#and these last few weeks have been hellish with work

[songsnstars]

.

#man this year has been surprisingly good so far #of course there have been downs (like having to change my break pads and i also need to replace one of my tires) #but also i have an appointment to finally start on hrt later this week #ive started ice skating lessons (last lessons i didnt fall on my ass at all so thats a big improvement) #honestly i feel a lot more healthy cause im more in control of my diet and exercise #also! i just signed onto a lease for a new apartment that ill be moving into in a few months #my ex-roommate left in december (and id been paying all the bills since august) #so i got left with a too big too expensive too far from work apartment #but now im gonna be moving into an apartment thats the exact opposite #moving is kinda hellish especially since i *just* moved in june #but im a military brat whos super fucking used to moving at this point #i hope this year continues to be good to me

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part two.

Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.

Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.

You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.

To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.

Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.

You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.

Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.

There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.

And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.

Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.

It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”

“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”

And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”

There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”

You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.

Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”

All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.

“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”

The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.

“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”

In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.

But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.

He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.

You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.

But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”

You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”

“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.

“Have you?”

He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Garrett.”

“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”

You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”

His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”

“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”

Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”

You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”

He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”

You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.

“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”

He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.

It’s fucking terrifying.

But you’re fucking livid, too.

Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”

You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”

If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.

You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.

But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.

All because of a prick in sky blue.

“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”

He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”

“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.

He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.

“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre

━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

[macabr3-barbi3]

DoubleTrouble No 1 🖤❤️

Myself and the delightful and talented @fraugwinska have been working on something tasty and present to you: a DoubleTrouble fic!

A single prompt from my Ao3, shared between two writers, one POV each ❤️

I tackled the reader's perspective, and you can find one from Alastor's POV right here! So many thanks for FrauGwinska for being an absolute superstar and working with me through this new and exciting experience <3

We hope you enjoy!

Tags: period sex, cunnilingus, mentions of blood (obviously), rough sex <3

Minors DNI🔞

The Blood is Rare 🩸

The fact that you still had a period in Hell was bullshit, but you suppose they needed to give people something to be miserable about. That was probably why people ended up in the situation you were in now, seated across from Alastor with a deal on the tip of your tongue; sheer desperation, because somehow the cramps were even worse than they had been on Earth and the only thing that helped was a good old fashioned orgasm. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t even consider asking- a lot of demons, except the really-weird-even-for-Hell ones, were still squeamish about blood being involved with any kind of orgasm.

If you were right though. Alastor would relish the opportunity you were about to present to him.

Fresh to the hotel just a few days after your last Hellish period, Alastor had startled you in the kitchen with a knife in your hand. The resulting jump had caused the blade to slip, gash in your thumb bleeding steadily over the apples that you had planned to fry up. Rather than allowing you to fetch a bandage, Alastor had chuckled, said “no need, dear,” and popped your thumb into his mouth. It was probably some ploy of his- strike fear into the hearts of new residents, give them a reminder that he was a cannibal and that he wouldn’t hesitate to eat them if they stepped out of line or caused any issues.

It backfired on him. At the taste of your blood his eyes grew black, staggering away from you with the shock of it, antlers extending so quickly they smashed the glass front of a nearby cabinet and he ended up trapped between the wooden dividers.

“More,” he had snarled, but his antlers stuck in the cabinet had been enough of a delay for you to make an escape. 

He apologized, of course, a couple days later, explained his nature as a cannibal, a predator, had reacted before his mind, and that such a thing would not happen again. He had ended the awkward conversation with a statement of, “should you feel the desire to spare some of that tasty treat in your veins, do be a dear and let me know!”

And, well. Here you were. Letting him know. Ready to make a deal with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell to get a little relief from the torture chamber that was your body in ovulation, even when there was nothing to fucking ovulate.

Alastor was tense when he phased into the hotel conference room to meet you as you had asked. His spine is stiff when he settles into the chair across from you, not having been alone in a space since that time in the kitchen. “What is it that I can help you with, my dear?”

“I want to clarify something- do you want to like, eat me?”

“Oh!” Alastor’s eyes widen with his smile. “I wouldn’t have been so blunt about it, darling, but if you’re asking- yes. That little taste that I had a few weeks ago was… inadequate, to say the least. But naturally staying here at the Hotel, Charlie would have been terribly upset had I consumed you.” He flicks his gaze over your form. “Why do you ask? Surely you don’t mean to let me indulge.”

A deep breath as you brace yourself. “Hah, not exactly. But uh, I do have a proposition of sorts for you. In regards to that. Kind of.”

He fades out of sight, rematerializing a couple seats closer to you. “Color me intrigued! What do you have in mind?”

You almost call the whole thing off- then a monster bolt of pain rips through your abdomen, nearly forcing you to double over the table with the ache of it. Any thought of embarrassment or hesitation flies from your head. Alastor is the only one that would be willing to help you in this way, you’re sure of it.

The groan of pain escapes you before you can stop it, and his eyebrows raise. “I have a deal to offer you that would allow you to- um. Sample my blood, if you’re amenable. Once a month.”

His head cocks to the side before his expression clears and he understands what you’re implying. “You’re referring to menstruation?” You nod, face red. “I see. Please provide me with more details of what this proposal would entail on my end then.” His claws are digging into the table, wood splintering beneath them and betraying his interest before even hearing what he would have to do.

“Right. I don’t know if you’re aware or not but periods can be crazy painful. Just on Earth too, but down here they’re basically unbearable when the cramps get bad. One thing that can help is having an orgasm.” You’re trying to resist the urge to hide in some way. You know this is what needs to be done. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course- just, you know. Uh, collecting on your benefit would probably do the trick.”

His eyes narrow. “I see. That is the… service I’m to provide, then?” A nod, flushed face dropped into your hands. “Well, I suppose I will simply have to endeavor to do my best! I’m never one to turn down a challenge- certainly not when the payoff is so enticing.” His eyes go dark, not quite black yet but the air between you changes, antlers going long and jagged. “I’m open to your proposal.”

“I need terms,” you breathe out, pleased that he’s still willing to help with the sexual nature of your request. “I need- just, something confirming that you won’t actually eat me for real. The blood is all that I’m willing to part with- no flesh.”

He sighs, eyes rolling. “Less exciting,” he says with a wave of his hand, “but not a dealbreaker. Anything else?”

“Only once a month- during this time. You can’t just be making me bleed whenever you want.”

“Done.” He’s in the chair next to you then, eyes black, grin so wide it threatens to split his face open, clawed hand held in your direction. “Do we have a deal?”

You take his hand in yours, green light filling the space between you and a screeching feedback sound assaulting your ears. When it fades Alastor is watching with hooded eyes. “Would you like to begin now?”

“Oh God. Uh, if now is a good time for you I guess. If you want to do it now.”

He laughs low and dangerous, his tall frame rising from the chair to tower over you. “Darling, I’ve wanted some semblance of what you’ve proposed for weeks. I’m not a man that makes a habit of denying himself a treat when it’s offered to him so sweetly.”

Your hand is still in his, and there’s a strange pull behind your navel as Alastor yanks you into the shadows with him, rematerializing in his bedroom. “Feel free to sit on the bed,” he offers, gesturing to the mattress and manifesting a large dark towel. “Or lie back- however will be more comfortable for you.” 

He releases your hand once you’ve sat, and you stay upright as Alastor sinks to his knees in front of you, fingers coming to the top of your skirt and pulling everything down in one fell swoop, his expression darkening at the scent of you exposed before him before ducking his head. You can’t see what he sees with how close he has already come to your skin, his enlarged antlers blocking your vision, the muscles of his back flexing with the force of his inhale as he breathes you in. A jolt of pain hits you again, deep in your core, and your whimper at the feeling has him bringing his eyes back to your face.

His eyes are hooded and dangerous, feral smile on his face while your fingers dig into the bedsheets. “Feel free to hold on, dear,” he says with a gesture to his antlers, before dipping his head to your bare cunt and slicking his tongue between your folds, angling his head just so to slip into your heat.

You can almost forget that Alastor is only doing this to satisfy some carnal desire of his with the fervent way that he pushes his mouth against you, slick muscle delving deep into you and brushing his nose against the firm nub of your clit. There’s a reverberating rumble as he moans at the taste, clawed fingers coming up to grip at your thighs, spreading them wider so he can get even closer to the source of his obsession. You can feel where he flicks his tongue inside you, brushing against that sweet bundle of nerves with every strong push and pull. The pleasure curls in your gut, keeping the worst of the cramps at bay while your body tenses and releases in rhythm with the demon’s ministrations. Every so often he pulls out, brings what he’s collected back into the haven of his mouth and savors it, eyes closed and his throat rumbling with a satisfied groan.

“You’ve no idea,” he growls, “how I’ve thought of tasting you. Consuming you.” The sharp points of his teeth brush against your clit and your body jolts, hands finally flying up from the bed to clutch at his antlers, grip tight on the tines of them as he looks up at you. 

The look on his face is nearly your undoing- more animal than man, and his claws dig into your flesh, tiny pinpricks of pain dragging you forcibly back to the moment. Your orgasm is just out of reach, not enough focus where you need him but you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you ask him for more.

“Fucking divine,” he whispers against you, and when his tongue brushes your sensitive clit with the words you shudder, the motion drawing his gaze to your face, flushed and hot. He smiles wide, expression smug as he leans in and does it purposely this time, licking up your folds and finally focusing where you need him to be. He circles it with purpose, pressure so sweet and sadistic, a light suck making you cry out his name and fist your hands on his antlers.

“Fuck! Alastor, yes, there- oh god, please, more…” He tenses under your hands and you worry for a moment that you’ve done something wrong. Then he’d sliding his hands under your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his voice sending heat flooding through you, overriding the painful ache of a cramp that tries to make itself known.

“Alastor,” you moan, and his tongue resumes its residence in the tight grip of your cunt, a hand coming up to brush a clawed finger over your clit. He works you quickly, his efforts paying off as your body tenses, invisible string inside you drawing tight and snapping with a force you’ve never felt before. “Alastor- A-” You try to say his name again, hear it come out as as a choked off whimper and a near scream as you reach orgasm, legs tightening on his shoulders and pulling him as closer, your walls clenching down on the length of his tongue before be pulls back and licks you through the remainder of it.

You release your grip on his antlers and fall back against the mattress, eyes closed while Alastor removes his face from between your legs, licking along the tiny pinpricks of blood from his claws before you shoot him a halfhearted glare. 

Your abdomen is blissfully absent of any clenching of your internal organs seeking revenge. Sated, you sit up from the mattress to see Alastor still knelt before you, faint lines of dried blood- your dried blood, your brain supplies- around his mouth. He looks like a predator fresh from his kill of the night, antlers jagged and long, eyes still dark and frantic as he looks at you.

“Was that sufficient, darling?”

“God, yes, it was perfect. I- I really appreciate your help.”

“Hmm. Of course. Though I must admit, only part of my… appetite for you has been appeased.” He rises from the floor, knees perched on either side of your thighs now and leaning in. You can smell something metallic on him as he approaches, know that it's your own blood as he stares down into your eyes hovered over you.

“Oh?” You become aware of a hard length pressing into your thigh. “Oh! I didn’t think that was something you would be interested in.”

He shrugs, rolling his hips and hissing at the friction. “Nor did I, dear. That does seem to be a theme with you, though- having a taste and finding that I crave more against my better judgment, against all reason.” He places a hand on your hip and runs his claws along the bare skin. “Would you allow me to help ease your pain once more?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out, “please, Alastor.” He takes a moment to undress, trousers removed along with his boxers before he climbs back over you and presses against the still slick folds of your cunt. He pushes in, hot and hard length opening you up and settling deep inside of you with a harsh exhale of breath against your neck. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Alastor growls, the sound reverberating through his chest as he thrusts into you. A pulse of arousal shoots through you, the thought of bringing such a well spoken man to his baser instincts, so thoroughly invested in you that he can do little more than snarl like an animal into your skin, pushing you ever closer to the edge again. You’re already soft and sensitive from your first release, the cresting wave of a second hustling towards you. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at the tendon he finds there and moaning. “I could devour you,” he whispers, and you feel yourself clench down on him at the broken crack in his voice.  He drags his tongue up the length of your neck, hesitates like he’s trying to savor it. “I could feast on you for centuries and never tire of the taste of your flesh, whether coated in blood or sweat.”

A whimper escapes you as he sucks on the skin of your shoulder, leaving a trail of harsh bruises along the path he takes. A hand comes up to twist into his hair, something to ground yourself, to draw this out as long as possible. Your other hand digs into the flesh of his arm pinning you to the mattress. “Fuck, more, please,” you beg him, and he pulls back from your neck to watch your face twist and contort in pleasure while he slams against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Say my name,” he demands, fingers on your hip digging bruises into the soft skin, his other hand tangled in the bedsheets, tearing them to shreds to avoid sinking his claws into you. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

“Oh God, Alastor-” You angle your hips, the movement bringing him even deeper into your body, the length of him so sweet and sinfully delicious that a whine escapes your throat before you can think to stop it. “I need- I don’t know, Al, I can’t-”

“You must,” he commands, and he lets go of your hip to slip his hand between your bodies, fingers pressing against the taut skin of your opening where your bodies are joined. The stimulation is foreign and new and has your walls tensing and releasing rhythmically around him, release so close now that you were seeing stars behind your clenched eyes.

“Look at me.” Your lids fly open to meet the sight of Alastor above you, his face contorted in something like pain. “You must,” he says again, fucking into you with vigor now, sweat beading on his forehead. “I need it around me, I have to feel it. Please, darling, give it to me-”

Fuck. How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly? Not that you had any control over it- your body breaks beneath him, cunt wrapped around him like the softest of silk and tightening its grip. Your limbs seem to go numb for a moment, pleasure warping your reality for a few blissful moments, your vision focusing in a tunnel on Alastor’s face before it vanishes, burying once again in the space between your shoulder and neck.

With a final cry of his name he sinks his teeth into you, not tearing back as one might expect but content to simply let them rest there as he spills into you with a broken moan, hips bucking hard and fierce and then easing into something softer as your walls pull and push, wringing every drop from him.

A breath of silence as you both catch your breath, interrupted by a hiss of faint pain as Alastor pulls his teeth from you and licks at the wound he’s created like a satisfied cat. “You promised you wouldn’t try to eat me for real,” you mutter, voice soft from the strength of your cries.

Alastor hums against you, tongue still moving against you. “Hardly my fault.” He’s mouthing greedily at your skin, claws traipsing on the flesh of your hips and roaming wherever he can reach. “You’re delicious,” he groans, taking one final taste of your blood before pulling back and collapsing next to you, “a delicacy. How am I meant to live without this at every moment of the day? I think I shall starve.”

You huff out a laugh, stretching your muscles as well as you can without really moving. “Don’t be dramatic. You get it once a month, at least.” You roll onto your side, ignore the feeling of something slick and wet between your thighs and focus on the fact that your body is limp and pliant and not seeking revenge on you. 

“You raise a valid point, my dear.” He throws you a sideways look, his antlers now having returned to their normal size and his ears relaxed against his skull. “Though I’m not at all opposed to repeating this aspect of the experience outside of your… monthly allowance to me. Deals always have room for negotiation, do they not?”

“Let’s get through this one first and then we’ll talk.” You yawn and try to rise from the bed, but an arm from the demon beside you is thrown haphazardly over your waist, pinning you in place.

“Stay,” he says, his eyes lidded and peeking at you. “There’s more to come yet, right? May as well stay where we can easily access one another for the duration.” His crimson eyes close the rest of the way and you settle back into the mattress, allowing your body to relax and slip into a peaceful sleep beside him.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #bloodlust <3 #title by Hozier

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift. 

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.” 

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night. 

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend. 

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner. 

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing. 

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote. 

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face. 

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you. 

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen. 

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen. 

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus. 

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back. 

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers. 

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets. 

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone. 

You chuckle in response. 

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came. 

And will still be one after you. 

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself. 

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.” 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly. 

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments. 

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges. 

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say, 

I got you.

*

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar. 

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even. 

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure. 

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something. 

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service.  You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus. 

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top. 

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts. 

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece. 

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised. 

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you. 

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy. 

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks. 

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start. 

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone. 

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar. 

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband. 

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.” 

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about. 

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb. 

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.” 

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next. 

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.” 

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her. 

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings. 

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.” 

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely. 

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly. 

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service. 

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out. 

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him. 

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook. 

“Good service tonight,” he says back. 

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies. 

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t. 

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile. 

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you. 

“Hey!” 

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again. 

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively. 

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you. 

“Always, Carm.”  

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack. 

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh. 

“Is that even a real question?” 

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed. 

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant. 

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder. 

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop. 

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara. 

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself. 

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had. 

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate. 

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil. 

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times. 

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him. 

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no. 

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta. 

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again. 

No awkward tension of things left unsaid. 

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t. 

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen. 

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs. 

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back.  “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you. 

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks. 

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself. 

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully. 

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.” 

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh. 

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs. 

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face. 

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.” 

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face. 

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm. 

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin. 

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. 

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now. 

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless. 

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that. 

On your favorite fucking dish. 

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit. 

That he only got them for you. 

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever. 

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt. 

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you. 

It’s just you and him. 

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath. 

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth. 

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip. 

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going. 

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been. 

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you. 

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now? 

Now, could be different, if you’d let it. 

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it. 

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead. 

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you. 

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently. 

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can. 

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off. 

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours. 

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off. 

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body. 

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing. 

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’ 

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is. 

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless. 

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips. 

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off. 

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand. 

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand. 

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care. 

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours. 

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you. 

You both gasp at the feel of each other. 

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment. 

“This okay?” 

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts. 

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.” 

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts. 

But you’re in desperate need for more. 

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.” 

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much. 

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls –  anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight. 

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you. 

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice. 

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain. 

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips. 

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses. 

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say. 

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.” 

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him. 

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways. 

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse. 

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had. 

It feels… magnificent. 

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder. 

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

[lonelym00n]

Is it okay to run when you're feeling weak?

Part 3 of The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: You get closer with Tara and all her friends. She opens up to you about her past.

It had been a few days since you last saw Tara, and though she did follow up on her promise to text you, it was hard not to feel a bit sad about the time spent away from her. And sure, maybe it was ridiculous to be feeling that way, but within the short span of time that you’d gotten to know her, Tara had you wrapped tightly around her pinky finger. 

You’re currently tucked into your favorite corner of Blackmore’s library, textbooks splayed haphazardly in front of you. Your backpack occupies the chair to your right and the two positioned across from you remain empty, a rare occurrence for this time of the year. You would’ve expected the library to be filled with students cramming for exams, but then again, you had to admit that midterm week wasn’t as hellish as you expected it to be. While you normally despised studying, you were honestly just more thankful for the reprieve from being buried up to your eyeballs in assignments. 

Your attention is barely on your studies, way too preoccupied with thoughts of Tara and when you’d get to see her next. The last you’d heard from her was that Sam had her locked up in their ‘dungeon of an apartment’ and that she likely wouldn’t be able to escape for a while. You felt bad for being the cause of not only a huge fight between the two sisters, but the loss of Tara’s freedom too. You’d jokingly told Tara over text that you’d shimmy up the fire escape so the two of you could hangout and she replied that Sam would probably shoot you if she caught you. Having witnessed how scary the older girl was when mad, you certainly weren’t going to find out if the threat was empty or not. 

Just as you’re about to turn back to your work, your phone buzzes with a notification. You curiously shift your eyes to it and nearly jump out of your seat in joy as Tara’s contact name is displayed on the screen.

Tara: hey stranger

Y/N: hey matey

Tara: enoughhhh pirate jokes 

Y/N: okay okay

Y/N: so what’s up?

Tara: i’m bored, pls tell me ur doing something fun so i can live vicariously through u

Y/N: sorry nothing exciting, just studying for midterms in the library

Tara: shit i almost forgot about those

Tara: i hate house arrest

Y/N: house arrest must suck

Y/N: any chance you’ll be off of it soon?

Tara: ughh hopefully sometime this week

Tara: why, do you miss me or something? ;)

Y/N: god you’re insufferable

Y/N: but… maybe i do miss u just a little bit

Tara: awww i knew it <3

Tara: i’ll talk to sam when she gets back from the store and see what i can do

You click your phone off with a sigh. Sam would probably refuse to let Tara out of the house and you’d be stuck thinking about her from a distance. Whatever reason Sam has for being so protective of Tara must be a really good one. You couldn’t even begin to guess what had happened. Tara did mention that she’d tell you eventually, and you made a mental note to be extremely patient with her in the meantime. 

Reaching into your backpack, you pull out a pair of noise canceling headphones and place them onto your head. You switch on some soft music to play in the background while studying and start reviewing the exam material.

You sit hunched over your thick textbook for what must’ve been at least an hour or two. You’re so engrossed in your reading that you don’t notice that the two chairs in front of you are being pulled out. It isn’t until you feel a tap on your shoulder that you register that there are now two people sitting in front of you. 

“Oh shit!” You jump slightly in surprise and tear the headphones off your head. “So sorry, I didn’t even see you sit down.”

You finally glance up to see who is in front of you and promptly choke on your spit.

Tara grins cheekily back at you, grin stretching further at the coughing fit you’re now caught up in. “Surprise!”

“Tara, what the hell are you doing here?!” You practically splutter out the question, cheeks tinting pink (as they so often do around Tara) in embarrassment when you realize that another person is witnessing you literally choke at the sight of Tara. 

Tara mischievously raises a single eyebrow at you and her eyes twinkle with joy, “You should know by now that giving your location to your kidnapper is a bad idea.”

You laugh gleefully at the familiar joke and a feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your chest. 

“Jokes aside, I convinced Sam to let me come here to study for midterms. She allowed it but made me bring a friend with me.” She turns to where her friend is sitting silently beside her and then looks back at you, “Do you remember Mindy?”

The girl looks sort of familiar, but you couldn’t say you remembered exactly who she was. You smile apologetically at her and exchange a quick hello before speaking, “It’s nice to officially meet you Mindy. I’m assuming you were part of the group that helped rescue me?”

Thankfully, Mindy doesn’t seem offended that you don’t remember her. She nods and slowly smirks, “Y’know I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, you were too busy making googly eyes at Tara here to notice anybody else.” 

You flush a deep red before groaning and ducking your head down to bury yourself in your abandoned textbook. 

Above you, Tara and Mindy snicker at your reaction. 

“Told you she blushes easily.” The two laugh some more at Tara's retort.

You lift your head up with a frown etched onto your face. Promptly, you flip both of them off. They each respond with a chuckle.

“Anyways, even though you so rudely insulted me,” you roll your eyes playfully at Mindy before softening your expression, “I want to say I really appreciate whatever your part in helping me that night was. I already told Tara this, but it means so much to me that you guys were looking out for me. I’m sorry for whatever drama I caused in the aftermath”

Tara eyes you softly while Mindy waves off your apology. “No need to apologize. It was the right thing to do and I’m glad we were able to help. Even if Sam did almost kill me”

Tara swats Mindy on the shoulder for her comment. Deciding to change the subject, she scans her eyes across your study space before fixing you with a scrutinizing look. “How long have you been here for?”

“Uhh,” you tap your pencil against the desk while you think, “Two, maybe three hours. Why?”

Tara gasps and tuts at you disapprovingly, “Have you taken a break from studying to eat something at least?”

You shake your head, now that she’s mentioned it, you could use a snack. 

She stands up and gently pulls you out of your seat. “C’mon,” she tugs your arm, “I’m gonna get you a snack.”

Obediently, you go to follow, but stop dead in your tracks when Mindy speaks up in alarm, “Wait, Tara?!” 

Tara sighs heavily, drops your arm, and gives you a pointed look that tells you to wait where you are while she goes to talk to Mindy,

From your spot a few feet away, you can just barely make out their hushed conversation.

“You heard Sam, she said I need to stay with you at all times! We can’t piss her off again.” 

Tara grunts in annoyance, “No, she said not to let me out of your sight. We’re just going to the coffee place right over there, you can watch us from where you are.”

“I don’t know.” Mindy sounds unsure.

“Mindy please? I’ll buy you a brownie and a latte.” You can tell by her adorable tone that she’s pouting and it takes a lot of self-discipline not to turn around to see it.

Mindy draws out a long groan, “Fine! But I’m gonna be watching so don’t do anything I wouldn’t want to see.”

Tara’s smile is triumphant as she skips over to you and threads her fingers through yours. You give her hand a small squeeze. 

As the two of you wait in line, she looks up at you sweetly, “So did you really miss me or were you just joking earlier?”

You bite your lip, hoping to god she won’t tease you if you tell the truth. “I did miss you. You grew on me really quickly Tara.”

She sighs happily, “Good, because I was thinking the same thing. I really missed you too.”

You grin like an idiot, so glad that you weren’t alone in your sentiment. 

The line shifts up slightly and it is swiftly your turn to order. You give the barista your order and motion for Tara to do the same. When she relays her coffee order, you do your best to commit it to memory. She adds Mindy’s items and before she can retrieve her wallet, you whip out your card and tap it against the screen. Tara glares at you but you only smile back innocently.

The two of you slide down to wait for your food and drinks to be ready. 

“Well,” Tara drags out the word and releases a breath, “I know you’re probably wondering why Sam locked me in the apartment or why I couldn’t come here without Mindy. And I do owe you an explanation but-”

You hastily cut her off, “You don’t owe me an explanation for anything Tara. It’s all up to whether you want to tell me or not. Whatever it is you went through, it’s obviously a very big deal. I’d understand if it’s not something you want to ever share with me.”

She pulls you into a quick hug, “I do want to tell you, but I think I need more time. Just so you know though, it’s something that me, Mindy, Chad, and Sam all went through. That’s why we’re all so protective of each other.”

You give her an understanding look, “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

She nods, “Sam’s still really mad at me and she probably won’t let me go alone anywhere for a while. I do want to keep hanging out with you though. Do you mind that it has to be with one of my friends?”

Your brow furrows slightly and you’re fast to shake your head, “No I don’t mind at all. I totally get it and I’m honestly just happy that I get to see you at all. Plus, your friends seem really nice, it’d be nice to get to know them.”

Tara sighs in relief before wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning up to kiss you on the cheek. 

You smile brightly at the gesture. 

A few seconds later your name is called and you step forward to collect the order. Tara grabs the items you’re unable to scoop up. The two of you return back to where Mindy is sitting.

She chirps out a thanks and the three of you enjoy your food silently. The rest of the afternoon is spent with you continuing to study, with Tara and Mindy begrudgingly joining you. You take frequent breaks to poke fun at each other and your heart flutters happily in your chest. If this is what it felt like to have friends, you never wanted to let them go.

From that day forward, you began to spend a lot of time with Tara and her ragtag group of friends. You loved hanging out with them, they were everything you felt you’d been missing in college. Mindy was sarcastic and hilarious and Anika was kind and bubbly. You liked her especially because she would always put a stop to Mindy’s teasing. Chad was cool, but you found him to be a bit more intimidating than everyone else. You didn’t mind Ethan, he was just a bit too shy and dorky for your liking. 

Overall, you found a sense of home in the group. You were so grateful that they accepted you into their circle with open arms. 

Your feelings for Tara were stronger than you’d ever felt for anyone thus far in your life. Her personality shone so brightly, it was no wonder why all her friends gravitated towards her so strongly. She was so sweet, yet so witty, brave, and strong. You are beyond thankful that you were lucky enough to stumble into her life, and you tell her so all the time.

The weeks fly by as you become even further integrated into the group of friends. You’re no longer on the outside, you’re one of them. Not a day goes by where you don’t feel so fortunate to have met them.

It’s after one of your many hangouts with Tara, Mindy, and Anika (you refer to them as double dates in your head) that Tara tells you she has a surprise for you. She takes you to a beautiful park and leads you to a more secluded spot, where a picnic is neatly laid out. You squeal like a child and excitedly run over to take a seat on the blanket. A conversation you can’t make out plays behind you.

“Anika and I are going to be just over there. We’ll be able to see you the whole time. Are you sure you want to tell her?”

Though Tara feels nervous, she nods her head nonetheless, “I trust her Mindy. It’s going to hurt like hell to talk about it again, but I want her to know. Besides, she’s in danger even being around us, so I feel like I owe it to her to tell her.”

Mindy agrees, she’d done the same thing with Anika when things got serious between them. She understands the position that Tara is in. “Okay. Call out if you need us.”

The three girls split off, heading their separate ways. 

Tara plops down next to where you’re splayed out on the blanket, her thigh bumping against your own. You grin lazily at her.

She takes a moment to herself to admire you. Her fingers card through your hair before shifting to smooth the pads of her thumbs across your cheeks. You relax into the touch, sighing softly.

Tara’s lips press to your forehead and you close your eyes at the gentle contact.

She murmurs out your name and you leisurely open your eyes. “I’m ready to tell you about what happened.”

You open your mouth to protest but she shuts down your attempt, “No it’s okay, I want to tell you. Everyone else is okay with you knowing. Even Sam.”

You sit up straight, “Even Sam? She knows about me?”

Tara eyes you a little guiltily, “ I told her a while ago that we’ve been hanging out. She isn’t thrilled about it, but she was glad to at least know. She’s been trying to meet you, but I keep turning her down. I didn’t want her to scare you away before I could give you the full story.”

It’s a little scary that Tara’s overprotective sister knows about you, but you reassure Tara that it’s fine. “Well at least we haven’t been sneaking around her back, she’d probably be more upset if that were the case. I’d love to meet her someday.”

Tara seems thankful that you don’t freak out about it. The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Tara turns to face you, a faraway look in her eyes. Sensing that things are about to get heavy, you give Tara your full attention. 

“Have you ever heard of the Stab movies?”

You scratch your chin in thought. “Maybe? I think I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one.”

“Well,” she explains, “The original movie is based upon a series of killings that took place in Woodsboro, California. The two killers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, went crazy and killed a bunch of their friends. After the first Stab movie came out, the events of the killings became well-known by everyone.”

You’re completely unsure why you’re hearing facts about this movie, but Tara must have a reason, so you remain silent.

“Ever since the original killings and the first Stab movie, different people have taken up the killer’s mantle. These series of killings have been repeated five different times and three of them have taken place in Woodsboro.”

You feel dumb, how hadn’t you heard about a literal horror movie being remade five different times? “Oh my gosh, I had no idea.”

Tara’s eyes brim with tears and she looks smaller than ever at this moment. “Y/N, I moved here from Woodsboro a few months ago.” 

You gasp and tears jump into your own eyes. You gently pull Tara into your lap to comfort her. “Oh Tara, I’m so sorry. It must’ve been so scary to live there.” 

You press a few soft kisses into her hairline as her tears begin to silently drip down her face. 

“I didn’t just live there." She pauses for a long moment. "I lived through one of the killings.”

Oh my god. Your body shakes as your own tears spill out. You hug her closer to you and she wraps her arms around your neck.

After a minute of quietly sobbing, she continues with what you are sure must’ve been a real-life nightmare, “It’s a tradition for the killer to wear a black cloak and a white mask with a screaming ghost face. I was home alone the first time I got attacked. I got stabbed seven different times and the killer broke my leg.”

She cries into your shirt and you clutch her so tightly in your arms. It’s unbelievable to hear that the girl who seems so put together at all times almost died a few months ago. 

“I was so scared when I woke up in the hospital. It was almost impossible to believe that I had survived. And then about a day later, I was attacked again at the hospital.”

You reach aimlessly into the picnic basket and fish out a bottle of water, which you then offer to Tara. She takes a meek sip, but gives you a grateful look.

“After that, Sam decided we needed to leave town. It wasn’t safe anywhere. But, I didn’t have an inhaler with me, so we had to stop at my girlfriend’s house, where I kept a spare. It was a trap, and my sister’s boyfriend Richie and my girlfriend, Amber, revealed themselves to be the killers.”

She sobs brokenly at the mention of her girlfriend. You do everything you can think of to comfort her, even while knowing that it would never be enough to make her feel better. The betrayal of her own girlfriend almost killing her would likely stay in her mind forever.

“Fighting spread all throughout the house. Eventually, Amber and Richie were overpowered. Sam killed Richie but I- I-” 

You coo at her and rub your hands soothingly around her whole body. She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe and you fish out the inhaler you’ve seen her take out of the front pocket of her pants many different times. You spew words of praise and encouragement at her as her shaky hand wraps around it and she takes a puff of much needed air.

Once her breathing has calmed, she continues her sentence from earlier, “I killed Amber. I shot my own girlfriend right in the forehead. I’ll never forget seeing her body crash into the ground. Some days I can’t live with the thought of what I did to her.”

“I’m so so sorry Tara. She never should’ve put you through that.”

Tara sniffles. “I lost so much over the course of three days. We all did. Our best friend Wes and his mother were killed. Chad was attacked and he lost his girlfriend, Liv. Mindy got stabbed in the shoulder. We didn’t deserve to go through all that pain.”

You hum in agreement. The three people you proudly called your friends certainly didn’t deserve that. You had so much more love and appreciation for them now knowing what they’d fought through. 

Tara has calmed down a bit and just as you think the worst of it is over, she speaks up again, “A few more things. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, the original ghostface killer. I learned during Woodsboro that she and I have different dads. Mindy and Chad’s uncle, Randy, was a part of the original killings and didn’t make it through the second. Basically, all of this means that you’re in a ton of danger just from hanging around with us. Ghostface always comes back to haunt the survivors.”

While you should, you don’t care that your life is in danger. You’re more worried about someone coming back to attack your friends. You would never be the same if you lost one of them so cruelly.

Tara has stopped crying, but she still looks so sad. “I understand if you don’t want to hang around us, you know?”

You huff out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Tenderly, you tilt Tara’s chin up until her eyes meet yours. “Tara, I could never leave you or our friends. In fact, you’re going to have to try harder than ever to get rid of me. Now I’m the one who’s not going to let you out of their sight.”

Her brown eyes swirl with so many different emotions as she looks up at you. You’d pay a million dollars for the chance to take a peek inside her head right now. 

You’re suddenly met with the familiar warmth of her lips pressing gently into yours. You melt into the sweet kiss.

Tara pulls back reluctantly and bops you on the nose while she slowly climbs off of your lap. You miss her warmth immediately, but don’t protest.

“Look, Y/N, I really really like you. But as much as I want to be, I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I’m sorry, I never meant to lead you on.”

Tears spring out of your eyes despite your desperate attempts to keep them in. Though you are completely understanding, your heart still breaks at the news. “It’s okay Tara, I get it.”

She wants so badly to reach out and comfort you, but she feels she’s done enough damage for one night. 

You pull your knees up to your chest and cry softly. Tara, who you had flirted with and even kissed several different times, was now telling you she didn't want a relationship. Your hopes had been so high that things were going to work out romantically between the two of you that you hadn't prepared yourself for the possibility of being turned away. Regardless of the way your chest aches with sorrow, you feel stupid for crying in front of Tara, who has gone through so much. 

You swipe your tears away aggressively, berating yourself for your moment of weakness. “Can we still be friends?”

You don’t even really know why you’d asked the question. Being just friends with Tara, the girl you feel so strongly for, is going to tear you apart from the inside out. A whole new set of tears trickles uselessly down your face, clouding your vision completely. 

Tara’s heart clenches at the sadness that oozes out of you, “Of course.”

You can’t stay here anymore and let Tara witness you being a worthless mess. You call out to Anika and Mindy, who come rushing over. 

Before they make it into earshot, you whisper to Tara, “I’m sorry. I know it’s the asshole move, but I just need some time to get a handle on my feelings for you. I still really want to be your friend, but I can’t do it right away. I care about you so much, so please keep yourself safe.”

A protest flies out of her mouth as you stand up and dust yourself off. “I’m so sorry Tara, thank you for trusting me with everything, I’ll never tell another soul. See you in a bit.”

Anika and Mindy arrive shortly after you tell Tara goodbye. They try to call out to your retreating form, but you’re too wrapped up in your deprecating thoughts to listen. The three girls can only watch helplessly as you trudge further and further away.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream vi #scream fanfic #devil likes the pirate series #I take every opportunity I can to promote tamber #og script forever in my heart #lonelym00n fic

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 7

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, bit of smut.

Word Count: 4,813

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Chapter 7 has arrived. 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Three and a half weeks later

“And these would be beside every tent?” Dean asked Brandy as he looked at the rough drawings she’d made of her latest idea.

She nodded. “Yeah, on the West side of every tent. It would mean families don’t have to come to Food Storage every few days for more rations, and once the deep snow comes that’s gonna be a huge benefit for folks. Plus it’s easier for people to plan ahead and stretch their food if they have two weeks worth of rations sitting outside their tent. I mean, it won’t work once spring comes, but that’s a problem for spring.”

Dean nodded. He looked at their builders, the group of half a dozen survivors that were tasked with providing new buildings and necessities as the camp required. They’d built the sheds earlier in the year, the chicken coop last summer and were currently finishing up a small barn for the cow.

“Is this gonna interfere with completing the barn?” He asked, nodding at Brandy’s drawings. 

One of the women, he was pretty sure her name was Vanessa, shook her head. “No, we’ll be finished with the barn in a couple of days, and be able to get Lily settled for the winter all snug, and then move on to the food sheds.” She looked at the drawing again and shrugged. “They’re small enough that we should be able to get them all done within a few weeks?” 

She looked to the rest of the builders who nodded their agreement.

Dean frowned. “Lily?”

Vanessa grinned. “Yeah, sorry that’s what the kids have dubbed our little cow. Y/N has them going to visit her once a week so Ralph can teach them about farming.” She said, referring to the old farmer who had helped to plant the winter vegetables.

Dean felt his stomach twist as it always did when someone brought up her name. But he just nodded. “Okay, good. Get started on the food sheds as soon as you’re able. The deep snow is gonna come in the next couple weeks. It’d be good to have them all done by then.”

They all gave a chorus of “Okay, Boss” or “Sure thing Boss” as they nodded and took their leave. They wrapped their scarves tight and pulled on their mittens. The deep snow may not have come yet, but the ground was layered in white, and winter was sharp and stinging in the late November air.

Brandy gathered up her drawings and was headed out when Dean called her back.

“Brandy?”

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised in question. They'd never discussed their meeting in the cabin with Y/N, but he'd noticed a slightly colder demeanor from her lately.

And he knew why, of course. 

Brandy had been one of the original dozen survivors who had built the camp together. She'd been an incredible asset from the beginning, and they probably wouldn't have survived without her planning and strategies for running the camp. He and the soldiers may have kept the survivors alive, but Brandy kept them living by organizing and planning for their food and shelter. She was an invaluable member of the camp.

But three weeks ago he'd treated her like a servant meant to do his bidding. He knew he owed her an apology, but it had been so long since he'd apologized for anything that it stuck in his throat.

Now she contemplated him, waiting for him to speak, and he just nodded. He pointed towards her drawings. 

“This is a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “So, thanks.”

Brandy stared a moment longer before a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She nodded.

“No problem, Boss. That's what we're all here for, right?”

Dean just nodded and she lifted her scarf over her face and left the big cabin where Dean conducted most of his business these days, since it was warmer than his tent and could fit more people.

As he ran a hand over his face, the door opened again and most of his soldiers tromped inside. They were there to talk about security and possible threats, but Dean immediately looked at Johnston. 

“Hey, did you tell her I want to see her?”

The thin man nodded vigorously. “Yes sir. I told her yesterday. Has…has she not come to see you yet?” He looked around the room as though Y/N might be hiding somewhere. 

Dean shook his head. “No, she hasn't.” He pointed towards the door. “So why don't you go get her and tell her I expect to see her now.”

Johnston looked wary and as though he definitely didn't want to follow that order. But when Dean just stared him down, he turned and left quickly.

The rest of his soldiers began giving their reports about any problems they were having at the outposts, like equipment that needed repair or items that needed replenishing. But Dean was only half listening; his gaze kept straying to the door, waiting for Y/N to show. 

Ten minutes later, Patrick was briefing him and Dean tried to focus on what he was saying. 

“Williams has seen the group twice now, but -” Patrick cut himself off as Y/N and Johnston pushed through the door.

Y/N smiled at the soldiers as she came in. “Sorry to interrupt, but apparently I was summoned.” 

She cut her glance to Dean and her smile turned brittle. 

“I was told you needed to see me.”

“Yeah, since yesterday.” Dean responded, hardening his voice in an attempt to not seem desperate, especially in front of his soldiers.

“Sorry. Busy.” Was Y/N's curt reply. “What do you need?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I just wanted to know how you're -” he altered his words, “your school, or, uh, the school was going?”

Y/N paused for a moment before answering with a shrug. 

“Fine.”

When it was clear that was all she was going to say, Dean scowled at her. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

She raised her chin a fraction. “Oh, I'm sorry, Boss, I don’t have anything else to say right now, but I’ll be sure to write out a full report for next week.”

Her eyes shot daggers that found their mark, bringing a pain to his chest that he felt a lot these days. He’d thought it might go away if he could talk to her, see her, but it was just worse with her there.

He shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He said quietly.

“Anything else then, Sir?”

He'd never hated that moniker more. “No, that's it.” 

She spun on her heel and walked out of the cabin. Silence reigned when she left. Dean waved at everyone else. “We'll finish this another time.” When they didn't immediately move, he made his voice a bit sharper. 

“Dismissed.”

That got them moving and they all shuffled their way out the door - all except Risa. She closed the door behind her fellow soldiers and then turned back to face Dean. 

He caught her eye and lifted his hands. “What?”

She shook her head slowly. “You're such an idiot.”

Dean dropped his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try that again?”

Risa shook her head as she walked back to him. “No, I said what I said.” 

Dean gave her a look of annoyance as she reached him and leaned one hip on the table where he stood. She raised her hand to his cheek, her countenance softening. 

“I really wanted to be the one.”

Dean scowled in confusion. “The one what?”

Risa pushed her fingers through his short hair. “The one to make you smile.” There was a long pause between them and Dean had no idea how to respond to that. She shook her head and stood up straight, dropping her hand. “But, it was obviously meant to be her.”

Dean scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You know I'm talking about Y/N.”

He gave a short burst of sarcastic, humorless laughter. “Yeah, right. You think Y/N's gonna make me smile? I've done nothing but pull my hair out since she got here, so ..” He trailed off and looked away from Risa's knowing gaze.

Risa nodded. “Yeah, cause you're an idiot.” She reiterated.

When he looked back at her, Risa was smiling softly and wistfully. “Apologize to her, idiot. Try to get back what you've nearly lost. She's pissed, don't get me wrong, it might take some real groveling on your part but,” she nodded, “she has a very kind heart, so she might forgive you. It's definitely worth a try.”

Dean stared at her for a moment before he looked down at the ground, conceding the truth in her words. “I don't know how to do it.”

Risa gave a gentle laugh. “You're a smart guy. Bet you'll figure it out.”

She put her hand on his cheek again, resting the other on his chest as she stood on tiptoe to reach his lips. She placed a light, lingering kiss there and then pulled away. 

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean felt a jolt of worry at the farewell. “You’re leaving? Am I losing a soldier?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, the soldier is staying. I'm saying goodbye to the woman I wanted to be for you. And the man that she…cared about a lot. I hope he lets himself be happy.”

Dean frowned, feeling the weight of her goodbye, with all of its disappointed hopes. 

“Goodbye Risa.” He said, and knowing it wasn't enough, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips, light and brief. “Thank you…for being the woman you are.”

He thought he saw a glimmer of moisture in her eye, but she blinked it away quickly and pulled out from under his hands. She moved to the door in a few strides and, with one last smile thrown over her shoulder, she walked away.

***

That afternoon as the winter sun headed into the west, Dean made the decision to go talk to Y/N. This was ridiculous. They were a camp of less than 150 people, continuing to try and avoid each other was impractical.

He'd just go tell her that.

He walked to the school because she was usually still there this time of day. But when he got there, the schoolroom was empty. He looked around the space that he hadn't seen in over a month and had to shake his head.

What had been a cold empty shed not even three months ago was now a warm, inviting, cozy space. She'd had a little camp stove installed, and on the Northern wall, replacing the fall leaves that had been there, was a giant, beautifully sewn quilt. He recognized it as the same design as the one that hung in the big cabin. 

Hannah, who was Ralph-the-farmer's wife, had made it out of old scraps of material. It took a long time to gather enough scraps for a whole quilt so he knew this quilt probably took her months of hard work. But of course she'd gifted it to Y/N and the school. That's what Y/N brought out in people - hard work and generosity.

The small wooden table in the room had four chairs around it now and he wondered where she'd snagged the other two chairs. 

The kids’ blanket seating had been enhanced slightly with the addition of a few pillows, and on the western wall, beside the old map, two long, weathered planks of wood had been nailed in place to serve as bookshelves. The books he'd brought back had been placed lovingly on the shelves, not a single corner bent on any of them. 

He sighed at the changes and felt a warmth flare to life in his heart. Y/N did this too - seeming to warm the spaces around her without trying.

He walked out of the schoolroom and was just starting to walk back to his tent when he heard high pitched giggles coming from the side of the school just seconds before three small bodies hurtled forward, chasing and grabbing on to one another - Emma and her two little friends. He couldn't remember their names.

When they all saw him, the laughter fell away and Emma's eyes got wide, fear and suspicion filling them instantly. It felt like a punch when he remembered the way she'd climbed up on the chair beside him that one time, shy acceptance in her expression as she asked him to read to her.

He hated that she was so scared of him; he had to try and fix that much, at least. 

“Hi girls.” He said in what he hoped was a friendly sounding voice. Emma's friends nodded and waved at him slightly. But Emma stayed on high alert.

He looked at her two friends. “I need to talk to Emma, so you girls head on home now.” 

They looked to Emma who looked more scared than ever. But she whispered goodbye to them and they ran off.

Dean got a bit closer to her and went down on his haunches. He took a second to think what to say to her.

“You know, you don't have to be scared of me.”

“I'm not.” Emma said quickly while her big blue eyes were shrouded in fear.

Dean nodded. “Okay, good because…” He struggled to find the words that would help. “Cause I thought maybe I scared you a bit before. When I, uh, needed to talk to your mom alone.”

Emma nodded, the suspicion growing in her gaze. “When you were mad at Mommy.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I wasn't mad.” 

Emma gave him a look that said she didn't believe him and he conceded with a nod. 

“Okay, I was a little…upset, but I was just…confused. Eventually everything got figured out.”

She didn't say anything, clearly still highly skeptical. 

Dean took a deep breath and decided  to just go for it. “Anyway, I didn't mean to scare you and I'm…sorry about it.” He cleared his throat. “And I promise not to scare you like that again. Okay?”

Emma stared at him for a long time and he kept hold of her earnest blue gaze throughout her scrutiny. Slowly a smile spread across her face.

“Okay.” She said, accepting him at his word. “Then can you come over again for supper tonight? I can read a bunch of words now, mommy taught me in the books. So, I could help you read the story this time.”

Dean shook his head at the speedy ways of forgiveness in a child's heart, and for the first time in more years than he could remember, a small smile turned up one side of his mouth. 

He reached out to pat her cold cheek. “I'm not sure, kiddo. We'll have to wait and see.” Emma was about to argue the point but Dean stood up. “Now it's gonna be dark soon and it's way too cold for you to be out here without a scarf. Don't you have one?” He asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, but I don't like it. It itches.”

Dean hummed. “Ah, yeah wool does that sometimes.” He unwound his own scarf from around his neck.

“Here, I'll trade you.” He said as he wound the polyester scarf around her neck and up over her cheeks. “Now, you head home.”

Emma's eyes were bright and happy above her new scarf as she danced away, skipping through the light snow that blanketed the ground.

He watched her go for a moment before turning back to head home himself. But he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Y/N standing in the path with an arm full of wood. Silence reigned for nearly a full minute. Finally he reached forward to take the wood, but Y/N shook her head.

“No, I’m fine.” She nodded toward the school. “Just stocking up for tomorrow.”

“Right.” 

More silence. Y/N’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Thank you for the scarf. It’s been impossible to get her to wear one.”

He nodded and then realized something. “How long were you standing there?”

Y/N took a deep breath, answering on an exhale. “Since just before you promised my daughter not to scare the shit out of her again.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. “So, basically the whole time.”

“Yeah, basically.” She took a beat pause. “Thank you for that.” 

Dean nodded. She walked towards the school again but before she could close the door and shut him out, Dean called to her, knowing his voice sounded desperate.

“I needed to believe it.”

Y/N turned in the doorway, a frown on her face. “Needed to believe what?”

He took a step closer, feeling choked by all the words he wanted to say that wouldn’t form properly in his mind. Y/N stared at him for a moment more before huffing slightly and walking into the schoolroom. He followed her inside, closing the door against the wind as she dropped the pile of wood into a metal bucket by the stove.

When she turned back to face him, she was scowling. “Dean, I don’t know what you want here. What do you want me to say?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to say anything. He wanted to say things, so many things. “No, nothing.” He croaked out.

She crossed her arms over her chest, bunching up her too big jacket. “Then what are you doing here?”

He took deep breaths in through his nose, pushing the words out through a closed throat. “I needed to believe it.” He said again, quieter this time.

“Believe what?” Y/N asked in frustration.

He stepped close to her and she took a step back before refusing to retreat. He gazed at her and wished more than anything that she really could just see inside his head so he wouldn’t have to try and get it out.

But he looked at the ground quickly and then back at her. His breathing was slightly labored and his voice was thin as he spoke. “You’re so dangerous to me, Y/N.”

He knew he said the wrong words when her forehead wrinkled into a deep frown and she nodded. “Because - I’m a psychic monster? Or because I’m a croat? Why exactly am I dangerous this time?”

“Because you’re you.” Dean answered loudly, speaking over the end of her question. He sighed in frustration; he was getting all of this wrong. He looked up to the heavens, as though they could possibly help him, and tried again, speaking softer.

“I needed to believe that you could control my mind or my…my feelings because…” He trailed off and looked at Y/N hoping she’d just know what he was saying and finish the sentence for him. But she was still just frowning in confusion.

“Because,” he continued, “my feelings when I'm around you are…dangerous. For me, I mean, they’re dangerous. Y/N I can’t…” He shook his head. “The way you look at the world? And the way you change how I see it too? It’s so fucking dangerous.”

He waved his hand, trying to encompass everything. “This world is ugly and shitty, and fucking ended! We literally lived through the end of the world, and now all that’s left is this - this dark, violent, bullshit reality.” 

He shook his head and his voice was filled with awe. “Yet somehow you move through it like this,” again he struggled for the words to describe her, “like some kind of lighthouse, like a refuge for every cold, lost thing. And I - “

He cut himself off, not sure he was making any sense. But Y/N had stopped frowning and was now just contemplating him.

He shrugged. “And when I’m around you, I feel warmer than I’ve felt in years, brighter.” He shook his head and moved away from her, embarrassed by his confession and knowing he wasn't saying it right. 

He stared at the map as he spoke. “So, I needed to believe that the feelings weren’t real, that you’d just forced me to feel that way. Because if the feelings and thoughts you bring out of me are real?” His shoulders slumped. “God, I’m so fucked.”

He felt Y/N come up to stand just behind him on his right, but he stayed staring at the map as she spoke.

“Why? What’s so dangerous about warmth and light?”

His voice was barely audible as he answered slowly. “Because they bring hope. And hope is a lie. It’s a lie I believed for a long time, a lie I clung to. The lie of possibilities, of family, of good conquering evil. And when the lie was revealed and the world fell apart, the truth almost killed me.”

After a moment he turned to face her and felt his heart skip as he saw her expression of sadness and the tears that sparkled in her eyes, even in the growing dusk.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and thumbed away a tear as it fell over her bottom lashes. “And Y/N, if I allow myself to hope again, and it gets crushed by the world again…” He shook his head. “I won’t survive it, I know I won’t.”

He took a step closer to her and felt her warmth penetrating his cold bones. She grabbed his free hand and held it in both of hers as he dropped his other hand from her cheek.

“Or…” she said, her voice filled with conviction, “or we can both hope, both fight, and both win. Even if we never get big wins, the little ones still count. And they add up. Every day we’re here alive is a win. Every time we smile at someone and they smile back is a win. Every time the sun shines so bright you have to close your eyes, every time we hear Emma giggle, every time our stomachs are full, every time we do something to make our home here better - every small thing adds up to big wins.”

Dean shook his head. He knew that trying to resist the pull of her light and life was pointless; she’d been pulling him out of the dark, and changing his plans since the moment she’d come into his life. 

He used their connected hands to pull her tight against him and watched heat enter her beautiful, red-ringed eyes.

He bent his head, but before his lips touched hers, he whispered words that came much easier now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For all of it. I’m so sorry.”

Another tear fell down her cheek and she smiled and bit her lip. “If I say you’re forgiven will you kiss me?”

He pretended to mull it over and then nodded. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

In the dusky twilight around them he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers; his arms tightened around her as she moaned softly. 

He was definitely counting that sound as a win.

***

Over the next month Dean resumed his dinners with Y/N, the difference being that he was there nearly every night, and he’d stopped pretending to himself that he didn’t relish every moment with her and Emma. 

Over the evenings spent together, Emma had warmed more and more to him so that now she ran to meet him every time he walked through their tent flap, holding her arms up so he’d pick her up and toss her up into the air, catching her in a swooping motion as she came down. It made Y/N gasp every time, but Emma squealed with delight. He’d set her down and she’d grab his hand, nearly three times the size of hers, and pull him over to the table.

He’d take off his heavy canvas jacket within the relative warmth of the tent, and drape it over Emma’s shoulders, making her giggle as she drowned inside it. 

They’d sit around the table and share the day's events, though Emma usually did the majority of the talking. It always brought a mixture of feelings when he listened to her bubbly, excited stories. It made him happy and terrified at the same time. She was so precious he couldn’t help but smile, an expression that was becoming easier for him as the days went by. But also, his chest felt tight and he could feel terror creep in as the darkness whispered a warning, telling him that he couldn’t possibly keep her safe. He’d lose her, and Y/N too.

Sometimes that thought woke him from a deep sleep and made him shake and sweat. It was proving incredibly difficult to make all his fears go away. But as soon as he saw Y/N’s smile the next day, it felt easier.

In fact it was becoming increasingly difficult to go home at all, to leave her warm cozy tent and return to his dismal gray one. But they were trying to be careful and move slowly in deference to Emma. They didn’t want her to feel confused or unsure of things now that she finally seemed so at ease. 

So they hid their kisses and their caresses until after Emma was sleeping, at which point they’d usually try and brave the cold long enough to enjoy some alone time, even if it was encumbered by bulky jackets and scarves. They never had enough time, but they’d managed slightly more satisfactory make out sessions in the empty school and in Dean’s tent. But they were always too rushed and things had to end too quickly.

Dean ached for her more and more every day.

One evening in mid December, the air was much milder than usual; the day had been unseasonably warm and the night held on to a trace of it. Dean had Y/N pressed up against the side of the thick canvas tent, sucking on the soft skin just below her ear. As her breath caught and she angled her head so that he had better access, he was practically vibrating with how badly he needed to feel her. 

As he breathed into her mouth, he slowly unzipped her jeans, letting her tell him no if she wanted. But she just nodded and bit her lip.

He watched her face as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of the leggings she wore as an extra layer against the cold, and then down into her panties. He desperately tried to stifle the moan that wanted to escape as he felt how soaking wet she was for him.

“Goddamn.” He whispered roughly as he slid two fingers inside her, rubbing his thumb against her little bundle of nerves and making her bite harder into her lip to keep quiet. He decided to help her out and closed his mouth over hers, swallowing up her small moans.

He pushed in and out of her body, his cock hardening as she gripped his forearm where it disappeared into her pants while her cunt clenched tight around his fingers. He passed his fingers over her sweet spot a couple of times and she fell over the edge. She broke off their kiss to bury a scream in his neck, muffling it with his thick collar. 

As she came down she clung to him, her hot breaths creating puffs of white in the cold air. She moved her hand to cup his hard on through his jeans and was just reaching for his zipper when they suddenly heard Cas’ voice inside the tent.

“Emma, where is your mother and Dean?” 

Dean groaned. What the fuck? Y/N squeaked slightly and pulled her hand back, making him absolutely throb with need. He was gonna slaughter his best friend. 

They were quickly righting their clothing when Emma's voice reached them, and it didn’t really sound like she’d been sleeping.

“They’re outside the tent, kissing each other.”

Y/N’s eyes got huge and round and Dean stifled a snorted laugh behind his palm while she slapped his bicep. 

“It’s not funny. Jesus, we’re gonna traumatize her!” She said in a horrified whisper.

Suddenly Cas’ head poked around the side of the tent and he frowned. “Are you finished kissing?”

Y/N buried her head in Dean’s chest and Dean scowled at the angel. “Well, we sure as hell are now.”

Cas nodded, completely ignoring Dean’s frustration. “Good. You need to come inside. I have incredible news.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “What news, Cas?”

The angel’s smile was surprising in its rarity and it made Dean raise an eyebrow.

“I know why Y/N isn’t a psychic.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

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#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean series #endverse!dean fan fiction #dean winchester #dean x reader

[heyiwrotesomethings]

HELLO HOPE UR HAVING A NICE DAY! i would like to request a shinobu x fem!reader(she/her) :) ok so, this is when shinobu is in her past personality and kanae is still alive, reader has a crush on the grumpy shinobu and tries to court her but, shinobu denies all of the reader’s confessions because shes scared to be in a relationship considering the world theyre in. (obv reader doesnt give up but i wouldnt either) fast travel to kanaes death and reader tries to cheer shinobu up but suddenly shinobu just snaps at the reader (due to stress and overwhelmness) and tells reader to leave her alone for good and reader does just that. reader stops with trying to court shinobu and shinobu will lowkey miss the readers shenanigans and shinobu deeply regrets yelling at reader, so shinobu goes to reader and apologizes and they live happily ever after! I HOPE THAT WASNT TOO COMPLICATED! I TRIED TO MAKE IT SIMPLE BUT MY BRAIN IS IMAGINING SO MUCH AND I HAD RO GET THIS ONE OUT 😍 I LOVE ALL OF YOUR FICS AND YOUVE BEEN MY FAV SHINOBU WRITER IN TUMBLR! HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT -⭐️

A Trade of Equal Value

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I had a pretty good time writing this one (even if I was still working on it at 2am last night lol)! The timeline is also kinda scuffed because I didn’t want to write in the four years between Kanae’s death and where Shinobu is mentally by the time Tanjirou and Co come around, but I still imagine her at the same age she is when the boys are introduced. I also got pretty angsty with Kanae’s death and Shinobu lashing out, but as usual, it turns out alright in the end.I feel like I should also note that Shinobu has a panic attack which I have bracketed with ‘~~~’. Shinobu even gets a little Gomez Addams-y at the end which I think is pretty nice if I do say so myself. Thanks for the request, I hope you like the result! Word Count: 4,906

“Shinobu, wait up!”

Shinobu exhaled audibly and Kanae giggled beside her, hooking her arm with Shinobu’s so that she couldn’t escape the other demon slayer quickly catching up to them.

“Be nice,” Kanae advised her.

“I’m plenty nice.” Shinobu whispered defensively. She enjoyed (Y/n)’s company more than most of the other people she had to deal with on a daily basis, but she was just getting back from a mission that lasted all night and she was too tired to cater to whatever scheme (Y/n) was cooking up this time.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) caught up to the sisters and hugged Shinobu from behind, “And hello to you too, Kanae-san!”

“Hello, (Y/n)-chan, how was your night?” Kanae asked, nearly smirking as her rosy-cheeked sister attempted to free herself from (Y/n)’s embrace. (Y/n) showed Shinobu mercy by letting her go and walking at her side instead.

“Pretty quiet. Everything went alright on your end?”

“Just fine.” Kanae confirmed.

“Good! So, um, Shinobu,”

Oh gods, here she goes again… Shinobu braced herself.

“There is a street festival going on in downtown Tokyo tomorrow. Want to go check it out with me? As a date? Or not… whatever you are more comfortable with.”

“What a fun idea!” Kanae spoke on Shinobu’s behalf, “She’ll be happy to go with you!”

“Neesan!” Shinobu objected.

“Am I wrong?” Kanae pouted, “would you not like to spend time with (Y/n)? Should I maybe go with her instead? I wouldn’t mind getting out for the day.”

Shinobu turned her head so (Y/n) couldn’t see her face and scowled at Kanae. Never let it be said that Kanae couldn’t be as conniving as she was kind.

Shinobu had met (Y/n) during Final Selection. They had spent most of that hellish week together, quickly forming a rapport that continued even after they made it out of the wisteria forest. They went on missions together often and spent a lot of off time together too.

They grew very close, close enough that Shinobu’s mood would sour when (Y/n) wasn’t around. Close enough that Kanae felt the need to tease her about how close they walked together in the halls. Close enough that (Y/n) had confessed to Shinobu a few weeks ago and was now trying yet another courting attempt.

Shinobu enjoyed spending time with (Y/n), but if they became any closer than they already were and (Y/n) went out for a mission and never came back, Shinobu was afraid of where that would leave her. It was hard enough to lose people she had met in passing, friends, family… she didn’t want to know what it was like to lose a romantic partner too. She had already witnessed such a thing a few months back.

There was a fiancée of one slayer Shinobu had known in passing since she was a Kakushi. She had been sent to clean up a location before another demon was discovered in the area. Woefully ill-equipped to deal with the situation, she had lost her life.

When the slayer who was her betrothed had received the news, he deteriorated over the next three weeks before finally passing away in his bed at the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu had fumed over the loss.

“There was nothing wrong with him!” She had exclaimed heatedly, angry at the situation. She had been unable to find anything physically wrong with the young man in all the tests she had done.

Kanae smiled sympathetically and put her hands on Shinobu’s shoulders as they watched the Kakushi remove the covered body from the infirmary.

“Sometimes there is just no curing a broken heart,” She had replied.

“I’ll go.” Shinobu gave Kanae a warning glare when her lips split into a larger smile, then she turned back to (Y/n), making the girl jump at the intensity of her stare, “But it is not a date.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes briefly and exhaled softly through her nose before giving Shinobu a small shrug and a relaxed smile, “Understood.”

That’s how it always went. (Y/n) sweetly telling Shinobu she loved her with little gifts and proposed outings with intentions clear. It became as normal a part of their relationship as anything else they did together.

Time and time again, Shinobu would deny her, but always kept her close. She would never admit it, never give herself a moment to reflect on it, but every time (Y/n) expressed her interest in courting her, although Shinobu denied her at every turn, she always felt a sense of relief that (Y/n) was still interested in her.

There had been a few occasions where (Y/n) had gotten friendly with other people and put Shinobu on edge. These instances made her feel jealous and more irritable than what was common for the younger of the Kochou sisters, but (Y/n) always came back to her in the end, even if Shinobu had to do a little prodding behind the scenes.

Kanae had noticed one such occasion and gently scolded Shinobu for it.

“If you are not intending to pursue a courtship with (Y/n), you really mustn’t sabotage the potential for her to find someone who wants to do what you will not. That wouldn’t be fair. Don’t keep her heart if you are not going to share yours in return. Regardless of what you decide, you must treat (Y/n) well. Friend or lover. Do you understand, Shinobu?”

To be lectured by Kanae was truly humbling and even embarrassing to an extent. If Kanae actually scolded someone, one would assume they must have really deserved it. Which is why Shinobu grunted a quick, “yes”, with her eyes cast shamefully to the floor before all but stomping away.

So maybe she had gone a bit overboard interfering with (Y/n)’s sparring partner’s recovery training schedule, but in her defense, (Y/n) was her partner first. Even if she had been okay with back to back sessions, Shinobu didn’t want anything less than (Y/n)’s best when they sparred so that meant nameless-sparkly-eyed-touchy-slayer had to find something else to occupy their time.

Turning the corner after exiting Kanae’s room, she found (Y/n) waiting for her. Leaning against the wall with a couple of wooden swords in her hands, she offered one to Shinobu with a inquisitive look.

“Want to let off some steam?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Shinobu managed a small grin at the offer, taking the sword and ignoring the tingles that traveled through her body when their hands touched.

This was what she wanted, the same steadfast compatibility they had when they met in the forest. Nothing scary, just them in their most pure and uncomplicated form. Was that so wrong? Kanae shouldn’t judge Shinobu for wanting this… the only opinions that mattered in this instance were her own and (Y/n)’s, and perhaps that was true to an extent, but Kanae’s wisdom about treating (Y/n)’s heart with care should not have been so easily pushed to the back of Shinobu’s mind… because it would be the last time such advice left Kanae’s lips.

The preparations for Kanae’s funeral had simultaneously happened agonizingly slow and all too fast. The most time Shinobu had to process her sister’s death was probably in those moments holding her beaten and bloodied body waiting for the Kakushi to collect her from the battlefield. She had held her long enough to notice how her skin had gone cold as the sunrise broke over the hills much too late to save the Hashira from her unforgiving fate. The emptiness she felt when the Kakushi finally arrived and gently took Kanae’s weight off of her almost felt worse than the initial death.

But there was no time to dwell on that. There was work to do. Cremation, service, paperwork, becoming the head of the mansion and taking on all of the duties that entailed. Meetings with Oyakata-sama himself and his condolences and hopes for her moving forward. She had already been close to becoming eligible for a Hashira position herself, but she hadn’t thought she would soon be replacing her sister instead of sitting beside her.

~~~

When she could finally be alone, Shinobu collapsed onto the tatami floor of her bedroom and wept, Kanae’s haori tightly wound within her grasp. What would she do? What would she do without her? Her sister, who loved and understood her more than any other, gone with one last, rattling breath that even now echoed within Shinobu’s ears. Her own breathing now was too shallow, her eyes stung and she couldn’t see. Her stomach felt cold and heart twisted so viscously in her chest that she felt physically ill.

Hands suddenly wrapped around her biceps and she tried to pull away, still struggling to breathe. The hands left for but a moment before they returned, fingers touching more cautiously than before. Slowly running up and down her arms to her hands and then back up to shoulders and the back of her neck, continuing the motion repeatedly.

Over time, the static in her ears dissipated and she was able to hear a soft voice, urging her to breath. She suddenly felt so exhausted that she couldn’t keep herself upright and fell forward, but instead of the floor, forehead fell against something more solid, but not hard. The arms wrapped around her and the voice continued to coax her to breathe, now gently swaying her from side to side.

~~~

Shinobu had no idea how much time had passed when she finally had the strength to pull away, seeing (Y/n) looking over her with worry. It made her feel so small and powerless and… and angry.

“Why,” Shinobu rasped sharply, “are you here?”

(Y/n) flinched backward at Shinobu’s tone, swallowing a lump in the back of her throat before answering.

“With everything that happened, I was worried about you. I could hear you from the hall, you scared me.”

“So?” Shinobu spat, trying to get up, but her legs weren’t cooperating. (Y/n) reached forward to help her, “Don’t.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed.

(Y/n)’s hands returned to her lap, tightly clasped. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen you like this before. Please, tell me how I can help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Shinobu growled. “Why, why can’t you just leave me alone? You just can’t take no for an answer, can you?” Shinobu wasn’t yelling, but the harshness of her tone was just as sharp in (Y/n)’s ears. “Help me,” She scoffed, though it sounded more like a whimper in her ears, making her more angry, “unless you can bring the dead back to life, stay the hell away from me.”

“Shinobu, please—“

Shinobu was so full of rage and anguish, her misdirected anger only became more pointed. The lack of control was eating at her, she felt like she was lost on treacherous seas, trying to stay afloat by dragging (Y/n) under the churning black water so that she could maybe get just one full breath without swallowing the salty brine. It would be so easy. The one thing that she could control.

“This isn’t something you can fix! This isn’t a fairy tale where you get the girl by saying a few sappy half-baked sentiments. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you?”

The words struck (Y/n) deeply, but she tried to power through, “That’s not why I’m here, Shinobu. I swear I’m not expecting anything to change. You’re hurting, and as your friend I—“

“You aren’t my friend!” Shinobu shouted. “Time and time again you ask to court me. Time and time again I refuse you. Your narcissism knows no bounds... The kindness you are attempting to show me is a forgery! A means to the end you keep badgering me for! You are reprehensible, a thorn wedged in my side, I can’t stand you, can’t you see that?! Leave!”

Shinobu’s heavy breathing was deafening in the quiet left behind by her words. Glaring down at (Y/n), she felt no lighter. No weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. In fact, as the sound of silence grew, the air around them only seemed to become thicker.

After stewing in the silence, (Y/n) attempted to speak. Her voice cracked on the first word and with it, Shinobu’s heart. She slowly got to her feet as if she had been physically beaten, avoiding Shinobu’s eyes as she turned away to wipe at her own.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through a hitched sob that made Shinobu’s blood chill, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt like that.”

Tell her you don’t. Take it all back, hurry. Try to make it better. Don’t let her slip away too. A hurried whisper within Shinobu’s mind pleaded, but she found herself mute, still and rigid as a statue. Her mind was fuzzy, yet somehow working in overdrive, but she appeared to not have the means to do anything about it.

“I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. It was hard enough asking the first time, I wouldn’t have asked again if Kanae-san,” another choked sob, “if she hadn’t encourage me to keep trying, if she hadn’t sounded so sure that you felt the same, I wouldn’t have bothered you after that...

Even so, I should have noticed how you really felt. I didn’t pay close enough attention, yet I still claimed to love you. I really am the worst, huh?”

Shinobu could see the terrible false smile (Y/n) wore as she slowly slid the door open and shuffled into the hall. The voice in Shinobu’s head screamed at her to move, to speak, to stop (Y/n) from slipping out of the room completely, but she still stood stubbornly frozen.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

The door closed, furthering the chasm between them and casting Shinobu’s room in darkness once more. She could hear (Y/n)’s footsteps fading, but instead of following, she slid back down to the floor in a strange state between wakefulness and unconsciousness. Not quite grasping the gravity of this event until much later when the other girls finally had her eating and sleeping properly again and she had some time to reflect.

(Y/n) had made good on her promise to leave Shinobu alone. When Shinobu had worked up the courage to find her and apologize for all the awful things she said nearly a month ago, the room that was all but officially (Y/n)’s was uniform with the other empty rooms spread across the mansion.

Kiyo had found her standing in the doorway and timidly approached.

“(Y/n)-san told us that she was going to ask the Stone Hashira if he was willing to take on another Tsuguko. Her crow sent us a letter a couple days later. She was accepted. The Kakushi helped relocate her belongings.”

“Oh.” Shinobu softly exclaimed, because what else could she say? It was either that or sink to the floor like a slug and Shinobu wasn’t quite ready to go that route yet.

“But now that you know, you could go talk to her. If you wanted to.” Kiyo cautiously added. She and the other girls may or may not have caught wind of what had happened, but were too nervous to try to interfere before now.

“Thank you, Kiyo. I think I will do just that.”

***

“Himejima-san, please.”

Shinobu couldn’t believe that Gyomei of all people was getting in her way of speaking to (Y/n). The man who had saved her and introduced her to a cultivator had been a father figure to her for years now and to have him standing in her way like he was now stung.

“It is not my decision to make,” Gyomei shook his head, still standing firm, “She does not wish to see you. Why that is, I do not know, but it is the decision she has made and one that I must honor.”

“I need to see her, it’s urgent.” She insisted.

“Is her health failing?”

“No.”

“Does she have a mission?”

“…No.”

“Then I see no reason to yield, young Kochou.” Gyomei shook his head woefully, “But I can tell this is important to you, if you have a message for her, I shall relay it for you if you are comfortable.”

Shinobu stared past Gyomei, looking longingly at the towering fence that enclosed his estate. She honed in on the sound of slayers training beyond the walls, hoping to hear (Y/n)’s voice among the shouts and grunts and clacking practice swords, but heard no such sound in the commotion.

“Can I write it out myself?” She asked Gyomei. He nodded.

“I will allow it… Again, I don’t know what this is about, but take time and care in writing what you want to say. You can send En by when you’ve completed your letter or hand it off to myself.”

“Very well. I shall do that.” With one last look at the tall fence, Shinobu turned to leave and Gyomei spoke up once more.

“Do not get disheartened if you do not get the results you hope for right away. Find a happy medium between patience and persistence and perhaps she will come around.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”

As soon as Shinobu got home, she locked herself in her office for hours and every attempted draft of apology could not even begin to touch on all she regretted. Her waste bin was overflowing by the time she had something that didn’t immediately make her want to rip the offending paper in two. Before she could change her mind, she sent En off with the letter and waited anxiously for a reply. Hoping beyond hope they could go back to where they were before. Shinobu needed that familiarity and stability. She craved it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait terribly long for a reply, but unfortunately it read,

I’m relieved to hear you are in a better place, but just as you have had time to reflect on that night, I have as well.

Your words that night hurt me in a way that I’ve never been hurt before, made worse by the fact that it was you who had said them to me.

Part of me wanted to be furious with you, I thought that I should be, but I wasn’t. I was empathetic to your loss and the new responsibilities that were thrust upon you. But even though I tried to convince myself that you lashed out because of the pressure, I believe there was some truth in what you had said.

If I could go back in time, I would have just kept my feelings to myself to spare us all the trouble. Despite this, I am happy that you hope to patch things up between us.

However, in my reflection, I came to the conclusion that even after all of this, I am still hopelessly in love with you despite everything. In the interest of preserving my heart, and saving you from the discomfort of my affections, I do not think it wise for us to reconnect. At least, not until I manage to get over you. I don’t know how long that will take, but given that not a waking hour passes that I don’t think about you, it probably won’t be any time soon.

I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable to read this, I’m just trying to be honest. Tell the girls I said hi, and please take care of yourself.

Wishing you the best,

(Y/n)

“Wishing you the best?” Shinobu hissed under her breath, the paper crinkling between the harsh pinching of her fingertips. “There is no best of me without you, idiot.”

Shinobu allowed herself time to cry, but not a lot. Gyomei’s words were still on her mind. If she wanted (Y/n) back, she wasn’t going to get her by crying, but now she needed to make a very important choice.

Continue to push for friendship, or confront the romantic feelings that she had fought like hell to keep hidden. Was accepting those feelings and the vulnerability the would bring worse than not having (Y/n) in her life at all?

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Shinobu softly pondered the old proverb. Kanae had been a fan of the saying and Shinobu had never really understood the sentiment until now.

Though she was going to fight like hell to be worthy of the love she had lost and reclaim it once more.

***

“Another letter? En, that’s three just today. You don’t have to bend to her every whim.” (Y/n) fussed over the bird, setting her up with fresh water and seed.

“It is important to Shinobu, so it is important to me.” The loyal crow proudly stated, though she was very grateful for (Y/n)’s continued hospitality.

“Just try not to over do it.” (Y/n) sighed and unfurled the letter, quickly catching the pressed flowers within and quietly cursing as bits of the brittle plants flaked off and fell to the floor. She carefully paced the dried flowers on her desk and scanned over the letter, finding it to be another poem. “What is she trying to achieve here? Why is she doing this?”

“To win back your trust, your heart,” En cocked her head left and then right, “Is it not obvious? Should I suggest being more direct?”

“Why does she want my heart so badly all of the sudden?” A bit of irritation slipping into her tone, “Is it something she wants to seal up in a jar? Bet she’d enjoying having it up on a shelf in the lab. Maybe a paper weight on her desk.”

“You humans vex me,” En’s feathers ruffled, “just give each other something shiny and make up.”

“If only it were that simple.” (Y/n) murmured, finishing her curt response to Shinobu’s poem, denying her a visit once again. She then placed the letter beside En. “You can take your time heading back, and if she tries to insist on a fourth delivery today, turn her down for the good of your health.”

En released a low caw that could only be interpreted as a scoff. Promptly scooping up the letter and taking her leave, passing Gyomei in the hallway.

“(Y/n), is all well? You are late for training.”

(Y/n) winced, “I’m so sorry Master. I got distracted.”

“Kochou-san again?”

“Yes…”

“And you still will not see her?” (Y/n)’s silence was answer enough. “Why?”

“I guess when it comes right down to it, I’m scared. Whether it’s me putting my own heart out there, or her actively trying to obtain it, I feel like it will inevitably end the same and I don’t think I could go through that again.”

Gyomei hummed thoughtfully, “I think I understand your concerns. Matters of the heart are certainly not easy. Especially when it has already been hurt before. I’m sure you will make your peace with her soon, but I pray that peace and satisfaction will find you sooner.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Can I expect you to join the rest of your peers for training now?”

“Of course!”

“Wonderful. I expect you to have two boulders beaten down to gravel by nightfall.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped and she suppressed a groan.

“Yes, sir.”

This would be a long day…

***

Shinobu halfheartedly paged through the new medicinal tome that had arrived the day prior. She had been eagerly anticipating its arrival for months, but now with En’s latest return proving she had failed to entice (Y/n) once again, she hardly had the motivation.

She was surprised when Gyomei’s crow, Zekka, came to perch at her window some hours later. She took the letter from his beak and he quickly flew off. He was not expecting a reply, she supposed. She unfurled the textured paper and scanned the punched message which simply read,

The best way to receive what it is you are looking for, is to give something of equal value in return.

Himejima Gyomei

“Really, Himejima-san, is this supposed to be a riddle?” Shinobu shook her head, but a determined spark lit up her eyes and she got to work.

***

(Y/n) slumped to the ground, uncaring that she was resting in a pile of rubble. She had destroyed the boulders just as the sun had sank behind the mountains, but at what cost? Himejima seemed nice, but his training was beyond brutal. If the secret of Stone Breathing was to make one’s arms as heavy and stiff as stone, (Y/n) was surely going to be a Master in no time. Her eyes drooped shut. It wouldn’t be the first time she took a dirt nap after training, but an insistent voice was preventing that.

“Hello, hello, please don’t fall asleep out here, (Y/n). I could probably name ten different reasons why it would be a horrible decision.”

Cold hands prodded at her face and sore arms, making her groan in protest and try to shimmy away.

“If you don’t massage and stretch now, you are going to be completely immobile tomorrow. Which may be helpful actually, at least then you won’t be able to run away from me.”

(Y/n) heard her arm crack and pop, which would have have alarming except it felt like a relief. She cracked opened her eyes, soon blown wide open when she realized who was busy cracking and rotating her aching wrist. If her heart had ever raced when she saw Shinobu (which it did) it was sprinting now. Damn traitorous organ never learned.

“What are you doing here? How are you here?” She whispered, not even because she was pretty sure she was dehydrated, but because it just felt appropriate to whisper.

“Jumped over the fence.” Shinobu answered casually, taking her time cracking (Y/n)’s knuckles and massaging her palm now, “Though I’m sure Himejima-san is well aware of my presence and wouldn’t have minded me using the front gate this time around. And for your first question, I’m here for you.”

“Shinobu, I told you that I—“

“—I have something I want to give you formally. What you decide to do from there is completely your choice. I know I have always asked a lot of you, but please allow me this once more.”

“…Okay.” Even after nearly four months of separation, (Y/n) found herself still unable to deny her. In her mind, this did not bode well for what little progress she thought she had made.

“Thank you.”

Shinobu stoked her thumbs over the palm of (Y/n)’s hand before bringing it to her chest, placing it over her heart and holding it there with both hands.

“Wh-what are you doing?” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to inch her palm higher, somehere above Shinobu’s clavicle and not quite so close to the swell of her chest, but Shinobu held firm.

“Do you feel that?” She asked.

“What am I supposed to be feeling?!”

“My heartbeat, of course. Can’t you feel it? It’s beating rather hard right now.”

It was hard to pay attention to anything other than her own racing heart if she was honest. Besides, a hand to someone’s chest wasn’t the best way to find a pulse. Shinobu of all people should know that.

“Maybe this will help.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu shift their positions around, mostly because she was still stiff and her body was refusing to cooperate with her own wishes. After a bit of maneuvering, she found her cheek resting on Shinobu’s chest instead, a speedy and strong drumbeat pressed against her ear.

“Is that better?” Shinobu asked.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To show you that you are not alone, that this is the power you have over me. My heart is yours, it always has been, but I’m giving it to you formally now.”

“Shinobu, I can’t—“

“I don’t expect you to give yours in return, I know I don’t deserve it yet, but I hope to one day. Will you allow me the honor of courting you. You owe me nothing, but I beg of you to allow me the chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Because losing out on the moments we could have while living together is more frightening to me than death itself. I don’t know how much time either of us has, but I want to spend it all with you.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to water. A quiet sob shook her shoulders and she felt Shinobu’s arms tighten around her. She was so doomed. Try as she might, her heart was very clear. It belonged to Shinobu, no matter what she decided to do. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make her really work for it though.

“Alright, I accept,” (Y/n) sniffed, “you may court me.”

Shinobu gasped softly then took (Y/n)’s hand from her lap, kissing the back of it while locking eyes with her. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s spine.

“I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. The same one I had denied you of several times in the past. The goddess my heart is devoted to is a merciful one. How unworthy I am of your blessing.”

“I think you have been reading too much poetry.” (Y/n) spoke in a strained whisper, flustered by Shinobu’s intensity. She had never imagined she could be like this.

“Oh this is only the beginning,” Shinobu declared, a purple flame burning in her eyes more vibrantly than any chemical reaction could produce, “You best prepare yourself.”

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #anonymous

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-02-15

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Loki Odinson stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

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✑ A Hellish Form of Jealousy￨Prt. II by minnie-marvel • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You were beautiful, you were confident, you were smart. If these midgardians couldn't handle your total package, then maybe a god could."

✑ A Thousand Years by thesaltysocialworker • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Moments before your and Loki's Wedding Ceremony is to begin your bride's maids present you with a very special gift from your soon-to-be husband, to which there is more that meets the eye.

✑ A Worthy Try by andsheloved • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Loki reflects on all you are and how maybe one day, [he'll be] good enough to have you."

✑ Beg for Me by imaginativemarvel • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Loki fancies [you] but refuses to do anything about it. Thor takes… notice of [his brother's desire] and takes matters into his own hands..."

✑ Borderline by lokibug • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Loki is taken with you, but you're hesitant to allow anything further than friendship due to his mischievous ways. He attempts to prove to you that he could be good for you."

✑ Bound to You by munsons-maiden • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "After [having] a secret relationship with Loki for a few weeks, a fight… leads you to question what you truly mean to him — [luckily] there's a perfect way to find out... Who would've thought Loki would be the jealous type?"

✑ Boyfriend? by shitty-marvel-fan732 • 〔A᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Y/N and Loki have been getting closer for several weeks, but he's still very ambivalent about their relationship status. Toss in a Stark party and an over eager fan and what will happen?"

✑ Bradley by wewritesoyoucanenjoy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Loki's patience is tested when circumstance forces, Loki to work with his girlfriend's 'perfect' ex-boyfriend on a mission. How long will it take before he explodes?

✑ Brawn Over Brains by hopelessromanticspoonie • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 •

Summary: You can't help but get a bit jealous when a new recruit sets her sights on Loki. The real question is what are you going to do about it?

✑ Broken by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: In the aftermath of a mission-gone-wrong

✑ Crimson Clover by munsons-maiden • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 •

Summary: "An accident [in the] lab brings you to Loki's doorstep, desperate and in pain, [seeking] the trickster's help. Loki, who'd once been your friend; who stole your heart and then left without any explanation."

✑ Cursed by lov3nerdstuff • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "After touching a cursed vase, Loki and you end up in a situation that requires for both of you to finally face your feelings."

✑ Don't Worry by wewritesoyoucanenjoy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "..."

✑ Flour Follies, the by hopelessromanticspoonie • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[After being left out of] the latest Avengers mission, you turn to cooking to ease your anxieties, but the God of Mischief can't help but get in the way."

✑ For Your Love by munsons-maiden • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Loki wants you... he's more than willing to do [anything and] everything... [to earn] your love. Making you scream his name at the end of this funny little game of cat and mouse is only the cherry on top."

✑ Get Over Him Not Under Him by lykaonimagines • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: [You're] hopelessly stuck on a Loki that seemingly doesn't want more than a dirty little secret. Natasha in an attempt to make [you] get over the God of Mischief, sets [you] up with another God. 

✑ Glass Slipper by lokiprompts21 • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

Summary: "You get stuck babysitting Morgan AND Loki. Of course, Morgan thinks you are a princess because of your singing talents…what happens when she finds out that Loki is a real prince?!"

✑ Heat by anonymousfiction211 • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Loki sometimes avoid you. You think it is because he figured out you are in love with him. When he isn't at movie night with the team, you decide to check up on him."

✑ Her Name by lokidokiee-fanfic • 〔M〕 •

Summary: "..." After watching Loki flirt with another woman you've had enough

✑ Hickey by thejokersenigma • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "[You have] a hickey and it sparks interest from everyone, including Loki, but who's the guy?"

✑ Just the Way You Look Tonight by andsheloved • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Maybe fairy tales aren’'t just made of magic and flowing gowns in glittering ballrooms, maybe fairy tales aren't made of something tangible, maybe they're built from the feelings that you find when you realize you love someone, perhaps fairy tales aren't just stories after all."

✑ Like He Does by munsons-maiden • 〔E〕 •

Summary: When Loki finds out you have a date, he can't help but feel the slightest bit jealous. How much can you take before that jealousy boils over?

✑ Like Real People Do by just-the-hiddles • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Loki has just started dating the reader and he is struggling to express how much he cares about her. So he goes to Thor for help. It does not go well."

✑ Liquid Courage by munsons-maiden • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "You've been pining after Loki for so long, certain he'd never reciprocate your feelings — until an accident at a party gives you the courage you needed to finally give him your heart."

✑ Lucky Accident by munsons-maiden • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "After a tiring mission, you accidentally sprawl out on the wrong bed!"

✑ Make Believe by hopelessromanticspoonie • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "After bribing the God of Mischief with a month's worth of chocolate chip cookies, he agrees to be your wedding date. But that decision may come at a steeper price than your entire salary's worth of baking supplies."

✑ Moment of Decision  by thepokyone • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "..."

✑ Neighborhoods Will Hear, the by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Loki overhears your ex, Seth, commenting that sex will never be as good as it was with him. Loki plan on making him regret those words."

✑ Oh No! by lykaonimagines • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "[You don't] know how to confront [your] feelings about Loki, [as it happens] fate decides to force [you]."

✑ Only in My Daydreams by old-starbucksloverblog • 18+ • 〔E᜶F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Loki is so attracted to you, that he accidentally starts projecting his fantasies to your mind through his magic without even realizing it."

✑ Real by andsheloved • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When you and Loki are sent on a mission that requires you to act as romantic partners, you can't help but let your mind wander to a reality where your relationship could be real."

✑ Right or Wrong by hopelessromanticspoonie • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "Loki stakes his claim… while saving [you] from a seedy stranger outside of a bar."

✑ Shirt and Tie by thejokersenigma • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: Loki requires assistance, getting dressed…

✑ So Pretty by jpat82 • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "..."

✑ Still Beautiful by munsons-maiden • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Loki takes care of you when you're sick, -[leaving] you to wonder if he might actually reciprocate the feelings you've been harbouring for him."

✑ Tall, Dark, and Morally Grey by kneeling-before-loki • 18+ • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "[You're] an avid reader [with] a penchant for ~*spicy*~ [novels featuring] tall, dark-haired morally grey romantic leads, much like your Avengers teammate Loki. Antics ensue one afternoon when you're questioned about your choice of books."

✑ That's Not My Name by just-the-hiddles • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You thought you hit the lottery [upon securing a job] at Stark Industrie, [you didn't expect to end] up as Loki's personal assistant. [It's] not all bad as you find the [him] very attractive. [However,] you're not willing to [risk your] job for [a potential relationship]…"

✑ Thunder Storm by anonymousfiction211 • 18+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When Thor's mopping turns the weather sour, your boyfriend does everything in he can think of to take your mind off the storm.

✑ Training by jpat82 • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: After coming to terms with your feelings for Loki, Steve decides to play match-maker.

✑ Unexpected by wewritesoyoucanenjoy • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Gossiping, with Wanda, never lead to anything good. When the topic shifts to your taste, in men, you can't help but think about a certain dark, charming, yet mysterious God.

✑ Washing Room, the by anonymousfiction211 • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "You spill your drink on Loki and decided to clean his shirt."

✑ Whole Truth, the by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: When H.Y.D.R.A scientists inject you and Loki with a serum intended to amplify pre-existing attraction, you are forced to confront your true feelings for one another.

✑ Wisdom Teeth by lokibug • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Thor tasks Loki with looking after you following your wisdom teeth removal surgery… Needless to say embarrassment ensues.

✑ Without a Doubt by justauthoring • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Getting involved with your best friend's "bad-boy brother" is never a good idea. It's especially worrying were both men happened to be Gods...

✑ A Hug? by dragon-kazansky • 〔F〕 •

✑ Actions Speak Louder by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Anything for You by baseballbitch116 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Artemis by lokiedokiee-fanfic • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Asgardian Tradition by munsons-maiden • 〔F〕 •

✑ Carnal Lullaby by hopelessromanticspoonie • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Childish Antics by thepokyone • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Endeavour to Be Ugly by just-the-hiddles • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Focus by anonymousfiction211 • 18+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Forever by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Hands by bakugousaysdie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ His Girl by bakugousaysdie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Just One Dance by anonymousfiction211 • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Loki Says Relax by the--blackdahlia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Loki's in Love by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lost Kittens by anonymousfiction211 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Mind Games￨Prt. II￨Part. III by baseballbitch116 • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

✑ Morning After, the by thejokersenigma • 〔F〕 • ♡ •

✑ Mortal, the by baseballbitch116 • 〔F〕 •

✑ Norse Gods and Magazines by curseofaphrodite • 〔F〕 •

✑ Perfectly, My Love by lov3nerdstuff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Pet Names￨Prt. II by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Promise by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Security by hopelessromanticspoonie • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sleep by lokiedokiee-fanfic • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Smile by munsons-maiden • 〔F〕 •

✑ Sweatshirt, the by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Take My Hand by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Torturous Ceremony by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Warm by bakugousaysdie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Weighted Blanket by bakugousaysdie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ You Don't Own Me￨Prt. II by baseballbitch116 • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

✑ Cuddles & Affection by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddling w/ Loki… by hiddlywiddly81 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Having Children w/ Loki￨Prt. II by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Loki Being Possessive of You… by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Loki Finding Out You're Pregnant by bakugousaysdie • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Sex w/ Loki by spilledkauffie • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Shopping w/ Loki by laufeyamp • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Loki Odinson Master Index

Authors: @andsheloved || @anonymousfiction211 || @bakugousaysdie || @baseballbitch116 || @curseofaphrodite || @dragon-kazansky || @hiddlywiddly81 || @hopelessromanticspoonie || @imaginativemarvel || @jpat82 || @just-the-hiddles || @justauthoring || @kneeling-before-loki || @laufeyamp || @lokibug || @lokiedokiee-fanfic || @lokiprompts21 ||@lov3nerdstuff || @loving-barnes || @lykaonimagines || @minnie-marvel || @munsons-maiden || @old-starbucksloverblog || @shitty-marvel-fan732 || @spilledkauffie || @the--blackdahlia || @thejokersenigma || @thepokyone || @thesaltysocialworker || @wewritesoyoucanenjoy || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

#Loki x Reader #Loki x Female Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki x You #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader #Loki Laufeyson x Y/N #Loki Laufeyson x You #Loki Odinson x Reader #Loki Odinson x Y/N #Loki Odinson x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #Loki Fanfiction #Loki Fanfic #Marvel Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction

[greywritesthings]

None of that

Derek Morgan x Platonic!Reader

Warnings - meltdown, self harm stims

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N - IDK when the next update for the Autistic! reader series will be but hopefully soon! Decided to focus on Derek on this one as iv seen a lot of Spencer x autistic reader ( the main focus of the one shot series ) but who doesn't love some rep for the other characters, I may also do Emily, JJ etc x autistic reader as their own one shots :) Reblogs, comments & likes always appreciated!!

Today had started off bad and just seemed to be getting worse. You had woken up without Spencer as he had to go off to Louisville with Hotch to do a death row interview at the last minuet meaning your carefully planned out schedule for the week now had a wrench thrown in it, something you didn't deal with at the best of times, let alone without your boyfriend. 

You had checked the weather when you were picking your outfit and it was supposed to be a mild but sunny day, so you picked a shirt and skirt with a sweater vest in case it went colder than expected but on your walk to the subway the skies suddenly opened and you got drenched to the bone before you could get under any decent form of shelter. You were lucky that your go bag was at the office but it meant spending your entire commute soaking wet.  

By the time you reached the office you were nearly at the point of a meltdown so you text Rossi to say you were here just taking time to calm down after a hellish commute. Once you finally walked into the bullpen you nearly flinched at the amount of noise and lights in the space. You knew today was going to be a bad one and you would be lucky to escape it without a meltdown. 

You took up Spencers desk for the day, a common occurrence when he was away as it brought you comfort, so you were next to Morgan and across from Emily, two people you adore on any given day aside from the fact that today you could hear the music coming from Morgans headphones just enough to the point it was driving you up the wall and combined with Emily's constant clicking of her pen as she did her paperwork and the buzzing of the various screens and lights around the room it was becoming too much but without Spencer here you were just frozen in place. You trusted the BAU with your life, literally more often than not but you still didn't want to have an outburst in the middle of your work day, especially when it was only another hour before Spencer was due back at work, the interview having been quicker than expected. 

“Can you stop! Please!” you snap at no one in particular but both Emily and Morgan freeze. You clap your hands over your mouth and make a break for Hotch's currently vacant office, a place he had specifically told you to use when he wasn't in it and you had learnt to listen to him after a few meltdowns in the FBI parking lot. You’re only half sure the door closes behind you as you fall into the corner of the office Hotch had shifted around specifically for your meltdowns. He had kept it dark so it all blended in and didn’t overwhelm you but it was all soft, cushions on the floor and wall with some small fidget toys in a box to the side so you could grab them. 

You can hear footsteps approaching the doorway and the door slowly creaking open and the footsteps slowly approach, it's not Hotch or Spencer. It can't be Emily, JJ or Garcia given they’re all in heels leaving it to be Morgan. “Hey baby girl, can you look at me?” he asks as he sits down cross legged in front of you, coming down to your level. “There you are, you gotta come back down to me okay sweetheart? I know you're overloaded right now” He keeps his voice low to try and encourage you to breathe. He didn't notice the fact that your hands are scratching at your arms until they were starting to bleed, “Hey hey hey mama none of that thank you okay, here grab my hands okay, you can squeeze as hard as you like, just no scratching yourself up okay?” He's not harsh about it, just firm. You grab onto his outstretched hands and he starts trying to guide your breathing. “There you go, see? You're doing it now. Do you want your fidgets? I can also go grab you a Hot chocolate or something, I don't have pretty boy on hand but he should be back in a half hour or so and Hotch has cleared you to go home when he's come back.” You smile at Morgan, reaching for the box of fidgets and grabbing one out. “I'm going to go grab you a Hot chocolate missy, behave while i'm gone okay?” You laugh as he leaves, settling back into the cushions with the fidget, nearly falling asleep.

Taglist - @reidstheyfriend , @oosnapitskat, @lover-of-books-and-tea

Add yourself here!

#greyswritings #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #derek morgan #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan x autistic!reader #spencer reid x autistic!reader #x autistic reader

[eldritch-spouse]

Livius slipping into the body of an actress with a catty attitude at a red carpet/awards ceremony, fully intending to cause a scene. He gets obsessed not with the actress but with her stressed out assistant.

She is fretting, readjusting the actress's dress and putting on some last minute adjustments to her look before she's on the carpet, and begging her not to stir any shit up at the event.

I know you and an the other two nominees for best actress don't get along but please be civil ma'am.

TW: Gore; Non-consensual demonic possession.

His plan was simple.

Cause a scandal.

Sometimes he does this kind of thing for fun, other times, he has the pleasure of doing it as a service from a formal agreement. You'd be surprised how many celebrities fish contacts to reach his Ring, to reach Lavineum the Envious. Really, him and Rinx have crossed paths on the surface more than once. Sometimes even Cero is looming by.

People just can't resist a bit of a hellish push to success, can they?

Every week, there's a new pretty face around the corner, some halfwit thinking they're going to make it big, a loser, a pawn, a dolly- People who let it all get to their heads and then, suddenly, one day, making a deal with an unfathomable force seems acceptable.

It just so happened that Livius' current patron is one rival of the gorgeous 32 year old whose body he's currently snug inside, wearing Ms Isabella like a glove. She wasn't particularly hard to get a hold of, most of these movie stars are pretty air-headed. He had her silent and dormant in less than a full minute.

He looks at himself in the mirror, combing over her extravagant dress that's honestly bright enough to kind of bother his sight. The woman's raven locks flow from her shoulders, and he twirls a lock the exact same way she does when in deep though. A practiced smile falls on that screen-friendly face as he switches through a few of her usual expressions.

Piece of cake. She's not very nuanced to Livius, as insulting as it may sound.

When the click of someone entering the room is heard, Livius straightens, then adopts Isabella's usual impatient stance, arm on her left hip, an intense gaze cast to you, the woman assisting this actress. Honestly, he doesn't know how well you get paid, but it can't be enough to justify dealing with Miss "I'm fluent in three languages and so much better than you-" on a regular basis.

" ... Ma'am? " You squint.

" Yes, what is it? " He snaps back the same tone you're probably used to hearing by now. The woman's slight Italian accent flows easily on the tongue.

" I asked you to sit down please, we still need some last minute adjustments. "

Livius glances at you once more before doing as told.

You're very pretty. It's almost odd that he's possessing the celebrity here, yet you have such a sweet little smile and eyes so full of hope that you could easily make it out there in the same areas as the woman you're working under. Maybe that's why she's so rude to you at times. Livius sits in the lush little chair in front of several mirrors and forgets that perhaps he's been staring at you for a little too long, because you shiver eventually.

He needs to be cautious, his gaze isn't like the vacuous glare this woman spares most people, it's something a lot more invasive and whole. When Livius stares, he sees.

Before you can ask if everything is alright, he diverts. " Go on, we don't have all day. "

And the way you jump has him muffling a smile. " Y- Yes, of course! "

As you get closer, the demonlord gets to sense your smell, your perfume rather, but there's a hint beneath that can only be yours alone. He'd be able to gouge it better if not for his host's own disgustingly overpowering, acidic crime of a perfume. Nevertheless, he's much too still while you work, observing every little thing you do. How your fingers twitch, where you lean to, which way your head tends to tilt, the expression you make when you're concentrated.

In fact, he likes that frowning puckered lip look so much that he subconsciously puts it on himself. And you notice, of course.

" Hahah... " You pause, heat rising on your cheeks. " I know, it's silly. You got me. "

Livius is very glad you took it as a joke rather than the amateur slip up it actually was.

When you continue, he schools himself a bit better, forcing himself to relax a little so he's not hyper-focused on studying you. He ponders on the steps he'll take to complete his deal, the most amount of damage he can make to this woman involves flickering through some of her insecurities, her lowest moments and most repugnant thoughts. The core of what makes her human, her disgusting sinuous vein.

Unfortunately, it's more than a little difficult to remain focused with you so close to him. As you shift the woman's luxurious necklace, he feels your small fingers brush against the expanse of her neck, a pleasant tingle up her scalp, the scent of you largely demanding of his attention. You're the type of person he could hold onto forever. It's a shame he's in the middle of a task, because Livius would much rather dwell inside of you at this moment.

This increasingly loud hum begins rocking his chest as the demonlord sways, enjoying the care and sighing while digits adjust earrings. And everything is right in the world, no thought spared to what time and day it is. Until...

The touch vanishes, the extra warmth recedes, Livius is bereft and irritated.

" E- Excuse me, ma'am? "

His eyes snap open.

Livius had been rumbling for a while. Oopsie.

He gets to see your eyes flicker from him, so full of confusion and doubt, to the wide mirror directly behind Isabella. And what you see there makes the color drain from your whole body. Your fear is palpable and thick, like the lump in your throat as you struggle to get in enough air to scream.

Scream like a wild animal, at the top of those itty bitty lungs.

What a wonderful melody. There are other ways he'd like to make you scream, now that he thinks about it. You're just a lot of fun, for some reason.

" Is something wrong? " He mirrors some of your own terror.

All you do is point at the mirror, taking a step back and trying -Failing- To steady your breathing.

He doesn't need to look back to know what's happened. You're seeing him. The actual him.

Instead, said mirror just bursts into a million shards, the force with which it's broken sends pieces flying through the room, your pitiful self cowering and shielding your face as you gasp and sob in shock.

" Oh my... " He starts, knowing damn well that more than a few of those shards have embedded themselves in Isabella's back. She must look like a porcupine, hah.

Livius turns around and pretends to care about the situation, thumbing over the mess he made, watching her bleed just a bit more from the brand new razor-thin blades that cut their way into her digits.

He hears you gasp tremulously somewhere behind him.

Livius allows her visage to distort, senses his sharp grin crawl up cheeks that straighten and elongate to accommodate it, his eyes force her skin to stretch with unpleasant zips of flesh as her eyelids fail to transform in time. He's getting a touch too excited.

" I don't think they'll mind too much, right? " He mocks, Isabella's attractive accent melting into his standard ragged demonic tenor.

The first thing that spins back is her neck, then her body, Livius stretching within the human's physical limits. When her arms and legs elongate, her form expanding into something strained and twisted, Livius sighs in momentary relief.

" Oh God... " You sniffle, legs unsteady, held up only by the opposite wall's support.

" Oh God... " Livius mimics fondly, loving the sound of it.

A click echoes, the room is now locked firmly. You seem to be silently making peace with certain death.

" You know- " The demonlord begins, swatting locks of bothersome curly hair away as he leisurely walks towards you. " In all these years you've worked for me, I realize I haven't gotten to know you all that well. "

You only shake and brokenly gasp when Isabella's bloated, clawed fingers make contact with your shoulder.

" Isn't that a shame? "

Livius chuckles at the small whimper you let out when he pulls your figure closer to his, swaying both of your forms calmly.

" But we still have a bit of time, I reckon. So why not tell me a bit about yourself, hm? "

It's not as if you're leaving the room until you humor him anyway.

#Livius oc

[smolvenger]

In A World of Boys, He's a Gentleman (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x Reader blurb)

Summary: Collapsing into tears after a hellish week, your professor boyfriend confesses he loves you.

Warnings: cursing, some work problems (I may have used some of my irl experiences in here, oops) Reader liking Romantasy books, but other than that, some hurt/comfort and lots of fluff!

A/N: I decided to leave it ambiguous if Reader is a student or not, so that is personally up to you. From @holdmytesseract's request for the birthday blurbs! Thanks for your patience!

Word Count: >2K

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

If the past week was purgatory, then today was utter hell.

Everything in your life was driving you so busy, you felt both stasis and panic at once. You got so distracted that you would zone out on your phone closing and reopening the same apps for hours. Then at work, people were driving you up a wall. Because you were a good employee who had to get things done in the order and way they trained you or else…less got done. The impossibility of productivity crept on you. Minutes became hours. You had to argue with someone in a conversation that should have been four minutes but lasted eight because she would not shut up, kept repeating the same things over and over, would rarely let you speak and when you did, never replied or added onto your responses. On top of that, your body decided that the buttcrack dawn of morning when it was still dark was a good time to be awake. And impossible to drift back to sleep even when you took cold medicine. Which then made you exhausted at work.

Thank god for your professor boyfriend.

He was your light in the midst of all this. You had dated for some time, and even the sight of him putting on glasses in a nice suit as he headed off ofr work still made you tingly inside. He would leave you little gifts at your place- flower bouquets, cupcakes, and the like. You were at a point where you didn’t have to have romantic dates all the time. You were now just in his place. Just hanging out. Simple as that. 

You could be quiet and not interact every second. As cats parallel played you could just be in comfortable silence together. Especially when it came reading- for you had something of a silent book club. You both turned off your phones and would sit devouring book after book. 

He was a Literature professor, so it was in his nature. It seemed though sometimes he was never off the clock!  He even challenged you- it was one thing that drew you to daring him. He was smart enough- he respected you as an intelligent being in your own right but was able to have questions and discussions. It was the academia in him. It made you grow into wanting to be a better person for him…and he for you.

Though today, your stress, anxiety, and semi insomnia was creeping up on you. You sat on the brown chair and he on his sofa. There was the same book in your hands. He was already rubbing a finger over his lips, pressing his glasses close. Enchanted by the spell words made. It was a well-reviewed piece of literature that won awards and was featured on the official lists of esteemed journals. He recommended this title to you and you were both reading it. 

As you sat with your own copy that he leant you, you cracked open the stiff spine from it’s newness and began to read…

You were spacing out on the first chapter. It was dense, poetic, and beautiful….but you had no idea what the heck was going on.

After a few more pages, it was starting to get sad.

What was it with these books? And it was not cheery- Was high literature just sad things happening like people having affairs on their wives or committing abuse or doing drugs or going to war or just being awful with no repercussions?

With a sigh, you reached into your bag and pulled out a different book- an escapist, spicy romantasy that all the girls on social media were losing their minds over. You replaced the high literature book, setting it down quietly, and opened it. Tom was so engrossed in the book he didn’t notice. You didn’t want him to notice.

You found this time you were understanding the words in front of you. And you found yourself drawn. Was it the best piece of literature to be studied in a professors class in the future? Hell no. But you were here for a good time, not a long time. And not to study human nature deeply, but to be in a different world, where you had a different name, a different look, and different problems, but far more magical and exciting than everything crashing down in your dull, grey reality. One where your clothes were beautiful with corsets and fine fabric instead of just jeans. One where you would have a sword with a name then a smartphone that sucked all of your free time. One where you could be a princess, a queen, an assassin, a fae lady, a vampire, a pirate, a goddess, a duchess… anything other than plain old you in a plain old life at a plain old job.

Tom looked up. He then eyed over your cover and back at you.

You looked up at him and grimaced. Then you shoved the book back into your bag.

“Please! Don’t judge me!” you cried.

“Why would I judge you?” he asked.

You gestured over to the book in his hands.

“I’m reading this silly trash book and you have all of your fine literature!” you cried.

He set his own copy down, but his blue eyes softened.

“My dear…Is something up?” he asked.

He knew you well enough he could tell the signs.

“Yes, my day was hell! It was this and this and this and…I try to handle it but..I’m overwhelmed so I can’t…I really can’t…I’m not even smart enough to read this book, because I try and try but I just can’t understand this stuff and I can’t get into it, like you…I’m an idiot…”

You burst into tears, and he came over, hugging and kissing your head in little pecks. 

“No…darling, no…” he murmured.

You leaned into his arms. You found yourself vneting and complaining the suffering long inside you.

“I know…I’m a mess…” you sobbed out. “And there was a lady at work who’s a bitch, and my job is so hard, and I can’t sleep at night…it’s just…I wish I could be smarter, nicer, better for you Tom, but…”

“How do you take tea?” he asked.

Looking up, you wiped your tears with your sleeve and answered him.

He made it for you the way you liked. It was the prettiest mug- white with bluebell flowers painted on it.  And returned with it. You sipped at it, it was perfect in it’s flavor and so warm, you felt it melt inside you. You placed both hands around it- science said it was like receiving a hug. Feeling the warmth inside and outside as you looked up at him. 

He scooted himself to be close, a gentle smile on his face and one of his large, beautiful hands rubbing your forearm in comfort.

“I know I’m a mess.” you said.

“I like you as a mess.”

You began to blink at him.

“No, I…but I’m…I’m trying, but I just…I know I complain and I read trashy books and I call people bitches and all that, you can say it, Tom. It’s the truth,” you replied.

“Set your drink down,” he requested.

You complied.

He cupped your face. A gasp aired itself in your throat. 

“My dear, you are perfect as you are. A mess, broken, crying…and I want nothing else than to be with you.” he confessed.

You nearly dropped your jaw.

“That’s…a…you’re saying that…”

“Well…I…yes, I never thought I’d run into someone like you, who’d change everything. Why should I care if you feel upset sometimes like every human being  or what you read to make you happy or that things aren’t always wonderful…I…I love you….there, I said it.”

Love. The little word that changed everything. And it was the first time he said it. It was…unspoken. Something you both felt for the long months you dated, but never confirmed. And here it was, materialized and as present as the furniture and mugs and books, for it was just as real.

“I love you too, Tom.”

You embraced him tight, and he embraced back. He then pressed his forehead to yours, squeezing hands.

He then let go, looking down at your mug.

“Here…your tea will get cold…” he said, offering the drink back to you.

“And…my book….” you murmured.

“Oh, I have no problems with you reading it with me! If it’s that good, I’ll make you another cup of tea and get us some biscuits as well! Then you must tell me all about it!” He gave a little laugh. “Who knows, I may even try it myself someday!”

Smiling with him, you gave him a kiss on his cheek. Then, you settled into cuddling him, sipping your tea and enjoying both of your books in a moment of pure bliss.

#carrie writes #professor! tom hiddleston #prof! tom x reader #prof! tom hiddleson x reader #tom hiddleston #fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction fluff #professor fanfiction #prof! tom #prof! tom hiddles #professor! tom hiddleston x you #professor! tom hiddleston imagine #professor! tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x reader #prof! tom my beloved

[ileftmysoulinnorway]

We all had a tough end of the week, so I thought I would put together something about my IWTV set lurking experience in Prague, hopefully to cheer someone up and show you that the people working on our little show are incredible, everything is well thought out, and we have a lot to look forward to.

Locations

I am confident that Prague will be a good substitute for Paris. I love this post comparing Prague's Théâtre des Vampires location with a real Le Grand Guignol in Paris. But similar care is given to other locations as well.

I like to joke that I enjoyed a month-long tour of Prague's most famous landmarks, only to have the actual filming take place in nondescript alleyways right next to them. But it makes perfect sense. They want to capture the nicer and older parts of the city that suit them, but not anything that would tell you it's Prague.

Production design, costumes

I saw them build everything from scratch on several sets. And I'm in awe. From putting up posters that will probably only appear in the background of a single shot, to street names that fit the exact topography of Paris and make sense in the context of the scenes that take place on them, to storefronts that they really didn't have to pay that much attention to, or a menu at Le Dakar Café that you could only read up close, but someone took the trouble to make it anyway?

And maybe this attention to detail is normal, I don't know, but I still think Mara and her team deserve all the praise they get.

S1 showed us how much attention is paid to the costumes. I can assure you that has not changed. All the hats, coats, capes and dresses. I can't tell you how many times I've been pleasantly surprised. By the choice of colors for Lestat. By how beautifully all of Armand's black clothes come to life with little details.

People

There are so many people (and I mean SO many) working on the show and they all know exactly what is expected of them, everything runs like a well-oiled machine. I haven't seen any problems, any conflicts, any excesses.

I'm not under any illusion that everything was trouble-free, but really the only complaints I heard were about the horrendously hellish schedule (I guess that's normal) and then the occasional person wishing they had finished earlier (they never finished earlier).

They are all heroes to me.

Directors

Levan is the only one I saw. He seems so focused and professional. His "rolling...and action" is unforgettable.

Actors

After six locations and about fifteen scenes (and countless rehearsals and takes), I think I managed to get at least some idea of them, and yes, they really seem to be such nice people.

- Jacob, I don't envy him at all the emotional strain of playing Louis, but at the same time I love his portrait of Louis so much.

- Sam's transformation into Lestat is something to behold.

- Assad was the only one present on every set. I don't think we've fully realized how big a role he's going to have (at least in S2).

- Delainey, Ben, Roxane and everyone else 💜

Scenes

They were far from finished when the strike started, but at least (in my opinion) they got to the last block of episodes. 

I'm not going to pretend to have a concrete idea of what to expect from S2 based on what little I saw. But I do have a few guesses, and I'm insanely excited and thrilled. And, in the case of the 1700s flashbacks, totally confused. I can't believe they're going to do so many unexpected things, or other things so soon.

I truly believe that S2 will not disappoint any of us. We just have to wait a little longer. But if this strike means that everyone gets a better deal and the studios are forced to change their ways, it will be worth the wait.

#iwtvphotos&asks

[kitkatscabinet]

Baby it's cold inside

Osferth x reader

Summary: Nights in Bebbanburg are cold, and even subconsciously you refuse to spend them alone

Requested by anon

Word count: 800

Osferth had expected many things when they had finally helped his lord to reclaim Bebbanburg. He expected having to rebuild, take up residence there, and much more. What he hadn't expected, however, was how bloody cold it had gotten.

The snow and chilly winter breeze seemed to be made ten times worse by the sea breeze. It had been bearable at first, but overnight the temperatures had dropped to new hellish chills.

It had gotten so bad recently that you had all but refused to leave your room and join the boys in the hall. Your absence was noticeable and in the last week it was already common knowledge that if you weren't around then you were holed up in your bed.

Cradling his cup of ale with stiff fingers, Osferth looks up at the familiar call of his name. Sihtric was hauling around an arm full of firewood, and was motioning at Osferth to follow. Downing the last of his drink, he was quick to stand and jog over to Sihtric's side, nose scrunching in annoyance when the logs are immediately deposited into his arms.

"Our resident hibernator has requested fire" Sihtric says in lieu of an explanation, before offering a teasing grin "I figured you'd want to be the one to warm them up."

Osferth's cheeks heat in embarrassment, but he offers no rebuttal, following the still-grinning Sihtric to your room. Upon claiming the Bebbanburg you had immediately taken one of the only rooms with an in-built fire place. No one had been brave enough to deny you.

Knocking, Sihtric received no answer and considering you hadn't screamed at him deemed it ok to enter. It quickly became apparent why you hadn't answered, bundled up in furs up to your neck and dead asleep.

Osferth took a few seconds to admire your sleeping face, scrunched up in annoyance at the cold. For a second he had thought you awake, squirming in place to try and get warm with an adorably grumpy whine. You'd always hated the cold, and Osferth had quickly had to become used to you worming your way into someone's bed when you got too cold.

Where once Osferth had been completely scandalised he had become riddled with jealousy whenever you went to someone that wasn't him for warmth.

Hearing Sihtric laugh behind him, Osferth immediately turns, face ablaze when he realises how blatantly he had been staring. Moving swiftly past the snickering man, he got to work on starting the fire, staring firmly into the kindling flames.

As if sensing that a fire had been started, you let out a happy sigh. Turning to look at you, Osferth noticed that your face had smoothed out considerably, and you were letting out the most adorable happy mumbles.

Osferth was across the small room and by your side before he could stop himself, long fingers stroking reverently at the exposed skin of your cheek.

"'Sferth" you mumbled, and for a second he was afraid he'd woken you. Yet to his great surprise, you remained asleep, leaning into his touch as you called his name one more.

"M'cold. Need my baby monk." Osferth didn't think it was possible for his heart to beat any faster or louder than it did after your words sunk in, skin heating in a way that couldn't be attributed to the fire. Sihtric was positively howling with laughter from behind him, and it was a testament to how deeply you were sleeping that you didn't wake.

Osferth was frozen. Heart hammering and unable to tear his eyes away from your sleeping face. Suddenly his world was tilting as a hand on his back shoved him down and onto your bed. Despite his best efforts, Osferth still couldn't avoid landing on top of you.

That was enough to wake you, bleary eyes looking around in confusion as you fought slightly to catch your breath. Osferth frantically tried to apologise but Sihtric had fled and you were not even close to being lucid.

Halfway through his newest round of apologies, your eyes finally seem clear enough to recognise him. "Shhh, sleepy time" you simply mumbled, throwing an arm over him and pulling him under your furs. You had moved alarmingly quickly for one so sleepy, and before Osferth could protest you had wrapped around him like a snake, falling back to sleep almost instantly.

After several failed attempts at escape Osferth finally accepted his reality. Finally allowing himself to relax, he revelled in the feel of your face buried into his neck, and hand on his pounding heart. Lulled by the warmth and happiness he felt at having you in his arms he eventually drifted off to sleep beside you.

TAGLIST: @kaitieskidmore1 @kitty-marie725 @nyctophilic0vitnir @jamespotterismydaddy @thelittleswanao3 @eudximoniakr

#osferth #osferth x reader #baby monk #the last kingdom #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom osferth

[golden-ariess]

Worth It

Pairings: Stalker! I.T Steve

Warnings: Lurking/ Stalking (Please do not read if any of this content is triggering to you!)

A/n: Hello! It's been such a long time since I've shared anything. I'm at work. I sat down this morning and decided to write this instead of doing anything at my desk 👀.

Enjoy!

(Steve just wants to see you happy after all)

Waking up an hour early would be worth it.

Listening to finance bros drone on and on about their latest trade, and how much they expected in returns at 7 am loudly in the buildings coffee shop was worth it. 

Nearly spilling his own drink trying to make it to your desk in time was worth it.

Seeing your smile would be his special treat for the day. 

Steve slipped into your office under the covers of the early morning hours. Making brisk work of placing your favorite fall drink on your desk before anyone arrives in your department. 

The week wasn't kind to you. Steve watched as you received email after email asking you to cover for your colleague, who picked up a bug that's been making its way around the office. 

To say you were stressed was an understatement. 

Steve was worried about you. You were the first to come in and the last to leave. You hadn't even logged into your Netflix account to watch your usual shows. Steve was missing spending that time with you. Simultaneously putting on whatever show you decided to watch. He didn't feel as close to you this week. 

He was hoping this hot cup of your favorite fall drink would help brighten your gloomy week. 

He quickly grabbed a sticky note and scribbled a note for you. He had to get out of your office, but not before cutting your webcam on. He couldn't wait to see you this morning.

Friday.. you felt like you could see the light at the end of the tunnel. This week was hellish, but Friday, your sweet savior had arrived. 

You made your way through the office flicking on lights, opening the blinds. Today would be a good day, you could feel it. 

Moving briskly to your office door. Your mind raced, a long list already forming of a million things in mind to get wrapped up today. 

Sitting down with your purse and keys. You noticed a large Starbucks cup sitting at the end of your desk. You reached for the note it sat on top of. 

You grinned at the note. This was so sweet. You needed to hear that after this long week. 

Taking a sip from the cup, the cool foam and warm drink met you like an open hug. This was your favorite drink to get when the season changed. 

Angie must have dropped this off for you. She'd been your rock this week as you IM back and forth about the work that didn't stop pulling up. 

The sweet drink set the tone for the workday at hand. 

Today would be a great day. You made quick work to put on your favorite playlist. Sipping your drink, glancing at the sweet note and smiling. 

You were ready to power through Friday.

Steve couldn't help the wide grin spread across his face. He watched as you sipped and typed away at your desk. 

You were happy. 

All he needed was to see your smile, that had been few and far in-between this week. 

He pressed play on the same playlist you'd just made and got to work with his own task for the day. 

He knew getting up early this morning would be worth it. 

Hope you enjoyed this little drabble!

My writing is a little rusty but hopefully I can post more soon 💛.

#I.T Stalker! Steve #dark!fic #dark steve rogers #Dark!Steve #soft dark fic

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N.  He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow. 

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them! 

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them. 

It was ridiculous. 

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about. 

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did. 

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction. 

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out. 

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored. 

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls. 

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there. 

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance. 

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around. 

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall. 

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails. 

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.” 

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot. 

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some. 

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep. 

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted. 

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest. 

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve. 

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box. 

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box. 

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table. 

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.  

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.” 

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.” 

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night. 

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent. 

“Dean.” She called after him. 

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently. 

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek. 

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter. 

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already. 

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be. 

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be. 

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books. 

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories. 

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice. 

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line. 

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed. 

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks. 

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left. 

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood. 

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him. 

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

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[artdivadej]

Mr.Sandman

Part One

18+ | NSFW

The nightmares never stopped. Not unless I was in his arms. I’d been trying so hard to keep a good distance between us these last six months because I was still confused about how I felt to be honest. I knew I needed him. I knew I’d never cared for anyone else in the way I did him. Was that because the feelings were from trauma bonding to him or because I did finally actually see him after 11 years? It seemed wholly unfair to keep putting him in situations if I couldn’t reciprocate his earnest feelings. He was always honest about where he stood to the way he spoke and how he treated me. How passionate he could be!

During the second games I’d allowed myself to just let my body respond when he’d kissed me on the beach. It scared the hell out of me. Fire erupted in my veins and the pit of my stomach when his tongue met mine, my roots tingled with every pass of his large, gentle fingers running up my neck to cup my cheeks. I’d never wanted sex until that moment.

When Peeta had pulled back and met my gaze, his pecan eyes now a toasted walnut, they too screamed his hunger for more. I wanted his hands all over me, to give me everything that he had on that beach. To feel his gentle lips explore every inch of me. To listen to Peeta worship me all the while. Because I can tell just by how sweetly he talks to me normally that he’d be so vocal. I wanted to really give the capital a show of the fiery passion within me for him in that moment. I was afraid of what that might mean.

I’d been forcing myself to sleep alone since we got back from the war although he only lived 2 houses down from me. Or at least as much sleep as I could muster, which was never usually more than 2-3 hours.

The nightmares never stayed at bay long.

I did visit him when he was asleep. He still slept with his window open and there was a nook built under the window in his bedroom. I’d sneak in when I was sure he was asleep and watch him sleep for a while, surrounded by his scent to make me feel safe again. It brought peace and allowed me to get more sleep at night to see him safe and content.

This was my routine.

I know it made me seem crazy. Especially since I know I could selfishly ask to climb into bed with him and he’d happily tell me yes. That somehow seemed more wrong than this. This didn’t feel like using him. That did.

I didn’t see him conscious much, choosing to hide out in the forest or in my cellar most of the daytime. I used to spend more time at Haymitch’s but Effie’s been visiting him for the last month and I don’t want to intrude.

I missed Peeta. His friendship. His warmth. His light. His smile. His touch. His lips. His hands.

Was that because he was all I had? Because his presence was the only thing that kept me going? I still swear he’d put some kind of spell on me that night at that beach.

I’d slept all alone this week though, knowing he had some big orders for weddings this month (the biggest gossip at the Hob right now) and would be working late hours. I couldn’t be sure when he would be down or up, now that his schedule had been changed for who knows how long.

It had been a hellish week and I just needed some sleep. It had been over 48 hours since I’d gotten any and my body was screaming to just let it drop. I’d have to risk oversleeping a little tonight at Peeta’s and pray he was just as tired from the extra orders.

I waited until a little after 2 am before I popped open my bedroom window and peeked around to make sure the coast was clear before leaping onto the grass barefoot. He’d definitely been baking something because the closer to his house I crept, the stronger the scent of fresh bread became. Oh, I missed this smell. Pushing onto the balls of my feet, I peeked inside to see him rolled facing away from the window, sleeping peacefully with his blanket around his waist. I leapt inside hitting the cushion silently, staying still for a few moments to make sure I didn’t disturb him. Peeta grunted, his left-hand scratching at his hair, his soft dirty blonde hair, before he was still again. I let out a deep breath and pulled the hoodie he had on the seat over my head, settling in and listening to the sounds of his peaceful breathing to lull me to sleep.

×××

I jumped awake, startled by how deeply I’d been sleeping. I wasn’t wearing his hoodie anymore. I’d been wrapped in the same blanket Peeta had round his waist earlier. I was no longer in the window seat either. Peeta had to have woken in the middle of the night and seen me. Shit! When had he moved me to the bed? It was still dark out. A chance look at his alarm clock let me know that I’d only been sleeping for about an hour but, Peeta wasn’t here.

Just as I thought to make a speedy exit, he came out of the adjoining bathroom scratching at his wayward curls, his bare feet slapping the floor lowly. He climbed into the bed still unaware that I was now awake and watching him since I’d stayed on my side. When his arm curled around my waist and pulled me in close, I felt my body slump immediately, my safety returned.

Turning in his arms I realized I’d surprised him as much as he had me when his eyes met mine.

“I didn’t mean to wake you”, he hummed as he brushed his fingertips tenderly down my cheek.

“That’s my line”, I choke ignoring how my breath hitched at his touch.

Oh, I’d been starving for his touch. Those large hands, capable of tossing a man twice his size with ease, yet gentle enough to make fine strokes that create an intricate design on whatever they touched.

“I had to piss anyway”

“You leaving must have woken me up”

“It always did”, he smirked playfully. “So...”

“So?”

I sigh knowing he’s going to want to talk about why I haven't been around him for the last 6 months. I’m a little too tired for that tonight.

“How long have you been sleeping here?”

Ok.

Not the question I was expecting. I bite my bottom lip and break eye contact. His honest, adoring pecan eyes always made me crack and I desperately wanted to lie.

“Baby girl?” he cooed pulling my eyes back to him, his index finger tilting my chin up to make sure he could hold me spellbound.

“A while” I breath

“I knew I hadn’t heard you scream in a long time”

“You could hear me?”

“Of course. I could hear you across a forest, you don’t think I’d hear you 100 feet away?”

“Sorry about that”

“Don’t be. I missed having you this close”, he breathed pulling me in tighter so my rapidly heating body was flush against his.

Oh God I loved his strong arms around me, his thick corded upper body able to surround me completely whenever I buried my face in his chest.

“I can’t sleep without you”, I admit trying to catch my breath

“You missed me?”

I don’t answer and his hand is cupping my cheek, his left that had been tucked under my hip had curled around my waist and was sliding up my back now. His left-hand slides beneath my shirt and up my back smoothly making my body tremble in response. For someone who worked so much with his hands they were so damn soft when he handled me. Whether he was tossing me behind him protectively or throwing me up onto his hips for a hug. Peeta’s terrifyingly powerful hands always felt like silk on my skin. He smirked when he realized there was no bra beneath my t-shirt. Oh, his hands. He tilts his head minutely so his lips just barely brush mine and that heat flares within my belly again. I want him to kiss me so bad.

I want his hands on more of me.

“Say it sweetness”

“Yes. I missed you” I finally admit practically hissing with need.

God I must be tired. I couldn’t string together a coherent thought outside of his lips or his prodding fingers along the expanse of my back and cheek.

“Good girl”, he grinned pecking my lips gently.

The hand cupping my cheek slid down the curve of my neck and I had to be honest, I briefly imagined them on my throat as he made love to me, his overgrown blonde curls falling into his eyes as he brought me to climax beneath him.

Such power in those gentle fingers. I arched up to kiss him again but he pulled back, slightly rolling so that he lay atop me now, both of his hands on either side of my head as I gaze up in wonder at him. His tight muscles strain against his shirt nicely and I reach out to touch him, not wanting him to hover above me but for his skin to touch mine. His right hand grabbed mine. Peeta nibbled my fingers before locking it above my head with the other, pinning me in place with his left hand. He hadn’t even needed to flex a muscle to keep me immobile.

Oh God.

I whined and arched again, hoping he’d take pity and kiss me again if he wasn’t going to touch me.

“Is there something you want?”, he hummed pushing my thighs apart with his knees.

“You”

“What about me?”

“To kiss me” I whined loudly

I would never be this honest if I wasn’t delirious from sleep deprivation but, as far as I knew this could all be a dream. The perfect time to take full advantage of such the perfect dominant vocal Peeta.

His brow quirked but he seemed to have mercy on me as he leaned forward towards my lips. I couldn’t help the excited whine that left my throat any more than my low groan when they met my neck instead.

“You want my mouth on you sweet girl?”, Peeta hummed as his lips began to suck at my neck oh so gently, his thick tongue rolling over my pulse so wonderfully.

“Oh yes!”

“You missed my lips?”, Peeta whispers through his teeth before sinking his teeth into the column of my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Oh Fuck! His lips were descending lower, his teeth snagging at my raised shirt to pull it over my collarbone.

“So beautiful”

I squirmed under his penetrating gaze as his eyes took in every part of my exposed torso, hating that of all the scars the Capitol could get rid of, the one Cato gave me would forever mar my upper body. He’d cut me from waist to throat badly enough I had to practically sew my torso back together. It went from my left hip up through the middle of my breasts, and over my shoulder. The skin was still slightly raised and a deep angry red that made my otherwise pretty skin a jagged mess. Peeta leaned forward and lay a kiss on its apex at my shoulder, suckling the sensitive skin lower and lower until his hot mouth hovered just above my nipple.

“You’re so pretty sweetness”, Peeta groaned pulling my left nipple between his lips, giving a soft suckle. “Such strength in such a lovely frame”

“Ah, Peeta!”

He released my hands, my left happily threaded through his soft curls while my right squeezed at his shoulder. His left hand hiked my thigh up so that my legs dropped open to make more room for his wide frame. Peeta’s large hands cupped both of my breasts, his lips wrapped around the slick swollen bud of my left, his teeth nibbling as he sucked hungrily. I couldn’t stop the shaking of my frame if I tried. Moving his attention to my left breast I pull at his hair, my hips bucking to meet his desperately, drowning in his wet mouth on my nipples.

“Is this what you miss?” he hummed

“I-I-I've never” I try and fail to explain

“You wanted just me to taste you sweet girl?”

“Only you” I pant with another buck of the hips

This makes Peeta smile with a wicked mischief I only remember seeing on his face when he announced my fake pregnancy. His left hand releases my breast and I whine at the loss of contact but his mouth is quick to suckle the bud up into his warm mouth. Only leaving the bud to suck around it and leave his mark on more of my heated skin.I was so lost in his mouth that I’d lost track of his free right hand. Peeta had pushed my panties to the side, dragging his index and middle finger up back and forth against my slick lips.

“So wet for me”, he moaned

Peeta was robbing me of all reason I had as his hands explored every dip and groove that set my body on fire. To hear his deep sweet voice, whisper such lewd things as he made me melt with his fiery touch was enough to set every atom ablaze with his heat. When he slipped his index finger deep within me to his palm, I gasped in surprise at the fullness the thickness of his finger gave me. His mouth was on mine in seconds, swallowing my gasps of pleasure as he curled and slow stroked my walls.

“Peeta”

“Breathe pretty girl. I need you ready for me” he whispered in my ear as his left hand rolled my nipple between his fingers.

If his finger felt like this how would I fit all of him inside of me? Almost as if sensing my thoughts Peeta’s teeth enclose around the top shell of my ear before licking the shell and biting again. Oh. I liked that.

“Can I taste you sweetness?”

“I thought you were” I gasp when he tweaks my nipple and thrusts up particularly hard with his finger in a way that makes me clench around him.

“Oh no, I meant your sweet pussy”

He slips his finger from within me and I can’t help but whine again, missing the full feeling but he places his soaked finger into my open mouth. I wrap my lips around it and suck hard, rolling my tongue over it, making a show of enjoying the sweet flavor. Peeta’s eyes widen as he watches me and I can feel his dick twitch against my thigh. His lips capture mine quickly as his tongue sucks mine hungrily to get a taste of me as well.

“Can I please?” he groans against my lips, his hips rocking back and forth desperately now.

“Yes”

“Yes”

The triumphant soft moan that leaves his lips makes my clit jump in response. Was Peeta always this doting? This open about his desires? Oh, I couldn’t wait to feel his mouth worshipping my lips for the first time. I had a feeling Peeta was going to have me awake for the rest of the night.

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