#what does it say? how should i know I was half asleep‚ hungry‚ grumpy and wanted to be literally anywhere else

[nerdie-faerie]

'You should proof read your assignments before submitting' absolutely not, you will experience my academic spiral in real time

[pascalpanic]

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality.  Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

-

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[everlarkficexchange]

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: E

The room’s dark. There’s only one small lamp burning in the corner, but that makes the single candle in the cupcake brighter than it would have been if the entire area were lit. It’s a somber celebration, but that doesn’t make much difference. It’s as it should be.

“Happy birthday, dear Katniss… Happy birthday to you.”

As the last note fades into silence, Katniss whispers a birthday wish and blows out the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” she mumbles. She’s alone and tired and feeling older than she thought she could. In the grand scheme of things, forty isn’t that many years, but the difference between her fourth and fifth decades seems like lightyears. She’s halfway (or more) through life, and she’s hiding from it.

No one could really blame her for running—not with the experiences she’s faced. Her father gone as a young man leaving Katniss, her mother, and her younger sister Prim alone with practically no income and empty stomachs that gnawed at her insides for months as she fell asleep. Her mother falling into addiction to anti-depressants and opiates leaving Katniss to keep the household together so she and Prim wouldn’t be taken by child services and separated. Her beloved sister gone in a house fire that ripped through the apartment building where she’d stayed while enrolled in med school in a neighboring state. That’s enough tragedy for any one person, and that doesn’t even count her own pain and disappointments during the past forty years.

She’s suffered plenty of both. There’ve been days when she has no idea how she continues to function, but she puts one foot in front of the other repeatedly, doggedly, hoping against hope that something will go right for her. The odds should be in her favor, but they never seem to be. Instead, she watches as the world goes by and wonders if she’s brave enough to step back into society and join the rest of the living. She’s been in mourning for long enough.

Forty. It’s a scary number, but it’s also a little motivating. With a shake of her head, she decides. It’s time. Prim would want her to be happy. She’d be furious at the way Katniss has shut herself off from everyone in order to protect herself. If there’s anything that can drive her out of her shell, it’s thinking about the disappointment that would shine in her sister’s eyes if she were still alive.

“It’s time to rejoin the living, Everdeen.”

Her voice is small as it echoes in her empty apartment, but that’s not the intimidating part. What’s terrifying is that she has absolutely no idea how to get back out there. It’s been almost a decade since she bothered, and she can’t help wondering if maybe she’s waited too long. It’s possible there’s an expiration date, and she’s past it.

It’s late, and she’s tired. Heaving a sigh, she heads to her new bedroom and plugs in the airbed to blow it up. Her belongings won’t arrive for another few days, and the thought of sleeping on the hard floor is the reason for her last minute purchase at the local department store. Shaking out freshly laundered sheets as she retrieves them from the dryer, she inhales the clean scent and tucks the corners onto the air mattress. A pillow and blanket that made the cut when she purged her possessions before her interstate move provides a tiny hint of home. Flicking off the overhead light, she closes her eyes and drifts into sleep. She counts the fact that she only wakes from nightmares three times as a win.

****

“I like that there,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts the picture on the shelf to the left of her television. It’s her favorite of the ones she and Prim took together before her sister started med school.

They’d been so happy, arms wrapped around each other and a rare smile gracing her own lips. As it always had, Prim’s grin stretches across her face, and her blue eyes snap with excitement in the image. She deserved so much better than to become a human torch because someone was stupid enough to not know how to douse a grease fire. The senselessness of it all hits Katniss again. Someone cooked dinner, and that act killed her sister. Prim, who only wanted to heal people, died because an idiot didn’t know how to make bacon and then tried to douse the flames with water.

A knock sounds at her door and shakes her out of her reverie. She isn’t expecting anyone, but a second knock convinces her she shouldn’t ignore it. It could be her landlord, and the last thing she wants is a grumpy Haymitch Abernathy yelling at her because she’s inadvertently broken some rule she doesn’t even know exists in the first place. Tossing her braid over her left shoulder, she crosses her apartment and answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

She’s surprised she can get the words out of her mouth. The man standing there definitely isn’t her landlord, and he’s not old, grumpy, or drunk like Haymitch obviously has been every time she’s seen him. The guy standing in front of her must be about her age, maybe a few years younger, and he has shockingly blue eyes which remind her of her sister’s, as well as the same ashy blonde hair that falls in a shock of curls over his forehead. She has the sudden urge to reach up and push them back, but she keeps her hands at her sides. It would be exceptionally inappropriate to grope a total stranger, even if he is standing in her doorway with a smile and a paper bag that smells something like heaven.

“I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Your next door neighbor. I brought you some pastries.”

“Pasties?” She squeaks out the word and immediately wants to smack herself. She sounds a little like a mouse, while his voice makes her insides vibrate. Also, what did she just say?

Peeta does a double take before bursting into laughter. “Pastries, not pasties. I’m not into that— Well, I mean…uh… I mean, I could be, but not the first time I meet a woman.”

His face is bright red, but hers feels like it’s flaming. She can’t believe she said that and crosses her arms unconsciously to cover her breasts before uncrossing them just as quickly. She’s not sure which is worse at drawing attention to the fact that she has nipples that pasties would cover, and… Hell, she’s spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “That was unseemly.”

“It’s fine. Hilarious, actually.” He grins and gives her a onceover, which makes her blush even harder.

“Well, pastries make way more sense and smell a lot better. But, why?” She’s not sure if that sounds rude or not, but it’s better than what she’s already blurted.

“I’m a baker,” he offers in explanation. “Just a little welcome to the building, uh…?”

“Uh…?”

She can’t think. He’s staring at her, and it makes her extremely uncomfortable in a very peculiar way. She’s not able to name it, but there’s something bubbling below the surface. If she concentrates really hard, she could probably identify the feeling. However, that’s not an option when Baker Boy is standing there with a perplexed look.

“You are?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. Just moved in. You probably already knew that. I, uh, thank you. This is great.”

“You’re welcome. Welcome to the building, Katniss, Katniss Everdeen. Let me know if you need anything. I always have eggs and sugar and more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. Think on it.”

With that, he disappears into his own apartment, and she’s left holding the bag. Literally.

In a trance, she crosses to her kitchen and sets the pastries down on the counter. Flustered, she pulls a bun out and sinks her teeth into a little bite of decadence that’s got to be illegal in all fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and half of Europe. It tastes so good it’s sinful. It’s doughy and filled with cheese, and she moans so loudly she wonders if he can hear her through their shared wall.

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

She sits there with a grin on her face for a stupid amount of time before realizing she’s hungry for more, and it’s not necessarily baked goods she wants.

****

Katniss rounds the corner and smacks into a wall. With a loud oof and a screech, she flails in her attempt to stay upright and keep her groceries from falling around her. Just when she’s about to lose it all, strong arms grab her and pull her upright. Relieved, she looks up and falls into the blue pools of her neighbor’s eyes.

“Easy there,” he says with the hint of a smile. “Where’s the fire?”

She almost says, “In my pants.” She really does, but she’s made a fool out of herself enough with him already. She frees herself from his clutches and congratulates herself on remaining calm, and then she sees what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much.

“Holy hell,” she murmurs at the sight of sweat-soaked skin and form-fitting running shorts.

“Sorry. I just got back from a run.”

“I…yeah. I see that.”

She can see some other stuff, too, and it is impressive. She can’t stop looking at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and she’s just told herself a few days ago that she needs to get back out there and has no idea how. She did say that, and here he is. She doesn’t even have to leave her building to find an opportunity. There’s no way she’s this lucky.

“Can I help with those?” He nods at the bags she’s holding and reaches out to take the ones hanging from her wrists. He brushes her hand with his, and her insides sizzle.

“Sure.”

She’s going to seduce him. Or let him seduce her. Or get him drunk and take advantage of him. Or something.

Every single fiber in her body tingles. It feels like waking up after a decade long nap and feeling simultaneously ravenous and powerful beyond belief. As he follows her into her apartment, she scans the area and decides to just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? Her neighbor hates her? Well, that would be terrible, but she can move. That’s how turned on she is by him. She’ll risk a broken lease.

“You can just put them there,” she says softly and runs her hand down his arm. He freezes and looks at her, and she stands her ground. Maybe she’s not thinking straight, but she wants him. Now.

“Katniss?”

She presses into him and trails a finger down her bare chest. She wipes a sweat droplet from his skin and bites her bottom lip.

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I’m not misreading this, am I?”

She wraps her arms around his neck and tips her head back. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls.

Looking directly at him, she says, “I really hope so.”

“Oh, hell.”

His mouth captures hers in a searing kiss, and she turns off her brain. She has no intention of thinking, only feeling for the next however long. His tongue is in her mouth, her hands are on his ass, and his sweat dampens her clothes.

Peeta hoists her into the air and wraps her legs around his waist. He stumbles backward to deposit her on the edge of the countertop and rucks up her shirt to slide his hands along her waist. Frantic, she tugs at his waistband, indicating she’d prefer he lose the shorts, and he growls into her mouth when she slips them over his hips. She cups his backside, pulling him between her legs and moans against him.

“Please,” she gasps. “Fuck, please.”

He’s frenetic, all power and kinetic energy as he rolls her leggings down her thighs, baring her to him. When she bites his lower lip, he grunts and shoves his hands between her legs. He pushes inside her roughly, and she whimpers at his pace. His thumb’s on her clit, and his middle finger plunders her as their tongues tangle and dance together.

She’s got him in her hand, jerking and tugging as he swells in her palm. It’s a solid weight there, but she wants it inside her. She doesn’t have time to look. She’s too enthralled in what his lips are saying as they mate with hers.

Katniss tugs one of her feet free and yanks him to her with her legs. His shaft is hot against her slit. She begs for him with her hands and body, but he pulls back slightly to catch her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice ragged and broken. She nods frantically, and he moans in the back of his throat. “I’ll pull out. I promise.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’d agree to about anything as long as he gives it to her hard. Then he’s inside her, stretching her as she calls his name. He’s big enough that it’s uncomfortable at first, until her body adjusts to the intrusion and she’s aching for more. By the time she’s relaxed, he’s pumping into her with her name falling from his lips as he bites and licks at her jawline.

“Tug my hair,” she manages to instruct, and he yanks on her braid so hard her eyes water. It’s sexy as hell, and she grapples at his back in an attempt to pull him further inside her. He’s good at this, she realizes. Really good at it, and she thanks her lucky stars she’s the fortunate recipient of such a fantastic experience. He’s doing everything he can to make it good for her, and it really, really, really is.

What they’re doing is so messy, but she doesn’t care. She owns bleach and anti-bacterial cleaning supplies. She just purchased them, in fact, and she’s going to need all of them if the mess between her legs is any indication. She’s quickly losing control, fucking against him as hard as she can.

Skin slaps together, sweat pours off them both, and he nuzzles his face into her shirt. If they had more time, she’d take it off for him—maybe she’ll wear pasties next time just to blow his mind—but they’re careening toward a climax faster than she knows how to handle. She’s desperate for more friction, so eager that she rubs herself as his thrusts stutter and falter.

“I gotta pull out. I’m gonna— shit!”

He yanks free, and she catches the sight of him before her eyes roll back in her head. His skin is pink and glistening with moisture from her body. The first splash of his climax hits warm and wet on her leg, and she arches her back as waves roll through her. Her hand cramps as she contorts it. Her hips buck, and then she’s reaching for him. She clings as her body tenses and releases repeatedly.

When it’s over, she huffs several breaths before blinking open her eyes. Her t-shirt hem has fallen against her thigh, and it’s marked with his ejaculate, as is most of her thigh and stomach. He pants into her ear, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. That’s fine with her, although it surprises her how affectionate he’s being in the aftermath of a quickie in her kitchen.

“Katniss, that was—”

“Something we need to do again.”

“I think it gives new meaning to the phrase ‘welcome wagon.’”

“Because you want me to ride you next time?”

“Next time?” His eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated as he realizes what she’s saying. “You want there to be a next time?”

“I’m not sure I want this one to be over.”

He flushes at her suggestion, but he’s a very helpful neighbor. Before he leaves to head back to his own apartment, he cleans up and then eats to his heart’s content. She’s pretty satiated from his visit, too.

[ickle-ronniekins]

it was all yellow

request from nonnie!!! “hi love, wanted to throw out this request before camping ;u; only if you're up for it, for either of the twins: i'd love something fluffy inspired by one of my favorite text posts on this site: she guessed my favorite color first try.. but between me and u.. i didnt even have a favorite color until she yelled out yellow! she was hella excited n smiling like a little kid, so i told her she was right and i havent seen yellow the same since, its in everything. i could probably live in it now. 🌻”

pairing: fred x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 3k

A/N: love me a good cheeky fred. also this prompt was FUCKING adorable and i did try to incorporate the actual quote into my writing but some of it didn’t flow.. so i hope it’s still as good as you’d imagined?? also def listened to coldplay’s “yellow” whilst writing this x

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic | message me to be added, loves!

“Mr. Weasley!”

Umbridge’s voice is shrill, and it immediately pulls Fred out of his daydream-like state, but not quickly enough for him to turn his attention toward his professor and avoid making incredibly embarrassing eye contact with you. The entire class, much to his dismay, turns to glance at him -- you included. It’s unlike him to feel so insecure, so embarrassed, but alas -- here he is.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Is there a reason,” Umbridge hisses, the edges of her lips curling into a rather evil smirk, “that you’ve chosen to completely ignore me during the lesson?”

Fred considers this for a moment. He could take this opportunity to explain to his professor that yes, now that you mention is, there is a reason. A huge reason. He could then proceed to tell you about all of the overwhelming feelings that have seemed to take over him the last few weeks. It could be a grand gesture, couldn’t it? Scooping you up into his arms, sliding a hand around the back of your neck, telling you just exactly what keeps him up at night -- that adorable smile of yours, and the pineapple scent in your hair. It’d be all the castle would be able to talk about, wouldn’t it? Plus, to be able to ignore Umbridge even more and do something so utterly abysmal in the middle of her lesson and have the rest of the students cheer him on, well -- it’s something Fred’s always dreamt of.

“I’d love to see the look on Umbridge’s face if I ever chose to cause mayhem in the middle of one of her lessons,”

“Easy there, Freddie. Don’t want to go getting any more detentions, do we?”

“Darling, mischief is my middle name. I need to prank. My life depends on it.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it? Just trying to look out for you, is all.”

“You’ve really got that Hufflepuff stereotype of ‘loyal’ down -- you know that, right?”

He supposes, when he thinks about it now, that you were right. You’re always right. He reckons it wouldn’t be such a good thing to cause such an uproar, especially since Umbridge is nearly always on his tail, and is one step closer to knocking Dumbledore out of his post as Headmaster. Fred doesn’t want to give her any more of an edge, does he?

Next to him, George brings Fred back, yet again, from another daydream with a quick kick to his knee. He grips the desk tightly and hopes that his face isn’t flushing bright red. Umbridge’s smirk grows even deeper, and Fred, ignoring his instincts to grab you and run out of the lesson right this instant, merely clears his throat. “No. There isn’t.”

“Good,” Umbridge hisses again, turning her attention back toward the board. “Now, to continue..” Fred relaxes a bit and slumps in his seat, feeling rather grumpy, but his spirits lift almost immediately, and his insides seemingly twist into a tight knot when you send him a soft smile from across the room.

-- -

Fred is shaken awake, only to be face to face with a very cheeky looking George, who then proceeds to throw a notebook straight into Fred’s cheek.

“Oi!” Fred shouts, coming to, bringing his hand to his jaw. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You do realize it’s the middle of the day and you’ve fallen asleep directly in the middle of the courtyard, yes?”

Fred kicks the younger twin with his foot, and George and Lee begin to laugh. Fred had been having quite a lovely sleep, thank you very much, and is now annoyed that his brother and friend had chosen to wake him. As he sits up from the bench, adjusting his loose tie and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lee offers, “You talk a hell of a lot in your sleep, mate.”

Much to his horror, Fred freezes. This whole talking-in-his-sleep thing is relatively new -- he’d never, ever done that before. It seemed to have happened to him a couple of weeks ago, when he began repeating the days’ events -- ones that included you -- over and over in his mind before falling into a peaceful, and rather deep, slumber. It seemed to have happened when he started to look at you in a new light.

“And what exactly was I saying?” Fred asks, trying to shrug off his nervousness.

George and Lee both suppress a laugh and share a cheeky exchange, and Fred feels his heart leap into his throat. “Oh, you know.. mumbling on about lessons, and things. Bits of parchment you need to finish. Normal musings.”

Fred sighs rather dramatically before relaxing again. He hates this whole being-on-edge thing that comes with having a massive, over-the-top crush on you. “Oh,” George continues, his grin only growing larger, “and something about Y/N being the colour of sunshine, or something?”

As Fred’s eyes widen with embarrassment, George and Lee’s laughter only seems to grow louder and it echoes across the courtyard. This grabs your attention from across the way, and you smirk at Fred. You seem to be working on a bit of homework -- you’re leant against a large tree with your bag and robe next to you on the ground. Your hair is pulled back and you’ve got the end of your quill in your mouth, as if you had been pondering something right before you met Fred’s gaze.

“Thank Merlin she wasn’t over here, or you would’ve scared the poor girl away,” Lee says in a mocking sort of voice, which only seems to intensify Fred’s nerves.

Fred can’t help but fall into a bit of laughter with his friends too, even though the mere fact that he’d been talking in his sleep, about you, in the middle of the courtyard, makes his entire body hurt. ‘Thank Merlin’ is right.

-- -

The colour of sunshine. Ugh. How could he have been so painfully cheesy? Fred thinks about this all day long -- through every lesson, through every stroll down the corridors, through every bite of the evening feast. He can’t simply believe he’s said this out loud, even though it’s true. The truest words that have ever come out of his mouth, even. You are the colour of sunshine.

Simply bright and beamingly so -- the most beautiful of yellows.

You, he reckons, are pure warmth -- enough to soothe him on even the coldest of days.

“You know,” your voice, now closer than it seems, makes Fred jump and snap out of his own thoughts, much to George’s amusement, “this whole not-being-able-to-eat-with-your-mates-from-other-houses thing is simply stupid.”

“Why don’t you go and give Umbridge a piece of your mind, eh?” George asks you.

Your grin deepens, but you shake your head and begin to shovel dessert onto your plate. “It’s her own fault if she doesn’t notice a Hufflepuff amongst a group of Gryffindors. She’s supposed to be the Hogwarts High Inquisitor,” you say a bit stuffily, as if to imitate the woman in question, “is she not?”

“Brilliant,” Fred replies as he finds his voice. “An uncanny impersonation.”

You flip your hair over your shoulder and Fred notices a dimple appear on your cheek. He finds himself lost in your eyes as you peer at him softly over the top of your teacup, which you’ve brought slowly to your lips.

Fred’s happy to hear when you bring his all time favorite thing about the magical world into conversation and does his very best to hide his ever-obvious feelings. “Rumor has it McGonagall and Dumbledore have been pleading with Umbridge to let Gryffindor play Quidditch this year,” you tell the twins.

They peer at you with confusion. “What?” they ask together. Fred continues, “Why? What’s she going to do -- ban all teams except Slytherin? Then they’ve got nobody to verse,” he lets a laugh escape his lips.

George huffs a bit before sipping his tea. “She’s such a bloody idiot. No, I will say it louder, Ron,” George shoots his younger brother a look as Ron closes in on himself a bit, “she’s a power-hungry, egotistical toad who has no business running a bloody school.”

“The truest statement,” you point at him and then bite into your cauldron cake, “but no worry -- she’s apparently agreed to the whole Quidditch thing. Now you two’ve just got to smack the bludgers straight at Crabbe and Goyle’s heads. They’re certainly large enough -- should be easy targets.”

Fred cannot help the enormous laugh that escapes him due to your joke; in fact, he’s sort of surprised it’s only gotten the attention of half of the Great Hall, because it seems to have echoed throughout the entirety of the large room, reverberating off of the walls. Unfortunately, though, Umbridge notices and makes a beeline right toward the Gryffindor table. You turn to Fred and George, shrug your shoulders a bit and proceed to roll your eyes at the very pompous “hem-hem” that is too disturbingly sweet and high-pitched in your ears. “Miss Y/L/N,” she says in her most mocking tone of voice, “please correct me if I am mistaken but I’ve assumed by the yellow color on your robes that you are a Hufflepuff and not, in fact, a Gryffindor, as you’ve so decidedly claimed yourself.”

You turn toward her, a very large grin painted across your face, and simply reply, “No need for corrections here, ma’am.”

“Good,” Umbridge says curtly before turning on her heel. “Best return to your house table, then, before we slip you lot into detention, yes? I do hope it was worth the embarrassment, Miss.”

Embarrassment? Please. You stand up from your seat and chug the rest of your tea and pop the rest of your cauldron cake back into your mouth. You lean against the table, reaching across to the other end to grab yourself another pastry, and get as close to Fred as you possibly can. He notices a bit of a twinkle in your eye, something that’s suddenly driving him absolutely mad, when you say to him and only him, “Definitely worth it.”

A very cozy feeling sweeps itself through Fred’s bones.

-- -

The Gryffindors are lucky to have such two stealthy beaters on their team, because Fred and George know the ins and outs of the castle like nobody else. This comes in handy after a playful, late night match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, when the twins are able to sneak the entire Hufflepuff team, and even a few spectators, into the Gryffindor Common Room.

And as if he isn’t excited enough already at the pure theatrics of this entire thing, Fred finds himself smiling even more so at the sight of you, nestled in a corner with a few others, a Butterbeer clutched tightly in your hands, your cheeks rosy and flushed.

He’s reminded of a few weeks ago when he snuck into the Hufflepuff Common Room with you -- very late at night --

“Don’t you trust me?” you’d asked, taking his hand in yours.

His heart had skipped a few beats, if he was being honest.

“Merlin, it’s bright in here!” Fred had exclaimed when you’d both entered. The inviting colours had swirled around him. “How you people get any work done is beyond me. I’d never be able to focus --”

You’d laughed and shoved him. “Fred, you can’t focus, regardless.”

He’d just shrugged and sat down next to you near the fire. The entire room was empty except for the two of you. “I’ll give you that one. It’s just -- it’s so much different from our common room.”

“Well, it’s bright yellow. Plus, it feeds to all of the ‘Puffs' personalities. What did you expect, silly?”

He’d smiled at you, nestling himself comfortably against the edge of the couch. I haven’t seen yellow the same since, he’d wanted to tell you, especially because of the golden colour of your hair. “Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, I’ve got to say -- I’m rather fond of it, actually.”

His heart had nearly constricted at the feeling of you placing your head onto his shoulder. He’d been happy you couldn’t see the shock rising on his face in that of a crimson red colour, since you’d been so focused on staring into the flames. He’d suddenly felt warm -- incredibly warm. He’d willed himself to believe it was the fire, and not the feeling of your soft hair brushing against his neck. “Oh yeah? Yellow your favourite colour, and all?”

I could get lost in it, actually. Fred had to force himself to swallow over his own nerves a few times before he’d been able to say, “You could say that.”

Now, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he darts past a very confused looking Neville and plops himself down next to you, completely ignoring the fact that he’s interrupting your conversation with the others. “Hey,”

“Well hi,” you say, turning your attention toward him. He can smell the pineapple scent of your shampoo and is nearly sent into a dizzying overdrive, but he does his best to focus on the feeling of the cold glass in his fingers. “Great match.”

“Even if we did beat you guys?”

“Yeah,” you reply tersely, “Hufflepuff’s saving their strength for your actual match so they can kick your arses.”

Fred laughs haughtily and scoots a little closer to you on the steps as the others around you both disperse and head off in their respective directions. He can hear the steady pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears and decides to take a leap of faith. “Maybe. Although I will say -- you’ve got to be more careful with your leering, love.”

“Meaning?”

“Pretty sure you didn’t take your eyes off of me the entire time. You were full-on staring.”

Fred notices the pink on your cheeks seemingly deepen a bit, but you don’t let on to any embarrassment. He grins at you. “Perhaps I was. And if you’ve noticed, it means you were watching me back,”

His smile only grows at your mock voice. He replies with the same tone, “Perhaps I was.”

“You can’t do that during an actual match though, sir,” you tell him, bringing your goblet to your lips and sipping significantly, “otherwise you’re going to be distracted and I reckon you’ll be hit with a bludger, don’t you?”

Fred twirls his goblet in his hands, desperately trying to read your face and your tone. He’s having a hard time deciphering. “You do make a good point.”

“Besides,” you continue, a small smirk making the edges of your lips curl, “we can’t have you getting distracted. Although, I understand how difficult it can be -- considering I’m the colour of sunshine, and all.”

It takes a moment and a laugh before Fred’s registered what you’ve said, and you glance back down at your goblet, giggling into it a bit, and he shakes his head before turning to look at George and Lee, who seemingly have been watching you two this entire time, because they immediately glance away and immerse themselves in conversation with others around them.

“And we know how brilliantly blinding sunshine can be, don’t we, Fred?”

Someone’s playing very loud music and Fred wonders how Umbridge hasn’t caught you all yet. Or perhaps, he thinks, maybe the booming just sounds louder in his own ears.

“Almost as blinding as love, d’you reckon?”

Fred feels that warm, homely feeling take him over yet again -- but this time, he knows it’s not from the butterbeer, or the raging fire. He doesn’t even try to pretend. It’s all from you.

“Yeah, yeah -- tease all you want,” he says as confidence engulfs him. He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

You place your goblet down on the step next to you. “I wasn’t teasing,” you say very matter of factly, “so much as I was trying to get you to kiss me, actually.”

He purses his mouth into a very smug smirk and watches as your eyes dart down to his lips, and you bite down on your own. He leans in, the rest of the music and chatter surrounding you both seemingly drowned out by the steady pounding of his own heart, when --

“Oi, Freddie! C’mere, mate!”

Clearly Ron’s incapable of seeing that we’re in the middle of something, Fred wants to tell you. Instead, he pulls away slightly and whispers to you. “Want to sneak up to the Astronomy tower?”

“So late at night? How very scandalous of you.”

“Well it’s why you fancy me in the first place, isn’t it?”

He grabs your hand as you paint a very mischievous look on your face, and is about to stand up before you tug on the collar of his shirt with your free hand, pulling him back to you and pressing your lips to his in an electrified climax.

You try to part, but he pulls you closer to him and slides his hand down your leg. A soft moan emits your lips, and Fred wonders if he’d be able to sneak a Hufflepuff girl up to his own dormitory this evening. “Sorry,” you reply, biting down on your lip again, sending him into a complete tizzy. You whisper cheekily, “Just couldn’t wait.”

He smirks at you, hoping his giddiness isn’t blatantly evident in his exuberance, and pulls you to your feet. “Actually..” you say, playing again with his collar, “instead of the Astronomy tower, how about we head to the Room of Requirement?”

“No? Don’t want to look up at the stars, be all mushy, fall asleep in my arms?”

You actually snort through your laughter, rolling your eyes at him. “Yes, yes, of course I do, you sap. But I reckon we should save that for an actual date. Right now, I’d kind of just like to snog you for a few hours, if you don’t mind.”

He shakes his head at you with admiration. “What has gotten into you?”

Another hair flip from you sends warmth through Fred’s veins. “C’mon, Weasley,” you say, tugging his hand, the yellow fire reflecting in the light of your eyes, “don’t you trust me?”

[jay-and-dean]

Winter Cabin / Dean

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : Dean x Reader

Summary :  Dean is tired and grumpy lately, maybe the magic of a winter cabin and love can make him relax ?

Warnings : Fluff and Smut. A hint of angst and adult laguage.

Note : This is our third collaboration.

This is how it works : 

We wrote the same story, and we did together. I wrote Dean’s Pov and @roonyxx​ wrote reader’s Pov.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Wordcount : 5465

READ READER’S POV HERE

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

——————————————————————

DEAN’S POV

I look at the road, holding the wheel tight with both hands, a frown on my face.

           I’m tired. I’m actually exhausted but I won’t show it. My body can wait, and my mind should just learn to get silent.

           So when the woman I love asked me to get in the car, I just did, with little grunts and probably not much enthusiasm. But I did. 

           North. That’s where she wants me to go. North… Like it wasn’t cold enough in Lebanon right now, or grey enough.

           I have been driving for a few hours now, in that specific blinding white light of snowy weather, and several times I had to wipe the tears of a yawn off my face.

“You know I could have driven, Dean, right ?” she says, bending to see my face.

“And risking damages on baby” I groan. “No thank you.”

I know I shouldn’t talk to her like that, she doesn’t deserve it. Actually she’s the only one to never deserve it.

“I do have my driving licence” she says with a little smile.

How can she smile when I’m so mean ? Something is on her mind, it’s like she had been walking on eggs all day.

“Yes but the road is frozen, and she only listens to me.”

Saying that, I give her a look, and a faint smile, to apologize for my abrupt and unfair answer.

           Nothing goes right lately, nothing ends up right either. Nothing important goes as planned, and even the little things are going wrong anyway. Bacon burns, Baby has had a leak, glasses escape from my hands, I even hit my toe like an idiot this morning.

           Just a bad day in a long succession of even worse days.

“Turn left” she says pointing at the road I’m supposed to follow. 

“I know my right and left” I grunt again, pushing her hand from before my face. 

“Maybe, but you have the reflexes of a sloth today” she mocks me like she does when she��s trying not to get mad. “So I prefer making sure.”

Y/n doesn’t let me be mean to her, and she can get really impressive when she decides that something is worth getting angry, but she has such a knowledge of me, that she always knows how to defuse my gloomy moods.

           I turn left and wonder : Where are we going ? She told me not to ask, so I won’t insist, because I know that in the end, I will only find out when she decides so. 

“We’re almost there” Y/n looks around with an enchanted look. “Look at those giant pine trees covered in snow !”

“Mh.”

“Look at this lake !” she keeps going into raptures. “It’s like a giant mirror.”

“Mh” I grunt again. 

I would love to give her more than that, but honestly, it feels like my soul is sore.

           Nothing seems to ruin her joyful humor, she seems eager to find the place she’s looking for, kneeling on the seat to look everywhere, sometimes taking my cheeks in her hands to make me turn my head toward something, or putting an amused little kiss on my temple when one more growl leaves my throat.

“Yes ! It’s there ! Look !” she almost screams when a wooden house appears in the middle of the infinite white forest. 

“Finally !”

Getting out of the car, I look up to the little cabin. Its dark wood contrasts sharply with the blinding white of the snow, and I have to say, it’s pretty. 

           My eyes go from the place to her, wondering what she planned, but she doesn’t say a word, and just starts to take our bags out of the tunk, so I follow her, hoping I will find out soon.

           When I enter the place, I immediately have my answer. The room is so warm, so calm, that the air itself seems quilted with the softest pillows. The slightly orange lightning gives the place a mellow atmosphere and everything seems made to cuddle or out of cuddles.

           My tired eyes adjust willingly to the new, way softer, light, and I look around, impressed.

“Oh wow, where did you find this place ?” I ask Y/n, fond of the wide smile on her face.

“I have connections” she states, her enthusiasm radiating from her and finally getting to me.

I smile tenderly, not believing my luck. 

           She takes my hand and guides me upstairs, leading with a soft sway of her hips in the narrow wooden stairs.

           My breath gets stuck in my lungs when the little fairy lights decorating the place hit my eyes, the tiny room is almost entirely made of a giant thick and fluffy bed. It’s calling me, like a promise that the soreness of my body could be sucked up by the softness of this place.

           I walk to the bed and let myself fall in the middle of it, letting the silky covers hug me. Y/n joins me, her beloved smell perfecting my little nest. The light citrus in her hair and the comfortably familiar smell of her delicious skin make me hum slightly.

“Do you like it ?” she asks, turning to me to touch my chest like she always does.

“Yes” I answer with a little grateful smile. “It’s cute. Thank you, baby. I Think we both really needed a break.”

I take her soft hand and kiss it. 

“Yeah we did” she nods with her smooth relaxing voice. “We’re both tired, you more than me because you always insist on doing most of the work” she cups my cheek to feel the rough hair of my beard on her fingers.

I should shave. I didn’t even take the time to take care of me lately, and I have too, for her.

“You go change into something comfier baby” she says when I feel like I could fall asleep already. “I packed your robe and your hotdog pants” I can’t help but let my tired eyes linger on her bottom lip. “I’ll get the cocoa heated up downstairs, okay ?”

My smile grows. She, alone, can erase all the horrors with her love and her beautiful keenness to live.

           A few weeks ago, she talked about her love for winter comfort and laziness, I was too stressed out and told her I never had time for this��� And here she takes me.

“You’re the best. I’ll be right down to help you” I say, forcing my body out of this mattress that is begging me to stay still, but she kisses my head tenderly.

“No need, baby, I got it under control” she assures me, getting up to leave.

Once in my pajamas and robe, I stand in the door frame watching her. She’s humming absent-mindedly while preparing this hot chocolate she only makes when she needs comfort, spreading the sugary smell in the whole cabin. 

           Unable to stay away, I walk to her and wrap my arms around her body to take a little more of this adorable smell that is so perfectly her and kiss her neck.

           I want her, I want to lay her down on that couch and ask her to welcome me between her thighs, but there is no rush, for once, and I should let her do her calming magic that is already working.

“You didn’t have to do all of this baby” I murmur against her skin. “But still thank you. I already feel a little more relaxed.”

She lifts her arms to touch my hair and I nuzzle more in her neck, hungry for her touch. How could I be so engrossed by everything going on that I forgot to cherish the more angelic than angel woman in my life.

“I know I didn’t have to but I wanted to do it” she says. “Do you want marshmallows, cinnamon, whipped cream or sprinkles on yours ?” She turns to see me and a wide smile appears on my face. “Okay all of them it is” she understands. “Get comfy on the sofa, I put a bag with Dr. Sexy MD DVD’s on the floor by the tv, you can choose which one you want to watch.”

Of course she brought this tv show to watch. I was always my no worry moments, and with all that stress lately, I’m two seasons late. I kiss her cheek and let her go.

“God I love you.”

When she joins me on the couch with a tray full of wonders, she takes one of the fluffy blankets and wraps me cautiously in it, like she wanted to overprotect me, then gives me the mug before snuggling on my side. I can’t stop watching her with an amused smile and, I don’t doubt it, all the love in my eyes.

“Are you comfy ?” she asks.

“Very comfy baby” I chuckle at how adorably caring she is and pull her closer.

Blowing softly on the too hot beverage, I dip my lips in a hum, eager to feel its taste. And when I turn to her to tell her how good it is, she laughs.

“What ?”

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose” she chuckles.

My hands are taken, one holding the mug, the other around her, but now that she says that, I guess I can see a white spot on my nose.

“Wait, let me help” she says, sitting up a little to kiss the stain away in a soft moan.. “Mhh delicious.”

I want her. I want to hear that moan when I lick her nipple, but now is not the time to get a boner so I look away.

“Oh you got twizzlers !” I widen my eyes. “When I was little, Sam and I used to do a competition of who could push it the furthest in their nose.”

I laugh at the memory of one staying half stuck in my brother’s nose. 

“Oh my God, and you ate it afterwards ?” she asks, I nod. “Oh that’s disgusting!”

“Hey!” I protest, unable to erase my smile. “You try to keep a seven years old entertained 24/7, you come up with some weird stuff!”

A little shadow crosses her face, I know that shadow by heart : My baby is always a little sad when I talk about my childhood. I told her a thousand times, that I didn’t mind anymore because I was happy now, thanks to her, and that was all that matters. But she always tries to give more, just like now, even if with her I already have it all.

She suddenly gets up and takes back my still burning chocolate, making me pout. 

“Come on !” she says, impatient.

“What are we doing ?” I try, but she doesn’t answer.

She’s putting on her coat, gloves and shoes in a hurry, so I look down at myself, wondering if I should change to actual clothes but as she already opens the door, I decide to only put on my jacket and my shoes.

She tugs at my sleeve until I end up outside of the cabin, boots planted in the untouched snow, freezing slow wind going through my thin pajama pants, right to my crotch.

“Why are we outsi-“ I start, but a snowball hits my chest. 

She wants to play…

“Oh you’re in for it now !” I scream, trying to look scary but her face is radiant with joy.

I gather the more snow I can in my bare hands and hit her chest, making her take a step back at the impact.

“Hey ! No booby shots !” she points her adorable gloved finger at me.

She squats to take more snow and close an eye to aim, right to my crotch. I cover it with cold redden hands and feel my cock protest at the feeling.

“Oh no need to get nasty sweetheart” I wink. “You’ll be needing this body part later on.”

“Okay, you’re right” she says and my impatience grows.

I will have her, I… A snowball hits my face while my mind was lost. She’s laughing hard, with this kind of laugh that’s a little frightened like children have when you run after them.

I wipe my face, tasting the clear water on my lips and feeling the snowflakes melt on my skin, then before she can move, I chase her, catching her with only three running steps. My arms carry her to put her on my shoulder and I quickly, but careful to not hurt her, spank her giggling butt.

“Hahahaha ! And you always say I can’t throw !” she says, strangled by a laugh.

I look around, wondering what to do with her, and decide to put her under the tree branches, shaking her to make everything fall on her.

“Aaaahh Deaaaaan !” she screams, now covered in white, but she grabs a handful of snow and crushes it to my head, making me hiss. “Karma !”

The snow slides down my neck and a piece of it falls on the curve of my back.

“It got in my coat !” I laugh, a little tense, shaking my body to try and get rid of the freezing feeling sticking to my skin.

She wiggles and her pretty eyes widen.

“AH oh me too !” she screams childishly. “Abort mission ! Go inside !”

She runs inside cutely, making me laugh even more, and throws away her coats and gloves. Her lips are a little pale and I can see she’s shaking. I take off my coat, but I’m frozen underneath it.

“I’ll get the fire started baby” I say, knowing we will need more to get warm again. “Take off your wet clothes if you wanna speed up the process” I say with a smile, walking to the fireplace.

While lighting a fire with the perfect wood already dried and prepared next to the fireplace, I listen to her saying the mugs are still very hot. It is a good thing, because I am freezing. 

She gives me the chocolate and I drink almost all of it in one go, humming at the sweet soft beverage covering the inside of my throat and making the constant lump in it disappear. 

The fire is quick to take and the beautiful flames add even more warmth to the room. My shaking and redden hands open closer to the fireplace and I moan in relief. 

I take off my robe, wet from the snow, and look down at the soaked fabric of my hotdogs pants.

“Underwear it is” I mumble, taking it off too.

“Come here, Dean” she calls me. 

When I turn to her, she’s wearing the grey sweater she stole from me a long time ago, even before we got together. It’s way too big for her and I smile at how cute she looks in it. She takes several huge fluffy covers and opens one for me.

“Let me burrito you” she smiles.

“Burrito me ?” I chuckle and walk to her to let her wrap it around me.

She doesn’t just put a blanket on me, she totally swaddles me in all the covers, tucking it in everywhere carefully. Once totally swathed in blankets and surrounded by pillows, I barely can move.

“My arms are stuck” I say with an amused smile, but all she does is create a hood with the blanket on my head.

“Burritos have no arms, baby” she states cupping my face to kiss me. “Your nose is all red, my poor Deanie.”

I try to get another kiss from her soft lips but she put them on the tip of my nose.

“I’m not a poor Deanie” I say with a low and deep voice. “I’m a hunter. I’m a warrior !”

She chuckles, taking a step back to look at me. That woman could do anything to me, I would let her shave my head if that could make her laugh.

“I need to take a pic, you’re incredibly cute like this” she says making me wiggle in my prison of comfort.

“No no. Don’t keep ridiculous photos of me” I protest.

She takes a pic, laughing at my exaggerated grumpy face, and comes sit next to me, snuggling close and wrapping her arms on top of all the rest around me.

“My baby… You’re not ridiculous” she states calmly. “Seeing you like this makes me happy.”

I don’t answer, but just shake my toes -the only thing coming out of the cover- toward the fire in a grunt, to make her understand I really can’t move. That makes her chuckle, and that’s exactly what I intended.

Then silence falls on the room. The cracking of the fire and the wood are so relaxing, just like the smell of her hair… 

After a few minutes, the cold disappears, and I even start to burn inside of the cocoon she made for me. I push the hood out of my head without using my hands and try to focus on the softness surrounding me. 

But my usual thoughts come back, and the second they do, they start to become louder than the calming sounds of her breathing and the fireplace, louder and louder, until I forget where I am for a second. Questions and regrets turn in my head, worry and reproaches I have for myself. 

And the exhausting stomach ache comes back. 

“Dean, you’re tensing again” she notices right away, putting a hand just where the hurt is like she was magic. 

“I’m sorry.”

I sigh, looking at the ceiling.

Outside, the weather changed, the blue sky became darker and snow started to fall heavily.

“You know you can talk to me right ?” she says with her head still on my shoulder.

I know I can, Y/n understands me so well, but bad habits are hard to get rid of. I’m just used to keeping everything inside until it eats me alive…. But I want to enjoy winter and cuddle with her, I want to learn how to let go. That’s the progress I made in my time with the woman I love : I’m willing to be better, to let her magic work on me.

“I’m not over Mary’s death” I exhale, terrified by the words but already feeling a relief.

Y/n lifts her head and looks at me deeply, pushing the covers a little to free my moves, and puts a hand on my heart.

“I know, baby. No one asks you to be over your mother’s death so soon, or ever” she says.

“I’m just… so angry” saying that, I feel my eyes burn with tears instantly, and try to swallow everything back.

“You have every right to be angry, Dean. Furious even” she won’t let me close that door now. “It is unfair. She was given back just to be taken again.”

“Why ?” I let a tear fall. “F-first dad has to leave again after only one day and now…”

She closes her eyes for a second, and I can see she feels at least a part of my pain. Her hand goes to my hair to stroke it.

“I… I just have so much a-anger” I repeat, feeling the painful lump in my stomach grow and grow like it was going to explode, but I can’t stop talking now. “I feel responsible, I feel h-helpless and… and… abandoned.”

The lump suddenly breaks and it feels like I can breath again.

“You’re not” she says, wiping her own wet eyes with the back of her hand.

She opens the covers and slips her body inside, against mine. I put my head in the crook of her neck, like I needed to hide after what I said, or just be as close to her as possible.

“It’s okay to be angry” her hand holds my head tenderly against her skin. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s not your fault, Dean. It was cruel to make them come back only to take them again, but you’re not abandoned. I’m here, Sam is here, Cas too…”

“You’re here” I whisper, squeezing her in my arms. “Yes, you’re always here.” 

“Look outside” she says after a minute.

I turn my head to the little window, nothing can really be seen through it because of the snow. I have no idea why, but there is something comforting about it, like the cabin itself was wrapped in a thick coat.

Her hand comes to my face to wipe the tears there.

“There is nowhere we can go for now “she states. “Sam is safe and Cas promised to stay in the bunker to keep an eye on everything. No hunt planned, just the snow and me.”

I search her face.

“You had checked the weather, right ?” I ask, looking around, still amazed by the magic of this place.

“I did…” she admits. “Just to be sure you would have no regret to be here, because you can’t leave anyway. But you’re not locked forever !” she chuckles. “I’m not a psycho. The snow will only fall like that tonight, and if we really want to leave tomorrow, we can. But the place is ours for a week…”

“I like being your prisoner” I smile.

“Now Dean” she pecks my lips tenderly. “We have all this time to talk about anything, or binge Dr Sexy MD, we have nothing else to do than relax. No one is waiting for you.”

I grab her thigh and tug at it to make her straddle me. She sits on my lap in her very oversized hoodie, her hair messy and her eyes a little red from crying. She’s perfect and she agreed to be mine.

I’m not abandoned. In fact, I never really felt understood by Mary or by John… I love them and their death is not something I will recover totally. But I have Y/n. She understands, she is my best friend and the love of my life ; and I wouldn’t feel so lonely if I just took the time to look deep in her eyes more often. 

“How do we do that ?” I ask. “How do we enjoy winter ?”

A wide smile grows on her face.

“It’s all about laziness” she states like she was explaining something serious. “About being warm when it’s so cold outside, about doing silly things, eating like kids and never looking at your watch. Anything that makes us feel comfy actually”

I take some candies from the tray.

“Can we watch an animated movie ?” I ask, remembering the good time we had going to the theater to watch Finding Dory together.

“Yup” she nods. “I have Big Hero 6, The Lion King of course, Madagascar, Totoro, Hotel Transylvania and uhm… Kung Fu panda !”

“You packed all that ?” I smile.

“Of course, I took a little of everything.”

I take a deep breath and peck her lips, earning a satisfied hum from her. I think I can do that, with her I can.

My hand dives in the bag of gummy bears, and I grab a fistful of it, making some fall on the floor. 

“Whoops” I bend to try and get them but she catches most of the little bears.

“So” she says with her mouth full of candies. “Besides getting diabetes while watching animated movies ? Do you have plans ?”

“Yeah” I smile, putting the bag of gummy bears between us on my lap to stuff more in my mouth. “Broiling marshmallows in the fireplace.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in the diabetes category, baby” she nods.

“Building a pillow fort definitely, and cuddling” I add and her face lights up. “Come up with a new mac and cheese recipe. Making love everywhere and sleeping, I obviously need sleep. But I’m struggling to rest lately…” 

A mischievous smile appears on her pretty face.

“Maybe if I tire you enough…” she licks her lips. “Then you will fall asleep more easily.”

“I like the way you think” I groan, putting the candy bag to the side.

She bends to kiss me, her warm lips crushing on mine before she slips her tongue in my mouth. My hands slide on her body, enjoying every curve, turning on my burning desire again. And while I slip under her hoodie to feel her skin, she starts moving her hips against my crotch.

My body reacts to hers instantly, cock growing with hunger for her, the woman that owes me, the woman that makes me the infinite honor of loving every damaged part of me.

She runs her fingers through my hair, her short nails scratching my scalp. She grabs my bottom lip between her teeth and I shift on the couch. I need to be inside of her so much.

“You’re perfect Dean” she says with her lust voice.

She sits back to push my shirt up and I help her get it out of the way. I love when she gets like that, when her love for me shows in her moves, in the way she wants me. 

Her lips meet the shivering skin of my chest, and when her wet tongue finds my nipple, a jolt of electricity runs to my crotch, making my already hard cock twitch against her pants covered core. I moan loud, grasping her hair.

“Fuck Y/n baby… I need to see you.”

She undresses with a smile, revealing her naked body under the sweater she took from me. She looks like a present, all ready under just a single wrapping…

I bend to devour her breasts, taking a nipple to suck at it like a starving man, desperate to earn moans and gasps from her pretty mouth. 

“F-fuck Dean” she breathes out, her head falling back, her nipple hardening against my tongue.

Her body gets lost in mine, I know how to trigger her like a freaking gun. Her back rolls like a snake and her pussy pushes harder against me, I can now feel a wet spot going through our clothes.

I will never get over the effect I have on her.

I open her pajama pants, and eagerly push it down, licking at her neck.

“I need to come home baby… please” I almost whine, with that voice only she can get from me.

She shivers when I start sucking at her pulse point, knowing exactly that it will leave a purple mark that yells mine, the kind of signature I love to let on her. 

“Y-yes Dean…” she begs now, her hips desperately trying to get more friction. “T-take me.” 

An animalistic growl comes out of my chest and I turn to push her down on the couch, hovering her. With one hand, I take off her pants and spread her legs again to sit between them.

“Fuck…” I groan. “You soaked me through your pants baby” my fingers go down to brush her folds, spreading her wetness all over. “So wet for me.”

“A-always” she gasps.

She is already far, already quivering under my touch and it’s beautiful.

My fingers push at her entrance, welcomed by throbbings of her walls and moans on her lips. I became an expert at her body, and nothing is better than to see her part her lips that way. 

I start thrusting my fingers slowly inside her so soft body, taking my time to feel her, to watch her bottom lip tremble. My thumb gently grazes her clit once and that’s when she whines, grabbing my wrist like she wanted to control my hand.

“What baby ?” I whisper in her ear. “You want something ?”

“M-more, p-please Dean” she moans. 

So I give her what she asks. I sink deeper, stopping only when my other curled fingers bump her entrance, and start working her, teasing her sweet spot.

“F-fuck yes…” she spreads her legs more, allowing me to move just a little deeper inside of her.

She lets my hand go, now satisfied by the treatment I’m administering, and she grabs her breasts, squeezing them. My cock twitches again, I know I could come just watching her if it lasted a little too long. 

“I’m gonna come, Dean” she moans, arching her back a little in her bliss.

I move my fingers faster, delighting in the wet sounds coming from her soaked sex. She’s close, really close, and I want her to fall off that cliff.

“Yes baby, come for me, clench my fingers” I pant, totally mesmerized by my desire for her.

I kiss her and suddenly feel it, she shakes, and squeezes my fingers very hard.

“D-DEAN YES”

I put little kisses on her face while she comes down slowly, in little moans and groans that make me crazy. I withdraw my fingers and look down at them : they are gleaming with her sweet juice. 

I lift my fingers, sliding them on each other to look closer, and smell. Finally tasting her on them, I hum.

“You taste so good, baby.”

She grabs my neck to pull me down for a kiss, almost making me fall on her, and press my body harder on hers.

“Take me Dean” she moans. “Come home.”

I push my underwear down, not able to wait a second more, I grab my aching cock and position it at her entrance. I feel her hands on my face, and her eyes on me but I’m too engrossed by the sight of me sinking inside of her.

When I look up, she’s staring at me with her lips parted.

“I love you Dean” she says, the last syllable a little strangled by me bottoming out.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

I gently grind onto her, giving her time to adjust before I start trusting, holding back to not just pound into her like I know I would if I let go. I need to be deep, I need to own her, to make her scream, but I roll my hips and moan.

She starts joining my moves and I groan in her neck. 

“Feel so good, baby” I let out in a growl, involuntarily snapping my hips a little harder.

And before I can gain my cool again, she wraps her legs around me, pushing me deeper, caging me against her. 

“Yes ! L-Let go Dean… Take me !”

So I do.

I let go totally, trusting her, she wouldn’t let me hurt her, I know she wouldn’t. So I hold her body and pound into her almost brutally, earning gasps and moans from her perfect mouth.

Her whole body moves with each of my trusts. She’s mine. It’s all I can think of : My baby, my Y/n. My love.  

Her inner walls clench me, adding the most overwhelming sensation and I feel my thighs contracting.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes !” she moans over and over again, encouraging me to go harder, deeper.

“C-come Y/n” I order, losing the rhythm I had until now. “Come on my cock.”

A sharp burning hits my back, she’s digging her nails in my skin. But all I can focus on is her orgasm milking my cock. She arches her back and screams.

“DEAN ! YES!”

I bury myself the deepest possible and come hard, an intense relief roaming through my body as I empty myself inside of her in little convulsion of my legs.

“FUCK Y/N ! GRAAH !”

I lose control of my body for a second, just shaking in pleasure above her, out of breath. I know I’m probably crushing her a little as my weight can’t really hold itself anymore, but she doesn’t push me, only strokes my wet hair.

“I love you so much Y/n” I say, holding her protectively.

“I love you too Dean” I can hear a smile in her voice. “So so much.”

I lift my head to see her, searching her red sweaty face. I know I can do this, I can enjoy this cabin, and winter and life… Because the love of my life loves me back. 

“I want to stay the whole week” I admit, already thinking of making love in that incredible bed upstairs, about cuddling next to the fireplace and watching one of the movies she brought.

“Then we stay a whole week, baby” she answers simply, still stroking my hair in the most delicious way.

That’s when I feel it : I will sleep like a baby. As soon as I close my eyes, I will just drift off and dream of her.

“Thank you baby” I smile lazily. “For everything.”

I can feel her pretty smile against my lips.

“Everything for you, baby” she whispers.

_______________________________

FEEDBACK IS MY FUEL

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n  @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @mrspeacem1nusone​ @stylesismyhubs​ @deanwanddamons​ @jawritter​ @peridottea91​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​ @vicmc624​ @teresa-67​ @jessie-michael​ @doctor-hp-mcu​ @hawkerz12​ @mariaenchanted​

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

BTS Reaction: You make a bet with them and ask for head pats when you win

thank you @anoesjkaax​ for helping me through my writers block and giving me the idea for Hobi’s. 🥺

Namjoon

You and Namjoon were cooking together. The entire time you were in there you kept trying to toss the empty packages into the trash can, only to miss every time. You were going to throw another empty package in there and Namjoon couldn't help but chuckle at you. 

“Y/n you’ve missed every time when are you just going to give up on that? There’s so much food on the floor because you keep missing.”

“I feel it this time, this one is going in.”

“That’s what you said the last time.. and the time before that.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet me on it?”

“Sure. You’re on go ahead and miss ag-” His sentence is abruptly cut off when you make it into the trash can. 

“Yes! HA! I told you!” You start doing a victory dance and he chuckles at you fondly.

“Alright yes, you got me. You won. What do you want sweetheart?” You suddenly start fidgeting with your hands and glancing down at your feet. “What is it, y/n? You don’t have to be shy around me.”

“Um.. can I have head pats?” Namjoon feels like his heart is going to melt in his chest at the sweet request. He walks over to you and places his hand on the top of your head, patting it lightly and then running his fingers through your hair. You sigh happily and let your eyes flutter closed. 

“You’re too cute, y/n.” 

Jin

You had been watching Jin play maple story for the last half hour. You found it quite amusing how he got so into the game and took it very seriously. 

“Jin you should quit pressing your luck. Your items are going to get destroyed again.”

“Not this time. There’s only a .7% destroy chance.”

“You’re gonna get your item destroyed and then you’re going to rage quit like you did before.” 

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet on it?”

“Sure. Go ahead and see what happens.” Jin stares at the screen when he sees that indeed, his headband has been destroyed. He continues looking before he exits out of the game and lets out a loud shout. 

“WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN? IT’S NOT FUNNY STOP LAUGHING!” You continue laughing to yourself and soon Jin leans over to poke your side, knowing how ticklish you are there. You squeal and scoot away from him but he quickly grabs you and tugs your chair closer to him and kisses your temple. “So you won our bet what do you want as your reward?” You look away from him and mumble quietly and he doesn’t hear you. “Hmm? What was that?”

“I said I want head pats.” 

“Oh my you are too cute, come here.” You lean over onto his shoulder and Jin begins lightly patting your head before he rests his hand there and gently moves it back and forth. Before long you are beginning to nod off. He stops his ministrations and listens to the steady sound of your breath before laying his head on top of yours, just enjoying this peaceful moment with you. 

Yoongi

You move to get out of bed but feel arms tighten around your waist and pull you back. You giggle happily when you feel lips pressed against the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, let me get up. I need to go shower and get some water.”

“Mmm, no. We can just stay here all day.”

“No we can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re going to get hungry and grumpy and want to leave the bed within the next hour.”

“I will not. I bet you cave before me. You get more hangry than I do in the mornings.” 

“Alright then it’s a bet. We’ll see who caves first.” You settle back into bed and snuggle closer to Yoongi. Sure enough within 20 minutes you hear Yoongi’s stomach growl rather loudly and you let out a chuckle. 

“Just because my stomach is growling doesn’t mean I’m getting out of bed, don’t get cocky.” You laugh and turn around in his arms.

“Just admit you’re hungry and lost the bet and I will go make us both breakfast. Come on I’ll make your favorite.” His stomach growls even louder at that and he sighs before nodding his head. 

“Fine. You win.” You move to get out of bed but again, Yoongi grabs you and pulls you back. “What do you want for winning?” You’re glad you aren’t facing him because you’re face is surely turning red.

“Um.. could I just have some head pats? I like it when you do that for me.” Yoongi’s smile is a mile wide when he hears you ask for this. 

“Of course, angel.” He pats your head a few times and it makes you happy. “Now please go make us food before I die of starvation. I’ll give you more when you come back.”

“Okay, deal.”

 Hoseok

Hoseok came back from his shopping trip with more bags than you think could possibly fit in his closet. 

“Hoseok we don’t have anymore room for half this stuff. Your side of the closet is already starting to take over mine too.”

“But baby, they were having a sale!”

“And you probably still spent more than what my car costs huh?” He chuckles at that and shakes his head. 

“I didn’t spend that much...”

“Hoseok you have very expensive taste. Not saying that’s a bad thing because you look amazing in everything you wear but... Okay I bet the next time you go out you can’t shop on a limited budget.” 

“Oh yeah? I totally can, just you watch!”

“And by limited I mean less than $100 for your entire outfit.”  He gasps and is about to protest before he sees you raising your eyebrow at him questioningly. 

“Okay, you’re on.” The next day Hoseok insists on proving you wrong so you follow him around on his shopping trip. He walks by a store window and gasps when he sees a pair of his favorite shoe brand. 

“Hoseok those shoes cost 10x the amount I gave you on our bet.”

“But they’re limited edition! Okay I’m sorry but the bet is off you win. I have to have those.” He rushes into the store and you shake your head laughing to yourself. He didn’t even make it 30 minutes. You wait for him outside and he comes out with his bag in hand looking quite pleased with himself until he sees your expression.  “So.. um.. what exactly do I have to do since I lost?”

“I want you to pat my head and tell me I was right.” Hoseok sighs in relief. 

“Oh is that all? I can do that!”

“You want me to add more?”

“No! No that’s okay.” He walks over to you and drops his bag onto the ground as he pats your head. “You were right, baby. But you know I bought something for you too.” Hoseok bends down to take a necklace out of the bag. It’s cute, and has a little sunshine charm dangling on it. “Now you’ll have me with you everywhere you go.” He pats your head again and you smile brightly before leaning in to peck his lips. 

“Thank you, Hoseok. I’ll wear it always. Promise.”

Jimin

You and Jimin had decided to go sledding together. He loved being outside in the snow and it made your chest feel warm to see how happy it made him and how his inner child came out whenever it snowed. You both were at the top of the hill in your own sleds. You were just about to push off and start heading down when Jimin stopped you. 

“Wait!” 

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“I bet I beat you to the bottom.”

“Really, Jimin?”

“Come on it’ll be fun if it’s a race!” 

“Okay, you’re on.” You start scooting down the hill.

“Hey! Cheater, wait for me!” You do end up making it down to the bottom first. 

“Looks like I won!” Jimin gets out of his sled and walks over to you, playfully tackling you into the snow. 

“You cheated! You got a head start!” 

“You never said I couldn’t. I won.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs and kisses your forehead. He gets up and holds his hand out to help you stand up. 

“Let’s go get some hot chocolate to warm up.” You follow him to the concession stand and he orders one for each of you. 

“So, you won what do you want from me?” You take a sip of your hot chocolate and walk closer to him. 

“Head pats.” 

“Is that all?”

“And a kiss.” Jimin chuckles and leans in to peck your lips. He moves his hand up to the top of your head and pats it gently, but after a few moments he lets his hand rest there and rub little circles with his finger tips. 

“Ah, that feels really good. Jimin keep doing that.” He chuckles and continues his ministrations until he sees you are about to fall asleep on your feet.

“Maybe we should go back now?”

“Okay.” You pout slightly. 

“Don’t worry I’ll continue when we get home. Promise.” 

Taehyung

You and Taehyung had been playing video games with each other for the entire day. And you had beaten him at almost every single one. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed by how good you were. But he finally decided he had enough. 

“Alright, I am going to beat you at the next round.”

“You sure about that? I have been absolutely destroying you so far.”

“That’s because I let you. I’ve been going easy on you.” That’s a lie, Taehyung thinks to himself. You obviously feel the same way judging by how you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Alright then. Let’s bet on it.” You hold your hand out and he shakes it. Sure enough, you beat him again. 

“Ah! What the hell why are you so good at this?!” He tosses the controller on the ground in frustration. “Alright what do you want, jagi?” The confidence you were exuding before is gone and you are suddenly quite shy. 

“Um, well since I won and I did a good job I think I want head pats.” 

“Head pats? Oh my god you are the cutest.” Taehyung scoots over closer to you and gently pats your head, you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of it and soon you feel a kiss placed on your forehead.

“Thanks, Tae.” 

“Of course. Anytime you want anything from me just let me know, okay? I am more than happy to give you head pats whenever you want.” 

Jungkook

You were walking around the park with Jungkook. You were about 15 minutes into your walk when dark clouds started forming over head. 

“Uh oh, we should probably go back.”

“No way! The weather man said it wasn’t supposed to rain today.”

“Jungkook half the time they are wrong we should go back to the car.” 

“If you want to go back you can, but I need to get my cardio in for the day so I can jog and then meet you back at the car.” 

“Alright fine. I bet you come back drenched.” 

“Bet not. See you back at the car.” You walk back and as soon as you close the car door the first sprinkling of rain comes down. Within minutes it is pouring. You giggle to yourself as you picture Jungkook frantically running back to the car and his bewildered expression when he realized you were right. You see him burst through the tree line and make right for the car. He throws the door open and turns it on, cranking the heat up. He hears you trying to stifle your laughs.

“Don’t even say it.”

“Say what? I told you so? Okay. I definitely won’t say you lost the bet and I was right.”

“Ah, you are such a brat.” He says with a teasing grin on his face. “What do you want for winning then?” You grab his hand and place it on your head. 

“Head pats.” 

“Your hair is going to get all wet, I’m soaked.”

“I don’t care. I want head pats.” Jungkook smiles at you and complies, lightly patting your head but soon you realize he is using your hair for a towel as he turns his hands over and continues patting and rubbing your head. 

“Jungkook stop it!” You playfully smack his hand away. 

“I’m sorry I had to.” You both laugh at that but he places his hand back on your head counting his ministrations much to your delight.  

[bloody-bee-tea]

Lazy mornings

Just some mingxicheng fluff for @karetahana because I hurt them with a lot of feels earlier 😇

Jiang Cheng wakes up slowly, warm and content.

He immediately reaches out for Lan Xichen by his side, and makes a happy noise when he finds him still in bed, although propped up against the headboard and reading something. Still, it doesn’t matter, because Jiang Cheng scoots over to him, smashes his face right into his hip and slings his arms around him.

He’s content to drift off to sleep again right here.

“Finally awake, my heart?” Lan Xichen softly asks and Jiang Cheng makes a non-committal noise.

He’s aware, maybe, not awake.

“Ah, I see not,” Lan Xichen goes on, just as softly and he puts whatever he was reading out of his hands, so he has one free to smooth over Jiang Cheng’s head.

“Get down here,” Jiang Cheng mutters and tugs weakly at Lan Xichen.

He knows that if Lan Xichen doesn’t want to Jiang Cheng is fresh out of luck, but apparently Jiang Cheng is more than lucky on this fine morning, because Lan Xichen scoots down the bed without another prompting.

Jiang Cheng lets out a very content sigh when Lan Xichen is laying down again, and immediately pulls Jiang Cheng into his arm, so he can rest his head on his chest.

Jiang Cheng moves so his ear is directly over Lan Xichen’s heart, and he sneaks his hand under Lan Xichen’s shirt to splay it over the still bed-warm skin on his stomach. Lan Xichen starts to card his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair, and that plus the steady beating of Lan Xichen’s heart under his ear would be enough to lull Jiang Cheng back to sleep.

But he fights it; much happier to just bask in the moment and be lazy with Lan Xichen instead of drifting off completely.

They stay like that for a long time, long enough for Lan Xichen to almost drop off again as well, despite how he always tries to stick to his sleeping schedule, and Jiang Cheng goes warm all over at the thought that Lan Xichen is happy enough to stay right where he is.

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, before he presses a lazy kiss into Lan Xichen’s skin.

“I thought you fell back asleep,” Lan Xichen lowly gives back and Jiang Cheng stretches before he cuddles in close again.

“Nah,” he gives back. “Enjoying this too much to sleep.”

Lan Xichen chuckles at that and leans over to kiss Jiang Cheng’s hair.

“As much as I enjoy this, too, we can’t stay like this much longer,” Lan Xichen then tells him and Jiang Cheng deliberately doesn’t react.

He’s not going to move, or let anything ruin his perfectly lazy, sun-warm and love-filled morning.

“My heart,” Lan Xichen mumbles when it becomes apparent that Jiang Cheng is simply not going to answer him. “Mingjue is coming over soon.”

Right, Jiang Cheng almost forgot that. They invited him for brunch. Well, for flirting more honestly, but that’s neither here nor there.

“He has a key,” Jiang Cheng mutters, because even for Nie Mingjue he’s not going to move from this perfect place.

“He’s expecting food,” Lan Xichen tries and that actually makes Jiang Cheng pause for a second.

Nie Mingjue has a tendency to get all grumpy when he’s hungry.

“We’ll just have to cuddle the grump out of him,” Jiang Cheng then decides and Lan Xichen huffs out a surprised laugh.

“My heart, we should really ease him into this first, don’t you think?”

At that, Jiang Cheng actually moves.

“My light, I love you, and I love him, but he’s really dense. He has not picked up on our flirting at all. We’ve been trying to ease him in. Let’s try a different approach now.”

“And you think getting him into bed with us is going to be any better? What if he thinks it’s just physical?”

“Xichen, seriously,” Jiang Cheng mutters and puts his head right back where it belongs. “It’s lazy Sunday morning cuddles. If he misunderstands that, then it’s on purpose,” Jiang Cheng decides but then he sighs and goes all pliant against Lan Xichen again.

The fingers massaging his scalp help a lot.

“But we can spell it out for him. If he continues to misunderstand,” he allows and Lan Xichen thinks that over for a moment before he finally nods.

“Fine,” he then agrees and Jiang Cheng happily snuggles him harder, almost rolling on top of him.

Lan Xichen lets out a deliberately exaggerated put-out sigh, but he also tugs the blanket back over Jiang Cheng where it had slid off, so Jiang Cheng counts it as a win.

It’s not long before their phones chime; it’s probably Nie Mingjue letting them know he’s on his way now.

Lan Xichen tenses for a moment, but when Jiang Cheng kisses his chest he relaxes again.

Roughly half an hour later their doorbell rings, and despite his words earlier, Jiang Cheng can feel the nerves creep in.

He rarely allows himself to think like that, but maybe Nie Mingjue is misunderstanding them deliberately, because he doesn’t feel the same.

“Tell me again that he loves us?” Jiang Cheng whispers at Lan Xichen who immediately resumes his hair stroking.

He probably drifted off after all.

“He does. You can see it in his eyes and the looks he throws us, and the way he smiles at us,” Lan Xichen immediately reassures Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng relaxes against him again.

“Okay,” he agrees and then waits for the tell-tale sound of the key in the lock.

Nie Mingjue rings the doorbell one more time before he enters their apartment with his own key and Jiang Cheng can imagine the look of confusion on his face when he finds the kitchen empty and no food prepared.

“Xichen? Wanyin?” he calls out and Jiang Cheng decides he’s not going to let him wander around any longer.

“In here,” he calls back, and he can feel Lan Xichen tense under him.

They are both nervous then. Good.

Nie Mingjue follows his call and steps into their bedroom without much hesitation, though he clearly stops dead in his tracks right after he enters.

“Oh,” he breathes out and Jiang Cheng cracks an eye open at him.

“There you are,” he mumbles and then reaches behind him to pat the empty space on their bed there. “Would you come to bed? We didn’t get around to brunch yet,” Jiang Cheng explains and carefully watches how Nie Mingjue shuffles his feet.

“Ah, that’s okay,” he gives back and twists to grab the handle of the door, avoiding to even look at the near vicinity of the bed. “I’ll just—leave and we can do this another time.”

“We don’t want to do this another time,” Lan Xichen now also chimes in and Nie Mingjue stops in his retreat.

“What?”

“Mingjue, we’ve been dropping hints and we have been flirting, and you never react. So this is us outright asking now,” Jiang Cheng says and lifts his head from his very comfortable position on Lan Xichen’s chest. “If you want this—us—then for the love of all that is holy, please come to bed now.”

It seems like everyone is holding their breath afterwards, Jiang Cheng knows he is, and he can feel that Lan Xichen is too, but then Nie Mingjue exhales, long and low, before he takes a few tentative steps into the room.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but he’s already getting out of his jacket.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and pats the space behind him again. “Please, A-Jue, just come to bed.”

“Just for now, or—?” Nie Mingjue trails off, the question hanging in the room, and he just stands there at the edge of their bed.

“For now, for later, for forever, if you want it,” Lan Xichen reassures him. “And for all of it.”

Lan Xichen lifts the edge of the blanket in clear invitation, and when Nie Mingjue sees that they are both still clothed, he relaxes.

Lan Xichen continues to hold the blanket up, and the cold creeps in, making Jiang Cheng shiver.

“Please, Mingjue, it’s cold,” Jiang Cheng says, still mostly draped over Lan Xichen, and Nie Mingjue shakes his head with a fond smile.

“Alright, alright,” he agrees, and slides under the covers, scooting closer until his arm hits Jiang Cheng’s back.

Jiang Cheng takes this as blanket permission and twists himself around, moving Nie Mingjue’s arm out of the way and draping himself over Nie Mingjue’s chest.

He isn’t bed-warm, not like Lan Xichen is, but Jiang Cheng is intent on changing that.

Lan Xichen followed his movement, spooning up behind Jiang Cheng, moving Nie Mingjue’s arm so he can use it as a pillow, and reaching across Jiang Cheng to take Nie Mingjue’s hand in his.

Jiang Cheng allows it, but only because his arms are already full where they are slung around Nie Mingjue’s middle.

“For all of it, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks but he leans over, slightly dislodging Jiang Cheng to press a kiss to Lan Xichen’s forehead, before he does the same to Jiang Cheng.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng mumbles. “We love you. Would you please finally accept that and stay?”

“Is he always this grumpy in the morning?” Nie Mingjue asks with a smile in his voice and Jiang Cheng grumbles into his shirt.

“He is when our boyfriend doesn’t repeat the sentiment,” Lan Xichen cheekily says and Jiang Cheng hides his smile in Nie Mingjue’s chest.

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and then goes completely boneless under Jiang Cheng. “I love you two, both of you,” he then finally says. “And I’m going to stay.”

“Fucking finally,” Jiang Cheng says and props his chin up on Nie Mingjue’s chest to look at him. “No take-backs.”

“I will if you don’t get that bony thing out of my chest,” Nie Mingjue tells him seriously and Jiang Cheng digs it in even harder before he puts his head back where it was.

“Baby. You’re too muscle-y for that to have hurt,” he whispers and then closes his eyes.

Nie Mingjue is warming up fast under the already warm blanket, with Jiang Cheng draped over him like he is, and Jiang Cheng is actually happier than he has been in a long time, with Nie Mingjue under him and Lan Xichen behind him.

“You better still be there when we wake up again,” Lan Xichen softly mutters before he presses a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s arm.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Nie Mingjue replies and Jiang Cheng goes heavy against him at that.

He could get used to sleeping like that. And he hopes that he will.

Now with a continuation: Breeze

[littlespoonevan]

Gallavich + "You want me to do /what/?” :)

i became overwhelmed with a need for mickey to be held so then this happened askjdf i hope you like it, bb

*

Ian getting up before Mickey isn’t exactly a rareoccurrence – if his alarm doesn’t wake him, his internal body clock alwaysdoes. You end up taking your meds at the same time every morning for about fouryears and that’ll happen. So it’s not all that unusual for him to leave asleeping Mickey in bed in the morning while Ian gets a head start on his day.

What isunusual is that Mickey still isn’t up by the time Ian’s sitting down forbreakfast.

Sure, Mickey isn’t really a morning person and hetends to take longer to drag himself out of bed than Ian does but he’s alwaysup by now. Especially on a morning that he has work.

Setting his half-eaten toast aside, Ian makes his wayback upstairs to their room. He frowns when he finds Mickey still curled up onhis side, seemingly fast asleep. Crouching down beside their bed, he cards hisfingers through Mickey’s hair. “Mick,” he calls softly. “Time to get up.”

Mickey makes an unintelligible noise but doesn’totherwise react except to lean into Ian’s touch a bit more.

“You’re gonna be late,” Ian tells him, struggling tokeep the fondness out of his voice as he rubs his thumb over Mickey’s eyebrow. Theheat of Mickey’s skin makes him pause and he presses the back of his hand toMickey’s forehead.

“Hey, Mick, wake up,” Ian coaxes again. “Are youfeeling alright? You’re really hot.”

Mickey groans, rolling onto his back. “Yeah, Ifucking know that, Gallagher. You tell me all the time.”

Ian rolls his eyes, pushing up to sit on the edge ofthe bed. “I mean you’re burning up. Are you sick?”

Mickey grumbles something Ian can’t hear before hehuffs. “I jus’ have a headache. I don’t get sick.”

Ian raises a sceptical eyebrow. “You sure? Because itkinda seems to me like you’re getting the start of a headcold. Y’know,” he addspointedly. “In my professional opinion.”

Mickey glares at him, bunching the covers up betweenhis fists like a five year old. “I’m fine.” As if to prove it he attempts tosit up only to grab Ian’s leg for balance a moment later when he moves tooquickly.

“Call work,” Ian says decisively. “Tell ‘em you’resick.”

“You want me to do what?” Mickey asks, voice flat.

“I want you to use one of your sick days as an actualfucking sick day for once,” Ian replies, gently urging Mickey to lie back down.He’ll take any excuse he can get not to go into work but when he’s actuallycoming down with something suddenly he’s fuckin’ employee of the month.

“Call them,” Ian repeats, grabbing Mickey’s phone offthe nightstand and shoving it into his hand. Mickey glares at him again butdoes as he’s told. As soon as he’s distracted with his phone Ian takes a betterlook at him and he really doesn’tlook too good. His throat sounds scratchy and it’s clearly not just from beingasleep, his cheeks are red and his forehead looks clammy.

Hesitating for only a second, Ian climbs off the bedand reaches for his own phone. He gets through to his boss on the second ring. “Hey,listen I’m sorry this is such short notice but I don’t think I’m gonna make itinto work today.”

He feels Mickey’s gaze snap to him and Ian holds up ahand to stop him from saying anything.

“Yeah,” Ian says down the line. “One of the kid’s issick-“ He gets a middle finger for that one. “-and I can’t send ‘em intonursery with it. I can try to make it in for the afternoononce someone else gets home.”

“No,” his boss sighs on the other end of the phone. “It’salright, take care of the kid. I’ll swap your shift and put you on Saturdayinstead. That sound good?”

“Thanks,” Ian answers gratefully. “I’ll see youtomorrow.”

As soon as he hangs up the phone he turns around tofind Mickey watching him with a petulant scowl, arms folded across his chest. “Thefuck you do that for?”

“They were more likely to let me take the day off if Isaid it was Franny,” Ian says, slipping off his uniform jacket and starting tounbutton his shirt. Now that he actually doesn’t have anywhere to be, sweats soundvery appealing.

“I mean, why’d you take the day off at all, shithead,”Mickey grouses and Ian reminds himself that Mickey’s sick and thereforeunderstandably grumpy so he resists the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up.

Sighing, Ian gets back on the bed, crawling overMickey until he’s covering him with his body, and reaches up to brush the hairback off his face. “You always takecare of me when I’m sick. Let me return the favour.”

Mickey seems to deflate at his words, his gazesoftening into something quiet. “Guess it wouldn’t be so bad if you stuckaround for the day.”

Ian gives him a wide smile, shifting forward to kisshis forehead. “You want anything? Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Mickey says finally, looking extremelyunsettled at the idea of being taken care of. And that just breaks Ian’s hearta little. Sure, they look out for each other and take care of each other allthe time in the general sense but it’s rare that Mickey’s the vulnerable one – orallowing himself to be the vulnerableone. It just makes Ian’s resolve firmer that he’s gonna do whatever Mickeyneeds today, no questions asked.

*

It turns out, what Mickey needs today is just someoneto lie with him.

After Ian’s made him breakfast and given him some Advilfor the pain in his head Mickey quietly admits that his joints are aching a bitso Ian manoeuvres them around until he’s sitting up against the wall withMickey lying between his legs, his back against Ian’s chest.

Ian rubs at his shoulders at first, pressing a kissto the side of Mickey’s head when he feels the tension start to leak out ofMickey’s body. Soon enough though, he just ends up smoothing his hands downMickey’s chest and hugging him close.

“You need anything?” he asks, words mumbled into theskin at Mickey’s temple.

Mickey shakes his head absently, one of his handsreaching up to hold Ian’s wrist in place. “Nah, this is good,” he mutterstiredly.

Ian kisses his head again and tightens his hold,drawing patterns on Mickey’s sides over his t-shirt until Mickey’s breathing startsto even out. And even though Ian wishes Mickey wasn’t sick he can’t say this isexactly a bad way to spend his day. He remembers when they were younger, whenhe would’ve given anything for Mickey to let him hold him like this. Even whenthey made that tentative jump from fuck buddies to something slightly more theonly way they’d ever end up spooning had been when they’d gravitated towardseach other during sleep.

By the time they actually got to the point where theywere holding each other for comfort Ian had been so fucking depressed he couldn’teven get out of bed; it was so bad he could hardly even feel Mickey’s armsaround him sometimes. Now, Ian hoards moments like this. Even though he knowshe doesn’t have to, even though he can hold Mickey whenever he wants.

He just- it’s important to him to try and make it upto Mickey for all the shit he had to carry Ian through. It’s important to himthat Mickey knows Ian would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

He’s not sure how long they lie like that but Mickeywakes up eventually, snuffling and sounding a little bit more blocked up thanbefore. He twists then, turning to curl into Ian more, cheek pillowed on Ian’schest as he brings his arms around him.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Ian murmurs, carrying on thesoothing strokes up and down Mickey’s back from before. “Feelin’ any better?”

“Think I just gotta ride it out,” Mickey replies andIan winces at how hoarse his voice sounds.

“Want me to get you a cough drop?” he asks, alreadymaking to get up before Mickey’s hands latch onto him to hold him in place.

“No just- Just don’t get up,” Mickey requests,burying himself deeper against Ian’s chest. “’m okay.”

Ian stills, heart squeezing in his chest as he drawsthe covers up over them both. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Mickey nods against him, mumbling out a quiet, “Thanks,”a moment later.

Just as Ian think he’s falling back to sleep againMickey says, “You know you should consider changing careers from an EMT to anurse with this kind of bedside manner.”

Ian barks out a laugh, squeezing lightly at the napeof Mickey’s neck. “That your way of askin’ me to give you a sponge bath?”

“Maybe,” Mickey hedges and Ian grins when he can feelMickey’s mouth curve up against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Whatever you want, tough guy,” Ian smirks. “Soon asyou can get to the bathroom without keeling over.”

Mickey huffs but makes no actual attempt to get up. “What’sthe point of you bein’ my nurse if you’re not gonna carry me?”

“You need to stop getting all your information aboutnursing from porn and spend some actual time in an emergency room.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mickey snorts before hegoes quiet again. After a beat one of his hands snakes out to catch Ian’s andhe laces their fingers together. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“S’okay,” Ian murmurs. “I mean, you’re the hottestpatient I’ve ever had so…”

Mickey huffs a laugh, lifting his head to give Ian alook. “Dick.”

Ian smiles at him, free hand curving around Mickey’sjaw. “Love you.”

“You too,” Mickey replies, voice hardly above awhisper as drops his head onto Ian’s chest once again.

They stay like that for the majority of the rest ofthe day until Ian gets up to make Mickey some more food. And Mickey does end up getting his bath.

Ian can think of worse things to do with his day.

*

[willowistic22]

RedFinch sickfic 🥺?

The redfinch requests are fueling my serotonin you guys don’t even understand!!!! a very fluffy fic in my opinion and i quite like it. A few curse words but nothing too serious yknow. Anyways, i hope whoever’s reading this enjoys! 

Requests are still opened by the way! I have three more I got to write but I’d be happy taking more, though with a hectic school schedule it will take some time! 

He wraps himself in a big knitted blanket and lie in bed with minimal movements. A tissue box placed on the floor next to his bed with crumpled up tissues scattered around the floor along with it. Bedroom lights dimmed to accommodate his half-consciousness, not exactly sleepy but can’t stay awake either. 

Albert has his eyes fully closed but his mind on full swing. He’d much rather sleep through his discomfort, but the stuffy nose and headache makes it hard. His breathing is loud with so much liquid blocking his nostrils which makes it hard for Albert to breathe, another reason why it’s difficult for him to sleep. 

Though, he longs for sleep to envelop him. He was rustling under his blanket all night. Getting the flu isn’t an end of the world thing, though he knows it can get serious if it’s not treated right after getting millions of lectures from his mom, but Albert still think of it as a huge inconvenience. Sure, he got the chance to ditch his classes, but he’d much enjoy it if the reason behind it was something other than calling in sick. 

Al groans, furiously opening his eyes and rolling from his side to lie on his back. He stares at the ceiling, placing both hands on his stomach above the blanket. 

He really should be doing something. So far, he’s woken up early as per usual to get to his campus, thinking his flu was cured after taking some medicine before bed. As it turned out, it didn’t, so he had called in sick and barely moved out of his covers. He was able to drag himself to shower, which only took about two hours of convincing himself then he props himself back on his bed with clean clothes. 

Albert wants to ask one of his classmates what he missed from today’s lecture, but the energy to even reach to his phone is non existence. And its literally placed just across his tiny bedroom on the desk. Al could use some food since he hasn’t eaten anything today, but he has no appetite. There doesn’t seem to be any source of entertainment that would do good for him either so he’s left in his boredom. 

He exhales out of his mouth full of desperation, defeating the pointless weight on his eyelids. Al’s brain is desperately screaming at him to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen. Albert’s stomach would be very thankful to be given a slice of bread and some water. He just needs to muster up the energy to push through his exhaustion first.

“YO ALBO!” 

His bedroom door swung violently from a kick, the sound hitting the wall caused him to jump. As if the pain Albert’s head is feeling isn’t enough. 

Al’s head half sits up to see who decided to bother him with a sniffle, causing even more pain to his head. The light coming from the other room seems so bright, he can only see two silhouettes of people standing in the doorway. 

“How’re you feelin’ there?” A voice, he recognize to be his roommate Race, asked. Of course it’s Race who busts down his door. Why did he thought it’d be anyone else? 

“Like shit!” Al answered with a nasally voice and another sniffle following his words. 

“Well, you sure look like one!” Race replied, approaching Al on the bed. He turns back towards the doorway, gazing back at the other figure he’s with, “Your boyfriend’s here to take care of you. So don’t worry about me busting down your door again like that” 

Race walks away with a bounce to his steps, leaving Albert and his visitor to have the room all to themselves. 

Albert flops his head back to the pillow with a groan and a sniffle, propping his arm on top of his eyes to block out the bright light. With the little strength he has left in him, he voices out a nasally greet, “Hi, Finch” 

The distant light coming from the doorway slowly fades away till the door can be heard clicking shut. The next thing he notices is the side of his mattress slowly dipping from the extra weight on the edge. 

“Hi, Al” Finch greets back gently, pulling down his arm away from his eyes. Albert can now clearly see the smile on Finch’s face. The sight of the blond picked his spirit up enough to get the grumpy redhead to smile back. 

He puts the back of his hand on top of Albert’s forehead and asks, “How are you feeling? Other than shit” 

Albert chuckles and sniffles out, “My head hurts, I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m hungry but can’t bring my ass to the kitchen” 

Finch giggles through his smile, retracting his hand and turning to view the rest of Albert’s room. The floor to be exact, “And you should really start throwing your trash away...” 

“Yes, that. I also ditched all my classes of the day, so that’s another problem on my plate” Albert said, slightly unwrapping himself out of his knitted blanket, “And I can’t, for the life of me, sleep but can’t stay awake either because I’m actually sleepy”

He sees his boyfriend reach towards the floor, but can’t clearly see what he’s aiming for. He can hear plastic rustling before Finch sits up straight again, now presenting Albert a bowl-shaped food container, “I made you some cream soup. It’s still warm and it won’t require a lot of chewing” 

Albert smiles at the idea, sniffling his nose out a bit as his hazel eyes twinkle at Finch reaching back down. He could only assume that he’s getting something else. 

“Since you said you lost your appetite, I suspected you aren’t keeping yourself hydrated either so I prepared a water bottle” Putting the water bottle next to the cream soup on the bed. Finch pulls something else up, a small blue container with a bright green lid, “And also some vaporub to save your nose and headache!” 

Albert is beyond thankful to see Finch preparing all of this just for him. He really does not have the energy to do it himself. 

“I’ll get your laptop so we can binge something boring till you fall asleep” Finch ended his note. 

Albert smiles weakly at him, but the adoration was very much present. He hums out, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Nothing. Which is why you owe me big time for doing this!” Finch joked with a little giggle. It made Al roll his eyes with a chuckle.

Finch helps prop a pillow against the wall. Al’s head painfully pounds as he makes the efforts to sit upright, but any sort of comfort they can spare goes a long way. Finch gives him the bowl of soup with a spoon while he does a bit of cleaning. Albert can’t help but feel guilty for making his boyfriend do this. He’s already doing a lot by making time to visit and preparing a homemade cream soup plus other things to nurse him back to health, and he just got the flu! Finch just shrugs him off, saying that he’s more than happy to help.

After throwing away all the dirty tissues, he gets in bed besides Albert with his laptop in hand. Finch notes the knitted blanket he’s using, “Didn’t know you like knitted blankets”

“My mother made this for me when I had my first stay at a hospital” Albert explained after taking a spoonful of cream soup. He puts down the spoon and sniffles out, “I don’t remember why I had to stay overnight but I remember I was around ten”

Finch smiles at the short story before opening up the laptop and Albert continues eating his soup. Finch doesn’t need to worry about eating, he already had a sandwich before heading over here.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie they’re watching, and Al is already declaring his stomach is full. He ate so little that it looked as if he didn’t even bother touching it.

“Al, you haven’t eaten anything all day!” Finch countered.

“I seriously can’t eat right now. I’m sorry” Albert said. He only apologized because he knows Finch had personally made this for him.

“Please, just take your time finishing it” Finch begged, “I’ll feed you myself if I have to!”

Albert kept arguing that he can’t keep going, so Finch really did feed him. Placing the laptop on Albert’s lap and taking over the spoon to force down one meal down his stomach.

An hour or so through the movie, Albert was able to finish the soup. It wasn’t that his stomach was full, he just didn’t have the strength to finish it on his own. With the help from Finch, he was able to make himself eat something.

Finch helps him apply some vaporub on his chest, sliding his hand under his shirt. Albert lazily placed his head on Finch’s shoulder while he did it, smiling full of contentment. He tries to reach up for a kiss, but Finch pushes him away with a smile. 

“Slow down! We haven’t even held hands yet!” Finch joked, lightly pushing Al back against the wall he’s leaning on, “And there’s no way I’m kissing you while you’re sick” 

Albert laughs with a sniffle following, “We can be sick together!” 

“And leave Race to take care of us? No!” 

So they settle back in the comforts of each other, watching various movies under the warm covers of Alberts knitted blanket. Well, Albert moves his position to lie down completely on the bed and wrap an arm around Finch’s waist as sleep slowly overcomes his senses. Finch stays upright while holding the laptop, but the movie is now long forgotten as he strokes Albert’s hair and watches him drift to sleep. 

He looked terrible when Finch first arrived. To see him now sleeping peacefully by his side, a heavenly feeling wraps Finch’s heart. What a privilege it is to be able to cradle Albert in his arms and help him get better. As he unconsciously tightens his grip around Finch’s waist, he laughs seeing the act unfold.

 BANG! 

The bedroom door slammed opened with a powerful kick, sending both Albert and Finch to jump out of their little serenity. Finch keeps his arms on Albert as the pounding pain in his head appears once again. His eyes squints at the bright light coming from the door. 

“What’s up guys!” Racetrack’s loud voice echoed through Albert’s head, adding even more to the pain. And not to mention to new pain in his ass with his presence. Though, neither of them are entirely surprised. 

“Race... Please go away...” Albert weakly whined, slipping a hand under his pillow as he slowly lies back down. 

“What? Come on! I’m bored!” Race replied, he walks over to the bed in the corner with his signature grin, “The more the merrier, Al!” 

Before he could sit on the bed, Finch took the initiative to stand up and show Race to the door. Slamming it shut and locking it while he’s at it. He returns to his spot on the bed, Albert instantly wrapping his arm around his waist again. 

Finch notices the little pout on his face as he tries to catch more sleep. He laughs and threads his fingers through his hair, “Should’ve locked that door sooner. Sorry” 

“It’s fine” Albert said, barely audible since his face is half buried in his pillow. He opens one eye at Finch and voices out whatever he can without needing to move, “Lie down with me? We can take a little nap” 

Finch chuckles at the offer and proceeds to follow his orders. He gets comfortable under the blanket, facing his boyfriend to wrap his own arms around him. Albert’s head is placed on the crook of his neck, tickling Finch a little  with his hair as he adjust to get comfortable. 

They get comfortable in each others embrace after a few moments of adjusting. Chests rising and falling on their own slow pace. Albert already on his way to dreamland whilst Finch still has the small energy to pet his hair. Though as the seconds passes by, his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier till sleep finally envelops him. 

[erikdragon]

Color Me In

When: June 25th Pride Parade day Warning: cute gay shit Written in discord with @angelseth

Erik didn't sleep. He didn't have to, not after staying asleep for centuries on end, but that night he let himself be lulled by Seth's steady breath to a state of semi consciousness, a hazy and comfortable space. 

He didn't realize when he sun sneaked into the sky, taken by surprise when ray of sunlight warmed his foot. The dragon had the angel in his arms, tangled with the soft white sheets when he opened his eyes, staring up at the glass wall. He had half a mind to wake Seth up, the view was stunning, but one look down to his face was enough to decide against him. He looked so peaceful, with his soft freckles across his cheeks and his parted lips, Erik didn't have the heart to disturb him. So instead he let his thumb rub against his hipbone, tracing circles over the soft skin.

Everything that had happened in the past weeks was not close at all to anything that Seth had ever experienced before. He was amazed at playing human. He enjoyed it to no end, but he had never felt anything similar to this in is over a hundred years and he was honest, it was a tad scary, but still, he wanted to get immersed in it and find out if this was what humans always bragged about and what his cherub siblings always talked about. Waking up next to Erik was something unexplainable. Seth was unable to say why he had even fallen asleep when it was not a common practice to hum even if his vessel did need some rest from time to time. But the calmness and warmth the dragon had brought into his life made it too easy to feel more and more human. The kisses and touches had gone from chaste to heated but still on a safe territory for him and he wondered if it was Erik’s reason to keep him untainted from Lust. Either way, it was soothing to feel the dragon’s soft touches. Especially in moments like this when he was on the verge of waking up. The Grigori smiled and flickered his eyes open gently as he stirred and shifted closer, “I fell asleep on you again,” the words came in a soft whisper as h licked his lips, “I should cook breakfast as an apology, shouldn’t I?”

Erik smiled at the sight of Seth stirring awake, he looked too adorable not to. There was a chuckle rumbling in his chest when Seth started talking and Erik ran his fingers through the angel's hair, fondly pushing the few lost strands off of his eyes "Nope" Erik whispered back, stretching himself out before pulling him closer and wrapping his arm back around him "You're not leaving this bed for at least ten more minutes, no chance" he hummed, locking eyes with him "Nice sleep?"

The involuntary smile painted on Seth's face was one of the few unexplainable things that kept on happening around Erik and he was enjoying it far too much for it to be allowed, but the angel didn’t want to worry about that too much. One of the Grigori’s hand moved to press it over the dragon’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his fingers as their eyes locked, “Are you not hungry?” the question came still in a very soft murmur, “It was a nice sleep, yes, but I am ashamed of how easy it is turning into a bad habit to fall asleep in you. My vessel must be quite tired. Or very relaxed around you.”

Erik made a funny face, as if he was pondering the option "Maybe a little, but it can wait a while. One should never mess with things like fire right after waking up, that can be dangerous" he teased with a smirk "I'm sure they covered that I'm chef school?" The dragon joked, feeling Seth’s hand pressed right over his scar, a shiver running through his spine. Oh that could end so bad. "I like to think it's the later. If it makes you feel any better, you weren't the only sleepy one." The hilarity on the angel’s face was obvious, “Are you talking about cooking, or about yourself?” Seth questioned humorously. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed for the young angel and a light frown crossed his features, “Are you okay?” the concern sounding clear on the tone of his voice. “I would like to think so as well. One day I will ask him,” it was a promise since from time to time, Seth did get to talk to his vessel to make sure he was okay. “I thought you said you didn’t need to sleep after a long slumber.”

Erik let out a surprised bubbly laugh at that question "I was talking about a stove, but I mean... You're not wrong.  So for future reference:" he was chuckling, pulling Seth closer to kiss his lips "If you're handling me after waking up, treat lightly" he joked, nuzzling his neck "I'm fine, nothing to worry your pretty head about" the dragon dismissed it, not wanting to burst their bubble with things like his heart or traumatic past. "Well, then tell him I said hey - and complimented him on his tattoos, great choice" he smiled "I don't need to, but you were comfy" the dragon laughed "So, I hear there's a parade going on today."

It brought a nice feeling to be the causing of that laugh. The best part is that it was contagious so Seth laughed too, “I am being careful,” the angel said impishly as he let his fingertips to trace up from the dragon’s chest to his cheek as he leaned in to press their lips together in second chaste kiss. As much as Erik asked him not to worry, it was part of Seth’s personality to worry for those who had become important in his life and Erik had become very important in so little time. “I will make sure to tell him that, I will have to let him know about you. Sometimes I share some memories with him and he does with me,” the Grigori explained. “I’m glad you believe so, it would be very awkward if it was not,” the smile was back. “Yes, yes there is. It is to celebrate pride month. I usually work today and bake colorful cupcakes on the store to give them away, but I decided not to this year and to join the festivities,” Seth explained as he propped himself up on his arm, “Are you going to celebrate too?”

Erik chuckled, lifting his hand to a stray lock of his hair. Fuck, that smile. "Oh, so you're going to share memories of us with him? Now I feel important." He teased, though it was the truth. It was like someone telling their best friend about you, it felt nice. "Well, I am a dragon, pride is half of my personality" he joked with a chuckle "And I do love a festival, so... But remind me again, what are we prideful of?"

Seth shook his head, “No, not of us. Only some memories I have of you, when we met so he knows who I’m talking about, “ the angel cleared out. Erik had a very valid point, Seth knew how prideful dragons were so it made sense but it still amused him the way he said it, “You are aware that same sex couples had been frowned upon among humans for a long time, aren’t you? It has been a few years since people stopped hiding and being hunted because of their sexual preferences and that is why they celebrate being proud of being who they are, no matter who they love and to be loud about equality.”

Erik smirked "So you talk about me, huh?" he preened, then let out a surprised "Oh!" before smiling again "So it's like a gay parade? That sounds like so much fun! I was never really into human politics, things were a little more lax when you were at sea, but I've heard awful stories of land. I wonder how these festivals are nowadays. I bet you have to sign up for it online, don't you?" He groaned, grumpy "There's always an online aspect for stuff nowadays." he rolled his eyes before looking back at the angel "Do people go to these festivities with their dates?"

“No, I have not talked to Josh in a while. I do it every few months or so, but I hadn’t done it yet this time,” and then Seth noticed he had used his vessel’s name for the first time in front of someone. He never did that for the safety of his vessel’s life. For a moment, the angel got serious and nervous. He trusted Erik, he honestly did, but that had been a major slip that should not have happened. The excitement from the dragon at the mention of the gay parade was enough to distract him and bring his mind back into the previous conversation, “Yes, yes, a gay parade is a good way to describe it,” the Grigori agreed. “No, no there is no need to sign up, we can just go there and I suppose people do bring their dates. This will be the first time I attend. I supported it differently the past years.”

"Josh?" He asked, grinning and propping himself on his elbows to give him a better look. "It's a nice name, suits this face" he said gently running his fingers along his cheek "We should go together" he said simply, his voice much softer, vulnerable. He wasn't used to not knowing if people would tell him yes or no "If you don't have other plans, that is. We could keep your tradition, bake... whatever it is you bake, and then go to this party" he pushed Seth's hair off his face "If you'd like to join me, that is?"

“You seem to like him a lot,” Seth ribbed this time as he leaned into the touch. Now he wondered if Erik would be so interested if his vessel was another one. Perhaps he would ask the dragon, but not now. The angel only wanted to enjoy this for a little longer. “I would like that, yes,” his answer quick and honest. He could sense the uncertainty coming off in waves from Erik and Seth did not like it. He only hoped the dragon could see the eagerness of spending time together was mutual. “We do not need to bake. I would much rather walk around and enjoy the festivities with you. It could be a nice mundane first experience for both of us to share.”

Erik chuckled at that "Jealous?" he hummed, pulling the angel in for a soft kiss "I like you a lot" he corrected, then smiled when Seth accepted his invitation. "That sounds like an amazing plan" the dragon grinned before playfully rolling them around so he could hover over Seth with a smirk, pinning him in place "The only flaw of it is the part where you leave this bed."

A frown tarnished the Grigori’s expression and there was confusion in his eyes, “I do not know how jealousy feels like,” Seth admitted. Learning the vast range of human emotions and experiencing them was a very different thing. Seth had learned a lot in his years as a human but had never gotten attached enough to feel something like love or jealousy. It confused him why Erik found it amusing when he knew it was a feeling normally perceived as negative. That cloud of confusion was quickly removed from his head when the dragon hovered over him and looked at him in such a way. It was beguiling, “I could always share my bed with you tonight if you wish so,” the angel offered as both hands moved to cup Erik’s face.

Erik perked with interest, an almost unbelieving smile on his lips. It was fascinating to see the angel figure things like this out "It feels... warm, but a wrong kind of warm. Like you have an itch that you can only scratch when you get someone's attention back to you" he tried to explain "Which you have, by the way. My attention" he added. The dragon arched an eyebrow at the offer, leaning instinctively his cheek against his hands "How forward of you, inviting me to your bed when the sun has barely awoken" he chuckled, loved the idea. "So we're going to your place after the festival, is that what I'm hearing?"

The frown remained as Seth tried to understand what Erik explained. What he had felt and the way he had worded his question had not been led by the sentiment Erik just described, “It was not jealousy,” his voice soft, “I am not sure what it was, but it did not feel the way you said it,” Seth explained. Hearing he had Erik’s attention did break another feeling he was growing acquaintance with. The concept of feeling butterflies for someone was foreign and unreal, but now he understood it and liked it more than he would express. “I assumed that would be a good compromise since you seem so reluctant of me leaving your bed,” there was a slight tilt of the angel’s head, “Only if you wish so.”

"Well then it wasn't jealousy" he shrugged it off "It makes me wonder though, what are you feeling right now" the dragon smirked at his next words, leaning down to properly crowd over him, pressing their chests together, his elbows against the mattress on each side of Seth's head "I'm reluctant of letting you go" he corrected, bumping their noses together "But the prospect of a day with you is an acceptable compromise."

Erik was very hard to predict. It was probably because he was not human and Seth had only learned not predict human nature. Dragons were impulsive and the angel was aware, but he had never imagined this much. Those words as simple and innocent as it sounded had Seth’s heart racing and the blood rush to his cheeks as he eyes looked down and the corners of his lips showed a nervous smile, “I am feeling too much to describe at the moment, but I can assure you there is not a pinch of ill sentiments,” the angel promised as his blue eyes returned to those dark ones. “You will have to let go of me for a short moment so we can properly repair for the parade,” Seth pointed in a matter-of-fact voice. “Will you not get bored of being around me for so long?”

Seth blushing and stumbling to put his feelings into words was one of the most adorable sights the dragon had seen. "In that case, I'm glad" he said with a smile before pressing their lips together and murmuring against his lips with a knowing smile "That's your cue to take a breath before your heart burst out of your chest." The reminder got him faking a sigh and he rolled off Seth and onto the floor, sliding off the mattress as graciously as possible, getting to his feet "I'm going to need some directions though, I have no idea what kind of outfit is appropriated for the parade" he said before laughing "Oh you could stay for the week and I doubt I'd get bored, love" he smiled brightly before moving away from his bed, purposefully so he wouldn't climb back in "You have ten seconds before I give up on the parade and decide to just hold you hostage in that bed"

Seth was realizing how difficult it was to follow Erik’s line of thoughts or his actions. The constant teasing and flirting were slightly overwhelming but the angel was liking it very much. And those kisses! The Grigori never expected a kiss to feel like that. There was a smile when they broke apart even if his eyes stayed closed for a heartbeat, “Can you hear it?” Seth questioned, “And if that happens it would be dangerous, then why are you so smug about it?” the tease implicit in his words.

Erik letting himself fall to the floor to give Seth some space was the most amusing thing the angel had witnessed so far, “You did not have to do that,” the pout was back as Seth sat up on the mattress. “You only need to be comfortable. The rainbow colors are appreciated, but not mandatory. Some people like to show a lot of skin, some others do not. There is no wrong dress code for this,” The Grigori assured. “I want to believe you, but I do not think it is possible not to get bored of spending so much time with one person,” it was a foreign thought for the angel. “No, please, I am ready to make breakfast and then I will have to leave but we can meet at my apartment in a couple of hours if that is okay,” Seth was already on his feet looking for his discarded clothes.

Erik chuckled at his words, nodding with a smirk "Clear as day" he answered gently before another chuckle "Well because I put that drumming in there, I'm proud of it." Thinking for a little while, Erik pouted "I don't think I have anything rainbow" he complained before smirking "I bet you're one of those who walk around parading all those tattoos, showing every inch of skin you cover every day, don't you?" He joked, because clearly Seth was the opposite. Watching him gather his clothes, Erik leaned down, grabbing one of his socks and stretching his arm offering it "You’re saying you'd get bored of me? I'm wounded, babe." “Are you trying to give my vessel a heart attack?” Seth question with a perfectly practiced serious expression that he did not mean at all and the smile at the end was what gave the angel away. “You do seem to enjoy the reactions you are getting out of me,” Seth stated, “It makes me wonder if you too enjoy the reactions I get from you.”

As he put on his shirt, Seth smiled, “I am sure you will look amazing no matter what you decide to wear,” the angel insisted, and then a bubbly clear laugh slipped from his lips, “I am not sure that goes with my personality, nor Josh’s. I do try to wear something tamer for this,” he did not mention he already had his outfit at his apartment, but Erik would probably guess it by now. The angel took the sock and shook his head, “That is not at all what I meant. I am only saying that I do not believe someone would like to be around me for that long time.” The dragon laughed with an arched brow "Not at all, just like to keep you on your toes" he teased "What reactions do you think you get from me?" He said watching the man move, a pout when he saw him covering those gorgeous tattoos with a shirt.

The laugh got him smiling though, he really liked the sound "Oh so I get a special view then, got it" he licked his lips "Then you'll just need to give me the opportunity to prove you wrong, won't you?"

The angel certainly had grown fonder of Erik’s laugh. He liked seeing that smile lit up his face and the clear ring of his laugh, “You do keep me on my toes for many reasons,” Seth murmured coyly as he moved closer to the dragon and in fact stood on his toes to be able to press a kiss on the taller man’s lips. “I am not quite sure yet, but I am aware there are good reactions, otherwise you would not invite me into your home nor bed anymore.”

Seth wasn’t sure how to answer that. There were few others that the Grigori had laid in bed half-naked with, and as much as he would like Erik to know that. The angel was still being careful to what this between them meant, “I suppose you do for now,” were his only words, the smile clear on his face and voice. “It was not a challenge; it was merely a comment. You do not have to do anything you do not want, Erik.”

Erik chuckled, arching a teasing brow, and then laughing when Seth kissed him. By getting on his actual toes. The dragon held the angel by his hips, keeping him close and leaning down to make it last just a moment longer "Yes, yes, but you don't have to worry your little halo about it, your invitation to my bed is still open" he hummed, then grinned "Oh, you couldn't make me do anything I don't want, love. If I'm spending time with you it's for the sole selfish reason that yes, I want to" and with that he sneaked his hands under his shirt, pulling him in for a claiming kiss for good measure.

Having the dragon keep him close to his warm body certainly caused Seth to feel those butterflies again, “I am glad to hear so, I must admit I do enjoy sharing your bed a lot,” the admission so open that it even surprised Seth himself. The words and kiss were very welcome and the angel let his hands slid from Erik’s naked chest to his neck and into his hair as they kiss. He could tell thing would get heated if they didn’t break apart so reluctantly, he broke apart with a sigh, “If we keep that going, we will not have a proper breakfast.”

Erik hummed "Who'd have thought a mattress on the floor would be my favorite, huh?" he teased with a smirk. The dragon shivered once again when the angel slid his hands up, brushing that x scar ever so slightly. The hand on his hair made him let out a soft moan, and Erik swallowed thickly after the kiss, nodding, and respectfully letting go of his hips, taking a step back "As much as I want to say fuck it to that breakfast, we have plans. And I do want to see you in your element" he took a step closer again, running his fingers gently through Seth's hair, pushing it back "Come on, food awaits."

“It could easily be everyone’s favorite. It is very comfortable and the setting is quite nice,” Seth’s words true and unaware of is Erik meant something different than just the comfortableness of his bed. The sounds falling from the dragon’s lips caused the angel to shiver. It was a reaction he was learning to understand but as with everything that came from Erik, Seth was enjoying it quite a lot. Their breakfast flew by and soon it was time for the Grigori to go back to his apartment to get ready. An hour later, Erik was picking him up so they could go find a nice spot on the main street to watch the parade. Seth was wearing something simple and not too revealing as others on the street. The black cap with the rainbows stripes covering his messy hair and protecting him from the sun. Erik on the other hand was all in black and he was certainly lacking some colors for the festivity, “Would you mind if I try something to get you in a more festive tone?”

Erik was annoyed when he was left alone. He soon realized his closet has mainly consisted of whites and browns and blacks for the past five hundred years of so. Pride seemed to be all about color, but he didn't have any to wear, so instead he focused on looking good and black seemed a nice option. Plus, those leather pants made his butt look really nice.

Seth looked absolutely adorable though and Erik decided that hats suited him. "You look great" he said simply with a smile, then tilted his head to the side curiously at the request "Well, be my guest, love" the dragon answered with a grin, arms open "What do you have in mind?"

“Thank you, Erik, you do look nice too, but I believe a splash of color would help,” and his smile got brighter when he got the dragon’s permission to try something. The angel raised a finger as if indicating the taller man to wait there as he turned around and walked to one of the small stands and talked to the seller. Then he came back with a face crayon with the colors of the flag, “I will need you to lean down for a bit. You are quite tall for me to reach,” Seth said in a soft voice. Once Erik did as he was asked, the angel uncapped the crayon and drew a simple line on Erik’s cheek right above the line of his beard, “There it is! Just enough color,” he beamed proudly at his work of art.

Erik hummed, watching him move. He was chuckling when he leaned down, closing his eyes when Seth held his face still with gentle fingers to draw that line. He had a smile when he opened his eyes back up again "Am I officially in the theme now?" he asked, standing straight again turning around to check himself in the reflection of a parked car nearby. "I like it" he stated, turning back with a grin reaching for the angel's hand to pull him closer "Where to now?"

“Yes, you are,” Seth assured as he capped the crayon and put it in his pocket. The angel was glad to see the dragon honestly approved the silly idea he had to give him some color according to the theme. Even if their mood was light and playful, Seth was not expecting much physical contact in public, therefore he was somewhat surprised when Erik took his hand and pulled him closer. His hand squeezing Erik’s for a moment as he looked up and smiled, “We need to find a nice spot to be able to watch the parade. It will be easy for you with your height, I would need to get closer to the front.”

Erik noticed the man's reaction when he was pulled closer, waiting to see if it would be okay, but the smile he got pushed any question away. "Well" he said "I could always hold you on my shoulders" the dragon smirked, leaning in to say in his ear so the passersby wouldn't hear it "I'd never say no to the opportunity of having your legs around my neck, love, even if it's outside the bedroom" he licked his lips pulling back with a shit eating grin.

Just as Seth was about to decline the offer with the argument that he was probably heavier than he looked like, Erik decided to lean closer and tease him with those suggestive words that only caused the blush on his cheeks to increase to levels he didn’t remember seeing on his vessel’s face. The angel almost choked on his breath and stopped his mind from wandering to form images that would match those words as he looked at Erik and shook his head, “Are you trying to make red my permanent color? You should not tease me with those things. Especially in public,” the angel reprimanded playfully.

Erik basked in the view he got, the smirk now glued to his face "You did mention people were colorful for the parade" he joked, then licked his lips, eyes locked with the angel's "But doing it in public is so much fun" he teased again, knowing full well how dirty that sounded before chuckling and pulling him by the hand. He stopped by the street where the parade was going, somehow managing a nice spot up front where he wrapped his arms around Seth and held him close, the angel's back pressed against his chest so they both could watch the people pass by "Oh wow, you weren't kidding when you said people were colorful!"

Seth only shook his head, unable to stop smiling at how easily the dragon was teasing and getting him all flushed and a little bothered. “You are terrible,” were the angel’s only words as he let Erik pull him by the hand until they found a good spot. It would be impossible for the angel to deny how nice this was, having those arms wrapping around him from behind as he unconsciously leaned back slightly against Erik’s chest, feeling his warmth and heartbeat steady against him. The feeling waking inside of him was still mostly unknown but it was very pleasant. The Grigori looked over his shoulder and smiled, “I did mention it. It is very joyful,” and without hesitation, he placed both his hands on top of Erik’s as he turned back his attention to the parade.

It was certainly a new experience. They danced to the music of the parade here and there, commented on what they were seeing and even got some people in the colorful floats yelling about how adorable they looked. He enjoyed having Seth with him, even just knowing he was at arm's reach was enough to keep that stupid heart in his chest at peace. It was late now and he wasn't sure how long it's been since they arrived, but he could see the sun setting behind the angel's head as he offered him an ice cream cone, keeping one for himself "So. Twenty-four hours with me. Are you bored?" He asked teasingly, taking a bite of his ice cream.

This year’s pride parade was for sure the best Seth had so far. In the past years, he had fun and he enjoyed making people smile when he gifted them decorated cupcakes and cookies. He enjoyed seeing the happy couple walk around hand in hand with a big smile and real pride on their faces. Love could be felt in the air but this time, with him being somehow part of those couples. Having someone to share it with, was something he would cherish a lot. The angel was normally smiley, but he couldn’t remember another time when he had smiled this much. 

He accepted the ice cream cone and pretended to think over his answer, “Absolutely not. I must admit there had been the best twenty-four hours I’ve had in a long time,” the angel admitted as he reached to tentatively take Erik’s free hand, “Thank you,” Seth’s words spoken in a gentle tone, “Are we going back to my apartment, or would you rather me escort you to your place?” he asked coyly, clearly remembering how he had promised to share his bed with the dragon the next time they spend the night together.

Erik loved to hear those words, a smile on his face as he rubbed Seth's hand with his thumb "I'm glad to hear that. That was a very different date, but... yeah, I think one of the best" he agreed, then the dragon grinned "Are you offering your services as an escort to me, love?" he teased with a smirk before softening his tone "Wanna go for the 48h mark?"

Seth’s heart fluttered inside his chest at the admission from dragon. It was good to hear they both had felt as comfortable on this unplanned date. “Are you always going to turn my words against me?” the angel asked with an infrequent pout before giving his ice cream an innocent lick. “Only of you think you would be okay spending that many hours with me.” 

Erik decided he really liked that view, Seth smiling. "Are you always going to make it that easy?" he teased back with a smile of his own before stepping closer and letting go of his hand. "I think I'd like that a lot" he almost whispered before raising his hand to cup his jaw and kissing his pout away.

[sailor-opy]

Dare to fall (in love): chapter two

Hey look! There is a new chapter for this story! And finally it has a name.

Word count: 5 130 (these chapters just keep getting longer)

Warnings: There is some kissing, does that need a warning? Maybe, if someone isn’t interested in that. Then there is one thing that I think really needs a warning, but I’m not exactly sure how to put it. Maybe internal panicking due to a fear of intimacy?

Previous chapter: Chapter one

Chapter 2

When I wake up, it takes a while for me to remember where I am, but then it comes back to me. I’m at E’s place since last night I had no other option than to stay here and sleep on his couch. It seems that E is still asleep, so I get up and quietly wander around the house. I open the curtains in the living room and notice that it’s raining quite heavily outside. From the kitchen I find a clock and see that it’s already past ten o’clock. I realize that I’m actually rather hungry, and debate whether I should wait for E to wake up or if I could just go and take something from the fridge.

“What are you doing here?”

I startle and turn around when I hear E’s surprised voice behind me. And then I turn right back around again when I realize that E is only wearing shorts and nothing to cover his upper body. Even from my quick glance I was able to see that he was in good shape. Apparently E realizes what made me so flustered and explains apologetically:

“I was going to take a shower when I heard some noises from here, and just through something on to find out what it was.”

Part of me is glad that he did put something on before coming out of his bedroom, but some tiny part wishes he hadn’t. Damn this crush, I feel like I’m getting more and more enamored with E each day, instead of getting over him.

“But seriously, how are you here?”, E asks again.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know if you remember, but last night Sam gave us a lift when we left from Matt and Jenna’s place. I tried to ask him if he knew where to take us, but he interrupted me before I had even finished the question and assured me that he knew where he was going. I didn’t want to keep going on about that too long after that, because I was afraid he might get annoyed. I don’t think he likes me very much,” I explain and turn around again to face E.

“Don’t mind about Sam. He’s not exactly what you’d call a people person and it takes some time for him to warm up to new people,” E explains to me.

“Well, anyway, when we got here, I got of the car to help you in here. I thought Sam was going to wait for me in the car, but when we were at the door, he just drove away. I would have called me a cab, but my phone had died during the evening, and you were passed out so I couldn’t use your phone or charger. I didn’t know what else to do so I stayed here and slept on your couch. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why on Earth would I mind? I am a bit embarrassed though. I feel that I haven’t been a very good host for you so far. Are you hungry? The least I could do is offer you something to eat,” E offers.

“Breakfast sounds lovely. But I don’t mind if you want to take that shower and get dressed first,” I say, even though a tiny voice in my head screams that I definitely would mind that. Both because I’m actually quite hungry and because I don’t want to lose that mouthwatering sight of E topless.  But I sternly silence that inner voice.

Before going to the shower, E gives me his charger so that I can get my phone working again. I turn the phone on and write a short message to my mum to let her know that yes, I’m still alive. She always gets so worried about me if I go too long between messages while I’m traveling.

“Would you like to take a shower? I could borrow you a towel,” E asks when he reappears in the kitchen.

“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you,” I I answer. I don’t have any clean clothes here to change into, but a shower might at least help refresh me a bit.

After the shower, I find E in the kitchen sitting at the table with a large cup of coffee in his hands. He has set me a cup and a plate across the table from him, so I sit there and start to butter a toast. I take and closer look at E and notice that he doesn’t look very good, even though he tries to hide it.

“Is the hangover bad? It seemed to me that you were almost totally passed out by the time we got here,” I ask him.

“It’s not as bad as it could be. To be honest, I don’t even think I was that drunk last night. I’m a bit ashamed to say that I become sleepy quite quickly when I get drunk,” E explains. ”Though I hope you’re happy with being stuck here for a while. I don’t think I’m up to going anywhere just yet. And anyway, before we can go anywhere, I have to call Matt and ask when he can bring me my car back.”

“A quiet morning is fine by me. The weather seems a bit depressing anyway, so I’m in no hurry to leave the house quite yet,” I reassure him.  

After breakfast we spend the next few hours quite quietly watching some reruns of an old sitcom and occasionally commenting something about the episodes. It feels comfortable and natural, like we’d had spent countless days like this already. In the beginning we sat down in the opposite ends of the couch, but quickly we start to gravitate closer together, until I realize that I’m sitting there leaning against E’s chest and he has his arms around me. It’s still raining slightly outside, and I feel like we’re in our own little bubble, just the two of us. I want to stop time and stay in this moment forever. Until my stomach crumbles rather loudly.

“I guess someone is getting a bit hungry,” E teases me playfully and checks his watch. “Well, I guess it is about time we get some lunch. I’m afraid I don’t have much in at the moment, since I wasn’t expecting lunch guests. How about if I call Matt and ask if he could bring me my car, so that we could drive to the town and have something to eat there?”

I agree and after a short phone call E tells me that Matt is on his way. Jenna is doing some shopping in town and Matt tells that he can come with us to meet her there. That way we don’t have to take him back to his place first. He has agreed to meet Jenna at the parking lot in front of a small shopping center. When we step out of the car, we see Jenna already rushing towards us.

“Oh my God, it’s so nice to see you again!” she exclaims and gives me a big hug without even thinking about it. “Have you been all morning here by yourself, since E’s car has been at our place? I thought that I could have asked you come shopping with me today, but I didn’t have your number,” she asks worriedly.

“No, actually she spent the night at my place,” E interrupts before I have time to answer.

“Wait, what?” Jenna exclaims.

“Yeah. By the way, you might wanna teach that brother of your some manners. Not everyone is accustomed to his charms, and it can cause some a bit unfortunate misunderstandings,” E continues to tease Jenna, pretending to be annoyed.

“Oh no. Tell me what happened!” Jenna insists.

“Oh well, apparently during the car ride last night, this one here was trying to make sure that Sam actually knew where he was supposed to take us,” E starts to tell, gesturing towards me, and continues: “Sam assured, in his usual grumpy way, that he did in fact know that, so she didn’t push it more. You see, she’s under the impression that Sam doesn’t like her. Anyway, it turned out that Sam actually didn’t know where she was staying and left while she was helping me into my house.”

“That’s weird, I’m sure I told him where to take you two”, Jenna ponders innocently. I remember that Jenna had teased E about me not staying at his place, so I wonder if she was pranking us by not telling Sam where to take me.

“Oh yes, sure, if you say so”, E mutters sarcastically. Apparently he suspects the same.

“But wait a minute. That doesn’t still explain how she ended up sleeping at your place”, Jenna realizes and gestures towards me. E looks a bit embarrassed, so I jump in and explain the rest of the story of how I ended up sleeping on E’s couch. Then we say goodbye to Matt and Jenna who head back to their car, and we head to the mall to find a restaurant to have lunch.

After lunch it has stopped raining and the sun is shining again.  E suggests that we’d go on a short hike to the forest near his house, where there is a nice, easy trail that has great views over the surrounding area, and I agree. On our way we stop by my hotel, so that I can change into something more appropriate, since I’m still wearing the same clothes I put on yesterday for the barbecue.

***

About half an hour later E parks his car by the side of the road near the start of the nature path, and we head to the forest. We follow the path upwards a slope of a hill for a while. The air feels fresh and sometimes drops of water fall on us from the trees that are still wet from the rain. We reach the top of that first small hill and when we continue down the other side, I feel the slippery mud under my start to move. I try my best to keep my balance, but in a blink of an eye I’ve fallen down and rolled down to the ditch by the path.

“Oh my God, are you ok?” E worries when he hurries to me.

“I have few scratches and bruises, but otherwise I think I’m fine”, I reassure E when he helps me up from the ground. But when I try to take a step, I feel a sharp pain in my left ankle. E has stayed right by my side and watches me so attentively that he sees immediately my face wincing in pain.

“What is it?”

“My ankle hurts. I think it might be sprained,” I explain. When I see E’s worried expression I hurry to calm him.

“It’s ok, I don’t think it’s anything too serious. Look, I can stand on it just fine. I’ve sprained my ankle like this before, and I just need to keep something cold on it for a while, and then it simply needs some rest. I probably won’t be hiking any more during this vacation, but trust me, it’s nothing serious and I’ll be fine in no time.”

“I think I should still take you to the hospital, just to be sure.”

“I’d prefer if you took me somewhere where I can take a shower and wash all this mud off of me.”

E helps me get back to the path. There E offers to carry me back to his car on piggyback, but I refuse. I argue that the path is still slippery and if he falls down, we might both end up hurting ourselves even more. He grudgingly agrees with my reasoning and we start our slow return to his car.

*** And so, I find myself in E’s bathroom for the second time that day. After helping me to his bathroom and leaving me a towel and some of his clothes to change into, he left me to clean up myself and went to look for some first aid supplies to tend my injuries. I wash all the mud off me, I wrap myself in the towel and step out of the shower.  E has left me one of his t-shirts and gym shorts to wear. They are both way too big for me, but my only other option are the wet and muddy clothes I had on earlier. I glance at the pile of my dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom and debate whether I should do something to them. My ankle is really starting to ache though, and I just want to sit down and rest it, so I decide to deal with them later.

I get dressed and limp out of the bathroom to look for E. I find him in the kitchen where he has laid out all kinds of first aid supplies on the table. When he turns to look at me, I suddenly feel very self-conscious about how I look. In general, I think myself as average-looking at best, but wet hair, no makeup and ill-fitting, borrowed clothes isn’t really my best look. And even though I have no reason to think that E would be interested in me, I’d like to look good around him.

E moves towards me to help me walk, but I wave him off and hobble towards the table on my own. E has really been hovering over me ever since my accident, and I feel really conflicted about it. On the other hand, it feels so good to have him take care of me. I would just want to let myself sink into it, and simply enjoy being taken care of. On the other hand, I have to constantly remind myself that I shouldn’t get used to it, and that it doesn’t mean what I would like it to mean, so it might be better to not have it at all. That’s why I try to ease his worrying by acting as normally as I can, to convince him that my injuries really aren’t that serious and that I can manage on my own.

“Hop on here,” E says and pats the table when I get to him. I push myself to sit on the table and E starts to go over my wounds, cleaning them with disinfectant and putting plasters on the bigger scrapes. Then he moves his attention to my injured ankle. He pulls a chair in front of me and sits down to get a closer look. He crabs a bandage that he starts to wrap around my foot and ankle to help with the swelling and to give some support when I walk.  Then E holds my foot in his other hand, and grabs something cold wrapped in a towel and presses it against my ankle. All this time neither of us says a word, and I just observe what he’s doing. I feel weird tension between us, and it makes me nervous. Even when I try to come up with something to say, it feels like all my words get stuck in my throat. Finally E lifts his face to meet my eyes.

“Now, are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital? You didn’t hit your head or anything like that that should be checked over?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” I say and smile reassuringly. And I’m not saying that just to stop E from worrying either. I might be slightly aching and sore all over my body, but I don’t feel anything more alarming.

“Do you need any painkillers?”

“All I need is a quiet night in, resting my foot.”

“Ok, good.”

We both fall silent after that for a while.

“What’s in there?” I ask and nod towards the towel bundle.

“Frozen peas,” E says, smiling a little.

“I hope you didn’t have any great plans for them,” I joke apologetically.

“Nothing I couldn’t sacrifice for the greater good,” E says nonchalantly. Oddly, I get the feeling that he’s only half joking. Then he glances at the clock and puts the towel, with the peas, back to the table.

“I think that’s enough for now. We don’t want you getting any frostbites, do we?” he says gently and lets go of my foot.

I feel the tension rise anew and words get stuck in my throat once again. E stands up and moves his chair away, but doesn’t step back himself. He seems to be impossibly close, and I don’t know where to look. Some of my hair have fallen in front of my face and E surprises me by gently brushing them back behind my ear.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

“Wha…?” I stutter and look up to E’s face to see his small smile and soft expression. I feel like I’m not sure what’s happening, and the whole situation has suddenly become a bit surreal.

“What the hell, I’m just going to say it,” E mumbles under his breath, and then continues louder: “I was going to tell you this today, at a viewpoint along that hiking trail actually. It’s a beautiful place and I thought it would make it more special. Anyway, I’m rambling now.” E stops and takes a deep breath.

“I like you. I mean more than as a friend.”

“No. Are you teasing me? Is this some kind of joke, to see if you can make me believe you?” My brain refuses to believe what E is saying.

“No, this isn’t a joke. I really meant what I said,” E assures me with a serious expression.

“I don’t understand…” I whisper weakly.

“I haven’t said anything earlier, because I wanted to be sure about my feelings first. But now that you’ve been here, it has become clear to me that I really am attracted to you,” E explains. “Now, the most important question is, have you ever thought that you could be interested in me?”

I feel a big, uncontrollable smile spread on my face. I’m too excited to form words, but I nod eagerly.  E smiles widely too and leans even closer to me. He lifts his other hand to caress my cheek, while he leans to the table with the other.

“Could I kiss you?”

And just like that, I’m nervous again. The smile drops from my face and I instinctively flinch back. For a moment, neither of us moves or says a word. Then E sighs and looks away.

“Well, I guess that answers my question,” he says, disappointment clear on his face, and starts to move away from me.

I feel a new wave of panic wash over me, when I realize that E has completely misunderstood my reaction. Though in hindsight, it’s easy to see why. Frantically I crab a hold of his shirt to stop him from moving away. Then I pull him closer, wrap my arms around him and hide my face against his chest. For a couple of seconds E just stands there, but then he carefully wraps his arms loosely around my waist. For a while we just stay there, perfectly still.

“You know, I’m getting a bit mixed messages here,” E laughs gently, but clearly confused. I take a deep breath and lift my head of E’s chest, so that he can hear more clearly what I’m going to say. It still feels like there is a lump in my throat that stops my words from coming out of my mouth, but I know that I simply have to explain my behavior. But I can’t look E in the eyes yet.

“I just needed a bit time to get my head around all this. I had no idea that you might be interested in me, so it took me by surprise,” I explain quietly.  

“Oh, really? I feared I might have made it quite obvious. Jenna at least has been teasing me about it for ages already, though to her I have tried to deny it.”

“Well, when it comes to things like these, I really need it spelled out for me. With you, I just thought you were being kind and friendly with me,” I explain and finally lift my gaze to meet E’s eyes, with an embarrassed smile on my lips.

“And to answer your question: yes, you can. Kiss me, I mean. If you still want to,” I say feeling a bit nervous again, but this is different kind of nervousness. Good kind that makes butterflies fly in my stomach instead of earlier panic that made me freeze. I try to turn my face away, but E gently grabs a hold of my chin and lifts my face so that I’m looking in his eyes.

“I definitely still want to,” he growls, just before he presses his lips against mine. Our first kiss is sweet, gentle and absolutely too short in my opinion. I’m embarrassed by the desperate little noises I make when E pulls back, but he just smiles adoringly at me and pulls me to sit closer to the edge of the table. Now E is standing between my thighs and our chests are almost touching. Then he leans closer and kisses me again, this time more passionately. He also lets his hands to wander around my body. The kiss just goes on and I lose all track of time. I feel like I’m in Heaven.

I crash back to reality, when I realize that E’s wandering hands are sliding up my thighs and under the legs of the shorts I’m wearing. My whole body tenses, I break the kiss and then, reacting instinctively again, I grab a tight hold of his wrists to stop his hands. I keep staring at our hands to avoid looking at E, because I’m afraid of what his expression might tell me.

“What’s the matter?” E asks, confused by the sudden turn of events.

“I want… so much,” I close my eyes, hoping it would make it easier to get the words out, “ ...to do so many things with you… But it feels like everything is happening so fast. And I don’t usually do things like this. So I’m a bit nervous.”

‘A bit nervous’ is probably the understatement of the year, because honestly I feel almost like paralyzed by fear. I have been dreaming about something like this happening with E for so long, but never believed that it could come true. So now that against all my expectations it is happening, I’m afraid I might ruin everything by doing or saying something wrong. But at the same time, I’d really like us to slow down.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to hurry. We have all the time in the world,” E assures me. “And I’m not expecting anything,” he continues, probably guessing what I was trying to say with my disorganized rambling.

I slowly loosen the death grip I have of E’s wrists, and he lifts his hands to rub gently my shoulders.

“I hope you know that we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says solemnly. I nod, because I do know that. And I trust E to listen to me and respect my wishes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. So I can’t really explain why I’m still behaving like this.

“Good,” E sighs and pulls me in a hug. He rubs my back and slowly I start to relax again.

“I kind of liked the kissing though,” I whisper playfully to his ear.

“Oh, really?” I can hear the teasing smile in his voice and then he pulls back just enough that I can see it too.

“You know what? I kind of liked it too. So I guess we could just keep doing that then,” he continues and gives me one long sweet kiss. “But how about if we move this to the couch? There we might both get a bit more comfortable.”

I nod and push myself down from the table. I manage to take only a couple of steps towards the living room before I feel E’s arms wrap around my waist and his body pressing against my back.

“E!, What are you doing? We can’t walk like this,” I ask laughing.

“Too bad, because I’m not letting you go. I want to have you as close as possible, now that I can.”

Walking like that with my sprained ankle isn’t easy, but slowly we fumble to the living room. On our way there, E starts to pepper my neck and the side of my face with small kisses, which quickly turn to more heated ones when he notices that I clearly enjoy them. When we get to the couch, E sits down first and pulls me to sit on his lap.

“Now, where were we…?” he ask flirtatiously and I lean in for another kiss.

***

I have totally lost a track of time again since we got onto this coach. We have spent the evening alternating between intensive snogging and talking about anything and everything. At some point we have moved to laying on the coach side by side. At the moment E has propped himself up on his other elbow and he’s looking down at me. E seems incapable of keeping his hands off of me and so his other hand is running gently up and down my arm and side. He’s obviously thinking something.

“Do you always go silent and distant when you’re nervous?” he finally asks.

I’m quite taken aback by the fact that he’s paid so much attention to me that he has noticed that.

“Yeah, I guess so. Most of the time at least. Or maybe in certain situations,” I try to explain. “I don’t do it on purpose, but if I feel like I don’t know what I should do or say, I freeze and am incapable of doing anything.”

“Ok, that’s good to know. Is there anything particular that makes you feel that way?”

“Some times new or unexpected things make me nervous. Most of the time it’s because I’m not sure what other people are expecting of me. Or I might feel that I should do one thing but I’d actually really want to do something else and I’m unable to decide between them. And if there is someone waiting for me to answer, that added pressure doesn’t really help me think at all, so I end up freezing even harder. It feels like my brain is running overdrive but at the same time not a single thought is moving in my brain.”

E leans down and kisses me gently on my cheek.

“I hope that you would always feel comfortable to tell me what you want instead of what you think you should say or what you feel I’m expecting or wanting to hear.”

“I know. I promise I’ll try at least,” I mumble against E’s chest. Then a thought suddenly occurs to me.

“By the way, what time it is?”

E looks at his watch.

“Oh crap, it’s already past eleven.”

“Is it really that late already? Don’t you have to go to work tomorrow? Maybe I should head back to the hotel,” I say and sit up. E quickly follows me and puts his hands on my hips.

“Please, don’t go yet,” he pleads and kisses me on my shoulder. “You could even… maybe stay here for the night?” he suggests carefully.

I can feel a few tendrils of nervousness begin to rise within me after E’s suggestion, but they are nowhere near as overpowering as the ones earlier in the day. I’m definitely not against the idea, but at the same time I feel a bit apprehensive.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” I say hesitantly, “I don’t even have my pyjamas here.”

“I could borrow you something to sleep in,” E quickly counters my argument. “And if it makes you feel better, I could even sleep on the couch.  I just want to spend as much time with you as possible.”

I lean against E’s chest and he patiently waits for me to take a stock of how I’m feeling about this idea. On the other hand, going back to the hotel would be sticking to the plan, and in some sense a safe option. It’s what I was expecting to happen tonight. But on the other hand, I would actually really want to stay here. Finally I come to a conclusion.

“Ok,” I say and press a quick kiss on E’s lips. “But I stay on the couch.”

“I’m fine with anything, if it means that you’ll stay,” E breathes and pulls me into a hug.

***

Later that evening E offers to give another shirt of his, but I decide that I can sleep in the clothes I’m already wearing. The mechanics of his sofa bed are quite stiff, and E struggles somewhat to get it open, but in the end we manage to make me quite a comfy looking bed for the night. I feel slightly awkward when E kisses me good night and leaves me alone in the living room, but I try my best to get comfortable in my bed.

I keep tossing and turning, but there is something bothering me and preventing me from falling asleep. I realize that I feel disappointed with the current situation somehow. In the end, I come to the conclusion that staying on the couch was still a safe option and I was too afraid to do as I really wanted earlier. In a fit of determination I throw off my blanket and limp to E’s door. After a careful knock he opens the door wearing only boxer briefs. I hadn’t considered about that and the sight makes my brain short-circuit and most of my determination disappear.

“I-I was thinking… maybe I could… after all…” I stumble and gesture towards his bed.

“Do you want to sleep here?” E asks.

I can only nod. E takes a hold of my hand and leads me to his bed. We lay down, and E turns off his table lamp. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him.

“I’m sorry I made you pull out the sofa bed for nothing,” I whisper into the darkness.

“Hey, it’s ok, you just needed a bit more time to think this through. And you’re always allowed to change your mind, I don’t mind that. Especially if it means that I get to have you here with me,” E whispers to my ear and then kisses my cheek. “Now, let’s sleep.”

“Alright. Good night.”

“Good night.”

[so-writing]

Sitting - Bill Skarsgard & Alex Hogh Andersen

Note: This was written for the wonderful @walkxthexmoon! It’s my first go at children so I'm not sure if the relationships between kid/sitter come off the right way but I gave it my best, ha. Enjoyish!

-

This situation was definitely new, for a lack of better words, to Alex. 

Bill, however, was used to children. He’d grown up in a large family and had dealt with just about everything. 

“I’m trusting the two of you to look after my girls,” Gustaf quirked an eyebrow at Bill, “don’t let me down.” 

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.”  

Bill looked to Alex and he nodded weakly. He had little experience with children of any age so babysitting them overnight was definitely going to be an experience.

The two friends had agreed to watch over Gustaf’s daughters, Stella aged 4 and Klara aged 13, for a bit. Alex assumed he wouldn’t have to do much because they were Bill’s nieces and not his, but when he found out Bill would be gone nearly half the time, he began to panic. 

He might be able to handle a younger child but there was no way he knew how to interact with a teenager. According to Gustaf, Klara spent most of her time in her room listening to music as loud as she could and being irritable when she had to interact with anyone. 

Stella, on the other hand, was a little ball of joy. She was constantly smiling, laughing, and showing genuine curiosity about the world around her. Her infectious smile had Alex hooked, it was the reason he agreed to help Bill sit for Gustaf in the first place. 

“I’ll see you in a few days, keep my daughters alive, yeah?” 

*

“Ok, ladies and Alex, what should we have for dinner?” 

Bill rubbed his hands together as he stood in front of the stove with Alex holding Stella and Klara hanging back a bit behind them. 

“Can we order something? Your cooking sucks.”

Klara left the kitchen and dropped onto the couch, ignoring Bill’s frown and turning on the television. 

“No it does not. Alex, a little help?”

Alex smiled sheepishly and set Stella down before joining Klara on the couch. 

“She’s got a point, man,” he gave Klara a quick wink, “it’s not great.”

She allowed a small giggle to escape her lips before settling back into her normal scowl and rolling her eyes.  

“Fine, we’ll order something. Anything to keep the grumpy princess from glaring so much her face stays that way.” 

“Bill,” Alex hopped up from the couch and went into the kitchen to get out of earshot of the girls, “don’t be a dick. She’s just a kid.”

“I’m not,” he raised his hands in defense and chuckled, “I promise I’m not. This is the only banter I can make happen with that kid. She’s like a stone. I’m kind of jealous you got her to laugh so soon after meeting her.” 

“What can I say? I’ve got a way with kids.”

*

“Wake up, I have to leave for this meeting ten minutes ago and Stella is going to need her breakfast soon. She’s already up and playing in the family room.”

Alex rubbed the sleep out of his eyes while Bill rambled through everything that needed done while he was gone. He showered and dressed quickly, leaving just enough time to get into the family room before Bill was running out the front door. 

“Ok, you’ve got to help me here,” Klara was laying on the couch messing with her phone and barely paying him any attention, “Klara I know nothing about children.” 

He got an actual laugh from her this time, “we need to make breakfast first because Stella is a bitch when she’s hungry and I’m an even bigger one.” 

Alex had no idea whether she was allowed to swear or not but he definitely did not want to butt heads so he went with it.

“Yeah, I’m a big bitch when I’m hungry too. Let’s make some breakfast!”

Klara and Alex made food while Stella played at Alex’s feet, occasionally pulling on his pant leg to get his attention. Alex tried his best to bond with Klara as he cracked self deprecating jokes while making sure he was giving plenty of attention to Stella. 

This is going well, Alex thought to himself, I’m actually doing this. 

The three of them feasted on the breakfast they’d made before retiring to the family area to figure out what was next for the day. Stella wanted to play outside while Klara insisted on spending the rest of the morning in her room by herself. 

“Does your dad normally let you do that?” 

“No, but you’re not him! You’re actually cool and you probably get it. People need their space sometimes.” 

She’d led him to a crossroads. He could continue being ‘cool’ and let her do what she wanted, or he could keep her in line with what Gustaf would do and potentially start a fight. He made a decision that married the two ideas and hoped it would work.

“You’re right, they do. But you said I’m cool right?”

“Yeah,” she dropped her voice and shook her head so that her hair covered her face, so?”

“So, you should hang with me and Stella and soak up my coolness.”

“Ugh,” Klara sighed dramatically before falling into the recliner, “I guess I could do that.” 

“Great! With our combined coolness, we can teach your little sister everything, yeah?”

*

Bill fumbled with his keys as he searched for the spare to Gustaf’s home. He was almost nervous to go inside and see how the girls were doing with Alex. He realized about two hours after he left that it was probably pretty dumb to leave his nieces with a man they’d never met before. As good of friends as they were, he had no idea if Alex was capable of taking care of kids or not.

He could just picture it, Stella was probably eating sugar straight out of the bag while Klara was kicking Alex as he lay on the floor in the fetal position begging her to stop. There was definitely something on fire and at least one of the toilets was clogged. The plants in the house were probably all dead and the family cat that barely came out had somehow escaped out the window and Gustaf would be furious about all of it.

Bill’s anxiety was mounting as he pushed the key in the lock and turned it, expecting to open the door to complete chaos. 

Instead, he heard nothing but the television and faint voices. Making his way deeper into the house, he realized that his expectations had been proven completely wrong. Alex was sitting in the recliner with Stella fast asleep in his lap as he and Klara, who lay on the floor with a pillow under her head, discussed the show on TV. 

“Dwight is definitely my favorite character,” she whispered, “he’s so weird but, like, completely independent. It’s interesting.” 

“Hey guys,” Bill quietly interrupted their conversation, “how was your day? Was Alex on his best behavior?”

“I think I did ok,” Alex smiled and summoned to the passed out Stella laying on him, “what do you think, Klara?” 

“He doesn’t have great taste in ‘The Office” characters, but he’s fine I guess.” 

They smiled at each other and she jumped up to give him some handshake they’d probably made up that day, both taking care not the bother sleeping Stella.

“So you wouldn’t mind if Alex came over again?” 

“Nah,” Klara ruffled her hair and covered her eyes with her bangs, “he can come back.”

“Wow,” Bill sighed, “I can’t believe I’m not the favorite anymore. Uncool, Klara.”

He gave her a wink and she returned it with a small smile. 

They had done good, Gustaf would be pleased.

[monabela]

here's Tragic Werewolf Story ft the Finno-Ugric trio in which I borrow elements from various werewolf myths to make my own, mostly inspired by Sonata Arctica's Among The Shooting Stars, but honestly, they have a lot of songs about (were)wolves and I'm not convinced the singer isn't a furry (love you Tony). they're still my favorite band. this fic is named after the (non-wolfy) song of the same name! it’s set in the fifties for Some Reason. AND finished just in time for @fuckyeahaphestonia‘s eeweek! for Some Reason :P 

--

Rise a Night

characters: Finland (Tuomi), Hungary (Erzsébet), Estonia (Eduard), and Ukraine (Iryna)

word count: 9541 summary: Six years after his brother’s death, Tuomi returns home, hoping to find some closure. What he and his sister find instead, defies all their expectations.

also on AO3

--

Eduard has been gone for six years, and Tuomi finally returns home.

He doesn’t think he’s ready, doesn’t think he could ever be, but he thinks it’s time.

As when he left, winter’s veil has cloaked the town. Coming home in another season would have been easier, when maybe every footstep in the snow, every light behind closed curtains, wouldn’t remind him of the night his only brother died. Tuomi has never been one to take the easy route, however. Winter is always going to come eventually, often sooner than expected here in the north; there’s no reason he should sit around and wait for it.

Besides, his half-sister still lives here. He hasn’t seen her since he left the town, and it will be good to be able to hold her again. They wrote, whenever Tuomi lingered in one place long enough, and he called sometimes when he had money to spare for it, but none of that is really a substitute. Two years ago, when Erzsébet got married in the summer, he’d been planning to come, but found that he still couldn’t. He’s only seen her husband in pictures.

Now, Tuomi crunches through the snow and the darkness of the late afternoon to his childhood home, where Erzsébet still lives. The blue walls are still familiar, still painful. It’s inconceivable to him that his sister has managed to stay here after everything, but he supposes he and Erzsébet just have different ways of coping.

When she opens the door, she looks good. A little older, certainly, and not nearly as radiant as in the wedding pictures she’s sent him—even in front of the two empty seats in the front row of the church—but healthy, and happy to see him. Without saying a word, Erzsébet pulls him across the threshold and into her arms, kicking the front door shut behind him while he drops his bag. Her grip is so tight it crushes the air out of Tuomi, but he hugs her back just as tightly, breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke and bread clinging to her blouse.

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispers into his damp coat.

Tuomi closes his eyes. Swallows.

“It’s good to see you too. Sorry it took me so long.”

Life just goes on, even when the last remnants of childhood are ripped away—the remnants no one even knew were left. That’s something Tuomi knows now, if he knows anything.

“Are you hungry?” Erzsébet is asking, already tugging him further into the house. She’s always been the pragmatist.

“Of course I’m hungry,” he replies. “Erzsi, wait, my coat is wet.”

She waits impatiently while he takes the coat off, taking it from him and hanging it up to dry on the door to the living room. The hall is just as narrow as he remembers, but it’s less cluttered now.

In the living room, a fire is crackling in the hearth, and nothing has really changed. Before, Tuomi and Eduard lived here together, while Erzsébet had stayed with their mother in her tiny new home until the day she died. At least, she didn’t have to know her eldest son didn’t make it past the following winter.

The room has a few new pieces of furniture—maybe made by Erzsébet’s husband, who, according to her descriptions of him, enjoys carpentry in his spare time. Speaking of him…

“Is the husband not home?” he asks, turning to his sister and realizing he has been silent for too long. Erzsébet smiles softly, shaking her head.

“He’s out in the forest. I’ll tell you about it later.” Now, she gestures him towards the dining table, and tells him to sit while she gets dinner. The table is new, but the chairs are the same. Tuomi forces himself not to imagine Eduard coming into the room, carrying some book or another and ready to discuss something he heard on the radio today. He’d have loved to see how more and more people are getting a television. Erzsébet doesn’t seem to have one yet, but Eduard’s beloved radio still has a prominent place in the room.

“Do you need a hand?” he calls out, but Erzsébet is already sidling back into the room, carrying a tray with a large pan on it. It smells good, and wafts warm air into Tuomi’s face when she sets it down on the table.

“I’ve got it.”

“I see.” He smiles at her when she sits down as well, handing him a plate and cutlery from the tray.

There is stew in the pot, which is great, mostly because it warms Tuomi’s chilly fingertips and nose. Erzsébet talks about pretty much nothing while they eat—the town gossip, as if he’s only been gone for six days. He appreciates it. It’s not that he doesn’t have things to tell her, but he doesn’t think he can yet. There will be plenty of time to make her laugh with the strange situations he’s found himself in these past years.

“What is your husband doing in the woods?” he does ask, during a lull in her monologue.

“He’s a hunter.”

He knew that, somewhere, but, “It’s not hunting season.”

She sighs. “There’s been some—there have been attacks. Some kind of animal, a wolf or maybe a bear. The winter has been quite harsh so far, so it’s probably getting closer to find food, and that includes our livestock.”

“So they’re going to kill it?”

“If it comes to that.” She shrugs, swiping her hair over her shoulder, although a strand of it catches on her orange blouse. It’s much longer than it was when Tuomi left. “They can’t find anything, so far. Maybe it moved on. There’s a lot of forest.”

Tuomi hopes so.

They sit around talking for a while, until he starts yawning, and Erzsébet insists he should go to bed, she can deal with the dishes herself.

“I wanted to meet your husband,” Tuomi complains, even as he hauls his bag up the stairs to his old bedroom. It’s a guest room now, although some of his old things are still there. He wonders what they’ve done with Eduard’s room. Doesn’t know what would be best.

“We’ll still be married tomorrow, Tuomi. Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.”

That’s true; there was a train ride, and the ride with a passing stranger, and then the hike up to the town, through the snow and falling darkness.

“Fine, fine, since you insist.” He hugs her again before she heads back downstairs, and he goes to use the bathroom. On his way back to his room, Tuomi stares at the door of Eduard’s bedroom for a long while. He even puts his hand on the handle, but doesn’t go in.

He falls asleep fast, and doesn’t dream at all.

In the morning when he wakes up, it’s already starting to get light outside, which must mean he slept longer than he has in some time. Maybe, being here is doing him some good after all, Tuomi thinks, peering out across the landing. Downstairs, he can hear Erzsébet cluttering around, unsurprisingly still unable to do anything quietly. It’s almost as if he’s a child again and his mother is making lunch during the winter holidays, when the snow was too heavy for anyone to go to school.

After freshening up, Tuomi joins his sister in the living room, where she’s busily writing something down while she bobs her head to the music on the radio.

“Good morning!” She smiles at him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly so, yeah.” He looks around conspicuously. “Just you again?”

“Oh, shush, Tuomas, you’ll get to threaten the poor man soon enough.” She laughs, but her expression sobers quickly. “They didn’t find anything in the woods, but there’s been another incident. Remember Iryna? Apparently, some of her chickens were killed last night. She didn’t notice anything.”

Tuomi nods. “How is Iryna?”

She was close to Eduard, too. They used to be in a choir together, but that is a long time ago and already was six years ago. They remained good friends.

“She’s well. I was planning to go visit her, actually, before I get the groceries. You could come if you want.”

That would be nice, so he agrees to come. Since it’s practically noon by now, they have lunch before bundling up and heading out. It hasn’t snowed any more, but the sky is cloudy and threatening, so it most likely will before tomorrow.

Erzsébet points out some things that have changed in the village, where new people have moved in houses that were still empty six years ago, left abandoned during the war. It’s good to see, if wry. The whole town feels wry to Tuomi, oddly disconnected, but it doesn’t hurt as he feared it would.

Iryna is warm as ever, hugging Tuomi close as soon as he and Erzsébet walk into her little shop full of sewing supplies, which hasn’t changed in the slightest. Iryna herself has cut her pale hair shorter, but her kind smile is the same. A little frazzled, but welcoming.

“So good to see you, Tuomi. Are you staying for a while?”

“Of course,” he replies, and he hears Erzsébet sigh behind him. Coming here, he wasn’t sure whether he could stand to stay, but he knows now that he can, and plans on taking up on his sister’s open invitation. “Maybe I can help out. There are always things to do, especially when the winter’s like this.”

“And then there’s that bear,” Iryna sighs.

“Why do you think it’s a bear?” Erzsébet asks.

“The door of the shed was torn open,” she explains, while they follow her behind the counter and into her actual house. “As far as I know, no wolf or anything else can do that.”

“Wolves are pretty smart.” Erzsébet cocks her head. “But it does seem more likely that a bear woke up too early and is grumpy now.”

“Maybe you can help with taking care of that, Tuomi.”

“I’m not much of a hunter,” he says, accepting the cup of tea Iryna hands him. “Thank you.”

She smiles. “Just as well. Actually, if you don’t mind, you could help me patch up the shed.”

“Sure, of course!” He is always happiest when he can do something useful with his hands, not unlike Erzsébet. Although Eduard was handy as well, he was more of a studious type than either of them. It still stings that the most cautious one of the three of them—the only cautious one, if you’d have asked their mother—should die alone in the woods.

No one knows, really, what happened that night. Tuomi remembers blood like auburn rivers in the snow. Shreds of Eduard’s favorite coat, the green one. Some pale hair, just lying there as if left in the drain, nearly invisible on the frozen ground. No one ever found Eduard’s body. At least, not all of it. Tuomi’s stomach turns every time he thinks of the grave that’s almost empty. They survived the war, all of them, and then…

He puts his cup down on the table and turns to Iryna.

“Where’s this shed? I’ll see what I can do.”

The woman bites her lip, eyebrows drawing together, but, with a glance at Erzsébet, stands and leads him out to her backyard, pointing at the shed.

“I had to put the chickens back in the coop,” she explains, shivering and pulling the sleeves of her cardigan down, “but it’s cold, so I’d like to have them back inside tonight.”

Tuomi surveys the door, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. It shouldn’t be too hard to fix; the lock has broken off, but it’s still in one piece, just like the hinges. He asks Iryna if she has any tools he can use, and waits while she goes to get them.

“Bears don’t eat chickens, do they?” she asks when she comes back, pensive.

“Bears will eat anything when pressed, honestly.” He takes the tools. “I’ll be done in… Fifteen minutes?”

Iryna smiles and clasps his shoulder on her way back to her house, the snow crunching under her boots. Tuomi sets to work putting the lock back. It has been cleanly broken off the door; there are barely even any splinters. That must have been one delicate bear.

With anyone else, Tuomi would wonder if they didn’t do it themselves, faked an attack to get some attention, but Iryna can’t possibly have changed so much in six years that she would stoop to that.

It doesn’t even take ten minutes before the shed can be locked again. Tuomi tries the door a couple of times, and checks inside that there is no debris. He finds hay, and bloodstains in the dirt, and is thinking about the restraint this supposed bear showed by not just ripping all the chickens to shreds, when he spots something light in the corner of the shed, stuck on the edge of an old table the chickens must use to roost now.

He frowns, reaching for it.

It’s hair. Fur. He rubs the coarse lock of hair between his fingers, still furrowing his brow. Do bears get grey as they age? Maybe they do, he decides, but certainly not this light of a grey. Some of the hairs are practically white.

“Iryna,” he calls, walking back into her house.

“Tuomi! Is it fixed?” She hands him his still warm tea back as soon as he enters the kitchen, where Erzsébet is reading some kind of magazine.

“Yes, no problems. But I don’t think it was a bear.”

“No?”

He opens his free hand to show her the patch of fur, and Iryna cocks her head. Erzsébet stands up to take a look, and sighs.

“Better get another lock, Iryna. Wolves will stop at nothing.”

After saying goodbye to Iryna, Tuomi helps Erzsébet pick up groceries and tells her about the time he almost ended up marrying a woman during his travels, completely on accident.

“How was I supposed to know that man was actually an ordained minister?” he asks, and Erzsébet is laughing too much to attempt an answer, leaning her hands on the kitchen counter, shoulders shaking.

“It sounds like you have enough stories for the next six years,” she says, eventually. Tuomi bites his lip and focuses on the potato he’s peeling.

“I might,” he mumbles.

“Eduard would have loved to hear them.” She slants a soft smile his way.

Tuomi knows. All three of them love a good story. It’s something their parents instilled in them.

“Do you ever visit his grave?” he asks Erzsébet. She leans back against the counter after putting the potatoes on to boil.

“I do, but not…” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I keep it tidy, because you know Ed, that’s what he’d have done, but it’s not… A special place, not in the way Mom and Dad’s graves are, or my father’s.”

Nodding, Tuomi touches the back of her hand, and she smiles gently.

“It is hard sometimes, Tuomi, living here. I understand why you left.”

“I understand why you stayed,” he replies. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll go to visit his parents’ graves.

For now, they switch to lighter topics, laughing over dinner and finding a photo album to look at during the evening while the radio crackles in the background. When Erzsébet’s husband does eventually come home, he looks so exhausted that Tuomi just greets him and then lets him be on his way, watching him stumble up the stairs. The winter doesn’t tend to be forgiving, and he gets that.

Erzsébet frowns and retires as well, bringing some leftovers with her. Tuomi sits in the living room for a while longer, digging his toes into the carpet and listening to the radio in the light of the frozen moon. He imagines when he turns it off, that he can hear a howl in the wind, but there’s nothing but a rustle in the trees in the garden.

They shovel snow the next day before anyone can even leave the house, Erzsébet’s husband smoking continuously throughout, almost nervously.

“Are you alright?” Tuomi asks him, raising his eyebrows.

“Me?” He leans on his shovel. “Just worried about the wolf.”

Tuomi nods. That’s fair. It must be stressful, having the expectations of the whole town resting on your shoulders. The man is gone quickly afterwards, just a small dark speck in the snowy town. Erzsébet stands in the doorway and looks after him, pulling her shawl around her shoulders and smoking a cigarette as well.

“He’s so wound up about it,” she tells Tuomi. “I hope they find something soon.”

He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her back into the warm house.

“I’m sure they will. They’re hunters, it’s what they do.”

“Not professionally,” she replies, but drops it. “You wanted to go visit Mom and Dad today, isn’t it? They’d have hated this weather.”

“I really wondered why we always stayed in the north.”

Before they can do that, Erzsébet runs some errands, and Tuomi tries to read a book between wandering restlessly through the house. When they finally go outside and start making their way to the graveyard, he offers his sister his arm. There are children playing out in the streets, enthusiastically lobbing snowballs at each other and trying to grab each other’s sleds. Some of them wave at Erzsébet, who waves back and tells Tuomi she helps out at the local school sometimes, mostly cleaning and looking after the children during lunches.

“I suppose it’s a way of continuing what Eduard started,” she says, waiting while Tuomi pushes the graveyard’s gate open. “You know, teaching people. I’m not as smart as he was, but still…”

“You’re plenty smart.”

“I’m not saying I’m not. I’m just saying Ed was smarter. That’s not a secret.” She closes the gate behind herself and stares out across the silent graveyard next to Tuomi. Like this, covered in snow and illuminated by the setting sun, it’s like they’re watching a miniature landscape. The monuments are tiny hills and the trees watch over everything as if holding the sky up.

As they walk silently to the edge of the graveyard, snow starts falling again, gently fluttering down and sticking in Erzsébet’s dark hair and to Tuomi’s coat. Across the field, where the forest begins, the shadows seem as though they are dotted with stars.

They stop, and Erzsébet reaches over to brush the snow off their parents’ headstone. Her father is buried on a military cemetery elsewhere, but his name is inscribed on their mother’s grave as well. She was widowed twice.

It’s still strange to Tuomi that Erzsébet is all he has now, that his whole family is just her.

Well, he has a brother-in-law, he supposes, and he seems like a nice man.

A dark shape emerges out of the snow, and both of them duck on instinct as a large black bird soars overhead. It lands silently on a headstone just across the path, feet sinking into the snow. The raven blinks at them, tilting its small head while snow slowly falls on black wings.

“That’s…” Erzsébet whispers, taking a step forward. “That’s Eduard’s grave. I think I’ve seen that bird before, around here.”

The raven squawks and spreads its wings to fly off again. It circles over Tuomi’s head before disappearing into the snow and falling darkness.

“I think it lives here,” Erzsébet says. She tugs the brim of her hat over her eyes to shield them. “But it’s nice to think—”

The bird soars back, landing on Eduard’s headstone again.

“That maybe, it’s watching over Ed,” she finishes. “I wonder if it’s hungry.”

But Tuomi isn’t listening to her. He’s watching the raven, whose beady eyes seem fixed on him. Underneath its feet, he can just make out Eduard’s name, the cold dates marking his whole life. He was only 27.

“Tuomi?” Erzsébet whispers.

The raven takes off again. Tuomi runs after it.

“Tuomi!”

He can hear her hurry after him. Ahead, the raven sits on the last headstone at the edge of the graveyard. As soon as Tuomi catches up with it, the bird soars into the shadows of the forest. The moon is barely up, and although it is nearly full, it doesn’t light his way as he hurries into the dark.

“Tuomas Mets!” Erzsébet hisses, even as she continues to follow him. “What are you doing?”

He shushes her, squinting into the trees to try and find the raven. It seemed… Important. Tuomi isn’t a man who believes in superstitions, no matter what he saw during the war, on his travels, so it’s not that he thinks this bird… Is watching over Eduard, like Erzsébet said, or anything like that, but it seemed so imploring. Maybe it just needs help. The winter is hard.

A tug on the sleeve of his coat. Tuomi follows Erzsébet’s gaze to where the raven has landed on a snowy log. He takes a step toward the bird.

In the next moment, it takes off again, and a large, light shape hurtles out of the shadows. Erzsébet curses, letting go of Tuomi as she stumbles back.

The wolf growls low in its throat while the raven settles in a tree above it. With slow, measured steps, the wolf crosses the space between the trees, its paws soundless on the ground and its green eyes burning through the darkened night.

Tuomi knows that color.

He would know it anywhere, even after six years. After ten, twenty. It will haunt him for the rest of his life. Slowly, and almost detachedly, he kneels in the snow.

“Tuomi!” Erzsébet hisses. The raven calls.

But the wolf is silent, standing still and looking at Tuomi, who doesn’t dare blink, afraid of losing the moment. For the first time in six years, he can see his brother’s eyes, the peculiar sea green, like part of the northern lights.

“Eduard,” he whispers, reaching out.

The wolf turns, and runs into the darkness. When Tuomi wants to leap up and follow, Erzsébet is there, hauling him back with both of her arms around his waist and her breathing harsh in his ear.

The raven circles over them once before flying into the forest, and Tuomi swears, sagging into his sister.

“Tuomi, are you insane?” she hisses. Before he can even think of how to answer that, she’s dragging him back through the graveyard, icily quiet. They don’t stop once before they reach the gate.

“What just happened?” Erzsébet then asks, leaning against the snow-covered fence and pushing her gloved hands against her face. Snow glistens in her hair in the light of a street lantern. “You could have been hurt, Tuomi.”

“I’m not sure.” He breathes out heavily, watching a cloud form in front of his face. Did she hear him say Eduard’s name? Did the wolf hear him? He knew those eyes. He knows he did.

“Let’s go home,” she sighs, linking her arm through his. Now, Tuomi is sure he hears a howl in the woods behind them, and a large black bird soars ahead.

Neither of them tells Erzsébet’s husband about the encounter with the wolf.

Tuomi has uneasy dreams, and come morning, he feels a familiar itch, an urge to leave. He can’t. He’s here now, and he’s run away enough.

“Where are you going?” Erzsébet asks, leaning against the doorpost of the living room while he puts his coat on in the hall. She wearing pants today, which he can’t recall having seen her do before, although she might have during the war. He wasn’t here, then.

“I don’t know. I might see how Iryna’s doing.” He smiles slightly, trying to look reassuring, and Erzsébet nods with a sigh.

“Well, be careful.”

“Of course not,” he jokes. She raises her eyebrows, and he bites his lip. “Of course I will, Erzsi.”

Tuomi walks through the sunny, snow-covered village, stopping to talk to some locals when they recognize him and pushing an excitable little boy down a slope on his homemade sled. Really, it’s good to see that the town is doing well again. It lifts his spirits.

At the town hall, or what passes for it, he spots a poster warning people to be careful after dark, and definitely not let their children out unsupervised. There’s a little map of the area, with Iryna’s house and several other locations across town marked as where there have been attacks the past few weeks.

It must be a very smart wolf, because the sites move from one end to the village from one attack to the next, effectively leading the hunters on a wild goose chase.

Eduard was smart, Tuomi catches himself thinking. He always thought ahead.

He knew those eyes.

Behind him, his name is called.

“Hey, Tuomi,” Erzsébet’s husband says, walking over to him with his hat pulled low over his eyes against reflecting sunlight, his green coat flying out behind him. “Erzsébet says you forgot your scarf.”

He laughs, and takes the scarf when the man gives it to him.

“Are you two very sure you don’t want children?” he asks, and gets a dry laugh in response.

“Believe me, not exactly father material.” He waves, and starts in the direction of the forest. Tuomi unfurls the scarf, and is surprised when something flutters out of it, landing gently in the snow.

A single black father rests by his feet. Slowly, he picks it up. Turns it over between his fingers. When he looks over his shoulder, his brother-in-law is long gone from view.

“Great,” he whispers.

Without really deciding to do so, Tuomi goes back to the graveyard. The church bells ring noon when he reaches his brother’s grave and pushes the snow off to lay the feather down on top of the cold headstone.

Eduard Mets, 1920-1948

It doesn’t mean anything, not really, but his knees give out all of a sudden, so he kneels on the stone edge of the grave, the sun warming his face and trying to pierce through his closed eyelids. He doesn’t feel the cold snow seeping through his pants or crawling into his gloves to chill his fingertips. Not for the first time, he wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do in a place without Eduard. What he’s been doing, these past six years. Drifting, he thinks. Helplessly drifting.

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder, and doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Erzsébet.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t.” With a rush of cold air, she crouches next to him, and now, Tuomi glances her way. “I just want to make sure you don’t catch your death.”

“Your husband brought me my scarf.” He looks at the single feather sitting on top of the headstone.

“Good. I’ve lost enough people.”

“We all have,” Tuomi says quietly. “But I think I was right to come back, Erzsi. You’re not losing me.”

She smiles at him, familiar green eyes crinkling ever more at the corners, then straightens.

“I’m going back home. Are you coming?”

With a last look at the cold, unyielding stone of Eduard’s grave, Tuomi nods. His chilled joints protest as he stands, and he grimaces at his sister.

“You’re not the one who’s almost forty, little brother,” she chides him, and he can’t help but grin, even as he realizes that Eduard would have been 34 in just a few days. Maybe, they should do something for his birthday. He’ll have to ask Erzsébet.

As they approach their childhood home, Tuomi’s gaze catches on an upstairs window, where a blue curtain flutters in the still air.

“Hey, Erzsébet?”

“Hm?” She pulls at the cord hanging out of the mail slot to open the front door.

“What have you done with Eduard’s room?”

“Nothing much.” She follows his gaze upwards. Frowns. “I definitely didn’t open the window.”

Inside, Tuomi rattles up the stairs, and is already pushing the door handle of Eduard’s bedroom down when he hesitates. He turns to Erzsébet as she climbs the stairs behind him.

Without being asked, she says, “I clean it a few times a year, and we’ve got some of his old books stored, but we don’t… We don’t really go in there.”

With a deep breath, Tuomi pushes the handle down again, and slowly opens the door.

It’s cold in the room, and silent. Eduard’s bed stands, bare but largely covered in books, underneath the open window. He liked to watch the stars, the northern lights when they appeared. He’d always been a dreamer, in his rare free time. No one ever expected that of him, but the only thing greater about Eduard than his intelligence was his imagination.

Erzsébet is walking over and shutting the window, a frown on her face. The latch seems very secure.

“I don’t know how—” She cuts herself off. Tuomi watches with his heart jumping into his throat as she lifts a glossy black feather from the windowsill, holding it between her thumb and index finger. They’re both silent. Of course, this doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.

And still, after yesterday…

“You’ve brough something very odd back to town, Tuomi,” Erzsébet says.

“Maybe it was waiting for me.”

Closing her eyes, she puts the feather back down and presses her hands over her angular face.

“Yesterday, in the woods… What did you see?”

Tuomi’s gaze drifts over to a picture on Eduard’s desk. All three of them, posing in summer clothes with their mother. He remembers the day it was taken. The second summer after the war, everyone just happy to bask in the sunshine.

“I saw his eyes, Erzsébet.”

“He’s dead,” she whispers, then swallows hard. Clenches her fingers around the black feather, crushing it out of shape. “And even if he isn’t, he can’t be… That’s old folk tales. It’s the twentieth century.”

Tuomi would agree with her, but he knew those eyes. She doesn’t know the things he saw during the war, during the past six years. There are remnants of times long gone everywhere, old beliefs still lingering between radios and televisions.

Or maybe he just wants to believe that he can see Eduard again, and it was a mistake to come back home.

“What now?” Erzsébet asks. “Whatever this is, we must be able to figure it out. We owe that to Ed.”

“You’re right. He would have.” Of course, Eduard was the planner, but they’re both smart. Tuomi is certain that, if there is something to find, they will find it. For better or for worse.

After dinner, he has his coat on before Erzsébet is done putting the dishes away, and she grumbles, good-naturedly if a little forced, while he waits for her to bundle up as well. The evening is clear, and the moon is already up, nearly full and lighting their way to the south side of the village, the opposite side of where they were yesterday.

“Haven’t the hunters noticed the pattern?” Tuomi wonders, waving his clouding breath away so he can see the path in front of him. The snow is largely undisturbed here. The air sparkles above it.

“Haven’t heard about it.” Through her shawl, Erzsébet sounds muffled. “It’s unlikely, so they wouldn’t look.”

Again, Tuomi thinks, Eduard was always the planner.

Over the crunch of their shoes in the snow, he hears a hoarse call, the familiar caw of a raven.

“We must be going in the right direction,” he whispers. They’re on the edge of the forest, the evergreen of trees a looming black mass in the darkened evening. Even with the moonlight, the forest floor is dark. Erzsébet just hums. She tucks her hand into the crook of Tuomi’s elbow. In her dark coat and with her pale face mostly covered by her shawl and hat, she’ll be nearly invisible.

After standing still for a moment longer, she starts walking again decisively, leaving Tuomi no choice but to go into the woods as well.

Both silent again, they peer searchingly into the darkness as the trees close around them.

Once more, he hears the raven call, and he squints uselessly up in an effort to spot it. Erzsébet yanks at his arm when he nearly trips.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sheepishly.

“Try to be careful.” She stops, and Tuomi glances at her, watching her dark eyebrows furrow. He follows her gaze into the shadows, preparing to ask a question, but falls silent.

In the snow, one shadow seems larger than the others.

No, it’s not a shadow. Tuomi shudders and pulls his sister closer to him. He remembers this. The blood-soaked snow of six winters ago still burns in his memory.

“It was here,” Erzsébet whispers. “The wolf.”

And then, it is there again. Piercing eyes burn through the shadows like a white-hot knife and Tuomi can’t move—refuses to move, even when Erzsébet jumps back, pulling on his arm. Ahead of them, the wolf growls low in its throat, baring teeth that glint in the moonlight. With shaking hands, Tuomi lets go of his sister to take a step forward. She doesn’t say anything, and the wolf doesn’t move, sea green eyes unblinking on Tuomi.

“Please,” he whispers, taking another step, “don’t run this time. We’re here.”

The wolf’s muzzle twitches, a small growl escaping, but it doesn’t move.

“I left, but I’m back,” Tuomi continues. Like before, he kneels, slowly, deliberately. He is the only thing moving in the small clearing. Even the trees seem silent.

“I’m not leaving again.”

With a snarl, the wolf leaps. Strong paws knock the breath out of Tuomi as he sprawls back in the snow, the wolf looming over him. Its breath is heavy and warm, and it presses Tuomi down, growling through its teeth.

“Tuomi!” Erzsébet gasps. He can’t look at her, can’t look away from the ever-familiar sea green piercing into him, but he hears her continue in something that’s barely a whisper, “He’s… Eduard, if—if you can hear me, if you understand me… We’re here, we’re both here, so please. Give us a chance.”

The wolf makes an almost plaintive noise, like a kicked dog, and scrambles away, off Tuomi, who grabs Erzsébet’s hand to help himself up, then immediately leaps after the wolf, into the shadows. Swearing, Erzsébet follows him.

Tuomi tries desperately not to lose sight of the flash of grey fur ahead of him, skidding through the snow. Branches slap into his face, showering him with powdery snow, but he doesn’t allow himself to notice. His lungs are burning by the time he bursts into another clearing. The wolf is already on the other side.

“Eduard!” Tuomi calls, and just as the wolf stops, he trips. With nothing to stop him, he falls face-first into the snow, hitting his forehead on a rock hidden underneath. Stars dance in his vision, the shock of cold and pain overwhelming him for a long moment.

It's too much, all of a sudden. He wants nothing more than to stay there until things go back to the way they were before. The way they were six years ago.

“Get up, you—” Erzsébet swears again, and then she hauling Tuomi out of the snow by his armpits, her strength somehow still managing to surprise him after all this time.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Tuomas?”

Tuomi looks up at her, startled by the edge of desperation in her voice.

“The wolf—” he starts, and his sister shakes him.

“It’s not the wolf I’m worried about” In the moonlight, her green eyes shimmer with tears. “I thought I was the reckless one, but you’re… Tuomi, what the hell have you done to yourself these past six years?”

“Erzsi,” he whispers, barely able to part his freezing lips. “Eduard is…”

“I know, Tuomi. I saw it.” Her fingers dig into his shoulders. “But he wouldn’t want you to be so… Goddamn reckless. You’re not worth more than he is. And, I think… If I lose you, if we lose you, then there’s no hope for him. Do you understand?”

Teeth clattering, he nods. With a sigh, Erzsébet unfurls her shawl and drapes it around his neck.

“Nothing makes sense here, but I know we’re in it together, if I know anything.” At the call of a raven, she looks up, squinting into the darkness. “There’s something there.”

Tugging her shawl tighter around himself, Tuomi turns to follow her gaze. Between the trees on the other side of the clearing, he can make out a large, dark shape. A building?

“What…” he breathes. Erzsébet squeezes his shoulder, and he looks back at her. “Should we…”

“You need to get out of the cold before your nose freezes off, so yes.”

Before he can reply, she has started marching across the clearing and towards the darkened, run-down cabin, so he follows quickly.

The door isn’t locked, and Erzsébet ushers him in before closing it behind him.

It is marginally warmer inside. Tuomi squints into the darkness and finds the smoldering embers of a dying fire glowing in the corner of the room. He listens, shushing Erzsébet when she starts to speak, but the cabin is silent.

Still, “Someone was here recently.”

“Is that someone still here?” Erzsébet, ever the pragmatist, asks.

“I don’t think so.” As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he makes out the shape of an old oil lamp on a table by the window. Watching his footing, he makes his way over and lights it easily, casting a soft glow over the room. Erzsébet blinks in the light, then looks around.

“What is this place?” she breathes. Tuomi has to agree with her.

The cabin is sparsely furnished, with a bed, table and chair, and a single cabinet next to the door. It is obviously lived in, but feels, more than anything else, like a place to hide.

When Tuomi takes a step forward, he notices that his oil lamp casts odd shadows on the floor, and he shifts the light to get a better look.

There are gouges in the wood, splinters sticking up every which way. The door isn’t much better, and he is reminded of Iryna’s shed. The patterns are the same.

“Tuomi?” Erzsébet says, holding the door of the cabinet open with trembling fingers. “I think…”

He walks over to her, and feels his blood run cold.

“I always wondered where that photograph went,” she whispers, reaching into the cabinet to pick up the shattered frame sitting at the back of one of the shelves. She runs her fingertips across the familiar shape of their mother’s face, faded with age. In this shot, Erzsébet herself has her arms firmly crossed, and Tuomi is looking away from the camera. He remembers seeing something unusual out of the corner of his eye, and so quickly after the war, everything unexpected startled him.

Eduard looks amused, towering over all of them as he always did. His tall form catches all the sun. At the place where his shoulder meets Tuomi’s, there is a tear in the photograph, as if that part was ripped off but eventually put back.

“What does this mean?” Erzsébet asks, putting the picture back down. There is some food in the cabinet, mostly cans, and a meager stack of clothes. Green, and blue. Eduard’s favorite colors.

“I think it means…” He can’t say it, steps back, head pounding.

“We have to do something,” Erzsébet says softly. “There must be a way.”

Tuomi takes another step back.

“It’s been six years—”

“It’s been six years, and you’re back home.”

That’s exactly what he was afraid of. Putting the lamp down, Tuomi runs back into the night.

“Tuomi!” Erzsébet calls, her footsteps thundering after him, but he doesn’t stop, not until he reaches the edge of the forest and he almost trips into the road, caught at the last moment by familiar gloved hands.

 For a second, the green coat makes his breath catch, and he can barely look up. It’s just his brother-in-law, smelling like cigarette smoke.

“Tuomi, look out,” he starts, but Tuomi wrenches himself away, tripping back again—only to find that Erzsébet has caught up to him.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shouts. “We have to do something!”

“Erzsébet, not—” He turns around, but her husband is gone. Tuomi blinks. He was there, wasn’t he?

“Not what? You’re here now, and we have to—”

“That’s just it!” he bursts out. “I’m here now! I wasn’t here for the past six years, because I ran away, like a coward! I abandoned Eduard! I abandoned everything.”

“No one blames you—”

“I do, Erzsébet,” he says, hoarsely. “I always have, but now…”

“How do you think I feel?” she asks, grasping his shoulders with that firm grip of hers. “I was here all along, and I never once helped him. I mourned him, and, god, have I been angry at him, at you, but I wish I could have helped.”

“You couldn’t have known,” he tells her, knowing as he says it what she will reply.

“Nor could you, Tuomi.”

He closes his eyes, hanging his head, and Erzsébet rests her forehead against his.

“We’re going to help him.” She clenches his shoulders. “I promise.”

A tear rolls hotly down his freezing cheek, but Tuomi ignores it to pull back and look at his sister.

“I promise,” she repeats. “Let’s go home.”

They go home, and Tuomi tries to sleep for hours, tossing and turning and staring into the shadows of his now-unfamiliar childhood bedroom, the moonlight catching on the edges of furniture that wasn’t there before like an alien landscape.

He thinks about the cabin in the forest, the grooves like claw marks in the wood. About living in fear of yourself for six years. He wishes it could have been him. Anyone but Eduard.

Eventually, he must fall asleep, but wakes when the night is just fading to dawn. He thinks he might have heard a noise, and when he looks out of his window, there is an unfamiliar shadow in the snowy garden. It is gone in the blink of an eye.

Tuomi knows he won’t be able to sleep again, so he gets dressed quietly and walks to the landing, avoiding the floorboards that are creaky on muscle memory alone. Eduard was always a light sleeper. Is a light sleeper? Tuomi sighs and puts his hand against his brother’s bedroom door.

“Sorry, Eduard,” he mumbles, and then there’s that noise again, just behind the door. Like… A shuffle. A breath. Tuomi’s heart skips a beat.

“Erzsébet?” he whispers, but he can hear her snoring lightly down the hall, so it can’t be.

The noise again.

“Eduard?”

Nothing. With trembling hands, he pushes the door open.

The blue curtain flutters in a soft, cold breeze, swinging into the empty room.

“God—fuck!” Tuomi clenches his jaw. Of course. What was he thinking? He slams the window shut, leaning on the sill heavily for a moment, trying to catch his breath with his eyes closed.

“Tuomi?” His sister’s voice is soft behind him.

“Sorry, Erzsi,” he grits out. Taking a deep breath of the frigid air, he forces himself to relax when she puts a warm hand between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t be.”

In the reflection in the window, Tuomi meets her tired eyes.

“You didn’t sleep well either?”

“Of course not.” She smiles tightly when he turns to her. “I keep thinking about Ed. It’s like when he just…” Her words trail off, and she evidently doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes.” Tuomi glances at the desk, the photograph, and his breath hitches all over again. “Erzsébet.”

She turns.

“No…”

There is a knife, on the desk, its handle tilted to the left as if the person who put it there was left-handed. Like Eduard. The metal is unblemished, shining like moonlight, and the edges sharp.

“How… Who…” Erzsébet wraps her arms around her herself, but Tuomi reaches for the knife, slowly. It’s cold in his hand.

“Silver,” he says.

There is no indication where the knife might have come from, no note or engraving or even a fingerprint. Tuomi turns to the window and looks at the retreating moon.

“No, Eduard,” he says. “You underestimate us.”

“What do we do?” Erzsébet is asking. “He won’t be at the cabin, he’s smarter than that.”

“Then we look.” Like they did six years ago, when he went missing.

Tuomi puts the knife back down, and turns to the wardrobe. There is one coat inside still, Eduard’s nice coat, the one he wore to their mother’s funeral, the one they would have buried him in if there had been enough of him to bury. It was already terrifying to think of what happened to him, that day in the forest, but now, knowing he survived, it’s somehow more harrowing to think about. How did he recover? Was the wolf his salvation, or was that what tore him apart in the first place?

“He must know,” he says, “that we’d never stop looking.”

“We’ll remind him, Tuomi.”

“Not to interrupt—”

Erzsébet nearly whacks her husband in the face with how fast she whips around at the sound of his voice. He jumps back, unlit cigarette falling from between his lips.

“What’s going on?” he asks, and he takes a step into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of the knife on the desk.

“We were… It’s almost Eduard’s birthday,” Erzsébet stammers. “It’s… On our minds.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back this time. “I have to go.”

“Hey…” Erzsébet reaches for him, and he takes her hand. “Be careful, please. The wolf is out there.”

“Of course.” He meets Tuomi’s eyes for a charged second. “Don’t worry.”

He kisses her once, picks up his cigarette, and is gone again.

“He’s strange, isn’t he?” Tuomi asks, and Erzsébet laughs, surprised.

“I’ve always had a type.”

Feeling a little lighter despite himself, Tuomi follows her downstairs, taking Eduard’s coat with him. It smells musty, but is still somehow comforting, so he tugs it on after breakfast, when they go out without a clear destination in mind. He wouldn’t have fit it six years ago, but he has lost all the weight he put on after the war since then, and although the sleeves are long, it feels nice.

“You look more like him than when you two were younger,” Erzsébet says thoughtfully, and he smiles, offering her his arm.

They walk over to Iryna’s first, where Iryna compliments Tuomi’s coat and tells them she hasn’t heard of any new incidents in town.

“Maybe it did move on,” she muses. Tuomi and Erzsébet share a look. That is an option, he thinks, but then shakes his head. If Eduard stayed around here all these years, he surely wouldn’t leave now.

Then again, sometimes all it takes to make a difference is one experience, one person.

They have to find him.

“We’ll see you again soon, Iryna,” he says, pulling Erzsébet along while she waves at Iryna.

They spend most of the morning wandering around the edge of town, and then Tuomi spots the local library-cum-bookstore and has to go and look at the books on myths and legends while Erzsébet goes to get something to eat at home. She brings him back some bread while he reads about wolfmen and werewolves, and she waves at the bookstore owner too. He always liked Tuomi.

Well, he liked Eduard, and Tuomi was inevitable, at that point.

The books are… Inconclusive. He doesn’t know what he expected. Of course there is no consensus on something that isn’t supposed to exist.

“Now, you really look like him,” Erzsébet says, looking over his shoulder.

“Eduard would have fifty more books and you know it.” He closes the one in front of him. “It’s no use. We have to find him.”

There is no sign of Eduard anywhere, and they don’t see the ubiquitous raven either, not even at the graveyard. By the time evening is falling, Tuomi wonders if they should have gone to the cabin after all, but he’s also very hungry and very cold, and it’s starting to snow again, so they go back home to eat dinner.

Erzsébet’s husband, looking bedraggled and somehow sorry, wanders in halfway through and barely eats anything before announcing he’s going to sleep. Erzsébet stares after him, forehead creased.

“Stranger than usual?” Tuomi asks.

“Yes. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

She bites her lip. “He’s a grown man. Eduard is more important now.”

Tuomi touches her shoulder, but doesn’t say anything else.

Despite the snow, gently falling, they go out again, Tuomi still wearing his brother’s coat. The moon is full tonight. Some of the stories he read claimed the phases of the moon affect the wolf. He hopes that isn’t true. Eduard has seen a thousand moons or more, the past six years, but something of him is left. A fire deep inside. Tuomi means to wake it, because if anyone can, it’s him and Erzsébet.

It feels like the how is still miles away when they hear it, but it pulls on Tuomi, cuts through the snowy night.

“Let’s go,” Erzsébet says, and they hurry to the forest. Still, the raven is nowhere to be seen. Maybe, its work is done.

The forest is silent, pine trees like looming giants protecting their secrets. Neither Tuomi nor Erzsébet speaks. They listen. Their own footsteps crunch gently, but there is a woolly silence all around them. Sometimes, Tuomi spots something grey out of the corner of his vision, but it’s always snow.

Until it isn’t.

The wolf, the same wolf, leaps out, teeth bared in a snarl, shaking its head as if preparing to pounce.

Tuomi slows his pace but doesn’t stop walking. Erzsébet does. The wolf growls as he nears, snapping its jaw at him. Its light fur is stained with something, the color unclear in the darkness. Erzsébet takes a few steps forward.

Reaching his hand out, Tuomi gets his gloved fingers close enough that the wolf could bite them, if it wanted. It doesn’t. It stands there, frozen, and Tuomi can’t take the look in those familiar eyes. He kneels again.

“I’m back,” he says softly. He can’t bring himself to say his brother’s name, this time, afraid the wolf might run. “I’ll come back as often as it takes. I promise.”

The wolf shakes its head again, flinging snow off the fur.

“Me as well,” Erzsébet says, resting her fingertips on Tuomi’s shoulder. “And you know us. We’re stubborn as anything. Got that from Mom.”

“Please,” Tuomi says, reaching further forward. The wolf cautiously watches them both, those sea green eyes so unmistakably intelligent. He takes his hand back to remove his glove, then offers his fingers again, swallowing nervously. Erzsébet’s hand clenches on his shoulder, through the coat.

When the wolf nudges its cold nose against his fingertips, Tuomi makes an involuntary sound in his throat that has the animal looking up, lips already curling back for a growl, so he speaks quickly.

“You’re cold,” he says. “You never liked the cold, just like Mom and Dad. I had to bring so much firewood in to keep you warm.”

The wolf if still. Tuomi takes his coat—Eduard’s coat—off with measured movements. Erzsébet takes a breath.

“I still can’t smell the wood stove burning without thinking of you.” She huffs a nervous little laugh. “Even Mom thought it was too hot at a certain point, and that was rare.”

Tuomi has managed to get out of the coat, and he holds his fingers out again.

“It will be alright,” he whispers. “I promise, Eduard.”

Before the wolf can do anything, he drapes the coat around its haunches. For a moment, it stares up at him in confusion, green eyes wide, and Tuomi is convinced this was all for nothing, that his brother is gone forever, but then, the wolf curls in on itself with an ear-piercing howl of pain, and he has to hold Erzsébet back from lunging for it while it disappears almost completely beneath the coat’s blue fabric.

In the stillness of the forest, the sound is agonizing. The howl only barely manages to be louder than an awful popping, like bones snapping, like something tearing itself apart right before their eyes. Erzsébet hauls Tuomi up and clenches his cold hand painfully, breathing hard.

It stops, suddenly, and the silence is deafening.

Tuomi takes a step forward.

There is a flash of movement, but it isn’t in his direction. It’s away from him.

And for the first time in six years, he sees his brother’s face, those green eyes and his pale skin, fair hair matted as he scrambles away.

“Eduard,” Tuomi says, and Erzsébet is the only thing holding him up when his knees threaten to give out under the relief and sadness and anger all welling up inside him.

Eduard’s eyes, those eyes, are wide and terrified, and he falls into the snow when he tries to get up, pulling his coat tight around his skinny form. Although he is wearing tattered denim jeans, his feet are bare.

“What’s happening?” he stutters, his voice hoarse and panicked. “How is this—”

When he finally meets Tuomi’s eye, Tuomi manages to take a step in his direction, and Eduard just looks, terrified.

“Eduard.”

“No, no. Get away!” He curls in on himself, violent shivers coursing through his body. “This can’t be real. Leave me alone!”

“It’s us, Eduard,” Erzsébet says, her voice thick with emotion.

He tries to get up but falls again, and this time, both Tuomi and Erzsébet rush forward to catch him. He jerks in their grip, his skin ice cold. His face is gaunt and haunted, and his breathing fast.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers, shaking. Erzsébet begins unwinding her scarf. “I’m… I can’t.”

His fingers dig into Tuomi’s arm through his sweater.

“I understand you’re scared.” Tuomi watches his brother flinch when Erzsébet gently puts her scarf around his shoulders.

“No, you don’t.” Eduard tries to wrench himself free, but he just falls again, and scrambles back through the snow on his hands and feet. “I’m protecting you. I’m— I’ve done so many things. So many terrible—”

“I fought in the war, Eduard,” Tuomi says, and Eduard flinches again, so different from the unflappable man Tuomi used to know.

“Please, leave me.” Eduard chokes back a sob. “I don’t deserve—”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Erzsébet says, and Tuomi can see tears streaking down her face in the moonglow. “You have the freedom to choose the things you feel, but you don’t get to decide whether you deserve our help, Ed.”

He bends his head, his skinny shoulders shaking with tears.

“You can’t help. I can’t…” He speaks to the ground. “The wolf is… It gets what it wants. I just live in the shade, and I don’t…”

He meets Tuomi’s eye again.

“I don’t think I deserve to even be called alive anymore, sometimes.”

This time, he doesn’t flinch away when Tuomi gets closer to him, watching him kneel in the snow. Gently, Tuomi reaches out, brushes snowflakes off his shoulders. His hair is long and tangled, but his eyes are ever so bright.

“I recognized your eyes, Ed,” he whispers. “No one has eyes like that except you. No wolf I’ve ever seen has eyes like that.”

Eduard closes them.

“I was never going to let you go. I never will. If I have to do this every night for the rest of my life, I will.”

“We will,” Erzsébet adds. Eduard opens his eyes, a wild, unfamiliar edge to his expression. Like a wolf looking for prey.

“Don’t say things like that.” His voice is a rasp, barely more than a breath. He doesn’t blink.

“You’re not the wolf, Eduard. I know that.” Tuomi takes a deep breath, cold air burning in his lungs. “I love you, alright? I never stopped, and I never will. I could never wish you dead.”

The wolf in Eduard’s eyes blinks first, and disappears.

“Tuomi,” he says.

“I promise.” He grasps Eduard’s face, and Erzsébet kneels at the man’s side, taking one of his bony hands.

“Erzsébet, I…”

“Listen to your brother, Mets.” She clenches her jaw, reaches into a pocket of her coat, and pulls out the silver blade. “This was never going to be the answer, not with us.”

“If you cannot save me, I need you—”

“No.” She holds his gaze, and then throws the knife into the shadows with all her strength. It glints harshly in the moonlight, just once, before disappearing. “We both love you, and it’s time to go home.”

From one of the trees, a raven calls, and Eduard looks up as it flies back in the direction of the village.

“Alright,” he breathes, and lets both of them help him to his feet, his bare feet in the snow. Tuomi swallows, but holds him up as he knows he always will.

“Let’s go home.”

[ducksmode]

Launchdad

Drake admires what a good dad Launchpad is.

Part Three of the “A Father, a Daughter, and a Launchpad” series.

Drake groans as the morning sunlight hits his eyes, turning over in bed to hide his face in his fiancé’s chest, only to find the other side of the bed empty. Peeking an eye open, he lets out a quiet ‘Hm?’, confused for only a second until he catches a glimpse of the clock on Launchpad’s night stand, he was probably dropping Gosalyn off at school and picking up Scrooge. 

He wakes up with a tired sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep unless it was in Launchpad’s arms. Taking a moment to admire his engagement ring, Drake smiles to himself as he twiddles with it, and decides to pass the time by looking for deals on decorations and suits. 

When he finally hears the front door open and shut he looks over at the clock, noticing it took him a little bit longer than usual to get back home. He can hear him fussing about in the kitchen, and he pouts when he realizes he’s not coming back to bed just yet. 

Putting the wedding planning on hold, Drake gets up and finds one of Launchpad’s shirts from off the ground, slipping it on before stepping out. He finds Launchpad putting away groceries and starting on some pancakes, and his growling stomach gives him away.

Launchpad turns once he hears him, his bright smile practically blinding Drake as he gathers him up in his arms and smothers him with kisses, the smaller duck weakly protesting with half-hearted punches to his chest.

“Unhand me, fiend! I’ll have you know I have a fiancé!” Drake grumbles, giggling when Launchpad pecks at his neck, tickling him. 

“Lucky guy,” Launchpad chuckles, setting him down on the kitchen counter.

The domestic mornings they share now fill Drake with more love than he ever believed he could experience in his lifetime. As he watches Launchpad move around the kitchen getting the ingredients while chatting about the drive with Gos, he wonders what his and Gosalyn’s life would have been like if Launchpad McQuack had not crashed into it (and onto him).

-

Every morning, like clockwork, Launchpad gets up after a quick two hours of shuteye after Darkwing patrol to shuttle a usually zombie-like Gosalyn off to school. But not before a quick kiss to the forehead and a quiet ‘I love you’ from both fiancé and daughter, then they’re off to make sure she gets to class on time.

Drake watches them go each time with a fond smile before passing out, too exhausted from a night of fighting to struggle with sleep.

“Noooooo… don’ go…” Drake whines, clinging to Launchpad’s arm as he tries to leave the bed, frowning when he pulls himself free easily but grabs his hand.

“Gotta take Gos to school and Mr. McD to work then I’ll be right back, ok?” he reassures, kissing each finger gently. Drake snatches his hand back, opening one eye to glare at his ‘too-handsome-for-seven-in-the-morning’ fiancé.

“Traitor… I’m calling off the wedding,” he sniffs, turning away from Launchpad and nestling further into the bed. Launchpad chuckles behind him, nuzzling into the back of his neck and kissing his shoulder.

“Aw come on, don’t you care about our daughter’s education?” Launchpad hums, smiling into Drake’s palm when he pushes it against his face, shoving him away. “Just go, leave me to sleep all by myself…” Drake sighs, unable to keep his beak from quirking up when Launchpad pecks his temple, whispering a soft ‘I love you’ into his feathers before he leaves.

“How are you never tired waking up this early?” Drake yawns, watching Launchpad bustle about the room from his comfy spot on the bed.

“I gotta take my baby girl to school,” Launchpad says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, smile full of love. “How could I be tired when I get to spend more time with the best daughter in the world?”

“I heard that! Flattery will get you nowhere, Pops!” Gosalyn shouts from somewhere in the house and they both laugh.

It’s a terribly hot weekend in both Duckburg and her sister city, and so Launchpad suggests a visit to the beach to cool off. After a quick call to Donald to see if the kids would like to have a beach day as well, during which he finds out they were just about to call him to ask the same thing, the station wagon is packed up for a day at the beach then they’re off.

Gosalyn bounces excitedly in the backseat, singing along loudly with Launchpad to whatever garbage the radio is playing, and Drake shakes his head at their antics but he wouldn’t trade his family for the world.

Once they get there, they walk along the beach for a minute, Drake grabbing Launchpad’s bare arm with one hand and holding Gosalyn’s hand with the other, finding Donald and the kids after a bit of searching.

“Launchpad!” Dewey yells when he sees his best friend, taking a running leap at him and making him drop everything to catch the triplet. 

Drake lets Gosalyn go so she can run and give Webby and the other boys a hug, watching them all with a smile. Donald comes up to give him a tight hug, and Drake didn’t realize how much he missed the other duck. They really needed a break like this, between wedding planning and crime fighting there hadn’t been much time for just being with family and relaxing. 

After helping Launchpad set up the umbrella and beach chairs, he makes both him and Gosalyn sit down to make sure they put on sunscreen, fussing over Gosalyn a little more just to mess with her before letting her go play, watching her go with a wave.

Drake is suddenly pulled back into Launchpad’s lap with an indignant squawk, laughing when his fiancé nudges at his ticklish neck.

“Launchpad!” Drake scolds, turning about to fix him with a stern glare that quickly falls apart into a smile.

“Think you missed a spot, babe.” Launchpad chuckles, “Right here on my beak,” he says, puckering his beak for a kiss but Drake just snorts at him, pushing his face away.

“You dork, get away from me and go make sure our daughter doesn’t somehow set fire to the beach.” Drake chides, giving in and settling for one peck when Launchpad doesn’t let him go. Looking pleased with himself, Launchpad gives him one last kiss on the cheek before throwing his crop top off and running after the kids.

Watching him go with a happy sigh, Drake settles down next to Donald, taking the wine glass offered to him with many thanks.

“Wait, should you be drinking? Didn’t you drive here?” Drake asks, raising a brow as he sips his drink.

Donald shakes his head, making a show of taking a big gulp, “Storkules dropped us off before he went to work. He’s gonna pick us up when he gets out.” 

“I was gonna ask where your man was,” Drake teases, nudging Donald with his elbow, “When did he get his driver's license that's awesome!”

They talk for a little while about this and that, catching up on each others lives and how their kids were doing until said children all run over complaining about being hungry. They chow down on the fruit and sandwiches they brought like the little monsters they are before settling down to make a sand castle all together. Launchpad lays down on the sand next to Drake, resting his head in his lap, who leans down for a quick kiss, ignoring Gosalyn’s yell to ‘Get a room!’.

Launchpad grabs Drake’s left hand to kiss the ring there, smiling up at him and Drake can’t not give him one more kiss, snorting at the dazed expression his fiancé gives him when he pulls away. Seeing how tired Launchpad was in the way his eyelids droop, Drake threads his fingers through his wet hair, “Go ahead and take a nap, babe. Donald and I have got the kids.” he whispers, kissing his forehead.

He quickly does just that, snoozing in Drake’s lap, who takes the opportunity to practice his hair braiding skills, tying different little braids throughout his locks. Sensing something evil afoot, Drake looks up to see the kids have gotten closer, Launchpad in their sights.

“If you let us bury Pops I’ll clean my room!” Gosalyn whisper-shouts, and Drake hums, pretending to think over the proposition.

“Do the dishes tomorrow, too, and you’ve got a deal.” he offers, and Gosalyn pouts before nodding and shaking his hand.

“He drives a hard bargain…” Louie notes.

Gosalyn hushes him before they all get to work quietly burying Launchpad in sand, his sleeping fiancé none the wiser. Once they’re done they make little designs in the sand covering him, giggling as they give him a mermaids tail and write messages in the sand.

Deciding they’ve had enough fun, Drake nudges Launchpad awake, relaying the situation to him quietly while the kids are distracted. When the kids least expect it, Launchpad bursts from the sand with a monster roar, chasing them about before scooping up as many as he can get in his arms, throwing himself into the water with them.

Drake admires how good Launchpad is with the kids, able to make them laugh just as easily as he can comfort them when they’re down. Donald watches him stare fondly at his fiancé with a smile, “Soooo, when’s the wedding?” he asks.

Drake turns to him with a blush, “We haven’t decided on a date yet, things have been pretty busy.” he sighs, “But we’ve been planning out decorations and looking at venues-” he pauses as Donald snorts into his drink.

“Venues? As if Scrooge would let you guys get married anywhere but the mansion.” Donald laughs, and Drake raises a brow.

“Really? I didn’t even think about asking him, he’s done so much for us already.” he shakes his head.

“He loves you guys! He may seem all grumpy and hardheaded, which he is, but he’s got a soft spot for anyone in his family and would do anything you guys asked in a heartbeat.” Donald smiles.

The conversation turns to wedding talk and Drake doesn’t miss the dreamy eyed look Donald gets.

“What about you and Mr. Adonis?” he asks, smirking when Donald turns bright red, sputtering and stammering through his words.

Before Donald can try to formulate words, Launchpad comes jogging up, and Drake is too distracted by how he looks without a shirt to notice him reaching down to pick him up, and he’s suddenly in his arms getting kisses pressed all about his face. Laughing embarrassingly loud, Drake tries to squirm out of his hold.

“It’s been a while since I told you I love you, just wanted to make sure you don’t forget.” Launchpad says after one last kiss, and Drake feels so in love he wants to get married right here and now.

It’s a Friday night, which means its one of the rare nights they let Gosalyn come out on patrol with them. They’re cruising through the streets of St. Canard, stopping a few petty thefts and purse snatchers, leaving a cookie crumb trail of criminals for the inept police to pick up. It’s a pretty calm night, Gosalyn whooping from her seat in Launchpad’s lap in the sidecar while they ride around, until the sound of a store alarm catches Darkwing’s attention.

He finds the source of the alarm, a jewelry store which is currently in the process of being robbed, and parks the Ratcatcher in a nearby alley, telling Gosalyn to stay put. He and Launchpad rush over, throwing down a smoke bomb to catch the thief by surprise.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night, I am the ugly broach on the lapel of crime, I am… Darkwing Duck!” he shouts, flaring out his cape as he emerges from the smoke, Launchpad at his side. The criminal is a dog of average build who looks more scared than villainous, and he goes to make a run for it but Drake tackles him to the floor, struggling for a bit until a sharp pain in his hand makes him flinch back with a hiss, giving the dog the opportunity to kick him off and run out the door, too quick for Launchpad to grab.

Looking at his hand to assess the damage, he finds a bloody cut there, not too deep or dangerous, just annoying and painful.

“You alright, DW?” Launchpad asks, picking him up off the floor.

“Yea, yea, let's just get after him!” he urges, taking off after the dog, finding a couple of dropped pieces of jewelry headed in the direction of the alley they left the Ratcatcher in. A sick feeling in his stomach has Drake pick up the pace, turning down the alley to find the criminal, and Gosalyn.

“S-Stop right there!” the dog cries, holding Gosalyn tighter around the beak, closer to his chest, and the glint of the knife under her chin makes Drake’s blood run cold. Launchpad soon appears next to him, about to ask why he’s stopped when he takes in the scene. Gosalyn kicks and squirms in his hold, her muffled cries making Launchpad see red.

“Just-just throw over the keys to this thing and leave us and nothing happens to her!” he demands, gesturing around wildly with his knife hand. Gosalyn has the keys but this idiot obviously doesn’t know, so Darkwing begins acting as best as he can.

“Alright, alright! My partner here has the keys, right?” he says calmly, glancing over at Launchpad, who looks more serious than he’s ever seen him. He catches a glimpse of the crowbar at Launchpad’s feet, which he has been slowly inching toward unbeknownst to the criminal.

“I’ve got the keys alright, DW…” Launchpad grits out, nudging his foot under the crowbar, getting ready. 

“Well hand em over already!” the dog cries, waving that knife hand around again when he speaks and Drake gets a good idea of what Launchpad is planning.

“Put the girl down and I’ll toss them, ok?” Launchpad tries, but he doubts he’ll follow his demand, is counting on it actually.

“As if! Just throw them-” he begins, waving his knife hand, away from Gosalyn’s neck, just like Launchpad had hoped, giving him the couple of seconds he needed to kick the crowbar up into the air, catching it with one hand and throwing it with deadly precision. The dog doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence or react as he’s thwacked with a face full of metal, crumpling to the ground with a curse.

Darkwing and his partner sprint to their daughter, Drake plucking her out of the criminals limp grasp with his good hand and holding her close, making sure she wasn’t hurt. Launchpad kicks his knife away before picking the dog up with one hand curled in his shirt, slamming him into a nearby wall and raising his other fist in case he still has any fight left in him. The criminal groans, glaring up at Launchpad, nose bloodied, and likely broken, thanks to him.

“You messed with the wrong family, bud.” Launchpad growls before punching his lights out, Drake and Gosalyn watching with wide eyes. Dropping the dog to the floor, Launchpad turns around, that angry look in his eyes gone in favor of concern, coming over to fret over Gosalyn and hug both she and Drake close.

“Pops that was awesome! That guy didn’t even know what was coming, and the way you-” Gosalyn stops as Launchpad pulls back from the hug, looking down at her with an expression so serious she wilts in her dad’s arms, going quiet.

Launchpad looks at the sky and the slowly rising sun, “Let’s go home.” is all he says, going to tie up the criminal and place him in front of the jewelry store. Gosalyn and Drake share a look at Launchpad’s unusual behavior, and Gosalyn gets the feeling they’re gonna have a “serious talk” when they get home.

The ride home is unbearably quiet, Launchpad’s arms squeezing the slightest bit tighter around her the whole way.

Once home, Drake tells Gosalyn to go get ready for bed before following Launchpad as he walks silently into the bedroom. Closing the door quietly, Drake comes up and wraps his arms about Launchpad from behind. He grabs his hands from where they wind around his chest, and Drake gasps at the sudden flare of pain.

“Your hand… why didn’t you tell me?” Launchpad asks, turning in his hold to give him a stern look. Drake rubs at his neck sheepishly with his free hand, “To be completely honest, I forgot about it.” 

Shaking his head but smiling at his fiancé, Launchpad leads him into the bathroom to get him patched up. He cleans him up with care, making sure the cut is properly disinfected before wrapping it up slowly, a far off look in his eyes.

“What if we lost her tonight?” Launchpad whispers, stilling his movements save for a slight shake in his hands.

Drake had a feeling this conversation was coming but it still makes his breath hitch in his throat just at the thought of something happening to Gosalyn. Grabbing Launchpad’s shaking hands in his own, Drake looks up at him, waiting until he meets his eyes to begin speaking.

“We didn’t, that's what matters. You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking about ‘what if’, so let's just focus on ‘what is’, here and now. You and I, and our daughter safe at home.” he says, reaching up to cup his cheek with his good hand.

Launchpad leans his face into his palm as tears spill from his eyes, and Drake frowns as he only shakes harder.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you… either of you…” Launchpad whimpers, gathering Drake up into his arms to cry into his neck. “I love you both, so much… I can’t lose you…”

Drake tries his best to not start crying as well, just holding on tight to Launchpad and rubbing his back to calm him down. Launchpad’s sobs slow until he’s just sniffling against Drake, calming down and pulling away.

“Sorry… sorry, I just-” he begins, but Drake leans in to kiss him soft and slow.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Drake soothes with a small smile when he pulls away, wiping at his cheeks with his thumbs. “We’re here now, ok? At home, safe, and Gosalyn is safe, too, thanks to you.” he reassures him, and Launchpad nods, taking a deep breath and leaning down to press his beak to Drake’s forehead.

They go through the motions of getting ready for bed, leaving the bathroom to curl up on the bed facing each other, Launchpad wrapping him up tight in his arms. A knock at the door makes Drake turn to call over his shoulder, “Come in.”

Gosalyn comes padding in slowly, climbing up onto the bed and over Drake to nestle between them, and both dad’s lean in to preen at her feathers, making her giggle.

“Am I forever banned from going on patrol?” she asks once they stop, looking up at them with her best puppy eyes.

Drake hadn’t even considered not letting her go on patrol anymore, but looks up at Launchpad to get his opinion as he was the one most shaken up by tonight. His brow furrows in concentration as he thinks, chancing a look at Gosalyn and automatically losing any internal battle he was going through. He could never deny her anything and they all knew it.

He sighs as he leans down to kiss the top of her head, “No, we just need to be more careful is all.”

Gosalyn cuddles closer to Launchpad, wrapping her small arms about his neck, “I will be. Thank you for keeping me safe, Pops.”

“A fight?! Gosalyn, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this before you can’t solve problems with your fists, you have to-”

“They called me a dyke…”

Drake’s shock causes him to pause in his cleaning of her bloody nose, meeting her eyes for only a second before she looks away, tears threatening to spill. He can sense Launchpad shaking with rage next to him and he places a hand on his arm to calm him.

“They what…?” Launchpad seethes, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Gosalyn sniffles, wiping at her eyes, “On the playground… these boys asked me why I never wear skirts or dresses… and-and why I played hockey… then… then one of them said ‘You must be a-’” but Drake stops her with a hand on her knee, leaning in to pull her into his arms, letting her cry into his shirt for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m so sorry sweetie… I’m-” he takes a calming breath, “Your father and I are gonna talk to your principal right now and make sure this never happens again, alright?” he says, holding her by the shoulders and giving her a strained smile, hoping it was comforting. She nods jerkily, wiping at her eyes again.

Leaving her in the nurse’s office, they head over to where the principal is waiting for them, Drake holding onto his fiancé’s arm the whole time to try and remain calm, taking note of the way the principal looks at their joined arms.

“Now I’m sure this must all be very upsetting, no one ever wants to see their child fighting over some simple schoolyard ribbing.” he says, which immediately gets Drake’s blood boiling.

“That was no ‘schoolyard ribbing’, that was bullying, and bullying with such an awful word attached to it that, to be quite honest, I’m glad my daughter maybe taught those boys a thing or two about what kind of words are acceptable today.” Drake rants, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Those boys are traumatized over what happened! You should have seen the black eyes your daughter gave them!” the principal huffs, and Drake feels a small rush of pride but tries to keep it from showing on his face.

“Good! Gosalyn should have done worse.” Launchpad laughs, and Drake gives him a sharp look.

“Excuse you? You’re lucky their parents aren’t pressing charges!” he says, giving them both an incredulous look.

“I’d like to them try! Sue my daughter, hah!” Launchpad shakes his head, and this conversation is not going as well as Drake would have liked.

“Your daughter? As far as I’m concerned, she’s Mr. Mallard’s child, and an adopted one at that…” he says the word like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and Drake has to act fast to hold Launchpad back when he surges up from his seat.

The principal looks effectively cowed, pushing his seat back to get as far away from Launchpad as possible. Launchpad opens his beak as if to say more but shakes his head instead, turning to leave with a quick, ‘We’ll go wait in the car.’ tossed over his shoulder, shutting the door with a slam. Flinching at the loud door, Drake turns to the still terrified principal, “My fiancé is a very… passionate man…”

It was common knowledge that Launchpad was wrapped quite tightly around Gosalyn’s little finger, willing to do anything and everything for his little girl. It became a problem when they had bills to pay and Launchpad would spend entire paychecks on whatever Gosalyn wanted, like her archery set or top of the line hockey equipment.

All Gosalyn had to do was give Launchpad her tried and true puppy dog eyes and he would be toast, bending to her will as if she wasn’t half his size and also 11. 

She needed a lemonade stand for her up and coming business? Launchpad was already done building it before she could say ‘Please’. She was craving Hamburger Hippo and would absolutely die without it? Launchpad was there and back in fifteen minutes. 

Needless to say, Launchpad thoroughly spoiled Gosalyn, and Drake too at times, but he never expected anything in return, never asked for anything.

As his birthday approached, Drake and Gosalyn were at a loss, working feverishly to figure out what to get him.

Something Darkwing Duck related? He was going to marry Darkwing Duck, what more could they get him in that department? Something related to planes? Drake and Gosalyn couldn’t build anything to save their lives. 

They accepted defeat the day before his birthday, waiting until they were all sitting in front of the TV with the latest kids movie popped in to admit how awful they were.

“We don’t know what to get you for your birthday and we feel really bad ‘cause you always do stuff for us and we never do anything for you.” they say in unison, hanging their heads in shame.

“Buh?”

“Just tell us what you want so we can get it for you! Anything!” Gosalyn begs, climbing into his lap and shaking him by the front of his jacket. Launchpad gives them both a big smile before pulling them into his arms and kissing at their faces, his favorite thing to do.

“You guys… the only thing I could possibly want for my birthday is to spend as much time with you guys as possible.” he says once he’s done kissing them, setting them back down on the couch and getting into their usual movie night set up. As Launchpad wraps his arm around him, Drake looks over at his daughter, an idea brewing in their heads.

The next morning, Launchpad wakes up with a smile, excited to spend his birthday with his family, and he gets to start it next to his beautiful husband who is… not in bed next to him? Wondering for a second if he’s somehow slept in, he looks over to the clock to see it’s six in the morning, his usual weekend wake up time. Before he can begin planning his revenge in what is surely a kidnapping situation, the bedroom door bursts open.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear, Launchpad (he’s pretty sure he hears Gosalyn say ‘Launchdad’) Happy birthday to you!”

In front of him are his fiancé and daughter, both looking very tired and ragged but smiling and excited nonetheless, holding a homemade chocolate cake, his favorite. 

It takes him a while to stop crying but his family hugs him the entire time, and there’s no other way he’d rather spend his birthday.

-

Pulled from his reminiscing as Launchpad gives him a sweet kiss, Drake sighs, wrapping his arms around his neck until he picks up a weird smell.

“Mr. McQuack I do believe the pancakes are burning.” he mutters against his beak as he pulls away, doubling over with laughter as Launchpad rushes to salvage their breakfast.

After a slightly singed breakfast, Drake tugs Launchpad back to bed to try and get a little more rest, practically lying on his chest to make sure he can’t go anywhere.

“Hey I thought you said you had a fiancé?” Launchpad scolds when he leans up to preen his neck feathers, and Drake snorts before sitting up, looking down at the love of his life with so much fondness it makes Launchpad blush.

“Yeah I do, he’s the whole package. Handsome, funny, good with kids… I think he just might be the one.” Drake smiles, pretending to lean in for a kiss before going back to laying on Launchpad’s broad chest. “You guys should meet, I think you’d be good friends.”

Launchpad chuckles as he wraps an arm around him and stokes his back, kissing his temple, “I love you, Drake.”

“I love you, too.” he whispers, curling up close until he’s draped all over him. Thinking back to his reminiscing earlier, Drake sits back up to give Launchpad an earnest look.

“You’re a great dad, Launchpad, you know that?”

Launchpad’s hand stills and he gives Drake a small smile, “You really mean that?”

Drake rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief, “Of course I mean it! You’re the best thing that could have ever happened to Gosalyn and I! You’re so good with her and she loves you so much, and you love her ten times as much and I just… you’re a good dad.”

When he looks up from his ranting Launchpad has tears in his eyes, sniffling before cupping Drake’s cheek, “I can’t wait to marry you.” 

It’s the last thing Drake expects to hear but it makes his heart swell and tears of his own spill down his cheeks.

They get married two weeks later in a flurry of planning and excitement, completely unexpected but those close to the couple could only say ‘It’s about time.’

[homesoutofhuman]

Summer dress- Polar oneshot

Duncan Vizla/Reader- Smut level midnight- including daddy kink, slight humiliation and praise kink, mild spanking. Based on the amazing prompt below, I couldn’t resist! 

johnwickthirstclub said:I’m not the anon who asked for more Duncan but I’ll gladly send a prompt for them 🤩 consider: wearing a thin sundress around the house (the kind that is too easy to take off) and just gently teasing him, giving him little pecks on his cheek while he’s cooking, stroking his forearm, commenting on how big his hands are next to yours—whatever. Until finally he snaps and takes you to bed. Preferably w lots of daddy kink!! 

The sun through the cabin windows soaks your skin, makes you feel drowsy yet restless at the same time. You’re missing something you can’t name, and if you’re suffering you’re determined to take Duncan down with you.

You find him in the kitchen preparing a salad, the day being too hot for much more. Slipping off your shoes you approach him from behind, a game you like to play, trying to outwit the assassin. You can almost hear him rolling his eyes as he addresses you, back still turned away over his chopping board.“You forgot to memorise the creaky floorboards..”

You wince just as your foot hits the wooden floor which lets out a loud squeak.“You heard me before that.” you answer, sulkily, moving swiftly then to stand at the other side of the kitchen so you can face him, reaching up to the cupboard to grab a glass.

Duncan’s eyes flick up from his knife, tracking your movements, the way your arm curves as you reach up, leaving your side vulnerable. If he wanted to, he could stab you there with his chopping knife just once, and you would bleed to death in his arms.

“It’s my job sweetheart, don’t take it personally.”

Huffing you move to the tap and fill your glass, the heat is making you grumpy and Duncan’s calm is winding you up. You watch as he resumes chopping a tomato and take a gulp of water so fast you choke. He is by your side in an instant, whacking you on the back with more force than necessary, and peering into your face with concerned hazel eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” you gasp, waving him off. Duncan moves back but stays close to you, his mouth quirking into a smirk as he looks you over. “What?” you almost snarl.

Duncan waves his knife in the direction of your light summer dress which is now covered with contents of your glass of water “You’re soaking.”

Flushing you pull at your dress which is now clinging to your body, turning transparent. Hiding a smile of your own you see Duncan’s face morph from mocking to hungry in a split second. He clears his throat and backs away in the direction of the kitchen counter. “You should change.”

“The sun will dry it in no time.” Shrugging you move to stand next to him, peering over his large shoulder. His fingers are long, thick, yet delicate as he holds the ripe red flesh, not too firmly as to crush it, yet keeping it still so he can slice into with his blade. You put your hand on the chopping board and he stops immediately, placing the knife down safely out the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I should be cooking for you Duncan.” you murmur. He instantly shakes his head “No, the deal was, you clean, you look after the house when I’m done, that’s all.”

“Oh that’s all?” you look up at him with searching eyes, the air between you hissing with tension.

He nods, but you hear the audible catch in his throat as he stares at you, takes in your heated skin, your trembling mouth and your eyes, desperate with desire. It’s been months since he found you, lost and hopeless and gave you a place to stay, with him. He legitimised it by saying he needed a housekeeper, but you know he is a good man. Still, you refuse to be a goodwill project for his retirement, you want more.

Duncan places his hand over yours on the board, pressing down slightly till you feel the groove against your palm. His skin is damp and red with the juice of the tomato. “My hands are so much larger than yours, I get it done in half the time.” You look down and see his hand indeed covers yours completely. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb soothingly. You feel small, weak, so vulnerable. It makes you shiver and the vibration passes from your body into his. Duncan makes a low noise in his throat.

He moves behind you, lifting your hand up by the wrist, grasping the other and suddenly wrenching your arms behind your back. The whimper that leaves your mouth is involuntary and you curse yourself, thinking he will stop if he thinks he’s causing you pain. Duncan does not let you go. He holds you easily, it riles you how little effort he has to put in to restrain you and you struggle anyway. His moustache tickles your neck as he brings his mouth to your ear.

“Don’t hurt yourself, little mouse.”

He lets you go and you slump forward against the kitchen counter, your face burning with embarrassment and your underwear damp with need. Duncan goes back to his salad, even whistling under his breath and you swear at him, stomping out of the kitchen to do the laundry.

Grabbing the bag of pegs you carry the bedclothes outside, pinning them on the line to dry in the sunshine. The grass tickles your bare feet pleasantly and through the white sheet you can see the silhouette of Duncan coming out onto the porch. He is carrying two plates and when he calls to you, you can hear the apology in his voice.

“I thought we could eat outside.”

Deliberately slowly you finish hanging the washing then walk over to him, swaying your hips and making sure to bend over when you pick up the plate to give him a glimpse of what is beneath your flimsy dress. When you straighten up you want to crow out loud, seeing him adjusting himself in his pants. You take the plate and eat a few mouthfuls, moaning around your fork. Duncan is eyeing you moodily, but fondly. He has taken off his usual heavy coat in deference to the weather, and is wearing a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his forearms to keep them clean. His skin is tanned, and your eyes track a path down his strong muscled arms to his hands, large and beautiful, covered with pronounced veins. You know he would never hurt you, but you want to know what it feels like to pinned down by those hands.

You both finish your meals and sit in pleasant companionable silence. Duncan’s eyes are fixed on the trees, waving in the breeze and if you didn’t know him better you’d say he was close to falling asleep. Lifting your legs you sigh as you lean back in your chair, placing your feet in his lap. The way he grabs your ankles, quick and sure makes you bite back a moan. There is a moment, suspended in time where you’re not sure what he will do, whether he will push you off and be angry, but then the second passes, and you feel him relax, move your feet more securely into his lap. He begins stroking the tops of your feet, down to your toes and you do moan then, shifting with awkward desire you brush against his crotch and feel it hard.

You raise your head up and see him staring at you with open hunger. “You’re beautiful.” he says, in that gruff gravelly voice you know means no bullshit. “Let me see you.”

Blinking at him in confusion you stand up and move in front of him, he nods towards the edge of the porch. “There.” You move to lean against the railing and turn around awkwardly as the swirling motion of his finger advises.

“Lift up your dress.” you glance back over your shoulder at him, a question in your eyes and he just nods, so you do as he requests, lifting up your summer dress to expose your cotton panties to his roving eyes. It’s humiliating, a power trip. Just what you might have expected from him.

“Good girl.” he purrs, and the shame rushes hot in your ears at just how much wetter his praise makes you, how you’d do anything and much, much worse to hear it again.

“Come sit on my lap, liebling.” he commands and you’re moving as if compelled by a curse, settling on his legs gingerly, not wanting to shock him with your weight. Duncan gives a snort and grasps your hips, pulling you down flush against him so his clothed cock is pressing right against your centre. He moves those thick fingers across your mouth, caressing only, as if he is still considering what to do.

“I feel I need to point out the fact I’m old enough to be your father, older than that even.”

You nod solemnly, leaning down to nuzzle him like a cat “Mmm hmm…”

Duncan scoffs in his throat, moving a hand to the back of your neck and stroking the delicate skin of your nape. “Maybe you like that.”

You gasp as his fingers press into the base of your skull, sending a warm thrill down your spine, and you begin to grind down on him, seeking the delicious friction of his jeans against your underwear. Duncan shushes your desperate shameful whimpers, brings his hands to cup your face, almost covering your cheeks completely, and pulls you in for a kiss. It starts gentle at first, he seems worried to break you and treats you carefully, guiding your head so he can deepen the kiss. His moustache brushes your top lip and his tongue is hot and heavy against yours. You’re almost panting, almost coming just from a kiss and you feel like a ridiculous child in his arms.

“Little one…” he murmurs, so soft and tender and something breaks inside you so you kiss him back, almost angrily. Your bare feet scrabble for purchase on the floor as you grind down, wringing gasps from him every time you slide against his clothed cock. Pulling back you survey him, this handsome, mysterious man who has made his way firmly under your skin. You wind your fingers into his abundant, silky hair, you press kisses against his craggy, handsome features, gentle soft kisses at the lines under his eyes, a vicious nip at his throat. Duncan growls, and, grabbing hold of you he stands up, throwing you over his shoulder and striding inside. You giggle and scream, beating at his back even though you’re exactly where you want to be.

Duncan drops you carefully on the bed and looks down at you. He looks wrecked. The buttons of his white shirt coming undone and a bruise already blooming on his throat where you bit him. His broad chest is moving frantically with laboured breaths, and his pants are struggling to contain his erection. 

You doubt you look any less aroused as you kneel up on the bed and look up at him through your lashes, unzipping his pants and taking him out. He’s huge, just like the rest of him, and you stare down, a little in awe for a moment, before screwing your courage to the sticking place and sliding your mouth around him, eager, if a little unpractised. Duncan doesn’t seem to notice or care, swear words flowing from his lips in a variety of languages, he holds your head, pushing your hair back so he can see your face, see the filthy sight of his cock sliding in a out of your mouth, trying to hold himself back from just fucking your face.

“Fuck…” he groans and you hum around his dick in answer. “This wasn’t...what I...fuck little girl you look so good taking my cock in your fucking throat.” His words drive you on, and you suck at him, getting messier and messier, spit gathering in your mouth and rolling onto your chin as you try and take all of him. The effort makes your eyes water and Duncan pulls out of your mouth, holding your chin and just looking down at you. His eyes are possessive and fiery.

“Lay down.” You can barely struggle off your knees and comply before he’s on you, pinning you against the bed face down and lifting your dress again. He squeezes your ass and gives you a light tap on the backside. “That’s for being naughty’” he rumbles in such a rich tone- angry and proud at the same time you whine and push against the mattress.

“Please Duncan...I need you.”

Now he’s in control Duncan doesn’t appear to be in any rush, his palm dragging down your spine, to keep you prone but also to caress your skin. He leans down and bites the cheek of your ass, chuckling at your outraged response. “Sorry, it just looked so peachy I couldn’t resist.”

This is the side of Duncan you knew was in there all the long, the arrogant, cocky, experienced man who would toy with you in the most delicious way. 

”Need me do you?” he almost purrs, kneading your ass roughly before moving your panties to the side and licking at your pussy, a wet stripe along your slit ending with his tongue pressed inside you. The sound you make is almost inhuman.

“Mhmmf..yes…” you whine, pressing into the mattress then back against his face, your body on fire, not sure if you can take much more as he relentlessly fucks you with his tongue and his fingers, bringing you to the edge but never quite letting you fall.

Duncan pauses and you look back at him, see his triumphant smirk as he wipes his moustache clean of your juices. “You don’t know what you need little girl, but don’t worry, I do.”

Flipping you over, your dress gathered around your waist he grabs your ankles and pulls them up so your ass is almost off the bed, giving it one final slap before pushing into you, holding your legs together so he can watch his thick cock sliding in and out of your body, your tightness clenching onto him each time as if reluctant to let him go, making him see stars. Knowing he won’t last long, and wanting you to be well-fucked by the time he’s finished Duncan reaches down to play with your clit, rubbing it relentlessly as you attempt to move your hips to meet his almost violent thrusts.

“Daddy please…” you beg, all reason and propriety gone from your mind in lieu of pure desperate need. His thrusts grow messy in response, Duncan puts your legs over his shoulders so he can bend down close to you, his gorgeous eyes glinting with lust. “Oh I like that...say it again…”

“Daddy, daddy…” you moan, rocking your head from side to side as his thick fingers bring you to orgasm. Duncan bites the side of your neck, and you cry out into the wilderness of the cabin. He watches you come, stilling almost completely. You can feel him twitching inside you, your pleasure turning him on, or more the fact that he’s made you scream. 

You’re barely coming down from the high when he pulls you like a rag-doll up off the mattress and onto his lap. You feel him so deep from that angle your groan and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Duncan pets your spine, your dress now torn away completely as he rocks into you, seeking his own climax.

You see him watching you carefully and with some concern, but he doesn’t stop or give you a break, his cock slamming into your sensitive channel over and over. Wincing with painful pleasure you open your eyes, almost drugged and seek his lips, kissing him to distract yourself, to hold on for him. Duncan kisses you back, passionately, his fingers tweaking your nipples and making you spasm, coaxing another orgasm from you just as he comes,  spurting deep inside you with a growl.

The room is quiet except for the sound of panting, both of you trying to catch your breath. Duncan lifts you off him and slides out of you, sighing with regret at the loss. Blindly you find a pillow for your head and lay back, stunned. Duncan hovers over you, his salt and pepper hair over his eyes. 

“I’m not going to apologise..I wanted that...needed you.” he mutters, even and firm but with a slight lightness to his voice that betrays uncertainty. Rolling amongst the tattered remains of your dress you look into his eyes, feeling the connection between you still there. His hand rests on your stomach warm like a brand as he pulls you close, his nose in your hair. You feel exhaustion from the chemicals in your body making your eyelids heavy. 

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” Duncan presses a kiss on your forehead and covers your body with his own.

That’s all you needed to hear.

[jay-and-dean]

Rescue You  Chapter 14 (Last Chapter) : July 27

Dean x reader

Summary : My name is Y/n. I’m the outcast of my witch community. This is the story of how I rescued Dean Winchester, the story of how he saved me.

Serie Warnings : Swearing. Injuries. Smut. Fluff. Angst.

Chapter warning : Smut, unprotected sex (be smart), a hint of edging. Fluff.

Words : 3.3k

Author note : I Broke the 3k words rule again, but this chapter was important for me. It’s almost my dad’s death anniversary so I couldn’t skip that little part. Thank you so much for your support all along this adventure. I hope you like the end. 

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July 27, 2:22 pm

             In the daze of sleep, I rub my face. The room is perfectly quiet and dark. I grunt a little and turn on my side, my arm searching for Dean like every morning –when he’s not already crushing me- but when I don’t find him, I open my eyes.

           It’s not morning, it takes me a few seconds and the red numbers in the dark to remember that. Oh, I have been out for two hours. I fell asleep when we came back from hunt… I never fall asleep like that, but I’m still a little weaken by the loss of blood. Stupid Goddess.

           I rub the bandage on my wrist and sigh, I won’t call Cas just to fix that. Reaching for my phone, I yawn. I have a message from Sammy.

Dean and I decided you needed a little rest. I’m going to North Carolina with Bobby. Take care little witch.

I smile and stretch. I wasn’t really thrilled that he found a new case again during the last one, my boyfriend needs rest and we need time alone. I love Sam but having to share a room with him when there is only one left, bathing in blood every freaking day and having to hurry in the shower… I can’t do this continuously.

           I love quick love making against a wall, I love Dean’s strong hand silencing me, and I love the constant teasing but after days, sometimes weeks, like that in a row, I need more.

         Some say we are crazy, but, yes, after being away from my wolf for two hours, I miss him already. I just wish he was there, like every morning, his hair going every direction and his eyes still closed when he starts talking, huskily greeting me. I stretch my arm to his pillow and find the little hole I made biting it too hard. My Dean…

He made me a wolf too and I love it too much.

         I take a minute before I get up, because no one will ever yell at me for it anymore ; and in the dark, I remember being up before the Sun to start my day of hard work and being bullied. I remember a lot, but I never regretted anything I did, maybe that makes me a psycho. I don’t really care.

            Before I find the courage to move, my phone rings, a bit too loud in this perfect silence. I pick up and smile at the voice.

“Hi Treasure.”

“Hi dad” I sigh, playing with the sheets.

           When Castiel found a way to fix my father, the first weeks weren’t easy. I barely recognized him at first, bearded and old, way older than I remembered. He was disturbed and extremely lost, who wouldn’t be… But Sam and Dean have experienced this kind of thing with their own mother, in another way, and they helped a lot.

I took days for him to talk to me, weeks to make him catch up with everything. I was crying a lot, but Dean was there for me. Always. And eventually, my dad started calling me Treasure again, telling me he was proud of me. I cried in his arms… I cried in my dad’s arms for hours. I have killed your other child, I have killed your wife… I’m a murderer…

But he forgave me.

Getting my dad back… It was like someone had given me my childhood back, and all fixed. Like this radiant love I have been feeling has a baby wasn’t just a dream. When my father’s hand touched my back for the first time again, I stopped being afraid of everything, because the first wolf ever that had growled for me was back.

I introduced the man I love to the first man I ever loved, and all fell in place.

My father had to get his life back, to make a new one, just like I was doing. Except I had won everything, and he had lost it all. He hesitated to join the hunting life but Dean talked him out of it. He didn’t know what to do. “All I know, is how to be a father” his sad smile fell on me, when he said that. I needed my father back, but not a daddy. That’s when Castiel had the best idea.

He had to stop drinking and that was awful for him. But there is not much love can’t achieve…

“Are you back from the hunt ?” he asks on the phone, a little worried.

“I am, all went great, no one got hurt” I lie.

“Are you with Dean ?” he asks, like he always does, still a little too impressed by my tall warrior man.

“No” I smile, loving the shyness in his kind voice.

“Okay, well when you are, tell him my car makes a weird noise, he said it won’t come back but it did !”

I turn on the comfy bed that smells like Dean and yawn.

“We will come by this week, he’ll look at it” I state. “How are the boys ?”

“Ethan is doing is homework” my father states. “He is struggling with school but my job at the store will allow me to get him a private teacher to help him when I can’t soon… I just hope Sam was there every day to do it with him” he chuckles. “And Jax don’t have nightmares anymore, I think. He didn’t wake me at all for two weeks, and he’s becoming annoyingly enthusiast about everything.”

“Yeah…” I smile. “They’re sweet kids” I state, still feeling guilty for having killed both their parents, and trying to tell myself they would have been treated so poorly.

“They are” he states. “No, Ethan, take a fruit but no cake, you already had cake !”

I chuckle when I hear the little boy try to negotiate.

“I’ll tell you when we come by, dad. Say hi to the little monsters.”

“Yes, you and the boys are always welcome Treasure” he says before we hangs up.

I smile thinking about that Bobby Dean told me about, he says my dad is the same kind of man, only a little less grumpy.

            Then the urge to feel Dean’s kiss becomes too much and I get up. Moving makes me suddenly feel the heat, it has being hot like Hell lately; and maybe if it’s a little too much, it feels good not to be freezing like I have been all my life. I take off my pants –I fell asleep like that, all dressed up-, and the bra that was digging in my skin.

On the bright sides of Sam being states away : going through the bunker half naked. I smile on my way to the bathroom wearing only my panties, secretly hoping to hear Dean come behind me like the hunter he is. But Dean is not there.

           After a fresh, almost cold, shower, I walk naked to my boyfriend and I’s room to grab panties and a shirt. Not even looking at my clothes, I take one of Dean’s worn out t-shirt, humming at the smell and at the thin fabric lazily draping on my breasts.

           “Dean ?” I call, brushing my wet hair.

But he doesn’t answer. I go to the kitchen and take one of the bottle of water I have left in the fridge, a cold beer, and bite in a piece of pie before putting it back to the fridge. Taking a bag of chips, I start walking again.

           I go down the stairs to join the garage, lately, my baby spend his time in there… When I open the door, the heat makes me gasp. It must be 100 to 105 degrees in here. The door is open wide to outside, the AC doesn’t work as well in here as the rest of the bunker for some reason. I here noises and smile.

My Love.

           Dean doesn’t hear me come, music and loud metallic sounds covering my steps. He’s beautiful, his black t-shirt sticking to his back, wet hair looking darker than usual.

“You need water” I say and he jumps a little, turning to me with a smile on his sweaty face.

“Hey baby, you’re awake” he grins. “Mh… and not wearing much.”

I chuckle and hand him the bottle of water. When he sees the beer, he pouts but I shake my head.

“Water first.”

           His car is beautiful, and the way he cares for every details makes it even more precious. I put my fingers on the shiny black paint carefully, thrilled to finally meet the baby he talked so much about. Dean takes the water and starts to drink, droplets of sweat rolling down his throat has his Adam’s apple goes up and down until the bottle is half empty.

           I smile, licking my lips, and finally give him the beer, its label is peeling off with the condensation. He takes it, his green eyes not leaving mine.

“I can feel cool coming out of you” he hums, putting a burning hand on my side.

“Fresh shower” I states. “My dad’s car makes a weird noise.”

“He really should get a new one” he sigh, getting closer. “I’ll have a look.”

Before I can talk more, he grabs my shoulders and wraps his slippery arms around me, crushing me against his soaked chest.

“Dean !” I yelp.

“Mh…” he hums, nuzzling his face on my neck, enjoying the cool of my skin and the cold water in my hair.

I try to push him but it is impossible, he’s strong and won’t let me go.

“Dean…” I sigh in surrender, putting my fresh hands in his hair and kissing is salty temple. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah…” he whispers but keeps his face hidden against me.

His hands are tender and loving, caging me like he had missed me too much, just like I did. I’m on my tiptoes, my back arched, my chest against him. He doesn’t let go.

“Are you trying to cook me” I chuckle when his body heat makes my own sweat break through my skin.

“Baby is almost ready” he hums, still clinging to me.

“I can’t wait to hear her roar” I smile against his skin. “It’s way too hot down there. Don’t you want to take a break ?”

“That’s why I opened the door” he murmurs, his lips grazing my skin now. “You smell delicious…”

“Not you” I laugh. “I bought chips, are you hungry ?”

“M-yes…” he mutters nibbling at my neck.

“Baby…” I sigh when I feel his hands going down to grab my butt. “You’re not talking about chips, are you ?”

“No…” he presses my body against his, making me feel the bulge in his pants.

           I lick my lips, my body never failing to react quickly for him. Closing my eyes, I enjoy his huge hands massaging my ass.

“Are you still tired ?” he asks, his lips going up my neck, to graze my lips.

I shake my head slightly, parting my lips to taste him, sensually capturing his lower lips, then the upper one, to finally being invited to claim his mouth.

“You taste like pie baby” he hums.

“Do I ?” I smile against his lips.

His hands go up my back, meeting the droplets of my own sweat in my back.

“You bit in the best part again, didn’t you ?” he grunts and I shrug trying to look innocent.

He takes two steps and my body meets his car’s hood. With a sharp movement, he sits me on it and comes closer. I spread my thighs to let him take place between them.

           I know how to make him impatient, so I spread my legs wider and arch my back a lot, my head lazily going back. When the hood of his beloved car pushes a little on my clit, I moan.

“I want you bad…” he groans, his fingers digging in my thighs.

“Really Winchester ?” I chuckle with a slightly mocking tone. “Look at you. You already can’t handle the heat, I don’t think you can handle me…”

His hands go higher, massaging the inside of my thighs with his thumb. When they find my pussy, I gasp, my walls already pulsing for attention.

“Oh you think” he gives me an evil grin.

Both his thumbs stroke my folds, making their way to my entrance through my soaked panties. I moan and look down to see his perfect hands work me.

“Fuck baby…” I whine, rolling my hips to get more friction.

One of his thumb go to my clit and press on it firmly.

“Yes…” I let my head fall down a bit and grab his shoulders.

He starts circling it roughly, his index teasing my entrance. He knows exactly how fast it could make me come, especially after a week without any intimacy. Dean knows me perfectly. I start to shake and he sucks at my neck, drinking the moans stuck there.

“Yeah… Oh fuck… Please baby… More” I beg, and he obliges.

His fingers become both rougher and more precise and I feel totally high, my juice coating his hands and his car. Throbbing for him, I can sense a great orgasm built in my core.

           When I’m about to come, he takes a step back and I gasp. He stands there, licking his fingers with eyes darker than the night. My whole body is shaking and I’m a panting mess.

“Dean… Please” I whine, closing my legs to desperately get some friction on myself.

“No spread your legs baby” he orders. “I can see you clench around nothing from here…”

His voice is low and I bite my lip to hold back a whimper.

“Take those panties off.”

I sigh and lift one ass cheek after the other to get rid of my soaked underwear, then bend to give it to him, feeling the metal on my folds.

           He puts it in his back pocket hand palms himself through his jeans.

“Dean… Come on…” I try.

“That t-shirt too, baby.”

I take it off and throw it on the floor, but he just reaches for his beer, taking a long sip of it.

“Dean !”

“I’m thirsty” he states and squats.

Before I can register anything, his tongue licks a long line through my folds and I grab his hair.

           With his large hand, he pushes me back, making me fall flat on his car’s hood, his strong arms grabbing my thigh.

“Yes !” I scream in a shaky breath.

He’s devouring me, his lips sucking on my clit or his tongue pushing at my entrance. I’m lost. An intense pleasure making me dizzy, an orgasm even more powerful building deep inside me… My eyes roll and I can feel my skin being entirely wet, like my arousal was everywhere on me.

“F-Fuck…” I cry out when the coil is about to break, electricity going through my whole body.

           But he stops.

           This time I can’t take it and, still high and shaking, I reach for my clit to add the only little friction I need to fall off the edge. But Dean grabs my wrists harshly, holding them away from my own body. I try to close my legs but he got up, and his waist is blocking me.

           I could cry. Fighting his hands, I whine loud and whimper, my whole body rolling in waves of frustration.

“You’re… So… Wow, you’re so beautiful” he states with a moan hidden in his voice.

I don’t answer, I only whimper and let out a tearless sob.

“My baby…” he groans, still not touching me. “I love you more than anything.”

Another sob from me. I all can think of is how empty I feel, how much I need him. I’m too hot, but I’m cold too.

“You don’t touch Y/n…” he says before he lets go of my hands and I clench my fists on both sides of my body, resisting the best I can.

           Then I hear him drink a sip of his beer again, but I can’t see him. I’m still laying on the hood, legs spread and shaking. I wait what feels like hours, but probably is just a few minutes, getting back from my high slowly, but still fighting the tears at how painfully frustrated I am.

“Dean… I’m begging you…”

“I see that” his voice is surprisingly close and his hands grab me to sit me again.

           He’s naked. Totally naked, his hard length between my thighs, his broad shoulders holding me.

“I love you” I whine, kissing his chest, desperately trying to touch all of him.

He rubs his cock though my folds and I jolt at the touch. Everything is so intense it’s on the verge of pain.

“Go on baby” he pants. “Take what you need.”

I grab his length without a hint of hesitation and guide it to my entrance, sinking the tip in. I pant and shake watching it disappear inside me, my walls pulsating to welcome him. Then I grab his ass and tug at him with all my strength, to make him sink deeper.

“Dean…” I moan, my eyes glued on his cock. “More…”

He grabs my face and claims my mouth, letting me trying to push myself on him.

           And in the middle of the kiss, he finally thrusts roughly.

“AH !” I cry out, clinging to his neck, the pain turning to the most overwhelming pleasure I ever felt. “D-DEAN…”

But when he starts pounding fast inside me my voice gets stuck in my throat.

           I never let go of his neck, holding on for dear life as his hips beat me hard, and his hands grab my ass. He’s so deep I feel him everywhere, and he hits my sweet spot with every hard thrust. I’m high, so much that I have no idea if I am coming right now or not yet, all I know is nothing ever felt that good.

           And suddenly, I am hit by the most powerful orgasm. My whole body convulses and I try to push him, like I couldn’t take it, but he keeps fucking me with animalistic growls. My wolf is killing me and he has to fight my body to do it. My walls clench so bad I’m sure it’s hurting him. I have tears in my eyes and I can’t breathe.

           In a last very sharp thrust, he comes, bruising hands holding me against him, teeth sinking in my shoulders with too much strength. I can feel the twitches of his cock and the ropes of cum filling me so good. He’s grunting and calling my name over and over… It’s the most beautiful sounds of all.

           It takes me a long time to come down, soaked, trembling and sore.

“I missed you” Dean sighs in my neck, still buried deep inside of me.

“I was only taking a nap” I answer lazily, enjoying the sweetness of my wolf after he came, like he was fragile all of a sudden, like only me could protect him.

I stroke his hair and kiss his temple with all the love I have.

           He withdraws carefully and I clench my jaw at the loss but smile looking down : Three drops of white cum are shining on the black hood. It’s perfect.

“I really like your car” I sigh against his wet freckled skin.

“I never thought crushing it would be a good thing…” he nuzzles in my neck again. “I can’t believe you’re the one who found me” I press my naked chest against his and feel his heart beating. “I didn’t even know I needed to be rescued.”

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