#not to mention that i’d love to be able to learn some of the languages from my own heritage like polish lithuanian

[yourheartinyourmouth]

alright, followers who speak more Spanish than i do:

what (if anything) is the difference between la manteca and la mantequilla? google is telling me they both just mean “butter”, but no info on if it’s a colloquial thing, or dialect, regional, etc.

[chloecouture]

Public speaking and keeping and audience interested

Hey there it’s Chloé here, for today’s topic I decided on public speaking and how to keep an audience interested.

Why am I discussing this topic? My presentations and public speaking skills always get praised and I get asked for tips by people all the time, so I feel qualified to give you guys some tips.

Let’s not waste anymore unnecessary time.

These tips will be perfect for presentations, especially if you are in school or your job requires presentations. (This is specifically about talking to an audience, a post about how to have conversations will come later)

1. Naturalness.

You need to be able to keep people interested and talk about a topic without having to look at a cheat sheet.

Try and remember as much as you can but talk about it in your own words. That’s how you make it interesting and natural.

However if “uhmms” are natural to you obviously try and avoid that.

2. Eye contact and using your hands.

This will be a hard for a lot of people but you need to look at the audience, look around while talking and use your hands to explain stuff, that way when you are slowing down or forgetting something you keep them distracted.

Eye contact is a must in a lot of situations, it shows that you are confident.

Keeping your hands visible also builds trust with the audience.

3. Pace.

Do not speak too fast or too slow keep a calm pace.

Make slight pauses when you ask a question so the audience will want to know what you are going to say. For example (staying on theme): “But how do you actually stay calm while giving a presentation?” short 1-2 second pause and make eye contact with the audience, then move on to the next sentence.

The audience will start to really question it and want to know the answer as well. This will become more natural the more you do it.

Practice it in the mirror if you want to.

4. Intonation, emotion and emphasis .

Going back to the sentence from the last tip: “But how do you actually stay calm while giving a presentation?”. If you say this in an even tone with no emotion, people will not care what you say.

Speak with better intonation, learn when to have a more serious tone or when to have a more happy tone.

Now onto emphasis: “But how do you actually stay calm while giving a presentation?”.

In this situation emphasizing ‘actually’ while speaking would be ideal. It shows that you know the answer to that question, that you thought about it.

5. Expression.

Facial expressions, the audience loves that.

When you’re speaking match your facial expression with what you’re talking about.

Don’t overdo it, it won’t look natural.

6. Posture and body language.

Have relaxed body language but keep a good and straight posture.

Good posture will show that you are confident and will make you feel more confident.

People will also take you more serious if you carry yourself in a serious way.

7. Interesting presentation.

If you are a creative person, make a creative presentation. This surely helps if you aren’t good at public speaking since it will be a distraction.

My latest presentation was for a fashion class I had, I made it in the form of an online magazine.

If you combine good public speaking with interesting presentations there is nothing to worry about.

Here we have our public speaking tips, the tips mentioned above are ones that I use and have helped me immensely. Every time i do a presentation on anything people always ask me how I do it, so I thought I’d share.

Thank you for reading.

Hope you have an awesome day if it’s still starting, if it already ended I hope you had a great day. Tomorrow is always a brand new day, making mistakes is fine.

Au revoir

-Xoxo Chloé C.

[inknopewetrust]

𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲

Summary: Tyler’s always wanted to show you something he loved—it just took some bad weather for it to appear. [Tyler Owens x Reader] [WC:2.6k}

Warnings: language, college-aged Tyler & reader, fluff, romance, this is a comedy? Idk folks. No smut though—sry :/. Just good ole fashion kissin’ in the rain. And what if I said this story was my real life experience, then what?

Quick Links: Masterlist [including other twisters fics]

“Where are we going?”

The tires of the truck were clunking along the rocky path to… well, nowhere. Thick trees surrounded you; the sun barely peeking through them as it began to decline in the sky and yet the truck kept tumbling along.

Shit. You thought for a brief moment as he didn’t reply. He might murder me.

“I told you,” his voice rang through your mind like a pinball machine. “It’s a surprise.”

“What if I said I didn’t like surprises?”

Tyler glanced at you as the truck hit a rough patch. Your hand was white-knuckling the grab handle above the window and your face was torn up in concern for the locale.

“I’d say, ‘honey’,” he put a hand on your clothed thigh. “I ain’t gonna murder you.”

“Well now that makes me think you are gonna murder me.”

Tyler laughed, squeezing your thigh joyously.

He was a maniac—Tyler Owens.

But he was also many things you did not know of yet. The first time you laid eyes on him was around eight months back when he walked in two minutes before the chemistry lecture. Every seat in the room was nearly filled except for the lone seat on the inside of the lecture hall beside you.

And when he sat there, you couldn’t focus on one goddamn thing.

It was silly—being twenty-one and having a crush on a guy in your science class. You weren’t in high school anymore but you sure as hell felt like it. When he asked for an eraser, you were too eager to provide it. One day he forgot his computer so he asked for some paper in the notebook you elected to use.

Each day you’d arrive a minute earlier than before with a childish hope that he would too and you’d be able to talk to him, learn about him. You weren’t in the same lab section so it was growing increasingly difficult to manifest a semblance of potential when it only occurred twice a week for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Fuck college schedules, is what you had concluded when he wouldn’t show up twenty minutes early to class.

Yet fate had a funny way of dictating what happens when.

Three months into class, your roommate suggested getting out and heading to a frat party one Saturday night and it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. And out of some kindness, he went out of his way to say hi to his “lecture buddy” who’d helped him in times of need.

Every class that followed grew something in you. He came early to lecture to talk to you, joking about anything but the subject and going on and on about what he wanted to do when he graduated. His smile was contagious, as with his laugh. Bellowing and loud; Tyler Owens was everyone’s friend and everyone’s crush and you happened to be lucky enough to sit beside him until it was all over.

The semester ended and your interactions with Tyler ceased.

And it made you feel a little crazy for feeling down and out about your luck. Your roommates and friends tried everything to get you on the market: going to parties, joining strange clubs, playing trivia at the bar on Wednesday nights but nothing.

It was all nothing until something caught your eye.

You saw a flier for a meteorology seminar with a guest speaker from your local news. The premise wasn’t overly exciting for any one student at the university but for you, it was interesting enough to attend on a vacant Tuesday evening.

Like fate had promised before, it dealt you a winning hand.

Tyler spotted you as you walked through the door and waved you down. In your dumps, you forgot to think his attendance was a possibility even after he mentioned time and time again that he’d love to be on television, that he’d die to help people protect themselves.

So when he got ready to leave after the lecture, you weren’t going to die without facing a fear. You had to protect yourself from another six weeks of imaginary mourning and asked for his number.

And six weeks later you concluded he was going to murder you in some remote location in the plains of Arkansas.

“I’m not gonna murder you, alright?” He chuckled. His eyes were illuminated with a mischievous glow you couldn’t escape. You saw his eyes in dreams and knew you’d never want to imagine a day without them.

Fuck, you thought. It was way too early to be thinking of that.

“Then tell me!” You looked over at him with reason. “This road is so shitty I can’t imagine what’s on the other end!”

“Paradise, baby!” He smiled. “When I was a kid, my pops used to take me and my brother down here to go fishing. It’s this picnic area that I think,” he glanced at you with raised eyebrows, “no one else knows about. So don’t go runnin’ and tellin all them about this, ok?”

Oh.

It was personal.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“When my grandpa died I was,” he thought back on it as if it were long ago. “Nine and I came here with my mom and just sat. We stared out at the water and watched the ducks and the birds fly over until the sun went down. This was his spot and he passed it on to me.”

You suddenly felt an urge of regret pass over you as the comments from before soured.

“Tyler,” you said solemnly. “I didn’t—“

He brushed the nonverbal apology away.

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “There are plenty of reasons why you could have felt that way.”

It was heartwarming that Tyler didn’t dismiss your fears. There were so many guys, barely men, who would have called you crazy for a lot less. Tyler never made you feel that way.

Being with him was like chasing a high of the greatest strengths. Everything he did revolved around his ability to be free and willing to do what scared him the most and it was enchanting.

You could feel the sparks hit your heart.

“I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

“No?”

“You’d be the first.”

The two of you let that sit in the air as the road became more suitable for driving. The smoothness was welcome as his admission settled between you.

The first. He thought you special enough to be the first person to witness this place. You could have been ten feet tall at that moment. Never had anyone ever made you feel so special.

As the roads improved, the clearings of trees and bushes began to open up to a wider area with a paved lot on a taller hill.

It was beautiful.

Only the fairy tales could conjure a place like that. Billowing pines and lush greens on the bank of a river cut off by a large damn. The rushing water filled your ears amidst the squawking of wildlife uninterrupted by human activity.

It was so peaceful, charming.

The sun’s orange rays twinkled down onto the water and made it sparkle. Flowers in bloom, the buzzing of cicadas at the arrival of a hot and early spring warmed your cheeks as Tyler put the truck into park.

He watched you take in your surroundings of pure nature. A slight awe in your eyes, shallow breath at the sights. You were a vision in his favorite place.

“I thought we could have dinner here,” he tipped his head to the back seat where he had plastic Walmart bags full of food, unprepared and prepared for whatever fit your fancy. “And then, if we’re lucky, maybe it will rain.”

“Rain?” You turned to meet his eyes and they crinkled at the sides. Endearing, charming—just like this place.

Tyler hummed. “You mean to say you’ve never heard of rain?”

His words quickly became a joke. You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. It was solid under your touch and you were reminded that he was real. It wasn’t a fairytale and you were very much living it.

“Ha-ha,” you replied dryly.

“I’ll keep that one as a surprise.”

“I checked the weather before we left and,” you pointed to the sky. “No rain.”

Tyler unbuckled himself and opened his door.

“They just don’t see what I do.”

“And what’s that?” You asked him but he shut the door, moving to the backseat to take out the bags of items he procured, and then as ever the gentleman, opened your own door.

“Magic.”

You laughed but he was being serious. His eyes still gleamed with the same sly nature he was born with, but his touch was comfort. Hands carefully guiding you to a spot that he had meticulously planned out—even if this appeared to be a spur of the moment outing for you.

Everything was planned. Tyler wasn’t going to take just anyone to this spot. He’d be a fool to lie and say he hadn’t spoken to his mother about his plans just to hear her perspective on whether it was creepy, brilliant, or just plain sad.

However, he carried on to face his fears of bringing someone he liked to a place near-sacred to him. Tyler wasn’t a fool of love, he just hadn’t found anyone worth sharing these bits of him. And he also didn’t expect the feeling to come about so quickly.

Those fears he let simmer never truly came about in the reality he lived.

You were smitten. Absolutely fallen into this little spot in this tiny corner of the world with a man who was opening up before you. Tyler made the puzzle pieces of a perfect date fit together wonderfully.

The food, the drinks, the atmosphere—he hit an apex of the paragon of “partner,” “boyfriend,” or “lover.”

And you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as the sun began to truly fade.

You took a sip of your drink, coming down from a high of laughter at a story Tyler shared at his brother’s detriment. The sky was a shimmering shade of reds and deepening blues now; orange melting away for the sake of night.

“No rain,” you pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders, moving from a lounging position on the worn blanket to a lying one. His arms perched behind his head.

Tyler stared at the stars beginning to form.

He could see the shapes of the clouds, the movement quickening and the air cooling. It was as special as this place, his talent for finding the storms. Whether they brew inside or out, he found them and chased them with a passion—unrelenting and fierce. He sought the thrill.

“The night’s not over yet,” he said coolly. “Don’t count me out.”

“I’m not counting you out,” you defended, moving scraps of discarded food away from you to lay next to him. You shuffled to get comfortable in his vicinity.

“How often do you stargaze?” Tyler asked.

“Not often. I don’t think there’s an opportunity for it when I have nowhere to go.”

He agreed with a grunt. “I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong spots, honey.”

Oh those godforsaken nicknames. The country in him seeped out at their mention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he removed his arms from the back of his head and pointed to the now appearing stars the darker it became. “See here?”

You moved closer. “Not really.”

“There,” he pointed again. “Right there in the middle of those two clouds.”

There were two stories at play here: one of him proving that rain was coming in the guise of stars and the second of you trying to be aloof in order for him to touch you.

You’d spent the last hour with him. Watching him talk, eat, smile, and laugh at anything that brought him joy. Those lips begged you to kiss them. They beckoned you like a ship lost at sea and in the clouds, the water would find it.

You shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at, Ty.”

“Here,” he took your hand in his and pointed to the stars. “Look.”

In the sky above, a faint outline of the Little Dipper appeared in your vision. You smiled lightly. His hand with his finger pointing was still outstretched and connected to yours which made it grow wider.

You were giddy.

Tyler moved his finger to fully cup your hand but as you kept looking at the sky, he looked at you. You could feel his eyes on you, the turn of his face and the low breaths he released through his nose.

“What else do you see?” He asked lowly.

You breathed in deeply. It was just too beautiful to explain one thing. The clouds grew thicker, dense in the night as light was swallowed up by the moon. The air was now cool enough to send a chill down your spine and wish the blanket was more than a thin excuse for a sheet.

“It’s getting cloudy,” you observed. “There are more stars and it’s cooling off.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s just beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

“I’m can—“

You stopped mid-sentence at the sensation that hit your cheek.

It wasn’t air or breath or a bug or grass but a wetness that could have come from only one place: the sky. You waited for another to fall and it did not a second later. A third and fourth drop followed until it was a hundred drops or more into a steady downpour.

You scoffed in disbelief, sitting up to feel the rain in your palms and Tyler sat up too. His laugh was one of joy that followed yours.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as the water began to drench the area around you and your clothes.

“I told you!” Tyler shouted over the rain falling harder and harder. You blinked at him.

“How’d you know!?”

“Just did!”

“And what’s so magical about getting rained on?” You asked him.

He didn’t have a solid plan if it rained. All he knew is that he had seen this in the movies. A downpour catches two people in the rain and it creates one thing: magic. It’s innocent and daring, carefree and transparent. Rain makes lovers fall in love. It binds them to one spot, one moment in time where all the elements line up to craft one singular point that would forever be cemented in their memory.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

Tyler positioned one hand to lean on behind your back while the other cupped your face. The rain dropped onto his hand but you were warm against the coldness of his hands. Your eyes glistened at him as the movies described.

“I don’t know what’s so magical about it.”

“Me either.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked him. It wasn’t a question, per se. He was going to kiss you.

Tyler nodded his head, leaning in to meet your lips as the rain fell harder around you both. The sound of the rain disappeared when his lips met yours. Only the beat of your heart, the rush of your blood flooded your ears and body. You lifted a hand to grip his arm as he tilted his head, using his leverage to position you the way he wanted and deepened the kiss.

You could feel the tendrils of a story weaving in your bones. The place, the time, the kiss… it was a fairytale.

You dropped everything and kissed him in the pouring rain in a spot now forever implanted in your history, you felt the sparks fly higher.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Headcanons of Kratos

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about liking the different sex (male), kidnapping, forced affection, and mention of killing (duh).

A/N: yeah, I started writing this, and now it’s posted; I’d love requests from this man! This is written as the current Kratos (2022). Hope you enjoy <3!

@sakuracream, here it is!

He’s insanely protective, and just as possessive in the sense that everybody will know you are taken by his menacingly form standing behind you. He acts like a guard dog, always behind you with his resting face, ensuring that nobody disrespects you. But, he’s also caring in his own way. 

It’s a slow burn with him. Kratos isn’t one for simply falling in love with someone, especially with the amount of guilt, shame, and fear he carries each day of his life. He’s lost so many, and doesn’t want to get attached again. Even if he admits it or not, Kratos suffers from abandonment + trust issues. There’s a lack of consistency in his life from as far back as he can remember. So, when first meeting you, it’s harsh.

The meetings of you two are likely between Atreus. You could be a sorcerer they ran into on a late evening, Atreus quickly becoming on good terms with you; begging for you to help him with certain topics, or teaching him things of magick. 

You could be a blacksmith, Sindri making you two meet as his rather permanent weapon needs help. Or, in an infrequent case, an enemy turned into a good ally. Either way, opening up for him isn’t easy. 

Again, it’s a slow burn. He slowly notices how you make him feel — and it irks him. He doesn’t like feeling fear when he loses sight of you, or when you mumble to yourself, he hates feeling jealousy on not being able to hear what you’re saying. It’s difficult for him to analyze his emotions, and with you being near him most of the time, he’s unsure how to approach you, especially if you’re of the different sex. His heart naturally flutters when you talk, his go-to responses of grunts or silence of listening current. Hands sweat when you nudge his shoulder or accidentally bump into him. To you, he’s a tough nut. But underneath all that, he’s analyzing his emotions better; looking at you with love. 

Little by little, it starts with him writing in his journal about you. Descriptions of your characteristics, your likes & dislikes, how you two interact, how close you are to Atreus, and how your habits work; which he describes are quite adorable. This often leads to him stalking you, looking at you when you aren’t paying attention, and reading/and learning your body language like his backhand. It only adds to his adoration towards you, if by chance, you’re a motherly figure to his son. 

With this and interacting with him for a long period of time on a daily basis, Kratos, at some point, lowers his guard — especially if Atreus openly says he trusts you. 

And just like a snap of fingers, he prioritizes you. Actively looking at you when you aren’t around. Asking the others if he’d seen you; quickly shutting the conversation down if Atreus or Mimir ask what’s with him. Small touches are guaranteed, a hand guiding you on your lower back. Fingers ‘accidentally’ nudging to yours when you’re beside each other. Grabbing you by the waist to help you climb on rocks. Or teaching you factors of hunting that he knows you’ll enjoy doing. 

At this point, he’s already attached, far too North. It’s a perfect family, is it not? You aren’t going anywhere without him. He’s fallen for you, quite hard. The rope has snapped, and you’ll be his. 

This said, kidnapping is ensured. It’ll start slow at first, Kratos keeping you a bit longer at home so you can get used to it. He often invites you for supper and dinner; making stew, or having deer. He engages with small talk, admiring you and his son. Slowly but surely, he adds things inside the cabin that he knows you’ll like — shelves of books and poems, more blankets, clothes of your liking, and many items of those hobbies of yours. Atreus adds in too, gifting and creating you things with your thoughts in vain. 

It is, until, one day, you’re permanently kept into the house. Once you try to leave, your smile goes away as you realize he’s blocking your way to the door — ordering you to sit back down. Depending on your reaction, he’s equally stronger than you are, and already has you sitting down, either with his strength or voice. If he needs to, he will chain you; he’s determined on not losing anybody close to him again. 

The mere idea of losing you sends him into a panicked state, to which, he’s forced the option for you to stay here, forever. 

Life in Midgard with Kratos is rather isolated — even though he doesn’t mean to. He loves you, and often fears the worst scenarios, which means everywhere you go, even to see an old-friend, he’s there with a possessive grip. 

Within the stand of home, Kratos tries to make it cozy, and to your liking; adding things to make sure your ‘stay’ is more comfortable. He adds many blankets to the shared bed as needed to keep you warm, even though he’s a lava himself. Every night, he makes delicious food, and often tells you to retire everything to him as he promises to take care of you. 

Affection is hard for him to express — especially with words, so he’s more passionate within his actions. If you two are out in public, he will be touching you one way or another; he has a fear that you’ll leave him, which makes him quite clingy. A hand on your hip, pinky-interlocking-pinky, or if he’s feeling threatened, he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you into him. If he’s not directly by your side, rest assured that he will be glaring at anyone who approaches you or even looks at you. 

In private, it’s worse. He’s practically glued to your side, and if you’re sitting down, you better believe he’s scooching you closer to his body, and making you sit in/or between his lap. 

Despite his ‘distant’ and gruff answers, he pays attention to the littlest things and wants to make you happy. Despite his possessiveness, If you mention missing your homeland, Kratos will wake you up early the next morning, take you to fatherland and let you visit for a short period of time; a large hand wrapped around yours the whole time. 

Pass-to-conversation that you need more items for your certain hobby? He’s heading down to the trading posts at the butt-of-dawn, actively looking for what you said, and bringing it home with a grunt of, “Here.”

At some point in the future, he’d love to have a bigger family. The thought of having another kid, possibly a daughter, makes his heart flutter and a small smile widen. Though, if you’re of the different sex/or cannot get pregnant, he’s open to adopting or simply just having you and Atreus.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[pixiecaps]

recapping a bit of what haru said on stream

haru on her stream spoke about how shes had a really awful past five years and all her experiences just from this past year has been incredible. she gave a massive thank you to everyone and that she has no regrets.

“i never imagined i’d be where i am right now and i mean it with all my heart thank you so much. i had a very good time and i hope to have made you guys happy.”

she mentioned that since she was young shes always wanted to make content that makes people happy because she felt the world was missing a lot of love so shes happy to have given the world a piece of her heart. she mentioned how shes met so many incredible people who motivated her to see the good parts of life. to have found even this little bit of sunshine has left her so grateful. she says thank you for all the kindness, all the moments, all the memories, all the words, everything. shes very happy and mentioned this has been a very special experience for her. she reminded her chat that theres always another day and to enjoy life to the maximum, to live, to love, to talk, to hug each other, to be happy always, and that all the beautiful happiness we’ve given her will be returned back to us. she continues to express her gratitude. she mentioned this is one of the most beautiful communities shes ever had the pleasure of meeting in the entire world. she goes on to include the spanish, portuguese, french, english, german, and korean community in that statement.

“there is love in all types of languages and that love needs to be shared.“

she said her words will never be enough to express all her gratitude. she gave a reminder to always keep being kind. her voice falters a couple times from all the emotions. she mentioned shes cried enough and didn’t want to keep crying since she had something to do tomorrow and she didnt wanna have swollen eyes lmao.

she then shares a more personal moment. paraphrasing here.

“after i lost my dad i swear i felt like my life was falling apart. i never thought i’d be able to recover. after that many things happened and in those things, i wasnt destined to meet two people, this is a story i’ll always remember because i wasnt destined to meet these people. … they tell me hey the actor for this little thing didn’t show up and i say no way seriously? tell them to let me be it, tell them please because i want to be with you guys (harus two friends who were apart of the project). and i didnt think they’d agree… and they said yes. and i met two very important people and honestly (starts crying) thank you so much. thank you so much nussa. thanks to you i was able to meet them. i never imagined this would happen i promise you. thank you nussa. it means a lot to me that you decided to put me (into the leo spot). the only major thing in my life, i started being so happy, i started enjoying all the moments in my life as if it were the last, thanks to all this i’m here. and could meet you all. such a beautiful community.” she goes on to keep thanking nussa while crying and saying it was written in the stars. she goes on to say that shes gonna tell this as a story some day to her family, who doesnt know what she does or that she streams, and she’ll tell them about all of this with so much care and love. shes very thankful to have learned so much english and more about so many different cultures. she again reiterates shes very happy.

she also teases that she wants to go to brazil!!!! which… might be soon… and that theres little things being planned so hopefully if all goes well…👀 (an egg admin meetup would go so hard)

NOW GO SUPPORT HER ON TWITCH @ HarumiVT

[dawnagustd]

hours || jjk

⇝ title: hours ⇝ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ⇝ genre: humor, i think? | neighbors to lovers | smut | implied unestablished relationship to established relationship ⇝ summary: You walk across the hall and visit your neighbor Jungkook every Wednesday to drink, chill, sing some karaoke… watch some Netflix. But you always end up wobbling back to your apartment after hours of doing all kind of unholy things. Not tonight. ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 3k ⇝ warnings: alcohol consumption | strong language | they’re both kind of bratty but cute | mentions birth control | pussy eating | edging | fingering | unprotected sex | pull out method | cervix touching/bulging | jungkook has a lip piercing and a septum piercing | uhh he puts his nose in her coochie lol | light tit slapping | teasing | throat grabbing | dirty talk | hairstyling (wink, wink) | missionary | cum shots | squirting | slight dom!jk | nipple sucking | breath play | crying | ass worshiping | aftercare | bam makes an appearance | naked jk… yes this is a warning and you will see why | i brought up BTR, i need to apologize immediately for that | discussions about relationships | i think that’s all

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp​ and @monvante​ for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga​ for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

drabbles: the unholy drabble | nails drabble | keeps

“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it. 

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center. 

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail. 

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core. 

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more. 

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva. 

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room. 

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room. 

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish. 

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with. 

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail. 

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

[aemondwhoresworld]

AN IDEA FOR ANY WRITER/AUTHOR NEED IT

prince!aemond targaryen x noble!reader

warning: unrequited love, mention of being abandon, pregnancy, alys and aemond have a child together (son/daughter have dark hair), mention of alys, betrothed

mae: maybe if you write one base on this ideas please tag me to it cause i’d love to read it, also sorry about my grammar, english is not my native language

i have an angsty idea for Aemond Targaryen, tis will take place which Aemond and Alys secretly have a son/daughter together (you can decide how old this baby is) but the Targaryens are completely unaware to the existence of Alys as well as this baby.

And y/n is the youngest and only daughter of a noble family of the Waynwood family, both have been betrothed to each other since they were both very young and y/n has the ability to read minds someone else's sincerity (the reader is not a witch), so y/n soon learned of the existence of Alys and their child, even though she had been passionately in love with Aemond since the small meetings between the Targaryen family and the Waynwood family, but y/n still silently accepted her fate since she always wanted to fulfill her duty as a good wife to Aemond as well as become a part of the Targaryen family with some hope that Aemond would realize her feelings for him.

About 3 years have passed, everything for y/n becomes simpler and she gradually changes her lifestyle to be able to integrate into the place she calls her second home, which is also where her children will later live. But everything fell apart when Aemond, after some time arriving at Harrenhal, took Alys and their child to Kings Landing, and declared that Alys and their child would from now on live in Kings Landing. Everything happened so fast, and she decided to quietly leave Kings Landing with the twins she was carrying the night everything happened (she knows that she is with child, and planning on to tell Aemond the night he brought Alys and their child to KL), y/n did not tell anyone know even her family (there is only her maid who knows about y/n's current situation). Y/n then migrate to a remote area (like a small rural area, where no one knows her identity).

The scene is set about 1 year after y/n gives birth to twins, her children have this blonde white hair like Aemond. When the people in the village saw these kids with strange colored hair, they were very surprised and started spreading rumors about these kids being witches, and of course rumors spread to Kings Landing and Since then King Aegon (who y/n gets really close with since the day she married to Aemond, live in a cold marriages) sent people to the village where y/n lived to bring her back to the right place where y/n belonged.

this could be an angsty one with a happy ending (actually any ending you decide is fine but i love it when aemond would beg the forgiveness from y/n, hehe), of course this will not be all of it, if you need anymore of the details please let me know 🥹. btw this idea originally is for jacaerys but i think it’s more fit for aemond

[ichorai]

the silent storm ; aemond targaryen.

pairing ; aemond targaryen x mute!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; aemond pays you a visit in the library and has a confession to make.

words ; 1.2k

themes ; fluff, mildly suggestive, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; mentions of killing/death/violence, reader is one of jasper wylde's many children, aemond being whipped for you <3 also he learned their version of sign language js for you, some kisses but nothing more than that, "i'd burn down the entire world for you" trope, lots of pet names :)

main masterlist.

The candle’s flame warbled as you set it down on the table, bathing the small corner of the library in a dewy, clementine luminescence. You narrowed your eyes at the frayed spines of the arranged historical books, fingers trailing along the dusty shelves. 

After several minutes of debating between a tome on the history of dragonkeeping, and a lengthy volume on alchemic remedies, you settled on reading the latter for tonight. You eased down into a rickety wooden chair that did no favors for your back, flipping the old book open with a gentle smile, and began to read.

Not even ten minutes past, your husband’s voice drifted through the library, quietly calling your name.

You reluctantly pulled your attention away from the miraculous works of potions and brews depicted on the yellowing pages, and affectionately rolled your eyes to the side. It was an ongoing joke amongst the court that Aemond physically couldn’t be without you for more than an hour at once. The two of you were scarcely ever seen without one glued to the other’s hip. The Silent Storm and the One-Eyed Dragon, the lords and ladies oft called you and your husband. 

With your father, Lord Jasper Wylde, being the Master of Laws, he was usually far too busy for the likes of you. Not to mention that he had four wives and twenty-eight other children to attend to—you were simply known as ‘the quiet one’ in your youth, which soon evolved to the Silent Storm when the court witnessed you beating up one of your older brothers with no restrain when you caught him stealing your coffers, where you kept your silvers.

Imagine your father’s utter shock when Aemond set his sights upon you, proclaiming you to be his almost instantly. Not even three months later, the two of you were wed, and you couldn’t be happier. 

“There you are,” the prince said, eye lighting up when he caught sight of you. “I knew I’d find you here.”

You arched a brow. Don’t be so smug. I’m always here, you signed, hands motioning languidly as your lips curved up into an amused grin. 

Aemond moved forward to sit beside you, two of his fingers slotting beneath your chin to tilt your face up so he could plant a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. “Yes, yes, you and your beloved books. Hardly a second goes by without your nose buried between pages.”

A humored huff fell from your lungs. You lifted your hands. Sounds like you’re jealous.

Your husband watched you sign, before scoffing. “Me? Jealous of books?”

Worry not, husband. I love you more than I love the library, I promise.

Ironically enough, right after you gestured out your reassurance, you turned right back to your book and began reading once more, missing the tilt of Aemond’s head and the widening, lovesick smile curving the corner of his mouth upward.

“What are you reading?” he asked, peering over your shoulder, before softly laying a kiss against the slope of your neck, lips brushing against the cold metal of the necklace he’d gifted you on your last name day. You smelled of lavender and honey, a scent he’d give anything to drown himself with.

Alchemy, you responded. 

“Apologies, my love, I’m afraid I don’t recognize that word,” Aemond whispered into your skin, not unkindly. 

You turned back to your husband, eyes soft and patient. You spelled it out for him, having to lightly swat his face away from your neck with a silent laugh just so he’d be able to concentrate. 

“Ah, alchemy,” he mumbled, voice rife with affection, drawing you closer to him. “What have I done to deserve someone equally intelligent as they are beautiful?”

Instead of responding, you leaned forward to kiss him, his lips melding gently over yours. You pulled away to plant another kiss to the side of his nose, and a final one right below his leather eyepatch.

I love you, Aemond signed to you, before pressing his enclosed fist right above your beating heart. “Avy jorrāelan. I would burn down the entirety of Westeros at your behest, jelmāzma.” Storm.

I’d rather you not, but thank you for offering, you replied, brows pulling together incredulously and your shoulders shaking with muted chuckles. A brilliant smile flickered over your expression, the shadows of your face elongated with the candlelight. What brings about such a��� violent sentiment?

A beat of silence. Aemond seemed hesitant, his hand coming forth to lovingly stroke your cheek, thumb running along your jaw.

“Promise you won’t be mad at me.”

You blinked at him in a miffed fashion, then narrowed your eyes accusingly. What did you do?

Aemond winced. There was a reason why the court called you the Silent Storm. “Promise me first, darling,” he said, trying his best to placate you.

Fine, sure, I promise. Your gaze was sharp, and Aemond already had a feeling that your words were empty.

“Well, I was training with Criston when I overheard two bumbling, foolish lords passing by—and they were talking about you. Naturally, I stopped sparring and listened to their conversation. It was… an improper debate about whether or not you’d make sound in bed.”

You sighed, used to the giggles and whispers behind your back. The lords and ladies often forgot that just because you were mute, didn’t mean you couldn’t hear them, either. 

You killed them, then?

“I killed them,” Aemond confirmed, looking none too sorry about it, either. “Slit both of their throats. I couldn’t stand by and just listen to them insult you in such a way.”

They were jesting! you hurriedly signed, frustrated that your husband had taken such drastic measures without confronting you first. That is what men do, they jest and they speak ill-will and they are pigs about it! There is naught that we can do about their behavior other than a slap on the wrist—you cannot just kill anybody who gets on your nerves! Swear that you won’t do it again. Swear it, Aemond!

“But they were—”

You held a warning finger up, effectively halting him in his protests. The glare you had fixed on him held the intensity of a thousand hurricanes. And what was a dragon in comparison to the might of a storm?

“Yes, my love,” Aemond reluctantly said, biting down on his tongue. 

The anger melded over your visage seemed to melt away at his relatively easy acquiescence. 

Good boy, you teasingly signed, which earned you a light, ticklish pinch of retaliation to your side. I love you, too, by the way. But if you take another undeserving soul again—I’m going to have to reconsider.

A deep hum fell from his throat, and you were about to gesture some more warnings (borderline threats), but the thoughts were dashed from your mind when he surged forward to kiss you, pushing you up against the bookshelf. His large, spindly hands splayed over your waist and curved along your back. 

“Alchemy can wait, can’t it?” he murmured into you, nearly dizzy with yearning.

You shook your head with an exasperated beam, before pulling him forward by the lapels of his coat and slanting your lips against his once again.

[bad268]

Merda (Joao Felix X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/FC Barcelona

Requested: Yeah (ILY ZEP)

Warnings: Google translate Portuguese, mentions of being called puta

POV: Second Person (You/your but fem accents)

W.C. 1004

Summary: The reader wants to learn Portuguese.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I feel left out,” You said one day when Joao came back from practice. Immediately, 101 thoughts ran through his head about what you could be left out of. You were pretty close with his friends, you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted, you had the job of your dreams, and you were still able to travel with him whenever you wanted. He always made sure to make you feel included in anything he did, so he had no clue what you could be left out of. 

“Am I missing something here?” He questioned as he set his bag down by the door and walked over to where you sat at the kitchen island cautiously. He gently leaned down to see what you were looking at on your computer, and it was Google Translate. “What is this?”

“You and your friends always talk in a language I don’t speak!” You exclaimed as you flung your hands up to rest against the sides of your face while you looked over at Joao. “I feel left out of your conversations because there’s a language barrier. I just want to know what you’re all saying. I want to be part of the conversation.”

“I could always not speak Portuguese around you,” Joao chuckled in disbelief of the reason as he draped an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But it is!” You almost shouted as you dropped your hands and snapped your head to look at him. “That’s your native language, and I’d never ask you to stop speaking it around me, especially not when most of your friends speak Portuguese or something similar. I don’t, but I want to!”

“Google Translate won't help you,” He chuckled to himself, finding the situation amusing. “I could always teach you.”

“But that would require me asking for help,” You said simply as you eyed him, “And you know that’s something I struggle with. But if you wanted to offer,” You eyed him again, gesturing to the screen, “I wouldn’t say no.”

“Are you busy with Google Translate now or can I take you on a date?” He asked easily as he gestured to the screen.

“Like now? Tonight? Did you not just hear me?” You rushed out as you looked between him and the screen again. “I’m having an existential crisis right now. Can’t you tell?”

“I can see,” Joao replied, moving to close the laptop. “C’mon, go get ready.”

~

The following week you were able to sit down and actually start learning with Joao. It was very laid back for the most part.

“What do you want to learn to say?” Joao started the day by saying. It was a rare day off for both of you, and you were keen to spend the day cuddling away. You were resting against his chest as you just woke, and he decided now was the best time to talk about learning his native language.

“Can we start with cute things? I want nicknames to call you,” You said in a quiet tone as you pulled back a little to look at him. “You always call me different things, so it would be nice to know what they mean. Like amour, querida, amada, meu tudo, and fufinha.”

“Love, darling, beloved, my everything and cutie,” He listed off quickly. “You could call me those as well. Just change the end from a to o. Portuguese is a romance language, and the people who made the language decided to gender every word. It’s complicated, but all you need to know right now is that when you talk about a guy or multiple people, the end is an o. If you're talking about a female or a group of all women, it ends with an a.”

“So I can call you amouro, querido, amado, meu tudo and fofinho?” You asked a little confused.

“Not amouro, just amour,” He chuckled lightly as he left a light kiss on your forehead. “You can also do some funnier names like idiota, meaning idiot, cornel, which sounds bad but means sweetheart, or lindo.”

“What does lindo mean?” You asked skeptically. There’s no way he would have conveniently left that one out.

“Handsome,” Joao whispered into your hair as he moved to place butterfly kisses around your face.

“So, if I started calling you “lindo”, would you answer?” You teased as you moved your head around to try and get him to stop the flutter of kisses. “Meu lindo namorado? Did I do it right?”

“Wait, did you just call me your handsome boyfriend?” He gasped as you let out a laugh as you nodded. “But I didn’t teach you that!”

“Maybe, maybe not,” You shrugged lightheartedly as you turned to get up from the bed. You start walking to your closet to pick out your outfit of the day and head for the ensuite. “Now, come on, minha vida. Last I checked, we had plans with seus companheiros de time. I think Pedri, Fermin, and Ferran will throw a fit if we’re late for lunch.”

“Where did you learn that? My life, your teammates?” Joao got up in shock as he followed you to the bathroom, practically caging you against the sink. “When did you learn all of that? I’m proud of you, but I want to know when you learned that.”

“Let’s just say I listen,” You teased as you pulled his face down to leave a kiss firmly on his lips. You pulled back with a teasing smirk on your lips when he tried to chase your mouth. Not so fast, Mr.” You put a finger to his lips to gently push him back. “Does your mother know you call me “puta”?

“Merda,” Joao said under his breath as he looked to the side. He knew this was teasing but that didn’t stop him from playing into your antics.

“Fuck me is right,” You teased back. “I don’t know everything but let’s just say I have an idea now.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[clairifys]

Prolonged love - Joseph Liebgott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sometimes the best things in life take a long time, and sometimes life throws you for a loop. It sure threw (Y/n) for a loop when grabbing German POWs in Hagenau turns into her having to babysit a young Dutch girl.

Tw: Swearing, death, reader being trilingual, mentions of war, mentions of concentration camps, mentions of abuse, killing, slightly dirty? not full on smut, reader is female, slight misogyny due to the time period, she/her pronouns

Word count: 6.5k

I do not own Band of Brothers, nor do I own any of the characters. I am not intending to be disrespectful towards any of the people on this show

The Dutch name is pronounced like (Tina-ka) Tineke, and the nickname Tine is pronounced as (Teeny)

I was born in Chicago. My mother was born in Groningen, Netherlands, and my father in Antwerp, Belgium. I was the oldest child, and after me, my parents had five others. Despite having six kids, we were all taught Dutch and German from a young age. The sole reason I was accepted into the military was because of me being trilingual, I’ll forever be grateful to my parents for teaching me their languages. 

February 9, 1945 

Easy Company was on its way to France. We were stationed in Haguenau, which had been taken by the Allies in December. Honestly speaking, I didn’t really know what to expect when we got there. I was sitting in the back of a truck, squished between Babe and Liebgott. Joe had become a close friend way back in Toccoa when he’d fallen running up Currahee, and I stopped and helped him up. We both had our 48-hour weekend passes revoked, but we made the most of it that weekend together. After that, we’d spend our weekend passes together and hang out.

I was leaning against Joe as I’d been almost the whole ride, his arm slung around my shoulders as I read a book that I had found when we invaded Foy. It seemed the Krauts enjoyed good literature as I was reading For Whom the Bell Tolls in German. I was a translator for Easy Company, being able to speak English, German and Dutch, I was a heavy asset to the team. It was a beautifully told story about the Civil War that had some romance aspects while also being brutal. I finished the book twice, and now I was reading it a third time.

“Jesus doll, I think I’ve seen you read that damn book about forty times now. How good can it be?” Joe said when he noticed my attention had strayed.

“Oh it’s a beautifully told story, Joe. Although, I don’t think you could read anything that didn’t have pictures.” I replied jokingly to him, looking up at him from where I was leaning against him. I could hear Babe and Malarkey laughing, and a young soldier, Jackson watching intently. 

“How can you read that, (L/n)?” A quiet voice asked in front of me. It’d been from Jackson. He lied on his documents so that made him 20 right now while I, at 23, was considered young. 

“I can speak and read German. Although my mother is a Dutch immigrant, my father was a Belgium immigrant.” I spoke honestly. Picking up languages was a bit of a gift for me. I’d always been good at remembering and learning languages, probably since I was taught three languages at once from a young age.

“(Y/n)! I’ve read that book! It’s so beautifully written.” A new voice spoke from the opening in the back of the truck, I quickly jolted from Joe’s shoulder, as he groaned from lack of contact, to see who the familiar voice belonged to.

“David Webster? Where the hell have you been?” I interrogated, while simultaneously giving him a toothy smile. He blushed slightly while asking Jackson for a hand to get up on the truck and suddenly Joe spoke up sharply, 

“The hospital. Must’ve liked that hospital Webster, cause uh, we left Holland four months ago.” After saying that he gave Web a dismissive look while tightening his hold on my shoulders. Suddenly, I felt very awkward, and slightly bad for Web - the war was tough and it was understandable to be afraid, it just wasn’t fair that some men snuck out only to get killed or injured more severely than the first time. They started going back and forth, jabbing at Webster passively, although it didn’t seem to be because they didn’t like him, they were just tired and upset. I gave Web a smile before getting off the truck, following Joe close behind.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to be so mean to Web.” I said calmly, making sure to not seem mad at Joe as to not have him get defensive.

“I guess, but it’s bullshit that we had men come back just to get killed.” He said quickly. When he said that, I saw Lieutenant Lipton sluggishly walking towards a building. The poor man had a bad case of Pneumonia, so I ran over and put his arm under my shoulders to help him. As I did that, explosions rang over our head and fell a little farther than we were. He gave me a smile and I helped him into the building he was walking towards. It was pretty on the inside, Luz and Captain Speirs were in the room along with Webster walking in. 

“Hey look who it is. Nice digs, huh, Lip? (Y/n)?” Luz said to me and Lipton as I helped Lipton situate himself on the couch.

“Yeah.” Lipton called back, unenthusiastically and coughed slightly after.

George came over with a blanket and put it on Lipton. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, so I took it out and took a long drag from it.

“Hey what gives (Y/n). Just ‘cause you’re a pretty dame with a nice rack doesn’t mean you can steal my cigs.” He said while laughing, only partly joking. I gave him a look and replied,

“You’re just mad, this is all you get to see of my ‘nice’ rack.” 

He laughed and replied with a ‘you bet’. As he said that, a new voice spoke up, mock confident.

“Ahem. Is this the company CP for Easy?” He asked, looking at me and Luz weirdly before I went to get Lip a cup of hot coffee. 

From the kitchen, I could vaguely hear that he called himself Lieutenant Jones and that he was asking for Captain Speirs. I came out with a coffee for Lipton as Speirs was drilling him about going to the back to sack out and rest. I noticed Jones had stood up when Speirs walked in.

“Christ Captain, give him a break. He’s got Pneumonia!” I told Speirs as I handed Lipton his coffee and gave him a squeeze on his shoulder. Lipton thanked me with a small smile as the new guy looked at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

“Hello to you Ms. (L/n). If he doesn’t rest up though, that Pneumonia won’t go away.” He said pointedly at Lipton.

“I’m sorry, are you a field nurse? I didn’t think they let field nurses come this close to action.” Jones asked me, even though he wasn’t asking with any malicious intent, and it was all curiosity, I still got upset.

“Why d’ya think I’m a field nurse? I’m literally in uniform.” I deadpanned at him while giving him a little attitude for automatically assuming I’d be a field nurse just because I was a woman.

“Oh. I’m sorry, truly I was just curious. I didn't mean any offense, I just didn’t know they let women become paratroopers.” He said quickly, face turning slightly red.

“They don’t. (Y/n) here has some insane stamina, and she’s a helluva shot!” Webster spoke up for me, and I threw him a smile.

“Oh gee, Shifty’s got a better shot than I’d ever dream of having.” I replied, giving credit to Shifty, as he did have a better shot and he was just the sweetest man alive. At that, Winters walked in and told us he’d need fifteen of us on a patrol tonight to capture prisoners. When he said he’d need a translator, I instantly knew it’d be me or Joe as we were the only two in Second Platoon who could speak German. Webster could as well, but we didn’t know which Platoon he’d be in. 

After Nixon and Winters left, Speirs began talking to Lipton about who should lead, and who he could take for the patrol. During this, Jones asked to be on the patrol, which Speirs answered quickly and easily with a no, that he hadn’t any experience. 

“Lipton, how many prisoners do you think there’ll be?” Speirs asked the man in question.

“Honestly, sir, I’m not quite sure, anywhere between three to forty it seems.” He said in reply.

“(L/n).” Speirs called for me as I was sitting in a chair reading.

“Ya want me to be a translator, that it?” I asked, knowing that’s what he was about to ask me.

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Alright.”

When Webster and Lieutenant Jones left for OP two, I decided to get going as well. I knew Liebgott would be there so that was a good enough reason for me.

“Web, I’m comin’ with. Joe’s probably there right now.” I said to David, although slightly talking to Jones as well, to let him know I’d be going to.

“Yeah, no problem. Say when you’re finished with that book, d’ya mind if I reread it?” He asked me as all three of us walked down the street.

“Awh hell Web, I’ve read this thing three times now, you can go ahead and read it now.” I said while throwing him the book, silently noting how quiet Lieutenant Jones was behind us. The two men were running around crouching behind a little garden wall as I stood up, not seeing why they were doing that. When I heard the door open, Sergeant Kiehn came out, greeting me and Web and telling us where OP two was at. Before anymore words could get exchanged, bombs and mortars started raining down on us and we started running and ducking to take cover. We sat against the wall of a building before a man shouted out that it was all clear. After that, we quickly got to the building where OP two was located. Once inside, I immediately went upstairs and sat down on Joe’s bunk and plopped my stuff down.

“Hey doll, where’d you run off to?” Joe asked while wrapping his arms around me as a way to annoy me.

“Went to help Lip, where’d you go?” I asked while laughing at him.

“Came here.” He replied while digging his face into my stomach and faking sleep. Web and Lieutenant Jones came up not too long after I had, and when Jones saw me and Liebgott he immediately stiffened and gave me and Joe a weird look.

“This spot taken?” Webster asked.

“Nah it’s all yours.” Joe said to him while turning his face away from my stomach, my hands went down to card through his hair and he took notice of Jones’ look.

“Fuck are you staring at?” Joe asked him while sitting up and giving him his own glare.

“I’m sorry?” The Lieutenant asked, offended.

“You got a starin’ problem? Why you lookin’ at me and (Y/n) like that?” He challenged him.

“Alright, alright. Quit fighting, we’ve got news.” Webster said, breaking up the fight.

“Dummer, zimperlicher Junge, der dich so ansieht. (Stupid, prissy boy, lookin at you like that)” Joe mumbled to me in German, only loud enough for only me to hear.

“Er ist einfach sauer, weil du mich berührst und nicht er. (He's just mad because you're touching me and not him)” I said back laughing.

Me and Joe got up to go talk to a bunch of men in the corner laughing and smoking, while Webster and Jones went to talk to Malark. When Joe heard them talk about the patrol he pulled Web aside and I went and sat next to Babe to listen to what he was going to say.

“What do you know about this patrol thing?” Joe asked Web quietly.

“Uh, nothing.” Web said while nodding his head.

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez interrogated.

“I don’t” He replied adamantly 

` “Bullshit.” 

Web and everyone went back and forth and soon more people sat down to listen. I knew Web wouldn’t give anything up, so I decided to. My head was starting to hurt and I wanted to lay down before the patrol knowing I’d be on it at 0100.

“Speirs is picking fifteen men, Jonesy boy wants to be one of ‘em.” I said while yawning. Joe looked down at me and said,

“I say let the kid go, he could use the experience.” He smiled then Ramirez perked up,

“And I bet they could find fourteen other replacements to help him out.” while smirking.

“Nope.” I said, popping the p. “Babe, McClung, Ramirez and I are going out there.” I said dismissively.

“(Y/n)!” Web hissed at me.

“What?” I asked, confused. Then proceeded with,

“Pssh, I’ll just say it was you who said it, Joe and Babe’ll back me up, won’t you boys.” I asked, smiling up at Joe then at Babe.

“Course we will, doll.” Joe replied and Babe grunted. Webster deadpanned me and sat down when Malarkey started telling us about the patrol. 

When the phone rang, and the PX supplies came in, I was ecstatic. New shoes and a shower? Felt like late Christmas. On our way out, the Krauts started to bomb us. We ran down the stairs and I threw myself under a table with Joe. When we had made it outside, we heard there was a casualty, Bill Kiehn. He was a Toccoa man. It was upsetting and it was unfair that he’d gotten through Bastogne only to die like this. I hadn’t known him too well, but the fact that I’d been talking to him 30 minutes prior made me feel like throwing up. Instead of staying to watch, me and the rest of the second platoon went over to the showers to pick up our new ODs. 

Arriving at the showers, we went to go pick up our new ODs, and anything else they’d dropped for us. Nixon was standing by the depot and was holding a box with my name on it. Being the only woman paratrooper here meant I’d need a different size uniform and boots. I thanked Nixon and grabbed the box, opening it. Inside there was a uniform my size, boots, and women’s sanitary needs, a new bra set, and a few new pairs of panties.

“Well ain’t you a lucky gal, getting new undergarments while we’re stuck with the same briefs.” A voice came from behind me. Getting ready to yell at whoever was looking over my shoulder, I turned and realized it was Joe.

“Aww, poor baby has to wear the same briefs.” I replied, feigning upset and then laughing when I saw his disgruntled expression.

 Before I could run off to take a much needed shower, Malarkey called for us to let us know who’d be going on the patrol.

Heffron, McClung, Ramirez, me, Liebgott, Grant, Wynn, Jackson, Shifty and Webster. When we heard how many second platoon men were going, you could practically feel the rage flowing from us. 

We’d all been pissed, wanting to complain but knowing it’d do us no good. Malarkey went off towards the showers and told us to as well. There were men standing at the entrance, undressing and some coming out wet. I didn’t want to undress, even if it was only down to my bra and panties. I’d been behind Joe when I took my first few layers of my tops off. Down to my black bra and army-issued pants was when Webster came up to talk to Joe, effectively, scaring the shit out of me.

“Jesus, Web, you came outta nowhere.” I said, holding my hand to my chest to calm down.

“Oops, sorry (Y/n).” He said while rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I’d noticed his face had turned a bright shade of red, but I thought it was because he was embarrassed that he’d scared me. A hand shot out to grab my arm and turn me around when I noticed it was Joe. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked curiously.

“Do you not see everyone lookin’ at you like they’re starving men looking at their last meal?” He asked bewildered. Suddenly, I became hyper aware of most of the men's eyes on me, waiting for me to finish undressing. Before I could respond Joe spoke up again.

“Nevermind that, just finish and we can go in together.” Quickly I went to undo my belt, and I realized Joe was already down to his briefs, waiting on me. I felt bad to make him wait, but he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. I took this time to really look at Joe. Sure he was cute, and I’d definitely thought about him like this before, but would he really want me? I tried not to let my hopes get up, and as I slipped my pants down my legs, I forced myself to look away from his bare chest.

Having a hot shower was probably the best thing I’d had in a long time. Quickly scrubbing my body and hair down and then rinsing off, I stepped outside in a towel and grabbed my new uniform, and new undergarments.

Joe had finished showering, so I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a random building to change, and do my hair. When we got in, there was nobody there, probably all in the showers, so I took Joe to the first mirror I found in a bedroom and made him sit down. He had no obligations and I told him I’d be back after changing. Once I finished, I brought out my old undergarments and towel and hung them out to dry.

There was a vanity on the opposite side of a bed, with a little cushion seat, and some old, dusty hair products. I quickly got to work using them and braiding up my hair.

“Why’d you pull me away doll? Want me that bad huh?” He questioned while smirking at me and drawing a cigarette from his front pocket.

“Yeah, you wish. I wanted someone to talk to.” I joked back before replying honestly and looking at him through the mirror. I finished doing my last braid as Joe was telling me about one of his comics he found that he enjoyed. Standing up, I walked over to stand in front of him, looking down on him as he was sitting on the bed. He stopped talking and we made eye contact. He looked as handsome as ever sitting in his new ODs, with a fresh shower.

“Well don’t you look handsome in your new uniform with your hair combed.” I said to him in a sweet voice running my hands through his wet hair. His eyes darkened as his hands went to hold onto my hips.

“Jesus, (Y/n). We’ve been through hell and back and you’re still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.” He said confidently. I could feel my face getting hot, he’d said things like this before, but this time, it felt different. Stronger almost. 

“Oh, Joe. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” I whispered to him, and he looked up at my lips, silently asking me. I slowly closed my eyes and let my hands fall from his hair down to his face, I slowly leaned down as he looked up and closed my eyes. As our lips were less than a centimeter apart, someone awkwardly coughed.

We sprung away from each other, embarrassed that we got caught. Looking at who it was, some random replacement apologized and said he left something in here and it was his room.

When he left, I started laughing and grabbed Joe by the arm to pull him up.

“Come on, I bet everyone is wondering where we went.”

“Goddammit Johnny, you’re breaking my heart.” Luz said.

“Come on, George, just give me, I don’t know, ten, fifteen bars?” Martin pressured him

“Juicy fruit, happy?”

Johnny and Cobb had been pestering George to give them Hershey bars. I knew there wasn’t enough, and that it wasn’t fair so I just stayed quiet the whole time. Cobb began badgering George again and when George went to defend himself, a whole group of men walked in.

“Whoa, Hershey bars!” Joe exclaimed, coming up behind me to rest his hands on my shoulders from where I was sitting in front of the table of candy and treats.

“Jesus Christ.” Poor George just couldn’t catch a break.

“Wait your turn, Liebgott.” Cobb said, pissing me off. I never really liked Cobb and he didn’t like me.

“Yeah, who they for?” Liebgott asked George.

“Not you, Lieb.”

“Oh come on George, one bar!” Joe pestered, wanting to get that bar.

“Y’know who they’re for? People who don’t interrogate me. Here, (Y/n), have a bar!” George replied while looking Joe in the eye.

“Oh George! Thank you!” I exclaimed excitedly. I hadn’t known the last time I’d gotten chocolate.

“Christ, you’re only giving it to her because she’s a woman and you wanna get on her good side in case the opportunity arises to fuck her!” Cobb said angrily as I turned around, glaring, ready to hit him.

“That sounds more like something you’d do, knowing you couldn’t get a woman to sleep with you willingly if your life depended on it!” I yelled back at him which caused him to call me a slur of colorful words. After that, Joe yelled at him and I ignored him.

“Hey big mouth! Give Lieb a Hershey bar, huh?” Perconte asked.

When I heard his voice, I jumped up, running up to him to give him a hug.

“Perco! Your back!” I exclaimed as he hugged me back.

“You gotta be shittin’ me! Look who it is!” George laughed and said.

“How ya feeling?” Joe then asked him, smiling.

“As long as you keep your hands off my ass, I’ll be fine.” Perconte replied, laughing.

“Have a Hershey’s!” Luz threw one at Perconte.

“Hey he gets a fuckin Hershey bar?” Joe asked, offended as I came to sit down next to him, opening up my Hershey’s.

“Ask ya girlfriend to french ya when she’s done eating it.” George joked as I took a bite into my bar and broke it in half.

“I’ll do you one better, Joe.” I said after I swallowed and handed him the half I didn’t bite into. He took it with thanks.

“That’s not one better, he’d rather you kiss him (L/n)!” Luz said while laughing right after. Joe pushed him backwards while also laughing

At 1700, there was a briefing about the house we’d be going into. I was next to Shifty, talking with him. Every now and again me and Joe would make eye contact, until the other looked away. Winters, and Martin walked in which caused Joe to look away first. Winters explained Johnny would be going in Malarkey's place, and that made everyone slightly more comfortable. I was on Johnny’s team, along with Webster. I walked out and Liebgott was waiting for me, he left with me and as we passed Speirs, he told Joe he didn’t have to go on the patrol.

We’d been all stationed in the basement for now before the patrol. Having to eat slop and we couldn’t have our helmets. I sat with Shifty as I ate.

“Youse gonna be out there with a gun?” Shifty asked me in a sweet voice, I knew what he was talking about. He was asking if I’d be helping shoot.

“Nah, well obviously I’ll have a gun, but I’m mainly a translator.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I don’ understand why they never let you shoot with me. You’re a helluva sniper.” Shifty told me, making me giggle at him.

“Oh Shift, you know how to make a woman feel good about herself.” I replied, happy that I got to talk to him before the patrol. He always knew how to make someone happy, even during nerve-wracking times.

At 0100, we were getting into those rubber boats, and setting sail on a short trip across the river. Before the fourth boat could even get far, it flipped and we were down three men. I wasn’t too nervous, knowing that I’d been through worse. When we got to the other side, Martin had someone cut the fence and me and Web, being translators, meant that we had to be up front in case we found any Germans. 

So far, we’d gotten up to the steps of the house we’d need to get prisoners from. Johnny had shot into the window, and Jackson went up to throw his grenade, except, instead of waiting for it to finish detonating, Jackson didn’t stop and immediately went into the house, getting hit straight in the face with his grenade. As we ran in, me and Web were yelling at the men in German. We started to split the three men up when I heard a small cry in the corner of the room. I stopped to turn to go towards the sound.

“(L/n)! What are you doing?” Johnny yelled at me.

“Sir! There’s a child!” I shouted, confused. When I got down eye level with the little girl, I noticed she was only in a thin, white nightgown, with no shoes. She looked malnourished, hurt and mostly scared. 

“Alsjeblieft! Alsjeblieft! (Please! Please!)” The little girl cried in Dutch, shrinking away from me when I went to get her.

“Het is goed schat! Rustig maar, ik ben hier om te helpen! (Its okay dear! Relax, I'm here to help!)” I replied to her in Dutch. What had a little Dutch girl been doing here? I didn’t have time to continue to calm the little girl before Johnny started yelling about getting on the boats and leaving.

“Klein meisje, ik ga je ophalen. (Little girl, I'm going to pick you up.)” I warned her before grabbing her bridal style and running with her out of the house and covering her eyes to make sure she didn’t see what was happening around her with Jackson. Pushing everyone into the boats, the girl I was holding onto kept crying and crying. The poor little girl couldn’t have been more than four years old. 

“Het is goed schat. Het is goed schat. (It’s alright baby. It’s alright baby.)” I kept repeating to the small frightened girl. When Webster jumped into the boat behind me, we started going back to our side. He had his head ducked, as the Krauts kept shooting at the back boat. He had his arms around me when he realized I was shielding a child.

“(Y/n)! What the hell? Why do you have a child?” He yelled out over the gun fire.

“I don’t know! She was in the corner, she’s Dutch!” I replied, still confused as to how she got here and why she wasn’t in the Netherlands. We all ran downstairs, I was still holding onto the little girl, she had come from the Germans territory so I had to stay with her by the other prisoners. Nobody had come up to me about the girl yet so I took this as a time to try to get information so she wasn’t bombarded when adrenaline wore off.

“Wat is je naam? (What’s your name?)” I asked her calmly. She looked up at me with teary dark blue eyes. “Tineke.” She responded in a quiet voice. I was sitting on the floor and I held her so she was only facing me. I could feel someone watching me, but for now I didn’t care.

“Mooie naam! De mijne is (Y/n)! (Beautiful name! Mine is (Y/n)!)” I replied while smiling at her and gently carding my hand through her dark brown strands. Her skin was deathly pale and it was obvious she hadn’t drank or eaten anything in a long time. I gave her my canteen and she took it wearily. She wouldn’t drink it because she was scared of what could be in it. I took it back and took a small sip and gave it back. When she noticed I was okay, she started drinking out of it rapidly. 

When she finished drinking, I asked her more questions. 

“Spreek je Engels? (Can you speak English?)” I asked her. “Little bit.” She replied hesitantly.

“Very good, mijn liefje! (My love!)” She seemed to smile a little at the name I’d given her.

“Where is your mommy?” I asked slowly. She started to get upset at the mention of her mother but she replied anyway.

“She die. The Duits kill her. I am Joods. They take her and kill my mammie in de camps for Jodens. Then they keep me. (The Germans kill her. I am Jewish. My mommy. Camps for Jews.)” She told me in a somber tone. When she couldn’t think of the right word, she’d just say it in Dutch. I thought about bringing her to Joe later knowing he was Jewish, she might feel comfortable with him. 

“You’re safe now, liefje.” I told her while bringing her close to my chest. She ended up falling asleep not even ten minutes later. It gave me time to think about what she had said. She never mentioned a last name which made me believe she didn’t know it. The camp she was talking about was also weird. What did she mean by a camp for Jewish people?

Jackson had died. That boy who’d just turned twenty, had died. He had his whole life ahead and he died in a stupid war. I hadn’t even known him too well, but he just died in front of me, in front of everyone. I was thankful Tineke was asleep as she’d already seen enough. 

A day had passed since the patrol. The Germans were taken away and Tineke wouldn’t talk to anyone except me, and occasionally Joe. When Winters had found out about her, he had to ask her questions. I had come with because she couldn’t speak English very well and she refused to go anywhere if I wasn’t with her. The poor girl had been traumatized and it seemed like she’d been like that for a while.

While asking her questions, we found out her family was Jewish, and when the Germans found out, they took her and her family out of their homes to be sent to a camp. She didn’t know much, just that her mother and her got away and when they were found by the two Germans, her mother tried to fight against them resulting in her getting shot. Tineke was then taken as a hostage. 

Doc Roe came in to see how she was and it turned out she had been malnourished, and if I hadn’t found her when I did she would’ve been dead. Later that day I took her to the building where the second platoon was located to introduce her. 

I walked in and held onto Tine and went upstairs.

“Guys, this is Tineke. She was found in the house with the other POWs and she’s Dutch. She can speak some English, but don’t bombard her.” I spoke when I went upstairs and saw everyone. They all looked at us, and one by one I walked around with her and had her say hi to everyone. When I got to the last person, Joe, I sat down on the bunk with him and had her greet him.

“Tine, why don’t you tell Joe what you are.” I reminded her. I had told her to tell him she was Jewish before we went upstairs.

“Jewish.” Was all she said, nervous and not knowing too much English, she turned her face away into my chest. I rubbed my hand down her knotted, dirty hair realizing she needed a bath.

“Ain’t that cool! I’m Jewish too!” Joe responded in a sweet voice, smiling down at her when she slightly turned her head towards him. Before any more words could get exchanged, Webster came in to break the news that we were to go on another patrol that night and there would be another meeting at 1800. It was currently 1530 so I decided to bring Tineke down to the kitchen sink where I could give her a makeshift bath. I remembered how my mom would do that for me and my siblings when we were little and there were no baths in any of the houses.

I grabbed some soap and put it in her hair while I’d tell her stories to pass the time. 

“A long time ago, there were two moons. It was said one of them, named houden got too close to the sun, and out came thousands of dragons.” I told her a story my mother used to tell me all the time.

“Houden? To hold?” She asked as I began rinsing out her hair.

“That’s right. That’s how dragons were born.” I told her. As I finished saying that, another voice piped up from behind me.

“I didn’t know dragons were born from the moon.” Joe came up behind me and waved at Tineke, who brought her hand up slightly.

“That’s because I never told you that.” I said while smiling up at him. He moved to have his arms around my waist and laid his head on my shoulder. I finished rinsing Tine off then I grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it. Nixon had got clothes small enough to fit her from one of his sources. It was a small, black dress with a dark brown fluffy shawl. She also had stockings and tiny boots. When I finished dressing her, I braided up her hair and put on a hat.

At 1800 we all went down to the basement to await Winter’s meeting he called.

“Whatcha lookin’ at Webster.” A drunk Cobb said. I put one of my hands on Web’s shoulder, holding Tineke to my chest as she slept on me, and he turned to give me a smile.

“That’s what I thought, college boy.” Cobb said while swaying lightly on his feet. I gave Cobb a glare and squeezed the hand I had on Web’s shoulder.

“Are you drunk, trooper?” Lieutenant Jones asked him, angrily.

“Leave me alone.” Cobb replied, looking away.

“Answer the question.” Jones said firmly.

“Yes, sir, I am drunk, sir.” Cobb said sassily before adding, “Drunk, and sick and tired of fucking patrols. Taking orders-”

“Hey Cobb, shut up. It’s boring, okay.” Martin cut him off before he could finish what he was saying.

“Taking his side, Johnny?” “Yeah, I am.”

After that shit show I went and sat by Joe, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t be in Cobb’s line of fire in case he decided to throw something.

Winters came in to not only tell us that we didn’t have to go on that patrol, but that we’d also be off the line tomorrow. After he left, everyone started talking, which woke up Tine, who had no idea what was going on, but was happy because everyone else was. 

When I went upstairs, Winters was waiting for me.

“Hey, (Y/n).” He said, a bittersweet tone to his voice.

“Hello, sir. Anything I can help you with?” I asked, slightly nervous that he had waited for me.

“It turns out, we found one of Tineke’s family members. Her aunt and uncle. They’re set to come tonight.” He said quietly.

“Oh. Well that’s great!” I smiled slightly, feeling my heart get heavy at the fact that the young girl would be leaving.

“Tine, you hear that? Your aunt and uncle are coming to pick you up.” I told her, looking down at her. She perked up, looking between me and Winters and then she smiled. She smiled bigger than I’d ever seen her smile.

When her aunt and uncle arrived at 2100, Tineke ran up to them and they picked her up. They repeatedly thanked me and Winters and before they left, I gave Tineke a hug and kiss and turned around to walk away. As I did that, I noticed Joe was standing there waiting for me, smiling sweetly at me. We walked away, arm in arm to go back to the house together. The next day, we’d all been sent to the trucks to move to our new location. I was sitting next to Joe, my head on his shoulder as I slept. 

We had made it to Germany. The Krauts surrendered and Hitler shot himself. We were finally able to stay in an actual house, with actual baths and actual beds. To us, life couldn’t get any better. 

Me and Joe had been sharing a house with Perco and Luz. Frank and George went out to get eggs from a farmhouse a few blocks down so right now it was just me and Joe.

“You excited, doll?” He asked me from the table. I put down one of the wet dishes I was washing, and replied,

“For what Lieb?” “We got through the hard part!” Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that yet.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I’m just scared that I’ll have to go to the Pacific if this war finishes soon.” I replied genuinely.

“Oh don’t worry about that right now.” He said while standing up and coming behind me. I put down the last dish and pulled off the wet, yellow gloves I had on to wash the dishes in.

“Y’know, Perco and Luz just left.” 

“I know Liebgott, I’ve got eyes.” I replied, smiling up at him while turning around to face him. He put his hands on the sink behind me and smiled down on me.

“Well if your eyes are any good, then you’ll be able to see how much of a hold ya got on me.” He spoke before closing the distance between us and closing the gap.

I immediately closed my eyes and kissed him back. We slowly pulled apart, and without another word he slammed his mouth into mine. This time, he was much more passionate. His hands wandered down to my waist, and mine went up to his neck and hair. I gasped as he bit my bottom lip, and he snuck his tongue into my mouth. I kissed him back with as much fervor as I could, slightly pulling on his hair without realizing. He moaned into my mouth and the vibrations caused heat to pool in my stomach.

His hands started to roam down my body, causing me to moan as well. He pulled me flush against him and then pulled me up the stairs into one of the rooms I was occupying. I gently sat down on the bed and his fingers went to my uniform top, unbuttoning my shirt. 

Perconte and Luz were walking down the trail to the house they were sharing with (Y/n) and Joe, they had eggs to cook up for everyone. When they got inside, they expected to see (Y/n) and Joe downstairs, waiting for them like they had been before.

“Hey, where’d they go-”

“D’you hear that?” George cut Frank off when he heard what sounded like muffled banging from upstairs. The two men immediately smirked at each other, and Luz ran upstairs.

They stopped outside of the door getting ready to knock, when they heard moaning from the other side.

Before Frank could hold George back, he knocked on the door yelling, 

“You two better hurry up before me and Perco eat all the eggs!” It was quiet for a moment before Joe shouted out towards the two men,

“Go ahead! I’m eating something way better!”

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG! If I missed any TWs lmk and I'll add them!

[artistmarchalius]

Cockney Rhyming Slang! ✨

I’ve seen a good amount of rhyming slang from Hobie in fics and I love to see it! I love language and slang; I find the origins and usage of words fascinating, so I thought I’d make a little post about it to offer up some knowledge, tips and suggestions that I hope will be helpful or interesting to both those currently incorporating it in fics, as well as to those who want to use it but might not know where to start. Or even to those who don’t write but want to know!

So here we go!

First, a very brief history!

Cockney rhyming slang originated from the East End of London in the early 19th century. It was originally used by Cockneys so they could speak in front of the police without being understood and was very handy if you had some dodgy dealings going on. It has since passed into common language and is no longer restricted to use by Cockneys.

So you can see why it would make sense for Hobie to know a lot of it if he’s running around rebelling against a corrupt government run by supervillains!

How does it work?

Cockney rhyming slang works by taking a word and using a rhyming phrase of about two to three words to replace it. For example: “Daisy roots” means “boots” and “Ones and twos” means “shoes”.

There can be multiple phrases used for the same word, for example: both “Trouble and strife” and “Duchess of Fife” mean “wife”.

A Cockney rhyming slang tip:

A little shortcut to make your Cockney rhyming slang more authentic to a day to day Brit is to only use the first word in the phrase. For example:

If I wanted to write “Use your head”, I could write “Use your loaf of bread” and that would be accurate, but it would be even more accurate to just say “Use your loaf”.

Another example:

“I haven’t got a clue”, which if you’ve seen Across the Spider-Verse, you would know is “I haven’t got a Scooby Doo”, is commonly shortened to “I haven’t got a Scooby”. This actually threw me off when I saw it in the cinema and I never knew why until I learned about the “first word rule” in an East End documentary the other night 😂

Other examples:

Bread and honey = money. “I don’t have enough bread for that.”

Rabbit and pork = talk. “He don’t half rabbit on”. Chas and Dave wrote a song called Rabbit, which is a bit casually rude towards women as many things from the 80’s can be, but it did give us the line “You’ve got more rabbit than Sainsbury’s“ which I find quite funny.

Butchers hook = look. “Let’s take a butchers at that”

Donkeys ears = years. “I haven’t seen you in donkeys!”

I believe that back in the day, only using the first word of the phrase was an added level of secrecy to keep the police from knowing what you were talking about since it took away the rhyming portion of the phrase which the police might have been able to guess the meaning of. Only those who knew the rest of the phrase would know what the other was talking about. It has since become a more common practice to the point where many people don’t even realise they’re doing it (as I did until recently).

However, it is still perfectly acceptable to use the full phrase. For example, I’ve called someone on the old “dog and bone” (phone) and I’ve heard the stairs be called “apples and pears” but not really just “apples”.

Other examples:

Donkeys ears = years. “I haven’t seen you in donkeys!” as mentioned above. It’s also commonly mistaken for Donkeys Years. “I haven’t seen you in donkeys years”. Although technically it isn’t the full phrase, I’d say this still counts.

Shortening and adaptations:

Over time, some of the phrases have been shortened and adapted to form new slang. For example:

Bottle and stopper = copper (police). I’ve seen a lot of use of bottle and stopper in fanfics and that’s perfectly acceptable. However, the phrase is more commonly shortened to “Bottle” or adapted to “Bluebottle” or “Mr Bluebottle” due to the colour of their uniforms. Also, “bluebottle mob” can be used to mean the police force.

Another example of shortened and adapted Cockney rhyming slang is:

“Pork pies” = lies. More commonly shortened to “Porkies”. E.g. “she’s telling porkies.”

Here are some other slang words that have their origins in Cockney pronunciation:

Wotcher - an informal greeting originating from the Cockney contraction of “what cheer” (basically meaning “hello” or “what’s up?”). E.g. “Wotcher.”

Bruv/Bruvver - brother. Used the same way one would say “bro”. Bruvver is a cockney pronunciation of “brother” which has been shorted to the more commonly used “bruv”. E.g. “Good to see ya, bruv!”

And there you go, some quick knowledge about Cockney rhyming slang! I don’t claim to be an expert on the topic, a true Cockney would know far more than I do, but I thought I’d throw my hat into the ring and share the knowledge I do have in the hopes that it will help or entertain someone.

I’ll make another post going into police specific slang terms since that seems to be something that is intrinsically tied to the Spiderman experience, as well as Hobie’s, even more so as an anarchist arachnid, fascist punching punk rebel.

I might also make another post about general British slang words. Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in or if there’s a specific area that you’d like to know about!

[marvelmusing]

Starlight, Star Bright

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Star Summoner!Reader

Summary: The arrival of the sun summoner - your darling Alina - changes everything for you and Aleksander.

Warnings [18+]: canon level violence and death, mentions of death, nightmares, use of sleeping tonics, anxiety, mentions of Luda x Reader x Aleksander, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of masturbation, smidge of corruption/innocence kink, Alina had a strict and conservative upbringing

My Masterlist

Alina’s concentration face is rather adorable. Dark brows furrowed together, pink lips parted, and a tiny peek of her tongue can be seen at the corner of her mouth. It hadn’t been intentional - watching her like this. But the library at the Little Palace is one of your favourite places to hide from your duties and seeing her here feels like an unexpected treat.

Her concentration dissolves into frustration, plush lips pressing into a firm line, then emotion seems to overwhelm her. A redness has crept over her throat which bobs rapidly and her dark eyes blink in an embarrassed flurry. When you realise she’s holding back tears, you move towards her without thinking.

It’s only once you spot the mountain of books surrounding her, piled up over the desk in heaps, that you begin to suspect what has caused her distress.

“Good evening, Miss Starkov,” you say softly.

She looks up at you hurriedly and the action has tears filling her waterline which she quickly attempts blink away. A piece of your heart snaps away, quivering in your chest, aching at the thought of seeing tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Shu isn’t the easiest language to learn, but once you understand the basics the rest will follow.”

A bright blush spreads over her cheeks and her gaze lowers to the open book in front of her. When you see her chin wobble slightly, your stomach twists, and you add,

“Can I offer you a recommendation?”

She looks up at you again, nodding slowly.

Moving over towards a nearby shelf, you search for a particular book, pulling it carefully from its place and settling it down in Alina’s lap.

“It’s a book of fables,” you explain quietly. She tilts her head, eyeing the cover. “It might seem a little childish, but I find it to be one of the best ways to introduce someone to a new language.”

She begins to turn the pages with infinite care, her delicate fingers tracing over the illustrations inside.

“Would-”

Her words falter.

“Yes?”

She shakes her head, a pretty blush warming her cheeks.

“No. It’s silly.”

“Alina-” Her eyes snap up to yours at the sound of her name from your lips and your own voice falters. “May I call you Alina?” She nods and you smile softly. “I want you to feel at home here, in the Little Palace. There’s nothing you can’t ask of me.”

From what you’ve heard from her tutors, Alina has been struggling with Grisha theory, alongside her physical training. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the way she pushes her food around her plate at dinner every night, she hasn’t been able to summon very well either.

Anything you can do to make her feel better, you vow to do it. Particular memories have concerns stirring in your stomach. For centuries, you had been by Aleksander’s side, masquerading as the Darkling’s otkazat’sya wife.

It was only when Aleksander presented his newest alias at court, General Kirigan, that you revealed your power to the world - Ravka’s only star summoner. The sudden pressure you felt to help your country, alongside the expectations of your fellow Grisha, had made you almost ill with worry. Everyone had hoped your light would have been able to destroy the Fold.

Alina squares her shoulders a little, seemingly drawing some confidence from your encouragement.

“Would you read it to me?” she asks.

There’s a small pause as you look at her, your expression softening at the sight of her looking so flustered.

“I’d love to.”

She smiles and the sight has the breath halting in your lungs. She shuffles back slightly as you sit down beside her, your fingers brushing against her clothed knee as you take the book from her lap.

“Each of the stories are only a handful of pages in length. I could read them in Shu first, then again in Ravkan - if you would like that?”

Her eyes widen, something hopeful glimmering in their dark depths.

“You don’t mind?” she asks shyly. You shake your head.

“Not at all.”

»»---------------------►

Reading to Alina soon becomes one of your favourite things in the world - a guilty pleasure of sorts to escape from the stress of helping Aleksander run the Second Army.

One night, she comes to your door with the book of Shu fables in her arms tucked against her chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits in a hoarse whisper and you wonder whether she has nightmares too. Instantly you take her hand, pulling her gently into your bedroom.

She settles at the head of your bed, plush pillows and velvet cushions bundled up around the two of you. With a flick of your fingers, you summon enough light to read by. Alina is entranced by your starlight, eyes wide as she stares up at the miniature constellations swirling above your heads.

As you read stories aloud in her mother’s language, Alina slowly inches her head down onto your lap so that she can watch the tiny stars shining down on you both. This provides you with the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers lightly through her hair. At your request, Genya has been taking care of Alina and her hair is much softer and fuller than when she first arrived at the Little Palace.

The darkness of her eyes offers a perfect reflection of your stars and every time you risk a glance at her you’re captivated by the sight. Some of the tension slips away from her body and a low, sleepy sigh falls from her lips. Her eyes flutter closed.

»»---------------------►

It isn’t surprising that the sun summoner loves to sit in the sunlight. After all, even before you could summon, you’ve always adored a starry night sky. But seeing Alina soak up the sun, her head tilted back, eyes closed, has your steps faltering as you watch her. She’s so beautiful like this, waiting for you at the foot of an oak tree in the grounds.

Aleksander is nearby, tending to the horses used by the two of them on their morning ride. Alina is sitting on his kefta, using it as a blanket to shield her legs from the cool dew of the grass beneath her.

When she notices your presence, a luminous smile brightens up her features. It isn’t long before the two of you have settled into your familiar rhythm. Alina lies down with her head in your lap whilst you read to her. The story you’ve selected for today is an unacknowledged favourite of Alina’s.

Once you’ve finished the story, you take a moment to admire Alina. Her eyes remain closed, lashes fanned over her cheekbones. There’s a sun kissed glow over her cheeks, her skin tone revitalised by her time in the sun - and her increase in summoning.

When her eyes open slowly, she blinks up at you, though you don’t shy away from her gaze. She smiles softly, sitting up slowly to face you.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks quietly, tucking a stray hair back from her face as the breeze drags at her dark locks.

Tilting your head aside, you study the nervous press of her lips and the way her eyes shift over the grass, avoiding your gaze. Then you nod slowly.

“In the story,” she begins, head inclined towards the book lying open in your lap. “The princess and the fairy… they get married.”

A subtle frown creases at your brows before you nod again.

“They… I’m not getting the translation wrong, am I? They’re both girls.”

“Yes, Alya. They’re both girls.”

“And that’s allowed?”

“I’m sure a few more conservative members of the nobility might have something to say about it, but yes, it’s allowed.”

Alina seems deep in thought, staring at a particular leaf as it is carried away by the breeze.

“Nadia flirts with girls,” she states.

“She does,” you agree.

“Sometimes, when I was in the First Army, someone would make a joke about two girls tumbling each other…” Her voice trails off slightly, her cheeks glowing a rosy pink with embarrassment as she adds, “But I didn’t know… girls actually do that with each other.”

You nod with a small smile, a knowing glimmer in your eyes.

“They do.”

The pink on her cheeks burns to a deep red, her mouth open with a question poised on her tongue. She’s adorable, innocent and flustered and curious. The sound of long grass rustling draws your attention over to Aleksander, who seems to be making his way towards you and Alina.

“Enjoying yourselves?” he asks with a tender smile, the affection in his gaze is obvious to you after years of learning to decipher his emotions.

When you glance back at Alina, there’s a spark of alarm in her eyes, widened as she looks almost pleadingly at you.

“I was just telling Alina about the trail around the lake,” you inform Aleksander. There’s a questioning tilt to his head, observing your lie instantly. Nevertheless, he nods and turns his attention onto her.

“Perhaps we could take that route on our next ride around the grounds.”

She smiles softly, shooting you a grateful look before she glances at Aleksander. Her smile widens when their eyes meet and she nods bashfully.

“I’d like that.”

»»---------------------►

“Healer! Is there a healer here!?”

Aleksander’s voice is hoarse, a guttural cry for help that has you stumbling to your feet, hurrying through the makeshift rooms of the Grisha sanctuary. Voices and the sound of frantic movement aid you in your search for him, your heart pounding in your chest as fright fills you.

“The best we have is a tailor,” someone says. “We were waiting for Luda.”

At the mention of your other lover’s name, the tidemaker’s words falter and you rush quickly towards them. Luda is lying limply in Aleksander’s arms, blood staining her clothing. He places her on a cot, smoothing her hair back once she’s settled.

“Luda,” you cry. “No.”

At the sound of your voice, Aleksander stands back, attempting to grasp your arm as you approach - to shield you from seeing her state. His hold is weak and you slip by him easily, sinking yourself onto the bed beside her.

Luda’s eyes flutter, the pain limiting her awareness, though she manages to hold your hand weakly. There’s a sickening twist in your stomach when you see the wound, blood flowing at a frightening speed. Tears fill your eyes as you smile softly at her, trying your hardest to be brave for her.

There are no other healers in the sanctuary. Even if you could staunch the bleeding, she has already lost too much blood and the damage looks too deep for a tailor to fix.

“It isn’t bad, milaya,” you assure her. “You just need some rest.”

Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to her forehead, cool to the touch yet damp with perspiration. Hovering over her, you wait for the sound of her next breath. It doesn’t come.

A broken cry catches in your throat, the beginning of a sob, as you sink onto the cold stone floor beside the cot. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, dripping down onto your lap as you curl in on yourself, shoulders shaking with the weight of your anguish.

The two of you had grown up in the same village. She had been the first person to see your starlight. Your first kiss. She’s the one who always soothes your heartbeat when it quickens with anxiety.

Luda had been the one to nudge you towards the mysterious Darkling, stating with flushed cheeks that she would not mind sharing you with such a handsome man. Innocently, you had laughed and shaken your head at her, completely unaware of Aleksander’s eyes on you both.

She had been so determined to gain an amplifier, to stay with you and Aleksander for as long as she could. Deep down, you know some part of her had craved a forever with you both. To see that slip away so quickly has your throat closing up with emotion.

“Just mortal,” Aleksander murmurs quietly.

Lifting your head, you manage to meet his gaze. He looks just as broken as you feel, his eyes filled with a grief so tangible you want to grasp hold of it, take it by the throat and throttle it. A wounded cry escapes you as Aleksander curls his hand around your wrist and you begin to sob in earnest.

Aleksander wakes you, fingers curling firmly around your wrists when you begin to struggle in his arms, still in the throes of your anxious slumber. When you realise where you are, and who is holding you, your body slumps defeatedly against him.

Aleksander lets you cry, allowing your grief to course through your body as you sob. He keeps you close, stroking a hand down your side as he murmurs gentle reminders to you - to continue breathing through your tears and that he’s here for you.

When your sobs relent, you manage to sit up beside him, the two of you leaning against the headboard.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you sniffle. He retrieves a handkerchief for you, smoothing the soft cotton over your damp cheeks.

“Don’t be.” He pauses, eyeing your features with concern before he asks softly, “Luda?”

Closing your eyes, your expression crumples as you nod.

“First love always leaves it’s scars,” he murmurs, tracing his finger over the jagged skin tissue that curls over the slope of your shoulder - from the tip of your shoulder blade through your collarbone. The scar from the volcra, when you had escaped the Fold during its creation.

There’s a small scar at the corner of Aleksander’s eyebrow, one that you reach for now. He had gained it when he was thirteen, and he still rubs at the spot when he’s been working too long. There’s another scar, from the same incident, that runs over the length of his calf.

“Let me fetch you a sleeping draught.”

“Aleksander, I don’t need-”

“You look tired, my love.”

The concern in his voice has your hand lowering to your lap, your gaze following it as you remark quietly,

“You know I don’t like taking tonics.”

He nods. Aleksander rarely suggests such a solution, since the sleeping draughts put you in an immobilised state, where your limbs become too heavy to move. He knows you hate the lack of control, and the alarming decrease in your awareness.

“I know. But your nerves are overwrought, and a deep dreamless sleep will fix that.” He strokes your cheek gently. “I will watch over you, I promise. We’re safe. No one will hurt us here.”

A warm tear spills down your cheek, which he brushes away tenderly with the pad of his thumb. Breathing in shakily, you nod in consent. As Aleksander leaves the bed, the mattress dips and you bite back a whimper at the loss of his warm presence.

Leaning your head back against the headboard, you allow your heavy eyes to flutter closed as the sound of pouring liquid reaches your ears. Metal clinks lightly against porcelain as he stirs the sleeping draught for you.

He stokes the fire, encouraging a little more warmth into the room, before scooping up some burning coals to fill the warming pan.

With a tender smile at you, he lifts the covers at the foot of the bed, slotting the pan between the sheets to keep you cosy. Affection buzzes in your chest, an adoring smile quirking at your lips as you watch him.

He rounds the bed, sitting down by your side with a tea cup in his hands which he holds out for you to drink from.

“A few sips will suffice,” he says in a low voice.

Holding his gaze, you swallow down a small mouthful of the bitter liquid. He smiles softly when he sees your nose wrinkle at the taste. Aleksander hooks a finger under your chin, keeping your mouth close to the lip of the cup.

“Just a little more, my love.”

Somewhat reluctantly, you drink another mouthful and Aleksander casts the cup aside.

He settles you in his lap, tucking you against his chest as the draught begins to take effect. A haze clouds over your thoughts, filling your body with a limp heaviness. When you whimper quietly, Aleksander strokes a hand down your spine, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead as he hushes you. He continues murmuring comforting words to you.

As your eyelids flutter, your breathing shifting into something more heavy and rhythmic, Aleksander pulls the two of you down under the covers.

»»---------------------►

“Aleksander!” you hiss quietly. He slows his pace slightly, turning back to reach for your hand. “I think you’re forgetting I can’t see in the dark as well as you can.”

“Then summon some light.”

“What if someone sees?”

“No one is awake at this hour.”

Sighing, you summon a low twinkle of starlight, faint galaxies billowing like wisps of smoke around your ankles to light your way. Aided by your stars, you follow Aleksander through the darkened corridors of the Little Palace. He stops at a familiar room, releasing your hand as he turns to look at you.

Quietly, you knock against Alina’s door.

There’s a beat of silence and you both strain your ears, listening for any sound of movement from within her room. Slowly, Alina seems to rouse herself from her bed, moving towards the door. Her eyes widen as she looks at you and Aleksander, a frown creasing at the space between her brows.

“Um, hello?”

“I know you were upset that you couldn’t join your friends at the banya,” you say in a low voice.

Her gaze lowers, her feet shifting in her slippers as a subconscious pout puckers at her lips.

“It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I know you were both just concerned about my safety.”

Despite the guilt stirring in your stomach at the thought of Alina missing out on time with her friends, the smile growing on your face is hard to suppress as you consider the idea you’re about to propose to her.

“Well, we were thinking…” you trail off, looking expectantly at Aleksander. He smiles indulgently.

“That there is no one safer for you to be with than us.” Her eyes widen with excitement at Aleksander’s words and you add,

“It’s a warm night and the water at the lake will be the perfect temperature for a swim.”

“You mean…” Her smile is infectious and you’re smiling too as you ask her,

“Where’s your bathing dress?”

She frowns.

“My what?”

“Bathing dress. Genya told me you have one.”

She glances back into her room, eyes darting between her cabinet, vanity table, and her wardrobe.

“Would you like me to help you find it?” you ask. She nods.

It doesn’t take you long to locate the garment, folded carefully in the bottom drawer of the cabinet beside the window. Aleksander sits at her vanity table and you perch yourself on the end of the bed whilst Alina changes behind the folding screen in the corner of her room.

She steps out rather shyly, fidgeting with the hem of the dress while you and Aleksander stare, captivated by her.

The skirt of Alina’s bathing dress stops mid thigh and the neckline dips enough for you to catch a glimpse of her cleavage despite the modest capped sleeves which cover her shoulders. The fabric hugs her body comfortably, though you’re certain once the water has soaked through the material it will cling sinfully to her every curve.

Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze lowered to avoid your gaze as her fingers graze over the hemline of the dress, fingers playing nervously with the fabric. When she finally finds the courage to meet Aleksander’s eyes - then your own - her blush deepens.

Saving her from further embarrassment, you extend a hand out towards her which she takes instantly. A smile spreads over your features as her fingers curl around yours.

“Let’s go for a swim.”

»»---------------------►

Alina’s head lifts the moment she hears her door open. The smile that spreads over her features has your stomach flipping and she lowers her pen to give you her full attention from where she’s sitting at her vanity table.

“Good evening, Alina.”

Her smile brightens as she wraps her bath robe tighter around her body.

“Good evening.”

There’s ink smudges on her fingertips and your eyes peek around her to examine the pieces of parchment strewn over the table. When she catches your gaze, you lift a brow questioningly.

“Drawing?”

She shakes her head.

“I was just writing another letter for Mal.”

Sadness creeps into her expression and guilt stirs in your stomach.

“Alina-”

At the sound of her name on your lips, she lifts her head, eyes scouring over your face and your words fade as you lose your courage. But Alina deserves the truth.

“All letters that leave the Little Palace are read by either myself or Aleksander, to ensure that no important information falls into the wrong hands.”

She stiffens slightly, embarrassment touching her features.

“You mean you’ve read my letters to Mal?”

Guilt settles in your stomach as you shake your head.

“No.” She frowns, then you pull out a bundle of letters from the pocket of your kefta. “They haven’t been sent.”

She remains still, eyes fixed on the stack in your hand.

“I haven’t opened them. I wanted to tell you that Aleksander and I check letters so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I was going to tell you… but the days went by and I just kept forgetting.”

Every word is the truth. Though it isn’t the whole truth. In all honesty, your reluctance to tell her about the letters is most likely an attempt at keeping her for yourself. Tears glimmer in her eyes and it sickens you that your selfishness is the reason for her distress. She shifts away from you and there’s a physical pain in your chest.

“I told you he hadn’t written back,” she says quietly, a quiver in her voice as she stares down at the envelopes. “You said he would soon. You told me there had been problems with the mail carriers. You lied to me.”

“Alina-”

She shakes her head, stepping away again, and you force your features to harden, shoving the hurt in your chest deep down. It twists inside you, making you step towards her and place the letters down on her table.

“I thought I should give these back to you. I’m certain you will choose your words more carefully, now that you know Aleksander and I will read every word that you write.”

It’s cruel, throwing the feelings you know she has for you and Aleksander in her face. Her cheeks flush red, anger and embarrassment flashing over her features as she looks away from you. The beginning of tears glisten in the corner of her eyes and you turn towards the door before you can see them fall.

»»---------------------►

A familiar presence lingers at the open doorway to your bedroom as you continue folding your trousers up, placing them in your trunk for the third time this morning.

“Sasha, would you pass me the…”

As you turn, your words are halted by the sight of Alina hesitating at the threshold of your room. She hasn’t spoken to you since that night in her rooms, turning away when she sees you in the grounds and keeping her gaze lowered when she passes you in the corridors.

“Alina.”

“You’re leaving.”

You nod.

“I’m going to oversee the new campaign on the Fjerdan frontlines.”

Aleksander had only casually suggested it but you had leapt at the opportunity, believing you need some fresh air and a chance to use your power productively.

There’s a pause as Alina steps towards you, almost cautiously. Her gaze is lowered, searching over your belongings that have been strewn across your bed.

“Can I write to you?” she asks.

There’s a twinge of guilt in your chest at the mention of letters, though the softness of Alina’s features express no ill will in regards to her unsent letters to Mal.

“Of course. I can’t promise my replies will be detailed or lengthy, but I would love to hear from you, Alina.”

She fidgets with her fingers, nails picking at her cuticles.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“I plan to return just before the Winter Fete.”

Her eyes widen.

“That long?”

“It’s only a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

»»---------------------►

The problem with being the person who censors letters within the Second Army is that you find it all too easy to remove what has been written on the page.

»»---------------------►

Alina,

I should have told you about the letters. I know this is a cowardly way to apologise, but seeing so many casualties today - knowing there will be more tomorrow - has made me reflective as it always does.

Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you.

»»---------------------►

Moi Sashenka,

My official report on the front has been sent and hopefully you will have received it by the time this letter reaches you.

Fjerda is as cold as it always is and I hate being so far from you. Too many times I find myself longing for your advice or your embrace. I miss you, Sasha.

I miss Alina too. How is Alina? I hope her lessons have improved and that she’s feeling more settled. Could you remind her that she can write to me? I’m afraid I’ve ruined us.

Take care, as always

Forever yours

»»---------------------►

One particular letter you set alight with your starlight, watching the paper crumble as the flames remove your words from existence. That night you sleep curled in on yourself, old grief burrowing it’s way into your chest as you remember a girl with hopeful eyes the same colour as the sky.

She slips into your dreams, gentle hands holding you. The bed is warm, soft sheets caressing your naked bodies. Aleksander’s touch is familiar, like being welcomed home. He kisses you. She kisses you. A featherlight brush of her lips, before you’re sinking a hand into her hair to deepen the kiss with a fierce longing to keep her like this. It feels so real.

The tears have scarcely dried over your cheeks as you wake. The sounds of your army rousing itself from slumber draws you out of your bittersweet state, grounding you as you stare up at the cloth ceiling of your tent.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander folds his arms over his chest, drawing his bath robe tighter around his body as he looks over the map on his table. A chill brushes over his skin when his eyes land on the collection of figures placed by the Fjerdan border. Immediately his thoughts fall onto you.

The two of you aren’t often parted from each other; you’ve been one another’s constant companion for the last few centuries and he feels the temporary loss of you in his chest.

It appears he isn’t the only one who feels your absence. He turns at the sight of movement in the corner of his eye, shoulders tensing as the shadows stir at his subconscious command. They dissolve the moment his gaze falls onto her face.

“Alina.”

She tucks her hair back shyly.

“Am I disturbing you?”

He shakes his head.

“Not at all. Come in, please.”

He watches Alina’s eyes bounce over the contents of his table and can’t help but notice that she also lingers on the spot where your camp is. As she approaches him, she keeps her gaze lowered, looking over the pages in front of him.

Then she spies your letters.

“Is this from-”

Aleksander says your name softly, nodding as his fingers trace affectionately over the loops of your handwriting. His eyes skim over the words, reading between the lines of your ink in a manner only he can.

“She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” she admits in a whisper.

He gestures for her to sit in the armchair by the fire which she does, quietly tucking her knees beneath herself, bundling the fabric of her night robe closer around her body. Aleksander watches her, leaning back against the war table, his palms splayed over maps and papers.

He looks at her for a long moment, admiring her features as the firelight dances over them. There’s a contemplative furrow to his brows as he thinks of a promise he made to you before you left for the frontlines.

“Alina, I have something to tell you but I want you to make me a promise first.”

She eyes him somewhat warily. In your absence, the two of them have grown considerably closer, but you had been the one to coax Alina out of her shell.

“What’s the promise?” she asks.

“That you won’t leave.”

Her expression softens.

“Aleksander-”

“I want you to give me your word, that you will listen to everything I have to say tonight. Afterwards, if you would like to leave I will provide you with whatever resources I can to ensure you a safe journey.”

She’s frighteningly still, wide eyed like a rabbit weighing up the threat of a potential predator. He watches her swallow, steeling herself before she nods curtly in agreement. The knot in his chest begins to loosen slightly, though he dreads her reaction to what he’s about to tell her. He can only hope that you are right.

»»---------------------►

Dear Alina,

I know winter has already arrived for you in the capital. Whenever I begin to fear that frostbite has taken my toes, I picture you curled up by the fire with Aleksander. Home has never felt further from me, even as the date of my return inches closer.

I hope you will be happy to see me. I long for you. The silence has been torture.

I have enclosed another letter, which I hope you might be able to pass along to Aleksander. There has been little time to write these days and ink is scarce. Give him my love. I hope you have a happy Yuletide.

»»---------------------►

Sasha,

There is a Yuletide gift for you underneath your bed. Alina’s gift is under my bed. Kiss her under the mistletoe for me.

All my love

»»---------------------►

My dearest Alya,

Fjerda is cold and I miss your warmth.

I hope that I reach you before this letter does. We begin our return to Os Alta today. I’m coming home.

»»---------------------►

As soon as you arrive back at the Little Palace, you find yourself drawn to Aleksander’s room, abandoning your trunk in your bedroom and seeking solace in the war room. The moment you set your eyes on him, the months-long tension leaves your shoulders and you stumble into his open arms.

Aleksander doesn’t have an opportunity to speak, as you grasp hold of his hair and drag his mouth down to yours. As soon as your lips meet, the leftover strain in your body and mind melts. The sigh that leaves you is fuelled by relief.

“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, unable to articulate anything else.

His hands cup your face, mouth moving eagerly against your own. After months of not being able to see one another, without touching one another, you’re both desperate.

“I forbid you from leaving the Little Palace for the foreseeable future,” he says, an edge of command in his tone.

“Yes, moi soverenyi,” you breathe against his lips.

A growl catches in the back of his throat and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound as white hot arousal coils in your stomach. He tugs you closer, hooking his hands beneath your legs to hoist you up into his arms. His next words are breathless, interrupted by your hurried kisses as he carries you into the bedroom.

“If it weren’t for the damned fete tomorrow, I would forbid you from leaving this bed.”

His mouth trails down your body, pressing hot kisses over your skin. A simmering tingle of pleasure shudders down your spine with each firm brush of his lips or stroke of his tongue. Heat creeps over your cheeks, as you realise your moans are getting louder and more desperate.

Once his mouth finally reaches your cunt, a sharp yelp falls from your lips. Holding onto his hair always encourages Aleksander, so your attempts to ground yourself only entice him further into your cunt. Slick arousal smears over his lips and chin as he devours you, leaving no inch of you untouched by his tongue.

He holds each of your hands in his as he works your body into a quivering climax that has tears spilling down your cheeks, relief soaking into your skin now that you’re finally home.

Aleksander’s expression softens as he observes your pitiful state. There’s a tremor in your legs that he attempts to coax out of you, smoothing his palms firmly over your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the sore muscle of your calves.

“Oh my love,” he coos. “You didn’t touch yourself at all while you were gone, did you?”

You shake your head.

“Didn’t feel right without you,” you admit, wiping the tears from your cheeks as they continue to pour. “Didn’t feel safe enough.”

A soft sigh heaves at his shoulders as he lowers himself over you, kissing his way up your body. He knows that feeling all too well, something he had hoped you would never experience again.

He sheds the rest of your clothing, tossing his own down onto the floor until your bare skin meets his. Sheer pleasure prickles through your body at the opportunity to feel his body against yours. Smooth skin, both of you marred with callouses and scars. The trail of hair down his stomach. Lean muscle and soft flesh. A soft moan escapes from your lips as his hips grind gently into yours.

“I have you now, my love,” he breathes out against your collarbone, mouthing over your throat. “You’re safe.” He reinforces his words with a firm kiss to the underside of your jaw. “You’re home.” Another kiss, a little higher. “Let me take care of you.”

“How is Alina?” you ask breathlessly.

He smiles down at you.

“She can summon at will now.” His mouth moves along your jawline. “For her Winter Fete display she plans to split sunbeams.”

He parts your thighs, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance before he eases himself forwards. A rough moan tears itself from the back of your throat as the feeling of Aleksander stretching you open floods through your body.

“She sleeps with your letters under her pillow each night.”

His words make your heart ache and your cunt clench around his cock, drawing a small hiss of surprise from him.

“I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you, Sasha.”

“I know, my love. I’ve missed you too,” he breathes out against your neck. “We talk about you all the time.”

He bites down on the juncture of your neck, teeth dragging on your skin before he strokes his tongue over the mark blooming there.

“You do?”

There’s a shy naivety in your voice, as if you can barely believe that the two people you adore most in the world would spend their time talking about you.

“She- she isn’t mad at me… is she?”

He kisses your cheek, his forehead pressing against your temple.

“No, my love. She isn’t mad at you.”

He moans quietly as your nails bite into his hips, clinging to him with an intensity that has you shaking. Aleksander kisses you, his mouth moving leisurely against yours. There is hardly a moment to breathe, with the head of Aleksander’s cock nudging against that sweet, sensitive spot inside you and the way he occupies your mouth.

Pleasure spirals in your stomach, as your cunt clenches tightly around his cock. Aleksander cries out a deep, startled sound. He grits his teeth, pressing his body directly into yours. Arching your back against the mattress, you grip onto Aleksander, writhing as your mind fights tooth and nail to resist the climax that your body is dragging you towards.

“Let go, my love,” he whispers, warm mouth suckling gently on your earlobe. “You’re safe, I have you. I promise.”

The next wave of pleasure that runs through you completely shatters whatever resolve had been subconsciously established in your mind. Another, rather unexpected, bout of tears trace down your cheeks and a small sob catches in the back of your throat as your climax peaks.

Aleksander continues his motions, thrusting into you as he cradles your face between his hands. He kisses your tears away as best he can whilst chasing his own climax. The shaky gasps of his name only entice him further, drawing a wrecked moan from his lips as he pulls out, spilling his sticky spend over your thighs.

The two of you remain in one another’s arms as you catch your breath, trading slow kisses and gentle touches. Aleksander’s fingers dance along the curves and dips of your body, following the path he knows by heart. As your eyes flutter closed, you link your fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze which he returns without hesitation.

Aleksander inhales sharply as you press a delicate kiss to his knuckles. In the absence of one another, it has been all too easy to forget the luxury of tender touches. There’s a softness to his features as he looks at you, tilting his head slightly to watch as you continue to kiss over each of his fingers.

“I told Alina about our past,” Aleksander confesses quietly. That has you freezing for a moment, eyes flickering up to study his face.

“How did she take it?”

His gaze lowers, his hand flexing slightly in your hold.

“She looked frightened at first. She had promised to listen to me, but I could see she was waiting to run.”

“What changed her mind?”

“You.”

A frown creases at your brows.

“I told her about you, about everything we’ve been through together. Everything we’ve lost over the years.” Emotion hardens in your throat, though you do your best to swallow it down. His tone grows regretful. “Even after everything I’ve done, you’ve remained by my side.”

“Because I love you,” you say quietly, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, squeezing his digits affectionately. “Because I know that everything you’ve done has been to keep us safe and keep our Grisha safe.” Tears well in Aleksander’s dark eyes. “How could I ever leave you - knowing that?”

He leans forward, cupping the back of your head to kiss you soundly.

»»---------------------►

Alina looks magnificent in black. The colour belongs to you as much as it belongs to Aleksander. To see her wearing your colour, her kefta perfectly moulded to her figure, drives the air from your lungs. She had been pale and gaunt when she first arrived at the Little Palace; it seems that your sun summoner has blossomed in your absence.

Aleksander moves towards her first, the crowd parting instantly for the three of you to meet.

“You were supposed to enter accompanied by palace guards,” he says in a low voice.

She blushes, her eyes bouncing between you and Aleksander.

“I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to see you.”

Her tone is shy, as if she truly hadn’t intended on diverting from Aleksander’s strict schedule for her safety. Aleksander blinks slowly, the corner of his lips twitching into a hint of a smile. His voice softens as he murmurs,

“You look lovely, by the way.”

The blush spreads down her neck and you lick your lips at the sight.

“Beautiful,” you add softly.

Her eyes darken as she meets your gaze and your stomach flips. She inclines her head demurely, a brief curtesy as she stares, seemingly drinking in the sight of you.

“Lieutenant.”

The only response you provide her is a brief tilt of your head.

“Miss Starkov.”

The urge to kiss her claws fiercely inside you, so strong that your lips tingle with a phantom anticipation. Her skin is glowing under the light of the chandeliers, her cheeks flushed prettily. Her lips have been coloured with a dewy layer of gloss that you want to feel smeared over your own mouth. Instead, you say,

“I look forward to your demonstration.”

She worries her lower lip between her teeth, brows furrowed slightly with concern before she manages to smile, somewhat distractedly. Her gaze lowers to the front of her kefta, as she begins to pick at the delicate embroidery there. Instantly, you curl your fingers around hers, halting her nervous fidgeting.

“I am certain it will be wonderful.”

Her inhale is sudden, her lips parted, eyes widened as they flicker rapidly between yours. Taking her hand to your lips, you press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She swallows hard.

Inferni flame illuminates her features as Polina and Pavel begin their demonstration, fire arching over your heads. As the deep orange flickers over her face, you keep your eyes on her, admiring the soft glow of her skin.

There’s a knowing glimmer in Aleksander’s eyes as he looks at you. He smiles, ducking his head down to murmur quietly against Alina’s ear,

“Let’s give them a real show.”

His lips graze her temple and she shivers.

»»---------------------►

“I have something to confess,” Aleksander murmurs quietly against your ear.

With the demonstrations and dinner done, the royals have long since left the party, as have the majority of the nobility. Now, the people surrounding you are Grisha, which means you feel comfortable enough to sit in Aleksander’s lap. His chest is pressed against your back, the heat of his body warming your spine.

A minute frown creases at the space between your brows, though your eyes don’t stray from where Alina is standing, hiding behind a column with Genya, a flute of sparkling wine in her hand. She giggles and you drink in the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

“Confess?”

His hands graze over your sides, his shadows slipping beneath your kefta to caress your body.

“I have been… tutoring Alina. Teaching her how to pleasure herself.”

You blink at him.

“Truly?”

He nods.

“She wants to touch you.”

“She does?”

He nods again, the bulge in his trousers hardening.

“Our darling Alya is rather shy. It took until she was bone limp with pleasure for her to admit it, but yes, she wants you.”

“You’ve touched her?”

“Not intimately.”

His answer has your frown returning.

“The poor girl can’t seem to relax enough without my touch to soothe her. A hand around her wrist, guiding her. Or a gentle pressure against her thighs. It took quite some time to convince her that she was allowed to touch herself.”

“From what she’s told me, the orphanage she grew up in was a conservative household. No doubt she feels embarrassed at the thought of wanting someone.”

From Aleksander’s expression, it’s clear that he is in agreement with you. Then the corner of his mouth lifts, a familiar darkness twinkling in his gaze.

“Now that she is aware of her desires, she is somewhat insatiable.”

The thought of innocent, wide eyed Alina throwing herself at your unflappable Aleksander is equal parts arousing and amusing. Thoughts of Alina touching herself, growing frustrated without him, and seeking out Aleksander to help her has a coil of need curling in your abdomen.

Aleksander smirks, lowering his mouth to graze against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low so that no one but you can hear him.

“I’ve seen her touching herself, and with the pretty shade of crimson her cheeks gain, I’m certain her fantasies verge on obscene.”

“She’s perfect,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“She is.”

His lips lower, trailing down your throat.

“Tonight?” you ask in a soft gasp.

“If you wish so,” he murmurs against your thundering pulse.

“I do. Sasha, I want her so badly.”

“I know.” He kisses your cheek softly. “Would you like her to yourself first?”

“I want her to come undone over my hand, while you watch us.”

He smiles widely.

“One condition.” You nod. “Afterwards, I want to teach Alina how to kiss your cunt.”

At the thought of them both between your thighs, trading slow kisses as they take turns licking and mouthing at your cunt, a small moan catches in the back of your throat. Aleksander curls his hand around your neck.

“She’s watching us.”

The inhale you take is shaky as you flutter your lashes.

“Now?”

He nods, squeezing at your throat gently. His nose brushes against yours delicately as he smiles indulgently at you as he whispers,

“Go to her.”

He releases his hold on you and warmth rushes to your cheeks as you wobble on unsteady feet. There’s a few eyes on you whilst making your way towards Alina, though they look away quickly after one glance in Aleksander’s direction.

Genya’s hazel eyes land on you, pink dusting over the porcelain skin of her cheeks when she sees how your gaze is fixed on Alina. She takes your sun summoner’s empty glass from her, making herself scarce with a knowing smile as you approach.

“Alina.” Her eyes widen, her gaze wandering from your lips downwards, lingering on the loosened neckline of your kefta, and your stomach flips. “I have a gift for you.”

She blinks in surprise.

“You do?”

A smile spreads over your face as you nod.

“Come see me later tonight, in Aleksander’s rooms. I will give it to you then.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander’s footsteps are smooth and confident as he walks through the war room, his boots echoing over the polished wood. It’s only once he reaches the threshold of his bedroom that his gait falters.

“Where in the name of all saints did you get that?”

Turning from your reflection in the mirror above his vanity table, a coy smile curls at your lips as you smooth down the sheer lace of nightgown.

“To your liking, General?”

He breathes out a sharp laugh.

“Poor Alina won’t know where to look.”

“And you know exactly where to look,” you remark teasingly, adjusting the belt so that the length of your bare leg is on display.

His smile is wide and dazzling as he steps purposefully forward towards you.

“I do.”

Lowering himself onto his knees, Aleksander parts your nightgown, ducking his head between your thighs to kiss over your lace clad mound. A sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat, which dissolves into a moan when his tongue traces eagerly over the crease between your thighs and your hips.

He chuckles when you squirm, his warm hands settling over each of your knees to hold you in place as his mouth moves over your skin.

“Sasha,” you gasp. He smirks teasingly, eyes darkened as he looks up from between your thighs.

“My love, we’ve barely begun.”

There’s a tentative knock at the door.

Aleksander releases his hold on you, smoothing his hands over the knees of his trousers as he stands in one fluid motion. He strolls over towards the door, threading a hand through his hair as he does so. Suddenly conscious of your appearance, you brush down the fabric of your night robe to preserve your modesty.

“Alina,” he says softly.

There’s a small pause, and you know the sight in front of Alina will have her blushing already - Aleksander with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair perfectly disheveled from delving between your thighs.

“Hello.”

“Please, come in.”

She’s dressed in her night dress, silk and lace clinging to her curves, with a velvet robe thrown over her shoulders. Her gaze bounces over the entirety of your body, unable to fix on any particular aspect before another steals her attention. She smiles as she approaches you.

“I actually have a gift for you as well.”

Rather shyly, she hands you a painted wooden box, wrapped in a sleek black ribbon. At the edge of the room, Aleksander circles around the two of you, watching silently.

The box is made of a wholesome wood, carved around the edge of the lid and along the sides. On every side, a detailed scene has been depicted in paint. The Little Palace, the True Sea, Morozova’s stag grazing in a sunlit meadow. Each brushstroke has been created with care and a skill you can only marvel at.

“Alina,” you whisper in awe.

She blushes.

“I painted it myself.”

Opening up the box, you stare at the contents for a long moment. Countless papers. Folded with care. Some of them are in envelopes, sealed with a rosy pink wax. Alina’s handwriting is instantly recognisable, looping ink on the creamy parchment.

“Are these-?”

“I didn’t want anyone but you to read them.” There’s a pause which weighs heavy over the room and Alina grows nervous. “If you don’t like it-”

“No. Alya, I love it,” you insist earnestly, tucking your hands around it protectively. Rather bashfully, you look down, tracing your fingers over the delicate brushstrokes. “My gift feels somewhat lacking now.”

“What… what is it?”

There’s a curious gleam in her eyes as she looks around you. Nervously, she tucks a stray hair back behind her ear as she sits tentatively at the foot of Aleksander’s bed. Slowly, you place her gift on the vanity table, your eyes examining her expression when you ask,

“Can I kiss you, Alina?”

Her eyes widen, and she blushes a bright shade of scarlet, then nods.

“I haven’t done this before,” she admits, a touch of worry spilling into her eyes. You smile at her.

“I know.” Inhaling slowly, you stand and walk over towards her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this.”

Taking her chin between your fingers, you guide her mouth to yours for a tender kiss. The soft press of her lips against yours is better than you could have imagined. Gentle and warm and the shimmering gloss tastes sweet like strawberries.

She gasps out a little sound of pleasure as you cradle the back of her head, while your other hand strokes along her jawline, encouraging the steady motion of her lips. Without thinking, your hands wander down her body, grasping at the silky fabric covering her. She’s panting for breath as you cup her breasts, mapping the curves of her waist with each of your palms.

With little effort, you move her backwards and she sinks down onto the mattress with ease. It’s only after several more kisses that she seems to realise she’s lying on her back, in your bed, with your body attempting to nestle between her thighs.

“Would you part your legs for me?” you ask against her mouth.

She complies slowly, a smidge of embarrassed hesitation in her movement. Instantly, you begin to move downwards, pushing the velvet robe aside before you slide the silk of her nightdress up over her waist.

“Good girl.” She whines at your praise, which only encourages you further. “What a good girl you are, Alya.”

Her hands cover her face, as you lick a stripe over her bare thigh, heading towards the apex of her legs. As your nose nudges against her clothed mound, your mouth waters at the heady scent of her arousal.

“Has Aleksander ever touched you here?” She peeks at you from between her fingers and you raise a brow at her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips when she nods. “He has?” She nods again, breathless already as you laugh teasingly. “Does he touch you with or without your underwear in the way?”

Her cheeks are inflamed, you can feel the heat of her body burning with arousal against your lips as you kiss across her hips and thighs.

“W- with my underwear on,” she stammers bashfully. “Always with it on.”

“Would you like me to take it off?” She stares at you wide eyed, as if she hadn’t even imagined you wanting to touch her so intimately. “Would you like me to stroke your bare cunt?”

She whimpers your name, dropping her head back against the pillow and you grin at the sight of her so disheveled already - from a few heated kisses and some dirty words.

“I-” She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you sure you want to?”

That has you growing still.

“Alina. Can I show you something?”

She nods hesitantly. Taking her hand, you entwine her fingers with yours. Slowly, you slide your joined hands down your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your night robe. Her eyes widen, lips parted in shock as her cheeks burn bright, though she doesn’t pull away even when you press her fingertips against your dripping entrance.

“Can you feel how much I want to, sweet girl?”

She nods.

“So soft.”

There’s a slight slur to her words, as if feeling your arousal has pushed her into a daze, and the temptation to push her fingers inside you prickles over your skin in a burning need. Her hand moves curiously, dipping into your centre, and you groan quietly at her hesitant touch.

Her gaze wanders down your body, before she becomes fixated on the spot between your legs.

“Yours is prettier than mine.”

“Alina,” Aleksander says sternly from where he’s seated himself at his vanity table. His tone has you clenching around nothing and a small pout puckers at her lips in response to his admonishment. “What have I told you about comparing yourself to others?”

Her pout deepens.

“Not to.”

“And why is that?”

She mumbles an answer that you can hardly hear, her cheeks inflamed with an embarrassed heat. Aleksander raises a brow, before prompting her to repeat herself, his tone remaining firm.

“Alina.”

“Because I’m beautiful,” she whispers, her voice wavering as she squeezes her eyes shut.

The smile you share with Aleksander, unseen by Alina, is devious. It seems you are no longer alone in your mission to improve Alina’s sense of self-worth.

Unable to stop yourself, you reward her with a kiss. Her robe slips easily from her shoulders, pooling over the mattress as you grasp at her body. She gasps at the feeling of your hands wandering, squirming beneath you with small sounds of pleasure that she breathes against your lips.

“Aleksander tells me he’s been tutoring you.”

The hint of a whine catches in the back of her throat, her cheeks hot with embarrassment at your words. She nods.

“Will you tell me what you’ve learnt? Will you tell me what you like, sweet girl?”

She bites down on her lip, the plush skin breaking between her teeth. Instantly, you lean forwards, suckling her lower lip to soothe the sting of her bite. The coppery taste of her blood touches the tip of your tongue and she moans louder when you lick over the sensitive spot.

“Tell me, Alina. Let me pleasure you.”

She whines again, a sweet noise that you want to tease out of her over and over again. Taking her hand again, you splay it between her breasts, using your own hand to smooth it down her body. Her thighs tremble.

“Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I- I like it gentle at first,” she stammers quietly, which has a smile quirking at the corner of your mouth as you slip your hand beneath the waistband of her panties.

“Hm? Like this?”

Her lips fall open into a perfect circle as you dip your finger between her soaked folds.

“Oh,” she breathes out, dropping her head back onto the pillow. “Yes.”

The base of your finger nudges against her clit and she writhes beneath you. Her hand curls around your wrist, squeezing as she pleads softly,

“Faster, please.”

Her hips jerk as you begin to circle her clit with the pad of your finger, your thumb hooked over her mound, the digit buried amongst the dark curls there. Alina squeezes her eyes shut, brows scrunching adorably as she gasps.

“Can I stretch your little cunt open now, sweet girl?” She whimpers, nodding fervently.

Her eyes meet yours, an endless darkness of desire spiralling in her blown pupils. Ducking your head down, you allow saliva to pool in your mouth before letting it drop down onto where your finger is pressing against her entrance. Her mouth drops open at the vulgar action, red blossoming down her neck and chest as it heaves with a shaky breath.

The mattress dips as Aleksander sits down at the foot of bed, his eyes fixed on where your hands explore Alina’s body. With the mess of her arousal and the added lubrication of your saliva, you slide your finger inside her. The heat of her cunt clings to your digit, dragging you in greedily and the feeling makes you groan against her neck.

“Alya, fuck, you’re so tight. Such a warm, pretty, little cunt.”

She shudders beneath you, whining your name as she grasps at the fabric of your night robe. With a few deft motions, you untie the belt and reveal your bare chest to her. A desperate noise catches in the back of her throat, her eyes wide and round as she stares at your breasts.

Curling your finger, you search for the spot that makes her clench harder than ever, stroking her quivering walls as you begin to speak.

“You can touch, Alya.”

“W-what?”

“You can touch me. Anywhere you want. Everywhere you want.”

Expecting hesitation from her, the feeling of her hands on your breasts, squeezing the flesh and tugging experimentally on your nipples, has you gasping in surprise. A soft groan escapes you, as the repression inside Alina seems to break. She grasps at you eagerly, perfectly trimmed nails digging into your skin.

Tenderly, you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, kissing over her collarbones.

“Let go, sweet girl. I have you.”

She gasps, her grip on you tightening as she bucks her hips upwards, chasing the motion of your hand. Sweat glosses over her body, her power shimmering beneath her skin. Light dances at the edge of the room, but all you can focus on is Alina as she reaches the peak of her pleasure.

Her back arches away from the mattress, dark eyes widened as she cries out your name, body succumbing to her climax. Her cunt twitches around your finger, pulsing violently around your digit. With her head thrown backwards, you can see each frantic beat of her heart thrumming in the veins across her throat, bared vulnerable to your hungry eyes.

She breathes heavily, pupils wide and sparkling with pleasure as she stares at you, her gaze flickering between your face and your body. Her smile is almost shy now, as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear with a shaky hand.

Aleksander’s hand curls around your throat, squeezing softly as he directs your head backward towards his mouth. It’s easy and well-practised, the way he moves your body so that you’re lying on your back with him nestled perfectly between your thighs.

“Remember what we agreed on, my love?”

“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, imagining Aleksander and Alina kissing between your thighs, their lips smeared with your arousal.

His hands are well acquainted with your body, paying attention to every dip and curve that he knows by heart. He squeezes the softest areas, blunt nails dragging purposefully over the spots that make you shudder as he works his way downwards. He kisses over your hip bones, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there as he traces his way down your thighs.

Aleksander retracts onto the balls of his heels, parting your folds smoothly with his fingers and your body burns at the feeling of being so observed as your arousal sticks to his digits. He leans over to kiss Alina’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing her ear as he speaks in a low voice.

“Kiss her here, just like you’d kiss her mouth,” he instructs Alina.

She takes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles and a previously unnoticed tension slips from your shoulders, allowing you to settle comfortably on the mattress. There’s a determined set to her jaw, enthusiasm glimmering in her eyes as if she has been wanting for months to taste you. Slowly, she leans forwards.

The soft press of her lips against your cunt has you squirming, a keening whine slipping from your lips as her tongue darts out tentatively to lick up your arousal. She hums and your stomach flips at the thought of her enjoying the feeling of your cunt against her tongue.

Aleksander smiles at you both, squeezing your thigh as he pets the back of her head.

“Very good, Alinochka.”

The praise makes her sigh against your cunt and you clench around nothing, wishing she would slip her tongue inside you. Aleksander traces his fingers over your mound, drawing a shiver from you as he directs Alina’s attention to your clit.

“Watch carefully,” he tells her.

He ducks his head down, taking the swollen nub of your clit into his mouth. Instantly, you cry out, writhing over the mattress as you grasp at his hair, tugging on it with carnal need.

When he releases you, Alina is eager to take his place, mimicking the pressure of his mouth whilst lapping at your clit with her tongue. Breathless, you moan brokenly. The two of them are taking you apart, piece by piece, stealing the fractured shards of you for themselves.

Nerves stir in your stomach as your pleasure begins to sharpen into something tangible, almost within your grasp. Nevertheless, your climax evades you, until you can feel your sweat soaking the sheets and glossing at your forehead.

“Sasha, I can’t,” you whisper weakly.

“You can, my love.” He kisses your temple. “You’re doing so well.”

He strokes your hair back gently, reaching out to cup your breast comfortingly as he lies at your side. His thumb circles over your nipple in a soothing motion and you press your forehead against his shoulder as you whine. Taking your chin between his fingers, he turns you so that you’re looking down at Alina.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful like this? Our darling Alina.” At the sound of her name, her eyes flicker up to meet yours, a lustful sheen in her gaze that fills her features as she looks between you and Aleksander. “Don’t you want to spill yourself over her pretty face?”

She seems captivated by you, an awestruck expression glimmering in her eyes. Innocent little Alina, staring openly at you - as you lie splayed over Aleksander’s bed, almost completely unraveled by her mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Alina.”

As your climax hits, your curses turn into frantic whines and your hips jerk against Alina’s face. Pleasure blooms beneath your skin, prickling down your spine as your cunt clenches a rapid rhythm that sends you spiralling into bliss.

Eyes fluttering closed, you drop your head back against the pillow, turning to press your forehead onto Aleksander’s shoulder. Each breath you take is a desperate heave of air, your body warm and sated with a blissful satisfaction as your pulse gallops a steady rhythm beneath your skin.

Alina stares at you, pink tongue tracing her lower lip as your eyes lock for a heated moment. Then she scrambles up your body, straddling your waist eagerly as she leans down to kiss you, smearing the remnants of your orgasm from her mouth to yours. Aleksander breathes out a soft groan at the sight of you both as you kiss lazily.

“Sasha,” you murmur against Alina’s lips, reaching downwards with the intention to grasp at his still-clothed cock.

His hand curls around your wrist to stop you.

“I want a clear head tonight,” he says when you meet his gaze.

On occasion, Aleksander denies himself a climax in order to stay fully aware of his surroundings, particularly when he’s feeling anxious about your safety. A rebuke is on the tip of your tongue - after all, the Little Palace is one of the safest places in the world. You and Aleksander ensured it. But with Alina here in your bed for the first time, you can understand why he would be concerned.

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you whisper,

“Thank you, Sasha.”

He smiles, stroking your cheek affectionately with his knuckles.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Can I wake you with a treat tomorrow morning?”

His smile widens.

“A treat?”

As you settle down by his side, curling up beneath his outstretched arm, you nod.

“Hm. I want to teach Alina how to suck your cock.”

Alina stifles a gasp. The apple of his throat bobs, a muscle in his jaw flaring as his eyes darken.

“My love,” he says warningly. “Your proposition isn’t helping my current issue.”

Biting down on your lip, you feel a touch of guilt as he shifts his hips, breathing deeply through his nose as he attempts to rein in his arousal.

“Sorry, Sasha.”

He hums with a smile, clearly unconvinced by your apology. Then he cups the back of your head, sinking his fingers into your hair as he kisses you.

“Let me clean the two of you up,” he suggests.

He glances at Alina in a silent question, requesting her consent which she gives with a soft smile and a small nod. Leisurely, you stretch out over the mattress as Aleksander stands to retrieve a wash cloth and basin full of water.

Alina breathes out a sigh and your eyes flutter open to admire her form draped beside you. Candlelight flickers over her skin, your fingers following the shadows that dip into the curves of her body as you reach out to trace over her figure with a featherlight touch. She hums quietly, eyes heavy-lidded as she looks at you. When your eyes meet, the smile that spreads across her face is luminous.

She blushes when Aleksander parts her legs, wiping a warm cloth over the space between her thighs. Once he’s done, you kiss her lips as a reward. He tells her that she can wear anything she likes to bed and she immediately moves towards your wardrobe as Aleksander’s attention moves to you.

He kisses you softly, hands cradling your face as you both smile at one another. He cleans you with the same care given to Alina, and once he’s done, you retrieve one of his night shirts to sleep in. As you shrug the garment over your shoulders, you turn your attention back to Alina.

She’s wearing one of your cosiest night robes, the soft fabric bundled around her frame. It drags over the floor as she moves towards you and Aleksander, climbing into bed between you both - where she belongs.

Finally having her in your bed seems to be quite the distraction for you and Aleksander; neither of you can keep your hands off her, taking turns to kiss her lips.

Alina giggles breathlessly.

“Aren’t we going to sleep?” she remarks teasingly, gnawing on her lower lip. The sight of her, dark curls askew and flushed cheeks, makes you and Aleksander both sigh.

“Yes, milaya,” Aleksander says decidedly as he reaches for the lantern on his bedside. “We’re going to sleep.”

He lifts the glass, blowing out the candle, and the room descends into darkness. Slipping your arms around Alina’s waist, you pull her backwards and she slots perfectly against your front. Aleksander drapes his arm over Alina, encaging her between you both as he reaches for you. He strokes a hand over your bicep, languid petting as the three of you fall asleep.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[hxney-lemcn]

Falling For U— Josuke Higashikata x gn! reader

summery: Seeing things that others didn't was a normal part of your day. Until you find a group of delinquents that end up seeing your own stand. Who knew that you'd end up falling for one in particular.

tw: mentions death (reader can see ghosts)

a/n: Guys please I need more Josuke fics. More ace spec reader Josuke fics too. I'm finding it harder to write right now, but I somehow managed to get this out. (So please excuse the shitty transitions).

wc: 5.1k

Master List

It was another regular day. Focusing on school work while trying to ignore the stares and whispering of the beings around me. I’ve been able to see these figures for as long as I can remember. I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut about them when I got in trouble for scaring not only my classmates when I was 6, but my parents as well. I also learned that these beings were ghosts, and I was somehow able to communicate with them. 

A being that stood out seemed to come at will. They’d help me communicate with the ghosts when I couldn’t do it outright. The weird part being that they didn’t look like any of the other ghosts. It was a translucent misty blue being that was wearing a dark gray suit along with a white skull mask. 

I tapped my pencil to my notebook to the tune that’s been playing in my head on repeat at the moment. My eyes drifted from the teacher to my old pet that laid next to my desk. There were some perks to my ability, and that was getting to see my pets that have passed away. It always felt bittersweet to see them still following me in their afterlife. If only I could still pet them…

My thoughts halted when the bell rang. I put my stuff in my bag as quickly as I could, ready to finally go home. I walked with my friends to the gate and we all shared our goodbyes, going our separate ways. Feeling hungry, I decided to stop at a cafe that was on my way home. Just a quick in and out, it’s not like I was going there to hang out. But entering the cafe, it held a nice atmosphere that made me want to just…rest there for a bit. Would it be weird for me to eat here alone? 

I tensed as I noticed a group of students in the familiar uniform. Yeah never mind. I didn’t really know them, one of them was in my class and I knew they were friends. I mean I’ve heard rumors about them, how they’re delinquents, but everyone knew Koichi was a top notch student so I took all the information with a grain of salt. 

After giving my order and paying, I took a seat next to the pick up counter. I stared out the window closest to me, waiting to hear my name called. Suddenly, that familiar blue mist appeared and I kept my gaze to where the window would be. I didn’t want people to think I was crazy. Something in my being told me that it’s name was GhostBuster, but I found the name too humorous to take seriously. 

‘Someone wants to know if their child is okay,’ The figure signed in my line of sight. My grandma taught me sign language at a young age and I was fascinated with it. But no one else really knew how to speak in sign around me so I’d like to teach my friends small phrases if they were interested enough. GhostBuster, I suppose I will call the figure, also seemed to know sign, as they spoke to me with it first. It was a great way to communicate without seeming crazy since most of the signs could be done against a table. 

‘Give me the information and I will look into them,’ I signed back against the table. Since I was able to see the dead, from a young age I was bombarded with pleas and wishes for me to pass on messages to their loved ones or to commit acts of revenge for them. I didn’t want to do either, as having a total stranger bring up their deceased loved one didn’t seem like a good decision. But if they wanted me to keep them updated about whatever, I didn’t mind going to the library and doing some research. 

My name was called and I couldn’t help but feel eyes follow me. After I grabbed my bag of food, I ducked my head down and walked out. 

After that day I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched constantly, and this time it was by someone living. And I couldn’t help but notice that I’ve been seeing Koichi and his friends around more often. I ignored it though, I mean Koichi was in my class so I was obviously going to see that friend group a bit. But I noticed their eyes follow me and I didn’t like it one bit. 

I always tried to keep to myself. A total wallflower if you will. I didn’t like standing out. I had my little group of friends I had at school and I stuck to my homework and hobbies after, well as long as I wasn’t working. It was easy to notice them, as no one really looks at me twice, and their stares made my skin prick with anxiety. Did I do something wrong? Do I look weird? Did I do something to upset them? Are they going to beat me up?

I shook the thought out of my head. Yeah I’ve heard rumors of them beating up kids without lifting a finger, but those stories were so far-fetched it was hard to believe. GhostBuster appeared once more during lunch, and those damned stares started to burn. I tried to look at them from the corner of my eye, but I could only catch one of them. Josuke, the most infamous one out of the group, but he wasn’t looking at me…he was looking at GhostBuster. The misty being disappeared as I tensed up. Could they see them? The being that’s been with me since forever? Was that what they were looking for everytime I passed by? Am I in danger now that they have seen it? 

I shifted my focus back on my friends, trying to tune out the ringing in my ears. I’ve always thought I was alone, that I was the only one with strange abilities…did they have them too? Is that where all the crazy rumors have been coming from? It would make a bit more sense. 

The bell ringing signaling the end of the day brought little relief. I just wanted to go home and destress from everything. Maybe play some video games or watch some t.v. I scurried out of class, head down and sticking to the walls. I didn’t even meet my friends, I was too on edge at the moment. 

“Hey!” I glanced up, not sure if that was directed towards me. I froze when I saw Josuke, Koichi, and Okuyasu. I glanced behind me, just in case they were calling for someone else, but I knew that wasn’t the case due to their eyes boring holes into me. 

“Wanna go to St. Gentleman’s with us?” Josuke asked, a nonchalant look on his face. 

I felt confused, looking around once more just to double check before pointing to myself, “Me?”

“Yeah, who else?” Okuyasu asked with a condescending look (it wasn’t exactly mean, more confused than anything). 

I shrugged, shoulders rising in tension, “I don’t know.” I was completely out of my element. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” Josuke shrugged, hands in his pockets. 

I stared at the three for a second not sure what to say, but for some reason I found myself agreeing. Okuyasu and Josuke led while Koichi strayed behind, next to me.

“I hope we didn’t scare you,” The short boy spoke up. “We just haven’t had many good experiences with other stand users.”

My face scrunched in confusion and I turned to look at him, “Stand users?”

“Yeah,” Koichi nodded. “You know, that thing that was…talking to you during lunch.”

My gaze drifted towards the glassy eyes of the dead that turned to stare at our strange group in curiosity. I looked back at Koichi, “A lot of people try to talk to me. Well…people that others can’t see.”

It was Koichi’s turn to look at me confused, but before he could ask anything, we arrived at St. Gentlemens. We all put our orders in before sitting at a table for four. Koichi finally asked about these people but first had to catch the other two up in our previous conversation. 

“Ghosts,” I clarified finally as they all stared at me intently. “I can see ghosts, can you see them too?” I glanced over Josuke’s shoulder, a woman in an old 50’s looking waitress uniform stood behind him, a tired smile worked its way on her face when we made eye contact. 

“Nah,” Josuke shrugged, trying to seem chill, but he glanced over his shoulder and met my eyes shakily. “There’s one right behind him isn’t there?” 

I smiled slightly, “She seems nice.” Suddenly, my supposed stand came out and listened as the woman whispered to it. It then approached me and signed what she said.

“What’s it doing?” Okuyasu asked. I forgot they were there. All their eyes fell onto my stand and I couldn’t help but feel flustered at what the old waitress was implying.

“Telling me what she said,” I replied, trying to casually glance out the window.

“What did she say?” Josuke joined, curiosity working into his expression. 

I felt myself slightly fluster, looking towards the boy next to me with shining blue eyes and that unique pompadour. I opened my mouth but I hesitated, it was kinda embarrassing, “...she said…w-we’d make a cute couple.”

I can admit when someone was attractive, and Josuke fit that bill to a T, if the hordes of fangirls I had to pass in the hallways didn’t say anything. But I never talked to him before and I didn’t know him well enough to even think of him romantically. 

Okuyasu let out an obnoxious laugh and Koichi even seemed like he couldn’t hold his chuckles in as Josuke burned bright red. 

“What do your stands do?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. Okuyasu showed his off first, going on and on about its abilities and the many stories of how it saved him to mundane things it helped him with. Then Koichi showed his stand off. Well…all three of them that is. He also explained his own abilities, but kept it sweet and short. 

Finally, Josuke had recovered and told me all about his stand. Showing it off and even demonstrating its powers on a cut I got earlier that morning from my pet. I stared in awe, the cut seemingly vanished in thin air. 

After that, I seemed to have grown closer to the small group of friends. They invited me into group activities more often and both of our friend groups seemed to have joined together, at least for lunch. 

Though I was growing close to one person in particular. Of course that person was going to be Josuke. It didn’t help that those words that the ghost said were ingrained in my head now. Josuke would hang out with me a bit more than the others and the first thought was ‘is he interested in me?’, but I would quickly shake the thought away. I was just looking into everything a bit too hard now. It didn’t help that when Josuke would pull me away to do something, the others would laugh behind us. 

Not to mention that our conversations have been steering towards dating and romantic topics in general. I wish my heart didn’t beat faster when he watched me intently when I explained how I felt about relationships. How I would want to take it slow but I didn’t really have any experience so I wasn’t sure how all that stuff works anyways. My hopeless romantic side was showing greatly as I would make scenarios of what may happen that day, or what it would be like to hold him/be held. 

He also told me how he was looking for the one, and didn’t really want any flings. I agreed with him and our values on romantic relationships seemed to be shared. Which only made me seem to fall further for him, as I didn’t expect someone to share the same beliefs. Yes you heard me correctly, I can’t deny it anymore, I’ve fully fallen for him. I wouldn’t say love, but I haven’t had a crush this strong before. 

“Are you doing anything for Valentine's day?” My friend asked me as we stood outside before school. 

“Nah,” I shook my head, shifting my bag on my shoulder to a comfier position. 

“Really?” They asked skeptically. “Nothing with Josuke?”

I stared at them, feeling myself flustered, “What would I be doing with Josuke?” 

They raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “Confessing to him.” 

I tensed and my face felt like it was on fire, “No way. It’s not like he likes me like that anyways.”

Before my friend could retort, Josuke seemed to have entered the grounds. I couldn’t really see him, but the horde of fans told everything. I looked back to my friend and raised an eyebrow at the scenario.

“I also don’t want him to think of me as just another fan,” I huffed. 

“I don’t think he’d group you with them,” My friend shrugged. “You two are close now, you’re on a level that his fans aren’t.”

I didn’t think about that. Yeah I was his friend, but I suppose that I was afraid that if I did confess, that his view of me would lower and he’d stop wanting to be friends. Which doesn’t sound like Josuke, I know, but the anxiety still lingered. But now I kinda did want to do something now. Not some grand gesture, just a small thing. Maybe make something small and a note. I could buy my friends some candy as well to use as a cover up in case he didn’t like me back…

The day came quicker than I liked. I trudged to school, my bag heavier than normal with the treats it carried. I started to second guess myself, I could always just eat it all myself. Not the candy I got for my friends…but the chocolate covered strawberries I made for Josuke. I could always just give some of the candy in my bag to him instead. Rip the note to shreds and throw it away. 

No, I shook my head. I’ve gone this far, I can always fall onto my cover story just in case. I could pinpoint Josuke easily due to people swarming him like flies. Once again, that little voice of doubt flooded my mind. He’s already being bombarded, I don’t want to add to it. 

“Oi, (y/n)!” A familiar voice shouted. “Over here!” I turned towards Okuyasu, Koichi waving at me from beside him. I joined the two surprised to not see Yukako or Koichi covered in gifts yet. 

“Hey,” I greeted back as I approached them. “I got you guys something.”

Okuyasu’s eyes seemed to shine brightly as I rummaged through my bag and handed them each a little bag of candies. Josuke finally approached us and peered at us curiously, “What’cha guys got there?”

“Thank you so much (y/n)!” Okuyasu yelled, pulling me into a suffocating hug trying to hold back tears. “You’re the best!”

I patted his back and chuckled at his reaction, “I wanted to get you all something for being such great friends.”

Once Okuyasu let go, Josuke peaked his head into my view, “You got us all something?”

I drew in a deep breath, it was now or never I suppose. As the two others were preoccupied digging through their candy bags I quickly took out the small box with the note taped to the top. I thrust it into Josuke’s hands and brought my finger up to my lips in a ‘shh’ motion.

“Don’t tell the others but I got you something a little extra,” I joked lightly, hoping I came off as I normally do. I noticed he started to read the note and I quickly slapped my hand over it, drawing attention to us but I was too anxious to care. “Read that later!” I spluttered, feeling my heart race. I’d rather him read that when I’m far away and can’t see his reaction.

I glanced at my watch, noticing class was going to start soon. I waved goodbye to the group, not taking a second glance. If only I did, because I would’ve been met with Josuke staring at me in adoration, a rosy pink settling on his cheeks. 

The day seemed to drag by and I tried to ignore that I totally confessed to Josuke that morning, even if it was indirectly in a note. It was the first question my friend asked and I begrudgingly told them about what I did. It was a nice distraction when Yukako showed up and poured a load of gifts on Koichi, giving him a short kiss on the cheek as a finale. 

I felt a sort of jealousy setting in the pit of my stomach. That kind of relationship is what I longed for. I suppose not the stalking and kidnapping part…or the obsession… Okay so maybe their relationship wasn’t perfect at first, but they seemed to be working through it together. 

I tried to ignore the glances Josuke would give me during lunch. He totally read the note. God, and he totally knew my intentions too. I shouldn’t have given it to him. I picked at my food as my friends swapped candies they liked. My best friend, knowing exactly what prediction I was in wiggled their eyebrows.

“Oh he totally got the message,” They grinned smugly. I groaned and hit my head on the table. “It’s not that bad. He can’t keep his eyes off of you even with all the people confessing to him.”

“Of course he’s going to be,” I frowned. “I’m his friend so he’s gonna feel different about rejecting me.” 

“More like accepting you,” They nudged me. 

I just rolled my eyes, not feeling hopeful. I just hope I didn’t ruin a great friendship. The second half of class went by faster as I focused on school work. Bell rang and I was the second student to turn their paper in to the teacher and leave. Once again I was going to run out and hopefully not run into the person I was dreading to see. But of course life had a way of squashing my plans.

A pink and baby blue figure stood in front of me, arms crossed and a stoic gaze rested on me. I quickly snapped my head back to a normal angle, I hate being able to see things that others can’t sometimes, I hope no one saw and thought I was weird. I slowly turned my head around as Josuke pushed past other students, charmingly excusing himself. 

“(Y/n),” Josuke panted slightly, waving at me. “Hold up!” 

I stood in place as he finally approached me, “It’s not like I had much of a choice.” 

Josuke grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, “Well I know you have a tendency to run off and I wanted to make sure I caught up to you this time.”

I wanted to shrink, am I that predictable? Did he really notice that? Does that mean he pays attention to me? I shrugged, not sure why he wanted to catch me so badly after school…okay maybe he does have a reason but I’d rather forget I did anything. 

“Is it cool if I walk you home?” Josuke asked breezily, a charming smile resting on his lips.

Damn him, damn him for stirring up all these fluttery, confusing, warm feelings. I hated it. I hated but loved it. I just wanted to throw the damn feelings away, not wanting to waste time on one-sided pining, but on the other hand I wanted to bask in the warmth these feelings brought. To indulge myself in something I wasn’t sure I was able to have. 

“Sure,” I shrugged again. Just pretend like nothing has changed. That’ll fix everything…totally. Josuke’s grin somehow widened and he nodded. 

I hated that white day was a month after Valentine’s day. Josuke was being much more affectionate towards me lately and his fans didn’t seem too happy. Not that I really cared about them but still, it was uncomfortable. I mean the gestures Josuke did could still be viewed as platonic. It was mostly hugs, resting his arm on my head/shoulder, and on the rareish occasion he’d hold my hand. 

It would make my heart flutter every time. He didn’t bring up the gift I gave him, and I thought that’s what I wanted, but slowly I realized I wanted closure. I’d rather be straight out rejected than this weird little dance we shared of not speaking our feelings. It was giving me hope, something I didn’t like in a situation I felt so uncertain in. 

It was a constant thought in the back of my mind, but it slowly faded as school and work once more took priority. I nearly forgot about the whole ordeal when white day came around. Josuke being more affectionate being a new norm that people just didn’t comment on anymore. And without my friends pointing it out, it became something I grew accustomed to. The flutter in my stomach never left, but I grew used to the feeling. 

“Oh!” I said in shock as Okuyasu handed me a small teddy bear and a small box of chocolates. “Y-you didn’t have to get me this.” 

Okuyasu grinned sheepishly, a small blush on his tanned cheeks, “I never got a gift on Valentines day, even just from a friend. So I wanted to return the favor!”

A giant smile spread across my face, “Well thank you, Oku. It means a lot.”

Koichi handed me a small baggie of candy, similar to the ones I gave him, “I know it’s not as much as the other two got you…”

My eyebrows furrowed as Josuke hadn't given me anything, but decided to brush it off, “It’s alright, I wasn’t expecting anything in return. Besides, I’d rather not get on Yukako’s bad side.” The three of us shivered at the thought. 

The small (okay maybe it grew a lot) glimmer of hope I had that Josuke would reciprocate my confession slowly dissipated throughout the day. It felt like a knife in my heart when I realized I wasn’t the only one waiting for something from Josuke. I truly was just like his fans. I felt cold as I zoned out the teacher’s lecture. Once again, I just wanted to go home and avoid people. I really was predictable. 

I packed my bags slowly as the bell rang. Everyone shuffling around me. This time, I’ll try to wait out Josuke if he was planning on catching me again. I made my way to the band room. My friends would hang out there for a bit after school so I thought I might as well join them. 

“So, how’d it go?” My friend asked, a giant grin on their face. 

I simply looked away with a frown, “How’d what go?”

Their grin fell, “Well Josuke’s an idiot. He can’t just lead you on and do nothing!” I shrugged, my other friends tuning into our conversation. 

“Yeah, don’t get hung up on a guy that isn’t taking your feelings seriously,” My other friend chimed in. 

My heart felt a little lighter at the support of my friends and I smiled bitterly, “Well, Okuyasu got me a cute teddy.” I pulled out the small plushie and the others pointed out how it wasn’t all bad today. I decided to try and focus on the good of today. I got a few things today, I got to hang out with my friends, I got a good score on that one test. Though that small pang was still there. 

The door slid open and Josuke popped into the room, looking a bit frazzled. His eyes scanned the room and when they fell on me they lit up. But my friends weren’t really having it. Their stares held a bit of hostility, but they didn’t do anything more. I, myself, didn’t have the most pleased look. 

“Hey,” He greeted, fully coming into the room, either ignoring the tense atmosphere or not even realizing there was one. “I was wondering where you were. I, uh, was wondering if you’d wanna come to Trattoria Trussardi with me.”

“That one Italian restaurant?” I asked, feeling my heart skip a beat. I hated how he had such an influence on my emotions. My friend elbowed my side and I glared at them. “I suppose I have nothing better to do,” I shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

“Great!” Josuke shouted, before flushing red and seeming to correct himself. “I-I mean cool, cool.” 

His grin shined through still along with his fading blush. Taking a hand out of his pocket, he held it out towards me and I grabbed it without much thought. I grabbed my bag and glared at my friends as they snickered at us. 

Somehow, with all these feelings bubbling inside of me, Josuke and I managed to slide into a comfortable conversation. He seemed a bit more bashful than usual, stuttering over himself. I showed him the teddy that Okuyasu gifted me when I told him about my day. 

His face contorted into a frown, “So he has enough extra money to buy you something, but when I ask to borrow some he magically doesn’t have any.” 

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, teasing him I replied, “I guess I’m his favorite now.”

Josuke’s frown turned into a pout, “Is he your favorite?”

When I met those diamond like eyes of his, my heart stuttered. My instinct was to deny it, but maybe I should tease him a bit more for dragging this all out today.

“Maybe,” I replied, looking away to conceal the smile that was nearly splitting at the seams. 

“(Y/nnnn),” Josuke drew out the last syllables of my name. He draped himself over my back, arms sliding over my shoulders and tucking his head in the crook of my neck. I felt myself tense, but forced my shoulders back down into a relaxed position so Josuke didn't pull back. I don’t want him to think I hate his affection, I’m just not used to such actions. “That note you wrote was for me, wasn’t it?” I could feel the smile form on his lips before he pulled away, standing taller than before with newfound confidence. Smug bastard. 

I crossed my arms, not wanting to feed into his ego but not being to deny it either, “I think I might retract it.” 

Before he could protest, we finally came into view. I went to open the door, but Josuke raced me and opened it for me instead. I gave him a weird look but didn’t say anything. Luckily, a table was open and Josuke once again rushed to pull out the seat for me. He seemed a lot more jumpy now, the situation finally sinking in. 

I looked around the restaurant, not sure what to do. There wasn’t any menu, but I’ve only heard good things about this place. People being cured of aches, acne, fatigue, and so much more. It quickly grew into popularity, so I was extra surprised when we got in without a hitch. 

“He’s a stand user,” Josuke spoke up, speaking about the owner of the place. 

“Wow,” My eyes widened. “There’s more stand users here than I thought there would be.”

Josuke nodded, tapping his fingers on the table before changing the subject, “Thank you, for the note and the strawberries.” 

“That feels like ages ago,” I waved him off with a forced laugh. “No need to thank me. You’re my friend, of course I was gonna get you something.”

Josuke seemed to falter, but I pretended like I didn’t notice, “Seemed like a bit more than what just a friend would say.”

I tapped against the table now. I wanted to talk about it, but now I wanted to go back to ignoring it. I glanced at Josuke, his eyes seeming to search for something in my expression. The waiter, I learned named Tonio, put two plates of food in front of the two of us. He smiled at us, wishing us a good meal before leaving. I turned my attention to my food. I wasn’t completely sure what it was, but it smelled good.

No wonder I always found myself single. I’m acting like a child. But ignoring my feelings has always been easier than bearing my heart. I shoved food in my mouth while I internally berated myself. Wow, this was really good food!

“I like holding you,” Josuke said quietly. I tensed as he referenced the stupidly cheesy part of my note where I admitted to enjoying affection. “Your hands seem to fit perfectly in mine, your smile takes my breath away, and everytime you laugh at one of my stupid jokes I feel like I’m on top of the world.” I felt my cheeks warm at his confession and I slowly raised my head up to meet his gaze. It was intense, fiery passion clear in his unwavering crystal gaze. 

“You’re always so kind to us all, you give more than you take,” He continued, his eyes softening. At that moment, it felt like the world came to a halt. I suddenly felt seen, heard, cared about. Josuke took my hand into his own on top of the table, “I found myself falling for you faster than I could process. So when you handed me that small box and note, I was overwhelmed. I still have the note, I don’t think I could ever throw it away because I knew that you were bearing your heart to me, and trusted me with your feelings.”

I squeezed his hand lightly, not sure how to process this information. It was like a dream come true. I wasn’t sure if I could handle much more of his praises though, as I started feeling a bit light headed…or was that the food’s doing?

“A-ah, I’m rambling,” Josuke chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I like you too, (y/n). And it would make my world if you’d agree to be my partner.”

Suddenly, the world grew fuzzy and I squinted my eyes. I could barely make out Josuke’s blurry face before the world snapped back into focus, much clearer than before. I looked around in awe, finally meeting the piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold me in place. 

“I would love to,” I agreed, smiling sheepishly. 

That damn waitress is going to rub it in next time we go to St. Gentlemens.

[demonqueenart]

Hey, thanks for bringing this stuff about DnP to light! Obviously, as a someone who’s been a fan of theirs (and still is) for about ten years now, it’s a hard pill to swallow, but even when I was younger I could tell that some of the jokes/statements they made were definitely in poor taste. I never acknowledged the wider hurt it may have caused, though, and I’m definitely learning to be better than that and listen to when poc are talking about these issues.

I guess there’s definitely an element of defence, particularly in this day and age, where people immediately assume that their faves are being cancelled and they’ll rush to defend them to avoid that from happening. To be fair, I’ve been that person before in the past, but I’ve learnt to internalise that “no, people aren’t trying to cancel DnP or ruin people’s fun, and believing that is simply immature; we are simply holding them accountable so that they can make amends and make the space more inclusive to everyone.”

I know there isn’t anyone that you can fully trust, but DnP have always shown capacity for kindness, acceptance and inclusion (as a trans person, I noticed over the years how they became more and more trans inclusive with their language, which was nice to see), especially with their recent support for Palestine which so many other creators have not bothered to even talk about, so I want to hold out hope that they would genuinely want to make up for what they’ve done, and I really hope they do. We all hope that. In the meantime, it’s up to us a phandom to make the space more inclusive to poc fans and to allow this conversation to happen without getting scared or angry or defensive.

I’d also like to point out, even though I know that this isn’t in any way related to the conversation at hand, that I was personally disappointed by a tour announcement because I knew I wouldn’t be able to go. Even though the most basic tickets are technically cheap, they’re still not accessible to a lot of poor people, and considering the UK is going through a cost of living crisis right now, it was certainly a bit of a slap in the face. I will admit, I was incredibly surprised that Dan put WAD on YouTube for free, so there is obviously a growing understanding on their part that their tours aren’t accessible to everyone, so I’m hoping they’ll find a way to make this new tour accessible, but I still think this tour has a problem with exclusivity in a LOT of different areas, as you’ve pointed out. I have friends from different continents who have complained about the exclusivity of the tour, even from friends who are in Europe (but aren’t in the more Western parts of Europe; there are no shows in Greece for example, despite the fact that there’s a large number of English-speaking phans in Greece).

One last thing I want to mention, though, I saw an anon talk about the subtitles on their videos. I have sensory processing issues, and I’ve always found that their videos have proper subtitles on them. I’m not sure whether I’ve missed some videos, but I’ve watched a substantial amount of their content and I haven’t found the subtitles to be a problem, so I’m wondering if perhaps the subtitle issue might be an individual issue instead? Again, I really don’t want to assume if I’ve got something wrong, but for me personally, DnP are one of the only YouTubers I’ve been able to trust to have proper subtitles on the majority of their videos, so that ask confused me. If anyone’s able to clear up that confusion, I’d appreciate it, because I don’t want to misrepresent someone else’s experiences just bc they don’t match mine.

Anyway, I’m really sorry for the long ask. Again, thank you for bringing this all to light, and I really hope things improve. I will always love Dan and Phil, and I trust that their hearts are in the right place the majority of the time, so I really do hope they grow from this. I’ve seen genuine growth from them over the years already, but there’s still a way to go, and none of us can shy away from it no matter how much we want to.

Stay safe, and have a nice day!

I'm glad I can be the one to shed light on racism and normalize talking about it in this community. Back when we weren't able to have this discussion properly, I would have never expected people to ever understand or accept me in this community again. I was told by many of my well-intended friends who've been here longer than me that the only way to move forward was to make peace with the racism that was happening here. (And don't get me wrong, they meant well and they’re a very good friend of mine for that. They didn't have to support me when I was at my lowest, when I was so damaged from it I could hurt them so easily. But they did it anyway because they cared. Some of them may not even share the same worldview as me, but that has never been a barrier for them to reach out and say they support me.) What I'm trying to say is, that the phandom was that bad before: The only way to survive as a poc who's being oppressed by this community in the past was to shut up about our experiences, or leave.

So when I saw your ask, able to articulate a full understanding of the situation of what's going on here, it feels like I had served my purpose. For the past fifteen years of this fandom's existence, we have never been able to talk about this until now. And yet, me and other blogs talking about this have managed to make an impact, enough to make us finally open up about it. A lot of you feel safe enough that you no longer chose to go anon by it now. That is fucking amazing. I hope that it has been healing and educating for all of you, and that we as a community will be able to move forward in the right direction this time :)

As for the subject of subtitle issues, I would admit I don't know a lot about it too much, since I never have to use it. From what others have said in the tags, it seems older videos had proper subtitles, thanks to the free community captioning. But ever since the hiatus, everything has been all over the place and they might not have that proper system to rely on anymore?? I don't know much, so if anyone is interested in expanding more on the subject, or more to where the op of this ask can be coming from, I would love to hear more. We should know what exactly happened so we can bring this to dnp to see where we can improve. (Also, I’m glad that ask opens more discussion about this now. And I didn’t realize it’s disability pride month, yay!)

[ID/ a banner with light blue sparkly background; the disability pride flag slides in from the left and darker blue text pops in reading "Make some noise for Disability Pride Month!!" /end ID]

Banner by dapg-otmebytheballs

Auto-message: This ask’s purpose is to acknowledge dnp’s past/present exclusivity, not to cancel them! But to embrace mistakes that they’ve made so that 1. we won’t exclude people in need in this community, and 2. we can normalize bringing up exclusivity so that improvement can happen. Hopefully this will one day help dnp realize that this is a safe space for them to talk about their mistakes, so that this space can become safe for people of all kinds too <3

*If you don’t understand what is happening, scroll through my blog for context. And I’ll be taking time to answer my asks, so don’t think I’m ignoring youuu*

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 4

stunning artwork of a scene from chapter 1 by @dominaarts that I've been dying to share!

Summary: A miscommunication between Thomas and Des results in a night of Dahlia and Mary dog sitting together. When a record breaking storm rolls in, Dahlia's faced with the decision on exactly how much vulnerability she wants to reveal. Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Mary Goore x OFC / 15.4k words Warnings: language, thigh-riding, p in v sex, mentions of recreational drug use, alcohol, storms, thunder, slight angst

A/N: Thank you for your patience and support as I've taken the time to write this. This was a difficult chapter to write as it starts building the foundation for the turning point of the story and I wanted to get it just right. Leave a comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist 🥰 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

Codependency was something I tried really, really hard to avoid. I’d long prided myself on my 

feral independent streak and would be damned if anyone, man or woman, made me reliant.

But I had to admit, I really missed Des. 

This was the shitty part of relationships. It seemed that when the people you love found someone that they wanted to devote themselves to, their time seemed to be sucked along with it. I understood where she was coming from. The novelty of a budding relationship is a unique and addictive feeling. I don’t blame her for chasing the high. 

While she tended the fire that she and Thomas were building, she was opting for spurts of lighter fluid rather than bits of soul-sourced kindling. And now her fire was growing and spreading, sometimes out of control, and it seemed like all of her time and resources were devoted to managing it. Which meant that some of her other relationships had to be put on the backburner until the flames could be brought to a dull roar. 

As if a sign from the universe, the stars finally aligned (or perhaps just our schedules), and Des and I were able to spend the afternoon together. It was exactly what I needed: some time with my best friend. 

After grabbing a couple of iced coffees from the boutique coffee shop downtown (at her insistence, of course, because the higher price was reflected in the quality of the roast, or something like that), we walked to one of our favorite thrift stores to pillage through the inventory. I felt a certain warmth creep through my chest as we entered the store. The smell was a bit musty, perfume-like, a permeating oxymoron of both dirt and cleanliness. It reminded me of our friendship: unlikely, brutally opposite at times, but unique and complimentary. 

The shop worker greeted us with a nod and a smile from the front counter and went back to browsing through her magazine as she sat on her high-rise stool, painted fingertips skimming over something about interior design. Des and I beelined to the back racks in the furthest room from the front of the shop. We knew that this was usually where they kept the good stuff. 

Thrifting was an exercise of equal parts skill and patience. It was best to go in with zero expectations of both finding anything or looking for a specific piece. My most successful trips had been ones where I’d happened upon things I didn’t even know I’d wanted (or like, for that matter). In fact, I’d long ago learned not to become discouraged when a trip turned out to be a bust. Busts were to be expected. The goldmines, however, outweighed the insolvencies. 

“It feels like forever since we’ve gotten to do this,” Des said as she stopped in front of a circular rack of short-sleeve knit shirts. She began sliding the hangers across the scraped metal, pausing to glance over each shirt as she did so. 

“It has been,” I replied. It wasn’t said with malice; more so, my tone conveyed a neutral honesty that I knew we’d come to appreciate about each other. Despite this, I could tell I’d struck a cord at the slight fall of her facial features. 

Des took a half-step back and turned to me with a sad smile. “I know I haven’t been around as much. I’m sorry.” 

“I understand.” And I did. She knew I did. But the morose feeling was still etched into her features in soft hatched lines and so I quickly added, “Not everyone can be a hot musician with Heraculan biceps. I’ll take my spot in line.” I gave her a wink, which seemed to soften her expression. 

I turned back to the rack and started thumbing through the medium-sized graphic tees. Quite a few were worn crewnecks of casinos or bars from around the state, though a couple school spirit shirts were peppered in. I nearly shuddered at the smiling beaver mascot that reminded me of puberty. 

Des broke my focus. “What about this one?” She held up a small white t-shirt with an image of Strawberry Shortcake on it. “Your muse!”

“One time I tell you about my obsession with Strawberry Shortcake and the Big Apple City as a child…” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I continued culling through the rack. Des laughed and set the shirt back. 

“I don’t think your tits would fit in a small, anyway. Plus, it had a stain.” She pushed a couple more shirts to the side before turning her torso to me. “Speaking of cake, I heard you and Mary had a get together last week.”

A week had passed since I’d last seen Mary. I’d received another text a few days after our night of baking telling me that the cake was killer and his mom was impressed, but it’d been radio silence since. In any other situation with any other person, I’d probably feel irritation or some sort of anger; an inward creeping as to why this guy wasn’t at all interested in seeing me after a weirdly uncharacteristic close-knit evening. But this was Mary. He wasn’t known for punctuality or routine. On the contrary, Mary was a bit of an enigma, coming and going as he pleased, with zero rhyme or reason to his decision making. He seemed to do what felt right to him in the moment — whatever that may be. Or at least that’s how things appeared. 

The hanger I was sliding across the rack stilted, the fabric of the shirt still pinched between my fingers. My eyes widened slightly, and I failed to control the blush that crept into my cheeks. I refused to meet her stare, but knowing Des, she was giving me an all-knowing look. 

“You know, when I suggested that you make a cake for his mom’s birthday, I didn’t think that meant that you’d be doing it together,” she teased.

“Neither did I!” I said. Although I’d meant for it to come out nonchalantly, I’d sounded more defensive than intended. I tried to brush it off by swirling the iced coffee in my hand, ice cubes clinking and clashing as I brought the straw to my lips to take a sip.

“I didn’t know you and Mary were that close,” she speculated. 

I choked on the watery coffee that had been midway down my throat and brought a hand up to wipe at my mouth, coughing a little into my palm.

 Before I had a chance to respond, she cut me off, wide-eyed, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Wait, no. Doll, you didn’t!”

I looked over at her with a surprised defensiveness that completely gave away the truth. Shit. Time for damage control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Des’ smile only widened. “Dahlia, did you sleep with him?”

I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t as if I was ashamed to admit it. Mary was attractive. Sure, his reputation was a bit strange and extreme, but to those in the metal scene, it wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary. But there was something that I liked about keeping Mary and I’s friendship hidden. Or were we friends with benefits?  Was it even a friendship? 

“You totally did!” Des said in response to my silent rabbit hole. I sighed and started to aimlessly shuffle through some sweaters on the next rack. Des began to laugh and looked at me coyly.

She walked over to the same rack that I was currently stationed at and rested her hand against the metal bar, leaning into it. “I swore I saw you two making out on the couch a while back at Thomas’, but he told me I was seeing shit,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief. 

I hummed a noise in response, barely audible. My fingertips traced along a loose thread of a knit sweater and I rolled it between them, trying to focus on the scratchy acrylic yarn instead of the beet red burning in my face. 

“That WAS you two! How long has this been going on?” I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get any bigger. They reminded me of saucers. Or satellite dishes. Maybe of the middle-aged woman at my work that thrived on office gossip and smelled like cat piss. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled a sweater off the rack to pretend to check the tag. “Nothing is going on,” I said. 80% Polyester, 20% Cotton.  “We’ve just hooked up a few times. That’s it.” 

Des cocked a curious brow. “A few? Wow, add that to my list of shit I didn’t expect.” She brought her half-drank iced coffee to her pink lips and took a slurp of the drink. I couldn’t tell if I was more annoyed at the sound or at her. 

 “So, what’s he like?” She grabbed a cardigan from the small section and pulled it up to inspect it, holding it to her thin frame to gauge the fit. “I bet he’s into some spooky, dark shit, like bloodletting or autoerotic asphyxiation or something. Oh! Or a piss kink!”

The garment I was holding was slammed back into the rack with more force than I’d meant. “Des! What the fuck?” I whispered loudly, trying to make a point that this was not something I wanted to talk about in public. Sure, no one else was in the back of the store, but that was besides the point. 

She held up a hand in defense. “Sorry! He looks like the kind of guy that’d be into that stuff.”

I brought the hand to my face that wasn’t holding the slippery, condensation-covered cup of coffee. With a sigh, I rubbed my left eye. “I am not having this conversation.”

Des brought her hands down and tilted her head with a look of disagreement. “Oh, come on! Why are you always so uptight about talking about this stuff?”

I took a step towards her and lowered my voice just slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to advertise my sex life, thank you.”

“I don’t advertise it, I just…reflect on it. It’s what normal girlfriends do — talk about the guys they’re with.” She turned to the next rack that was uncomfortably close to the one we had been rifling through and pulled a pair of corduroys out to give them a look over. “Who else would I talk to about it?”

She had a point. I breathed out a sigh and set my cup on the display atop the circular rack. “I guess you’re right.”

I looked up at her to see her sporting her signature smirk. “I’m always right. Now tell me, what’s he got hiding in those tight jeans?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis and I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“You are the last person I need to explain the intricacies of the male anatomy to.”

“Come on, Doll. I need details!” She whined, tossing the corduroys back onto the rack. 

��Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing cats have nine lives.” She stuck out her tongue at me and I reached over to make a swipe at grabbing it, earning me a chuckle and a shove. 

I laughed too, and if I was honest, I felt a semblance of relief that the weight of my secret had been lifted from my shoulders, even if just minutely. 

She took another annoyingly loud slurp of her iced coffee, the drink now edging the bottom line of the cup. Peering at me from above the lid, she broke contact with the straw. 

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

It was early evening on a Friday. I’d managed to get off of work a little earlier than expected — a relief given that I’d worked overtime these past few weeks to try to save up enough money for an unexpected car repair. The extra time turned out to be just what I needed to pack some last minute items in my backpack for the weekend. 

Des had asked — practically begged — for me to “do her a solid” and pet sit for her for a couple days over the weekend. My confusion rang heavy in the air when I realized that one, she didn’t have any pets, and two, neither did Thomas. 

“It’s his parents’ dog. He’s supposed to watch it this weekend, but he was able to book a couple last minute shows out of town that would be really good for the band,” she’d explained. Then, in almost overly characteristic Des-fashion, she gave me the eyes. The fucking Puss in Boots look. 

And those damn Dreamworks eyes had me hesitantly agreeing to watch the pawned pooch at Thomas’ place.  

It didn’t sit well with me. He was supposed to be watching his parents’ dog. But instead, he was having a friend of his girlfriend stay at his place to watch a dog she’d never met. I’d just hoped the dog was nice. 

After walking my bike to the back porch to lean it against the siding hidden from view from the street, I rounded back to the front door and gave it a few cursory knocks. As if on cue, loud barks began to sound — distant at first, but louder as the seconds went on — and I could just make out the scuffle of feet and claws against the hard floor. 

The door swung open and Des was restraining a black blur of tail and tongue and teeth. He wasn’t overly big, per se, but from what I could tell from his overexcited movements, he had to be at least forty or fifty pounds. 

“Hey! Come in—” she strained, holding the excited dog back as it wagged and wiggled in her arms. 

I slipped past the dog and kicked off my shoes on the hinged side of the door as she slammed it shut. “Brutus!” Des grunted as she tried to crouch over him and use her body weight as leverage. 

I straightened up and watched with choked giggles as she tried, and nearly failed, to keep him from charging me. “He’s — umph — he loves people —” said grumbled as the dog, presumably named Brutus, broke from her grasp and hounded over to me with a tail so violently wagging that I was afraid his hips would fly right off. He knocked into me with surprising force for his size and I toppled over to the ground. A slimy, velvety tongue began to attack my face and neck and I shrieked out in laughter as we rolled around on the floor. 

“Brutie! Brutus, off!” Des yelled. I could barely hear her over my screeches and giggles. 

A couple of moments passed and the dog calmed, crawling comically into my lap before curling up and looking at me with a panting smile. I ran my hand along the top of its head, scratching behind his pointed black ears. 

“Sorry, he really, really likes people. Not much of a watchdog,” Des said.

“It’s fine. He’s cute,” I replied, moving to scratch under his chin. “What breed is he?”

Des snorted. “Fuck if I know. Thomas says he’s a mutt. I think he’s a rescue.”

“Those are always the best ones,” I countered, earning a nuzzle into my hand from the furry canine nearly falling out of my lap. 

After a while of chit chat and petting the mammoth-sized wannabe cat splayed in my lap, I peeled my backpack off and set it against the wall and stood up  to follow Des into the kitchen. She explained Brutus’ feeding schedule (“He will try to convince you that he’s starving to death. Do not fall for it.”) and his typical routine, then showed me where Thomas’ parents had left the vet info in case of emergencies. It seemed pretty straightforward (easier than I’d expected, honestly), and I felt grateful that Thomas’ backyard was fenced off. A lost dog was the last thing I needed in life right now. 

Just as Des was setting the written feeding instructions back down on the counter, the door leading to the garage opened from down the hallway, and a pair of heavy footsteps came thunking toward us. 

Thomas came into view. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the locks a little as he glanced around the kitchen and dining area, turning a bit in his spot as if running through an imaginary list in his brain. By now, I’d seen Thomas in a variety of moods: ecstatic, embarrassed, exhausted, angry, piss drunk, and of course, the moments where he was absolutely enamored with Des, but I’d never seen him look so stressed before. His eyes looked tired yet his pupils were wide, countering the lines that were settling in around the corners of his eyelids. I’m not sure that he even noticed his shirt was inside out. 

“We found the pedalboard at the guys’ apartment. Some asshole put it on top of the fridge,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to visualize what he needed to do next. After a beat, he looked back down and his eyes met Des’ quizzical look. 

“Don’t ask. I don’t even fucking know.” He seemed to finally register that it wasn’t just his girlfriend in front of him and his demeanor changed a little. He straightened, almost toughened, and gave me a confused quirk of the eyebrows. “…Dahlia, what are you doing here?”

I mirrored his look. “Uh, Des said you needed me to house sit?”

Thomas looked between myself and Des, his face moving from a look of confusion to a look of what could be argued as annoyance. “Really?” he asked, taking another step closer to Des. “I thought I mentioned I’d figured all that out, babe.”

Desiree looked up at him with an innocent smile and rolled her lips between her teeth. “Whoops. Must have slipped my mind.”

He sized her reaction, clearly unconvinced. “Okay. Sure.” I was certain he was going to add something, but his potential dialogue with Des was cut off when the garage door opened again and the telltale sound of clunking boots against hard flooring cut through the air. I felt my heart simultaneously drop and expand in my chest. I had come to know that sound. 

“Everything is tied and tarped. I feel like fucking Patrick Bateman sans nailgun and Huey Lewis and the News.”

I had really come to know that voice. 

Mary rounded Thomas and Des and joined the impromptu party in the dining area. I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet as I felt his stare bore into me from feet away. It was clear there had been a mix up, and although I couldn’t be certain that Des had something to do with it, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. 

“What’s going on?” Mary asked as he looked around the uneven circle of his friends. Brutus trotted over and began to sniff at his pant legs and Mary reached down to scratch the hound’s forehead. Mary’s long hair hung around him in strands, the ends clumped together in damp sections as it fell from around his shoulders and back. 

“Why is your hair wet?” Des asked him. I was sure it was her way of breaking the awkwardness. 

Mary looked at her with an air of obviousness. “Shower,” he replied. 

“Oh…weird,” she said, and I had to stifle a giggle by turning it into a cough. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He’s full of shit. It’s raining outside and he’s been helping me load and tarp equipment in the truck.” Thomas reached out and clasped a hand to Mary’s shoulder, which to be fair, was dotted with what appeared to be wet raindrop marks. “We all know you hate bathing,” he added. 

Mary scoffed and shoved Thomas. “Fuck you guys.”

The air turned uncomfortable again, bordering sour, and it was Thomas who broke the silence. 

“Well, it looks like there’s been a miscommunication on who’s looking after this asshole,” Thomas started, looking directly at Des as he spoke although it was clear he was referring to the dog. She continued flashing her innocent smile, eyes still large as if concurrently seeking forgiveness and feigning ignorance. 

I felt compelled to speak up. I hated awkward silences, and I especially hated being the butt of one. “It’s not a big deal. I can head out if Mary’s got this,” I said with a shrug. 

“—It’s pouring out there!” Des quickly countered, looking between Thomas and I. 

Her defensive quip caused me to crinkle my eyebrows in response. “Bullshit, I was just outside and it was fine.”

I looked over at the sliding glass door to my left and sure as shit, the glass was coated in fine droplets sliding down to puddle at the deck below. The sky hadn’t been much more than overcast on my ride over, but it now swirled with tones of ash and charcoal. A storm was approaching. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Shit, well…I rode my bike over here.”

I could tell that the cogs were turning in Des’ mind as she tried to decide if she’d respond with comfort and support of her best friend or her boyfriend: the ever present dilemma. I felt a pang of guilt plague my stomach. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. You guys go,” I offered with a small smile. Forced, of course, because now I was stranded at someone else’s house with someone else’s dog and of course a particular…someone else. 

“You sure?” she asked. I could see Thomas eyeing me from behind her, his own expression mirroring her words. It was clear this was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to Mary and I. 

My gut told me to stay focused on the couple ahead of me, but my impulsiveness won over, and I glanced at Mary. He was watching with a look of amusement, arms crossed over his chest as his head batted to and fro between speakers. I swallowed lightly.

“Yeah, go. Go! It’s fine.” The voice was mine, but the words were clearly not my own.

A few uncomfortable and quick words were shared, and both Des and Thomas grabbed their overnight bags and popped them into the cab of the truck before driving off down the quiet residential street towards the gig a few towns over. And I was stuck in the ranch-style home with Mary Goore, an overexcited rescue dog, and an approaching storm. 

🜏🜏🜏

After piling into the car and sloshing down the road en route to the gig a few cities over, Des and Thomas were mid conversation about the situation that had happened just moments before. 

“Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” Thomas started, fingertips tapping against the wheel as they sped down the interstate. 

Des rolled her eyes. “They’ve been fucking!” Her voice was defensive. She quickly added, “Did you know that?”

Thomas kept his eyes on the road and drummed his fingers along to the song playing in the background. “No, and I don’t—” he sighed, removing one hand from the wheel to grasp at the back of his neck, “Jesus Christ, Desiree, you can’t play matchmaker on this one.”

Des crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

Thomas briefly turned his head and gave her a serious look, sternness that nearly reminded her of her father. “Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Des shot him a look that dripped in sass. Any other time it would have spurred a different set of emotions in him, but not this time. He held his ground. 

“Just — fuck, baby, I’ve known Mary for a long time and he’s not really one to settle.”

Des scoffed. “You think getting with Dahlia would be settling?”

“No, not like that.” Thomas sighed again in frustration. “He’s not big into commitment. Doesn’t like to be tied down. Mary’s…not a relationship kind of guy.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Des pondered his response. “Well, I’m not saying they need to get married or anything,” she reasoned, “I’m just giving them a little push, is all. A weekend together, alone, no one to barge in and no expectations. It’s the perfect recipe for them to realize what they have going on.”

Another silence filled the cab of the truck. The sound of steady rain pelted against the windshield, only for the squeaky wipers to flick it off rhythmically, creating its own song and dance that counteracted the punk tune on the stereo system.  

After a moment, Thomas relented. “Don’t come crawling to me with those big, sad eyes when this ploy of yours blows up in your face.”

“What big eyes?!” Des craned her neck over and stared him down, though it was clear she couldn’t hide the smile bursting through her tough facade. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, babe.”

Des winked in his direction and the tension seemed to melt away. She reached over to grasp at his hand — the one that had fallen to his lap after drumming on the steering wheel —  and laced their fingers together. 

He let out a long breath and relaxed into the touch before grumbling, “They better not fuck on my bed.”

🜏🜏🜏

When Des and Thomas left, it was like they sucked what little comfort there had been straight out of the room. Sure, the house was occupied by two people and a dog (which some would even consider to be too crowded; three’s company and four’s a party and all that), but there was a timidness that I felt that seemed to have grown since my other outings with Mary. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all. Or perhaps it was my own lack of control in the situation. Regardless, I’d planned on staying a couple of days anyway — what was so bad about waiting out the storm to ride home?

I stood there, hands in my pockets as I continued to rock on my heels, before deciding to break the tension. “I should probably pick up my stuff,” I motioned to the general area my backpack was in and then quickly turned to retrieve my things. 

Backpack in hand, I headed to the bathroom to unpack. I’d packed light (because in all honesty, who did I have to impress), but I was searching for any and all excuses to put some distance between myself and the awkward situation I’d been thrust into. I pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of a plastic bag I’d jammed into the front pocket of my rucksack, mirroring the action with my face wash, moisturizer, and small bag of makeup essentials. I futzed for too long with the placement of the items, moving them from sinkside to against the wall and back again, before I gave up and sat back against the wall opposite the vanity. 

A few minutes went by and I felt a low growl erupt in my stomach. It was nearly six o’clock and I’d had yet to eat anything. I pulled out my phone, deciding to order takeout, and scrolled through the suggested nearby restaurants before settling on a well-rated Chinese place down the street. 

I was ready to press send on my order, but I remembered the elephant in the room and groaned, heaving myself up and making my way out to the main area of the home. Mary was nowhere to be seen. I turned around and upon noticing the garage door was ajar, I walked the short distance down the hallway and slipped into the adjoining garage. 

Mary was sitting in a camper chair in the empty space, lit cigarette between his fingers, with Brutus at his side. He was tossing a rope toy to the dog somewhat lazily, taking drags of the lit stick every so often. The garage was partially opened, just enough to let in the cool, damp air of the storm, and raindrops pittered in at the edge of the threshold. 

As soon as I shut the door to the house, his eyes shot up to meet my own and he nodded in greeting before tossing the toy to the opposite end of the garage for Brutus. 

“I’m ordering Chinese — you want anything?” I eventually spoke, body still against the steps connecting the sunken garage to the house. 

Mary let out an exhale of smoke and tapped the cigarette into a coffee can on the ground. “Whatever’s fine. I’m easy to please.” His telltale smirk painted his lips and I could see the mischief swirling behind his eyes. “But you already know that,” he added. 

I felt my eyes nearly roll out of my head and hopped down off the step, rounding him to sit in another nearby chair. As uncomfortable as his digs were supposed to be, they had the opposite effect. I didn’t do “awkward” with Mary that well. Sexual tension was another story. 

I added a few more items to the order and typed in my card information from memory before submitting the order, quickly clicking my phone off and stashing it in my pocket. My focus was broken when Mary interrupted the silence. 

“How’d you get roped into this?” he asked, head turning to glance at me. 

I sighed and rubbed the side of my face, showing my slight annoyance. “Desiree.”

Mary laughed, a warm chuckle that I’d grown to appreciate, and he ashed the cigarette into the can below him. “You’d think they’d learn to communicate with how they fucking act around each other.”

I stretched out my legs, sinking back into the camper chair. “Oh, I’m sure it was communicated…” I remarked.

Mary looked at me quizzically, head turned towards me again to flash those phthalocyanine eyes that somehow looked brighter in the odd lighting of the garage. I brushed off his look, not wanting to get into the specifics of the conversation I had with Desiree or the fact that she knew about our history. “The dog seems to like you.”

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said. 

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

Mary laughed out again in response, that ever-present balmy giggle that pulled at the corners of his lips sending a wave of warmth through my body. “No, I’m just fucking with you. I’m good with animals,” he paused and his lips curled into a grin, ”when I’m not microwaving them, of course.”

My mind raced back to our first encounter together. The streetlights on the walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Paper bags with shaved ice and forties. Shitty gas station snacks. And our conversation about reputation. Namely, his reputation. “Oh, of course.” My tone was one of mock seriousness, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the memory.

I watched as he took another drag from the dwindling cigarette and then turned to look out at the half-closed garage door. The raindrops pelting against the shingled roof and cracked concrete driveway were the only audio that suffused the space, with the occasional exhale of pillowy smoke from the musician next to me. 

It was Mary that broke the silence again. He always seemed to be the one to do that. “Thanks again,” he started, hand waving around aimlessly as he spoke, “y’know, for the cake and shit.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad your mom liked it.” I spoke earnestly and my expression was one of sincerity. It felt foreign.

“She fucking loved it. She was surprised I had anything to do with making it,” he laughed and tapped his cigarette into the can. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad of a cook,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he turned to face me. “I’ve burned water.”

My jaw dropped just enough that I was sure it looked like I’d catch flies. “I…didn’t think that was possible.”

He shrugged and turned back to face forward, the cigarette now a stubby, crinkled nub between his middle and pointer fingers. “You should know by now that I’m full of impossible surprises.”

I leaned forward, turning my torso to point towards him while I pulled my legs criss-cross into the camper chair. “How on earth do you woo a woman if you can’t even cook fucking Kraft Mac n’ Cheese?”

“Women aren’t typically after my cooking skills. Or lack thereof,” he flicked the remaining ash of the cigarette down and it missed the can. He didn’t notice. “I’ve got other talents,” he paused, “Wooing isn’t really my style.”

I let his admission ring in the dampened air. It wasn’t surprising. From what I’d heard, he’d never had trouble landing women — particularly after gigs. “The life of a musician…” I trailed off. 

Another silence built as the rain colored the absence of our conversation. I could hear Brutus’ slight snores as he lay curled at Mary’s feet, seemingly tired from their earlier game of fetch. A breeze broke through the cracked garage door and swirled around us, bringing a chill into the otherwise comfortable space. I pulled my hoodie a little closer, feeling the cool air dance across my cheeks and the skin peeking through the jacket. 

“I think I’m gonna head in. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”

Mary didn’t say anything in response — merely nodding and taking out another cigarette from the worn Marlboro carton — and I made my way back inside with a heavier mind than I’d come out with. 

🜏🜏🜏

I’d puttered around the house for what had seemed like ages, but in reality was likely only a handful of minutes. As familiar as I was with some of the rooms at Thomas’, I had to admit that there were areas I’d never been to,  namely his room or the basement. As rude as it might have been, I’d given myself a self-directed tour of the place, noting the half-completed projects he seemed to be working on to fix up the house. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign of Des domesticating him or if the house really was a secret pride-and-joy. 

Eventually, I found myself in the den, sinking into the worn plaid couch that already held too many memories. I pushed them down and reached for the remote to the TV, opting just to hold it as my thoughts zoomed. I could probably put on a movie to kill some time until dinner arrived. It wouldn’t be long and it would serve as a nice distraction. 

I got up and thumbed through the impressive number of DVDs stacked next to the TV. Most of them were action or horror (no surprise there), and I settled on a film I’d never seen before: The Amityville Horror. I told myself that the fact that a young Ryan Reynolds was on the cover had absolutely nothing to do with the choice. 

After some cajoling, I figured out how Thomas’ TV and DVD player were set up and popped in the disc, pressing play on the machine before sinking back into the couch. The blue screen transformed to darkness as the credits played and I waited to be taken to the home screen. 

Mere seconds into the film, I heard a knock at the door and I paused the movie to jog up and out of the sunken den to the front door. I was met with an absolutely drenched delivery driver holding out a large brown bag in one hand and a soaked receipt and pen in the other. I shot him a look of apology and took the receipt, signing and adding on a much more generous tip than I’d originally intended, before trading him for the food. His eyes lit up when he saw the receipt and he dashed back to his clunker parked out front. 

I ended up parking the heavy bag of Chinese on the kitchen table. My thoughts were broken when I heard Mary coming in from the garage, heavy footsteps once again thunking down the hallway.  A pitter of claws trotted behind him. 

“Food’s here,” I said, already opening the bag to take out the various containers. 

We grabbed our respective containers and utensils and made our way to the den, me sitting on the couch while Mary sat on the floor, his back against the edge of the couch with his legs spread out wide. I opened up my container of sweet and sour pork and doused it in sweet and sour sauce, mixing it up with the cheap excuse for chopsticks that they provided before settling into the back corner of the couch and pressing play. 

“You’re watching this trash?” Mary said, words muffled by a mouthful of Beijing beef. 

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it from his position on the floor. “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s a shit remake.”

I grabbed a piece of pork between my chopsticks and lathered it in sauce before popping it into my mouth. “Well,” I said while chewing, “no one’s making you watch it.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said with a hint of facetiousness. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he all but grumbled, reaching in the container to grab a piece of beef with his fingers.“You knew what I meant.”

I shuddered as I watched him pop the piece of meat into his mouth with his fingers. “Are you…eating that with your bare hands?” I asked with a surprised chuckle. 

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Chopsticks are frustrating. Why use those when I have built in chopsticks right here?” He pinched his fingers in the air, just high enough that I could see them from my spot on the sofa. 

I paused, reaching into the takeout container to fish around for some sort of accompanying vegetable. “I…don’t know how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my fingers the last time you were on that couch,” he retorted, tone dripping with cheekiness that I knew was accompanied by a smirk I couldn’t see from my vantage point. 

I sighed, trying to pay no mind to his constant coquettishness. “Well, they weren’t covered in Chinese food when that happened.”

“They could have been.”

I reached over and grabbed one of Thomas’ throw pillows from across the sofa and tossed it down directly at his head. Mary yowled and grabbed at the back of his head. 

“Hey, ow- fuck, you almost made me spill!”

I waved my chopstick dismissively. “Shh, I’m missing what’s happening.”

“Not missing much…” he grumbled, grabbing another piece of beef with his fingers. I looked down and dug into my food again, picking at some snow peas, and took a bite to keep me from my desire to respond with something sarcastic. 

I watched the screen as the beginning of the movie continued to unfold with the dreary undertone of music and darkened filter plastered over shots of the house and rainfall outside. 

I knew that in fiction, rain was often used to signal something darker, uncontrollable, and innately scary. While a gentle storm could symbolize rebirth or the washing away of something unclean to show a new beginning, a thunderstorm was different. Thunderstorms were brash, explosive, and undeniably cacophonous — a symbol of power, wrath, danger, and darkness. As the scene cut to a shot of the rainy setting, I couldn’t help but liken it to the rain pelting the windowpanes of the window behind the couch. They were both intense storms and I wondered what symbolism life could be trying to show me, if any at all. 

We watched mostly in silence, with the occasional jolt from me during a poorly timed jumpscare or a shake of the head and grumble from Mary (which after the third shove of my foot into his shoulder, he got the message that he was being obnoxious). 

Unbeknownst to me, the movie had a quick sex scene, which with anyone else would have been a non-issue watching. But with Mary, I felt oddly different. I found myself wondering what he was thinking as we watched the main characters move intimately against one another. Because, if my memory served me right, the last movie we watched together had something similar, and he had reacted in very specific—

 My thoughts were interrupted by yet another jumpscare and I squeaked in surprise, nearly dropping my empty takeout container. Mary chuckled and turned around with a smug smile.

 “Everything okay back there?” he asked. 

“Just fine. ‘Surprised me…” I grumbled, pretending to dig around in the empty container for more food. I was sure he could see right through me. I was easy to spook.

Eventually, I set my empty container on the side table and reclined back into the couch again. It felt weirdly quiet, and I noticed that Mary had gotten up at some point and left. 

“Seems he found something better to do with his time,” I thought. Not that it mattered, anyway. I hated the kind of people that talked constantly during movies, and I could tell Mary was doing his best not to criticize nearly every piece of dialogue and every scene. 

“Here.” The voice snapped me from my thoughts and my eyes refocused to the space in front of me, noticing an uncapped beer just in my line of sight. I took it with a thank you, noticing Mary had one of his own as he decided to sit opposite to me on the edge of the couch instead of on the floor. I tried not to think anything of the change and cast my eyes towards the movie. 

“Did….did she just put a whole ass bong into her purse?” I asked after watching the babysitter in the film try to hide her bong after smoking in the bathroom. I took a swig of the beer Mary gifted me and looked over at him. 

He laughed. “I’m telling you — this movie is idiotic at best.”

“I hate that I’m invested enough that I want to see how it ends,” I replied after a minute, adjusting my position on the couch to spread out a leg, my foot barely missing the side of Mary’s thigh. 

“I’m happy to tell you how it ends,” Mary countered, taking a pull from his own bottle.

I shook my head in reply. “Might as well finish it. In your words, we’ve ‘got nothing better to do,’” I grinned at him with a chuckle and set my eyes back on the screen. 

After the movie finished, we both stretched out our limbs, and I stood to collect the empty containers. 

“That’s 90 minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Mary grunted with a sigh. 

I rolled my eyes. With how things were going, I’d be surprised if they didn’t roll straight out of my head and onto the shitty shag carpet on the floor. “Oh come on,” I began, “It wasn’t THAT bad…”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t good,” he chuckled sarcastically.

I let out a defeated breath. “Okay, I’ll admit that it wasn’t the best movie I’ve seen.”

“Clear from it,” he postured, lounging back a little as he took a swig from his beer “The original does a much better job of staying true to the book and creating that building suspense th—”

His words were cut off by another loud crack of lightning. This one sounded close, and by the looks of the fulmination that painted the windows, it was. 

I let out a shriek when the lightning and its ancillary crash cracked through the den and beyond. My hand flew to my mouth in surprise and I soon rubbed it over my eyes bashfully. 

“Shit, I didn’t know you could make that noise,” Mary chuckled, eyebrows raised in an expression of slight surprise. I looked over and flashed him the middle finger, a scowl on my face, which only increased his laughter. 

“How about we put on another movie,” he suggested, then added quickly “—but I pick.” I thought about it, pondering the many choices of movies that Mary could choose on a night like tonight, and shook my head. 

“Maybe music is a better idea?” I replied. I walked to the edge of the den and started up the few stairs that connected it to the hallway. “I’ll toss these while you get it set up,” I called over my shoulder. 

When I returned, Mary was finished messing with the stereo system and Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was playing softly through the speakers. I took a seat on the floor, copying Mary’s earlier posture with my back against the front of the plush furniture, and spread my legs out and crossed them at the ankles. 

“Didn’t take you as a Sonic Youth fan,” I said as I settled into the space. 

Mary smiled and turned his head towards me. “I told you I’m full of interesting surprises.”

I suppressed a giggle. “I was thinking of other types of surprises when you said that.”

“What kinds of things were you thinking of?” he asked, brow quirked.

I felt my cheeks flush at the coy look on his face and looked away, trying to figure out a way to change the conversation. Mary just laughed. 

“Wow, doll face, I didn’t expect to take up that much real estate in your mind. I’m flattered.” He put a hand to his chest and stared over me with a broad smile. 

“Stop it.”

He cast me a look of confusion. “Stop what?”

“That thing you do!” I began. My voice raised a little in volume and pitch. “The thing where you act all smug and ooze sex appeal!”

This seemed to intrigue him and he turned to face me from his spot in front of the entertainment system. I knew that if his shirt was off, I’d be able to see the flexion of the muscles in his abdomen. I mentally kicked myself for even thinking that. 

“Sex appeal? I didn’t know you were so pious.”

I felt myself bristle and sat up a little straighter. “What? No, it’s not about piety.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You just don’t have to make everything an innuendo!”

At this, the crusty metalhead in front of me had the audacity to laugh. “Wow,” he chuckled, “way to act like a total prude.” 

“I am not!” My eyes shot daggers at him and I’d hope they’d materialize and hit him straight in his smirking face. 

“I’m surprised you made it through that sex scene…” he looked up at me from under a raised brow.

I huffed. “You of all people should know that sex doesn’t bother m—” I cut myself off as I felt fire heat my cheeks. 

“You were saying?” he snickered. 

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

As soon as his name was said, Brutus’ ears perked up and he let out a whine. I realized it had probably been hours since he’d been outside.

“We should probably let the dog out,” I said. As soon as he heard the word ‘out,’ Brutus sprung up and began trotting to the sliding glass door in the kitchen. I got up with a slight groan, muscles stiff from sitting on the floor, and Mary followed. 

“I can take the dog out by myself, y’know,”

“Yeah, but the view is so much better if I come with.”

I felt frustration pool in my chest at this and he seemed to sense it as well, adding, “Chill out, I was just  grabbing a couple more beers.”

After coaxing Brutus outside with some choice words said in the nicest voice I could muster (and maybe a push on the bum), I waited at the sliding glass door for him to return from doing his business. A towel was thrown by slider and I grabbed it to wipe down the dog on his re-entry. 

I watched through the window as the storm really began to rage. Fat water droplets ricocheted off the glass pane like rubber bullets and thunder rumbled a low death rattle. Mary came up behind me and put the two bottles on the kitchen table. He fished around in his pockets for his bottle opener on his key chain. 

A loud, booming sound followed by a high pitched crack and a monstrous thud rattled the foundation of the house. I let out an embarrassingly loud scream and jumped back from the sliding door. My body collided with Mary’s more solid one behind me, and immediately his hands found my upper arms to steady the both of us. I leaned back into him, not caring enough about self-restraint as my head tipped back against his shoulder. 

My chest heaved as my adrenaline dissipated, and I could feel Mary’s hands rubbing up and down the lengths of my arms. I swallowed thickly, then clenched my eyes tight. I felt his breath arm against my ear as he leaned in. 

“You good, Doll?”

His voice was smooth, oddly soothing, and the reverberations that pulsed through my ear and into my chest were much different than the shaking of the foundation from the subsonic boom moments prior. 

I nodded and looked out the window. A mature tree limb, one measuring at least 15 feet long, had fallen to the ground in the backyard from the force of the thunderstorm. My immediate thought went to Brutus and I feared for the worst, but as if on cue, his body came running towards the door like a bullet. His little black body began pawing at the door and yet, I felt frozen in my spot to Mary. His body stayed pressed against the back of mine, hands still rubbing little circles against my triceps. Neither of us moved to open the door. 

Brutus’ bark seemed to jolt us both from the haze. I slid the door open and immediately wrapped the medium-sized dog in the towel to dry him off. The little black mutt followed me as I walked back into the wood-paneled den and I sunk down on the couch next to Mary with a sigh. 

Mary handed me another beer and I graciously accepted. “You know,” he started after taking a sip of his own, “I’m not used to women screaming around me unless my name is involved somehow.”

“Is it usually preceded by ‘fuck off’ or ‘get the fuck away from me’?”

“I was thinking it comes after ‘harder’ or ‘fuck me,’ actually,” he said, pausing a beat before casting a look of cautious puzzlement. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I chewed on my cheek as I picked at the label of the beer bottle. “I hate storms,” I admitted with a sigh.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

The squall of the storm caused the windows behind the weathered old sofa to vellicate. Stills from the movie of torrential downpour around the boathouse flashed into thought. I recalled the swirling blackened sky from the sliding glass door from moments before and found myself comparing the dread from the film to my stomach sinking the moment the tree limb fell heavy against the hard ground. What if it had fallen on the house, or the dog? What if it had been a consequence of a lightning strike and started a fire?

I shook myself from spiraling. “I’m not afraid of a lot of things,” I pointed out, “but storms...they freak me out. They have ever since I was little. Loud noises and all.”

Mary chuckled at this. “You listen to thrash metal,” he countered. 

“That’s different!” I ran my hand through my hair, gripping at the back of my scalp in frustration. “Storms are destructive. One minute it’s a normal day and the next - bam - people lose their homes, their jobs, their communities…decades and centuries of history even. It’s chaotic and terrible and…unpredictable. It’s fucking armageddon.”

Mary had turned to face me from his spot on the couch, one leg semi-crossed over the other. “Big bad metal chick like you afraid of some thunder and lightning? Color me surprised, dollface.”

The asshole had the audacity to smirk at me. So, I reached out and smacked him in the shoulder. 

“Ow! I was being serious!” His tone was playful as rubbed at the spot on his shoulder. “You’re not the kind of person to let a lot of emotion show.”

I felt myself bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…you just don’t seem afraid of anything. Kinda just ‘go with the flow’. It’s weird to see ya all panicked and shit.”

I scoffed and clicked my tongue. “You obviously don’t know me very well.”

“Oh, I know you inside and out, dollface,” he grinned. 

My cheeks blushed garnet. “Only some of me,” I grumbled.

“Really? What else you got hiding?” he chided, sitting up a little straighter, a little closer. “Got any secret pockets in those pants?”

Now, it felt like my whole face was on fire. I remembered the cargo pants he made fun of me for on our first excursion, and the tongue-in-cheek wording was absolutely purposeful. I rolled my eyes. 

Any other time I would have had a quick quip or nonverbal response lined up to banter with him, but another crackle of thunder roared through the sky, and instead, my body physically flung itself up an inch off the cushions in a reactive jolt. My hands gripped onto whatever was near me — which in this case, was the right arm of the couch and coincidentally, the right arm of Mary. 

The sound of the thunder was replaced with the onslaught of water against the windows behind the sofa and I let out a breath I didn’t remember inhaling. I looked down at my hand gripping onto Mary’s forearm, fingers digging into the demon ink staring up at me across otherwise pale flesh, and I quickly retreated. 

I cleared my throat. “S-sorry,” I choked, “Reflex.”

Mary didn’t seem phased at all. He turned towards me, his upper torso craning to meet mine perpendicularly, and a hand came to my knee. “What helps?” he asked plainly.

“I…what?” 

“What helps?” he repeated, his tone still matter-of-fact. 

“Oh. Um…” I swallowed and looked down at his hand resting on my left knee, right over the fabric of my pants. I wracked my brain in a feeble attempt to think of something that had aided my fear in the past.

But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe properly as the heat from his hand sunk through to my covered skin. I imagined that hand six inches higher, resting on my thigh as he spread them apart on the rooftop all those weeks ago—

“Distraction!” I blurted out. I hardly even recognize my voice as I did so. I finally looked over to meet the stare I’d felt carving into my irrationally fearful form and saw those fucking eyes, green and honey and framed with brows that were pursed in a way that conveyed allure. I finished letting out my caged breath. “Something to keep my mind off things and give me another sense to focus on. My parents used to, uh, read to me. Make up stories. When I was old enough, I’d hum songs or picture scenes from movies…”

Embarrassment flooded my bones. I felt childish, weakened, exposed like a raw nerve or a root scabbing from crisp air. We didn’t talk much about our pasts and he wasn’t somewhat I typically indulged with this kind of vulnerability. But as I searched his eyes for a crinkle of amusement or a flash of judgment, I found none. Instead, I found focused pupils and a heady stare. 

He broke the pregnant pause. “Maybe I could distract you with something different.”

I rolled my lips in and stilted the air in my lungs. His hand weighed heavily on my leg. 

“We’ve tried music. And movies,” he began, briefly casting his glance towards the middle of the living room where the TV sat against the wall and we’d sat and listened to Sonic Youth. “We drank shitty beer and ate shitty Chinese—”

“—I liked the Chinese—” I interrupted in a murmur, still watching as he soaked in the visual of my legs pressed together, his hand firm and steady. 

“—so in my eyes, we’ve used sight, hearing, taste, and by association, scent. Which means, we’re missing one…”

Touch, I thought to myself. A shiver whispered down my spine. While his words trailed off, he mimicked the action with his hand. The firm hand that once sat solid on my knee began to travel up the expanse of my left leg. His fingertips ghosted my inner thigh with just enough pressure to make a point. 

I gathered up the courage to look up at him again and this time, the verdant hue of his eyes was overtaken by wide pupils that bore into me like he was clawing his way to comfort. 

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. The haze in my brain matched the low visibility from the storm outside. But before I knew it, I could feel the warmth of his proximity, the grip of his hand tightening on my leg as his other one gripped the nape of my neck, tugging and pulling me into him like a life preserver. 

His kiss was exactly as I had remembered. Soft yet slightly chapped, starting as a fervent pressing of lips on lips that moved into tilted heads and the drag of a tongue against my own parted mouth. I reveled in the feeling and gripped onto his shirt with both hands, fisting it like he’d float away if I let go.

Had I been more cognizant, I’d have laughed at the fact that his action was much more than touch. It was scent (cheap cologne and leather and musk) and it was taste (cheap beer and filmy cigarette residue that I was surprised I could crave) and sight (technicolor behind my eyelids that erupted against dark) and it was sound (of the smacking of lips on lips and the occasional clang of teeth, the rustle of fabric and the springs of the couch as we shifted to accommodate one another). 

And down we fell, my twisted torso mirroring his own as I lay plush against the flat seat of the couch. Mary moved to encapsulate my form with his own, knees brushing the worn plaid upholstery as I parted my legs to gift him space. My hands found the tops of his shoulders and as I gripped, his own hand moved from its entrapment on the nape of my neck to cup my jaw, thumb bruising against bone. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his body and hold him in like he was to me. Touch. I didn’t care.

But before I could, he slotted one of his legs between my own, the other digging between my left thigh and the seam of the couch. I let out a groan as he pressed the meat of his thigh against my center and he smiled against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. 

Touch. I craved that movement as heat built deep within my abdomen and pooled down past my navel. Shamelessly, I rocked my hips against his leg to chase the feeling of pressure, of grazed fabric on fabric. Testing the proverbial waters. 

Again, a smirk against my lips. His free hand gripped squarely onto my hip. But instead of a teasing nip or squeeze, he pulled away just barely, breath ghosting against my face. 

“That feel good, Doll?” 

I couldn’t begin to think of how to respond. Instead, I canted my hips up again, slower this time, enjoying the friction of denim against my own clothed core. I suppose that was enough of an answer, because he held his leg firm and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. 

He hummed. “You gonna use me to get yourself off, dollface?” he breathed in question. His voice was lust-dipped and low, barely above a whisper yet it rang so heavy in my chest that I could swear it was deeper than the thunder. 

I let out a noise in response (something like a mix between a whimper and a hum) and again rocked up into the muscle of his leg as I pressed my forehead to his, eyes squeezing shut to focus on the sensation blooming between my thighs. 

“Use your words,” Mary all but tutted, voice still low in timbre. 

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

He hummed in response and captured my lips with his again, pressing hard as he kissed me with purpose. His hand on my jaw moved to grab my other hip and he let his body fall into mine as he pulled my body up into his leg in time with my own movements. “Keep going,” he murmured against my mouth. Touch. Sound.

Unabashedly, I moved my hips into his thigh with the help of his strong grasp. The friction changed as I felt my own arousal begin to dampen the fabric of my panties and I groaned into the kiss at the feel of the cotton gliding over my clit with each quickening movement. 

Mary’s mouth moved across my jaw and down to the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he began to work at the skin there, biting and sucking along the sensitive areas he’d been cataloging since our last time on this couch. My eyes fluttered open half-lidded in the darkness and I raked my hand through his long hair, gripping it against the scalp as I moved senselessly against him, chasing a release I knew he could provide me. 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” he growled out against my skin. I swear I could feel the pounding of his pulse through our mashed chests and his words only increased a need that I’d been suppressing since he’d fucked me breathless against my kitchen countertop.

Mary’s distinct scent clouded me, wet-straw colored hair hung in my peripherals, cigarettes and cheap beer and the taste of his kiss covered my lips and tongue, fabric rubbed against fabric and wet mouths primed heated skin, and every explosion of his body rocked and pulled and ground against mine into a sensory explosion. Smell. Sight. Taste. Sound. Touch.

No more storm. No more thunder. No more rain. We made our own natural disaster. 

And I was distracted. Fully distracted in that I didn’t recognize it was my voice that let out a breathy ‘so good’. So successfully distracted that the beeping of the notification on my phone was easily discounted. In fact, the subsequent beeping that followed seconds later was also minimized. And the one after that. I could feel the fuzzy feeling building deep below my navel and I chased it with every movement of my body against Mary’s, and the feeling of his own hardness growing against my thigh made me that much more desperate. He was clearly getting something out of this, too. 

“Take what you need,” Mary’s muffled voice sounded against my clavicle. “Take whatever —fuck— take whatever you want, babydoll.”

So, I did. I ground furiously against him and reached for the peak of my climb, oblivious to the buzzing and chiming of my phone on the coffee table beside us. Except, we’d forgotten we weren’t alone, and not everyone was able to ignore the phone’s noises. 

Brutus’ deep, loud barking rang through the sunken den unexpectedly, causing both Mary and I to jump in surprise, Mary’s head knocking against the side of my jaw. He rose up on his forearms instantaneously and gripped his forehead with a loud ‘fuck’ and I matched his reaction as I cupped my jaw and let out a slew of expletives. 

The light from my screen illuminated the once sleeping dog’s face and I groaned out as I haphazardly reached an arm towards the table to feel for my phone. I unlocked the device and was met with a litany of notifications from Des. I groaned and slammed my head back against the couch cushion. For working so hard to get Mary and I alone together, Desiree sure knew how to cock block. 

I brought the phone up and with squinted eyes, I read over the text messages that had gathered over the last hour. 

Des: how’s it going over there? 

Des: i heard the storm is supposed to get even worse

Des: is brutie doing okay? He gets whiny with loud noises sometimes

Des: shit someone on instagram posted that the power is out for like 5,000 people. you still okay?

Des: wow. okay. don’t answer me. you guys must be really busy 😏

Des: there are condoms in the bedside drawer 😘 cum stains wash out best with cold water ❤

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

By now, Mary had sat back on his haunches and the pressure of his thigh was completely gone from where I most wanted it to be. “Who is it?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

Mary let out a sarcastic laugh. “What does she want?” He leaned down to try to get a peek at the phone screen and I snapped it to my chest tightly. 

“Just checking in to see how we’re faring the storm!” I said a little too quickly. I cleared my throat to try to force down the nervous lump that was forming. “And wanted to see how Brutus is doing with the thunder.”

I expected Mary to eye me suspiciously, but if he had caught on to anything, he surely didn’t show it. I typed out a quick response to Des, explaining that yes, we were okay, and no, Brutus wasn’t being a handful, before adding a quick ‘fuck you’ and an eyeroll emoji to her later comments. 

I set the phone down on the table and looked up at the man currently straddling my body. My heart began to speed up again as I took in my surroundings. It was dark in the room, but the light from the storm outside and the glow of the kitchen nearby illuminated him with chiaroscuro that any Renaissance painter would envy. Judging by the bulge in his jeans, the interruption wasn’t enough to sully his erection, and he looked down at me as if he was waiting for me to say the words to continue. 

I felt my chest tighten and another crackle of lightning peppered the room in flushed white. What was I doing? This was Mary: resident bad boy, metal enthusiast, best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend, and come to think of it, a guy who never seemed to show up with the same girl at his side. I didn’t sleep around purely from the fact that it was impossible for me to avoid catching feelings. Blame it on the oxytocin release.

But nothing we had done was wrong and nothing had been the result of deeper feelings, right? We were two consenting adults, two friends that enjoyed each other’s company. Couldn’t that be enough? Sex didn’t have to equal commitment or a deeper connection. It could be loose, free, fun. It was what Des always encouraged me to explore, anyway. Right? 

Despite my reasoning, I felt a weight pressing on my sternum and threatening to rise up my throat. His stare was piercing, and all I could smell was leather and cologne and cigarettes, and the taste of him on my bottom lip, and his weight on my legs, and my breath felt like it was going to rip my lungs open and—

“We should turn in for the night,” I blurted out.

I searched his face for any sort of reaction and was met with a split second of confusion before his demeanor went calm. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Take what you want rang heavy in my ears from just moments before. 

“Y-yeah, it’s getting late and I worked today, so…”

He stood up from his position over me and I sat up against the arm of the sofa. I chewed my lip, battling the decision I’d just made for the both of us. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have Tommy’s bed,” Mary said nonchalantly as he took a swig from the forgotten beer bottle on the coffee table. Oddly chivalrous. 

I shook my head almost immediately. “No, I’ll take the couch.” Mary opened his mouth to protest, but I held firm. “I am not sleeping in Thomas’ bed. That sounds like the 7th circle of hell. My best friend is frequently naked in that bed and who knows when those sheets were last washed.”

Mary laughed at this. A deep chuckle and a shake of his head as he motioned towards me with the beer bottle between pointer finger and thumb. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never seen her naked.”

Embarrassed, flustered, and wholly unsatisfied from practically humping the metalhead in front of me, I scoffed. “Not like that and not by choice.”

Mary grinned in enjoyment of my response. “Stay up late and play with each others’ tits after a pillow fight?”

A frustrated groan breached my lips. “You’ve been watching way too much porn, Goore,” I said. I reached for one of the long discarded throw pillows and lobbed it at him, feeling a hint of disappointment when he dodged it easily.

He held up both hands, one still holding the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he began, backing up while still facing me, then adding with a smirk, “don’t get too scared with the storm.”

I watched as he turned and made his way down the hallway, beer in hand as he ventured to Thomas’ room. Leaning back into the cushions of the couch, I sighed. 

🜏🜏🜏

My fingers curled around the stiff microfiber blanket that I’d lazily thrown over myself as I’d sunk into Thomas’ well-worn plaid couch.

I tried to coat myself in the scratchy throw to avoid the feeling of the couch cushions on the exposed skin of my legs and arms. It was a touch-memory that brought me back to flying high in the same den, legs straddling the man that now slept peacefully down the hallway in the master bedroom. 

As much as I didn’t want to reconcile with the feelings of fear, I was on edge. The movie set my panic into motion, but the worsening storm was what lit the engine. It had progressed from the percussive pelting drops against the windows and siding to roars of wind and sprays of harsh rain that sounded like fire hoses. Thunder boomed every so often and I heard its fallout whip through the trees with horrid whistles — true cries of the damned. 

I let out a shaky breath and reached my hand down to pet the dog curled on the bed on the floor. Focus on the fur. Soft. Spindle it between your fingertips. Smooth. Warm. My heartbeat started to calm and my lizard brain crept back into its recesses. 

My eyes relaxed in their shut state and I nuzzled a bit harder into the pillow. I felt my exhaustion begin to take hold. And just as I began to float into the downward spiral of sleep, a boisterous crack sliced through the sky. It reminded me of the jet planes that flew at the air shows when I was little - the ones that broke the sound barrier - and my shriek that followed rivaled in volume. 

Bright white lightning strobed through the windows of the house. A quick succession of flashes flickered like a searchlight on the fritz. The house went dark again. 

The dog's ears perked as he sat up and I followed suit, blanket bunched around my knees and clutched with firm fists to my chest. Just like after a blinding camera flash, my eyes were shot. I could just barely make out the shapes of the furniture and walls. 

“You okay?” a voice asked mere feet away from me.

Startled, I let out another quick scream before slamming my palm tight against my mouth. My eyes continued to adjust and I noticed the figure turned from swirling black mass to humanoid to Mary within a split second.

“I’m fine,” I breathed out. I brought my hands down to grip onto the couch cushions. Mary stood before me in his boxers. Messy hair tousled around his shoulders and chest in waves a la 1980s glam rock (though I was certain that bedhead was a more likely culprit) and willed myself not to search through the inky black of the den to determine if he was wearing a shirt or not. 

“Do you usually scream like a banshee when you’re fine?” he quipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

No shirt I noted. 

I rubbed my hands against my face, pressing my fingertips into the sockets of my eyes. “Just not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, so you said.” A moment passed. The only sound in the air was the howling wind from outside until he broke the quiet. “You sure you’re good out here?”

“I’ve got Brutie.”

“Alright,” he sighed. After a moment, I could feel he’d left again, and I willed myself back into the couch cocoon I’d built myself. 

I must have fallen asleep. Be it the adrenaline crash or the exhaustion, I wasn’t sure how I’d finally managed. It was in vain, however, when another loud burst of lightning and thunder rumbled through the house. The same strobe of light pulsated briefly, and in the distance, a booming crash. Before I knew it, I was on my feet. 

Fuck this fuck this fuck this I whispered to myself as I sped through the house. My hands reached out in front of me as bumpers to the still unfamiliar landscape, and after padding down the hallway in bare feet, I reached around for the doorknob to Thomas’ room. 

His room was better lit than the living room. The orange-y glow of the one working street lamp in the distance painted the walls with a near apocalyptic hue and illuminated Mary’s sleeping form on the bed. He was facing away from me, but I could tell he was out (shocking considering the resonance of the lightning and thunder). 

I bit my lip and crossed my arms over my shoulders as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I didn’t even know what I was doing here. I sure as hell didn’t want to sleep in Thomas’ bed, and the thought of sleeping next to Mary made me more anxious than anything. Well, except the storm. What was I thinking? I felt like a child standing at the foot of their parents’ bed after having a nightmare, waiting with fearful eyes and too-small pajamas for them to invite me in for the night. 

Duller thunder hummed outside and I was reminded of the fear that had clenched my chest just minutes prior. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt having another person with me, could it? Clearly, the dog wasn’t enough.

I slowly sank onto the opposite edge of the bed, making myself featherlight, and lifted one leg up along the mattress as my other foot held firm against the floor. Mary didn’t move. I swung the other leg up onto the bed and pulled the covers down before sliding under, the shifting sheets whisper silent, and leaned back against the pillow. 

I lay board stiff, hand on my chest, and watched as the tree branches dappled the streetlight in whooshing patterns across the ceiling. Like dark sparkles, it lulled me into a sense of calm, and I let my eyes fall shut again. The bed shifted and I felt Mary turn over, arm flopping out towards the middle of the bed to land hand first into my arm. His eyebrows crinkled in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered wearily at the feeling of his skin against my own. 

“Doll?” he asked, eyes stained with sleep. 

I turned my head to face him, hands still clasped against my chest. “Sorry, I—” I began, taking a moment to let out a shaky breath, “ — I freaked out.”

I braced for a chuckle, eyeroll, anything that was typical of Mary, but it never came. Instead, he lifted up the blankets as if to silently beckon me over. “C’mere,” he croaked, voice clearly still lethargic. 

In any other situation, I’d take pause, but this wasn’t any situation. I scrambled over like a child. He tucked his arm around me and brought me to his bare chest. I could smell the fragrance 

of the shampoo he used as I rested my head in the crook of his neck (I guess he’d been telling the truth about that shower), and my own arms came up to curl against his skin. An arm flopped around my middle, pulling me impossibly close, and our knees brushed under the blanket. 

Surprisingly, I felt calmness wash over me. I likened it to the bear-like embrace, skin-on-skin, some sort of instinctual response to the comfort of another human. But his heartbeat pumped strongly beneath my fingertips and I could feel his steady breath floating across the top of my hair and down my neck, and in that moment, I wondered if it was a little more than just human instinct. 

A beat percussed in time. I traced my fingertips along the skin of his arm, ghost-light, dipping down the valleys and peaks of muscle that I knew flexed taut when he strummed his Epiphone SG. Goosebumps appeared under my digits and he shifted under the sheet. 

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

“Sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hands back to rest against his torso. Sandwiching them between the cotton of my oversized tee and the smooth skin of his pecs would have to do. 

It was quiet — so quiet that I assumed he had fallen asleep again. But his soft breaths were broken by his even softer voice. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” he said. 

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

He hummed and although I couldn’t see it, I could hear his tongue wet his lips, jaw pressing against the top of my head from the movement. “It’s different from the typical Dahlia.”

My mind raced back to our earlier conversation, the one where he’d accused me of hiding my emotions. Is this what he meant? Was fear what he considered transparency? I looked up at him quizzically, breaking the connection of his chin using my crown as an actual headrest. 

His eyes were open, and despite the foreglow of the streetlights and darkness, I could better feel his stare than see it. His hair was still a step down from a rat’s nest, tangled from sleep, and strands hung down around his angular face. His cheeks were beginning to stubble with five o’clock shadow. Breaths pushed past his lips steadily, even, but beneath the pads of my fingers, I could sense his heart pumping solidly in his chest. Only a hairline fracture separated our faces. 

Outside, a whistle of strong wind thwipped against the siding of the house like a widow’s cry and my body instinctively tensed. His arm that had lethargically slung across my waist impulsively tightened and he pulled me even closer. 

“Hey…” he soothed. His brows were drawn in concern, and his hand traveled from the c-bout of my waist and up, up, up my tricep. It was less of a greeting and more of a reminder to land back in the present, to focus on my senses (touch, taste, smell, sight, sound), to remember I was right here, right in this moment, and I wasn’t alone. 

The mortar holding the bricks built around my heart began to disintegrate. Every block melded in a bond pattern to cage in my overcommitting self, to protect from obsession, from the inevitable swoon that I had felt with Brody and had ripped out from under me — they began to fall, piece by piece. 

It was the both of us that drew our mouths to meet. The kiss was lazy, sleepy, languid at first, morphing into prolonged pecks that added a harmony to the pattering rain, gusts of wind, and bouts of thunder rumbling the outside earth. His hand continued to rub against my upper arm and beat by beat, the kiss heightened, and slowly, surely, lips met tongue, and then teeth, and I was angling my neck to the right to keep him from digging into the pillow. 

Mary shifted. His fingers gripped my arm as he moved to lay halfway on top of me. Our legs tangled together, and as he slid his own against my calf, barely stilling, I was certain he’d just discovered that my nightwear consisted of only an oversized t-shirt and panties. 

I could sense his erection pressing through the thin cotton of his boxers against my thigh. My brain zapped back to hours prior when he had boxed me in on the couch and let me take pleasure from his strong quads. A fire raged within me that rivaled my hair spilling across Thomas’ pillows like a red sea.

Mary’s hand moved to skim under the hem of my shirt, tracing against my hip bone before it, too, went up, up, up, hovering just over the curve of my breast before cupping it. His finger traced the outline of my nipple. Once again, surroundings faded. Nothing else existed at this moment, here, right now. 

I exhaled shakily against him. Our lips were still passionately pendulating in a rhythm that the both of us had mastered by now. I took a leap of faith and pressed my thigh to his crotch, earning me a squeeze to my chest and his own shaky exhale. 

Releasing my breast, Mary swept his hand to the waistband of my panties. His fingers, rough and calloused from frets and strings, dipped underneath. He sat up slightly and broke the kiss. The smooth cotton was seesawed down my legs in a series of yanks from the free hand, and he quickly repeated the action on his own boxers, tossing them aside before returning his hand back to my chest. 

“Mary,” I breathed out.

“What?” he echoed. His eyes searched for something as he drank in my expression. 

I swallowed lightly. “I-” I began, not knowing exactly what I was saying.

But he did. “I’ve got you,” he said. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. 

He kissed me again and fully framed my body with his own. I relaxed back into the pillow and he sat back to dip his hands underneath my shirt, pushing it up and off with a temporary break in our lips’ union. As he slotted himself between my legs, I looked up at him, body completely bare. I felt the anxiety creep into my chest and I was certain I looked visibly unsure — not at the prospect of what was to happen, no, but what would follow. How this would, or could, change things. 

“So goddamn pretty when you’re spread out like this,” he murmured as his hands roamed up and down my torso. I took the moment to soak up the image in front of me. His lean torso was flexed as he ran his hands along my breasts and stomach, and his cock stood heavy against his pelvis, bobbing with every movement of his touch.

He gripped himself with a soft moan, stroking slowly, methodically, and his eyes raked over my form. This wasn’t our first encounter, no, but I felt truly naked for the first time. 

With oddly found confidence, I reached forward to grasp at the junction of his shoulder and neck. I pulled him towards me and his other hand shot out to brace himself against the squeaking mattress. His stroking continued and I jolted when his knuckles came in contact with the ache between my legs. Without any spoken words, he lined himself up and then embraced me, hand on my shoulder as we met chest to chest, covering me like a blanket. 

His pause was obvious — an unspoken ask of consent to proceed which I answered with a soft kiss. I trusted him, and I assumed he trusted me. We both craved the connection, to complete the incomplete. 

As Mary pushed in, I melted beneath him. His tip pushed past and he groaned and buried his face in the curve of my neck. My hands darted out to grip onto his back and pull him close. I wanted to feel him take up space in my ribs. 

Inch by inch he sank before canting steadily. I could feel every bit of him as he rocked in and out, pulling and pushing as my heat gripped him, and for some reason it felt different. Not just raw, but whole. I took in every bit of him physically, but as we moved together in the nightglow, I also consumed the parts he’d been dressing up in leather and denim and metal and dissolved it into my flesh. I took him. 

And through my euphoria of connection, I barely registered my small eruptions of noises that highlighted each stroke of his cock to my core. I focused on the sensation of sprinkled electricity spreading from my cunt outwards, and his hot breath on my neck that I drank in like I was oxygen-starved. 

Mary’s hips began to stutter as he thrusted a little harder into my own and my legs moved to wrap instinctively around him. I keened out louder, and he lifted his head to look at me again. 

The eye contact was searing. Hot. It charred my retinas, but this time, I didn’t care. He must have sensed the vulnerability because his hand cupped my jaw and he ran his thumb across my cheekbone before our foreheads met together. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

Like his own hail Mary. I believed him. He had me now — I was in his clutches, both literally and figuratively. 

His pace increased to match my ever-racing pulse. It was still steadied, sleepily focused, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back as I clenched down against the movement of his length, nearly trembling at the pull at my navel as each drag of him spurred fire. It was building, and I let it. My breath began to stutter and I felt tears at my waterline. The sensory overload was rhapsody and the simple, obvious connection was juxtaposed by the chaotic climax lapping at my center. I was so close it almost hurt. 

I moaned his name in a half-whimper and he must have felt my urgency and desperation and the increased slick coating our joined union because he crushed his lips to mine. His thumb dug into the side of my chin as he drove firmly into my aching need. But the jerking of his hips was almost too much and I could tell he wasn’t far behind me. 

As my thighs began to tremble at his sides, he broke the kiss. I looked at him with desperate longing. 

“Let it go, Doll,” he murmured to me. 

And unlike every other situation in life where I found myself stubbornly resisting direction, I obeyed. I followed his demand and allowed the fuzzy heat of my release to unfurl around him. I cried out in rapture and he swallowed the sound with an opened mouth kiss at the moment of impact. I tensed around him and my pussy spasmed with every lunge of his hard cock.

“Good girl,” Mary praised as gripped hard onto my shoulder and pressed his head to mine, lips separated, and I was enveloped in a curtain of golden-brown tangled strands. He began to move faster against me and I knew my orgasm had spurred something deep within him as he moaned out, “So good for me, taking me so damn well.”

His thumb brushed the breadth of my lip and dipped into my mouth, pulling down just barely against my tongue and teeth. I looked up at him with full eyes, grey hues drowned by pupils swimming from release, and I inwardly begged him to complete me as aftershocks of a violent orgasm short circuited. 

“So tight,” he grunted in response. “Fuck— feel so good around me, babydoll.” His hands moved to grip my hips and with a few more jolts of his hips, his cock twitched and he groaned, features melting as he spilled inside of me. His body jerked with each spurt and his fingers dug into the flesh covering my pelvic bone as he rode out his high.

Mary collapsed into me and I allowed my eyes to close as we savored the aftermath. I’m not sure how long it was, minutes, maybe more, but eventually he pulled his softened dick from me and I let out a long breath of satisfaction. My hand moved to rest against my chest as I digested the gnawing deep within me that questioned what this was. 

Mary fell to his side and pressed a quick peck to my lips before rolling onto his back and mimicking my sigh. A brief silence filled the sweat-scented air, and I moved my hand to grasp at his, squeezing it, only to receive a slight squeeze back.

Our ragged breaths eventually calmed and I opened my eyes to the textured plaster of the ceiling. 

“You good?” Mary asked after a minute. I rolled my lips inward as I thought about the weight of those two words. 

“Yeah, I’m…I’m good— I’m great,” I replied.  It was the truth. 

He hummed in response and pulled the flat sheet over himself. 

“Glad I could distract you,” He said as he nestled into the right side of the bed. Before turning, he added, “get some sleep.”

My eyes searched for patterns in the swirls of the painted gypsum of the ceiling as stillness settled in. Mary’s quiet breathing turned to soft snores. Despite the calm, serene relief from a shared orgasm, my chest was tight from the inward battle of how unbelievably intimate that experience was and how deeply I was freefalling into a mess of adoration for the man next to me.

I wondered how he could so easily turn to the side and fall asleep.

🜏🜏🜏

Despite the after effects of the record-breaking storm, Des and Thomas were able to make it home a couple of days after they’d left, right on schedule. 

They greeted Mary with their normal affections (a pat on the back from Thomas and a warm wave from Des), and the conversation immediately turned from a Brutus report to a play-by-play of Thomas’ shows out of town. 

Des noted there was no sign of her best friend, which wasn’t a surprise. She’d received my text the day before that I was heading home and that Mary was fine staying the additional time. And despite her prodding, I’d remained tightlipped.

Both she and Thomas were unaware of the telltale morning after where I’d woken up to sunbeams instead of lightning, choosing to pack up my belongings and head out early to check on my own pet at home. 

They were also unaware of the brief goodbye between Mary and I as I readied to leave — him, acting cool, aloof, and casual, as if nothing had changed, while I tried my best to mirror his demeanor with little success. Because as much as I tried to build the bricks back up, I’d let him in the night before, and he’d taken root inside the boundaries of my chest. 

I suppose that just like a day spent thrifting, I’d gone into every interaction with Mary with no expectations, and each time I’d come out with something I didn’t anticipate. The goldmines outweighed the insolvencies. I didn’t know if I wanted him to be aware of this.

Above all, I was happy for my momentary blissful unawareness (at least until later during a phone call with Des) of Thomas’ outburst upon entering his bedroom after Mary had left. His exclamation of “god damn it!” rang as loud as the thunder two nights previous, causing Des to dart in with a “what?” on her lips and the expectation of disaster. 

Thomas sighed, stained top sheet in hand. “They fucked on my bed.”

taglist: @soup-14 @copiasghoulfriend @thew0man @na1ven3vy @portaltothevoid @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool @discountdemonwarehouse @oaksdottir

[supernaturalscribe67]

The Secrets We (Don't) Keep

Words: 7,314

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Mention of John Winchester, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Awkward Moments

Summary: After finding out that his brothers, Sam and Dean, read the first entry of his journal, the reader decides to take a rather creative approach to his payback.

Request:

i’d love to see you continue with that winchester brother reader! or something similar? your writing is very comfortable to read :)

@stklett

@xdark-acadamiax - (Tagged because I saw how much you loved this idea!)

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoy this next part! I can honestly admit some parts make me laugh so I hope they make you guys laugh as well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

OCTOBER 2014

I don’t know why I thought I was going to be able to keep this journal private. I guess my expectations were too high. How dare I assume that Sam and Dean would respect my privacy? Of course, they wouldn’t. How dare I presume that hiding this thing between my mattress and boxspring would be a good idea? I mean, who in their right mind would hide something there? Everyone looks between their brother’s boxspring and mattress!

Silly me.

But, since I found out my brothers decided to read through my first entry (and ultimately vandalize my journal), I have done some brainstorming. Brainstorming ways that I can get back at them. I've considered the classic pranks to start with; itching powder in their underwear, hair dye in their shampoo, Nair in their body wash, or even putting laxatives in their coffee. All of these pranks have been used by all three of us multiple times. Even with some thinking, I’m still unable to come up with a prank that I feel would be good enough to teach them a lesson. 

So, I’ve come up with the next best thing. 

In this entry, I’m going to be writing down some of Sam and Dean’s embarrassing moments. 

Throughout our decades of life, all three of us have had our fair share of shameful moments, but the instances that I am thinking of are ones that I like to bring up from time to time. Each time I mention them, I get an eye roll from Dean and one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. It’s always so satisfying to get that kind of reaction from them. 

It would only be fitting to see what kind of reaction I get when they eventually read this entry. 

JUNE 1989

Everyone has their fears. Some people’s fears are more valid than others. Sam has a fear of clowns, I have a fear of needles, and Dean has a fear of planes. I can understand Sam’s fear of clowns - Plucky Pennywhistle's always made me uneasy when I was a kid - and, as far as my fear of needles, have you seen some of the needles that doctors use on patients? They’re HUGE! No thanks. 

What a lot of people don’t know about my older brother, however, is that he didn’t just suddenly have a fear of planes. He didn’t wake up one morning and discover that he didn’t like flying. Sam’s fear of clowns developed from our times at Plucky Pennywhistle’s, my fear of needles stemmed from an unprofessional doctor (who shouldn’t practice medicine anymore, in my opinion) from my second round of childhood vaccinations, and Dean’s fear of flying…well…

Dean used to be afraid of heights. 

I say ‘used’ to be because, if he still has that fear, he does a really good job at hiding it. We’ve gone to some pretty high places on our hunts, and, from what I noticed, it never seemed to bother him. He could always be masking it well enough, which is possibly the case. Then again, he could have learned to deal with the fear and forget about it completely. Lucky him. 

But, when Dean was younger, that was one thing that he was never good at doing - masking his emotions - especially when the three of us were by ourselves. When it was just us three, Dean felt like he could express how he truly felt about anything and we would keep it just between us. It was a little 'brother code' that we had going. Whatever was said between us was kept between us. Kind of like Vegas, in a way. 

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I’ve always wanted to visit Vegas. 

Stay on topic, (Y/N).

For most of our young childhood, we spent half the time traveling with our father, and the other half at Bobby’s. I always loved going to Bobby’s house. It felt like a home. To me, it was always my home growing up, even if I wasn’t there all the time. Even though we stopped going there as often when we got older, it was still the place that I would technically consider my home. We had the most fun there. We felt like we could be kids for once. Like we didn’t need to worry about the things that went bump in the night anymore. 

I loved Bobby’s house. 

We were there during summer vacation, which was somewhat of a common occurrence when we were younger. Sam, Dean, and I always found things to do while we were there, and playing throughout the maze of cars in Bobby’s junkyard wasn’t unusual. Normally, we would play hide-and-seek, tag, have races, or some stupid war games that we would come up with. 

That day, however, we discovered a new stack of cars, about six cars high in total, that we had not previously known about near the far backside of the property. We would have usually stayed towards the front, but, that day, we decided to roam around. Dean had the expert idea to see who could climb the highest. Sammy went first, climbing on top of the first car with some help before he got nervous and backed down. I managed to make it up three cars before I decided that I had enough and came back down. Dean, on the other hand, took the challenge a little too seriously. He didn’t waste any time reaching the car that sat on top of the pile. He was so proud of himself. 

It all went downhill after that…

“Ha! I beat you both!” Dean exclaimed as he stood on top of the roof of the car, fists balled up and placed onto his hips in a mock Superman pose. “I’m the King of the Cars!”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam pouted as he looked up at Dean, his bottom lip pushed out. 

“I wanna get up there,” he said, letting out a small whine.

“You tried to get up there, Sammy, but you said it was too high.” (Y/N) explained, looking down at him.

Sam hung his head as he kicked a pebble on the ground. Dean still stood on top of the car, waving his arms around. He let out quiet, faint shouts as if mimicking a cheering crowd. Sam pursed his lips ever so slightly.

"I wanna play hide-and-go-seek." 

"It's ‘hide-and-seek’, Sammy." (Y/N) deadpanned. 

"That's what I said." 

"Do you wanna play with just you and me?" 

"No," Sam shook his head and glanced up at his oldest brother, who was still cheering for himself. "I want De to play." 

(Y/N) gave a short nod before he turned to his older brother as well. He reached up and cupped his hands to the side of his lips. "Hey, idiot! Sammy and I wanna play hide-and-seek! Get down here so we can go play!" He called up to Dean. 

"You guys are just jealous because I could climb up to the top!" 

“No one’s jealous of you, Dean! We just want to play! Come on!” (Y/N) let out a groan as he placed his hands on his sides. 

Dean scoffed and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He mumbled as he walked closer to the edge of the car. 

As Dean gazed down at the ground below, he froze. His eyes went wide and his legs and arms tensed. The confident smile that he had once had on his face was now gone, replaced by an uneasy frown. (Y/N) and Sam’s eyes were on him, watching him intently, waiting. After a minute or so of Dean standing there, not moving, (Y/N) shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth again. 

“What are you doing?” He called out. 

(Y/N)’s voice caused Dean to jump and turn his gaze towards him. He opened his mouth, attempting to speak. 

“I-I can’t get down,” Dean said with a shaky tone. 

“What do you mean you ‘can’t get down’?” 

“I can’t get down! I-It’s too high!” 

“You were the one that wanted to get up there!” 

“I know I was, will you just shut up!” Dean’s voice came out cracked and high-pitched. 

(Y/N) closed his mouth and stood there, watching as Dean struggled to get down on his knees. As he attempted to move his leg down towards the trunk of the car, he felt the car shift. (Y/N) and Sam jumped when they heard the metal scrape against the car below. Dean let out a yelp and pulled his leg back. His fists were clenched onto nothing, knuckles a ghostly white color. His face was noticeably red and tears began to form in his eyes. 

“G-Go get Bobby!” Dean called down. 

“You can get down, Dean! You’ll be okay!” 

“No! I’m not okay!” Dean let out a sob. “It’s too high! The car’s going to fall. Go get Bobby,” Dean’s voice was as shaky as his hands were. 

(Y/N) looked down at Sam. “Go get Bobby, Sammy.” 

Sam’s eyes were wide with worry as he nodded slightly. He turned and made a mad dash towards the house. “Bobby! Bobby!” He cried out. 

(Y/N) then turned his attention back to Dean, who seemed like he was seconds away from having a breakdown.

“Dean! You’re going to be okay! Just come down the same way you went up.” 

“N-No!” Dean shook his head rapidly. 

“Quit being a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!” 

“Then why are you crying like one!?” 

“Will you shut up!?” 

(Y/N) stopped talking and let out a huff. Not even a minute later, Sam came running out towards them, Bobby quickly behind him. Bobby ran his fingers through his hair stressfully. 

“What the Hell have you idjits done?” 

It took thirty minutes of coaxing for Dean to be able to climb down two of the cars before Bobby had to make his way towards him and carry him down the rest of the way. Needless to say, Dean wasn’t in the mood to play any type of game with us after that, especially when I began to tease him mercilessly about his crying. I still tease him to this day about it, comparing him to a cat that had been stuck in a tree. Bobby was known as ‘Firefighter Bobby’ for a good month-and-a-half after that. 

We were forbidden from climbing on the cars anymore, which none of us seemed to have a problem with. As for my teasing, I had managed to get in trouble with Bobby once he caught me and was forced to help him organize the study while Sam and Dean went out to play. It wasn’t very fun, at the time, but I had learned a lot more about hunting during that punishment, so some good came out of it. 

To this day, Dean still likes to pretend as if it never happened. Or, if it did happen, then it was either Sam or me that needed to be rescued. Not him. He never needed to be rescued (according to him). Still, Sam and I can remember this vividly. It’s two against one, Dean. 

So much for ‘King of the Cars’.

OCTOBER 1989

Sam was always gullible when he was a kid. He grew out of it in his early teens and became more aware of how deceitful people could be. Before that, however, he was fun to mess with. I’m his big brother, I have a right to mess with him. 

I still do, but it’s not as easy. 

Sam was the type to believe anything that anyone wanted to tell him. Even if it was the most outlandish thing possible. I was able to convince him that unicorns were real and that everyone got one when they turned ten. When he asked Bobby what kind of unicorn he had gotten for his tenth birthday, Bobby told him the truth right then and there. He was so disappointed that he didn’t talk to me for about a week. I felt bad, at least a little bit. But the other part of me thought it was the funniest thing I had ever done to him at the time. 

That was when he was four. 

I still ask him what he wants his unicorn to look like. 

He hasn’t given me a straight answer yet. 

Around the age of six, Sam had started to let his hair grow out. Granted, everyone’s hair was growing out at that point - my father had neglected to get us any type of haircut for a little over six months - but out of all of ours, Sam’s was the longest. Dean had started calling him ‘Samantha’ at some point, which irritated Sam to no end. I decided to take a different approach, however. 

Back then, we knew about monsters. We knew about the different kinds of monsters that our father fought but didn’t know a lot about them. We knew their names, what they looked like, and common signs for each of them. One thing we didn’t know about certain monsters was how people were turned into them. 

So, with this limited knowledge in the back of my head, one dreary fall night, while our father was away on a hunt and Dean was out finding us some food, I decided to play a little…prank, if you will, on Sammy. 

Sam’s eyes were glued to the television screen. A rerun of Alf played that he was completely enamored with. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s eyes were attached to something other than the show. He watched as Sam brushed his long locks out of his face occasionally. Sam tucked some hair behind his ear, but it didn’t stay there long before it fell in his face. His hair was down to his chin by then and (Y/N) had to admit that he was more irritated about the length than Sam was. 

When the show moved to a commercial break, Sam clenched his eyes shut and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at (Y/N) and furrowed his brows. 

“What’re you looking at?” 

“That hair,” (Y/N) gestured to the top of his head. 

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with my hair?” 

“It’s long…too long,” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He reached over and gently grabbed a piece of Sam’s hair before letting it go, allowing the strand to fall against Sam’s chubby cheek. 

“Dad said he was going to get it cut soon.” 

“Yeah, I know, but…it’s not like mine and Dean’s hair. It’s so much longer. It’s kind of like…” (Y/N) pursed his lips as he studied the top of his head. “Werewolf hair. Maybe you’re turning into a werewolf.”

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight and shifted uneasily in his seat. “I-I’m not turning into a werewolf.” 

“I don’t know, it sure seems like it.” 

Sam reached up and hesitantly ran his fingers through his hair. “How…how would I know if I’m turning into a werewolf?” 

“What? You don’t know the signs?” 

Sam shook his head. (Y/N) scoffed. 

“Come on, Sammy! You have to know the classic signs!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he leaned forward, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “The long hair, the way your fingernails curve, the hair between your eyebrows, and your sharp teeth.” 

Sam brought his hands up to his face, his fingers roaming around his features. Quickly, he got off the couch and ran towards the motel bathroom, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall. (Y/N) followed after his brother. He watched as Sam studied himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed a single finger down his nose, studied the curvature of his fingernails, and bared his teeth. His eyes widened as soon as they landed on his sharp canines. Sam frowned and pushed his bottom lip out. It began to wobble as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. He turned to (Y/N).

“I-I don’t want to be a werewolf!” He whimpered. 

(Y/N) leaned against the doorframe and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Sammy. It looks like you can’t help it.” 

“B-But,” Sam turned and looked at himself in the mirror for a second before turning back to his brother. “But what if hunters come after me?” 

“Hey!” (Y/N) shook his head as he walked closer to Sam. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders, bending down so that he was at eye level with his little brother. “That is something you never have to worry about. Dean, Dad, and I will protect you.” 

Tears streaked down his red cheeks and he nodded. “Do you think Dad and De know?” 

(Y/N) sighed and pursed his lips, moving his hands off of Sam so that he could place them on his hips. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They haven’t said anything about it, yet. But, I think you should tell them. That way, they will be able to protect you.” 

“I-I don’t wanna tell them.” 

“Why not?” 

“What if they don’t like me anymore because I’m a werewolf?” 

(Y/N) shook his head and gave a comforting smile. “Sammy, they’re always going to love you, werewolf or not.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Sam glanced down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. (Y/N) could see how much the news had upset his brother. He didn’t want him to be in hysterics by the time Dean got back, so he thought of the next best thing to try and cheer him up. 

“You know, a lot of people think that werewolves are the bad guys,” he began. “But you could be the first-ever werewolf hunter! You could be the one werewolf that protects humans from bad things! Kind of like a…uh…a werewolf superhero!” 

Sam looked up at him and raised his brows, cocking his head to the side. “A werewolf superhero?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Like a…a werewolf Batman?” A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s lips. 

“Just like a werewolf Batman.” 

The worry quickly left Sam’s face as he looked at himself in the mirror. He studied his face once more. “Maybe being a werewolf isn’t so bad,” he shrugged. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“Anytime, Sammy,” 

Sam turned and wrapped his arms tightly around (Y/N) in a bone-crushing embrace. “I love you.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. Whether it was from the sentimental words or the devious nature behind them, he wasn’t sure. He wrapped his arms around Sam as well, pulling him close. 

“I love you, too, Sammy.” 

For six months, six whole months, Sam kept the little secret quiet. He would mention it to me from time to time. Ask me questions about lycanthropy in general or question me about whether or not I thought Dean and our Dad knew about it. I would always comfort him, tell him that I didn’t think they knew anything, and we would go about our day-to-day lives. 

Eventually, it got to a point where I was hounding him to tell Dean and Dad about it. Sam was hesitant at first. He was scared about how they would react. I was able to talk him through it, though, and, one night, he sat all of us down so he could tell us. 

The look on Dean and Dad’s faces? 

Pure confusion. 

And I thought it was the funniest thing at the time. 

I had to hold back my laughter as I watched my father deal with Sam and explain that he couldn't be a werewolf if he had not been bitten by one. Sam was in hysterics at that point. He was crying and sobbing and while our father was trying his best to comfort him, I was trying my best to keep it together. At that moment, I patted myself on the back for the longest-lasting prank. 

The celebration didn’t last long. When Sam told our father that I was the one who told him about it, he was furious. I swear, I saw his eyes turn red. I won’t go into too many details about my punishment, but it was one of the worst ones that I got. Even now, I don’t think that it was what I deserved. But it happened, and I can’t necessarily change it. 

I couldn’t sit down for a week. 

The punishment didn’t stop me from teasing Sam about it, but it was quick to make me stop when Sam told me he was going to tell Dad. Now that Dad’s dead, Sam doesn’t have anyone to tattle to. I can say whatever I want. 

Cut that damn hair, Sammy. You look like a werewolf. 

JANUARY 2010

We always had some type of celebration for our birthdays. When we got older, that is. Not all of them necessarily had a cake and presents, but they were celebrations nonetheless whether we acknowledged it or not. Whenever Dean has a birthday, his favorite place to go is at any local bar that we were closest to at the time. Sam and I would switch back and forth on who would be the designated driver so that the other one could celebrate properly with Dean. On Dean’s 31st birthday, I was the designated driver. 

And, man, was I glad I was. 

We were in Colorado after just finishing a hunt. It was a smaller bar near the far northeast corner of the state. It was a little busy, given it was a Sunday, but most of the clientele seemed to consist of regulars who would come in after their nine-to-five. I honestly couldn’t tell you what the theme of the bar was. The decoration scattered on the walls was a mix of historical pieces from the town we were in, rock 'n roll memorabilia, and different pieces from various Colorado sports teams. 

Dean was plastered, and Sam wasn’t too far behind him. It had been a while since I saw the two of them get that drunk, but we were under a lot of stress at the time. I was jealous that I wasn’t the one who was able to get drunk enough to forget, but I figured I would make up for it later. 

The bar began to shut down around one in the morning. The bartender had shouted for 'last call' half an hour before. I knew that I had to get Sam and Dean back to the motel before we got kicked out. It wasn’t that hard to find Sam, he had refused to leave his seat at the table the entire night. Trying to find Dean, on the other hand, reminded me of reading those ‘Where’s Waldo?’ books in the school library when I was younger. 

Let me tell you when I did find him…

Oh boy. 

(Y/N) sighed as he ran a hand down his face. His eyes drooped and he felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. After scouring the entire bar to find his brother for the past thirty minutes, he concluded that he deserved a bed for himself when they got back to the motel. Sam and Dean could share a bed, or sleep on the floor. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get back and go to sleep. 

(Y/N) walked back up to the table that the three brothers had shared. Sam sat in his seat, back slouched over, his head laid on the wooden surface. His mop of hair was brushed carelessly over his face. (Y/N) placed a hand on his back, leaning close to him. 

“Sammy,” he said, his voice low. Sam visibly jumped as he looked up at him with tired, glazed eyes. “Have you seen Dean?” 

“Um…” Sam trailed, voice slurred, and pursed his lips. “Dean…Dean…” Before he could continue, Sam broke into a weak fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Dean sounds a lot like ‘bean’. He looks like a bean because he’s short.”  

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and patted Sam’s back. “He sure does, buddy. Thanks for the help.” He spoke sarcastically. 

He stood up straight and turned around, his back now facing Sam. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around the almost empty bar. There were still a couple of regulars scattered around here and there, but most of them were clearing out. No sign of Dean, though. (Y/N) had to wonder how his brother could get lost in such a small place, but Dean had managed to do the impossible. Again. 

In front of him, (Y/N) could see the bartender from earlier. She had walked around the small U-shaped bar and was making her way towards him. Before she could get closer, (Y/N) shook his head. He held his hands up slightly. 

“I know you made 'last call' a while ago, and I’m sorry for staying, ma’am. I’m just trying to find my idiot brother.” He said with an apologetic tone. 

“Well, that was actually why I was coming over here.” She said and placed her hands on her hips. “There’s some guy in the back and I was wondering if he belonged to you.” 

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched as he let out a sigh. “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for anything he broke or stole.” 

“No, he didn’t break or steal anything. He’s doing…something else.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as an uneasy feeling began to make its way to his stomach. “What is he doing?” 

She gestured back towards the bar. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Hesitantly, he gave a nod and followed the bartender. She took him around the bar and to the back. Past the saloon-style swinging doors, a couple of feet into the supply room, (Y/N) came face to face with a sight he would never be able to forget. 

Dean leaned against one of the many metal shelves. Even with something to lean on, his body swayed back and forth, indicating just how intoxicated he was. A goofy grin was present on his red face. One hand was balled into a fist and placed on his hip while the other one hung casually off of the shelf he leaned on. Beside him stood a mannequin, clad in an aged Colorado Rockies uniform paired with a baseball cap featuring the same team’s logo. (Y/N)’s jaw dropped. 

Dean was flirting with a mannequin. 

The bartender smirked. “He’s been back here for the last hour. I was going to kick him out, but I listened to how sweet he was being to Manny and I felt bad for him, so I just let him stay.” She nodded and leaned against the door, propping it open. 

“Manny?” (Y/N) questioned, not taking his eyes off of his brother. 

“Yeah. Manny the Mannequin. It’s this damn mannequin that the owner bought for twenty bucks when the local Sears closed down. He needed to put his stupid baseball outfit somewhere and he thought the best thing to do would be to put it on Manny and leave it in a bar. The regulars weren’t too nice to Manny, so we had to put him in the back here. It seems like your brother somehow snuck past me and found him.” 

“I…I am so sorry about this.” (Y/N) gestured to his brother, who had begun to fiddle with the hem of the Rockies shirt. 

The bartender snorted. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst thing a customer has done to poor Manny. Just get him out of here.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Right away,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

He stepped into the room just as the bartender turned and walked out. As he got closer, Dean began to giggle. 

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh, come on, I bet a lot of people tell you that. They’re like…like, um…” Dean paused and stared down at the ground. 

(Y/N) quirked a brow and placed his hands on his hips. When he did, he felt the outline of his phone in his jeans pocket. A smirk made its way onto his face as he took out his phone. He knew that he could use this moment for entertainment purposes later. He began to record his brother as he cleared his throat. Dean jumped and turned to (Y/N), eyes wide.

“Hey, Dean. What’re you doing?” (Y/N) asked cautiously. 

A smile broke out on Dean’s face as soon as he recognized his brother’s voice. “Oh! (Y/N), I want you to meet someone,” he slurred as he wrapped an arm around Manny’s shoulders, pulling the mannequin closer to him. “This is Cozy. She’s…she’s the most beautiful woman here and we’re going to get married.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah! Isn’t that right, baby?” Dean giggled as he reached up and poked Manny’s nose. “She’s the love of my life.” 

“Well, I am so happy for you, Dean. She looks…beautiful.” (Y/N) was trying his hardest to keep from laughing. 

“Thank you.” Dean smiled proudly. 

“I think you’ve talked to Cozy enough for one day, though. I think we need to get back to the motel.” 

Dean frowned. “But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay with Cozy.” 

“I know, buddy,” (Y/N) walked over and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “But Cozy has to go home, too. You can call her in the morning. Plus, we have pie back at the motel.” 

Dean gasped dramatically. “Pie?” 

“Yeah, pie,” (Y/N) pulled Dean away from the mannequin and wrapped an arm around his torso. 

“Pecan?” 

“Yes, Dean, pecan pie.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), you know, you’re the best brother a guy could have.” Dean leaned his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder as the two of them stumbled out of the back room and towards their table. Dean let out another gasp as soon as he saw Sam. He patted Sam sloppily on his shoulder. “Sammy! Sammy! I met a girl!” 

Sam groaned and lifted his head. He looked between (Y/N) and Dean, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a girl! That’s your brother, stupid.” Sam grumbled. 

(Y/N) sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys. Let’s get back to the motel before you pass out on me.” 

There was no pie back at the motel. I just know that’s one of the only things that could get Dean’s attention. 

Thankfully, both of them waited until they were in the car to pass out. I had tried my hardest to wake them up, but they weren’t budging. In the end, they both slept in the backseat of the Impala while lying on top of one another. It seemed like it would be extremely uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t know. I was able to go back into the room and relax in my own bed, in a place that was peaceful and quiet. No snoring, no moving around, nothing. It was some of the best sleep I ever had. 

In the morning, when Dean and Sam woke up, they had to ruin my peaceful sleep by knocking on the door. They were a mess, both completely out of it and hungover. The smell of vomit stunk up the room so bad that I swear it’s still there if we were to go back and check. I got them painkillers, got them some water, and made sure they were nice and fed. When we were all sitting down and finally eating, I let them have it.

Oh, the teasing. 

So much teasing. 

I showed them both the video of Dean flirting with Manny. Dean grumbled and tried to get me to delete the video while Sam was trying his best not to laugh his ass off - he really couldn’t because of how bad his head probably hurt. Throughout our conversation, I swear, whenever I would look over at Dean, I could see his cheeks turn pink. I knew I had the perfect blackmail. 

I still have the video. 

You know, just in case. 

APRIL 2014

Everyone who knows Dean understands just how much of a serial flirt he is. If it breathes and if he finds it attractive, he will flirt with it (the story with Manny should make that pretty obvious). I, on the contrary, know how to flirt, but I don’t do it as often as he does. Sure, I flirt with people now and then to get my fix, but it’s not something that I do every time I go out. 

Sam, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Dean. 

Sam was always the type to be awkward around people he found attractive, even when he was a kid. The number of times I would see him in the hallways of schools trying to talk to girls was hilarious, but he carried that awkwardness into adulthood. I admit, a couple of years ago, that boy had some moves. He knew all the right things to say and do to make anyone swoon for him. I was sort of jealous of him, and I could tell that Dean was proud of him, in a way. 

However, with how much has been going on the past couple of years, I’ve noticed that Sam has gotten a little rusty when it comes to flirting. There has been more than one occasion where he received a pretty nasty glare or a drink to the face followed by some rather colorful language. At first, I felt bad for him, but then it started getting funny. As he kept trying, the conversations he would have with people would last longer and longer than the last time. It still took him a while to leave with anyone, but baby steps. Baby steps. 

There was one time earlier this year when I thought he was going to get a happy ending. It was going so well! I had to admit that I had been spying on him throughout his interaction, just out of sheer curiosity. We were celebrating after a hunt in Arizona. Nothing too big, just a basic salt and burn with a basic bar afterward. It was Saturday and the bar seemed like it was packed. We were lucky to find a table. Thankfully we did because my feet had ached that night from all the digging. 

While I rested at the table, Dean went off to try and snag his own after-hunt reward while Sam walked over to the bar to chat up some cute brunette he had seen. The entire time, I entertained myself by watching him from a distance. Everything was going so well. 

Unfortunately, for Sam, he let his awkwardness get the best of him. 

“I swear, none of the good-lookin’ ones are single,” Dean grumbled as he took his seat back at the table, a defeated look on his face. 

“Maybe you should lower your standards?” (Y/N) shrugged as he took a sip of beer, his eyes glued to his younger brother across the bar. “I mean, they have to lower their standards to sleep with you, don’t they? It’s about time you do the same.” 

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffed a sipped his beer. 

“Sorry, not interested.” 

Dean rolled his eyes before he looked at (Y/N), noticing his gaze. He furrowed his brows. “The Hell are you looking at, anyway?” 

Dean turned his head to look in the same direction as (Y/N), shifting his head to look over people as he attempted to see what had grabbed his brother’s attention. (Y/N) licked his lips and smirked. 

“Looks like Sammy might get some tonight.” He said. 

“No shit? Where?” 

“At the far end of the bar. He’s talking to the babe in the blue dress.” 

Once Dean stopped moving his head, he was able to see Sam and the woman standing at the corner of the bar. Both of them were facing one another. The woman leaned up against the bar while Sam had his hands placed awkwardly in his pockets. Both of them had smiles on their faces as they talked. 

“Damn, she’s hot,” Dean mumbled. 

“I know, right? He needs to take his hands out of his pockets, though. He looks like a fucking shy middle-schooler asking his crush out to the dance.” 

“Eh,” Dean waved him off. “He always looks like that.” 

“Yeah, I know, and have you seen him leave with anyone recently?” 

“Point taken. So, what? You’ve just been watching this whole time?” 

“I need to keep myself entertained somehow. Not in the mood for a one-night-stand, so I have to make my own fun.” 

Dean gave a short nod before he continued to watch Sam. (Y/N) and Dean sat in silence as they watched Sam talk with the woman, mumbling back and forth to one another. As the two of them talked, Sam became visibly more comfortable. His movements became more animated and he pulled one of his hands out of his pockets. Both Dean and (Y/N) were practically sitting on the edge of their seats, their drinks completely forgotten about. 

After ten agonizing minutes of watching, it was clear that Sam had become completely relaxed. They continued to talk as the lively bar moved around them. It was almost as if no one existed but the two of them. They were so engrossed in their conversation that Sam neglected to see the serving tray full of beer that was sitting down on the bar next to them. Finally, Sam took his other hand out of his pocket. He moved to lean on the bar, but his elbow never touched the polished bartop. 

Instead, his elbow leaned against the edge of the serving tray, knocking it over. The tray and glasses clattered to the ground, sending glass particles across the floor. Beer splashed on himself and the woman he had been talking to, who had a look of horror across her face. 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he quickly reached over and grabbed Dean’s arm. His jaw dropped and he immediately felt the laughter bubble up inside of his chest. He covered his mouth with his other hand and turned towards Dean. Dean snorted and turned his body so that he was facing (Y/N), his own eyes wide and hand covering his mouth as well. Both Dean and (Y/N) shook as they tried to contain the laughter. 

They sat there, attempting to hide their amusement as Sam walked back over to the table, a defeated look on his face. He sat down, grabbed the beer that he had once forgotten about, and took a long swig. When he saw Dean and (Y/N) practically doubled over, he raised a brow. 

“What’re you two laughing at?” He asked as a small smirk played on the corner of his lips. 

(Y/N) turned away from Dean, pressing his lips together as he placed both of his hands on his beer. His gaze averted to the table, unable to look at Sam without laughing. He shook his head. 

“Nothing…” he spoke in a broken, high-pitched voice. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” He waved off and took a drink. 

Sam looked towards Dean, who took a drink as well. “Yeah, you wouldn’t get it,” he paused. “Just like you didn’t get that chick’s number.” 

(Y/N) snorted as he let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. Sam’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a deep frown. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he slammed his cup down on the table and stood. 

“Real mature, you guys,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. 

“Oh, come on, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed. “You almost had her!” 

Sam rolled his eyes as he put his arms into his jacket sleeves. “Hey, Sammy, look on the bright side!” (Y/N) began. “At least you were able to get her wet somehow.” 

(Y/N) howled and slapped his hand on the table, Dean following suit. One of (Y/N)'s arms was curled against his stomach as he leaned forward. Sam glared at him. 

“I’m going back to the motel.” He growled out before he turned sharply and walked away before Dean or (Y/N) could say anything. 

By the time (Y/N) and Dean were done laughing, tears were rolling down their faces and their cheeks were bright red. Dean used his thumb and index finger to wipe away the tears while (Y/N) used the collar of his shirt. Once they were both settled, they leaned back in their seats. Dean shook his head. 

“We really need to get that kid a hooker or something,” He finally said. 

“I second that,” (Y/N) nodded and raised his glass. 

Dean raised his glass as well before they both drank. 

Sam didn’t talk to us for the rest of the night. He didn’t talk to us for the next couple of days until we got back to the bunker. Dean and I would try to get him to talk to us about something, anything, even the nerdy shit that he’s into, but he wouldn’t budge. On the drive back, he was wearing his headphones the entire time, so that whenever Dean or I would try to talk to him, he had some type of excuse as to why he didn’t talk to us. 

Little asshole. 

Wish I had headphones that I could just pop in to ignore the two of them. 

Maybe I’ll pick some up? 

Of course, I felt bad for the kid. He looked like he was having a good time, but you should have seen the look on the woman’s face when the beer spilled all over her. It was priceless! I had wished I held it together long enough to be able to see what had happened afterward, but if the look on her face had any correlation with her reaction, it probably wasn’t a good one. 

Don’t feel too bad for the kid, though, he got laid a couple of months ago. He’s fine, basically back to normal. 

Still, Dean and I like to bring it up occasionally. Sam has stopped getting so angry about it and has just resorted to rolling his eyes and ignoring us. One of these days, he’s going to get the balls to use one of our embarrassing pick-up attempts against us to shut us up. 

God knows he probably has more instances of us than we do of him.

 

OCTOBER 2014

Jesus, my wrist hurts. Do people normally write this much in their journals? Certainly not at once, right? I have to be setting a new World Record. I wonder if there’s a world record for something like this? I’ll need to look it up later. 

Trust me, though, I have yet to scratch the surface of the embarrassing memories I have of my two brothers. These are just my favorite ones. If they decide to read this, I hope the two of you enjoyed going down memory lane! Maybe you’ll learn not to look at other people’s shit? 

Who am I kidding, of course you won’t. 

I’ll need to hide this somewhere else. Maybe my closet? Maybe in one of my bags? I can’t even think of a place where they won’t eventually find it. Whatever, I’ll hide it in the back of my closet and see where that gets me. 

The bunker door just opened. Sounds like Sam and Dean are back from the supply run. I’ll need to make this short and simple so I can help them put the groceries away before they start bitching at me. 

Until next time,

Stay safe. (That STILL sounds bad. God, I’m terrible at ending these things.)