two weeks, I think?” you looked at Lestrade for confirmation, and he gave you a small smile and nodded. “We’re just taking it slow.”

“Of course.” John nodded, still grinning from ear to ear. He leaned closer to whisper, “I’ve always thought you and Greg would be good together.”

“Can we please get back to the case?” Lestrade piped up, exasperated, and Sherlock snickered at how uncomfortable Lestrade looked upon discussing relationships. “I really want to get this done by the end of the day.”

“Why, do you have something planned tonight with y/n?” Sherlock asked, and Lestrade glared at him as you and John chuckled.

“You’ve already solved it, haven’t you?” Lestrade looked at Sherlock, slightly annoyed, and Sherlock sat up straighter. The four of you were investigating a possible serial killer who seemed to be targeting patients in hospitals around England.

“Of course I have.” Sherlock deadpanned, and you suppressed a smile and sat in the seat next to Sherlock. John leaned over Sherlock’s shoulder as he typed something on his phone, before raising it to show you guys. Lestrade squinted to look at the tiny screen, reaching for his coat and pulling it on.

“You sure?” Lestrade looked at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes. Already storming out of the room, you could hear him yell, “I want three police cars at Saint Mary’s Hospital, and get ready to make an arrest!”

You rushed out of the room with Sherlock and John, smiling as you watched Lestrade hurry everyone to their cars. You tugged at Sherlock’s sleeve, and he looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“How’d you figure it out?” you asked, and Sherlock grinned. You were always curious to know how Sherlock solved the cases, and although he didn’t admit it, it boosted his ego a little bit to explain everything to you. That aside, he didn’t mind talking to you: you were a good listener.

“Nope, we don’t have time for that now.” Lestrade suddenly appeared at your side, grabbing your arm and dragging you away. You laughed as you waved to Sherlock and John, who waved back.

“Have fun with your boyfriend.” Sherlock called out, and you and Lestrade froze as you gave him a look. Sherlock smirked as Lestrade groaned to himself, pulling you out of the room.

–

“You’ll be making headlines tonight, Greg.” you laughed as you clinked your wine glass against his, and he laughed and shook his head as he took a sip of his wine. The two of you were back at his apartment making dinner together, celebrating today’s case. You had just gotten back from arresting the killer, which went a lot smoother than expected. You were stirring the pot of pasta whilst Lestrade chopped some vegetables. He carried the board over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, using the other arm to shakily slide the vegetables off the board and into the pot. You laughed as half the vegetables spilled onto the kitchen counter, and Lestrade sighed.

“You’re hopeless.” you turned your head to look at Lestrade, and he shrugged, biting back a smile. The two of you looked at each other, uncertain of what to do. The two of you had been out on a couple dates and things were going well, but there was just one thing: the two of you hadn’t kissed yet. It felt like it was time, yet the both of you always seemed to freeze up whenever an opportunity arose.

Lestrade leaned closer to you when his phone suddenly buzzed, and he sighed and closed his eyes. You laughed lightly, sliding your hand into his pocket to pull his phone out. You held it out for the both of you to see as Lestrade rested his chin on your shoulder.

We’re not done yet. Killer didn’t work on his own. Meet me at Bedfield Hospital. - SH

“Of course it’s not over.” Lestrade grumbled. “Sherlock always picks the cases that never seem to end.”

“Makes the job more interesting, at least.” you grinned as you moved out of Lestrade’s arms and moved to grab your coat. Lestrade walked towards you, shaking his head.

“You should sit out on this one, y/n.” Lestrade said, and you raised your eyebrows. “It’s late, and it just doesn’t seem safe.”

“Greg,” you laughed, walking towards him and putting your hands on his chest. “I can handle myself. This is my job too, you know.”

“I just…” Lestrade sighed and reached up to caress your face. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.” you reassured him, and Lestrade smiled at your defiance. “Now let’s hurry, I can already hear Sherlock lecturing us for being late.”

Lestrade laughed as you sprinted out the door, and reached for his car keys before rushing after you.

–

Sherlock was already waiting at the entrance when Lestrade pulled up. The two of you rushed out of the car to Sherlock, who was peering inside the main room of the hospital. Most of the lights were off, bar a few rooms which were illuminated.

“We should split up.” Sherlock instructed, raising his phone to show a picture of an angry looking man. “This is who you’re looking for. Be careful, I believed he’s armed.”

“I’m staying with y/n then.” Lestrade said immediately, and Sherlock sniffed before pushing open the hospital doors. You stayed close to Lestrade as the two of you went down the East corridor, Sherlock strolling down the West one. The two of you carefully tiptoed down the hallway, Lestrade reaching for his gun while you peered into each room. The hospital was quiet, except for the sounds of an occasional cough and beeping machines. There was suddenly a crash from the room next to you, and you grabbed Lestrade’s coat. You could hear soft swearing as there were more metallic sounds, and you and Lestrade exchanged glances. The windows were shielded by curtains, so the two of you couldn’t see who was inside. Lestrade pushed you behind him and put his hand on the doorknob, and you nodded. Lestrade burst into the room, pistol raised, and carefully walked in. You trailed behind him, but the both of you frowned when you realized the room was empty.

“Maybe it was from the next room.” Lestrade said quietly, lowering his pistol. You were about to turn around to exit when an arm suddenly materialised around your throat, and you gagged as you attempted to claw the arm away from your neck. The man appeared from behind the door, and you felt the cool metal of a pistol pressed against your head. Lestrade spun around, raising his gun, and stiffened when he realized you were being held hostage.

“Let them go.” Lestrade demanded, his voice even, and the man scoffed.

“I want to know where my partner is.” he replied, tightening his grip on you. You attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only jammed the pistol into your head again. “Quit struggling, or I’m going to blow your brains out.”

“Your partner is in jail, where he belongs.” Lestrade said, and you could feel the man getting angrier.

“Let him go, and I’ll let your partner go.” the man bargained, and you could see Lestrade’s expression falter.

“Greg…” you shook your head, but Lestrade looked at you helplessly.

“Please, just let them go.” Lestrade insisted, his voice sounding weaker now. The man smirked, and the balance of power shifted. He began to back out of the room, pulling you with him. Lestrade raised the gun again, but the man tightened his finger around the trigger, and Lestrade dropped the gun.

“That’s better.” the man said, already halfway out the room. “I’m taking your lovely partner with me, and I won’t be returning them until I get my partner back. Got it?”

“Got it.” Sherlock’s voice suddenly piped up from behind you, and the man hadn’t even turned around before Sherlock struck the back of his head with a tray. The man tumbled to the ground and you scrambled away from him, and Lestrade rushed to you. He tossed Sherlock a pair of handcuffs, which Sherlock deftly caught and fastened around the man’s wrists.

“Are you okay?” Lestrade said, holding his face in your hands. Laughing shakily, you nodded, reaching up to touch his hands.

“Yeah, I’m-” you started, but were cut off when Lestrade suddenly pressed his lips against yours. He held you tightly, but the kiss was gentle, and he pulled away slightly so the two of you could breathe. You stared at him with wide eyes before you broke into a huge smile.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” Lestrade said, still holding you, and you grinned.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you reassured him. You shyly looked at the floor before asking, “Can we kiss again?”

“Oh God, yes.” Lestrade grinned, and Sherlock gagged behind you. “Now that we’ve kissed once, I don’t want to stop.”

“How romantic.” Sherlock said sarcastically, but the two of you ignored him as you began kissing again.

[rfwhatsnext]

The five most fascinating people at Advertising Week 2017

By Christine Dusek

In the spirit of the famed Barbara Walters’ television interview events, I am sharing my choices for the five most interesting and prominent personalities who I was lucky enough to hear speak at AdWeek. (#AWNewYork) Their remarkable capabilities and forward-thinking viewpoints are what defines them as today’s emerging media industry icons.  I took away not only a very healthy respect (and interest in doing their PR) for what they do each day but, also, for how tapped in they are to today’s culture moments, showcasing the diversity that defines the United States, how what was once a social channel is morphing into one of the most influential platform for communications campaigns, and the need to understand all this to be an effective communications strategist.

1.      Bozoma St. John, first Chief Brand Officer, Uber:  Bozoma was in the “Wired Brand Storyteller” session, along with Jennifer Breithaupt, global consumer CMO officer of Citi, and Marc Mathieu, CMO of Samsung Electronics.  But the ever-impressive Bozoma, current chief brand officer of Uber and former Apple Music and PepsiCo (think Beyonce campaigns) marketing icon, was the real rock star of the session.  Not only is she leading the charge of humanizing the Uber brand, coming off a long string of public scandals and a leadership crisis (Uber is hoping a little marketing mojo can help it regain its footing – the whole reason I sat in the room for this one), but she owns her remarkable position as one of the few senior women of color in Silicon Valley.  All three marketing execs are master brand storytellers and, while the dialogue was continually dynamic, there were a few key takeaways from this session.  First, brands don't want to be politicized, they want to be humanized.  That means connecting brands to culture, and finding what's important to their consumers.  Second, diversity of thought and images matters, and should reflect your audience.  But the biggest takeaway was quite simple - using familiar music soundtracks, powerful visuals, and a storyline that hits at life moments that are important to consumers, is how you build audience interest and brand following.

 2.      Iram Khan, CSO, Snap: This former banker is a super-impressive speaker, who gave an articulate overview of how Snap can best fit into marketing and advertising efforts.  But the interesting takeaway from his panel was that, while video is still “everything,” the trend is that videos are getting shorter and shorter, and Snap CSO Khan even went so far as to say that video now needs to be no longer than 3-5 seconds.  He showed us some great examples of the next version launch of the “Call of Duty” video game, and how Snap previewed the video game with a simple 3-second video of Normandy Beach, and the headline of the game.  They also showcased the amazing traction they got on the “Game of Thrones” promo work with HBO, and the use of the ‘white walkers’ to attract super-fans with an ice-blue-eyed geo-filter during the premier episode.  They even had the cast of GOT using the filter on the red carpet premier, and posting to the official show’s snap channel

 3.      Carolyn Everson, Facebook’s VP of global marketing solutions, used her slot at Advertising Week to talk about Facebook’s “accordion of options” for marketers when it comes to video.  Given all the interest in video at this event, I wanted to hear Facebook’s take on the opportunity, and how that might impact other competitors’ narratives.  Video feeds are now clearly evident, as proven when I opened my Facebook app during the session and was greeted with a slew of short video teasers accompanying posts. I also learned, in this session, that Instagram is now up to 800 million monthly active users, and that half a billion accounts use it every single day. (Take that, Snapchat!)  Ms. Everson also said she thinks the industry is underestimating the potential of mobile.  Given that mobile represents around 87% of Facebook’s ad revenue, it made a lot of sense for her to bring up this interesting fact!

 4.      Sarah Jessica Parker:  SJP was fabulous for just being SJP on the Instagram Effect panel discussion, moderated by Rebecca Jarvis, and for inspiring me and other (ahem) non-Millennial remarkable female business women to finally get an Instagram account (especially after sitting through Carolyn’s Facebook pitch!).  She is the master at carefully curating her own personal brand, with over 3.7 million followers on IG, and uses a beautifully curated Instagram gallery of video shorts, photos, and memes to tell the story of her life and her iconic personal brand.  Thanks for the tips on how to build my own authentic personal brand without being a celebrity.  Oh, and those shoes were just the best….never disappointing!!!

 5.      Tim Armstrong, CEO, AND Allie Kline, CMO, Oath:  These two presenters drew everyone’s attention not only to their new corporate brand campaign that launched during AdWeek but, also, to their successful storybook narrative, and seamless integration of anecdotes about the future of ‘brand-building’ on their platforms (shameless plug for my client!!!).  Oath did a rock-star job launching its new brand campaign, and was omnipresent at every venue in terms of rolling out advertising highlights about the brand, featuring analytics about their media and advertising properties, and using a cool new video ad with a rap-inspired remix from ChuckD and Tribe Called Quest (“Can you kick it”) to showcase their brands and their coolest clients.  Their leadership team was also present as keynoters and panelists at all the top-draw events, including a ‘center stage’ keynote appearance by CEO Tim Armstrong, who highlighted his platform for the “Building your brand with Oath” campaign, which is all about how to use amazing creative, even better content, and great ad tech metrics to effectively build brands.  Finally, the entire campaign ‘buzz’ was shaped by an AdWeek feature article that dropped on Monday, followed by additional coverage in WSJ, Marketing Week, Bloomberg, BI, The Campaign, CNBC.  The trick to AdWeek, I’ve learned, is to have amazing videos, find the media onsite, and say something soundbyte-worthy.  It was a fulfilling week of learning, networking and even some celebrity sighting, and I’m truly inspired to make the ideas a reality!

  AdWeek remains the place to be seen and heard, and my key takeaways help us to be better communicator partners to advertisers and marketers:

Video is everything:  If there is one thing that reigns true, it’s that video is king.  Videos are the medium of choice and, with the increase in popularity of Snap and IG stories, video has to be a part of the content – and the shorter the better. It’s clear attention spans are getting shorter, and brands need to incorporate shorter but buzz-worthy video, either as a stand-alone or to accompany written content.

Humanize brands:  With the rise of social media, everyone wants to feel a personal connection with the people and brands they follow. To this, brands need to think less about selling products and more about selling an experience and lifestyle. This means that content needs to be less self-serving and more about the people and moments behind the brand.

Story-making vs storytelling:  Storytelling has been a theme in our     industry for a while, but now we need to look at storytelling not just as     “telling” but as “curating.”  This means that stories the brands tell need to evolve, and build off one another, so that the consumers have an ongoing, dynamic and engaging experience.

Diversity takes on many dimensions:  When we think of diversity, we need to think about not just outward diversity, but diversity of experience, thought and skills. This means agency staffing models need to move from siloed approaches to those that incorporate people who have very varied backgrounds and experiences in different industries – for example, staffing a healthcare account with someone with a tech background, or a food and beverage account with someone with a health background. What this can lead to is really unique, creative ideas that think beyond traditional boundaries.

[teamfreewill-imagine]

Dead Man’s Blood

Summary: (follows directly on from Provenance) It takes one of John’s old hunting contacts dying brings the Winchesters together on a hunt for vampires… and the Colt. Words: 8.1k Dean x Reader, Sam x Jess Warnings: mentions of smut, aggressive/angry confrontations, canon angst/violence

Beta: @blacksiren A/N: this is part of my ‘Jess never died’ rewrite, find the masterpost here

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You woke to a knock on the motel room door that afternoon, Jessica’s voice calling through for you to let them in.

Dean hastily pulled on his jeans as you grabbed your clothes and headed for the bathroom, hoping to convince your sister that you’d just been in there when they knocked and not, in fact, sleeping naked, pretty much spooning with her boyfriend’s brother.

You heard Dean let them in, pulling on your clothes quickly and flushing the toilet for added effect, ‘drying’ your hands on your jeans as you left the bathroom.

“What’s up?” you asked, pulling your sleep-and-sex-mussed hair up into a bun.

“We think we’ve found something in Colorado,” Sam told you, and Dean laughed softly.

“You two have a room to yourselves for the first time in forever, and you look for a hunt?” he asked, bemused. “Fucking nerds.”

“We’re efficient,” Jessica responded, unphased. “We fucked, we napped, we researched. Then we fucked again. And again.”

“Enough,” you told her, Sam’s smirk growing and Dean’s discomfort palpable. “We get it, you’re young and horny.”

She grinned at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“So, what’ve you found?” you prompted, and Sam’s smirk turned into a slight grimace.

“A man in Colorado, Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home,” he told you.

“Elkins?” you frowned. “Why do I know that name?

“John’s journal,” Jess told you. “He’s in there as a contact.”

You nodded, starting to pack your bag. “We should get to Colorado then.”

“We’ll be in the car,” Sam agreed, picking up the keys from the cabinet and leaving the room without another word.

Once you were alone you let out a sigh, smiling at Dean.

“I think we got away with it,” you told him, and he smirked, shaking his head.

“Yeah I’m not so sure, sweetheart,” he laughed, and you frowned at him as you shrugged on your jacket.

“Why?”

“You’re wearing a low cut tank, which, don’t get me wrong, I love,” he told you, grinning. “But you’ve got a little…”

Dean trailed off, tapping his collarbone.

You groaned, throwing your duffel over your shoulder.

“That’s your fault,” you reminded him, earning you nothing but a wide grin in return.

He finished packing and walked over to you, pulling you close and leaning down to kiss the fading mark on your clavicle before kissing you lightly, still smiling.

“We’re two consenting adults,” he murmured against your lips, the wide smile still plastered on his face. “You really think they wouldn’t know what was going on anyway?”

“You’re so proud of yourself,” you commented, and he shrugged, placing another kiss to your lips before pulling away.

“Let’s go check out,” he told you, putting his arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the room.

You noticed where his fingers were lightly stroking the top of your arm and smiled slightly, looking up at him.

“I thought Dean Winchester didn’t do PDA?” you asked, and he huffed a small laugh, looking to the ground before looking straight ahead again.

“Yeah, well,” he murmured. “People change.”

Elkin’s cabin was a short walk from the nearest motel, so you dropped Sam and Dean off to snoop around while you and your sister got all of you a room.

Just the one room, this time.

Once you’d brought the duffels filled with all of your regular clothes into the room, you were sat on yours and Dean’s bed, trying to find anything else in John’s journal about Daniel Elkins.

Jessica, for her part, was watching you with a smirk on her face.

“Knock it off, Smalls,” you told her, pulling your sweater across your chest to ensure the mark Dean had left was hidden. “We should be doing research.”

“We don’t know what we’re supposed to be researching yet,” she retorted, still smirking at you. “And we’ve got other things to discuss.”

You rolled your eyes, closing John’s journal and looking up at her.

“Can you at least sit down if you’re going to make me talk about this?” you requested, and your sister let out a little squeal, excited that she was getting you to have this conversation.

She perched on the edge of hers and Sam’s bed, looking at you expectantly.

“What do you want to know?” you asked, unwilling to give more information than she was looking for.

“Did you fuck?”

Really? That was her first question?

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yes, Jessy, we fucked,” you assured her. “Not that it wasn’t obvious already.”

She nodded, still grinning. “Did you use a condom?”

“For fuck’s sake, yes,” you scoffed, picking up John’s diary and starting to flick through it again. “We’re not stupid.”

You couldn’t quite believe that these were the questions she wanted to ask. Out of all the teasing, all the digging she could be doing, she wanted to know if you’d used protection or not.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, leaning forward and resting her forearms to her thighs. “So, how was it?”

You fought the smile that was coming back onto your face at the memory, still looking at the pages in front of you as you responded.

“Fucking incredible.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see her grinning at you, a mischievous glint finding its way into her expression.

“So incredible that you forgot you were nearly twenty-six and let him give you a hickey,” she teased.

You glared at her, resisting the urge to throw the journal at her because Dean would never forgive you if you ruined it.

“That was one hundred percent Dean’s fault and I had nothing to do with it,” you insisted, earning you an unconvinced look.

“Sure, I bet you hated it,” she rolled her eyes.

Your phone rang before you got another chance to defend yourself.

“Lucky escape,” Jess murmured as you answered the phone.

The phone call was from the boys, giving you the location and number of a PO box that was too far for them to walk to. After a brief lecture about how to treat the car - “Jessica isn’t to drive, you hear me?” - you and your sister pocketed a lock picking kit and made your way to the location.

“My driving isn’t that bad,” Jess grumbled from the passenger seat.

“Perks of sleeping with the car owner, Smalls,” you grinned, pulling to a stop by the post office.

It was dark as you got out of the car, the still air of the night oddly humid as your sister worked on the lock for the box you were directed to.

“Bish,” she murmured, and you turned to face her, frowning when all that was in the box was a single letter.

You pulled it free, closing the box and making your way back to the car.

The letter was addressed to ‘J.W.’, nothing else written on the envelope.

“J.W.,” Jess pondered aloud once you were back in the car. “John Winchester?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, worrying your lip. “We should take it to the guys. See if they think we should open it.”

You jumped in your seat at a knock on the car window, raising your arm, fist clenched, in defence until you recognised the face.

“John?” you breathed, and he smiled, getting in the backseat.

You cleared your throat, turning to face him as your sister did the same.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, worry finding its way into your voice. “Are you alright?”

He laughed softly at your concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he assured you. “I read the news about Daniel, got here as fast as I could. I saw the boys at his place.”

“You spoke to them?” Jess asked, and John shook his head.

“Ah, no,” he admitted. “I had to make sure they weren’t followed; by anyone, or anything.”

You nodded in understanding, but your sister had more questions.

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?”

“Yeah, he was…” John paused, nodding to himself. “He was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“How come your sons didn’t recognise the name, then?” Jess pressed, and you shot her a warning look.

John smiled slightly at her defensiveness.

“We had a- we had kind of a falling out, I hadn’t seen him in years,” he explained, before raising an eyebrow at you. “Dean let you drive?”

“Dean let her do a lot of things,” Jessica murmured, and you punched her shoulder, willing down the blush that was threatening to darken your cheeks.

“I’m trustworthy,” you shot back, and John nodded approvingly.

A silence fell over the car before he broke it, gesturing to the envelope. “I should look at that.”

You passed it over, and John opened it, beginning to read aloud before cutting himself off.

“‘If you’re reading this, I’m already dead’… that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” you asked, frowning.

“He had it this whole time,” John murmured, to himself more than anything.

“Had what?” Jess asked, and John started to get out of the car.

“You’re going back to the motel, and I’m following behind,” he told you. “I need to talk to my boys.”

He closed the door behind him, and you watched as he walked over to his truck.

“That was weird, right?” you asked your sister as you started up the car.

She nodded in agreement.

You let yourself into the motel room without knocking, smiling awkwardly at Dean as John followed you in.

“Dad?” Dean frowned, his eyes flitting between you and John, causing Sam to look up from his laptop.

“What- uh- what?” Sam asked.

John smiled slightly, and Jessica walked across to her boyfriend, knowing she had to be his rock around his father,

“Real eloquent, Sammy,” John teased lightly.

“It’s Sam,” he replied, shaking his head. “What are you doing here?”

John sighed, closing the door behind him before leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

“When you searched the cabin, did you boys see a gun?” he asked. “An antique, a Colt revolver. Did you see it?”

“There was an old case,” Dean told him, “But it was empty.”

“Well shit,” John murmured. “They have it.”

“You mean whatever killed Elkins?” you asked, and John nodded.

“We’ve gotta pick up that trail.”

Sam frowned at his father.

“You want us to come with you?”

John nodded. “If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun.”

“The gun? Why?” Jess questioned and John rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s important, that’s why.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look before Sam spoke up again.

“Dad, we don’t even know what these things are yet,” he hedged, and John laughed gently.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best,” he explained. “Vampires.”

The brothers’ confused expressions confirmed your theory that none of you knew anything about vampires.

“I thought there was no such thing,” you murmured, and Dean nodded.

“You never mentioned them, Dad,” he added. “Not to us, not in your journal.”

“I thought they were extinct,” he admitted. “I thought Elkins and- and others had wiped them out. I was wrong.”

You crossed the room to your bed, pulling out your journal and sitting down beside Dean, getting ready to take notes.

“Tell us what you know,” you instructed as Dean rested a large hand comfortably on your thigh.

“Most vampire lore is crap,” John told you, and you nodded. “A cross won’t repel them, sunlight won’t kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart.”

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. The majority of ways to kill supernatural creatures that pop culture taught the masses to believe were bullshit anyway.

“But the bloodlust, that part’s true,” John added, undeterred. “They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won’t know it’s a vampire until it’s too late.”

He sighed, walking over to you and gesturing for you to hand him your journal.

“Give that here,” he told you, and the authority in his voice had you doing what you were told without question. “I’ll write down everything I know about ‘em, and you can all get some rest.”

“Don’t we need to get on the road?” Dean questioned, and John shook his head, walking over to the table and placing your journal down.

“Even Dean Winchester needs his four hours,” he reminded his son. “You get some sleep. Mind if I take a shower?”

He was looking at you so you shook your head, lifting your shoulders in a slight shrug.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” Sam asked, frowning.

“Couch,” John answered simply, closing the bathroom door behind him.

You sighed, dislodging Dean’s hand as you got to your feet, starting to get changed into clothes you could sleep in.

The sound of the shower starting was Jessica’s cue to do the same.

“You’re okay with this?” she asked you quietly, not trusting the shower to drown out full volume chatter.

You shrugged, taking off your shirt before swiftly pulling on your crew-neck.

“He’s their dad. He knows something, and going with him will give us some of the answers we’ve been chasing these past however-many months,” you explained, and she nodded, still somewhat unconvinced.

“And you don’t care that he’s been back five minutes and he’s already barking orders?” she asked, and you caught Dean’s eyes snapping to the quiet conversation as she said it.

You shook your head minutely, stepping into your shorts. “Look, he’s been doing this way longer than we’ve even known about this shit. You know I don’t like following orders, but if it keeps me alive- keeps you alive- I’m gonna do it. Okay?”

She watched you carefully for a moment before nodding slowly.

You sighed, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head.

“Let’s get some rest,” you murmured, pulling back and smirking slightly. “We’ve gotta hunt some vampires.”

Jess scoffed, pushing you away. “Calm down, Buffy.”

She was smiling.

Victory.

You turned back to your bed, getting under the covers as Dean removed his jeans, leaving him in his undershirt and boxers.

You rolled to face him as he got into bed, his jaw set and his eyes unreadable.

“We’re gonna be alright,” you mumbled, carding your fingers through the longer hairs against his forehead. “We’ve got this.”

“It’s already starting,” he replied, voice pitched low and quiet so anyone further away than you would only hear it as a deep murmur.

“What is?” you questioned, letting your hand fall to his shoulder and stroking the material under your thumb softly.

“Sam and Dad’s grudge match.”

You frowned, but he shook his head, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, wrapping his arms around you and letting out a breath.

You closed your eyes, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek where it was pressed to his chest.

“Goodnight, kiddo,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his lips still pressed to your head.

“Night,” you replied as Jessica turned out the main light.

You woke up to the quiet sound of a chair scraping against the floor, instantly aware of your surroundings.

Gently lifting Dean’s arm from around you, you got out of bed, padding lightly over to the table where John was sat, a radio in his hand that he was playing with the dial of.

“You should be sleeping,” he told you as you sat down opposite him.

“So should you,” you retorted, voice pitched low so as not to wake the others.

His eyes met yours, a deliberately neutral expression on his face as he studied yours.

“Why do you stay?” he asked, still watching you carefully.

You frowned at him, confused by the question.

“Because it’s my job,” you answered. “It became my job the second something came after my family.”

“Your family being..?” he raised an eyebrow at your comment, the first honest expression you’d seen in awhile.

“Jess,” you expanded. “Sam. Dean, now. My family.”

He nodded slowly, before a crackly dispatch call came through on the radio.

“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?”

“Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here.”

John got to his feet instantly, grabbing his jacket and putting it on.

“Let’s go,” he told you, and you frowned as you got to your feet

John hit his sons’ feet through the covers, waking them and your sister up.

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go.”

Sam sat up instantly, and Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes.

You pulled on jeans over your pyjamas, putting your jacket on as the others got to their feet.

“We picked up a police call,” John explained. “It’s the vampires.”

Jessica frowned at you when she noticed you were already wide awake, but you just shrugged.

“How do you know it’s them?” Sam asked as he got dressed.

“Just follow me, okay?” John requested, leaving the room and going towards his truck.

Dean walked over to his jacket, stopping to kiss you lightly on the way.

“Vampires, huh?” he murmured, smiling slightly. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling gum out of your pocket and offering him some.

“Let’s go before John gets annoyed,” you told the room.

“I haven’t got a bra on,” Jessica complained, and you rolled your eyes as you walked towards the door.

“Put it on in the car,” you told her. “Sam can drive so you won’t have to worry about Dean taking a peak in the mirror.”

To your surprise, Dean didn’t complain, tossing his brother the keys and picking up your journal from the table before following you out of the room.

“‘Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,’” Dean read while Sam followed behind John’s truck. “‘Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks.’ That might be what happened to spark that 911 call.”

“That’s probably what Dad’s thinking,” Sam grumbled. “‘Course it’d be nice if he just told us what he thinks.”

Dean shot a glance at you, before staring pointedly down at your journal. “So it is starting.”

“What?” Sam asked, and Dean snapped your journal shut.

“Sam, we’ve been looking for Dad all year,” he reminded his brother. “We’re not with him for more than a couple of hours and there’s static already?”

Sam huffed.

“No, look, I’m happy he’s okay, alright? And I’m happy that we’re all working together again.”

Dean watched his brother for any sign of continuing. “Well, good.”

“It’s just the way he treats us,” Sam blurted, unable to help himself. “Like we’re children-”

“Oh, God-”

“He barks orders at us, Dean,” Sam insisted, irritated. “He expects us to follow them without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason,” you told him, trying to soothe the situation, but Sam just scoffed.

“What reason?”

“Our job!” Dean shouted, taking a breath to calm down when he saw that his outburst had caused Jessica to startle in his peripheral vision. “There’s no time to argue, no margin for error, right? That’s just the way the old man runs things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, alright?” Sam retorted. “Not after everything you and I- everything we’ve all been through.”

He caught your eye in the rearview mirror.

“Are you telling me you’re cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?”

You swallowed, your eyes flitting between your sister and Sam.

“If that’s what it takes,” you murmured after a while.

Sam huffed another unimpressed laugh as your phone started to buzz.

You answered the call, unable to get any words out before John was talking.

“Tell Sam to take the next exit, think we’ve got the trail.”

“Sure,” you mumbled, hanging up and relaying John’s message. “Pull off at the next exit.”

“Why?” Sam asked, irritated.

“Your dad said,” you told him. “He thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail.”

“How?”

Sam’s jaw was clenched, his obvious anger oozing from his tense shoulders.

“I don’t know, he didn’t say,” you told him, calmly.

You were thrown back into your seat as Sam gunned the engine, overtaking John’s truck and slamming on the breaks. The impala swerved to a stop on the empty road, John turning abruptly to stop a collision.

“Oh, shit, here we go,” Dean groaned as Sam got out of the car.

“Sam!” Jess called after him, opening the door to follow him out.

You sighed as you followed behind, concerned about the argument that was bound to go down, Dean doing exactly the same.

“What the hell was that?” John seethed, slamming the truck door closed.

“We need to talk,” Sam insisted, his voice low and commanding.

“About what?”

John came to a halt face to face with his youngest, folding his arms.

“About everything,” Sam responded, tone unwavering. “Where are we going, Dad? What’s the big deal about this gun?”

“Come on, Sam,” you pleaded, quietly. “We can Q and A after we kill these vampires.”

You were stood a few feet away, Dean next to you, providing a united front. Jessica was hovering between you, unsure how to help the situation.

“The girl’s right,” John agreed. “We don’t have time for this.”

“‘The girl’ has a name, and you know it,” Sam snapped. “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help.”

His anger was rising, his voice raising with it.

“Now obviously something big is going down,” he practically shouted. “And we wanna know what!”

Jess stepped toward him, resting her hand on his chest to try and calm him down.

“Get back in the car,” John dismissed, voice calm but dangerous.

Sam’s chest heaved under your sister’s light touch.

“No.”

John’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing even lower.

“I said, get back in the damn car.”

“Yeah, and I said no.”

Dean stepped in as his father’s jaw clenched at Sam’s defiance.

“Okay, you made your point, tough guy,” Dean murmured, stepping between his father and brother and pushing Sam back. “Look, we’re all tired. We can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it. Come on.”

Sam was still looking at John over Dean’s shoulder, but the pushing from both his brother and his girlfriend had him stepping back towards the car.

Dean backed off and Jess took his hand, Sam murmuring under his breath as he turned towards the impala.

“This is why I left in the first place.”

“What did you say?” John seethed, and Sam swung back to face him.

“You heard me,” he spat.

“Yeah, you left,” John growled. “Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

“Sam,” Jessica hedged, sensing his slightly dissipated anger growing stronger once more.

“You walked away!” John repeated, yelling in Sam’s face.

“Stop it, both of you,” Dean pleaded, looking between his brother and father, unable to cope with the animosity so soon after being reunited.

“You’re the one who said don’t come back, Dad,” Sam shouted back, ignoring his brother. “You closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn’t control me anymore!”

You and Dean stepped in at the same time, Dean pushing at Sam as you pushed John back, interfering before fists started flying.

“Listen, stop it, stop it!” Dean shouted. “That’s enough!”

Sam and John continued to glare at each other over your heads until you pushed at John’s chest again, harder this time.

“That means you, too,” you told him, Dean and Jess making Sam get back in the car as John looked down at you, jaw set firm.

“This is none of your business, little girl,” he growled, and your hand was moving before your brain could catch up.

The slap reverberated up your arm, a red mark instantly visible on John’s cheek.

You attempted to keep your surprise at your own actions out of your expression as he watched you carefully, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“That’s quite a slap,” he allowed, unmoving.

“Do not talk down to me,” you seethed, quietly. “This is my business. This has been my business from the second Sam told us about hunting, about his life. About you. Now, I stopped this from escalating because there’s bigger shit to deal with right now, but the second we finish this hunt, you are having this conversation.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you shook your head.

“Get in your car, John,” you told him, turning back towards the impala. “Lead us where we need to go.”

You got back into the car, sliding in beside your sister and ignoring the shocked look she was shooting you.

It wasn’t until the cars were moving again, Dean following behind John’s truck without question, that someone spoke.

“I can’t believe you hit my dad,” Sam said, shifting around to face you.

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands in your lap. “He was being a dick.”

“Still can’t believe you actually slapped him,” he told you, pride and surprise evident in his tone.

You didn’t know how to respond, glancing at Dean through the mirror to gauge his reaction. He offered a small smile and a nod before looking back at the road.

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t take well to patronisation.”

You found the vampires’ nest within the hour, watching from a distance as they entered the barn.

You had to bite your lip when John got out of his truck, the print of your hand still red on his cheek.

“That shit’s gonna bruise,” Dean murmured.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said there was a hint of pride in the utterance.

“I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean said, louder now so that John could hear.

“Actually, that’s the plan,” his father replied, opening the trunk of his truck and revealing an automatic hidden compartment full of weaponry.

Dean popped the impala’s trunk, pulling the weapons that you’d need to take down the vampires.

“We’ve got an extra machete if you need one,” he told his father, holding it up.

John smirked, pulling a large, shiny, serrated edged machete from its leather holder.

“I think I’m okay, thanks,” he said, proudly.

“Wow,” Jess breathed at the sight of the blade, causing you to roll your eyes and Sam to clear his throat awkwardly.

“So,” John sighed, shutting the trunk. “You really wanna know about this Colt?”

Your eyes shot to his, surprised.

“Yes sir,” Sam confirmed, and you swallowed as John nodded.

“It’s… it’s just a story, a legend, really,” he began, leaning against his truck. “Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel’s letter.”

Dean’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as his father spoke, and you leant into him, sliding your hand comfortably into his back pocket as you listened, unable to believe that you’d actually gotten through to John.

“Back in 1835, when Halley’s comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo,” John set the scene. “They say Samuel Colt made a gun - a special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us, only on horseback. Story goes; he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him.”

You nodded.

“And somehow Daniel got his hands on it?” you asked.

“Yes,” John confirmed. “They say… they say this gun can kill anything.”

Dean’s arm tensed around you, and you pulled him closer, pressing yourself tighter to his side.

“Kill anything like, supernatural anything?” he asked.

“Like the demon,” Sam filled the blank, his voice low and pained as Jessica took his hand.

“Yeah, the demon,” John admitted. “Ever since I picked up its trail I’ve been looking for a way to destroy that thing.”

You nodded again, swallowing around the dryness in your throat as John continued.

“Find the gun, and we may have it.”

You and Jessica watched as Sam, Dean, and John stealthily made their way into the barn, the two of you keeping watch from the outside, a freaking machete held in a holster attached to your hip in case you got into any trouble.

“Can you believe he was actually open and honest with them?” your sister asked, and you huffed a small laugh.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” you murmured.

Jess turned to face you, frowning in confusion.

“When did you become a John Winchester pessimist?” she questioned, and you shook your head.

“I’m not,” you sighed, “Not really. But if it took me slapping and publicly embarrassing him to admit something this important…”

Jessica nodded, looking back towards the barn.

“Sam wasn’t wrong, either,” you allowed, quietly. “We’re all in our twenties, Dean and I heading towards thirty faster than I care to admit. We’re a bit old to be following blindly.”

“Right?” Jess agreed, folding her arms as she leaned against the impala. “He shouldn’t lie to us, either.”

“He hasn’t lied,” you defended, your eyes still trained to the barn so you didn’t miss anything.

“He didn’t tell us the truth, either,” she countered. “He lied through omission.”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Don’t start that.”

“What?” she asked, irritated. “He did.”

“You wanna talk about lying through omission?” you asked, your volume low but tone full of annoyance. “In that case, your boyfriend lied to both of us for a full year, Jessy. You lived with him without knowing about any of this shit. What’s more dangerous- lying about hunting as a whole, or not telling us about one fucking gun?”

Jess was quiet, but she shifted away from you. You’d crossed a line and both of you knew it.

“That’s different,” she defended, hushed tone full of hurt. “He didn’t tell us because neither of us knew that any of this stuff existed. But the second he thought I was in danger, he told me everything. John’s being a shitty dad-”

“Hey,” you snapped, cutting her off. “John may be a lot of things, a lot of shitty things, but he’s not a shit dad, Jessica. He’s been dealt a crap hand and, sure, he’s made some poor decisions, but he’d never put his boys in danger. Not telling us about the importance of the Colt didn’t put us in any direct danger, did it?”

She didn’t answer.

“Did it?” you pressed, finally tearing your eyes away from the barn.

“Well, no, but-”

“No.”

You cut her off, unwilling to hear whatever half-assed complaint she had.

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Now you’re defending him?” she asked, confused. “I don’t get it.”

“Whether we like him or not, we need his help if we’re gonna find the freak that carved me open,” you explained, looking back at the barn so you didn’t miss anything. “He’s the most experienced hunter out of all of us. If he’s got a lead on this demon, we’re keeping him around as long as we can.”

She was silent again, and you dropped your head, taking a breath before speaking.

“The longer he sticks around, the more time they get to spend with their dad,” you reiterated, seeing her look at you out of the corner of your eye. “Sam hadn’t seen John in almost four years. I know their relationship is strained, but he’s still his father. The longer he stays, the higher chance of them fixing things.”

“Or killing each other,” she murmured, and you laughed softly.

“Well, yeah,” you allowed, reaching your hand out to pull her towards you

You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pressing your lips to her temple without taking your eyes off of the door.

“Sorry for being a dick,” you mumbled, and she sighed, tilting her head to rest it against yours.

“We’re both dicks,” she told you, and you smiled, knowing that your apology had been accepted.

At that moment, Sam and Dean came running up the slope, away from the barn.

You and Jess broke apart, rushing over to them as Dean called out for John.

“Dad?” he yelled, getting no response. “Dad!”

You all waited, the tension rising the more time passed without any sign of John.

Your heart was racing as John finally jogged out of the barn, and you all turned towards the cars, ready to make a run for it.

“They won’t follow,” John told you as he caught up. “They’ll wait ‘til tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it’s for life.”

“Well what the hell do we do now?” Dean asked, stopping in front of the impala.

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that’s what,” John explained, causing all of you to frown.

Jessica went with Dean to the funeral home, promising she wouldn’t get creeped out by what they were going to have to do.

“I was pre-med, I’m not gonna get squicked by something like this.”

That left you, Sam, and John back in the motel room.

The longer they took, the more Sam paced.

You were sat on yours and Dean’s bed as he paced the strip of carpet between the bed and the table where John was sat.

He was watching his son carefully, and you pretended not to notice the concern in either man’s expression.

“It shouldn’t be taking this long,” Sam murmured. “I should go help it.”

“Dean’s got it,” John said, firmly.

Sam shut his mouth, pulling his lip between his teeth as he continued to pace.

You grabbed his wrist, making him sit down beside you as you interlaced your fingers with his, squeezing his hand to try and get him to calm down.

“Sammy,” John began, and Sam tensed at the name.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I ever told you this, but,” John began, taking a deep breath. “The day you were born, you know what I did?”

“No,” Sam frowned, and you began to move your thumb in soothing circles on the back of his hand.

“I put a hundred bucks into a savings account for you,” his father continued, causing both of you to look up at him. John nodded. “I did the same for Dean. It was… it was a college fund. And, every month, I’d put in another hundred dollars, until…”

John trailed off, but you could fill in the blank. Until Mary died.

“Anyway,” John sighed. “My point is: Sam, this is never the life that I wanted for you.”

Sam frowned, and you looked up to see his jaw twitch.

“Then why did you get so mad when he left?” you asked when it became evident that Sam wasn’t going to ask it.

“You gotta understand something,” John told you, looking directly at you now. “After their mother passed, all I saw was evil, everywhere. All I cared about was keeping my boys alive. I wanted them… prepared. Ready. Except, somewhere along the line, I- uh-”

He cut himself off, clearing his throat and looking at Sam.

“I stopped being your father and I- I became your drill sergeant,” he admitted. “So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable.”

Sam swallowed thickly, but John continued.

“Sammy, it’s just… it never occurred to me what you wanted,” he sighed. “I just couldn’t accept the fact that, you and me? We’re just different.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“What?” John asked, and Sam smiled sadly.

“We’re not different. Not anymore, with what happened to Mom, and Y/N,” he used your joined hands to motion towards you. “Well, we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.”

John matched his son’s sad smile, and you rested your head on Sam’s shoulder.

“I guess you’re right, son.”

An unusually comfortable silence fell over the room until Sam spoke up again.

“Hey, Dad?” John hummed in answer. “Whatever happened to that college fund?”

John sighed, shaking his head.

“Spent it on ammo,” he admitted.

You all looked at each other for a moment before you started laughing, Sam and John cracking up as well.

Dean and Jess chose that moment to return, your sister throwing herself down onto her bed the second she was in the room.

“Whew,” she exhaled. “Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys.”

John rolled his eyes at your sister’s antics.

“Get it?” he asked Dean, and Dean nodded.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a paper bag.

Inside the bag was a glass bottle full of red liquid which he handed to his father.

John nodded, eyeing it carefully.

“You know what to do.”

You were waiting with John in the treeline as Dean used himself as bait, pretending to look for at something under the hood of the impala.

You shifted your crossbow in your hands, trying to get used to the feel of it.

John shot you an irritated look, but you just clenched your jaw, side-eyeing him so he knew you weren’t taking his shit.

“Kate,” he murmured, nodding as a woman - a vampire - approached Dean.

“Car trouble?” she asked, and Dean turned to face her. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place.”

Dean smirked, looking her up and down as she walked closer.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” he told her, smiling tightly. “I usually draw the line at necrophilia.”

“Ooh,” she snarked, backhanding the smile from his face.

Another vampire approached from behind her.

Kate grabbed Dean’s jaw, lifting him up off of the ground.

He grabbed at her wrist, trying to keep his cocky composure.

“I don’t usually get this friendly until the second date, but…”

“You know, we could have some fun,” Kate suggested. “I always like to make new friends.”

She lowered him to her level, still firmly holding his jaw as she kissed him.

Your whole body tensed and you knew John could tell, as you raised your crossbow, ready to take aim.

“Not yet,” he mumbled, and you huffed in frustration, keeping your weapon raised.

“Oh, whuf,” Dean shook his head as much as he could under her hold. “Sorry, I don’t usually stay with one chick that long. Definitely not an eternity.”

You lost your cool, firing an arrow into the other vampire without a second thought of asking John’s permission.

“For fuck’s sake,” John grumbled, shooting Kate through the chest.

She looked down, letting go of Dean as she saw the arrowhead sticking out of her. “Damnit.”

You and John emerged from the treeline, walking towards them.

“It barely even stings,” Kate snarked, and John smiled sarcastically back at her.

“Give it time, sweetheart,” he assured her. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

She looked surprised before she began to waver on her feet, losing consciousness as she fell to the ground.

“Load her up,” John instructed, nodding to the other vampire. “I’ll take care of this one.”

You turned to face him just in time to witness him pull out his machete and decapitate the creature.

You were standing, watching a campfire burn in front of you while Dean spoke to John on the other side of the fire.

You were pretty sure that they thought you couldn’t hear them through the crackle of the fire as you attempted to cover yourself in the scent of the mixture added to the fire - ‘Dust yourself with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected’ - so you stayed quiet, not wanting to intrude.

“You know,” John began, staring at the fire but talking to his son. “You and Sam hunting with your girlfriends… it’s not gonna end well.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You said it yourself, to Kate,” John expanded. “You’ve never been good at just one girl.”

You felt Dean’s eyes on you, but you stayed focused on the flickering flames.

“We moved around all the time, I didn’t get a chance,” he countered. “Y/N comes with me everywhere. It’s different.”

John shook his head. “It’s not a good idea, son.”

Dean swallowed, his eyes still on you as you shoved your hands in your pockets.

“Why not?”

“Because you and Sam, you’ll put yourself in danger to save them,” he clarified. “You’re not going to put yourself first anymore.”

Dean scoffed, finally taking his eyes off of you. “I never did.”

John frowned at him, waiting for him to expand.

“Sam was always my first priority, Dad,” he told his father. “I’ve never looked out for number one over everything else. This is no different.”

“Dean-”

“Look, I appreciate your concern,” Dean interrupted. “I get it, I do. But I know what I’m doing.”

Dean left his father’s side, walking around the fire to stand next to you in a silent display of solidarity.

“You sure they’ll come after Kate?” he asked, and John nodded, walking towards the two of you.

“Yeah, vampires mate for life,” he explained. “She means more to the leader than the gun. Luther will come for her. But the blood sickness is gonna wear off soon so you don’t have a lot of time.”

“Half an hour oughta do it,” Dean agreed.

“And then I want you to get Sam and Jessica and leave the area as fast as you can.”

“Dad,” Dean shook his head. “You can’t take care of them all yourself.”

“I’ll have Kate,” he answered. “And the Colt.”

“But after,” Dean insisted. “We’re gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together, right?”

John had the decency to break eye contact as his silence drew on.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” you accused. “You still want to go after the demon alone. You know, I don’t get you. You can’t treat us like this.”

He looked back at you, narrowing his eyes in a challenge. “Like what?”

“Like children,” you finished, and John laughed.

“Dean and Sam are my children,” he reminded you. “I’m trying to keep you all safe.”

“Dad, all due respect but, uh, that’s a bunch of crap,” Dean told his father plainly.

Both you and John looked at him, surprised.

“Excuse me?” John breathed.

“You know what we’ve been hunting,” Dean told him. “Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can’t be that worried about keeping us safe.”

John shook his head. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Then what is it?” Dean pressed. “Why do you want us out of the big fight?”

“This demon?” John exclaimed, motioning to your stomach; your scars. “It’s a bad son of a bitch. I can’t make the same moves if I’m worried about keeping you alive.”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “You mean you can’t be reckless.”

John sighed.

“Look, I don’t expect to make it out of this fight in one piece,” he admitted, looking at Dean. “Your mother’s death… it almost killed me. I can’t watch my children die, too. I won’t.”

“And what happens if you die?” Dean shot back. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we could’ve done something about it? You know, I’ve been thinking. I think maybe they’re right about this one. We should do this together.”

You nodded as Dean wrapped his arm around you, cementing your stance as a united front.

“We’re stronger together, Dad,” Dean reaffirmed. “As a family. We just are, you know it.”

There was a pause and you held your breath, sure that Dean was doing the same as you waited for John’s response.

“We’re running out of time,” John finally announced. “You do your job, get your brother, and get out of the area. That’s an order.”

Dean looked down, dejected, and you slid your arm around his waist as you glared at his father.

“Hey,” you murmured, pulling Dean closer and making him look at you. “Let’s go kill some vampires.”

He huffed a small laugh as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, letting the kiss linger a little longer than necessary.

John was right about the ash masking your scent. You and Dean were able to quickly get in and out of the barn, decapitating the vampires and freeing the civilians from the cages they were being kept in.

“We’re not really gonna leave your dad, right?” you asked as you got back to the car, and Dean shook his head.

“Old man doesn’t know what’s good for him.”

Dean grabbed the crossbow from the trunk, and the two of you made your way on foot to the treeline on the side of the road, to where you knew John would be facing off with Luther.

You got there just in time to see the vampire knocking John to the ground.

Dean fired the crossbow, hitting one of the vampires through the chest, the two of you rushing forward as he lined up another shot.

You moved towards Luther, machete in hand, before his backhanded slap knocked you off your feet.

You gasped for breath as he pulled you up into a headlock, his arm putting pressure on your windpipe as Dean grabbed your discarded machete from the ground.

“Don’t!” Luther shouted. “I’ll break her neck. Put the blade down.”

For a moment, Dean did nothing. Luther tightened his hold on your neck further, completely cutting off your air supply, and Dean instantly dropped the blade.

“You people,” Luther spat. “Why can’t you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

John’s voice came from behind you, and Luther span to face him.

John raised the Colt, shooting the vampire right between the eyes.

Luther let go of you, and you stumbled towards Dean, gasping for breath.

Dean helped you to stay on your feet, pulling you behind him and using his body like a human shield.

Luther stumbled, a flash of light reflecting in his skull before he fell to his knees.

Kate screamed out in horror, as he slumped to the ground, dead.

She started towards John, fury coursing in her veins, until another of the pack grabbed her and pulled her towards their car.

They took off, wheels screeching as they sped into the distance.

Before John had a chance to say anything, Dean was tucking you up under his arm and leading you back towards the barn - towards the impala.

“You okay?” he asked, voice gruff.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning into him and rubbing your neck as you walked. “Thanks.”

He pressed a kiss into your hairline.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured. “Let’s get back to the motel and rest.”

You’d just changed into your pyjamas - one of Dean’s shirts this time because he didn’t like seeing you in Sam’s - when John knocked on the motel door.

Sam let him in, and Dean stood in front of you protectively as he entered the room.

John folded his arms, looking between the two of you for a moment before speaking.

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he told you, and you nodded.

“Yes sir.”

“Yeah but we saved your ass,” Dean shot back, and you looked at him, surprised.

Dean looked just as shocked, swallowing thickly as John watched him carefully.

“You’re right,” John admitted after a while, causing Sam and Jess to stop whatever they were doing and watch the exchange.

“I am?” Dean asked, and John sighed.

“It scares the hell outta me, you and Sammy are all I’ve got,” he admitted, looking between his sons as Sam came to stand beside his brother. “But I guess we are stronger as a family.”

You shot a glance at your sister, finding her watching at you with the same concerned expression.

“And the girls?” Dean asked, reaching back to take your hand

John nodded slowly, his eyes flitting to your hands before looking at his son again.

“Like I said, we’re stronger as a family,” he repeated. “So, we go after this damn thing. Together.”

All four of you were taken aback, nodding and answering in unison.

“Yes sir.”

John nodded, turning to leave the room for his own.

“Get some rest,” he told you, opening the door. “I’ll tell you everything I know tomorrow.”

Leave some feedback! Next episode: Salvation - coming 4/11/17

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