#like I don’t know how to communicate how little I’ve slept since I was seven months pregnant

[lepus-arcticus]

..

[gureishi]

I really love your writing! Could I request #2 for Saeyoung? Perhaps a hurt/comfort :)

Ohhhh, thank you so much!! That makes me really happy to hear ♡

And here is the fic! I think a lot about making Saeyoung go to sleep and honestly don’t know how I’ve never written this scenario before. Darling sleepy overworked boy.

two: fall into your arms again

SaeyoungXReader, T, words: 1764

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You’re dreaming of driving when he calls you—it’s a recurring nightmare of yours, where you’re at the wheel and suddenly you realize the car has no brakes. The ringtone makes its way into your dream, and you’re panicking, you’re panicking—where is the phone, why can’t you stop the car?

You wake abruptly, eyes flying open in the way they sometimes do after a nightmare. The phone is still ringing. You scramble for it and find it tangled in the sheets.

You squint at the screen: it’s after three in the morning.

“H-hello?” You yawn as you answer, your head falling back against the pillow.

“Ohh…did I wake you up? I guess I lost track of time,” he laughs, but it sounds forced. You push yourself up a little in bed.

“Saeyoung, are you okay? Did something happen?” There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. Things have just finally started to go well.

“No, no!” He’s too loud, too enthusiastic. “We’re okay! Saeran is asleep.”

“Saeyoung, it’s almost four in the morning.”

He yelps. “Really? I didn’t even notice! I’m sorry, babe. Ignore me and go back to sleep. Please.”

You sigh, sitting all the way up, propping the pillows behind your head. “Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“God Seven is bothered by nothing! God Seven was just doing some work and wanted to hear his kitty cat’s cute voice! Ha-hah!”

“Saeyoung…”

“Activate kitty communication mode! Meow! Meow? Meeooow!”

He’s too adorable—his distraction tactics are too good. Once upon a time, you would’ve given it to it, would’ve let him ramble nonsensically until he wore himself out. You know better now.

“Saeyoung, when was the last time you slept?”

You hear him counting to himself. “Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…twenty-six, twenty-seven…” Oh no. “Forty-four hours ago!” he sings triumphantly.

“Saeyoung!”

“Whaaat?”

“Forty-four hours ago was when I last spent the night. You haven’t slept since then?”

“Nooope. But it’s okaaaay! God Seven can work for much longer without sleeping because it’s what he was programmed to do!” He draws out his syllables, speaking in a sing-song.

“Hey. Stop. Listen to me.” You know he hears the frustration in your voice because he shuts up right away. “You do not work for the agency anymore. Even Saeran is sleeping right now, like a normal person. You do not need to work through the night anymore.”

“But I do,” he says. His voice sounds a little more subdued now. “The agency may be done, but there’s still so much cleanup work to do. There’s so many loose ends. If I’m resting, they’re tracking Saeran, tracking Vanderwood, tracking you… I can’t—”

“No,” you say. “Uh-uh.” You’re already slipping out of bed, groping around in the dark for some sweatpants. “I know there’s still work to do and I know you’re worried about keeping us safe. And you can do that work. After you’ve slept for eight hours.”

He laughs and it sounds almost like a sob. “I’ve just found him,” he says, so quietly you can barely hear him. “I’ve just got him back. If anything happens to him…”

“I know,” you say. “I know, babe. But none of that matters if you work yourself to death in the process.”

You’ve got pants, you’ve got shoes. You grab a jacket and the keys to the rental car Saeyoung insisted on paying for so you wouldn’t be reliant on him while he was holed up in his bunker with Saeran.

“Hah,” he says. “It would take a lot more than a few hours of work to kill me.”

You’re outside, the cool air bracing you, waking you the rest of the way up.

“I’d like you one hundred percent alive instead of just barely hanging on,” you tell him.

You throw open the car door with perhaps slightly too much force.

He hesitates. “What was…are you outside?”

“Yes. I’m coming over.”

“You—g-gah, what?!” He sounds frantic. You hear a crash—almost as if he’s sweeping something (realistically, a pile of junk food) off his desk.

“I’m coming over right now and putting you to bed. If you don’t want me to stay, I won’t, but you are going to sleep one way or another,” you say. You start the car and you know he hears it through the phone—you’re not playing around.

“I’m perfectly capable of—” he whines.

“Thirty minutes. Love you,” you say, and hang up before he can respond.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

You get there in no time because the roads are empty. He’s cleverly disabled the car’s built-in GPS so that the rental company can never access any of the data, never pinpoint his address (not that his bunker actually has an address). It doesn’t matter: you know the way by heart.

You give the password that will let you into the garage, park, and peer into the retinal scanner by the door—he’s added this feature for you, only for you. The door welcomes you by name and swings open with a soft click.

The bunker feels bigger and emptier at night; it’s completely dark except for the tiny ray of light coming from his office door, which is cracked open just a hair. You sigh. You’d had hope—just a little—that knowing you were coming would guilt him into just going to bed already. But he is stubborn.

You pad across the huge living room and knock gently on his door. He knows you’re here, of course—he’s probably been watching you on the cameras ever since you pulled into the driveway. But just in case—he’s not someone you want to ever catch off guard.

“Hi,” he says softly—his voice sounds far away. You push open the door.

“Oh, Saeyoung…”

His office is never exactly tidy, but this is a disaster zone.

There are chip bags and other assorted wrappers strewn over the desk and on the floor around it. Several creepy, half-built robots lay at odd angles on the couch and floor, as if he’s been fiddling with them as he works and then tossing them aside—one blinks eerily at you with its single eye. There are clothes thrown over the couch and the backs of his various desk chairs, as though he’s been managing to periodically change outfits without ever setting foot in his bedroom.

And there he is, your precious, anxious, manic boy, sitting in his chair with his knees pulled up to his chest, hunched over his desk, fingers still moving over the keys even as he turns to look at you.

“You didn’t have to come,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“That’s a crappy greeting for your favorite person in the world who just drove here in the middle of the night,” you say, but you’re not not really angry at him—how could you be, when he’s in this state? You cross the room, stepping over the piles of junk. Up close, he looks terrible—there are dark circles under his eyes and he has that pale, hollow look he gets when he goes too long without seeing the sun.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Bright, wonderful people like you should be asleep at this time of night.”

“Everyone should be asleep at this time of night,” you tell him. You brush the messy, tangled hair off his forehead and kiss him on the cheek. He closes his eyes for a moment, humming contentedly; then he reaches for you, tilting his head up for a proper kiss. 

“Nuh-uh,” you say, and he deflates, pouting. “Find a stopping point—the first possible stopping point. Then you are going to bed.”

“Orrrrr…” he murmurs, nuzzling his head against your waist. One hand trails up your leg, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Saeyoung.”

“Fiiiine.” He reluctantly spins his chair around, types another line. “You go get in the bed,” he says, eyes on the screen. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Nope.” You cross your arms and sit on the couch, moving aside half of a robot dragon. “I don’t trust you.”

He makes a sound somewhere between a hiss and a groan and starts typing more quickly. Good. If he’s motivated to finish faster because you’re now losing sleep, then so be it. At least he’s stopping.

The sound of his typing soothes you. You fiddle with the little dragon—it will be very cute, once he builds the other side of its head. His typing slows. He hits a few more keys. You recognize the sounds of him finishing up—god knows how much collective time you’ve spent listening to him work.

“Okay,” he says at last, and you look up to see him getting out of his chair, a little clumsily.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

You skip to him and grab his hand. “Bedtime,” you say seriously, tugging him behind you: through the door, down the hall. He laughs, and it’s the most genuine he’s sounded all night. You throw open the door to his room and take a running leap onto the bed. He’s still laughing, watching you from the doorway with warm eyes.

“Come,” you say, wriggling yourself into the blankets, holding out your arms to him. Obediently, he shuts the door and comes to you, falling headfirst onto the messy pile of pillows and blankets and you. He groans quietly, his shoulder muscles finally relaxing. You pull him toward you and he settles his head onto your chest.

“S’feels nice,” he slurs, snuggling into you. You see how hard the exhaustion is hitting him now that he’s closed his eyes; you make a snug nest of blankets around him, tucking them up to his neck.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper. “You can rest now.”

“Mmmmmm but…” His words are hard to make out, his voice already thick with sleep. “But there are soooo many other things we could be doing…in this bed…”

He tries to lift an arm, vaguely brushing his fingertips over your neck. You giggle.

“Shhhh, love. Maybe in the morning,” you tell him. You kiss the top of his head, nuzzling your nose into his messy, sweet-smelling hair. He doesn’t respond. “Babe?”

His head is heavy on your chest. You feel his breath on your neck, slow and steady. You smile to yourself—he’s already asleep.

So you wrap your arms tightly around him and close your eyes, head propped on top of his. You are a mess of blankets and limbs and heartbeats and you feel impossibly, indescribably safe. “Goodnight, Saeyoung,” you whisper.

[angsty-prompt-hole]

Heads Up, Seven Up

Thanks for the tag, @onthetipofmyquill!

I’m just gonna post an excerpt since my seven make absolutely no sense without context lmao. And also I have been dying to post Winter Hollow stuff on this blog and I had this little short story thing I’ve been working on involving it.

There’s an urban legend where I’m from. I’m not sure how it started or when, but most everyone in my small town knew the story. It was almost uncanny how well everyone’s different versions matched up, and I wondered for a long time whether that was because of how small our community was, or if there was something else going on here. I don’t ask myself that question anymore.

The story goes something like this:

Somewhere deep in the forest, there’s an old mining town. It’s not like any of the other old mining towns though. This town, called Winter Hollow after the founding Winterholler Mining Company, was burned to the ground in the winter of 1974. Yet, some people have reported that when they went to explore the town, all of the buildings were intact. In fact, there were even people living there. However, something seemed off, and it all got even worse the longer you stayed in Winter Hollow. You would start to see the landscape changing around you. A highway would appear going through the center of town, and the woods you had hiked through to get there were now desert plains where cattle and other livestock grazed. Some of the residents in the town would start urging you to leave while you still could, but you would catch others watching you, almost hungrily. And then…

The story can end in only one way, obviously. The townsfolk kill you, sacrificing you to their great horned god. Sometimes they would also eat you. Some people would embellish the story, giving the townsfolk names, or adding in a radio station that broadcast out weird messages that made no sense. When I was younger, the parents of the community would tell a version of the story where there were weird animals lingering in the woods, waiting to snatch you up. None of us kids ever admitted to believing it, but I know some of us were successfully scared out of solo adventures in the woods for a while.

This legend was just that for most of my life, a legend. When I hit college, though, it became much more than that.

I’d always been passionate about the outdoors, and the forest was one of my favorite places on earth, so when it came time to pick a degree, obviously I picked natural resources. However, it turns out natural resources involves a lot more math than I was anticipating, and since I had nearly failed all of my high school math classes, I ended up having to take a bunch of extra math classes in order to meet the prerequisites for the stuff I actually cared about.

The first semester of my sophomore year the math class was statistics. Around the 5th day of the semester this kid sat next to me in class, a guy I had never seen before. He was about average in every respect except for the fact that he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and that his eyes were the most vivid green I’ve ever seen in my life.

This is an open tag for anyone who wants to do it!

[taxicabinmemphis]

Janus gets a snake!! Maybe it's a human au and his partner adopted it with him and they're living together, maybe someone gave him one as a surprise (this could be human or not. Maybe they just conjured it.) The possibilities are endless, but I need Janus with a snake

it is a common fact that I can’t write anything without two people being cute with each other so this is gonna be shippy

tw food, swearing

Janus picked up the box. It had a lot of minuscule holes in it and was sealed tightly with tape. Janus looked up at his best friend with a raised eyebrow, pulling his pocket knife out of his pocket and cutting the tape covering the box. He went to open the flaps, but a scarred hand met his elbow to halt his movements.

"Be careful, Snexy," Remus warned, "this birthday present moves."

Janus slowly turned back to the box, and as cautious and slow as ever, opened the flaps. His eyes widened and he flinched when a blur that looked like a large, bright yellow noodle flung itself his way.

Janus fell to the floor and slid away from his two-eyed, squiggly birthday present and into the wall behind him. His eyes widened as he realized he was cornered and was too distracted by the fear of being devoured by a yellow power cord to register the implications of Remus' wickedly delighted laughter.

He was only able to bring the pool noodle into focus when it crawled onto his left arm. He would have flinched at the boundary violation, but he was frozen in fear. When the longest piece of penne pasta stilled, he was able to see that he was much closer with the power cord analogy than the pool noodle. A somewhat small yellow snake a little more than twice the thickness of a power cord was coiled around his arm and was looking at him with dark brown eyes too innocent-looking to belong to a reptile.

Janus swallowed, his relief that it wasn’t anything he had a phobia of not showing too well on his face. He stared into the snake’s eyes, its innocence not preventing it from looking like it was gazing into the depths of Janus’ soul.

“You got me a snake.”

“Yep!” Remus exclaimed happily, laughter calming down. “One that is just like you! Small, yellow, and brown eyes.”

“Yes, Remus, my scales are definitely yellow. It’s not like they’re green or anything.” Janus rolled his eyes, electing not to comment on the “small” jab of Remus’ remark so as not to provoke him into a session of height-teasing.

“Irrelevant,” Remus dismissed, bounding towards them. “Do you like it?”

Janus bit his lip. “I will have to decide as we get to know each other better. Though, considering it was you who conjured it, my hopes aren’t too high.”

“Virgil and Roman helped me, actually. I mentioned my present idea to them and they didn’t want you to be stuck with an annoying snake or whatever, so they helped me to make sure the snake wouldn’t be too unbearable or disturbing.”

“How kind of them.”

Footsteps were heard descending the staircase, prompting the two dark sides to turn. Patton was standing at the bottom of the steps and looked as though he was trying to figure out what was going on.

“I got Janus a snake for his birthday!” Remus told him cheerily.

Patton visibly paled. “That’s...awesome, kiddo! I hope the opening of the present didn’t rattle Janus too badly.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Brilliant, Patton, truly. And no, I’m fine.”

Remus scoffed. “You’re on the floor like a-”

“Anyway,” Janus interrupted, getting to his feet, “what can we do for you, Patton?”

Patton shook his head. “I just heard the noise and came to check things out.”

Janus nodded and looked at his arm. Despite Janus standing up, the snake was still coiled around his arm and was now looking up at him.

“Does your snake have a name yet?” Patton asked excitedly, walking over to where Janus was but keeping a substantial distance.

Janus shook his head, indicating a negative. “Definitely. It’s not like I just got him or anything.”

Patton gasped, putting his hands over his mouth. “I’ve got it! Let’s name him Jake the Snake.”

“So my snake is just a tool for alliteration for you?”

Patton made a sound of offense. “I just think it’s cute.”

“And I seem like the type to give my snake such a name?”

Patton gave a small laugh and shook his head. “No, but it would be fun! It’s not like you have a better name.”

Janus narrowed his eyes playfully at Patton. “Watch me find one.”

---

Pamela the Snake had adjusted to Janus’ room nicely, for an atypical species of pet. While annoying at times (quite often), Janus had created an attachment to the yellow nuisance. The two serpentine figments of the imagination were now perfecting semi-telepathic communication.

(You see, Remus is this exhausting thing called “extra” about 784% of the time and told Janus that if they worked at it, he and Pamela could communicate through means of telepathy and minimal hissing.)

Janus didn’t like to trap Pamela in one place, and he could tell his snake felt similarly. So, Pamela slept in a terrarium, but either roamed around Janus’ room or coiled around his neck or limb(s) during the day.

‘Janusssssss, get a ssssnack.’

‘I’m working, Pamela. And dinner was two hours ago.’

‘Take a break. sssss.’

‘Fine.’

Janus stepped away from his laptop and sunk out of his room, Pamela coiled around his shoulder. He walked into the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to see that the large bag of pretzels Virgil had opened earlier was not yet finished. He got a bowl from a cabinet and poured in some pretzels. He spotted Roman approaching from his peripheral vision.

Janus picked up his bowl of pretzels and greeted Roman with a half-smile.

“Greetings, Janus!” Roman said loudly.

“Hello.”

“Is Pamela with you? Should I greet them too?”

Janus nodded. “Pamela is on my shoulder.”

“Hi, Pamela!”

‘Hi, Roman. sss’

“They say hi.”

Roman grinned happily and went into the kitchen as Janus left it.

‘How is Remussssssssssss? I wanna sssssssay hi.’

‘He’s alright. We will see him for game night in fifteen minutes.’

‘Okay. sssss’

Janus diverted his focus from his conversation with Pamela to find Logan descending the staircase.

“Salutations, Janus.”

“Good evening, Logan.”

‘Hi, Logan. How hassssss your day been?’

‘Logan can’t hear you.’

‘But he can hear you. ssss’

“I hear your hissing. Is Pamela trying to say something?”

Janus sighed, annoyed at his snake. “Yes. They want to know how your day has been.”

At this, Pamela uncoiled from Janus’ shoulder and slithered on top of his hat. They then slithered as far off the hat and in Logan’s direction as they could, looking at him with expectant eyes.

Logan tilted his head up to meet Pamela’s gaze. “My day has been satisfactory, Pamela, and I hope yours has been similar.”

‘Ssss thank you, Logan.’

“They say thanks.”

Pamela leaned their head close to Janus’ ear.

‘Kissssssssss him.’

Janus’ mouth dropped. ‘What? What are you talking about?? No!’

‘You know you want to. ssss’

‘No, no I don’t!’

‘Why not? I told you to get a ssssnack. There’s one right here.’

Janus sputtered. ‘Many reasons!’

‘Pssssss Logan. Janusssssss wantssss to kissssss you.’

‘If you think I’m relaying that to him, you’ve got another thing coming, Pamela.’

Logan put a hand over his mouth, and Janus could see his eyes crinkle. Was he smiling?

“Does your snake have something to say to me, Janus?”

Janus huffed. “No. Not at all.”

‘I don’t, but you do. Ssssssso tell him.’

“I think that may be false.”

Janus put a hand to his forehead, looking at Logan through his fingers. He could now see from the way Logan’s eyes were alight and the hand that had moved a couple of inches away from his mouth so he could speak that Logan was indeed smiling. Janus swallowed, knowing his embarrassing conversation with his snake was almost definitely the reason for that.

‘Pretty Logan sssssmile.’

‘If you’re so keen on him then you kiss him.’

‘I’m a sssssssnake, you moron. ssss’

Janus groaned into his hand, trying to give Logan a look that could make him pity Janus and set him free from this conversation.

“Is Pamela troubling you, Janus?”

“Very much so. Would it be alright if I permanently relinquished care of them to you?”

‘Villain! sss’

“I don’t think Pamela would be fond of that idea.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Maybe not. All the better; make them miserable.”

‘If you kissssssssed him you could ssssshare cussssstody.’

‘For the last time, I do not want to kiss Logan. I do not see him that way.’

‘Asssss your love would sssay, falssssssssehood.’

Janus wasn’t able to dignify that with a response because Logan took a few steps closer to the pair. He made eye contact with Pamela.

“You clearly have something to say. Is Janus unwilling to relay it to me?”

Pamela stuck their tongue out at Logan in a hiss and slithered their head up and down.

“Ah. Janus, you seem to be making Pamela,” he pulled out a flashcard, “angy. In order to properly deal with this, I would suggest telling me what they have to say so you can eat your pretzels without any disturbance.”

Putting Logan’s adorable flashcards and uses of modern slang that made Janus want to pepper kisses across his entire face aside, Janus was annoyed that this conversation had yet to be over. He, a master of deception, figured that it would be wise to craft a lie that would satisfy Logan and get him out of here.

“They’re offering you pretzels. I don’t want to give you any, though.”

‘Sss liar. sss’

Logan exhaled. “Well, that is very kind of you, Pamela. Since they are Janus’ pretzels and he wishes to keep them to himself, I think I will pass.”

“Great,” Janus said quickly.

‘Look how hot and ssssse-’

Janus’ face paled. “Bye!”

He raced past Logan and up the staircase.

---

Logan tapped his pen to his chin. Over the past week, he’d had several interactions with Janus and Pamela that occupied his mind, starting with the pretzel incident seven days before. Throughout these interactions, Pamela and Janus seemed to hiss angrily at each other, and Janus refused to translate. This worried Logan, and while at first he was fooled, he worried that something else was going on. After all, most of these interactions ended awkwardly and even the oblivious Logan could tell that Janus was trying to avoid him. While their interactions over the week needed two hands to number, that was over a seven day period and they lived in the same area. Logan had interacted with Roman probably thirty times or more in the past week. Logan could only count six with Janus.

More than that, Janus was clearly trying to cut their interactions short. One time when Janus had looked particularly uncomfortable, he straight-up ran out of the conversation without so much as a goodbye and didn’t even let himself be seen by Logan for the entirety of the following day. There was no other way to interpret his behavior except that he was ignoring him.

Not to mention, Pamela had been hissing in every single one.

Was the snake trying to convince Janus to insult him? Did Pamela know of malice Janus held for him that Logan didn’t?

Logan was startled from his thoughts when Virgil appeared in his room.

“Hey, dude. I can hear anxiety coming from here.” Virgil conjured a chair and dragged it to Logan’s desk, sitting beside him. He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist. “I rarely feel anxiety from you, so I thought I’d check things out. What’s up?”

“You have confused me, Virgil. I do not feel any anxiety,” Logan said genuinely.

Virgil made a noise communicating doubt. “I know I didn’t hear wrong. Here, how about you tell me what’s on your mind and I’ll see if I can spot any anxiety in your thoughts?”

Logan nodded. “That seems adequate. I do believe I may need another intelligent mind to help me make sense of these findings.”

Virgil bit his lip at the compliment. “I’m happy to help, L.”

Logan nodded and turned to face Virgil properly. “So, it’s about Janus.”

“Snake dude.”

“Yes. About a month ago, Remus gave him a snake, Pamela. Recently, Janus and Pamela have been communicating through telepathy via hissing that no one else can understand. This has been fine until about a week ago when they started hissing at each other anytime Janus and I would interact. The hissing seems to be angry on Janus’ part, he won’t translate for me, and he ends up ending the conversation awkwardly and then running off.”

Virgil frowned. “That’s weird. Maybe Pamela is insulting Janus or something?”

Logan shook his head. “I’ve heard and seen him interact with people like Patton with no trouble at all. Whenever Pamela hisses, he’ll translate, and that’s that. Unless you have had similar-”

“No. Whenever Pamela hisses when Janus and I are talking, he translates. We haven’t had any awkward interactions in a while since Janus is usually good at keeping things from getting awkward.”

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Then what could they be saying?”

“Did you think of anything? If you tell me what you’ve brainstormed so far, I can tell you if any of those can be sources of anxiety.”

“Well, my first thought was that Pamela was trying to get Janus to insult me, or knew of concealed malice Janus held for me. Could that elicit anxiety?”

Virgil snorted. “Of course. Your brain is mistakenly telling you that Janus hates you.”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Logan defended. “Considering how he has been ignoring me, it is a logical conclusion.”

“Yeah, but I think the more logical conclusion to make is that Pamela is saying something related to you that is making him uncomfortable in your presence.”

Logan frowned. “I don’t like that either.”

Virgil laughed. “Why not? That’s their problem. They’ll sort things out and things’ll be back to normal between you two. It has nothing to do with you.”

“But it does! The only person Pamela is saying those things around is me!”

Virgil’s movements halted. “You really care about this, don’t you?”

“What?” Logan asked. He shook his head. “Certainly not. I simply want to make sure I haven’t upset Janus in any-”

“Bullshit,” Virgil said in a sing-song tone. “You care. I don’t kno-ohhhhhhhh.”

Virgil adopted a shit-eating grin and leaned his head closer to Logan with a shake of his head, wondering how he didn’t come to this conclusion sooner.

“What?”

Virgil snickered. “You like him.”

Logan shrugged. “Sure. He is an intelligent and intriguing side who does his job as Deceit in an acceptably functional manner and we have conversations I would consider intellectually stimulating. He is a fellow side, a fri-”

“No. You like him.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s what I just confirmed, Virgil.”

Virgil sighed. “No. Like as in, you probably want to back him against a wall and kiss the living daylights out of him. Maybe watch romantic documentaries together? Have a debate littered with sexual tension that ends in a make-out session? All of that? None? I don’t know what smart people do when in love.”

Logan’s mouth fell open. He started to stumble out a response. “I- No...that is a blatant lie-”

Virgil shook his head firmly. “Nope. It isn’t. I’m shocked I didn’t see it before. Looking back, I see the way you’ve looked at him, laughed at unfunny things he says, and smiled at him for no reason at all. You’re in love~”

Logan stared at him for a few minutes with a blank expression. He then put his head in his hands. “Oh my god, I am, aren’t I?”

Virgil awkwardly patted his back. “It’s okay...but yes, you are.”

Logan groaned. “And he hates me.”

Virgil drew back. “What? No! Of course he doesn’t!”

“How would you know? His actions seem to be communicating that he does.”

Virgil pursed his lips, thinking. “If I see any sign of hatred, or lack thereof, in any of your conversations in the near future, I will tell you. Okay?”

Logan nodded.

“Okay. I’ll leave you to your pining, Logan.”

---

Pamela would not shut up around Logan, and frankly, Janus wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take. They were constantly hissing about how hot Janus must think he was (essspecially in that outfit, Janusss, that sshirt is making you go crazy, I’m ssssure of it), telling Janus to kiss him, among other things. Janus could not keep his cool around Logan and always had to leave. He knew he wouldn’t act on Pamela’s suggestions, but they still prompted embarrassment and a desire to escape Logan’s presence.

So, for the past week, he had been trying to ignore Logan as best he could. He predicted his typical meal times, breaks, and when he would normally get water based on observations he had made throughout their friendship (for totally not gay at all reasons) and tried his best to stay in his room during those times. Of course, there was margin for error and days where he wasn’t as adamant to escape Logan as others, but he managed to have a full week of having only six interactions with him.

Did Janus miss him? Maybe. Did Pamela miss Logan? Definitely. Did either of those facts matter? Not in the slightest. Janus was fine with only keeping constant contact with four of his five fellow sides. And things would’ve continued to be fine if it weren’t for fucking Pamela.

‘I wanna sssssee Logan, Janussss, go talk to him. ss’

‘Not unless you behave. We’ve already had thisss talk and you alwayss sssay ssomething out of line, even if you promisssed not to beforehand.’

‘But I wanna ssssee him, and sssssso do you.’

‘I do not!’

‘Yesssssss.’

‘How would you know, anyway, if I did?’

‘Caussse you’re not ssssubtle about it.’

‘I take great offenssse to that.’

‘You sssssshould.’

Janus grumbled out some incomprehensible nonsense, electing to get some dry cereal for a snack. Pamela wrapped themself around Janus’ neck and rested their head over Janus’ ear. Janus sunk out of his room and appeared at the bottom of the staircase, where he then made to the kitchen. He poured some dry cereal into a bowl and headed for the sofa, deciding to eat there.

About halfway through his bowl of grainy dryness, he spotted with terrified eyes, Logan walking down the staircase. He realized he didn’t check his list of times Logan was normally in the kitchen or living room, and that now was one of those times. He wondered bitterly if a part of him purposely forgot just so he could see Logan again, for the first time in twenty-eight hours.

‘Go talk to him. sss’

Janus opened his mouth to respond, but closed it and looked to his food when Logan’s head started to turn in his direction. Janus took another bite of his dry cereal, pretending like he didn’t notice Logan’s presence.

Janus heard footsteps making their way over to his spot.

‘I don’t think I’ll have a choice, Pam.’

The footsteps stopped. “Good afternoon, Janus.”

Janus looked up and plastered on a small smile.

‘Oh my gosssssh look at that outfit, Janusssssss, you must think he issss ssssso hot!’

“Hello, Logan.”

Janus turned back to his cereal to take another bite.

‘You’re a rude friend. ssss’

‘Bold of you to assssume I’m a friend.’

‘Logan deservesssss better.’

‘Indeed.’

Pamela angrily hissed at Janus.

“How has your day been, Janus?”

Janus looked back to Logan. “As well as a day can be with a snake hovering nearby all the time.”

Logan gave him an amused smile. “It can’t be too terrible. I’ve heard Patton say he would love having a pet that talked to him.”

“I think even he would get tired of Pamela.”

“That bad, hmm?”

Janus chuckled as another hiss sounded loudly in his left ear. “At times. They’re fine a lot of the time, but they’ve also been rather annoying over certain topics.”

“At least it’s not all the time.”

“It feels like it.”

‘Tell him you love him. ss’

‘I will not.’

Logan’s eyes finally spotted Pamela. “What’re they saying, if I may?”

“Nothing of importance.”

‘Are you kidding? I am the mossst important thing in your life right now, but it would be Logan if you weren’t a coward. ssss’

Logan frowned, noticing that no matter how stupid something was, Janus would always translate what Pamela was saying to him with any other person. “Are you sure? Pamela seems quite incessant.”

‘I am! Your boy isss quite attentive. ssss’

‘He’sss not my boy, nor is he a boy, conssssidering he is an adult. Sstop.’

“They are indeed being incessant. It doesn’t mean it is of any importance.”

‘I think you sssshould take him out on a date tonight. You’ve done all the work you need to already, and you need to make up for the rudenesssss you’re dissssplaying right now. ss’

Janus stood promptly, bowl in hand. “Thank you for your concern, Logan. However, I have a bunch of work left to do today, and I need to return to it.”

He started to sink out, but Logan’s hand clasped around his wrist and pulled him back up. He took the cereal from Janus’ hand and set it on the table. Janus looked at him with wide eyes.

“Apologies, Janus, I did not mean to catch you so off guard,” said Logan, noticing Janus’ shock. “However, you have been avoiding me.”

“Where did you get that from?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I asked Virgil, and he said that he’s had normal, regular interactions with you over the past week. I can’t say I’ve seen you more than seven times.”

“Do you need to see me more often?” Janus asked.

“Um, well, no-” Logan stumbled. “But I was worried. Have I done something to offend you in any way? I sincerely apologize if I ha-”

“No, Logan, not at all,” Janus said, his voice suddenly softer. “You haven’t done anything of the sort and don’t need to apologize.”

‘Now look what you’ve done! He’ssss feeling guilty for no reassson, and it’ssss your fault. Maybe we sssshouldn’t be pursssuing him if you treat him like thisss.’

“Is Pamela saying something again?” Logan asked solemnly.

“Yeah,” Janus answered. ��They’re chastising me.”

Logan snorted. “I can’t imagine what for. Either way, I want to know your reasons for ignoring me.”

Janus put a hand on his neck, brainstorming good lies.

“I don’t want you to lie to me. If you lie, we can’t sort things out.”

Janus sighed, dropping his hand. He instead pondered the pros and cons of telling Logan the truth, that Pamela was trying to matchmake them.

“Does Pamela know something you feel towards me that I don’t?”

‘I told you you’re not fucking sssubtle.’

‘Who taught you sswear words???’

‘Remusssss.’

“Do you hate me?”

Janus was startled out of his conversation with Pamela at those words. He opened his mouth to respond but he was at a loss. He didn’t understand how Logan could ever think he hated him. Where did he go wrong?

“Ah. I see you are unwilling to respond. You don’t need to figuratively sugarcoat anything. I was simply curious. The improvement of our communication with each other depends on our understanding and sharing of the opinions we have regarding each other. Only then can we work together properly. I don’t mind. This will be good, so we no longer have any questions-”

Janus was too busy being worried over the future of his friendship with Logan to appreciate how cute he was when rambling. “I honestly don’t know know if you’re blind, insecure, and/or deaf but everything you’ve said in the past two minutes has been baseless and wrong.”

Logan stopped short, looking at Janus like a deer in headlights.

“...What?”

“You heard me. What, in all of our interactions, makes you think I hate you?”

“I...”

“I’m talking with Virgil more than I’m talking to you. Do you know how much Virgil and I used to hate each other, how much shit we’ve gone through? Yet, he and I are still talking normally. You really think that I hate you?”

“It was the logical conclusion from the facts at hand-”

“You were jumping to a conclusion based on cognitive distortions-”

“I resent that!”

Janus stopped to look at Logan’s face. He looked so indignant, impulsive, and so so very confused. Janus didn’t need Pamela for there to be a voice telling him to kiss Logan in that moment. Janus needed to approach this with more care than he was in the present. Logan had clearly been caught up about this.

“This is bothering you, huh?”

“I want our working relationship to be as functional as possible.”

Janus laughed with no humor, shaking his head. “No.” He exhaled. “You want me to tell you, Logan?”

Logan nodded.

Janus put a gloved hand on Logan’s shoulder and gently pushed him to sit on the sofa. Janus sat next to him.

He closed his eyes. “This will negatively affect our working relationship.”

“I imagine so, considering my conclusion came to be quite negative.”

“Not for that reason,” said Janus. “Pamela can read me like a picture book for infants. I do have feelings for you that you are unaware of. Pamela has been harassing me over it. Every time you and I have a conversation, they always implore me to do something that would ultimately end our friendship.”

“Pamela hates me?”

Janus shook his head, repressing a scoff at Logan’s obliviousness. “They always remind me of my desire to be in a romantic relationship with you and try to get me to act on that wish. The result is me feeling a bit...awkward. So, I leave.”

Logan’s lips parted. He didn’t respond for a couple of minutes.

Janus swallowed and nodded. He rose from the sofa and made to sink out. “It was nice being your friend, Logan, you’re a wond-”

Janus didn’t notice that Logan’s hand was still on his wrist. It was, and it tightened around his wrist for the second time in this interaction, stopping Janus from leaving. Logan turned his head to meet Janus’ eyes.

“I wasn’t aware you were able to feel the same.”

It was Janus’ turn to be taken by surprise. He searched Logan’s gaze for a lie, but he could see nor sense none. His hand covered his mouth and he sat back down.

Logan seemed to adjust to the new information, no longer being the one caught by surprise. He moved his free hand to the human side of Janus’ face, taking his hand from his mouth.

Logan made no move to hide that his gaze was fixated on Janus’ lips. “And the methods of acting on these feelings you have been encouraged to engage in...”

Janus caught his lips in a kiss. Logan kissed back, dropping Janus’ wrist to rest a hand on his scales, the other going around his waist.

They pulled apart after a minute, both of them smiling.

‘My work here isss done.’

‘Don’t you dare think you’re ever leaving my cussstody.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

Logan chuckled. “What is it?” He brushed a lock of Janus’ hair behind his ear.

“They’re happy for us.”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @merlinfreya27

~

Thanks for the prompt! I really loved writing this and there isn’t enough Loceit anywhere. I know this was probably supposed to be snake-fixated but I really liked the idea of the snake making Janus get his act together and kiss the boy. I hope you liked it!

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 1

Word Count: 2,683

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Ok so here is basically our introduction to the Bubble Wrapped story. I have no timeline for this thing or even if it will continue, you guys let me know. As a background, this story will be about life inside Hotel X. In case you don’t know the teams inside Hotel X are the Bruins, Capitals, Flyers, Penguins and Lightning. So here we go, Happy Reading!

You'd been shocked when Hotel X had been picked as one of the hotels for the NHL to stay at when they resumed play in Toronto. Even more so when you were asked if you would take over the management of the place over the next several weeks. "Listen (Y/N) we know we are asking a lot. You'll have to live at the hotel with all the players as the NHL is really trying to keep everyone in this little bubble."

 "I understand. I've already talked to Carly about putting different measures in place when the Maple Leafs came to us before submitting their proposal." Carly was another member of the hotel staff, that served as one of their concierges. She knew the ins and outs of the city and could get tickets or dinner reservations on the drop of a dime. That was all before COVID though. Now, some restaurants were still closed and shows hadn't resumed yet. What once was a bustling city, had come to a dead stop over the last several months, though things were starting to get back to normal; well the new normal that is.

 "So we heard." You hoped the blush that crept up your cheeks couldn't be seen on the zoom call as that had become their new form of communication with you. "You've dealt with the players before, we know you can handle it. Though this time it'll be completely different with five or six teams staying there." Most of the players had always been super nice to the staff, though there were a few that could be demanding at times. You prayed they'd all push their egos aside, at least while in the hotel, though somehow you doubted that. "I think you're familiar with the NHL's protocol on their reopening, but we'll email you everything once we get it. Start putting together the staff that you want. Just some core people that you'll need."

 "I've got the right people in mind, don't worry."

 The call went for a bit longer going over specifics. The only benefit out of the whole thing was that they were giving you the Presidential Suite to stay in. Honestly, it was the least they could do; you thought. Of course, the called ending with them saying, "Don't let us down."

 As soon as it ended you called Carly making sure she was on board. "I'm just saying Car that many hockey players in the hotel; the testosterone is going to be flying around."

 "So what you're telling me is you've already packed an extra-large box of condoms."

 "Carly!" You shouted at your friend. "That's not what I was saying at all."

 "Come on (Y/N), I know you're one of Seguin's regulars when he's in Toronto."

 "I'm one of them because I can keep my mouth shut." It was true that when Tyler was in town during the summer or on a road trip the two of you always hooked up. Sort of a no strings attached relationship, though you did talk from time to time. "Besides he's not even going to be in Toronto. He's in the Edmonton bubble."

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Carly despite being from Canada was not a hockey lover, though she did appreciate the men who played the sport. "Well, maybe you should call him and get the scoop. You know find out who we need to be aware of."

 It wasn't a bad idea, not that you were going to ask him who to sleep with, but maybe it would help get a handle on who was going to be problematic, as there was no way you wanted to let the owners of the hotel down. You had a lot riding on this and after all, you couldn't put bitter rivals in one hotel and not expect some drama. "You're right. I am going to call him."

 "Ooo good, let me know what he says and if we should get more than one box of those condoms."

 You shook your head at your friend before hanging up and dialing Tyler's number. "Hey beautiful, long time no talk," Tyler said and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

 "Hey Ty, how's quarantine life going?"

 "Ugh, don't get me started. I was not meant to be locked in my house without hockey for this long." Tyler wasn't meant to stay put anywhere too long, including relationships.

 "Well, hockey's almost back so there's that."

 "Yeah, I'm pumped about it, though I wish I was staying in Toronto instead. I know some fun that we could get up to since I have to stay in the bubble." He paused and you could clearly tell he was running different sex scenarios in his head. "I'm assuming your working at the hotel."

 "Yeah, it's kind of why I called. I'm one of the ones trapped in the bubble with you guys."

 Tyler groaned. "So, you called to ask me who you should hook up with? Cause babe, I'm not sure I'm willing to share you like that."

 "Shut up Ty, you know we're not like that. You couldn't stay faithful to one woman if you tried." Part of the reason the two of you got along so good, was the fact that you called him out on his bullshit.

 "I might if I could drag you with me everywhere." You giggled at the insinuation of being taken everywhere just so you could keep him satisfied. "You're definitely gifted with many talents (Y/N)."

 "You're not so bad yourself, but we're getting away from why I called."

 "You mean you didn't call to have phone sex with me," and you could hear his pout.

 "No, I didn't call for that. I was just curious if you had any idea who was going to give me problems while we're in this so-called bubble. I'm trying to be preemptive here."

 "Ok, but if I give you some information you at least have to promise to send me a pic of your tits." You mentally rolled your eyes at him; the boy was a horndog.

 "Fine, now spill some tea."

 "Spill some tea, what is this a gossip blog or something."

 "You're avoiding the question Ty, and I'm putting on a sweatshirt." He groaned.

 "Alright, don't get your panties in a bunch…or maybe do." It never ended with him. "I don't know a lot about some of the younger guys that are newer in the league, but my guess is they're all horny little bastards. Hell, I was when I first got in the league."

 "You still are."

 "Touché." He answered before continuing on. "So, like I probably don't have to mention the rivalries to you, but like Caps and Pens hate each other, the Flyers and Pens hate each other. Doesn't everyone just hate the Pens?"

 "I think you either love them or hate them."

 "That's true," he agreed with your statement. "The Flyers and the Caps hate each other as well and don't get me started with who hates the Bruins. Wow, who really put them all in your hotel?"

 "I'd like to know that as well." It seemed like whoever did, had a warped sense of humor and you were now going to be stuck handling the mess that they'd made. "So, basically what you're saying is that it'll be an all-out brawl at times that I'll have to clean up after."

 "Sorry babe, but I think it could be. On the bright side, we're supposed to stay on our own floors."

 "Like that's going to happen." Maybe you should designate elevators or something because you could just see Alex Ovechkin and Claude Giroux getting in one at the same time and by the time, they got to your lobby they'd both be bloody and beaten. "Anything else I should know?"

 "You seriously want me to go there?"

 "I mean...if you want to." You certainly weren't going to ask but if he offered the information you'd tuck it away for later that's for sure.

 He sighed heavily, "You know I hate this, but like Tom Wilson gets around that's for sure and I've heard that Travis Konecny does as well. If I'm being honest there's maybe been a girl or two that's compared us."

 "Really?"

 "That doesn't mean you have to be one of them, though if you are…you better tell them I'm better."

 "Don't worry Ty, I'll sing your praises. I promise." Obviously, you wouldn't be doing that but it didn't hurt to stroke his ego a bit. "Anyone, to avoid?"

 "Marchy!"

 "Dude, he was like one of your best friends. Why would you say that?"

 "Because I know him. Stay away he's trouble." The fact that you could almost see the look on his face as he was telling you was comical.

 "Fine."

 "Oh and stay away from Carter Hart." The name sounded familiar.

 "The goalie from Philly? Why?"

 "Because you'll corrupt him." You burst out laughing and Ty joined you. "He's too innocent for you."

 "Dually noted, as I do not want to be known as the corruptor of innocents." You searched your mind thinking of anything else you could ask since you had him on the phone. "What about Crosby?"

 "Sid?" and he just couldn't stop laughing; you could even hear him try to catch his breath.

 "Why is that so funny? The man is hot Tyler, whether you want to admit it or not."

 He got serious as he asked, "Who's hotter him or me?"

 Thank god you weren't on FaceTime, so you could answer him without your features giving you away. "You are Ty, of course."

 "I thought so, but like the guy is hockey twenty-four seven. There's no way he's going to be thinking about getting laid."

 "That's disappointing."

 "He's about the only one that I'd give you permission to fuck, only because I know it would be impossible for you to accomplish, even given all your talents." You could hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

 "Hmmm, are you willing to bet on that?"

 "What? Like bet, you'll fuck Crosby in the bubble?"

 "Yeah." Did it really sound like such an unattainable accomplishment?

 "What's the wager?"

 "Winner flies out when this whole COVID shit is done and is the other's sex slave for twenty-four hours."

 "Oh, you are on, baby. I can already see you handcuffed to my bed in some skimpy lingerie." He cackled at the thought and it fueled your resolve to win this bet.

 "Don't be so sure about that."

 "And how am I to know that you actually slept with him?"

 Well, this would be tricky. "Well, it's not like I'm videoing it."

 "No, but that gives me ideas for when I win." Maybe you should be rethinking this gamble.

 "What do you want his underwear?"

 "Nah, you could get that in the laundry. But I'm sure you could sneak a pic of him sleeping." God that sounded creepy but if it meant you had Ty as your slave for a day, it'd be worth it and you'd never show it to anyone else but him and even then you weren't going to send it to him, though he didn't need to know that now.

 "Ok, it's a bet then."

 "Too bad we can't kiss on it."

 "Oh, you'll be doing more than kissing when I win, Seguin." Mentally you started packing sexy outfits to take into the bubble with you while thinking of all the things you'd have Tyler do the next time you saw him. "On that note, I better get my ass to work and make this hotel ready for these guys."

 "Fine, I'll let you go as long as you promise to FaceTime me at some point during this bubble thing."

 "I'm sure I'll have a night open for you at some point." You teased.

 "Woman, you better."

 "No worries Ty, you're still my main man; when you're in town."

 "That's right baby, good luck."

 "Thanks for all the info, Ty. We'll catch up soon and good luck in the playoffs."

 You were just about to hang up when you heard him yell. "Don't forget my titty picture."

 All you could do was shake your head and click end call, though you being a woman of your word, you snapped a quick pic and sent it off to him; to which he responded with a drool face emoji.

 The next couple of weeks were a literal whirlwind as you moved into the hotel's presidential suite and got things ready. Beds were moved out so that some rooms that had two queens now had one king in them. The hotel was disinfected from top to bottom. If felt like you were wearing a hazmat suit all the time during this process. A week before the players arrived the NHL staff did, making sure everything was in order and making sure you had things set up for daily COVID testing. Of course, you had everything well in hand and organized per their instructions, though with a few tweaks that made the process more efficient. Overall, they seemed impressed with everything that you had done.

 All that preparation lead up to the big day, July 26th, when the teams moved in. The league had them spread out so that no two teams were checking in at that same time. Tampa Bay was the first in as they traveled the furthest. "You look nervous. Why are you nervous?" Carly's voice came up from behind you as you saw the bus pulling in through the gates.

 "There's a lot riding on this Car, and if anything goes wrong; you know it's going to be my head that rolls."

 "You're going to do great; this whole thing is going to be smooth like a bubble." She started to giggle. "See what I did there…bubble." You rolled your eyes at your friend but did let out a little snort of laughter at her pun. "Well, here they come."

 You straightened your jacket and smoothed down your skirt, before throwing your mask up to go meet your first arrivals. "Gentlemen, welcome to Hotel X." You tried to speak a little louder than normal hoping the mask didn't muffle your words. "We're excited to have you all here. I'm (Y/N) manager here during your stay, anything you need, feel free to call me any time of day." More of the guys filtered in while you spoke to Coach Cooper and a few of the players.

 "Anytime huh?" you heard someone mumble in the background and a couple of the guys snickered. It was hard not to roll your eyes as you knew they were focusing on them with your face partially covered. Someone else said, "She can manage me anytime." That was until someone cleared their throat, effectively silencing them.

 "Now if you'll follow me, let's get you all checked in." Tables lined with a welcome packet and lanyard with their ID on it, were off to the side and you were able to shuffle them through with pretty good speed, then sent them off to their rooms before they had to head to testing. Your information was inside every packet, in case you were needed at any point during their stay. It seemed like you no sooner got them in and the area disinfected then the next team, the Capitals, were pulling in, and so the day went on until all five teams were safely ensconced in the hotel. Thankfully you made it through that process without any problems, even though the Bruins flight was late and the Flyers were pulling in right as you got the last players through.

 It wasn't until dinner, that you encountered your first dilemma, getting a text message from Alexis, who was coordinating the meals. It was a simple message, Get to conference room 3. NOW! As fast as your heels could take you, you headed down to where the Capitals were supposed to be having dinner if you remembered the schedule correctly. You never expected to see what you did though when you entered.

[gucciwins]

Confessions ll

Harry messed up and Y/N doesn’t know how to move forward

A/N: The long awaited part two. Confessions was written over a year ago and I’d like to think my writing has grown since then. I honestly debated a part two for forever but here it is. I hope you love it as much as you loved part one. 

read part one of confessions here

* * * * *

“Tell me once again what you did for the past week?" 

"Sarah, I told you I watched all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls. Ate food I cooked, not reheated. Well, it was mainly soup and simple pasta. I did take showers and change clothes. Although I have not washed any." You share as you pick up your laundry basket and begin to fill it with a few lose clothes around your room. The room was always kept nice with a bed made and no scattered garments, but that couldn't be said now. You had clothes all over, pillows on the floor, and an unfolded comforter which Ginger was taking advantage of and sleeping on top of. Not mentioning how the living room looked, you started with the laundry. 

"You're telling me you spent roughly 154 hours in front of your television watching a show on Netflix." Sarah pauses. "That means you've either slept fourteen hours straight or slept two hours each night." 

"Your math skills are great still." You laugh, not answering her. “It wasn’t even a good show. But oh well now.”

"Y/N," Sarah pesters. 

"Fine. I slept roughly two hours after I finished a season." 

"What about work?" 

"I am working from home on this project. It's due in three weeks, and I'm ahead, need to edit a few things, then I'm all good." 

You put Sarah on speaker and place your phone on top of the basket as you walk to the washer. You know she's frustrated with you, but this is the best way to heal heartache. Well, your best approach. 

"Are you feeling better, hun" Sarah sighs. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. As is Mitch." 

You drop the basket in your basement and begin to load your clothing. "Look, Sarah, I know you both care. I just need to solve this on my own. Ha-" You cut yourself off before saying his name. "He's a great guy, but I don't need a jealous boyfriend in my life. He knows how I act, how cuddly I am, but if he saw me as someone unfaithful, then what's the point of trying. No trust. No love." 

"He's not a bad guy." Sarah starts.

"No, I know that. Trust me, the time we got to spend together, I saw how kind and generous Harry is. He's more than just another famous guy, but second chances. I'm not known for that." You know second chances are good, but it is also a way to lead to being hurt once again. "I know he's your friend, but he was mine as well."

"You're not going to give him the chance to apologize?" 

"Of course, I will. I forgive him, but what else is there to do, it's not li-like he was my boyfriend." 

"Y/N, you confessed your love to him." 

Sarah is trying her best to be neutral, but you know she was rooting for the two of you to make it. To defeat the odds thrown your way. No one expected it to end before it started.

"Yeah, well, come-what-may." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Well, if a bus is heading right at you, let it come." You say quoting Liz from the series you just watched. Not the brightest philosophy, but it's all you have right now. 

"That sounds like a disaster."

"Yeah, it does. You'd save me from the bus, right?" 

Sarah laughs. "Of course, I would. Who else cooks for me expecting nothing in return?" 

You laugh for the first time in what feels like months. Sarah is always able to break you out of your deep dark times. 

"Dinner at my place on Wednesday." You tell her, wanting to get together without having to leave your house. 

"We'll be there." 

You go to hang up, but remember an essential thing for dinner. "Mitch needs to make his brownies, always taste so heavenly." You let out a low moan just thinking about the melting chocolate. 

"I'll tell him, I will also leave out the part where you get wet for brownies." Sarah laughs, and you can't help but join her. Those brownies are just too sinful. 

She hangs up, leaving you in the quiet of your basement. It would be good to see Sarah and Mitch even if Harry blew up at you the last time you saw them. You shake your thoughts away and finish loading the wash. Picking up the previous item, it's a blue Mickey Mouse shirt. Except, it's not yours, it's his. He had come over for dinner and decided he wanted to do the cooking. He brought the spoon to his mouth to taste and ended up spilling. You were quick to strip it off him and rinse it, not wanting it to stain. But did not wash it in a load right away. He was in no hurry to put a shirt back on. To his displeasure, you handed him a Washington State sweater that belonged to your brother. He had looked good in it. That night you didn't sleep until four am not noticing the time and lost in pleasant conversations.

It's crazy how fast the night changes. 

* * * * *

"Mitch, I made chicken tinga with you in mind. I remember you saying how much you were dying to try some three weeks ago." You say as you set a plate of shredded lettuce on the table. "I have it in good authority that I make one of the best. My grandma said I mastered it, so if you don't like it take it up with her." 

Mitch laughs, remembering saying that when you all went out for drinks. "It smells amazing, I'm sure it's great." 

"Anything you touch tastes amazing." Sarah comments.

The conversation flowed calmly over dinner, not one mention of Harry. It feels off being without him, but you can't change what happened, only move on. Sarah and Mitch were your friends before you even knew Harry, but the same goes for Harry. One moment they were strangers and the next they were best friends, now you had no idea where you stood. 

Mitch got up and went for the brownies and set a plate of two in front of you and Sarah but only one for himself. You were about to bite into the delicious treat when there was a knock on your door. 

You all froze, not knowing who it could be. Not your brother, seeing as you drove him to the airport on Sunday. You briefly talked about Harry, but he knew it was your decision to make. Thomas was a good man, but all too forgiving something you never understood. You look at Sarah and shrug as if to say you don't know who's behind the door. You miss the nervous look Mitch gives Sarah as you stand up and make your way to the door. 

You live in a safe community, preceding checking the peephole. The door opens and in front of you is Harry. He looks nervous, cheeks red, and smile small. He takes a step back, and all you want to do is close the door. Not caring for a word that comes out of his mouth. 

Harry sees the look in your eyes and is quick to react. "I'm not here to stay, but I do want to talk.  

You narrow your eyes at him. "Not tonight." 

"It has to be tonight." He pleads. 

You refuse to do this on his terms, let alone without warning. "No."

"Please," Harry takes a step closer, and you catch his eyes glistening. 

"I need you to leave." It's hard telling him to go, but it's what you need.

"Will you hear me out, if I leave?" Harry's stubborn, you learned that the hard way during one of your first arguments where you needed to go home after a late night of drinking, but he wouldn't hear it practically pushing you to his guest room.

"Of course." 

Harry grins, and it almost makes you forget your anger. 

"But not tonight."

His smile falters. You've caught him off guard. 

"Then, when?" He whispers, all confidence gone. 

You think for a moment, "Friday, I'll meet you at Carol's Diner."

"Okay, 12," Harry says, knowing that was your usual time to have lunch there together. 

"Eight" You're embarrassed to correct. "If that's okay, I've got meetings all day." 

Harry nods. "No problem at all." 

He walks down the steps and to his car. You can't help but stand there as he walks away. He would always drag his feet playfully joking how he didn't like being kicked out. He didn't stay the night unless he had some alcohol. You told him one drop, and you'd have the couch ready for him. Which always ended with him in your bed because he said your living room was haunted. 

You miss him, but you don't know how to move forward. 

* * * * *

Late. You're late, and Harry knows he deserves it, hell you might not even show up. 

Harry ordered a black coffee, not knowing if they'd eat or not. The waiter had just served him his refill when you walked in the diner. You spot him right away, and he can't help but begin to sweat. 

"Harry, I'm sorry. My last meeting ran a little longer." You shrug your coat off before sliding into the booth across from him. "I hope you didn't think I was setting you up."

"'Course not. You hungry? Didn't know if you wanted to order." 

"Starving, I've been craving french toast and a milkshake." You laugh, looking at Harry. "That sounds like a lot of sugar. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine, lo-Y/n." He clears his throat. 

You both place your orders, and then the silence takes over. Harry sits there staring at you while you look out the window staring at the park entrance. You count three couples walking in and four families coming out. You also spotted two dogs, frowning when no more showed up.

You're surprised at how fast the food comes and dig right in. Harry and you eat in silence. The chatter of the diner is the only noise around you. Harry steals glances at you, but you never meet his gaze. Too nervous for that. You finish most of your food, but stop once you see Harry set his fork down. Your hands are quick to go in your lap, slowly tracing patterns up and down your palm to keep calm. 

"We've got to talk." 

You sit there patiently, allowing Harry to be the first one to speak. Harry wanted this so bad he has the floor.

Harry stares at you, and he's afraid he's going to lose you after this moment. 

"I'm sorry, let me start with that." He reaches his hand out but pulls back when he sees them in your lap. "There's no excuse for what I did. I was awful, and you deserve better. You deserve trust, and I didn't give it to you." He takes a deep breath. "Looking back, you let me in, really in, but I always kept you at arm's length, waiting for you to mess up. An excuse to hurt you instead of being the one who gets hurt, but in the end, that didn't work out."

"Harry," You try to cut in.

"No, let me finish." You give the nod, and he continues. 

"Those words I said were not true at all. You never used me for nothing. We always did things in private. I'd always force you to go to the bar with us. That dinner was the first time you initiated a public outing, and even then, the place was small and quiet."

"I don't like crowds, and you don't like paparazzi." You say because it's just that simple.

"See, Y/N. You look to put others before you, but I don't want you to do that now. I acknowledge what I did was awful. I told my mum about it because the guilt was eating at me, and she was so disappointed in me. I'm disappointed in me." 

Harry frowns, looking down at his bare hands. The rings at home, no comfort. He holds himself bare in front of you. 

"I want you to put yourself first even if that means not being in my life anymore." 

You focused your eyes on him. This is Harry, honest and nervous Harry. The guy who recites love actually as it plays. Who laughs out loud to all of Mitch's jokes. The one who always rushes to open your doors. 

"Thank you. This is still a lot." Your eyes begin to burn as you remember his confession. "You said-"Your voice cracks. "You said you were falling in love with me." 

Harry's green eyes begin to fill with tears. He nods in acknowledgment of your words.

"My brother is my best friend but Harry, so were you. Those two months felt like ten years, I felt like you've been in my life forever. That hurt Harry, all because what I was sleeping on was someone's arm like I didn't do it before you, and I won't do it after you." You pause to get your emotions under control. "My brother vouched for you. Said you apologized and cried. That you were quick to see your mistake. My brother approves of few people and to have his approval even after what happened means he sees the good in you." 

"Thomas was amazing. I'm glad you have each other." Harry inputs wanting you to know the feeling is mutual. 

"Harry," you take a drink of water. "We were never together. never went on a date, never asked to be boyfriend or girlfriend, we never kissed." 

"It felt like we were," Harry tells you.

"You're right," You set your hands on the table. "That's why it hurt so much when you said all that to me." 

He doesn't deserve you, he knows that, which is why your next words surprise him. 

"I forgive you."

"Thank you," Harry moves to hold your hand, but you don't let him. 

He doesn't hide his shock. 

"I just can't be with you, at least not now." He nods. "You have to understand, I think we'd burn together."

"You don't mean that." It comes out in a whisper. 

"I'm doing what's best for us now. I care too much about you to go into a relationship only for us to break each other's hearts." 

Harry's heart is breaking, and there's no one else to blame but himself. 

"We're bound to run into each other again, Sarah's my best friend and Mitch is her sidekick. I'm not asking you to wait for me, that'd be wrong. But if we ever find yourself in the same place and the feelings are there, and we both feel the timing is right, then I'll be open to asking you on a date or you asking me."

Harry smiles in understanding, no matter how much it hurts him.  

There's not much left to say. Harry knows this is goodbye. "You'll always be my friend, I hope you know I'll always be a phone call away."

You nod and stand up. "Thank you, Harry. I'm here for you as well." 

Harry stands and wraps his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. 

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I really am, but thank you for giving me the chance to grow and learn." He steps back. 

"You're a good man, Harry." 

"And you have the purest most beautiful soul." Harry's staring into your eyes, and you can't help but tear up. 

You reach forward and squeeze his hand three times. 

"Take care, H."

 Harry watches as you walk out of the diner. 

He's lost you once again, but he knows your paths will cross once more. 

* * * * *

I love you so much! Thank you for reading! 

Please let me know what you thought about Confession ll 

[thecomposerofstories]

Information on Amy.

(Be warned it's a ~little bit~ long, any other pieces of information you want to know I'll gladly answer if you ask.)

~General Information~

Fandom: Toy Story.

Name: Amy the Ragdoll.

Nickname, if any: Amy, Ames, and Doll-Face(usually by more villainous characters or used in a joking manner).

Gender: Female.

Sexuality: ??? (I mean I know the gender of who she has a crush on, but I'm unsure on what her actual sexuality should be tbh)

Age: Mentally, mid-twenties in the first story second movie, thirties to forties in the third and fourth. Physically, she doesn’t have an age, but in regards to when she was made (the 1950’s) makes her fifty to sixty.

City they currently live in: San Francisco, apparently that’s where Toy Story takes place.

Any pets: Would Rex count? He just follows her around like a nervous puppy.

Current occupation: I mean she’s practically a therapist, but she’s a toy and she only treats Rex so it probably doesn’t count lol

~Physical Appearance~

Height: 10 inches.

Body type: Stocky, but a bit gangly too, similar to Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Eye colour: Black.

Skin tone: Light.

Clothing style: Pale green/turquoise shirt with short puffed sleeves, with a denim dungaree dress with a daisy print in the centre over it. She wears yellow rain boots.

Hairstyle: No style, it’s just there. It’s messy and gets in her face easily and is made out of dark brown thin string.

~Speech/Language/Communication~

Amy speaks quietly and politely, rambles a bit if left without a reply or under pressure, very nervous in front of intimidating characters.

First language: English.

Learned languages: A bit of Spanish (Ya’ll remember Toy Story 3!)

Accent: American.

Pitch of voice: High, but soft, not quite annoying, unless she’s stressed, then it gets very pitchy and shrill.

~Behaviour/Habits~

Amy tends to just stand there when she can’t find anything to do, and will immediately try to find Rex, Hamm, Buzz or Jessie if surrounded by strangers (Though she’s not sure if it’s for their comfort or her own) Amy is very polite.

Spending habits: She doesn’t like to be made a fuss of at all, the very fact of someone giving something to her is unnerving (even if the thing never costed anything at all) and she feels compelled to give the giver something in return.

Morning routine: She gets up same time as the others, but wishes she could stay in bed a bit longer though. Before she came to Andy’s room, her sleep pattern was all over the place.

Bedtime routine: Similar to above, now she goes to bed the same time as the others, but before she just slept and got up willy-nilly.

Nervous habits: Amy will try to find Rex if she’s nervous, and she’ll pretend it’s because she’s worried for him, which is quite true, but she also just feels most safe with him. Speaking of, Amy will let Rex hold her hand and squish it whenever he or Amy is nervous, it’s calming to the both of them.

Bad habits: Not a very good exerciser, but then again, she’s spend basically half her life in a small attic, so I’ll give her a break.

Skills/talents: She’ very logical, mind-over-matter, (mostly, very good at calming others down and/or convincing them. She’s very good at spelling and knows quite a lot of words, some of which others haven’t even heard of.

Hobbies: Reading, talking (especially with Rex, Jessie or Hamm), and generally just lazing about or walking around somewhere, on her own or with a friend.

~The Past~

Amy’s first owner was a little girl called Alice. Alice loved nothing more than to read Amy stories (Mostly fairy tales), but of course, Alice grew up like all kids do, and she left Amy in the attic for someone else to have her.

Amy waited for many years, and all that time she’d never given up that someone would find her.

She thought she’s hit the jackpot when Andy and his family move into Alice’s old house, but they don’t go up into the attic to collect her. Some weeks later, though, Andy’s mother brings a set of boxes filled with junk into the attic and leaves. Woody, Buzz, Slinky, and Rex were trapped in one of the boxes (Call me a cheater but this part was actually inspired by a Toy Story comic, where those four toys get stuck in the attic that way and have to escape. It struck me odd that they never met at least one new friend there, so I made one. It was also my first story, I needed some inspiration!)

Amy, in a fit of panic, goes and hides.

But then she’s found by Rex as he and the others try to find a way out.

They then decide to let the strange, dust-covered ragdoll come back to Andy’s rom with them. (well, Rex did, anyway.)

Home town: Would Alice’s old room count? But it’s now Andy’s Room, so it won’t count will it?

Happy or sad childhood: Pretty normal to be honest, as normal a life as a toy could have anyway. And as for sadness, having spent all that time on her own for all those years, having missed out on so much, is a little sad. But Amy made sure she never became bitter over it or used it as an excuse for anything.

Earliest memory: Waking up in her toy store, with a friend of hers for company (a ragdoll Prospector, a much as she remembers) and as she gets bought by Alice’s Auntie, she says she hopes he gets picked up by a kid. (Unbeknownst to her, she would meet him again in a while to find out he never got to experience it)

Saddest memory: One, being left by Alice, yet being so happy for her and how much she’s grown up, if she could cry tears of joy for her owner, she would. Two, some (or most) of the days she spent waiting for a new owner to arrive. And three, watching Rex have a mental breakdown of anxiety.

Happiest memory: One, the time she and Alice went to the park, (Amy absolutely adores nature) Two after sliding down a drainpipe to get to Andy’s room, and three, having known she’d helped her friend out.

Significant events: Being bought, being left in an attic, being rescued from the attic, while gaining some new friends.

~Family~

The entirety of Andy’s room, whether they like it or not, they’re all in this together and are some kind of mish-mash, found family in a sense.

Siblings: I’ve been thinking of giving Amy a brother (since I based her on Raggedy Ann, a matching bootleg Raggedy Andy seems reasonable) bur I’m unsure about it, since I’ve already mapped out Amy’s entire series of stories (Around six or seven all together, so far I’m currently writing only the third) and I can only fit him in the fifth or sixth if I can.

~Relationships~

Romantically? I’d like to say she has a crush on Rex, I don’t know why I thought of it, I was contemplating it one day as I sketched a rough (and terrible) sketch of her, and I drew Rex too because he’s just so fun to draw and I wanted to make a scale for Amy’s size, and one of my friends (who had been watching me) immediately said “I ship it!” and well, the rest is history, I made the decision to ship it too.

Friends: Jessie, Hamm, Buzz, and Rex are her closet friends, but she’d like to say that all the Gang are her friends. Later on she becomes good friends with Mr. Prickle Pants, Buttercup, Trixie and Totoro, and she absolutely loves the peas and Forky.

Best friend(s): Hamm, Mr. Prickle Pants, Jessie, and Rex.

What do people like about them? Amy’s pretty easy to talk to, she’s polite and attentive and will sit in companionable silence with someone if they need it. But she won’t hesitate to give hard truths and advice if it’s needed.

What do people dislike about them? Amy is quite a doormat, if someone is rude to her or breaches anything she just lets it happen, and sometimes she’s too indecisive about her own stuff, unsure whether she’s going to offend others or not over the smallest things, which annoys others quite a bit.

~Mentality/Personal Beliefs~

Amy is a toy of logic, and though she believes others can do it if they set their minds to it, she doesn’t quite believe in herself. She believes she must follow the rules of being a toy at all times, no matter what.

Phobias: Dust. She hates it. It took a good five weeks to brush all the dust out her hair and clothes, and even so there’s still some in her pockets and places she can’t reach. And being alone, too. Now she can’t be alone for more than an hour before she starts to get antsy and nervous. And for a short time books gave her a strange tiredness, after reading them for so long and for so many years she couldn’t even stand the sight of them.

But of course, not for long, since Amy found out Andy had a copy of Red’s Dream by a Mr. William Reeves.

Optimist or pessimist: Depends on the situation really, if her mind can’t come up with a solution, then there’s no point in trying anymore. Unless someone else can think of something, that is.

Personal philosophies: “You are here to make good things happen. No person here is made for one reason only, or even only one. There’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not just for the attention of others, no matter how cool they are. We should find are own meaning, as we’re the only ones who have control of it.

It’ll take a while, but I swear, it’ll be worth it.”

Biggest dream/wish: Amy wants nothing more than to find meaning for herself, but finds it rather hard to do so. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll settle for someone else’s meaning. As cheesy as it sounds, she just wants an adventure. She doesn’t necessarily want to be the hero, though, she’s just happy to go along with the ride so long as it gets her out the house for a few hours. She also, above all else, wants Rex to find meaning too, even if she never does, it would be nice to know that he had.

Greatest strength(s): Persuasion, story-telling, logic, and good grammar.

Biggest flaw: Despite being a ragdoll, Amy can’t sew because of her fingerless hands, which are just soft mittens in shape. Amy is also quite a doormat, as I said before, so if her calm persuasion and reasoning doesn’t work, she’s left to be walked all over.

Regrets: Staying in that dratted attic too long, the window was open, she could’ve just climbed out, but no, she had to stay there for some mind-rotting decades. But if she had just escaped, she would never have met her new friends. Amy just wishes she had met them a lot sooner.

Achievements: Escaped the attic, slid down a drainpipe, leapt onto the windowsill (though nearly knocking Woody and Buzz over in the process) stopped her friend from having a panic attack, and managed to remember the entire Dictionary and is able to recite it down from A to Z, and even Z to A.

Secrets: Not much, just strange feelings for one of her friends, but it’s not much of a secret, Bo knows, and Mr. Potato Head and Hamm could see it from a mile away, and the others have their suspicions.

Goals: Read the entirety of Andy’s (and later Bonnie’s) bookshelves, become more confident in herself, have her own book-worthy adventure, and figure out what those strange feelings for her friend is.

~Likes/Favourites~

Favourite colour: Even before meeting Rex, Amy’s favourite colour was always green. Every time Alice had taken her to the park, Amy adored watching the sunlight pour through the leaves with a golden-green glow.

Favourite book(s): Because it’s sentimental to her, being her owner’s favourites, she loves Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and The Wizard of Oz. They all hold similar plots (a little girl in a blue dress goes to a fantasy land, has a few adventures, and then leaves said fantasy land to go home to her family and responsibilities) but it reminds Amy of her old owner Alice (who was actually named after Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland) and their playtimes together.

Favourite Book Quotation(s):

“Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.”

“There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is facing danger when you are afraid.”

Favourite movie: Amy does much prefer books, since they allow her to imagine the setting and characters in her own way, but doesn’t mind movies, and isn’t picky on what they watch, though she does quite like horror films.

Favourite song: Amy likes any kind of music, new or old.

Favourite game: Amy never really cared for games, the competitiveness always bothered her and stressed her out. But she’s more than happy to watch Rex play his video games and cheer him on.

~Relationships with other characters~

~Rex~

- Hit it off pretty quickly.

- Amy helps him with his anxiety, and helps him find confidence in himself, she acts as a certain therapist to him.

- Both become very stressed without the other around.

- Rex will hold and knead at Amy’s hands sometimes; it calms him down.

- Rex will let Amy ride on his back if she’s tired or needs to see something (Because she’s so short).

- One of them can basically be talking about the most boring-est things ever, yet still the other will hang on to their every word.

~Jessie~

- Became friends pretty quickly.

- Will drag Amy along anywhere.

- Get along fairly well.

- Jessie does the talking and Amy does the planning.

- Jessie always pranks the other toys and makes Amy tag along (along with Hamm).

- Introvert/Extrovert dynamic for sure.

- Both were left in alone for years so like to find solace in each other.

~Hamm~

- Hamm begrudgingly warmed up to the timorous ragdoll.

- Surprisingly good pals.

- Have full conversations without saying anything.

- Like to sit and look out of the window together.

- Hamm makes Amy laugh when she really shouldn’t (mainly when he makes fun of the other toys, mainly Woody).

- Hamm makes fun of Amy having a crush on Rex every once in a while, though he doesn’t mean any harm.

~The Potato Heads~

- Mr. doesn’t really interact with Amy much, but finds her surprisingly tolerable, if a bit high-strung and annoying.

- Like Hamm, Mr. makes Amy laugh at the most wrong moments.

- She and Mrs. Are quite good friends, and she sometimes lets Amy take care of the aliens if she and her husband are busy.

~Woody~

- Are aquianteces.

- Don’t exactly interact much, even though the whole room practically revolves around him, in Amy’s opinion, though she would never say it to his face.

~Buzz~

- Amy thinks he’s super cool (then again, he is Buzz Lightyear, he practically invented coolness)

- Both are just as clueless as one another when it comes to social cues and interactions.

- Amy helps him with vocabulary and spelling every once in a while.

~Mr. Prickle Pants~

- Are absolute BFF’s.

- Go back and forth with book quotes to the point of driving the other toys insane.

~Bo Peep~

- Amy's not exactly sure if Bo has befriended her or not.

- (She has)

- They later become good friends.

- Amy misses their talks, Bo was one of the only toys she could talk to that could keep a secret.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 3

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character,

A/N: The babies. I’ve outlined like eight chapters at least, so I think this thing’s just going to go until I run out of steam. So here’s a third part already. 

Part 1 - Part 2

March 2014

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Teresa asked him for the hundredth time since he’d gotten to the church. He was just trying to tie his tie in peace, but there she was over his shoulder, just enough mimosas in her system to older sister him. 

“I can see Victoria. It’s Gina’s weddin’, T. I’m not an asshole. She’s a bridesmaid. I missed rehearsal, but apparently you paired us off to walk down the aisle. Real sensitive, by the way.”

“Don’t like cry or anything either. Or if you do, cry in the bathroom. And leave her alone during the reception. We’ve all been drinking already.”

“I can tell. Honestly, she’ll hate me if anything happens, okay? Last time I saw her I left in the morning.”

“Dominick Anthony Carisi, what the fuck did you just tell me?”

“I saw her in November. We talked. I went home with her. I realized I fundamentally fucked up and she needs better, so I panicked and took a cab home at three in the morning.”

“You mean to say you had the opportunity to make things better with Tori four months ago? And instead you royally fucked up again, and you still think you have the right to mope?”

“I don’t mope.”

“I was at Christmas. You twisted your ring on your finger for like twelve hours and cried in the bathroom when her favorite carol played. Either way, I’m checking in with her. You stay the fuck away from her, Sonny, unless you’re going to get your head out of your ass.”

“Don’t tell me what to do! We been married almost eight years!”

“You haven’t seen her but once since August. Don’t act like this is a perfect relationship. There’s not really one any more.” Just like that, Sonny was left with the groomsmen as Teresa pulled Victoria out of the bridal suite. He bounced on the balls of his feet now as he gelled his hair, not prepared to step out for pictures and actually see her again.

“You slept with Dom?” Teresa bit out, sparing no time.

“Several times?” she joked before sighing and crossing her arms as she realized that no one was going to drop it. “In November. He left. It’s fine. Proved me right.”

“I told him to leave you alone after the ceremony. I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have paired you off to walk together.”

“All the bridesmaids and groomsmen are married to or dating each other, Teresa. We can handle it. It’s what? Three minutes of walking. And who knows. Maybe I want to hang out with him.”

“And you tear up every time we’ve mentioned him the last year.”

“I can behave, okay? I put my marriage in a box and tucked it away for the day. I’ll step out if I gotta cry, but really I had enough mimosas, I can pretend everything is fine but not enough to cry or nothing.”

“Okay. I’m sorry he’s a dumbass.”

“I shouldn’t of taken him home any way. We’ll be fine. Stop being dramatic.” 

As if to prove Victoria’s point, Teresa rolled her eyes, following her back into the bridal suite. The general consensus in the family was that both of them needed to get their head out of their ass and tell each other what was happening, but neither was willing to. She didn’t know they’d already taken a chance to talk it out and ruined it. When it was time to take pictures, none of the sisters missed the way Sonny and Victoria refused to look at each other while waiting their turns. It seemed the toes of their shoes were far more interesting. 

Teresa also noticed both of them were wearing their rings, and for once, Victoria had both the band and engagement ring on, the first time since she’d left. All of his sisters had kept in touch with her, accepting the fact they needed to stop meddling for a while. No one was maid of honor or best man. Instead, all of the siblings and their partners made up the party. That meant Gianna Carisi had insisted each groomsmen and bridesmaid couple get pictures, and she refused to have a separation keep her from having pictures of Sonny and Victoria, even if she was furious at Victoria for hurting her son. 

“Our turn, Tor,” Sonny said, trying to lighten the mood. It was a delicate balance, knowing his sisters and mother were watching them so closely. 

“Pull her to you,” the photographer encouraged. “I hear you’ve been together a decade!” Suddenly, Victoria wanted the ground to swallow her up, and she wanted to know which Carisi had been talking like their relationship was doing well. Still, she followed Sonny’s lead when he took her hand and pulled her against him. His hand came to rest on the small of her back and her hand rested on his ribs, as natural as it had always been. Almost like they hadn’t been living separate lives for seven months. They smiled for the camera, and when Victoria dared to look up at him, she couldn’t help but give a genuine smile at being so close to him again. She was soon rewarded with his dimpled grin, and before her brain could stop her, she brushed the strand of his hair that had escaped the gel back into place.

“Thanks, doll,” he smiled softly, hating the moment they pulled away. It was time for Bella and Tommy, who was freshly paroled and fidgeting nervously. It felt safe to look at Victoria now, and he took her in, thankful for the dress his sister had picked for her. It was a deep green, with a sweetheart neck like her wedding dress had all those years ago. The bodice was pleated before it flowed down, and little sheer straps fell off her shoulder, fluttering around her bicep. She looked ethereal, and he loved the color on her fair skin with her red hair pinned up at the nape of her neck. She caught him staring, and he felt his cheeks flush. Their previous conversation didn’t bring either of them closure, but it got the painful stuff out of the way. He knew why she left. She felt like he’d proven her right. Maybe they could just enjoy the wedding, but together.

“You scrub up real nice, Sonny,” she said, moving to lean on the wall beside him.

“Apparently it was an elaborate ruse for ma to get pictures of us dressed up.”

“Now we got a picture like we’re married.”

“We still are.”

“We need to figure that out soon.”

“How about we just have fun today? Or are you gonna make me hang out with Tommy all day and all night?”

“Divorce talk tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he said, extending a hand that she shook gladly. The thought crossed his mind that the champagne the bridesmaids had been drinking and beers the groomsmen had may be what was taking the edge off now that they’d proven they wouldn’t break if they touched. That was what had worried him the most. He was afraid any touch would break the wall holding back the emotions of the past year. That it would set her off and he’d make her cry again. Instead, she could take his arm easily to walk down the aisle. It just made him remember their own wedding, and while neither would acknowledge it, they still loved each other. It was apparently easy to forget a separation and months of no communication when he thought about her walking to him down the aisle of the same church he’d attended growing up and his sister was now getting married in.

“I’m jealous you get flats.”  Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and he felt a contentedness he’d not felt in a long time return.

“You’re so much taller though,” he joked, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“True. I can reach your shoulder.” She wanted to say they shouldn’t get so affectionate, but it felt like before he got distant. They were on a team, sectioned off from everyone else. 

“Normally, you’re right under my armpit. Bet this smells better.”

“Your armpit just smells like Old Spice.”

“Good to know it works. Just get through the ceremony. Kick off your shoes at the reception. Just like prom.”

“Promise to cover me? You know Ma will be after me to put them back on.”

“She’s so happy we’re being friendly that she won’t care.”

“Is it weird for you that they’re all trying to play therapist?”

“They know how much I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Sonny beamed when she threw her arms around his torso.

“You ain’t drunk, are you Tor?”

“Two glasses of champagne. Relaxed, but sober. You?”

“Couple beers. In the same boat.” The last pictures were finished, and everyone was herded to the back of the church and pairing off. Sonny looked down at her with a smile, offering his arm happily. Victoria’s hand came to rest on his forearm, and she grinned up at him.

“You look too damn good in a tux.”

“I could say the same about you in that dress.”

“If all it was going to see you two happy again was for Gina to get married sooner, I’d have made her months ago,” Bella huffed, poking her brother’s back. 

“I’d have done it!” Gina laughed.

“They’ll be weird again next week,” Teresa said, and her husband squeezed her arm. The groom’s brother and his wife shared a look that told him they were still trying to figure out the best way to handle the Carisis, and it was also apparent they hadn’t thought that both Victoria and Sonny would show up and get along.

“Shut up, all of ya,” Sonny said, his free hand resting where Victoria’s sat on his forearm. “We’re walking soon.” Victoria gave him a grateful smile, and soon enough, they were making their way to their spots. They stole glances throughout the ceremony. They were thirteen and fifteen when Teresa got married, meaning their last memory of both being in front of a church like this was their own wedding ceremony, the one his mom helped them plan for their first wedding anniversary. Sonny just kept seeing her in that perfect dress, walking to him in the church they’d always gone to together. 

Where religion was not an important part of Victoria’s life, she believed in God, but not like Sonny did. She thought God was real, but uninvolved because she couldn’t reconcile him with the bad in the world. Sonny was devout and had reconciled his belief in an involved God with what he saw in his work. If there was one thing he was certain of, and had been since the first time he kissed her, it was that God had put him on this Earth for her and her on this Earth for him. Maybe that was why he couldn’t consider a divorce. It felt like a lie. When he talked to her tomorrow, he’d tell her the truth. Tell her how he shut down processing the homicides. Communicate. He took her arm again gladly as they walked down the aisle.

“Feels familiar, huh?” he teased. Every member of the Carisi family had gotten married here, their own church ceremony included. She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, grinning. 

“Long time ago. You got even hotter. Not fair.”

“I could say the same about you.” He waggled his brows, and she laughed, something little he’d missed a lot. She could imagine coming home to him again. Imagine him coming home to her. He was relaxed, laughing and joking like he hadn’t since things were good. Tightness came to her chest as she wondered if it was because she was gone he was doing better. She pushed the thought away, refusing to consider the possibility. Maybe he was happy because she was here. Gina had told them all to sit wherever they wanted at the tables designated for the bridal party, so Sonny settled close beside Victoria, arm slung easily around her shoulders. 

“The best part about no best man or maid of honor?” he murmured, leaning against her. “No speeches. Drinks, dances, garter, bouquet, party.”

“This party? Not ready for Dominick Carisi’s moves.”

“Please, Victoria Carisi? The true talent.” He squeezed her shoulders, kissing her temple. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That’d be amazing.”

“You goin’ gin and tonic or pinot?”

“Pinot.”

“You got it, tesoro.” Now it was really like she had Sonny back. He hadn’t called her by the pet name in years, but he’d insisted it was because she was his treasure to come home to. It always made her blush, and today wasn’t any different. She could see the way his mom was looking at her, lifting a brow. Not sure what else to do, she gave a wave, and Gianna shook her head. His sisters weren’t angry at her. They saw it as just a really prolonged fight. His mom, on the other hand, was furious she’d leave him and even more furious she was dragging it out.

“Ignore her,” Sonny said, sliding a glass of wine in front of her. “She got hysterical me. The girls didn’t.”

“Hysterical?” she asked softly.

“I couldn’t figure out how to function. Bella sent ma instead of coming herself.”

“I should’ve told you in person. I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.” She cupped his cheek, smiling softly. There were too many good times, she decided. She’d tell him she didn’t want a divorce tomorrow. Maybe she’d beg him to move back in together. His hand went to rest on hers, and he held it in place, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to her wrist before he laced their fingers. Their hands rested on his lap, Gina and her new husband giving a little speech before the DJ announced the father daughter dance. 

“Are you crying already?” she teased. 

“Shut up. You know how I get at weddings.” The hand he wasn’t holding settled on his bicep as she put her head on his shoulder. They watched each dance and as Tommy and Bella joined the other unmarried couples to catch the bouquet and garter. By the time dancing started, their drinks were empty. 

“You wanna join me on the dance floor or at the buffet first, Mrs. Carisi?” He was probably taking advantage of the levity to feel like they’d never been apart, but he was going to indulge as long as he could. 

“Buffet, please.”

“Good choice. Fuel up before we show ‘em how it’s done.” They loaded up plates, settling in at the table and eating happily. He caught her up on the extended family, what she’d been doing, what he’d been doing. They hadn’t really done that last time. That had been all raw emotion and desperation for affection. This felt like they’d never been apart. There was affection, sure, but it was the same grounding touch they’d always had. 

“You hear that?” he smiled, taking her hand and pulling her towards the dance floor. Her eyes widened as she laughed, arms looping around his neck as his arms settled low around her waist. 

“It’s our first dance song,” she giggled, as they swayed off beat.

“You're my sunshine and I want you to know that my feelings are true. I really love you,” he sang off key as she joined in. They could hear his sisters laughing. They still didn’t know how to dance to Queen together, but they’d been very pleased with their song choice, something that seemed to hold true.

She was giddy, a combination of the wine and normality washing over her. He spun her, pulling her close again and peppering kisses to her hair as she flung her arms around him neck. She’d left her shoes at the table before they even got food, and since he’d been wrong about how glad his mom would be to see them together, Sonny chased her off when she tried to fuss at Victoria for being barefoot, but not at any of his sisters. When the songs were the fast kind everyone danced to together, she leaned her back against him and his hands stayed on his hips. When the songs turned slow, he’d pull her against him, singing softly against her ear. 

“You goin’ back to the city?” Sonny asked as the guests filtered out.

“Yeah. I’ll be calling an uber.”

“Listen, I got a hotel room. There’s too many Carisi’s at ma’s.”

“You propositioning me, Sonny?” she teased, arm still wrapped around his waist.

“I wouldn’t turn ya down, but there’s two beds. Was sharing it with Leo, but he went home with one of the groom’s cousins. Otherwise, I’d be sleeping on your couch because you ain’t driving home or Ubering alone.”

“I’d like that,” she smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll pack up my bag and come back. I’m sure you gotta gather your stuff.”

“Deal.” He watched her go, knowing all he had was a duffel bag he’d barely bothered to unpack. She probably had a little rolling suitcase, complete with a change of clothes on top of whatever she’d worn here and the matching oversized shirts the girls all wore. 

“You gotta shit or get off the pot, Dom,” Bella said, stepping beside him with her arms crossed.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s still in love with you. You’re in love with her. Get back together or get divorced. This isn’t healthy.”

“I can’t be what she needs anymore.”

“I think tonight shows that you can. You just won’t.”

“Leave it, Bella,” he bit out. “Let me have tonight. She might leave before I wake up. Or want a divorce. Or I might not be able to tell her how I feel and make it all worse.”

“We just hate watching both of you like this.”

“She was made for me, Bella. I’m not giving her up. But if being separated and staying married is the best I get, I’m keeping it.”

“Whatever you say, Dominick,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “It was just good to see you both happy today.” He saw Victoria coming back, leaving his sister to take the little rolling bag she had, proud to still be able to predict something she’d do. She had changed into leggings and the Fordham Law sweatshirt she’d taken when he’d first started. She took it with her, and he was proud to know that sometimes she was still walking around in his clothes. 

“Ready?” she asked, and he nodded, hand on her back as he guided her to his car. Once he loaded the bags, he opened her door, smiling as she settled in with a yawn. 

“You’re gonna be asleep before we get to the room.”

“I’m tired,” she whined. “We got here early.”

“I’ll get ya tucked in soon, Tor.” When they got there, she was out. The bags were in the trunk, so he scooped her up carefully, kicking the car closed. With some maneuvering, he opened the door to the hotel room before laying her down. He locked the door before running downstairs to get the bags and coming back. She’d wiggled her way out of her leggings and bra, settling herself under the blanket. He couldn’t help but laugh, locking the hotel door and hanging up his suit and her dress as he pulled on sweatpants. He went to the other bad, hearing a quiet protest.

“Here,” she whined, holding her arms out towards him. 

“You sure, doll?”

“Sure. Come hold me.” He obliged happily, climbing into the bed beside her. When she put her head on his chest, he smoothed her hair. The next morning would be hard, he knew. He wanted her home, but he had to tell her about how the homicides impacted him. That would be the hard part. That burden was one he didn’t want to share. He watched her sleep until he drifted off. The sun coming through the window was what woke him up, and he was ecstatic to feel the weight of Victoria still slung over his torso. She stretched as he let out a yawn, smiling up at him.

“Morning,” she whispered, smiling the sleepy smile he missed. Now he realized what she meant. He hadn’t seen that sleepy smile but a handful of times in the months before she left. 

“Morning,” he murmured, rubbing her back. He wanted to say he was scared she’d be gone, but he’d been the one to run last time. If she had, it would have been fair. 

“Breakfast before serious talk?”

“Place has room service. That okay?”

“Yeah. I’m comfy.”

“Me too.” The arm that wasn’t wrapped around her reached for the menu, showing it to her. Once they’d picked, he ordered, absentmindedly twirling her hair around his finger. She put on some movie, and he watched her face as she paid attention. 

“You’re starin’, Dom,” she teased softly, looking over at him. 

“You’re beautiful. Can’t help myself.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, doll.” She stared for a minute before leaning forward and kissing him sweetly. His heart was pounding like it did when he was seventeen and asked her to homecoming as his hands glided over her sides. Her fingers curled into his hair and a soft groan escaped him. Almost a year. It had been almost a year since they were content and lazy, kissing in bed without the plan being sex and sleep or without the desperation of the night in November. She granted him access to her mouth, and a soft gasp escaped her. He pulled back, nipping her lip lightly. Someone knocked at the door, and a disgruntled sound escaped her. He chuckled airily. 

“I’ll get the food,” he said, reluctantly detangling himself from her. Trying to walk backwards to watch her, he nearly tripped, so he opened the door, took the food and quickly scribbled a signature before hurrying back to her. 

“You’re hot when you’re flustered.” He kissed her, cheeks pink. 

“You’re just hot. Here’s your french toast.”

“Damn, that’s even hotter.” He rolled his eyes, propping himself up against the headboard as he dug into his eggs. She settled beside him, eating happily as her head came to rest on his shoulder. It was companionable silence until the food and coffee was gone, then the weight of what they needed to talk about settled. 

“What do you want to happen?” she asked softly, twisting her rings around her finger.

“My wife back,” he said simply. 

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I do. But I don’t want a divorce, Tor.”

“I know. I don’t either.”

“Are you ready to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” He wanted to kick himself as soon as the words came out. He’d spent the night before thinking about what he needed to share and what could help.  When the time came though, his defenses took over. Telling her what he’d seen, how it impacted him, made him feel weak. Like he couldn’t protect her from the horrors of what he had to see. 

“That’s my answer I guess,” she said, and he could tell she was fighting tears as she got back into her leggings and grabbed her phone and bag.

“Tor, don’t go. We can talk more about this. We had a good night, didn’t we?”

“We did, Sonny, but I can’t not know why you acted like that and come home. How the hell am I supposed to trust that you won’t revert back to being absent?”

“Because it’s different now.”

“Why?”

“I’m not ready.”

“I don’t expect every detail, Sonny, but I can’t not know what’s happening in your head. Especially when it makes you act like you don’t want to be home. Like you don’t want me.”

“I want you, Victoria. More than anything.” His hand scrubbed over his face as he watched her go. Maybe this was worse than if she’d left during the night.

“Then call me when you’re ready to actually communicate, Dominick. I love you, but I can’t live like that.”

[copias-thrall]

There’s Something About Mary

A day in the life of our crusty Mr. Goore

Mary POV chapter bc I want to and I can.

⬅️ Previous

*public masturbation, kinda*

Mary wakes up horny.

He must have been having a pleasant dream, because his cock is hard and throbbing where it rests heavy against his thigh. He shoves a hand down into his undone jeans to give his cock a squeeze—just for a moment of relief—and, as the touch wakes him up fully, he realizes he can hear the distinct sounds of sex from one of the rooms. A thump thump thump and a squeak squeak squeak, all punctuated with blatant moans.

Fuck it, he thinks, and he begins to jack it to the sex orchestra going on, not 10ft from where he lies on the couch. Once a place they sometimes took turns on, the couch has become Mary’s de facto room—a subtle punishment for his supposed defection. So, he has no qualms about masturbating in his room, and if any of the other guys have an issue with it, Mary has no problem making his display more public, just for spite.

He pauses only to spit in his hand when his dry palm begins to chafe. It doesn’t even matter when the noises from the other room cease (and later Mary will have to tease them about their staying power), Mary just scrolls through his mental Rolodex until he brings up the memory of his dick in between Suey’s tits, how they jiggled despite being held together, how shiny they became once covered in his jizz, and how she looked up at him as she contorted one to bring it up to her mouth to lap some off.

“Shit, shit,” he exclaims as the memory of her pink tongue lapping up his cum causes him to release. Some shoots up his bare chest, but most of it lands and pools in his belly button. Eyes still closed, his free hand shoots out and fumbles for the box of tissues on the table, encountering instead a stack of thin takeout napkins.

As he does his best to clean himself up with the napkins—whose integrity is suspect—he can hear the low rumble of male voices and a high, feminine giggle from the sex room. Just to be a jackass, he gets himself up so that he can have first dibs on the bathroom.

Making sure to lock the door behind him, Mary turns on the hot faucet, willing the water to warm up sooner than later. He takes the opportunity, while he waits, to piss in the toilet; it’s already open—toilet seat up—even though it’s supposed to put it down when they have guests. They’re out of TP again, so a roll of paper towels rests on the lid of the tank.

Once the water is warm enough, Mary uses a couple pieces from the roll to clean off the jizz drying and to give himself a brief wipe down. His face is still half crusty with makeup, and he’s tempted to just add to it, but he’s learned from hard experience how that can fuck up your face, so—even though it’s a goddamned pain—Mary washes his face. He even uses the harsh Dial hand soap, even though the acrid smell will get up into his nose for hours.

He thinks of the nice-smelling scrub Suey has and her drugstore face cream he sometimes rubs into his skin.

In the soap- and toothpaste-speckled mirror, he starts to apply his “Day Face” (as Suey calls it) from the communal box of makeup (his better stuff is in his backpack): a light dusting of white powder; some eyeliner all the way around; a dull, red lipstick; and black shadow on his cheekbones.

He’s just starting on his hair when there comes a pounding on the door

“Fucks’ sake. C’mon, Goore.”

Mary turns his head upside down in the sink basin so he can haphazardly splash some water into his hair.

“Fuck off, douchebag.”

He starts to work his fingers into his locks, coaxing the glue already in it to activate.

“She’s gotta pee, man.”

He fluffs his forelock in the mirror as his other hand searches for the blood tube in the box.

“We have a kitchen sink.”

A small voice tells him not to take his annoyance with his friends out on the girl, and he sighs.

“Stop being a di—”

The voice cuts off as Mary swings the door open. Brendan's angry face smooths into one of minor irritation. The girl—Lisa?—stands, thighs crushed together, in an oversized kitten t-shirt. She looks at Mary, wide-eyed; her gaze darts to his bare, wet chest before snapping back up.

“Lis,” he says, winking as he saunters out.

Her face crumples a little.

“Lizzy,” she says, and Mary’s stomach swoops a bit when he realizes he’s probably slept with her before.

He makes himself smile as she moves past him to the bathroom.

“That’s what I said: Liz.” He shoots her a finger gun at her as Brendan scowls at them both. When the door closes and Brendan is still glaring, Mary lets out a “What?”

“You sticking around for breakfast, man?”

Mary rolls his eyes. “I’m here, ain’t I?” He starts to paw through the plastic shelving drawers next to the couch for a shirt.

Brendan shrugs. “Thought your pussy-whipped ass might need to get back to that uptown princess of yours.”

He glares at Brendan. “Stop being dick.”

“She’s fucking slumming it, dude. I’m warning you.”

It’s not a new argument, so Mary just ignores him, instead trying to apply a bit of blood to the tip of his forelock using the heart compact Suey gave him.

Titus emerges from the shared room, yawning, in his terrible leopard print robe that’s way too short.

“Morning, asswipe,” he says to Mary as he walks by. “What’re we bitching about?”

Brendan says “uptown girl” as Mary says “nothing.”

Titus sighs.

“Jesus, Brendan. You gotta get over that. That’s Mary’s mistake to make.”

“You know what? Fuck this shit.” Mary starts getting his backpack in order.

“That’s right! Blow off another band meeting!” says Brendan, and Mary spins on his heel to stomp back.

He jabs a finger into his chest. “I’m here all the goddamned time, more than I am at her place. I come to every meeting you tell me about.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you about anything. You should just be here. You should be committed,” hisses Brendan.

“I’m going to make some toast,” says Titus as he swishes toward the kitchen.

Mary rifles through his plastic draws and slams a notebook and loose papers onto the table.

“There’s mine, dude. Lyrics. Composition. Where’s yours?”

Donnie and Jamie wander out of their room.

“Not this shit again. It’s too fucking early,” says Donnie.

Brendan vibrates. “What about funds, man? A social media presence? You think all that happens by magic?”

“So I’m supposed to write, and compose, and do the budget?” snarls Mary.

“Guys,” moans Jamie.

“And our Insta is shit, by the way.”

“Fuck. Can we not?” moans Donnie.

Mary again jabs a finger at Brendan. “Then tell him to can it. I’ve already been exiled to the couch. I don’t need him picking fights because he doesn’t like my girlfriend, who—by the way—has never fucking done anything wrong.”

“You haven’t been exil—” Jamie starts.

“We were supposed to fucking share those rooms,” Mary hisses as he gesticulates. “I pay the same amount of rent, and yet I come home one day to find all my stuff in a pile in the living room. I have to wait for you guys to stop playing video games because ‘this is shared space’ to fucking sleep.”

“We all agreed—”

“No. You guys agreed. I didn’t get shit to say about it. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not too fucking keen on being pleasant.”

They all stand there, glowering at each other until Donnie says, “I need to take a goddamned piss,” and finds the bathroom door locked. At his soft The fuck? the lock clicks, and Lizzy opens the door cautiously.

“I’m sorry. It just. Seemed like you guys were getting into it.”

Brendan sighs. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get your stuff.”

The fight isn’t a new one, and—with no resolution in sight—they all drop the subject so they can get on with the breakfast of eggs on toast Titus brings out and the subsequent band meeting. The Brick—a cheap, overworked laptop—is brought out so they can go over band business: the budget; the van maintenance and parking costs; the gig and practice schedule is outlined so that they can align their work shifts; new merch ideas are bandied about; and they talk about how to improve their digital sales.

Mary’s leg jiggles impatiently.

The meeting breaks nearly 5hrs later; Jamie goes back to sleep because he’s got the night shift at the Quik•Mart; Brendan heads out for his afternoon shift at Target; it’s Donnie’s day off, so he cues up Mario Kart; and Titus decides he’s going to go pound on the drums in the practice space they rent, since his dad pays his bills.

Mary has been saddled with stopping by the local record stores to see if any of their physical CDs have sold to prove he’s “committed,” even though he’s got the closing shift at Sixes & Sevens.

As he’s leaving the building, he encounters Brendan, who is leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette. Mary’s fingers twitch.

“So you’re not coming back tonight, then.”

“We have band business?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

Brendan lets out a puff of smoke.

“You think I’m being a dick, but that girl does not care about you. She’s a tourist. Us—the band. That’s what’s real, Mary.”

Mary knows he should keep walking, but even after counting to 10, he’s still pissed, so he spins on his heel.

“You don’t know anything about her or her goddamned life.”

“Neither do you.” He finishes the smoke, then tosses it to the pavement to grind under his combat boot. “We’ll be here when it all explodes in your face, Goore. But you’re going to have to rebuild a lot of bridges.”

And then he’s off down the sidewalk. Mary stands there, seething, waiting until Brendan disappears round the corner since he’s also headed in that direction.

He’s not really in the best of moods when he hits up the first store, but by the 4th, he’s back to his plucky repartee. The owner of his favorite shop intimates that a vinyl version of their LP might sell much better than their DIY CD, and Mary enthusiastically thanks the dude as if it’s the first time such a concept has been considered.

The whole route honestly doesn’t even really take that much time at all—maybe 2 hours—so he chances stopping by Suey’s. Worst case, he’ll take a nap; best case, she’ll be there to bitch at him.

Like everything else today, however, circumstances are just not on his side, and he opens the door to her tiny fucking apartment to find it empty. The mail is bad again, and he rifles through it, plucking out anything that’s obviously junk to toss and anything that looks like a bill to put on her counter. There’s only a bowl in the sink, so he leaves it.

He’s hoping that she comes home before he has to leave—maybe she’ll even give him a blow job—as he wraps himself up in the afghan that smells slightly of her.

She doesn’t.

His alarm wakes him up at 4:15pm for his shift at 6. Groggily, he stumbles to the fridge to see what there is to eat, and finds a pot crammed in haphazardly amongst the other food items. Mary’s not really sure what he’s looking at—Suey tends to just throw shit together when she can’t be bothered, but most of the time it’s edible.

It ends up being some sort of cheesy potato stew and actually isn’t that bad. He eats the whole thing out of the pot before scrubbing it and the lone bowl clean. He waits as long as he dares to watch her come clomping tiredly through her door, but he really does have to leave. He leaves a kiss on her mirror after he reapplies his lipstick. (He should probably redo his face but: eh.)

Work is work. It starts slow—with Mary taking down the chairs and wiping off everything with the disinfectant spray. Sometimes Mary finds this kind of Zen—a time to hum out chords and roll around lyrics in his head—but today he’s just tired. It gets a little better when Mickey and the other bartender show up to do citrus prep. It’s a weekday, so there’s only a moderate crowd, and Mickey leaves them to it so he can do business manager-type things in his office.

And then there are the girls. Most of the girls who come to Sixes & Sevens aren’t the type to be put off by Mary’s whole shtick—and there are obviously the ones who come here expressly to flirt with him—so he has no qualms turning on his charms. Mickey lets him do it because customers are customers, and if girls want to come and spend money on drinks while they purr at Mary, who is Mickey to stop them? Len or Mika don’t give a shit because tips are pooled.

Used to be Mary could have his pick of a warm body for the evening—some girl (or occasionally some guy if Mary deemed him beefy enough) who’d take him to her nice-smelling, clean apartment … who’d let him spend the night on her soft, downy pillows after he pounded her into next year, before kicking him out at dawn. But now he’s got a girlfriend—one who makes sure he eats and yells at him to wash his face—waiting for him in her stale apartment with her flat, polyester pillows, and Mary hopes he’s not fool enough to fuck that up.

Not that his dick has gotten the memo.

No matter how many times Mary tells that fucker that he’s not going to fuck any of these women, his dick still twitches in interest whenever plump lips are wrapped around straws or fingertips trail over his hand. Tonight is especially bad for some reason, and Mary has to stick close to the walls of the bar so that no one can see his semi. A girl in a furry, white shrug seems particularly on his dick, and he does his best to flirt just enough for a good tip, but not enough for a proposition.

When he gets his break, Mary takes it out back in the alley by the dumpster. The air is chill, but it feels good after the humidity of the bar. He was hoping maybe his dick would go down, but it’s like it’s trying to spite him. Leaning his head back on the wall, he can’t help but close his eyes and run his palm lightly over the outline. It’s a fool’s errand—it’s not like he can get off without it showing on his pants—but that doesn’t stop him from touching.

A voice clears, and Mary startles. He’s out here by the rancid garbage so he can be alone, so he wasn’t really expecting to find anyone else.

“I can help you with that,” says the girl with the white fur that may or may not be real. She’s standing across from him, and he can see that she’s in a dress so simple that it must be hella expensive. She’s holding an unlit cigarette.

Mary jerks his hand away from his crotch, shifting so that he can surreptitiously adjust his jeans.

“The fuck are you doing out back here?”

She shrugs. “Needed to get away from my bitches. I love them but: drama city. You got a light?”

He knows it’s a ruse, but he still fumbles out his Zippo because he’s a goddamned gentleman. She, shockingly, takes the opportunity to move in closer to his body as he holds out the flame … close enough to blow the smoke of the first drag in his face.

“So,” she says, eyes darting down to his semi. “You want me suck that?” She gesticulates with her chin, posture nonchalant but eyes hungry.

His dick gives an answering throb, but he shrugs. “Nah. I got a girl.”

She looks at him, assessing, before half crossing her arms and taking another drag. Smoke pours out her nose.

“She’s not here.”

Mary doesn’t respond immediately, not knowing how to get out of this. She hasn’t said anything untrue. He’s horny, Suey’s not here, and she wants to suck his cock.

He reaches his hand up and taps his breast where he thinks his heart is.

“She’s here,” he says, and he’s glad Suey’s not present because hoo boy would she give him shit for that winner.

The girl just tilts her head at him, this time blowing smoke out the side of her mouth after she inhales. It occurs to Mary that he wants her cigarette more than his dick wants to be sucked. If she thinks this is some kind of elaborate game of hard to get, she’s sorely mistaken.

“You got a picture?”

“A … what?”

She gesticulates impatiently. “A picture. Of this girlfriend.”

Mary thinks, then pats around for his wallet, even though he only ever puts it in his back pocket. When she sees the wallet come out, she laughs.

“An actual picture? That’s old school.”

He shrugs as he rifles. “I’m on my break.” He doesn’t tell her that his ancient flip phone doesn’t take pictures. Well, not good ones.

The photo of Suey he has is relatively new—slipped in behind the old, worn one of his mum—but its edges are starting to soften. In the image, Suey stands, hip popped, as she gives him the finger with a snotty look on her face. She’s in one of her weird 90′s outfits—a micro mini and tied up band tee—and the cute pudge of her belly hangs over her waist band a little. Her hair is pushed back from her face because she’s just lifted up her sunglasses—there’s still a little mark on her nose where they were resting.

She hates this picture, but her attitude makes him smile.

“You gonna ogle it all night, Mary?”

Mary’s attention snaps back to the alley. He ignores the intimacy. Carefully, with a stern look on his face that he hopes conveys how much the photo is not to be fucked with, he hands the picture over.

White Fur looks at the picture for a long time. Then she looks up at him. She gives the image one more glance before handing it back to him.

“Yeah, ok,” she says as she crosses her arms again.

Mary tucks the photo back into his wallet.

“The fuck does that mean?” he scowls. He’s just about had it with people insulting Suey today, and some random-ass girl in a back alley is the last person he’d let get away with it, even if she is a fan.

She takes her last drag before flicking the stub in the direction of a dumpster.

“Dunno. You seem like the type to have some scene girl with more legs than brains hanging off your arm.”

Mary thinks that’s a little uncharitable: he’s always been an equal-opportunity lay.

“She seems legit though,” the girl continues. “Makes sense.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She heads for the door, but stops to smirk at him. “Looks like I helped after all.”

As she swings back inside, Mary looks down to realize his hard-on is gone.

Mickey doesn’t cut him early, but he doesn’t make him stay past closing either. Even so, it’s still after 3am when he gets to Suey’s. The bills are gone from the counter, but there are no new dishes in the sink. He opens the fridge to find a pizza box crumpled into the top, balanced precariously on the other items. Mary takes it out and inhales the cold pizza right from the box; he knows they’re all for him because Suey fucking hates pepperoni. (Though it doesn’t escape his notice that she’s put one piece of pineapple in the center to mess with him.)

He leaves the box by the trash (he’ll flatten it tomorrow), and then makes his way to her bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, lest he incur her wrath.

When he finally wiggles into her twin bed in his boxers, he’s bone tired. His dick still kinda wants some action, but Mary thinks he’d probably just fall asleep in the middle, and Suey really would bite his head off if he woke her up for no reason. He wishes she’d just sleep nude, but finding her in one of his well-worn shirts is the next best thing. He doesn’t mean to wake her up, but he can’t help himself from running his hands all over her—this girl who sees him and not his “image.”

“Mare?” she says in a quiet, sleepy voice.

He kisses her head.

“Go back to sleep, baby doll.”

She doesn’t speak again, but she squirms around until she’s sprawled across his chest. He’d prefer to have her caught up in a little spoon, but having her pressed into him—body sleep warm—is nothing to wave a stick at.

This is all he wanted, anyway.

Next ➡️

[sarcastically-defensive17]

might be a weird request but an angsty fic of calum & reader r dating at a party but cal’s been givin the silent treatment cuz the reader did smth clumsy and cal got mad & they argue & at the party a drunk dude is all on her & she’s tipsy/mad/throws a drink on him & ends up bein a big fight & the band hears & sees the guy slap her causing calum go crazy feels guilty bc he wasn’t with her & the band protect her & kicks him out, fluff at the end insp: snooki getting slapped on jersey shore djjdkd

Fine - C. Hood

TRIGGER WARNING: NON CONSENSUAL SEXUAL TOUCHING AND VIOLENCE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS COULD TRIGGER YOU BECAUSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT!!

I love this idea and I had to watch that video like seven times to get inspiration. I hope you like it! I couldn’t think of a plot for so long!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

There was something off with Calum. No rhyme, no reason, no explanation for his bad attitude, just random bursts of anger that led to venomous words falling off of his tongue.

Y/N hadn’t seem him actually happy in a while, and she had no idea what caused his outbursts.

She had been dealing with it, but the more he snapped, the harsher he was. She was starting to really dislike being around him, even more so, being at their shared house.

She had a breaking point, but he hadn’t yet hit it, until one Thursday night she had the girls over while the guys had a night out.

The wine had been passed around and they were all a little buzzed by the time the men returned home.

Shit truly hit the fan when Y/N gestured widely with her glass in hand.

She was always a clumsy person, that was no secret, and usually Calum would tolerate it with a smile on his face.

Until she spilled red wine all over Ashton’s white shirt. Everybody laughed it off, except for Y/N.

She rushed around trying to get the liquid out of the shirt it threatened to stain, and the minute her hands lingered on Ashton’s chest for a minute too long, Calum’s insecurities went haywire.

But in true Calum fashion, he refused to mention it to her until she noticed he was giving her the silent treatment after everybody had left for the night.

“Okay, enough,” she threw the cloth she was holding. “What have I done wrong now?”

Her tone was stern. She was sick of his random outbursts and bouts of silence. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way and she was determined to let him know that.

“Nothing,” came his curt response as he directed a look towards her that told her not to push it.

But she was never one for listening.

“No, Calum. I’m sick of this.” Her jaw was set as she folded her arms across her chest.

He let out a snide laugh, and her heart sank at the sound.

She had no idea what had gotten into Calum, but she really hated it. He was a boatload of insecurities and he took them all out on her.

“What do you have to be sick of? You sure looked fine when you were all over my best mate,” he rolled his eyes, setting his jaw to match hers.

“You’re joking!” She laughed louder than she should have, completely intent on reciprocating the sarcasm dropping from his tongue. “I was trying to clean his shirt, but oh no, I’m guessing in your mind, I want him!”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he mumbled under his breath, turning to walk away from her.

“What did you just say?” She gaped.

He was scared of losing her. It was no excuse, but he was so terrified of her finding love in another and it made his insecurities flare up. He had been hurt many times before, and he was preparing himself for the worst.

He just didn’t realize how far he was pushing her.

She grabbed onto his shoulder and spun him around to face her.

“What did you say,” she spoke through a clenched jaw. She had enough. She was sick of being made to feel as if she couldn’t be around any other male.

“I said, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he spat and he watched as her face fell slightly.

She shook her head, puffing her cheeks as she did so.

“You are ridiculous, Calum.” Her hands were on her hips and her brows were set in fury, “So first, it was random bullshit that you had a bad day and decided to take it out on me, then you were jealous, and now you’re accusing me of wanting to be with somebody else?”

Her eyes were wide and he offered her no answer, instead choosing to clench and un-clench his jaw while looking anywhere but at her.

“News flash, Calum!” She was shouting now. It wasn’t the first time he had accused her of something similar, “I’m not going to cheat on you, or leave you or whatever! You can trust me!”

He wanted to feel sad, almost hurt that he caused such pain to seep into her tone, but all he saw was red.

“How can I trust you? How can I trust you when you were all over him tonight? Huh?”

The limit was hit. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fine, you don’t trust me, then get out.”

There was no room for argument. She disappeared upstairs as he scoffed behind her, collecting a bag full of his clothes and throwing it out onto the front lawn.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I’m not leaving,” his heart started to hammer along in his chest.

She was calm. A scary sort of calm that sent sweat pooling on his heavy palms.

“I’m not staying in a house with somebody who can’t trust me, Calum.” She blinked, grabbing his keys and snatching the door to their house off of the ring before tossing the car keys to him. “Get out.”

They went back and forth until ultimately, Calum was knocking on Michael’s front door with tears in his eyes.

She was beyond angry with Calum and in pain over the argument with Calum. They hadn’t spoken since.

Unfortunately, the same weekend after she kicked him out, the guys and their significant others were at her house for a celebratory party.

One of their songs had become number 1 in some country. She was far too tired to remember. Especially after Calum had walked in.

She expected to see him, but she didn’t expect the pain that came along with the sight of her boyfriend.

Thankfully, there were more than enough people to successfully help her evade him, but not enough to keep her away from the man who wouldn’t stop chatting her ears off.

His name, Steve maybe? She couldn’t remember. The amount of alcohol running through her veins made sure of it, and she was sure she stopped his intoxicated chatter at least 5 times to ask him for his name.

In her drunken state she managed to catch Calum’s eyes from across the room and she saw his flare once he saw the man standing beside her.

Fingers clicking in her face pulled her attention away from her boyfriend.

“Are you even listening?” A gruff voice asked. It wasn’t the attractive kind of gruffness, like how Calum’s voice is when he first wakes up, but more of a voice tainted by years of cigarette smoke, and alcohol abuse, following a naturally irritating tone.

She smiled at him, intending to return to politely listening to him ramble about his high paying but low effort job.

“Sorry, I saw somebody and got distracted,” she slurred, leaning against the table and rubbing her head. Unknowingly giving the man a perfect view of her cleavage if he were to look hard enough.

A gross smirk worked onto his face and Y/N jumped as his hand connected with her backside.

“Excuse me-“

“Let’s go up to a room, yeah?” His eyes were heavy, and she flinched as he wrapped an arm round her shoulder, roughly groping the flesh he has clasped in his other hand.

“No thank you, I have a boyfriend,” she dug her heels into the ground as he tried to pull her along with him, and she could faintly see Calum’s eyes bore into the two of them.

The man scoffed, “And? I’ve got a dog at home but I still gave the little rat you’ve got upstairs a pat.”

“What did you just say about Duke?” Her anger intensified, her drunken state more worried about defending her dog than focusing on his sleezy proposition.

His hands moved up her waist, brushing her boobs as they continued up.

She shivered at the contact, feeling sick to her stomach.

“Get your hands off of me, you dog hater!” without thinking, she lifted the hand she held her cup in and threw it in the mans face.

He went silent for a moment, barely allowing her heart to beat once before she connected with the ground. Her cheek was throbbing, tears pricking her eyes.

She could barely register the commotion around her, as a head of brown curls flew towards the man and tackled him to the ground.

Three more figures rushed to pull him off of the man, and she couldn’t stop herself from clambering towards him when she saw it was Calum.

Ashton grabbed the man by the neck, dragging him towards the front of the house as Luke yelled at everybody to leave.

“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you,” Calum cooed.

She could barely think of why she was mad at him. In that moment, all she could focus on was the pain in her cheek and the feeling of his arms around her.

He ordered somebody to bring him ice, before pulling her up the stairs to their bedroom. The same one she had slept in on her own for the past couple of nights.

Except for whoever delivered the ice, they were alone in the room. Duke worked his way onto the bed to lay in his owners lap as Calum inspected her face.

“M’sorry,” she whispered into the air, her head feeling as if it were swaying. The ache intensifying from where she hit the ground.

“What for, baby?” He asked, pressing a package of frozen peas to her cheek.

“That guy touched me. Maybe he thought that I want to cheat on you like you do,” she was slurring her words. The whiskey in her blood was not doing her any favors as she tried to communicate with her boyfriend. “I don’t want to cheat on you. I love you too much, you insecure bastard.”

He snorted at the seriousness in her tone. She was observing him with a purpose.

Her mouth was moving, lacking the filter provided from her brain.

“How could anybody want to cheat on you? Have you seen you? You’re hot as fuck.” Her words were slightly muffled by the bag of peas. “I’m sorry I ruined the party. I didn’t want him to hit me.”

Calum put his hands on either side of her face, making sure to watch her cheek.

“Baby, you didn’t ruin the party.”

“But everybody left-“

“And? I don’t care about everybody else,” Calum’s eyes bore into her bleary ones, and he struggled to think of why he felt so insecure in their relationship. “I care about you, and only you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you tonight, love. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

He truly felt horrible. If he were with her, he could have kept her safe. He could have kept that sleezy guy away from her. Kept his hands off of her.

“S’okay, Cal.” She grinned behind the bag of peas, “You showed him whose boss!”

Her drunken state wasn’t the most ideal for them to discuss the issue of the past few weeks, but he made a note to do so in the morning.

He knew deep in his heart that she loved him, and it was about time he grew up and put trust into her as she did with him.

“I’m sorry he touched me,” she pouted looking down at her body. “His hands felt gross. Yours are better.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her close to him.

“He won’t touch you again, baby. I promise you.”

“Thank you, macho man,” she relaxed against him, letting her eyes fall shut with a sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Also,” she sat up, letting the bag fall from her face. “If you tell me you don’t trust me again, then you can walk that fine ass out the door and I’m keeping our son.”

He chuckled softly at her, ignoring the twinge in his heart at the reminder of his disgusting words.

“Okay, Lizzo. I promise, I trust you,” she kissed him quickly, pulling back to let him continue talking. “My fine ass isn’t going anywhere unless your fine ass is right beside me, promise.”

“I do have a fine ass, don’t I?” She beamed at him.

[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me!  All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean​ without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

                                   Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester                                                     PO Box 323                                               Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat. 

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations,  the grocery store and the gardening store to buy  more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor,  she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger  still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t,  maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag. 

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done  with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.”

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around  his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.  

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @superfanficnatural​ @deanwanddamons​ @janicho88​ @talesmaniac89​ @anathewierdo​ @compresshischest09​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @jensengirl83​ @this-is-what-im-reduced-to​ @ellewritesfix05​ @moron225​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @unicornqu33n17​ @swinchester27​@ @deans-baby-momma​ @squirrelnotsam​ @clumsy-nerd104​ @sarahbaker2010​ @supernatural-love14​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @angelhearts1012​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @cookiechipdough​ @lady-pswrld​ @peachyafshawn​ @notan-applepielife​

[memepipboy]

Kellantine, fluff 04?

“Kiss me.”

HOHOH

OHOHOHOHOH

_____

Ellie giggled as she sat down the community shot glass, wiping the side of her mouth as she stood.

“Okay,” She said through a smile, glancing over the room occupied with Kellar, Nick, and Hancock. “I’m gonna tuck in over at Rexford. It’s been a good but tiring day.” Walking over to the other very used couch, where Kellar and Hancock were sitting, she gave Kellar a very gentle hug. “Good job again tonight, hun. You look incredible.”

“Awh, El.” Kellar nearly melted at how genuine her praise sounded. “Thank you so much, especially for helping me get ready!”

That night, Kellar had a last minute set with Magnolia--THE Magnolia--at The Third Rail. She was nothing but apprehensive at first, she was never one for the spotlight or for performing. But with Ellie and Hancock both being reassuring (and a little pushy), Kellar gave in and decided to give it a shot. While looking out into the audience to see those two, as well as and especially Nick, did not help with her nerves at all, their overwhelming support made her evening delightful. Afterwards they decided to go back to the Old State House for a few shots, courtesy of Hancock, who else.

“I can get this dress back to you tomorrow,” Kellar added as Ellie pulled away, mindlessly straightening the top of the blue laundered dress she was wearing. “I think it’s helped me get through tonight long enough.”

They both smiled at each other as Ellie began to leave the room. “Y’know, keep it.” Ellie waved off the previous offer. “I know there won’t be many times you can wear it, but I think it suits you better than me.”

Kellar held her gasp back and perked up, looking over to Nick with an excited glimmer in her eye. Nick visibly softened and chuckled at her girlish excitement that was so rare to see, flicking his eyes up and down her form and noticed her feet positioned in a perfect pointe, high heels tossed to the side. Tomorrow, he would see Kellar in her combat boots and cargo pants again, with a hard expression on her face to match the Commonwealth. Seeing not only her, but all of them in a situation where none of them were on edge or in immediate danger tugged at his heart strings, because he knew these moments were few and far between.

Hancock wrapped his right arm around Kellar’s neck, bringing her in close. “Nah, we can probably throw some raider armor on it and you’d be good to go!” His low raspy laughter nearly harmonized with hers. “You’d definitely win best dressed in the Commonwealth, but it’d be short lived, that’s for sure.” He released Kellar and gave her shoulder a hearty pat. “You absolutely earned it tonight, that’s for sure. Don’t you think Nicky?” Hancock added obnoxiously, making hard eye contact with the detective, clearly to embarrass. Nick shot a stern glare at the mayor, enough to make anyone lose face, except Hancock did nothing but lean back into his seat and mischievously giggle. “Let’s all agree not to tell Magnolia I said that though, huh?”

Clapping his hands down on his legs, Hancock stood and made his way over to Ellie. “I’ll talk to Clair at Rexford to make sure it’ll be a cap-free stay for you all. I would say stress-free as well but honestly, she’ll probably give me hell for doing this.” He motioned after you for Ellie out of the quarters. “I’ll be back sooner rather than later if Clair doesn’t light my ass up--there’s condoms in the left drawer of my desk--”

“John, if you don’t leave now Clair won’t have anything left to shoot.” Nick piped in, giving him that same bone-chilling glare.

All that was given in response was a jovial laugh. Ellie whacked John on the shoulder as they turned and left.

Kellar’s eyes were still squinched from smiling, she turned back to Nick and rubbed her cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve smiled this much since my wedding.” Her hands fell back into her lap, raising her shoulders slightly. “It’s funny how Hancock and Ellie were the only ones drinking. I guess we’re kinda buzzkills, huh?”

“Well, I could if I wanted. Where I’m Gen 2 I can still process liquids and food it’s just...unnecessarily complicated.” Nick let out a weak laugh to help the awkward explanation. “How come--?”

“I was an alcoholic, Nick.” She said flatly. A few seconds passed silently as he shifted in his seat under her intense gaze.

“I’m sorry, I--”

“I’m joking,” she reached her hand across the table and rested it on his knee. “I mean, that is the reason, but I don’t care. It feels like so long ago at this point.” Her fingers poked at the single shot glass on the table, scooting it here and there. “We’d make a really boring truth dare drink team.”

“A what?”

Kellar’s eyes widened, scoffing. “You never played? It was really popular at my college it’s basically truth or dare but you have an out of taking a shot if you don’t want to do tell the truth or do the dare--” She picked up the shot glass and leaned towards her partner. “Let’s play, just a little!”

“Wha-” Nick couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You just said we would be boring!”

“Oh, yeah it’ll be a snoozefest! The only one who’ll have an out is you, kinda. It’s more like 20 questions I guess, isn’t it? Let’s do it though, I have stuff I’m DYING to know. You go first.”

An eyebrow raised on the detectives face. “Oh?” He’s never had the ability to say “no” to those blue eyes. “Alright,” He sighed. “Uhm...hm...” He glanced throughout the empty room, as if it would give him a question. “What--is your favorite color.”

“Nick!” Kellar laughed. “That’s so vanilla. Besides, you already know the answer to that!”

Nick rested his bad hand on his chest, as if he were wounded. “Kel, I’m trying to get to know you better, and you throw it back in my face like this?” The whisper of a sly smile on his face made Kellar’s face burn.

“FIne,” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “It’s yellow. Bright neon highlighter yellow.”

The smile quickly disappeared from his face, dropping his façade completely. “What? I thought it was baby blue--” He felt his thought process come to a sudden halt as he saw the conniving expression on Kellar’s face. Nick held is hands up in surrender as he gave a breathy laugh. “Fine. I deserved that. Your turn?”

As if on cue, Kellar very eagerly scooted forward on the couch opposite of him. “Have you ever had relations with someone to get information for a case?”

If he had a drink he would have promptly spit it out. “That’s what you’re dying to know?!”

“Yeah! It’s such a trope in those old movies, and you’re the living embodiment of those so I have to know!”

He buried his face in his hands and slowly pulled them down, as if to squeeze the embarrassment out. “No--I’ve never slept with anyone to get info. I mean, I’ve definitely--” His train of thought derailed as he saw Kellar become more and more intrigued with each word he said. God knows where she thought he was going with this. “I’ve flirted with people, and sometimes that leads to kissing them but never anything...too intimate.”

“Really! That is so interesting,” Her hands cupped her face as she stared at him intently, making him feel his tie was too tight with the sudden attention. “So, okay, is it something you can tell you have to do with someone or do you have to feel it out? Might I add, if I may be so bold, you must be an incredible kisser that you use it actively to get information out of people.”

Stifling a chuckle from seeing her talk so frantically with her hands, he stroked the bottom of his chin, he hadn’t ever given it much thought. “I suppose, I just think of it as something else I can use if I need to. I haven’t been told one way or the other, though it seems I have enough supportive evidence, huh?”

Kellar mimicked his thinking pose. Anyone could tell the gears were turning,but only her and God knew what was bouncing around in her brain. With furrowed eyebrows, she reached forward and began to pour a shot of whiskey. “Okay, you can absolutely say no to this,” she stood and walked to Nick’s side. The glass was presented to him. “Dare or drink. Kiss me.”

Any and all words completely left Nick, he thought for a moment he might have shut down momentarily. Did Kellar Curtis, the woman who he had multiple conversations about with Ellie, and out of necessity Hancock, just ask him to kiss her? He had no idea how long he had sat there staring at her, jaw agape. “I-I’m sorry?”

“I wanna know! Like I said, you can say no. I amjust SO curious, I have to know if you could get information out of me if you wanted.” Her eyebrows raised and she shook the shot glass, spilling some alcohol on the floor. “Dare or drink. Or say no.”

Nick’s eyes met hers and held their gaze. Now the gears were turning in his head, quite literally. He took the shot glass from Kellar’s hand and tossed it back, before standing and snaking his hands to the base of her neck,sliding them up to her face. The blue of her eyes never felt so icy, up close they had a completely mesmerizing effect on him. He could smell the alcohol reflecting back into his nose, and he nearly mumbled an apology for it before he pressed his lips to hers. His good hand slipped down to her waist and pulled Kellar’s body closer to him, where she wrapped her arms around his neck. The heartbeat thumping from her chest was enough to move them both. 

Hesitating for a brief second, he realized Kellar was not initiating any new positions or head turning, she really wanted him to show her what he was capable of. Acknowledging this, Nick considerately caressed her face much in the same way he would nudge a small kitten towards a correct direction, taking this opportunity to deepen the kiss. Slowly it turned hot and breathy, the taste of her lipstick beginning to be shared between them both. Nick’s hands slowly smoothed down her sides and rested on her hip bones, when she suddenly put her hands on his chest and pulled away.

“Mm.” She hummed, almost sing-song. “...seven out of ten. I don’t think you’d be able to get anything out of me.” She wiped the bottom of her chin to get the streaks of lipstick off herself, circling back to her original side of the table. “Not bad though.”

Nick’s hands lingered on a ghost of what used to be Kellar standing in front of him, before one landed on his hip and the other covering his mouth, flabbergasted by what just happened.

John would give him so much shit for this. 

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 2

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Fluff 

WC: 1.5k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

After we all introduced ourselves, Sejin oppa told the boys that they could take the rest of the day off their usual practice and training schedules so that we could get to know each other a little better.

“(Y/n) noona, why’d you decide to come to Korea in the first place?” Jimin asked, propping up his chin with the palm of his hand.

“Basically, I wanted to travel,” I replied. “I wanted to experience somewhere new and I had already learned the language so I knew I wouldn’t be completely lost. That, and the fact that Konkuk University accepted me as a student helped of course.”

If I hadn’t gone to Konkuk University, I probably wouldn’t have ended up in this room with these seven boys in the first place. That’s where I met Seokjin. No one else really talked to me, I guess my being a foreigner made them scared they wouldn’t be able to communicate well. But after seeing each other in a few of the fundamental courses we took together he asked me if he could sit next to me in class, so we started talking and quickly became friends.

He had told me he was a trainee, so I helped him when he had trouble getting work done because of his busy schedule. And earlier today, which was only about a month after the semester started, I mentioned how I was having trouble finding a job and he suggested I applied to the company he was a trainee at. I was baffled when I was told to come back for an interview so quickly after just filling out my application, so when I was hired so easily it was even more astonishing to me. And now here I was, talking with these seven interesting boys.

“How did you learn Korean anyway? Why did you want to?” Namjoon inquired. He had mentioned earlier that he learned English by watching the show Friends, which I thought was incredibly impressive.

“I found a website that taught it and made it really easy to learn. After getting into Korean dramas and K-pop I thought the language was really beautiful and wanted to give it a shot.”

“It must have taken you a while,” Hoseok added.

I saw Seokjin smiling out of the corner of my eye, waiting for his brothers’ reactions to my reply. “It took about 3 years.”

There were a variety of reactions from the boys, from as small as a just surprised expression, to straight up shocked gasps accompanied by jumping up from their comfortable positions on the floor. Meanwhile, my friend laughed out of enjoyment from their surprise.

“Really?! How fluent are you?” Jungkook asked.

“Well on TOPIK my proficiency was rated Level 6,” I replied, feeling shy from all their reactions.

“What’s that mean?” Yoongi asked.

“It means she got the highest level you can get. She’s completely fluent,” Namjoon elaborated.

I didn’t think it was possible, but even more dynamic reactions ensued from the group. Jimin and Hoseok were now standing, the latter spinning in circles. Even Yoongi, who appeared to be calmer and more muted than the rest of them was very obviously surprised at the knowledge. Seokjin was just on the floor, releasing his unique laugh which reminded me of windshield wipers.

I felt my cheeks flush at their over-the-top reactions. I knew that I learned it fairly quickly, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for these responses.

“I mean, Namjoon learned English just from watching a TV show and there’s no way I could have done that with Korean, so…” I said, hoping to reduce some of the attention they were giving me.

“Yah, calm down guys,” Seokjin managed to say once his laughing settled down a bit. “You’re making her feel embarrassed.”

“Sorry, noona!” Taehyung said as he and the rest of the boys started to calm down. “ It’ just, I’ve been learning English basically since I started going to school but I still can’t even hold a full conversation in it. So it was just super impressive to hear you learned Korean so quickly!” The rest of the group nodded in agreement.

“Thanks,” I said with a shy chuckle as I rubbed the back of my head with my hand. “Anyway, let’s talk more about you guys!” I smiled and they thankfully obliged.

Our afternoon continued like that, me asking some questions which resulted in quite a bit of conversation and bantering between them, then one of them asking me something else. I quickly began to feel relaxed with them. Something about them was very comforting and welcoming.

I learned of their ages. Of course, I already knew that Seokjin and I were the same age, being born in ’92, and I was even only 3 days younger than him as my birthday is December 7. We learned that on the first day we started to become friends and we were shocked at the strange coincidence, Seokjin saying that we were almost twins. Yoongi was the next oldest, a ’93 liner. Namjoon and Hoseok were born in ’94, Jimin and Taehyung in ’95, and Jungkook being the youngest born in ’97. I knew he looked young, but I had no idea he was only just barely 15!

After chatting for quite a while, Sejin oppa came into the room. He smiled, seeming satisfied that we appeared to be getting along.

“You’d probably better move this to the dorm,” he said as he walked up to where we were sitting in a kind-of-not-really circle on the floor.

A few of them immediately stood up at the suggestion, agreeing that it was a good idea,

“Guys,” Yoongi spoke up, “do we really want noona to come to our dorm? It was in a pretty poor state when we left this morning. I don’t think she’d want to see your guys’ dirty clothes and messy habits on display for her the day she meets us.”

Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin who were originally really excited immediately replaced their grins with frowns in realization of the poor state of their home.

Sejin oppa laughed from where he stood behind me. “What did you guys think I was up to this whole time? I cleaned it up for you. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

A look of relief washed their faces again. “Alright, do you want to go then, (Y/n)?” Seokjin asked.

“Yeah, sure! I’m pretty sure that as your manager, I’m supposed to know where your house is anyway.”

The boys gathered their things and we walked to their dorm, which was close by for convenience.

When we entered the house, the first thing I noticed was that it seemed pretty small. But Sejin oppa wasn’t joking that he worked hard to clean it. It was spotless!

“Wow, thanks Sejin hyung! I’ve never seen this place so clean,” Namjoon said.

“Let’s try to keep it that way, huh?” Hoseok said to his roommates with his eyes narrowed.

Jungkook just giggled, and the others didn’t make much of a comment as they scattered around the room.

“Let me show you around a bit, (Y/n) noona,” Hoseok said, placing a hand on my back.

I smiled at him and nodded.

The house was very small so there wasn’t much to show me, but I still very much appreciated the welcoming gesture. After checking that the room was clean enough, he showed me their bedroom. Yes, a single bedroom. All 7 of them slept in one room together, using bunkbeds to take the most advantage of the space. I suddenly felt pretty bad for them.

“Is it hard for all of you to have such little room to share together?” I asked him.

“Not really,” he responded. “Some of our members do strange things in their sleep but we are used to each other.”

“Oh, you mean like how you touch your body while you sleep, hyung?” Taehyung piped in from behind us.

I quickly turned around and shot my head back and forth between the two boys. “Wait, what?”

“Yah, don’t make it sound weird, Kim Taehyung!” Hoseok said, his face turning red. After looking at my confused expression, he elaborated. “I don’t know, apparently while I’m sleeping I’ll run my hand across my arm or chest or something. I guess because my parents used to hold me while I was sleeping so it’s just something that my body does on its own. At least I don’t snore as loud as an engine like Namjoonie.”

“It’s not like I can help it!” I heard said member pipe up from behind us. From that point the rest of the boys all started chiming in and talking over each other so I couldn’t make out much more of what they were saying.

I just couldn’t help but think about how cute and sweet it was, that they looked so close and like a family of their own. I found myself wondering if I’d be considered a part of this family too from now on. I would really like that.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

[zeldasayer]

Loving Dyn VII - It’s Lonely Out In Space

(Or, Life As We Knew It Part 2)

Pairing: Mandalorian/Dyn Jarren x Reader

Summary: Dyn and Baby have disappeared. You try to find some kind of life without them.

Warnings: ANGST. HEARTBREAK. DISTRESSED BABY GREEN BEAN. I’M SORRY. Smoking, language, death.

“Keep you waiting, hour after hour

Every night, in your lonely tower

Looking down, at all of the wreckage

When we met, you never expected”

There is shuffling and grunting of a fight on the other side of the wall of yours and Dyn’s bedroom. You curl the blankets up around you as you hear the scuffling getting closer. Baby.

Adrenaline takes over as you fear for your sweet boys life, you kick off the blankets and leap to the door. You pull it open and you’re met with the most hideous man you’ve ever seen, your breath hitches. He raises his blaster to your face and you know that you are about to die, you close your eyes.

You hear the sound, but nothing happens. You open your eyes as the man falls to your feet. Your head shoots up and you see him - Dyn in full armour. You can’t see his face, but you hear his modulated breathing and you know it’s him. His blaster smoking, still pointing at you, and he’s panting.

“Dyn.” You gasp.

He turns to Baby’s room and starts.

“Dyn.” You yell, but he’s not listening.

He retrieves Baby, and you latch on to his arm. “Dyn, don’t do this.” Your voice breaks as it’s is full of nothing but desperation. With him in his armour, and you in just your sleep shirt you feel tiny against him, like he could crush every bone in your body with just his arms. That would hurt less than the emptiness in your chest.

“Dyn, PLEASE.” You cry as he keeps walking, and Baby reaches for you, little face full of terror.

“Baby needs me.” You sob. “I need you.”

Dyn tries to shake you off his arm and Baby starts to whine. He’s still reaching for you and the small bits of your heart Dyn left behind shatter.

“Why are you doing this to me?! What did I do?!”

Dyn stops at the door. “Let go of me.” His voice is low and dark, it’s practically unrecognizable. Baby tries to climb out of his arms to get to you, but he stops the child by shielding him away from you.

“Dyn, where are you going?!” You look up at him, but he’s just looking forward at the door.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

You wake up from the dream in a cold sweat and you are reminded instantly of the crushing weight of reality. Dyn and Baby are gone. You sleep on the couch, because the smell of Dyn in your bedroom makes you want to be sick. You’re still in your night shirt from days ago, because you’ve barely moved since you woke up without him. You have covered every reminder of Baby, because your lack of sleep and heartbreak have begun to delude you and you can make yourself believe you can’t remember the sound of his cooing. It feels like you’ve died every day without them.

There’s a tap at the door and you sit up, taking a sip of the cold tea left over on the coffee table. Your head feels tight, and your face is sticky from crying and you are just realizing it is late at night. Had you slept through the day? Two days? You tie your hair up as you walk to the door.

The winter air nips at your face and you grimace as you meet one of your mother’s droids in the door way.

“Hello, Miss. Juniper.” It says.

“Hi, Seven.” You sigh.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You pull on your brown fur coat hanging next to the door and you stand there.

“Is there anything I can help you bring?”

You look around the cottage for a moment, “No. Nothing.”

You cross your arms, “I’d just like to leave. Please.”

The droid nods and you follow it out.

Your mother has sent for you. Once you confessed to hardly caring for yourself the past few days, Wilhemina decided it was best not to leave you alone and insisted you come stay with her at the residence until you felt like a human being again.

You arrive just as dawn is breaking and you kick off your shoes before silently walking up the grand spiral staircase.

“Perhaps a bath?” The droid calls from the bottom, and you don’t respond. You walk through the corridor, past your own childhood room, the guest rooms, bathrooms, to the room at the very end. Your mother’s.

You push the door open quietly and peek in. You can’t see much, the only bit of light seeping in from a crack between the drapes. But you can make out the huge white canopy bed, and slip out of your coat, leaving it on the floor.

You pad across the room, like you did so many nights as a child after a nightmare. This felt similar, and just like then you want to remind yourself it isn’t real. And that’s what makes this so much worse.

You lift up the comforter where your mother lays and she stirs, but moves to make room for you and you crawl in next to her.

“Hello, my star.” She says, voice raspy with sleep.

You lay there, facing her and you pull the blanket over your heads.

“Hi-i Mom” your voice breaks as you tear up again and she pulls you to her.

You don’t sleep, but you lay there in the darkness, focusing on her breathing. Waiting. Tears pooling in the corner of your eye and you wonder if you’re even alive.

Later in the morning, you sit in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest, your arms wrapped around them. Wilhemina pours water over your head and down your back and you just stare into the sudsy water. She’s finished washing your hair after you said you didn’t have the energy to bathe at all, and she says, “You will be okay, my star. It’s going to hurt until it doesn’t.”

You turn your head completely to the side, to shield her from seeing you cry and you feel her stand. Wilhemina walks out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. You stay in this position until it begins to strain your neck and look back down. Tears rolling off you chin and into the bath water, you feel as dreadfully alone as you did as a child and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself think about Dyn completely. How he swore you’d never have to feel the childhood loneliness that shaped you ever again. You groan as you tilt your head back and your sight goes blurry, eyes filling with tears again, and you wonder how there could possibly be any moisture left at all.

You fall back into the water, submerging yourself totally. The hot water stings your face but you don’t care. It’s the first reminder in days that you are truly alive. Blood pumping, heart beating alive and it’s killing you. Under the water you are hyper aware of your emptiness and you scream, lungs filling with water.

The days drag on like this. Each one melting into the next as you take long baths and pace around the mansion in your big t-shirt and fur coat. Sneaking your mothers cigarettes to smoke outside, like you did as a teenager. Watching the sun set, how it once made you feel so alive, now left you with nothing. You can’t remember if you’re sleeping, you genuinely don’t know and all you want to do is tell Dyn it hasn’t fucking stopped raining since he left. You want to pull Baby out of the grass when he falls asleep after a long day of keeping up with the other children. Hear his excited coos when Dyn walks through the door, or when he brings you the insects he’s found. You want to read to them on the beach, then nap to the rhythmic sound of the ocean softly crashing into land. You want to hear Dyn’s voice. The way your name drips out of his mouth, how his moustache would tickle your jaw. You want to feel the warmth of his skin against yours and you want to hear him say “The sun rises and sets for you.” Because you aren’t sure anymore.

Your mother has bought you a new closet full of beautiful clothes, and art supplies as you left the cottage with nothing but you just keep rewashing the same big t-shirt and doing mindless activities to keep yourself occupied. It’s like your attention span has depleted, and your memory is playing tricks on you. You find yourself falling into fits of rage, for how could someone, one person, have this much influence on you that their disappearance has set your whole world on fire. And as you look down on the wreckage, you’re scared you’re forgetting how it used to be.

Days seep into weeks and suddenly -

“It’s been a month.” You say, looking up from your breakfast as you sit across from your mother and stepfather. Your eyes flutter in the realization and you stare off in thought, your eyebrows knit together. A whole month without any kind of communication. Could this really be it?

“I’m going to send Seven to the cottage for more of your things.” Wilhemina breaks your concentration with her words, “You’re wasting away here. You need your books. Your paints. Everything that makes you, you.”

“I’ll go with Seven.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Your mother responds, lifting an eyebrow.

It isn’t a good idea. Especially since you have the grotesque idea to lay on Dyn’s side of the bed for a moment when you’re back. The thought both comforting and tearing you a part. You have a sick desire to be reminded of his smell, to burn it into your skin, for you feel in your gut that it may be the last time. You need the reminder that you were once with him at all, existing, together.

“I just want to make sure Seven gets the right things. I left so many ongoing projects.” You say, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

Your mother squints. “Alright.”

You land at the cottage later that evening

“I’m going to go in alone, Seven.” You say flatly.

“I’ve been given strict instructions to help you Miss. Juniper.”

“I know, but this is something I need to do on my own.”

“Miss. Juniper I really must insist-“

“Seven, do you want my mother to know how often you snuck me back into the house, all hours of the night, as a teenager?” You’re starting to get frustrated and in the same instance wonder if this is now worth it. There really can’t be any good in putting yourself right back in the middle of memories that are going to just pull you right back down.

Seven turns, looking forward. “Very well.”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll let you know if I need any help.”

You exit the ship, throwing your arm over your head and run through the pouring rain and up the steps of the cottage. You fumble with the keys as you start to feel nauseous and you know this isn’t a good idea. You stop and look back at the ship, debating wether or not you should just let Seven do this after all.

No, you think, I can do this. Get my books. Familiar clothes. Get out.

You unlock the door and you step into the dark cottage. It smells like home and it makes you want to cry.

You close the door, turn on the light and pause.

“Where have you been?” A deep, modulated voice demands darkly from behind you.

Your face goes cold and you turn slowly, coming face to face with The Mandalorian.

Tags: @otherthingsinhead @aeryntheofficial @maryan028 @readsalot73 @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon @capsironunderoos @antclottz @intense-sneezing @igotmadskills @applesislife @marrvelle-fics @killtherandomness @holyground1996 @taoiichii @fahhhhq

A/N: I know the title is from Rocketman but the true inspiration for this comes from We Don’t Deserve Love by Arcade Fire. I recommend if you want to be emotional and we’re only going to get more emotional from here so buckle up babies. Love, Zelda

[perahn]

Palliative Nursing

One of my patients died today.

I first met Arthur a couple of months ago. I’m a community and palliative nurse primarily, but I was covering a shift on the ward. He’d been transferred over from another hospital. I never really worked out why, since he was only coming in overnight before being discharged home.

When I came in, his wife Anne was trying to comfort him. He had only received his diagnosis recently – prostate cancer, which had spread to his bones and his brain – and he desperately wanted to go home. He was also frustrated to the point of tears at the way his body had betrayed him. He had been strong and independent, and now he was tired and weak. The struggle to find the words he wanted left long gaps in his speech, and so often neither Anne nor I could help.

He wanted to die. He wanted – he could convey that much – to leave the world ‘with dignity’; if it was time for him to go, he wanted to go. And Anne sat there, and tried to soothe and calm him. He wanted euthanasia, and he could not have it, and I was never sure whether she wanted that for him, or if she wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

The next time I saw him, he was home again. They’d been in the process of selling their house and downsizing, but Anne cancelled it. So Arthur came home to a warm, sunlit room with an en suite, and they moved their bed down into it. He was a different man when I saw him at home. The words that had deserted him in hospital came more easily, and he smiled, and he could enjoy food again. By about my third or fourth visit – I was seeing him twice a week at that stage, just making sure he had everything he needed to be comfortable at home – he was telling Anne it was a pity all their sons were married and he couldn’t have me in the family.

He had time and support. His daughter Eden moved in for a while; his son and grandchildren live next door. The weather turned warmer, and he sat out in the garden. The family gathered around him, and they took a photo. He was, for the most part, free of pain. You don’t expect that once it gets into the bones, but I am grateful for it.

There is a distance, and there has to be. You aren’t there for every step of the journey, and you come into it as a stranger. Anne woke every time he did, and walked him to the toilet. She coaxed him to eat, helped him use the walker, rubbed ointment into his swelling legs and reminded him to elevate them. She nursed him, and so did Eden. I… stepped in for the other parts. The paperwork. The questions you never think about until someone you love is dying. How do you, and what if, and when, and what do we do about -?

There were changes, last week. Words began to slip away again, and sitting up grew harder. I asked Anne if they wanted a bedside commode for him, so she didn’t have to walk him all the way to the toilet three times a night. She said no, that the exercise was good for him, and they were managing. Then she rang the next day, told me he’d slipped while trying to sit on the toilet, and maybe they’d better have one after all. So my boss Sam and I got one out to their house on Friday. Eden followed me out to the car. She didn’t want to ask in front of Anne, but what needed to happen if, or when, Arthur died? Who did they call, what did they do about his body?

It was a long weekend, and we had the Monday off. Anne rang Tuesday morning. Arthur had significantly deteriorated over the weekend, she told us. She and Eden couldn’t get him up, and they’d been nursing him in bed. His painkillers didn’t seem to be helping as much, because he was restless, turning in bed and plucking at his clothes. My boss covered two of my patients so I could go see Arthur as soon as possible.

Anne was curled up beside him in their bed. Other family members were gathered around, and one of them left the bedside so I could go talk to him. “Here’s Katherine,” Anne said, and Arthur opened his eyes and reached out his hand. He tried to say something as I took and held it. I know he recognised me, even if I couldn’t understand what he wanted to say.

Later I came back with a syringe driver. We use these a lot in palliative care: little machines that very slowly administer a dose into the subcutaneous tissue over 24 hours. Usually, like this one, they’re loaded with morphine, for the pain; midazolam, for agitation and the restlessness that comes over the body in dying; and metoclopramide, for the nausea the morphine can cause. They’re smaller, simpler, and less invasive than an IV line, or repeatedly sticking someone with needles. Arthur didn’t even flinch as I put the first line in, or the second one. The second one is for top-up doses; I used it immediately to give him a loading dose, then taught Eden and her brother how to access it if they needed to give him more pain relief. I left an envelope with the verification of death form at the house.

I left the house not long before seven pm. According to the roster, I’d been supposed to finish at 4:30. That was all right.

The syringe driver runs over 24 hours, but I stopped in to see Arthur and his family around 11am. Arthur was lying on his side. Eden had needed to give him some extra, and so had Anne, but on the whole he’d had a good night, they told me. He didn’t respond this time, although he called out hoarsely a few times. I gave him another top-up, and told Anne I’d be back to change the syringe driver once I’d spoken to the doctor.

I discussed how much top-up Arthur had needed with the doctor, and then one of the other nurses made up the new syringe with me, and my boss covered a patient appointment I had, and I went out to Arthur around 2pm.

Eden was in the front room, continuing to work from home; Anne was on the lounge with a laptop. Arthur had been so peaceful and quiet, she thought she’d get the laundry and a few other things done. Anne and I went in, and she told him I was here to change the medicine, and she’d help him roll over so I could reach. She reached out and touched him, and then she turned to look at me.

“He isn’t-” and she backed away.

I checked the carotid artery.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Anne. “He’s gone.”

And then I held her as she wept.

She was so devastated. She hadn’t been there for him as he died. He’d been alone and she’d been sitting outside, and she hadn’t known.

And it doesn’t matter how many hours she lay beside him, how poorly she slept, half-listening and ready to help the moment he stirred, night after night, the literal around-the-clock nursing she gave him, the long years they lived together. It doesn’t matter how hard, physically and emotionally, it is to support someone you love dying at home, how much she and Eden had gladly sacrificed to give him what he wanted. It doesn’t matter how many people do die alone, waiting for the moment everyone’s back is turned to slip away in privacy. None of that softens the pain, not in a moment like that.

I pray they will eventually.

I got Eden for her, slipped out to the car to get what I needed, and to give them time to themselves.

They had him cuddled between the two of them when I came back, and eventually they chose to leave the room so I could do the necessary things.

I rolled him onto his back, heard the faint groans. Wiped his mouth and crusted eyelids. Removed the lines I’d put in yesterday, straightened his shirt. I was talking to him, every step. It’s just something you find yourself doing. “Sorry, Arthur. I’ve just got to roll you over and get these lines out. I’m sorry if this hurts...”

It’s… not an easy thing, verifying a death. I had thought he was dead the moment I came into the room, and I’d checked for a pulse. Even so, part of you almost refuses to be sure. His hands were so cold, but his throat was still warm. I couldn’t feel a pulse, but maybe that just meant I was doing it wrong (I knew I wasn’t, but what if? What if I had hurt these people so much, and I was wrong, and I had to go tell them he was still alive, and however would they cope with that?) I put a stethoscope to his unmoving chest and listened for a heartbeat, or for breath. I couldn’t hear anything, but I was breathing very loudly myself in my mask – would I hear it? Wasn’t his chest moving, just the tiniest bit? I had to rub his sternum very hard to see if there was any movement away from the stimulus, and I apologised.

Then I lifted his eyelids. ‘Fixed and dilated pupils’ is what the form says, clinical terminology that is accurate as far as it goes. What it means is that you look into those eyes, and they are still and glassy, and the soul behind them is gone.

I could doubt the rest of the tests. Not that one.

I went out, told them I was finished. We talked; I told them what an amazing job they’d done, how proud they should be, all the things that don’t mean anything to them right at the moment, but might later. I stepped into another room to ring the doctor and let her know. I filled out the verification of death form and hid it away in a plain white envelope. Eden rang her brother, and again we went over the final things to be done. Here’s the form. Ring the funeral directors when you’re ready for them to come pick Arthur up. There’s no rush. Call anyone else you think will want to come say goodbye. Give yourselves as much time as you need.

Eden’s brother arrived. She’d sent him a text to come over, but hadn’t wanted to say why. So he came striding in with a cheery ‘hello’, and Eden said ‘He’s gone’, and she choked, and he crumpled. He went softly into the room where Anne was lying beside Arthur, stroking his face and murmuring to him. Too softly; he touched Anne’s arm and she jumped.

Clearly despite herself, Eden laughed.

“I thought for a moment,” Anne said, “that he’d fooled us all. That he was just pretending.”

Which hurt, and still hurts, and I shall remember.

When I left them, it was with the three of them clustered around the bed, the son trying not to cry. They didn’t need me, but I’d drop by in a couple of days if they wanted, I said quietly.

Anne would like that, she told me, and she thanked me for all I’d done. That Arthur had always been glad to see me. “He had his favourite nurse,” she added. “Beautiful Katherine, he said.”

I don’t understand the depth of grace that lets you say something like that in the midst of such terrible grief, but I shall remember that, too.

The last time I made a post a bit like this, I had a little bit of a moral to share. I don’t, this time. I am writing because it helps me process, and I shared it because…well, I still think we need to talk about dying, I suppose, and this is a way to add to the conversation. Because it is such an honour and extraordinary privilege to be a palliative nurse. Because some of you might, like my patients and their families, have questions you don’t know how to ask. Because it touched me, and it might do the same for you. Because love and grief and service to each other are such essential parts of our humanity.

Eternal rest grant unto him, o Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen.

[fanficshiddles]

Caught in his web, Chapter 26

Warning: Trafficking.

Chloe woke up with a banging headache from drinking the previous night. She groaned and rolled over in bed, opening her eyes she was faced with beautiful green ones staring into her very soul.

‘Good morning, doll. Feeling rough?’ He purred, reaching out to trail his fingers down her cheek.

‘Headache.’ She whined and closed her eyes again.

Loki hummed and slipped out of bed. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a glass of water and some painkillers.

‘Take these. Unfortunately, I have no sympathy for you right now, since it has been self-inflicted.’ He chuckled, sitting down on the bed.

‘Gee, thanks.’ She grumbled, taking the pills.

Loki chuckled and leaned over to her, gripping her chin tightly he pressed a kiss to her lips. Then he got up and started to get dressed. ‘Drink plenty. Get some food in you. I’m sure your friends will be feeling the same. Tania should be here in ten minutes so will make you something. I’ve got to get going to the office. Ralph can take your friends home when they’re ready.’

‘Thanks.’ Chloe said with more meaning as she half-smiled at him.

Loki gave her a wink, then left her to it. She sighed and lay down again for a while, her hand over her eyes. The light was hurting her head still, until the painkillers kicked in.

She made her way back to her bedroom to find that Amanda and Georgie were awake. After they all got themselves dressed, they made their way downstairs. Tania had arrived and asked them what they wanted for breakfast, Amanda and Georgie were amazed that Loki had a maid. They thought it was the best thing ever.

‘So you slept in Loki’s room last night, huh?’ Georgie asked with a knowing grin.

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I did. Because you were snoring like a bloody pig!’

Amanda sniggered. ‘Are you sure that’s the only reason?’

‘Stop with the teasing guys! You know I’m fucking him, just quit it.’ She grumbled.

‘Alright, alright.’ Amanda laughed. ‘Where is he anyway?’

‘Out on business he said.’ Chloe shrugged.

‘Wonder what kind of business he’s doing.’ Georgie hummed.

-

Loki, David, Samuel and Ethan were heading a few hours out of London. When they arrived at their destination, it was an old abandoned airfield.

There was a small plane landing just as they pulled into the large hangar. Loki got out of the car and straightened his jacket as he walked towards another car that was waiting.

‘Afternoon, Sir.’ A man, called Josef, said as he approached Loki with his hand out.

‘Good to see you again, Josef. How many are we expecting?’ Loki said as he shook his hand.

‘There should be seven of them. My boss wants to check that you have the money?’ Josef asked.

‘I am a man of my word, Josef. You know this by now.’

‘I know, Sir. Just doing my job.’ Josef smiled and folded his hands on front of him.

‘Once they’re off the plane and we can get a look at them, I will get the money out.’ Loki said firmly and Josef nodded in agreement.

The men all turned to watch as the plane pulled into the hangar and came to a stop. A few of Josef’s men went over and was on guard as the door to the plane opened and steps were wheeled over.

Two men disembarked first, then seven girls followed, with another two men bringing up the rear.  

Josef barked orders at the girls in Czech, pointing towards a large van.

‘They’re all from Prague?’ Loki asked.

‘Yes. Five of them taken from the streets, two we managed to persuade to come with us because their parents are in debt. But they’re sisters, so it might be an idea to split them. The shorter one is a trouble maker, I’ve been told.’ Josef said.

His point was proved when said girl made a run for it. But David was quick and managed to capture her before she got far. He dragged her back over to the other girls, Loki walked over towards them.

‘Do they speak English?’ Loki asked, eyeing up the girls one at a time as he walked down the line.

‘I’m not sure, Sir. I don’t think so.’ Josef said.

‘Keep a hold of her.’ Loki ordered, motioning to the girl who tried to run.

One of the men that had been on the plane went over and roughly grabbed her, shoving her hard against the van.

‘Carefully!’ Loki barked, glaring at the man.

‘They’re just sluts. Why worry?’ One of Josef’s men said.

Loki turned towards him and took slow, menacing steps towards him. ‘While they are here, in my territory, they are to be treated with respect. Those sluts are to work for us. Treat them kindly and they will perform better.’ Loki snarled at him.

‘Sorry… Sir.’ The man said, shrinking back a little.

Loki turned back to the girls for a once over. He then turned to David. ‘What do you think?’

‘They look alright to me.’ He nodded.

‘Alright then. Get them in the van. Take two of them to work in our salon in Camden, send three of them on to Michael in Manchester and the last two, wherever you please, David.’ Loki looked at David to finish.

‘I’ll take two home with me. Could do with some new maids. I’ll take the troublemaker and that one.’ He pointed to one of the other girls. Then he turned to Ethan. ‘Can you organise a car to collect them?’

‘No problem.’ Ethan nodded and made a call.

‘Good choice.’ Loki grinned. ‘At least that splits those two up.’

The two sisters that were being split up went into hysterics when they were pulled apart. The girls, apart from David’s two, were shoved into the back of the van and carted off. A car arrived quickly to take the last two home with David.

‘Are you going with them or coming back with me?’ Loki asked.

‘I’ll go with them.’ David said.

‘Ethan, go with David. Just in-case. She’s a feisty one that girl. I’ll have Ralph come collect you when you get to David’s.’ Loki said as the girl was kicking and screaming at the man who was trying to get her into the car. The other girl that was with her just went in obediently.

‘No problem, boss.’ Ethan nodded and went with David.

‘Do you like shepherds pie?’ David asked Ethan as they walked to the car.

‘I sure do.’ Ethan nodded.

‘Great. Sue makes a wonderful shepherds pie, she will want you to stay for dinner.’

Loki chuckled, though felt a little jealous. He loved Sue’s shepherd pie. But he turned back to Josef and motioned for Samuel to come over with the case of money.

‘Thank you for a swift transaction, as always. Tell Matt that it was a pleasure to be starting business in this department as well. And that I’ll see him next month.’ Loki said he handed Josef the money.

‘I certainly will, Sir. Take care.’ Josef grinned, happy with the money.

Loki got back in his car with Samuel. They had Nelson drive them back to London.

‘At least Matt came through on his word, they are nice quality looking girls.’ Samuel said.

Loki hummed in agreement and nodded. ‘Indeed. I just hope Michael agrees, you know what like he can be sometimes.’

‘I’m sure he will. If not, there’s always plenty of others who would happily buy them.’ Samuel assured Loki.

‘True.’ Loki nodded. ‘One more thing, keep this silent from Chloe. I don’t care that she knows about the other things we do, but I do not want her to know about this. It would likely freak her out far too much.’

‘More than seeing you murder someone?’ Samuel chuckled.

‘I’d think so. She’s not going anywhere, so I don’t want her to even have a tiny bit of doubt in her mind that she might end up in the system. Alright?’ Loki said firmly.

‘No problem, boss.’ Samuel nodded.

‘What’s with the smirk?’ Loki narrowed his eyes at him.

‘Nothing, boss.’ He shrugged.

‘Out with it, Samuel.’ Loki growled.

‘Well… Ethan and I have noticed lately how attached you seem to be with her now. It’s a good thing, boss. You seem happier of late and I must say, she doesn’t exactly seem repulsed by your presence anymore.’ He teased.

Loki glared at him but smirked a little. ‘She’s a special girl, Samuel. One that I am never letting go of.’ Was all Loki said on the matter.

When Loki returned to the city, he had a few other matters to deal with. Someone had come to him for a big loan, another was looking for a new drug supplier that Loki was able to sort out. Lastly, he had to deal with a new police officer on the scene that had arrested an employee of Loki’s.

Loki had to go down and bail him out, where he came eye to eye with the new officer. It was clear upon meeting Officer Stones that he wasn’t going to be easy to get on side, he made it clear that he had heard of Loki and the disapproving look Loki received was all he needed to know.

But Loki just smirked as he paid the bail fee to get his friend out. Officer Stones did not look best pleased.

‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr Laufeyson.’ He threatened before Loki left.

‘I would highly recommend doing so, Officer Stones.’ Loki grinned, getting up in his personal space. ‘I am rather well known in the community, it will be nice to know that someone is keeping an eye on my back.’

His words knocked Officer Stones off guard slightly, he straightened up and cleared his throat.

‘You best get moving. Your friend is waiting for you.’ The officer said, narrowing his eyes at Loki.

Loki gave him a curt nod. ‘Nice to meet you, Officer Stones. I’m sure I will be seeing much more of you in the future.’

‘You can guarantee it.’ Stones said quietly as he watched Loki stroll out of the police station like he owned the place, winking at the receptionist who giggled and blushed like a schoolgirl.

-

When Loki returned home, it was quiet. He had a feeling that meant Amanda and Georgie went home. He had a quick glance in the living room and the kitchen, but Chloe wasn’t there.

He made his way upstairs to her room, knocking once before letting himself in. But she wasn’t in her room either. But he did hear music coming from her en-suite.

Chloe was in the shower, she had her music on quite loud so didn’t hear Loki sneaking in.

Loki shrugged off his suit jacket and kicked off his shoes, then he slowly opened the shower door and slipped in behind her.

He ran his fingers down her spine, making her scream in surprise. She turned around quickly, hands over her breasts and eyes wide until she realised it was Loki, then she visibly relaxed.

‘God, Loki… You could’ve knocked!’

Loki chuckled and moved in on her, getting his shirt and trousers wet as he stepped under the steady stream of the shower, but he didn’t care. He pressed her to the wall, a hand at her chest and he kissed her hungrily.

She grabbed at his shirt tightly, her breath taken away from her.

‘Your… Your clothes.’ She stammered out when he pulled back a little, letting her breathe.

‘They’ll dry.’ He shrugged.

Loki then proceeded to take her against the wall after sliding his trousers down around his thighs, hiking her legs up around him as he thrust into her and fucked her roughly, making her cum quite easily. When he finished inside her, his seed came dribbling out and down her thighs, but was quickly washed away with the water.

He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard until they both got their breath back.

‘Mmm, I think I want round two.’ He grinned, making her stomach flip.