#through the rollercoaster (or maybe just sliding behind him?) and singing along and i think i dreamt that part due to VHS Christmas Carol

[youremyonlyhope]

Weird intense sertraline dreams are super real side effect.

[colossal-fallout]

[ Classified ]

The full report - Eren Yeager

The following report details all information on Eren Yeager. Contains NSFW content and reader must be over the age of 18 to view this document.

For your eyes only.

Name: Eren Yeager

Birthplace: Shiganshina

Height: 180cm / 5ft 9"

General

[ A1 ]

Appearance & Hygiene practices:

Eren's chestnut brown hair is always clean and fresh. Whenever he pays you a late night visit, he'll have most probably just gotten out of the shower. Coconut scented shampoo of sorts? Whatever it is, it smells so good.

Prefers showers over a bathe. He says it's to save time, but he spends a good 40 - 60 minutes in there, easily.

Once he's dry, likes to throw on jogger bottoms and a hoodie over his bare skin. His bare skin that is now so soft and scented as his favourite shower gel which is either tea-tree oil or Coconut.

If he wants to remain clean shaven, Eren must shave every 2-3 days. Sometimes he likes to grow it out but nothing ever past a long stubble.

Minimal body hair.

Trims the hairs on his pubic bone/lower stomach. Has pleasuring you in mind as he does so. Will take into consideration the friction against you.

Totally clean shaven testicles.

Eren's nails are short but that's because he bites them. [ see section A3 ]

Beautiful set of teeth. Brushes twice daily in a modern AU.

Eren adores it when you brush his hair for him. He finds it extremely relaxing as you massage his scalp. His eyes will close and a small, barely audible hum will emit from time to time.

Eren's skin care routine is pretty basic. All of the steam from sitting in his hot, frequent showers for so long seems to do him wonders - his skin is flawless and worthy of envy.

Due to the healing power of being a Titan shifter, Eren has no scars.

Eren has quite large hands with long fingers. He doesn't wear rings or jewellery as it reminds him of the burden of when he had to keep that damn key on him at all times. Will however, put up with a wedding ring.

[A2]

Body & Love language:

Eren is a pretty introverted person. His hands are usually tucked away inside of his pockets - be it either trousers or hoody/jacket.

He hunches a little too. Likes to feel hidden. He's had enough attention over the years and wants nothing more than to just shrink away in a crowded room. Or maybe, it's the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Brooding, moody exterior. Extreme "resting bitch face"

Shrugs a lot. At first glance, you'd think he was a moody teenager trapped in a grown man's body.

Likes to sit with his feet flat up on the chair with his knees splayed - you'll usually find him like this with an arm resting over a knee while the other is at a 90 degree angle pointing away from his hip.

Fumbles his hands together in formal occasions when he can't sit so casually or tuck them away.

Likes to drape his arm over you without touching you. His arm will rest above you on the top of the chair. A clear indication of "They're mine" and "I will keep you safe"

His hips will usually be swivelled in your direction, regardless of where you are in the room. A subconscious body language of sexual yearning.

Eren likes to hold hands with you when you're walking. He's not huge on PDA but likes the strong yet subtle showings that you're together.

Tends to rub his thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly when you do so.

His love languages include physical touch. Can get very needy and touch starved pretty easily. Not in a overbearing way, but even just a run of his slender fingers through your hair is enough to keep him going until the two of you are in a more private setting.

[A3]

Bad Habits & Tendencies:

As mentioned above, Eren bites his finger nails. His toe nails too. It's pretty gross to be honest.

He never does it in public, but he has been known to do it in front of you when he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Get's very fidgety when irritated or annoyed, which is pretty often. Especially if Jean is around.

Short temper. He's learned to tame it more over the years where he doesn't show it so easily. But everyone has their limit and when his is reached, his yell is booming and pretty intimidating.

During an argument with you he has been known to raise his voice, but it's not the frightening roar you've heard him unleash on others before.

Always apologises to you after he's calmed down. Even though it wasn't that bad.

If you two ever have a bad falling out, will lock himself away for days. He'll be pissed at himself for letting it get so bad and depressed that you two are having such problems. But he'll do anything he can to fix it.

[ A4 ]

Common misconceptions:

Obviously everyone has their own cannons and opinions. But I don't personally see Eren as being an abusive partner. Yeah, he has his problems and treats his friends like shit but there's a reason for that we'll probably see in the last chapter. If you're worthy enough to pierce that cold and distant shell, you're a very special person and he'll treat you as such.

Eren actually has a large heart hidden under that huge chip on his shoulder. He cares and loves the people around him unconditionally. Even to the point of carrying out mass genocide to protect them.

Still... He does have a dark side to be weary of at times.

Even though he's gross while in Liberio, usually Eren is actually pretty clean.

[ A5 ]

Food & Drink:

In a Modern AU Eren loves fancy coffees with the weird names. The longer to pronounce, the better. He just likes the fact they give him energy and the fancier ones taste good.

Due to not having meat for so long, a good ol' fashioned beef/lamb stew is his favourite.

Doesn't drink in canon.

Modern AU, his alcoholic beverage of choice is bottles of beer and craft ales. Sometimes is a sucker for red wine.

[ A6 ]

Modern Au:

Eren wears loose clothing. Hoodies, loose jeans, those baggy cardigans too.

His texting style is spam over one long message. Especially if he's pissed off. He's too impatient to sit and type in paragraphs.

Drives a black car. Don't ask me what type, I don't know cars. But it's black, 'kay?

It also has "black ice" air freshener inside.

Likes to ride quads and mopeds along fields. He's a thrill seeker. Rollercoasters, bungee jumping... you name it he's game.

Eren plays the guitar. He took lessons for it but after about a year he just went his own way and self-taught.

If he sees a guitar at a party, he will pick it up and play it. He won't sing though.

He actually hates singing. He finds it embarrassing.

Always has in his air pods/earphones.

Likes any sort of music that is catchy.

Probably streams on Twitch. He won't talk much though.

Could have a wide range of jobs. Coffee shop, could be in college, might be a ride attendant... who knows? It's anyone's guess what Eren is doing. He doesn't talk about himself that much.

Romance & NSFW

[ B1 ]

Crush:

Eren would definitely be in denial he has a crush on you at first.

• “Does y/n seem different to you?”

Armin; “No…? In what way?”

“I dunno… Just, different.”

• His poor stubborn brain would be ticking for weeks as to why he suddenly wants to be near you a lot more often and has urges to touch you, even if it’s just a slight brush against your arm.

• Will find any excuse to do extra training with you

• Once he FINALLY clicks on as to why he’s had these feelings, he’ll be pretty knocked off his feet and a little annoyed at himself.

I’m here to kill the enemy...

• Still though… Can’t seem to keep himself away.

[ B2 ]

First kiss & general kisses:

After the initial denial and keeping himself away, he'll just decide one day he's had enough of feeling this way and decides to to something about it.

He won't shove himself onto you. He'll do some sly probing to see if there is any indication of reciprocation.

Knowing Eren, he'll indirectly piss you off or insult you. He didn't mean to. He's just lacking social skills. Man aint smooth.

You'll slap him, probably, where he'll keep his head away from you for a few seconds, realising he's pushed you too far. Whichever side you palmed him away, he'll stay.

He'll slowly return his gaze to yours before gently holding your arms, apologising and planting his lips onto yours.

His general kisses are quite firm and forceful. Not in an aggressive way, but a "god I want you so bad" way.

Always either slides his arms around your waist or cups your face/head.

He tastes like sweetened tea <3 / Coffee in a Modern AU

Loves coming from behind and snaking his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck when you're doing something. Doesn't like it when your attention is away from him for too long.

When he's feeling soft and tender, will dance his nose with yours and catching your mouth in a caress.

When he's super turned on, he'll suck your tongue, bite your bottom lip and kiss anywhere he can.

[ B3 ]

Sex:

Ha ~~!

Eren is up there with the best when it comes to sex. He knows what he's doing and he does it well.

Extremely skilled with his fingers and tongue. He'll have you crawling the walls with hysteria as he likes to tease you throughout the day. He more than makes up for it, though.

Gropes, nips, kisses, licks, bites, flicks... anywhere and everywhere he can.

Is the most vocal when you perform oral sex on him. Will groan so deeply, his entire body will vibrate.

Dirty talk is this man's second language.

"Look how desperate you are for me." / "Look how desperate for you you've gotten me..."

"Do I feel good like this?"

"Am I making you feel good baby?"

"You're so good at that. Fuck, such a good girl/boy"

"S'so fuckin' tight."

"You're my little fuck thing, aren't you?"

"You're perfect."

"I love you..."

Are some of the many things you'll hear while he's fucking you.

He doesn't really have a favourite position. He'll gladly take you anyway he can. If he's in a rough mood, he'll bend you over the sofa, take you up against the wall... But if he's feeling more soft he'll make slow, passionate love to you for hours.

He does have a strong soft side at times.

Dominic Dominant. He loves seeing you totally at his mercy, the power over you the most arousing thing in the world to him.

Big daddy dilf vibes. He knows what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it too.

The only time he’ll sub is if he wants to be lazy - letting you ride him and use him to your heart’s content.

Dirty talk. It can get pretty degrading at times. If you’re not into that, he respects that boundary.

Will absolutely ruin you.

Low-key loves it when you claw his back in hysteria. He thrives knowing he can send you absolutely insane, and he can just heal the claw marks in a matter of seconds. Sometimes even during sex (which is the hottest thing ever)

In an AU modern, he would love to fuck you near a large mirror or record you both getting at it to watch at a later date.

A lot of hissing, humming and low groaning, especially when he’s close to unloading.

Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.

Hair pulling is his overload language. Will tug fistfuls when he gets too turned on.

[ B4 ]

Kinks:

The risk of getting caught. He likes having risky sex in semi public locations. Makes a game of how loud he can get you to moan, knowing someone would probably hear you.

Light Degradation. When he’s in a rough mood, he doesn’t mind calling you a few names. Nothing too extreme. And if it’s not your thing, he’ll respect that boundary.

Loves a good ol’ 69. Having you on his face with your ass in view is just… *Chef’s kiss*

Speaking of ass, he loves to bend you over too, allowing himself in nice and deep with a great view and something Juicy to grab.

[ B5 ]

Aftercare:

Aftercare with Eren isn’t anything special unfortunately. He’s another who gets sleepy after sex.

Won’t ignore you though. Often lazy pillow talk is on the cards and telling you how much you mean to him and how beautiful you are.

Will run his fingers across your scalp to soothe you.

Also will kiss any bite marks or finger bruises he’s left behind and ask if you’re okay.

Relationship with loved ones & becoming serious

[ C1 ]

Friends & Family:

When Eren meet's your friends family he will be polite yet quiet. He wants them to like him but he won't pine for their approval. If they like him, awesome. If they don't...? No big deal.

Same goes with your friends. He'll stay quiet until spoken to at first, but once he's been eased into conversation, he'll flow with it a lot easier.

Again, he'll be polite but don't expect him to kiss ass, because he certainly wont.

[ C2 ]

Marriage:

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks and onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiner's blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

[ C3 ]

Children:

Eren has a soft spot for children, believe it or not. As seen before the expedition to the forest of giant trees. He sees his old self behind the innocent glint of unaltered admiration within a child's eyes.

He's not super into child play though. He wont pull weird voices or funny faces. He'll sit at their level and speak to them like they were anyone else. Obviously, watching what he says around them.

If they're unchecked and acting themselves, he'll become quickly annoyed as they wreck havoc around him and will have to leave the room or he'll get too agitated.

If his s/o discovers they're pregnant he'll seem to take it well. But inside he's falling apart and freaking out. He won't ever show it to them, but he doesn't know how he could be a father. Would he be like his own? Would he be able to be a good figure to look up to? What if he fails? Is it selfish to bring a child into this cruel world?

He'll be shocked but understandably so. After after a couple of weeks of self-reflection and brooding, he'll start to feel better about the whole thing.

More protective over his s/o than usual. Will make sure they're eating, drinking, resting and god help you if he finds you doing something you shouldn't such as trying to lift something heavy.

Will hold your hair and rub you back, as well as bring you water while you're having your morning sickness.

"Babe? It's four in the afternoon. How come you're still sick?"

"Eren, it's called morning sickness but it can happen any time."

He'll click his tongue. "....That's a dumb name, then."

The first time he feels the baby kick within you, his heart absolutely melts. His eyes enlarge and you could swear you saw them soften with that spark behind his emerald greens he had when you were younger.

His large palm is warm against your stomach as he feels around, the little flutter of your child hitting against his skin making him flinch in surprise at first.

"Woah..." He'll gasp in amazement. "They're already so strong. Hey, y/n? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sometimes." You'll laugh softly.

He'll gingerly place his face to your skin, a little embarrassed he's doing this; but he feels the need. "...Don't hurt your mom, okay?"

As your pregnancy progresses and you get larger, he will not leave your side. If he has to, he'll be worrying and you'll be occupying his mind. In a modern au, he'll constantly call and text and will get Mikasa or Armin to check in on you often.

Will be so gentle during love making. He's terrified he'll hurt the baby.

One of the only times you've seen Eren panic in his adult life is when your waters break.

You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee. Climbed back into bed and felt a strange pressure, followed by a pop. Then a warm gushing sensation. You wait a few seconds to settle your own panic before you nudge Eren awake.

"Eren..."

He'll bolt up, confused. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Eren, my waters have broken."

"Shit. Okay. Shit. What do we do? Shit." He'll leap out of bed and throw the lights on. You get to your feet where more water will start to drop onto the floor. "Shit, shit. I'll get the bag. Do you need help getting dressed? Okay, where's my jacket? WHERE'S MY JACKET?!"

"Eren, honey I need to you calm down."

"Okay, sorry. I'm calm. Shit. Shit..."

Will hold your hand with a worried look the entire time you're in labour. Has water and snacks on hand.

Will watch in amazement as your child is pushed into the world. This magical moment changes something in him, but right now he's not sure what that is.

They will bond immediately. As soon as he holds your son/daughter he can't take his wide gaze off them.

They're inseparable.

Any doubts of being a bad father is washed away as he takes them under his wing and teaches them about the world.

[skinks]

The Toziers convince Sonia to let them take Eddie to disney world on his 14th birthday. Needless to say he LOVES every second of it and that’s when Richie realizes that he’s lowkey in love with him

ok anon stop reading my MIND I was actually thinking weeks ago about this literal very same thing. Well, a variant, but yours is adorable too omg. Also I think a lot about them going as adults post-movie and Eddie spends the whole day just going on the Hulk rollercoaster at Universal over and over

but god imagine Eddie having a huge bowl of Disney World ice cream plonked in front of him at the Rainforest Cafe with birthday sparklers, and they’re like “Eat up son, you’re not 14 every day!” and Eddie tries to blow out the sparklers and not cry simultaneously. Eddie at a theme park is actually so personal. He tries ONE rollercoaster (Thunder Mountain) and immediately becomes an adrenaline junkie, and Richie’s sitting next to him hearing him shriek and swear and their hands are clasped together overhead as they hurtle down a plunging loop, and he’s like oh no.

My thing was that I have this image of a 90s family photo of Maggie and Went squishing long haired teen metalhead Richie between them maybe at Magic Kingdom or in front of the big ball at Epcot, and he’s taller than both of them with a gruesome unintelligible black tshirt on but he’s got the biggest goofy smile, and he’s wearing Mickey ears cause it’s his BIRTHDAY. But 14 is probably better cause maybe like, Went and Maggie saw how upset Richie and his friends all were the year before and want to cheer him up?

Then I thought, his parents say he can bring another friend with him if he likes, and Bev’s already gone to Portland right? Mike and Bill are working, Ben and Stan are both at different nerdy summer camps (I know Richie’s birthday is in March but let’s pretend they take him as a joint bday/end of school year treat) and so he brings Eddie. Richie kinda wanted to bring Eddie the most in the first place, so it works out perfectly. Eddie’s only allowed to go because he’s still riding his gazebos wave of defiance and also they promise Sonia Eddie won’t go on a single dangerous ride (wink), and she’d hate to be seen to be ungrateful, people would talk.

Richie and Eddie get their own room in the motel and trampoline between the two beds because they’re little monsters. They always run out onto the balcony at night to watch the thunderstorms. The first time they walk through the gates at Magic Kingdom Eddie’s like :00000 Richie look! EVERYONE’S wearing fanny-packs!!!! and Richie’s like yeah >:( but you were a cute dork first, and Eddie’s like hey fuck you—wait...... cute? and Richie’s like uhhhh HEY LOOK IS THAT PLUTO

They freak the fuck OUT at the Star Wars bit in MGM, back when it was still called MGM. Maggie and Went let them see The Muppets 3D three times in a row and Richie gets a Kermit shirt, and whenever Eddie starts pestering him about sunblock Richie sings It Ain’t Easy Being Green to drown him out.

The see the Indiana Jones stunt show at MGM and Richie decides he’s gonna be a stuntman. Then they go to the driving stunt thing and Eddie says it would be super cool to be stunt driver, and Richie’s like we can be a stunt team!!!! together!!! And Went grins, “Like Siegfried and Roy,” and Maggie elbows him.

Eddie overcomes one of his many anxieties and pets some lizards at Animal Kingdom. They fill their hats with water from the spouting fountains at Epcot and then put them straight on their heads, dumping water over themselves to cool off. It’s actually closer to Maggie’s real birthday than anyone else’s so they have dinner at Epcot Mexico for Richie, Mags AND Eddie and the mariachi band comes over. Richie and Wentworth start singing a totally inaccurate Spanish Happy Birthday and Eddie almost sinks under the table in embarrassment. People are staring, and he’s so used to people staring in public when his own mom causes a scene, but this is a fun scene, Maggie’s rolling her eyes and clapping along so maybe it’s not so bad.

They make up games to play in the long lines for rides, Maggie and Went joining in on Eye Spy, or Richie’s “Guess Which State That Gross Family Are From” game, but don’t join in with Richie and Eddie’s complicated patty-cake-thumb-war hybrid. Eddie always has a ton of water in his backpack and a lil hand-held fan in his fanny pack, and sometimes in the hotter lines he feels very bold and squishes his and Richie’s faces cheek to cheek so they can share the fan, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference cause Richie’s face almost feels warmer when he does.

At Typhoon Lagoon they wrestle all the way around Lazy River (and get chastised by the lifeguards) and have major water cannon wars. Eddie watches all the fit young lifeguard dudes up in their chairs like 😳😳😳 that looks like a... cool job. Helping people. Hm.

They split a thing of churros. They get right up to the top of the tallest slide and Eddie gets scared, but Richie just clambers all the way back down the stair tower with him, mouthing off at the bigger kids giving them grief, and Eddie’s like “you should have just gone without me” and Richie’s like nah, be it’d no fun without you, and Eddie thinks about this entire vacation and for a wild moment he thinks my whole life would be no fun without you.

They return to see Maggie lying face down on her deck chair and towel, reading her book with her sunny yellow bikini top untied and Went is Very Attentively Applying Sunscreen to her bare back lmao. Richie’s like UGH GROSS and Went jumps a little like, “oh fu—uh, hey boys, you’re back quick.”

The concrete is so hot they have to run quick from pool to pool to stop their soles burning. Richie can’t wear his glasses in the water so he clings to Eddie the whole time, both of them slippery and giggling and Eddie feels like he’s getting a full body sunburn every time their wet bodies bump together, even though he’s wearing like six coats of factor 50.

Oh and you know they go to Universal. Oh BOY do they go to Universal. Eddie screams on the Jaws ride when the animatronic lunges right against where he’s sitting, and he jumps back in his seat and like, Richie must’ve been way closer than he thought because he falls all over his lap and Richie’s like “Hooper ya idiot, starboard! Ain’tcha watching it!” in his Quint From Jaws Voice, which is actually one of his better Voices since Quint sounds like every other curmudgeonly Maine old-timer back in Derry, but this time he’s pretty shaky about it for some reason.

They go to the new Horror Make-Up Show and Richie waves his arm so hard he gets picked as the volunteer, and winds up making the crowd laugh even more than the hosts, they’re all mock-outraged like “Who’s your agent! You’re here from Mouse Town to make us look bad, right?!”

Then when the Wolfman bursts out, Eddie can see there’s a moment where Richie’s whole body flinches bloodless, his arms come up to cover his face, and his head jerks to stare out for a moment into the crowd looking like he did when he saw his face on a missing poster, and Eddie overcomes his terror of being Perceived by the crowd to yell “GET HIM RICH” and everyone laughs, Richie grins, and it’s fine again.

On their last night they go back to Magic Kingdom to see the fireworks, and they’re exhausted. Sun-dazed and sugar-filled and adrenaline-drained and the fireworks make everything kinda dreamy. They’re shuffling along behind Maggie and Went to get a good spot when they see Maggie take Went’s hand. Richie pulls a face at Eddie and Eddie scrunches a face back and they snicker, and Richie makes a mock “oooh~ Eddie~” noise and grabs Eddie’s hand—they both keep laughing and watching the fireworks, but like... then it stops being funny and starts being something else. Richie’s just holding his hand, and the crowd is so thick and dark under ballooning Florida clouds and the fantasy sky, so anonymous that nobody notices but them. Eddie’s heart might be shooting into the sky and exploding into sparks as well, he’s ready to collapse and he can’t possibly LOOK at Richie but for a moment he’s like shit, they’re right. Happiest place on Earth.

[slxyangel]

On Your Feet (Izzy Stradlin’ x Reader)

Summary: The shower gets a bit more steamy than usual when you are both in it.

Wordcount: 1.8k.

Warnings: Essentially smut, oral (F receiving), sliiiightly rough parts (blink and you’ll miss them), explicit language (duh). Despite the name, there’s no foot fetish, don’t worry.

A/N: This is the first Izzy smut I write and I’m so damn excited to share it with you. I’m tagging @agroupiewhore because she asked me to and @slashscowboyboots because Izzy is her guy and I thing she might like reading this as much as I liked writing it. Also, I’m planning to do a taglist, so if you want me to include you, just tell me in the askbox and I will.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

You had a thing for standing orgasms. The kind that you forcefully had to go through holding onto something or someone, because if you didn’t you would fall apart, literally. Those that made your legs tremble and made you feel insanely weak before, because of the effort; meanwhile, because of the bliss; and after, because of the exhaustion. And Izzy knew it. And, since he was a natural provider, he provided.

The shower had started normally, for God’s sake. You even were alone in there, which lately happened once every solstice. Not that you were complaining, obviously, but having showers with your boyfriend usually led to both of you being late everywhere and thanking the odds for not getting any broken bone in the process. So, yeah, you were on your own, absentmindedly humming a tune in your head, you don’t really remember which one, when he opened the door of the bathroom.

Up until then everything normal, he sometimes did that when you were taking your sweet time in the shower and he had to pee or brush his teeth. At first that always annoyed you, but given the fact that you only had one bathroom in your flat and that the door had no lock, you ended up getting used to his intrusions. Oh, and let’s not forget that it wasn’t technically a shower, but a small bathtub with a curtain, a tap and a shower head that could be either hanging or in your hand. Because nuances are important here.

There you were, singing and swinging the shower head, minding your own business, soaping your whole body and planning your outfit for the day, when suddenly the curtain flew open and, no words spoken, Izzy stepped into the tub with you, stark naked and with a boner bigger than Manhattan. Because that’s how one gets in a shower. Stark naked, I mean, not the boner, that’s another story. He took the shower head from your hand and hovered it all over his body, wetting every single millimeter of his exposed skin. The sight was downright sinful: his eyes closed, his hair dripping, his breaths blowing away all the little drops that dared come in contact with his lips, his mouth open... 

- What are you looking at?

- You.

What a dumb question to ask. He must had sensed your eyes burning his skin like laser rays from head to toe and side to side, not missing a single detail. Not that you hadn’t seen him like that before, you obviously had, but it never failed to impress you. It was moments like that when you asked yourself more than ever, “How the hell did I land this?”. But he was provoking. Izzy loved to tease, that was not new; and you lowkey highkey loved to be teased. In any case, he was just being pointless; he couldn't do what he had just done, especially being so visibly horny, and try to play it cool, because clearly he wanted it more than you did. Well, at least that was true right before he stepped in there with you, but right now… well, right now maybe the scores were even.

Interrupting the course of your thoughts, Izzy moved closer to you, holding your hips and giving you a kiss so nasty you started to think that the water that ran down your legs was not water. Then, without letting go of your lower body, he kneeled on the bottom of the bathtub and looked at you from below with big eyes and a smile that resembled a panther's right before it catches the antelope.

He buried his head between your legs and worked his way to make you tremble the way he knew you loved. He didn't even bother prolong the issue, but you silently thanked him for it, because you didn't think you could stand the agony of a never arriving orgasm. In less than a minute, one of your hands was already in his black mane of wet hair, and the other one tried to grab the wall next to you, obviously with little success. By then the showerhead was already on the floor. You felt how your senses got close to and far from the edge, and then close again, like waves that threatened to drown you in the most beautiful euphoria, and you couldn’t contain the moans.

And he stopped. Just like that, he stopped and withdrew his head. Your eyes, almost worried, found his, almost amused, as he stood up from his original position.

- What are you…?

- Turn around for me, babe.

His words came out of his swollen lips at the same time he gently positioned your back against his front. And then, definitely not that gently, he pushed you against the wall and thrust into you in a swift, eager motion. You were already really, really wet, so his shaft slid in with no problem. Your sensitive walls started clenching around him in less than no time, because after what he had just done to you, your whole organism was craving its sweet release. He was fast and rough, and if you didn’t know him so well you wouldn’t have noticed the irregularity in his movements that told you he was getting desperate too. His right hand grabbed and then slapped your buttcheek and, with his other hand, he caressed the side of your face that was not pressed against the marble tiles. His fingers grazed your hair, your temple, your cheek and your lips, and once they were there you started sucking on them so good, so filthy, suffocating your moans and letting him enjoy the sight. Your eyes, almost shut, begged him for whatever he was willing to give you and your knees seemed dangerously close to give in.

- Izzy, please…

You didn’t even know what you were saying or what you wanted to ask him for.

Him.

Just him.

More him.

His lips made the distance with yours disappear, twisting your neck in an almost impossible angle. Then, his left hand traveled from your jaw to your breasts and south from there, sneaking down where you couldn’t want him more even if you tried. Insanity was about to take over you but, in the worst moment, his voice in your ear implored you not to let go, not just yet.

He pulled out.

You couldn’t convey how infinitely frustrated he was making you feel, but you couldn’t hide it either, because an anguished, angry and fucking horny moan was faster leaving your lips than you were containing it. You knew that, if he hadn’t stopped right then, you wouldn’t have been able to hold yourself back, because he had you there, right there, at the point in which only one more movement would have been fatal yet terribly wonderful.

You were now facing each other, heavy breathing, impossibly closer and fighting against the most dominant of your basic instincts. His eyes, locked with yours as he said “I just want to look at you”, could have been your death sentence, but you had one task to complete. You stood on your tiptoes, holding onto his shoulders so you could keep yourself balanced and softly kissed his mouth. Your legs were barely separated, just enough for him to creep the hand he wasn’t holding your waist with between you two and slide his fingers along your folds. Before you had time to enjoy the contact, he took his cock in his hand and lined it with your entrance, pressing his tip against your center. Very slowly and without separating his eyes from yours for even a second, he slid inside of you.

The penetration was shallow but, in exchange for the lack of him filling you up, you had him everywhere else. Every spot of skin in your core was melting against the friction. Your clit was throbbing in a pleasure so intense it felt almost close to pain, and his length sliding it up and down did all but helping ease it. You craved for more, and held him tighter as if your bodies were going to merge into each other at any given time. Your legs felt like jelly and, since you had to stand on your tiptoes for the magic to happen, your balance threatened to leave your body. He felt your fingers latching onto his shoulders, your nails digging his skin and your knees buckling for a split second, but he would never let you fall. His hands held your ass up, desperately closer to him, and he gave you the support you, at that point, lacked and didn’t seem able to regain anytime soon. He kissed you fiercely, swallowing the sounds your body made. He didn’t stop moving for a second, and when he felt that familiar twitch happen inside of you, all he did was smile and press you to his front. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, all of the built up anticipation he had exasperated you with was finally released, and your body was spinning unbearably fast. Your head flying, your lungs emptying themselves in a scream you heard behind what felt like a wall of glass, and your limbs losing their power for a tiny moment. It was like riding a rollercoaster, except all there was was Izzy, and the rest of things had been created with the sole purpose to revolve around him, his hazel eyes and the way he absentmindedly owned the world.

You were so caught up in the clouds that you hadn’t realized his pleasure had synchronized with yours to the millisecond. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as his arms embraced you, and the scraps of the glorious grunts he emitted still resounded there, against the skin he had painted purple with his lips. His hair still dripped down his back, his shoulders and your chest with now colder drops. A shiver ran down your spine. It had been a while since you forgot about the still on warm shower head and only dedicated yourselves to one another, so now that the pleasure that comes with lust had faded, the temperature was sensibly lower. His body abandoned yours, and you flinched at the loss, but you comfortably regained your posture when he took the shower head from the floor of the tub and covered both of you with the heat you were missing. Just like that you stayed, next to each other, skin to skin until a light cloud of steam settled inside the bathroom, as the witness to how both of you recovered your breath and your legs kept shaking.

[diamondcamefromhell]

Timeless love

Jaskier x Reader part 5

[PART 1]  [PART 2]   [PART 3]  [PART 4]

Summary: This is an AU, where Y/N is a young woman, trying to make ends meet with her freelancing writing job. She lives in her small Nottingham studio apartment along with her cat Apollo. Things change when one evening as she is waiting for her taxi, she meets what she thinks is Joey Batey, but the man in front of her is convinced he’s Jaskier, a character from her current favorite show. Y/N now has to figure out what to do.

Warnings: drinking and just some cheesy cheese

Word count: 2,637

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for liking this story and encouraging me to write it, i sooo expected this to be a flop, and i really appreciate the [so far] positive feedback ahhh! we writers do fuel on comments sometimes, lol, so whenever you lot say you like it i go so soft and THANK YOU hope you like this part <333

Jaskier doesn’t look at me, keeping his gaze at his arms. I see him try to blink the tears away, but he fails, as some escape, washing down his face. I reach out, putting my hand on his.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, not wanting to disturb him. He wipes his face with his free hand, looking at me.

“It’s accurate.” His voice sounds rough and deep. I squeeze his hand. “Like, really accurate.”

“It must be scary.” He hangs his head low.

“It is, Y/N. But at the same time…” Jaskier now leans back on the coach, closing his eyes. His lashes now cast shadows down his face, making him appear so much older. “I am glad that it is, at the very least, correct. Not some fake story, just using our names and faces. It’s real.”

“I cant even imagine what you’re feeling. What must be going through your head.” I whisper as he opens his eyes, gazing at me. “But I want you to know I am here to help you, in any way I possibly can.”

“I have no doubts about that.” He reassures me, brushing hair out of his face, taking a deep breath in. “It’s scary, but it made me upset because… I miss it. I miss Geralt and Roach and I miss Velen and Novigrad.”

“You’re homesick.” He nods. “I promise we will get you home, we will figure it out. Something, somehow.”

“Thank you.” He offers me a smile, and I stare into his eyes, wondering just how much they have seen. How much of a different world, so far away? I wish I could experience that. With him. But then I also know, I belong here and he truly belongs there.

“Until then, Jaskier, maybe I should allow you to experience more of my world.” I say, taking laptop on my knees, exiting Netflix.

“I would be recognized as the guy who plays me, unless I can experience it from your home.” I shake my head.

“I should have thought of it sooner, if I am honest.” I sigh, turning laptop to him. “We have wigs. And some people wear cute little masks as fashion. We could pretend you are one of them, get a wig, and boom. You’re a different person, free to roam the world. We could go to eat out or an amusement park or clubbing or…-“

“Is it a date?” He cuts me off, immediately sending a blush to my face.

“Sure.” I stutter as he giggles, and my heart eases up a little.

So I order a wig. A blond one, spend good pounds on it. And a mask. And just more outfits. They should arrive here by tomorrow. I leave the shop, not wanting to know what my bank balance is looking like.

Then I open some more tabs. I begin grilling Jaskier, trying to distract him. I ask where he would want to go eat, if he even wants to go ride some rollercoasters. He agrees to it all, as his eyes lighten up and his shoulders relax. My hear beats faster.

The next day when items arrive, he tries them on, and while the wig is not the best, you cant really recognize him. So that same evening, I decide it’s time we go to a pub, something he is almost familiar with. We’re walking from the taxi, towards the pub just out of town, as I begin explaining it to him.

“It is similar to a tavern, in my opinion at least.” I say, as he nods. “You can go there, order some food, drinks, whatever really, just a place to hang out.”

“Sounds cool.” He says, not sounding impressed and I grin at him.

We make it inside, as the warmth surrounds us. I hear some pop music play, wondering what Jask will think about that. I guide us to a further corner, a table behind a pillar. I know some waitresses call it a “lovers nest” and that sheer name makes my heart skip a beat. Sadly, we are using it for coverage mostly.

We sit down, Jaskier’s back facing the pub, as a waitress gives us our menus, giving a weird glance to the bard, but not commenting on his outfit.

I forced him to wear a simple white shirt with a oversized colourful jacket. It had patterns of marvel superheroes, which I thought was cool, but he said wearing “green goblin” on his ass wasn’t his cup of tea.

“You can take your mask off.” I encourage Jaskier now, as he practically rips it off. Underneath, I see a smile.

“This is nice.” I hm in agreement, looking at the menu.

“We can start with drinks.” I say, turning it around to the drinks side. “Unless you’re hungry.”

“No, I’m okay on food.” I smirk, twisting his menu too.

“Then let’s drink.” He seems to like that.

We order some cocktails, although Jaskier insisted of good old ale. And some shots of different spirits. The waitress brings it, wishing us a good night, and I know she probably wont bother us much. Unwritten rule for lovers nest.

So we drink up, talking about everything and nothing. I tell him about how I find Apollo on the streets, poor boy was bones and skin, full of lice and worms in his belly. Costed me a lot, but I was determined to take care of him. He tells me about the time before he met Geralt, how he learnt to play the lute by himself.

“I would wonder the fields, singing my heart out. I wasn’t very good then.” He laughs, looking into the distance with a nostalgic look growing on his face.

“How come?” I ask, sipping my Mojito, which Jaskier didn’t like.

“The wolves would run away, whenever they would hear me.” I chuckle, and his gaze comes back, landing on me, as his lips curl into a smile. “But I learnt.”

“I know.” I say, as he grows silent. He hasn’t sung since we met. “You should, however, prove it some time.”

“Hm.” He smirks.

I almost don’t hear it, in a faintest voice, Jaskier begins to sing. In a language I don’t understand. I don’t know if he spoke one of the elder languages, if it was elven or something, but it sounded beautiful. So sad, however.

My gaze seemed to encourage him, as his voice grew ever so braver. He didn’t take his eyes off me, as if to make sure I was listening. I wouldn’t dare to do anything else. Then, as sudden as it began, it stopped.

“That was beautiful.” I say as the light above our table flickers. “Even if I understood nothing.”

“Not mine song. One of the elves I’ve met on a road taught me.” My curiosity grows as I lean in.

“What is it about?” That makes Jaskier blush, as he winks at me.

“I’ll tell you another time.” I lean back now, crossing my arms.

“Not fair.” I argue, but he doesn’t budge.

“I promise, you will learn someday. Just, not today.” I roll my eyes, easing up however, as I reach back for my mojito.

“Oh! I love this song!” I say as a slightly louder one comes on. It’s Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking Out Loud’

I spring to my feet, drink still at hand, as I dance to the rhythm, twirling and twisting around, not caring if I look graceful or anything. I was feeling the moment. I sing along to it, not being anxious if I sound bad. The wonders of alcohol.

I finally make eye contact with Jaskier, who seems to be mesmerized. I reach out to him, pulling him up just as the lyrics hit ‘Maybe just a touch of a hand’. I keep singing, making him dance with me. He kind of doesn’t move, his lips slightly apart, eyes wide open.

I take step back, to sing the chorus and I twirl around him, smiling. I keep singing, now mostly just waving my body side to side, looking at the bard in front of me. The whole pub seems to disappear, nothing else matters. Just me and him, in his stupid wig.

Just us, in this world. Scared and confused. Lost. Not sure of what tomorrow may bring. But for now, we were in this together, and in this very moment, I counted all of my blessings. The biggest one stood before my very own eyes. His lips still parted, his gaze still on me.

My chest tightened as the song was nearing the end and I walked towards him. Just to make sure he is real, truly here. And he was, as his hands land on my waist and he finally swings with me, as I silence my signing to a mere whisper, placing my forehead on his shoulder. Breathing him in, storing the scent in my brain. I memorize the way his hands lay, engraving it in my body, so I could remember it when he is not there to remind me.

I touched him. I smelled him. And now.

I pull away, and before I can change my mind, before worry and anxiety come over me, I place my lips on his. My eyes are shut, as I am scared to open them, even when we pull apart.

Now I tasted him too. The pina colada he just drank was still on his lips. Coconut and a mix of alcohol. But there was something else, something I couldn’t point out. I guess it was just the way his kiss tastes.

“You can open your eyes.” I hear hip whisper, as the song ends. I jump a little, opening my eyes. He gazes into me.

“Sorry.” I stutter, stepping back, as his grip loosens and I slide out of his arms.

“For what?” He furrows his brows, and I feel heat rush to my face.

“I crossed the line?” I say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Oh, Y/N.” He lets out a laugh, as it eases me up immediately. “You really didn’t. I like you.”

I stare at him, as he says it so casually. It slid off his tongue, like poison, going right in my bloodstream, straight to my heart. I go back to my seat, downing the rest of mojito. Jaskier follows suit, sitting in front of me, grinning.

“Stop being so afraid.” He grabs my hand, which I didn’t even notice was shaking.

“I like you.” I admit, not looking at him, as I blush even more. “And it’s scary to like someone, Jaskier.”

“It’s not like you like a monster.” He teases as I fix my gaze on his empty glass.

“No, of course not, but…” I stop there. No need to remind him we are from different worlds. Right now we were both here. Together. Nothing was stopping us from falling. “I don’t know.”

“There are a lot of things people may never know.” I look at him now, as he gives me a soft, encouraging smile. “Love might just manage to be one of them.”

“It really is.” I agree, leaning back. I feel my heart calm down a little.

“By the way, you sound incredible.” I open my mouth in shock as Jaskier doesn’t seem to be able to hold in a laugh, as it rings the entire pub. “You look so much more surprised by that, than me liking you.”

“Because you just said I sound incredible!” I pull my hand from his grip, brushing my hair out of my face, squinting at him. “Do you like the sound of dying cats too?”

“If they sounded like you, I might kill cats for fun.” I flush red.

“Stop.” I stutter as he giggles, clearly entertained. “I need to use the restroom.”

I spring to my feet, fanning my face as I rush past him. I find the bathroom in a basement. I go, splash some water on my face. It doesn’t really help, but it gives me a moment to calm down. I take deep breaths, bravely walking out.

I bump into someone.

“Sorry.” I say, lifting my head. My heart sinks.

“It’s okay.” Our eyes meet, as the man face grows full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“I think I might be sick.” I scramble the words, turning on my feet rushing back in the bathroom. I let out the alcohol into the toilet, flushing it, as my head aches. This can’t be happening.

“Hey, are you okay?” The familiar voice creeps in as I grunt. I know he cant hear me. I quickly wash my mouth with some water, coming out again.

“Yeah, sorry.” I cant stop my voice from shaking, as he crosses his arms, his blue eyes piercing at me.

“You looked like you saw a ghost or something.” He giggles and I manage to give a weak smile in response.

“I recognized you, is all.” I decide to say the truth, or at least some of it. “Didn’t expect to see someone like you in this pub.”

“One of my friends is from around here, we’re catching up.” I stare at him, not believing my luck. One of his, one of Joey Bateys friends lives nearby. Are you kidding me.

“Then I wont hold you back any longer.” I say, moving out of the way so he could go to the stairs, but he doesn’t move.

“You’re not holding anyone back, I am glad to meet a fan.” I grin, turning around and initiating us walking out of this basement.

“Maybe not by the bathrooms.” I point out as he snickers and now not seeing him I can pretend it’s Jask.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I shake my head.

“I’m on a date.” I say, gritting my teeth. “Thank you, though.”

“Yes, of course.” I stop in the pub now, as I see that nobody is batting an eye. Nobody else seemed to recognize the actor.

“Well, I better not keep my man waiting.” I look at Joey one more time, praying to god I don’t vomit on him now.

“Enjoy your date.” Joey says as I nod as a thanks. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“I truly hope so.” I say in a friendly voice, as he waves at me, going to a different end of a pub.

I rush to our table, practically attacking Jaskier. I grip his shoulder tightly.

“We need to go.” I hiss startling him. “Now.”

“What happened?” I don’t feel like I have time to talk, as I take my purse, pulling out the card.

“Mask on. Head down.” I order, as I speed walk to the bar, paying for the drinks.

I hear Jask behind me, so I rush to the door, glad Joey seems to be seated in the other corner, where he can’t see us flee. Once outside, I keep power walking, until out of breath Jaskier catches on and grabs my hand.

“What happened?” I look at him.

“I met Joey Batey. Inside.” I grunt, as I shake. Jaskier pulls me into a hug, patting my back.

“Hey, he’s just a guy, nothing to be scared off.” I know he’s right. I know it, but yet…

“I am not scared off him, just. If people were to see you two, next to each other…” I jumble the words, not sure if he can understand what I’m trying to say.

“So you were worried for me.” I hear a smile in his voice, so I gently punch his hand, as I pull away. “That’s why I like you.”

“Because you need someone who will look after you like you’re a baby?” I tease as he laughs.

But my beating heart doesn’t slow, so I quickly get us a taxi home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG LIST [if you wish to be added or removed from this, let me know <3 ]

@ultracolorfulnerdcollection ; @viyamystic ; @sleepyblossom ; @killjoy-acid-crash ; @halszka-potter  ; @apersondealwitlt <3

[bluepenguinstories]

Intention Headaches Chapter Four

Croaking, creaky, doors to heaven or a flash of bright lights reminiscent of a distant city for gambling purposes. Seed or glitter tossed to the audience of bird; dove and pigeon swooped down from above in the guise of hundreds of humans, all ready for a night of party. Sign changed to that of a welcoming invitation, an embrace fulfilled.

Swooners and swingers, uppers and downers. Sitters and stands found their places, some on stages, some in the dimmer recesses. In the middle of it all, a mild-mannered strict enforcer of peace among chaos cleaned glasses.

Some folks, card and dice in hand, bet high stakes; those playing Russian Roulette with a full clip. Some were on their last leg. There was one, solitaire player, alone at a table, with two legs, and mouth full of stake.

She had become without arm nor ornament, having to chew the fat and whatever else was left through the means as one would have at a pie-eating contest; mouth against the table, table against the grain. Although a steak, recent losses also reduced the quality to that of a super rare rather plus ultra.

“How goes your loss of arms?” One privateer sans privacy peeked at two stumps beside a line added.

“Shit's easy 'cept can't afford prosthetic 'til our gang gets a win. Love usin' my mouth, however.”

Sage nod, wisdom as a slow up and down motion.

“Experience any phantom limb?” Phantom crook hovered over, pale and ghastly gourd in hand.

“Don't believe in ghosts.”

Damned nod dawned on hovering attention hoarders.

Toward center:

“I had a wife once,” said old friend to tender of bars.

“I know,” gave a master of tender bars.

Old friend man strolled toward former owner of arms. He relaxed a pat on a shoulder, lest a back be pat.

“One day my story will be told,” he assured more lines added.

“Yeah, and who's gonna tell it, asshole?” She shot back, less with a gun and rather chunks of meat flying from a gaping hole in a face where food at times enters. “'Cause if it's from you, it's not worth hearing about!”

His stature was far from a statue, yet his manner was monumental. Rather chipped shoulder came crashing down, upside on a frown.

“It becomes more clear.”

However, smudged was what entered from behind a hue.

“What do you have against autobiographies? My dear, a automatic biological response toward the self is a circular motion. Jerking, ever forward, sliding sleight of hand marks for a rotary notary.”

Add a shiver to a line. Creep tingled spine.

Behind, vociferous virginal cackle crackled. Stooped stature. One and only entrance, where all else was least expected.

“It has come to my attention that my family of misfits have suffered some losses!” Such an announcement. “No more! I say! We shall overcome this laboratory love, seek shelter from ourselves! Turn inward and a new leaf forward! All who join my gang today gain free drinks on me!”

Thunderous lightning in bottles.

Adeline kept head down, as head above water came skin deep.

“There are two I fear: Sylvie and Virginia.”

To the other Woolfs, howls were deafening. Fangs were spiked in drinks. Yet, when in the presence of a Virginia, her commands were akin to carrying rocks in one's pockets and heading out to sea.

Right on cue, a tunic beat sprung from leaps and bounds of snapping fingers, rickety floorboards, and pickled shoelaces. Such a hall dedicated to tango. Dancers took a new center stage. Pinstripe, tuxedo, tutu, and tunic.

“May I have this dance?” One said to the other.

“No,” other said to one.

The two proceeded to tango. Separately. Creating their own moves. Spun and hiss from the potter's wheel.

“Sing us a song, piano man!” One in the crowd cheered and jeered, a jaunty musk enchanted a nostril torpedo humanoid.

Tune in minor D, flat. Singing in major G, sharp.

“I was born in an institution, so take me to the institution. Hollow out my skull for me, baby.”

Everyone snapped their fingers, sans those without or those with taste buds. Budding tastes abased. Upper right square, centerfold, holy ritualistic loneliness devoured a devout silent speaker.

Muttered, a sufferer. Alone, red wine.

“The church claims to hand out prayers to those in need. The church claims to heal all those with wounds. But how can such wounds be shaved when they come from the hands of one above? How can prayers reach, how can one pray, when one is prey to a praying mantis?”

Her words were a sermon, to and from her alone. All those to see, herself. Though there were two, seeing her.

“Annie, the sharpshooter. Tricky, thick needle. Not one made claim to touch her.”

One of two. Pointer. Point and jeer.

“Sharpshooter or fragile flower?”

Other, drinker. Just as most. Mostly morose.

“Church. We've been over this. Bullets. She knows this.”

“Her mother keeps a keen eye.”

“Of the Sextons?”

“Not one made claim to touch her, but one.”

Turtle and porcupine pawned a torch through a blazing trail, overheard outcrop of silent words.

“Yo, Buddy?”

Turtle had a back, no shell.

“Was that my name?”

“Such a dilemma, that Annie case.”

“Which one?”

Porcupine did a sit, then pointed to a sit, then took a stand. Syd was still on the fence. Respect on a mend.

“I respect women, but what about women who disrespect women?”

Turtle dove, diving down a crown.

“Respect a little less?”

Adeline, minding less of a mind and a little more risky business, less stake for steak, took to munching carpet. Similar texture, less cost.

Decimation, ten of them. Torturous conditions. Smaller and smaller, then lesser and greater than the sum of their tears for fears. Out on the other end, next kareoke session.

“My cue!” Glee, jitter bug and shut-in cough tourist.

As all else, empty, Syd, short for a name forbidden, spoke aloud.

“MOOD CHANGE TONIGHT!” Brought impassioned introduction, then a sing along to a line of lyric. “GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUUUUN!”

Abridged, bridged gaps, two ladies took hands. Unmarried, unbridled, in bridal regalia as regal as larked tongue.

“Why do you date him?” Lustrous loss owner inquired.

“He's harmless. Undangerous man, a safe, sure bet.” She curled over her hair, flexing her neck, sticking it outward in case ladies were to observe. Star tattooed, shoreline above the mantle.

Annie, less drink, more sorrow. Sylvie, more observant, sharp gaze.

“I prefer not to comment.”

“Leader of Sextons, her mother. Weren't the three of us in the same hospital?” Less Victoria, more Virginia mouthed audible.

“I share not her views. We begin and end with being acquainted.”

“Oh, come on, dear,” Sizzled, swizzled nails. Swerved, curly hair. White, silver, grey, painted. Glasses that zoom in and out of frame. “Do we not share our fascinations with death? Look around us, we have all suffered losses. We are dead among the dead. Is that not cause for celebration?”

Silent. Serene. Hostile.

“There are a million reasons to die. There are a million reasons to live. Regardless, we all experience one and the other at one point or another.”

“Hmph. Well, darling. We could talk for days about it.”

“Between nature and nurture, I do not force hands.”

She strode her stroll toward a grassy knoll within inner chambers of a table toward the back, varnished and vanished driftwood matte. Drink, had hand tilted with glass. Knotty bramble ale, crisp to the core of an apple and cider.

“I think I don't want society, but then I think I want society because society wants me to want society,” silver, slivered Syl.

“Societal pressures?” Verge in a woman inquiry.

“More that I don't know what I want if I don't have it. But do I only not want it because it wants me to not want it? And when I want it do I want it because it wants me to want it or is it my own desire? Do I desire to live in a society, or live outside? Do I desire to live, or without?”

Another fucking sip, babes took their places, hips and waist belly dances. Boomed a bounce off another end of another corner, crowd gathered to sharks and gatherers.

“I once knew a man named Dave,” dealer dealt shame.

“Say, pal, y'bought any penises recently?”

“Couldn't afford it. Couldn't win enough missions. Tried going in, trying on different dicks. Saw a penis I liked and asked the register. Clerk clocked me. Caught me and coughed up foul interplay of lessons in lack of funds and lack of missions won. Said come back when gang's more renowned. Screwed up, balls of screws.”

“What about a vagina?”

“Those are in even rarer supplies, mate. Try buyin' pussy and folks say 'our selection is for higher ranks. Come back with a little more, no a lot. Lot and lot of renown. Everyone wants one, those who can fit into one can't afford to have one. Now, them Hemingways, too good, little respect. Ain't know what to do. Men who love men, ain't go for dick, ain't try on pussy. Tell ya what's what?”

“My life's a litter box,” interjected strands of hair attached to a face, earl and mache.

“What, Dave?”

“We talking about cats? Because I own a house full. Over 20.”

“Yes, we know, Dave.”

“Y'know,” sized up undulate leader sliced up with a ruler lines of coke. “People think I do drugs, but I DO NOT DO DRUGS. What especially gets me is when they think I do heroin. No. None in this household. I am a vegan. I AM KOSHER. There are those who would call me a post-modernist, but lemme tell you guys somethin': if you measure out the diameter of a filthy swimming pool, describe the height, length, width, dimension, how clean the pool is and what made up the filth in the pool, in details, y'know what that is? REALISM. The real post-modernism is modernism, if you ask me. If you're too afraid to do a little research, then maybe DON'T GO OUT IN THE FIELD.”

Spread out were the cocaine powder locomotive rollercoaster. Salt or sugar, bitter pickle, all snow white.

“Now, anyone want some? I can't have any, I'm allergic.”

Grime, grit, salami-based muscle, pungent four fingers and a thumb attached to a potato called a palm reached for the flour, only for Dave to slap it away.

“Just so you know, a footnote is an endnote if it's at the end.”

Syl emerged from her drink, still in.

“Problem with Hemingway, when us women are ill, we are seen as the illness. When those men are ill, they are martyrs, brave soldiers. We are sent away to a hospital. To get better. Do we get better? Do we get worse? I think we change, in and out, there is a change, no doubt.” Slow sips.

“I'M JUST A GIRL, THAT'S ALL THAT YOU'LL LET ME BEEEEEE--”

Syd's singing. Unprompted.

Syl laugh. She does on alcohol.

“Do you love him?” Virginal census.

“I think I love love,” first responders. “I think I love loving love. But do I love? I think I would love to.”

“Are you in love?”

“Is love something to you as it is to me? I love love as a being, in or out. Am I being in love? I am loving being.”

Hunched, secrets whispered, lungs scattered. Liquids spilled. Glass intact. Bile of much knotty bramble.

“With me,” virgin of the wolfs. “We have much to discuss in the toilets.”

Two ladies followed the vortex of a single file line toward a horizontal stadium of stalls for all to enter. Few leave 'til close. Moss turns, moss directional, director of dissection, wash basins full of mossy oak. Ultimate of bidets on display, only few take. Most wash, some sign off on air.

Some folk wondered what the house special of the night would be, others wondered who belonged to which gang, or which gang belonged to who. There were those who wondered what constituted ale and bourbon and who owned the bonbons.

“You're probably wondering why I decided to show my face tonight,” leader of a ton of sex, hands spread, pose in a alphabetical T.

Nobody wondered that.

“Have mercy...” Mumbling Annie chit-chattered, tiptoed through tapped toes. No one took notice.

“Our gang has received a mission. Simple one at that. Simple, poetic. Seek out a member of the church,”

Others mumbled. Muttered, even.

“I know some of my children are in the audience tonight. Sippin' on some whine, wine, whinge, chardonnay. I ask: who would be willing to make me proud? My dear husband, perhaps? Or maybe I'll return to the hospital and seek if one of the doctors would be willing to join my family,” toot, tort, ruptured spinal speech, with a hoot and a howl to boot mixed in with something afoul afoot.

Splash spot, stood up was fraught fair-minded resolute, daughter with resolve.

“I'll go.”

Crone critter crept forward, slithered toward child (adult as she were).

“Ah, yes. Annie, my dear daughter,” hands upon Annie's shoulder, only her shoulder. Only her shoulder. Still, a flinch. Nerves before determination. Flushed, relieved, two faces attached to complete figures emerged and heard.

“Knowing how she operates. Disgusting.” Silver leadership spoke up.

“No flame, no phoenix. Speak of passion, yet dejection,” verge in a wolf shared opinion.

“True leaders fight alongside their people, or better yet, be the first to die.”

“At the least, inspire passion.”

“Instead, modifications.”

More shivers, between Sylver (if ever her name), Annie (a face green of gables expressed), or the great wolf.

Outside of it all, smokers smoked in the smokers' lounge.

“Wanna go back inside?” One asked.

“Nah. Hear some of the gang leaders are in there.”

Shackled awe, tight spot for jaw.

“What would they be doing here?”

“As private as they are, leadership have every bit of access to ales and spirits as any of us.”

“Now that I think of it, Ernie's always there.”

“Ah yes, 'blood of a unicorn' kid.”

“Blood of a unicorn?”

“Very same one.”

“Damn. Blood of a unicorn. I've been to the woods once or twice. No unicorns spotted. Rabbit, yes.”

“Rabbit? In the woods?”

“Very live rabbit!”

“Rabbit?”

“Hopped along.”

“Deadass? Rabbit?”

“No, alive rabbit.”

“No way. Those haven't existed for a while.”

“Anyway, we should head back inside. Bar's about to close.”

“Still, a rabbit.”

Some shady men, couple in fact, hand in hand, looking inward. Last drinks ordered: Brisk Bristol bourbon and Tempura Tequila.

Soon after, or not long, rather seconds after counting down the hours, safety in numbers huddled from day-to-day monotony began to rain away as seconds ran dry, as did the barrels.

“My doors will close,” bartender took to announcing, image appearing within every visible area of the distracted establishment. “Get your asses out and have a lovely hunt.”

Hemingway leader set down a sturdy book.

“War is ongoing,” Ernie walked, stuck to a miniscule cycle.

“Yes, my friend,” tip of the bartending hat toward world weary pint.

Other nights, others less dry. For a street of blood, oft wanted is a lick of water.

[winchesters-flannels]

Soundtrack of Us (Part Three) - You Get What You Give/The Flashback

Word Count: 2600+ words

Pairing: AU!Dean x musician!reader 

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Ellen & Jo Harvelle, Castiel Russell (OC), Dan (OC)

Warnings: Character Death (not main), marijuana and alcohol abuse, angst, little snarky reader and Dean, kinda fluff, more angst

Summary: Y/N is a local artist with standing gigs at a coffee shop and a bar in a small town in North Carolina. She’s run from some things at home, but life has finally fallen into place in Asheville. Music is her life and her only worry in life, until she meets a pair of hypnotizing green eyes.

Author’s Note: Bare with me, y’all. This one is kind of a rollercoaster. What happened with Russell? Do Dean and reader get a chance??? You’re about to find out guys. 

Flashback italicized, song lyrics bold and italicized. Song used: You Get What You Give - New Radicals (I like the cover by the Maine as well!)

"Thanks for hanging out, guys," you spoke into the microphone at the end of your set, "have a good night and drink safe."

You scurried off your stage and hid yourself in the thick of the crowd. You didn't want to talk to Dean. Not here, not now. You made a lot of tip, you loved the drunk money-blowers who would accidentally drop twenties instead of ones. You deserved some shots, you thought.

You spotted Jo and made your way to her with lemon drop shots in hand and balancing a beer between your chest and your forearm. When you spotted her, she was listening intently to the voice of a clean cut brunette. He had beautiful blue pools in his eyes and scruff that could have only been a few days old. He wore a khaki trench coat which made you cock an eyebrow, but his looks were more than enough to let it slide. Jo was mesmerized by the man. You knew this because this conversation was different; she was always the one who did the talking, never the listening. She glanced past the man and looked at you, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. That was your sign to keep distance, she was working him up to take her home. Go, Jo. Two shots for you. Go, you.

You aimlessly walked around the bar with the stout that Sam served you. It was getting warm and unbearable to drink, but you needed a buzz through all the small talk and compliments on your singing that the bar goers threw your way. You especially needed the buzz when you saw a pair of bow legged jeans make their way towards you.

You threw back the warm beer, the carbonation making you wince a bit. You were going to need more than that to handle the encounter you were anticipating. Dean was still making his way toward you, waving a hesitant hand. Those hands, the rough, thick hands that held you tight and traced the roadmap of your body just last night. You waved back, half-heartedly.

"Here we go," you thought to yourself. You twiddled your thumbs and looked at your black lace-up boots. Your view was interrupted by another pair of lace up boots, brown, scuffed, and worn.

"Hey, Y/N," Dean started. "Hey yourself." "I know you must be mad--" "More hurt than anything really." "Listen, I--" "Don't care. It's okay, I get it. Not looking for anything. Needed a rebound. That Lisa chick sure has a hold on you, huh?" You wanted to bite your tongue, but you had already spewed the words out before you could try to stop. "You don't know anything about me, especially regarding Lisa," Dean snapped at you. How dare he? How are you the one getting scolded? "You know what, Dean? Forget it. It meant nothing to me too, I guess." "That's not true,” he rebutted. "You don't know anything about me," turning on your heel, you walked away and left Dean in a cloud of frustration.

The overhead bar music started playing;

But when the night is falling You cannot find the light You feel your dreams are dying Hold tight

You saw the disappointed look on his face and watched him ball his fists. He huffed in irritation and slumped back into a chair. He rubbed his forehand, massaging the exasperation out of his head. You wanted to relieve him, but you couldn't go back there and comfort him. He left you hanging and this was not your mess to clean up. You didn't need the excess drama, but you wanted to go back and apologize. Why? Dean had something about him. You craved him all day and you were still imagining being on your back for him. You shook your head and went to pack up your equipment to distract yourself from crying in the middle of the bar. You didn't want to be that girl. You reached for your guitar case and realized you picked up all the cash, but noticed that there was a lone note lying in the velvet case. You picked it up gingerly, scared to tear or ruin it. You opened it and read,

"I want to see you again. Please let me make it up to you. I’m so sorry. - The better looking Winchester"

You giggled at the signature, thinking that this was a good start to an apology. Your heart was eager to let him back in, but your brain was wary. You still wanted more. You deserved more. When you looked up, he was in front of you. Studying your facial expression and patiently waiting for you to say something. You didn't know what to say though. You just stared back.

"I really am sorry. I lied and then I left you alone and in the dark. You don't deserve that, I don't deserve you, I just wanted to apologize," he blurted out, not being able to wait any longer. "You don't owe me anything, Winchester. We can leave it all right now. Turn away and forget this all," you suggested, knowing damn well that wasn't what you wanted. You reached out your hand for a shake and he grabbed it. He didn't shake, he just held it. Your hand basking in the heat of his palm, melting in his touch. "I don't want to do that and I don't think you do either," Dean said, "Listen, I'm not that kind of guy. I wasn't trying to use you. I just, I was frustrated with my situation with Lisa and I also wanted to get to know a beautiful girl. I was being hasty." "So what do you want from me?" you were not as strong as you wanted to be. He could tear down any wall you tried to build. You didn't understand why. "I want another chance. I want to make things right. I don't want to leave things the way they are, not when I'm so drawn to you," he stopped himself. Maybe he had his own walls that he'd built. "Dean, I-" "I get it, this isn't enough. But I swear I want to make this up to you. I’m done with Lisa. I went back to say goodbye. Please let me fix this,” he pleaded. You stared at him in confusion. You couldn't understand why a stranger would put this much effort into salvaging a broken relationship with you. You felt something peculiar with Dean. Something familiar, like you had felt this way about something before. Your mind wandered again and your ears landed on one of your favorite tunes;

This whole damn world, could fall apart You'll be ok, follow your heart You're in harm’s way, I'm right behind Now say you're mine

"Okay," you surrendered, "Okay, Dean." He stood there looking at you, dumbfounded. Before he could waste any more time, he pulled you closer to him. Gently, but with enough force. He looked into your eyes as if he were staring past into your soul. Sure he had screwed you over, but for a guy like Dean Winchester, you figured you would give a second chance a try. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and held you for a moment. When he let go, you saw Sam, Jo, and Jo's new friend smiling sincerely your way.

You've got the music in you Don't let go You've got the music in you One dance left This world is gonna pull through Don't give up You've got a reason to live Can't forget We only get what we give

The way you felt when Dean held you was the way you felt when you were up on stage singing. Instead of running from the problems that could arise with Dean, you were ready to face the music. For the first time since your late love, you were ready to open up. Foolish or not, you thought that with him, you were going to get what you gave.

“I’ve been seeing way too often, Y/N,” the concerned voice of your drug dealer, Dan, confused you.

“Aren’t you glad you’re getting my business, though?” you retaliated, ending your question in a weak smile.

You had been spending most of your free time intoxicated. If you weren’t drunk, you were high. Sometimes you were both. You had never really been much of a smoker. You had anxiety, pretty crippling anxiety, and the weed (and only weed, nothing else) helped keep the panic attacks at bay. Unfortunately, you were falling into a lifestyle where you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. You couldn’t remember your life without Russell and this break up had to be the hardest one you’ve ever gone through. From moving his stuff out of your apartment to avoiding mutual friends you shared with him, life was getting lonely and miserable. You needed your temporary fix.

“You know I love seeing you, but my brother knows you’ve been seeing me more. He’s been following me, hoping to get to see how you are,” he trailed off, thinking about something else, “He was just here. Russ was getting drunk off his ass again. He wouldn’t talk to me though, so I called him an Uber before you got here.”

“I’m sorry we put you in the middle of this, Danny,” you tried to apologize. He cut you off, “Y/N, you’ll always be like family to me. Sometimes things don’t work out. Come in,” he ushered you into his apartment. The smell of Lysol spray and burnt grass filled the living space and you walked to the brown leather couch across the room. If you hadn’t known Dan like you do, you would never be caught in a place like this. Dan was messy and stoned all the time. Pizza boxes piled on the coffee table complimented along with beer bottles and candy wrappers.

“Jeez, Danny, it looks like you’re the one going through a breakup,” you started as you glanced at him. You hadn’t noticed his phone rang, but he was holding it up to his ear and was staring at you with a worrisome expression. He pressed the screen and set the call to speakerphone,

“Say that again…? Who is this? Is this a joke?” Dan furiously asked the person on the other line. You were in the dark, just staring at the lanky man standing over you and waiting for a response.

“This is Sheriff Donna Hanscum. I’m sorry to say this again, but I’m at the hospital with your brother. We found him drunk behind the wheel… wrapped around a tree. You were his emergency contact,” the both of you were too shocked to move. You just stared at each other, desperately scratching your brains for something to say.

“I’ll be there. Which hospital?” Dan said, holding his composure. He grabbed your wrist with his free hand and snatching his keys off of his belt loop with the other hand that held his phone.

This was your fault. All your fault. You began to falter. Tears pooled in your eyes, stinging as they ran down your cheeks.

“Y/N, keep it together, this isn’t your fault,” Dan tried to convince you, but you knew otherwise.

The ride to the hospital was excruciatingly nerve racking. The radio was off and the only sounds that could be heard were the anxious taps of Dan’s fingers against the wheel, the tires rolling against the concrete, and your sad attempts at controlling the heaving in your chest. You knew Russell was handling the break up in the same way as you; staying in an altered state of mind to forget the wasted time and heart break you both had to endure. Why would he go and do something so stupid? You couldn’t think that way. You didn’t know how hurt he was or if he was even still breathing. You needed to apologize.

You finally arrived at the emergency department of the hospital where Sheriff Hanscum waited. She had kind eyes and a warm, gentle smile that eased your nerves as you approached her. She stood up to greet Dan and reached out her hand,

“Sheriff Hanscum. We spoke on the phone, you must be Russell’s brother,” she spoke to Dan and then looked at you, “and you must be Y/F/N Y/L/N, you were second on his emergency contact list.” You just stared at her.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” Dan asked calmly. He had to be calm for you. He always looked out for you and right now even though his world, his little brother, could be injured or worse, he was staying calm for you. Your breathing was still labored and your chest was tight in anxiety. Everything that happened in the past thirty minutes had been a blur and you couldn’t grasp onto reality.

“Let me bring you guys to the doctor. I don’t know too much, but I figured someone should stay here until you got here,” she said softly. You heard a Midwestern twang to her voice that stood out to you as you tried to focus on the words she said. You noticed empathy in her words, which you appreciated.

You made your way through countless halls, trying to locate the head of Russell’s care. Finally, you approached a tall man with pretty generic features. He didn’t matter to you, all you needed was to know if Russell was okay. You heard the hums of machines and the beeps of heart monitors filling the area where you stood. The high pitched squeak of sneakers rushing along the tile floor near you snapped you back to the conversation that unfolded in front of you,

“… on a ventilator. We can keep him stable, but he will not improve. This is not a quality lifestyle. I can’t tell you what to do…”

“We want to see him. We’ll take him off the damn machine, but I just want to see him one more time,” Dan demanded. Russell was all Dan had and vice versa since you were no longer in the picture. You nodded your head in agreement with Dan. You didn’t really think you had a say in anything—you were not Russell’s fiancé anymore and you were the reason he crashed himself into this situation.

The next couple hours were the most painful moments of your life. You stared at Russell’s burdened face, covered in bruises and cuts, traces of dried blood. His body was wrapped in countless amounts of bandage and gauze. The endless array of wires replaced his personal space. You and Dan held each hand and you had never felt more guilt ridden than at this minute. Russell’s heart monitor beeped steadily, but you knew that it meant nothing. He felt dead inside before he landed in this shitty hospital bed. Dan left the room to get coffee as well as let you sulk alone. The love that you once shared with Russell filled your head, sending a shock to your heart. You sobbed. You screamed. You wanted him to wake up, but you knew he wouldn’t.

You bargained, telling him that you would try again, you would try harder for each other. Deep down in your heart, you knew that wouldn’t work. You did not love him the way he deserved and you never could again. You scolded yourself for still being so cold-hearted while staring at the man who wanted to give you everything. You were selfish and you hated yourself for this.

“I will never forgive myself,” you wept.

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing @charliebradbury1104 @thecynicalnerd