#th; sweater than fantasy

[avatar-anna]

“Yeah, it used to be you lecturing me in your classroom, but that is now a close second,” he admitted// we need more on this fantasy of h about proffffff

I think it's important to know that Harry is absolutely enthralled by Professor. She doesn't see it or notice it that much, but he finds her so attractive in so many ways (it's giving very 🎶you don't know you're beautiful🎶)

So it would makes sense that he would absolutely worship the shit out of her in bed, but in a way that doesn't overwhelm her. Professor is a generally serious person, so he likes to be a little unserious behind closed doors.

There's typically a lot of giggling and playful teasing that turns into long, drawn out kisses that eventually leads to Harry pushing her onto her back.

Harry almost always takes the reins, and both of them are more than happy and comfortable with that, though Professor realizes he's been dropping little comments about his fantasies, and she decides to do something about it. He's made her feel comfortable enough that she not only can be a little bolder in the bedroom, but she wants to be for him. He does so much for her in that way, she feels like doing the same for him

One day Y/n asked Harry if he could pick her up from campus, but little does he know she had a whole thing planned. She was in one of her more revealing outfits, which was only showing a little more leg than she normally would, but it was noticeable to Harry when he entered her classroom. He expected her to be ready to go, but she asked if he didn't mind sitting for a few minutes while she did a couple more things, one of them being running a lecture by him.

Now, Y/n didn't really teach material that was “sexy,” but she tried her best, talking about body language and reading a person by simply looking at how they hold themselves and things of that nature. All the while she walked around so Harry got a good look at her, she dropped her chalk a couple times and bent down to pick it up in such a way that has Harry pulling at the collar of his shirt.

She could see out of the corner of her eye that Harry was fidgeting at his desk, which made her smile because, wow, she really did have an effect on him. She lectured for a few more minutes before going over to him.

“How was that?”

“How was what?”

“The lecture. How was it?”

“I...I, uh, It was...”

He couldn't even form words because that was his dress shirt under her sweater vest, and she was wearing his favorite perfume of hers, and as she came around to sit on his lap, he saw a hint of a lace bra beneath the undone buttons of the shirt.

Harry didn't know if Y/n was doing this on purpose, but the way she tilted her head and waited for criticism about her lecture was very convincing. Either way, there was no way he could focus when she kept bending over and talking to him the way she was. Deep down, there were days where he wished she might one day take the lead, but he wouldn't have really cared if she did or didn't. Now, though, he thought it might be happening, but he wasn't sure.

“I was having a hard time focusing.”

“Why?”

Harry could only breathe shallow breaths as she began to play with the ends of his hair.

“Tell me why, Harry.”

He didn't mean to, but he could feel his pants tighten. The look she was giving him, the tone she used, like he was in trouble. He couldn't help it.

He leaned forward, desperate to kiss Y/n now, but she pulled away. Just out of reach. She put a finger over Harry's lips, rubbed it along the seam, parting them but not dipping in. “Answer me first.”

“I was distracted,” he said. “By you.”

“Me?” she asked, and Harry thought she looked genuinely surprised. “What did I do?”

“You—”

This was a game, he finally realized. There was a glint in her eyes, the one she usually got when she was about to beat someone at chess. Trying his best to contain his growing excitement, Harry did his best to play along. “Nothing. You were perfect. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

She seemed to mull it over. “I still think you need to be taught a lesson.”

“I agree,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.

“I demand you take me home and...not let me out of bed until my legs feel like jelly.”

So into whatever was happening, Harry barely registered that Y/n probably hadn't gotten this far in her plans for them. He was just eager to please.

“That’s what you want?”

“That’s what I want.”

Harry grinned and let his hands wander just a little bit so he could grip her appreciatively. “I think that's fair. But... wouldn't it be more... conducive to my learning experience if we stay here?”

For the first time, Y/n blushed, leaning in close to hissed, “This is where I work, Harry!”

Chuckling a little, he leaned in and kissed Y/n’s cheek. So this was her limit. Fine by him. “Okay. Should we leave at separate times so no one will suspect anything?” he asked, trying to keep their momentum going.

“Y—Yes. That's a good idea.”

When they got back to the townhouse, Harry threw Y/n over his shoulder and made good on her request.

[philomenie]

MOON HILL

4 Beings from a different time, a different world than today. Rivals, friends, allies from the beginning of time. 4 magical beings, long separated, now reunited to save what means the most to them.

Moon Hill

Nicholas: Peuchen, vampire-like winged serpent, demon

Joakim: Fenris, Fenrir, wolf-like demigod

Nick: Kerberus, hellhound

Noah: Yokai, demon, Chi o nomu hito, blood-drinker, also Kyuketsuki, vampire

CN Fantasy, Mystery, Mention of Blood, Torture, Killing, Betrayal

Collage from @aubrey-melinoe 🫶🏻

ONE

NOAH

It is rainy, nothing else he expected from this cold part of the world, people scurrying crouched through the gathering darkness.

Bored, the strikingly tall man watches them for a while with his dark, almond-shaped eyes,

Humans... necessary for the sole purpose of feeding him! To make them subservient to him, to manipulate them into thinking that they have come of their own free will, that they are masters of their own senses, goals and thoughts.

A sneer forms around his mouth.

The rain has soaked his chin-length hair and drops are falling onto his black trench coat with the collar turned up.

He is also dressed in black in other respects, his black suit trousers, black leather belt, elegant black ankle-high boots, his tight-fitting turtleneck sweater that hugs his muscular upper body and whose collar he can pull over his lower face if necessary.

His hands are hidden in black leather gloves.

His most sacred possession, the katana of his ancestors, is hidden from view on his back under his coat.

In public, he hardly shows himself in any other way, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself, to his body, his skin covered with tattoos, sigils and incantations, signs of his power and strength.

He is a yokai, a demon, older than mankind.

Chi o nomu hito, they called him in his old homeland, Japan, blood-drinker. Or kyuketsuki, vampire!

And that's what he is, a vampire, a blood-drinker who has wiped out entire families and clans, sometimes in a single night.

He was feared even among the other yokai, the only one who never feared him was Yuki Onna.

As always, his heart sinks at the thought of her. Now is not the time for feelings, he gruffly frees himself from them, concentrates, watches and waits.

"You're late! What kept you?" his voice dark and quiet.

"The weather, I don't like wet!"

Noah looks mockingly at the smaller man next to him, "You're getting old Nicholas, in the past even a hailstorm wouldn't have stopped you!"

"Times are changing! And don't tell me you're still as impetuous and reckless as you were in the beginning!"

Noah growls in reply.

Nicholas strokes his arms several times.

"What are you doing?" Noah wants to know.

"Trying to dry my feathers, I want to be able to use them and not have to crawl!"

"You think it's necessary to change?"

Nicholas laughs coldly, "What did you think? That we'd just march in there in human form and the guards would just leave him to us? After all this time?"

"I thought we could deal with them like that, yes. After all, we're older than them and stronger!" Noah's gaze remains fixed on the road.

Nicholas looks at him skeptically out of his blue-gray piercing eyes, then shakes his head with his shoulder-length, raven-black hair. The weather is really getting to him.

Like Noah, he is also dressed completely in black, but in tight black jeans, a black sweater, a wool short coat and a scarf. He also wears black leather gloves.

He is a Peuchen, a demon like Noah, fire his element. In its original form, it is a powerful winged serpent that drinks the blood of its victims and tears their bodies apart.

His human form is also covered in tattoos, sigils and incantations. Like Noah, he is feared by his kind.

"Where is Folio?" he wants to know from his old friend, "late too?"

"No, Folio is watching the entrance for us!"

"I hope not in his original form!"

"I strongly assume he is, if not human, then at least a simple representative of his species!"

"I wouldn't put anything past our hellhound!" growls Nicholas. "That's why Joakim is in this position in the first place!"

Noah sighs, "I know, but today is finally the day we're going to change that. And then they will pay, for every single day!" His eyes blaze with anger and vengeance.

"It's going to be a celebration, just like before!" Nicholas' face lights up with anticipation.

"Just like before, my friend! And then we'll be united again, no one will be able to stop us. We will regain our sanctuary and protect it for eternity!"

"So it shall be, so it shall be!"

"Once we have freed him, we have to find the Völva, the Kami Izanagi has made it clear. We won't succeed without the Völva!"

Nicholas snorts, "And has your kami made it any clearer where we should find these Völva?"

"We will cross her path, those were his words!"

"Well then, nothing can go wrong!" Nicholas barks sarcastically.

Noah's eyes narrow, "You dare to doubt the words of a kami, a god?"

"Since when do you listen to gods?" Nicholas laughs with amusement.

"Since everything went wrong, I at least give their words a hearing and a chance!"

"Yuki...." is as far as Nicholas gets.

"Leave it!" hisses Noah, "she's unreachable, and that's a good thing!"

Nicholas looks at his friend skeptically.

"When Folio comes back, which should be soon, it's on!" Noah's eyes glow black; through his open mouth, Nicholas can see his friend's fangs grow longer. Noah's thirst for blood has awakened.

Now he can't resist it, at the thought of the blood of their enemies, his fangs also flare out and his skin begins to shimmer like iridescent snakeskin.

FOLIO

To avoid attracting attention, he has turned himself into a dog. It's beneath him, but he owes Joakim, and he knows that his old friend will make him pay when they free him.

It's his fault that they found Joakim, that they kept him bound for so long.

It's not as if they hadn't tried to firee him before, but the Norns threw a spanner in the works. Let it be his fate....

Folio shakes his head in disgust, having to submit to those three old, blind women back then was the hardest thing ever. He would have loved to crush them all with his powerful jaws. But before he could even reach them, they would have cut Joakim's fateful thread and his friend would have been lost beyond repair.

Noah then called him and Nicholas back, complied, he had never seen Noah angrier.

Joakim's desperate roar back then, when he realized that even his friends couldn't do anything, still rings in his ears today.

Scowling, he turns his attention back to the tall, elegant building in front of him.

It is well protected, invisible to the human eye, but he is not human, he is Kerberus, the hound of hell.

The magical sigils and runes are cleverly embedded in the façade. The billowing energy fields generated by them can be broken by normal mortals. Impenetrable for magical beings, demons, gods and demigods.

But Noah is certain that it is possible today, as his kami Izanagi has assured him. Let's hope he's right. Folio remembers all too well the painful, unsuccessful attempts to penetrate the field.

There, the roller shutters on the doors and windows of the building close. The time has come.

Folio sets off, quickly running along the streets on all fours.

But before he arrives at the agreed meeting point, he wants to change. He will certainly not appear before his friends as a simple street dog - that would be beneath him.

Nicholas would let him feel that for a long time. He can clearly imagine Noah's appraising looks. He stops behind the wall of a house where he has changed beforehand, looks around and makes sure that no one can see him. Then he begins his transformation.

His limbs become longer and stronger, the mangy fur gradually disappears and human skin becomes visible. His jaws recede, his ears become human. He straightens up, he is strong, the smallest of the friends, covered in tattoos, sigils and incantations just like them.

He quickly grabs his bag, which he has left there, and gets dressed, also in black. Jeans, sweatshirt, boots, leather jacket, he puts a baseball cap on his short brown hair and pulls the shield low over his face.

He starts to move, he has to hurry now, he doesn't want to be responsible for them missing the time slot.

When he arrives at the meeting point, he sees that Nicholas has now joined Noah.

It's good to see everyone together again and hopefully they'll all be back together tonight.

"Folio, good to see you, man!" Nicholas slaps him amicably on the shoulder!

"Likewise, good to be reunited!"

"We're not reunited yet!" Folio winces slightly at Noah's sharp objection.

Damn this cold blood-drinker always manages to make him look like a failure. Folio angrily meets his gaze.

"Not yet, but we're going to change that today!" Folio sticks his chin out at Noah, belligerently.

Noah ignores the objection, asking instead, "What's the situation there, everything quiet?"

"Yes, the mortals have left the building, all the rolling gates are closed. The sigils and runes still activated when I left. Are you really sure about the date, Noah?"

"I'm sure today is the day, the night, when the Bound One will be freed!"

"Your word is in the ears of the gods!" sighs Nicholas.

"The gods now?" Noah suddenly grins at Nicholas.

"This lot must be good for something!" he snaps.

"What do we do now?" Folio wants to know.

"We'll go to the building and wait until the power of the seals breaks!" Noah replies calmly.

"THAT'S the plan?" Folio is stunned, Nicholas also looks worried.

"That's the plan!" confirms Noah.

"And then what? Do we just march in, greet the guards, and traipse underground to free Joakim from his damn shackles?! And we'll stop by the Norns in between? Or what?!" Folio gets louder and louder.

"Something like that!" Noah's voice still calm.

"Nicholas, you say something! This is madness!"

"Well, that's probably how his kami Izanagi saw it!" Nicholas' voice also full of doubt.

"His kami? Noah you and a god?" Folio couldn't be more stunned.

"Desperate times, force one to desperate acts and unusual alliances. And you know exactly what's at stake! You know very well why it came to this in the first place!" Noah's voice is as cold as ice.

Folio winces "I know it's my fault, I didn't think they'd find him....."

"Yes Folio, that's the problem, you THOUGHT!" Noah's voice and look disparaging.

Folio would like to hit him, to transform and tear the arrogant blood-drinker's neck apart with one of his powerful jaws while the others tear his body apart. But he knows that before he could even change into his demon form, Noah would have cut him in two with his katana.

Nicholas couldn't have stopped him. Noah is faster than the wind, even in human form he is superior to most demons, magical beings and demigods. Even gods would have a problem with him, as he has proven several times.

Transformed, he is the bringer of death to all. That is why he is the leader of the small group.

Even Joakim, as a demigod, has subordinated himself to him. Not from the beginning, there were fierce battles between the two. But he was no match for Noah.

NICHOLAS

Nicholas is skeptical, if THIS is supposed to be the plan, then he doesn't know either. He had expected something more when Noah contacted him.

He had sensed all along that something was changing.

The sanctuary had always been guarded by one of them, but the complete absence of the fourth guardian, Joakim, had slowly but steadily changed the balance of power.

He felt the dark, all-consuming nothingness growing ever more powerful, stretching its claws out at them, at everyone else.

Not that he or any of his friends were among the light figures of the known world, no, certainly not, but this nothingness that suddenly appeared changed everything.

Light and dark were now forced to make a pact against a common enemy.

Hence Noah's collaboration with the kami Izanagi. He could never have imagined this in his wildest dreams.

He is also not sure how Joakim will react to this news. He's probably fed up with gods for the time being.

Joakim's father Loki tried to intervene at the time, but to no avail, Odin was too angry with the Fenris wolf, had him bound, broke his power.

Nicholas sighs, none of this would have happened if Folio hadn't been in love with Skadi and accidentally revealed Joakim's whereabouts to her. Moon Hill, the sanctuary of them all.

The gods invaded it, captured him and bound him in Asgard with the thread Gleipnir.

Even Joakim could not break it, as it was made by the dwarves.

Gods are a sneaky lot, Nicholas is sure.

If anything goes wrong today, he fears that the divine wrath will descend on them all. These arrogant, ignorant Asen still don't understand what's at stake and Odin would probably rather kill the Fenris wolf than set him free. Out of sheer fear that Joakim is ultimately more powerful than the Aesir.

Nicholas is glad at this moment that he is a demon, not that other demons wouldn't have wanted to kill him too, not that, but being betrayed by his own blood has a different quality of infamy!

His own blood would never have dared to lay a hand on him.

He notices Noah next to him.

"Ready?" he asks him.

"Always, I'm just waiting for your signal!"

"The seals should break at any moment!"

"What if Odin has ordered the guards to kill Joakim if anyone tries to break free again?"

"Then they'll be in for a shock! You can't kill the Fenris wolf that easily! Joakim wouldn't let anyone get that close to him!" Noah is certain.

Nicholas nods silently, not fully convinced.

"What will he do with Folio when he's free?"

"Knowing Joakim, he'll be tempted to kill him. I really can't blame him. However, it will remain an attempt. Joakim isn't stupid, he knows what's at stake. He's always known!"

"Ragnarök?"

"Call it what you will, but yes, world conflagration, end of the world, all that. If we can't protect Moon Hill, it will happen soon!"

"And what is this Völva supposed to do? Who is it supposed to be anyway?"

"She is the link between everything. Her work is supposed to make the void disappear again!"

"Then let's hope we find her!"

"We definitely should!" growls Noah darkly.

[majachee]

I am so tempted to make an entire post about my design decisions for the MMPC cast... Do not tempt me....

{*poke*} [I do like to hear monologues about design choices.]

GRINS... ALRIGHT... LET'S START!!

Some are more coherent than others, but these are most of the Thoughts I've had when designing... will be continued later....

Noah's Design Notes and Rambles

Both for his upcoming redesign, and his current design.

His hairstyle is a choppy, layered mullet with sideswept bangs, the bangs being exaggerated to the MAX. Mainly to give him an interesting silhouette and because I thought the bangs would look cute. He has thick hair, imo, and based on my experience layers help A LOT. His hair is pretty heavy, that's why he chopped it off. Easier to maintain when you have less to work with!

His eyes are very, VERY dark, almost black, brown. In the show, they're the same color as his hair iirc, but I decided to darken them dramatically to enhance the bored/smug look he has. Also as an added contrast to Alejandro and Justin, who I draw with much more noticable pupils!

In art, people tend to put focus on the eyes when demonstrating that a character is looking intensely at an item/person, typically with a noticable glint or the pupil changing dramatically in size... Noah doesn't get that. He furrows his brows, puts a hand on his hip, widens or squints his eyes, but no matter what the pupils are indiscernable.

His outer layers are quite loose on his body. Adds bulk to his silhouette without changing his body-type, in my opinion. He's got a slight frame, not helped by his aversion to fitness, so I'd imagine sweaters and such would hang off him a bit. This also allows me to introduce more squares into his design!

OH YEAH, SQUARES. He's a pretty neutral character in the show, and I like adding in his canonical blockiness to other aspects of his design.

Bulky, woolly socks, blocky shoes. Again, square motif and loose clothing. He wears like 3 layers of shirts, one being a DAMN SWEATER VEST, so why not go all out with the more "warmer" clothes, yeah?

I also extended his shorts into capris. I'm pretty sure they're meant to be capris in the show itself, but most people call them shorts. But yeah, he wears bulky cargo capris that — you guessed it! Hang fairly loose off his legs but are tight and secure around the waist.

He's pretty covered up! Not a lot of skin showing! This is because I think he likes to feel a bit toasty. Not warm, exactly, but he's definitely not prone to mid-Autumn chills when dressed up. The cold, northern breeze nips at his exposed ears and shins a comfortable amount and that's how he likes it! Hopefully I can successfully portray that through vibes lol

90s prep influence... sorry... 💔

Due to his interest in planes in Dramarama and interest in Kosmic Kaos in the main series, I plan on giving him an aviator jacket that he wears during the colder months.

And since I HC that Kosmic Kaos is a multiplayer sci-fi/fantasy game that takes place in space (I mean... come on... KOSMIC...), he has a simple yet baggy backpack with a pixel art-styled airship pin on the main flap. The pin is IMPORTANT to ME. We must acknowledge the fact that he is a GAMER.

Also, KK is OBVIOUSLY an MMORPG, fight me on this. I'm thinking World of Warcraft mechanics but with sci-fi alien aesthetics. RuneScape Classic aura.

Short. In Gen 1, he's one of the shortest males on the Island (Cody and Ezekiel being shorter than him), so I made him shorter than he realistically is in canon to make that height difference more obvious. Also as a way to contrast Harold's "gangly nerd" schtick.

Speaking of Harold...!

Harold's Design Notes and Rambles!

His body is the hardest for me to draw, but I am dedicated to the tall, gangly nerd thing he's got going on! I think it's charming! Especially in contrast with Noah.

I HATE his outfit in the main series, specifically because of his T-shirt.

I DETEST that stupid hamburger design. I'm sorry, but genuinely what the fuck is that?? It feels so random, so incoherent. I changed it to an alien to tie back to that one schtick in World Tour, and to also mesh better with his green-tinted glasses and shoes. I also added orange to his pink undershirt, not only to give it a more 90s vibe, but also to tie it back to his orange hair.

Also overalls because cute! ... What? It's a thing in 90's shows, and it's cute! What more reasoning do you want from me? 😈

Gave him more stubble, and I plan on going back and adding freckles and faint acne scars. Due to the wonky colors, my electronics tend to make his canonical freckles fade into nonexistence 😭😭😭 I'm so sorry Harry Styles.....

Elaborating on the stubble: it's very much meant to be patchy, like it's just growing in. When it comes to facial hair, I'm digging through my memories of highschool for reference, mostly. The classes I shared with juniors and seniors during my senior year had kids with barely there/patchy stubble like Harold's to full on thick beards.

ELABORATING ON THE ELABORATION... It comes down to genetics and hair thickness, and Harold has thinner hair methinks. The lighter color would also make his facial hair seem thinner than it actually is.

His eyes were directly inspired by this little cutie from Little Witch Academia!

Along with vague memories of "Doraemon" ... back when the English dub was on DisneyXD or smth. <- only saw clips of it fyi 💀

Despite Noah being the Blue Ranger in this AU, Harold takes the most inspiration from the character Billy Cranston in the OG 1993 show.

Billy, for those unaware, is the Blue Ranger's real name/identity. While he does participate in martial arts like the rest of the PR friend group and is quite fit, he's also the nerdiest. He uses long, complicated words and likes explaining things using very technical/scientific terms, to the point where he's sometimes asked to rephrase what he just said. Though, unlike Harold, this quirk of his isn't really treated negatively. Billy's friends find this charming, and so do the people who interact with him for the most part! (Exception of Skull and Bulk, obv.) You can see where I drew the similarities, lol ... I also find this trait charming in a majority of fictional characters... 😭 is it obvious Billy is my second favorite male power ranger

I made his face more round, to better contrast with Noah and Duncan's faces. It's also rounded out a bit with stylized sideburns.

I plan on adding scrapes and bandages to his arms and legs sporadically. He's pretty accident-prone... and "accident"-prone.

I like to think his bangs are really light compared to the rest of his (already pretty light) hair. Very easy to get them all tossled up!

Had the most fun stylizing his nose tbh. Just a general fun fact.

He has some muscle in there! Mainly in his abdomen and biceps. It's subtle, but there. He's a pretty active guy, and nunchucks can build up decent arm muscle and grip strength! Maja lore, I used to take martial art classes as a kid lmao

Fair bit of lore behind this guy!

Anyways!

Heather's Design Notes and Rambles!

Saw a lot of fanartists giving Heather a jacket, so I did that. Thought it looked cute, and added to her silhouette.

I changed her wedged sandals to simple slip-ons for convenience sake. Since I'll likely be drawing her a lot, especially in group pics, I wanted to make her shoes easier to draw.

As you may already know, due to being subjected to my ramblings, Heather had a Carrie moment in late Sophomore year that lead to her Baldening. Tis why her hair is short.

The scrunchie in her hair is a direct reference to Heathers.

I also gave her some hella subtle muscle! You can see it because she's showing a lot more skin than the rest of the cast.

I added tears and such to her shorts, giving them the distressed denim look. I remember them being trendy for, like, my entire life, and I think the less clean look also reflects her personality. She is, quite literally, rough around the edges.

I gave her scrapes and such on her legs for the same reason. Also to add more "clutter" to her design. She owns a cat as well, and my cat always bites my legs after I shave them. Projecting that onto her.

Inspired by Buffy and Cordelia from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I DO want to change her outfit a bit, though, and give her a more 90s style crop-top and a higher waist on her shorts. And a belt.

Rather than taking inspo from a specific niche, trope, or subculture, I'm looking at trendy/pop-culture fits to reflect her "Queen Bee" title.

... wow not a lot for Heather... Sorry! She's easy for me, tbh.

Duncan's Design Notes and Rambles!

Leaned towards 90's grunge rather than 90's punk, but with obvious punk influences thrown in there.

The stains I gave him on his black skull tee are meant to be bleach stains. I wanted his outershirt to look abused like his HELLA distressed jeans!

His hair is yet another nod to punk culture! Thick, long mohawks and dyed hair were part of more loud/rebellious scenes, and I can imagine Duncan absolutely VIBING with that aesthetic and appropriating it.

The mix of aesthetics is intentional, he uses them to feed into his tough-guy persona but doesn't really embrace the themes/values/beliefs both aesthetics carried. I mean, he's a bully, and punk is all about non-conformity. Bullying people who don't fit the "status quo" is the opposite of punk.

I gave him more piercings because I love drawing piercings and I think they look cool. He says he did them himself, but that's not true at all.

The hems of his pantlegs are also all stained and distressed, due to natural corrosion. This is the grunge inspo talking!

His jaw structure is meant to be a lot sharper than Noah's and Harold's, he's also the most muscular of the entire group.

He's often chewing on gum, an edible plant stalk, lolly stick, etc. He feels very fidget-y to me, and I want to portray that.

It's 11pm... I grow tired...

I believe I rambled on about Courtney's design elsewhere... remind me tomorrow tho! Xoxo

[trumanlilac]

2) You Can't Have Him

The day had come and gone, and Geneveve and I lied in bed together in the blackened night discussing the day. We'd done this since we were children, laying beside one another and looking right into one another's faces as we snickered and laughed about every detail of everything.

"I saw Matty helping you today," Genevieve whispered, her big bright brown eyes widening.

I blushed, bringing the blankets over my head shyly.

Genevieve laughed and got under the blankets with me, "you'll never hide from me, what the fuck was that do you think? Do you think he likes you? Or do you think the sight of cake on your-"

"Gen!" I cut in.

She laughed again, forcing a laugh out of me too. She reached over and pushed the curls that draped my face away, tucking each lock behind my ear one by one. Our laughter settled, there was a calm in the air that felt... safe.

"I think a little bit of both," I whispered.

Genevieve smiled, leaning in and pressing a gentle smooch to my lips. I smiled against the softness of her lips before pulling back. We both threw the blankets from over our heads at once. There was a silence between us, and it was nerve racked.

"What was that?" I asked after a moment.

"I just know that if Matty likes you, you obvously like him, and I wanted to be your first kiss. Not him. Because I really love you, and will forever." Genevieve said, attempting to hold a straight face.

"...you bitch." I shook my head, reaching out to hit her playfully.

She dodged my hand, laughing and sticking her tongue out at me.

"You took Matty's kiss, what if he would have been my first..." I sighed, day dreaming this fantasy.

Genevieve's smile faded slowly, lying back on her side. Maybe she was tired of hearing about him... Before I could ask there was a knock on the door, we both looked at each other.

"What if it's Matty?" Genevieve whispered.

"Why would it be? It's probably Alex, hopefully his girlfriend needs a Pamprin." I laughed, so did Genevieve.

I swung the door open, seeing none other than Matty standing on the other side in a pair of red plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair hung so far over his face I could barely see it.

"Hey d'you have a pillow?" He asked.

My heart pounded as I nodded quickly, "yeah I have a pillow." I went and grabbed one off the bed and handed it to him, "you're going to bed?" 

He shrugged, "I'm gonna go for a walk so I can smoke and then go to bed, Alex is already in his room... loverboy."

We both laughed a little, "well, you can smoke on the deck, my mom won't smell it her bedroom is way on the other side of the house." 

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah... can I come with you?" I asked.

"Sure." He nodded.

"I'm gonna grab a sweater, I'll meet you there." 

"Alright," his eyes focused on my nose the entire time he spoke to me, I couldn't help but wonder why he acted so strange after today.

"Gen, I'm gonna-"

"Go to the deck with Matty, yeah I heard." She snapped.

My jaw dropped slightly, I looked at her in confusion.

"You can come if you want, I just thought that after what we talked about you'd be cool with me going to figure out which one it was... like you know... if he likes me or not." I explained, fiddling with my thumbs.

"It's fine, just go." Genevieve forced a very painful looking smile.

I was so tired of her acting like such a baby all the time. I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room, realizing I had forgotten my sweater. I couldn't go back and look stupid, I continued on my way down the darkened hall. As I tuned th corner I could see Matty sitting on the deck and smoking. As I opened the french doors I could smell it wasn't a cigarette.

"Hey," I spoke quietly as the rest of the house was just as.

Matty turned around, smoke escaping his lips, "hey," he said.

I sat down next to him, the skunky smoke filling up the air and going up my nose. He passed it over to me, I hesitated. I had never smoked before, but clearly I had to, if I asked to come. I held the joint to my lips, looking over at Matty through the corner of my eyes. He wasn't paying any mind to me, I then knew there was nothing to worry about... but why was he not paying any mind to me? Was this the mysterious persona he wanted to portray to keep me wanting more? Because I did... or was he really just unreadable?

I noticed the flame at the tip of the joint dimming as I sat wrapped in thought. I quickly held it to my lips and took a puff, choking immediately. Matty turned to me quickly, taking the joint from my hands as he noticed me struggle. 

"Are you alright?" He asked.

I patted my chest, nodding quickly, "I'm fine, I'm fine. I just ... I don't actually smoke." I confessed.

"What? Then what are you doing?!" He asked.

I shrugged, embarrassed, "let me try again."

Matty held the joint to my lips, "just inhale very softly, hold it in a moment, then exhale." He instructed.

I took the joint betwwen my lips and did exactly as he said, the doors behind us swung open, and there ws Alex, alone with a joint in hand, too.

I jumped a little at the sight of him, not knowing how he'd react.

"What the hell?" He looked from me to Matty, then Matty to me.

I stood up quickly, nearly stumbling from feeling the high more intensely than when I was seated.

"Elvira are you high?" He asked.

Matty sat back, ashing the joint.

I laughed a little, "yes just like the two of you always are."

"It's late. Matty d'you get my little sister high? What the fuck are you even doing out here alone with my little sister? I bring you to my family and-"

"Nothing happened, she's a big girl, mate. She wanted a smoke, I shared, she's high, and everybody's going to go to bed highly ever after tonight." Matty stood up.

Alex walked up to Matty, staring him in the eye. Matty stared back, "you need to relax."

"No you need to relax this is my little sister, she's too beautiful to be smoking pot and hanging around ... just... just get out." Alex said.

"Hanging around me?" Matty asked.

"That's not what I said, you just need to leave."

"Alex, it's three in the morning where is he going to--"

"I'll get a room." Matty pushed past Alex, going back into the house.

Alex glared at me, I looked back, my heart aching for what I had just caused.

"Stay away from him, Elvira." He demanded.

"Alex can you just go away?! You're not my dad, okay?! You're not anyone! you're my drug addicted brother who just judged another man as if he had any room to at all." I pushed past him also, hurrying into the house and looking for Matty.

[fyeahiwatarikei]

Red carnations and Kosukei if it’s possible uwu

Flower Language Writing Prompts

Red Carnations ◦ The ugly side of you and me

You can also read this on AO3!

Kosuke had seen it all. For months, he had witnessed the reckless assurance, the unfaltering determination, the attempts at making Satoshi walk where he wanted him to walk, the soothing words when he confronted him, he had seen the smile that rarely rested, he had heard the voice that never laughed, he had touched the hands that tore weapons from the guts of ancient towers. He had looked him in the eyes, he had believed, he had supported, he had carried, sometimes.

He remembered the blood on his shirt and immediately got rid of it, casting the piece of clothing in a corner of the bedroom. He did his best to not think about the leaning silhouette that had rested against him, the unnatural paleness of his features and the stark contrast it made with the dark branches piercing his skin only adding to the looming threat above them.

Their children had been liberated from their curses, but another one had revealed itself.

Kei was not human.

It had been nothing but a lie all along.

Kosuke had seen it all, but this was too much to bear with. He opened their shared wardrobe, grabbed a new sweater, put it on, sought his backpack. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he thought of Daisuke and made up his mind.

He didn’t have a lot of clothes; everything he truly needed would fit in his bag once again. “Kei” could keep the rest; he could even set it on fire if he wanted. Without bothering with folding, Kosuke pressed everything together, soon moving on to the living room where his notebooks waited. More than a decade of researches, the work of a lifetime.

Daisuke and Satoshi were free… Did he still need these?

No, no, he’d think about it later. These journals were important to him, leaving them behind was out of question; they joined the clothes in the backpack. The cell phone would come, as well as his old bentō box. The couple books he had bought for himself could fit, but they forced him to slow down in front of their shelf. Which ones did he really want to keep…? Many were gifts from “Kei”, or volumes they had bought together on one of their numerous escapades downtown. In a way, his books were their books. Kosuke had devoted everything he had to finding a solution to the curse: his time, his studies, his belongings. He would probably have eaten Hikari-themed food if it had helped in any way.

And all along, Kei had encouraged him, well aware of the benefits it could bring to his own son. Of course, he had never thought about Daisuke, not even for one second, yet Kosuke had worked for both of the kids, Satoshi’s weakening health only acting as a motivator. Wasn’t that the right thing to do? And all that for what? In the end, he had barely lightened their pain…

Kei could keep the books too.

No time to think about the suffocating weight in his throat. He needed to leave this place, not even to join his son, who he was certain was too busy to think about his parents at this moment. Just… to go anywhere. In a place that didn’t feel like the fabricated fantasy he had been living for months.

He needed truth. Anything tangible. For now, putting on his shoes and walking through the door would have to do.

But the weight dragged him down, slowing his gestures, forcing him to focus twice as much on the knots his trembling fingers refused to tie.

He had lied for this long. Who wouldn’t be furious? And yet, above everything, Kosuke was still mad at himself. He was mad that he got deceived for this long, that he hadn’t guessed anything even remotely close to the truth. A lousy researcher. Mediocre father. An execrable husband. An absolute disaster of a person. And the worst boyfriend in town. By far.

He kicked his shoes away, flipped his bag, shaking it mercilessly to make its content fall. From the chopsticks to his underwear, everything spread on the floor of the genkan.

“Kei” – or whoever that was – would need clothes at the hospital.

Part 1 ◦ Part 2 ◦ Part 3 ◦ Part 4

[lavendarneverlands]

🩵 Ashe’s ♥️ new album ❤️ Willson 💛

(go listen to it if you want to understand me as a person🖤 listen to Save Myself & then Moral of the Story & then Castle if you want to destroy yourself like my brand of musical taste😅 & while your at it here’s some lyrics cause I have to scream about this to someone until therapy next week😂)

Please don't fall in love with me

I'll give you almost everything, I'll melt myself to fit your mold, and carefully chip away my soul. Until there's nothing left to see. Oh, please don't fall in love with me.

I'll tell you all my secret fears, to weaponize against me, dear.

I'm just a girl with paper hands, and playing tough's my fatal scam.

You're Alice in my Wonderland, I can't keep up this fantasy.

Please take back your gifts and flowers (I can't reciprocate, you know they die anyways)

Please stop calling me your hero (I can't save myself, how do I even help out a somebody else?)

Running Out Of Time

I woke up in sheets that were laced with the scent of a stranger. Poured her a coffee, and sat on the porch in the back. I looked in the mirror, everything changes sooner or later. So, I cut my hair, even though I knew better than that. Left my bags in California, and never looked back… And I said: "I've got to go see 'bout a guy in Tennessee, and I don't care if I make it out alive. And I'm not sure if I'm in love, but it feels like freedom And my twenties are running, and running… I'm running outta time".

Pull The Plug

The monitor flickers, I've never been sicker,

You say it's fine if it's all in my mind. Oh, you look so real, but it feels like a lie,

Don't pinch me in case I'm asleep. In case you're not here, 'cause this is a dream. And we've never met, so we're not in love. In case I'm asleep, don't pull the—Don't touch me, this coma is nice. Too good to be true, so just let me lie. Down in the sheets, 'cause here we're in love. In case I'm asleep, don't pull the plug…

Cherry Trees

To be perfectly honest, I never expected to see you again. god, I'm embarrassed, it still hurts as bad as the day that you left.

All too uncanny, my misunderstanding.

So glad you look happy, but I wish you'd look at me…Carve our names in cherry trees, spray the room with cheap perfume, stay up late to watch me sleep, cut my hair to look like you, turn my stomach into knots, kiss me like you did before… I'm so sorry I forgot…You're not mine anymore.

I Wanna Love You (But I Don’t)

Just like a cashmere sweater on a dark December day, you were laying softly on my chest.

And I was someone special whenever I caught your gaze. Now I'm struggling to catch my breath.

You'll remember me just like a bad dream, but, baby, we looked so good together. And I'll remember you like you were brand new, I thought you'd stay that way forever.

I wanna love you, but I don't… I think that something went wrong. Now I don't know where I belong anymore, and I should leave you, but I won't… I've forgotten how to get back… but I remember what we had. The party's over and I know I should go. I wanna love you, but I don't.

Helter Skelter

Summertime has crystalized, ice blurring glass windowpanes. Tantalized, hypnotized, "You're happy, you're happy", they say.

Try hard as I may, think I'm losing my mind, I'm afraid. Nauseated, isolation, the ballroom was flooded by crowds. And all their mesmerized, eagle eyes watched me collapse to the ground. Under all of the haze and the gaze, I just needed a place to lie down…

Foul play at the cabaret, our bodies were covered in chills. Helter skelter in gold decanters, was melting the floor where it spilled. Let's all raise a toast to the things we love most, turning to smoke.

And if I had the chance, I’d start over again.

So, I'm not leaving the house today. I've run out of words I can say. Now nowhere feels safe anymore. I'm calling in sick to thе rest of this year.

Nothing you see herе is as it appears. I had hopes, but I don't… think I can go on with the show.

Dear Stranger,

Found the string to pull the parachute, just before I hit the ground, I stopped and thought of you. Oh, what a lovely view when you're not dying, letting go of you is terrifying.

I think the sun has parted with the clouds. They finally put their differences behind them for a while. And I can feel the heat kissing my skin. I can feel the blood rushing back in.

Hello again, dear stranger, hello again,

I hope you know I've missed ya, how have you been?

I've been pretty bad, but I am coming back, and I'll be seeing you again.

I said some things to you I did not mean. I promised more than I should have and ruined everything… But yesterday, oh, yesterday is gone… Heaven only knows the time I've lost.

I am not the same, I will not be the same again. Don't go looking for the girl you loved, her innocence is dead.

And I buried all my sin inside a casket in a grave "Here lies someone almost famous, who gave up everything".

Hornet’s Nest

I said "I love you" too soon. We were parked inside an open field. I said I needed your touch. I think I said too much…

You swallowed my gum, passed me half your cigarette.

Held the sting in my lungs.

And kicked the hornet's nest.

You made me someone, for once I was someone. And finally someone to myself.

But I started seeing your angels for demons. Now Heaven is hurting like Hell.

We'll drink the arsenic, set fire to the gardens.

…And I'll disappear with your help…

'Cause you made me someone, for once I was someone, but you made me somebody else.

Castle

Look at me now, in my castle made of glass.

Your hands are just like hammers, every touch another crack. Swing them any harder, watch my sparkling house collapse. I know I said I wanted this, but now I've come to see,

That I gave you way too much of me. You locked me up and hid the key.

Oh, you call it unrequited, while you stab me in the back. This must be love 'cause you decided it. But my blood is on your hands, it's spilling all over the rug.

You act surprised to see me lay here, tell me I've gotta clean this up. You think that time is gonna heal this, really, time is gonna heal this?

No, your time is up.

Call her a survivor or a victim. — Oh, where'd they get the nerve? — Keep using black and white on colored pages, to paint the one who's gotten hurt, but would you look at both her wings?

Is she an angel or a demon?.. Somebody better call the priest… Grab your pitchforks and your torches, start the fires, grab the horses. Let's all slay her like her beast.

I'm taking myself back. Even if I let everyone down. I don't stand a chance here. Finally I'm saving myself.

I hope you die first

I'll quit smoking every day, and I'll stop flying in airplanes. Yeah, I'll get inventive, I've got incentive, you make me want to change.

Don't you worry about me, we'll throw you a big ol' party. Then I'll light one up for you, and I will see you soon.

I don't wanna die before you, promise I'll be right behind, but I should be there to hold your hand.

It's already been decided, I'll be here to say, "Goodbye".

Honey, I want you to understand, for better or for worse, I really hope you die first.

I don't wanna say this, but, if I don't make it… Please don't rush for me… I'll be waiting.

Devil Herself

If I committed murder, you would've been my alibi. Woulda helped bury the body in the darkness of the night. Told the cops that I was sick in our bedroom the whole time. Moved us outta state and started a brand new life.

And, if I was a pyromaniac, you would've fetched the gasoline. Handed me the matchsticks to burn down everything. You would've told insurance agents it happened accidentally. Swept up all the ashes, and bought another house for me.

I knew what I was doing, gave you something to believe. I was gathering the harvest, had you raking up the leaves. I was feeding you the apple, you were swallowing the seeds. You were Adam in the garden, but your ribs were made of me.

Now you're not the same anymore (You're not the same). How do we go back to before? When you'd sell your soul to the Devil herself? I can tell you're not yourself (No, you're not yourself)…

'Cause I fell in love with someone else.

(She fell in love with someone—)…

Ashe

I'm learning to like myself for the first time.

Tryna rewrite all the stories that I’ve told,

Everyone thought I had it all together, now my fair-weather friends are gone with the cold…

And I hadn't addressed the shame, I confess, it was eating me alive.

If you bury something so deep underneath all the laughter and the lies,

Guess nobody will believe you when you finally ask for help.

I've been crying wolf еvery day for a while now… I’ve been tеlling you I'm okay for a while now…

I'm outrunning the past, but it all has to catch up with the times… If I was faster, then I could pass the finish line.

And if none of this lasts, then I can't grasp the reasons that we try.

Will it matter when we all turn to ash? Will any of this matter? Will any of us matter in the end?

[komilys]

originally from proselfshiptember, day 10: together forever

sweater from ninety-three ; tate langdon/kyi

or… kyi finds a memory and indulges a little in the fantasy of living in the past.

cw. mentioned murder-suicide (they’re ghosts so….), tate sucks!!

⌒ ᡣ𐭩 ・ 。

the sound of dishes clinking together and running water, mixed with moira’s scrubbing filled the antique kitchen. i don’t know how this place still had running water, honestly. the realtors hadn’t come around for a while now.

she cleaned the house often— moira— i supposed it calmed her. it was a healthier way of coping than some of the others trapped here, wallowing in self-pity or just waiting for an unsuspecting victim, so i’m not complaining. i don’t really know what they got from condemning an innocent soul to the same fate as them. it just made the house all the more crowded.

“if you’re going to stare at me, you might as well get up and help.”

“nah.”

she started to go on about how rude i was, not that i really cared, opting to slide out of the island chair and head upstairs. i wondered if tate was up there. he was an enigma, he was before and he’d always been, but he was weirder now. sometimes he was wandering around the basement and other days he was outside.

‘exploring’ he called it.

sometimes i was lucky enough to have him stuck to my side like glue. some weeks he couldn’t stay away and others he couldn’t be any farther.

“tate?” i called.

nope, nothing.

he wasn’t in his old room either, i couldn’t see him as i creaked the door open. it was more homey than the rest of the house; tate’s tattered books and notes, worn out sweatshirts and blue jeans, some scattered across the room and others neatly stacked in boxes that sat in the corner. my parents took most of my stuff with them.

i carried a few light boxes to the empty bed. tate was lucky, i thought, most people had nothing from their life but the clothes on their backs and whatever they could have snatched before they were sold away. a few of my things were here— left overs from the nights i would sneak out, caving into tate’s cute pleads to sleep with him.

comfy, i thought, pulling one of his brown sweatshirts from a box. it was one of the newer ones— one we bought shopping together back in autumn ‘93. he let me pick it out along with some cute striped shirts and embroidered jeans. he said i was just dressing him like he was my kid, and i shrugged, telling him he basically was. he laughed and pulled me in for a kiss.

i switched my shirt out for the sweater. it was a little snug, but the extra size (bigger than tate’s actual size) still made sure it was comfy. i hadn’t realised it at first, but when we first started dating he started buying his sweaters a little bigger so we could properly trade.

tate was weird. sometimes he was the perfect, romantic and cuddly boyfriend who loved me. other times i didn’t even want to be around him, walking on eggshells around him. maybe that should’ve been my sign.

the fabric was soft, i liked it, which was rare with my pickiness when it came to clothing. i tugged at the lining at the bottom, smiling gently. i wanted to lay down and sleep forever. despite the eerie atmosphere, it was comfortable. maybe it was a product of being here for nearly a decade, though, and maybe i was finally getting used to being here.

“you’re cute in my clothes.” i heard him sigh, not even a second later the bed dipped and i felt his arms wrap around me.

there he was.

“hi, tate,” i mumbled, closing my eyes and relaxing into him. he hummed, rocking me side to side.

i couldn’t see him, but i could feel his hair tickling my neck and i squirmed. he laughed. “why’re you always trying to get away from me… hmh..”

“you killed me, for one.”

he was quick. “didn’t,” he said. “i died, and you died. and we’re both dead.” but i didn’t do it, i knew he wanted to add.

tate was good at denying things, though whether he was just a manipulative dick or genuinely unaware i didn’t know. when i first saw him that day— the day he went out and ruined 15 lives and more— he was inconsolable and i couldn’t understand word from him.

i should’ve left, i sighed.

“oopf!”

the dusty pillows weren’t the most comfortable, and the cold sheets weren’t any better, but tate and the brown sweater were a nice cushion. he pushed us down, laying on the bed and he snuggled closer, tightening his grip. if i still breathed he would’ve surely killed me by now.

he kissed my neck softly, reaching over to kiss my cheek too, and settled back to his spot behind me. i loved him when he was happy. if i ignored how cold he was— he used to always be warm, i remember how much i loved cuddling with him on rainy days— i could almost forget we were dead and it was his fault.

it was like he could read my mind with the way he squeezed me and said: “do you remember when we’d be just like this and it was rainy?” he paused. “you really like the rain,”

“is it because that’s when we met?” he teased and i could feel his smile on the back of my neck and i could hear it in his sweet voice.

sometimes i wish i hadn’t met him, honestly. i’d be out of school by now, hopefully at a well-paying job and maybe even meet a nice person and marry them. i placed one of my hands over his joined hands, resting on my stomach. he was real— he was real and he was here and i could feel him, and this wasn’t some sick joke in my head, no it was just some sick, real and twisted afterlife.

and i was stuck with him.

“tate,” i whispered. he answered: ‘yeah?’.

“you don’t have to squeeze so tight, i’m not leaving anytime soon,” i can’t. “i love you.”

he was quiet for a while. i never really knew what was happening in his head, but i didn’t say anything else either. if he wanted to say something he would.

his grip loosened, but he still tugged at the loose strings of my (his) sweater and clung to me. “i love you too.”

if he was always this kind, i think i’d be willing to forget everything. i could pretend this was a gift from god, who’d frozen time so i could be with tate forever.

he peppered kisses across my neck and he was so gentle i thought i would forgive him for anything if he was always this loving.

“you’re not gonna leave?” his voice was cold.

i can’t. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

[nobedofroses]

Day 31: Halloween!

pairing: Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x fem!reader

warnings: cnc via roleplay, also a bit of dumbification via roleplay?, p-in-v sex, stalker behavior, facefucking ment, use of ma’am briefly, degradation, he’s mean

words: 1.9k

a/n: um pls tell me i’m not the only one who finds ghostface from scream kinda hot. but you know, it’s the mask kink, not the murder. anyway, Happy Halloween!

Last, Full List

🎃🎃🎃

Jack wanted to go all out for Halloween. He didn’t much care what he went as, but he wanted to do a couples costume with you and throw a party at the house you lived in together. An adults only party so it could get as scary and sexy and wild as anyone wanted. 

Being a bit of a horror buff who loved Halloween, you readily agreed, racking your brain for the perfect couples costume for the two of you from all of your favorite movies. You decided on one that you thought both you and Jack could enjoy: Casey Becker and Ghostface from Scream. It meant you got to wear a cute little blonde bob (something you’d likely never do with your own hair). You also had a nice sweater that hugged your curves, i.e. your breasts, that Jack would appreciate. Jack, on the other hand, was perhaps unwittingly playing into your mask kink with the Ghostface mask and the dark robes he wore made him seem all the more menacing. 

When you found out that Jack had never seen any of the Scream movies, you had made him do a marathon with you until he understood the appeal of the costumes you had chosen. He didn’t really understand, but he was happy to do what you wanted if it meant playing into some kind of dark fantasy you had. 

Since watching the movies, he had also been practicing his Ghostface voice, wanting to seem convincing without needing a voice modulator. He was pretty talented with voices and accents, and soon that’s how he answered the phone, teasing you for a bit with lines from the movie before continuing whatever it was he had called you about. More than once you had gotten hot under the collar from it, because as good as Jack was at the voice, there was always a little bit of him left in his tone or cadence. 

The day of the party, you sent Jack out to get ice and more ice as well as a couple last minute things from the liquor store. Everything was all ready except for you, and since Jack’s costume was much easier he could leave while you took a quick shower and then started getting dressed. 

You pinned your hair back, put the wig on, and then started on your makeup, waiting to get dressed so you didn’t stain your white shirt and wearing a robe instead. Having just put the dark purple lipstick on, you were about to stand up and get dressed when the phone rang. 

“Hi, Jack, heading home?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m heading to your home,” he told you, in his approximation of the voice. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Th-that’s good, I’m almost ready, just have to get dressed,” you pushed past your moment of weakness, not wanting to get too distracted before the party. It wouldn’t do to be wet the whole time without being able to take care of it with Jack. 

“You know, you shouldn’t tell just anyone that you’re naked and home alone in a big house,” came his voice with a somewhat menacing tone. 

“I never said I was alone,” you told him, unsure if you were just going along with what he was saying or if you were actually starting to get a little apprehensive. 

“Aren’t you though? That boyfriend of yours doesn’t seem to be around or he’d be asking why you’re talking to strange men on the phone,” this was accompanied by a taunting laugh and you swallowed thickly. 

“He’s— he’s going to be home any minute,” the rational part of your brain knew that you were talking to said boyfriend, but the horny part had forgotten. 

“Uh huh, I’m sure. I’m sure he’ll be home right away and you’ll run over to him in your little pink robe and cry like a baby and want to be comforted.” 

Your head whipped around to look behind you. Somehow, he knew the color of your robe; he must be able to see you. 

“Where are you? Are you watching me, you p-pervert?” you accused, standing up and walking to the window to look out for anyone in the backyard. You saw nothing suspicious. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Someone watching while you got dressed? Seeing your naked body? Bet you’d get off on it,” he mocked and you whined a little, partially in fear but mostly because he was right. He heard the sound and now laughed, “Who’s the pervert now?” 

That made you embarrassed, ashamed, and you reached out to close the curtains tight, to keep him from being able to see you. 

“Well that’s not very nice, all I’m doing is trying to talk to you, get to know you. What am I supposed to think, you shutting me out like this?” 

“You’re not supposed to think anything!” you hung up the phone, breathing a sigh of relief when you were alone with your thoughts again. You sat heavily on the edge of the bed, your robe dropping open a little. As you went to fix it, the ringer went off. 

Despite your better instincts you answered, just in case it was Jack calling, “Hello? Jack?” 

“Uh uh, me again. Now I’d say I didn’t like you hanging up on me, but if it means you’re gonna take off your robe, maybe you should do it again.”

Your breathing picked up quickly and you looked all around, inside this time since the only way he would be able to see you was from inside the house. 

“Where are you?” you practically yelled into the phone. 

“Are you sure you wanna know? As soon as you know, that’s when the fun starts, so are you sure?”

You backed up against the shut door to your walk-in closet, trying to distance yourself from the room to the hallway as much as possible, ready to run back to the bathroom and lock yourself in if it was necessary. You stood there for a few seconds, just panting and feeling your heart race and shifting your weight, ready to move at the drop of a hat. However, shifting your weight also alerted you to the absolute mess between your thighs and you made a sound of distress at how your body was reacting to all of this. 

“What was that sound, sweetheart?” you heard him ask, but this time it’s like his voice was louder, more resonant, like he was somewhere very near you. 

“N-nothing,” you stammered out. 

“Oh really?” he asked, his voice even closer. Your whole body thrummed with adrenaline and your reflexes were on a razor’s edge. Then all of the tension collapsed in on itself when the door behind you swung into the closet and you fell, caught halfway down by a man in dark robes and a white plastic mask. “It sounded like something to me.” 

You wanted to gasp, but the man’s hand came over your mouth to muffle you, and he righted you with the other easily. He grabbed your waist and with both hands shoved you over to the bed before pushing you on it, your hands keeping your face from hitting the comforter. 

Before you could even try to turn around, he was on top of you, his hands spreading your legs and then his own pinning them in position. He wasn’t covering your mouth anymore, he didn’t need to because you were too breathless to make a sound. You could feel movement behind you, undoubtedly he was taking out his cock and getting it hard if he wasn’t already. You had a feeling he was though. 

Seconds later, your robe was pushed up so he had access to you, and you heard a loud groan tinged with a southern twang. But it was all gone when he said, “I guess I should have known a little slut like you would’ve gotten so wet from all of this.” 

He didn’t wait for a response and started lining his cock up with your cunt, pushing in in one smooth stroke. Another groan from him and a desperate moan from you was all there was before he started thrusting, hard and fast like he was determined to overwhelm you. 

You were flat on your stomach, being pounded into the mattress, with only your elbows tucked next to your chest to keep your head up. But it was hard to with all the pleasure coursing through you. You wanted to just let your head drop and take it, take his cock which was fucking you like he somehow knew just how to to make you cum. 

When he saw your head starting to drop, he moved his legs in between yours and then grabbed your shoulder and waist, hauling you up to kneel with him at full height. 

“You have a party to go to, don’t want to mess up that pretty makeup. I can do that later when I fuck your mouth,” he told you, voice starting to get uneven, and you moaned loudly at the thought of taking his cock in your mouth. 

His breathing got heavier and suddenly you heard the sound of fabric moving and his voice got clearer, warm breath now brushing over the skin of your neck, “Yeah, my sweet whore likes that idea. You know that right? That you’re mine now, just as soon as I fill this warm cunt, I’m never letting you go back to how it was before.”

That was all it took to make you cum, crying out, “Oh, oh, oh, Jack!” as your cunt pulsed around his cock. 

Jack followed close, kissing at your neck and squeezing your breasts until he rutted up into you and pumped you full of his cum, biting down hard on where your neck met your shoulder.

The two of you were panting in tandem and you wanted to flop down on the bed, but Jack made you wait, carefully pulling out of you laying down, and then pulling you down on top of him so you didn’t mess up your wig or makeup. He was still wearing the black robes and while they weren’t super comfortable to lie on, you were willing to do it to be close to Jack. 

When you had caught your breath, you looked up at him with a little smile, “And just how long have you been planning that, mister?” 

“Since I noticed that you practically jumped me when I got home whenever I practiced my Ghostface voice for you over the phone. But I wasn’t expecting you to get quite that into it, I thought I was going to jump out and scare you a minute in as a backup for you laughing at my attempt to intimidate,” Jack told you matter of factly, but with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

The back of your neck flushed with heat and you let your gaze fall to his neck, which never teased you quite like his eyes or mouth did.  

“Oh, sugar, don’t get embarrassed. I had a lot of fun, promise,” he told you, tucking his finger under your chin until you made eye contact. “Now why don’t we finish getting ready for the party? The guests will be here in less than half an hour.” 

You nodded, letting him guide you in for a sweet kiss to sooth your embarrassment. But before you got up off of him, you looked at him seriously and said, “I’ll expect you to make good on your promise after the party, Jack.” 

Jack’s breath hitched and you felt his cock twitch underneath you, “Yes, ma’am.”

🎃🎃🎃

[fandomsonrequests]

first times

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: good kid/nerd!jeong yunho

reader: fem! punk

word count: 2.8k+

summary:  your dynamic with Yunho always balanced each other out; he was the stability you needed and you provided the little excitement in his life. It was perfect. You two have learned a lot after introducing things to each other. Like showing off a few tricks at a party or how to organize your notes (which has been a big help to you and your notes spread all over the place).

There was one thing though that you were yet to try- and that was sex.

a/n: it’s ✨horny✨ hours. Also this was probably more intense than I had anticipated e.e please enjoy!

notes: smut, sub!yunho, dom!reader, size kink, Yunho is a virgin, piercings, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), some voyeurism 

taglist: @galaxteez​ @latte-fairytaekwoon​ @sweetheartsannie​

Your relationship with Yunho was something straight out of the movies where the good kid dates the rebellious punk of the campus. He wore soft, woolen sweaters that surprisingly went past his hands while you wore dark-colored leather. Your hair was dyed in bright colors while his hair was styled into neat curls. His lifestyle was calm, normal, always following the rules whilst yours was all about living fast and dying young.

Yet your dynamic always balanced each other out; he was the stability you needed and you provided the little excitement in his life. It was perfect. You two have learned a lot after introducing things to each other. Like showing off a few tricks at a party or how to organize your notes (which has been a big help to you and your notes spread all over the place).

There was one thing though that you were yet to try- and that was sex.

Yunho is a virgin, it’s one of the few things he told you when you first started dating. You understood though and you didn’t want to force him with anything. You’ve helped him explore a little bit though but it never reached anything past heavy making out with the occasional heavy petting. You would always drink in the furious blush on his round cheeks and ears. Or the way his swollen-kissed lips tempted you to fuck him silly. But you always held yourself back, always making sure to relieve yourself in the bathroom or whenever you were home first in your shared apartment.

Yunho would listen to you through the thin walls of the apartment, his hesitation and shyness preventing himself from talking to you about it. He had even almost walked in on you once when you were fucking yourself on the vibrating wand you kept in the back of the closet. He felt so dirty seeing your hips buck up into it, one of your hands grabbing and kneading at your breast while you moaned out his name. He felt dirty in retaining the image in his mind whenever he jerked himself off in the shower. But at the same time, he thought that this was one of the moments where you looked most beautiful, next to seeing your cute face in the morning.

So here you were, watching a classic action-packed film called Salt. there was a sex scene that came up- those typical, raw, and passionate sex scenes in the movies. It made Yunho squirm in his seat on the couch, his arm around you while you leaned into him. He looked down at you and was quite amazed to see that you were unfazed by it.

He could hear your voice in his head even if you haven’t said anything: it’s just sex baby- it’s a normal human thing.

That may have stopped him from being so awkward around you but that definitely didn’t stop him from growing more aroused each second. He gulps as his free hand fists the fabric of his sweatpants while he tried to stabilize his breathing.

You weren’t oblivious to what was happening beside you though- you just haven’t said anything. That was until you heard your giant teddy bear of a boyfriend cough under his breath. You paused the film and immediately turn to him, a slightly mischievous smirk on your lips.

“Are you horny baby?” you ask him.

He sputters at the question and you laugh. Your hand gently trails up his thick thighs while you hum in amusement, leaning closer to him. Yunho’s cheeks glow a bright red, spreading down his neck and up to his ears. He lets out a shaky breath when you graze against the bulge in his pants, making him close his eyes.

“C’mon baby boy, I need you to tell me,” you gently coax him but make no further move to touch him. He whines at the nickname. “Did the scene turn you on?”

Yunho’s eyes flutter open and meets your lust blown gaze. He knew you didn’t want to push him into anything he didn’t want to do and that you were probably just teasing him right now, but his arousal was through the roof and he wanted to know how you felt around him. He wanted to experience the warmth of your cunt around his cock or the way his skin would feel pressed up against yours.

The cold metal of your horizontal lip piercings against the skin of his neck jolted him out of his little fantasy. A quiet whimper leaves his throat and you smirk against him. His arms snake around your waist, his hands hesitantly gripping onto your waist. He moans when you suddenly nip at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, his voice growing in volume when you moved to straddle his hips.

“Are you okay with this, baby?” You ask him, pulling away with a gentle look in your eyes.

“You act like we haven’t done this a bajillion times,” he muses and you laugh.

“I know,” Your fingers play with the baby hairs at the base of his neck. “But I just want to be sure.”

He flashes you one of his signature dorky smiles and kisses your nose. “Just keep going please,”

You nod before engulfing his lips in a hungry kiss. Your hips ground against his and he groans, his grip on your waist tightening. You’ve done this a couple of times before, grinding against him and making him cum in his pants. But you wanted more. And luckily, Yunho finally felt ready to give you what you wanted.

His hands trailed under your shirt, large hands travelling along your soft skin before settling at the hem and tugging it upwards. You pull away, letting out a surprised noise, and grasp at his wrist. For a moment, the ravenet was worried that he did something you didn’t like until you spoke up.

“What are you doing..?”

“...taking off your shirt..?” He responds almost hesitantly. “Why— are you off the pill—”

“No no, don’t worry I’m on the pill but are you sure? I don’t want you to do anything just because—“

“I’m ready, ______,” Yunho stops you midway, his warm brown eyes blown with lust. He looks at you, dead in the eye. “I want you to fuck me— please.”

The way Yunho says this with a desperate look in his gaze and the meekness of his tone switched something in you. You lick your lips as it morphs into a grin. You gently cup his chin, firmly kissing him.

You moan in approval when he obediently parts his lips to grant you access, your tongue mingling with his. He could taste your cherry flavored chapstick and the remnants of your cigarette that you had smoked a while ago. It was so erotic, the sounds of his lips smacking against yours and the way your tongue’s snakebite piercings tickled him, the way you tasted... and for some reason, despite having made out with you many times, this felt different, much more addicting.

“Arms up.” You say firmly as you tug his shirt and sweater up.

Yunho doesn’t even think twice and immediately raises his arms, allowing you to shed off said clothes. He was rewarded with another kiss to his lips before you push him down against the couch, taking in the sight before you. He looks away in embarrassment, the beautiful red returning to his complexion.

You were having none of it though. “You’re beautiful,” You tell him as you run your hands down the expanse of his chest to his stomach, nails lightly scratching his skin. He whines at your actions, the flush on his face worsening.

Before Yunho could say anything though you were already making your down, leaving wet kisses in your wake. He leans up against his arms to see you leave your marks down his chest, whimpering every time he felt the sting of your teeth against him. Dark purple starts to bloom by the time you reach his pants, your deft fingers making quick work of removing them and throwing them to the floor.

His hard cock springs up almost immediately, the head leaking with precum. You stare at it in pleasant surprise. You had a feeling he was well-endowed but you were surprised at how much girthier he was than you anticipated. Your small hand wrapped around him, making Yunho throw his head back and buck up into it.

“Fuck you’re so huge baby boy,” You hum as your other hand pushed his waist back down to the couch. “Can’t wait for you to fill up this tiny pussy.” He twitches at your words, making you wet once you see the effect your words had on him.

Without any warning, you sucked on the head of his cock, tongue tasting the salty precum.

“O-oh f-fuck, _____,” Yunho whines as he leans back against the couch. His hands settled firmly onto it, nails digging into the leather covering. He tries to keep himself from bucking up into your warm mouth as your tongue trailed up his length.

This was much better than he had fantasized, his toes curling as pleasure courses through him. The snake bite piercings on your tongue were surprisingly cold against his cock, making him shiver when you swallowed and bobbed your head around him.

He throws his head back when you pull away, a string of saliva mixed with his precum connecting your lips to him, and gently squeezed his balls. Your other hand stroked him at a tantalizing pace, your thumb teasing the slit of the head.

“Look at you, you’re so big compared to me yet you’re letting me handle you like this.” Your hand lands a gentle slap to his thigh, eliciting a whine from your boyfriend. “So cute~”

But before Yunho could even retort, your mouth was on him again. The metal ball of your piercing runs down the underside of his cock, tracing his veins before moving up to play with the head. He had never thought that the feeling of fucking your mouth would be absolute torture having you tease him like this and yet, he loved it.

His breathing became labored and he could feel his stomach tighten, impending signs that he was about to cum. You could sense it too, especially with the way you let your teeth graze the soft flesh of his dick.

“I-I’m close, ______,” He pants and you pull away from him completely.

He whines at the loss of contact but his voice dies down when you quickly strip yourself of your own clothes. Yunho takes in the sight of your bare form in front of him, being stunned into silence.

God, you were so fucking gorgeous.

“You- your uhm,” Yunho uncharacteristically stammers and you look down at yourself.

You grin when you realize what he was referring to. “Yeah, my nipples are pierced. Do you like them?” You ask as you brush away your hair to let him admire it more.

“I love them.”

You giggle out your gratitude before you settle over him once more, your slick cunt hovering over his length. You only smile at him when you take his hands and lead them to your breasts, chuckling at the gasp he lets out.

You moan when he gave an experimental squeeze, lip caught between your teeth. “You’ve always wanted this, right baby?” You taunt him. You wordlessly guide him to massage your breasts, letting his thumb flick at your perk nipples. “Watching through the crack in the door when you’d get home early~”

His eyes widen in surprise as the embarrassment of being caught fills his system. He feels his body heat up with shame when you chuckle airily, another moan leaving you when you move his hands down your sides and coax him to squeeze the flesh of your ass. “It’s okay baby,” you assure him, pressing your chest flush against his. “I enjoy putting on a show for you.”

You drop your hips down on his and rub yourself up against his cock. You both groan out at the feeling. Yunho was losing himself in the feeling of you just surrounding him, your scent, your touch, your juices just coating him— it was driving him insane.

You reach down to jerk him off a couple of times before lining yourself up with him. “You ready big guy?” You ask.

Yunho could only nod, all words lost. His jaw drops open in pleasure when you finally sink down against him, his back arching at the way your warm velvety walls took him in. Your slick helped you grow accustomed to the stretch, a drawn out moan leaving your lips as he slowly bottoms out within you.

His head falls back as you lightly ground against him, his cock twitching inside of you. “F-fuck, _______, you’re so tight and you f-feel so warm—”

You chuckled breathily, leaning down to kiss him. You moan against his lips, forcing your tongue into his mouth, when he brushed up against your spot. You pull away from him after he so obediently allowed you to ravage him through the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connecting between the both of you. 

You ran your hand along the bulge in your abdomen and pressed down on it. Your boyfriend let out a choked gasp when he felt how deep inside you he was. You press down on it again and you fall forward, arm wobbling as you try to support yourself over him. His arms come up to settle around your waist, the both of you getting used to the feeling of being wrapped up in each other.

“I love you so much, ______,” Yunho whispers.

“I love you so much more,” You reply. “I’m going to move now, okay?”

Once you get his permission to move, you slowly bring your hips up before settling down against him. Your initial pace was slow at first for the benefit of the both of you. Yunho didn’t want to cum early and you were still getting used to the size of him. Eventually, the speed of your hips increase as you start to bounce up and down along his length.

Yunho’s eyes squeeze shut and leans his head back, exposing the column of his neck. He could feel your lips mouth along his skin, teeth lightly nipping along, as your warmth clenched around him. He dug his fingers into your waist when you squeeze around him again, leaving bruises against the plump flesh. A light sheen of sweat covers your intertwined bodies.

“You f-feel amazing,” he mewls and tries his best to meet each thrust of your hips. “K-keep going please,”

“Yeah? You’re enjoying this baby boy?” You pant out, taking both of his hands and lacing his fingers with yours, pinning them by his head. He never thought he’d like being dominated, always thinking it was he had to take the lead, but this was definitely something he enjoyed.

Yunho could feel his stomach tighten as his orgasm neared, squeezing your hands to let you know. He writhes under your actions, sweet praises and come curses tumbling from his lips. “I’m, I’m gonna cum- _____, lemme cum, please, please, please,” he cries, looking up at you with large eyes.

“You think you can hold it for me baby?” You ask and reach down to circle at your clit, whining quietly at the feeling. “Wanna cum with you…”

Yunho wanted to sob at that, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to last long, but nodded nonetheless. It was the least he could do after you pretty much gave him all your attention from earlier. He leans up on one arm, taking one of your nipples into his mouth in an attempt to get you to cum and you cry out in pleasure.

Your hands shot up to his hair, tugging at the soft locks as he desperately sucked, occasionally switching between each mound. The way his round, innocent eyes, looked up at you with his lips locked around your breast fueled the fire you felt in your tummy, bringing you closer to the edge.

Your hips lose all sense of rhythm as you chase your orgasm, leaning your forehead against your boyfriend. “I’m gonna cum baby,” You tell him and he practically groans in relief at that.

After a couple of more bounces of your hips, you slam down against him, your orgasm crashing down against you. The feeling of your warm juices gushing around his length sent Yunho over the edge and he latched onto you, his forehead falling to your shoulder. He grunts deeply as his hips jerked up into you, painting your walls with his cum.

Your arms give out and you fall over him, head resting on his chest. Pants fill the room as the both of you lay there to catch your breaths. You turn your head to face him, chin tickling his clavicle, and offer him a tired smile.

“How are you..?” You say softly and card your hand through his damp hair.

“That,” he let out an amused huff. “That was pretty intense… but I enjoyed it. No wonder why some people have active sex lives…”

You snort at that, shaking your head at his little joke. You could feel his release trickle down your thigh when you lift yourself off of him, making you feel sticky down there. You stand with shaky legs and Yunho reaches out to help stabilize yourself.

“Care to join me in the shower?” You offer and hold your hand out to him.

He smiles at you. “Of course, sweetheart.”

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Be My Valentine?

AO3 Link: Read here

Square Filled: Squirting

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 8,770 (oops. Sorry).

Rating: Explicit 18+!

Summary: It’s Dean and Y/N’s first Valentine’s Day, and he has a romantic evening planned, with surprises which he can’t wait to share with her.

Warnings: So much fluff. Like, so much. Dean being sweet and romantic (yes, that’s a warning). And then so much smut. Swearing, Dirty talk, D/S elements, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex (Female receiving), Vaginal fingering, Squirting, Gags, Brief impact play (belt), Restraints (belt), Brief spanking, Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it, guys), Rough sex. More fluff.

Music: Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton (Dean and Y/N street scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist 

Created for @spnkinkbingo

A/N: The first time stamp*! Wooo! I’m so excited for you guys to read it, I really hope you love it, because I sure had a great time writing these two again, all loved up and ready to celebrate Valentine’s Day! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

*This is a time stamp for my series Life’s Lessons so it’ll make more sense if you’ve read that first, but I do think it can enjoyed as a sweet and smutty Valentine’s Day fic! ;)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics

Dean stood at the kitchen bench and smirked as he stared down at the date on his phone. The coffee brewed in the machine behind him, as sunlight streamed in through the little picture window. It the most important date on the calendar that all couples go through, and he was excited.

It was February 14th. Valentine’s Day. The designated day you show the person you love most how much they mean to you. This time around was going to be the most special this little holiday had ever been for him, because this time around he had a woman who was truly, undoubtedly, his.

Y/N was the woman he had been waiting for and he couldn’t wait to make tonight a great night for both of them.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee and some for her in a travel mug, Y/N walked into the kitchen, dressed in a tight, high-waisted pastel pink skirt and white shirt, with a small white with pink polka dots scarf tied into a bow under the collar of the shirt. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had her red glasses on. Dean felt his body heat up, knowing how much he enjoyed her fulfilling his teacher fantasy, so much so that whenever she got dressed for work, he always needed to calm himself down.

Y/N smiled at him as she walked over, kissing him softly as he slid a plate across the bench, some toast and a little bacon which he had already made, ready for her.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing him again before digging into her breakfast.

“No problem.” He smiled as he leaned against the bench, facing her. He continued to drink his coffee as she ate, both of them in content silence.

“I’ve got a half day today,” he informed her. “Ready to take you out tonight and tomorrow off, too.”

She smiled, unable to hide how excited she was for their night out. He was being incredibly secretive, and she was dying to know.

She ate quickly, washing up her plate once she was done. As she walked away from the sink, she laughed as Dean took her hand in his, pulling her against him. Whenever they had a few spare moments in the morning, this is how they spent it.

“So… what are you planning?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked up at him.

He smirked, shaking his head as his hands rested on her hips. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out later.”

She frowned, a small pout forming on her lips. “There’s no such thing as secrets on Valentine’s Day.”

She knew it wasn’t true, but she just wanted him to tell her what he was planning so that she could coordinate her lingerie accordingly.

“Babe, don’t start making crap up just because you’re curious.” He called her out, throwing his head with a boisterous laugh as she stared at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open in shock.

“Well, then I guess it’s just going to be you and your hand tonight,” she threw back, feigning upset.

“Hey,” he warned, staring down at her as he pulled her closer. “Do that and you won’t find out what I have planned.”

“Fine,” she sighed, as she rolled her eyes. Looking at him, the frown returned but with a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re really annoying, sometimes.”

“I know,” he shrugged with a grin. “But you love me.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, unable to pretend anymore. “Fortunately.”

“Very fortunately,” he said, leaning down to kiss her softly. He bent down further, kissing her neck which made her groan, sadly.

“I’m going to be late for work,” she said, pushing him away slightly.

He moved back down, attaching his mouth to her neck again. “I was about to give it to ya good and proper, sweetheart,” he mumbled against her skin, between kisses.

She laughed as she lightly pushed him again, kissing him softly on his pout. “You can do that tonight. A good, proper,” she kissed him again, “hard, rough,” another kiss, “fucking of a lifetime.”

He groaned, closing his eyes as he thought about what he had planned for them. She really had no idea what was going on and he was excited for her to find out.

“You’re so on, baby,” he muttered, before pulling her into a searing kiss.

She reluctantly pulled away from him, frowning. “I better go.”

“See you tonight,” he said, smirking at her.

“I can’t wait,” she smiled, leaning in and kissing him again.

Dean watched on as Y/N picked her bag and slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her keys in her hand. She slipped on her nude heels as she picked up her fawn coat, turning and blowing him a kiss before walking out the door. He smirked as he thought about what she just said, and how he could incorporate it into the night he had planned. After she had made his birthday one that he would never forget, he didn’t want to wait for so long until hers to do the same.

Luckily, the most romantic day of the year was upon them, and it was the perfect opportunity to make it a memorable night for both of them. He had never really believed in a day to celebrate love, considering he never had much luck with it in the past, but now he was thankful to whoever decided to profit from February 14th and made it a big deal.

Dean got ready for the day and headed to work. He was happy knowing there wasn’t much to do that day with his half day of work. He was relieved when Y/N had managed to take leave for the next day just like him, knowing that his plan would succeed. After the big restoration job that he had told her about months ago had been paid them in full by the customer, they were doing amazingly well at the garage. It had been a lot of money and there was more than enough to go around. Dean was able to pull out all the stops for the night. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face at work, getting questioning looks from Benny, Garth, some of the other guys and even Ellen. The guys teased him all day, but he paid no attention to it. If they had a woman as wonderful as he did, they’d have a huge smile on their face all day too.

Y/N smoothed down her maroon, velvet, off-shoulder, knee-length dress as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had contemplated the style for a long time in the store a few days ago, wondering if she should go for a brighter red or shorter, but this caught her eye straight away. She just hoped Dean would like it. She also hoped he would like her strapless bra and panties set, of the same dark colour. She kept her eye make-up simple but went with a slightly dark red shade for the lipstick, and gave her hair a slight wave, sweeping it over one shoulder. She gave herself a nod as she smiled at her complete look in the mirror.

Y/N heard the front door opening, signalling that Dean had arrived, even if he was a little early. With one last check in the mirror, she picked up the gift she had for him from her bed and walked out of her room, her black heels clacking on the wooden floors. As soon as she saw him, her heart skipped a beat. He wore black dress pants and loafers, with a maroon sweater. He looked so unbelievably gorgeous that she just had to stand there for a few more seconds to appreciate him. He had his hands behind his back, and she knew it had to be something for Valentine’s Day.

“Who clued you in on maroon?” she laughed as she approached him.

“I… may have snuck a peek in the bag when you brought it home,” he replied, smirking as he took her in. She looked incredible and he was going to have a hard time keeping things PG for the first part of the night. “You look amazing.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” she whispered against his lips as she leaned in and kissed him, softly. “This is very couple-y of us, though” she joked.

He shrugged, laughing. “It’s Valentine’s, baby.”

With that, he brought his arms forward, showing her the bouquet of lilies (she wasn’t a fan of roses; too overrated) and the heart-shaped box, no doubt filled with little chocolates.

“Be my Valentine?” he asked, chuckling.

She shook her head, laughing at his goofiness. “Of course.” She took the items from him and handing him his.

He smiled as he took it, quickly unwrapping the red wrapping around the small box. Opening it, he lifted the coffee mug out, smirking at the design. It was him and Y/N in animated form, with her leaning in to kiss his cheek, a little heart above their heads.

“That’s cute,” he said, smiling at her.

“It’s not too cheesy, is it? We said things that didn’t cost much, and this was relatively inexpensive. All I had to do was give the artist a picture of us, and she did the rest,” she explained, wondering if he really did like it and wasn’t just making her feel better.

“No, it’s not. I love it, really,” he reassured her.

She leaned in, happily letting him cup her face in his hands and pull her into a steamy kiss. It was over quicker than she would’ve liked, but as she looked into his eyes, she noticed a spark that wasn’t there before.

“Okay… put those in water and then pack a bag. Just essentials, clothes for tomorrow, that’s it” he instructed, rubbing his hands together.

She frowned, blinking a few times as she made sure she heard him right. “What?”

“Part of the surprise,” he said, not giving her anything else as he gestured to his watch.

“Okay…” she huffed as she snapped out of her trance, her mind reeling as she tried to figure out where he was taking her.

After putting the lilies in a small vase with water, Y/N went into her room and quickly packed a bag. Just her skincare and clothes for the next day were all she needed. She really had no idea what Dean was doing or where he was taking her, but she was now even more restless to find out.

Walking back into the living area, she saw Dean waiting by the door. He smirked as he reached for her bag, dragging it out for her as she picked up her purse and put on her black coat, locking the door behind her. Dean put her case in the trunk and then proceeded to open the passenger door for her. She snuck a quick kiss before she sat, putting her purse in her lap. Dean was on the driver’s side in a flash, quickly taking his seat and starting the engine.

“So… still no hint?” she asked, smiling through her impatience.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Fine,” she sighed, sitting back in her seat properly as Dean pulled away from the curb.

She decided to stop asking. He always said he wasn’t great with romantic gestures but that he was trying with her, and she really appreciated that about him. He was expanding his comfort zone even though he didn’t have to. He wanted to.

They asked each other about their days as Dean drove towards the city. The anticipation for their night was overwhelming, and he was glad that Y/N kept talking. No doubt distracting herself just as much as him. As they reached their destination, he saw her eyes light up as he parked the car outside the restaurant, their first stop.

“Dean!” she exclaimed as she turned to him. “This is already too much! More than what we agreed on!”

He smirked, knowing that the fancy Italian place was one that she had wanting to go to for a while. It was definitely pricey, but his latest customer was making tonight possible. He really had to find a way to thank the guy.

“Not tonight it’s not.” He winked at her as he opened his door and got out of the car, a squeak coming from the hinges as he shut it.

He walked around the front and to her side, opening the door for her. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes as she stood up and looked at the building, suddenly launching herself into Dean.

“I’ve told you before; I don’t need all of this to make me happy. You know that, right?” she asked, frowning slightly. She was worried that he may feel like he needed to do this just to make things special.

“Yeah, I do, sweetheart,” he replied, as he pulled back slightly from their embrace to look at her. “But if I can afford it, then why the hell not?”

“And you’re sure you can?” she asked, a frown still etched on her face.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes! Y/N, we wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t. We did fucking great because of that big restoration job. Trust me.”

He had to wonder how she would react for the next part of the surprise if she was already shocked by the restaurant. Hopefully once he reassured her it was fine, and that he wasn’t doing this when he couldn’t afford it, she would relax.

“Okay.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before it grew.

Dean smiled wide as he saw her face light up. He held out his hand for her, ready to start their night. “Let’s go.”

Y/N took Dean’s hand instantly, linking their fingers together as they walked to the entrance of the Italian restaurant. As they made their way in and Dean gave them his name, they were immediately led to a table in the back, away from most of the chatter of patrons. Dean helped Y/N with her coat, draping it over the back of her chair, doing the same with his. She smiled as she sat down across from him, causing him to smile back. His eyes wandered up and down as he looked at her, taking in her beauty. She always looked stunning, no matter whether it was casual or a bit dressier.

A waiter brought over the wine list, which Dean discreetly handed over to Y/N considering that wasn’t something he knew anything about. She gave him a wink as she looked over several pages before deciding. Dinner was far more delicious than either of them were expecting, so between the great wine and even better food, Dean was very happy he brought her here.

Once dinner was cleared, and the chocolate cake they ordered to share for dessert arrived (after he lamented that there was no pie), Dean let her dig in first as he folded his arms on the table, watching her. He smirked as she stabbed a piece with the fork and held it out to him. He winked at her as he took the bite, seeing her visibly shiver. He chuckled to himself as he chewed, watching her drop her head and focus on the cake.

“Stop,” she laughed, trying to avoid his intense gaze. He was trying to kill her; she knew he was.

“Can’t,” he said, joining in with her laughter.

They both continued to devour the cake until there wasn’t even a crumb left, both sitting back as the waiter cleared the plate and glasses.

After paying, Dean took Y/N’s hand in his and left the restaurant. Their walk down the street turned into a relaxed stroll, enjoying the glow of the city lights despite the cold weather of February. As they continued towards the car, a group of street musicians was playing, also not bothered by the chill in the air. As they continued to play, Dean slowly spun Y/N around, causing her to laugh in surprise at his sudden gesture. His hands slipped down to her waist and pulled her close as he began to sway them to the music, looking into her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, refusing to break her gaze away from him. The slow melody of the familiar song caused them to get lost in each other, blocking out the noise of the street and cars rushing by.

In his arms, Y/N felt safe. She felt as if nothing bad could happen to her, ever again. She felt like Dean would always be there to hold her up and never let her fall. He would never hurt her, knowing her past and making sure she never felt that way ever again. She thanked all forms of a higher power every day for bringing this man into her life.

In her arms, Dean had never felt more loved. With her, he had everything he ever wanted in life. Love, comfort, passion – feeling wanted. Someone who would never make him feel any less than he was. He knew how lucky he was to have her.

Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss becoming deeper and more passionate as he pulled her a little closer. Y/N’s hands combed into his hair at the back of his head as she kissed him. After a moment, Dean pulled away from her caress, his breathing slightly heavier.

“Come on,” he grinned, moving away from her and taking her hand in his again, leading her down the street.

As he drove, Dean’s mind kept swimming with possibilities of what would happen next. He looked over at Y/N, smiling at her as she gazed up at the city lights from the window, completely oblivious to the thoughts that were going through his head. He watched as she frowned, the destination now right in front of them. She looked up at the sign, gasping loudly. He had brought them to one of the best hotels in the city and her heart began to beat just a little faster.

“Oh my god!” she yelled, looking at him as he pulled into the valet parking of the hotel. He got out and walked over to the trunk, taking out her small suitcase and pulling it for her, as she got out of the car.

Y/N stood in shock as she watched him warn the valet about the car, and then hand over the keys. As the Impala rolled away towards the main parking, she looked at Dean and shook her head as she walked over to him.

“Dean, this is-” she started but he stopped her as he took her hand and tugged on it, softly.

“Save it for upstairs, sweetheart.” He smirked as he brought her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

They walked towards the entrance, a doorman opening the glass door for them.

“Where’s your stuff?” she asked, as she suddenly noticed he lacked an over-night bag.

“I checked us in during the day after work, before I picked you up,” he replied, as he walked them through the huge lobby and towards the elevators.

Y/N marvelled as she looked around. Her stomach flipped as she couldn’t believe she was in such a swanky place.

The elevator arrived; announced by a soft ding as the doors opened. Dean stepped in with Y/N by his side, pressing the button for their floor. Y/N looked over at him, unable to contain her smile as the elevator moved up the floors. Dean leaned over, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her, passionately. She hummed as she grabbed the lapels of his black coat, pulling him closer. They broke away from each other, however, when the elevator stopped, letting in another couple. They were slightly older and both of them grimaced as they witnessed the young couple with their lips locked. It was the clichéd scene you would see in every rom-com or steamy romance, but neither of them cared.

Once they reached their floor, they left the elevator and walked down the hallway. Dean walked a little ahead of Y/N, wheeling her suitcase behind him. He reached their room, taking out the room card and sliding it in, the beep and green light signalling he could open the door. Y/N walked in, as he held it for her and quickly slipped the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign onto the handle, closing the door behind her.

If Y/N was smiling before, then she was practically beaming as she walked further into the room. The big window overlooked the gardens outside, and the room held a chic armchair with Dean’s brown leather duffle sitting on it, a round ottoman in front the armchair, a large bed with crisp white sheets, big pillows and royal blue cushions. Rose petals were scattered over the sheets with a tray that held little chocolates, an ice bucket with a bottle of Champagne and two champagne glasses on it, at the centre of the bed.

Y/N’s felt Dean’s arms wrap around her waist as he stood behind her, pulling her close to his body. She sighed contently, leaning her head against his chest.

“I know you’re not a fan of roses, but this is all they had,” he informed her, softly in her ear.

She shook her head, turning around to face him and instantly wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s perfect. I love it so much.”

“Yeah?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

“Yes,” she sighed, smiling up at him. “I love you so much, Dean Winchester. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for loving me.”

“Well, you make it real easy, sweetheart,” he said, smirking.

“You make it easy to love you, too,” she whispered against his lips, and kissed him once, twice.

“So… champagne?” he asked, grinning.

“Yes,” she replied, without missing a beat.

Dean moved away from her, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the armchair. Y/N took off her coat and hung it up in the closet, taking a chance to look around the room. She wandered into the bathroom, biting her lip to keep from grinning as she saw the bathtub filled with water and rose petals along the surface. She fully intended to make use of it later. The bathroom also had another ice bucket and champagne with glasses kept near the tub, along with some chocolate covered strawberries, making her shiver at the possibilities of what could happen.

Y/N walked back out to the main part of the room, watching Dean open the wrapping from the top of the champagne bottle. He held the bottle carefully as he twisted the cork, letting out a “son of a bitch!” when it popped loudly. He poured some in each glass and handed her one as he took the other, his other hand slipping into hers. They looked into each other’s eyes as they clinked their glasses together.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he said, smirking.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean,” she sighed, her eyes sparkling with love as she looked at him.

As they both took a few sips, it was clear that no matter how great the champagne was, that wasn’t where their focus was at that moment. As Dean looked at Y/N, he knew he couldn’t waste another minute not touching her. In one big gulp, he downed the champagne and placed the glass on the tray. He moved it off the bed and placed it on the ottoman, turning back to her to see she had emptied her glass as well. She walked over to the ottoman slowly, the swing in her hips seductive and teasing him. As she bent down to put the glass on the tray, the curve of her ass looked glorious in her tight dress, leaving him powerless to resist.

Dean walked up behind Y/N, his hands slowly moving over the curve, feeling the soft velvet of her dress. He moved them up to her hips, swiftly pulling them back to meet his. Y/N bit her lip as she pressed her back to his chest, feeling his cock begin to stir through the fabric of his pants.

“You have no idea what I’m gonna do to you,” he whispered in her ear and placed a small kiss behind it.

She shivered as she felt his hands move up her body, lightly grazing over her breasts before moving back down to her hips. She took his hands and moved them up again, cupping her breasts and causing a soft moan to leave her lips. She smiled mischievously as she began to grind her hips back into his, feeling him become more aroused. Dean had instant flashes back to their first date, the night she did exactly the same thing on her front porch.

He suddenly flicked her hands off his and moved them down, grasping her hips and halting them. “You think you can do that again, sweetheart… you’re wrong.”

“Dean,” she whined, her frustration getting the better of her. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling herself getting wet between her legs already.

“Tonight, is all about you,” he told her as his hands moved to the back of her dress. He grasped the zip, pulling it down at a teasing pace. “Tonight… you’re all mine.”

A whimper left her lips as the dress opened in the back, and Dean’s pace suddenly changed. He roughly pulled at the dress, shoving it down her body and letting it fall to pool around her feet.

Turning them around, Dean faced Y/N towards the large mirror on the wall. He admired her dark red, lacy push-up bra, matching lace panties and black thigh-high stockings, as his hands roamed her soft skin. Their eyes met in the mirror, causing Dean to smirk at her and give her a wink. His right hand travelled down her body and over the lace of her panties, his fingers lightly teasing over her skin and the seam of the fabric. Her breath hitched in her throat as her left hand moved forward, trying to reach for his. She gasped as he roughly grabbed it and held it down by her hip, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to keep from moving.

“Only I get to touch you, Y/N,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. His hand moved down between her legs, his fingers rubbing along the lace and feeling her wetness through the material. She moaned, pressing her lips together to keep herself quiet.

“Already so wet for me,” he groaned, continuing to move his fingers in a moderate pace. “But… I want you practically dripping.”

Y/N moaned wantonly as Dean removed his hand and made quick work of taking off her panties, bending down behind her as they slid down to her feet. He helped her step out of each heel and her panties, smirking as an idea came to him once the fabric was in his hand. He quickly slipped them into his pants pocket as he took her hand and guided her towards the bed. Staring into his eyes, she saw them darken even more as he lifted his hands to her shoulders and pushed her, a squeal leaving her as her back hit the bed. The scattered rose petals bounced around, breaking the even pattern, as she moved up slightly on the bed and pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him.

Y/N smiled as she bit her lip, her eyes never leaving him as he lifted up his sweater and pulled his arms through, throwing it on the floor. He did the same with the white t-shirt he wore underneath as he moved closer to the bed. She reached over and hooked her fingers into the top of his pants, desperate to feel him against her. Before she could start working on the belt, he grabbed her hand with a firm grip.

“What did I say about touching, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough and authoritative.

A shiver ran down her spine as she looked up at him, unable to speak. His eyes were dark, and his face was unreadable, a commanding air around him. He was dominating in bed but never quite like this, and that had her excited to see what he would do.

Dean’s jaw clenched as he looked down at her, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops. He gathered it in his hand and waved it at her. “One more time and I’ll have to use this.”

She nodded, still too stunned at his demeanour to speak. She breathed heavily as the anticipation got to her, wondering what his next move would be.

Dean placed the belt on the bed, close enough to reach for it when he needed. He quickly rid himself of his shoes and the rest of his clothes, pulling down his pants along with his boxers, dropping them on the edge of the bed. His cock twitched, hard and leaking pre-cum which she desperately wanted a taste of. He knelt on the bed, swiftly picking up both of Y/N’s legs and holding them up. He made quick work of taking off her stockings, rolling them down her legs and pulling them off, before leaning down and kissing her, roughly. She moaned into his mouth as she fisted the sheets in her hands, knowing she couldn’t touch him or herself. Dean continued to roughly kiss her as he reached under her and unclasped her bra, pulling it away from her body and flinging it across the room without looking.

Dean made a rough path of kisses down Y/N’s jaw and neck, reaching her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the nub and pinched the other between his fingers. She moaned, throwing her head back, incredibly desperate to lift her hands and place them on his head to bring him closer. He continued his path down her body, finally reaching between her legs. She looked down to see him wink at her, his tongue slowly flicking out as it grazed her sex.

“Dean” she whimpered as she tried to move closer to his mouth.

Before she could say anything else, his head dipped down, his mouth covering her folds completely. His hands grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders roughly, causing a shocked huff to leave her lips.

“Oh my god,” she gasped loudly, her fingers clenching the sheets. “D-Dean, yes.”

His tongue moved over her clit in tight circles as his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, pulling her even closer. He moved his tongue up and down her folds, her juices coating his mouth as he moaned at the taste of her. She choked out a whimper at the vibration that ran through her as she looked down at him, their eyes meeting.

Pulling away slightly, he looked at her as he sucked at her clit. “Taste so fucking good, sweetheart.”

“Dean, please,” she begged, looking into his eyes. “Please, more.”

“Patience, Y/N,” he playfully scolded, smirking at her.

He continued to lap at her folds, the sounds of his moans and her wetness getting to her. She needed to touch him, but if she did, he’d restrain her. She wanted nothing more than to risk it and tug on his hair like she loved doing, but she couldn’t. He smirked against her as he continued his ministrations, lifting his right hand and inserting a finger into her wet canal.

“Shit, yes” she cried loudly, unable to stay quiet despite being in a hotel room.

“You like that, gorgeous?” he asked as he pulled away briefly, inserting another finger. He thrusted them in and out, his pace quick as she became wetter.

“Yes,” she gasped, nodding frantically. “Yes, I-I love it.”

He gave her a cocky chuckle as he took her swollen nub in his mouth again, his eyes never leaving her. He continued to thrust his fingers inside of her, his tongue licking at the bundle of nerves. He watched as her hands left the sheets and cupped over her mouth, her moans muffled under them.

Dean kissed and sucked at her clit, his fingers sliding in and out of her as he moved them along her walls quickly. Y/N’s hands barely covered her mouth, her moans loud as she couldn’t control herself anymore. He reached for his pants and quickly took her panties out of the pocket, knowing that if she got louder, she would need them.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he said as he placed the lace near her lips.

Y/N opened her mouth and let him slowly work the material in.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he looked down at her. His cock throbbed at the sight of her mouth stuffed with her dark red panties. He continued to work his fingers into her, picking up the pace. Her moans came out stifled around the fabric in her mouth, as she urgently grabbed at the sheets again.

Dean worked his fingers into Y/N, his pace getting quicker as they began to hit her g-spot with precision. He lifted her leg onto his shoulder as he sat up on his knees, his fingers never slowing. Y/N got louder despite her panties acting as a gag, her eyes shut tightly as she let out a string of muffled moans. He could feel her getting wetter with every passing second.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this, sweetheart. All spread out for me, desperate to cum,” he grunted as he worked his fingers at a faster speed. “You wanna cum, don’t you?”

She nodded wildly, too scared to open her eyes and look at him. She could feel something building inside of her, the coil in her stomach tighter than it ever had been, as if it was holding something at bay. She could hear how wet she was as he worked the digits inside her at a frantic speed, the squelching noises louder than her moans.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

She cried out around the fabric in her mouth, the only way she could communicate at that point. Hearing him call her that always drove her crazy. He felt his fingers getting wetter, knowing she was closer than ever.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned; his fingers moving so quickly he could barely see them. “Fuck, cum for me, sweetheart. Fucking soak my fingers.”

Y/N threw her head back, her neck straining as she let out a stifled scream of his name around the material of her panties. One of her hands left the sheets as it latched onto his arm around her leg, needing to hold on. The damn within her broke, Dean pulling his fingers out as jets of liquid spurted out of her, drenching his hand. The vision behind her closed lids turned white, as a wave of the purest release she had ever felt washed over her. Her body shook as he held her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself. Her muffled scream turned into whimpers as she continued to come down from her high. She had never felt this way before as she continued to shake, unable to stop the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Dean bit his lip, watching as Y/N slowly began to come down from the peak he took her to. That was a surprise, even for him. He didn’t know she was capable of that, but he was a little proud that he was the one to make it happen. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light in the room. She rolled her head to the side, looking up at him as her chest heaved, her breathing erratic. He leaned forward, taking her panties out of her mouth, a harsh sigh leaving her.

“Oh my god,” she exhaled, still trying to catch her breath.

“It’s actually Dean,” he joked, a wide grin on his face.

She lazily lifted her hand and tried to hit him but couldn’t even manage that.

“You…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she still couldn’t believe what just happened. “You made me squirt.”

“Sure did.” He nodded as he looked down at her, the smirk not leaving his face. “That was awesome,” he stated.

“It was.” She hummed as she smiled up him. That was first time anyone had managed to do that, and she was happy that her first experience of that was with someone who loved her so much. Someone who wanted to bring her pleasure before himself. His pleasure came from hers. She had never been with someone who cared like that.

“Shit,” she sighed, closing her eyes. Her whole body felt like it was buzzing. “I’ve never… done that before.”

“That was so fucking hot, sweetheart,” he declared, smirking as he looked down at his lower body and his hand, both wet from her unexpected release.

She stared up at him as she bit her lip. The fact that he found it hot had aroused her even more. The fact that he was so completely turned on by her and her body, gave her a confidence in herself that she never had before.

“You’re definitely trying that again, sometime soon,” she laughed, winking at him.

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” he stated, putting her leg down.

“Really?” she asked, amused by his eagerness.

“Yep,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Oh and Y/N…” he trailed off, gesturing to his arm that had been wrapped around her leg.

Y/N looked down and cursed inwardly, seeing her hand wrapped around his wrist. However, a small smile spread across her lips as she looked at him, trying to act innocent. “Oops…”

Before any more words could leave Y/N’s lips, Dean tugged on her hand and flipped her over, pushing her down on her stomach. He groaned as he looked at her ass, running his hand along her skin, grasping it in his hand. He picked up the belt, folded it and held it tight in his hands. Lifting it, he twisted his wrist and flicked the loop lightly across her right cheek, gaging her reaction. She moaned as her head dropped forward onto the bed, her hips wriggling, taunting him. He couldn’t see her face, but he was certain she was wearing the little mischievous smile of hers that he loved so much.

“Harder,” she told him, her voice firm. No hesitation.

That was the only confirmation Dean needed. He lifted his hand again, bringing the belt down on the same area, slightly harder than before.

“Fuck,” she moaned, humming at the slight sting.

Dean leaned down, placing a kiss and small nip on the cheek. “Love this ass.”

Dean held Y/N’s hands together and wrapped the belt around her wrists, making sure it was tight enough so that she couldn’t get out of the binds. He buckled it, tugging on it a couple of times to test it. She whimpered softly as she laid the side of her face on the bed, excitement coursing through her. She felt him grasp her hips and pull her up onto her knees, her bound hands on her back. That feeling of thrill rose within her as she sensed him move behind her.

Dean stroked his cock as he lined himself up to her entrance, Y/N’s hips levelled with his. He entered her swiftly, a strangled moan leaving his lips as he felt how wet she was, his cock easily sliding all the way into her. A choked cry left her as she tried to move her hips back, but he grabbed them in his hands to stop her from moving. He slid out and back in, then quickly began to thrust in and out of her at a fast pace.

“So fucking tight and wet, sweetheart,” he groaned as one hand came up to hold onto her bound hands. “So perfect… like you were made for me.”

With each thrust, she moaned louder and louder. Dean wondered whether he should gag her again, but quickly thought against it. Everyone else in the hotel be damned. He needed to hear his girl.

“How does that feel, Y/N?” he asked, as his hand on her hip grabbed her flesh tight, his thrusts relentless.

“So fucking good,” she moaned loudly, her mind delirious with pleasure. “Your big cock feels so good inside me, Dean.”

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this.” He let out a grunt, feeling her walls clench around his cock with each thrust. “Tell me.”

“Oh fuck” she gasped, unable to think clearly. “Y-You-”

Suddenly, a hard, resounding spank landed on her right cheek causing her to jerk forward as she yelped in surprise.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled, his grip tightening on her bound hands.

She huffed a small laugh, completely overwhelmed by what she was feeling. He was hitting that sweet spot inside her so perfectly with every thrust. His words had her spiralling by the second, and his grip on her, both mentally and physically, had left her completely at his mercy. It was an experience unlike any other; one that she had expressed she wanted just that morning, but she had no idea the delivery would exceed her expectations.

“You’re the only one who can make me feel like this,” she moaned, loud and shameless. If someone else in the hotel was getting railed as thoroughly as she was, they’d be shameless about it too. “The only one who can make me this good… so fucking good, so full.”

She struggled against the belt around her hands, the leather digging into her skin in a delicious sting. Her legs felt weak and limp under her, quivering as she could feel herself quickly losing resolve.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His undulating hips picked up speed, as he grasped hers tightly.

Her walls continued to clench around him, signalling she was close. The only other sounds that could be heard apart from their moans and groans were the smacking of skin as their hips met, and wet, squelching sounds of her sex as he continued to pound into her.

“De… fuck, I-I I’m close,” she cried out, lifting her head to try and look back at him. The same feeling that she had felt before had returned, as if she was holding something back. “I-I think-” she shook her head, unable to speak.

Dean’s hips started to falter, his release fast approaching. “Cum with me, Y/N.”

“I-I-I’m,” she stuttered. She felt lightheaded, overstimulated and overcome by the pleasure coursing through her.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he reassured her, his left hand leaving her hip and moving down between her legs. He rubbed her clit in tight circles, bringing her closer to her release. “Let go for me, sweetheart… soak my cock like you soaked my fingers.”

“Oh god… Fuck! Dean!” she screamed.

All concern for the people in the other rooms went out the window as they both reached the peak of ecstasy.

Y/N’s whole body convulsed as Dean let out a roaring moan, quickly pulling out as her release gushed out of her, drenching his cock as his cum spurted over her folds. Her legs gave out as she fell forward and flattened out on the bed as she tried to catch her breath. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, carefully unbuckling the belt around her hands, releasing her from the restraint. Her arms moved up the bed weakly, one hand cupping over her eyes as she began to chuckle. He looked down at her with a quirked eyebrow, confused as to why she was laughing.

“Y/N?” he called her name, getting no response.

She descended into a fit of laughter, slowly turning onto her back as she cupped both hands over her eyes.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asked, his mouth lifting up slightly into a smirk. He was amused by her reaction.

“That was… that was amazing,” she said through laughs. “I just… I can’t believe you did that. Not just once but twice!”

Y/N continued to laugh, causing Dean to join in as he leaned down and gave her a kiss. She lifted her shaky hands and cupped his face, kissing him deeply and moaning at the taste of herself that still lingered on his tongue. Pulling away, his legs almost faltered as he got up from the bed, but he held himself steady as he moved towards the bathroom. He wet a washcloth and then walked back out to the bed. He cleaned between her legs, the warm cloth ridding her of his release and her own. As he did, he was relieved to see they hadn’t ruined the sheets from both of their orgasms, his lower body taking the impact of hers. He cleaned himself off and got up again, discarding the cloth under the sink of the bathroom.

As he walked back out, he spotted the ice bucket and quickly swiped a cube out before he laid down next to her, both of them on their sides. Picking up her right hand, he smoothed the ice over the angry, red lines across her wrist. She hissed slightly at the chill on the heat of her skin but sighed as it cooled the sting. He looked at her as he did, smiling softly when her gaze lifted up to meet his.

“I… that wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, his voice low and calming, but slightly nervous. He hoped that he hadn’t gone overboard.

She smiled, shaking her head. “No. It was perfect.”

She leaned forward, kissing him deeply. She sighed into the kiss, feeling more content than she ever had in her life. The feeling of being safe with him had been there throughout, and she loved him even more for being able to make her feel that way as he dominated her.

“You sure?” He needed to be certain. “I just gotta-”

She cut him off with another kiss, before pulling back to look at him. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. It was everything I wanted. A good, proper, hard, rough… fucking of a lifetime.”

He smirked, satisfied with her sincere answer and leaned forward, kissing her once, twice which led to them giving each other small kisses on every bit of skin they got reach. Dean gave her other wrist the same attention, before the cube could melt into his hand.

“Now I can’t wait for you to fulfill another fantasy” she smiled, a naughty glint in her eyes.

“Yeah?” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows at her. “What is it?”

She hummed as she moved forward, pressing her body into his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe I want a certain mechanic to tell me there are other ways of payment when I can’t afford for him to fix my car.”

He groaned as his eyes shut tightly, feeling his cock begin to stir again. “Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t wait for that either.”

He leaned in, kissing her passionately. His hands smoothed down her back and softly soothed the sting on her ass from the brief belt treatment and spanking she got.

“Bath?” he asked, tenderly as he pulled away from her lips and nuzzled his nose against hers.

She nodded with a small smile on her lips, feeling the mattress dip as he got up first.

Dean offered his hand to Y/N which she took instantly, allowing him to lift her up from the bed. Her legs shook as she stood, still weak from the amazing sex they just had. Suddenly, he leaned down and placed his arm under her legs, the other around her and lifted her up, a little laugh leaving her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As he walked past the ottoman, she reached down and grabbed the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and the glasses, placing them in her lap and holding the bottle so it didn’t fall. They looked into each other’s eyes as he carried her into the bathroom and over to the tub.

Y/N slowly dipped her toe in, sighing in relief when it wasn’t searing hot. She held the bottle and glasses as Dean slowly placed her in the water, the petals dispersing once she was in. She took out the other bottle of champagne from the ice bucket in the bathroom and put the open one in, after she poured a generous amount into each glass. Leaning forward, she smiled as he got into the tub and rested against it, allowing her to lay back against his chest. Clinking their glasses together, she took a sip and sighed as she made herself comfortable against him.

“I’m half expecting someone to come knocking on the door about the noise,” she told him, laughing.

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, no one’s coming up here to warn us on Valentine’s Day.”

“I sure hope so,” she said, taking another sip of champagne.

“I did put the “Do Not Disturb” on the door on the way in, though,” he grinned, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Just in case.”

“Always prepared,” she joked, turning her head up to look at him.

“You know it, baby.” He smirked as he leaned down, kissing her softly.

“Thank you so much for tonight,” she whispered against his lips as he pulled away from the kiss. “It was perfect.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” he whispered back, pressing his lips to hers again. The kiss deepened, causing a small moan to leave her as she reached up and ran her hand through his hair at the back of head.

She pulled back, slightly out of the breath as she bit her lip, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I can manage it tonight, but you can expect me to ride you into oblivion tomorrow as a thank you.”

His eyes widened as he nearly choked from the shock of her statement. He shook his head as he looked at her, wondering once again how she could be so innocent one minute and turn into a vixen the next.

“You better not threaten me with a good time and then not deliver, Y/N,” he warned her, a small smirk playing at his lips.

She shook her head, her gaze flicking between his and his lips. “It’s a promise which I absolutely intend to keep.”

“Shit,” he hissed, putting his glass on the ledge behind him. “Thank fuck I got a late check-out.”

He took hers and did the same and then moved his hands under the water, turning her around so that she was facing him and straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed into his chest as she leaned in and kissed him, passionately. She pulled away after a few moments, looking into his eyes.

Y/N reached over to pick up a chocolate covered strawberry on the tray behind Dean and held it to his lips. Smiling at him as his plump lips closed around the fruit and bit into it, the juice ran down his chin as he moved his head back, trying to get the bite completely into his mouth. The fire that burned for him within her, that never extinguished, flickered at the sight of his beautiful, sinful mouth slightly stained by the sweet. She leaned in, kissing and licking the remnants of strawberry and chocolate from his lips. As he looked at her, he felt that feeling of being the luckiest guy on Earth wash over him again.

“I love you,” she whispered, a big smile spreading across her face.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, his smile as big as hers as he pulled her back into their impassioned embrace.

They stayed that way until the water turned cold, and Dean carried Y/N back to the bed. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, their slumber peaceful as they both knew they were in the arms of the person who loved them unconditionally.

The next morning, Y/N kept her promise. Once they came up for air, they enjoyed a wonderful breakfast at the hotel before they finally made their way back home.

The rest of their day continued the way it began, locked in each other’s loving arms…

With promises made that they absolutely intended to keep.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05​ @kyjey​ @halesandy​ @440mxs-wife​ @stoneyggirl​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @redbarn1995​ @marianita195​ @babypink224221​ @deans-baby-momma​ @parinarain​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @mandalou29​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @supraveng​ @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @prettyboyswow​ @lunarmoon8​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Three

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: tw for abuse mention. i hope this chapter is readable bc a lot of it was written when i should've been sleeping.

***

“...expecting heavy snow, possibly even a snowstorm, by the end of the week.” The TV blares softly in the background as Nesta types away on her laptop propped on the arm of the couch. The fireplace is up and crackling, and Cassian has to stop in the threshold between kitchen and living room to take in the scene. He’s getting a little too used to this, he worries sometimes. She’ll be gone as soon as her apartment is fixed, he reminds himself, and pushes off the wall to circle the couch and approach Nesta.

He sets the steaming mug of coffee down on the table before her and takes a seat beside her. She doesn’t even stop typing as she glances up and murmurs a “thank you” before returning to her paper.

Cassian doesn’t want to interrupt her work, so he settles into the comfortable habit of watching her. They watch each other a lot— Nesta claims it’s because she’s bored and there’s nothing else to look at. Cassian has no such delusions.

She’s in a wool sweater and thick leggings today. Her hair is pulled back in a worn braid and her glasses are pushed all the way up her nose, but what catches Cassian’s attention tonight is the way her baby hairs escape her braid and frizz around her temples. Yesterday it was the way her cheeks flushed in the firelight, and the day before it was those damn glasses. Today it’s baby hairs.

The fantasy is quick and sneaky, there in his mind before he’s even aware of it.

Getting up to sit on the floor before her. Nudging her legs apart with slow hands while her fingers stutter over the keyboard. Pushing the hem of her sweater up, and pulling her leggings down. “Focus on your work,” he says when she tries to push her laptop away. “Finish your paper for me.” Tracing the inside of her thighs with his lips until his head is right—

The slam of a laptop snaps Cassian out of it. Nesta makes a frustrated growl and rubs her hands across her face before shoving her laptop aside to reach for the coffee.

He raises a brow, endlessly amused by everything she does. “Writing troubles?”

“I deserve a break,” she grumbles.

“I could help with that.”

Tucking her feet beneath her legs, Nesta ignores him and gestures at the TV with her chin. “Think we’ll get snowed in?”

Cassian almost hopes so. Any excuse to build more fires and stay inside with Nesta. “I’ll have to make a shopping trip,” he says casually. “You want anything?”

“I want to be in a state where there aren’t blizzards in October.” She looks over at him. “I miss Tennessee.” It’s a simple admission that brings Cassian to attention. She never gives out details about herself unprompted.

“I didn’t know you still got homesick.” Feyre never talks about her childhood in Tennessee. The only indicator of the Archeron sisters’ pasts is Elain’s sweet little Southern belle accent, which Cassian has a feeling is more for show at this point than anything else.

Nesta shrugs awkwardly in response, but he keeps going. “Rhys’s mom had a summer house in the Smokies. We would go down there each year without fail until college.” Rhys thinks it was fate that the summer home was so close to the small mountain town where Feyre grew up. Cassian thinks that’s a stretch.

“Yeah?” Nesta sips her coffee. “Have you gone back since?”

He shakes his head. “Rhys and Feyre are renovating it right now. You should come vacation with us when it’s done.” He perks up at the sudden idea.

Nesta gives him that familiar weird look from the corner of her eye. “Mm-hm,” she hums noncommittally.

“I’m serious,” Cassian insists. “We could have fun.” He’s already imagining it, getting to show Nesta around the place he grew up. Hearing what she has to say about the rocks and corners he would hurt himself on when he played with his brothers, maybe even hearing about her childhood in the Smokies. But Nesta looks stuck, unsure of how to turn him down.

“It doesn’t sound like a good idea,” she states finally. “I wouldn’t be welcomed there, and I would be the odd outlier the entire time at best.”

Cassian already knows Nesta has no interest in getting friendly with the rest of Feyre’s friend group, and he can respect that. But he still wants her there.

“You wouldn’t have to hang out with everybody there,” he says. “You’d have me and your sisters. That’s three whole people.”

She looks surprised at that. “Since when did I have you?”

Oh. Cassian shrugs. “We’re friends, right? I like you, so you have me.”

She straightens even further at that. He continues without waiting for her reply. “That’s why I want you to vacation with us. I like you, and I’d like having you there.”

Nesta sits back against the couch, staring at him, and then her coffee, then him. “This is new,” she finally says.

Cassian is lost. “What is?”

She considers for a moment, chewing her lip. “I’ve had people say they love me,” she says slowly, “but I don’t think anyone has ever liked me very much.”

The words are so incomprehensible that Cassian just sits there like a fool. She’s making even less sense than when she told him she used to come around to Feyre’s all the time and he never noticed. “I don’t get it. Who doesn’t like you?”

Nesta frowns deeply. “Don’t make me come up with a list. It’s not nice.”

Cassian might need a list, because he wants to have words with these people. “Okay, then. Why wouldn’t anybody like you?”

Nesta’s eyes narrow into a glare and she scoffs like he just said something offensive. “Jesus, I don’t know. Why don’t you call up my ex and ask if you care so much?” She sets her empty mug down and stands up, gathering her laptop and notes as she goes.

Cassian doesn’t know what he said wrong. “Wait, Nes—”

“Thanks for the coffee, I’m going to finish my work in my room.” She pushes her glasses up her nose and speedwalks out of the room, ignoring Cassian’s calls to wait.

***

Cassian can’t sleep that night knowing Nesta is upset with him. He tried knocking at her door when he came upstairs an hour after Nesta had, but the lights were off and he received no reply. Now in bed, he listens to the howl of late autumn wind outside and goes over everything Nesta said earlier.

She misses Tennessee. She feels that nobody likes her. She has an ex that definitely doesn't like her.

It's the last two details that bother Cassian the most. He’s about to spiral into another hour of overthinking when his phone lights up on the nightstand.

Subconsciously thinking it's a text from Nesta, his hand shoots for his phone. He has to smother his disappointment when he sees it's only Feyre checking in.

Feyre: how are things going with nesta? is she causing u any trouble?

Maybe he’s still upset about his conversation with Nesta, but the text rubs him the wrong way. Nesta sounds like a pet or a rowdy child.

Cass: not at all. she’s perfect

He quickly erases that last word and hesitates, trying to think of another one.

she’s lovely wonderful great. He settles on great and clicks send.

A reply pops up a few seconds later.

Feyre: lmao sure

Cassian frowns at his phone. What’s that supposed to mean?

Another text appears: just tell me if you need anything and i’ll take care of it. i know this isnt easy.

What isn’t easy? Having a roommate? Cassian replies, We don’t need anything, we’re fine. He uses capitalization and everything, feeling offended for some reason. And then, not really wanting to see a reply from Feyre, he turns his phone off and leaves it facedown on the nightstand.

He shuffles deeper under the covers and pushes his friend out of his mind, thinking about ways to make up with Nesta tomorrow instead.

***

Nesta stays up all night berating herself for how she reacted to Cassian’s innocent question. She wasn’t expecting him to pry for details because no one ever pries into her life, and she freaked out instead of rationally assessing the situation.

A part of her is satisfied now, having seen this coming from a mile away. It happens with everyone she meets, when she says or does something wrong and inevitably pushes them away. Maybe she should keep pushing him away, and keep him at arm’s length for the rest of her time here.

A larger part of Nesta is embarrassed at having caused a scene, and worse, mentioning Tomas. Because that’s exactly where her mind went when Cassian asked that question— to the man who used to say he loved her, but who never truly liked her. Intrusive memories from years past attack Nesta until the sky outside turns a light gray: dressing up for fancy business events and having his arm wrapped around her waist in an illusion of affection. Him pinching her side hard enough to make tears spring to her eyes when nobody was looking and leaning into her ear to lovingly whisper everything wrong with her that night. Going home and having makeup sex.

She’s still flustered from Cassian and can’t keep the thoughts out as well as usual. When she finally does drift off into a restless imitation of sleep, it’s by holding her thumb to her wrist until the steady beat of her pulse soothes her worn nerves.

Nesta wakes up cramping.

It takes her a few moments to pull out of the fog of sleep and recognize the feeling, and she groans aloud. This can’t be happening to her right now.

She was stupidly hoping that her period would hold off until she moved back into her apartment. Her premenstrual cramps are telling her she has two days at most.

She refuses to go through that experience in the same house as Cassian. Her family doesn’t even like being in the same house as her when she’s on her period. Her ex would outright leave their apartment and stay at a friend’s until she got over it. So this…

She groans once more and pulls herself out of bed. A quick phone check tells her it’s only been three hours since she fell asleep, but she’s given up at this point.

Nesta tiptoes hesitantly out of her room, not wanting to face Cassian just yet. It’s only when she reaches the stairs that she realizes the house is unusually quiet, even though it’s almost eleven.

Frowning, Nesta pads into the kitchen to find two things: a covered dish sitting on the island and a green sticky-note stuck to the fridge. She goes for the note first.

In messy handwriting it reads: Went out for groceries. Text me if you need anything. Beneath the words is a dark, almost furious scribble of ink, as if Cassian had written something there only to forcefully scratch it out.

Without overthinking it, she gets out her phone and texts Cassian that she needs pads. It only occurs to her after she’s sent the message that that’s probably not enough information.

Having Cassian know Nesta is on her period is one thing, but him knowing the size of her pad? The heaviness of her flow? She might need to enforce that rule about him never speaking to her again.

In her best attempt to not be viewed as a walking blood gusher, she asks for a smaller size pad than usual and turns her phone all the way off so she can’t see any replies.

Once you’re out of this house you’ll never have to see him again, so it won’t matter if you’re the rude bitch who cried and bled a lot while she was staying at his place.

Going over to the kitchen island, she uncovers the plate she assumes is for her. She isn’t expecting anything much, maybe Cassian’s leftovers from breakfast, so she hesitates when she sees a full stack of chocolate chip pancakes. Carefully decorated with berries and syrup, they’ve long gone cold, but— still.

Nesta reaches out as if they might not be real, or not meant for her, but nothing happens. Mouth tightening, she snatches the plate and grabs a fork.

Cassian comes in through the kitchen door twenty minutes later, long after Nesta’s cleaned off her food and washed the dishes in the sink. He throws her a smile as he shakes snow out of his hair and sets down the bags of groceries on the island by Nesta’s laptop.

“Oh, is it snowing already?” She throws a concerned glance outside, not having noticed while she was working.

“It’s light for now, but it won’t be for long.” He starts taking off his coat, and Nesta gets up to help with the groceries. She quickly finds the bag holding her stuff and discreetly sets it aside, but then Cassian grabs another bag and upturns it, its contents sprawling all over the island. “I don’t know what your period’s like, but we’re gonna be snowed in for a while so I got some of everything just in case.” He looks hesitant.

“Oh— thank you,” she says, overwhelmed. There’s three different types of painkillers, all that she already owns, and ten different types of junk food. And they're all for her. Nesta plucks up a package, stunned. “How are gummy worms supposed to help me on my period?”

Cassian leans his elbows on the marble and shrugs. “They’ll make you happy.”

“I’m allergic to gelatin.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

But Nesta just places the gummies in front of him and starts sorting the rest of the stuff. All the chocolates end up on her side, and the candies and gum and hot chips on Cassian’s side. When she's done, she finds him watching her closely. “Did you want some chocolate?” She offers out a Twix bar, her favorite. “I can trade you.”

“Uh, sure.” He accepts her Twix in exchange for his Hot Cheetos.

Silence ensues as Nesta tears open a Toblerone package and breaks off a triangle of nougat, when she remembers she has to tell him something.

“Thank you.” Her words are out of place and out of nowhere, spoken during the wrong time mark of a film and ruining the rhythm of the scene. Despite this, she powers on. “Thank you for breakfast, but also for this. Thank you for everything, really.”

Cassian perks up. “Did you like breakfast?”

Nesta nods through a mouthful of chocolate. “Chocolate chip pancakes are my favorite, and you’re good at making stuff.”

He raises a dark brow. “You mean cooking?”

“Same thing.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked it.”

Nesta slumps in relief, thinking her necessary talking points are over with. She's thanked him for shopping and for breakfast. What more could be— damn.

She clears her throat, even though she doesn't know what to say yet. She won't apologize— she doesn't know if she's physically capable of it, to be honest, but she can still seem regretful.

“Are we over last night?” she says bluntly. So much for regretful.

Cassian seems startled that she's even brought it up, which is perhaps a good sign that he already forgot about it. “Of course,” he says. “Nesta, I really didn't mean to offend you—”

Oh god, he’s not over it. “Don't apologize,” Nesta demands, throwing her hands up to ward him off. “You didn't even do anything, why would you apologize?”

“Well, you looked upset,” he says seriously. Cassian’s apologetic face looks an awful lot like hurt, though Nesta doesn't know why he would possibly feel hurt. Still, she has to pin her stare to the dark cabinets so he can't hurt her in turn. He keeps talking. “I know I promised to push your boundaries, but I never want to hurt you.”

His sincerity is more than disarming; it makes her ache.

“And I hated not talking to you last night.”

That gets Nesta's attention, and she suddenly feels two things at once: a swoop of joy that he likes talking to her, and a heavy drop of guilt that she ignored him all last night, even when he knocked on her door and apologized profusely.

“I fell asleep early,” she decides to lie. “I wasn't ignoring you.”

Cassian smiles softly and reaches out to brush a thumb over the tired circles under her eyes. “I can tell,” he says.

She's gone dead still, but she doesn’t flinch. She doesn't even want to flinch. Cassian clears his throat and drops his hand, and Nesta’s eyes follow him closely. “We’re good,” she says in finality. “Let’s go back to normal now.”

Cassian nods, his face carefully blank. “Okay. Then stop stuffing your face and help me with the rest of the groceries.” He moves off the island and elbows her on the way.

That makes Nesta smile, which makes Cassian smile even harder, and just like that, they’re back to normal.

***

a/n: two things: 1) cassian definitely texted feyre that morning and asked what nesta’s favorite breakfast was, and 2) can you tell im in love with writing nesta archeron?

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Beyond a Seasonable Doubt

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word count: 7478 @spideychelleweek​

Spideychelle Week Day 2: Soulmate AU

Summary: Peter's been living in winter for 17 years. A single smile from his soulmate would bring him into spring. Today, he finally has a real conversation with MJ, the girl he's pretty sure is the one.

Every day, Peter Parker wakes up certain of three things: that he won’t leave himself enough time to finish his cereal, that he should dress for snow, and the (probable) identity of his soulmate.

Ok, the first one’s not a certainty per say―sometimes he has microwave oatmeal or blueberry toaster waffles―but the second one’s been true his whole life. Every single day, for the past seventeen years and change, he’s been swaddled for winter weather. Could be January when he’s three years old and his puffy snowsuit looks totally appropriate as his mom pushes him down a slushy sidewalk in his stroller. Could be August 10th just last year and he’s wearing a woolen fisherman sweater (inherited from his Uncle Ben) and two pairs of socks to his own birthday pool party. Until his soulmate is confirmed, he won’t be part of the regular changing of the seasons that, up to this point, he’s only heard about and seen pictures and video of. For all intents and purposes, in Peter’s world, it’s winter. Some people say the date they’re stuck on bothers them. Personally, he doesn’t know how it could, since he’s never known anything different. You just have to layer up and get on with it.

His arm’s deep in his backpack, feeling around for the scarf he could swear he stuffed in there yesterday, as he walks into the kitchen. It’s a rare day; both Happy and May are at the table, working from home today. With ambivalence to the inevitability that he’ll be dumping half of it in the sink, Peter starts in on his Cheerios. He’s less apathetic about watching his dining companions. They haven’t had the easiest path, so he studies them for clues. May’s first soulmate was Uncle Ben. That’s not up for debate. Within 24 hours of when they met, the seasons adjusted themselves and two more people joined the rest of the world’s matched soulmates in enjoying the proper rotation of the earth around the sun. After Ben’s death, May told Peter that the seasons continued to change for her, but they slowed. Once a couple of years passed, there was a noticeable lag. She fell out of step with the world. When Happy came on the scene, things got back on track. Voilà, soulmate number two. From what Peter’s read, it’s not that unusual to find another soulmate if you lose your first, but honestly, he’d be happy just to get one.

May and Happy are dressed for mid-spring.

“Rain today?” Peter wonders, spooning Cheerios into his mouth.

“It’s holding off for now,” his aunt informs him.

When he turns to look out the window, there’s a cottony haze of thick snowflakes, like all of Queens is having a pillow fight on the rooftops. He sighs with acceptance rather than despair. Nothing was going to change overnight. It couldn’t, not without her, whoever she is. (He thinks he knows.)

“Cool.”

He leaves in a rush, slopping milk into the sink, and pulling on a hat.

A season isn’t much of a clue, but that’s not exactly how everyone experiences their pre-soulmate life. Instead of cycling through an entire spring, for example, and then starting again, each person exists in the weather as it was on the day their soulmate was born. The universe was kinda against Peter from the first. Snow, in his mind, goes with winter, but of course, in their New York climate, snow isn’t trapped between the boundaries of December and March. It wasn’t until he got his second clue that he figured out the first. The second clue was that this one girl would never smile at him. Soulmates need to smile at each other. That’s it. Just smile and everything else falls into place. No more dressing for the same temperature every day or involuntarily shivering when they see people in shorts and t-shirts in a world they observe to be covered in snow. Most people who haven’t found their soulmate yet smile a lot, trying to catch everyone’s eye, in the hope of locating the right person, so the fact that this one girl refused to smile at him (and continues to refuse) made Peter curious―curious enough to do some research to find out her birthday. End of November. Meaning autumn, not winter. He checked the weather for the year he was born, assuming he’s got the right girl and they share a birth year. Bingo. Big cold front, unexpectedly heavy snowfall that day. Plus, this girl dresses like it’s the peak of summer, which fits with when his birthday is, and he’s never seen her wear an outfit for cooler weather or hang around with any one person in particular (soulmates, especially those his age, tend to cling).

So, the third certainty. Peter’s pretty sure he knows who his soulmate is. What he doesn’t know is why the hell Michelle Jones won’t smile at him.

―

Every day, Michelle Jones wakes up certain of three things: that the inevitable sweat patches in the armpits of her uniform shirt will aid her in bullying Coach Wilson into letting her sit out during gym, that Peter Parker is her soulmate, and that she’d really prefer that he wasn’t.

People think she’s rude, which is maybe correct in the effect she has on them but not in the intention of her actions. She doesn’t like acting a certain way because it’s how she’s supposed to act. She doesn’t like etiquette, she doesn’t like rules, and she doesn’t like soulmates. Doesn’t want one, doesn’t need one. It’s an opinion adults condescendingly informed her she’d grow out of―as if accepting that she’s being denied free will is the kind of thing she’d mature into―until she quit voicing it. People love the system as long as they believe it’s working for them. What’s childish, as far as MJ is concerned, is placing complete faith in something as pervasive as soulmates simply because it seems too big to fail. That expression always makes her think of the Titanic.

She knows it’s not the cotton candy fantasy everyone wants to believe it is, and she’s not just disillusioned because she wakes up to a heatwave every day and has to carry deodorant with her all the time. Like most people, she was born the child of two soulmates. They met, they smiled, they took the soulmate bait, hook, line, and sinker. And then, even though they loved each other and got married and made MJ, her mom became mildly depressed. Her doctor thought it was the consequence of the seasons. MJ’s dad was a late-April baby, so maybe her mom was just one of those people who took longer to get used to variations in temperature and hours of daylight. The doctor thought she’d snap out of it when winter ended and nice weather came again. The problem was that MJ’s mom packed up and left in February. MJ’s never going to know for sure if it was the weather that made her go, but she does know that the soulmate bond wasn’t enough to make her mom stay. It taught her that, if a person’s determined enough, they can override destiny.

So she’s thankful to her mom, wherever she is, for that.

Based on her motives for distrusting the soulmate influence, the reason she doesn’t want Peter should be because she doesn’t want anybody, but no, it’s him in particular that MJ’s pretty much convinced she could do without. He’s smart, funny on occasion and mostly by accident, and he’s experienced family tragedy that’s different from hers, so they could connect over their messed-up pasts without too much overlap. All of that is more than she wants to deal with. If the universe attempted to shack her up with some trust-fund-having, loafer-wearing, future-frat-house-keg-meister, she could’ve worked with that. She would’ve smiled at the silver-spoon-suckling to confirm they were soulmates, then let that puppy-dog trail her from protest to protest while she told him when to pull out his chequebook and how many zeros to put down. There would’ve been a clear, Robin Hoodian purpose to that relationship. There’s not a point to Peter, besides him being someone she could very probably, very quickly fall in love with. Obviously, she can’t do that because soulmates are bullshit and true love is a con and long-term monogamy is a doomed enterprise.

…And she’s going to be late for her first class, Biology. Ugh, Peter always does this to her―intentionally walks slow to try to trick her into catching up with him. All that does is make MJ take a longer route and misjudge how quickly she needs to move. She wishes he’d knock it off. He’s backed off on a lot of other things for her sake (that’s an assumption based on observation because, of course, she’s never initiated a conversation with him), like sitting across from her in the cafeteria and dropping out of marching band (he plays trombone, she plays euphonium, and the brass section was too cozy a space for successfully avoiding someone). That second one was a waste because she was about to quit anyway, so now neither of them are in it and the whole band’s off balance. Too many fucking flautists. If Peter would commit to doing one or the other―pestering her or ignoring her―that would be convenient, but he’s inconsistent and she’s annoyed.

Oh, here’s another thing that happens every day: MJ hopes her displeasure will protect her from the urge to smile at the adorable, well-intentioned pain in her neck that destiny wants to tie her to until one of them drops dead or, marginally less dramatic, runs out on the young family they’ve created. It really pisses her off that Peter seems like he’ll be a great dad in another decade or two.

“Hey, MJ,” he says, when she finally makes it to Bio and slides behind the lab desk in front of his.

“Kiss my ass, Parker,” she mutters back.

He’s the reason for the sweat running down her spine. MJ pinches the front of her t-shirt and flaps it away from her skin, trying to stimulate enough airflow to make it through the period.

―

“You could trick her into smiling at you,” Ned suggests. They’re sitting together at lunch and Peter has a glumness hangover from MJ ignoring him (again) that morning.

“Babe,” Betty admonishes.

“Babe, he’d only feel bad if MJ really is his soulmate. If she’s not, then at least they know for sure and they can quit being weird with each other.”

“I’m not being weird with her,” Peter objects. “I’m just being nice! And I told you, I know it’s her.”

“You get that feeling?” Ned checks. “That warm feeling like I got the first time I saw Betty’s beautiful face?”

“Aw, babe!”

Their arms are already linked as they eat, but now Betty lays her head on her soulmate’s shoulder. If they get much closer, she’ll be in Ned’s lap, at which point Peter will have to make himself scarce. Though love is cute, it’s also kind of an affliction with a lot of messy symptoms.

“I don’t feel like I’m doing anything wrong!” he blurts out in frustration, jabbing at the salad May made him for lunch. “How could we be so incompatible?”

“You’re not though,” Betty counters. “You’re totally compatible.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t even taken the first step.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t think of it as the first step,” Ned suggests, being all wise.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked cautiously.

“Babe, you couldn’t be more correct,” Betty gushes. Peter sighs impatiently. He shouldn’t―they’re trying to help him―but it’s hard having paired up friends while his own soulmate stays just out of reach.

“Elaborate please,” he prompts.

He shifts in place and shivers when he accidentally moves out of the space his butt’s been warming. Meanwhile, here are Ned and Betty in their lightweight sweaters and sneakers. Peter’s boots clomp under the table.

“Well,” Ned posits, “isn’t confirming you’re soulmates more like the final step? You’ve done your waiting and now you get to be together?” Betty kisses his cheek in agreement.

“Maybe,” Peter allows.

“If you accept that confirming your bond isn’t the very next step, then you can start considering what is the next step. What do you think that might be, Peter?” Betty asks.

“I should… get MJ to tell me why she isn’t ready or interested in confirming it. In a respectful way that doesn’t pressure her,” he adds when Betty narrows her eyes judgementally.

“And how do you plan to achieve that?”

“Babe,” Ned intercedes, “let’s give him a minute to think about it.”

Peter tries to do that while he finishes his lunch. There are a lot of vegetables in here and they’re seasonal, just not for the season he’s experiencing. May’s always trying to load him up with vitamin-rich foods, since most of his day’s snowy; the clouds clear for a while around the time he gets out of school, allowing him some sun on his face as long as he doesn’t dawdle or land in detention. That train of thought makes him realize that detention would be the perfect place to talk this out with MJ, except that he’s against Ned’s plan of tricking her into becoming his soulmate and making sure she landed in detention with him would probably involve tricking. He knows she used to hang out there voluntarily from time to time, but not since they became aware of their connection. Now, she seems to avoid any place she might get stuck in and be cornered by Peter.

Ugh! He’s so ready to love and be loved! It’s super awesome to have people to love and worry about and have breakfast with. Love and breakfast are precious, in Peter’s opinion, and so is time. Getting enough of it isn’t something to be depended upon. After his parents and then Uncle Ben, he can’t trust quantity―he gives and gets quality love these days. He doesn’t know everything about Michelle Jones, but he’d like her to understand that, the irreplaceable value she represents to him. If she’d just be a plain envelope, he’d do all the work; put on the stamp, write out the address, compose the note it would hold. Right now, she’s like a sheet of paper, he guesses, one that they fold up into an envelope. She hasn’t been cut out or had that gross glue strip applied and it seems like it might be a long time before she’s ready for a letter or, like, a Happy Bar Mitzvah card. MJ might not want to be his envelope person, or she just might not know the things he could be for her (glue-licking, stamp-applying, Mazel Tov!-writing). If she at least knows, then he’ll concede that he’s done everything he can. If she knows, it’ll hopefully be enough for her to make a decision. Peter can’t force her to decide in his favour, but even if she understands and decides that she needs another five years before she wants to talk to him about the probability of their being soulmates and maybe revisit the smiling thing, he’ll know something too. Waiting is really tough.

―

“Don’t smile at me,” Peter requests, both hands up, when MJ shuts her locker to see him standing there.

She rolls her eyes. Nothing about the one person she’s actively avoiding hanging out at a place she has to be makes her want to smile. Did he decide that if he couldn’t be her soulmate he’d settle for being her stalker?

…Probably not. He’s way too good a person for that. Seriously, she tries to make these made-up accusations stick to him, but he’s just not that guy. That doesn’t mean she accepts, likes, or appreciates this latest move to get her attention.

“Are you trying reverse psychology now?” MJ demands.

“I’m just trying to make it extra clear that, whatever your reasons are for not smiling, I respect them.” He shrugs his shoulders and she glances down at the lunchbox he’s carrying. She wonders what he ate today.

“What if I’m not smiling because I’m plotting a bank heist in my head? Do you respect that? Do you respect theft, Peter?”

His expression is so satisfyingly startled that she almost does smile. No, fuck this. There are only ten minutes or so left in the lunch hour and she can wander the halls until the next class starts. She goes to step around him, but their shoulders brush and she feels something. It’s more aggressive than the welcoming warmth the bond (that’s what she attributes it to) usually makes her feel when she sees him. This is pure affection and it’s really hard to put her back to it. MJ pauses, facing away from Peter, and she’s almost got the new feeling under control when he turns and starts walking beside her.

“I think we can figure this out,” he says eagerly. Dammit. His enthusiasm for learning is one of the traits she finds most attractive in him. Can’t he just lay off with that fucking fated appeal?

“I think I already have,” she shoots back, not looking at him. “The universe wants to play sock puppets and guess what? We’re the sock puppets.”

“Look,” Peter says. He’s shockingly persistent today as he jumps in front of her and catches her eye. “We don’t have to play by its rules. We can make our own.”

“You wanna be with me?” she asks point-blank. Her chin jerks up instinctively when she questions him, eyes appraising. Either the question or the blunt stare makes him blush.

“Yeah, I, I think I probably do.”

“You want me to fall in love with you? For us to get married? Live together? Have kids? Me and you against the world, forever?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, you can’t just want one thing, Peter,” MJ tells him. Her fingers grip hard at the books in her hands. “There’s no shallow end of the soulmate bond. Its plan is not for us to casually date and let things plateau if it doesn’t work out.”

“But it would work out.” Poor thing looks confused.

“Says who?”

He shrugs.

“Everybody.”

“Check your sources.”

She hangs a left into the girls’ bathroom before Peter can respond, but he’s waiting in the hall when she returns.

“You can’t ignore it,” is the first thing he says to her, pushing off the wall. This time, MJ plants her feet.

“Or you, apparently, if you keep stalking me.”

“I’m not trying to. I just want us―”

“To talk,” she finishes for him. “Which is pointless. You’re not going to gain any ground with me, Peter. I have no ground for you to gain on this issue.”

“Maybe, if you told me why you won’t smile, you’ll feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

“You do not. You’re trying not to let someone care a lot about you when it’s guaranteed that they would. He would. I would,” Peter rambles. He takes a deep breath and looks her firmly in the eye. “Isn’t that, like, the one thing everybody wants? To be able to count on someone caring?”

“I’m not broken just because I don’t want what everybody wants,” she bites back, feeling herself flush with annoyance and, beneath that, embarrassment at being assessed.

“I would never call you broken,” he swears in a quiet voice. He is not going to make her tear up right now. She’s softening though, she can feel it. Stupid sincere soulmate. “I mean, if anything, I’m broken, so I could never judge, even if I wanted to. I know people try hard to find their perfect match, but I feel greedy sometimes with how badly I want it to happen to me. I know it’s not fair to you, I’ve been coming to terms with―”

“You’re not broken, Peter. Wanting someone to love you doesn’t make you broken. Or, if it does, then most people are. You’re not alone just because you don’t have me.”

Clearly, the time to stop herself was one sentence sooner. Because the jerk smiles at her and the next thing she does is agree to discuss this further after school.

―

There was something she said, while they were talking after lunch, that has him considering their potential as platonic soulmates well into third period. That’s what soulmates are for some people―they want all of the kindness and support of the bond with none of the romance, and the universe gives them what they need. When MJ said that stuff about marriage and babies and forever, Peter began contemplating whether they could achieve the third thing without the first two. Almost immediately, he ruled it out. He knew what attraction felt like. Sure, being soulmates was probably influencing him towards MJ, but she wasn’t the only person he found attractive. He used to have a crush on Liz. One day, when his Business class was on a field trip and it rained, he saw Flash with all the product washed out of his hair and was attracted to him (right up until Flash made a few loud comments about getting ‘Penis’ out of the cold weather before he shriveled up).

The conclusion he comes to is clear: Peter’s definitely hot for MJ. While marriage can wait, falling dizzily, hopelessly in love―and properly, in the kind of love they could have with their soulmate bond confirmed―is something he can only ever half-heartedly postpone. He wants to give her presents with love on her birthday. He wants to hug her and feel a new kind of complete. He wants to be her Valentine.

When Peter sees MJ hanging back to wait for him once the final bell rings, he’s relieved. Then tense. Not screwing this up might literally be the most important thing in his future. Trying to reassure her that he isn’t planning some sort of ambush to force a smile out of her, he suggests they talk someplace where other people will be around. She flat-out refuses to go to a coffee shop with him because it would be way too date-like. (Yeah, he gets that, picturing an awkward moment in which he attempts to pay for both their orders, or their shoes bump under the table.) They agree on the gym, where the girls’ indoor soccer team is having practice. Together―him in flannel-lined jeans and her in shorts―they thud up the bleachers to sit at the very top. MJ catches her foot and Peter notices that, when he instinctively reaches out to steady her, she shies away with a regretful look on her face. He really doesn’t expect her to explain, but then she does as they sit down.

“It does something to me,” she says, jerking her head as though to reference their near-contact.

Peter shrugs.

“Yeah, me too, but I’ve never been trying to avoid that feeling. I’ve gotten used to, like, um,” he stammers, “leaning into it. But I’m sorry. I won’t touch you.”

“Well, you know that I have the opposite habit.” MJ takes a deep breath, and Peter gets the sense that this would be the moment for her to be vulnerable with him and explain why she works so hard to ignore him. Ultimately, volunteering that information appears to be too much of an emotional effort. She decides to ask, “Is that something you’re interested in knowing more about?”

“Anything you wanna tell me,” he says quickly. He’s been waiting forever for this opportunity. “You can ask me things too. Open book.”

“I’m… not used to just spilling stuff about my life.”

He considers that.

“Why’d you say yes to this?”

She sighs and leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Then, she cups her face in her hand and turns to meet his eye.

“I’m tired of the way seeing you is always such a big deal. The bond says it’s wonderful and my brain hates it. I don’t want to be so torn all the time.”

“So…” he begins uncertainly. “Which outcome are you hoping for? Thinking I’m wonderful or hating my guts?”

The speed with which MJ turns her face away from him makes him wonder if she’s hiding a smile. He wasn’t trying to be funny.

“Quit twisting my words,” she requests, straight-faced as she stares straight ahead to where the soccer players are booting around what looks like an oversized tennis ball. “I didn’t say I hate you.”

“Just your brain.”

“Mhmm. My brain hates the idea of you.”

“MJ,” Peter says earnestly. She looks at him. “Why?”

“You control my whole life!” she says abruptly. “I’m sweating from climbing these stupid bleachers because of you. I have the urge to smile right now, when I’m irritated, because of you. Your existence tells me what to wear even when I’m not with you and how to feel whenever I see you.”

“I’m sorry―”

“And I can’t even seriously blame you because it’s not actually your fault!”

The girls’ team has quit weaving and shooting the ball, heading and passing it. Peter gets that MJ wanted a public place, but now he knows they’re being eavesdropped on. He’s quiet, though not because of the potential listeners; he doesn’t want to stop MJ from saying whatever she might tell him next. He’s been longing to hear her thoughts for ages.

“And that’s just, like, surface stuff!” she huffs. She’s flushed. If he could hold her face between his hands, the warmth might stay with him all the way home while he trudges along the sidewalk, ploughing snow aside with his shins.

“Please,” Peter says softly, “tell me more. Tell me anything you want.”

―

She went into it knowing she wouldn’t be allowing her soulmate to make her smile, but MJ didn’t anticipate letting him see her cry. He’s so open and she’s fortified her defenses against this topic for such a long time. Apparently, that’s enough for discussing her emotions and fears to make her crack like an egg. Peter doesn’t rush her or tell her that her feelings are the wrong feelings and the whole time he watches her face with a startling amount of attention. Has anybody looked at her like this? Really looked at her? Ever? She feels like a mom would’ve, but she can’t remember if her mom did. And that’s who she’s talking about, that’s the part of the story she’s at, when she feels the tears dribble out and tilts her head to let them drain away over her cheek. God, this is embarrassing. At least the soccer team packed up and left before she felt her throat getting thick.

“I don’t know if I’m still just letting my mom decide whether or not I get to be happy,” MJ admits, face wet until she catches her tear tracks with the back of her wrist. “I’m trying to do this, ignore the soulmate bond, for me, but maybe… I don’t know…”

“You’re forcing me away from you?” Peter suggests.

“Yeah. I’m abandoning you before we can get attached.” Somehow, this dork has Kleenex in his backpack and hands her one. She blows her nose hard, then crumples the tissue in her hand. “Pretty fucked up.”

“Ok, this is gonna sound really stupid, because we’re not even together, but I don’t think I’m the kind of person who could leave you.”

“You can’t promise that though,” MJ says―so, so quietly. She wants her words to run away and hide under the bleachers with the dust bunnies.

“Would you rather have nothing?” he asks.

Coming from someone else, she’s pretty sure that would be an ultimatum, some kind of threat to accept him as her soulmate now or never get another chance. Peter asks it with as little agenda as he’s asked everything else, easing her through her memories and her dreads.

“I’m not sure,” she says.

“Can I tell you something? I’m not sure I could be with someone whose goal was to resist getting or giving love. I mean, I’ve heard everything you’ve told me and I can see why you’ve been dodging the soulmate thing, but if you get to look way ahead and worry about things that are only possible and far in the future, like me leaving you, then I get to look ahead too.” He pauses and she nods to indicate that, yeah, that’s fair. MJ thinks this is very brave of him, stepping out of the situation for a second to consider what he might need later when what he wants is to be with her right away. “I don’t wanna be left either. I don’t want you not to be able to overcome the idea that soulmates are bad and wrong. Maybe it doesn’t matter if you think that in general, but if it’s a part of our relationship, then you’re always going to be expecting things to end. It would be like you were trying to think your way out of it instead of enjoying whatever we could have. And what we could have, by the way? I don’t think the bond has anything to say about that. Does it encourage us to get together? Yeah, sure, fine, it does and we accept that’s how it works. Once we are together though, isn’t the rest on our terms?”

Finally, Peter takes a longer breath and some of the intensity fades from his expression.

“You’re looking at me funny,” he notes. “I know I talked a lot. Are you gonna say something?”

“Just that you sounded smart and it’s pissing me off.”

He gives her dry joke a sad smile.

“Losing people sucks.” His voice is like a rock falling, falling, falling through deep water. “For as much as you don’t want me to make promises, I know that I’d try really fucking hard not to lose you. You can’t hate me, or your brain can’t hate me, for that. It’s the human element of this whole thing, which should be the part you like, since you’re so anti-destiny.”

Looks like Peter’s raised his own spirits enough to offer a conspiratorial little smile at the end there.

“Another repulsively astute point,” she says flatly and watches his smile broaden. Fuck, it makes her heart feel like a marshmallow that’s melting onto a s’more and simultaneously being stretched until it tears into sticky ribbons.

He checks his watch and gets to his feet.

“I gotta get home.”

“Did I miss the soulmate-decision deadline?” she teases. Feels weird. She stands too and they clomp back down to the gym floor.

“No! God, no, I wasn’t trying to rush you by looking at the time!”

“Parker, I’m messing with you. Chill.”

She eyes his winter clothing.

“Or maybe don’t. Looks like you’re chill enough already. Sorry for being born during a blizzard. My dad told me he and my mom barely got to the hospital in time for me to not be born in the car, the roads were so bad.”

Peter appraises her right back.

“Sorry for being born during a heatwave. I wish I could ask my mom what that was like, but you already know about my parents.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to start comparing…”

“No, I know,” Peter says. “I miss her, but it’s not always the worst, having a certain moment make me notice that I could’ve learned something from her here. It’s actually easier to appreciate than forget, even if it’s sad for a little while.”

“If I promise to try it, will you cut it out with the insightful bullshit?”

Instead of answering that question, he springs something else on her.

“For the record, I know the only reason you didn’t smile at me is because you were trying so hard not to.”

Immediately, MJ turns her back on him and smirks as she heads for the far exit.

―

Peter’s seen a lot of snow. Almost all the weather he’s ever seen is snow, and even at the point in his day when the snowfall takes its lunchbreak, there’s over a foot on the ground and dense grey clouds up above. He thinks it’s crazy how snow fills people with wonder―mainly in Christmas movies and holiday episodes of TV shows. The way he feels about snow is probably how people living in late-spring-to-early-fall weather feel about grass. It’s just there, the base layer of their environment.

Except tonight Peter has his blind up, watching the thin sprinkle the blizzard has slowed into catch the light from other people’s apartments, a clean, meltable glitter. He’s tired and can’t sleep, but it’s a quiet comfort of sleeplessness, not the kind where he stresses and twists around between his sheets. The weight of the day keeps him flat on his back in bed as he thinks it all over. His feelings, MJ’s, the satisfaction of finally having a long talk with her, the biting pain of seeing her cry. In his mind, since he first guessed it might be her who’s his soulmate, he’s been tailoring their love. Their potential love. He didn’t know what it would look like before having her to mould a concept around. Learning that she was probably his soulmate, studying her, Peter decided they were meant for a slow love. Love would be something that slipped gradually across them, like pulling up the sheet on a bed or stepping into a long summertime shadow.

He’s surprised at the kind of love MJ envisioned; from the berth she gave it when she talked that afternoon, it sounded big and powerful and immediate. Faster than an avalanche, ringing through their lives louder than a thunderclap. He wanted them to confirm their bond soon so that unhurried love could begin to develop and she was afraid that the second they started would be the second they were swept away. No wonder she avoided him, Peter thinks. The love she anticipated would equal an act of god and he isn’t ready for that either. He turns his face away from the direction of the window and stares at his dark ceiling.

Peter has plenty of forceful love in his life―he can’t consider it enough forceful love, because there’s no such thing as enough love, is there?―thanks to May. She took on the mom-ish role of caring for him after his parents were gone, then the single-mom-ish role of raising him into approaching adulthood without Uncle Ben. While her aura is soft, her whole attitude has been very roll-up-your-sleeves where he’s concerned. May faced down his extreme need for parental TLC like it was a battle and continues to love him fiercely, even if his steadily increasing age and Happy’s calming presence temper her a little these days. So Peter’s covered in the department of that kind of love. He hopes his forever person doesn’t feel the need to bombard him with a truckload of love from the start; it would make him feel pitied, somehow, like they were putting all their effort into making up for the fact that he doesn’t have parents anymore. Peter knows he doesn’t have parents, he doesn’t want or need to be smothered to make up for their absence.

This chance (it still isn’t a solid thing) with MJ could let him grow into devotion. He’s kinda longing to know what that feels like. The theoretical adjective he’d attach to it is normal. Whatever the universe’s input here, Peter really believes the most normal thing after confirming their bond would be to allow things to develop however felt right. And with the bond backing them, technically anything they do would be right, right? He wants them to grow up together and grow into each other. He doesn’t want MJ to be the bond or a love lightning bolt, zipping down to fry him. The assurance that they’ll fall in love is enough to start. It’s an invaluable forecast, as dependable as the weather he’s been experiencing all his life.

When his phone buzzes on his nightstand, Peter feels as though he’s being retracted like a telescope―thoughts way far out in space drawing back to his building, his bedroom, his body. He rubs his eyes with his knuckle as he looks at the screen.

So… you were unexpectedly deep today, MJ’s text reads.

They never exactly exchanged numbers, but he got hers from Betty one time and saved it just in case. His heart beats faster at the thought that maybe MJ did the same.

And you’re still mad about it? Peter guesses, tapping out his reply.

Oh, you are up.

There was a lot to think about, he tells her honestly. Why are you still awake?

Because the day you were born must have been the most humid day of the year. It’s too hot to sleep.

Also, MJ tags on, that crap you said about thinking.

―

She lets her phone drop onto the thin cotton sheet of the mattress and uses its light to help her see as she rips nervously at the skin around her fingernail. Texting Peter wasn’t even really a thought―she just found herself doing it, surprised by how natural the instinct felt and despite the fact that she really doesn’t reach out to people. That she would reach out to the one person she was utterly vulnerable in front of less than 12 hours ago is something MJ would never have expected of herself. But she’s let him in this far.

And you decided to talk to me about it? Peter finally responds, postponing further anxiety.

I know. My boundaries are completely fucked after this afternoon. I might never be able to bottle up my feelings again. Hope you’re happy, loser.

Well, Peter texts, you don’t have to do that. If you need to empty the bottle every once in a while, I get it. I can be your glass. Or your straw?

You want to suck up my feelings? Like some kind of feelings-vampire?

God, she is fucking this up so severely. He’s going to wish she’d just kept ignoring him instead of caving to his persistent friendliness and that look he gets that’s all eyes, totally impossible to say no to. Amazingly, her last stupid text isn’t enough to make him say he’s going to sleep now, or worse, not respond at all.

Just a feelings-relief, he corrects. Unless you like the idea of the feelings-vampire better.

You don’t need to bend to my will like that, Parker. Suddenly, MJ’s kind of angry.

Don’t give me what you think I want just because you feel bad about seeing me cry, she continues. Or because you think you can make this work by doing whatever I want. Never appease me.

I care, he says simply.

Wow, she feels like a jerk.

Because destiny told you that you could take that care and trade up for the promise of eternal love? she snarks back, apparently not quite done with the jerk thing.

I had no idea texting you would be even more fun than talking in person.

Is he… is he being sarcastic with her? MJ smiles at her phone. Incredible.

I’m fun in all mediums, she says, not having a clear idea of what she means and looking forward to Peter trying really hard to interpret it.

Knock knock, is his response.

Who’s there?

Ummmm idk.

‘Ummmm idk’ who?

No, I seriously don’t know, he says.

MJ snorts in confused laughter and shifts around to find a cool spot on her sheet; she wasn’t lying about the heat.

Why would you send me the beginning of a knock-knock joke with no joke? she asks.

I thought I’d think of the rest of it in the moment. I know that’s dumb. It just felt like we were maybe in a zone there and I wanted to keep it going.

Relax. I’m not going to strike you out for one ill-conceived knock-knock joke.

What about two?

I wouldn’t test your luck, MJ counsels, still smiling.

She can see that he’s composing a reply, but she beats him to it: I was thinking about what you said about destiny. Actually, what you said about the opposite of destiny, the thing about the human element.

And?

She can practically sense his tension as she holds her phone in her hand.

I think it’s a good thought. That two people can still make a relationship theirs.

Ned said something to me today.

How unusual.

Shut up, Peter quips back. He said that confirming you’re somebody’s soulmate is like the last big step.

Oh?

Yeah, I think he’s totally wrong.

So do I.

Replying that way felt like a huge leap and yet, MJ took it. It doesn’t take long after that for her to start getting tired, blinking long and slow until she’s only opening her eyes when her phone vibrates against her fingers. Peter says he’s tired too and they wrap the conversation up. There’s a suggestion of seeing each other at school the next day. It shouldn’t have any special meaning―it’s a throwaway farewell, less than a promise―but she reacts to it with her last bit of focus. See you in the morning, are her exact words.

She cranes her phone out over the side of her bed with her arm, then lets it go just a little too far from the floor. Probably fine, though it clatters against the surface. Protected by the night and her closed eyes, MJ feels around inside her mind, looking for the taut tug-of-war rope that should be telling her that, one, she doesn’t want to meet with Peter because he’s probably her soulmate and soulmates are a lie and a scam, and two, that she does want to meet with Peter because he has a cute smile that he shows her even when she doesn’t give him much reason to. Then she thinks about how much she prefers first steps to last steps.

―

He could be a clone. He could be a clone in a programmed world, living his programmed life the same every day, but with, like, fake memories that fool him into believing in variety. Because he does believe in it. Today, Peter wakes up and change seems possible.

There’s snow on the ground outside and he has to get his socks on before putting his feet on the floor and he’s eating his breakfast too slowly and the way his aunt and Happy are dressed says it’s still spring. Peter asks about rain. May says, “Any time now,” and keeps reading the paperwork she has folded open on the table as she scratches absently at her arm.

“Amazing,” Peter replies, meaning it, as he picks up his bowl and slurps the rest of his cereal until milk runs down his chin.

His aunt glances up to give him a funny look. He’s pretty sure it’s not about the milk, but there’s no time to ask. If he hurries, he’ll leave ahead of his usual schedule, thanks to this new breakfast hack. He wants to get to school. School is such a great place to be.

Peter races out of the apartment and down the stairs like he’s 10 minutes late instead of 3 minutes early. It’s in the building’s entryway that he gets a feeling. Four feet from the glass door that he sees her standing on the sidewalk, snow she can’t feel partway up her mostly-bare legs. Pushing the door open when she quits looking away down the street and stares straight back at him instead. When MJ smiles, Peter smiles back. It could be a life-changing moment, or it might just be a reflex. Because they started to let each other in, he’ll probably never know the answer. Anyway, why does there only have to be one?

“I’ve been waiting,” she says. “I thought you’d be down sooner.”

He laughs self-deprecatingly.

“I tend to cut my timing kinda close in the morning. You wanna get going?” Peter jerks his head to the side.

“Yeah, we should. You’re probably getting cold just standing there.”

With his timing slightly off, they’re ahead of schedule for the bus he’s usually running to catch, so they decide to walk up to the next stop. As they approach the intersection, the light changes to yellow.

“We can beat it if we run,” Peter suggests, trying not to strangle himself by catching his scarf as he hikes his backpack higher on his shoulders.

But MJ goes, “Wait,” so urgently that he stops at the corner.

“What is it?”

“I thought I just…” With a puzzled expression, she extends her hand, palm up. Not towards Peter, but away from him. “…felt a raindrop.”

They lock eyes.

“You want my coat?” he offers. MJ smiles again.

“I’ll let you know.”

[ultra-super-definitely-yes]

Incantatio – An enchanted forest and its new protectors:

Genre: Adventure, Magic, Fantasy

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of doctors and medicine, and almost spiralling

Chapter 1- The Search:

Summary: Johnathan Dimalanta isn’t afraid of going into Taiki Thickets, nope. He has to get the magical valerian to save his Ina (mother) after all.

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Friday, October 11, 2019

5:43 p.m.

Valerian: a perennial flowering plant native to Europe and Asia. But there’s more to this herb than that. It can be very helpful to patients with sleeping disorders; as well as ease anxiety, depression, menstrual and stomach cramps. Upon studying about this herb, I know that it will help her.

I’m aware that in this era of modern medicines, the doctors won’t listen to this idea and brush it off as outdated. They’re just in it for the money. They don’t really care about Ina.

But I’ve got something better than plain old Valerian. No, I’m talking about the magical type. Laugh at me all you want, but all I wish for Ina is a good night’s sleep and good health.

So where would I find it? Just a little on the outskirts of Quinliang, in Taiki Thickets. The locals call the forest “haunted”, because of what happened to the people who dared to venture in there. Some were reported to have found at the edges of the forest; half-dead or amnesic. Some were never found. But it was only because of their ignorance, greed or incomplete knowledge of that enchanted thicket.

There are few things I want to be sure of so that I don’t suffer the same fate as them:

1: Don’t go too far.

2: Don’t take anything else on the way.

3: Leave the forest before sunrise or sunset, never during either.

 This may be the last entry I write in here, so wish me luck.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            -Johnathan

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Inserting the pen into a make-shift pencil-holder, Nathan closed his book shut and laid it on the glass coffee table. The sun was going to set soon; he had to get going.

He planned to leave quickly, so he didn’t pack anything. Just a zip-lock bag tucked into his old quilted cardigan-sweater that his Ina bought for his 20th birthday. It was still a little too big for him, the sleeves reaching his knuckles. He also took a greyish-pine knit cap with him, just in case. He shut the door of his apartment and went two stories down to the parking lot. Pinsan Steve was kind enough to have let him rent his old Suzuki after he had got his driving license. And for half the rate anyone else would offer! He couldn’t say no to that now, could he?

He unlocked the maroon door and sat down on the leather driver seat. The custom-made air freshener swayed impulsively in no particular direction at the impact of the door slamming shut. “Woo boy! We’re actually doing this then.” he thought out loud, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

But that’s when the anxiety set in. He was actually doing this.

“What if this is the last time I drive this car?”

“What if I never see her again?”

“What if she dies alone- no. We’re getting out of there alive, stupid.” Nathan took a deep breath.

The aroma of mint and green apple grounded him as he looked up at the little apple hanging from the rear-view mirror.

“Right. Let’s do this.”

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The indigo sky slowly faded black as Jon rode through the busy roads. White and yellow streetlights overlooked the traffic like beacons of light. However, the more turns he took, the traffic reduced slowly. Then the car reached the unmetalled roads that took him away from the suburbs of Quinliang. There weren’t as many artificial lights as there were in the city, but that didn’t discourage him. Soon he saw huts and small, single-storey houses. He passed a few neighborhood markets every now and then.

Sure, everyone was happy but there was a hint of something on their faces that unnerved Nathan. Was it fear? “I’ll find out soon enough,” he supposed.

By 6:30, the sun had already set. Stars decorated the ebony black sky, and the single storey houses disappeared from sight. Only plenty of huts and stone-and-brick buildings. The children who were playing outside were ushered back inside or went in themselves.

Then he stopped.

There it was.

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A/N: Hey, so this is a reupload of this story Incantatio so you might have seen this before. This is kinda old so my writing style will change in the next more recently written chapter. I hope you enjoy this story!

Taglist: @transgender-er, @sovereign-of-the-skittles, @poisonedapples, @nanashi-rei-official, @romanapologist, @illogicallyinclined, @fibi-draws, @aidensm8, @somniumm-art, @aimasup, @briandthemoon

[sleepychai-fics]

Road to Salvation ~ Chapter 3 - Detained

Warnings: mentions of blood at the end (nothing graphic, just the way it moves), heights, guns (let me know if I’m missing anything)

Word Count: 3,229

Pronouns - Female

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in BNHA. However, there are many OC’s in this fic that I’ve created. These OC’s belong to me and are specifically created for this fic.

Feedback is appreciated!

Want to be part of the taglist? DM me or reply to this chapter!

Michi awakens with a twitch, the result of a nightmare he thankfully doesn’t remember. His body shivers from the lingering fear, heart beating away in his chest. His eyes stare blankly at the dark crusted wall in front of him.

He flinches at the feeling of gentle pressure rubbing along his spine, but the gentle hush that accompanies it settles his nerves. Without a second thought, he lifts his head out of your lap and crawls up to you, nuzzling his face into your chest.

You adjust your arms around him, pulling him closer to you, letting him relax in your comfort. You tuck Dabi’s jacket around his figure before you continue your ministrations along his back.

You remain this way for a few minutes, sitting up against the wall with Michi buried into your chest. Sunlight streams into the room through the front door and the boarded-up windows.

Michi mumbles against your chest. You peer down at him. “What was that?”

He pulls his face out of your chest, opting to press his ear against it instead. “Where’s Dabi?”

A smile adorns your face. “He’s downstairs helping with breakfast. Did you like spending time with him?”

Michi remains silent for a few seconds before speaking up. “He was very nice to me.” Your smile brightens. “He’s really warm and cuddly.”

A chuckle leaves you. “Yeah, he acts different to what you expect, doesn't he?”

“Can we go see him?” Michi lifts his head out of your chest, leaning back to look straight up at you. “I want to give his jacket back.” He grips said jacket around him, tugging it tighter around his shoulders.

“Sure. You should get some breakfast as well.”

Michi shuffles himself out of your lap, standing up next to you. With a pained groan, you stand.

“Are you ok?” Michi looks at you with worry.

With a sigh, you reply. “Yeah, I’m fine kiddo. Don’t worry about me, just tired from last night.” Michi takes your open hand, letting its warmth encase his.

“What did you do?” He says as the two of you walk out of the dull room and into the bright, stale environment.

“I fought some bad guys and saved someone.”

Michi gasps. “Really?” You giggle at his reaction, nodding in confirmation. “Wow, that sounds really cool. But, are you hurt?”

You guide him carefully down a set of stationary escalators. “No. Not really. My muscles are just a bit sore from all the energy I used.”

“Oh. Is that good?” He asks with a tilt of his head, watching his feet as he steps over various bumps and dents.

“Well, it’s better than other injuries.”

As you make it down the first set of stairs, you look over the balcony to see a small crowd of children gather around a table, plates being filled with single pieces of bread.

“What is an injury?” Michi questions as you continue to lead him down another flight of stairs.

“An injury is like a cut, or a bruise, or a broken bone. Your body is damaged in some way,” you inform, giving an assuring squeeze to his hand.

Once you make it down the final steps, you immediately spot Dabi over at the table with the other kids. He stands at the end of the table, regulating a small fire barrel, helping a couple kids toast their bread pieces.

Michi sees him too, waving his unoccupied arm at him. Dabi snaps his gaze up, a small smile appearing on his face as he notices the two of you. You make a beeline towards him. As you pass by the table, you snatch a piece of bread from one of the many plates, handing it to Michi.

“Good morning.” Dabi greets, passing the toast to a small child.

“Morning.” You reply, leaning on the table. “You left quite the impression on Michi. Thinks you’re all cuddly and warm.” The playful tone is associated with the knowing smirk.

Dabi chuckles, looking down at Michi. “Aw, you're messing with my tough-guy image,” he says, ruffling his head earning a chipper giggle from the child.

Michi carefully untangles himself from the jacket and holds it up to Dabi. “Thank you for letting me cuddle with it.”

Taking the jacket, Dabi smiles. “No problem buddy. Did you sleep ok?”

Michi frowns, looking down at the ground. “I had a nightmare.”

You kneel down beside him, gently running your hand along his arm. “Really? Do you remember it?” Michi shakes his head, unconsciously leaning towards you. “That’s good then. It’s ok to have nightmares. I have nightmares all the time.” Michi looks at you with disbelief in his eyes. “I do. Everyone has nightmares. It’s normal. Don’t be afraid to cuddle one of us when you have them. Whenever I have a really bad nightmare, I snuggle into Dabi. And he does the same thing as well, he cuddles up to me.”

Michi looks to Dabi for confirmation, clearly unsure on whether he believes it or not.

“It’s true,” Dabi confirms, passing another toasted piece of bread to a child.

Michi turns back to you. “A-are you sure? I don’t want to wake you up if I do that.”

“Of course. I don’t mind. We can snuggle the nightmares away together.” You reply with a smile, which passes on to Michi.

“(Y/n). Dabi.”

You stand up and look to your side. “Zara.”

Zara is a rather tall woman. Her long red hair tied up in a messy bun with a few strands framing the sides of her face. She wears a baggy sweater, bits of thread peeking out in various places, and a pair of leggings on the edge of ruin. Her tanned complexion can only be seen by her face and her hands.

Zara positions herself in the gap between you and Dabi, smiling at the few children who greet her before turning her focus on you. “Do you mind doing a library run? We need a few school books and storybooks.”

Dabi nods. “Sure. We’ll head out after breakfast.”

“Great.” Zara hands you a folded up piece of paper. “If you can’t find anything on this list, try to get something similar to the subject. And for fantasy books, look for ones about dragons. The kids are especially interested in those at the moment.”

With a smile, you pocket the list. “Sure thing.”

Michi’s brown eyes gaze up into Zara’s blue, curiosity swimming among his irises. With a smile, Zara kneels down. “Hi there. I heard you came in last night.” Michi subconsciously leans closer to you.

You chuckle, placing a hand atop his head and giving it a soothing rub. “You don’t have to be afraid. She’s a nice person. Just don’t say anything about her hair.” You smirk as Zara scoffs and sends you a playful glare.

“Don’t listen to her kid. I’m a sweetheart,” Zara replies, scrunching up her nose.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Ignoring your comment, Zara lays her palm out flat. “Look what I can do.” Michi watches as a sparkling light appears hovering above Zara’s palm. His mouth drops in amazement. He continues to watch as the light begins to slowly change colours.

“That’s so cool,” Michi mutters as the light fades to nothing.

“My name is Zara.”

Michi looks to her gentle gaze. “My name is Michi.”

Zara smiles. “It’s nice to meet you Michi. Will you be going with these two to the library?”

His eyes light up, switching his gaze to you. With a shrug, you reply. “I don’t see why not.” Michi nods enthusiastically.

Zara laughs as she stands. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. See ya’ later!”

You, Michi and Dabi all wave your goodbyes.

“I’ll get stuff ready to go.” You say, grabbing another slice of bread for yourself. “Would you like to come with me Michi?” He nods with a small smile on his face. You then turn to Dabi. “I’ll meet you out front.”

Dabi nods, using his quirk to feed the fire.

Michi’s hand grasps onto yours as you head back upstairs.

~*~

Almost a dozen books are piled in your arms. Thankfully they aren’t too big, but it still requires a bit of effort to walk straight with them. As you walk out the aisle, you see Michi staring at a book in his hands.

You approach him from behind. “Do you want to read that book?”

Michi turns to face you, putting the book back in its place. “N-No! I was just looking.” He starts to play with his fingers.

Kneeling down, you smile. “It’s okay. The good thing about libraries is you can pretty much borrow however many books you want. As long as you return them.”

Michi looks at you with a dazed expression. “Really?” Your nod of confirmation brings a small smile to his face as he retrieves the book from the shelf.

You giggle as he pulls out the book, holding it to his chest.

“Are we ready to check out?” Dabi approaches with his own handful of books.

You stand up, looking to Michi who holds his book with one hand and clasps his necklace in the other. “I think we are.”

After checking out the books and putting them into your backpack, you head off.

Michi walks in between you and Dabi. One hand holds tightly onto yours whilst the other grips onto his book.

Dabi glances down at him. “What book did you get?” The simple question seems to set a spark behind Michi’s eyes.

“It’s a story my mum read to me a lot. It’s about a little girl who runs from home. She has magic powers that no one knows about. She meets a boy and he takes her to a new world where everyone has magic. She grows up to be the queen! It’s my favourite bedtime story.” Michi excitedly explains, smiling as he moves his hands closer to his chest, roughly where his necklace sits at his collarbone.

Dabi hums in response. “That sounds like a good story. Do you mind if I read it with you?”

“I’d like to read it as well,” you add. Michi immediately nods, the smile growing on his face. “We’ll read it together before bed tonight then. Or we can-”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

The three of you stop, eyes flicking up to the uniformed officer in front of you. “I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but I’d like to ask you a few questions about a recent event. May we discuss this down at the station? It won’t take long.”

Your eyes immediately flicker about the environment. The streets aren’t too crowded, people are grouped in pairs, a few feet of space in between each couple. Two police cars remain stationary nearby, the silhouettes of other officers can be seen in the front seats. Scattered amongst the street, you notice a few suspicious eyes staring at you, brows crinkled in observation.

You smile at the officer. “Sure. Do you mind if I take a minute to part with my husband and son?”

The officer, unbeknownst to your actual relationship with the boys, hesitantly nods. You can practically see the nerves dripping off of him.

You bow your head slightly before turning to face the boys.

Dabi is calm, but under the guise he’s alert and guarded. Blue eyes silently glare at the officer, the dangerous intent hidden beneath his composed mask. His fist clenches tightly by his side whilst his other hand gently touches Michi.

Michi looks terrified; you can see it's taking all his energy not to burst into tears right then and there and you silently praise his control. His eyes are glazed over with dread. His hand clasps around his necklace, bringing it close to his lips.

With a smile, you kneel down in front of him.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving me.” You almost tear up yourself. Anger washes over you; seeing a small child have anxiety about you leaving them is inexcusable.

You offer your arms out for a hug which he immediately dives in for. “I’m sorry Michi, I really don’t want to go either. But I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Michi presses into the hug, nuzzling his head into your neck. It takes a few more seconds before you have the heart to pull back from him. With a brush of your fingers, his teary river stops momentarily. “Dabi will take good care of you while I’m gone.”

Michi sniffles, leaning his weight onto you. “I don’t want you to go.”

You bite back the wave of tears that threatens to arise. “I know. I don’t want to either.”

He throws his arms around you once again, holding onto you tightly. “Promise you’ll be safe.”

“I promise.” After parting from him once again, you smile at him and run your fingers through his hair.

Standing up, you face Dabi. Without hesitation, he plants a smile on his face and opens his arms. You engage in the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and bringing him in close. You situate your mouth close to his ears, allowing your voice to drop to a faint whisper.

“Take care of him. Make sure he isn’t alone.”

In response, he tightens his grip on you. “I will.”

“If I’m not back by tonight, I’m MIA.”

“Your record is clean so far, don’t dirty it now.”

You smile. “I’ll try not to.”

With a final squeeze, you part from each other. Michi reaches out for Dabi who immediately picks him up and settles him on his hip.

“I love you!” You call out with a fake smile as you turn back to the officer.

“Love you too!” You hear Dabi reply.

The officer looks relieved when you return. “Shall we make our way to the station?”

You mentally hold yourself back from punching him, despite the desperate urge to. Can’t risk it now, not yet at least. Instead, you nod politely.

As you follow the officer, you glance around, observing every watchful eye on you. The officer opens the backseat door for you, gesturing for you to enter. You stand at the door, smiling at the officer as you peek over towards Dabi.

You watch as he ducks into an alley, Michi held tightly against his grasp.

A smirk crosses your lips as you return your attention to the officer.

There’s no more stalling, you strike out your fist, knocking the officer out immediately. He drops to the ground in a heap, blood pooling out from his nose.

Ignoring the screams and yells, you spring upwards, using your quirk to push against your shadow, propelling you high into the air. At the peak of your jump, you latch onto a window sill and scale up the remaining floor of the building.

Just as you reach the top, a hand grasps onto your hand. You gasp but quickly regain your composure. Flipping over the grip, you tug him over the edge, sending him plummeting to the ground. Once climbing over the ledge, you stretch your hand out before clenching it in a fist.

The officer’s momentum depletes substantially, enough to only leave him breathless on touch down.

“Stop right there!”

You turn around, coming face to face with another 4 officers, each armed with a handgun. For a moment, you stop moving, calculating your next move.

Locking eyes on the officer closest to you, you leap at him, grabbing the gun-wielding hand and twisting it back. The response is a yelp of pain as the gun falls from his hand. You catch it, flip it to hold it by the barrel before throwing it to another nearby officer. It hits him in the eye - not your exact target but enough to have him dropping to the ground in pain. A quick jab to the first guy’s chin leaves him out of the fight for now.

A bullet grazes your skin the same time the gunshot rings in your ear. You ignore the fiery pain that shoots through your left shoulder, swatting your hand out with your quirk activated. The officer falls to the ground, his gun clattering to the ground. The last one standing looks shocked, but only for a second. Taking the opportunity, you leap in front of the officer. He takes a swing at you, aiming for your head. You block the punch with one hand and go for one of your own with the other, decking him in the mouth.

You bolt across the building, jumping over the small gaps to reach the next. The blaring sounds of sirens surround the area, sparking anxiety within you. Holy fuck, how many are after me? The answer shows itself once you reach the end of the building.

The streets seem to be clear of any citizens, occupied only by several cops as well as a couple of heroes.

“Fuck.” With a shake of your head, you jog back a few steps. “Okay (Y/n), you’ve done this trick many times. The only difference now is you have an army of police after you. Not any different than your typical night.” The encouragement you say to yourself doesn’t do much for your shaking nerves.

Denying yourself another thought, you take off in a sprint. It only takes you seconds to approach the ledge. As your foot connects with the ledge, you throw your hands down violently. Your quirk activates as you do so, launching you high into the air, allowing you to fly across the street. Your descent quickly follows, gravity pulling you back down to earth. It’s almost too fast, but you’ve done this plenty of times beforehand, you know the drill.

Outstretching your hand, your fingers flex. You grab hold of your growing shadow on the building. With a confident hold on your shadow, you pull it back, slowing down your descent enough for you to roll safely onto the ground.

You continue to dart across buildings, jumping over alleyway gaps and making a couple of turns, trying your best to scrape off the persistent heroes.

Another street approaches and you speed up. Everything goes to plan until you jump. You feel it through your fingers before anything else. The lack of weight in your fingers confuses you and it isn’t until you start falling towards the street do you realise what’s happened. You quirk stopped working.

“No!” You scream as your body plummets down to the street. Your eyes quickly scan the environment below and target a light post. Thanking whatever high being is up there, you reach out to grab it.

Unfortunately, you fall just short of it. You touch it with the tips of your fingers, but don’t clasp onto it.

Everything flashes before your eyes.

Fabric wraps tightly around your body, stopping any and all movement of your limbs. You grunt as your body is whipped upside down, your head inches from the ground.

Blood rushes to your brain too fast, your body unable to comprehend the fast motion and quickly shutting down. Fiery hot pain shoots through your arm and your head thumps painfully with the excess blood. Before your vision cuts out, you catch a glimpse of a figure.

Floating black hair and bright yellow goggles are the last things you see before you lose consciousness.

[inactiive-shit]

House of Memories

Sanders Sides

Pairing: ex-anxceit

Warnings: mentioned abusive past (no details)

Summary: Twelve years. Twelve years of his life that he had spent in love and loving it, twelve years he had spent making plans and working toward a future for them to have, twelve years that ache, twelve years that burn to think about, twelve years that blind him to everything else. Or: Virgil and Janus break up. Virgil feels afloat, with nothing tethering him to who he is or who he was. He's not sure where to start.

~~~~~

If you’re a lover, you should know the lonely moments just get lonelier

The longer you’re in love than if you were alone

Memories turn into daydreams, become a taboo

 ~~~

Virgil stares at the wall but he doesn’t really see much of anything.

Twelve years. Twelve years of his life that he had spent in love and loving it, twelve years he had spent making plans and working toward a future for them to have, twelve years that ache, twelve years that burn to think about, twelve years that blind him to everything else.

He’s never felt so distinctly without himself. He has never been the kind of person who staked everything he was on someone else, but at this very moment, sitting in his new apartment filled with boxes that only contain his stuff, Virgil is hard pressed to find himself in any of it. Where did he go? How do you lose yourself?

How do you lose twelve years of love and trust in the blink of an eye? What did he do wrong? Where did they fall apart, fall away from each other? Where did all their love go? If he had been more interested in Janus’ passions, if Janus came home earlier, if they spent more time together, could things have been different? Were they always destined to leave each other this fucking broken?

He shouldn’t even be thinking about that. It won’t help anything.

 ~~~

I don’t want to be afraid, the deeper I go

It takes my breath away-

 ~~~

He can remember, though, every little piece of them. He can remember the ways that they were both so scared of falling in love, of loving someone so much they’d give themselves up. The longer they were together, the worse it got, but the better, too.

Janus and him were two sides of the same coin. They understood each other better than anyone else ever had and that was half the fear. Janus knew every bit of Virgil, understood exactly where he was coming from and why, and he could choose to use that information at any moment to hurt Virgil in a way he would not come back from.

But information like that is a two-way street.

Janus trusted him, so unbelievably much, and Virgil had loved and trusted him just the same. He can remember the day he realized it, the first day that he understood what was happening between them was not something that would just fade away with time.

Janus had brought him a flower, and to most that wouldn’t have meant much. But it was the world to Virgil. He had told Janus that he always loved flowers but had never been able to keep any alive, told Janus that flowers reminded him of the people he loved who weren’t around anymore, told Janus that he hated to see flowers stepped on and destroyed because they were so beautiful and so important.

And Janus had brought him one, a purple hyacinth in a pot, and even instructions on how to keep it living. He’d promised they’d take care of the flower together, watch it blossom, and Virgil had never loved anyone more.

 ~~~

-soft hearts, electric souls

Heart to heart and eyes to eyes, is this taboo?

 ~~~

Janus had been amazing, the best person Virgil ever met. It was no wonder that all the things they did together made Virgil find himself deeper and deeper in a hole he couldn’t entirely say he wanted out of.

Janus was, underneath all those protective layers he wore like the most fashionable sweater to ever grace humankind, a giant softie. He loved little animals (it was the reason Virgil had bought him a bunny for their fifth anniversary) and soft music and lilting words. It was a perfect match to Virgil’s closeted love for pretty flowers and baking sweets and peaceful walks.

Even the less happy parts of themselves went together like butter and toast. They could riff off each others’ harsher remarks for days and they were never afraid to say what they thought. (It was a problem, sometimes, being so open. It was so easy to accidentally misuse.)

They would fight with each other, but they would also fight for each other, and with much less provocation. Virgil protected every piece of Janus he knew, and all the ones that would never be his. He didn’t mind secrets; he just minded that Janus was happy and safe. It was a sentiment they both shared.

But when you can see so many parts of someone else and bare just as many parts of yourself to them, things are bound to get messy. When broken people come together, it makes sense that they’ll both leave more broken than before.

Were things supposed to end like this?

 ~~~

Baby, we built this house on memories

Take my picture, shake it till you see it

And when your fantasies become your legacy

Promise me a place, in your house of memories

 ~~~

They bonded, though, over something that Virgil thinks may have been their downfall. The abuse they endured, the yelling and hitting and fighting. Neither one of them had ever known peace in their lives until each other.

Had they latched onto that prematurely?

Virgil before he met Janus was like a snapshot of something nobody wanted to see. He was angry, so fucking angry all the time, and he fought anyone who looked at him, reason or not. He was a monster made from all the bad things that had happened to him, a mess of a person trying to find something that wouldn’t hurt.

Janus was the same, and somehow, that meant safety. It pissed Virgil off, at first, but every rage-fuelled decision he made was met with cold, steely resolve and just as much anger. Janus wouldn’t have let him burn the world down no matter how much he wanted to, and Virgil returned the favor. He was just trying to piss Janus off. It ended up saving them both.

Virgil wonders if Janus still remembers that kid he met, with the spiky hair and rings and anger. The kid who tried to drown them both just because there was so much air around him he didn’t know what to do with it. He wonders if Jansu can forgive that kid, forgive the man he became, once the dust settles. He hopes Janus won’t forget, won’t hang that person out to dry like he was useless.

Once, Virgil would have thought he deserved nothing less. In the time between, Janus has made him realize he deserves a whole hell of a lot more. And no matter what else happens, Janus did love him. He loved Janus. That’s something that shouldn’t be forgotten.

 ~~~

I think of you from time to time, more than I thought I would

You were just too kind and I was too young to know

That’s all that really matters, I was a fool

 ~~~

They were so young when they met, not-quite twenty but every bit the eighty-year-old war veterans Virgil still feels like on the bad days. He remembers how bright they used to be, though, like the angler fish, that light was just costumed anger that lured people in.

Janus saw through it. Virgil did too. And it was so strange, to be seen. It was odd that someone could see through those layers of anger and hate and pain and look at Virgil, stripped down to nothing but the fear, and stick around. It was alien that Virgil would ever do the same.

And yet.

Virgil couldn’t keep Janus off his mind, not when he hated him, not when they were friends, not when they were together. Janus has always been there, a little niggling thought at the back of Virgil’s head, somehow always the one urging him to think before he acted, telling him off for acting like a moron.

The voice ordering him to get better. The only one he listened to.

No matter what else, Virgil knew it was love. He loved Janus, he’ll probably never completely stop loving Janus. He can’t just get rid of twelve years of relearning intimacy, all the years before that of relearning trust and love. He’ll always be thankful to Janus for sticking around when he was so stupid and hurt, for helping him along, for letting Virgil help Janus, too, because he was just as hurt as Virgil was.

Virgil supposes that they were so young, then. It was the first personal relationship he had ever made that he didn’t destroy immediately. It was the first relationship he had that didn’t hurt him like he expected it to. It was the first time ever, for both of them, that everything that went wrong didn’t feel like the end of the world.

They were young and inexperienced. They dived in headfirst without knowing how deep the water could be. Things started like that generally don’t pan out.

Virgil presses his fists into his eyes. Maybe they were both so starved for anything good that they took the first thing that came along and refused to let go. Maybe this has been a long time coming.

 ~~~

Those thoughts of past lovers

They’ll always haunt me

I wish I could believe

You’d never wrong me

 ~~~

Of course, Janus wasn’t his first relationship. The first had been younger, angrier, brasher. Virgil was hurting and the person he was with was too. They took it out on each other and called it happy.

It was a lie they were both deciding to believe. It was the same lie that Virgil was afraid would come back years later to bite him in the ass. It was the same lie that he though Janus might try to sell. It was the same lie he would have bought even though he knew better.

It took so long, three years, in fact, for Virgil to really truly believe that Janus wasn’t going to turn on him any second. It was the flower, the hyacinth, the reason their kitchen sill ended up looking like a bush filled with flowers.

It took Janus shoving one of his own vulnerabilities in his face and saying, I love you.

But neither of them ever really learned how romantic relationships worked, how the two came together to make something stronger. Any encounter they had before each other was just one bad experience after another.

And they were both so scared of this turning out that same way.

 ~~~

Then will you remember

Me in the same way as I remember you

 ~~~

It hadn’t, but there’s some part of Virgil that wishes it had ended sooner. Less memory traps, less things to make him think about the falling in love. (Flowers, cakes, bunnies, Hozier.) Less things to remind him of the being in love. (Concerts, soft pictures, scary movies, cuddling.) Less things to remind him of the falling out of love. (Working late, making plans without each other, pretending to sleep, being so uninterested.)

People always told Virgil that being in love was one of the most amazing feelings, that getting there felt like falling. No one ever told him that you also fell out of love, that falling out was just the end of the hole, when your body met the bottom and you realized something was wrong.

They felt so similar. It was no wonder neither of them had seen this coming.

He prefers to remember the parts where Janus told him he loved him, where Virgil felt like the sun was exploding inside of him in the best way possible.

But he knows it would be a disservice to them both to pretend the fights didn’t happen, to ignore how much they worked through together and how strong they had to be to make it. It wouldn’t be truthful to not remember the bad times, when they fractured and then patched themselves up with gold. It would erase so much that has so centrally made Virgil the person he is.

He hopes Janus can look at those golden cracks and remember that it wasn’t all good or bad. Things rarely are.

 ~~~

In your house of memories

Promise me a place

 ~~~

Virgil is shaking when he picks up the phone and calls a number.

“Hey, gurl. What’s up?” Remy answers on the first ring.

“Janus  and I broke up. Come over?”

“Holy fucking shit, you give me ten minutes. I’ll be there with ice cream.” Remy hangs up and Virgil texts them the address of his new apartment. The one he’ll be living in that has no traces of Janus in it. He can barely remember a time when he lived in a world that didn’t have Janus in it. He doesn’t know how to navigate the waters.

Probably he should start with unpacking. So Virgil picks a box.

[pkmnclifford]

home. 1

so, this is my first fic ever. i was planning on making different parts as i have the full story in my head already, but i’m not sure!! i hope you’ll like it!! i got inspired by michael’s final fantasy x tattoo. this is a muke fic. thank you so much sweet lou @cliiffords for helping me out with writing this!!! you're a sweetheart ily

summary: michael used to be a rockstar in his hometown. but somehow he blacked out, and now he’s in an unknown city. he finds luke, who will help him to go back home and find out who he truly is.

word count: 2k

warnings: panic attack, blood

taglist: @phantastic1daf​ @talksopretty​ @twilightmomentswithyou​ @babyoria​ @calumspeachy​ @lukeysdimples​ @bloodmoonclifford​ (i tagged recent mutuals!! if it bothers anyone i’ll remove the tags lol)

Michael opened his eyes. He was laying down, on what felt like wet, soft ground. His back hurt, he saw flashes of light behind his eyelids and he had a violent headache. Pushing on his arms, he tried to sit up and saw he was alone, in what looked like some kind of garden. For as far as he could see, there were flowers, green grass, a warm ray of sunshine kissing his face whilst a cool breeze tingled his ears. Looking up, he saw the blue sky and rays of dappled sunshine coming through a tree’s branches, kissing his face. The air was warm, like on a soft spring morning. Michael closed his eyes and sighed.

He couldn't remember how he got there. He could only recall the last thing he saw before falling into darkness: bright, blue eyes, and a hand reaching for his own, desperately. He didn’t know anyone with those eyes. He couldn’t remember anything.

"What happened?" he asked himself, rubbing his eyes.

He tried to concentrate, not paying attention to the distant sound of traffic. He breathed, slowly. He usually did this when he got anxious: sit down, and breathe. His fingers clutched the grass he was sitting on. The cold contact with the wet ground made him shiver. He tried to tell himself what he knew. What he could remember.

"My name is Michael Clifford, I'm 24. I'm a singer. I was at a concert. Wait, was it my own concert? I can't remember... What the fuck happened..." He muttered, taking his head his in his hands. Everything was a blur. As he took his hands off his face, he noticed his left arm felt hot, as though he had burnt himself. He tried to pull up the sleeve of his sweater but didn’t see anything but his armband tattoos. Seeing they were still on his skin comforted him somehow.

He tried to stand up and looked around. He was sitting in a field of daisies, surrounded by sounds he recognized as coming from birds and crickets. He also recognized other kinds of flowers: dandelions, lilacs and...

Roses. Red roses.

He walked to the roses as if they were calling him. When he got closer, the smell immediately reminded him of something.

"Home. I need to go home."

Without thinking, he carefully plucked a rose and cradled it against his heart. A single tear rolled down his cheek, even though he couldn't explain why. He remembered red roses, the red roses from home.

"HEY! YOU!"

Michael jumped. Someone was yelling at him. And that someone was a few steps away.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY GARDEN? GET OFF MY ROSES!"

Unable to tell who was behind the bushes, Michael took a step back and ran away from the voice, which was getting closer, the rose still in his hand. He suddenly stumbled on a rock and winced as a rose's thorn simultaneously sliced through his hand. Confused and scared, he was still running despite not knowing where to, not paying attention to the blood streaming down his wrist.

He reached a fence behind a big tree and jumped over it. The fence was higher than expected and Michael fell on hard ground as he tripped over it. He let out a whine, feeling an excrutiating pain in his shoulder. He had fallen on the pavement, right in front of someone's feet.

"Hey mate! Be careful!"

Michael looked up and saw a boy around his age looking down at him.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" The boy asked, noticing Michael's bloody hand. He reached out his hand to him, as if he wanted to help him getting up.

Michael couldn't say anything. He was mesmerized by the boy's blue eyes and he squeezed his hand harder around the rose he was still holding, not even noticing the thorns making new wounds in his palm. Those eyes. He recognized those eyes. Those eyes were the same ones he saw before he fainted.

The boy was looking worriedly at him. Michael noticed he had blonde curls framing his face. He was wearing black jeans and a printed white tee, a silver necklace shining on his chest, reflecting sunlight in Michael’s green eyes. Without thinking, Michael took his hand and the stranger helped him to get up.

"Someone will have to take care of that hand of yours, it doesn't look good. Where do you live?"

Michael just stared at him. He didn't remember anything and also didn't want to explain everything that has happened to him to a stranger, even though the boy seemed to be very nice. His headache was getting worse and he felt like he was going to faint again. The blonde boy smiled at him.

"Alright, mysterious rose boy. Can you at least tell me your name, and I'll help you get that hand cleaned up. I'm Luke, what's your name?"

"M-Michael. I'm Michael."

"Nice to meet you Michael! I live like two blocks away, do you want to go at my place? I could at least clean up your hand a bit?"

Michael blushed. Why was this stranger so nice to him? Suddenly feeling the pain in his hand, he looked down. The rose had fallen on the floor, his bloody fingers were dripping. He gasped and looked up, noticing people on the street were starting to stare, which started to make him feel rather uncomfortable. Luke seemed nice and caring though, and he was still completely lost.

"Yes, that would be nice" Michael whispered.

"Great! This way, come with me!" Luke said softly, immediately taking Michael's clean hand in his and leading him towards the end of the street. Michael felt his cheeks heat up at the sudden contact with the blonde boy. Walking a little faster to catch Luke's pace, he looked around, looking for something familiar that would tell him where he was. He walked by coffeeshops and small stores, surrounded by strangers, faces he couldn’t recognize. Meanwhile, Luke was asking a hundred different questions.

"So, what happened exactly? I saw you coming out of Adam's garden, that old man is crazy. What were you doing there? Everyone in the neighbourhood knows you don't go there. But you're not from here, right? And what's with the rose? How did you..."

Luke had continued walking, but he suddenly wasn't feeling Michael's hand in his anymore. Turning around, he saw Michael standing a few steps away, looking around. He looked like a stranger in a new world, his striped black and white sweater covered in blood stains on his right sleeve. 

"Michael?" Luke called. Getting closer to him, Luke gasped quietly as he saw tears streaming down the fringed boy's cheeks. He wanted to help him, even though he had no idea how to. He believed Michael had been through a traumatizing experience, but now was not the time to harrass him with questions that could hurt him.

"Michael what's wrong? I don't live that far away, don't worry you'll be okay!" Luke tried to reassure him. "Is it your hand?"

"I don't know wh-where I am, I just don't know" Michael cried out. "I want to go home."

Luke froze as he saw Michael was now shaking uncontrollably. He was clearly having a panic attack. The blonde boy put his arm around his shoulders, softly leading to the edge of the sidewalk to sit down next to him.

"Listen Michael, I don't know what happened to you but I want to help you" Luke said. He was now holding Michael's hands in his, not minding the blood. Crying quietly, Michael was out of breath but couldn't calm down. He looked up and tried to concentrate on Luke's blue eyes, strangely attracted to his soft gaze, noticing the way his nose curved a little up, and how a single curl fell on his forehead, as the blonde boy continued talking to him, trying to calm him down.

"You don't have to explain me anything right now, okay? I'm sorry if I asked so many questions, I'm way too talkative sometimes. Just breathe, you'll be okay. Everything will be okay."

His heartbeat going back to normal, Michael sighed slowly. He felt so thankful to have found Luke. He could have been all alone in this nightmare, but at least he found someone who was nice enough to stay with him and help him out. All this time, Luke hadn't let go of his hands. As the heavy sound of his headache becoming louder, Michael realized how tired he was.

"Are you alright?" Luke whispered. "We should go get your hand cleaned up first, we wouldn't want it to get infected. Then we'll see what we'll do, okay?"

Michael nodded. He just needed to sleep. Sleep forever, maybe. Even though he wasn't usually the kind of person to trust strangers, he had a feeling that he could trust Luke. Getting up, Luke once again reached out his hand to help him. His dizziness made Michael trip but he held on Luke's shirt to prevent falling.

"Th-Thank you" Michael managed to mutter. "I'm sorry for bothering you." He just wanted to cry again.

"No problem, you're not bothering me at all, Michael. I'm glad I can help someone" Luke smiled, as Michael leaned on his arm. "I'm glad I met you."

Michael felt like him meeting Luke didn’t happen for nothing and he was convinced Luke had something to do with what happened to him. Was the blonde boy feeling it too? Michael didn’t know. They walked quietly to Luke’s house. It was a pretty little house, the sort of one you see in movies; with a wooden fence lead to a small garden where grew different kinds of vegetables. Stairs were going up to Luke’s door, painted in a strawberry red shade which contrasted with the house’s white walls, but matched the window shutters. Luke went up the stairs and got out his keys, opening the door and turning around. Michael was standing in front of the stairs, suddenly hesitating.

“If you don’t want to go in, I can just go grab some bandages and stuff inside and clean your hand up here?” Luke suggested as he saw Michael’s hesitant attitude.

The fringed boy was amazed by Luke’s kindness. What kind of stranger would offer to help you just like that? Thankful, he nodded. Luke smiled and said “Be right back.”

Luke disappeared in through the door frame, and Michael stood there and waited for a few minutes. His hand was stinging but he didn’t dare to look at it. Thoughtlessly, he sat down on the stairs, his head against the railing, bringing his knees to his chest. He was in pain. And he was so tired.

When Luke came back, he saw Michael sitting there. “Thank god I found some bandages, thought I ran out of it. I also found...”

Looking closely, he saw that Michael had fallen asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. Chuckling, Luke softly shook the sleepy boy’s shoulders to wake him up.

“Michael” he whispered. Michael suddenly opened his eyes, and when he realized he had indeed fallen asleep on a stranger’s front porch, he felt his cheeks heat up, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry, I fell asleep, I’m sorry...” Michael stuttered, ashamed as he felt tears forming in his eyes again.

“No need to apologize, it’s okay” Luke laughed. “Maybe it’s better if you go inside, so you can lay down. You look exhausted.”

Once again, Michael’s dizziness made him lean on Luke, who helped him getting through the door frame. They got in, and Luke showed him his couch. He layed him down slowly, putting a pillow under his head. Michael felt so embarrassed.

“Thank you, it’s too much, you don’t need to...” he said but Luke shushed him immediately.

“Hush, I’ll let you sleep in a minute. But first, your hand.”

Michael stayed quiet as the blonde boy took his wounded hand on his lap, opening the bottle of antiseptic product. “This is going to sting a little bit.” Luke said. He took a cotton pad and started dabbing it on Michael’s wounds. The injured boy winced at the sudden pain but didn’t say anything, biting on his lip. Luke carefully cleaned the blood off his hand and put a bandage around it.

“There you go, all cleaned up!” Luke said joyfully. “I hope it’s going to stay in place, if not I’ll just...”

But Michael had already fallen asleep again. Luke softly put his banded hand next to his head, resting on the pillow, and covered Michael up in a blanket.

“Sleep tight, rose boy.”