#when people order four sleeping bags and/or blankets

[heckaroniandcheese]

shoutout to the paddle box gotta be my favourite box she really can do it all

[neighbourscat]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 , nicholas alexander chavez

THE LIFE-CHANGING EDIT.

𓈒  ˙ ꪆৎ   ꣹  ۫  𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . celeb!nicholas c. X non-celeb!black!fem!reader || second person ( you, yours, you’re ) + lowercase intended.

+ synopsis. when watching horror movies with your boyfriend leaves you waking throughout the night, you resort to social media to distract you from your disturbing thoughts. scrolling and scrolling, you find yourself on the steamy side of tiktok; your boyfriend the face of this new era.

+ cw. brief description of horror documentary ( no specific title ). mature language! established relationship, painfully horny reader // somnophilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cock-warming for a bit, multiple orgasms + orgasm denial, creampie.

+ nali’s notes; pure filth. wordcount :: 2.6k+

+ to be played: back to sleep, chris brown. || alternative: p power, gunna ( no drake, ver ).

THE LIFE-CHANGING EDIT.

you knew you shouldn’t have gave into your boyfriend’s request for a ‘horror movie’ night. it was the first night of october, so you figured why not ( and you regret that ). you prepared trays of snacks; anything you could find in the pantry: chocolate covered pretzels, leftover tostitos chips and spicy cheese dip — which you couldn’t eat at all, unfortunately. you couldn’t understand how your boyfriend could watch those scenes and continue to stuff his face. like the one with the human man meat-grinding another human man; breaking him down to bits and pieces in order to better dispose of him.

after the second and final movie, you told nicholas to lock up once more — your level of paranoia astronomical. there would be no recovering from those movies, especially not in the month of october — “no one is coming in here,” nicholas said for the fifth time, teasingly, crunching up the empty bag of tostitos. “you don’t know that,” you had said, peeking through the cozy throw blanket. you were sitting criss-crossed, nicholas’s pumpkin-blanket outlined around your face and body.

nicholas laughed to himself, licking at his salty fingers. you saw as he turned his back toward you and started for the kitchen to wash his hands — leaving you all alone in the living area. you tensed, scrunching your knees up to your chest and becoming a tight ball.

on any regular night — when your imagination wasn’t filled with slideshows of dismembered human bodies ( mostly children’s. you swore tv-people couldn’t show that shit on television, even if it was all makeup ) or a creature that melted people and used their gushy remains to grow in height, weight, and strength — you would have the window blinds snapped closed, leaving you and your boyfriend in pitch black darkness.

not tonight. fuck that.

after jumping into bed and diving under the blanket, you demanded your boyfriend to open the blinds — and to leave them wide open. you felt like a small girl again, needing her nightlight and closet doors firmly closed. the jackets that you and nicholas had hooked on the walls were also placed into the closet. the reason why they were out on the wall in the first place, was because there was no room in the closet. but nicholas made room — needing to shut your complaining.

you were in and out of sleep for the next four hours. twisting and turning, latching yourself onto nicholas’ arm or his torso, scrolling through instagram and tiktok; sending your close friends reels and responding to fan accounts of nicholas’ — but you straightened up a bit when an edit took over your screen.

without a second thought, without a slight consideration or hesitation — you hearted the video, added it to your favourites, saved the video to your phone, and commented an excessive amount of heart-eye emojis. and when you scrolled up . .. . you scrolled back down to rewatch the edit. you propped yourself onto an elbow, letting it play and play over and over again. and suddenly, the dark hadn’t been so scary anymore. you kept the volume down low, the lyrics of ‘p-power’ by gunna faint; as well as the moaning in the background.

you pulled your eyes from your phone screen, only for a second at the low sound of nicholas tugging the blanket up to his chest. he rolled onto his side and let out a low breath, the moonlight illuminating his features. you raked your fingers through his hair and with your other hand, you swiped over to view the profile and watched more edits of your boyfriend — finding that over thirty minutes had gone; thirty minutes of watching your boyfriend do his job ( hotly ).

nicholas turned onto his backside once again, pushing the blanket downward and away from his bare chest. his sleeping form was always . .. . too tempting not to feel a little tingling on your insides. nicholas liked sleeping with only his briefs on and no matter how normal that was, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander around; even more so after liking and saving all of those edits.

there was something about actually having him here beside you. there’s something in the way his body was ( so toned and muscular ) spread out on his side of the bed and the way his face is as calm as the waters of a lake during a summer evening, or maybe . .. . it was the little tent between his legs that his boxers revealed, that increased your body temperature.

turning off your phone, you felt bad for being turned on just by the way he looked when he was asleep . .. . perhaps it was the effect love had on you or it was just another kink or the velocity edits, you didn’t know yet, but the aching burn in your stomach didn’t stop you from cuddling up beside him.

you rested your head on his spread arm and snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. the familiar scent made you smile and, for a short moment, you thought you could stay like this. maybe this is what you needed; the warmth of his relaxed body calmed you for a while, but then . .. . your hand moved like it had a mind of its own.

you trailed your fingers along his collarbones and he hummed in his sleep, shifting a bit. he looked so . .. . so cute, you couldn’t stop yourself from travelling far south, to caress his chest and abdomen as softly as possible, trying not to wake him up. and in this very moment, you felt like the luckiest woman on the planet; touching on the man that millions were so very attracted to.

you felt every muscle of his abdomen, which made your bottom lip get trapped between your teeth, to prevent a sigh from leaving you. mindlessly, you scooched in closer — your hand needed to go further down, past his sharp v-line, but you weren’t sure. your hand itched for it. for him, but your mind wouldn’t allow it just yet.

and when the slightly lined abs flexed under your touch, you immediately checked his face, afraid that you might’ve woken him —

— but his closed eyes and steady breathing told you otherwise. so, your arm moved to his exposed thigh. his skin was warm, and as you caressed and fondled with his body, the sinful thought of taking his cock out and stroking him, made you press your thighs together. the moans that would fall from his soft lips and the way he’d buck his hips up begging for more, using your soft hand to chase and tip over the edge, only made your breathing heavier.

and the thought of his brown eyes on you as you gently kissed his fiery tip and pumped the rest of him drove you crazy, to say the least. you could picture it . .. . but you wanted to taste it even more; you wanted to feel him shiver as your mouth wrapped around him. you wanted his world to center around you, your name heavy on his tongue, viscous and filling his mouth like honey until he was drowning in a pool of ecstasy.

you wanted him to cup the sides of your head in his big hands — his fingers holding your braids together in a messy ponytail — and start thrusting himself into the slick warmth of your mouth, pathetically using your throat as his own personal fleshlight, the constant flow of his thick precum and your saliva leaking onto the bed sheets. you wanted to hear him groan deep within the pits of his chest . .. .

but you closed your eyes, restricting yourself to only imagine. your mind no longer filled with horrible images of bloody corpses, but of nicholas fucking himself up into your body over and over again — the crotch of your panties were damp and at this point, you hadn’t realized how your grip on his thigh had tightened or how the muscles rippling through his skin had stiffened.

“ . .. . get on top . ..” his sleepy voice, raspy and deep, rang in your ears and you snapped your head toward him, wide-eyed. the burn in your stomach ached even more at the sight of nicholas’ still closed eyes and messy brown hair. you pushed yourself up a bit, staring down at his face. you poked at his cheek and he rubbed his eyes with a groan. he gave his thighs a pat, at which you got the message: come, and straddled his waist without any question or trouble.

“i’m sorry . .. .” you apologized lowly, feeling guilty for being the reason he was no longer sound asleep. nicholas shook his head, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and answered quietly, “don’t be sorry, pretty.” and then, “take what you need,” nicholas said under his breath and the tone made your eyes fall heavy. “you can take me.”

you leaned in and pecked his cheek, but as you pulled away he chased after your lips with a soft pout. a slow, open-mouthed kiss was all it took for the sigh you’d been holding back to finally escape you and when it did, his grip on your hips tightened. his fingers dug and dug into your brown skin, his pulse thumping and pounding. nicholas moved you a smidge, just enough to have you sitting right over his bulge — and his legs trembled, “shhit .. .” breaking the kiss.

you found his mouth again. and as you kissed; his tongue delving between your lips, your hand slid to the grown arousal — his breath hitched as your hand brushed against his hardness through the thin fabric. and you dipped your hand passed the waistband — taking him out of the obstacle that the underwear was.

you gave a clean up and down pump of your hand and nicholas groaned lowly into your mouth. as you gave another and another, he ripped his lips away from yours and tilted his head back into the pillow, the heat and pressure of your hand too delicious. it was almost too much to bear.

his muscles tensed and his breathing became shallow and ragged. nicholas could feel the intensity and pleasure building within him with every stroke of your hand. “need’ta . .. .” he mumbled, his voice low and strained. “holy shitt-oh fuck.” nicholas bit down on his lower lip, eyelids fluttering shut. he needed to be inside of you. he needed to feel your body wrapped around him. he needed you like he needed to breathe.

and when he felt your hand no longer pumping, he opened his eyes — staring up at the ceiling. “wha-what happened?” he had asked, coming to lift up . .. . and his voice died to a scratchy whisper at the feeling of you lining him up between your pussy lips. you moved your wrist; rubbing him side to side, his tip kissing at your clit and just almost pushing into your slit, collecting your syrupy slick — shivers washed your spine.

if it wasn’t for his arms helping, you wouldn’t have started pushing down. nicholas guided your hips down and the sight of his cock disappearing within you was just as overwhelming as the feel of your ribbed walls. “oh. .. . fuckkk.” he groaned deeply, his nails digging into your flesh even harder — the tightness and warmth of you brought tears to his eyes. nicholas could barely keep himself from bucking up into you . .. . but he wanted you to set the pace. he wanted you in control.

“y-you’re squeezing,” he muttered cutely, in a breathless whisper.

you hadn’t realized how needy you were until nicholas was shifting underneath you, burying his cock to the hilt — you felt full all over. you resisted the urge to pound down on him for the sake of his still sleepy daze. your hands landed on his chest for support and you raised your hips slowly.

the wetness of your cunt was enough to slip him in and out with ease — smooth gliding and a wet little smack when you touched down — and soon, you picked the pace up, just enough to hear his deep, guttural moans. you rode him slowly, feeling his tip reach deep at this angle while he eyed you with a drowsy stare. nicholas was losing his mind, his eyes now practically rolling in the back of his head. nicholas released a sharp, low breath, staring up at you then, “you’re makin’ it so hard to keep still . ..”

“you don’t even know,” he said, gritting his teeth.

raising your hips, it took quite some effort to pull him out that far because he was so girthy. your walls were literally pulling at his cock as if you didn’t want to let him go. which you didn’t. you did it slowly, terribly slow, every millimetre had your pussy lips tracing another facet of him.

a breathy moan fell from your lips, which made nicholas force you faster down on him and you clenched, instantly. “let me do it . .. .” he pleaded — the wet, squelchy sounds that came from where your body met his, was quiet enough to indicate lazy, early morning sex between lovers, and the rhythm was not a particularly quick one, but one to make the burn in your stomach feel like it’ll soon be on fire.

“let me, baby.” as you were about to give attention to your clit, nicholas planted his feet into the mattress and snapped his hips up, hitting your g-stop instantly. a muffled cry filled the room and the sudden lack of energy made you fall over him. nicholas snaked both arms around your waist and pulled you in closer, holding you firmly against his chest. “nngh-! just like that!” you whined.

your body worked with his, chasing after release.

"f-fuck-nic, please.. ." your jaw clenched so hard, you thought you were moments away from breaking your teeth.

he wanted to kiss you so badly, but the position was too good and he loved seeing the way your lips formed a small ‘O’ with every few thrusts. “baby . .. . shit, i need you’ta cum.” it was his way of hinting that he was struggling and he hoped you would understand it. “want’cha’ta look at me when you cum .. . okay?”

you gave him an eager nod, holding onto his forearms; you felt his arms flex and strain with how fast he was ramming into you. you wanted to hold it in until he came with you, but nicholas got the pump just right — your breaths were short — and you were having trouble keeping your eyes on his. it didn’t take too much longer to have you thrashing and shivering and cunning so hard. he doesn’t stop then.

his heavy breaths got mixed with curses at the feeling of your walls clenching continuously. nicholas continued to move his cock in and out of you, digging and scratching deep — hitting the spots that he knows only his tip can touch. “cum again . .. .”

“need’a feel it again.” the moonlight and his sweat made him shine, highlighting the sharpness to his jaw, the tension in his arms as he lifted you up by an inch; a slight new angle. wet skin slapping was all that could overshadow your moans and pleas. but he could hear you; loud and clear. his attention was all on you.

you might have tried to say something but your incoherent mumbles weren't meant for him to understand. because of his desperate need to keep you tethered as him, he still does not stop. you're howling, and curling into him, and cunt frothing with an orgasm lost into the next.

“s-shhit, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled, heaving a breathless sigh. nicholas slowed his hips then; your pussy clenched so hard, so tight, that he could barely move. your clit screamed with the beating and thudding of your heart, loud in your ears and blocking the harsh cries and breathy gasps tearing from your throat.

stifled cries tickled nicholas’ neck, one hand holding your head, you trembled with your nails clawing in his shoulders for strength. he jerked up and gripped your ass tightly, but instead of forcing you to your limits till he came in you, he stilled himself — just sitting inside of you like this burned . .. . so good. nicholas had never felt so close to you, so intimately connected. he could lose himself in you forever.

nicholas was right there, quiet moans escaping him as more time passed. but it was evident that he was still holding out — you could feel his cock twitching. your hands cupped his cheeks, your fingers gently scratching the back of his ears. “why are you torturin’ yourself? hmm?” you asked softly, resting your forehead against his.

he came harder when he denied himself. “th’ build up.” it came out quiet and short and he knew if he stayed like this that he wouldn’t last much longer. “cum, baby . .. .” you pleaded, “please .. .” you squeezed him in just the right way that his chest was rising and falling rapidly. and then he couldn’t hold it in anymore — he was where he wanted to be.

“holy fuck-i’m gonna cum.” his voice was desperate.

the plastic band holding him back from his orgasm snapped as he thrusted particularly deep, and he arched his back off of the bed — letting him reach just a little deeper, just enough to send him over the edge again, more curses spilled from his lips. white filled his vision, red hot pleasure searing his body from head to toe, and you kissed him through it.

you knew you could fall asleep now.

[nereidprinc3ss]

like real people do

in which spencer gets home from a case and fem!reader is feeling extra clingy

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as a girl, non-sexual nudity/intimacy (again....??...), if you have daddy issues you'll prob like it, i should try therapy, technically suggestive, not even one whiff of plot, just cute shit a/n: wrote about a heatwave because winter makes me crave death. kisses!

It was hot in LA, and it’s a different, muggier kind of hot back at Spencer’s apartment when he gets home at four in the morning. The plan is to take a quick shower without waking you and then pass out for ten hours, but as soon as he opens the bedroom door, plans change. 

Even the sheer sleep-deprivation he’s experiencing can’t hamper the smile that forms when he sees you face down on the bed, fan on the highest setting and pointed straight at you, and conspicuously lacking a shirt. He drops his bag and folded suit jacket to the floor, trudging to the bed before practically falling upon you, pressing a trail of kisses up your spine.

A little sleepy grumble from you notifies him that his plans of keeping you asleep have failed, but he can’t find it within himself to be too broken up about it. 

“Spence!” you murmur, voice so quiet and scratchy with sleep but still drenched in pure adoration and joy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, lifting his weight off of you just enough for you to turn over before he collapses on top of you again. He slips his arms underneath you and around your waist just as you wrap your arms around him. 

“You’re home.”

“I am,” he agrees, burying his face in your neck with a sigh. “And I missed you so much, pretty girl.”

He laughs when you kick the blanket away, attempting to wrap your legs around him like a koala bear. 

“Did you kiss any movie stars while you were gone?”

“Not a one,” he assures you, pressing his lips to your jaw like an offering. 

“Are you sure?”

“I am positively sure. Did you give up on clothing yourself while I was gone?”

“You don’t know how hot it was earlier when I was trying to fall asleep. There was no other option.”

He hums, his face still slotted under your jaw like pieces of a puzzle. 

“You should go back to sleep. I’m just going to take a shower and then I’m coming to bed.”

Your hands weaves through his hair gently, which doesn’t make him feel any less like passing out where he is. 

“Can I come?”

“To the shower?” He chuckles, rousing slightly. “You’re welcome to, but it’s not going to be very exciting. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him. “There will be no funny business whatsoever.”

“Okay. Come on, lovebug.”

He rolls off the bed, pulling you to your feet with just a little bit too much force. The momentum send you stumbling into him, but he catches you gratefully and captures your lips in a sweet kiss. 

“Wait,” you order when he tries to pull away. “Not done yet.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He laughs against you between kisses, but slowly the humor fades and he loops his arms around your waist, gently rocking the two of you back and forth for a very long moment. “You are in rare form tonight, sweet girl,” he murmurs, finally pulling away from the kiss for good. 

“I’m not all the way awake yet,” you admit. “What’s that called, again?”

“Hypnagogia.” He presses a kiss to your temple, loosening his hold on you. “I am also rapidly losing consciousness so we need to make this shower super quick, okay?”

“I know, I know! I said I would behave!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says dryly, tugging you toward the adjoining bathroom. You pout.

“Your lack of faith in me hurts."

Despite his hesitations, the shower remains PG-13. You cling to him pretty much the entire time like a flowering vine, but no untoward advances are made. 

“Okay, you’re going to have to let go of me long enough so I can put some clothing on.”

Spencer says it lightheartedly, but you huff dramatically anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed as he roots through drawers in search of pajamas. When he produces a shirt for himself, your favorite of his, you object. 

“Wait, I wanna wear that one.”

“Oh? I thought you don’t do shirts anymore,” he teases, tossing it to you before finding another for himself. You pull it over your head, getting up again to search for a pair of shorts as he gets dressed. 

“Well, since you’re so concerned that I’m a sex-crazed harlot, I figure I’d better wear some clothes.”

“I never said that,” he reprimands gently, pulling you backward by your waist. “If you decided to forgo clothing completely, I would respect that decision.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

The two of you land on the bed, a tangle of limbs as he pulls you close as humanly possible. 

“I think I’m delirious,” he admits. With a start you realize the room is lit with the very early beginnings of dawn—you don’t even want to know how long he’s been awake. Suddenly you feel very guilty. 

“Oh—I’m really sorry for keeping you up, Spence.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m comfortable with my choices.” His hand finds the small of your back, rubbing small comforting circles over the bare skin. “Now, go to sleep.”

“Okay,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Love you.”

“I love you,” Spencer sighs dreamily. “So much.”

And the warmth you feel then has nothing to do with the heatwave. 

[lennadanvers]

Winter back home

Simon Riley x Reader

He has a problem.

He’s had problems all his life. He’s got a lot of experience in dealing with problems, really. The ones that can be solved with bullets, anyway.

This is not that kind of problem. Well, maybe a bullet could take care of this. But he promised himself he would never take that path. So, he suffers.

His problem is the dichotomy. His problem is Ghost, months of suffocating under a stale mask, the orders, the blood, the uniform. His problem is Simon, weeks of nothing, the silence, the civilian comfort, being a person.

He’s gone. Somewhere between base and “home”- a cold, dark flat in the outskirts of London-, he lost his soul. Now he isn’t here nor there. None of his names fit him.

He is just a being, two legs on top of two feet that can’t stand the feeling of dry, clean socks inside of simple sneakers. A head, a neck, on top of a pair of shoulders too wide to fit the door of normalcy. A back too tight to bear the weight of actual life. Hands too strong to hold reality without breaking it, skin so rough it tears instead of caressing. A pair of eyes that do not know where to look if not for threats.

He's a storm waiting to happen. Too dark to be a person, too broken to be a man. Too heavy for a ghost.

The flat feels wrong. Especially the first few days. He has to open the windows to let the fresh air in- more like freezing air. It’s okay, he’s used to dealing with the cold. It’s actually being comfortable what makes him uneasy. The fact that he has so much space for himself. He doesn’t have things. He doesn’t own more than a couple changes of clothes. His sofa looks new, even though he bought it years ago. His bed is soft, his bedside table is empty. He owns a table, two chairs and headphones. One bottle of water. Four glasses, a cheap six-piece cutlery set. Some plates he bought on sale. One rug he doesn’t step on. A broom. Shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste are in the bag he brings from base. Even his bike just takes up half his designated parking space.

Other than that, he has nothing.

The other thing that bothers him is the silence. He should be able to sleep in the quiet- he’s fallen asleep in active bombing zones, for God’s sake. But the white noise of the cars, the soft humming of the refrigerator- all they do is keep him awake. It’s always too quiet, too… Too safe. He knows it’s a trap. It always is.

That’s why he checks the windows.

Like now, when he enters the apartment in silence. The lights stay off until he’s cleared every room. Then he turns them all on. His duffel bag goes into the wardrobe, still closed. The boots under the bed. He changes into civilian clothes, checks the pantry- empty, always empty- and starts his rounds.

He checks the three windows: the small one in the bathroom, the one in the bedroom that looks over the neighbor’s rooftop, and the one in the living room. Usually, the last one is his favorite. The view lets him keep an eye on the street, alert in case there’s something suspicious lurking down there.

This time, though, he can’t look down.

He’s stuck in the window in front of his. The apartment building across the street is nicer than the one he’s standing in. By his standards, anyway. That means it looks warm and worn down. Brick walls instead of grey cement, wood stairs instead of metal. It has pots with flowers and an old mirror in the entrance.

There’s only one apartment with the lights still on. It’s late, he reminds himself, for normal people. Most of them are asleep at two in the morning.

You’re not. Through your open curtains, he can see your tired face. You’re curled up on a desk chair, with messy hair and reading glasses on. Your pajama is cute, it looks soft and a little too big. It fits you perfectly. You’re holding a steaming cup and frowning at the pile of papers on top of your desk.

When you fix the -presumably hand-knitted- blanket on top of your shoulders, he frowns. Aren’t you cold? You should close the window.

And go to bed, while you’re at it. What are you doing up this late, anyway? Working? He hopes not. A cute little thing like you should have a quiet job, with stable working hours and low stress. But you look very stressed. Maybe you’re studying. That’s it, probably. You don’t look his age, but he’d bet you’re in your late twenties, maybe thirties.

He pictures you getting a degree. It’s easy, you look smart. Oh, you must have a degree already. Surely, he decides, you must have one. You’re getting a doctorate now, aren’t you?

It’s a silly question, of course. He knows nothing about you, except that you should be sleeping instead of munching at a cookie. But it’s a relief to pretend he does. To believe he can see life through your window. If he had to guess, that’s what living looks like: a woman in the room, plans for the future, eating homemade treats and knowing you’ll survive the upcoming test, even if you don’t pass.

For the first time since he bought this place, he’s actually there. As if taking a deep breath, Simon is suddenly aware of his body. The t-shirt he’s wearing is soft, a little too thin for the weather. The place smells like leather- must be the sofa. Was the ceiling always this high? Simon makes a mental note to buy air freshener and a blanket.

It takes him a couple of days of staring out the window to realize what happened.

It’s Friday, and he’s checked your closed blinds for the third time this afternoon. Simon hasn’t seen you today. He sighs and turns around. He goes to open one of the kitchen drawers when it hits him.

There are cookies in there. Two different kinds. And he’s wearing slippers- they were on sale at the supermarket, and he didn’t even think about it. But he’s thinking about it now. Simon looks around. One of his jackets is hanging by the door. There’s lint on the rug. The cushions on the sofa are out of their place. He left a mug on the counter.

He's living again.

It a crushing discovery. Once he saw it, it’s impossible to miss. He made plans. He has tickets to watch a movie next Tuesday. When was the last time he planned something other than a mission? And cookies? Simon hasn’t eaten cookies since he enlisted. Maybe longer. His clothes are comfortable. Actually comfortable, he doesn’t need to ignore the fabric irritating his skin. The windows are closed: he’s not cold. It’s quite nice, honestly. And the place smells like someone lives here. A mix of cologne, tea and leftovers from lunch.

The flat doesn’t feel empty. Simon doesn’t feel empty.

His muscles give out. It’s not a dramatic fall, more like an extreme relaxation. It hurts a little; like clenching your fist for hours and then letting your hand open. The blood starts flowing back with a tingle. The oxygen gets where it is supposed to go. There is a strange open space in the palm of your hand.

The relieved smile is a side effect.

He still wears it when he settles back down on the couch. Someone is playing music outside, and the plants on your building’s hall are blooming. What a weird time to bloom, in the middle of the cold.

Simon understands, though, when he sees you finally open your blinds.

Yes, he gets the desire to be alive now.

A/n: I sat down to write and four hours later I'm posting this. It is not proofread and I'm a little too tired to care. Maybe I'll fix it later. Also, my anxiety has been a bitch lately (that means I freeze instead of being able to reply to messages and asks- my poor friends have the patience of a thousand saints stacked on top of each other), so I won't reply to the asks today. Maybe tomorrow, we'll see. In any case, I hope you're all having a great weekend, full of flowers and treats <3

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (1/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest it is I, your CS Secret Santa! Thank you for being so patient and understanding! I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner, but between the normal busyness of the holidays and my entire family coming down with Covid, finding time to write was a struggle. I hope you find this worth the wait. It was lovely hearing about your traditions and I hope you had a fantastic holiday!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition CS Winter Bingo square!

Rated eventual E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

She was late. Super late. Incredibly late. Late enough that she was certain her brother had already called the cops to report her missing. Late enough that it was already pitch black on the back mountain road, forcing her to drive at a creeping speed so she didn’t careen off the side of a cliff, which was making her even more late.

In her defense, they should all have expected that she’d be late. She was always late. Every dinner, every holiday get together, every vacation, every celebration, Emma Swan was always notoriously late.

Not because she didn’t want to spend time with her family. Far from. She just… wasn’t always in control over her own schedule. Bail bonds and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly a 9 to 5 gig, and when a mark finally crawled out of whatever hole in which he (it was more often than not a he) had hid himself away through some dumbass attempt to avoid the consequences of his own dumbass actions, well… many times it meant a change in her plans.

Was it annoying? Yes.

Did she make sure to take out that frustration on the perp? Also, yes.

Was it even worse for the offender when he made her late for the Christmas get-together her cousin Elsa had planned for them all - a four night stay at a picturesque mountain cabin big enough to sleep three married couples and two singles with amenities that would keep them cozy and content over the holiday? Oh, yes.

Big. Fat. Yes.

To go with the big fat payout she needed in order to pay her portion of said holiday getaway.

Rounding another winding corner, the soft glow of the illuminated cabin stirred a strange mix of sensations in her chest; a swirl of relief at nearly being there and panic over what was awaiting her inside. Parking her bug next to the vehicles that signalled she was indeed the last to arrive, Emma fortified herself for a moment before exiting the vehicle, grabbing her bag, and marching up to the cabin as though she were about to face a firing squad.

David, her brother, and Liam, Elsa’s husband, would likely scold her with their hands firmly planted on their hips or their arms crossed tightly over their chests. The rebukes would be drowned out by David’s wife, Mary Margaret, and Elsa’ sister, Anna, who would both rush at Emma and force her into claustrophobic hugs while they expressed their worry and relief, offering Emma a blanket, a place by the fire, a plate of food, a cup of tea, all without taking a breath between them as Anna’s husband, Kristoff, tried to tell the women to let Emma breathe and get settled.

The only one who would not be making a fuss would likely already have a drink ready for her, a knowing smirk teasing his lips as he tried to stifle an eye roll at the group’s overreaction.

Killian Jones. Liam’s brother and the only other single member of their group.

Hand on the doorknob, Emma took a deep breath and opened the door to the expected chaos. And chaos there was, but… none of it seemed to be about her and her tardiness.

Elsa and David were in the kitchen. One of their phones, clearly on speaker, was held between them as they argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. Liam and Kristoff were seated at the dining table with a laptop open, the elder Jones frantically typing and clicking as Kristoff scrolled on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“There’s nothing up here that could be used as an extra one,” Anna called out from the top of the stairs. “Mary Margaret and I have looked through all the closets and checked all the furniture.”

None of them had noticed her presence yet, and she was about to say something when heavy boot falls sounded from the porch behind her.

“Ah, Swan. You arrived in one piece then?” Killian said cheekily with an arm full of firewood.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, setting her bag down so she could help with the load he was carrying. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” he assured her, making his way to the fireplace and stacking their logs beside the hearth. “You missed the initial excitement, but you’ve made it in time to witness the spiral everyone has since descended into.” Emma glanced around the cabin at the said spiral, wondering what had set everyone off as Killian added a couple of logs to the fire, then grabbed the poker so he could stoke it. “I told them I’d make do on the couch, or even a pallet on the floor, but--”

“Sleeps ten, my ass!” Elsa shouted as she angrily hung up the call. “They swapped out the couch and forgot to update the listing!”

“What?” Emma said, but no one other than Killian seemed to have heard her, or even realized she was there.

“That’s ridiculous!” Liam bellowed. “What do they plan to do about it?”

“Can they bring an air mattress or cot?” Kristoff asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Because none of the local stores seem to have one, and even if they did, they’d be closed by the time we got back to town.”

Killian stepped away from the fire he’d coaxed back to life and into the metaphorical one building at the kitchen island where the rest of their group - save for Emma - had gathered.

“I already told you, the couch will be fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Killian,” Anna replied. “Have you seen that couch? It’s far too narrow and your feet are gonna dangle off the end.”

“Then the floor will suit me--”

“For the amount of money we spent renting this place, you are not sleeping on the floor,” Elsa declared. “I cannot believe this! How could they make a mistake like that?”

“What did the owner say?” Mary Margaret asked, setting out a platter of food she’d removed from the fridge and encouraging everyone to eat something… as though snacking would somehow fix the issue. An issue Emma still wasn’t sure was the cause of everyone’s upset.

“He won’t do anything,” Elsa snapped. “He said they had to replace the couch, which had been a sleeper, and apparently forgot to update the listing, but didn’t see the problem since we only have eight people, not ten, and there are four king size beds.”

“Didn’t you explain that there weren’t four couples, though?”

“Oh, she did,” David interjected. “But the man didn’t seem to care about anything other than getting back to his tropical Christmas vacation.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked. “Where is Killian gonna sleep?”

“He and I can just share the bed.”

Seven heads collectively snapped in her direction, a mixture of shock and surprise being directed her way as her family, for the first time, realized she was there and then computed her words.

Words she would later blame on the fact that although no one seemed bothered by the fact she was late, she still felt the need to make up for it and therefore was compelled to offer a solution to the problem, even if said solution meant sharing a bed with a man she absolutely did not have feelings for and no one would convince her otherwise, not even her own treacherous heart, and thereby torturing herself for the next several days.

“Are you sure, love?” Killian asked, his eyes scrutinizing her, looking for any hint that she might be regretting the offer and wished to back out. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

“Are you planning to make it uncomfortable for her?” David asked in his overly protective, brotherly tone. “Because I’m warning you--”

“Warning him?” Liam braced his hands against the top of the island and leaned over it, staring David down as he asked, “Are you insinuating my brother is some sort of cad who would take advantage of--”

“We all know Killian’s reputation.”

“Okay,” Emma interjected before things could escalate further. “I think you’re all forgetting that I have a reputation, too. Of being able to take care of myself. Besides, I trust Killian. We’re both adults. There’s no reason for either of us to sleep on a couch or the floor when there is a perfectly good bed, big enough for us to share. So…” She marched back over to where she’d dropped her bag and collected it as she continued on, “If you don’t mind. I’ve had a long day and all I want right now is a shower and some sleep.” Directing her gaze to Killian she asked, “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s uh…” he began, scratching behind his ear as he furtively cast a glance towards David. “It’s on the landing.”

“Great,” she said, turning towards the stairs. “Grab it on your way up so you can settle in while I shower.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret called out. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat or--”

“I’m fine,” Emma answered back halfway up the stairs. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Killian hesitate at the bottom step. “Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he answered, following after her two steps at a time and grabbing his duffle before slipping into the room behind her.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, he glanced around the room and inquired one last time, “You’re certain you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yes, Jones,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone she hoped masked the nerves currently coursing through her. After gathering up her toiletry items, she straightened and faced him, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Unless… You are uncomfortable with it and would rather--”

“No, no,” he insisted, his shoulders relaxing and his usual cocky demeanor coming forward. “It’s not that,” he said in a cheeky and slightly taunting tone.

“What is it then?” Emma asked, trying hard to not be taken in by his charm as he swaggered towards her.

“Well, I seem to remember you saying something about it being a one time thing the last time we shared a bed,” he crooned, twisting a section of her hair around his finger. “Seems you’ll have to eat those words now.”

Emma wet her lips and tried to squash the delighted feeling surging through her at the way his eyes dropped to follow the motion. “Bad form bringing up our… what did you call it?” she asked in a mocking tone as she cocked her head to one side. “Our dalliance?” He winced at her terrible attempt to mimic his accent and they both chortled as she reminded him, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that night again.”

“You’re right, Swan. Bad form indeed,” he conceded in a soft timbre. “My apologies, love.”

He backed away and retreated to the other side of the room where he made himself busy unpacking his duffle. “Go ahead and shower, Swan,” he said. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Thanks,” she threw out over her shoulder as she shut herself in the bathroom, suddenly very eager to have a bit of separation from him. From him and the memory of that night. The night they had shared a bed - and a whole lot more - with one another after copious amounts of alcohol and hours on a dance floor somewhere in the Caribbean during the cruise they’d all taken together earlier that year to celebrate Liam and Elsa’s wedding.

A memory that stubbornly refused to be cast aside, making for a very long shower - a fitful, highly inappropriate shower - especially considering the man she’d been fixated on was in the next room, waiting on her to finish so he could get naked and wet and…

Dear God, Emma. Get a grip!

Emerging from the bathroom, adorned in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Emma hoped the red in her cheeks would be chalked up to the heat of the shower and not because her fantasies had gotten away from her.

“All yours,” she said, pulling her hair dryer out of her bag and plugging it into the wall at the makeshift vanity.

She combed through the wet strands as Killian hovered at the doorway to the bathroom. Pausing her actions, she stared up at him expectantly, trying not to remember what he looked like shirtless.

“About before,” he said, his voice deep with an edge of concern. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up that night, I just…” He left out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I was just trying to bring a bit of levity to an otherwise tense situa--”

“Killian,” she said, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t upset me by bringing it up.” Shrugging, she tried to give off a sense of nonchalance about the whole thing. “It happened. We’ve both moved on from it. No big deal.”

“Right,” he said with a bit of a drawl. “Well… I’ll try not to take too long, so as to not keep you up.” Glancing towards the bed, he said, “I hope it’s okay that I took that side. I didn’t know if you had one you preferred.”

Emma turned to see which side he’d taken. Not that it mattered.

“Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really have one. It’s not like I share my bed often enough with anyone to develop a preference.”

“Aye. Same,” he replied with that adorable lopsided smile of his.

Emma’s heart fluttered for several seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t often share his bed? Really? Like David had said earlier, Killian had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It was one of the reasons she’d pulled back after their night together; she’d hated being just another notch on his bedpost.

How many notches had he added since her, she wondered.

She had plenty of time to contemplate that question. It wasn’t until well after she’d dried her hair, set her alarm, and settled under the covers that Killian emerged from the bathroom. The last drowsy thought Emma had was whether he’d taken advantage of the memory of them together to help let off some steam whilst he was in the shower like she had. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on the thought, though. The tiring day had caught up to her and sleep took over the moment she felt the bed dip beside her.

~/~

“Morning, Emma! Sleep well?”

Anna’s voice was far too perky for the current early morning hour, causing Emma to grimace as she shuffled past the red headed woman on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” Anna whispered, tiptoeing behind her. “Coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Please,” Emma grumbled, slumping down onto one of the barstools at the island. “A fresh pot? How early did you get up?”

“Mary Margaret and I got up with the guys,” she said, pouring Emma a cup, then placing it and a tray of fixings on the counter top in front of her. “We wanted to make sure they got a good meal and some coffee before they headed out.”

Emma nodded her understanding, adding enough sugar to her cup that it would have earned her a disgusted look from Killian had he been there and not out traipsing through the woods with an axe. It was an annual tradition at this point. For the past five years - ever since the Jones brothers had entered their lives through Liam and Elsa’s courtship - the guys went out on Christmas Eve morning and cut down a tree for them to decorate. While they were out finding the perfect specimen, Mary Margaret would lead - or in Emma’s case, berate - the girls in making the decorations. The guys would join in once they got back and set up the tree, and the day would be spent stringing popcorn or dried oranges or cranberries for garland as well as attempting to avoid tiny cuts from the origami-esque construction of paper or cardboard ornaments.

There were also snacks and cocktails, the occasional break from crafting to watch a Christmas movie or play a game. Of course, every year, Emma and Killian would insist they watch Die Hard, which Mary Margaret would dismiss as not being a Christmas movie and an argument would ensue - mostly because it gave both Emma and Killian a perverse sense of pleasure to rile up Mary Margaret. Not that they didn’t love the movie or wholeheartedly believe that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

“Oh, Emma! You’re up!” Mary Margaret set down a stack of boxes on the island, the contents of which held various crafting supplies no doubt. “Did you get some breakfast?”

Emma shook her head and waved off the woman’s attempt to feed her. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll get something after I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well drink up,” Mary Margaret ordered as she began to retreat back into the room she and David were using. “We need to get going on these decorations.”

A moment later she returned with several sacks and with Anna’s help, began organizing the supplies. Emma took that as her cue to find another place to enjoy her coffee.

Glancing out the French doors that led to the back deck she caught sight of a platinum blonde braid. Emma grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before joining Elsa in the peace and quiet of the mountain morning.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Elsa’s attention away from the view. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Elsa replied, making room on the bench. “Do you want me to turn on the heater?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Emma that her cousin hadn’t already started the propane heater. The cold had never seemed to bother her like it did Emma.

“No, I’ve got it.” Emma cranked up the heat then sat down, snuggling into the blanket she’d brought out with her.

“Sleep okay?” Elsa asked. “Any problems with the room?”

“No,” Emma answered, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, “The room’s great. Very comfortable.”

“Good,” Elsa said, turning her attention back towards the snowy mountain view. “And sharing with Killian? That, uh… Did that go okay?”

Emma rolled her eyes and hid her knowing smirk behind her mug. “It was fine,” she replied.

“I mean, I’m sure Killian was a gentleman, I just hate that the two of you have to endure this awkwardness when I did my best to--”

“Elsa,” Emma interrupted. “It isn’t your fault, and we will make do. It’s fine. Really.”

The icy blonde’s shoulders relaxed and a puff of exhaled air lingered at her lips for a moment before she said, “Good. I’m glad.” With a furtive glance in Emma’s direction she muttered, “Let’s just hope David thinks it's all fine.”

“I’m a big girl,” Emma reminded her cousin. “David will get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied in a sing-song tone. “He was looking pretty hostile this morning when Killian sauntered down the stairs with a whistle on his lips. I’m pretty sure Liam made sure to be the one who took the axe when they left.”

The two women shared a chuckle, both of them knowing full well there was no danger of the men resorting to violence, even if they did bluster a bit.

“I’m sure Killian is reveling in the opportunity to needle David, but I trust Liam to make sure cooler heads prevail.”

“And his needling wouldn’t have any elements of truth in it, right?” Elsa inquired, not so subtly.

Emma sighed exasperatedly. “No,” she stated adamantly. “Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

She shifted uncomfortably under Elsa’s scrutiny, her piercing blue eyes cutting through her assertions as she hummed a dubious sound.

“If you say so.”

Emma was about to double down on her words, but was cut off by Anna’s sudden appearance.

“Everything is ready! Come make decorations with us!”

Emma and Elsa shared a resigned look then followed Anna back into the cabin, after shutting off the heater, of course. The ladies then spent the next hour or so making handmade decorations whilst also prepping food items for the upcoming meals.

When the guys returned, Emma stayed out of the way. She’d learned from years past to just let David, Liam, Mary Margaret, and Elsa duke it out on the best way to set up the tree. While the four of them conferenced in the living room, she joined Anna in the kitchen, who was busy making everyone a hot cocoa.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!”

The two women filled and garnished mugs of hot cocoa while every so often peeking outside to watch Kristoff and Killian clean up the tree. Once it was suitable for indoors - and they’d gotten the final word of where to set it up - the men brought it inside and secured it in the stand. Everyone stood back to admire the magnificent find as Emma and Anna handed out the beverages.

“Jones,” Emma said, offering him a hot cup as she came to stand beside him.

“Thank you, love,” he replied, slightly out of breath. A half-smile pulled at his lips and crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he noticed she’d adorned his in the same manner as hers - with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was how she’d always taken her cocoa and slowly but surely she was converting the rest of their group to do the same.

“It’s a great looking tree,” she commented, sipping her hot chocolate nonchalantly so he wouldn’t read too much into her compliment.

“Aye,” he said, taking another long look at the fruit of his and the other men’s labor. A fruit that was quickly filling the living room with a pungent pine scent that tickled Emma’s sinuses. “And what of your efforts?” he asked, turning his attention onto her. “Care to show me what you lasses have been working on and how I might assist?”

Emma rolled her eyes and led him to the dining table where he prompted her to give him a demonstration of the crafting. Soon, the others joined them and the day went on just as Emma knew it would: completing the decorations, stringing lights and garlands, decorating the tree, gorging themselves on a big meal, partaking in snacks, then some drinks, then some more drinks, and arguing over then watching several Christmas themed movies and shows. Unfortunately, no Die Hard.

“You know, Swan,” Killian whispered in her ear as everyone began to disperse from the living room to turn in for the night. “We have a TV with streaming services in our room…”

The feel of his breath against the shell of her ear, as well as the way he said ‘our room’ sent a thrill up her spine.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

Was it fortunate?

“Your point?” she said, her voice a little too breathy, but maybe he’d think it was because they’d just climbed the steep steps to the second floor.

“My point,” he continued, following her into their - THE - room, “is once we’ve showered and readied ourselves, we can watch Die Hard in bed and celebrate the season properly.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jones,” she replied, even as her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder they’d both be taking turns getting naked and wet with only a flimsy door that did not lock between them.

Ever the gentleman, Killian let her go first. While he took his turn, she busied herself with getting ready for bed, queuing up the movie, and adding an extra blanket to the stack of covers. In no time, they were settled on their respective sides of the bed, enjoying watching John McClane run around Nakatomi Plaza barefoot whilst being a ‘fly in the ointment’ to Hans Gruber.

They both barely remained conscious, but somehow got to the credits before crashing. The constant recitation of dialogue probably helped.

At some point in the night, a rustling sound in the corner of the room stirred Emma. Instinctively, she reached over to feel for Killian, only to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she croaked out, his name heavy on her tongue from sleep. “What are you--”

“The heat went out,” he told her, making her aware of her own shivering and the frigid air of the room. “Elsa is having kittens over it,” he went on to explain. “Giving the owner a right earful as we speak.”

A low hum and soft glow began to fill the room. Killian stood and visibly shook himself before heading back to bed.

“What’s that?” Emma asked, shifting in bed and moving closer to the middle.

“Space heater,” Killian answered, still shivering from the cold. “The owner relented and gave us the code to the storage closet. There were a few of these in there.”

Emma hummed in response, her mind weighing whether to bring up the idea of--

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we… that is,” he hedged, clearing his throat. “Until the heater manages to raise the temperature, would you be okay if we…”

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as she scooted closer to him.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his chest already plastered against her back and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Emma moaned in relief, the heat of his body already warming her and staying the chills that had made her tense. In an effort to find a comfortable position for her legs - without entangling them with his - she rocked her hips back into his and felt…

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbled in an embarrassed tone as he pulled away. “Apologies, Swan. I didn’t intend--”

“Killian,” she laughed, rolling over to face him. “It’s fine. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I just don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives for suggesting--”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I know guys can’t always control… that.”

“Well, I am usually much more in control of such things, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said in an appeasing tone, earning her a side-eyed glare. “Seriously, though,” she continued, trying to coax him back to her. “Your morning wood doesn’t offend me, so will you please come back here.”

He relented after some not so gentle tugging, and a moment later they were once again entwined in the other’s arms.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, nestling a bit further into his chest. “How are you always so warm? I feel like I’m always cold.”

As Emma drifted off to sleep she was certain she heard him say, “I know, love. But I’ll always be here for you when you need to keep warm.”

Part Two

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine. 

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store. 

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you. 

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees. 

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.” 

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring. 

“Just bring it with you.” 

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need. 

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.” 

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.” 

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago. 

What’s stopping you? 

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month. 

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage. 

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that. 

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work. 

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option. 

Kill him. 

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one. 

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.” 

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up. 

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house. 

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down. 

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday. 

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning? 

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her. 

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.   

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today. 

Get Ellie ready for school. 

Tend to the sheep. 

Drive Ellie to school. 

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave. 

Drive Ellie to daycare. 

Grocery shopping. 

Oil change. 

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house. 

Make dinner. 

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey. 

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name. 

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn. 

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them. 

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear. 

She loves him, that’s why. 

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town. 

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back. 

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough. 

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly. 

After all this time, you still never get it right. 

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets. 

“Ass.” She says with a grin. 

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh. 

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them. 

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep. 

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell. 

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight. 

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing. 

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them. 

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway. 

“Is she my mom now?” 

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open. 

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him. 

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows. 

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not. 

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own. 

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.” 

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks. 

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening. 

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets. 

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess. 

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror. 

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?” 

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders. 

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug. 

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.” 

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town. 

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence. 

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in. 

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you. 

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now. 

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.” 

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy. 

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper. 

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. 

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter. 

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath. 

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her. 

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him. 

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up. 

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.” 

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief. 

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it. 

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring. 

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father. 

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough. 

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane. 

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons. 

You’re out of both. 

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself. 

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed. 

You didn’t pay attention to the road. 

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress. 

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away. 

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing. 

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.” 

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else? 

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.” 

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him. 

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough. 

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V. 

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ] 

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ] 

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating. 

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more. 

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case. 

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him. 

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside. 

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself. 

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up. 

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in. 

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her. 

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. 

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door. 

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands. 

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more. 

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house. 

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before. 

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward. 

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it. 

It’s beautiful. 

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek. 

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.” 

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you. 

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong. 

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you. 

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter. 

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.” 

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you. 

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.” 

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness. 

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here. 

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions. 

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey. 

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it &lt;3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

[paradiseinternet]

I Hate Tony Stark: Chapter Four

pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

word count: 4.9k

triggers: foul language, childhood trauma, poverty.

author's note: another chapter in the bag :)

Chapter Four: Many Familiar Faces

            The walk back to the motel room felt agonizingly long, even if it only took a maximum of ten minutes all together. As you entered the lobby again for the third time that night, she had less of an expression of confusion, and more one of shock. It could be assumed that this was because not everyone got to see Iron Man land right outside the doors of their workplace. Her eyes said a million things that you preferred not to answer, so you swiftly made your way up the flights of stairs after hanging up the raincoat and hat.

            He had let you go without so much as a word, in fact, he left you before you left him. You thought it would be hard to walk away as his eyes bore holes in your back, but this difficulty faded as he reentered his suit and flew away into the night sky.

            It took a few moments after watching him fly off to put your thoughts in an order you could understand for later deduction. You always liked to imagine your brain to be an office building with neat manilla folders and grey cubicles. Although the entire filing cabinet you labeled as “Soulmate” just expanded and will be needing an additional area for storage. Very little things required more than a single manilla folder. In fact, you can list on one hand what subjects have a metal cabinet to itself. Relationships (because they’re complicated), Soulmate (because the whole situation is complicated), Family (this wouldn’t require a section to itself, but you keep avoiding reorganization), and The Future (which isn’t complicated, but you aren’t entirely sure what you want to do in the end game so there’s a lot of suggestions).

            And so, after reorganizing a little bit in the middle of a cool New York night, you went back to the comforts of your temporary room. After everything you can’t help but feel a little dirty. You have gone up and down those stairs one too many times (even if you weren’t present for every instance). Additionally, being on the streets with socks on aren’t exactly the most sanitary precautions. There’s the option of taking a shower, but between being physically and emotionally exhausted, you choose to sleep. Besides, you don’t have work tomorrow so you can spend that time thinking about what to do now that the largest weight on your shoulders is not going to bother you anymore.

Sleeping under the covers felt like it would be putting you at high risk for bedbugs, so you chose to sleep on top of the bed instead. As a blanket you took the towel you used for your shower earlier along with an extra that was lying around. Your arm was used as a pillow after determining that the backpack would be too bumpy.

Sure, you could go back to your studio and be somewhat more comfortable there, but it would be a waste of money to buy the room and not use it. Besides, now you have a new supply of complementary soap, shampoo, and conditioner for the apartment when you get back.

Now if your next-door motel residents could just be a little quieter with their activities, that would be swell. But hell, this was a two-star motel for a reason.

Getting up wasn’t so bad, sure you have slept in better ways and places, but the beautiful thing about being groggy is that your mind has yet to calibrate for the previous events. The entire exchange didn’t register in your brain when you were packing up your stuff, nor when you ransacked the entire room for freebies. It still hadn’t surfaced even as you left the motel ten to eleven (because you need to get your money’s worth). In fact, it wasn’t until you were halfway through the bus ride back did it hit you like a ton of brick. The sheer force of the information was enough for you to give a verbal “OH MY GOD” to all the people on the bus. Naturally you didn’t intend to be caught so off guard, but with-it being New York, nobody paid you any attention. Not that you were worried about onlookers right now, you had other things to attend to.

Everything from that point on was a blur. Because of this, you got off at the wrong stop and had to backtrack to your apartment. Somehow when you did get there you took the elevator to your floor and managed to fish out your keys. Before you could however your neighbor across the hall managed to catch you.

“Dere yuh are! I was wonderin’ if yuh had gotten kidnapped,” said a gruff voice from behind you.

David is one of those old guys who have a rough exterior but a soft interior. He is bald with wrinkles to show he has frowned for most of his life. Although you can’t see them at this moment, he has several tattoos on his body, the most notable being the sleeve on his left arm. From how he explains it, he used to be on the bad side of New York since he was a kid up until his mid-20s but turned his life around after spending some time behind bars. Once he got out, he joined a biker gang and went to work. He had retired from being a mechanic at the age of 64 and has been enjoying retirement ever since. Never had kids, never had been married. Sometimes you think he talks to you because he wants to see if he was missing out on the whole no-kids thing.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you. Just decided to spend my special day elsewhere,” you replied, head still in the clouds.

“Ah, yuh got married?” He inquired, trying to catch a glimpse at your hands from where he was standing in his doorway. “Who’s dah lucky fella?”

The two of you don’t talk too much, just when one or the other gets lonely. So as far as he knows, you could be married. He doesn’t broach the relationship topic too much, taking you to be a loner (which he isn’t wrong).

You chuckled absentmindedly, “Ah, yeah, no. Just my birthday.”

He hums in acknowledgement and asks, “Was it alright, or what?”

How does on respond to that when it was absolutely not “alright”? The same way you respond to everyone when you don’t want people to pry into your life.

“Yeah, same old same old.”

Just then you felt a very sharp burst of electricity, like you had accidentally touched a person who had been rolling around on a carpet. This feeling was rather familiar, but you haven’t had it since you were barely 16 years old. Then again, he hadn’t met you until last night. The only thing he needed was a clear picture of your face, which his suit no doubt provided. If you have to guess, he is digging up information about you at this very moment and just now he has found out and said your name. This possibly may be your biggest nightmare. One screw up on your part of assuming you were never going to do a body swap again and look where that has gotten you.

“Well yuh missed quite a stir. Yuh with me? Shit was blowin' up and people were everywhere. Right?” He explained as if the entirety of New York wasn’t there to witness the same events on the screen.

You responded to him with a slight twitch, trying not to show the effects of the light shock as you started to walk into the studio, “I’ll try not to miss it next time, sounds eventful.”

Just as you locked the door behind you, you threw your backpack in no particular direction and pressed your back to the door as you slid down it. You buried your head into your hands as you curled up on the cold plastic tile floor.

That pull from last night is now an aching in your heart, like a nasty bruise that appears with no cause of origin. It reminded you of a string that is strained and has become weaker, its threads taring one by one. This isn’t a pain that is unbearable, but it is certainly stronger than what it felt like last night. No doubt this is connected to the conversation you had with him, but you’ve never heard of symptoms like this. If you had managed to somehow break the bond, then your heart should be in an astonishingly high amount of pain, yet it is not. Perhaps this is the sweet spot, a feeling that doesn’t go away, but one you can survive. Afterall, if there was a soul break you’d most likely have black ooze coming out of every hole in your body and be dead in the near future, just like your mother. Instead, you feel lonelier than normal with a touch of painful annoyance. If this is the price to pay, so be it. Fate or not, you cannot love that man—for both your sake, and your parent’s.

Lifting your head up you find your vision to be blurry, not realizing that you had been crying. How odd, why are you crying? You felt your tears and looked at one on your finger to make sure it wasn’t black. Upon quick inspection you find there was no color other than the crystal-clear liquid that leaks out of your eyelids.

You got up off the ground as you came to the realization that you haven’t eaten anything today. Now that you think of it, you haven’t had a true meal since yesterday afternoon (because ice cream does not count as a meal).

The kitchenette is just to the right of the entrance, so you trudge across the murky yellow tiles and over to the off-white fridge. Opening it you find a half-eaten jar of pickles, the end pieces of some white bread you bought discounted the other day, a small stack of American cheese slices, and a singular hot dog. Giving up on the fridge you go over to the cabinet that is almost ready to fall off the wall and find a nearly empty container of peanut butter along with some packets of honey you’ve snatched from Popeyes. You already know your ramen supply is out and with the given choices, you make the decision not to make a disgusting concoction and instead head over to the grocery store. It’s been over a week since your latest grocery run, and even the last time could barely be called proper shopping. In an attempt to save money you’ve been restraining your diet. Not the healthiest, sure, but necessary to keep the heat on. As of late your consumption has consisted of ramen, pasta, soup, and beans with rice. You’ll be excluding soup from your diet soon since it’s May, and the weather is finally warming up.

The thought of going back out into society was a little draining, but that might just be hunger talking. Without further consideration you grabbed your wallet and keys that you left on the floor by the door and headed out.

Making your way to the store isn’t so bad, it happens to be within walking distance—well, most of everything is within walking distance. The only thing that put you off was the feeling of being watched. But on a positive note the area isn’t too crowded, so you won’t be bothered by too many crying children and instead be around the elderly whom of which enjoy shopping in the middle of the day.

Your list isn’t very long, so short in fact that you didn’t even need to keep a list. This proved to be a mistake when by the end of your shopping trip you had concluded that something was missing. No matter, you’ll remember when you get back home.

            When getting to the counter you crossed your fingers hoping you had enough money in your account to afford everything. However, this wasn’t the case. If it weren’t for the cost of rent and your low-paying position, maybe you could buy everything you needed, but today just isn’t the day and you don’t get your next check for another three.

            “How much more do I owe?” You ask in the way that many people ask when they’re short. Desperate, but mostly embarrassed.

            The man behind the registered looked at his little screen on the register and replied, “The remainder is $32.56.”

            Yikes, you could’ve sworn you had more money in the account than what it took off. Your total was a little over 70 because you were being frugal, and this trip was going to feed you for the next two plus weeks (hopefully). Thankfully prices have been going down ever since the housing market crashed a little over a year ago, but it still isn’t enough.

            After storing your card back into your wallet, you went to look for any cash you had on hand. Finding a ten-dollar bill, you decided that was all you could fork up and will need to figure out what items you’ll need to give back. You weren’t willing to use a credit card considering the current cost to take on debt.

            However, as you started to hand the cashier the money, a thick hand blocked your path.

            “It’s alright, I got it,” said the voice to your left with a crisp 100 being passed over to the clerk.

            Looking at the masculine voice next to you, you began to refuse until you took in his appearance. The man wore a nicely ironed suit with black tinted glasses covering his eyes. His hair was slicked back which exposed his minorly receding hairline. If it weren’t for how his face was structured, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was pudgy or very muscular. Spoiler: he’s pudgy.

            Instead of refusing his kind gesture, you were so caught up in his familiarity that the transaction was already complete by the time you came back to.

            “I—wow. Okay, thank you! That was incredibly kind but unnecessary,” you thanked gratefully.

            He gave a very, very small smile, “It’s alright miss, I assure you that it was very much necessary.”

            Why is he so familiar?

            You chuckled lightly, “If you insist. Thank you, again, for your generosity.”

            “Your gratitude is not mine to take, but I’ll be sure to pass it along,” he said as he turned back to the cashier as his single item was rang. It was some fancy looking whiskey.

            Just as you were about to walk away with your arms filled with grocery bags, you turned back around and asked, “What’s your name?”

He looked back at you and replied, “Just call me Happy.”

Put off by the weird name, you continued your way out of the store and made your trek back to the apartment. Initially there was no sensation of being watched, but it came back after walking a block. However you brushed this off because everyone is being watched, it’s a busy city after all.

Ramen, what a delicacy. Except ‘delicacy’ isn’t the word you’d use as you slurp up the familiar chicken-flavored cardboard. More fitting words would be necessity, sodium, and empty calories. But this is life, and you are grateful to that man, Happy, for allowing you to buy everything you had picked out. Thanks to him, or more so the secret sponsor that was funding his choice, a quarter of your fridge is full and half of your cupboard has food. Granted, you have many cupboards (five to be exact), but when you can barely fill one up, what’s the point of using the others? So, you sat on your bed while gazing out at the blue sky through your window as you slurped up the noodles.

That earlier sensation of being watched disappeared instantly as you entered your building and hasn’t returned since. Not that you were missing it, of course. The sensation of being watched is always unnerving so with it being gone you felt more at ease. Now, you had the rest of the day to do absolutely nothing . . . or clean. You could do that. But that sounds like it requires motivation, which is something that just isn’t coming to you right now.

New day, same pain. Getting out of bed was a bit of a struggle. This is not a foreign issue to you, but it certainly hasn’t gotten any better over the past few days. It’s been years since you’ve gotten a solid night’s sleep without needing to get up for a glass of water. Sometimes you’ll just lay in bed after having woken up and do nothing. You could always see your ceiling due to the light pollution, so occasionally you’d make out weird shapes in the paint until you pass out. Trish claims that waking up a couple of times a night consistently is a sign of depression, but you fail to see the connection. Afterall, this has been a habit of yours ever since the incident.

Getting ready for work isn’t so hard, all you need to do is pin your hair out of the way, freshen up, and get dressed in the assigned uniform. The uniform is a T-shirt with the coffee shops logo on it. With it being so local, the dress code is a little more lenient to your delight. However, with you being the manager, you’re required to wear slacks and not jeans unlike the other associates. To be honest, you’re not entirely sure why you’re a manager. The increase in pay is nice and you think you’re doing your job just fine, but the owner is always on-site so there’s really no need for other management. But hey, whatever keeps your pay the same.

The café is within walking distance, because again, most things you need in New York are. In total it takes you almost thirty minutes to get there, which is not bad considering you don’t have a car. Although in a big city it’s not always great to have a car since with traffic it can take the same amount of time to get to point B as it would on foot. Normally the walk wouldn’t be so bad, but today you’re running late.

Squeezing by the pedestrians on the street, you hurry your way to the coffee shop. Your shift starts at nine in the morning and it’s currently 8:53. This wouldn’t be an issue if you only had a few minutes left of the walk, but you’re currently at least fifteen minutes away. Keeping at your typical pace would result in almost a 10-minute tardy punch-in, and that just won’t do. So, time to make up some for some time.

There’s a shortcut you take in between an alley that you don’t normally go through since it requires you to climb a fence, but you’re under pressure. Jerking left you jumped over a knocked over trash can and jogged over to the previously mentioned fence. Getting a grip on the metal wire you then climb over. The second part is more fun as you jump off on the other side with the short burst of adrenaline one receives when falling from a high place.

Your forehead is beginning to sweat but that isn’t something a damp paper towel can’t fix at work. Besides, sweat right now is not your largest concern. You glance down at the watch nicely situated on your left wrist, the one that is hiding his name from society. Typically you’d use a couple of scrunchies or hair ties to cover it up, but today you decided on a thick watch. In times past you thought about getting a tattoo over his name and hope that it covers it up good enough, but the risk of the artist spreading the word of who your soulmate is prevented you from doing so in the past.

‘This is not what I need to be thinking about right now,’ you reminded yourself.

The watch told you that there were only four minutes left until punch-in time, and you still have at least nine minutes to go. That means you need to make up for the five minutes difference.

Pushing your glutes to the limit you bolted to work while accidentally hitting into people on the way. However, the more you ran, the harder it was getting to focus. The ache in your heart was acting up again even though it has been slowly going away over the past hours. Nevertheless, the feeling is powerful enough to make you lose your concentration and bump into someone with a force strong enough to make you almost fall over. Thankfully whoever it is isn’t as easily swayed as they remain a standing structure while catching you. Reorienting yourself, you give a half-assed apology and go to keep making up lost time when you briefly caught a glimpse at the mans face.

So, now you’re stunned while standing in the middle of the busy street just gawking at this man. This man, whom of which, you distinctly remember being on the rooftop with you the other night after the body swap occurred. You didn’t get his name, but this is most certainly the same person.

“Hey, you good?” He asked, breaking you out of your hypnosis.

Hesitantly, you nodded. Then you turned and walked away, realizing that he doesn’t recognize you because you weren’t in your body at the initial time of meeting. The thought is surreal, meeting someone but not actually meeting someone. But pretending to be a complete stranger is for the best, for your sake.

Unfortunately you don’t make it to work on time, arriving three minutes late. On the other hand, the owner doesn’t seem to be in the building yet, which means you won’t get a headache until he checks the timestamps. To clarify, the owner isn’t a mean guy, he’s just particular about what hill he would like to die on.

“Hey! How was your birthday?” You hear Trish from behind the counter.

She must’ve been the opener for today, which means she’s been here since five. How she can remain cheerful after getting up so early is beyond you.

“It was eventful,” you lightheartedly replied.

The less she knows, the better. The less everybody knows is for the best. The sooner you forget, the quicker it all goes away. Following these three easy steps will hopefully result in successfully terminating the existence (or thought thereof) of your soulmate.

Looking around you do a quick headcount and find the café is slower than usual. Probably because of the mayhem that happened at the expo, and with it being so close, there is no doubt some debris still being cleaned up.

“Yeah? Isn’t your studio near the expo?” She offhandedly asked.

You walk towards her behind the register as you then explained how your birthday went while keeping out all the parts about your soulmate. Hopefully by explaining how uneventful your entire vacation was, she’d lay off a little. This unfortunately had the opposite effect as she then rushed you and grasped your arms, successfully pinning them to your body. She’s little taller than you, enough to loom over you and get right up in your face

“A motel? As in the same motel that Tony Stark’s soulmate was spotted at?!” She nearly yelled.

Your heart dropped. Did she know? Did everyone know? Who was the snitch? You bet it was that receptionist, what a bi—.

‘Stop it, if your face was captured then she would’ve already known it was you, calm down,’ you reasoned.

“Uh, I don’t know?” You said while trying to be as vague as possible. “Who’s his soulmate?”

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious.

She squealed like some schoolgirl who gets to spill the latest gossip, “That’s the thing, no one knows. The news has been flying off the wall ever since yesterday about conspiracies on who she is. Apparently, Mr. Fancy Pants flew over to her in front of a motel to meet her.”

Trish took a breath of air then continued, “But whoever tipped the news couldn’t get a good picture because the area was whether too bright or too dark. And you know how it is when an area is too dark. ‘But Trish! How can it be too bright if it’s too dark?’ Thanks for asking!”

Another breath. You apparently asked the wrong question; she can go on like this for days.

“The person who took the photos said that the light was emitting from the playboy and the lady, meaning they have that glowing SIA. But it went away after she, get this, slapped his hand away! That same person said they couldn’t make out what the conversation was about, but it didn’t look good.”

You were in too much shock to make an expression of fake shock, which resulted in you making an actual face of shock. This worked in your favor as Trish continued.

She almost snorted, “I know right, who does she think she is? If you happen to be the soulmate of the literal richest person in the world, why the hell would you treat him like that? If she doesn’t want him, I’ll take him. I mean, for one he’s a superhero, two he’s ultra wealthy, and three he’s ultra wealthy. And yes, I know two and three are the same, but it’s good to highlight important points.”

You do, in fact, happen to be the soulmate of the richest person in the world. But to you, his wealth holds no value and you’re not going to bend your back for someone like him. If it weren’t for this secret that you wish to take to your grave, you’d have explained to her that he is all hers.

The doorbell above the entrance chimed signaling a new customer. Trish half-heartedly glanced up at the person before returning her stare back to you.

“We’ll continue this conversation—,” what conversation? “—after I take this guy’s order.”

Then she released her grip to help the person who sat down towards the corner of the room. You, on the other hand, are still in shock. What tore you out of your mental state was the television lighting up, broadcasting the exact headline Trish was talking about.

“WORLD-RENOWNED PLAYBOY REJECTED?”

This is turning into a literal nightmare, and you’d like to wake up now. Everything that is happening is the exact reason why you didn’t want to met him. Well, not exactly, but it’s mighty good motivation to avoid him. You don’t feel like giving him your sob story, so saying “I don’t want to be famous” is a plausible excuse.

Just then you felt someone pat your shoulder as they passed by.

“Table 16, the person who just walked in, is requesting you specifically,” Trish informed as she went to ground some coffee beans.

You pointed at yourself and clarified, “Me?”

“Uh, yeah? I didn’t know you had any regulars, but kudos to you,” she released a snicker. “Besides, he looks like a sugar daddy in the making, work it girl.”

Not many things make you blush, but that got a rise out of you, barely tinting the tops of your ears which thankfully didn’t spread to your face. However, her statement did leave you a little confused. You have one regular, but she is not a he and doesn’t even come in at this time. Nor does she sit in that corner because (according to her) it’s a little too off-putting for her tastes and it’s away from where she can people watch from the windows.

Regardless, you make your way over to the corner of the café, pen and paper already in hand. The accessories are really just for style because you’ll typically make the order yourself and people don’t generally buy so much that you can’t keep track. But it comforts the buyer knowing that you’re paying attention and wanting to get their order right.

Reaching the table, you put on a smile and look down towards the man at the 4-person table. He is wearing tinted sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low. The back of your mind says he’s vaguely familiar, but there aren’t enough shown features to confirm the stipulation.

“Hello sir, my name is (Y/N) and I’ll be your server today. How are you this morning?” You ask in the fake enthusiastic stereotypical customer service voice.

Being a waitress isn’t your job; it never has been. You’re a barista, someone who makes the drinks and occasionally warms up pastries. But with the café being an open-floor layout, not everyone wants to order from the counter and that’s fine. Besides, those who sit down and want to be served typically leave tips, while those who come up to the counter don’t. So, although you aren’t a waitress, the tips are nice to have once in a while. However, you’re about to find out that this is a tip you’d be fine missing out on.

“Not too shabby,” he said as he looked up to you. His voice was smooth as brandy and polished like a granite countertop with a hint of confidence. If it wasn’t for your instant dawning, you’d have been breathless just from the sound of his immediately recognizable voice.

Instead, you let out a small whine mixed with a drop of dread, “No . . .”

This isn’t just a sugar daddy in the making, he’s your fated sugar daddy!

[patdkoala]

Backseat Serenade

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female reader

Warnings: Pet names (baby), unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, Dean Winchester being a total slut (yes that's a warning)

Sam had found a case for us all last night. Dean drove us halfway and then pulled into a skeezy motel for the rest of the night.

"Alright so, the lady messed up and gave us two beds," Dean said as he handed Sam and me both keys. "I don't see how that is a problem," I said as I took one of the keys and unlocked the door of the motel.

We stepped inside and it smelled like piss, beer, sweat, and menthol. The carpets reeked of cat piss, the curtains were stained yellow from people smoking inside, and the paint on the walls was patchy as if they'd been repainted multiple times.

And sitting on both sides of the room were two twin beds.

"But there are three of us," I said as Sam set his bags down on one of the beds. "I call dibs on the bed closest to the bathroom," He said as Dean and I glanced at each other back and forth.

"I will sleep in the car, you take the other bed," Dean said as he set my bags down on the other bed (He had carried my bags for me from the car to the motel).

"How is that fair to you? You're the one that drove for 10 hours straight. I can sleep in the car," I said as I went to pick up my bag.

"You're both ridiculous, why don't we just share a bed, Dean. Like we used to when dad would try to get the cheaper room when we were kids," Sam said as his older brother nodded and then we all got ready for bed.

The night went on per usual.

Sam fell asleep first, starfishing in his bed next to Dean, I was sitting up in bed watching a really bad romance movie on the tv, and Dean was sitting in his bed next to his little brother with his arms crossed and he sat there watching the movie with me.

"Do you seriously watch these every night?" Dean asked as I shook my head.

"No, only if the motels have cable but sometimes it cuts out and gets all staticky. Then I get a migraine so I have to turn it off," I said as the tv then turned to static and so I reached for the remote and turned it off.

"Why don't we all just try to get some sleep. We have a long car ride again tomorrow and we have to be well-rested for the hunt," Dean whispered to me as he looked at his sleeping brother.

I got under the covers but I couldn't exactly sleep because I wasn't very tired and I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Dean is sharing a bed with his little brother that is like 5 feet taller than all of us.

I started to laugh quietly in my bed.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked as I sat up and looked at him. He was laying on the very very edge of the bed and the blanket wasn't even covering 25% of his body. Sam Winchester starfishing in bed takes up 85% of the whole dang bed.

"Oh nothing," I laughed as Dean rolled his eyes, and then with one slight move he fell completely out of the bed.

"OH, SON OF A BITCH!" Dean whisper-yelled. "Dean! Shhhhhh!" I whisper-yelled back as I pointed to the sleeping Sam.

"Why don't you just sleep in my bed with me? I take up way less space than him and we both have insomnia so we can just stay up and talk anyway," I said as Dean nodded and then he got into bed with me.

The bed was still pretty small so Dean sat up a little and I rested my back against Dean's chest. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

I was pretty close to both boys so our cuddling up close was not a new thing. I'd been traveling with them both for months now.

We stayed up for a good four hours just talking to each other about the case, about Sam, about Castiel, about our past, and about how not tired we were.

"Wanna go for a drive?" I asked as Dean looked over to Sam who was still snoozing hard. "Sure," He said as he put on a hoodie and we left.

I stole one of Sam's hoodies since I didn't bring a late-night jacket.

We drove to a diner. We ordered pie.

"So, why do you and Sam do this?" "Do what?" He asked with a mouth full of pie.

"Why do you guys take these long drives? You could just as easily take a plane instead. You guys are practically loaded with all this credit card fraud," I said as he smiled and chuckled.

"Well, believe it or not, but Dean Winchester is scared of planes," He said as he spoke in the third person. "No, I believe it," I responded.

"What do you mean? I'm way too badass to be scared of anything," He said as he took another heaping bite of his apple pie.

"But, that's just it. You are way too much of a badass to be scared of anything that normal people are afraid of. Like ghosts, werewolves, witches, and demons. Because we fight things like that every day it would only make sense that our fears would be something dumb like planes, clowns, or heights," I said as he laughed at that last bit.

"So, is that what you're afraid of? Heights?" I nodded and he smiled back.

For a full hour of us sitting in that diner, it seemed almost as if Dean and I were a normal couple on a late-night date. It felt almost real.

"We should head back and see if we can get any sleep before Sam wakes up and decides it's time for his run," Dean said as I nodded.

And liked that the dream was crushed.

We drove back to the motel but we just sat in the parking lot.

"I don't want to go inside. I changed my mind," Dean said as I just sat there. "Okay? What do you want to do instead?" I asked as Dean just looked at me like I was the idiot in the car right now.

"Whatcha looking at me like that for?" I exclaimed as Dean then let out a huff.

"I just thought this whole night was you wanting to make a move on me but I guess I was wrong. I guess I've just been wrong for the past 7 months," He said as I looked at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, Dean. You are such a fool. Of course, I wanted you. I just knew that if we fucked early on in the hunting then I would be putting a target on my back and no one would take me seriously in the community. I'd just be the girl that fucked Dean Winchester and lived to tell the tale," I said as he smirked.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll still be able to tell the tale if you want," Dean said as he reached over to me and pulled me into a deep kiss.

We got out of the Impala and into the backseat. Dean took off his sweatshirt and then pulled off his t-shirt.

I removed Sam's hoodie and then my tank top. Only to reveal that I wasn't wearing a bra. "You spent the whole night with me while braless? You are a fucking minx," He said as he kissed my collarbone and then down my throat.

He held my body down as he moved his against mine with such force. I removed his belt and then slide his jeans and underwear down in one movement.

He pulled down my sweatpants and slid a finger inside of me ever so gently. I moaned out and arched my back. Then he slid in another finger.

Before I knew it, Dean Winchester had three fingers inside of me and I was moaning and falling apart underneath him.

"I know, baby. I feel you coming close." He said as he stopped and then he moved closer and pushed himself into me. I moaned at the sudden contact.

His fingers didn't even compare to the feeling of him inside of me like this.

We both moaned and he moved with such vigor. We took turns crying out each other's names.

The sun was rising behind us. He pulled out and came on the leather backseat. He used his t-shirt to clean it up.

He then fell asleep practically on top of me.

We woke up to knocking on the window. Dean used his hand to wipe the window because we had created so much steam that it fogged up the glass.

"Let me know why you guys are dressed and ready to go," Sam yelled outside the Impala. Dean got off of me and pulled his pants back on. His shirt was unuseful at the moment since it was just used as a cum rag.

I put back on Sam's hoodie and Dean put on his own. We got out of the car and went to change in the motel together.

Sam came back from his run and Dean had packed up the car so we checked out of the motel and all climbed in the Impala.

Dean and I were silent.

"So, are we going to address the elephant in the room or just ignore the fact that you two obviously slept together?" Sam asked as Dean looked in the rearview mirror and just gave me a look.

"Well, if it's so obvious then why does it need to be addressed?" I asked as Dean chuckled.

"I guess you're right then," Sam said before changing the topic and spoke about the case instead.

[sanjisboyfie]

๑ keep safe : luffy's innate instincts (a hum of the heart) (10)

one piece x male reader

i watch the sky getting light,

as i think about those years.

as i whisper in your ear,

i'm always going to be right here.

no one's going anywhere.

『 prev 』

as chopper, the blue nose reindeer, carried the four people inside and he immediately alerted his master, dr. kureha.

he laid them all down on seperate beds, realizing that the blonde was in the least concerning condition while the one with orange hair should be tended to first. the other two were merely suffering from basic frostbite and surface level wounds — at least that’s what the first assumption was.

but when dr. kureha and chopper got to actually working on helping the four, they realized one was in more grave condition than the rest. far, far more life threatening than they thought.

“doctorine, what do we do?!”

the two had finished treating the other three, seeing as they were working together and in harmony, it was a fast process. but there was one left…that had them completely stumped.

“a blood transfusion is out of the question! we can’t operate on him unless we have spare blood bags, what do we do?!”

“we leave him be,” the woman answered easily, taking a swig of her drink.

“b-but, he won’t be competley fine until we fix-”

“there’s nothing there to fix,” doctorine answered with a shrug, “he knows that those things are there, if he wanted them fixed, he’d of done it by now. just leave him be, we’ve done everything we can to keep him stable. let his body do what the body does best when left alone: heal!”

chopper looked reluctant to leave his patient untreated, or at least by his own definition of untreated. in doctorine’s opinion, though, the man was going to be fine.

“stitch him up and put clothes back onto him! and remember, room above 87 degrees! we can’t have his heart giving out in his sleep!” doctorine proclaimed, making the reindeer sweat at the thought — both the stress of the situation and the actual temperature.

of course, the patient he has to treat has to stay in warm conditions - his natural enemy. chopper stitched up the wounds, as well as the incisions that him and dr. kureha made themselves. and after he was done treating him, he put the clothes he was wearing back on, along with extra layers of blankets.

the silver necklace he was wearing before was gently returned to [name]’s neck by chopper.

he looked at the resting boy, thoughts go back to when the four people came to their doorstep.

“hm, they climbed this?! just by their hands?” doctorine questioned, the reindeer in his smaller form nodding in confirmation. “this 5000 meter rock?! ha! they’re crazy!”

“this one has broken ribs and damage to his spine, may i operate on him?” he politely asked as he examined sanji’s chest

“of course,” doctorine replied, “but it seems that the one in the worst condition here is the girl, she’s dying,”

out of nowhere, luffy’s hand shot up out from underneath himself and he grabbed the doctor’s arm. his entire body was shaking, but his eyes held a determination to them that chopper’s never seen before.

“they’re my friends…!” chopper barely made the words out as the pirate’s words were both slurring together and shaky, “save them! save all of them!”

“i get the picture, kid, don’t worry! they’re in good hands,” doctorine replied, showing a rare, genuine side to her. “chopper get ready to begin treatment!”

then chopper woke up from his daydream and left the room to work on making a concoction for the orange haired girl.

nami was the first to wake up, then luffy, then sanji. [name] was still knocked out.

but when luffy and sanji saw how healthy, or rather improved health, nami seemed to be, their relief was shot through the roof. then luffy focused back on how hungry he was and sanji determined to please his captain, were both chasing the reindeer that was following the female doctor’s orders.

“wait,” nami said slowly, realizing that one of them was missing, “don’t tell me…”

she looked frantically at the female doctor, who waved her hand dismissively, “the other one? he’s fine…although, i’m surprised he survived that journey as well,”

“please, tell me! where is he?! what happened to him?!” nami shouted, frantic to find [name]. the man who was gently nursing her back to health the entire time, the one who was responsible for her even being in the castle as he worked tirelessly to carry her there safely.

her eyes teared up as she thought about it.

“he’s fine, i’ve told you! it’s just, he needs to rest longer than any of you,” dr. kureha said and for the first time, her voice sounded grave. as if, she was talking about something in forbidden territory.

“you swear he’s alright?” nami asked, this time her voice was shaking as she clutched the cloth of her blanket so tight her knuckles turned white.

“positive,” doctorine confirmed, watching as the orange haired girl fell into shambles at the news.

her eyes were streaming a steady course of tears as she looked up at the ceiling, crying her heart out, “thank god!!!” she shouted, pure relief washing over her.

dr. kureha smiled softly at the display of pure affection.

the first thing [name] felt when he woke up was utter heat.

his mouth was dry and he felt as if he was in a desert. it was hot!

he immediately threw off the blankets that were piled up on top of him, but that wasn’t enough relief. he opened the window, the first window he saw, and almost threw himself out.

it was so hot inside the room, but at least now he had a cold breeze to work with.

it was only then after he took in the breeze did he realize how worn out his body really was.

“shit…” he cursed as he fell to his knees and clutched his body together in a fetal position.

his entire lower arm was sore, the bandage that wrapped around his hand that he had stabbed searing with pain still, and the hollow feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away.

“you got up too fast, kid,” a voice called out to him. “i’m dr. kureha, you can call me doctorine, though,”

“the others i came with, are they okay?” was the first question he asked, eyes bleary as he looked at the figure of an old woman.

“pft! you guys are ridiculous! yeah, they’re all fine, healing up as we speak,” she assured him, taking a seat in a rolling chair and sliding over to his fetal form. “as for you, you’re seriously lucky to even be breathing,”

he rolled his eyes, forcing himself to sit upright against the wall and face her properly.

“i’ve been through worse,”

“oh, i know,” the woman said, emphasizing her words by speaking slowly for him to clearly hear. “do your friends know?”

[name] paused, taking in a deep breath and blinking slowly as he saw that it came out normal and not in white puffs.

“haven’t told them,” he confessed.

“i suggest you do while it’s still appropiate timing,” she advised and he felt himself want to cower in himself at her words, “the girl, she was real worried about you.”

“she’s alright?” [name] asked slowly.

“obviously, i gave her my medicine and cured her up really quickly!” the doctor prided herself and [name] softly smiled, nodding with a close eyed smile.

“that’s good, really good!” he said cheerfully, running a hand through his distressed hair.

“get back on that bed, boy and go to sleep, you need it,” she told him, about to stand up and walk away, but he stood up and moved to follow after her.

“i wanna see them,” he said in a demanding voice, looking at her with fierce eyes.

“why? don’t believe me?” she teased, hands on her hips.

he didn’t reply, waiting for her to walk ahead and show him the way. she shrugged and went ahead, laughing as she heard him scramble for a blanket to cover himself.

within a couple of minutes they travelled from his room to hers and it was definitely nami, seeing her orange tuft of hair under the blankets she was burying herself in.

the doctor left them alone, closing the door behind her. nami still hadn’t turned around and [name] smiled gently, sitting at the edge of her bed.

“what’s so interesting out that window?” he asked her, watching as first her shoulders stiffened, her head lifted from the pillow, and finally her entire torso shooting up from the bed.

“[name]!” she cried out in glee, throwing her arms around his neck in a long-awaited hug. “you’re really alright!”

“more or less,” he replied with a cheesy grin, “you won’t worry us like this again, right, nami?”

her eyes turned glassy and [name] frowned at the reaction, tilting his head in confusion, “oi, no need to cr-”

she dropped her head into his shoulder, grabbing him tight, her fists bunching up the blanket that was around [name]’s torso, “thank you for everything, [name]!” she shouted, making [name]’s eyes widen in shock.

“hey, it’s not big deal,” he said softly, rubbing her back comfortingly, “you’re our friend!”

she only sobbed louder at his words while he felt bad that he possibly made it worse.

“you took care of me the entire time when those idiots on the ship had no idea what to do!” she said, and this time her cries made him laugh, “thank you, for easing vivi’s worries too,”

“those aren’t big deals, nami, i’m just glad you’re alright now,” [name] breathed out, feeling a weight lifted off of his chest. “say, did my fighting impress you though?”

nami smiled at his teasing attitude, gently smacking his cheek with her palm. she wiped away her tears, “it was terrible and sloppy,” she joked back, making [name] hold his chest in dramatic offense. “and it woke me up several times, learn to be more considerate!” she continued on, enjoying the way he was feeding into the joke.

in a matter of minutes, the two of them were smiling and joking around as if nothing was wrong. eventually, he urged nami to rest and brought the blanket back up to her chin.

“i’m not sick anymore, you don’t have to worry so much, [name],” she chided, although she did enjoy the pampering he gave her. it was nice to just sit back and relax whislt someone else dealt with all your stressors!

the one perk of being sick, nami selfishly thought, was that [name] would tend to her every need without her having to vocalize them.

“you’re not going to rest either?” she asked gently, already feeling herself grow sleepy again.

he pushed her hair aside, taking a seat close to her bed and crossing his arms, “i’m comfortable right here! now go, rest nami!”

[name] fell asleep sitting up while nami slept comfortably on her bed.

then, luffy, sanji, and chopper ran through the room — yelling about how they were going to eat chopper. when they noticed that [name] was there, however, sanji and chopper were quick to settle down.

their captain on the other hand, had no idea on how to treat a newly healed person, so he jumped right onto [name] and was quick to smother him.

“[name]! you’re alright, they healed you up all right, huh?!” luffy shouted, waking [name] from his slumber and blinking slowly as he came to his senses. “do you feel gooooddd?!” he shouted right into [name]’s face.

sanji and chopper were about to scold luffy for his antics, but [name]’s soothing smile made them both calm down. he gently held onto luffy, who was comforting sitting on his lap, and squeezed his sides, “i feel the best!”

”well, that is a relief,” sanji said, walking over and petting [name]’s head.

“oh, is everyone all good and treated then?” [name] asked softly, laughing every now and then as he felt luffy poke and prod at him — probably trying to tickle him.

“yep! that old hag-” a smack on the head made sanji shut up, courtesy of the mentioned “old hag.” “erm, doctorine and chopper treated all of us,”

“that’s good to know!” [name] smiled, looking at luffy with a smile and began stretching the rubber man’s face, “now entertain me!”

luffy made faces as [name] pulled at his face, chopper watching in interest as luffy had the abilities of a rubber man, and sanji only sighed at their childish antics.

everything felt normal for a moment, all of them forgetting the grave danger they were in before as [name] and luffy laughed. sanji left the room to get the prepared food he had left for [name] and returned with a charming smile.

“feast to your heart’s content, [name]!”

“ooh! yay, food-”

“thanks, sanji!” luffy said, taking the biggest piece of meat off of [name] plate and shoving it into his mouth.

the room turned silent and awaited [name]’s reaction.

“you fucker! i’ll throw you out this window and make you climb up this place all over again!” [name] cursed, grabbing luffy by the throat and swinging him around. “choke on my food, you asshat!”

“don’t be so mean, [name]!” luffy screamed, holding on for dear life as he was swung around and around.

the two bickered for a while, sanji could only sigh as he brought more food out for [name] to actually eat. [name] simply forfeit his first plate to his captain, murmuring about how one day, “your endless stomach is gonna get you in big trouble!”

chopper was shyly looking into the room. unfortunately, he had his hiding position reversed.

“hey, reindeer! stop hiding and join us!” [name] said, laughing at the fear that crossed the animal’s features. “you’re a big scaredy cat, huh?”

“i’m not a cat, stupid human!” chopper shouted, pointing a hoof at [name] in anger. “don’t laugh at me!”

“oh, do you happen to have my black piece of cloth?” [name] asked, taking another bite of his food before continuing on, “it was wrapped around my wrist when i came up the castle, but i’m not wearing it anymore,”

“don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s disgusting,” sanji scolded, slapping [name] on the head as he smoked his cigarette.

chopper silently nodded his head in confirmation. he had thought the cloth was just a piece of trash, but he didn’t throw it out - only hand washing it to rid it of the blood that stained it.

“can i have it please? it’s important to me!” [name] grinned, making the reindeer nod once more.

chopper ran off after that, leaving only the strawhats in the room.

“hey, luffy, let him join the crew!”

“ah? i already said he'd be our doctor,” luffy said nonchalantly.

“but i want him as a mascot!” [name] said, making sanji slap him on the head again.

“he’d be better off being our doctor, idiot,” sanji said.

“i already tried talking to him, but he refused,” nami informed them, turning all their heads in her direction. “it seems he has a pretty sad past,” she said, her expression turning sad.

“all the more reason! isn’t everyone on our crews story depressing! we can be a band of depressed pirates!” [name] joked, earning him a pinch to the ear via nami and another slap to the head from sanji.

just as nami was going to continue, chopper came back into the room. this time, he was in a different form and walking on all-fours. in his mouth he held [name]’s sword and cloth, making the man beam at him.

“wah! you’re the greatest ever, chopper! sanji, fetch it for me!”

“you can walk on your own, idiot! don’t order me around!” the chef shouted, fury clear on his face as [name] pouted at him.

“to think you’d treat your own injured crewmate so harshly,” [name] said, his frown only deepening, “after all i’ve done for you!”

“don’t guilt trip me into feeling bad, it won’t work!!!” sanji shouted once more.

chopper silently walked across the room and dropped the items onto [name]’s lap. this made the man stop his fake tears and pet the reindeer on the head, “you did a really good job in taking care of us, chopper! you even remembered to put my necklace back on!”

chopper nodded, eyeing the piece of silver jewlery. noticing his interest, [name] said in a hushed tone, “if you forgot to put it back, we all might’ve died! isn’t that scary?”

it certainly did scare chopper as he stood still and his eyes were blown wide. his words made his crewmates look at him in caution. sanji being the first to speak up, “you’re joking, right?”

[name] shrugged playfully, “who knows?”

sanji seethed through his teeth, resisting the urge to hit [name] again, “don’t joke about things that are serious!”

“who said it was serious?”

“you implied it just now!” nami said, looking at [name] as if he were stupid and had grown three heads. “what do you mean we’d all might’ve died!”

“i was just saying,” [name] shrugged, taking the last couple bites of his food and rubbing his stomach, “since i’m nice and full now, no one will be dying anytime soon, don’t worry,”

“that doesn’t help at all!” nami and sanji cried out in unison.

“[name] was just joking,” luffy said, waving his hand as if it were not a big deal. nami and sanji couldn’t believe it - they literally couldn’t. if luffy knew something they didn’t, if [name] was really just joking, what the relevance of the necklace was. it was all so confusing.

so the two who were kept in the dark simply shook their heads and sighed at their troublesome new crewmate.

[name] hummed in delight, wrapping the cut out piece of cloth around his right wrist and holding the sword close.

“hey, chopper, you have any interest in pirates?”

the reindeer stiffened, hesitantly nodding his head.

“why don’t you become pirates with us?” [name] grinned, pointing at luffy, “he’s our captain and he’ll make sure you’re well taken care of!”

“he wants to eat me!!!” chopper said in resistance, making [name] sweatdrop.

“well, he won’t…probably,”

“what do you mean by probably?!” chopper said once more, turning to run out of the room in fear for his life. “eating me isn’t a joke, y’know?!”

“i never said it was!”

“yeah, apparently, you don’t say a lot of things, shit for brains,” sanji sarcastically chimed in, taking the clean plate off of [name]’s hands and setting it on the table.

“i miss zoro,” [name] said out of the blue, making sanji look at him incredulously.

“if you miss him why don’t you go running back to the going merry?! what does that even have to do with i just said?!” sanji berated him, pulling at his ear multiple times. “he doesn’t even like you!”

“are you saying you like me, sanji? what a romantic confession!”

“i’ll kill you!!!”

[name] laughed as the chef continued pulling on his ear, finding the shift in his attitude hilarious since he mentioned their swordsman. the easiest way to rile up sanji was mentioning zoro, after all. and sanji riled up and annoyed was always funny to [name].

their mini fight was broken up, however, when nami rest her hand on sanji’s arm. that completely made him still, not wanting to accidentally harm her in his actions, leaving [name]’s side and going to nami’s.

“you loud idiots leave the room, i’ve gotten tired again,” she said simply, turning her head to the window and yawning, “[name], why don’t you lie down as well?”

“hm, maybe i’ll go back to the room,” [name] said, feeling himself grow drowsy as well. when you eat food to your heart and stomach’s content, you do tend to get more tired, he thought to himself. “luffy, carry me to my room!”

“you have legs, don’t you?!” sanji shouted, making [name] brush him off once again.

luffy only grinned in happiness, taking [name] on his back in a piggy back ride and shouted about going on a race around the castle.

“just take me to my room, idiot!” [name] said, holding onto luffy tight as the rubber man began to run around the entire castle.

throughout the empty halls, [name]’s shouts could be heard from everywhere, making the rest of the crew sweatdrop at the duo’s antics.

when they were finally at [name]’s previous resting room, luffy dropped him off with a smile on his face.

”we’re gonna get chopper!” luffy said with a mischevious look on his face, “he’s gonna be our doctor, you think it’s a good idea right?!”

“well, why are you asking me? you’re the captain, idiot,” [name] said, chuckling as luffy peered so close to his face they were only centimeters apart. the ever oblivious luffy definitely had no sense of personal space.

“huh? i wanna know what you think,” luffy said simply, leaning closer to [name] to the point their noses and foreheads were touching, “it’s a good idea, right? right? i come up with great ideas, huh!”

“it’s a fine plan, luffy,” [name] said, pushing luffy’s forehead with his own before laying his head on his pillow, “now let me sleep,”

to his surprise, luffy didn’t immediately bolt out the room. instead, the captain just sat on the chair nereby [name]’s bed and looked at him.

“luf-”

“i wanna watch you sleep!” luffy said with a childish grin, leaning forward once more, “go sleep!”

[name]’s face cringed, “that’s creepy, plus it’s harder to sleep knowing you’re watching me…which is, an issue by itself,” but it seemed luffy didn’t pay attention to his words at all, simply humming a familiar tune to himself as [name] only resisted the urge to lecture luffy.

“just go, luffy,”

“i’m busy,”

“doing what?”

“watching!”

“it’s weird, go away!”

“it’s not weird,”

[name] turned on his side, pulling the blanket up to his face, “why is my captain such a weirdo…” he said, fake sniffles leaving his mouth as luffy only laughed behind him.

his captain was laughing at his misery. he could only sigh, pretend he didn’t know that luffy was there, and force himself to sleep.

luffy did stay for a little extra while longer, wanting to make sure that [name] was really sleeping. he pushed the chair closer to [name]’s bed and leaned his head down, so that it was resting on [name]’s chest.

he furrowed his eyebrows and shut his eyes, lips brought together as if he was in deep thought. he made sure his ear was pressed snug against [name]’s bare chest, focusing.

when he finally heard [name]’s steady heartbeat, he finally opened his eyes and let a look of relief wash over his face. he didn’t move from his spot, though, keeping his head against [name]’s chest.

[name] really scared luffy earlier. the man was so determined to get a doctor for nami that he didn’t really care much for his own person. but luffy noticed. the state he was in when they finally reached the top made the captain frown. [name] was so beat up and tired.

luffy usually didn’t pick up on a lot of things, but when it came to [name], he noticed almost everything.

and he saw that [name] was so eager to get nami to feel better he threw the health of his own body out the window. because of that, it became clear to luffy what their next course of action was.

get a doctor on board the going merry so [name] doesn’t have to make so many sacrifices in the future. plus, having someone there to treat their wounds from their awesome fights would also be a plus! luffy grinned at the thought of another friend sailing with them, going on adventures.

and [name] rarely ever got hurt, but if and whenever he does, luffy wants to be sure he’ll be treated. chopper just had to join them! he wouldn’t take no for an answer either. it’d be for the health of his crew, so it was vital chopper joined.

as he thought of ways to persuade the unique reindeer, he kept his ear pressed to [name]’s chest, humming a childhood song to himself. one that was given to him by [name] and made him think of him. and whenever he thought of [name], he couldn't help but smile. easily, like when he was a kid, he was hypnotized by the rhythmic beating and felt relaxed.

_

『 prev 』 ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌊 ꒱ 『 next 』

_

taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! <3 :

@skullr0se

[wosowrites]

Us Always ( Guro Reiten x Reader )

warnings: none

a/n: i know this isn’t the most family oriented but i really tried 😭 hopefully it’s okay. based off this request:

prompt: cute family moments w guro

April 17 2021

By this time, you had known Guro for seven years, and you were madly in love with the norwegian, and she, with you. You were both 25, having been born only a day apart. Today was your four year anniversary. It had taken you guys a very long amount of time to start dating. You had known each other by playing for Norway, but you were in denial about your sexuality for a while, and so was Guro. You had told people you were best friends, but best friends hearts don’t start beating like crazy when they lie their head down on their 'friends' lap.

You had planned a whole thing for your anniversary. You had asked Sam Kerr, Erin Cuthbert and Millie Bright to distract your girlfriend for a few hours, from 4:00 pm to 6:00 pm, so that you could set up your appartement. Now you really weren’t into the lovey dovey things. You would get her flowers and chocolates and jewelry to express your love for her, you wouldn’t use words. Acts of service were your love language. And so, when Guro left, you told her you would be out till 6:30 because you had a meeting with Nike, your sponsor.

Guro didn’t think you were neglecting your anniversary, she had made you a nice breakfast in the morning and you guys had cuddled in bed for an hour, just being happy you were with each other. So, she didn’t argue when the girls asked her to hang out, although she did wish you were there.

Your plan for their night together was a really big throwback. You would be building a blanket fort, and ordering her her favorite food. Why? The night you and Guro had first kissed, you were babysitting Guro’s niece, who had insisted on building a blanket fort. Except turns out that she got tired halfway through and fell asleep. So you and Guro had brought her to bed, and then you decided to keep on building the fort. You had drifted to sleep together under a ceiling of blankets, and when you woke up at 2:00 in the morning, Guro was awake and looking at you. And you kissed her. The rest- as corny as it is- was history.

You got to work quickly, starting by cleaning the living room. You then built the fort. You were pretty handy, and very skilled in the art of entertaining children because both your older siblings were married and had children. And your go too was always forts. You used blankets, pillows, and put fairy lights in it.

After that was set up, you took a quick picture of it and then went on your phone. You had ordered food to come at 6:15, and it was all your favorite things. There was saag paneer with rice, onion bajii, pizza and sushi. It was going to be a feast. All you had to do is make a baked Alaska. Her favorite desert. It was simple, just ice cream coated with graham crackers and whipped cream. So you would put it in the oven 20 minutes before it was time to eat the desert. It was now 5:30, the fort had taken a while, so you turned on the TV and went on netflix, selecting a horror movie you both knew you would barely be watching. Then, you went to your shared bedroom and put on her favorite outfit of yours. Which consisted of nike pros and a baggy but not long grey hoodie of hers, she loved seeing you in her clothes, and she was an ass girl, and the nike pro’s did you justice. You slipped your glasses on and then heard the door open. You walked out into the main area, seeing Guro starting at the fort. She turned to look at you, a wide smile on her face. "Baby… what did you do?" Guro said, laughing and putting down her bag to come jump in your arms.

You both made a point of speaking english when you could because your english wasn’t great.

You caught her in your arms and spun her around. "I recreated the scenes of our first kiss. I love you. So much. And i’m so lucky to be with you." You told her, all while her legs were around your waist. She kissed you again on the lips before peppering your face with them. She then jumped down and took off her shoes. "I’m gonna go change, and then we eat?" She said. "Food should be here in 5." You smiled at her. While she changed, you leaned on the counter and decided to post something on instagram.

@y/n.y/l/n

All these years with you and I will never get used to your risky hikes. But I’ll keep on loving you, always. Four years down, forever to go.

Alle disse årene med deg og jeg vil aldri venne meg til dine risikable fotturer. Men jeg vil fortsette å elske deg, alltid. Fire år ned, for alltid igjen.

You put your phone down as Guro walked out the bedroom, wearing a similar outfit as you. Just then, the doorbell rang. "Go sit down. I have a movie ready."

The rest of the night was perfect, it was everything, and it was all you needed, her.

March 30 2023

You all knew you could not let Lyon score. That ball could not go in the back of Ann Kat’s net. If only knowing it couldn’t end up back there was enough. It wasn’t.

When Lyon scored, you knew it wasn’t over. As the attacking midfielder, you knew you had to create an opportunity for the team. But then it went into extra time, and Lyon scored again. You thought you were going to die.

Your girlfriend got subbed off, you couldn’t even recall for who, but she was on the bench, and she was mad.

And then, things seemed to turn around. You ran into the box and passed the ball to Lauren who received it perfectly, until you saw a foot stick in front of Lauren’s, sending her tumbling to the ground. You threw your hands up in the air as Lyon cleared it, all of Chelsea was going insane, the Lyon players were trying to defend their team, both benches were on their feet and the Chelsea fans at Stamford Bridge were screaming in rage. Time moved in slow motion, you looked over to Jessie Fleming with a mix of fear and hope in your heart. She looked at you the same way. And then, it seemed as though everything fast forwarded and the ref was pointing at the penalty spot, and Sophie Ingle was handing you the ball. "Can you do this?" She said to you. "Yes. Yeah I can do this." You answered, grabbing it and placing it on the spot. You didn’t want to look back at the bench, if you saw your Guro, you would be too concentrated on not letting her down to score the perfect penalty. You fiddled with the ball a bit before finding the perfect position for it to rest in. You backed up and breathed heavily. You knew how to do this. You had this.

And then the whistle blew, and your foot hit the ball, and the keeper went right and the ball went top left and you were screaming and running to the bench where Emma Hayes had just turned around and was screaming and jumping with Erin Cuthbert. You jumped into Guro’s arms, shaking so hard and screaming out of joy. You were level, and this quarter final was going to penalties.

Your brother and your sister were in the stand with their kids, all of them wearing your name on their back, except for one of the kids, who loved Guro more than she loved you, you couldn’t even bring yourself to mind because the sight of your girlfriends name on your niece’s back was the most wonderful thing ever.

Jess Carter took the first penalty. Score.

Lyon. Score.

Sam Kerr. Score.

Lyon. Score.

Jessie Fleming. Score.

Lyon. Miss.

Lauren James. Miss.

Lyon. Score.

It was your turn. You couldn’t miss. And you didn’t. You sunk it in with ease and pumped your fist in the air, running to Jessie and Niahm, hugging Magda and Joanna.

And then Ann Kat worked magic, and Chelsea was through.

The whole team ran to Ann Kat and dog piled on top of her, but you made sure to run to Guro who was running off the bench and onto the pitch. You jumped into her arms, hugging her head to your chest and holding her tightly. "MY GIRL! MY GIRL!" Guro yelled, smiling up at you and then hugging your upper body again as you rested your cheek on her head. Guro put you down and then you both ran to the rest of the group, hand in hand. You and Ann Kat hugged, the team spraying water on the both of you. "Ice cold!" She said to you, smiling. "Right back at you Keep!" You smiled.

The celebrations were amazing, but you were quick to find your siblings. You hugged your sister tightly and then your brother. They all praised you, making you blush from the attention. You focused on the five kids there, hugging the and smiling. You picked up the youngest, a seven month old girl and walked on the pitch with her, taking her to your teammates.

"Gee!" Guro said, happy to see the baby. Georgia reached out for Guro who took her gladly, smiling at her mini Chelsea jersey. You took the opportunity to go sign a few things as Guro held your niece, she was getting much attention from Niahm and Jessie. When you got back, you took her back to her mother and swapped her for your five year nephew, JJ, who was incredibly social and wanted to say hi to everyone. You soon got called over for a quick post match interview. "You want to come, JJ? You wanna be on TV with auntie?" You asked him. "Yeah!" He said happily. You quickly asked your sister, who’s son it was and she agreed to it. Then, you picked him up and brought him to the cameras.

"Hi!" The reporter said, passing you a headset. "Hi, nice to see you again." You answered, recognizing her from other games. "Same to you, same to you. Who’s this?" She asked, looking at the boy in your arms. "I’m JJ." He said, the camera now rolling. "Well hello, JJ. The woman said. She then turned to you. "Well, I’m sure you guys are ecstatic to have made it through. How do you feel about your performance as a team?" She asked. "Um, not good enough. We were extremely lucky to have had that clip in the box. I know a lot of people will say the game was stolen from Lyon, they were the better side but we kept our calm and I think that showed. I’m very proud of this team and I’m just happy not to have missed." You said, smiling. "Yeah, a very special penalty that was. So now there are two english teams in the semi finals. How do you feel about maybe having to play Arsenal again?" The woman asked you.

You knew what was coming the second she said that. The thing is, Guro had had a lot of fun teaching three year old JJ to say "London is blue!" every time the word Arsenal was brought up. She thought it was hilarious. So that’s what happened.

"LONDON IS BLUE!" He yelled, his squeaky little voice making you jump. The reporters and you were quiet for a second before you all burst out laughing. "I’m so sorry, my girlfriend taught him that I promise. Anyways uh, yeah no we’re just going to concentrate on the Barca game, Arsenal is not our issue right now." You told her.

You talked for a couple more minutes and then you wrapped it up. You handed JJ back to his parents and rushed into the tunnel where Guro was waiting for you away from the cameras. "Can I kiss you now?" She asked. "Please. And don’t stop."

[rolandtowen]

Chapter Five is here! Steve and Bucky finally reunite for some calming hobby time - read on Ao3 or under the cut!

chapter warnings: reference to Sam & Bucky's conversation from the previous chapter

Steve's heart is pounding as the elevator makes its way to Bucky's floor. It's been over a week since the fight on the Helicarriers, and while Steve's body has healed, his mind is still reeling. 

There'd been a moment of lucidity, Bucky on top of him, hesitating–and then Steve felt the cold of the Potomac consume him. Sam told him, when he regained consciousness the next day, that they'd found the two of them side by side on the shoreline. Bucky had still been conscious, looking like he was standing watch over Steve. Maria Hill had to coax him into the back of a SHIELD van with a promise of water and a blanket in order to get a look at Steve. 

And since then, Steve has been watching Bucky's slow, painful recovery from the other side of a camera feed. Try as he might, he can't get the sound of Bucky screaming while his bones snap out of his head. So on the nights he's lost sleep (every night, really), he's been watching the feed to Bucky's apartment. 

He sees Bucky sleep on the floor every night, clutching a blanket to him. He watches the way Bucky's body changes from curled in on itself to painfully straight when Natasha enters his apartment. He holds back tears when Bucky screams himself awake and quietly asks JARVIS to play the rain sounds while he rocks back and forth on the floor. 

Steve will never understand the seventy-plus years of horror Bucky endured, but he knows PTSD. It'd been Bruce, surprisingly, who'd seen it first in Steve. He'd given Steve the contact for his own therapist after the Battle of New York, and Steve learned he had PTSD, ‘shell-shock’, as he'd known it before the ice. Even after years of therapy, even after meeting Sam, a fellow soldier who gets it, and tries to help as well, Steve still doesn't sleep very well. His nightmares are too real, too vivid. He can feel the ice on his skin, smell the jet fuel, hear the ticking of bombs. 

He's sure it's the same for Bucky, night terrors made all too real by supersoldier senses. Steve wants his best friend back, but most of all he wants to help this guy. Wants to see him sleep through the night for once, see the tension lifted from his shoulders. Even if his Bucky never comes back, there's still a man suffering in front of him, and Steve is determined to do something about it. 

He buys a coloring book. They make those for adults now, he's learned. He grabs it during his record-buying outing with Sam. He sees the words, “The Hobbit”, and grabs it immediately. Bucky had loved that book, had bought it special-order from England with every penny he could scrape together for six months. “People still like this book?” He asks Sam, showing him the cover. 

Sam's eyes light up. “Yeah, man! Actually, they're releasing the last movie based on it later this year. They made a whole trilogy from one book.” Sam helps Steve pick out a box of colored pencils, and on their way to check out, he stops dead in his tracks. “Oh my God, hold on.” He runs to the book section, coming back with a bundle of four books. “The Hobbit had three sequels,” he explains. “These came out after the war. There's movies of these ones too.” 

They spent a lot of Stark's money on books, music, and art supplies that day. All of which Steve has loaded into a duffel bag to bring to Bucky’s apartment. The elevator dings, and Steve steps forward, his heart pounding. Somewhere, on this floor, is Bucky. “Hello?” He calls, trying to contain the waver in his voice. “My name’s Steve, JARVIS let me know I could come visit?”

A mop of brown hair emerges from the puddle of blankets on the couch. “Hello,” comes Bucky’s voice, and damn, it’s rough from sleep and disuse, but it’s still Bucky, through and through. More of Bucky emerges from the blanket puddle, and he looks a bit panicked. “I’m so sorry, I set an alarm, I swear.” Bucky tries to sit up quickly. “Rebecca said it was okay if I wanted to sleep more,” he offers, like a child justifying his actions. 

“That’s alright,” Steve cracks a smile. He's actually overjoyed to see that Bucky feels safe enough to sleep on the couch. “Ain’t in any hurry.” He crosses into the living room, setting down his duffel bag, settling into an armchair next to the couch. He extends a hand instinctually. “My name’s Steve.” 

He regrets it, when he sees the look that crosses Bucky’s face. It’s not fearful, not quite a flinch–but something more akin to dread. “I don’t–I’m sorry,” Bucky looks at Steve’s extended hand. “What do you want me to do?”

Steve blinks. “Oh. It’s a handshake. People do them when meeting new people. You don’t have to shake mine, though, I get it.” It hadn’t taken a Tony Stark level of genius to piece together that something happened during Sam’s first visit with Bucky, not after Sam came back to their apartment with a distant look on his face. Steve had begged him to say something. 

“ Servicing,” Sam had hissed at him. “They assaulted him and called it servicing. ”  

Steve wished Alexander Pierce had died a little slower. Okay, a lot slower. 

He’s surprised, then, as Bucky extends his right hand out to grasp his. He shakes their joined hands jerkily, once, twice, and then releases his grasp. “I don’t have a name,” Bucky murmurs. “But it’s nice to meet you, Steve.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “You’re familiar, too.” 

Steve nods, pulling his hand to rest on his thigh, trying to think of anything other than the familiar heat of Bucky seeping into his skin through his jeans. “You were assigned to kill me, before you defected from HYDRA.” Steve cocks his head. “Do you–do you remember? You pulled me from the river, after the Helicarriers went down.”

Bucky looks him over, then makes an aborted moment with his head. Neither a nod or a shake. “It’s–it’s all jumbled. I’m not quite sure what’s real and what’s dreams–and I don’t know what’s recent or what’s past either.” He peers at Steve more closely. “And–the faces. I can't quite…remember the faces.”

“That’s alright, we're going to try and help with that,” Steve assures him, sure that Bucky's describing a symptom related to his brain damage. “I just–wanted to thank you, for that. Haven’t had the opportunity to do it yet.” 

Bucky looks at him like Steve’s grown a second head. “Why are you thanking me? I almost killed you–at least, I think I almost did, but it looks like you’re a tough son of a bitch.”

“Well, that I am,” Steve can’t help but laugh, because Bucky’s Brooklyn accent has slipped in on a few words, fallen through the cracks of the Soldier’s facade, and Steve drinks the syllables in like cold water on a hot day. “But, you didn’t have to fish me out–that’s the bit I’m thanking you for. And I wanted to apologize too,” Steve gestures towards Bucky, “for breaking your arm.”

Bucky looks down at his right arm. “It wasn't that bad. I've had worse.”

That does nothing to assuage Steve's guilt, but he chooses to nod in understanding. “Still. I'm sorry.”

“Did–” Bucky starts. “Did I know you? Before my assignment?”

Steve wants to blurt everything out, but keeps Rebecca’s advice in mind, and toes the line a bit. “What makes you ask?”

Bucky shakes his head, thinking. “On the Helicarriers, you–you called me something, you had given me a name , and it made me wonder–if we’d met before.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Steve rubs his palms along his jeans, trying to figure out how much to say. He may as well confirm what Bucky already knows, no sense in hiding that. “We knew each other before HYDRA. Your full name is James Buchanan Barnes. I called you Bucky, or Buck, for short.”

Bucky nods once at his name, stares at his blanket-covered lap, before bringing his eyes to meet Steve’s. “Can I–the name–” He breaks off, flesh hand twisting up in the blankets before finding his voice again. “May I keep the name, please?”

Steve feels like he’s been slapped, because Bucky is asking for permission to keep his own name, and looking scared out of his mind while doing it. He forces his face to stay neutral, warm, and says: “‘Course, Buck. It’s your name.”

***

A name. 

The Sold– Bucky has a name. He’s called Bucky. He even has a nickname, Buck. He likes the way it sounds on Steve’s lips, clipped but soft. Steve’s hands are soft, too. 

Steve gestures to the duffel bag at his feet, asks the–Bucky–if he wants to listen to some music. Music? Bucky nods, having no idea what that means, but wanting to do whatever makes Steve happy. The man who gave him a name. 

Steve shows him how to work a new machine, a turntable, he calls it–and he pulls a large square package out of his duffel bag. Out of this package, Steve pulls a large black disk, a record, and the image of it stirs something deep in Bucky’s mind. He gets a whiff of cigarette smoke, feels warm bodies pressing up against his, but not–not in the bad way. This memory is gentle, this memory is happy . 

The sensations only intensify when Steve hits “play” on the turntable, and the record crackles to life. And it’s–it’s music. Bucky gets a flash of words, all at once–trumpet, piano, Harlem, Duke, foxtrot, orchestra, Cotton Club–and though his memories are jumbled, he knows one thing for certain–he wants the music to continue. He reaches his flesh hand out to the turntable, placing it against the wooden stand, feeling the vibrations travel up his arm and into his body, where it feels like they burrow and nest in his chest. 

“Like it?” Steve asks. “This one’s Duke Ellington. I got a few more I thought you might like,” Steve gestures to a stack of records he’d pulled from his duffel bag. “Sam said music was good for, uh, memory. Thought it might help you–untangle things.”

Bucky nods, slowly, still taking in the sounds and the vibrations coming from the turntable. “That’s–real nice of you.” He takes a deep breath in. “Is this something people enjoy?”

Steve finds the emphasis a bit odd, the way Bucky had said ‘people’, but he shrugs. “I figure so. Never met a person that didn’t like some kind of music. Why you askin’?” 

Bucky looks deep in thought. “Sam told me–everyone’s helping me, just because I’m a person. I’ve got a bet going with him that I’m not–and I’ve been collecting evidence for either side. If I like music, I guess that’s another point in the ‘person’ column.’”

Oh. Oh God. That…explains some things, Steve thinks. It’s not just that Bucky doesn’t remember who he is, he’s not even convinced that he’s a person. “Well, you got a name now, too. Another point in that column.”

Bucky nods at this, finally pulling himself away from the turntable. “I should write that down, before I forget.” He gets his notebook from the kitchen table, and adds two points to the ‘evidence that the Soldier is a person’ column. 

The Soldier enjoys music

The Soldier is called Bucky/Buck

He turns to another page, one he’s titled ‘memories’ and writes down furiously:

Trumpet

Piano

Harlem

Duke (Ellington?)

Foxtrot

Orchestra

Cotton Club

The music has permeated his brain, and he snaps his notebook shut just as the record shifts to a new song, a slower one. He feels a phantom hand at his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder, but he shakes it away. He takes in Steve’s form, sprawled back out on the armchair. “Was–did you have any tasks for me?” He asks, because Natalia had given him tasks, Sam had given him a lesson, and Steve…Steve has only given him music. Expected nothing from him. 

“I mean, my plans are pretty plain, Buck,” Steve sits up a bit more. “I thought, you must be bored out of your mind up here, no hobbies or nothin’.” Steve takes in a breath, lets it out like a sigh. “I used to be a soldier, too, and I damn near lost my mind trying to be a civilian. Must’ve gone through a dozen punching bags in a week, because I didn’t know what else to do with my time.” Steve leans over as he talks, picking up his duffel bag again. “So I got you a bit of everything to try.”

Bucky watches, enraptured, as Steve pulls things out of his duffel bag and places them on the coffee table while listing each item’s benefits. “Coloring book, and pencils, that’s supposed to be calming. Books, nice long fantasies in case you’re really bored. Have you used the TV yet?”

Bucky shakes his head, and so Steve walks him through turning on the big black screen facing the couch, a television, shows him some of his favorite shows, which are mostly about nature and art. “So that’s my plan, basically.” Steve says, after he’s certain he’s fully exhausted his crash course on hobbies. “Thought it might help, just to have someone to hang out with you for a few hours every day, doing something fun. We don’t even have to talk, if you don’t wanna.”

Bucky stares at the pile of items on the coffee table. “And…when do I give these back?” 

Steve’s smile falters just a bit, but he thinks he hides it well. “They’re gifts, Buck. They’re yours to keep.” And Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that, just keeps staring at the kitchen table, because he’s never had his own things, let alone things designed just for pleasure. 

“Thank you, Steve. Could we just–just keep listening to the music, for now?”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve murmurs, taking in the sight of Bucky relaxing into the couch, drumming his fingers softly on his thigh in time to the music. “We got all the time in the world.”

***

Steve stays for his whole two hour time slot, eventually flipping over the record, then changing it altogether to one from Ella Fitzgerald. He'd chosen Duke to start with, because he remembers one night, a few weeks before Bucky got drafted, going to Harlem, to the Cotton Club, and seeing the king of swing live. It had been their last time together, untainted by the war raging across Europe. 

And now, here they are in the future. And Steve can’t help feeling like the war meant…nothing. He hadn’t destroyed HYDRA, far from it–he’d worked for it. For the same organization that had tortured Bucky into compliance. For the same organization that wanted total, absolute power over the world’s population. He’d laid down his life, gone into the ice, and none of it mattered. 

Steve knows he should be making another appointment with his therapist–it’d been kinda hard to get in while a fugitive–but it feels like he’s been pulled in every direction. Bucky needs him, Maria needs him, America needs him. He watches as Bucky tentatively colors a page, one with a dragon in it, and he knows where he’s needed most. He texts his therapist, schedules an appointment for next week, and settles in. He’d brought his own sketchbook, one he’d bought himself, because the Smithsonian still had his original, and he starts to draw. 

They sit in companionable silence until JARVIS speaks softly: “Sam would like to know if he can come for his visit, Soldier.”

Bucky startles (and so does Steve, he still hasn’t quite adjusted to JARVIS), but tells JARVIS Sam can come. Bucky opens his mouth to say something else, then appears to think better of it, closing his mouth, shaking his head, and returning to coloring. 

“What is it?” Steve pries gently. 

“Will–will only you call me Bucky? Am I still the Soldier to everyone else?”

“Oh! No, everyone can call you Bucky, if that’s what you want.” Steve understands immediately. JARVIS hadn’t been updated on his name change yet. “Do you want JARVIS to call you Bucky?” A nod. “What about everyone else?”

Another nod. “I don’t…want to be the Soldier anymore,” Bucky says, curling in on himself, like he’s bracing for a blow. 

“Hey, I’m glad you told me,” Steve assures him, trying to contain his excitement. “You just have to let him know–like this,” Steve offers to demonstrate. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?” Comes the AI’s soothing voice. 

“Change of protocol: please refer to the Soldier as Bucky now.”

“Very good, Captain. Shall I inform the rest of the team?”

“Yes, JARVIS. Thank you.”

“Of course, Captain. Welcome, Bucky.”

[allycat319]

Unlikely Affection Chapter 18: Class Is In Session

I spent a good amount of time that evening in the shower, letting the hot water cascade down my body and clear my mind. After about an hour, I realized it was probably hopeless and I desperately needed to go to bed and try to get at least a couple hours of sleep before classes tomorrow. 

When I finished drying my body and hair, I pulled on my nightgown and crawled into my four poster bed, pulling the curtains closed around me and snuggling down into the blankets. I thought about everything while I laid there, my grandfather, the Order of The Phoenix and of course Edwins crazy idea that Severus loves me. He couldn’t love me…Could he? I mean if we are being honest, he doesn't seem to be the type to love someone, especially someone he is in an illicit affair with. It just doesn’t fit his personality, and he couldn’t trust me enough to tell me that he was a spy. I drifted to sleep after being able to convince myself after what felt like an eternity that Severus indeed does not love me and Edwin had lost the few marbles he had left. 

***The Next Morning*** 

I decided to skip breakfast and sleep in due to my lack of ability to fall asleep at a reasonable hour, thanks mostly to my wandering mind and Edwin’s lack of control with his mouth. When my alarm clock finally sounded, I got up and threw on my robes, slinging my bag over my shoulder before I walked out of the dorms and down to the common room. 

My first class of the morning was charms with Professor Flitwick, who decided to begin the year by going over the bubble head charm. I took notes as normal and almost as quickly as it began, class was over and Flitwick was dismissing us to our second class of the day which was the one I was dreading almost as much as potions…Defense against the dark arts with the Toad herself. 

I arrived at class a few minutes early and sat down at an empty desk in the middle of the room beside Edwin, who gave me a smile as a greeting. 

“So…Double potions after lunch and then assistant duties during free period. You ready?” He asked and I rolled my eyes and fished for my notebook from my bag, sitting it on the table with my quill as people began to file into the classroom and take seats around us. 

“Would you shut it?” I hissed. 

Edwin threw his hands up in defeat, “Fine. I’m done.” He laughed quietly. 

After everyone was seated, Umbridge opened the door to her office and made her way down the spiral staircase. Smiling at everyone as she explained that we would be studying a ‘ministry approved’ N.E.W.T level DADA class. The whispers of shocked students filled the room as she handed out the textbooks the ministry course required us to use. Edwin and I flipped through them and looked at each other incredulously, both of us noticing almost immediately that there was nothing in the books about defensive magic or protecting ourselves from danger. 

Luckily for me, I avoided her cold eyes and weirdly unsettling giggle for the entirety of class, while she advised us on what amazing career opportunities were available at the ministry and how bright young faces like ours would be a welcome addition. Edwin and I scoffed quietly to ourselves and thankfully, the very strange first class was over not long after. 

“You alright?” He asked and I sighed. 

Lunch followed DADA and Edwin and I sat together as usual. He hurriedly scarfed down multiple ham and cheese sandwiches and I ate a handful of crisps and an apple, my stomach churning at the thought of having to see Severus soon and then help him with the class after mine. Edwin noticed my fleeting appetite and nudged me gently.

“Guess I'm just worried about how I plan to approach the fact that I know the things that went on this summer.” I explained as discreetly as possible to avoid the many ears that could potentially be listening in on our conversation. 

“You need to act like you don’t know. If you tell him that I told you about the ‘thing’ he is going to murder me.” Edwin looked slightly panicked. 

“Fine, I’ll let him tell me. He said he was going to explain everything to me anyway…maybe that was what he was referring to… Now come on, you have divination and I have to get to potions.” I grabbed my bag and Edwin walked with me out of the Great Hall before wishing me luck and scurrying up the enchanted staircase towards the divination classroom. 

I inhaled and began my slow descent to the dungeons. The halls grew colder as I got closer to the potions classroom and when I arrived at the opened classroom door there were already 4 Slytherins, 2 Ravenclaws and 1 Hufflepuff in the classroom. Severus wasn’t lying when he said he was very selective on who got to take this class. 

I was very thankful when, after a few moments another Hufflepuff walked into the room. Marigold Greenway, the girl that Edwin had a massive crush on and the only person it seemed that I knew in this class. Marigold or Mari as her friends called her was incredibly pretty in the face, with long blonde hair, big green eyes and the kindest heart I had witnessed someone have.  

I waved at her and she smiled, joining me at my table. “Hey Aurora! We haven’t spoken in so long, How are you?” She asked, continuing to smile brightly. 

“Not horrible, thankfully! I'm a bit nervous about N.E.W.T potions but I’m sure it will be fine.” I laughed and we continued to chat until Severus walked into the classroom, robes bellowing behind him. 

“Silence.” He demanded once he reached the blackboard, the entire class fell completely silent at his request and Marigold and I looked at each other both silently wondering what this class was going to consist of and just how difficult we chose to make our lives this year. 

“I have high expectations for those of you that have shown you are capable enough to be in this class. But be warned, I will not accept anything but outstanding from you all.” His voice sent shivers down my spine and the deep baritone was just a reminder that last night our reunion was interrupted and I was desperately horny. . 

I sat through the excruciating hour of his lecture, clenching my thighs together trying my best to get any form of relief and then it was time to actually brew the potion and hope that I was going to be able to concentrate on not screwing up the amortentia we were brewing. Ignoring the ache between my legs. But of course, always the bastard Severus decided to stalk silently around the classroom, leaning over each individual cauldron to critique the contents. 

When he arrived at Marigold and I, he lingered a little longer than he did with the rest of the class but thankfully he spared me and walked away to take a seat at his desk while we finished brewing. Around thirty minutes before class ended, Severus invited us to gather around the front table where a cauldron was bubbling away. Our amortentia needed a few days to brew so Severus informed us that we would be smelling a previously brewed potion and needed to write two rolls of parchment on the effects of the potion and what we smelled when we sniffed the potion. 

My heart leapt in my chest when it was my turn to smell the potion. I was beyond relieved at the beginning of this test that Severus said we need not tell the entire class what entices us. When I stepped up to the cauldron, I took a long wiff and caught the smell of old books, spices and a slight hit of something bitter. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was smelling the looming figure that leaned against the desk behind us. I stepped back from the potion and scribbled down random smells into my notebook, there was absolutely no way Severus was going to know that according to the amortentia, I was falling in love with him. 

When class was over, my classmates scurried out of the classroom while I remained seated at my table. After the last student made their way out, Severus flicked his hand and the door closed silently. I stood from my seat and walked over to his desk, taking a seat across from him. My mind was running between the amortentia and the nonsense Edwin was spewing earlier…I could feel myself falling for him but could he feel the same way about me? 

“Little Star?” I was ripped away from my thoughts as Severus spoke, somehow standing directly in front of me now. “Are you alright?” 

I nodded quickly, standing and beginning to help him quickly prepare for the upcoming class of second years that were set to be arriving any minute. 

“You’re sure?” He asked, magically erasing the chalk from the board near his desk. 

“Positive. Just a little off…Didn’t sleep well.” I smiled and walked up to him, placing a quick kiss on his lips before. 

The next class went well and ended without any explosions. I helped Severus clean up and announced that I was heading to meet Edwin in the library, which wasn’t a lie… Flitwick had assigned an essay that he was probably going to receive a T on if I didn’t help him and it gave me the perfect excuse to avoid talking to Severus about the amortentia. 

I picked up my bag and blew him a kiss, turning to leave the classroom when... 

“Not so quick.” I stopped in my tracks and turned back around. 

“I’m sorry, I told Edwin I would meet him before dinner.” I spoke quickly, trying to avoid his gaze. I was somewhere between wanting him to take me right there on the desk and panicking because I had finally admitted to myself…by way of the amortentia that I loved him. I didn’t want to stick around and have this conversation, I wanted to put it off a little longer until after dinner, when I snuck down to the dungeons to spend the evening with him. 

“You will have plenty of time to meet Finley before dinner…We need to discuss last night.” he said plainly, sitting down at his desk. 

“Can we talk about it tonight…After dinner?” I asked, walking up to the desk. 

“I suppose…I should have the time this evening to make up for last night.” He smirked and I giggled, for a split second I forgot that I was having an internal crisis and actually did want to pull him into his chambers and ride him until next week…No. I need to meet Edwin. 

***The Library***

Edwin and I stayed in the library until well after dinner, he was truly struggling with charms already and I felt bad for him. Madam Pince offered to have a house elf bring us a few sandwiches while we studied and we were incredibly grateful. 

“I can’t believe I already have two rolls of parchment due next week and it's just the first day of class.” Edwin grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“The sooner you get it done, the sooner you don’t have to worry about it.” I responded, scribbling on my own parchment about the effects and uses of amortentia. 

“What are you writing about over there?” He peaked over to see what I was writing and smirked. “Amortentia? That's a love potion…right?” 

“Yes, and I know where you’re going with this so don’t even start.” I hissed and Edwin threw his hands up. 

“I’m not starting anything…” He trailed off. “Did you smell him?” He asked after a few moments. 

“Edwin…” My tone warned him that I was not in the mood. 

“Come on Rora, you can tell me anything.” I huffed as he prodded me for answers. 

“I am not doing this with you.” I stood and looked at my watch “Shit, I was supposed to meet him in the dungeons an hour ago. He is going to be livid.” 

I gathered my things quickly and walked out of the library. Edwin caught up to me, huffing and puffing because he was running to match my pace. 

I growled when he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Come on tell me…Did you smell him?” He asked and I stepped to the side, trying to maneuver a way around him but he blocked my path again. 

“I said stop it.” I cut my eyes at him and he placed both hands on my shoulders. 

“Just admit it…You love him.” He prodded again and I ripped my shoulders out of his grasp. 

“Fine…Fine fine fine. You win! Yes, I smelled him in the potion and yes I love him…Are you fucking satisfied?” My voice carried in the empty hallway and I turned around, set on escaping down the hallway I had just passed behind me. 

But as soon as I turned the corner, I ran face first into the chest of the dungeon bat himself.

Authors note: Oh how I love a good cliff hanger!

If you are enjoying the story, please don't forget to comment and like!

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3211

after sleeping in and confirming plans, i fell back asleep this morning and woke up finally with my "you should be leaving now" alarm. i got up real fast, showered, died of heat exhaustion, dressed, and left in like twenty minutes. not quite a record but damn close.

i went with a friend and her mom to get lunch at a vietnamese place and cupcakes from my favorite bakery. for lunch i got beef pho and dumplings and it was all really good. i ended up with leftovers, which was surprising, but the dumplings were filling. so i put it in a container, grabbed a spoon and chopsticks, asked for a bag, and packed it all away, and we left.

at the bakery i picked up some cupcakes and a flower cookie, the kind i usually get when i go there, the ones that are my favorite. i picked a blue one today. i'm very excited to eat it.

(i'll die on the hill that klemm's bakery is the best bakery in new hampshire. if someone can prove me wrong i'll still die on that hill.)

after that adventure, i went back to joel's and i took a nap. it had gradually been raining harder and harder over those few hours, so by the time i got back it was pretty loud on my little car. but it was dull out and gray and comforting, and it was definitely sleep-inducing. i was happy to go back to bed for a while.

i woke up a little after 6, having slept about two hours. i picked up my stuff and headed home, leaving my laptop there because i didn't really need to bring it home. i also put the cupcakes in the fridge.

i got home around 7, and i sat and talked with my momma for a bit. it'd been a few days since i was last home, so i wanted to check in on her to see how she was feeling, plus that's the one place left to sit in the house, and i just missed my momma.

i opened my mail, which included a lego set, a thank you card from gramma, and the order i placed from the northeastern bookstore. i was actually able to read gramma's handwriting, which was nice, because that doesn't usually happen. the lego set is one of the four things i ordered from the lego website on star wars day, because they were having a star wars promo if you spent like $75. so i did. the rest are back ordered so i'm waiting on those still.

i grabbed my switch from my room to download a game which crow and cricket sent me money for as a graduation gift. which was super nice! because i got to play with them too! we spent two hours playing mario party together and it was so fun! i'm so happy they're my friends.

once we were done it was past 10pm, and i still hadn't had dinner. i went downstairs, and it turned out mom hadn't had dinner either, not really. that's like the one thing i don't really enjoy about being home, is having the responsibility of coordinating meals between four or five people when one of them works until 9pm, one doesn't really care, one doesn't contribute, another is judgmental and has dietary restrictions, and the last one is me.

it's frustrating, that's all.

anyway, i ate my soup leftovers. i took out onion as i went, reestablishing my distaste for white onions and reinvigorating my detestation for green onions. i also took out the meatball. it had a bad texture.

but it was still good! it's better fresh, but it was still good.

i grabbed some ice cream and munched on it while watching the baseball game before momma went to bed.

i washed out one of my new cups and filled it for the evening with ice water, and i hung out with chels for a little bit before deciding to head to bed. i packed up my cookie so it's still fresh when i have it and so it's protected from being crunched.

i care about little things. i care a lot.

a few other things.

when i was sleeping in this morning, joel came back into the room twice, once when i was sitting up having taken my meds, probably around 9:40, and once around 10:30 or something, when i had covered myself in blankets as well as blooper and the puppy. he said "did you fall back asleep??" and i slowly popped my head up from behind the stack of squish and said "no." he said "did you take your meds??" "i did take my meds, and i'm sleepy." "how are you still sleepy??? i'm WIRED." "my meds quiet everything else so i can sleep." he shook his head before saying "you're silly" and patting me on the head. he grabbed whatever it was he needed and left again.

i didn't open my computer today, but i tried to fix my gmail nonsense that i've got goin on. i set up forwarding a long time ago but it doesn't forward everything, so i need to open it properly so i can see the shit that doesn't go to my other email account. rip.

speaking of emails, i saw, in my inbox, a message as i was cleaning out the new garbage emails. it was from one of the places i applied to this week. they want to schedule a time to talk about the position. i double checked the posting to see if it was the one i thought it was for, and it is - it's the daytime, full-time shift that i was realistically hoping for. so i'm hoping to talk to them on monday or something. that'd be nice.

that's where i am about now. excited, didn't think i'd get this far, tired. hungry. tummy grumbling. time for sleeping.

[mochis-things]

Chapter 2.5 - The First Flight

The airport was chaos.

Even with security measures in place, the moment aespa stepped out of the vans, they were met with a sea of fans and flashing cameras. The excitement was palpable—fans holding up signs, shouting their names, waving lightsticks even in broad daylight. Sunwoo had been expecting it, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.

He immediately positioned himself near the members, watching as security formed a tight perimeter to escort them through the crowd. Karina walked at the front, her usual leader-like composure on full display. Giselle kept her head down, focused on moving forward. Ningning flashed a quick smile at a few fans, while Winter clung to the strap of her backpack, trying not to look overwhelmed.

Sunwoo kept his eyes moving, scanning for anything unusual. Fans were excited but respectful, though some got a little too close. A few cameras nearly smacked into him as people shoved forward, trying to get the perfect shot. He knew sasaeng fans were always a risk in these situations, and the last thing he wanted was for the girls to feel unsafe before they even boarded their first flight.

When they finally made it through the check-in counter, Sunwoo let out a small breath of relief. He double-checked their passports and tickets before moving toward immigration.

“All good?” he asked, glancing at the members.

Karina nodded. “A little overwhelming, but nothing we’re not used to.”

“Still,” Sunwoo said, “if at any point something feels off, tell me.”

Ningning playfully nudged him. “Our bodyguard manager.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. If he had to act as their shield and guide for the next few months, so be it.

The boarding process went smoothly—for the most part.

“You cannot be serious,” Sunwoo groaned as Ningning stood in front of him with wide eyes.

“I forgot my neck pillow,” she admitted, guilt written all over her face.

“Not my problem.”

“But my sleep—”

“Ningning, we are literally boarding the plane.”

“Fine,” she huffed, stomping toward her seat. “But if my neck hurts, I’m blaming you.”

Sunwoo sighed, following behind the rest of the members as they settled in. Their flight was ten hours long, meaning he’d have to balance sleep with making sure everything stayed in order.

As the plane took off, he glanced over at the girls. Karina had already put on her noise-canceling headphones, Giselle was flipping through the in-flight entertainment, and Winter had wrapped herself in a blanket, looking ready to pass out. Ningning, despite her earlier complaints, had already curled up against the window, fast asleep.

Sunwoo let out a small chuckle before leaning back in his seat, ready to endure the long journey ahead.

Four hours in, Sunwoo was restless.

He had dozed off for about an hour, only to wake up when Karina nudged him with her elbow.

“You should sleep,” she said quietly. “You’re going to need it.”

He sighed, rubbing his face. “Can’t. My brain won’t shut off.”

She studied him for a moment before offering one of her extra blankets. “Here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You carry extra?”

Karina smirked. “Leader instincts.”

Sunwoo took the blanket, feeling an odd warmth settle over him. He wasn’t used to the members looking after him.

“Thanks,” he muttered before leaning back again. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually get any sleep, but at least he felt a little more relaxed.

As the flight stretched on, Sunwoo found himself drifting in and out of light naps, occasionally waking up to check on the girls. At one point, Winter woke up hungry, so he handed her a snack from the bag Nayeon had given him.

“You’re way too prepared,” she mumbled sleepily, taking a bite.

“Someone has to be.”

She hummed in agreement before going back to sleep, leaving Sunwoo staring out at the dark sky through the small window.

Only a few more hours to go.

When they finally landed in Tokyo, it was early morning, the city just beginning to wake up. Despite the exhaustion from the long flight, there was an undeniable energy among the members.

“Japan smells different,” Ningning said as they exited the plane.

Winter yawned. “It smells like an airport.”

Karina checked her phone. “We have about an hour to get through security and head to the hotel. Then we rest before rehearsals.”

Sunwoo made sure their arrival process went smoothly. No lost luggage, no missing passports, no unexpected delays.By the time they were in their designated van, he could finally relax—for a moment, at least.

The drive to the hotel was quiet. Most of the girls were too tired to talk, instead looking out at the Tokyo skyline as they made their way toward the city. This was just the beginning of the tour, but it already felt surreal.

As they pulled up to their luxury high-rise hotel, Sunwoo handled check-in while the members waited in the lobby. Each had their own room, and he had one a few doors down.

After passing out keycards, he gave one last reminder. “Rest as much as you can. You have rehearsals later, and jet lag is going to hit hard.”

Ningning grinned. “You act like we haven’t done this before.”

“Just trying to keep you all alive.”

Karina stretched. “See you in a few hours?”

“Yeah. Call if you need anything.”

As they disappeared into their rooms, Sunwoo finally exhaled, stepping into his own. The bed looked too inviting, but before he could even think about resting, his phone buzzed.

SM Entertainment: Meeting with Japan staff at 2 PM. Be ready.

Sunwoo groaned. The job never stopped.

Dropping his bag onto the chair, he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. This was only the first leg of the journey, and he was already running on fumes.

But as tired as he was, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement.

The tour had officially begun.

[cafeseoulmate]

{11:13 AM}

university athletes au; wc: 658

“Hey Hyunjae—!”

Hyunjae immediately shushes Jacob with his pointer finger pressed in front of his lips, then moving that same finger to point at your sleeping figure next to him.

You lay on your side on the bleachers, stubbornly using your duffel bag as a makeshift pillow even when Hyunjae insisted that you can rest your head on his lap even with your damp hair. You also have his basketball varsity jacket right on top of swimming one as an extra blanket and your lucky plushie in your arms, a brown and red teddy bear that Hyunjae also gifted you for your first swim meet years back.

When Hyunjae leans back, he can see the faded marker ink running along your inner arm, indicating all the events you competed in today. And when the clouds suddenly clear up and sunlight creeps in the windows of the campus indoor pool, he is quick to pull his jacket closer to your eyes, still ensuring that you’re breathing properly and soundly even with the cover on your face.

“Do you want to play with me and Juyeon? The next game won’t be until 1 PM.” Jacob whispers, tapping the ball in his hands once before gesturing over to the crowd of people leaving the gymnasium. “We can practice for our game tomorrow with the rest of the team too.”

“I’m watching over them.” Hyunjae whispers back, glancing over to your sleeping figure again as you stir in your much-deserved nap. Your best friend holds back a coo when you unconsciously pull his jacket even closer to you as you move. “They finished all the events for swimming this morning.”

“Oh? And how did our swim captain do?”

Hyunjae smiles his proudest grin at Jacob’s question, resting his arm casually on the bleachers. “Four individual golds then three more golds from the relays! They also led their teammates well in their own events, I caught everything on video of course.”

Jacob shakes his head with a knowing smile, tucking the basketball on his side before waving his hands goodbye. “Alright, then, I’ll just play with Juyeon.” He concludes. “Just make sure Y/N gets something to eat when they wake up and come to practice later at 6 PM.”

Hyunjae hums, waving back to Jacob as the older boy walks away. “See you!”

When Jacob disappears, Hyunjae looks over at you again and smiles to himself, moving your hair out of your face before taking out his phone and ordering delivery.

“Do you need to go?” You ask all of a sudden, rubbing your eyes groggily and moving your body slowly so that you’re slightly facing upwards.

Hyunjae shakes his head immediately as soon as your eyes meet, adjusting his jacket on you again as it moves with you. “No, just go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

“I’m okay—“

“You snore sometimes, people could get spooked when they walk in.” He jokes, to which you gather all of your energy to raise your arm and slap him. “I’m kidding.”

“But really, I’m good. I can sleep fine on my own.” You point out again. “Anyway, no one’s coming in here until our team dinner later.”

Regardless, Hyunjae shakes his head stubbornly once more as he confirms the delivery order for your lunch. “Nope, I’m staying right here and making sure no one’s gonna bother you.” He winks before placing his hand on your shoulder and gently moving you to lay on your side again. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up when the food’s here.”

You groan, complying anyway as you lift your upper body up to move your duffel bag to the upper bleacher then dragging your body closer to Hyunjae. “I’m trapping you here,” You declare, finally resting your head on his lap. “until the food arrives.”

He snickers, moving his hand to your hair as you move around to get comfy. “Whatever you say, princess.”

[favorjtecrime]

Tired

vance hopper x yamada!reader

one | two | three | four

Vance looked up at you with a glare. “I don't want your pity, i told you im fucking fine so ba-” “vance please.” He went quiet. You knew him, well of course you knew him because of his reputation but, the way you said his name, it sounded real. It sounded caring, and you sounded just like how you did back in 5th grade. “Fine..” he murmured, you gave him a small smile before helping him get up and letting him use your shoulder as support. About a minute or two had passed of the two of you walking in silence until you reached the steps. It was half an hour to 6 and here you were, Y/n yamada unlocking her house to let Vance hopper in. He limped his way to your sofa and sat on the blonde leather. “I’ll be back with the medkit, let me just grab it from my room!” you sent a grin to him before rushing up the stairs. Vance sat in pain as he looked over the decor of your living room, a small recliner was sat a few feet away from the tv and you had a small leather sofa on the right side, where he sat. Your shelves and walls were covered with framed photos, some of your parents wedding day, some of bruce posing in baseball uniforms, amy getting her first pair of glasses, and you with that stupid but gorgeous smile that vance had always admired ever since he was younger. “Hey! I couldn't find the regular bandaids so I had to borrow a few from my secret stash from like 6th grade. ``You laughed a bit at the end before showing him a small box of medical supplies and a small bag of purple and pink designed bandaids with small cat faces all over them. “Whatever, just hurry up, idiot..” You smiled at him before grabbing his arm with warm and comforting hands that wrapped bandaging over the gash. “I'm no doctor, but i think applying pressure should make the bleeding stop and help close the wound” You had this bad habit of sticking your tongue out when focusing, while vance watched your face as you wrapped the bandage around his arm, he saw your tongue stick out while a corner of his lip turned upward. “..there!” you had finished wrapping his arm and were currently applying a kitten band aid to the small cuts that littered his hands and face. “If you want you can go now.. But like you don't need to if you still feel pain!! My family won't be back home for another week so I really don't mind the company.. Oh god i sound pathetic, im sorry” you were rambling, another habit that vance had witnessed you do before. “I know you're poor and can't afford shit just by looking at your house, but does your tv have good channels or something? '' he asked, looking at the remote that was placed on the table in front of the sofa. “Oh! Yeah it actually has this really good show that i’ve been watching every time i fall asleep late” you clicked the on button and flipped through the channels while vance watched you, but you were too busy to realize until you stopped at the channel. “This one runs all the way from 1 to 8! If we’re lucky they might show all the episodes in order” you said happily while leaning down onto the couch, eyes glued to the television. “I think my mom watches this, god you have horrible taste” he said while leaning back. “Hey ! that just shows that you have bad taste” You were getting comfortable with vance hopper of all people, just one wrong move and your neck could be snapped like a twig, but at the same time you didn't worry much because, weirdly, part of you felt safe with him and not threatened. A few minutes later your eyes began to droop and you felt yourself drift off to sleep, what you didn't realize was how hot Vance felt himself after feeling your head fall onto his shoulder. And by the time you woke, the vance hopper was gone, and you laid on the couch with a small blanket draped over you.