#seriously if he knew I'd never hear the end of it

[averygayplant]

The cool thing about my brother being blind as shit is that I can scroll through tumblr and shamelessly like and reblog and even draw and post Trolls fan art and he shall be none the wiser because we're still waiting for his glasses to come in

[fatecantstopme]

What I'd Give

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: When Dean is gravely injured on a hunt, (Y/N) makes a deal to save him--a deal that might just cost her everything.

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, mentions of death/dying. SMUT, dom/sub vibes, choking kink, overstimulation, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

You screamed helplessly as you watched your best friend and fellow hunter be thrown from the window across the room. You'd just managed to stab the demon you were fighting a mere second before you heard the breaking of glass.

You yanked the angel blade out of the demon's chest and ran straight towards the demon who'd just tossed your friend out the window. You stabbed the demon in the back, bringing an end to the fight.

You looked out the window and saw the horrific scene three stories down. Your heart clenched in your chest as you raced to the stairs, making it outside in record time.

"Dean!" you cried as you reached his broken body. "No, no, no, no..."

You were almost afraid to touch him--afraid to search for a pulse and not find one. You exhaled sharply and pulled yourself together, placing a firm hand against his neck. You could feel a very weak pulse beneath your fingertips and you knew he was in trouble.

The fall had certainly broken some bones and he likely had internal injuries of some kind. The glass from the window had sliced his skin in a million places, and you were worried he would have severe head trauma as well.

Normally, you would call out to Castiel and he would come running to save Dean, but this wasn't a normal day. Cas had been missing in action for weeks, and neither you nor the Winchesters knew where he was.

Dean's safety--his survival--depended solely on you. The two of you had been hunting alone, while Sam was out helping Garth on a different hunt. You'd hunted together countless times, but neither of you had ever been this seriously injured.

You knew he was dying--as surely as if there was a neon sign screaming "death!" above his head. You couldn't stand the thought of losing him, so you made a decision that would change your life.

"Anyone who's listening, I need your help," you called out. "Please...I will do anything...just save him."

You waited in silence for a few moments, hoping against hope someone would hear your call and take pity on you. You weren't exactly on good terms with most angels, but you couldn't help but hope at least one of them would care.

You heard the soft flap of wings that always signaled the arrival of an angel and you looked up hopefully. You inhaled sharply when your eyes met the glowing red eyes of the man who had come to rescue you--or should you say, archangel.

"Well hello, (Y/N). It's nice to see you again."

"Lucifer," you hissed lowly.

"In the flesh!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard your call," he said simply. "And well, let's be honest, no one else is coming to help you."

"Did you come here to gloat?"

"Of course not. Even I'm not cruel enough to find joy in the death of Dean Winchester."

"Then why did you come?"

"To save him, obviously."

Surprise lit up your face. Out of all the responses you'd expected, that hadn't been on the list. "Pardon?"

Lucifer smiled darkly. "For a small fee, of course."

"Ahh," you acknowledged. "That sounds more like it. What do you want?"

"Nothing too extravagant."

"Lucifer..." you growled.

"As you can see, this vessel isn't doing so well." He gestured to himself and you had to admit, he looked like absolute shit. "In fact, it's dying...which means I'm in need of a new one."

"Absolutely not," you said instantly. "He would never say yes to you."

Lucifer smirked. "I wasn't referring to him."

Your eyes widened. "I'm not an archangel vessel," you whispered.

"No, but you are a vessel. And I think you're strong enough to contain me long enough to find me a better one."

You swallowed thickly. There was no way you were going to agree to this...you knew what being an archangel's vessel would do to you and you weren't exactly interested in being strapped to a nuclear bomb.

"No," you said firmly.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "But just remember, Dean's death will be on your hands now."

You exhaled in defeat as you looked down at the man in your arms. You knew he was close to death--no hospital would be able to save him. Lucifer was your only option.

"Save him first," you whispered.

Lucifer smirked, knowing he'd won. "I would, (Y/N), but this vessel is simply too weak. I would need your body in order to save him."

You looked up into his dark eyes and considered his words. "I don't trust you."

"You would be a fool to trust me after all we've been through. However, I need you...and I need Dean alive and well to help me find an archangel vessel. Possessing you is a good motivator for him."

You clenched your jaw as you thought about your options. It took you mere moments to realize you didn't have any. You would rather die than allow Dean to...so your decision was made in an instant.

"Fine," you murmured softly. You looked up at the monster standing before you and exhaled slowly. "Yes," you breathed.

Lucifer wasted no time--immediately exiting his vessel and entering your body, taking over in an instant.

It was painful, feeling his energy within you, and you knew with absolute certainty you wouldn't be surviving this--no way in hell.

To your surprise, you were fully aware of everything happening around you. You could still see and hear--but you had no control over your body in any way.

Lucifer--you--reached out to Dean and touched him. Your palms began to glow and you watched the various wounds on his body heal quickly. His bright green eyes slowly blinked open and he looked up at you in surprise and confusion.

"What happened?" he groaned.

"You got tossed out a window," your voice said, though it was not you speaking.

Dean sat up and rubbed at his head. He looked down at himself, clearly surprised by his lack of serious injuries. "I fell three stories down..."

You nodded.

"How am I not dead?"

You felt your lips curl into a smile--a slightly cruel smile you knew was not your own. "You're welcome."

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes began to glow red, alerting Dean to the presence of someone else in your body--and there was only one creature you knew whose eyes glowed red.

"Lucifer?" Dean yelled angrily.

"The one and only," he replied.

"How the hell...why are you...where's (Y/N)?"

"Oh she's right here," he said with a smile, tapping the side of your head. "Watching and listening like a little creep."

"Well it is my head, you asshole," you mumbled.

"Doesn't mean it's not creepy," Lucifer's voice hissed inside your mind.

You didn't like the idea that Lucifer could hear your thoughts and speak to you like that...and it made you wonder what else he could see within your mind.

"Everything," he teased darkly.

"Fuck."

"Get the hell out of her body," Dean growled.

"Not a chance, buck-o. (Y/N) was kind enough to invite me in, so I think I'll stay a while."

Dean pulled an angel blade out of his back pocket and pointed it at you. You knew he would never use it if it meant killing you too. It was an idle threat and Lucifer knew it.

Lucifer simply laughed. "You're not going to use that, so put it away."

"Get out of her and I won't have to."

"Oh please, you won't kill her."

Dean's expression remained impassive, but you could see his resolve waning. You knew him too well to miss the small tells. Unfortunately, that meant Lucifer knew him just as well.

"Let's make this easy on ourselves," he began. "Everything (Y/N) knows, I know. Every memory, every thought, every feeling, everything. So put the damn blade down before I have to break your arm."

You could see the anger on Dean's face, but he lowered the blade and slipped it back inside his jacket. "Why the hell did she invite you in?"

"You were about 5 minutes from death and she couldn't save you."

"So what, she called out to you?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"She called out to everyone...I'm just the only one who responded." You felt your eyes glance around in slight concern. "Speaking of, we should probably get out of here, just in case."

Dean nodded and lead the way to the Impala, which was parked a short distance away. You got into the passenger seat like usual and you saw Dean tense up at your proximity. He clearly didn't like the idea of the Devil riding shotgun.

"So why did you heal me?"

"I need your help," Lucifer admitted.

"What makes you think I'd ever help you?"

"I knew you wouldn't, which is why I convinced (Y/N) to let me have her body for a little while."

"Convinced?"

"I may have told her a little white lie--that my old vessel was too weak for me to save you. She didn't exactly offer herself up, but she didn't fight very hard when she realized I was her only option."

"You slimy son of a bitch," you growled.

"I'm the devil, (Y/N). What did you expect?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean mumbled, echoing your sentiments. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I need to find an actual archangel vessel. I'm getting tired of jumping from vessel to vessel...they keep burning out. It's rather tiresome."

"Well you're not touching Sam, or me for that matter."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he insisted. "I know there are others out there, but I need someone with your connections to help me locate one."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "My connections?"

"Well, Bobby Singer's connections, really...but the best way to him is through you, and the best way to you is through her."

Dean exhaled angrily. You knew he was mad at you just as much as he was mad at Lucifer. You were surprised he hadn't given you an earful yet, even with Lucifer listening in.

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "But the moment we find you a vessel, I want you out of her body. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Lucifer answered.

"Now just sit there quietly until we get to Bobby's, understand? I want absolute silence."

"Well that's boring--"

"I can't stand hearing you speak with her voice, okay? So shut up."

Lucifer smirked, but fell silent, deciding instead to annoy you.

"He's mad at you, isn't he?"

"I said yes to you...of course he's mad."

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"How you feel about him?"

"I would really like you to shut the hell up now, Lucifer," you hissed.

"But I'm so bored," he whined.

"I don't give a damn and neither does Dean. It's about 2 hours to Bobby's place...can you be silent for 2 hours?"

"Fine," he grumbled. "It'll give me more time to dig around in your brain anyway..."

"Shit--no!"

You tried to shut him out of your mind as best as you could, but you could still feel him rooting around in your head...making himself at home and digging into memories and thoughts and feelings that were never meant to be shared with another soul.

**********

"What an unsightly place," Lucifer grumbled as he--you--followed Dean up the stairs to Bobby's door.

Dean shot an annoyed glare in your direction, but didn't comment.

"Bobby!" he called as he entered the house.

Bobby came into view and offered you both a tired smile. "Hey you two. What brings you to Sioux Falls?"

"We were close by on a hunt and now we need your help," Dean answered.

"Sure. Come on in."

Neither you, nor Lucifer, had said a word of greeting to Bobby, which struck the older man as odd.

"You alright, (Y/N)?"

"Oh I'm just peachy," your voice answered.

Bobby's eyes narrowed at you, immediately noticing your voice was off. Besides, you didn't tend to talk to Bobby like that.

Before Bobby could question you, Dean spoke up. "We need to find an archangel vessel...as fast as possible."

Bobby stared at him for a moment. "Dean, you are an archangel vessel."

"Yeah, well I need one to house the devil--and it ain't gonna be me or Sam."

"Why the hell do you need a vessel for Lucifer?"

Your hand reached out and tapped Bobby on the shoulder. Judging by Bobby's shocked expression, you assumed your eyes were once again glowing red. Bobby quickly took a step back, looking between you and Dean in confusion.

"It's a long story," Dean muttered. "But I don't want him riding shotgun in (Y/N)'s head any longer than necessary, so we need to find him another vessel."

"Preferably before this current one starts to rot from the inside out," Lucifer added.

"Seriously, Lucifer?"

"Well that is essentially what happens, you know. I wouldn't want to damage such a pretty face."

"Oh fuck off," you grumbled.

"Why in god's name would she say yes to you?" Bobby asked angrily.

"To save my life, okay?" Dean snapped. "Look--we don't have time for this. I need your help to find another vessel. Please."

Bobby sighed and crossed the room to his desk, which was covered in books and papers--an organizational system only Bobby understood. He eyed you warily, but he didn't comment on the situation further.

"I assume you know how to find an archangel vessel," Lucifer commented.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me," Bobby responded.

Lucifer sighed and began to tell Bobby what he needed to look for. You ignored the words coming from our own mouth, instead focusing on Dean. You could see how upset he was and it made you feel incredibly foolish. You hated seeing him like this, but you didn't regret your decision. The mere fact he was alive to be angry made this whole thing worth it.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Dean asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"A week or two--maybe a little more," Bobby answered.

Dean looked in your direction, eyeing you with concern. "Will (Y/N) last that long?"

"Might wanna keep it closer to two weeks," Lucifer replied.

"You're lying, aren't you?" you asked quietly.

"Do you want me to tell them the truth?"

You sighed internally. "I think Dean deserves to know."

"A week would be even better," Lucifer said aloud.

Dean stared at you, worry deepening the lines on his face. His gaze traced your face, searching for any signs of deception--or maybe signs of damage.

"Well then," Bobby muttered. "Better get started."

**********

You sat in the corner, feet up on another chair as you watched Dean and Bobby. You could tell both of them were extremely worried, but their focus was on finding another vessel. They didn't have time to dive into their fears for your life.

Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to think he had all the time in the world. He was quite happy to torture you instead of providing the two hunters with any assistance.

"Why haven't you told Dean?" he asked for what had to be the 1,000th time.

"There's nothing to tell, Lucifer. Would you just back off?"

"You're really no fun, you know that?"

"Good. This isn't supposed to be fun for you."

"I can make it fun."

"I'd really rather you not."

"Too late!" he said gleefully.

You could feel him poking around inside your head again, searching for something he could use to hurt you with--or hurt Dean with. You tried to keep him away from your darkest secrets, from the things you'd never shared with another soul, not even Dean. But you noticed it was getting harder and harder to resist him. You weren't sure if it was because he was so strong or if you were becoming weaker. Either way, it was only a matter of time before Lucifer found something he shouldn't.

Unfortunately for you, that moment came much sooner than you'd anticipated.

"(Y/N)--fuck, I mean Lucifer...can I talk to you outside for a moment?" Dean asked suddenly, rising from his chair and heading outside without waiting for a reply.

"Well this should be fun," you mumbled internally.

"I assure you," Lucifer mocked. "It will be."

You felt your body moving, feet heading after Dean whether you wanted to or not.

Once outside, Dean turned to face you, eyes filled with a multitude of emotions you couldn't stand to see. "I want to talk to (Y/N)."

"Oh come now," Lucifer said. "You know that's not how it works."

"I know you can shut up and take a backseat. So that's what I want."

"Hmm..." Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. "You know, I'd rather not. Besides, (Y/N) doesn't really feel like talking to you right now."

"Fuck you, Lucifer. Let me talk to him!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Ain't happening."

"Somehow I doubt that," Dean grumbled angrily.

"You can doubt it all you want, but I'm the one physically inside her head. I know what she's thinking and let me tell you, it's not very complimentary of you."

"What?" Dean asked in surprised confusion.

"You have no idea what she really thinks of you, do you?"

"Lucifer, what the hell are you doing?" you growled.

He ignored you, instead focusing on his conversation with Dean.

"She's my best friend," Dean responded. "What more do I need to know?"

Lucifer laughed cruelly. "I'm sorry, that's just too funny. You think she's your best friend?"

You could see the look of hurt cross Dean's face for a moment, but he quickly covered it up.

"Sorry," Lucifer said, laughter subsiding. "It's just hilarious that you think she cares about you that much."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's tired of you, Dean. She's tired of your stubbornness, your self-loathing, your reckless behavior. She's tired of everything to do with you. She doesn't care about you--not really, anyway. You annoy the shit out of her, but she puts up with you because she feels like she has to."

You fought with everything you had to overpower Lucifer and take control of your mind and body. Not a single word Lucifer was uttering was true and you desperately wanted to tell Dean the truth.

"Stop fighting, (Y/N). You can't win," Lucifer whispered.

"Stop lying to him and I'll stop fighting," you insisted.

"No. I'm simply having too much fun."

Dean's face was impassive to the average person, but you saw through the mask on his face, and so did Lucifer. "I don't believe you," Dean said softly.

"You don't have to believe me. They're not my words. I'm simply relaying (Y/N)'s thoughts," Lucifer said with a shrug. "Haven't you ever wondered how she puts up with all your shit? You're not exactly walking sunshine, Dean. You're one of the most damaged humans I've ever met."

Dean inhaled deeply. "If she hates me so much, why does she stay?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Neither you nor Dean knew what Lucifer was going to say next...and his words cut deeper than you'd expected them to.

"She's in love with your brother," Lucifer sneered.

"Lucifer, no!" you screamed.

Dean's eyes widened and shock settled onto his face. He turned around, his back to you in an attempt to collect himself.

You fought even harder...you needed to get this son of a bitch out of your body. It felt like you were locked inside your own mind with no way out. Lucifer was too strong and the harder you fought, the weaker you became. You quickly realized the more energy you expended, the stronger he became...there was no use in fighting him.

"You're a monster," you whispered.

"They call me the devil for a reason.'"

You didn't bother responding to him. Your heart was aching for Dean and all you wanted was to comfort him. You knew exactly where his head would be at right now and it was killing you.

He'd always compared himself to Sam--at least as long as you'd known him. He seemed to think Sam was better than him in a lot of ways and certainly more lovable. The mere idea that you agreed with that sentiment...that you loved Sam...it would break him and you knew it.

"Sam is better than you in every way," Lucifer added, stoking the fire. "Why would anyone love you when they could have Sam? He's everything you're not...sure of himself, confident, open and honest. Sam is better for (Y/N) than you could ever be."

Dean turned back around, face a mask of impassiveness once again. "Let's find you a vessel so you can get the hell out of our lives," he said in a low voice. "Besides, I wouldn't want to get in the way of Sam and (Y/N)'s love."

If you'd been capable of crying, you knew the tears would be streaming down your face in that moment. Your heart ached in a way you were unfamiliar with and you hoped Lucifer could feel the pain the same way you did.

"Why?" you whispered.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you say that to him?"

Lucifer laughed. "Simple...I knew it would hurt both of you. You're in love with him and if his reaction was anything to go by, it looks like he feels the same."

"We're both helping you right now. Why can't you just be grateful for 10 fucking minutes?" you hissed.

"Where's the fun in that?"

You knew the question was rhetorical, so you didn't bother responding. Instead, you quietly watched Dean walk away and you knew he was going to lose his shit. You could feel it as clearly as your own emotions.

"Let's follow him," Lucifer said happily.

"Let him take his anger out without an audience," you snapped.

Lucifer ignored you and quietly followed after Dean, keeping a distance to avoid being noticed.

Once Dean was farther away from the house and seemingly alone, he grabbed a crowbar from a nearby bench and began to beat the ever-loving-shit out of a junker car.

If you'd wondered about Dean's feelings for you before (and you had), you didn't wonder anymore. It was clear he cared about you in the same way you cared about him and you hated seeing him in such pain.

You wanted nothing more than to go to him, but Lucifer was much happier standing to the side and watching Dean suffer alone.

"Please," you whispered.

"You can tell him I'm a lying bastard if you manage to survive this."

"You and I both know that's not likely," you sighed quietly. "I don't want him to suffer and I don't want to die with him thinking I hate him."

"Pity. Guess you should have told him sooner..."

"Oh fuck off, Lucifer," you growled.

Lucifer's laughter echoed in your head and you hated him in that moment more than you could even begin to express.

**********

"You alright kid?" Bobby asked Dean when he returned to the house an hour or so later.

Lucifer, and therefore you, had returned shortly after watching Dean fall apart. When he'd dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, Lucifer had gotten bored and left.

"I'm fine," Dean lied. "Do you have any leads?"

"I've put out my feelers to every person I could think of. I'm sure someone will have something for me soon."

"Did you call Sam?"

Bobby shook his head. "I assumed you did."

"Call him and let him know what's going on. I'm going out."

"Where are you going?"

"Yeah, Dean," Lucifer chimed in, "where are you going?"

"The nearest bar. Don't wait up."

You tried to say his name, but your mouth refused to form the word.

As soon as Dean was out of earshot, Bobby turned his attention to you. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"Me?" Lucifer asked, feigning innocence. "Why would you think I did something?"

"Maybe because you're the devil?" Bobby answered sarcastically.

Lucifer smirked darkly. "I may have poked at all of his insecurities."

Bobby groaned. "You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"

"That's not a nice thing to say about my Father."

Bobby just glared at you and rolled his eyes. He got up and left the room and you assumed he was going to call Sam.

"I second Bobby's comment."

"I wear it like a badge of honor."

You knew exactly what Dean was going to do and it was killing you. He was going to drink until he couldn't feel a thing, pick up some random girl, and fuck her senseless--anything to feel something other than the ache in his chest. You knew him better than he knew himself...but in this moment, you desperately wished you didn't. You would give anything to not know what he was going to do.

**********

Three days later, one of Bobby's sources had a lead on a potential archangel vessel.

Dean hadn't spoken to you or Lucifer unless he absolutely had to. It was too hard to even look at your face and hearing your voice was a thousand times worse.

Sam was still out on a hunt with Garth, but he promised to be there to help as soon as he could.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Bobby asked Dean as the two of you were preparing to leave.

"The less people involved, the better. Stay here in case we need more intel," Dean responded.

"I don't like the idea of you traveling alone with Lucifer."

"I'll be fine."

Bobby didn't believe him anymore than you did, but neither of you commented on it--not that you could have if you'd wanted to.

As you/Lucifer and Dean climbed into the Impala, Dean didn't spare a glance in your direction.

"Isn't this fun?" Lucifer asked. "I've always wanted to go on a roadtrip."

Dean groaned. "What are the chances you'll be quiet during this drive?"

"Slim to none," Lucifer said with a smirk.

The response almost made Dean smile. It sounded like something you would say and technically it was your voice. He had to remind himself you weren't really talking to him--every word out of your mouth was Lucifer.

Dean took off without another word and you silently prayed this lead would pan out. You were extremely tired and it had only been about four days since Lucifer had possessed you.

By this point, you were having a hard time focusing on what was happening in the real world. You were in pain and you could feel your body weakening...you were dying and you knew it. You just hoped Dean didn't notice.

**********

By the time the three of you arrived at your destination, you were feeling terrible. You weren't even sure how much time had passed since you'd left Bobby's. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd fallen asleep very early on.

"It's been about 12 hours," Lucifer told you.

"I slept for 12 hours?"

"You're dying," he said nonchalantly. "So you're going to have a harder time staying awake."

"Great," you whispered sarcastically.

"Lucifer!" Dean growled. "You coming?"

"Of course."

Lucifer followed Dean into a building you assumed was an apartment complex. Sometime during the elevator ride, you must have fallen unconscious again, because when you opened your eyes again, you found yourself standing in a nice apartment.

Dean was talking calmly to a young man who looked moderately terrified.

"Is he the vessel?" you mumbled.

"Yes. I can feel it," Lucifer responded.

"Thank god..."

"I'm sorry, you want me to allow the literal devil to possess me?" the young man practically yelled at Dean. "That's assuming I even believe in the devil."

"Look man," Dean said with surprising calmness. "I know I sound insane, but it's all real. We need an archangel vessel and like it or not, that's you."

"What if I don't want to say yes?"

Dean grabbed him by his collar. "Then the woman he's currently wearing will die...and I will do anything to prevent that." His voice was low, barely above a growl.

The young man looked terrified, eyes wide with fear. "Are you threatening me?" he whispered.

Dean straightened out the guy's shirt and gave him a dark smile. "Of course not."

"So I have a choice?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Don't think for a moment he'll give you an option, kid."

The guy looked at you and you felt terrible for him. You understood his fear and apprehension...and it felt wrong to force Lucifer onto him. This kid didn't deserve it.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you mumbled.

"Too late, (Y/N). Dean knows he's an archangel vessel. There's no way he's going to leave without getting him to say yes."

You wanted to respond--to fight, but you couldn't. You were too weak...too tired. Everything hurt too much.

"What's it like?" the guy asked softly.

"Like being strapped to a rocket," Lucifer said snidely.

Dean shot him an annoyed glance. "You'll be fine. You were meant for this."

The guy's gaze remained fixated on you. "She looks like shit...am I going to look like that?"

Dean finally focused his gaze on your face and you saw the fear flash in his eyes. He could see you were dying. Your skin was pale, your eyes bloodshot, dark circles adorning them...your lips were cracked and there were slight lacerations appearing around your forehead and jawline.

"She wasn't meant to house the power of an archangel," Lucifer responded. "She's dying, but the same won't happen to you."

"Will she be okay if I say yes?"

"Yes," Lucifer lied smoothly.

The guy looked like he was contemplating what to do, so Dean spoke up again.

"Look, kid. She's important to me...more important to me than pretty much anyone else in this fucked up world. I would do anything to save her...she's--she's my brother's girl."

You wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but you knew it was fruitless to even try. Even still, your heart ached at his words.

"How long?" the guy asked, directing his question at Lucifer.

"As long as I want. You'll never age, never die, as long as I'm with you."

The guy nodded. "Alright. I'll do it." He stood up. "What do I need to do?"

"Just say 'yes'," Lucifer answered.

"Yes."

A bright white light filled the room and Dean had to shield his eyes. When the light faded, you were lying on the floor and Lucifer was now clearly possessing the young man they'd come to find.

"(Y/N)!" Dean yelled as he raced to your side.

Your pulse was faint and you looked even worse than you had moments before.

"Heal her," Dean demanded.

Lucifer's lips curled up in a cruel smile. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," he repeated. "I'm not interested in saving her."

"You wouldn't have a vessel without us. You owe her!"

"I'm the devil, Dean. What makes you think I give a damn about debts?"

Dean stared at him, anger and terror fighting for control in equal measure. He stood up and went to lunge at Lucifer, but the archangel simply disappeared, leaving you and Dean completely helpless and alone.

**********

Dean had rushed you to the hospital and was currently sitting in the waiting room, hoping to hear something about your condition.

Sam rushed into the room, eyes scanning for his brother. When he saw him, Sam crossed the distance and wrapped Dean in a tight hug.

"How is she?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean said quietly. "But it doesn't look good."

"She's strong, Dean."

"I don't think that matters...her body was never meant to house an archangel and she managed to do it for almost a week. She's dying, Sammy."

Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

Dean's heart ached, seeing his brother look so upset. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a broken emptiness in his soul--a space you used to occupy. But he needed to push past his own pain for his brother's sake. After all...you weren't his.

"For (Y/N)?" a doctor called into the waiting room.

Dean and Sam practically ran in her direction. Dean's heart clenched in his chest as he took in the doctor's sad expression.

"Are you (Y/N)'s family?"

Both men nodded.

"Come with me, please," the doctor said quietly.

They followed her to a private waiting area and Dean's dread increased significantly. "What's going on?" he asked worriedly.

"Please have a seat," the doctor asked, gesturing toward the chairs against the wall. She closed the door before taking her seat across from them.

"My name's Dr. Murphy. I'm (Y/N)'s treating physician."

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"There's no easy way to say this," Dr. Murphy said gently. "(Y/N)'s injuries are quite severe and she's in critical condition."

"But she's going to be okay, right?" Dean asked hopefully.

Dr. Murphy frowned and shook her head. "Her organs have begun to shut down...it's only a matter of time now. The best I can do is try to keep her comfortable."

"No," Dean whispered. "No, she can't--"

Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to comfort his brother.

"I'm very sorry," Dr. Murphy murmured.

Dean suddenly stood up. "I can't do this. I need--I need air."

He practically ran from the room and Sam got up to follow him, but Dr. Murphy placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I think it's best to give him a moment."

Sam nodded as he desperately tried to push his own emotions away. He adored you, but he knew exactly how much Dean loved you...so he knew how much pain his brother was in right now. It hurt him almost as much as losing you.

***********

Once Dean was outside, he ran around to the side of the building, desperate to be alone for a moment. He collapsed onto the ground, back against the hard stone of the hospital exterior. All of the tears he'd been pushing back for days finally poured out.

He found himself falling apart in public--something he couldn't recall doing before. He couldn't bring himself to care. You were dying and it was killing him. It was all his fault. If he hadn't been so careless, he wouldn't have gotten injured and you never would have had to beg Lucifer to save him.

He knew it wasn't a rational way of thinking, but in that moment, it didn't matter. You were about to become just another name on a never ending list of people who died because of him. He couldn't take it--it was too much.

"I know I'm not exactly on good terms with any of you and I probably don't deserve your help, but I'm not asking for myself. (Y/N) is dying and I can't save her. I'm not normally the kind of man to beg, but I'm on my knees right now...begging for just one of you to find it in yourself to give a damn. She doesn't deserve this. She's the best person I've ever known...so please. Please someone answer me. Please..." His voice was broken by the end of his short speech.

He was desperate and there was nothing he wouldn't do to save her. If no angel would help him...he wasn't above making a deal with a demon. He'd been to hell once before, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you could live.

"Hello, Dean Winchester," a soft female voice said from beside him.

He jumped up quickly, ready to fight if need be. He hadn't even heard the woman arrive, which meant she likely wasn't human.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Aliraphael."

"Aliraphael?" Dean repeated. "I've never heard of you."

She smiled. "You don't need to know my name to know what I am."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Why did you come?"

"You prayed for help. I answered."

"But why? We don't know you...what would make you wanna help us?"

Aliraphael smiled. "You, your brother, and (Y/N) have sacrificed much for this world and all of the people in it. I think you deserve a miracle."

Normally Dean wouldn't believe her, but there was something in her eyes that made him feel safe. He was inclined to trust her, but he had to be sure. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing. This is my gift to you."

"Nothing is free."

"I understand why you may be jaded, but sometimes a gift is simply a gift. This is one of those times."

Dean nodded. "I'm choosing to trust you, but just know if you betray me, I will kill you."

She smiled. "I would expect nothing less of the great Dean Winchester."

Dean led Aliraphael into the hospital and his eyes scanned the waiting area for Sam. He wasn't there, so Dean assumed he'd gone to your room.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me what room (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is in?" Dean asked the receptionist.

The woman typed on her computer without looking up and muttered, "Room 212."

"Thanks," Dean replied. He tried to walk slowly--normally--to room 212, but every instinct in his body was screaming for him to get to you as quickly as possible.

When Dean entered the room, he saw Sam standing beside your bed, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. He was speaking softly to you and Dean felt that ache in his chest intensify.

"Sam," Dean said softly.

Sam turned towards the door, eyes red from his tears. He looked between Dean and Aliraphael in confusion. "Who's she?"

"I am Aliraphael," the angel responded. "I am here to heal (Y/N)."

Sam cut Dean a look. "What did you do?"

Dean shrugged. "I prayed. She came."

"Okay, but what did you promise her in exchange?"

"Your brother has promised me nothing. I am doing this because I wish to. I have no ulterior motive."

Sam still looked worried, but he stepped back to allow Aliraphael access to your bed. Aliraphael gently placed her hand against your forehead and closed her eyes. A soft white glow began to envelop your body and your skin began to return to normal.

After several moments, Aliraphael dropped her hand from your head and turned to Sam and Dean. "It is finished."

You started to stir in the bed and Dean's heart beat faster.

"She will awaken in a moment," Aliraphael assured them.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, unable to take his eyes off your face.

Sam echoed his brother's statement and Aliraphael smiled.

"You are all very welcome." With that, the angel disappeared as if she had never been there.

You groaned softly and your eyes slowly opened. You blinked rapidly trying to clear them and focus on the room around you.

"I have to go," Dean muttered.

"What?" Sam asked in surprise, but Dean had already exited the room.

"Sam?" you asked softly, hearing the younger Winchester's voice.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," he murmured. "I'm here."

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes focused on his face. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

You thought about it for a moment and the memories of the past few days came flooding back. "Lucifer..." you whispered.

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah."

"I was dying, Sam--I felt it. Why am I not dead?"

"Dean prayed...and some angel we'd never met before came to save you."

Your eyes widened. "Dean...where is he? I need to talk to him."

"He was just here, but when you started to wake up, he bolted."

"Shit," you murmured. "We need to go after him."

You started to sit up and tug at the IV in your arm, but Sam stopped you.

"Woah! Woah! Slow down, (Y/N). You were almost dead not even five minutes ago."

"And now I'm not, so we need to get the hell out of here Sam," you insisted.

Sam sighed. He knew better than to fight you, so he simply helped you remove your IV and untangle you from the web of other tubes and wires. He handed you your clothes and turned around so you could get dressed in privacy.

"Alright, let's go," you said as soon as you were dressed.

*********

When Dean left the hospital, he'd taken the Impala and started the long drive back to Lawrence. He just wanted to get home before you and figure out what his next move was. If you and Sam were going to be together...he didn't want to be there to witness it. He couldn't.

Dean's phone had rang several times, but he hadn't answered. Most of the calls were from you and a few were from Sam, but he couldn't handle hearing your voice right now. Especially if you were going to tell him everything Lucifer had said was true.

"He's still not answering his damn phone," you muttered, throwing the phone onto the dash angrily.

"I just don't get why he'd leave like that," Sam said for the fifth time.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Lucifer said some things to him, Sam...things that hurt him deeply. None of it was true, but Dean doesn't know that."

"What kind of things?"

"Things about me...about how I feel. And about you," you admitted quietly.

"(Y/N), just tell me."

"Lucifer told Dean I couldn't stand him and the only reason I hung around was because I'm in love with you."

Sam scoffed. "And Dean believed him?"

"You didn't see his face, Sam...he believed every word. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I couldn't overpower Lucifer."

"Shit," Sam mumbled. "He's a goddamn idiot if he thinks you love me more than him."

You laughed dryly. "Lucifer played on Dean's insecurities and unfortunately, it worked."

Sam sighed. "Where do you think he'd go?"

"I have to hope he went home."

"Then let's get there before he does." Sam sped up, flooring the stolen car like he'd--well, like he'd stolen it.

You were about five hours from Lawrence and Dean had a head start. You knew it was unlikely you'd get there first, but you had to hope you could get there before he left.

**********

When Sam pulled into the Bunker's garage four and a half hours later, you were relieved to see the Impala parked where it should be. Dean would never leave without his beloved car, which meant he was still there.

Both you and Sam practically ran into the Bunker, calling Dean's name.

The green eyed hunter heard your voices, but he ignored both you and Sam. He couldn't face you...he just couldn't.

"Dean? Where are you?" you called again.

"Come on, Dean. We know you're here," Sam said in annoyance.

You headed into the kitchen and Sam went down towards Dean's bedroom. Both of you hoped to find him before he managed to sneak his way out.

Sam entered his brother's room without knocking and sighed in relief. "Dean. There you are."

"Sam," he said curtly.

"Why the hell did you leave? And why didn't you answer our calls?"

"I just needed to get out of there."

"What, before (Y/N) woke up?" Sam's tone made it clear exactly how stupid he thought his brother's actions were.

"Look man, I'm glad she's okay, but I can't face her. I don't want to have that conversation."

Sam decided to play dumb. "What conversation, Dean? The one where she thanks you for saving her life? Or where you yell at her for saying yes to Lucifer in the first place? Cuz trust me, we had that conversation already."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Sam," Dean said quietly as he started to pack his duffle. "But it doesn't matter. I'm leaving."

"Why the hell are you leaving?"

"I can't stay here. I can't--I can't see the two of you together," he whispered.

"Together?" Sam asked incredulously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's fine, Sam. I know."

"There's nothing to know!"

Dean glared at his brother and shook his head. "I saw you at the hospital...you clearly feel the same as she does."

"Yeah I do!" Sam yelled. "She's my friend--she's family!"

Dean was about to snap back another retort, but Sam cut him off.

"Just talk to (Y/N), Dean. Let her explain...you owe her that much."

"I don't want to talk to her."

"I'm not going to give you a choice," you said from the bedroom doorway.

Both men turned to look at you in surprise. You crossed your arms and stood firm.

"I don't want to talk," Dean said quietly.

"Good. I don't want you to talk, Dean. I want you to listen." You turned your gaze to Sam and gestured with your head for him to leave the room.

He gladly exited, not wanting to be a part of this particular conversation.

You closed the door behind him and continued to stand in front of it, afraid Dean would try to leave if you moved.

"Lucifer is a liar, Dean. I shouldn't even have to say that. He's the devil, for crying out loud. He's kinda known for his lies."

"But he's also been honest with us before," Dean countered.

"Only when it benefited him. Just like he lies when it benefits him. Hurting you? Hurting me? That shit brought him joy."

"Really? Did it hurt you to hear him tell me how you really feel about me?"

"No," you said angrily. "It hurt me to hear him lie to you about how I feel! The things he said were cruel and terrible, but more importantly, they weren't true!"

Dean stared at you silently, clearly not believing a word you said.

"Do you really think I'm capable of lying to you for years? Think of every moment we've spent together, Dean...do you really think I pretended to care about you? Pretended to enjoy spending time with you? Think about all the times we've laughed together, the times we've had each other's backs, the small glances, the whispers in the dark when one of us had a nightmare. Think about all of those moments and then look me in the eye and tell me it was all a lie."

Tears filled his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same expression was reflected in your own. You took a step towards him, desperately wanting to touch him, but afraid it be unwelcome.

"You're my favorite person in the world, Dean Winchester. You. Not Sam, not Bobby, not Jodi...you. You hold my whole heart in your hands...you always have. If you don't want it, then I understand, but don't for a second think I love anyone but you."

His lips parted in surprise. "But what about Sam?" he whispered.

You sighed loudly. "Weren't you listening? Sam is my friend, Dean, but nothing more than that. I love him like a brother." You took another step towards him. "He doesn't compare to you--he couldn't compare to you. I love you, Dean...and I don't mean like a brother."

Dean inhaled deeply. "I want to believe you, (Y/N/N)..."

"Then believe me," you begged him. "I love you."

Dean thought about what Lucifer had said and he realized why he'd believed it so easily. They were all things Dean was afraid of...he knew he wasn't good enough for you and he was terrified you knew it too.

"Talk to me, Dean," you whispered, taking a final step towards him.

He looked deep into your eyes and found nothing but love there. The same love he held in his soul for you. "I've always been afraid to tell you how I feel because I know I'm not good enough for you," he admitted. "That's why it was so easy for me to believe Lucifer's lies...it was almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I couldn't believe you'd ever want me, so it was easier to believe you wanted Sam. He's better for you in every way."

"Stop," you whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "I decide who is best for me and I choose you. I will always choose you."

"(Y/N)," he whispered.

You pressed your lips against his, trying to infuse it with all of the love in your soul. Dean's arms wrapped around your thick waist, pulling you closer to him. He deepened the kiss, lips hungrily devouring yours.

You stayed locked in each other's embrace for what felt like an eternity. Your tongues fought for dominance and your hands caressed any part of each other they could reach.

When the kiss inevitably broke so the two of you could breathe, Dean laid his forehead against yours. "This might go without saying, but I love you too, (Y/N). So goddamn much."

You chuckled breathlessly. "After a kiss like that, I'd sure as hell hope so."

He grinned and tugged you even closer to him. His lips pressed against yours again and he found himself wanting to feel every part of your soft body. He needed it, just as much as needed air to breathe.

"Let me show you how much, baby," he whispered against your lips.

"Please," you moaned softly.

“Strip for me, pretty girl,” he commanded.

You gently pushed against his chest, forcing him back against the bed. He dropped down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving your body.

You slowly began to remove your clothing, taking much longer than you needed to. You were teasing him and he was eating it up.

You finally got down to just your bra and panties, nothing fancy as you obviously weren’t planning on this happening, but Dean didn’t seem to care. In fact, you were about to be very glad you didn’t wear anything nice.

“You are so damn beautiful, baby,” he whispered.

You offered him a warm smile, appreciative of the affection in his gaze. He thought you were a goddess among humans, a treasure to behold.

“I think you’re a bit overdressed, Dean,” you teased softly.

“You know, babe, I think you’re right.” He stood up and shed his layers significantly faster than you had. He was extremely impatient, as he was dying to get his hands on you.

You admired his broad chest, thick arms, and sculpted form. He looked incredible, scars and all. You felt the strong urge to kiss every single one of them, if he would allow you.

He now stood before you in nothing but his boxers, his large erection straining against the thin fabric.

“Let’s get this off you,” he muttered, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra.

The moment your breasts were exposed to his gaze, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, baby. These are even better than I’d imagined.”

“You imagined my—“ your question was cut off by the feeling of his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hands caressing your breasts gently.

The gentle movements quickly turned more intense, and he began to truly knead and nip at your flesh. You moaned softly and gently ran your fingers through his soft hair.

You pressed yourself even closer to him, feeling his bulge press against your abdomen. He lifted his head with a small smirk.

“Impatient, are we?”

You nodded quickly.

“Oh come on now, sweetheart. Use those words for me. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimpered. “I want you.”

His smirk widened. “I figured that much out on my own, darlin'. I want you to tell me what you need.”

You weren’t exactly accustomed to expressing yourself verbally in the bedroom. To be honest, a lot of your past experiences weren’t that great anyway. A lot of one night stands with men who only cared about their own pleasure.

You found yourself feeling kind of excited at the prospect of a man listening to you and what you wanted…even more so because that man was Dean.

“I want you on your knees, handsome,” you said firmly.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, but he dropped to his knees obediently. His normally bright green eyes were dark with lust as he locked eyes with you.

You loved the powerful feeling you had as you stood over him. The great Dean Winchester, on his knees for you.

You touched his face sweetly and he leaned into your palm, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Do you wanna eat my pussy, Dean?” you whispered.

His eyes shot back open, a hungry expression on his face. “Yes,” he breathed lowly.

“Then get to work,” you commanded softly.

Dean was used to being in charge in the bedroom and it wasn’t often he found himself submitting to a woman. You were different than any woman he’d ever been with before—after all, he loved you. If you told him to do a damn handstand naked, lick your feet, and call you “your majesty”, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

His calloused hands slowly slid up your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh. His mouth followed, leaving sloppy kisses as he worked his way closer to your core.

“Baby?” he asked softly, glancing up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any particular attachment to these panties?”

“No, why—Dean!” you gasped as he ripped your underwear in half, tossing the remains to the floor.

He grinned and made a happy little noise deep in his throat before kissing your mound. He grabbed your right leg and tugged it up over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

“Lean on me for support, beautiful. I got you.”

The moment you laid a hand on his shoulder and he was sure you were stable, he dove into your pussy with a deep growl.

Your head fell back in ecstasy and a series of moans left your lips. The hand not holding onto his shoulder immediately wound itself in his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Dean—feels so good,” you moaned.

His hands dug into your ass cheeks in response, tugging you even closer to him. He never wanted to stop—hearing those sweet sounds you made mixed with the heady taste of your sweetness was more intoxicating than any drink he’d ever had.

Your legs had begun to tremble and Dean’s grip on you tightened. He wasn’t willing to stop his ministrations, but he wouldn’t let you fall either.

Your nails scraped against his scalp and his shoulder as you clung to him. The pleasure was almost too much and not enough all at once, and you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Dean,” you gasped. “I’m so close.”

He smiled against your core and shifted his focus more heavily to your clit. You cried out and cursed softly, and he knew he’d made the right move.

“I—oh god,” you cried as your orgasm washed over you.

Dean lapped up everything you had to offer, his grip on your body never loosening. As you began to come down from your high, he slipped his hands up to your hips to ensure he didn’t drop you.

He gave your pussy one last lick before allowing you to pull him up by his hair. To his surprise, you mashed your lips against his hungrily, not giving a damn that he tasted like you.

One hand tangled into your hair and the other held you tightly. “What do you want me to do now, sweetheart?” He murmured against your skin.

“Take control, Dean,” you begged. “Make my legs shake. Make me scream. I don’t wanna be able to move for hours.”

“Holy fuck,” he groaned. “Who taught you to talk like that, baby?”

You smirked. “It comes naturally with you.”

"Well it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard," he murmured.

His strong arms wrapped around your waist and gripped you tightly. He spun you both around so your back was to the bed. He pulled you up into his arms and tossed you onto the bed.

You gasped in surprise, not used to being manhandled in such a manner. You sat up slightly, resting on your elbows as you looked at the gorgeous man in front of you. You curled one finger and beckoned him towards you with a smirk.

He quickly discarded his boxers and dropped onto the bed, crawling slowly up your body. He dropped kisses onto your skin as he moved, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

When he reached your mouth, you reached up and grabbed the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him down to you. Your kiss was hungry and needy, leaving no question as to what you wanted.

As the kiss deepened, Dean shifted his body to touch your soft curves. In doing so, the tip of his cock brushed against your pussy, eliciting soft moans from both of you.

Dean's hands traced softly up and down your sides, relishing the feeling of your skin against his. "I love touching you," he murmured in your ear. "You're so damn soft."

You smiled and turned your head to nip at his jaw. He groaned and turned his attention back to your soft lips, sucking the bottom one between his teeth and biting down gently.

Much like Dean, you loved touching his body, but you reveled in the firmness of his body beneath your hands. Every time he moved, you could feel his muscles tense and shift. His body was powerful and beautiful--a vessel carrying the most incredible soul you'd ever known.

Dean shifted again, nudging your head to the side so he could suck at your neck, leaving love marks on the sensitive skin. You lifted your hips up slightly, seeking some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. Once again, his cock brushed against your core and you gasped lightly. Dean, on the other hand, bit gently into your neck to suppress a loud moan.

"I can't wait any longer, baby," he groaned.

"Take me. I'm yours," you whispered.

He sighed softly, kissing you sweetly before pulling away. "Roll over for me, sweetness. Hands and knees."

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you rolled over immediately. You lowered your upper body to lay flat against the mattress, ass high in the air.

"Holy shit," Dean murmured as his hands grasped your large, round ass. "Who said you could have an ass this incredible? I can't wait to watch it jiggle while I fuck you senseless."

Before you could respond, he smacked your ass with an open palm, causing you to gasp slightly.

He seemed to realize belatedly that he should have asked if you were okay with that before doing it, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined smacking your ass for years. "Is that okay, baby?"

"More, please," you begged softly.

He smacked your ass again with a grin. "You like that?"

"Harder, Dean," you moaned. "Like you mean it."

"Fuck," he groaned, hand coming down against your cheek again.

Each time you moaned loudly, reaffirming your enjoyment of the action. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you were beyond desperate for him to just fuck you already.

"Dean, I need you--please," you cried desperately.

"Where do you need me, baby?"

"Inside me," you whimpered.

Without warning, you felt one of Dean's thick fingers enter your pussy. "Like this?"

You shook your head rapidly.

"Words, babe," he said firmly.

"I want your cock, Dean."

"Yeah? Tell me where."

You turned your head to look at him as best as you could from your current position. "I want you to fuck my pussy with your big, thick cock...please," you pleaded softly.

Dean blinked rapidly and licked his lips. He pulled his finger out from inside of you and sucked your juices from it. "Yes ma'am," he murmured.

He leaned forward and kissed your cheek where he'd left a red mark from his slaps. You turned your head back around, forehead against the mattress, preparing yourself for what would come next.

Dean gripped his cock tightly, stroking it a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He started to enter you and you gasped at the stretch. It was painful given his larger than average size.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered, running his hands up and down your back in a soothing manner. "Just relax for me."

You took a deep breath and tried to relax your body as much as you could. When he felt the tension leave you, he continued to push forward.

You'd never felt so full before and the pain had begun to subside into pleasure. "You're so big," you mumbled.

Dean smirked and chuckled softly. "I'm not all the way in yet, sweetheart."

"What?!" you gasped in surprise.

He pushed the rest of the way in, bottoming out so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him against your cervix. "Fuck!" you yelped.

Dean continued his soothing hand motions on your hips as he allowed you the time you needed to adjust to his size.

While you appreciated his gentleness, you desperately needed him to fuck you. Instead of telling him what you wanted, you moved your hips forward slightly before slamming back against him so your ass pressed firmly against his lower abdomen.

Dean's blunt nails dug into your hips and he growled lowly. "Fuck, baby."

His hips snapped forward and he held you in place by your hips. He set a brutal pace, unable to move slowly--it felt way too damn good.

Dean was completely mesmerized by your ass, watching it jiggle as he fucked into you forcefully. He slapped the opposite cheek from the one he'd hit earlier and you cried out in pleasure, pussy clenching around him.

"You feel so fuckin' good, sweetness," he moaned. "Tightest pussy I've ever had."

You couldn't formulate a good response to his words as you were already too far gone. His cock slammed into your g-spot with each thrust, making your legs shake and your head fog up.

"Made for me, weren't you baby?"

"Mhmm," you hummed.

Dean smiled, knowing you were overwhelmed with pleasure and unable to respond properly. He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of your hair at the base of your neck. He tugged back slightly--just enough to cause a little pain without truly hurting you.

His thrusts were almost violent, they were so fast and hard. He wanted to feel you come apart on his cock and he knew you were close.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered.

You simply whined desperately.

"What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."

"More," you begged.

"Hmm," Dean hummed. He slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you back against him so you were sitting up as he continued to thrust into you.

One hand slid up to your neck, wrapping around your throat and applying just a tiny bit of pressure to gauge your reaction. His other hand moved slowly towards your core, seeking your clit for added stimulation.

"Dean!" you cried.

He bit into your shoulder. "I'm here, baby. I want you to fall apart for me."

He rubbed at your clit quickly, thrusts slower due to the new position, but nevertheless pleasurable.

You needed just a little more to push yourself over the edge, so you gripped his hand around your neck and put more pressure on it, indicating what you needed.

Dean got the hint and tightened his grip on your throat, just enough to push you over the edge. He didn't want to hurt you--he would never hurt you.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," he murmured in your ear.

You cried out as your second orgasm crashed against you and your pussy tightened almost painfully around Dean's cock. He helped you ride out your high before lowering you back to the bed and rolling you over onto your back.

He was immediately on top of you, thrusting into you more slowly. He put one arm on either side of your head to support himself, effectively trapping you beneath him.

He rolled his hips against you, the motion pressing his pelvis against your clit, causing you to whimper in pained pleasure. Your hands found purchase in his upper back, nails digging in as he repeated the action.

"I love your body, baby," he whispered. "So fucking perfect."

You smiled up at him, pulling him down for a heated kiss. "I like it too," you mumbled. "Yours isn't bad either."

He chuckled lightly, kissing you lovingly. "I wanna see you come apart for me, (Y/N). Can you give me one more?"

Your eyes widened. "I don't think I can..."

"I bet you can, sweetness." He grabbed your hips and pulled your legs up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. He began to thrust in earnest again and your head fell back, a moan escaping your lips.

Dean closed his eyes, focusing on pulling at least one more orgasm from you and keeping his own at bay. The way you were squeezing him made it a hell of a lot harder than he would like.

The harder his thrusts, the tighter you seemed to grip him, and the deeper your nails dug into his back. He knew he was going to have some serious gashes on his back, but he intended to wear them with pride.

"Come apart for me, baby. Let me feel you soak my cock," he begged.

"Dean," you groaned.

"Come on, my love--let go."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your body began to shake as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. You came for the third time that night, cries of pleasure mixing with Dean's moans of encouragement.

You started to come down from your high, body overly sensitive from the onslaught of pleasure that continued. "Dean, too much!" you gasped.

"Just one more," he begged.

"I can't!" you whimpered.

"Please baby--one more. Need it," he continued to beg.

You didn't think it was possible for you to cum again, but you began to feel a new sensation in your abdomen. It felt similar to the familiar tightening coil that signified an oncoming orgasm, but it was infinitely more intense. You weren't even sure if it was pleasure or pain--the feeling was simply too overwhelming to comprehend.

"Dean--I can't--" you gasped in confusion.

His hand slid between your bodies to gently massage your clit and you suddenly couldn't breathe. You began to writhe beneath him, hands gripping at the sheets to try and ground yourself.

Dean knew you were about to come undone again, so he didn't slow any of his motions. "Look at me, baby."

Your eyes met his for no more than a moment before your vision became blurry. You screamed his name as you came for a fourth and final time. The feeling was so incredible, you couldn't even begin to describe it.

Your vision began to return to normal as you desperately tried to catch your breath. You were practically limp beneath him as Dean began to chase his own orgasm.

He tucked his head into the crook of your neck and murmured soft words of praise against your skin. "Feels so good--squeezing me perfectly."

He kissed your neck as his thrusts became more erratic. "I'm gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, sweetness. Gonna cum for you."

You managed to press a kiss into his shoulder and wrap your arms around him, hands clutching his back. "Fill me up, Dean," you whispered encouragingly.

Dean groaned lowly. "This pussy is mine, baby. You hear me? Mine."

"Yours, Dean. Only yours."

"Oh--fuck--" he groaned. "(Y/N)!"

His hips began to stutter, thrusts faltering as he filled you up with his seed. He whispered your name like a prayer as his movements began to slow to a halt. You clung to him tightly as he came down from his high.

He finally collapsed on top of you, completely spent and breathless.

You rubbed his back soothingly, lips pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder and neck. As the two of you laid there quietly, you began to notice the bedding beneath you was particularly wet--more so than you had expected it to be.

"I love you so much," Dean whispered, lips pressed softly against your jaw.

"I love you too, baby," you said sweetly.

Dean began to lift himself up, each movement making you gasp--body too overstimulated to handle any motion.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he murmured softly.

"I'm not complaining," you assured him.

He grinned slightly as he pulled himself up completely, softened member sliding out of your excessively wet pussy.

He looked down at the bed and his grin widened. "We made quite the mess, baby."

"Yeah, it feels a little...wetter than normal."

He chuckled softly. "That's probably because you squirted, (Y/N/N)."

You gasped, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. You realized that must have been the result of the most intense orgasm of your life. "I did?!"

Dean noticed your discomfort and immediately reassured you. "Yeah, sweetness--and it was the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You bit your lip and looked up at him. "Really?"

He grinned. "Really."

"I've--uh--well...I've never squirted before," you admitted.

His chest puffed up with pride. "I'm honored to have been the first--and the last." He added a wink for emphasis.

You smiled softly. "Maybe don't make it a regular thing...I literally can't move."

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, babe. I'll take care of you."

You watched the handsome man cross the room and go into the bathroom, emerging several minutes later with two washcloths. He gently picked you up, moving you to the other side of the bed where it was dry. From there, he very gently began to clean you up with the warm washcloths.

You were moved by the loving way he took care of you, making sure you were clean and comfortable before leaving the room in search of another set of sheets.

When he returned, you found you still couldn't move, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "I can change the sheets with you in them, (Y/N)."

"But--"

"Hush," he insisted as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

He made quick work of removing the sheets on the other half of the bed and putting the clean sheets on that side. He then scooped you up again and moved you to the clean, crisp sheets. He removed the rest of the soiled sheets and finished making the bed.

As soon as he was finished, he crawled into the bed beside you. He reached out to grab your soft body and tugged you against his warm chest.

You nuzzled into him and sighed softly. "I could get used to this."

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. "I'll always take care of you, baby...so you might as well get used to it. I'm not going anywhere."

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss onto his chest. "I love you, Dean."

Dean tightened his grip on you and smiled. "I love you more, (Y/N/N). Always."

[mattyriddlesbitch]

cliche but I’m a sucker for those tropes where she’s the dare matheo’s friends made him bet on and she finds out

I love those tropes too, it hurts, but is so good. Thank youuuuuu! <3

Bet

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Angsty, one use of 'shitty', I think that's it.

You and Mattheo had been dating for just 3 months now. It had been going great. Your dates were always really fun and nice. You always seemed to be hanging out and kissing and holding hands and just being a regular grossly cute couple. It was all so perfect.

That was until you were coming up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower to hang out with the boys. They were up there already and talking and you heard your name so you stopped to listen.

“It's been 3 months with (Y/N). I guess that means you win.” You heard Enzo say, just making you confused.

“I can't believe you did it. I thought you'd get bored of her after 2 weeks.” Theo added.

“You guys should already know how seriously I take bets. I like proving you guys wrong.” Mattheo, your boyfriend, said.

“I think you just like taking our money.” Draco said and the boys laughed.

You felt sick. You were a bet?

You stood on the stairs for a moment, just taking in the conversation and if you paid attention, you could even hear the money being exchanged, the little clinking of coins as they were being passed.

You turned around, hurrying down the stairs as quietly as you could. How humiliating. How could you face any of them again?

You actually really liked Mattheo. He was so sweet and made you laugh and made you feel appreciated. And now you just felt sick and horrible. How could someone fake all that?

You went back to your dorm, unsure if you should hurl or cry. Instead, you settled for going to sleep, not even bothering to change as you settled into your bed, hiding under the blankets. Was it embarrassing to throw yourself a pity party over a boy toying with your feelings? Yes. But right now, you didn't care. You just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake up to either that conversation being a cruel dream or Mattheo never existing.

It took a lot of tossing and turning, but you managed to get to sleep. You woke up in the morning all sweaty and still upset. You didn't wanna get out of bed. You knew getting up meant that you'd have to see him and probably confront him and you didn't know if you were ready for that.

You forced yourself out of bed anyways, knowing there were still classes today, and as much as you would've loved to sulk in bed, you couldn't miss lessons. You got ready for the day, showering and getting dressed in your uniform before heading out.

Only Mattheo was in front of your door when you opened it, holding a pastry and some drink with a look of concern. You froze, not sure what to do.

“Morning, princess. We missed you last night.” He said, offering you the food and drink.

“I was too tired.” You lied, stepping out of your dorm and closing the door. You accepted the food and drink knowing you'll probably just end up throwing it away anyways. Your stomach still felt too sick to eat.

“You could've told me, angel. I would've just spent the night with you. You know I'd rather spend time with you.” He said with a soft smile.

“Sorry. I wasn't really thinking.” You said and started making your way to your class.

Mattheo was quick to follow. “It's alright. I was just worried. Plus, I missed you.” He said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The contact made you feel gross. It didn't feel right anymore. But you kept your mouth shut for now. You didn't want to make a scene before classes. You were already embarrassed as is, if everyone knew you were just a bet because you fought with Mattheo in front of everyone, you'd probably die.

Classes were awful. They probably would've been normal, even good, if that pit in your stomach would've left. You felt too sick to eat other than a few bites at lunch. You locked yourself in your dorm after classes and tried busying yourself with schoolwork. It was really hard to concentrate, though. Merlin, in only 3 months, you had a few pictures of him in your dorm. Not to mention a shitty necklace he bought that hung around your neck. You took it off and tossed it to your bed so you wouldn't be seeing it every time you looked down at your work. Even put the pictures away in a drawer so you could focus. 

You got so focused in schoolwork, a good distraction from your asshole boyfriend. You still felt horrible, but at least you weren't thinking of him as you answered questions about the history of magic. You didn't even notice you missed dinner as you sat at your desk, throwing yourself into work instead of sulking.

You got pulled out of your little world as someone knocked on the door. You looked at the door for a second before standing up and opening it to see Mattheo again, standing there with a plate of food and a smile.

“Hey, princess. You missed dinner, so I brought you something. I don't want you starving.” He said.

“Thanks. I was just caught up in some schoolwork.” You said as you took the plate, this time it was the truth. Even just looking at the food made you sick. Why was he being so sweet when this is all a lie?

“Is everything okay?” He asked and you noticed you were making a sour face at the food.

“I don't feel like eating.” You said simply.

“Why? Are you feeling sick?” He asked, reaching a hand out to feel your forehead for a fever.

You stopped his hand by pushing his arm away. “I'm not sick.”

He frowned at you not letting him touch you. “Then what's going on?” His eyes looked over you, stopping around your chest. “You aren't wearing my necklace.” He noted, knowing you haven't taken it off since he gave it to you.

You couldn't do it anymore. “Was I just a bet?” You asked, matching his frown.

His face softened slightly as his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out. He didn't wanna say ‘yes’ but he didn't wanna lie either.

It answered your question anyways and you felt tears stinging your eyes at the confirmation. “Don't bother me ever again.” You said and shoved the plate of food at him, letting go before he could even react to grab it, making it fall to the floor as you closed the door on him.

He stood outside your door, trying to gather his thoughts as to what to do next. You may have been just a bet to start with, but, Merlin, help him, he was falling hard for you.

You curled up in your bed again, too depressed to even think about continuing your schoolwork.

The next few days were spent trying to avoid Mattheo and his friends while getting through classes. You saw him try to approach you several times, but you dodged him every time. You missed him and you hated yourself for even thinking that. He hurt you. Why did you miss him?

It wasn't until almost a week later, when you came back to your dorm after classes, you opened the door to see Mattheo leaning against your desk, looking at one of the pictures you shoved in a drawer. You dropped your bag to the floor beside you with a sigh as he looked up at you, standing up straight as he put the picture down.

You crossed your arms as you looked at him. “I told you not to bother me again.”

“I'm sorry.” He said, taking a few steps towards you. “I'll do anything you want but that. I know you're upset. Kick me, punch me, hex me. Do whatever will make you feel better. But I can't just leave you alone.” He looked like he wanted to touch you, but put his hands in his pockets instead.

“I don't care, just leave.” You said, gesturing to the open door.

He went over to the door, but instead of leaving, he just closed it. “I'll be honest, completely honest. Yes, you were a bet. It was supposed to be something fun for me and my friends, but instead, I ended up getting feelings for you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So what? You want me to forget that what you did hurt me? You want me to pretend that you didn't have the intentions to play with my feelings and use me for fun?” The hurt and anger was obvious in your tone.

“No. You're right. What I did was awful and I shouldn't have done it.” He said, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the floor.

“So what do you want from me?” You asked, your tone was still harsh.

“You. I want you.” His answer was immediate as he took another step towards you.

You looked away, sighing again in frustration. “I can't just forget and ignore what you did.”

“Please, (Y/N). I'll do anything.” He said, now reaching out for your hand but you step back out of his reach.

“How much?” You asked.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he let his hand fall by his side again.

“How much? How much did you get from the bet?”

He hesitated before answering, obviously not fond of the question. “100 galleons.”

“Did you get it? You win?” You asked, the harshness in your tone causing him to shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah.” He said, putting his hand back in his pocket.

“You mean it? For real? About you catching feelings?” You asked a little softer.

“I do.” He really didn't wanna say more than you asked in case he said the wrong thing, so he bit his tongue to not ramble about his feelings towards you.

You stared at him as you thought about what to do. He hurt you, but you actually had feelings for him too. “Was anything else a lie?”

“No. Everything I said and did was all me. No lies, no acts. I was being me. The real me.” He took another step towards you.

You let out a long exhale as you thought. If he was being genuine, then you guys could restart properly. But he wasn't genuine before, so why should you believe him now?

“Please.” He said softly as he stepped towards you again, nearly toe-to-toe with you.

You closed your eyes and sighed, knowing what you were about to do was stupid. “On conditions.” You say and open your eyes to look at him.

His face immediately lit up as he nodded. “Anything.”

“I want the money.” You said and he smiled ever so slightly and nodded. “Not fair you played me and got money for it. Not fair for your friends to get it back either since they made the bet with you.”

“Absolutely. I was gonna take you somewhere nice with it and maybe buy you something, but whatever you want.” He said.

You almost smiled at the thought, but wanted to keep up being angry with him. “I want an apology and love letter. Handwritten until your hand hurts.”

“Fair.” He nodded, his smile getting bigger.

“I want apologies from everyone involved with the bet too.” You added.

He tilted his head in thought. “I can do that.”

“Better get started.”

“Right after this.” He said and cupped your cheeks, leaning in and kissing you gently. “You're so cute when you're upset.”

“I'm about to be downright adorable if you don't get to work now, Riddle.”

“Fine.” He said, stepping back towards your door. “You're gonna love me tomorrow, though! Just wait!” He smiled at you as he left your dorm.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[minus-plus-zer0]

Jealousy

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort, very fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, dating (Jealousy on both sides, it's all unfounded so don't worry! You two are loyal like dogs to each other)

Bakugou was the jealous type.

Everybody in the entire country knew that. There was nothing Bakugou hated more than imagining you leaving him for somebody else. You wanted to tease him about it sometimes, but his jealousy made him so distressed that you ended up comforting him instead.

Currently, Bakugou was still seething at the man who last flirted with you. The guy disappeared into the street's crowd under Bakugou's contemptuous gaze. His anger could only be distracted by you and your words.

"It's okay, Katsuki," you said, while hugging him. "I only love you. I didn't even flirt back, you know?"

"...I know," Bakugou said. He kissed you on the lips, somewhat possessively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so sad. "One of these days I wonder if you're gonna find somebody better than me."

"Katsuki!" You glared at him. "I could never find someone better than you! You are the sweetest, most loyal guy I've ever met! Even if you do have a temper." You giggled, poking his forehead.

"Dummy." Bakugou rested his forehead against yours, his arm close around your waist. "Sorry. Shouldn't have gotten jealous."

"No, it's okay! Always tell me when you're jealous, always!"

That's how most of Bakugou's jealousy fits went. Over time, Bakugou became less and less easily aggravated, but he still had his possessive moments. But no matter what, he'd never take his anger out on you or try to control you out of fear.

Meanwhile, you rarely got jealous of Bakugou, mainly because you weren't the type but also because there wasn't much to be jealous of. Bakugou made it crystal clear to everyone what he did and didn't like, and you were one of the few things included on the "like" list. In fact, you were the only person ever included on the "love" list.

But despite Bakugou's poor reputation with the public, he still occasionally found fans who fawned over him. These fans sometimes made you uncomfortable.

One day, you two were out in public together in a quiet side path of the town, walking between various shops. Coincidentally, you caught some of his fawning fans exiting a store. Bakugou paid them no attention but you couldn't take your eyes off of the potential "predators" on your relationship. The fans soon passed but not without some loud screeching and several pictures taken without Bakugou's permission. Initially it irritated Bakugou, but you noticed by the end of it he was paying more attention to you.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, seriously. You two walked in the opposite direction of the fans, their voices getting less loud with more distance.

"Of course not..." you lied. "They're just random fans, it doesn't matter."

You didn't want him to tease you for this. This was one of the few times you had to deal with jealousy, and it took you off guard. It was irrational too, and you knew it. Still, you didn't always like being actively reminded that Bakugou could be wanted by others.

Bakugou wasn't having this. He stopped you in the middle of the side path you walked down, his expression focused.

"Don't be jealous, alright?" he said. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And don't deny that you are jealous! I've been jealous of you tons of times, so I can recognize that shit anywhere. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I only go for the best, ya hear me?" He started beaming at you, and you could tell he really meant it. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than go back on my promises to you."

That did warm your heart. He caught your lips turning up and his hand brushed against your cheek, but you still shied away from him.

"I just don't get why you chose me," you said. "You've got so many fans. Sometimes I wonder if there are better options for you out there..."

"I fucking doubt it. I have the best judgment and the best taste, so if I chose you, that fucking means something. It means you're as great as me... or better. Now don't go saying that negative stuff about my girlfriend. Or else."

"O-okay! Alright!"

You didn't know what the heck he could be threatening you with, but you didn't want to find out. Regardless, he still looked after you and made sure nothing the fans did ever bothered you. He would never tease you for your jealousy, because he personally knew how much it hurt. You were one of the few people he could trust, and because of that you two were dead loyal to each other no matter the odds.

[erenjaegerwifee]

The Selection

Prologue

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawakmi!Reader

Warnings: none, some flirting.

Word Count: 2.7k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that bothers you feel free to scroll and do not interact with my account or any of my post.

~ This is the first part to my new series! I hope you all like the idea and enjoy reading! Suggestion are welcome I'd love to hear your ideas. in this series I should make you aware I will be including some human things, there will be some pretending when it comes to those things. the technology for instance will be something that is heavily in the series. human songs is also something that will be mentioned throughout, which will include some songs and lyrics (but Y/n is gonna write them so it wouldn't be considered human in this series)

Series M.List | Main M.List

“Neteyam the war is over, it is high time you choose a wife” Neytiri, his mother said to him while they were all having dinner. “Yea son, I know that for a long time it is all we thought about but you should get out there, get to know some people” his father, Jake pipped up. 

“Being married is great I promise, I didn’t think I'd like it this much man seriously” his brother Lo’ak said as he hugged his wife Korra against his side making her giggle. Neteyam smiles at his brother and new sister, they had such a strong relationship ever since they were young, the type of friends you knew one day they would mate and be as one. Neteyam has never had anyone like that, he has had friends and girls he was interested in but this war changed people, took people. He just isn’t really attracted to anyone in his clan right now.  

“I hear you; I know a bond is important to form, but honestly this war has taken so much out of all of us, there isn’t much people left in the clan and no one I can say I really feel for.” Neteyam sighed as he told his family as he passes his hand over the scar, he now has on his chest from getting shot all those years ago. His parents look at him sympathetically, they know what it feels like to be in love, they only want their children to feel the same one day, to feel that happiness. 

“Ok, I attended a meeting with the clan leaders from across the forest, they too have suffered much lose from this war and one of them pitched an idea I thought was interesting, I did not agree beforehand because I wasn’t sure you would agree” Jake sighed and glanced at his wife before continuing, “In the Kekunun clan, they have this tradition where men try through a series of competitions and challenges to win over the woman of their choosing, they pitched that if you were open too it, you can hold one of your own here, and which ever woman you choose will be your mate for life and join their clan with ours, so don’t suffer such a lose alone. You will rule both clans side by side.”  

His family looked at him while he contemplated his options, it was not the worse idea, maybe someone from the other clans might catch his attention. Maybe he might fall in love with someone, “How will we choose which girls will enter?” Neteyam asked his father.  

“Well, you can let the clans decide which girl they think is best fit or you can send someone you know to survey the crowds and choose a girl they think you’ll like, the point of this is to find you a match you are happy with, making the clan bigger is just a bonus” his father said. “We only want you to be happy son” his mother spoke up.  

Neteyam sighed again, “Ok, we will do it, but I want someone to survey the clans” his family waited for him to say who they will send and Neteyam didn’t have to give it much thought, at the end of the day only his family stood with him in the hard times, only his family held his hand throughout all of the injuries and loses, “Lo’ak, I trust his judgement, he’ll find me the right girls.”  

Lo’ak smiled at his brother, over the years they had depended on each other a lot, they grew much closer than their teenage years, they are not only brothers but good friends, they have kept each other safe countless times now, there really is no one Neteyam has more trust in to think of his best interest.  

Lo’ak has been to three clans so far with his wife, all three times he had chosen a woman he thinks his brother might like. He has been to the Tanrangi Clan by the eastern sea, the Olangi Clan that reside in the forest plains of Pandora and the Kekunun Clan that live in the Mountains. Visiting them has been a real experience for Lo’ak he was able to spend time with the people and get to know their customs before he chose a woman.  

It was easier than expected the women he chose just stood out to him, and his wife was much help in decided as well because Lo’ak came to realize, all the other forest clans have heirs that are women. Not a man besides their father was in the family, someone them were only children but some had sisters, none so far had brothers.  

Lo’ak must make one more stop, the furthest clan in the forest, a good three days travel away from the omatikaya clan, it was the Tawkami clan. Rumor has it you reside in one of the forest clans but Lo’ak has yet to see you. He just knows you would be perfect for his brother, but he can’t help but feel a bit selfish about wanting to choose you, yes, he has a wife and he loves her more than anything, he would never do anything to hurt her. But ever since Lo’ak heard the sound of your voice in his teens he’s been crushing hard, almost like a fantasy he knows he has no shot, he knows he doesn’t want it, he just likes you. He had this idea in his head about what you might be like and he always wondered what it would be like to meet you. 

Now Lo’ak is no stalker, he knows what you look like simply from pictures, but what na’vi on Pandora doesn’t know you? You are famous on Pandora, your voice people say was a gift from the great mother herself, they say your body was hand shaped by Eywa from how incredibly beautiful you are. They way your waves fall so lovely down your back, the silky curls bounce with every movement you make.  

Lo’ak has only seen videos and heard recordings but he has never gotten the chance to meet you. Why were you so out of reach to the public, he wasn’t even sure what clan you are from. He definitely thinks you are perfect though, but maybe his opinion on your is biased. Korra understands Lo’ak’s feelings towards you, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t also admire you, the way you moved when you danced in the videos she saw, it was so graceful and full of meaning.  

They talked about it the entire trip, every clan they would look for you and every clan they would be disappointed they didn’t find you; this is their last chance. They fly over the entrance of the Tawkami clan attracting the people below. This clan was beautiful, big space, Lo’ak knows they fought besides them in battle but they didn’t not return in the numbers they gave out. They are highly skilled and in tune with their land. 

Lo’ak jumped off his ikran and walked over to Korra to help her off her ikran. The pair walked hand in hand up to the crowd and greeted all of them. Everyone knows they are omatikaya, they know Lo’ak and who his father way, they also are very much aware of his skills as a warrior and is well respected at the clan.  

The clan’s Olo’eyktan with his three sons came forward, Lo’ak and Korra respectfully greeted them and they returned the gesture. “Lo’ak, son of Toruk Makto, what brings you so far from your clan?” Olo’eyktan spoke up. Tsahìk has joined them shortly after greeting them respectfully. “This is my wife, Korra. We are here to inform the clan that the Omatikaya have decided to hold a competition for the hand of Toruk Makto’s eldest, my brother Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the winner will join clans with ours and we will live as one. I was sent to choose the woman and request her presence to the clan to start the games in one weeks time”  

“Walk with me son” the Olo’eyktan invited Lo’ak, Korra walked alongside them as they spoke, “You are meant to choose clan leading children, right?” the man asked. Lo’ak nodded his head waiting for the man to continue speaking, “I am afraid I only have the one daughter; she is off age and if she is willing to participate in this competition you will have my blessing,”  

The Tsahik of the clan speed up her pace to stand in front of the three, “She has a beautiful connection to Eywa son, she must be taken care off if we allow her to come to your clan. How long will she be staying?” Korra spoke up before Lo’ak did, “the selection will take six months, between those six months some of the women who Neteyam is not interested in will be sent home.”  

Tsahik made eye contact with her husband speaking without words, almost as if Lo’ak read their mind, “Her place at the clan is welcome, she will be treated as one of our own, but we cannot guarantee she will be the one my brother chooses. If she is not, we will ensure her safe passage back. My brother is not only looking for a capable woman, he is looking for a loving wife, I am only here to see which one might be best suited, in the end it will be up to him.” Lo’ak’s eyes dart between them both before letting out a nervous sigh.  

It was never easy to explain to the clan leaders their children may not be Neteyam’s wife but they accepted anyways, many have respect for his brother, many women want to mate him, but not everyone has the same advantage in the games. “Let us introduce you and you can ask her yourself.” 

You sat on in a small clearing humming tunes of songs and sewing on some beads you gathered earlier in the day. You felt at peace in the forest, it was always something you loved to enjoy by yourself, the wind blew softly through your curls that fell over your eyes slights and down to the middle of your back. It was sort of uncommon for Na’vi women to have nags but you always thought they suited your face well, especially with your full curls, “Y/n!” you heard your mother shout. 

You heard turned to the voice before you stood up and ran in the direction of your mother. “Sa’nok? What is it?” you pull a big leaf down to walk in front of it being met with bother your parents, and a man and woman you did not recognize.  

The spark in their eyes when they saw you was something you would never get tired of, they are your fans, your mother brought fans to meet you? Thats a first. You brought your hand up to your forehead to greet them respectfully smiling sweetly, “I see you, y/n” they both said in sync copying your motion making you smile.  

You parents excused themselves mumbling to each other about how they hoped you said yes. You look at them confused before turning to the couple, “May I know your names?” you said sweetly. “I am Lo’ak, son of Toruk Makto, this is my mate, Korra” you smile at them both before silence took over as if they did not know what else to say. “It is nice to meet you both, may I ask why you journeyed so far from your clan?” your eyes dart between them.  

“We have come to choose women from the forest clans for my brother to mate, it is a competition to see who is best suited for him, in return the winning woman will join her clan with the Omatikayan and we will live as one. I know this is short notice but the games start in one week, we have chosen you if you will accept?” Lo’ak said, his grip on his wife’s hand was a bit hard but he was just so nervous on whether you would say yes. You are famous across the moon, everyone and their mother knows about your blessed voice, he just knew he would be doing right by his brother if you accepted. 

“Wow, this is quite a decision, how long will I be staying at your clan?” you bit your lip swinging from side to side as you contemplate, no one has ever asked you to compete for someone else’s hand, people compete for yours. “Six months, if it doesn’t work out between you two and he decides to go in a different direction, though I can’t imagine why, we will grant you safe passage home.” you giggle at him sly comment.  

And you nod your head, “the Omatikaya are 3 days travel away from here as you know, I will not be able to visit my family, it is a big decision to make. I do not want to shut you down but I have no idea what your brother looks like” you tilt your head to the side slightly. Lo’ak sighs assuming you are about to shut him down. “Tell you what, how about you stay for dinner and leave first thing in the morning, I shall give you my answer then” you smile at them.  

You try to ignore the way they both look at each other in a celebratory way and you lead them back to the clan while they ask you questions about how you write your songs and your music, if it is true, you are also a good dancer. Their excitement to talk to you makes you smile, you had secretly always loved the attention that came with being famous, the way people always treated you nicely and how they travel the moon looking for you just to hear you sing.  

After dinner you get tucked away thinking about the situation, your parents have been hounding you about getting a mate for the longest, it is a bit difficult though. You always loved the gifts Eywa blessed you will but men do not want you for a wife, they want you for a lay. You are one of the most beautiful women on the moon according to some, you are something people want to say they have had, like an object. Mates should not treat you like that so you never committed to being anyone’s wife. Maybe Lo’ak’s brother will be different, maybe he will love you for you and not what you have. You knew you had your iPad and you can call your mother whenever you needed but you’ve never really been away from your family before. What if this doesn’t work out, what if you fall in love with him and he doesn’t love you back. No relationship is formed without risk, right? 

The next morning breakfast was served to your guests they made themselves ready to take off to their home clan. They must be relieved to be going home now, they definitely didn’t forget you told them you would have an answer now.  

“So, what’s it gonna be princess? Have you decided whether or not my brother is worth your time?” Lo’ak asked. 

“Well, I’m not sure about that I don’t know him how can I know if he is worth my time?” you giggle at him. “But what is reward without risk? I will be there.” Lo’ak and Korra both smiled at your answer and gave you a hug goodbye. Bidding them safe travels, you watched them fly away.  

“Are you sure about this sis?” your brother Kian asked you, he was your first younger brother, second born in your family. “I am, what is the worst that can happen? I come back here?” you snort making him laugh. “No, I know, I just do not want you to get hurt by this.” you smile at him then glance down to your feet, “We cannot control the things that happen baby brother, we can only control how we react to them.” 

You yanked on his tail and ran away leaving him to chase you in circles around your parents, you will miss them dearly.  

~ I hope you all like it so far! I’m not sure how much chapters I’m writing but as I update I’ll put them here so look it or comment to be tagged!

~ Reblogs, Comments and Likes are always appreciated

Taglist

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[daltonsluvr]

IN THE COMPANY OF THE STARS

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

summary: amongst the peaceful covering of the astronomy tower, you find an unlikely comfort in the presence of none other than theodore nott. (1.2k wc)

authors note: first little drabble to bring me back out of my writers slump - and who better than boyfriend no.1 to do so??

"Is this seat taken?" You turned around at the voice, to see none other than Theodore Nott standing behind you, his hands in his pockets, indicating at the space next to you.

Technically, the seat he wanted wasn't a seat at all. It's a part of the Astronomy Tower floor, of which you were sitting on, your feet dangling over the edge. You had a book in your lap, which had been left long forgotten as you looked ahead of you at the stars which danced upon the night sky. It really was the prettiest place in all of Hogwarts.

Slowly, you shook your head, and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside you. It's strange, you thought to yourself, watching him closely as he too dangled his legs out in front of him. The two of you knew each other from classes and such, yet had only interacted a couple of times, usually to ask for a quill or something along those lines.

You realised then just how weird you must have looked, watching him so intensely, and so you forced your attention back to the landscape around you, focusing on the trees ahead.

A few beats. 1, 2-

"You come here often?" he broke the silence first, turning to look at you. You hadn’t noticed until that moment just how startlingly beautiful his eyes were - dead, but with a softness behind them. It was entrancing, to say the least.

"Yeah," you answered, meeting his eyes. "The stars don't ask too many questions, so they're pretty great company when I need some peace." You hadn't meant for the comment to be funny, yet you watched as a chuckle escaped his lips: a beautiful sound, really.

"Didn't think you'd ever be a quiet person," he half-laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Anyone could hear your voice from a mile off."

"Even the loudest of us need some quiet, sometimes," you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and swinging your feet slightly. "This must be a regular spot for you then, huh, given your notorious 'Mr Silent' status?"

The statement was true - this was the most you had ever heard the boy spoke, to anyone. It was his turn to now shrug, before leaning back on his hands. "You could say that."

You assumed the conversation had reached its natural end, and so you took the book you had on your lap and opened it to the page you'd bookmarked, and began reading.

"Romeo and Juliet?" A voice from next to you read, and you turned once more to see Theodore now reading the cover of the book, raising a brow in your direction. "You read muggle literature?"

"Shakespeare is one of the greats, I'd be stupid not to," you answered. Upon seeing the look on his face, you continued, "Don't tell me you've never read Shakespeare."

He shook his head, and you laughed, endearingly. "You are seriously missing out, Nott. Muggle or not, he's amazing. A real genius."

"Well, talk to me, then," Theodore looked down at you, his eyes piercing through your own. "Tell me about this guy and his books."

"They're plays, really," you started, almost unsure as to whether or not to continue. But he looked at you, almost daring you to continue, and so you did.

It was unusual for you to find someone so interested in talking to you, especially about something as niche as the works of William Shakespeare, but then again, Theodore Nott really wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before.

"-this book was one of the first my mother gave to me, and so its always been my favourite," you finished eventually, your voice growing slightly hoarse from talking so much. "Sorry for talking your ear off."

"No worries," he said in return, sending a small smile your way. "The b-play, certainly sounds interesting."

Looking between him and the book, you reached out to him, book still in your grasp. "Here, take it. To borrow."

He looked at you, almost questioning you with his eyes. "Why?"

"Everyone needs to read Shakespeare at least once in their lives, and I'm guessing none of your friends own any of his works, right?" He shook his head once again, and you shook your own in mock exasperation. "Honestly."

You coaxed him once again until he took the book from your hands, and you watched as he felt the cover of it. "It's a bit battered, because it's the one my mother got me when I was younger. And I have written inside it, so you may want to ignore that as well."

You got up, book officially out of your hands, and you dusted off your robes. Finally ready to go, you made to leave, until he called out your name. You turned around to look back at him.

"Thank you." was all he said, a smile lighting up his features with genuity.

"No problem, Theodore-"

"Theo."

"Theo. No worries, Theo," it was your turn to smile as you turned to leave, leaving the Slytherin boy alone.

— —— — — —

"A boy left this for you." A small first year girl approached you no more than a week later, a box in their arms, which they had outstretched towards you. You were sat by the window in your common room, Transfiguration homework in your lap as you worked through the questions McGonagall had set you.

"Did the boy leave a name?" you questioned, looking cynically at the box in front of you, which you had taken from the girl.

"No, he said you'd know who he is." The girl gave you a small fleeting smile, before skipping off, presumably to go and sit with her friends.

The box was noticeably small, and could be carrying nothing more than a couple of things, you thought to yourself, as you carefully opened it.

As soon as you saw the contents of it, though, a smile spread across your face, and you had no doubts of who the box was from. You had never pegged Theodore Nott to be one for dramatics, so you couldn't understand why he had decided to return your book in a box, but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment.

You picked up the battered copy, the pages just as beautifully crumpled as before, and you found yourself smiling again. A note lay underneath the book, and you picked it up to read what it said.

The play was great - you clearly have good taste. Shakespeare truly is one of the greats. Astronomy tower at 8? — T.N.

Delicately folding the note and putting it in your robe pocket, you took back the copy of Romeo & Juliet in your hands, and began to flip through the pages.

His chicken scratch handwriting tattooed the pages - not overlapping the actual text or your writing, but still written as nearly as he could in numerous corners of the book.

You laughed as you read through a few of them, most of which were his sardonic comments about Romeo's idiocy, and in turn Juliet's naivety.

Eventually closing the book, you set it aside, and smiled to yourself. You weren't exactly sure how you'd found a friend in Theodore Nott, but you were certainly glad that you had.

[noyzinerd]

More Than Just A Body (Swap)

Thinking about a post-body swap Sterek fic.

One that fully takes place after a body swap has already been reversed (like, a sequel to a non-existent fic--where they swapped bodies, had to live as the other, got switched back, yet didn't get together by the end--that's constantly alluded to, but we never actually get to read), so we only see the aftermath.

Derek is super irritated and snippy for days after they get back into their own bodies. Stiles thinks it's because Derek feels pissed and humiliated he had to relive to highschool with insufferable teenagers, be helplessly human and weak, and generally listen to authority again (his dad). It definitely bums Stiles out to think that Derek found living his life so deplorable that he's still angry about it. So now both of them are upset and sort of avoiding each other.

It isn't until two weeks later, when their stand-off is starting to effect pack business, that Stiles gets fed up and confronts Derek.

"What's your deal, man? You've been super shitty ever since we swapped back. It's been two weeks. How can you still be mad about living as me? What, was doing the dishes and being forced to write 5,000 words about the Louisiana Purchase seriously that terrible? Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with my stupid, tissue-paper body for so long, but you can't just-!"

And before you know it, Derek has him shoved up against a wall. He's still pissed, yeah, but, for some reason, he also looks...hurt and broken inside.

"Your body isn't stupid, Stiles! It was the best thing to happen to me in years!"

Stiles is stunned speechless. Derek's fingers are trembling around the grip he has in Stiles' shirt. There's so much pain in those green-blue eyes that it actually aches to look in them. It looks almost like grief.

Like Derek is in mourning.

Derek's not crying, but his eyes are definitely shinier as he continues, "You have no idea what you have, Stiles. What I had. For the first time since the worst fucking day of my life, I got to do normal things, like chores and sports. Not a single person expected anything of me o-or looked to me for answers. I didn't have to worry about fucking up and getting people killed, because the smartest guy I knew was taking care of my body like it was something precious. And all I had to do in return was live your beautiful, quiet life. A life where someone gently woke me up for school and nobody found me too intimidating to get close to.

"I got to know what it was like to be loved by a father again, Stiles! To say the words 'I love you, too, Dad' when I didn't think I'd ever get another chance. I-I got to be hugged and have people smile at me like they were glad to see me and I'd get to look in the mirror in the morning to the sweetest smile at the start of my day and hear your voice every time I talked. It was perfect." Somehow, Stiles has found his face streaked with tears even though the tears valiantly sticking to Derek's lashes still haven't fallen as his voice breaks over his words.

"A-and now? All I get to wake up to is me." The word is spit out with acid and venom. "I get to wake up alone in a cold, silent, empty, concrete room and look at a face in the mirror that makes me sick. I get to go back to my pathetic fucking life where I have to choose between literally fighting against an endless wave of people out to kill me or using my family's blood money to buy myself a microwavable dinner for the night. The only difference is that now...now I'm haunted by the feel of your fingers through my hair, your arms wrapped around me," at this, Stiles can feel his heart cracking apart at the thought of Derek using his body to simply hug himself, "y-your voice telling me that I'm going to be okay, and just-just the sight of your skin and your eyes and-and-I just, I can't, Stiles, I-I can't-!"

Stiles is clutching Derek so tight to him in an instant, tucking him into his neck and slowly lowering them to the ground as Derek collapses and sobs into him.

---

Once the tears are all dry, Stiles finally picks up the courage to be vulnerable too. He owes it to Derek.

At least it'll be easier now that he can't see the werewolf's reactions.

So, as he's stroking the other's hair, Stiles tells him about how he wishes Derek could see the man he fell in love with the way Stiles can.

He tells him about how he fell in love with a man whose heart is so big and full of kindness that he physically cannot stop himself from helping people, no matter how much he likes to pretend that he doesn't care.

The man he loves is powerful, resilient, and stronger than any one person has any right to be, yet so fragile as to be afraid of loving someone too much because he might be shattered.

The man Stiles loves is smart, sassy, thoughtful, stubborn, awkward, grumpy, sweet, and so so deserving of hugs and smiles and kisses and praise, because Derek is and has always been more than just a body.

Stiles tells him about how, during their swap, he made sure to take warm baths with nice smells, nap in cozy blankets, and massage his hands and feet with lotions because Stiles wanted to take care of Derek's body as much as he could while he got the chance. He did it because he wanted to help Derek and this was the only way he thought he could.

If there had been even the slightest indication that anything more would've been well received, Stiles would have already done it. All he wants is permission.

"Please...let me take care of you?"

---

So, slowly, day by day, Stiles enfolds Derek into a gentle life.

Stiles is Derek's strongest advocate, his extra set of hands to help carry his burdens, his pillow, his introduction to new things and new people.

They're always wrapped around each other, all the time, almost like Stiles is scared of Derek getting cold.

Despite the confession, things remain G-rated for a while. Cuddles, hand-holding, caresses, just touching. Shy kisses eventually make an appearance after some time, but they remain sweet, loving little things.

Stiles makes it perfectly clear that he's fine waiting to make a move until he's sure being intimate can't possibly be mistaken as anything else. He needs Derek to understand that this isn't obligation or pity. Stiles loves Derek. And Stiles is going to take his time because he wants Derek to feel loved beyond his body, no matter how long it takes.

By the time Derek feels whole again, now living with the Stilinskis and smiling softly as a default expression, they find themselves in front of the bathroom mirror having their first time together.

It's definitely not kinky. Mostly reverent, full of "It's okay, I'm right here", fingers laced tight together, flashing eyes, and a bit of emotional tears. It's gentle and assuring, with promises of never being alone again, and whispers of "so beautiful" and "so sweet" and "so perfect". Climax is rewarded with praises, hands stroking up arms and down backs, and "I love you"s are slurred through dropped fangs and traded back and forth between kisses

But as expected, finally having sex doesn't magically make Derek love himself. It's still a long road. Because even if Derek doesn't completely hate his life anymore, there are those hard days where he still has problems with 'being Derek'.

And maybe one day Derek will learn to love the body he lives in.

Until then, Stiles will just have to love it for him.

[unclewaynemunson]

'No no no Steve wait, don't throw that a...way.' The end of the sentence died on Eddie's tongue as the leftover lasagna, basically in slow-motion, tumbled out of the dish and into the bin. Eddie could almost hear a funeral march start to play over the dull thud and the sound of crushing eggshells.

'Fuck,' he said, emphatically.

'That was barely half a portion,' Steve remarked with a careless shrug while putting the empty dish back on the kitchen counter.

And Eddie groaned, tried to count to ten in his head but didn't even make it to two.

'I was gonna have that for lunch, man, add a slice of bread and an apple and I'd have a decent meal!'

There must have been something in his voice that told Steve that he wasn't just being overly dramatic but genuinely annoyed, because his face dropped and he shot a quick glance at the dish, as if that would magically summon the lasagna back into it, untouched by gross eggshells and coffee dregs.

'Seriously, that was perfectly good food, why would you throw that away?!'

'I can buy you lunch tomorrow?' Steve suggested sheepishly.

And, well, that hit a sore spot.

'That's not the fucking point!' Eddie exclaimed in frustration. 'I'm not your charity case or some shit, I can take care of my own meals – as long as you don't throw my food away!'

And again, it was like Eddie saw it happen in slow-motion: Steve flinched, took a stumbling step backwards, created as much distance between himself and Eddie as possible in the trailer’s tiny kitchen by bumping his back against the counter; something crossed his face that Eddie had never seen there before. And... shit.

All his frustration dissolved right on the spot and he immediately took another step away from Steve, even though everything inside of him wanted to cross that distance and hold him. He raised his hands in the air, cautious not to move too sudden.

'Steve, I'm not mad at you,' he said, forcing himself to sound as calm as possible despite his heart beating like crazy. 'I got annoyed, sure, but – it's okay. We're okay. You're okay. I didn't wanna hurt you, I promise.'

Steve swallowed, let his eyes dart everywhere except at Eddie's face while he tightly crossed his arms in front of his chest. The fear seemed to have disappeared from his face, replaced by something else; something expertly concealed within seconds. Anyone less well-versed than Eddie in the craft of noticing every little detail about Steve Harrington wouldn't notice; but Eddie did.

'You wanna talk about what happened there?' he asked, hesitant.

Steve didn't answer right away, his eyes still frantically darting around the trailer and his lower lip sucked between his teeth.

'What do you mean?' he finally said.

'Can I come closer?' Eddie asked. He felt like it would be so much easier to have this conversation if he could touch Steve; if he could smell him and have him in his orbit.

Steve nodded; Eddie sighed a breath of a relief and crossed the distance between them to rest his hands against Steve's sides; not quite an embrace, but something grounding for both of them nonetheless.

'I kinda recognized that look in your eyes, I guess,' Eddie quietly admitted. 'And the way you flinched. Like you were scared I was gonna do something bad.'

'I know you wouldn't –'

'I know,' Eddie was quick to reassure him. There was a beat of silence and Eddie wondered how much he should push. But he knew that he needed this conversation to happen, that it would keep gnawing at both of them if they didn't talk about it now.

'It's because of your dad, isn't it?'

Steve nodded, still looking slightly past Eddie.

'I'm sorry.' Eddie exhaled sharply, trying to keep his emotions under control; he knew that aimless anger at Steve's father wouldn't get them anywhere; not here, not right now. 'I mean, I knew he was bad, but I had no idea that it was... like that.'

He could hear Steve breathe out while he stared at some point just above Eddie's head.

'Sometimes I think all that crap is behind me now,' Steve quietly started to explain. 'But then something like this happens and it – it just catches me by surprise, is all. Like I'll never completely be free of the fear.'

Eddie nodded. 'Uncle Wayne, he... He looks a lot like my father - even though he's nothing like him. Took me years to fully trust him. He makes sure to never raise his voice, but still, sometimes when I see him make a sudden movement from the corner of my eyes, I just... freeze. Like it's some kind of instinct that’ll always stay with me.'

Steve finally looked Eddie in his eyes again, stunned and a little bit shocked.

'Your dad, too?'

Eddie nodded. 'Mhm.'

And wordlessly, Steve pulled him closer, until Eddie was enveloped in his warm arms and their chests were pressed against each other. Eddie let his eyes fall shut, breathed in Steve's familiar scent while he nestled his face in the crook of his neck and tightened his own grip around Steve's back.

They stayed like that for minutes, maybe even a whole eternity.

'Should we make rules?' Steve finally asked, in a hesitant voice and without pulling away from their embrace.

'What kind of rules?'

'Like, things to make sure that this doesn't – that we won't get scared. I know we can't promise not to fight, but...' He trailed off; Eddie could feel him shrug his shoulders.

He started slowly stroking one hand up and down over Steve's back. 'What was the thing that got you afraid, earlier?'

'Your loud voice – and the way you stepped into my space, I guess.'

'Okay.' Eddie nodded. 'So no yelling, and we try to keep our distance when shit goes sour. Sound good?'

Steve hummed against Eddie’s neck. 'Yeah. And for you? You mentioned the sudden movements, with Wayne?'

'Yeah, no sudden movements would help,' Eddie admitted.

'Okay, I can do that.'

Eddie squeezed Steve tighter. 'Thank you.'

Steve huffed. 'You're the one who started this conversation; I should be thanking you.'

Eddie lifted his face to press a gentle kiss against Steve's cheek, and another one at the corner of his lips.

'I'm sorry for startling you.'

'That's okay, you couldn't know.'

'Can you stop doing that, please?’ Eddie said with a chuckle. ‘Let me say thank you, let me apologize. Let me take care of you.'

Steve chuckled too; never before had Eddie been so grateful to hear that sound. 'I'll try.'

'You wanna stay the night?'

Steve shuffled, pulled back a little bit so that Eddie could see his face; there was a frown between his eyebrows.

'I'm not sure if I'm in the mood, after, you know...'

'Hey,' Eddie said, softly. 'You can stay the night for other reasons, too, you know. To have some comfort. To fall asleep together. To let me make sure that you're doing alright.'

'You sure?'

'Hell yes.'

Steve's head dropped down to Eddie's shoulder again, and Eddie lifted his hand to comb through his hair.

'Yeah, I'll stay.'

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[louvemione]

illicit affairs (part two) — d. malfoy (draco's pov)

synopsis : Draco watched as Y/n slowly walked out of his life and wonders why their relationship is considered illicit.

warning/s : angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, profanity, written in first person, pureblood! reader (this isn't really important & would only be implied)

author's note : like promised, here is part two of illicit affairs 🥳 but i feel like i didn't write it properly 🥲 hopefully, you guys get the message i'm trying to get through!

<- part one | part three ->

leave the perfume on the shelf

that you picked out just for him

sixth year

"why is it that you no longer wear your signature perfume? I used to love it" that was probably a dumb and unnecessary question to ask

but can you blame me? I just need the slightest reasons and I would gladly start a conversation with her. as crazy as it sounds, I'd most definitely take every opportunity to talk to her.

she was silent for a moment, luckily it was only us sitting by the fire, "there's absolutely no reason for me to wear it but i'm glad you loved it"

i hate this. i hate the awkward silence between me and her, i hate that she's distancing herself from me and i hate that i am pretty much aware of it, i hate not being able to tell her how much i adore her, i hate not being true to myself, i hate—

"i'll go to my dorms now, it was nice talking to you" she didn't wait for my response and continued to walk to her dormitory, i hate when she's formal, it's as if we weren't friends.

so you leave no trace behind

like you don't even exist

"good morning!" I say, rather awkwardly than I hoped for it to

"hello, Draco" she smiled and walked past me

I watched her retreating figure like I always do now that she tries to cut every interaction short.

I hate it.

I hate it when she acts as if nothing ever happened between us. I hate that she no longer wears her perfume. I hate that she's slowly starting to slip past my finger tips.

I fucking hate it.

because she was leaving my life, slowly. so slow that I could see her disappear bit by bit. like, she was packing her things to move else where.

from her presence, to her perfume. it's as if she never even existed with how carefully everything connecting to her disappeared from my life.

take the words for what they are

a dwindling, mercurial high

"you look gorgeous" I whispered, hoping that it was loud enough for y/n to hear, hoping that she knew that it was directed at her, not Astoria.

I felt guilty for dancing with my soon-to-be wife and wishing it was y/n I'm holding.

soon enough, when Harry and Y/n stopped dancing, I excused myself.

"I'll go out for a moment" not waiting for Astoria's reply, I started walking away. I walked behind Y/n, grazing my hand against her waist in the process, hoping that she gets the message.

and that's how we ended up in the restricted section of the library, where we spent the next hour hugging and exchanging kisses and i love you's while looking through the different books in the shelves.

i love you, looking back, I started to wonder whether or not she took my words seriously.

"impossible! he can't...actually mean it!"

but according to the conversation I overheard, she took it as a dwindling, mercurial high.

a drug that only worked

"we're okay, we'll figure this out together, but let's not think of that for now" my kisses were denied when she pushed my head away and sat up.

"we all know we can't do anything about it" she argued and pushed me off, "listen, baby, we shouldn't restrict ourselves from loving who we want and I definitely won't spend my life married to someone I don't love, so believe me, I'll do something about it"

"but you two are set for marriage—"

"but I love you, not her" she stayed silent and I smiled, "so, do you trust me?"

"yeah, of course, I do"

the first few hundred times

"do you not trust me?!"

"NO! I FUCKING DON'T!"

and that's the thing about illicit affairs

and clandestine meetings and stolen stares

illicit? our relationship is nowhere near illicit.

it's not wrong to love someone, what's wrong is to pretend to love someone.

if it were Astoria I'm in a relationship with, that's illicit. but y/n? why would our relationship be illicit? because I'm bound to marry someone I don't want to marry?

"you okay, mate?" only then did I realize that I have been gripping my knife so tightly as I watched as she laughed with Saint Potter.

"we know you've been...feeling bad since she ended things with you but—"

"I just don't understand! why now? why—"

"why not now, Draco? did you think she'd want to wait 'til your wedding before breaking it off?"

"there will be no wedding!"

"oh I wouldn't be so sure if I were you" Daphne says, "my mum wrote to me this morning and mentioned that they might start planning yours and Astoria's wedding, if I were you, I'd start getting into action"

I spent the rest of supper thinking and secretly staring at y/n, who seemed to be doing the same.

they show their truth one single time

"i love you"

but they lie, and they lie, and they lie

"do you love me, still?" I say, not too bothered by the students who I knew were eavesdropping in our conversation

"as a friend, yeah"

we both know she's lying. and I know she's aware of the fact that I know she's lying.

a million little times

© louvemione on tumblr | do not steal, copy, translate or repost

[deliciousangelfestival]

Luxury and Lessons - 2

Character: concierge!Bucky x heiress!female reader

Summary: A spoiled heiress is sent to work at her family’s luxury hotel, where she clashes with Bucky, the handsome and strict manager who is fiercely dedicated to the hotel’s success.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The alarm clock blared at 4:45 a.m., but it felt like it was the middle of the night to you. You groaned, barely able to open your eyes, and slapped at the snooze button. Five more minutes. Just five more minutes. But those minutes flew by, and soon Bucky was at your door, knocking sharply.

“Miss, it’s 5 a.m.,” his voice came through the door, way too chipper for this hour.

You groaned again, dragging yourself out of bed, your movements sluggish. It was a miracle you even managed to pull on your uniform without falling back into bed. Your head still pounded from the night before, and your body felt heavy, almost as if you were moving through water.

As you walked into the staff room, you could feel the eyes on you, every pair judging. The silence was thick, the air filled with a palpable tension. These were the same employees who had probably seen the video, who knew exactly who you were and what you’d said. You could almost hear their thoughts: "There she is, the spoiled heiress."

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with only the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of low voices breaking the silence. You tried to make yourself as small as possible, wishing you could disappear under the table. When the meal ended, everyone filtered out, leaving you alone with Bucky.

“You lied,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought this uniform was for new employees, but most of them are wearing the same thing as you. You fucking tricked me!”

Bucky didn’t even flinch. He just looked at you with that calm, unbothered expression that was starting to grate on your nerves. “Miss, like I said before, you need to put in the effort first.”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Me? I look like a fucking waitress!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your outburst. “If you want to wear something more distinguished, you’ll have to earn it. The uniform is a symbol of commitment, and right now, you’re just getting started.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t done.

“Your first task,” he continued, his tone firm, “is to clean up the rooms.”

Bucky stepped closer, his presence somehow even more imposing up close. “You think this is a joke? This is real work. Every employee here starts at the bottom and works their way up. If you want to be taken seriously, you’ll do the same.”

You clenched your jaw, fists balled at your sides. “And if I don’t?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice low but steady. “Then you’ll stay exactly where you are: someone who’s never earned their place. Also, you still won’t get access to your funds.”

You stared at him, trying to come up with a retort, but nothing came. He had you trapped, and you both knew it. Finally, you huffed, turning away from him. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just gave a small nod, as if your agreement was expected. “Meet me in the service hallway in five minutes. We’ll see what you’re made of.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, feeling smaller than ever.

As you struggle with the task at hand, frustration bubbles up inside you. The bed sheet you’re trying to spread over the mattress keeps slipping, and the steam iron in your other hand feels foreign and cumbersome. "Putting the bed sheet on and then steam ironing it?" you grumble, glancing at Cleo as if searching for some confirmation that this is all unnecessary.

Cleo, calm and composed, finishes her side of the bed and looks at you with a small smile. "Yes, exactly. The guest may not notice every detail, but we do. It’s about creating perfection, even in the unseen." There’s a quiet pride in her voice as she smooths out a wrinkle.

"But why?" you mutter, annoyance creeping into your tone. "The guests don't care. As long as they know the material is silk, they’re happy."

Cleo pauses, her hands still for a moment as she looks at you with something close to pity. "Well… unlike you, we care about our work. For me, this is art."

You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in irritation. "Weirdo," you mumble under your breath, but Cleo hears it and merely shrugs, unfazed.

"You might think this is a bother," Cleo says, folding a towel with precision, "but for us, this work pays our bills, puts food on our tables, and keeps a roof over our heads."

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you feel a pang of something—guilt, maybe?—as you fumble with the sheet, trying to get it right.

You drag the mop across the floor, your back aching with each swipe. The floor is spotless by Cleo's standards, but you can’t help but think it's a waste of time. As you lean down to clean a stubborn spot, you accidentally knock over the bucket of water. It spills everywhere, soaking your shoes and spreading across the freshly cleaned surface.

“Damn it!” you hiss, trying to stop the water with your hands as if that could help.

Before you can even think about the mess, Bucky appears out of nowhere, calm and composed. “Let me handle this,” he says, taking over with effortless precision. Within moments, the spill is cleaned, the floor as pristine as before.

Later, you’re stationed at the swimming pool, tasked with handing out towels and keeping the area tidy. You fumble with the stack of towels, dropping them into the water. A guest raises an eyebrow at you, clearly annoyed.

Before the situation escalates, Bucky steps in, his demeanor soothing the guest’s irritation. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he says smoothly, offering a fresh towel with a smile. The guest’s frustration melts away, replaced by a grin of admiration for Bucky.

You watch him work, seeing how effortlessly he manages the guests, how they light up at his attention. It’s obvious he loves the hotel, and it’s just as obvious that the guests love him.

Meanwhile, you can feel their eyes on you—cold, judgmental, full of disdain. It’s clear that they all hate you, and the realization stings.

During lunch, you slip away to a quiet corner outside, the only place you can find peace. You light a cigarette with shaking hands, taking a deep drag to steady yourself before dialing Tom’s number.

“Fuck. Fuck! I hate working here. Tom, I want to go home,” you cry, your voice breaking as the weight of the morning crushes you.

There’s a pause on the other end before Tom’s voice comes through, exasperated. “You’ve only worked for a day and you’re already complaining.”

“My knees hurt!” you blurt out, playing the card you swore you wouldn’t.

Tom falls silent, the unspoken tension thick in the air. You know it’s a sensitive topic for both of you—the accident that left you with bad knees and left Tom more protective than ever. His silence is heavy, and after a moment, he ends the call without another word.

You stare at the phone, your heart sinking. “Is he still mad at me?” you whisper to yourself, the unresolved pain between you and your brother weighing you down as much as the job.

You drag the mop across the floor, the repetitive motion doing little to calm your frustration. Your knees ache, a dull reminder of the accident, but you grit your teeth and keep working. As you move down the hallway, you spot Bucky in the historic room, his back to you as he carefully wipes down a framed photograph. You hesitate, curiosity pulling you closer.

Bucky’s hands are gentle, almost reverent, as he cleans the photo. It’s a far cry from the brusque attitude he’s shown you, and it catches you off guard. You inch closer, peering over his shoulder.

“That’s my great uncle,” you say, pointing to the photo in his hands. Your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Bucky glances at you, then back at the photo. “Yup,” he replies simply, his tone neutral. He hangs the photo back on the wall with care, not bothering to look at you again before turning to leave.

As he walks away, you mutter under your breath, “Asshole.”

With him gone, you’re left alone in the room, surrounded by the faces of your ancestors. You gaze at the photos, trying to feel some sort of connection, some pride in the legacy they’ve left behind. But all you feel is emptiness. These people, with their stern expressions and formal attire, are strangers to you.

You run your fingers over the polished wood frame of one of the photos, tracing the outline of your great-great-great-grandparents. They built this empire from the ground up, turned a simple dream into a thriving business. They must be proud, you think, knowing the Serene Resort still stands after all these years.

But you’re not the same. You don’t feel the pride they must have felt. The weight of the legacy feels like a burden, something you’re supposed to carry but don’t know how. You step back, staring at the wall of history, and sigh. The only thing you feel is the suffocating pressure of expectations you don’t know if you can ever meet.

🏨🏨🏨🏨🏨

You collapse onto the bed, the exhaustion of the day hitting you like a wave. Just as you’re about to drift off, there’s a knock on your door. Frowning in confusion, you pull yourself up and open it, only to find Tom standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

Your eyes widen in relief. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms. “Save me!” you exclaim, clinging to him.

He stiffens, then awkwardly pushes you away. “How hurt are your knees?” he demands, his voice edged with irritation.

You look down, caught off guard. “Umm… they don’t really hurt at all,” you admit, feeling awkward under his scrutinizing gaze.

Tom’s eyes narrow, seeing through your half-hearted excuse. “You really don’t get it, do you? Do you understand why I sent you here?”

You stay silent, unable to meet his gaze. The truth is, you’re not sure why he’s being so hard on you, but you’re afraid to admit it.

Tom sighs heavily, the weight of his exhaustion showing. “I won’t spoil you anymore,” he says, his voice firm but tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly worn out from the day’s stress. “I’m done with this. I’m tired.”

He turns to leave, and you call out, desperation creeping into your voice. “Where are you going? Can I stay with you? I thought you’d be in the presidential suite.”

Tom doesn’t look back. “Nope,” he says curtly, his tone final.

“Selfish prick!” you shout, frustration bubbling over. “If you’re not going to help me, then why are you even here?”

He gives you a middle finger without turning around, his back to you as he heads down the hall.

You slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the room. The anger and hurt mix with a deep sense of helplessness as you sink back onto the bed. Tom’s departure leaves you feeling more isolated than ever, questioning what you’re really supposed to be learning from all this.

Unable to sleep, you throw on a robe and quietly slip out of your room. The cool night air greets you as you step onto the balcony, hoping the fresh air might calm your racing thoughts. To your surprise, you find Bucky standing there, holding a steaming mug of hot milk.

You approach him, wrinkling your nose in distaste. “Eww, you drink hot milk? Are you twelve?”

Bucky takes a measured sip, clearly unfazed by your comment. “The CEO, your brother, really cares for you,” he says, his tone surprisingly gentle.

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively. “Him? Impossible.”

Bucky glances at you over the rim of his mug. “He was supposed to be on the other side of the world. But when he heard your call, he dropped everything to be here.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You hadn’t realized just how far Tom had gone for you.

Bucky’s gaze softens slightly. “Some people make sacrifices for you. The least you could do is be grateful.”

You frown, feeling a mix of frustration and something else. “You’re so fucking mean.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Because you’re spoiled. Besides, we’re the same age.”

You’re taken aback. You’d assumed he was older, given his no-nonsense attitude.

“There’s one thing I keep wondering,” Bucky continues, looking out over the balcony. “Today, every time you get humiliated, why don’t you use your status as the hotel owner?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “Because I’m not really part of it.”

Bucky studies you for a moment, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “Then maybe it’s time you start acting like you belong.”

Author's Note: Hey everyone, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! I’m currently grappling with a writer’s block and have tried various methods to spark new ideas, but nothing seems to be working.

Any feedback or suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for your support!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

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[enviedear]

tread carefully ⟶ anakin skywalker

description ⌙ anakin and you attempt to negotiate a treaty with an outer rim planet while you're also attempting to hide your feelings from him. pairing ⌙ anakin x fem!reader warnings ⌙ nsfw, minors dni i will block you (piv, oral, fem receiving, overuse of praise, lmk if i missed any) word count ⌙ 3.5k

— request | masterlist

if you didn't know how much i love friends to lovers now you will especially if it's ani

inspired loosely by this song by mother sza

you're enjoying yourself far too much. there's a faint condescending smile gracing your lips as you stare down the young man just paces away from you. it's unavoidable, you think, the grand joy you get from annoying him.

anakin however, is visibly over it. his jaw is clenched tightly, arms crossed, and eyes dark. he looks like the divine personification of irritation.

"give it back." he says, voice dripping in indignation.

you shrug, looking down at the stolen lightsaber in your hands, "but it's such fun keeping it from you."

in truth, it certainly was fun. hilarious even, that despite his role as jedi knight and yours as the daughter of a senator, you were faster than him. and despite the fact that you’ve now run into a wall, the victory of the chase is more than enough.

"don't make me come and take it. be civilized and hand it over." he makes his way closer to you as he speaks.

you smile, "come and take it then."

he wastes no time, outstretching his hand and using the force to pry the weapon from your grip. you knew he would eventually, but you're thankful for him playing into the joke for this long.

'a test in patience’, he often titled you.

clipping the weapon back onto his belt he gives you an exasperated look, "y/n, we don't have time for this. we're supposed to be leaving for kiros now."

you grab a hold of his robes, pulling him closer to you, "the ship is a ten-minute walk, skywalker. stop acting so official," you narrow your gaze, "besides you started it."

he looks at you incredulously, "me?"

you hum, letting go of him and making your way toward the ship.

his hand finds your shoulder as you walk, setting him at your pace, "please elaborate. i'd love to know how i prompted this."

you can't help but smile, "you ignored me at the banquet last night. i was forced to talk with senator lybi's son, and he was annoyingly adamant about a marriage between the two of us."

anakin chuckles, "he's harmless, just a little love-sick for a pretty girl."

you groan despite how much you enjoy his title of you, "easy for you to say, you weren't on the other end of his advances."

anakin glances at you with a smirk, "contempt doesn't suit you, y/n. and besides, i'm pretty sure i saw you dancing with organa's nephew after lybi's son left you alone."

you roll your eyes, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your mouth, "that was just to pass the time. you know i only have eyes for you, skywalker."

he chuckles, but there's a hint of seriousness in his tone as he responds. "mhm, you flatter me. but we really need to focus on the mission at hand. i don't want to mess this up. obi-wan would never let me hear the end of it."

you nod, the playful banter dissolving into a more serious conversation. "right. the separatist situation on kiros is getting worse by the day. we can't afford any distractions."

anakin's grip on your shoulder tightens, his eyes meeting yours with a sense of determination. "we'll get through it together. just like always."

you smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your chest at the familiar reassurance. anakin is your earliest friend, your best-kept and most sacred relationship. from young children who used to play-fight in the jedi temple's halls, to young adults who fly to the beck and call of political superiors. but he was so different now, older, a bit wiser, and so unbelievably handsome.

you've been on countless missions with him, most often accompanied by your father or master obi-wan, but this mission to kiros was tasked simply to the pair of you.

a simple treaty arrangement, going over new regulations regarding the separatists' forces. however, you haven’t been alone with him in so long, and you’re desperately trying to halt your mind from delving into stupid fantasies.

it is difficult though, especially when you looked into his eyes. brilliant blues that seemed never-ending. or his hands that always seemed to find you. but mostly, it was his lips sent you into an absolute frenzy. so full and kissable, you thought of them far too much for a best friend.

upon arrival to the small ship, you check over your documents as anakin prepares to fly. he sits in the pilot seat with a stern concentration, and it's not long before your papers go unread.

you watch him tackle the numerous buttons and switches with ease, tongue wetting his lips in concentration. you can't help but admire the way his muscles flex as he maneuvers, the way his hair falls over his forehead. your heart races as you think about what it would be like to run your hands through it.

anakin's voice interrupts your thoughts. "are you ready?"

you nod, taking your seat beside him, in the co-pilot chair. not that he'd ever let you try to fly. not since you crashed his last delta-7.

as the ship ascends, you can feel a pit in your stomach. the mission frightened you a bit. you were always apprehensive of going into neutral territories for that fact that anyone could be lurking, but deep down, you know what's truly gotten you so worked up.

"y/n, are you alright?" anakin asks, his eyes scanning yours, before looking back ahead.

you take a breath before replying with a soft smile, "i'm fine, anakin. don't get too caught up in my emotions."

he gives you another look, "that’s hard to do when they're basically jumping out at me."

you feel hotter, scared you may have let your little secret slip, "i'll watch myself from now on. besides, this shouldn't be a difficult task. i've got this treaty negotiation stuff down now. i bet we'll be back in coruscant for breakfast tomorrow."

anakin nods, but you can tell he can sense your little lie. he knows you too well, and it's always been impossible to keep anything from him.

he reaches over to you tentatively, hand engulfing your own. "you don't have to hide anything from me, y/n. you know that, right? you can tell me if something's wrong."

your heart races at his touch, and you feel your cheeks flush. "i know," you reply softly.

anakin's hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before he pulls away and focuses back on the controls. the ship hums as it speeds through space, and you try your best to focus on the task at hand.

as you approach kiros, anakin begins to prepare the ship for landing. you can feel the tension building inside you at the thought of doing political negotiations without the experience of your father.

anakin looks over at you once more, sensing your apprehension. "don't worry," he says, giving you a reassuring smile, "i won't let anything happen to you."

you believe him, as you always do. anakin has never let you down before, not even when things got rough. the two of you have been through so much together, and he has always been there for you. he's your best friend, your closest ally and confidant, and the most important person in your life.

the ship lands smoothly on the ground, and anakin turns to you, "ready?" he asks, you nod in response.

you're more than ready. you're determined to get this done as quickly and as effectively as possible.

you and anakin exit the ship and are greeted by one of the representatives of kiro's government. he escorts the both of you to the meeting place, an older building lined with statues of kiro's most famous leaders.

you eye the room anakin and you are ushered into, small but large enough for a grand round table. you go to say something to the jedi, but before you're able, the kirosian delegates huddle into the room.

the kirosian politicians waste little time before delving into the politcal documents. you listen attentively to their concerns and proposals and take notes meticulously. anakin is quiet for most of the meeting, his eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail. you can tell he's assessing the situation, trying to detect any hidden agendas or threats.

the negotiations go on for hours, and you start to feel yourself grow tired. but then, anakin's hand finds yours under the table, and you snap back to attention. his touch sends electricity through your entire body, and you perk back up at the feeling.

finally, after much discussion, the treaty is signed, with only one representative in opposition. you and anakin stand up, both of you feeling a sense of relief. as you walk back to the ship, anakin takes your hand again, and you feel a flutter in your stomach.

he had such a penchant for touch, and it's becoming more challenging for you to mask your glee at such occurrences.

"care to make a stop before heading home? we're not due back until tomorrow?" anakin asks as you make your way back onto the ship.

you smirk, "and let the jedi council and my father believe you've kidnapped me?"

he shrugs, "that, or, we could say negotiations went on longer than expected and that we need to stop for fuel. the closest center is closer to krios anyway, not the way back," he gives you an expectant look, "please, i promise it'll be worth it."

you can't tell him no, not when he looks at you so sweetly and perfect, "fine, but you'll have to be the one to explain our tardiness."

he smiles, inching into the pilot seat, "anything for you."

as the ship takes off, you feel excited for whatever he has planned. anakin was always an adventurous and spontaneous spirit, to the chagrin on one obi-wan, and being with him always felt like a whirlwind of excitement. the anticipation in your stomach has only grown since he took your hand during the negotiation.

as you fly towards a planet you're unfamiliar with, anakin turns to you with a mischievous grin, "i have a surprise for you."

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued, "oh really? and what's that?"

he gives you a shy look, "i booked us a room at the resort. the one we saw advertised a few months ago. we can spend the night there, just the two of us."

your heart skips a beat. you can feel yourself getting warmer, but you can't deny how tempting the idea sounds, "anakin, i don't know if that's such a good idea-"

but he cuts you off, "come on, we deserve it. we never have time together like we used to."

you want to say, 'of course, because we were children then. now the mere sight of you makes me want to pull you into bed with me', but you refrain, opting for, "okay, ani."

as the ship lands, you follow him out into the warm evening air. he takes your hand, yet again, leading you to a large building.

the resort is astounding, a sprawling complex with lush gardens and sparkling pools. you've never heard of it before, but anakin takes the lead, helping you find your room. he gives you a look before opening the door with a flourish.

the room is opulent, reminiscent of a royals' quarters and you're immediately wondering as to how he was able to pay for it.

"there's a library on the fourth floor and a bathhouse outside near the pools— I thought you'd like it," his arms wrap around you, pulling your back into him, "i hope you like it."

you're at a loss for words for a few seconds, taking in the beautiful room and the strong arms holding you indelibly close. you want to turn, bridge the gap, and take his lips into yours. you want to tell him so badly that this is a horrible idea, that you're far too consumed with him to share such a landscape with him.

but you don't, "i love it, anakin. i can't believe you did this for me." your hands find his, resting at your stomach.

anakin turns you around and brings his lips down close to your ear, "anything for you, y/n," he murmurs, his breath tickling your skin.

you shudder with pleasure at the sound of his voice and lean into him. you know that you shouldn't be here, but you can't resist the pull that he has on you.

for a moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything else, to just be in this moment with him. but as his hands wander down to your hips, pulling you into him in a foreign way, you begin to feel a sense of guilt and shame. you know this is turning into something different, something wrong.

"i can't," you say softly, pulling away from him. "we shouldn't be here like this, anakin."

he looks at you with confusion and concern in his eyes. "what's wrong? is it the room? i can get us another one if you don't like it."

you shake your head,"no, it's not the room. it's me. i’m not thinking the way i should, and i’m scared of saying or doing the wrong thing."

he takes your hand and pulls you close to him again. "you could never, you only ever tell me the right things."

you take a deep breath, knowing that what you're about to say could ruin everything. the friendship you've built and the rules you know he's meant to follow, "anakin i don't think of you as i should anymore. i fear i've grown an unwelcomed attachment to you, and i don't want to wreck everything."

anakin's eyes widen in shock, "what are you saying?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"i'm saying that i've fallen for you, anakin," you whisper, eyes glassy, "and i know it's wrong, i know it, but i can't help how i feel. believe me, i've tried."

anakin looks at you for a moment, his face unreadable. then he gives you a soft smile, turning you forward and taking your face in his hands, "you could never wreck anything, y/n," he says softly. "i feel the same way. and i’ve fought it for too long. i love you, and i want you. if you'll let me.”

you stare at him in shock. you had never expected him to say anything of the sort. for a moment, you just stand there, staring at each other.

but then he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. a gentle kiss at first, tentative. but then it becomes something more, something you've never known before, and you find yourself getting lost in the feeling.

you know that you're doing something wrong, that this could have serious consequences. but for the moment, you don't care. all you care about is the way that anakin makes you feel, the way that he's always made you feel.

as you deepen the kiss, anakin's hands trail down your body, pulling you closer to him. the heat between the two of you is unmistakable, and you can feel your heart racing as each second floats by.

there's the rational part of you, the part that knows that this can't continue— it goes against everything the jedi order stands for— but in this moment, you can't find fault in your actions.

anakin breaks away from the kiss, eyes holding an intense longing that you've never seen them carry before, "i want you," he says, voice raspy and rough with desire, "i need you, more than anything."

you incline into him in agreement, trying to wordlessly vocalize your complete surrender into his lust. together, you stumble towards the nearest wall to lean against, and anakin begins to kiss down your neck, while his hands roam your body.

you moan softly, and he pulls back to look you in the eyes, "say it back," he pleads, his voice ragged with need.

"i need you too," you express, and the words come out without a hint of hesitation, "i need you so badly."

anakin wastes no time in returning his lips to yours and you both give in to each other with fervor. it's like a wildfire, consuming your every thought and measure, altering into something unknown and yet all-encompassing. as if nothing else exists— only this moment, only him.

your hands travel up onto his chest as he guides your hips closer against him, lifting your dress so that he can set his grip upon your inner thighs. you gasp at his touch, so familiar to you and yet entirely new.

you desperately want to feel his skin, the muscles of his chest, anything— so you make a definitive move to remove his tunic. anakin smiles into you and pulls away to help, revealing himself to you.

you look up at him, struck with want, "you're so perfect, ani."

he stifles a groan and lifts you. instinctively your legs wrap around him, arms coming to meet each other around his neck. he holds you tightly, as though you'd fall away from him, as he carries you onto the plush bed.

"i've wanted you like this for so long, y/n," his voice flutters against your neck, and you feel his hands begin to make work of the buttons holding your dress together, "you’re all i can think about."

your head feels empty at his words, "please," is all you can musteer in response, lifting slightly so that he can pull your dress over your head, leaving you exposed before him.

he takes you in, and ravages you with his blues. you watch as his gaze dips to your chest and take a sharp intake of breath when he gently cups your breasts.

"so pretty," he coos, head dipping back down to your neck, slowly descending down until he finds the bulb, giving it a chaste kiss.

you shiver at his contact, fingers tangling in his soft hair and tugging ever so slightly as he continues traversing further down your body. anticipation radiates through you until finally, anakin brings himself eye-level between your legs. his hands snaking up the inside of your thighs gently pushing them apart, tranquil heat radiating from him to overpower what had once been any fear or worry bubbling up within you.

he pulls back just enough so that you can look up into those dreamy blues once more only to be met with nothing but a pure carnal desire radiating from within them, "say it again, tell me you want me, please.” he speaks before lightly pressing a kiss to your inner thigh— eyes searching yours for confirmation at what has suddenly become something so much more than desire itself—trust

"i want you," you reply earnestly, "i always have."

that's all the permission he needs, and you watch in awe as his head sinks down to your center. he's teasing at first, giving you soft kisses until you're moaning in response. more—that's what you want, and you're sure he knows, as he begins to tongue your clit, arms pulling you further into him.

you're lost in sensation—eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself spinning into an abyss of pleasure. it's almost too much, but just as you begin to near your climax, he pulls away.

your eyes open, finding him fumbling with his trousers, sliding the, away and freeing himself.

"c'mere," he gestures for you, and you fall onto your knees, head inches under his own. he grabs you, flipping you on top of him, settling into the bed. he feels divine beneath you and you can't help but to grind down into him, eliciting a groan from him, "fuck, do that again."

you do, and it's like a key unlocking something inside of you. he guides your hips as you begin to move against him, letting out moans above him.

his hands, strong and calloused, guide you to a halt and make you rise just enough for him to palm himself, his tip toying at your entrance. you look at him through hooded eyes before pressing down, feeling him begin to enter you.

his eyes roll back, "that's right, just like that," you can't help the sounds that come from you at his praise, and he continues to sing you honors, "my pretty girl, you're doing so well. c'mon you can take more."

that's all it takes for you to settle onto him fully, feeling full from his length. as you sink down fully, anakin grabs your arm, nails innocently biting into you, "that's my girl."

you ride him—slow and steady at first, rocking back and forth in unison as you both close your eyes to bask in the moment. it isn't long before you begin to pick up speed, thrusting yourself onto him quicker.

his other hand comes around to grip the side of your neck, pushing down delicately until your lips meet again. he's a groaning mess into your mouth, thrusts beginning to overtake you. you falter, but he takes control, arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer. his lips pull away from yours and begin to leave sloppy kisses at your neck, stopping to issue you more praise, more adoration.

"i love you," anakin breathes out between thrusts—voice gravely now—"so much."

it's almost too much for you at those words and you're barely able to respond coherently, "i love you, too."

you can do nothing but move with him, arms wrapping around to grip at his back as you both reach the peak. a blissful moan of ecstasy leaves your lips and he follows soon after, finally stilling against you.

sated and exhausted, you collapse onto his chest—tears beginning to gather in your eyes at his admission.

anakin notices this, and he tilts up your chin so that your gaze is set upon him once again. "i mean it," he speaks softly into her ear before planting a kiss on her forehead, "i adore you, sweet girl."

and you know he does, truly— as do you.

[shantechni]

"2012 Mikey is Abused" and other constant complaints that, quite frankly, don't make sense

Since one Reddit user (who shall remain anonymous) inadvertently made me type out an essay I intended to write and post in a more coherent manner at a later date, I will be using their comment and my response.

Anyways, the comment itself starts off fairly normal and agreeable:

But then I see the next three points and my sleep-deprived mind just goes off the rails, so let's start with the second point:

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely do not condone the writing here because everyone under the sun will agree that we could've easily had the "Karai is our sister!?" plot twist without Leo and Karai briefly developing feelings for each other.

The problem is that this brief development of feelings is wildly blown out of proportion by the fandom, so much so that it makes it seem as though Leo and Karai actually had anything legitimate going on between them.

The "incest-eqsue garbage" between Leo and Karai is almost nonexistent outside of the writing room. They openly crush on each other for a whopping six episodes by way of verbally teasing each other and being at odds before Karai tells Leo that she's the Shredder's daughter. That's it. He is not pursuing her after that (hardly ever did, not even to the extent that Donnie pursues April) and Karai isn't remotely fond of him anymore after he broke their deal. Then, after we find out alongside Splinter that she's actually his daughter, he tells Leo towards the end of Follow the Leader. We don't get a reaction, actually nothing on Leo's side since the Foot Clan is mostly absent with April being the main point of conflict, even in Target: April O'Neil because April's forgiveness of the turtles is the main focus.

Leo eventually attempts to tell Karai the truth in Wormquake! and The Manhattan Project and she obviously doesn't believe the poor guy, she just wants to kill the turtles and Splinter at this point. Leo doesn't tell her because "he still likes her", but because, in his own words, it would change everything. She deserves to know the truth and Splinter shouldn't have his own daughter cursing him at every waking moment. When she tricks the gang into bringing her to the lair under the guise of her finally accepting the truth, Leo is ecstatic and his first thought is for her and Splinter to make amends. He's upset that Raph still can't fully trust her in the end when she fought alongside them (who can blame Raph though, he's cradling an unconscious brother after a plan gone awry), and that's the end of that.

They dedicate two episodes to the guys attempting to rescue her because Leo has enough brain cells to worry about what the Shredder could be doing with her, and Raph makes a jab at Leo on one instance when they find her (there is absolutely no romantic undertone, Raph just picks at his old crush on her and their tendency to tease each other at the worst times). Then, when she wants to get back at the Shredder for ripping her away from a life she never knew was her's, Leo attempts to aid her because he knows it isn't wise to face someone like that alone, especially with his henchmen there.

There's one last self-aware jab at their past feelings in S5, of which Karai awkwardly remembers and forgoes mentioning, and that's the last you see or hear of that.

As much as I dislike it, I'd take this narrative over the Donnie-April-Casey hurricane any day.

It seems that 2012 Mikey's mere existence is a sore spot for fans because Jesus Christ this gets brought up way too much.

Mikey is not written as a complete idiot, he's written as someone who doesn't see a reason to take everything so seriously, has odd habits, and doesn't always think things through, yet is shown to be highly capable and intelligent when the situation calls for it. Yes the writers left much to be desired at times, but to say they wrote him to be a "complete idiot" and left it at that is just offensive. I'll ignore all the miraculous things Mikey can do with Kraang stuff and Dimension X and focus on what other things he's shown to be capable of.

Mikey was a temporary learning model for Donnie in how to fight without thinking, or in better terms, how to fight instinctually without becoming bogged down by your own mind. Splinter's lesson is shown in a comedic manner, but that's ultimately what helped Donnie defeat Falco.

Another interesting thing is his ability to keep his composure when no one else around him can do so. I mentioned this briefly in another post, but it really stands out to me how he put Leo at the top of his priority list in Invasion Part 2. He's as worried for Splinter as Raph and Donnie are, but they have with them a crippled and unconcious Leo who needs medical attention asap, compared to martial arts master Splinter who's older and wiser than the three of them combined at times. Even when they eventually find Splinter and lose him, he keeps the gang in line by reminding them, as well as himself, that Splinter can take care of himself.

Along with that is when Splinter was kidnapped in The Manhattan Project. Mikey was quick to intervene when Raph was angry with Leo for allowing Tiger Claw to coax him into calling Splinter, and he reminded the two of the problem at hand: they have Splinter, let's go find him and take him back. There are so many other moments when he becomes the levelheaded one in response to the chaos or disorder surrounding him.

Mikey is a highly skilled fighter, he's emotionally intelligent, he remembers the weirdest things that eventually aid the team, he's street smart, he's a fast learner (ex: Bradford's secret kata, as well as the temporary use of the plasma katana in Target: April O'Neil), he's great at distracting enemies without needing to become bait, he gets insecure about things, he has photographic memory, he's the most outgoing of his brothers and therefore ends up with the most friends, he's quick to adapt to a situation and think of a plan, he can throw together seemingly random ingredients to create exactly what Donnie would struggle to create, he knew exactly what to do to find Casey after his run-in with Tiger Claw, the list goes on.

Heck, just to add to this, Mikey is the one who saves the day in three separate stories in S5. 1) His temporary electric powers save the world from Dregg and the Newtralizer, 2) he convinced Frankenstein's monster to join their side, retrieved the scepter from Savanti and Dracula (he accidentally broke the scepter while he was at it, but that helped) and cured Raph and Donnie of their vampirism, and 3) he was the one who repaired Kavaxas' seal and made him reopen the portal to the Netherworld so the dead could return.

The brothers don't always take him as seriously as they should or listen to him, and that's understandable at times, but when they do, they're reminded of the fact that Mikey, in his own way, is intelligent.

If I had a dime for every comment I've seen about this, I'd be rich enough to buy the TMNT series from Viacom and right every wrong they made with the 2012 series.

These abuse allegations are as bad as people putting Markiplier in the same tweet as problematic Youtubers and saying something wild like, "these content creators should've been cancelled a long time ago." I feel like people who say the brothers abuse Mikey are either an only child or genuinely have a warped sense for what actually counts as abuse, and I'm not even trying to be mean, those are just my thoughts. I shouldn't even have to comment on this, but the fact that people are still seriously believing that to this day is shocking.

Would you also like to say that Raph was abused in Turtle Temper when Splinter had the boys ceaselessly taunt him in that little exercise? Or that the boys abused Raph everytime they downplayed his anger? Or that Raph abused Donnie by threatening to hit him if he didn't find Snakeweed's hideout? Or that Leo abused Donnie everytime he stressed him out by rushing him for answers? Or that Donnie abused Mikey because Mikey flinched 2cm to the right when Donnie raised his hand to playfully knock at his noggin? Or that Leo was abused by the team because they took forever to view him as their leader? Or that Splinter abused the boys because he was "too rough" on them during training?? Or that April abused Donnie because she "constantly led him on"? Or that Xever and Bradford abused Baxter???

I'm losing my mind over here

Mikey is never physically or emotionally abused by his brothers, the show speaks for itself. But if you somehow aren't listening, go look up a textbook example of abuse, or better yet, look at Karai.

Abuse is the Shredder locking Karai in a dungeon when she tries to escape to her real family and going so far to become a peak manipulator by saying Karai was hurting him by making him lock her away. Worse than that, he starts brainwashing her with mind controlling worms so she has no choice but to obey him. Even before then, he's lowkey uncaring of her wellbeing: he treats her like any other soldier of his and doesn't listen to her when she tries to tell him something. He doesn't address her concerns about the Foot bots nearly finishing her off, instead telling her, "disobedience comes with a stiff penalty, especially for my daughter," when she objects to him telling her not to take action against the turtles while he's gone.

He only ever pays her any attention or gives her praise when it benefits him and his vendetta against Splinter.

Splinter and the turtles are the farthest thing from the image of a family filled with abusers. Raph openly apologizes to Mikey when Splinter tells him to stop picking at him in Shellacne, Raph comforts Donnie when the brainiac is somber after forcing Timothy into the equivalent of a cold sleep, Raph apologizes when his anger gets the better of him and he hits Leo harder than intended, Donnie apologizes when he realizes he shouldn't insult Raph when the guy is visibly upset, Leo regrets doubting Donnie about Metalhead, etc., etc.

Even beyond apologies, Raph is the quickest to entertain Mikey and vice versa during a mundane moment, Donnie never kicks Mikey out of the lab, Leo plays around with Mikey when the situation doesn't call for him to be their fearless leader, and Splinter is quick to advise Mikey during Karai's Vendetta and Shellacne. There are even times when the guys just go along with Mikey's antics because there's no harm in doing so, and often times Mikey needs a moment to be silly.

If you think play fighting, teasing, or getting a little physical with a sibling is the equivalent of abuse, particularly in the context of TMNT of all things, you need to do some re-evaluation.

[chiibinomonodamon]

WHO WANTS TO HEAR ME RAMBLE ABOUT GAY FURRY DEMON SEX? XD

(damn, there's a sentence I never thought I'd say....)

Okay...so I see some Stolitz confusion and bashing online and I need to type up a defense here because I won't be able to sleep otherwise lol

I consider myself to be a Ship Critic and someone who takes shipping rather seriously.

What I mean by this is, I like to analyze and break down romantic relationships between fictional characters because it's just interesting to write for me. I especially take delight in friendly debating with opinions that I strongly do *not* agree with.

Let me start off by saying I am NOT a "this ship is awesome because gay furry sex lol" type of girl.

FAR from it. I'm generally more passionate about hetero ships between human characters (because I can relate to them more) among other reasons. So if you wanna dismiss my defense as "shallow fangirlism", you can forget about that lame excuse.

I fell in love with Hazbin Hotel when it was finally released in February and suffered waiting for each new two-parts per week. During that time, I decided to watch Helluva Boss as well, after a friend showed me a particularly soul-crushing clip (Moxxie's childhood trauma about his mother).

Yes, I like funny sex jokes as much as the next goofy adult but scenes like this, scenes that carry a very heavy emotional weight are what really get me in the end, even moreso when VERY little dialogue is exchanged. I knew I had to watch the entire episode run after seeing that the creators had a talent for this.

I saw people asking:

"How did Stolas go from using Blitz as a sex toy to being painfully in love with him?"

Oh I can tell you. I can tell you the EXACT moment this is revealed. But it's not spoon-fed to you; it's quite subtle actually and this is why lots of people miss it.

See, one of the strongest talents Vivenne has shown me is that she REALLY knows how to get her characters to communicate their feelings to the viewers JUST from their expressions and body language. These can be 'blink-and-miss-it' teeny little scenes and it may require a couple rewatches.

But since people demand time stamps for all information others post here, I'll rewatch a few scenes from S1 E7 'Ozzie's' as I'm typing this.

'Ozzie's' remains to be not just my favorite episode of HB...but probably my favorite episode of any adult-targeted animated show outside of Japan (aside from S2 E7's Mid-Season Special)

It has this huge reveal for both Blitzo and Stolas.

We'll first address Blitzo's irrational, stalkerish behavior of Moxxie and Millie.

He's obsessed with them. He finds both of them very attractive, fantasizes about threesomes with them and is constantly inserting himself into their personal lives.

Why?

Because they have everything that he badly badly wants for himself.

They have the perfect marriage and he is trying to live THROUGH them.

This was hilarious to me at the beginnning of the show but it's slowly revealed that it's one of the most tragic and depressing things I've ever seen. And it's scarily realistic too.

But you know this already so let's move on...

Blitzo follows the couple to Ozzie's but he can't get in without a date. So he calls up Stolas and yes, this is very low but he doesn't realize how much this means to Stolas (hell, I'm not sure even Stolas realizes it himself!) but the owl man is giddy with joy, he rushes over and they enter Ozzie's.

When Ozzie and Fizz mock Moxxie for being so sappy towards his wife, this strikes a chord with Blitzo (because they're his IDEAL relationship) and he speaks up to defend them.

NOW PAY CLOSE ATTENTION; THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART:

Fizz, still holding onto his past grudge turns on Blitzo to humilate him:

"Some nerve you got commenting on a relationship"

Time Stamp: 11:37

As Fizz says "-ship", Blitzo VERY QUICKLY makes eye contact with Stolas who has a look of panic on his face. Blitzo is seeking VALIDATION from Stolas in this sharp, subtle second of screentime, as if to ask

"Well, ARE we in one?"

And then what happens next...Stolas remains silent, Blitzo's ex joins in to announce how selfish Blitzo was in bed with her, tearing him down further. Stolas stands up like he's going to put a stop to it but then Ozzie notices him and interrogates him about sleeping with Blitzo.

Blitzo looks incredibly ashamed and guilty as Stolas blushes with similar feelings...and hides his face behind his menu; HIS BIGGEST MISTAKE IN THE SERIES SO FAR.

Time Stamp: 12:24

The look on Blitzo's face as he grits his teeth and darts his eyes away basically says

"Yeah, I should have known...boy am I an idiot for trusting him to stand up for me".

(look how SHOCKED he is...wow, this hurts fr ;_;)

This is a silent betrayal on Stolas's part. Afterall, his reputation is on the line, so if he were to defend Blitzo, it confirms they are in fact, dating. He chose his pride over Blitzo and Blitzo is crushed by this betrayal.

Moxxie finishes his song and kisses his wife tenderly. Stolas watches this and also wants to have an affectionate moment with Blitzo (who is rightfully glaring daggers at him) and tries to reach for his hand.

Blitzo rejects his touch and suggests they leave. As they do, Blitzo still looks furious and hurt. Stolas is now realizing how badly he screwed up with a "What have I done?" face (13:41)

He even looks disappointed with himself.

After Blitzo drops Stolas off, he thanks him and tries to smooth over the awkwardness with sweet talk but Blitzo just rolls his eyes in disgust and pulls on his face like "I don't want to hear this bullshit".

He responds coldly and curtly, "Yeah." Stolas makes more suggestions to spend time with him, which just makes him even angrier and he snaps

"I'm not fucking you tonight, okay!

I'm really just..." (14:28)

he pauses to wipe a tear because at this point he can barely hold it together (top notch voice acting and animation directing btw)

"...not in the mood, Stolas."

Stolas still tries to talk him into doing couple things unrelated to sex.

Blitzo's face switches back to anger and frustration because Stolas isn't getting the message so he goes for the blunt tactic;

"Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but YOU wanting ME to fuck you, okay?"

(14:42)

"You make that really clear all the time."

(again his voice sounds like he's about to break down)

"But I-I just can't do it tonight, okay?"

(Finally meets his eye)

"...I'm sorry."

I believe this is code for "I'm sorry we're even in this situation and how your reputation got damaged. " Or, more painfully, "I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment to you".

Stolas replies "Okay" and takes a deep breath to compose himself. They say goodnight and depart.

An important note here is that Stolas calls him "Blitzo" instead of "Blitzy" to show more respect.

As Blitzo zooms away coldly, Stolas looks up at the sky with tears in his eyes, surprised at how much it hurts.

He then sits down with his head in his hands in anguish...because he's getting that

"Oh...no. These feelings are real" epiphany.

And as if this wasn't enough angst, Blitzo collapses onto his couch at home, goes through the memories on his phone and starts sobbing.

I'm going to be real with you; this is the most heart-breaking shit I have ever seen in an adult show of this type. It's also the first time a show of this type got me to cry.

The last six minutes have revealed so much information without spoonfeeding it to the audience because the show RESPECTS its audience.

To recap:

*Blitzo takes Stolas on a first official date to use him

*Stolas is extremely happy about it

*Blitzo gets humilated and looks to Stolas for validation

*Stolas betrays him and breaks his heart

*Blitzo snaps that their relationship is nothing more than lust-driven sex

*Stolas realizes he's actually in love with Blitzo and it's a huge problem because (he believes) that it's unrequited.

*Blitzo breaks down because the ONE person whom he thought would protect him didn't do so.

So these two are convinced that neither one loves the other...while the irony is, it's quite the opposite.

Because if Blitzo REALLY didn't feel anything towards Stolas, he would not have gotten this emotional.

Yes, they are both lonely...but I really don't think that's all there is between them.

So..........we know WHEN they started falling...now the question is why;

I think the answer's quite simple; single-target affection.

It was mentioned in S2 that Stolas and Stella did sleep together ONE TIME...but Stolas didn't enjoy it at all. He is stuck with a wife who hates him so much that she put a HIT on him...and a daughter who thinks he's a loser. Blitzo is pretty much the one person in his life who is able to make him happy. That one small, bright spot. He enjoys the sex with him but he also simply enjoys his company, as shown in Ozzie's episode. He is thrilled to simply talk to him about his day...and do anything else that couples do. They're complete opposites. Stolas is an intellectual but naive and sheltered. Blitzo is poorly educated but cynical and street-smart. Opposites attract...though this is likely more from Stolas's POV than Blitzo's.

In other words, Stolas is into bad boys xD lmao

In Blitzo's case, Stolas is the only character who shows him physical affection which he desperately craves. He's pretty tsundere about it most of the time...but I think he actually does enjoy that attention...especially when he's always getting disrespected by Moxxie and Loona..and quite a lot of people around him. BUT he's too scared to get serious with anyone because of past trauma and he also believes that no one could possibly love him as a person. :(

Reasons I Think This Love is Real

Aside from what I pointed out in the Ozzie's episode...there's quite a lot of evidence, esp from Stolas's POV.

After he realizes he's in love, he goes to Asomodeous for an ALTERNATIVE method for Blitzo to use so they will no longer sleep together. He wants to set Blitzo free. Which means he DOES truly love him because love is about being generous to the other person. He COULD be totally selfish about it but he isn't.

Asomodeous mentions how against love potions he is and Stolas agrees. He thinks that's out of the question.

'Look My Way' music video. Lol I don't have to say anything more.

In S2 E6 OOPS

This exchange at 16:57

Fizz: Seems your taste has gotten more 'regal', lately?

Blitz: Yeah, well unlike you, I fuck who I want WHEN I want. I'm not gonna be tied down to some big blue-blood asshole.

Fizz: You coulda fooled me the way Prince was cozying up to you at Ozzie's.

Blitz (gets very defensive) HEY! Stolas only cares about have a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his mattress, okay!

It's nothing...(gets hesistant and looks away)...you know...

(Fizz gives him a 'bitch please' look xD)

"it's nothing else."

Fizz: Then why were you even there?

Blitz: OTHER very important reasons of course.

Fizz: Whatever. I don't actually care.

Blitz: Stolas is just a loud, thirsty BITCH!

(Fizz is rolling his eyes again)

Blitz: He loves feeling the thrill of getting dicked by the lower class.

It's a novelty to him.

Fizz: LITERALLY just said I don't care!

Blitz: And then he'll call me and try to see how my day was!

And he'll pretend to care about me and comment on my photos laugh at my jokes...

Fizz: (Smirking) OH! That's definitely your clue right there that it's all bullshit!

Blitz: I KNOW, RIGHT??

Fizz: (Making a 'What in idiot' expression, shaking his head)

Blitz: HE'S JUST A FAKE, PRIVELEDGED ASSHOLE...

Fizz: Sounds like you just hate him for being a prince!

No one (laughs) and I mean NO ONE pretends to care that much just for a cheap lay.

All right. IF ANYONE knows what real love is like, it's Fizzaroli...who is in a very HEALTHY relationship with Asomodeous. He recognizes the signs because he's IN that place. He sees it...and he's annoyed that Blitzo keeps denying it and brushing it off...yet clearly can NOT stop talking about Stolas (amusing irony)

To sum up (this freaking essay lol) 'Stolitz' ABSOLUTELY has the potential to be pure and true...these two just need to communicate...or Stolas has to PROVE to Blitzo that he's serious about his feelings in another way.

There is no doubt that this ship is 100% endgame and is a case of the 'Earn Your Happy Ending' Trope. I look forward to the rest of the journey. Ron is putting my feelings about Stolitz in a perfect phrase:

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Can’t Help Falling in Love

————————————————————————-

Summary: You surprise Joe when he gets home from practice by putting on your wedding dress from your wedding back in March of 2022.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

A/N: Joe isn't injured.

————————————————————————-

*December 30th, 2023 - 22 weeks pregnant*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe was currently away at an early morning practice, preparing for the Chief’s game tomorrow.

The team would be getting on a plane for Kansas City tonight, and Zac called an ‘emergency’ practice this morning.

Since Joe was away, I was doing some seriously needed deep cleaning in the house.

Tyson and Miles’s room would have to be last to be cleaned since they wouldn't be up for a while.

I will never take for granted the fact that the terrible twos don't seem to be a thing to the twins. They're closer to three and have remained their happy selves.

The reason I mention this is because when they do wake up, they'll happily help me clean their room without being asked.

My heart warmed when I walked into what will be our baby girl’s nursery once she's born and old enough to be moved out of Joe and I’s room.

The walls were painted a cream color with an accent wall of vintage floral wallpaper.

Joe was the one who approached me with the idea, and I loved it.

Her name had a vintage feel, so her nursery having the same vibe was perfect.

One thing about our baby girl is that she was already 100% a daddy’s girl.

She loved it when Joe talked to my stomach, as she would kick after every sentence that left his mouth.

Joe ate every bit of it up, already taking his girl-dad role very seriously. He was so involved in my pregnancy, making sure to be there for his wife and beloved baby girl.

He just loved her so much.

My thoughts made me smile to myself as I looked around her unfurnished room and absentmindedly rubbed my bump.

Soon, I snapped out of my thoughts and remembered my cleaning.

——

After getting Joe and I’s bedroom and bathroom cleaned, it was time to move onto the closet.

I saved it for last because I knew it was going to be a doozy.

With constant packages of clothing items arriving at the house for Joe’s game-day fits, there was always a huge stack of boxes in here.

Usually, after the stack reaches a certain height, Joe would take them out to the dumpster.

Lately, though, he's fallen behind on his duties, and the stack was huge.

After clearing that out, I started going through my side of the closet, knowing Joe wouldn't exactly be happy if I moved his stuff around.

I knew I'd find some gems, doing a deep clean in my closet, but I didn't expect to find my wedding dress.

It looked just as beautiful as I remembered and it took my breath away.

Joe and I’s wedding back in March of 2022 was an absolute dream. We were so happy, nothing could sour our moods.

We looked back at our wedding photos all of the time, watching the videos of our vows being one of our favorite things.

I remembered a video I'd seen on TikTok last night of a wife putting on her wedding dress to surprise her husband, and I immediately decided to do it.

That is if the baby bump and growing boobs allow this dress to fit me.

It wouldn't necessarily be a prank or the usual trends that I've tried in him, so it would be a good change.

——

A few hours later, Tyson and Miles had been awake for a while, and we all got their room cleaned.

Joe would be home soon because he told me what time practice ended before he left this morning.

That being said, I was now upstairs trying to slip my wedding dress on.

Thankfully, the bodice part of the dress didn't quite reach my belly, so it was perfectly hidden under the skirt. I was a little surprised that my growing chest was able to stay contained under the fabric since I'd had to buy bigger bras since getting pregnant.

I didn't even attempt to try to zip the back of the dress up, though.

Moments later I could hear my phone ringing in the bedroom, and I had to practically waddle my way over there to get it.

It was Joe calling, probably telling me that he was on his way.

“Hey, Joey.” - you

“Hey, Mama. Just wanted to tell you that I'm leaving practice right now. I should be home in a bit.” - Joe

“Oh okay, how was practice?” - you

“As good as practice can be, I guess.” - Joe chuckled

I laughed along with him before he started talking again.

“How’s your day been? The boys and baby girl doing good?” - Joe

“We’re perfect. Just miss you. Princess has been a little restless today, probably wanting to talk to her daddy.” - you

“I miss you guys too, Imma be home soon. I promise to be with you till I have to leave tonight.” - Joe

“Okay. I love you, Joe. Be safe.” - you

“I will be. I love you too, so much. See you soon, my love.” - Joe

“See you soon. Bye.” - you

“Bye, baby.” - Joe hung up

Now I just have to wait.

——

I sat on the couch to the best of my ability, waiting for Joe to get home when I heard the garage door opening.

Tyson and Miles jumped off of the couch to go greet their dad, and soon I could hear that deep voice coming from the mud room.

“Where's your momma at?” - Joe

“Couch.” - Miles

A few moments later Joe’s heavy footsteps got louder and his tall frame was in my view.

His eyes lit up, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw me. Joe’s mouth dropped open into a taken-aback huge grin.

“Baby… woah. You look... woah.” - Joe

I stood up and walked closer to him, his eyes never once leaving me.

“y/n, you look so beautiful. I don't even know what to say.” - Joe

Standing on my tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, Joe wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Where’d your bump go?” - Joe laughed

I turned to the side and flattened my hands around it, causing Joe to laugh and reach for it.

Joe rubbed over my bump for a second before pulling his hand back to take in everything.

“I’m not even gonna lie though, I will need your help taking this thing off.” - you

“Wouldn't be the first time.” - Joe smirked

“Joseph Lee!” - you playfully hit his arm

“I’m not lying though!” - Joe

——

Later, after Joe helped me out of my dress, he gave me something that he had brought home but forgot to give me because he got distracted by me in my dress.

It was some Mexican food that he had picked up pm his way home from practice since I had told him this morning that I was craving it.

Now, we were sitting on the couch together as I ate.

“Thank you for this.” - you took a bite of your chimichanga

“You’re so welcome, Mama.” - Joe kissed your cheek

A few seconds of silence went by as Joe stole a bite of my chimichanga.

“Did my wedding dress look good on me still? After having twins and currently being pregnant, I don't even want to know how different it looks on me.” - you

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe giving me a stank face, and I couldn't help but laugh when I turned my head to face him.

“What’s that look for?” - you laughed

“You’re fucking with me, right? Like you're joking?” - Joe

“No?” - you

“y/n. No matter how many changes your body has gone through you are as beautiful as the girl I dated in high school, all through college, and the girl I said I do to. Wanna know why?” - Joe

“Why?” - you

“Because you're the same girl you were before you had our babies. And to be completely honest with you, those changes make you even more gorgeous than before. To me, you don't have any imperfections because I love every part of your body. Those little stretch marks you complain about? They are a reminder of your body growing to accommodate your babies. Your belly getting bigger? That's home to our princess. I say all that to say this. y/n you are the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I love you so much.” - Joe

Joe wiped the tears that were dripping down my cheeks. They were happy tears time ten.

“I didn't mean to make you cry on your chimichanga.” - Joe

I laughed and leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his skin against mine.

“They're happy tears, Joe, and thank you for the pep talk… I needed that.” - you

“I know you did, baby. Now finish your food, Imma talk to the baby.” - Joe leaned down and looked at you, asking for permission to lift your shirt

“Go ahead.” - you grinned

What would I do without him?

————————————————————————-

Authors note: more of an imagine than a blurb but whatevs

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[manicpixiefelix]

they stare at me (and i stare at you) {Felix Catton/Reader}

one. i saw you kept your gaze controlled

Summary: It's Orientation Week at Oxford and Felix is excited to experience everything university life has to offer him. Mostly socially. Almost all of his peers, thankfully, seem to be on the same wavelength as him, except you. Fine, if you wanted to take yourself too seriously, you could do it far away from him, he thinks. At least, that's what he thinks at first.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is the Acting CEO of their family's International Media and Telecommunications Empire. There will be smut in future chapters (see masterpost for more details/warnings). You & Felix are both 19.

This is technically an AU of my long running fic head, heart, hand. but can be read 100% on its own. No prior information from that fic is necessary going into this at all.

{ masterpost }

A/N: 1787 words. Hi! Excited to finally be publishing the first part of this!! Updates will be slow, but I've already got about 20k written from all around the timeline so I just need to piece everything together. This takes place in Felix's first year of Uni so this fic won't feature Oliver. If you like it, or have thoughts about it, I'd love to hear from you!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There's a novel charm, Felix considers, about moving into the Oxford dormitories, even if the hallowed halls echo his own home more than most other students.

During orientation, he makes friends easily, all warm smiles and sincere laughter; people have always flocked to Felix. Part of it is his natural charm, but he's never been above exploiting his looks while putting his best foot forward in situations like these. His outfits are always on trend and on brand, and he spends longer in the mirror than he'd ever admit to another living soul.

It was a breeze to make friends of his peers, the people in his course - business, at his parents suggestion - the people in his dorm, anyone he really came across who felt like giving him the time of day. Everything always seemed to reinforce what he already knew; Felix Catton was a born people-person, there was nothing that could shake his confidence in that fact. Well there wasn't anything, until he met you.

In all honesty, Felix's first impression of you was that you were strangely familiar, but ultimately rather dull.

During that orientation week, he'd gotten himself to all of the introductory workshops to his course that the University had set up for students to meet their classmates and get an overview of their degrees. At every single one, you were there, hanging back, rather quiet, seeming preferring to observe the rest of your peers unless your input was specifically called for. Again, your name rang a bell to him, but you were a non-event otherwise as he focused on getting to know the people who seemed far more eager to engage. At best, you were simply a standoffish prick at the back of the room who always felt the need to wear fucking business casual to decidedly casual casual workshops.

Once, he overhears a guy he thinks is named Benji asking if he'd seen you at the club that night. Though your smile is barely a smile, more a suggestion of amusement rather than anything else, your tone is sharp and bright.

"Of course I'll be there."

"Looking forward to it," Benji grins, before heading off in the opposite direction. Felix realises he's been caught eavesdropping when your gaze meets his. He's not quite sure how to react, not to the conversation he'd overheard, nor to the curious look you're now giving him. Instead of calling him out, or even saying anything at all, you nod to him once, and take off in the direction of the dining hall.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Felix finds himself at the club that had been catering to the first years every night this week so far. He drinks, he has a good time, and he ends up going home with a pretty girl studying Chemistry, but he didn't recognise anyone there to be you.

More and more he starts seeing you around campus, or maybe it just feels like that now that you've caught his attention. Did you always have people around you or did he not notice you amongst some of the people he'd started to befriend. Our maybe he hasn't reconsidered you because he'd never seen you properly smile like that before. Everywhere Felix saw you, you were amongst friends, sometimes even one or two of his. It was never opportune moments, however, he always seemed to be on his way to or from something. He felt like he never got the opportunity to properly meet you.

Until it's eleven o'clock on a Friday night, and he hears your voice coming from around the side of one of the dorms as he was on his way to celebrate the last day of orientation week with the rest of the first years.

"- yeah, no, I know it was Decker," you sounded annoyed, and when Felix investigates, he sees you leaning against the wall by the entrance to a dorm building, phone to your ear, smoking a cigarette. Except if he hadn't just heard your voice, he'd barely be able to tell it was you; why the hell would you choose to live your life in business casual when you could look this damn good? "Because Decker's been a pain in my ass ever since -" whoever was on the other end of your call cut you off and you sighed deeply, pinching your brow out of frustration, "yeah, I just need this pulled before it can get to print for Monday," you sighed. Stubbing your cigarette out on the wall, you ducked down to pick up a dark bottle that had been hidden in the bushes by your feet.

Felix doesn't know exactly why he keeps watching, but he's fascinated. He can't look away.

"I emailed you a bunch of ads for charities we could run in its place, pick one, stick it in, it's on me, it's my good deed for the day- no, tonight!" You insisted, scowling, before you took a sip of your drink, rebuffing whoever is protesting on the other end of the line, "I'd rather the page be fucking blank- because we're not printing a homophobic hit piece on Portia De Rossi a week after she comes out!" You argued, before you sighed deeply, adding, "or ever, fucking obviously." Then, frustrated, "of course Decker fucking okayed it, you saw the shit he wrote about Rosie O'Donnell back before I -" but again, you were cut off, "I told him to cut that shit out the moment-" you took another drink, furious, "no, first thing Monday I'm having words with him." There's a terse goodbye, and your phone clicks shut, and Felix suddenly feels like he's snapping out of a trance.

"Can I help you with something?" You snapped suddenly, seemingly to no-one. Felix feels his heart rate pick up nervously. It only spikes hire when your head turns to look at him. Your gaze is ice fucking cold. You take another drink.

"Is everything okay?" Felix hears himself asking. Your lips twisted into a humourless smile, and you reached into your pocket to pull out a pocketbook of cigarettes.

"Peachy," you say bitterly, "do you have a light? I usually wouldn't ask but these pants are stupidly tight and it's going to be a hassle to get my own."

"Downside to looking that good I guess," Felix steps forward, rummaging around in his jacket pocket to find his lighter. What he's said doesn't hit him until you're leaning in to light your cigarette from his offered fire, but it seems you hadn't quite heard him, to preoccupied with your thoughts, "are you on your way out tonight?" Felix tries again, and you take a long draft, thanking him quietly as your expression scrunched up with a thoughtful kind of irritation.

"Is getting absolutely pissed tonight the smartest move? Absolutely not," you huffed, jaw set in a firm line, "am I going to do it anyways? You fucking bet." Then, you turn to him, eyebrows raised, "what about you, Catton?"

Felix kind of feels like you'd just smacked him. What?

"How did you know -?"

"Heard your name a dozen times over the week, we're in the same course," you offered easily. This Felix knew, however the alarm bells in Felix's mind just started ringing louder. There was something about you now, something almost too casual about how you choose to look away, take another sip of your drink.

"Pretty sure they only asked for our first names," he frowns. There's something rather dreadful the way you look at him out of the corner of your eye, smile curling at the edges of your lips like you're pleased.

"Perceptive one, aren't you?" The tone of your voice makes him feel like he's won the world's worst prize. Pushing off of the wall, you make a start towards him, and the path off of campus. You shove your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket as you pass, "walk with me, Felix Catton," you called out to him as he watches you pass.

He thinks you might be a trickster spirit, attempting to steal his soul. Or maybe you're just going to kill him.

For some stupid reason, he still chooses to walk with you.

He really tries not to dwell on how unsettling it was that you seemed to know more about him than you let on. He's pretty sure he recognises you from somewhere, perhaps you'd recognised him too, and you'd simply remembered.

"You're Y/N," your last name, however, does not come to mind. You confirmed easily, offering him a cigarette. He doesn't need to prompt for your last name, thankfully; you offer it. Somehow, it still doesn't feel like an equal exchange. There's several minutes of silence, broken only by the gentle sound of gravel crunching beneath both your feet, and the occasional sip you take of your drink. Finally, Felix asks who Decker is.

"Twenty stone worth of bigotry shoved into the most weasly looking cunt you've ever seen in your life," you muttered darkly, though the wording shocks a laugh from Felix, and your anger softens at the sound, wearing a pleased little grin when you look over to him, "he knows I check everything, especially his shit since I don't trust him, don't know how he thought he could pull a fast one on me like that."

"What kind of work do you do?"

"It's just the family business," you shrugged off the question with ease, "I've been helping dad out with it for years, so he's asked me to take care of a few things while he's on holiday."

"Local paper?"

"What?"

"You were talking about something going to print on Monday, does your family run a local paper back home?" When Felix's question is met with silence, he looks to you. He wasn't expecting to see you looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"Something like that," was all you offered, evasively. There's another beat of silence before you seem to shrug off your discomfort, giving him a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, "our parents are friends," direct and to the point, "I used to see you at," you paused for a moment, deliberating, adding carefully, "parties." Eyes bright, there's still something careful beneath that in the way you're watching him. Parties, you say when he knows you meant events. The formal kind he fucking hated. Huh.

"That's where you got my name from," his relief, however, is short-lived when he sees the strange look you give him. But in the next minute it's gone, and you're looking out to the road ahead.

"Exactly."

For reasons Felix can't put into words, there's not a single part of him that believes you.