#so it's always a mad scramble on Update Day

[queen-scribbles]

Ah, yes, the always-nerve wracking "do I have enough disk space free for the temporary update download?" that is inherent with a low storage laptop + SWtOR. xD

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 9

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: none!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 9: Cooking Competitions and Confessions

Chapter summary: On the way to Dressrosa, you and Sanji bond over cooking. Luffy proposes a cooking competition between you two, and if you lose, you will have to go on a date with Sanji! If Sanji lost, he would have to give you a cookbook full of the recipes he learned from Kambaka Land. However, everyone doesn't realize that Law rigs the competition to your favour, not wanting Sanji to go on a date with you. 

A/N: FINALLY!!!!

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 3k

It was a quiet night in the Thousand Sunny. The sea was calm and peaceful, with the clear night sky littered with thousands of stars. 

You were lying out on the grassy deck of the ship. You would never admit it, but your brother's ship was way better than Law's yellow submarine. 

With your hands behind your head, you stared up into the night sky, observing the various constellations that painted the world above you. You were so engrossed in the moment that you failed to notice your brother took a seat beside you.

"Hey, sis, why aren't you sleeping yet?" Luffy piqued up as he sat right next to you.

He shuffled closer when you didn't answer him. "Sis, are you still mad at me for what I did yesterday? I said I was sorry!" he whined. 

You glanced at Luffy and saw he was pouting in your direction. 

It was hard to stay mad at him for so long. After all, he is your baby brother. 

With the grass on your palms, you hoisted yourself up and tackled him to the ground, resulting in a tickle fight.

"H-hey! That's not fair you got a head start!" he squeaked as he scrambled to leverage himself against your attack. You continued to relentlessly tickle Luffy, and he did the same to you. The Sunny was soon filled with shrieks of laughter, which resulted in a sleepy Zoro angrily throwing his barbell down at you and Luffy. 

"Spoilsport," you muttered as you squinted your eyes at the angry green-haired swordsman who was stomping back into the men's sleeping quarters. 

Luffy laughed. "Zoro's always grumpy these days, big sis. I don't mind, though, he's super reliable."

You sighed as you laid back down on the grass once more. "Hey, Luffy, I'm proud of how far you've gone with your journey." 

"You mean that? You're the best, sis!" he exclaimed as he lay next to you. 

A quiet hum left your lips as you and your brother stargazed together. A few minutes passed before the straw-hatted boy spoke up once again.

"Hey, sis, want to join my crew?" he asked out of the blue.

"Nah, I'm good," you immediately answered back. 

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because," you started. Twisting to your side to face Luffy, you continued, "I want to stay in Captain Law's crew."

Luffy looked at you with a confused expression. "Traffy? Why with him?"

"Oh, you airhead, I'm loyal to him, just like how Zoro is loyal to you!"

"But I'm you're brother! You should join me instead!" he whined.

You chuckled. "Well, Captain Law is my..."  

Your voice faded as your mind started to reel. What was Law to you? Your relationship blossomed greatly in the past couple of months, surpassing the simple captain and subordinate dynamic. You knew there was something more, something beyond friendship, but you couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge it.

"Traffy is what?" Luffy pressed on, noticing that you stopped talking.

You snapped out of your thoughts and flashed him a gentle smile. "Well, he's special to me."

"What about me?! Am I not special to you, big sis?" your brother pouted.

A hearty laugh escaped your lungs. "Oh, Luffy, you'll always be special to me! Just like Ace and Sabo! But I meant that Captain Law means a lot to me, like someone I could spend the rest of my days with."

Luffy tilted his head, still confused.

"I don't know how to explain it, Lu, it's different from the love you feel for your friends. Do you kiss your friends?"

"No."

"Do you want to kiss your friends?"

"Not really."

"Well, I want to kiss Captain Law. That's how I feel about him," you explained.

"OH! Is that why you almost threw me overboard?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Now you get it."

"So if you want to kiss Traffy, that means that you love him? Like more than a friend?" Luffy questioned.

"Well..."

"Why won't you admit it? If you feel that way, then it's okay!" your brother declared.

You froze. The whole time, you were overthinking your relationship with your captain, but your brother made you realize it was so simple. You did love him, and it's okay to love him. 

A large grin broke out on your face. You tackled your brother in a crushing bear hug.

"You're so simpleminded, yet you move people with your words," you sighed.

"Thank you!" Luffy said, not knowing what you meant.

That night, your mind was put at ease, and you were able to sleep peacefully for the first time in a while.

-------

You blankly stared at the mixing bowl in front of you. Around the bowl were various cooking utensils and ingredients, all organized and laid out. In front of you were the Strawhats, plus Kin'emon and Momonosuke were staring at you eagerly. Law was there, too, in the corner, giving you an unreadable expression. On your left was Sanji, the cook of the crew, who gave you a bright smile.

"You ready (Y/n)-Chan?" he cheerfully asked you.

You gave a weary smile at the blonde man. You were going to kill Luffy for putting you in this mess.

.

"Good morning (Y/n)-Chan! What brings you in the kitchen so early in the morning!" Sanji greeted. He was holding a bowl of eggs and whisking it as he watched you walk into the kitchen. 

You groaned and flashed a sleepy smile. "Good morning, Sanji. I woke up to a wonderful smell of pancakes and bacon and couldn't help but see what you made," you admitted as you sat down at the dining table. 

A chuckle left Sanji's lips. "My heart swells to know that my food prompted a beautiful lady like yourself to keep me company here."

"Wow, the girls weren't joking when they said you were a smooth talker. Anyway, I wanted to ask, how did you find these recipes in your dishes? They're absolutely divine, and I would love it if you had some sort of cookbook I could borrow so I can learn how to make them!" you eagerly asked as you placed your head in your palm. 

The blonde cook looked at you with a surprised expression. "Oh wow! No one asked me for a cookbook before." he walked up to you before he continued, "But I think I deserve something if I were to give you the recipes I learned. It's only fair; I went through a lot to get those recipes in my hand."

"Is that so?" you mustered, tilting your head in curiosity. "Well, in that case, what do you propose that I give you?"

The two of you basked yourselves in silence, thinking of how an exchange of knowledge would go down. Then, an idea suddenly popped into your head, but before you could speak, a loud crash interrupted your thoughts.

"Sanji!!! Big sis!!! Good morning!!' your brother hollered as he barrelled his way into the kitchen. He scampered towards the dining table and sat next to you. "Sanji, is food ready? I'm hungry!" 

"Oh Luffy, yeah, food's almost done give me a second." Sanji huffed as he hurriedly got back to work.

"By the way, big sis, can you cook your signature spaghetti? I do miss your cooking. Oh, I know! I have an awesome idea!" he exclaimed as he turned to you and shook you by the shoulders.

You groaned. He was always up to no good.

Luffy whipped his head towards the blonde cook and grinned widely. "You guys should do a cooking competition! Shishishishi!"

"Luffy!" you angrily hissed. Grabbing him by the neck, you started wringing him as his rubbery head flopped to the floor.

"Hey, that's a great idea!" Sanji exclaimed as he started plating the breakfast. 

You nervously laughed as you slowly let go of your brother, who was now coughing up a fit on the kitchen floor. "Yeah...I guess we can do that..."

"Im screwed." you thought to yourself. "Sanji's cooking is way better than mine. Oh well, it doesn't hurt to try."

"Okay, I accept the challenge. If I win, I get those recipes," you affirmed.

Sanji grabbed the rest of the plates and placed them on the dining table. "Deal. And if I win..."

The cook stroked his chin for a second, then continued, "Go on a date with me when we reach Dressrosa after we finish our business there." he cheekily responded.

.

And now you were here, about to participate in a cooking competition that you knew you were going to lose and go on a date that you didn't agree to.

You can feel the impending migraine coming through already.

"Alright, chefs! Today, you will be making takoyaki! In front of you are all the ingredients you need. You have 45 minutes to whip up a batch! We will be the judges for your cooking and determine the winner! Now, do you all know the stakes of the competition?" Nami announced.

The navigator placed herself between you and Sanji and continued. "If Sanji-kun loses, he has to give a cookbook full of his recipes!"

The crew started to mutter amongst themselves.

"And if (Y/n) loses, she has to go on a date with Sanji-kun!" she giggled.

"WHAT?!" everyone screamed.

You shut your eyes in embarrassment, wishing you could hide in the corner and disappear. You opened one eye and glanced at Law. His jaw was wired shut, and his stormy eyes pierced into you and Sanji. 

He was pissed.

"Exciting, right!" Now chefs, ready..." Nami raised her hand and then did an air chop with her arm. "Get cooking!"

Everyone cheered as you and Sanji scrambled around the kitchen. The first thing you thought about grabbing was flour, but it was inconveniently placed high up in the cabinets. You groaned in annoyance as you hopped onto the counter to reach it, however, when your hand was stretching out to grab it, the bag of flour magically appeared on your hands. Confused, you promptly got down and gave a quick glance at Law, who gave you a small smirk in the corner of the room.

Oh, that sneaky bastard. 

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. This could work in your favour.

The next 45 minutes breezed by as you got to work. Every time you were looking for an ingredient or utensil, it always appeared right in front of you. Your confidence started to grow by the minute, and you paid no mind to Sanji, who was actually struggling beside you.

It turns out that while your captain was secretly helping you, he was sabotaging the Strawhat cook at the same time. Each time he would try to grab something, Law quickly shifted the item with his powers so that Sanji would accidentally miss it or knock it down. He even managed to 'Shambles' a rotten dead octopus from the sea and set it on Sanji's counter. The poor cook took longer than usual to prepare the dish because of it.

Once the 45 minutes were up, you painstakingly set your freshly made takoyaki balls in front of everyone, with Sanji following closely behind and setting his plate beside yours.

The blonde chef sighed deeply as he rummaged through his pockets and fished out a lighter and cigarette. "That was the most frustrating cooking session I've had in a while," he muttered as he started to smoke.

"Was it? I didn't notice," you commented lightheartedly.

"It was like someone was sabotaging me, but I couldn't pinpoint one who and how." he sighed as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Wow!! These look so good!" Luffy exclaimed as he took a handful from your plate and Sanji's plate. He shoved the food straight into his mouth. "Dish ish shuper delishious!" he exclaimed with his mouth full.

"Idiot! You're supposed to try them one at a time!" Nami shrieked as her fist connected with the Strawhat's head, causing him to spit out his food.

Law gingerly took one from your plate and slowly munched on it. You silently gasped when you saw and made your way towards him.

"Captain, you hate anything with flour and bread! Why did you taste it?" you whispered.

He gave you a teasing look with his eyes. "Because you made it."

A blush appeared on your cheeks. The kitchen suddenly felt a little hot. 

Everyone cleaned out both plates in a matter of minutes. Then Kin'emon first spoke up.

"Man, it's so hard to choose, both of you make delicious takoyaki! But if I had to choose...Sorry (Y/n), I'd have to go with Sanji." he said.

Soon, everyone poured their votes in. In the end, Sanji still won the majority of votes even though you had assistance, much to your and Law's annoyance.

The crew soon broke out once the competition was over. You saw Law leave the kitchen as soon as the winner was announced, so you assumed that he was going to be mad for the rest of the day.

You and Sanji stayed behind to clean up the mess. The two of you worked in silence until Sanji spoke up. 

"Good game (Y/n)-Chan!" he said as he gave a small smile.

"Yeah, there was no way I could beat you, Sanji. Looks like I owe you a date?" you said with fake cheerfulness. 

The blonde cook stopped wiping the counters and faced you. "Actually, you don't have to go on a date with me," he announced.

Your eyes widened. "What? But you won!"

"Yeah, but I could see how uncomfortable you are with the idea. I don't want to force a lady into doing something she doesn't want to do," he explained. "I'll just give you a few of my favourite recipes. Sound fair?"

Your mood was immediately uplifted. You ran up to Sanji and gave him a bone-crushing hug and a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, thank you! You're the best, Sanji!" you squealed.

The poor chef was taken aback by your actions. His nose started to bleed once he realized that you kissed him, but you didn't care. You happily skipped out of the kitchen and made your way down to the deck when you stumbled into someone.

"Ow!" you yelped. Looking up, you saw that you ran into your tattooed captain, and you broke out into a large grin. "Captain!"

"(Y/n)-ya." he greeted. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry, I'm just in a really good mood right now!" you giggled.

Law's expression darkened. "Oh? Is it because you're going on a date with the cook?" he brooded. He faced away from you, clearly bothered by the idea of you going on a date with someone else.

"Huh? No! He actually said I didn't have to! And he said he's going to give me some of his recipes! I can't wait to cook them for you and our crew!" you gleaned. 

The tattooed doctor's turned his head towards you and looked at you with hopeful eyes, even though his face remained neutral. "Is that so?"

"Yeah!" you exclaimed. You were so caught up in the moment that you giddily grabbed his cheeks with both of your palms and pulled him close to your face.

"(Y-Y/n)-ya! What-!" he exclaimed. Your sudden action had the poor doctor's heart and mind racing as he started to turn red from head to toe.

"Captain, I believe I owe you something." you cheekily declared.

"If you feel that way, then it's okay!" your brother's words relayed in your head.

You'd finally admit it. You're in love with your captain, Trafalgar Law.

"W-what- UMPF!"

Trafalgar Law was met with a soft pair of lips against his own. His grey eyes widened in shock once he realized that you had kissed him on the lips. You kissed him on his lips.

He swears that his heart is going to jump out of his chest. The number of times he's dreamed about initiating the first kiss between the two of you, but you had beaten him to his own game. 

You shyly pulled away and continued to cradle Law's cheeks. Your eyes shimmered with happiness as you looked into Law's shocked expression. He was still processing on what had just happened.

"You cheeky bastard, helping me cheat in that competition! You're so cute when you're jealous!" you teased.

Law couldn't bring himself to speak. His throat felt unbearably dry. 

You gave out a hearty laugh as you finally pulled away and started to make your way down the stairs to the deck.

Once you were gone, the tattooed captain clutched his chest and stumbled forward. Then, without even knowing, he started to laugh.

Luffy saw what had happened and walked up to the fellow captain. "Hey Traffy! Are you okay? Why are you so red?" he innocently asked. 

Law quickly recollected himself and covered his face with his tattooed hand. He refused to be seen as a lovesick teenage girl in front of others. He glanced at Luffy, who was still staring at him intently and sighed. "Your sister is going to be the death of me one day."

"Huh? Why would she kill you?" Luffy asked.

The doctor scoffed. "What I mean is... never mind."

"Ah, I think I know now. Don't worry. She told me everything. She said she wants to kiss you."

Law turned red once again. "She told you that?"

"Yeah, I don't know what it means, but all I know is that she really, really likes you!"

Law didn't respond. Instead, he started to walk away and head back into the guest quarters.

This mission he was on was imperative. It was important for him to focus and to put all his mind and soul into taking down Doflamingo. But yet he couldn't help but get sidetracked with you. And now that you've basically confessed to him, well...

He was actually okay with it. It just meant that he had to add a new plan.

A new plan to court you properly, even amongst the mess he was in. Because for him, that's what you deserved. 

-----

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky @whore-of-many-hot-men @acesdiary

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day 2: Electric Boogaloo

So, the plan was to have my one productive day and then rest for however long the consequences of post exertional malaise decide they want to take.

But I needed to bring the working key fob back to the tire place so they could calibrate the tire pressure sensors. So, the day after my day, I napped until about 4pm and summoned the last bit of energy I had to finish this task.

After they fixed the sensors, I looked out over a beautiful sunset in the Discount Tire parking lot.

It's weird the places you find beauty sometimes.

I was about a mile away from my family's favorite pizza place. We've been going there since I was a tadpole. So I decided to grab a pizza as my Thanksgiving meal.

I didn't realize that the day before Thanksgiving would be just about the busiest night of the year. And they have the world's worst parking lot, half of which is a steep hill, and they didn't have enough spaces.

Google Maps has flattened the appearance of the hill. That thing is nearly a 40 degree angle. If anyone with a sports car wants a pizza, they are going to scrape their paint trying to get it.

So, I tried to park around back. Unfortunately someone was exiting the back parking lot and there is only one lane.

So... I backed up... into a pole.

I was going extremely slow and I barely tapped it. But I still felt pretty stupid. Thankfully no scratches or dents.

I finally find parking and head inside.

The Italian kitsch is always a "welcome" sight.

Every time I look it takes me like 10 seconds to figure out the configuration of his face. I find it is best to look at the mustache first, and then orient yourself from there.

I head to the counter and she asks for my name, assuming I am picking up a phone order. I explained I was just "dropping in" and then she gave me an "oof" face. The wait was nearly two hours. I told her I could get a few things from the grocery store and return for my pizza. She charges my card and I hop back in my car. Just as I was about to exit the parking lot of doom, a customer from Angelo's starts yelling at me.

"You forgot your card!"

Clearly my brain fog is starting to get to me. I left my damn bank card on the counter. So I have to exit the parking lot, drive into another parking lot, turn around, and then park again. I retrieved my card and headed to Nice Schnucks.

The GPS took me on a wild journey to the NS. I've lived in this area for 40 years and I had no idea some of these roads existed. I'm sure it was 3 minutes faster or whatever, but I think I would have preferred a route with streetlights. Unlit streets give me a bit of anxiety. Especially if I don't know them.

I get to NS and realize I was about to have the same problem I did at the pizza place. It was the night before Thanksgiving and the entire neighborhood was scrambling to get food for the next day.

I filled up on soups, frozen pizzas, and I got a few more bottles of my beloved soda. There is a Shirley Temple flavor I have yet to try. (Update: A rare Fitz's fail. Tasted like cough medicine.) And then I headed to the madness of the self-checkout.

I managed to kill about an hour, but my legs were getting wobbly. I really shouldn't have gone back out this soon. And I probably should have just headed home after the car was fixed. But I feared if I didn't do *something* special for Thanksgiving I would probably have a difficult time being all alone.

I head back to Angelo's. This time I was able to park in front and avoid hitting any poles.

The pizza was cooking and needed another 15 minutes. So I sat at a table and worked on finishing writing my to-do list for my trip to Florida. I was trying to tell Amazon that, yes, I do want a tiny bottle of shampoo to comply with the TSA security theater. But, no, I do not want 8 tiny shampoos.

Oh, did you know they charge you a "9/11 tax" when you buy a plane ticket?

Spirit Airlines has a pretty funny alternative name for it...

"After 9/11, the U.S. implemented the “9/11 Security Tax”, which was a fee of $2.50 each way of a trip on top of the price of a plane ticket. In 2014, the 9/11 Security Tax was increased to $5.60 each way. So, for a round trip this fee would cost $11.20"

We are literally still paying for 9/11. And there is no evidence the enhanced security does much of anything.

So we pay this tax so they can force us to buy tiny shampoo and go through scanners that have to detect and blur our genitals so the TSA agent can't see.

Anyway... I finally get my pizza and head home. When I pulled into my driveway I noticed a bright moon in the sky. It looked so massive compared to other nights, so I tried to capture a moon selfie.

As a photographer, I should have realized that a wide angle lens is not going to capture how big the moon looked in the sky that night. Wide lenses exaggerate distance. So things close to the lens look huge and things far away look tiny. That's why we look like aliens if we hold our smartphones too close to our face. To the lens on your camera, the distance from the tip of your nose to your ears is quite vast. Which meens a celestial body that is 240,000 miles away looks like a tiny dot in the picture.

I still kept trying.

That could be a moon I guess.

Umm, Froggie... you got some moon in your hair.

Later I did try to capture the moon with my DSLR and an 80mm lens, but I guess the moon is just really far away or something.

ENHANCE!

A.I. upscaling reveals it is, in fact, the moon.

I ate my pizza and did a quick tire test and photoshoot.

And then I spent way too long Photoshopping this X-wing flying into my deep-as-heck tire tread.

And that was my day after the day.

Today, which is currently Thanksgiving, I slept.

I slept all night.

I slept most of the day.

I still want to sleep.

Weirdly, I am too tired to feel lonely. Though now that I wrote that, I am thinking about my parents being gone, so I just screwed that up.

But hey... at least my pizza was tasty.

[maleyanderecafe]

Love is too Heavy for Obsessive Idol Sex (Manga)

Created by: Yomichi Ten

Genre: Smut

And some more smut stuff to translate and run with. This one has a lot of stuff going on with it, from idols, to marriage papers, to age gaps to teachers and students, this creator really tried to put literally everything they liked in there. Props to that. The yandere in this one is fairly light but persistent. Like a puppy dog if you, will. Currently there is only one chapter, but I'll update it as it goes along.

The story starts out with Aya hanging out at home, drinking beer and watching her TV for the popular idol group, Arise. Aya actually knows one of the idol group members, Sora, a child that she took care of when she was young named Kanaya. While she happily reminisces about how he wanted to marry her when he was a child, Sora suddenly announces that he's retiring from Arise to get married, something that shocks everyone. As Aya scrambles around trying to figure out what is going on, she hears someone at her door, and who other than Kanaya is there, asking her to sign a marriage paper. Aya mistakenly believes that she's the witness to the marriage until Kanaya corrects her, showing her that his promise to her when he was younger was actually real, and that he wanted to marry her. She panics, trying to make up excuses to get the two married until she basically states that it's better to go about it slowly. She tries to kick Kanaya afterwards, but Kanaya is extremely sad, stating that he always wanted to be Aya's first, but since she probably has had her first from previous boyfriends, he kept his kisses and general first time with her. After this, it starts out with a kiss before leading to sex. The next day, Aya feels guilty as everyone talks about the news of Sora retiring from Arise and everyone finds out that Kanaya is a new student there.

So like I said, there is a lot of stuff going on in this story right now and it's only the first chapter. Overall though, I do think that Kanaya is very cute, he's very innocent in a way, pretty much straight after his 18th birthday he comes to try to marry Aya because he's been wanting to do so as a child, and he didn't want to wait any longer because he saw Aya with her ex boyfriends. I guess it also flew over his head that people usually tend to date before they get married considering it wasn't even something that he thought about before Aya had to mention it in panic. He also basically refused to kiss anyone because he wanted his first to be with Aya, and it it surprising that despite the fact that Aya isn't likely a virgin anymore, he didn't get like standardly yandere mad at that, which you know is nice, in a way. Like I said, though, very puppy dog like in a innocent type of way. Aya is just a supportive person who is kind of just not understanding what the hell is going on, which fair when the kid you were taking care of when he was a child comes in an immediately demands to marry you on his 18th birthday is probably also something that takes a bit of time to process.

I'm not really sure how this story is going to go, I think it'll probably try to juggle the entire teacher student relationship and also the idol relationship- and probably drop the marriage part of it for a while at least until Aya feels more ready to do it. I'm not even sure if Aya considers the two of them dating since she never seemed to agree to most of things that Kanaya was saying, even to the point of when he was like hey, we're boyfriend and girlfriend now! With smut maybe they'll just bypass that entire thing, but who really knows.

Hopefully you enjoy this one, the cleaning on some of the earlier pages was a bit of a pain because Aya also does a lot of internal thinking (I mean, panicking) before the actual sex scenes happen.

[earthtooz]

𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗜𝗙𝗧 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥

in which: oikawa surprises you with the best christmas present you could ask for.

warnings: 2.1k words, fluff !!!, reader is called 'beautiful', gn!reader, established relationship, lmk if there are other warnings!

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this one <3 by far the cutest i've written :(

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

When Iwaizumi invited you to a Christmas party with fellow Aoba Johsai graduates, you thought nothing of it. It was going to be on two nights before Christmas, just a small thing amongst your closest friends and an invite that you accepted pretty readily. 

It would be a good distraction from missing Oikawa too much considering how four days after would mark six years of dating since third year. Although you wish he could be in Japan to celebrate the holidays with you as he’s done every year since leaving, he seems to be busier this time around because he’s got a match to play on Christmas to celebrate some sort of ‘tradition’. At least he’s given you the livestream link to watch, promising to wink at the camera with each service ace he gets.

“Hi, pretty,” Oikawa’s voice rings out from your phone which was currently propped up against the wall of your kitchen. You’re scrambling around, trying to find the appropriate ingredients needed to make dinner.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, not paying much attention to your phone screen that your boyfriend was currently dominating in all of his drowsy glory, having just woken up from a good night’s rest.

“What are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Without me?” You can hear the pout in his voice as he peers at you with his tired eyes that were still slightly swollen.

Brushing aside the obvious that he was in another country, you place your chopping board in front of your phone so he can hear your response clearly. “Yes because you should be asleep instead of waking up to call me at 6:50am.”

That earns you a whine. “But I love spending time with you! I can’t do that whilst asleep.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you don’t dream of me,” you set out to cutting up some carrots, decidedly making a curry for tonight’s dinner.

“I do! But when I’m not dreaming of you I wake up so I can spend some time with actual you,” Oikawa points out, his confession making your insides gush with adoration and warmth. You wish he was here so you could actually kiss him for it. “Don’t you dream of me too?”

“All the time. Even when I’m not asleep, you’re always on my mind, Tooru.”

His lips become wobbly and a sudden shine glosses over his eyes, was he about to cry from that small of a comment? A sniffle that he let escape answers the question for you. “You’re so perfect, I love you so much,” he mumbles, slightly muffled when he wipes his eyes. There’s urgency in his next demand, instructing you to ‘tell me you love me too.’

“I love you too, Tooru,” you reassure. “I really hate that you’re not coming home these holidays.”

“I know, love, I hate it too, I even tried crying in front of my manager but she wouldn’t budge!”

“Good. Someone has to keep you in check when I’m not there. Send her my best wishes.”

“Not you too! Even the love of my life is cruel to me.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

He humphs, watching you work in silence. No matter how much you berate him for waking early, you will always appreciate his company, even if it’s over a phone screen that leaves you constantly yearning for a physical version of him, but at least the emptiness can be mended with video calls, messages that update you about his day, and selfies to match.

Although the feeling of an empty bed, unused mugs, and untouched books that weren’t yours will always haunt you, no matter how hard Oikawa can try to mend it, it just isn’t the same without your other half by your side. You could be selfish- well, you already are, it’s just that you’re not inclined to act on your selfishness because watching him soar and flourish in Argentina was a real blessing. If he’s happy, then you are too.

“You’re not mad that I’m not coming back, are you?” He asked, voice suddenly a lot softer and timid.

Pouring some water into a pot, you huff with contempt. “I’m not, I promise, it’s just- I really miss you. It’s been a while since your last visit to Japan as well and it feels a little empty in our apartment without you. My life feels a little empty, too.”

“You’re gonna make me actually cry, I hate it when you’re sad,” he mutters, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest as his frown deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all, Tooru. I don’t want you apologising for things like this because I’ll support you no matter what, you know that.”

“I’m apologising because you’re too good for me. You could’ve left me whenever you wanted to find a ‘better’ man- if he exists, but he doesn’t because I’m already the best! Yet you’ve decided to stay with me only for me to put you through all this.”

You scoff. “You also could’ve left me to find a ‘better’ partner-” 

“-no such thing,” he says with a wink, but the mischief doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Yet you’ve decided to stay with me as well, Tooru. You put so much into our relationship that I don’t have anything to complain about, which is good because otherwise Iwaizumi would throttle you on my behalf.”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with you, you’re the one for me. I figured that out before I even left for Argentina.”

“You’re the one for me too, Tooru,” you confess timidly, making a ‘heart’ shape for him with your hands. Although this is far from your first time being vulnerable with one another, it’s always going to be a little cringey expressing your feelings for one another, no matter how comfortable Oikawa may get with you.

The conversation dwindles a little as you transfer your phone near the stovetop, waiting for the vegetables to boil whilst preparing the curry roux you purchased earlier. Under the kitchen lights with the sound of appliances in the background, you’re content to just exist with your lover through the familiarity of your device. 

As the vegetables soften and the rice cooker is operating the background, Tooru has gotten up and done his morning routine- shirtless because he was generous enough to keep you in mind, before showing you the beautiful landscape of Argentina from his apartment. It’s outside on his balcony that you continue the conversation.

“Iwaizumi actually invited me to a Christmas party with our Seijoh friends,” you tell him once you leave the pot to boil.

His eyes widen a little in curiosity, leaning closer to the phone in interest. “Are you going?” 

“Yeah, I am. I thought it might be fun.” Tapping your fingers on the kitchen bench, you raise your phone closer to your face so you can see his pretty face clearer. “I’m excited to catch up with the friends I haven’t seen in a while which is easier because I won’t have your annoying ass around me all the time.”

Putting his hand over his chest and clenching it, he acts as though he’s been fatally wounded and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how dramatic he is.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you relent.

Oh what a miracle, Oikawa has been healed. “Can I help you find an outfit?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face. When you nod in agreement, he continues. “You should wear that one outfit you love that I got for you. You haven’t worn it at all and I think you’d look really nice in it,” he mutters with a small pout, putting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not even gonna be there to see it!” 

He raises his hands in defence. “You can always send photos! It’ll be like I’m with you through the dress because I bought it and so technically, that’s me showing off how beautiful my partner is.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, denying his compliment with a shy expression. Your humbleness pisses Oikawa off.

“Don’t be like that. You know how pretty you are,” he reaffirms. “I hate that I’m not there in person to remind you.”

You soften a little, trying not to let sadness plague your expression again. You truly are miserable without Oikawa, feeling incomplete unless he’s here with you but that’s how you know you’re soulmates, you suppose. Such a painful way of realising something so beautiful. 

The call ends twenty or so minutes later because he needed to go on his morning run, but this routine is performed daily. He calls, asks you about your day, you tell him then ask him about how he is, and what he has to do later. It’s a nice routine and one you’ve been sticking to very frequently, a balm to the burn of longing.

But when you’re preparing for the Seijoh Christmas party, you’re about to call Oikawa to show him how you look, only for him to not answer your call which was very unusual. Maybe he was still asleep? He did mention how training was draining him and that it hurt to walk so you chalk it to that explanation and let him rest for a little longer. He deserves it for how much he gives towards being a volleyball player.

Leaving the house at exactly 7:30, the address to the place you were told is only twenty-five minutes away. Although you find it weird that even though it’s a friend-organised party, the venue was a professional and proper hall for celebrations. Looking on the website, there were even full-length windows acting as walls that gazed at the scenery outside but you brushed it off, thinking nothing of it before going on with your day.

But now that you’ve arrived, managing to find a spot in the relatively filled parking lot, you can feel your gut brewing in scepticism and uncertainty. Were you at the right place? Surely, the fairy lights are on and beautiful, there’s cars so there must be people, but why was there no music? No Mariah Carey to tell you that you were in the right place?

Then, the familiar face of Iwaizumi stepping outside calms the turbulence of anxiety you previously drowned under. He waves at you with an excited grin, helping you up the small stairs with a gentle hand.

“You look nice,” he compliments upon exchanging greetings. You smile gratefully at him, thanking him for his company and for his compliment. 

“Thank you, Oikawa actually picked this out for me, it suits me quite well!” You gushed. “You look nice tonight as well, Iwa.”

“Thank you. Should we go inside? A few people are already here.”

Nodding, the dark-haired quickly leads the way, ushering you inside through the halls which were much nicer than you expected. The reception is beautiful, there is so much art decorating the walls but it gave a refined and sophisticated vibe, and the gentle lighting only pulled it all together. 

Whoever is hosting this party must have gotten a raise. No, maybe a promotion instead.

As your shoes clink against the marble floor, Iwaizumi opens the door for you and you thank him with a grateful nod before abruptly stopping.

The room is enchanting. The decor is beyond comprehension, the lighting is subtle but glamorous, and the windows indeed gave a beautiful view of snow coated trees, gently lit up by fairy lights.

But, the most marvellous sight of all was Oikawa Tooru himself, looking as dashing as ever whilst standing in the midst of an empty room.

Your feet take you to him without thinking and you don’t have time to think before you’re embracing him in a bone crushing hug, a gesture he returns with just as much fervour and passion as he places a lingering kiss on your temple. Melting into each other’s embrace, there’s a shared feeling of relief, warmth, and content as you breathe him in.

“My love,” you whisper into the crisp fabric of his button-down. You’re too overwhelmed with happiness to be confused on the logistics of how and why he was in Japan. “You’re here.”

“I am,” he responds, separating from you to cup your cheeks, looking at you with so much love and adoration, eyes going down to admire the outfit you’re wearing. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my beautiful, beautiful Y/N.” 

You hide away from him slightly, shying away at his boldness.

“I’m finally home. But, there’s something I need to do first.” Oikawa then sinks to the floor on one knee, pulling out a velvet box with a stunning ring as he looks up at you with doe eyes that brim with hope.

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 7)

Final Girl Series Masterlist  (currently updated chapters 1 - 9)

a/n me basically throwing the scream timeline out the window so i can have all the cute little scenes i want, let’s just pretend september/october are LONG months lol, also sorry this took so long!! 

the demon known as finals season is officially here so i’m going to be slower 😭 but...after it ends i will have a little over a month to myself! and it’ll be christmas time ! 

Series Summary:  Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: Stu decides to dedicate some time to getting back into Y/n’s good graces. Or, when Stu finally learns that there’s a reason Y/n doesn’t have her driver’s license and Y/n realizes that there’s no point in resisting that little bubble Stu’s always pulling her towards. 

----

The textbook flops awkwardly against my forearm as I let one side go in order to extend my arm. I pick up an apple from the bowl on the kitchen island and move to turn instinctually.

I move the apple towards my mouth, never once looking away from my history book until a quick tug yanks the book forward. I scramble, squeezing the hard cover instinctually.

My head snaps up and I see my mom, one hand on her hip and the other on my book. “Mom!”

“Come up for air,” her voice is scolding, “Your face has been glued in that textbook for days.”

“It’s not healthy.” The voice is surprising enough for me to let go of the book. My arm falls to my side and my mom just barely grabs it in time. I blink, turning to see the last person I’d expect to see in my kitchen.

It’s Stu. I’m mad at him, some rational part of my mind knows better than to forgive him when he hasn’t so much as apologized. When he’s been off sulking and switching up between different levels of mean to overly, practically violent levels of affection, like everything’s all good and I’m a bitch for prolonging a stupid fight. And now he’s in my kitchen, standing near my mom like this is the most natural place for him to be.

I squeeze the apple between my hands. “What are you--why are you--”

“He’s checking in on you because you’re worrying your friends.” Oh. My. God. My lips part but I have nothing to say, not with that what? this is totally innocent look he’s giving me. His eyes wide and soft. “They’ve barely seen you.”

A tiny pinch of guilt settles in my chest, because while I might not currently be at my most social, there is someone that’s seen a lot of me. Billy. I don’t know if it’s because of what happened with the phone call or something else, but Billy’s been around a lot more. It feels like he understands better than others because he’s seen it.

He also has a habit of coming in through my window and spending the night to avoid his dad. At least, that’s why I think he comes. He’s only ever hinted at it in a way that makes it clear he doesn’t want to elaborate, so I don’t ask. It doesn’t bother me to have him come and go as he pleases. I wasn’t wrong when I said he was like a cat.

“Yeah, you haven’t been around,” Stu begins, “Makes me think about who you’re spending all your time with.”

Stu’s expression barely shifts, just the slight raise of his eyebrows. There’s no way he doesn’t know that Billy’s been around. “Just school stuff.”

“Really? All that time--”

“Some of us actually need to study.” God, I know Stu and I aren’t in the best place, but is he really trying to tell my mom on me? There’s a knowing glimmer behind his eye that makes me want to squirm. “So you’re here to check up on me?”

My mom lets out a sigh and shoots me a look. “Be nice.”

Stu’s smugness feels physical. He’s holding what he knows over my head, enjoying being a ticking time bomb. “Oh, she’s always nice.” His expression soften slightly, a silent cease fire.

I can finally breath again. “Thank you.” Then I remember my mom’s in the kitchen so I tack on, “For checking in, but I’m fine, just behind.”

At that, my mom places the text book on the kitchen table. “You’re young, you should go out every once in awhile, see your friends, eat an actual meal...” When all I do is give her a sarcastic look, my mom goes for the kill shot, “Practice for that upcoming driver’s test.”

Okay, she has a point. Driving practice is something that we’ve both put off. Me, because I hate feeling like I’m endangering lives, and my mom because she hates having her life endangered. “You don’t want to do that anymore than I do.”

“You need to practice because if you fail another one, you’re going to have to wait six months.”

Six months of not touching a car doesn’t sound terrible. I mean, it’s pretty embarrassing, but it also feels like a sacrifice I’m making for public safety. “Six more months of not getting arrested for vehicular manslaughter doesn’t sound like a loss.”

“Something little miss perfect isn’t good at?” Stu’s grin in his voice is loud and he’s clearly fighting the urge to laugh.

“It’s not,” I sigh, turning the apple over in my hand, “It’s not that bad.”  

My mom raises an eyebrow, “Well--”

“Mom!”

“You can’t park,” she sighs defensively, “You knocked over the recycling can last time and kept going.”

“Because I thought it was the curb, it’s not a big deal to hit the curb.”

Stu laughs, the sound loud and so amused I have to glare. “Oh, I need to get you out on the road.”

“No.”

My mom places a hand on her hip, “Nice.”

I sigh, wondering why I even came out of my room in the first place. That was me being nice. “What’s nicer than sparing someone from a potential car accident?”

“I’ll risk it,” Stu hums a little too happily, ignoring my glare. “Passed my driver’s test the first time.” Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised if that’s because his family’s loaded and because they knew leaving him alone would get a lot easier if he could drive himself places. “An hour with me, and you’ll be good to go.”

“I have to st--”

“Do you know how embarrassing it’ll be to be the only Princeton student that can’t drive?”

It’s a fair point, which means I’ll have to fight my mom’s logic with mom logic. “You’re not seriously trying to get Stu to take me driving right now.” Please remember he’s a boy; please remember your hatred of boys.

She raises an eyebrow at me and then at him, likely doing that weird calculation thing of hers. “He offered.”

Oh this is a total con. I don’t know how or what I missed while he was here and I was upstairs, but it must have been something if this is what’s happening. The feeling that I’m being played in some way I don’t really get sneaks up on me. I eye Stu skeptically, who has yet to drop his I’ve done nothing wrong expression.

“He was joking,” my words are not-so-subtly pointed, an attempt to force Stu to take the out.

The more I grind my heels into the sand, the more Stu will want it. “I’m never joking when it comes to you.”

“I think it’d be good for you--get some air, time away from those textbooks.”

How has his blatant flirting not scared my mom off yet? Maybe I can convince her that he broke up with Tatum so that she’ll shut this down. “You want to send me off with some guy you’ve barely spoken to?”

Stu lets out an indignant noise. “Are you saying I might have bad intentions?”

The inflection of his voice is so comical and him that a sense of longing rises in my chest with no warning. Despite my best efforts, I miss him. Fighting against an instinctual smile, I bite my tongue. Something about the way Stu’s gaze lingers makes me feel like he knows.

“Pumpkin, I mean this with all the love in the world, but I cannot think of a bigger mood killer than you being behind the wheel of a car.”

“Mom!”

She ignores my outrage, “And he’s one of your best friends, you say it all the time.”

Oh my god. I don’t have to turn my head to feel Stu’s grin. Ugh, I hate that it’s true and I hate that now Stu knows it. “Fine. Give me five minutes to change.”

Content to have gotten her way, my mom turns, “Be safe.” Sure, now she cares about safety. “And have fun, I need to run, I’m meeting Wells for lunch.”

Stu doesn’t give me a chance to say anything, because the second my mom’s out of the room, he moves around the kitchen island to stand next to me. Close enough that I can practically feel the warmth of his skin radiating from him. I hold my ground, tilting my chin up enough to look him in the eye. He at least owes me an explanation for all of this.

He smiles, briefly flashing his teeth. “You talk to your mom about me?”

The words come out too excited for me to dismiss them as just conceited. Too happy for me to dismiss his giddiness by telling him that it’s not a big deal. “Shut up.” I duck my head down slightly as he grins. Out the corner of my vision, I see him shift. For a second I think he might move to grab me and pull me into one of those hugs that are a lot nicer than I’d ever admit. “I need to go get changed since I’m being kidnapped.”

Choosing to only hear what he wants, because he’s Stu, he replies without hesitation, “Getting all pretty for me?”

I roll my eyes, vaguely flipping him off over my shoulder before walking up the stairs. The distance is welcome. When Stu’s right there, it’s easy to forget things and just go along with his mood, but this is not okay. I stop talking to him because he wanted space, so he just decides to ambush me? And how long was he in the kitchen chatting with my mom? Oh. My. God. What did he say to her?

Okay, okay--probably nothing too bad. She told me to leave with him. She wouldn’t have done that if he said anything that bothered her.

With a sigh, I take off my sweatpants and sweatshirt and search the chaos that is my closet for an acceptable outfit. It’s getting chilly considering the time of year, colder than it would be in Texas but not deep fall yet. I find a pair of sheer tights bundled up between pairs of shorts. Then I pick out a skirt and long sleeved shirt that matches before pulling my hair out of its sad bun. I smooth it out and fix my appearance in record time. 

Stu looks a little too pleased with himself when I finally walk down the stairs. There’s a smugness that adds to my irritation. I have a feeling he can sense my disapproval, because he pulls his arm as we reach my front door. He squeezes me into his side, I roll my eyes. The amount of comfort the hint of something normal brings me is so shocking I can’t bring myself to squirm out of his grasp. 

-----

Eyes narrowing, grip on the steering wheel tightening, I prepare to face my enemy. A tight squeezed three point turn. 

“You’re overthinking it.” 

“Am not.” 

“Just like you under thought the red light.”

“It was yellow when I saw it.” I turn my head enough to face him, “It changed color deceptively fast.” Stu draws his eyebrows together, smiling in an oddly soft way. “What?” 

My dumbfounded tone makes his smile broaden. “You’ve gotta be right about everything, don’t’cha, angel?” 

I’m not sure if it’s his words or the deliberate amount of focus he’s using, but heat rushes to my face. “No, I just--I am.” Dropping my gaze, I tact on an awkward, “Usually.” Shifting in my seat, I refocus on the parking spot. “You sure you want me to park here?” 

“It’s easy.” More like easy for him to say. When I don’t ease, Stu extends his arm, placing a hand over mine. His hand is large enough to cover mine, his fingertips long enough to splay across the back of my palm and steering wheel. He’s always so warm. “You just need to open up. Take your time turning.” 

I nod, taking a deep breath as Stu scoots back in his seat to give me some mobility. Last time he tried holding my hand through it, but I think he’s starting to see how much of a disaster I am. This is around our fifth attempt. Earlier, I got his car stuck at a weird angle between a mail collection box and someone’s truck. 

With a deep breath, I put the car into reverse. I look through the back window, cringing when the curb comes a little too close. My foot hits the break, shifting the car back into drive. I inch it forward, stop, and put it back in reverse. I hit the gas a little too fast, making it a bumpy transition, but I haven’t hit anything yet. With one last turn, the car is put in the right direction. It’s a lot further than I’ve gotten before. I straighten out the wheels, minding the back of the truck as I drive forward, and--

Oh my god! Stu cheers, I can barely get the car into park before Stu places a hand on the side of my head, pulling me towards him with no warning and placing an overenthusiastic, partially open mouthed kiss against my temple. It’s pushy and honestly a little damp, but I’m too excited to mind. Can’t have him getting too comfortable, though, so I shrug him off a little in order to high five him. His hand lingers, squeezing my hand. 

“I did it!”

“Because of your talented, amazing, hot teacher who--” 

There’s that touch of over confidence bordering on narcissism that’s been missing. “What was that last o--” 

He turns my wrist over, striking the back of my wrist  with his pointer finger. A literal slap on the wrist. “Interrupting’s rude, princess.” Stu ignores the pointed look I send in his direction. “As I was saying,” he over emphasizes each syllable, “You should appreciate me, and I can think of a few ways for you to express your gratitude.” 

I should have seen that coming. I pull my hand towards my lap, my eyes settling there as well. “Your thoughts are the closest you’re getting.” I don’t realize what I’ve said until the muttered half thought is out. Great, now I’m going to get even more of this. 

Stu drops his head back, a hand flying to his chest. “You wound me.” His other hand finds itself settling right above my knee. “And for no reason.” His fingertips are pressing into my skin with just enough pressure to steal all my attention.  

The heat of his touch bleeds through the thin layer of my tights. My body tenses. “Knock it off, I still need to drive on a highway.” 

“Why?” The excitement in his voice gives away exactly where he’s going. “Distracted?” 

I shove his arm away with a sound that’s equal parts real laugh and awkward giggle. “The only thing I’m distracted by is the driver’s test I have in two days.”

Stu pouts, sinking into the passenger seat, “Boring.” 

Taking the car out of park, I mock his tone, “Driving.”

----

There’s something about the smell of books that’s comforting. Which why the bookstore might be my happy place. Which is why we should not be here. It’s basically impossible to be mad here. 

A fact Stu definitely knows considering the way he’s casually following me around, holding an ever growing pile of books with no complaint. This was the trap all along. 

“I know what you’re doing.” 

Stu hums once in pretend thought. “What? Spending time with you?”

An instinctual ‘why, was Tatum busy’ almost slips past me. “It’s not working, I’m still mad at you.” I pick up another book, turning it to skim the summary on the back before placing it on the stack Stu’s carrying. “You can’t just barge into my house, use my mom to arrange whatever this is--” 

He huffs, half stepping in front of me. “You don’t complain when it’s Billy.” 

That is completely different. First of all, it’s much less of an ambush considering that Billy has never once involved my mom or stopped me from studying. Second, Billy also never said anything about me being around too much.

I pause, tilting my head to look Stu in the eye and tell him all of that. He’s already looking at me with wide, attentive eyes that are distinct in a way that makes me still. Analytical in a way that’s unnerving. “You--you asked for space.” Feeling antsy, I scratch the back of my wrist as I try to keep myself from saying anything stupid. “And you were mean.” 

Wow. So much for holding it together. He angles his head to the side, regarding me cautiously. “It-it wasn’t about you.” The admission is practically pried from him. “There’s a lot going on right now, but I shouldn’t have hurt your feelings.” It’s not exactly the perfect apology, but there’s a surprising amount of vulnerability there. “Don’t you miss us?” Totally not a fair thing to ask, but Stu can definitely tell that I’m easing, “C’mon, let me make it all right. I’ll get you all the books you want.” 

I do, but that’s not a fair angle. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I sigh. “I...I can’t be bought.” 

Maybe it’s my hesitation or the way my eyebrows raise instinctually or something about how fake my words sound, but Stu smiles, bouncing on the balls of his feet so quickly he nearly drops my pile. “We haven’t gotten to the hardcover books yet.”

Damn him. I roll my eyes as I drop my arms. There is no way I’m making a big show of dropping this, but I don’t exactly have enough fight left in me to prolong this. “Hardcover? Your arms are going to get tired.” 

The pile isn’t comically large, barely coming up Stu’s torso, but it still sways when he moves a hand away from the center. He flexes his bicep. “With these guns? No way, baby. Do your worst.” 

And so I do. We walk through the aisles together, giggling at any title that Stu can turn into a joke so dumb it circles right back around to funny. He’s patient, letting me debate between different books, and sometimes even giving me actual opinions outside of just get them both. He listens when I read the backs of books and sometimes excerpts from the first page or two.

He’s a good sport about the whole thing, only poking fun at my excitement in lighthearted ways and never really complaining until we’ve been there long enough to justify the hunger he starts talking about. I never did eat that apple and it is kind of close to a late lunch time. 

“You know I’m not actually making you buy all those books.” 

“I’m a man of my word, angel.” He hums, almost offended that I’d even imply he’d lie in a joking context. “Can’t have you making me a liar.” Stu sets down the pile in front of the cashier.

The thought of someone spending money on me in any capacity isn’t something I’ve always been comfortable with. I eye him, the hint of determination behind his eyes serious as he reaches for what I’d bet is a card backed by his parents. If Stu’s trying to make it up to me, I guess this is okay for a one time thing. “All I’m hearing is daddy’s money.” 

I’m grinning despite the look of warning he gives me. “Don’t start.” Stu’s eyes narrow as he pinches my cheek too quickly for me to protest. “I’m being nice.” 

He is. The realization that I like it, like him, like this hits hard and fast. “I like you nice.” 

Stu seems to pause at that like he’s actively trying to take in my expression. It briefly feels like just another one of his analytical moments until I notice the soft, almost unaware smile ghosting at the corner of his lips. Maybe he is trying to absorb some aspect of this. “Like me enough for a lunch date?” 

“If I fail my chem quiz on Wednesday, that’s on you.” 

He shrugs, grinning a bit with the motion. “Flunk outta that whole school thing and I’d take you in. Make you a cute, little housewife, get you one of those aprons.”

I should I have seen that coming. “I’m sure Tatum would love that.” 

“Tay’s fine, she passed chem.” His smug expression earns him a glare and a not-so-gentle elbow jab. “Ow.” Despite the definitely exaggerated sound of pain, Stu still looks happy, or at the very least amused by something I don’t get. “Feel like I’m with Billy.” He mumbles the comment under his breath instinctually. “Only he doesn’t hit me as hard.” 

“It was not that hard.” 

He makes a point of rubbing the side I elbowed. “If I’m bruised, will you kiss it better?”

Stu’s joking. I know that he’s joking, which means the way that heat rushes to my face is totally unnecessary. “You’re fine.” 

-- Narrator’s POV --

The low dip of the collar of your shirt is a lot harder to not focus on now that you’re sitting directly in front of him. You’re too content to notice any drift of concentration, you just continue to take bites of your food in between topics of conversation. 

It’s been silent for a few seconds longer than normal, and that cues Stu in to the fact that your attentive gaze is meant to be something more than cute. You’re waiting for some kind of response. He scrambles, snapping his gaze down towards his drink and then back up to you. What were you talking about? 

At first it had been something about a book series that recently released its third part. Stu didn’t get much, but you were excited to talk about it. Sometimes the reminder that under your particular sense of humor and pretty face you’re kind of a dork is endearing. Then you two had talked about school, the middle of the year approaching and an upcoming unit exam in your mutual history class. And then lastly...a movie or two you wanted to see. Were you still talking about that? 

“What’d you say?” 

You blink, only slightly confused as to why it took him so long to admit he didn’t hear you. “Just that I haven’t seen the new Amityville Horror movie yet and that I’m still on the fence because of the last one.” 

“It was okay. A little slow.” You nod at his reply absentmindedly, turning the straw in your cup in an attempt to push past cubes of ice to get to bit of liquid left at the very bottom of the cup. “Like most of the series, so I guess you’d like it.” 

The comment is equal parts honest as it is an excuse to get your lips to press together in that passive aggressive way. That paired with the way you raise your eyebrows in offense always makes him want to laugh. You’re upset enough to stop the shifting of your straw. “Are you saying I have bad taste?” 

“You like the slower ones, the ones with a psychological angle. You don’t like the gory ones because you can’t stomach them.” You pout, reaching for your glass, tilting it in another attempt to get some more liquid out of a cup that’s just ice. “You’re a girl, it makes sense.” 

“So now you’re saying I have bad taste in movies because I’m a girl?”

“All I’m saying is that good, bloody deaths is more of a guy thing. That’s why girls are never the killers.” 

Your eyebrows pinch together as your fingers move that straw again. “There are girl killers.” 

“Yeah, but they don’t give the good kinda cinematic kills, y’know.” You’re debating on pushing. Stu can tell because your pout morphs into something contemplative as you tilt your head. “Need a refill?” 

It’s only somewhat of a deflection. Stu doesn’t mind conflict (clearly), but it’d be nice to get through the day while keeping the peace. Plus, this isn’t something worth truly arguing about, at least not after all the work he’s put into getting you to relax again. And you do need a refill because pushing against ice with your straw isn’t getting you anywhere. 

You can tell that the abruptness of the question is likely a sign to drop it. It’s random enough to fit into category of Stu’s casual outbursts, so you don’t think he’s actually trying to force you to cave so you decide to go along with it. “Yeah.” You both look forward, noticing that even though the restaurant you two are at is pretty empty, no one’s coming towards the back section of booths you two are sitting in. “Might take a minute, but that’s okay.” 

Stu absentmindedly pushes his cup towards you, too hyperaware of how alone the two of you are. You smile gratefully before innocently taking a sip. “Thanks.”

He nudges your foot with his own, gauging your reaction to the contact. You give him a somewhat questioning look but do nothing to break the contact. Stu takes a deep breath, forcing himself to not react too outwardly at your acceptance. Stu takes your lack of protest as permission to push his leg even closer against yours.  He leans forward, supporting himself on his forearms in a way that makes the sleeve of his shirt ride up enough to expose some of his forearm. “Anything for you, babe.”

You roll your eyes, but all Stu can focus on is the way the corner of your mouth pulls upwards. There’s a sarcastic retort coming, Stu can feel it. Your lips part just as your gaze hones in on something that makes your eyes widen. “What happened?” 

Awkward nerves spike through Stu briefly. The last time this much genuine, gentle concern was so openly displayed towards him was when you were at the hospital. Despite a concussion, the meds coursing through you, and enough trauma to constitute a final girl origin story, you still noticed the bruise on his face. A mark caused by you and the phone you threw at him in Casey’s house, but you didn’t know that, and the way you watched him. Your worry was so innocently domestic he almost couldn’t look at you. 

And now you’re regarding him in that same way, staring at a nearly healed mark that’ll likely take time to fade. A jagged line that cuts across the side of his palm and into the start of the back of his hand. Stu doesn’t remember cutting himself while dragging you away from the shattered glass. Instead, all that comes to mind is a vague pulse of pain drowned out by the panic he felt after realizing that you weren’t waking up.

“Broke a glass.” He hopes the casualness of the lie compensates for his vagueness. 

You frown, taking his hand without asking and forcing him to keep his palm exposed at an angle that makes his arm feel stiff. “Did it hurt?”

Stu’s glad your eyes are on his hand because now he doesn’t have to worry about hiding his smile. Your question came out so instinctually, so caring. Like the most important thing right now is if he was in pain. 

“Nah,” he breathes, “I was--” He pauses briefly, because it’s not like he can say that he was distracted by the fact that he might have given you brain damage or worse. “High. That’s why I cut myself. I was too high to think through picking up the glass.” Looking up, you tilt your head to the side, almost smiling. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“I’d never.” You’re amused now that you know everything’s okay. “Wanna know something kinda cool?” With the way you’re watching him, waiting for an answer, Stu decides that you could say anything and he’d agree that it was the coolest thing ever, even if it’s just a lead up to another book rant. “Okay, well not cool cool, honestly, a little morbid, but in a cool-ish way.” 

Now actually curious, Stu nods, “Hit me.” 

You let go of his hand in favor of holding up your palm. He doesn’t get it until you tap the pointer finger of your opposite hand against a deep pink line that traces up the skin at an angle. It’s only a little thicker than your natural palm lines. “If I angle my hand like this,” you lay your fingers over his, taking a second to adjust the way your hand’s sitting, “They look alike.” 

It’s true, or at least, true enough. When you tilt your hand like that (and ignore that Stu’s cut crosses over to the back of his palm), the lines are practically identical. You’re smiling, like this is a sign, an indication that your kind of hurt could ever align with his.

Stu hadn’t thought much about it before. It’s not like the scar is on his face or anywhere significant to his appearance. But now that you’ve brought it up like this, Stu thinks about maybe taking a knife to the cut again, guaranteeing that it’ll become something permanent. 

“Okay, cool might’ve been a little much, but--” 

“No, no,” Stu finally settles on, “It is cool, like a sign or something.” 

Your eyebrows draw together for less than a second as you deduce exactly what kind of sign he’s talking about. Stu can tell the exact moment you piece it together because you press your lips together, al most glaring as you take your hand back. Your leg shifts, tapping your foot against his ankle in an attempted scolding. “Shut up.” 

Already feeling like he knows the answer, Stu asks, “How’d you get that one?” 

Your fingers curl forward even though your palm is already facing away from him, a sign of insecurity he doesn’t get. “Y’know.” There’s a pause as you stare at nothing in particular. “At Casey’s.” 

The hollowness of your voice strikes him in an unexpected way. Yeah, what happened must have scared you and the phone call probably didn’t help, but there’s such a sensitivity around Casey. 

Stu’s rational enough that he can get that it was traumatic, but it’s not like Casey was some lifelong friend. She wasn’t even your best friend. That’s been him and Billy since you got there.

He tries not to focus on it, but it’s too easy to let that grade school mentality take over. That overwhelming mine. The only thing that even comes close to rivaling that is the ugly tinge of worry colored in an ugly shade of guilt that comes up whenever he thinks of the way that you looked in the hospital. 

It gets under his skin a little, thinking about what it felt like to hurt you. The rush of the moment was unmatched, adrenaline from the kill and your unexpected protests mixing together. And there was a moment, when you were lying there, that Stu liked in a way he can’t put into words. Exciting in a different way. But then he noticed that you weren’t waking up, and blood was puddling around your face, and then he found out about your concussion.

Stu rarely seriously considers the possibility that something about the way he’s wired is wrong. “You’re uh--” You’re watching with patient eyes as Stu vaguely gestures to his temple, “Okay with all that, right?” 

Your chin tilts upwards as you briefly slip away. Billy had talked about potentially over traumatizing you. That’s why Stu had to drop the idea of you getting another ghostface call while alone with him so soon. When Billy mentioned it, it felt like all talk, but now with you getting like this... 

It’s weird. The thought of pushing you to the cusp of your breaking point isn’t unappealing, but the thought of having you broken is another thing entirely. Being broken is permanent, being broken changes things. 

“Concussion’s gone.” It’s a mumbled comment. You tap your nails against the table again. “But if you’re asking about the other stuff. I don’t know, I hate to admit this because Casey’s the real victim...” Stu nods, a tiny bit annoyed that this is somehow about Casey again. You’re so much better off without her. She was a bad girlfriend, she wouldn’t have been a good friend to you. She would have managed to get in between the two of you in the long run. “But I have good days and bad days and that’s part of the reason I’ve been home so much. It sounds stupid, but--”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.” This is a better topic. A safer one. You nod once, but your expression isn’t convinced and Stu doesn’t know how to dive in. “And this is about you way more than it is Casey. Casey’s dead and you’re not.” The bluntness nearly makes you flinch, something Stu only somewhat dislikes. He didn’t mean to be harsh, but you needed to hear it. “What’s today?” 

The change is jarring enough to keep you from getting lost in your head again. “Today?” 

“A good day or a bad day?” 

Your expression turns, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. After a second of thought, you settle on, “Good. Especially now.” 

He beams. “Especially?” You nod, returning his enthusiasm with the single motion. Stu focuses his energy on gripping the edge of the plastic booth seat to keep himself from reaching over and pulling you towards him. He settles for nudging his foot against yours. “You want to get into the effect I have on you?” 

“Your ego’s plenty healthy as is.” 

“So it’d be good for my ego?” 

At that, you freeze, the coy expression on your face slipping. The flash of nerves fuels Stu. “Why are we friends?” It’s a cop out sort of comeback, and you instantly pop a french fry into your mouth to avoid having to say anything else for a second.

-- Y/n’s POV -- 

I didn’t expect to be here tonight, but my mom was more than happy to keep me out of the house. According to her, I’ve been a little too much into the books lately, but that’s not my fault. I fell behind a little after the attack and my concussion, and I will not let some sociopath ruin my GPA...or my social life.

Just because I feel like me and everyone I care about is safer when I’m home and out of everyone’s business doesn’t mean I need to cower in my room constantly. Even though that’s been pretty good for some of my grades (and I’ve written out some points of what I’ve been through recently that’d make a pretty good college essay), but that’s not the point. I can’t let that bitch win.

So now I’m here, sitting in Stu’s living room with the group, a movie that’s a little more bloody than I’d like playing. It’s okay, though. Everyone’s reaction to me showing up again was worth it. They weren’t overdramatic about it, but the warmth of it was nice.

Now we’re all a mess of blankets and pillows and couch cushions. I managed to snag a middle spot on the main couch, Tate’s head on my shoulder and Billy’s hand loosely resting against my forearm. The gesture is a barely there display of consistency that keeps me relaxed, even as the on screen action gets more and more gory. 

“Stu,” Tatum mumbles at another extended stabbing scene, “I said nothing too stab-y.” She lifts her head slightly, vaguely gesturing to me as Stu tilts his head far enough back to fully press into her knees. 

He’s been sitting with his back to the couch since we got here. I thought he’d be more annoying about it since Tatum told him to knock it off earlier in the night, but once the movie started Stu dropped it. If there’s one thing that’ll get Stu to focus it’s any movie that clearly saved a large part of their budget for fake blood.

“She’s fine,” Stu hums petulantly before turning to look at me, “Aren’t you, bugaboo?” 

I wrinkle my noise at the nickname, smacking his hand away as he reaches for my knee. Gory movies have been a little difficult for me lately, but this hasn’t been too bad. I’m surrounded by people in a well lit area and every time the action picks up, Billy runs his knuckles up and down my forearm until it ends. 

Stu pokes at my knee, trying to get some kind of reaction. “It’s not that--Stu, knock it off, I’m literally agreeing with you.” At that, he flashes all of his teeth before leaning towards me. He sticks his tongue out, quickly licking the side of my knee before I can react. Stu has the audacity to laugh as I smack the back of his head. “Stu!” 

“And...you two not fighting lasted an entire hour.” Randy sighs, glaring at us from his own seat. The pinch of actual irritation in his voice is fair. Stu and I haven’t exactly made it easy to be around us. Our casual bickering is a cakewalk compared to how we’ve been acting. Kind of more my fault than his because every time Stu tried to force niceness, that’d just irritate me more. Lots of petty comments. Lots of bickering. “New record.” 

“Oh, there’s no fight,” Stu’s insistence is loud and over enthusiastic as he leans his weight against my leg. “Me and sweetcheeks here are as strong as ever.” 

I sit up enough to gently flick the side of his head, “Keep telling yourself that.” 

Stu lets out a mock gasp, “That wasn’t nice.” 

Billy taps my arm, “Mean.” 

Shrugging a little too smugly, I sink further into the couch, “Guess I’m a bully.” 

Stu blinks, turning his head even more, “What. An. Attitude.” The over emphasis on each syllable makes my face feel oddly warm. 

Tatum shifts, lifting her head off of me and kicking Stu’s side. It doesn’t look like a totally violent move but it feels more pointed than a joking shove. The way Stu sits up straighter tells me he didn’t quite expect that. “Knock it off.” 

Frowning, Stu relaxes his back against the couch. “She started it.” 

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21

[syqamorsun]

Hello, my name is Syqamor. And I love literature, psychology, and visual art.

I don't know what my first post should be, so I'm just going to go on a little stream of consciousness boat ride.

Why don't you take a cup of tea and join me?

Writing is more important to me now than before, i think. Which may seem less true due to how infrequently I sit down and actually work on my projects. But as I've grown older, life has become so dreary, much more than I imagined in my youth.

In 2021, I wrote a poem, partially about the pandemic and partially about depression. There's this segment:

I sleep with my eyes wide open, Scrolling mindlessly and thinking endlessly. Burning my thumb on the phone screen, I wish For a light, yet cling to shade. And there, a lone bulb flickers, Over and over.

And I revisit it because I've noticed an interpretation that I didn't think of before. The lack of actual rest. I take a break from work by scrolling on my phone, or when I get home from work/school, I scroll for hours before finally losing the strength in my eyes. The action seems so effortless - just blink your eyes, absorb 1 million bits of terrible information, and move your thumb until the rhythm draws you into sleep madness.

I rarely feel rested. I don't feel calm very often, and I think that with the state of the world, it's only normal. There's so much to fix, so much to do, meals to figure out with the cans in your pantry, personal problems on top of congested societal problems. The noise never seems to settle.

And I think that's why returning to my stories, even though it's less frequent, feels like drops of cool refreshing water. Writing has always been there for me since the beginning.

I did lose my way for a little while, though. I did initially join Tumblr in 2016 with the intention of building a brand as a teen writer. Many people did. The online writing community was kind of blossoming, but also unfortunately turning into a capitalistic hellscape. We were all trying to become published teen writers, starting youtube channels, writing every day, writing every chance we got, writing more than eating or sleeping, stepping on each other's ideas to scramble to the top.

I think my entire friend group, save for like 3-4 people, completely left social media. Some of their pages are still up, frozen in time, their last writing update from 2018. The rest became... normal people, I suppose, a couple still writing, others writing less. And we became closer throughout all the madness.

Writing became less of a priority as the world around us became mad. But I noticed that each time I was able to return to the pen, my writing skills became so much more sharper. It was no longer about becoming 'successful', but about what writing meant to me originally - a way to escape.

And so now, more than ever, as rain pours outside my window, I can say that writing is more important to me.

And even if no one reads my blog, it's okay. My words have left my congested brain and landed in a little home that people may find if they are searching for.

That is enough for me, I think.

-Syqamor

[boxenstopp]

1633 - Mistakes don't happen

“Charles!” And Max’s back to smiling, pushing down the thoughts - oh fuck that’s Charles. Why is he so hot? Why is his voice so hot? Oh my god I want to kiss him - and scrambles to make himself seem tall. He’s taller than Charles, right? Why does he feel so small? “Are you so drunk that you could not recognize me?” Charles sounds mad. That’s not right. Why isn’t he smiling? He looks so cute when he smiles. He always smiles at Max, that’s their thing. OR Certain things happen when Charles brings Max home as a nice, friendly gesture.

Read on AO3 here!! (A/N under cut)

A/N : Hello tumblr!! This is another prompted fic!! Multi-chaptered this time, with an estimated word count of around 8-10k :) The prompt, fragile, comes from @sennaverstappen

Thank you for screaming with me about them <33

Updates should be coming every 2 days or so, and I have the next chapter already fully written out. Expect each chapter to have 1k or more words, so about 6-8 chapters if all goes well!

[heartxshaped-bruises]

HEYHO FOLKS,

you know I rarely give RL updates that impact my online-presence, but you might have noticed that it is more spotty since February than ever before, even when I spent 6 months abroad, so I wanted to offer an apology to everyone who's waiting for replies and a small explanation.

I have been working on my graduation movie in film school and a very important team member wasn't pulling his weight. Like, at all. The true minimalism of his effort only showed a month ago when he decided to entirely ditch out of the project and left me and my other team mate to scramble up the bits and pieces.

We have a very important deadline by the end of September, to make things worse. He actively kept me from working productively, even when he had the chance to leave previously. And then he decided to leave at the possible worst moments.

Soooo what I'm doing now is feverishly pushing out new versions of the screenplay every few days, channeling the rage of all the great writers I adore in me to save our asses. There's also a lot of other pre-production bs involved that I have to take care of, so it's generally a very stressy time rn.

I really want to write. But I can't. My messenger is always open, but I might not get to your messages as quickly as usual.

I hope you understand and to be back once this madness is over.

Love you all <3

[stevessecretfantasy2]

Lock update ☆ day 9

Sorry for the lack of updates it's been a mad couple of days at work and an interesting weekend, which left my brain slightly scrambled.

Right, let's start with the weekend long story short I spent the entire weekend edging about 16 hours total.

Started off normal enough for a Saturday morning. we got up and went and cooked a full English breakfast with my other half before being unlocked for a supervised shower. Then, towled off. I was cuffed to the 4 corners of the bed ( 1st time I've had them used on myself). We then spent the next 8 hours edging me with hand, mouth, and flesh light. My other half also decided that slapping my balls as I was getting close was great fun.

Sunday continued much the same as Saturday except starting with musly. Another 8 hours of edging. I'm going to admit by the end of the 1st day I was beginning to be allowed to cum. By the end of the second, I was willing to do anything. After the 8 hours were done even with lobe by cock was feeling slightly red ad raw. So my other half aplyed some sudacrem before locking me back up. She also took pity on me and my beginning to cum.

She gave me a choice to remain desperate or prepare my ass. A short while later, I was on all 4s in dogy position she started fucking me slowly at first but soon was punding my as hard as she could. It didn't take me long to cum. I'm bi and it's not the 1st time I've cum from being fucked but never this intence.

I've felt a lot less despite and horny since, which is a good thing because I need to focus on work the last couple of days.

I'll update you all as soon as there is something more to report. As always, feel free to message me with suggestions for tasks and questions or just want to chat.

[barclaysangel]

A Siren's Embrace; Chapter 2: Mermaid of the Sea

Hey everyone! Here is chapter 2 of “A Siren’s Embrace”! I’m gonna be honest, motivation is extremely low right now and I’m struggling with one of the chapters. With my low motivation, I don’t know how much I’ll be updating since I’m still stuck on chapter 6. And with getting almost no interaction on this story, it’s made my motivation go so much lower, but I’ll still post the other 3 chapters that I do have completed within the next 3 weeks. Please leave comments because they do help fuel my motivation and make me happy.

Thank you and enjoy :)

Word count: 1.3K

Tags: @streets-in-paradise @king-of-wicked

Nika didn’t tell her parents about what happened at the beach. 

What was she supposed to say to them? Hi, mom and dad. I nearly died while surfing today but it’s okay! A fucking mermaid swooped in and saved my life, so here I am! Anyway, can I go back to the beach tomorrow?

Yeah, that would be a good way for her to either be locked in her room for the next year or worse, get institutionalized. 

So Nika had to keep everything to herself. Her parents couldn’t ever know what happened. They were overprotective enough and this would just make it much worse. 

Not to mention the psychoanalysis she’d have to go through if she happened to mention the mermaid bit. 

They would realize that their only child has fully lost her mind and is spiraling into madness. 

Well, maybe she was. There was no proof of the mermaid even being there. Not to mention that Nika was on the brink of death. She seriously could have hallucinated everything. Or there was some logical explanation going on. 

Like…there was a person there. Singing to me. And then…ran away before I could fully see them? Nika thought to herself but even she knew that she sounded possibly even more insane to try and rationalize what happened. 

So Nika might really be going crazy. 

She had gone back to the beach, to that same area where she was resting on the sand, the very next day to try and find her. She did this every single day after that, desperate to know that it wasn’t all in her head. But with each day passing by, staying in the water for hours, she realized that her attempts were growing futile. There was no sign of the woman that saved her life. 

Maybe…maybe I did imagine it all. It was my brain’s way of coping with nearly dying that I hallucinated a supernatural creature of the ocean that I always held an interest in. 

At this point, it was useless for Nika to keep doing this and risk looking insane to anyone that saw her. Her parents were already beginning to question her on what she was doing for hours, everyday after school. She could only come up with so many excuses before her parents finally put their foot down. 

Perhaps it would be better to just…stop and accept defeat. To walk away with some of her pride still intact and never speak a word of her hallucination to anyone. 

But on the day she decided she was going to give up, the tenth day since she almost died, she was at the beach, near the corner where no one else could see her. Nika was perched up on a large rock, crouching down while scanning the ocean before her. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, just waiting, but then, she felt a pair of eyes on her back. This didn’t feel like a passerby on the beach, wondering what she was doing. There was some kind of intensity that made Nika pause before slowly turning around. 

Just like when she woke up, she saw the same shade of sea green eyes looking at her. 

A small gasp escaped her lips and her own eyes widened, a brief feeling of vindication ensuring her that she wasn’t losing her mind–I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, holy shit!–before the woman’s head went underwater. 

“No, no, no, no…” Nika scrambled to where the woman disappeared up on her rock, seeing just a shimmer of scales that almost camouflaged in the water until it was gone. 

Her heart sank and she sat down, running both of her hands through her short black hair. She had seen her for just a few seconds, a little bit longer than the first time, but now the woman was gone just like before. 

After sitting there for a few minutes, feeling like her hopes were dashed away from her, Nika saw something in the water. Something pink and white until it rose to the surface. 

It was her missing surfboard. 

Along with the woman holding it out to her. 

Neither one of them moved, staring at one another until Nika slowly took the surfboard from the woman. “Th-thank you.” She said quietly after just managing to find her voice. 

The woman simply nodded once before they went back to staring at each other. There were light blue, almost silver scales on the sides of her neck and down her arms, so faint that she wouldn’t have noticed they were there if the sunlight didn’t hit the woman. She also noticed her caramel-colored skin and long dark hair, most of it hidden in the ocean. 

Nika couldn’t stop admiring the woman–no, the mermaid judging by her blue tail that continued to sway underneath the sea–and all her beauty. 

She was the loveliest being she had ever seen in her life. 

“You’re the woman who saved me from drowning…aren’t you?” Nika had to ask, just to make sure that she wasn’t imagining everything. 

Just like earlier, the mermaid nodded. “Well…thank you. I appreciate it.” She told her with a soft smile and the woman smiled as well, almost mimicking the same smile on Nika’s face. 

After a few seconds, she asked something else. “Can you speak? Oh…you probably don’t because, well…”

“Yes,” the mermaid answered much to Nika’s surprise, “I…speak some. I listen to Walkers here. I learn. I…understand most.” 

She spoke slowly, as if she was trying to get every word right. It reminded Nika of how she sounds when she tries to speak Spanish as fluently as she could around her mom’s side of the family. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Walkers?” 

The mermaid then reached out and her webbed hand touched Nika’s bare foot. It made her jump a little to suddenly feel a cold and wet hand on her skin but somehow, it was comforting as well. Besides, the grasp wasn’t meant with ill intention, but one that was of explanatory and curiosity. 

Then, the woman removed her hand from her foot and pointed a finger at her. “Walker.” She repeated, implying that Nika was a Walker. 

“Oh…that makes sense.” She said with a quiet chuckle under her breath, almost getting lost in the mermaid’s eyes. “Do…do you have a name?” 

This time, the woman shook her head. “We…do not…have names.” 

Nika supposed that made sense. If mermaids couldn’t speak and had to learn from Walkers, then of course they didn’t have names. 

“Well, my name is Nika. Nika Vincent. But you can just call me Nika, of course.” She said, almost shyly. 

The mermaid stared at her, tilting her head just slightly. “Nika.” She repeated her name. 

Somehow, hearing her own name from the woman’s voice brought a wonderful chill down her spine and Nika couldn’t help but to shiver. 

How was that so lovely to hear? 

Abruptly remembering that she had to go home soon, she checked her phone from her pocket and looked at the time before looking back at the mermaid. “I-I have to go home. But…I would love to know more about you. Will you be here tomorrow? Right at this rock?”

She smiled softly, just like before, and nodded in confirmation. “Tomorrow.” She agreed, staring so deeply into Nika’s chocolate brown eyes as if she was looking into her soul, and then submerged herself under the water. With a splash of her tail, she was gone, just like that. 

Nika sat there for a moment, processing what just happened and her mind spinning. A mermaid just gave back her surfboard and spoke to her. This had to be a fever dream, but it wasn’t. She even pinched herself to ensure that it wasn’t a fantasy. 

Shit, that hurt. She thought to herself and then giggled. 

This was all real. 

The mermaid was real. 

[cosmereplay]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @chaos-monkeyy for a WIP check-in, thank you! 😊

I'm tagging @wanderingchanneler, @ternaryflower53, and @comiclysmic if you'd like to share anything you're working on--no pressure!

I need people to know that yes I am still working on Plausible Deniability and no I didn't expect that my last update was in JULY?? How did that happen? *cough* anyway here's some proof that I'm actually writing something:

(Rated Mature for mentions of sexuality. This is a Shakadolin fic btw)

Do what you’re good at, Shallan, Radiant encourages her. Calm them down. You can work it out.  Shallan nods. She takes a breath and opens her eyes, standing to break up a fight. Her head tilts. What she sees isn’t unlike a fight.  They’re kissing, Adolin grasping desperately at Kaladin’s waist, and Kaladin fisting Adolin’s uniform, seemingly unable to decide whether to push him away or pull him in closer. They’re twisting around each other, grappling, shuffling, frowning, panting small moans and grunts between smacks of their lips.  Her heart starts to pound, putting her on the verge of panic. She feels like she's reacting every way at once. Her husband is kissing another man, right in front of her? Not to mention he's kissing a man she happens to be currently dripping for…storms. Had she seen this a day ago, without these feelings for Kaladin flooding her body, Shallan might’ve been angry. She can see the truth in the way he moves–Adolin doesn’t just want to experiment with other men. He wants Kaladin. And Heralds save her, so does she. She wants in. Shallan stands and coughs, and the men immediately break the kiss. They push each other apart, glancing away with guilty expressions, shamespren falling between them. Adolin’s eyes are wild. Shallan knows he wasn't sure about Veil's plan, and it looks like his night with Kaladin blew him over. When he's unstable he can get impulsive. Has she finally pushed him over the edge into madness? All her lies and deceptions and half truths… Is this what breaks him? She steps forward, her body tingling with mixed emotions, her mind scrambling to find the right words.   Adolin speaks first. His voice comes out in gasps, as if he still hasn’t caught his breath from the kiss. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and steps forward, wiping his mouth. “I made a mistake. I’ve broken our oaths. Please don't leave me. I–” he gestures helplessly, frantically. She takes his hands, one wet, one dry. This is real. “No. Adolin, this isn't your fault. We're going to fix this. Together. Like Kaladin said. Right Kaladin?" She nods at him, and he seems to shake himself off. Resolutely, he steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on Adolin's shoulder. "The ardent said we can't…unspill the wine, so to speak," he says, voice gruff and low. "All we can do is, uh, pour it evenly." He slides his thumb up and down across Adolin's collarbone, which focuses the tingling in Shallan's body as she watches. He glances at Shallan and her heart skips a beat. Oh storms, he really believes it. He really is as committed now as he was when we talked about it. Kaladin raises his eyebrows at her, as if to say yeah, but you say it.  Fair enough. She meets Adolin's eyes, uncertain whether she is about to calm the storm or add power to its winds. "When we were talking earlier, we came up with a solution. I can put myself in your place, do the same things with Kaladin that you did, and then you don't have to worry about breaking your oaths because I've done it too. We'll be even and we can go on from this together. Like always."  Will it be even? Veil asks. What about all those times I– Not now!

[waltwhitmansbeard]

"Im not sure how much longer I could have taken this..." was made for MFL keyleth

"i wasn't sure how much longer i could have taken this..." read these first.

turned my water into wine #24

They agree to be better. For three nights in a row, they were unable to stop themselves, to keep hands and lips where they belong, so they agree that they must take action, for both of their sakes. Vax will no longer be coming to visit her once his shift is over, and Keyleth will fall asleep alone.

It's fine.

The first night, she listens at the door for the quiet exchange that heralds Jarett's arrival. She is so used to that sound sending a thrill up her spine, but now her stomach sinks. She dresses for bed, foolishly still hoping for a scratch at the hidden door. It doesn't come. She blows out the candles and crawls beneath her duvet. The moon is high in the sky before her tossing and turning lulls her to sleep.

The second night, she tries reading instead. She has so little time to read for pleasure these days, always occupied with reports from the front and economic projections and all manner of important but dull material. She chooses an old favorite, but remembers about twenty pages in that it is a melodramatic tale of a queen leaving her king for the bed of a knight, so she quickly abandons it in favor of a murder mystery. The theme will likely not help her nightmares, but beggars cannot be choosers, and she is not too proud to beg. She reads until her candle burns low, until she can no longer fend off the inevitability of sleep—and yet when her head hits her pillow, she finds sleep eludes her still.

The third night she writes letters. Lady Kima has been away for some time, helming the efforts in the Dreemoth Ravine, so Keyleth thanks her for her faithful service and offers pleasant updates from home. After that, she pens a missive to Duke Cerkonos, a personal note of support after the devastation in Pyrah. It has been so long since she visited this sister city, so she suggests a trip, when they're ready to receive her. There are a few shorter notes to read, mostly messages of gratitude for contributions to the war effort, but even though she writes until her hand cramps and her mind aches with fatigue, her night is restless, and she wakes more exhausted than she had been before she slept.

(And the days—oh, what acute torture, these days. To see him, to feel his shadow as they move as one through the castle. To watch his hands fiddle with the daggers at his belt and remember how they felt cupping her face. To recognize in his eyes the same misery she feels. The nights are almost a mercy, a reprieve from the constant reminder of what she cannot have.)

The fourth night, she sits. She stares into the fire, listens to its lifeless crackle. There is no avoiding it. She got a taste of it, this thing she never knew she wanted, and now it is a hunger, a devouring maw in her belly. What is she to do? Dismiss him from her service? She'd sooner gnaw off her own arm, though she knows it would be a kindness to him, to set him free of the stormy cloud that haunts her now.

She is so lost in thought that she nearly misses it below the popping of the wood in the fireplace: a low scratching from behind her. She freezes, focused. Did she imagine it, will the sound to her ears? No, there it is again!

She leaps to her feet and nearly trips in her mad scramble for the door. She shoves the tapestry aside and rips the door open, and there he is, shoulders hunched in apology, on the second step from the top of the stairs.

"Your Highness, I know I should not be here—"

She throws herself forward, slings her arms around his neck, and kisses him. They nearly topple backward down the steps into the catacombs, but he catches her, arms sliding around her waist to steady her above him.

When she finally needs to breathe, she grins sheepishly. "My apologies. You were saying?"

He kisses her again, picks her up by the waist and carries her back inside. "Going crazy," he murmurs against her lips, "absolutely mad without you."

She rests her hands on either side of his face. "Thank the gods you came. I'm not sure how much longer I could have taken this."

"Nor I. I feel I have not slept a wink these past nights." The arms around her waist tightens briefly. "You know that our situation remains unchanged."

She nods. She does know. She is a princess, born to lead, born to marry for the betterment of her nation, and he is a guard, hired to keep her alive at all costs, not to feel so warm and solid beneath her palms. "If you will allow me, I shall like to have you for as long as I am able."

He kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips, slow and soft. "And I you, Keyleth."

And as she pulls his lips to hers once more, what she doesn't say is the truth she knows will break them both: regardless of whom she marries or where he is stationed, he will have her forever.

[ellysfir]

His face darkened with the confession but he already knew; Shi Qingxuan had given Xie Lian away when he shouted at him to leave and Hua Cheng’s following silence was all the confirmation he needed. They’d kept each other updated regularly throughout this after Xie Lian had gotten himself involved and wouldn’t…uninvolve himself, in spite of his and Hua Cheng’s efforts. It had made the ordeal so much lengthier, he’d ran them in so many circles, made sure he left with Hua Cheng…

It really was strange to have him so quiet between their usual relay and the idiot’s, some days incessant, airy prattling about his beloved.

He had no quiet between him and Shi Qingxuan, not really.

And so he just nodded. Or, he’d partly nodded before stiffening back up. It wouldn’t have been wrong to guess that He Xuan would have taken refuge in Ghost City if alone but the suggestion to go to that fool and Xie Lian for help was… Hua Cheng was unlikely to receive either of them happily, but what else could they really do?

He’d started to look away when Shi Qingxuan attempted to soothe him, the soft, black fabric giving under the light touch. The colour and nature of his robes hid his form, but the sharp curve of bone could easily be felt. He was silent as always, seeming to be waiting for him to continue until the state of him had been pointed out.

“Shi Qingxuan,” he tried, watching as he backed up and began to strip himself. “Shi Qingxuan. It’s salt water. Right now, in this state, if you soak your clothes…” He stepped forward, lifting a hand, then sighed in resignation. The temptation to tell him ‘slip’ had surfaced with the flare of annoyance when he began scrubbing at his arms, but whatever ire had remained after learning of the younger brother’s innocence had left with the death of Shi Wudu.

“Stop,” he finally said, more of the usual force behind his voice, pulling him back up onto his feet by his arms. Hidden beneath the otherworldly warbles of the large bone fish drifting about was the sneaking crackling of stone. “Fine, I’ll–” Suddenly, just as He Xuan almost got Shi Qingxuan upright there was a booming crash that echoed deafeningly throughout the dark halls and the entire building dipped and rocked. In all the confusion earlier he’d forgotten his immediate, panicked response had been to sink the island. Part of it now sat a few feet beneath the sea level and the stone structure of the manor had finally began to give under the newly uneven ground and a long fissure had opened in the floor, water gushing in from it.

The quake of the building made him sway and lose his grip on the other. He swept forward to snare him again just as quickly, and hauled him up over a shoulder. Stopping the process of having the waters swallow the island was one thing, the damaged he’d caused the building by doing so was another story.

He Xuan hurried along back the way they came, slowing only to briefly watch the mad dancing of those humans who he thought had scrambled. They’d discovered the corpse of Shi Wudu and were overjoyed, celebrating and playing with it, throwing stones. They were fearful of He Xuan and wouldn’t come near, and he decided to abandon the manor to them, Ming Yi, and the remains of the Water Tyrant to rush down the slick, stone stairs of Nether Water Manor where he could set Shi Qingxuan back down in the soft grass to dispel the barrier over the sea and open an array. He could have removed them from within the building, but if the walls gave way while they were within they’d have a whole other problem.

With Xie Lian back in his own body Hua Cheng had been anxiously monitoring him, apologetic the entire time they waited. Since he’d left willingly they didn’t have a lot to go off of, and Hua Cheng had backed off to give him space when a communication came through. Originally he’d planned to take leave while Xie Lian was distracted in his own array, instead walking up behind him. “Your highness,” he interrupted, turning him gently by a shoulder and smiling playfully. “How about you take a break? Let them deal with it and come back with me to Paradise Manor.”

Turbulent Tides

Characters: Shi Qingxuan, He Xuan Secondary: Xie Lian, Hua Cheng Timeframe: Black Water arc, canon-divergent AU @windmasterreturns @ellysfir @puqiprayerservice @mothboxhuacheng

Mere moments ago there was so much clamour shaking the stiff air of Nether Water Manor – the eager cries of those madmen, the bickering between the brothers and his own rage. It was dissonant and loud, even they had to shout to be heard above skirl surrounding them. If not for the location of the domain even the stormy waters outside would not have kept them hidden.

It wasn’t the sudden swirl of rage not his own that silenced those madmen.

It was the sound of Shi Wudu’s head rolling across the floor.

He Xuan seemed startled in his absolute lack of reaction. He moved his head and eyes only enough to follow the path the falling body took as it collapsed to the floor, delayed, as if it still had the means to remain on its knees by itself. He watched for a long while in his own silence, unmoving, features blank and confused.

When He Xuan gathered enough wit about himself to move the steps he took were slow and heavy, the sharp click of his heel echoing through the still silent manor. It was nothing like the way he’d moved before as he approached Shi Qingxuan a last time, unconcerned that he dragged his long robes through the quickly spreading pool of blood. He came to crouch at the former Wind Master’s side, cold, slender fingers gathering one arm at a time to free him from the shackles with a feather-light touch.

The sound of metal scraping against stone seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he withdrew quickly, reality flooding back in, washing away the numbness. He swept backwards, drawing himself upright with an unsteady sway, thin, wispy fabric following each sharp movement light as fog. He stood there silently, partly twisted, his eyes elsewhere out in the emptiness of the room, unfocused and intense with his hands tightly curled into the fabric at his sides.

All at once there was so much going on in his head, a different sort of turmoil than the anger and anguish from earlier.

Most prominently, he was still here. The option had been presented as an impossible path, and the death of Shi Wudu hadn’t released him.

What was he supposed to do now?

His mind was silent save his own racing thoughts, and he knew that meant Hua Cheng expected the same outcome he had and he didn’t dare reach out to him first.

[maes-flowers]

We’ll be okay [2] (Marc Spector/slight!Steven Grant x Reader)

Summary: After Marc Spector leaves your life to focus on his own goals, what happens when he comes back into you life at full speed after years of being apart?

Word Count: 1,845

Warnings: none 

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It had been three months since you last saw Marc and Steven at his mother's shiva, but you still couldn't get Marc out of your mind. It had been easy before this, acting like he was a ghost in your life that only appeared in dreams. It was always easier to act like he didn't exist in your life until he would text or ask on a rare occasion for a video call that only got rarer after Marc told you he got discharged from the army and was going to do work for hire for a old coworker. This mindset was what allowed you to finally leave Chicago and get your degree before finally getting your dual doctorate in comparative mythology and archeology. A passion that you fueled by working at universities and museums to earn enough money to work on being able to return sacred artifacts from the hands of greedy people.

It was the only thing you felt gave you joy in life, you avoided relationships and friendships as much as you could to avoid the eventual hurt it would bring you. So you threw yourself into your work, often focusing with no issue allowing you to push yourself into a male-dominated field. But now it's getting harder and harder each day to do anything when Marc hasn't bothered to send you a sign he was even alive. 

You blinked tiredly at your laptop screen on your desk, the blinking cursor for a half-written article for a university newspaper staring back at you. Groaning you closed the laptop and stood up, popping your neck as you walked into your tiny kitchen pulling open the fridge and grabbing a beer, and tossing the cap haphazardly into the trash. 

You looked at your phone at your desk before you huffed out an annoyed breath and grabbed it before scrolling to Marc's contact and hitting the dial.

“Why do I even bother it's not like he’ll pick u-” your voice halted when you heard breathing on the other side.

“Yeah?” A soft voice called out, and you laughed in disbelief.

“Oh my god, you're alive.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Marc's voice said and your relieved smile dropped.

“That's it?” you exclaimed, annoyance coating your voice. “I have been calling and texting you for months! You could've given me any sign you were okay and you just left me in the dust worried you were dead in a ditch.” 

“I'm sorry,” Marc said. “I just found this phone in my flat and I'm just trying to figure out whose it is.” 

“What's with the accent?” you scoffed. “What's wrong with you?”

“Sorry, who do you think I am?” he asked, you wish you could reach through the phone and punch him.

“What do you mean who? Marc, you're stressing me out.” 

“Who is this? Why did you call me Marc?” he replied.

You pulled the phone away from your ear before you hit the end call button, tossed your phone on your couch, and ran an irritated hand through your hair.

“Stupid prick,” You mumble, you wanted to be mad but mostly you were relieved he was okay. “Who does he think he's fooling with that accent too? it barely sounds British…” you trailed off in thought before puzzle pieces clicked into place. You cursed before scrambling for your phone and dialing the number again but no one answered.

You should've known it was Steven, you felt like an idiot for not realizing as soon as you heard that accent. You looked at the number and then at your laptop, before looking back at the phone again.

“This is a bad idea.” you sighed.

~~~~~

The London traffic was more horrific than you could imagine, having to bite back insults and angry shouts at drivers as you maneuvered through traffic on your Vespa keeping your eye and the blinking dot on your phone telling you Marc's Location, the tracker leading you closer and closer to a large storage unit business.  You were almost to the location before you heard shouting and then a man with a duffle bag sprinting out on the street until his foot got caught on a lip on the concrete and fell right in front of you. You yelped before yanking the handles to avoid the man on the road who clutched his head. When you finally stopped and looked down to see who you almost ran over all the air left in your lungs.

“Marc?” you breathed out, he looked up at you in confusion before he sat up.

“Y/N?” he said, the British accent clear as you reached down and grabbed his hand, and pulled him up. 

“Steven, get on the scooter.” You demanded moving forward a little as he nodded frantically.

“Yeah, alright,” he said before getting behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how your heart started to beat a little faster at the feeling of his chest pressed against your back.

“You know my name, do we know each other?” Steven asked. You kept your eyes trained ahead as you thought, he didn't remember what happened at the shiva a few months ago and you decided to not bring up that day.

“Kind of,” you admitted. “Although I know more about you than you know about me.”

“How did you find me?” 

“I tracked your phone, if I'm being honest this was kind of an impulsive thing but I'm here now. Do you think you can take me to your apartment?” you asked and Steven shuffled his hands on your waist.

“Yeah, I guess.”

It didn't take too long after that to arrive at Steven's place,  leading you through long dark narrow hallways and an elevator before he opened the door to his apartment. You walked around eyeing the cluttered studio full of books and paper everywhere. Your eye caught a rather large fish tank with a single fish in it, you tapped the glass lightly and smiled when it began to swim around. You then saw the queen-sized bed surrounded by sand and an ankle restraint on one of the posts and you froze.

“Are you living with someone?” you asked, scared to hear the answer but all Steven did was shake his head.

“No, this is my mum's flat.” 

You were taken aback by those words, did he truly not remember anything from the shiva? Does he even know his mom is dead? You ignored that thought as you went to the bookshelf and pulled a book out and saw your favorite book of poems.

“Nayyirah Waheed?” you asked. Marc hated poetry, to the point you would do dramatic readings to him to make him mad when you were younger.

“keep speaking the years from their hiding places. keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you have died. keep the rage tender. because the soft season will come.” Steven spoke and you ignored the feeling of your heart clenching at the words of your favorite poem.

“She's my favorite poet.” Steven continued and you chuckled.

“No, she's my favorite.” you smiled slightly.

You turned back to Steven and eyed the bag on the table and walked over to it. You recognized the blue bag that Marc was holding all of those years ago. You walked over to the bag and opened it finding foreign money, his passports, guns, and a small golden object. You grabbed the small object and inspected it. The hieroglyphs and the shape of a scarab made you pause, you held up the object to Steven.

“The scarab that's allegedly  pointing to Ammits ushabti?” The myths you study come at you in full force. Why did Marc have this piece of history in his place and why was it even taken from its original home.

“Marc, you have kept so much from me and I've never complained but now after months of no contact, you have stolen money, guns, and ancient artifacts? You couldn't mask the hurt on your face at this point.

“No, no, no I promise I-” Steven stuttered but you interrupted him.

“Is this why you stopped talking to me? So you can do this one-man show for the rest of your life?”

“Take whatever you want! I don't want this I promise.” Steven begged. “Have it.” 

You rubbed your eyes to make sure frustrated tears didn't fall, putting down the scarab on the table you let your arms fall.

“I am not Marc Spector.” Steven said, “I'm Steven Grant. I work at-well, used to work in a gift shop and this Marc guy sounds like an absolute twit.” he glanced at the mirror behind you for a moment. “I think I'm in real danger and I think you might be the only person who can help me.”

You look at Stevens's glassy eyes and nod before you step closer to him.

“So you have no idea about what you've been doing? Or even who I am?” you asked.

Steven shook his head.

“I wish I could.” You were about to speak before a loud knock on the door startled you and Steven.

“Steven Grant, can we have a word?” a voice on the other side of the door said.

“Oh god,” Steven whispered. “They've come for me.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I vandalized the toilet,” he said. He looked scared but went to the door.  While you knew this couldn't be about a toilet so you stepped further back into the apartment and looked at the scarab.

“I could be about that though,” you said to yourself,  grabbing the artifact from the table and going to the window climbing out of it, you managed to wiggle yourself in a wedge so no one could see you if they looked out the window. You couldn't hear much of what they were saying inside besides muffled words and the sound of handcuffs before the door slammed shut a few minutes later. You released the breath you were holding before climbing back inside. You slipped the scarab into the pocket of your jeans as you went back to the duffle bag on the table.

Your hand dug through the bag before landing on a small piece of paper, you noticed a date on the back.

“May 19th” you mumbled before you flipped it over and saw a photo of you and Marc, both wearing blue caps and gowns as Marc was holding your bridal style in his arms. Grins were plastered on both of your faces as you had your arms around Marc's neck. The picture was faded terribly and had fold creases indented as if it was carried around in a wallet or pocket for a long time. You closed your eyes and sighed sadly, putting the picture in your wallet and your hand hovered over a gun for a moment. If you were going after Marc then it's probably gonna be dangerous.

“Damnit, Marc Spector.” you mumbled as you grabbed the gun and ammo and walked out the door already tracking Stevens's phone.

Taglist:

@ayocee​

[lost-between-letters]

On The Phone And In My Bed

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Requested by: anon

Word Count: 2,642

Warnings: dirty talk, phone sex, blow job, smut, unprotected sex, slightly sub!Dean/dom!Reader, fluff

Summary: Dean took a hunt half an hour over and was now stuck with observation. Naturally he called Y/N for some distraction. She supplied one of the fun kind.

A/N: these are possibly the most sex related warnings I ever had to put on a fic. Wow. Anyway, sorry for spelling mistakes, I'm impatient

The thing was, Y/N should have expected this. Really. It was Dean she was thinking of after all. Big, protective, impulsive, lovable idiot, Dean.

And Sam had just gone along with it.

A single note on the kitchen counter had replaced the good morning kiss and Y/N's day had felt halfway ruined already.

Heya Sweetheart

Sorry for the jump and run here but there's some not-Crowley-certified demonic activity half an hour away, Charlie sent some footage around four. Sammy and me are checking it out, don't ya worry

Love, Dean

P.S. Charlie also sent her newest update for you, check your mails, she was very ominous about it

Sam

So that was what Y/N spent her morning with. Laughing her butt off at Charlie's escapades and convention stories. She very deliberately ignored the hunt and everything that it would entail.

Dean was fine. He had Sam and Sam had him and they weren't exactly new to this. And it didn't sting one bit that they didn't wake her.

Though it was entirely possible that Dean was just being a jackass without trying to.

So Y/N gave him the benefit of the doubt and went on with her day with normal amounts of scowling and only minimal worry. If something was to go terribly wrong, she could trust on the twisted Winchester luck to keep them alive even if just to fuck them up more thoroughly next time.

Fuck, she was starting to sound like Dean.

To banish the unwelcome thoughts from her mind, Y/N busied herself in the library with digitalizing the lore books. It was a bold project that she and Charlie had started in a fit of killing boredom and she always came back to it when she needed something else than Dean to be frustrated with (not that she was honestly mad at him, like ever).

By the time she reached the half point of the lexicon on Anglo-Saxon mythical creatures, Y/N was ready to shoot someone. That of course was the exact time her phone started buzzing.

It was Dean.

All annoyance drained from her system at once and replaced itself with ice cold worry. Dean never called from a hunt until the trouble had passed way beyond fucked up.

Naturally, she scrambled for the phone and her knives at once. "Who's dying?"

Soft chuckling. No background noises.

"No one, Sweetheart," Dean said calmly, the amusement seeping all over the words, "you really have no trust in me, do you?"

If he had been here with her, Y/N was pretty sure that she would have smacked him. "No you dumbass, but you never call just to chat."

"Well, I did just now," he pointed out and she could almost see him grinning.

Oh, she would kill him in his sleep for giving her a heart attack. "And what do you want to chat about?"

"That Sam left to observe the house next door and left me all alone to watch this one. I'm waiting for the dust to claim me." So he was just bored.

Y/N could work with that. She was leafing through the lexicon still, her mind sitting in the Impala next to him.

Of course, she voiced that thought immediately. Dean had called her for distraction after all. "Wouldn't it be so much better if I was there with you?"

"Of course sweetheart." A softness that was usually reserved for morning kisses creeped into Dean's voice just then, reminding both of them that this was the first conversation they were having today.

Naturally, Dean had to destroy the moment a comment later, "I wouldn't be dying of boredom for one."

The words sparked a wicked little idea in Y/N's mind. The last few nights, they had been too tired to do anything but sleep next to each other.

"Well, let's change that, Love," she was pretty sure that Dean could hear the smirk in her voice.

The implication as well, if the breathy chuckle was anything to go by. "What're you proposing, Y/N?"

"Oh nothin'," she shrugged nonchalantly and stretched out on the sofa, "I just wanna tell you what I'd do if I were there with you now."

"What would you do?"

Dean had taken the bait, anticipation for what came next in his every word. Oh, she was loving this already.

"I'd touch you. First gentle touches, just my hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down while we're talking. Then, when you're nicely relaxed, I'd lean over and start kissing you. Dirty and fast, because we both know your eyes should be on the building."

Dean cleared his throat and Y/N could almost see him adjusting his seating position. Oh yeah, this was going exactly where she wanted it to.

"Then, while you're pretty little head is still spinning from the kiss," she paused to soak up the gasp from Dean that was most likely aiming for indignation but couldn't quite reach that, "I'd throw my leg over your lap and take a seat. Right over your cock and I'd let you rub yourself into me to take the edge of. Nothing more, just a few thrusts before I'd be pulling away, my hands holding your hips in place. And you'd be melting into it, wouldn't you?"

The scenario that rolled from her tongue was playing out in her mind at the same time. She was feeling herself getting wet and opened the button of her jeans. No harm in a little fun.

If the noises Dean was making were anything to go from, he was getting turned on too. "Yes, Y/N."

"Do you wanna touch yourself, Baby?" Y/N asked while her own hand was already drifting into her panties.

"Yes, please," Dean's voice was incredibly soft, a sure sign that he was listening to her every word.

Y/N was quite possibly ruining her favourite pair of underwear right now. The first contact of her fingers to her clit and Dean's plea had her moaning out loud. "Then touch yourself, Baby. Nice and slow, okay?"

"Okay."

A zipper opened and then Dean was cursing quietly.

"Are you making yourself feel good, Dean? Are your fingers wrapped around your cock, moving slowly just like I told you?" Her own hand was working herself just as she had instructed him, languid circles on her clit that had her go crazy with need. "Are you imagining it to be my hand?"

"God, yes please, Y/N."

His head had dropped against the headrest by now, Y/N was sure of it. It never took long before Dean closed his eyes when they did it like this, with her voice guiding him through it.

"Do you feel how hard you are for me? Can you imagine how good you'll feel inside of me? How wet I am just for you?"

"Fuck."

A first orgasm was building steadily with every little pant or swear from Dean's side. Her name was mixed in more than once, telling her that he was getting close too.

A loud crash shook them out of their bubble. It was on Dean's end of the call and was immediately followed by her boyfriend cursing loudly. Not the fun ones this time.

"I'll call you later." And the call ended, leaving Y/N with an unsettling mixture of lust and fear.

Before the door to their room was even closed fully, Y/N had already launched herself at Dean. He caught her with ease and lifted her up to allow her legs to wrap around his waist.

She kissed him with all the pent up fear, worry, and lust from the last few hours and only broke away when breathing was inevitable. Their foreheads stayed firmly resting against each other, Y/N's hand splayed protectively on his cheek.

"Never scare me like that again," she demanded shakily.

Dean nuzzled into the touch while she wiped the blood away that had run down from the cut over his eyebrow. "I won't, Sweetheart."

"And don't lie to me."

Instead of answering, he just kissed her again and walked them to the bed.

Before they could reach it though, Y/N jumped down and broke the kiss long enough to give Dean a once-over. No apparent bruises aside from the little cut and the bone deep tiredness that followed the adrenaline high of a finished hunt.

Her eyes softened at the way how he was hunched over just the slightest bit while his eyes were bright with desire. Without a conscious decision to do so, Y/N reached up to cup his face. "Let me take care of you, Love."

"As long as it involves a lot less clothing, I'm fine with that," Dean grinned and turned unexpectedly to kiss her palm.

Y/N laughed. While Dean was leaning down for more, she pushed him backwards. As he didn't expect the movement, he fell right on the bed behind him and watched Y/N step between his legs.

"Strip."

Dean followed the command under her watchful eyes, first the flannel, then the undershirt and the jeans and socks. When he was only in his boxers, Y/N buried her hands in his hair and pulled his face upwards to press their lips together once again.

Her tongue sweeped out almost immediately and took control of the kiss while Dean was moaning into it. Y/N could feel him relax under her touch with every following second.

While his hands stayed firmly on her hips where they had first landed, Y/N's were more restless and touched every piece of skin she got. A trail of goosebumps followed her fingertips when she drew them over his chest and down to his abdomen.

It took little more then a soft push for Dean to stretch out on his back and Y/N was kissing and licking her way downwards. She stopped occasionally to nibble at his skin of pay special attention to a scar while her hands stayed a grounding weight on his sides.

After a particularly loud gasp, Y/N raised her head from his left hip bone and grinned. "Does that feel good?"

"Fuck, yes." Dean's fists were clenching next to his body in tact with her dancing lips.

His cock was straining against the boxers in what must have been painful hardness so Y/N took mercy on him. She pushed the underwear down his legs and out of the way before she placed a sweet little kiss on the top of his length.

Dean moaned loudly, his hips bucking involuntarily but Y/N was quick to pin them in place.

"So needy," she chided gently and pulled away again, "you can put your hands in my hair if you need something to hold onto, Sugar."

More encouragement wasn't needed. Long fingers threaded through her hair which Y/N took as her cue to go on. With one swallow, she sank her mouth down on his cock until a faint gag reflex had her stop and take a breath.

Dean was moaning over her, head thrown back and one hand holding onto her hair. His obvious pleasure spurred her on to start moving so Y/N let her tongue press on the downside of his shaft while she sucked him down even deeper. Her hands were still firmly planted on his hips to stop him from pushing upwards while Y/N was building a rhythm.

Her head was bobbing up and down on his cock, eyes trained on his face to see every little expression of pleasure that she pulled out of him. Dean was getting close, Y/N could tell, so she stopped.

"What-"

He was looking sinfully debauched with his messed up hair from where Y/N had sunken her fingers into, swollen lips and wide blown pupils that were trained on her face.

Y/N got up elegantly and finally started to undress herself. "You didn't think I'd let you come so easily, do you? I'm going to ride you and you're going to be screaming my name when I'm done with you."

Her panties dropped and Y/N crawled up Dean's body until she could kiss him again. Then, she moved them until Dean was in the middle of the bed, his hands buried in her hair, Y/N kneeling over his body.

"Please," Dean was moving his hips, desperate for some friction while her mouth danced over his neck, licking the salty skin under his ear.

And because she was dripping wet and had been waiting for this for far too long, Y/N listened.

Slowly, she lowered her hips; her hand lined his cock up with her hole until she felt the blunt tip pressing inside. Both of them groaned at the contact they had been craving all day.

Y/N took herself some time to adjust to Dean's impressive length inside of her before she started moving again. When she did, she built up a slow rhythm that she knew was torturing Dean.

His cock dragged over all the right places inside of her while his mouth was breathing pleas of 'faster' and 'harder, please' into her skin.

"Touch my tits, Dean," she commanded with a sudden hard downward thrust of her hips that had him bucking up.

Immediately, he complied, his rough hands coming up to knead the soft flesh between his fingers while her nipples were hardening into tiny pebbles. Upon seeing this, Dean started tugging on them with just the right pressure and Y/N rewarded both of them with faster and deeper thrusts.

"Fuck, just like that, Baby," she was panting too.

Dean grinned up at her, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Can I suck on them, too?"

"Only if you ask nicely." Y/N was loving the power she had here.

Dean was pinned underneath her his cock buried deep inside of her while she rode him with abandon. His body was covered in sweat, a blush creeping down his chest and his eyes were trained on her tits. "Y/N, please let me suck your tits, let me taste your skin on my lips, feel your nipples in my mouth."

"Yes." Y/N leaned down, right into his mouth and let him close it around her right nipple which he immediately started rolling between his teeth.

The pleasure in her tits was directly connected with her pussy it seemed as she felt herself clenching down on him.

Her hips fucked down even harder, taking everything he got and pushed them both closer to an orgasm at a reckless pace. Y/N already felt Dean swelling inside of her so she reached down to rub her clit. Dean's hands and mouth were preoccupied after all.

Y/N was clenching down on his cock in the beginnings of her orgasm so she changed the angle and took him even deeper. "Cum for me, Baby."

With a humming moan and a bite to her tit, he did. Her pussy was pulsing rhythmically as she felt his cum pushing inside of her, her own vision whitening out for just a moment.

Dean was in the exact same position when she came back from the bathroom, head tipped to the side to watch her approach. His hair was still a mess, his pupils still wider than normal but the smile on his face was softer than Y/N had seen it all day.

"Have I finally worn you out?" She teased while she wiped him down with a warm washcloth.

Dean chuckled and moved into the touch like a sunbathing cat. Y/N fell in love just a little bit more just like that. "A little bit but you had help from the demon."

The washcloth flew across the room, somewhere close to the space heater and Y/N climbed into the bed. There, she pulled at the covers until they both were underneath them and rested her head on Dean's shoulder. "I'm glad you're fine."

"Me too, Sweetheart," Dean whispered and pulled her closer, tangled their legs together, "me too."

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer , @lovesfandoms , @nyotamalfoy , @akshi8278 , @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007

Dean Taglist: @tiggytaylor , @mrsjenniferwinchester

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