#five fucks me up because at heart he just does not have real malice in him. if he is feeling it something has gone terribly wrong

[yergink]

So while I don't see myself ever finishing this fic at this point, I still want to put some of it out there.

Here's some slightly disconnected scraps of my sci-fi fusion ofmd au (mostly inspired by Lethal Company) all consolidated in one place, in case there was interest.

Corporate billed their scavenging positions as an opportunity to enjoy peace and quiet out in the lost frontier of space. Ed couldn’t help but fucking laugh any time he saw one of those pamphlets, because that description couldn’t be farther from reality. 

---

“Q17, eh? You don't see these models in circulation much anymore, what a beauty. You must take good care of her.”

Ed crossed his arms. “Yeah. I make do.”

The man’s grin twitched. “Oh, sorry!” He held out a black-gloved hand. “Stede Bonnet.”

Oddly fucking chipper for a flight inspector. Ed took his hand in a firm, but curt, shake. “Ed Teach.”

---

“I used to fly, but only recreationally.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. There’s no real piloting required on our end, it’s all automated. You just plug in routes, and the ship takes you there.“

Stede frowned. “Well, that sort of takes all the fun out of it.”

Ed blinked at the bluntness of his statement. “Yeah. Yeah, it does," he agreed.

---

“I can’t figure it out,” Ed said into the dark. 

The ship’s whiny fucking air filtration system kept whirring, refusing to allow any silence to follow his words. 

He could hear Stede shuffling in the bunk above him. “Figure what out?” he asked, after a moment. 

They were separated only by a slightly sagging metal panel and one ridiculously thin mattress. Ed’s nose was practically pressed to the underside of the upper bunk. 

It felt like too little distance, in honesty, but somehow, it made him feel less guilty to pry when they were like this. While he didn’t have to meet Stede’s eyes.

“What it is you’re running from,” Ed answered. 

He heard more rustling, and suddenly Stede’s head popped into view, over the side of the opening. He’d moved abruptly enough for Ed to startle, which he did, clanging into his sleep cubby’s metal back wall with a barely repressed, “Fuck—”

“What makes you think I’m running from something?” Stede asked. 

In the dark, he couldn’t really make out what sort of expression Stede wore, and even then, Ed couldn’t hold his gaze. He watched the blinking light on the terminal monitor mounted to the opposite wall instead. “Dunno if you knew, but no one takes this sort of job when their life’s going well, mate. Every scrapper I’ve known’s been running from something.”

Stede hummed. “Every scrapper?”

“What I said.”

“Does that include you?”

Ed paused. The silhouette of Stede’s head cocked to one side. 

There hadn’t been any snark, or malice in his asking, Ed realized. Just genuine curiosity. 

When Ed didn’t answer right away, Stede continued softly, “The scavenger contracts last five years, but you’ve got logs dating back a lot longer.”

---

The factory was a goddamn maze of looping service corridors. Tentatively, and after some discussion, they decided to split up to cover more ground.

Ed was sitting on the ground unscrewing the door off a storage locker, one hand on the radio to guide Stede through the process of taking apart a winch crane he'd excitedly discovered, when the line went dead.

It wouldn’t be enough to cover it, to describe the feeling like being dunked in ice. Static buzzed suddenly from the speaker where there was once life and voice, and Ed may as well have been jettisoned into fucking space.

The task at hand evaporated. He was on his feet in an instant—flashlight, tools, all abandoned on the soot-stained ground.

“Stede,” he said into the transmitter.

No answer. Just more static.

Ed’s heart started fucking racing. The stupid alarm on his visor flashed an irritated red about it.

He'd started running before he realized it. Like that old shitty jukebox on the ship skipping a record forward, he was sprinting without having made the decision to be, absolutely fucking gunning it back up the metal grate stairs and over the creaking catwalk and into the tunnels where he’d seen Stede off.

The plastic ridges of the walkie groaned in protest from how hard Ed was squeezing it. He pressed the button to speak, managed to bite out between exerted breaths, “Stede, pick up the fucking radio, this isn’t a game.”

He meant for it to be angry, but in the end he just sounded scared.

---

“Ed! Hi!” He sounded…delighted. At ease. Like nothing was wrong, like Ed’s blood pressure wasn’t actively soaring on his account. “Sorry we got cut off. One of these pipes burst and I suppose the steam was thick enough to scatter the signal. It’s sorted now!”

“Sorted,” Ed echoed. “Steam pipe. Right.”

He could hear it, listening past his own pulse roaring like gunfire in his ears. The faintest hiss of steam as it flowed through the rusted pipes secured along the tunnel walls.

“Look,” Ed said. “You—stay where you are, alright? I’m gonna come find you. Stay there.”

When the walkie beeped again, there was a half-second of hesitation before Stede said, “Okay, yes, I hear you. Alright.”

Another beep, and a moment of air, like Stede had something more to say. Ed waited.

The line closed again, wordlessly.

So, fine. Safe to say Ed gave a shit. And really, that put it lightly.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my writing #marine blogs #sad to have to scrap it but. i just can't imagine working on it atm #if you saw one of these bits posted as a wip wednesday a while ago no you didn't.

[softboywriting]

Little Moments | Billy Russo

Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?

Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else. 

William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.

Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today. 

Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.

You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't. 

"How much work do you have left?" 

Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"

"Finish the call. Then go home."

"Yes, sir."

Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you? 

The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.

"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job. 

_____________________

"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized." 

You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.

"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?" 

"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."

Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?" 

You cut him a glare and he chuckles. 

"You don't like them?"

"I'm not fond." 

"Why?" 

"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."

Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."

You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."

"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."

"So you won't sign the contract with them?" 

"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."

You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you? 

"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-

"Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."

"Oh. Well it's your business so-" 

Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that." 

You nod.

"Couldn't hear you."

"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."

He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"

You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."

"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.  

A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit. 

_____________

A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work. 

"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."

There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.

You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site. 

"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number. 

No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk. 

Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck! 

The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible. 

The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight. 

"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are." 

You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap. 

Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief. 

His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?" 

"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work." 

"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now." 

You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."

Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you later."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."

You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?" 

"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry." 

"Okay."

_____________________

You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part. 

He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs. 

You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck. 

There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?

Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head. 

"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."

"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.

"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"

"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming. 

He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."

"O-oh."

"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."

You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men." 

"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-" 

"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."

You nod. 

"I'll be back later."

____________________

Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make. 

In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal. 

You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared. 

"Cozy?" 

You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?" 

"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?" 

"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too." 

He hums. "Go through all my shit?" 

"You know it." 

"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."

You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."

Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?" 

"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"

"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."

"Right, yeah."

"Do I scare you?" 

You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were." 

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?" 

"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee. 

"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."

"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself." 

Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."

"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't." 

"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"

"I don't know, but I think you do." 

Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?" 

"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant." 

"Because I love you."

"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment. 

"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you." 

"I don't-...I'm just-" 

His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours. 

"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?" 

You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head. 

"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. 

"Are you leaving?" 

"No." 

"Good." 

He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."

"I would if you'd just go already."

"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold. 

"Stop! Stop! I yield!" 

Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office." 

"I hate tickling." 

"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick." 

You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give." 

"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it." 

You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?" 

"Maybe." 

"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more." 

"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?" 

"Get out!" 

He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it. 

The end 

-----------

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

#the punisher #billy russo #ben barnes #ben barnes characters #the punisher series #the punisher netflix #punisher fic #billy russo x reader #billy russo fic

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 3: Angst with a Happy Ending

39 fics under the readmore

Conditional Miracle | @vampamber

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,551 Main Tags/Warnings: season 12 finale, in-canon temporary character death, love confession Summary: Chuck can bring Castiel back to life, but only on one condition: Dean has to tell Castiel how he feels about him. Not that "You're family, Cas" stuff, but how Dean actually feels. A coda for s12e23 "All Along the Watchtower" (a bit late, but better late than never)

Sharp edges | @chaoticdean

Rating: General Word Count: 1,638 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, (although he does come back at the very end), Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt, Angst with a Happy Ending, Letters, Five Stages of Grief, post spn 15x18spn coda, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, written several months before the actual episode Summary: Castiel told him he loved him right before getting swallowed up by the Empty. Sam told him to talk, but words won’t come out, and really, how is he supposed to tell anyone how it feels to lose everything? So he writes. Letters on napkins, motel notepads, paperback books. He writes as he goes through every steps of grief, until finally there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

What the Water Gave Him | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Implied/Reference Character Death, Sam Finds Out Summary: It was over. Chuck lost, Sam and Dean can live their lives how they want them. But their victory wasn't without losses. The biggest upset nearly taking Dean out of the game, happening so close to the final battle. Now he's on the other side, alive against all odds, but Sam knows he isn't happy. Not truly happy since the Empty stole his best friend. But there's a chance they can save him. A slim chance. A risk that Dean's willing to take despite every logical nerve in Sam's body screaming at him to look for better options. That threading a needle this small is too dangerous. That they don't have to take on another big bad, not anymore. That they don't have to risk their lives anymore. Dean is far past the point of listening. Dead set on this mission, Sam can only watch. And pray his brother proves him wrong.

A Classic Fear Of Rejection | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,841 Main Tags/Warnings: pining, anxious Cas, Dean has self worth issues, love confession Summary: Castiel has been in love with Dean for almost ten years now. Ever since he'd raised the Righteous Man from perdition, actually. But Dean appears to be straight, so the angel just pined for him instead, fearing rejection. At Sam's insistence, Castiel finally admits his feelings, and it turns out that the angel may have been wrong about the elder Winchester's orientation.

The Things You Almost Say (But Never Do) | @wingsdestiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,967 Main Tags/Warnings: Light Angst, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonverse, Season 11 Summary: Team Free Will hasn't been much of a team lately, and Castiel wishes that Dean would stop avoiding everything.

Forget Me Not | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,932 Main Tags/Warnings: top Castiel/bottom Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Amnesia, Temporary Amnesia, Therapy, Makeup Sex, Marriage Proposal, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: A tragic accident during an argument leaves Cas with a head injury and amnesia, but Dean is determined to stay by his husband's side, even when the memories that return are painful. Can they move past the memories?

Forgetting Your Blues | @amirosebooks

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,440 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 12 finale fix-it, amnesia, temporary main character death, fluff and angst, getting together, openly bisexual Dean Winchester Summary: Dean Jones doesn't know his real name. He woke up on a public park bench a few months back with an empty wallet and a driver's license listing the name Dean Jones with his picture. The name doesn't feel right on his tongue, but he doesn't remember what part is wrong. The cop who found him in the park got Dean a job in a local diner. The diner feels comfortable to Dean. He understands the rhythm of the place, the ebb and flow of the people and food, even if he's clearly never carried a tray of hot plates in his life. He settles into his new life. He makes new friends. He takes beautiful women and men and people to his bed for comfort on long nights. He has nightmares about blood covering his hands. Who is he? Why has no one come looking for him? What has he done? Why did he fall apart when he saw a guy wearing a tan trenchcoat?

I NEED YOU | @cooloddball

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,675 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Making up Summary: Sam is so done with Dean and Cas' bullshit. Time to get some things sorted out.

Even if the sky gets rough | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,360 Main Tags/Warnings: Fuck Or Die, cursed!Dean, dubcon, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings Summary: Dean can’t believe he got cursed again. Only this time it’s a lot worse, because if he can’t find someone to fuck him… well, he dies.

spes alit et falit. | @celestialsilhouette

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,524 Main Tags/Warnings: djinn fic, angst with a happy ending, first time Summary: ~hope sustains and deceives~ Dean wakes up with a gasp. He shoots up in his bed, panting, heart pounding, and wide awake. He grips the sheets in his hands tightly and swivels his head to look around the room, making a half-aborted movement to reach under the pillows for the gun he knows always lies there, the smooth metal familiar and comforting. He doesn’t recognize where he is.

Don't Call Me Demon | @angzlicas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,432 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon!Dean, MOC!Dean, Human Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Canon Compliant, Top!Dean, Bottom!Cas Summary: Dean’s shouting at this point, his eyes pure black again, and Castiel can feel the anger and panic tainting the room. It’s charged with emotion, even though most demons are incapable of feeling anything other than hatred and malice. It feels like fear. Or the one where Cas wants to take the mark from Dean

Life in prison | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,084 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt Dean Winchester, Dean had to steal food to eat, Dean had sex for money in this, Thief Dean Winchester, almost murderer Castiel, Semi-Public Sex, implied bottom dean Winchester, Non-Penetrative Sex, Soft Dean Winchester, almost rape (non Destiel), Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Time, Alternate Universe - PrisonPrisonAlternate Universe, Prison Sex Summary: When Dean gets arrested for stealing food, he has to face prison at 21. He is scared and his cellmate seems a bit harsh too. Will he warm up to him eventually? Or could he even fall in love with a prisoner?

Four of Swords | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 7,127 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Human Cas, Baths, Dean Winchester has Self-Worth Issues, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Summary: The Four of Swords, in the present position, means you don't want to interact with the rest of the world. Because of stress, you need to spend some time with yourself - unhealthy always being 'on'. That the healthiest thing to do is to escape. Dean might crave escape, but it's not something he thinks he can have. Something he deserves, even. After his and Sam's most recent hunt, this cancerous feeling has grown heavy and weighs him down. He cannot escape on his own, as best he tries. Luckily a guardian 'former angel' angel swoops in at his lowest. Helps pick up the pieces as best he can and lovingly put them back together. But he can only do so much. The rest is up to Dean. Can Dean take those final steps, say those final words, and finally free himself?

Free To Be Us | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,011 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Switching, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Claiming Bites, Semi-Public Sex, Kidnapping, emancipation, broken bonds, Suicide attempt mentioned, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Dystopia Summary: In a Dystopian world, Alphas and Omegas are rare. So rare that they meet only at semi-annual, semi-corrupt conventions organized by Betas, all for the purpose of breeding. Dean is one such Alpha, prized more for his seed than for himself, and untouched. Raised to value the system, he's about to have his world turned upside down, and it all starts with a decadent scent.

Not Here for Me | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 8,113 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Humans, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Gay Bars, Closeted Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, references to Dean's bad childhood Summary: If he had the choice, Dean never would have stepped foot inside this place. But Sam was curious - and curious is a hell of a lot better than the depression that clung to him day after day since Jess left him. So Dean swallows his pride, joins Sam as his babysitter. So he won't get find himself in any trouble. Trouble, however, is more likely to find Dean. In the bowels of his personal hell, can Dean resist temptations that have plagued him his entire life? Or will someone descend and lend a hand, showing Dean that the darkness he imagined only lived inside his own mind. And all that he feared was not as he seemed if he let himself step out of the shadows of his past.

Bearing A Heart | @lockandk3yfiction

Rating: Mature Word Count: 9,421 Main Tags/Warnings: Female Castiel (Supernatural); Castiel in a Female Vessel (Supernatural); Genderbending; Pregnant Castiel (Supernatural); Possessive Castiel (Supernatural); Miscommunication; Running Away; Death Threats; Angst with a Happy Ending; Abundant Mention of Death pertaining to an unborn child Summary: Castiel believes she is becoming more human in the way that she sleeps and eats. It’s a repercussion of falling after all. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s what she gives up to maintain her relationships with the people that she cares about. But what if she shared more than a “last night on Earth” with Dean Winchester? When Castiel learns that she is bearing the heart of another living being, the angel decides to do all in her power to protect her child.

Take Your Human Charge To Work Day (WIP) | @pointyearedelvishprincling

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,222 Main Tags/Warnings: mutual pining, fluff and smut, case fic, top!castiel/bottom dean winchester, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, love confession, castiel dream walking, memory alteration, Summary: Written in third person with alternating POV of Dean & Cas. Something's changed between Dean and Castiel. Dean asks Cas to take him along wherever it is the angel goes when he's not around the Winchesters. He's curious, that's all. No feelings involved. It'll be fun. Dean's ready for Cas to take the wheel on their adventure, but turns out some feelings aren't so easy to repress when it's just the two of you. Cas needs some time alone. It's a heavy burden hearing Dean's longing like a constant prayer while Cas is trying to resist his own feelings. Now he's stuck in LA on a case that could have taken him minutes to solve, and Dean is very distracting. Why is it they can only let their guards down when faced with losing the other?

Scentless | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,416 Main Tags/Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Getting Together, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas Summary: Cas lost his mate and his scent a year ago when his scent gland was burned in order to brand him as a barren omega. Ever since then, he has been trying to pass as a beta, hiding his mutilated scent gland under the collar of his shirts. This works pretty well for him, until he meets alpha Dean Winchester, who turns his life upside down.

Mated (WIP) | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,721 Main Tags/Warnings: Falling in Love, Strangers to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Dean in Denial about Sexuality, Alpha Cas, Alpha Dean, Bottom Cas, Top Dean Summary: Of course, if Dean had known that it was possible for an alpha to mate another alpha, he would never have let himself get carried away and bitten the hot alpha’s mating gland in the throes of passion. It wasn’t like he was into alphas, after all… Right? Having accidentally mated the most awesome alpha, he might have to rethink some things about himself as he gets to know his mate and starts falling for him.

Scented | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19,298 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Mpreg, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: Cas could not believe that a sweet and sexy alpha like Dean was interested in him—burned and barren omega, social outcast with an abusive ex-mate. To make their new relationship work, they have to figure out how to deal with Cas’ insecurities, society’s prejudices, and a surprise here and there along the way…

Tacoma | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 20,055 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon divergent, season 15 breakup, angst with a happy ending Summary: After an explosive fight, Castiel leaves the bunker and Dean decides to let him go. As Cas ventures halfway across the country on a journey to find himself, Dean reevaluates what he needs from life. And what he needs is Cas.

I Will Hang My Head Low | @andimeantittosting

Rating: Mature Word Count: 22,403 Main Tags/Warnings: Fairytale/Folklore AU, Sick Cas, Temporary MCD, Grief/Mourning, Boy King!Sam Summary: Dean Winchester gave up hunting when his brother became the prophesied Boy King of Hell. Now he ekes out a meager living, chopping wood for a nearby village, until one snowy night, he follows what appears to be a falling star, and encounters an injured angel. Afterwards, he tries to put the strange night from his mind. When he meets Castiel, a mysterious man with healing powers, they form an instant connection, and the more Dean learns of Castiel's powers—to heal, to protect, to purify—the more he begins to hope that Sam can be saved. But as they prepare to save Sam, Castiel grows sick, and then sicker still. Too late, Dean learns how much Castiel is willing to sacrifice for him. Inspired by the Decemberists' Crane Wife and the Japanese myth on which it is based.

The Awakening | Eggplant47 (A03)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 39,144 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe--Human, past child abuse (not explicit), past rape (not explicit), past child sexual abuse (just mentioned), Drug Use, Drunk Driving, Prostitution (past), Infidelity (not between Dean and Cas), Switching Summary: Dean Winchester had always lived on the surface of life, but a bump on the head and his young, blue-eyed brother-in-law are about to push him into the deep.

Lost Together | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40,551 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Lucifer (Supernatural), bottom Castiel/top Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Witch Castiel (Supernatural), Familiars, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Minor Character Death, Racism, Homophobic Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, True Mates, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Explicit Sexual Content, Claiming Bites, Knotting, Mpreg, Happy Ending, Shapeshifting Summary: Castiel is a powerful Omega witch, but even his magic can’t save him and those around him from his ex, Lucien. When his familiar is brutally killed, Cas vows never to take another familiar because he can’t imagine risking another animal’s life. A wolf roaming his property has other ideas. Meanwhile, his new neighbour, an Alpha named Dean, is worming his way into his heart in a way that Cas can’t resist. Can the two souls overcome danger, broken hearts, and secrets together, or will they remain lost? Through tragedy and misunderstandings, Dean and Cas are destined to be together. But destiny’s road can be deadly.

The Driver | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40,963 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Stunt Driver Dean Winchester, Getaway Driver Dean Winchester, Convenience Store Clerk Castiel, Waiter Castiel, Kid Fic, Single Father Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Inspired by "Drive" (2011) Summary: Dean Winchester is a mechanic and occasional movie stunt driver living in LA. Most people don't know that Dean also drives getaway cars for armed robberies. For months now, Dean has been nursing a crush on his neighbor, a single father named Castiel. When a violent turf war between Dean's boss and a rival gangster threatens to compromise the safety of Castiel and his son, Dean makes a choice that will change his life forever.

(You Don’t Have To) Say You Love Me | @darknessbound3

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 44,379 Main Tags/Warnings: Heavy Angst, Top!Cas/Bottom!Dean, Separation, Reconciliation, Pining Summary: Six months after Castiel walked out on a twelve year marriage to Dean, he decides it’s time for a divorce. Dean, on the other hand, isn’t so sure, and is willing to stop at nothing to win his husband back.

The (Un)Buried Past | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53,282 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Deaths, Gore and Blood, Angst, Intense Violence and use of guns, background relationships, Implied Smut Summary: After six years of living as a civilian, Dean has gotten rusty when it comes to defending himself. But, when the past comes knocking down everything in its way, Dean has to sink back into his old skin to get back what he wants. Ad what he finds out during the journey is not what he wants.

A Driver Worth His Salt | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 67,844 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depiction of Violence, Mafia AU Vibe, BAMF Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Trauma Summary: The job is simple: drive the passenger a few times a week to yet-undisclosed locations and return with said passenger without fail. Be on time. Be discreet. And never interact with each other outside of work. Once twenty-year-old Dean meets the passenger in question—the sharply dressed and rough-looking Castiel Novak—he finds that abiding by those shady rules may be more complicated than he had anticipated.

All the Night Tide | @funnywings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 72,315 Main Tags/Warnings: Pirate AU, Golden Age of Piracy, Mythology and Lore, Temporary Major Character Death, Pirate!Castiel, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Kidnapped for ransom by his childhood best friend, Dean is eager to return home and escape the pirate ship that has become his prison. But when Castiel sets his sights on a dangerous new quest, Dean chooses to stay by his side, even if it means facing down Death itself.

help me get where I belong (WIP) | ravenkings (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 73,437 Main Tags/Warnings: alcoholism, substance abuse, referenced child abuse, referenced assault, extensive crafting Summary: Dean Winchester just needs to get through a quick three-month stint in rehab to appease his little brother, then he'll be back to boozing away the rest of his short, shitty life. Except he kind of likes the group therapy leaders for AA, he's getting way better at watercoloring, and the crazy-haired guy on the NA side of the ward keeps winking at him.

Missing | @kitmistry

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 93,025 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Murder Mystery, Post-Breakup, Mutual Pining, Heavy Angst, Minor Character Death, John Winchester's A+ parenting Summary: Two years ago Dean Winchester broke his heart. Now he's at Castiel's doorstep, asking for his help, but there's nothing Dean can say that will convince Castiel to listen. Or so he thinks. Faced with the news of Sam's disappearance, he decides to put his anger aside and follows Dean to a rural town in Nebraska, where they end up tangled in the missing girl investigation Sam was looking into. With an unknown threat closing in on them and all the things left unsaid between them about to be revealed, Castiel and Dean race against time to find Sam before it's too late.

All the Reasons We Are Real | @charlies-secret-closet and @jupiticas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 96,466 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow burn, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff, Canon Adjacent, Sam Winchester Ships Destiel, Destiel Fluff, Abusive John Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Charlie Ships Destiel, Self Worth Issues, Major Angst, You Will Cry, Summary: Sam is tired of it. Tired of the staring contests and the eye-sex and the 'standing two inches apart' thing. With a little help from Rowena and Heller-Queen-Charlie, Sam becomes the matchmaker: and tries to make his ship canon. Meanwhile, Cas is hiding a painful secret about a certain deal, and Dean is hiding his deepest truth. Until one night, when their long-awaited happiness becomes their greatest sorrow. Written in the original canon universe, this fic uses many canon scenes from the series to show that Destiel doesn't need fanfiction to be real. It has always been there, it will always be there, and it is REAL.

Twenty-Nine Steps | @scones-and-texting-and-murder

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 113,621 Main Tags/Warnings: underage, rape/noncon , PTSD, past child abuse, child sexual abuse, suicidal thoughts, repressed memories Summary: At the age of forty, Dean Winchester has a strong, loving marriage, a successful business, and a young nephew he absolutely dotes upon. He and Cas are living the kind of life Dean never thought was meant for him, one where the future stretches out before them, solid and bright. When a series of small and seemingly unrelated events coalesce into a larger, horrifying realization, he’s rocked to his very core. With so much of what he thought he knew about himself ripped away, he’s trapped between confronting the trauma of his past and believing he’s worthy of the life he’s built.

Still Breathing | @casbelieves

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 124,924 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-con, Drug Use, Self-Harm, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, Mentions of Suicide, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Reunion, Angst, First Love, Unrequited Love, Foster Care, Smut, Switch!Cas, Switch!Dean, Angst With a Happy Ending Summary: Castiel has no reason to trust anyone. As a teenager in the foster care system, he’s experienced horrific and unspeakable acts of violence and abuse that will haunt him for the rest of his life. When he arrives in Pacifica, CA, as the newest addition to the Singer’s foster family, the last thing he expects is to develop a deep and unbreakable bond with the boy-next-door, Dean Winchester. But Dean isn’t as in control of his own life as it seems, and the two struggle to navigate homophobia, trauma, and the pressures of an impending adulthood. When they meet again as young adults, eight years after their falling out, they are given a chance to rekindle a fire that never truly went out.

Patient Love (WIP) | @chaoticdean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 152,765 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Settings, US Navy SEAL Dean Winchester, Journalist Castiel, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, War Injury, PTSD, Grief/Mourning, Friends to Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Angst With a Happy Ending, Switch Dean/Switch Cas Summary: Castiel Novak is 27 when he suddenly loses his twin brother Jimmy, and his whole world turns to ashes. After 10 years as a Navy Special Warfare Operator, a battlefield injury forces 28-year-old Chief Petty Officer Dean Winchester to chose between being stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career or going back to civil life. Things are already complicated and painful enough as it is, but when former lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak meet again after 10 years of radio silence and a galaxy of wounds and scars solidly standing between them, it feels like both a curse and a blessing has been placed on them both. Is there any hope in putting back their broken pieces together after a decade, and how do you deal with grief and broken dreams?

The Offering | @deans-jiggly-pudding

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 167,703 Main Tags/Warnings: Incubus!Castiel, AU - high school, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, rape/non-con elements, heavy angst with a happy ending Summary: As a pastor's son, Dean Winchester is expected to be all the things he's not: the church poster child, compliant with every plan his father has for him, and of course, straight. Fighting the confines of his father's faith and the control it has over his life, Dean is caught in the middle of a teen lock-in activity that will change his life. The boys accidentally summon an incubus named Cas, and his demands are clear. Dean discovers Cas to be everything he expected... Yet, even the darkest of creatures has secrets of his own. Can they be together, despite who they are, and despite everything designed to keep them apart?

A Ghost Story (WIP) | @valleydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 248,988 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Gardener Dean Winchester, Rich Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Magic, College | University Student Dean Winchester, Ghost Castiel (Supernatural), Haunted Houses, Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Arranged Marriage, POV Dean Winchester, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Witch Hunters, Animal Death, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Secret Relationship, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Soulmates Summary: Castiel Novak has haunted his family's estate for 150 years, awaiting the return of his lost love. Upon their reunion, Dean Winchester learns of his past reincarnation. After the night of Castiel's resurrection, the two try to find out why they've been given a second chance. The answers may be hidden in the forgotten memories of Dean's former life - but sometimes the truth is better left buried.

Time Won’t Let Me | Aketch-22 (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 253,520 Main Tags/Warnings: Non Explicit Sex, Closeted Castiel, Hurt Comfort, Harry Potter Crossover, Angst and Feels Summary: Entering his 5th year of the Voldemort-controlled Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, muggle-born Dean Winchester is faced with the prospect of the Choosing - a ceremony where twelve students are picked based on blood status to participate in the Mudblood Games. In the Games, the tributes are transported to Purgatory. If you're the first to find your way to the portal out, you become part of Voldemort's world - and if you're not, you die. Will Dean, Sam, Castiel and the others be Chosen, or will they simply have to sit by and watch their friends suffer at the hands of the cruelest supernatural threat the trio have ever faced?

The Exceptional Bad Boy | @thedevil-is-in-the-details

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 329,619 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Castiel / Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester / Top Castiel, Past Rape / Non-con, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Alcohol Abuse / Alcoholism, Drugs, Suicide Attempt, Fluff and Smut, Tattoed Castiel, Depression, Anxiety, Self-harm, Stalking, Minor Character Death Summary: Again, they move to a new town and Dean is so sick of always moving around and always being the new kid at school. And he wants something better for his little brother Sam. But their father can't manage to keep a job for longer than two months. No matter where they are, there is one thing that is always the same though. Dean's reputation as bad boy. It was never a problem that there were already other bad boys because Dean was always the worst. But now, he has keen competition – Castiel Novak. Covered in tattoos, drinking, smoking, doing drugs, breaking other people's noses... Novak's reputation precedes him. But that he's still different than every bad boy Dean's ever met is pretty clear though, from the very first moment they meet.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 3 #angst with a happy ending #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #saving blogs; queuing things; the tumblr business

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 3)

word count: 6k

fluff, smut

(part 2) (miniseries masterlist)

except that. 

that was probably the one thing you could’ve said to him that’d be really bad and panic-inducing; because out of all the things he was thinking, he would’ve never suspected that.

he thought maybe you wanted to change your major or quit your job, stressors that the average college student had and went through during their time as a young adult.

but you getting pregnant after years of being on birth control? he never would’ve guessed that.

and he supposes right now, as he gets his ass handed to him by seonghwa, he’s seeing that neither did you.

“no, no, let me get this right,” the man begins. 

“she tells you after a month of being terrified that she’s carrying your child. you guys scream and yell at each other for a little bit, in typical yeosang fashion. she cries, tells you to fuck off and then you... actually do fuck off and come here?” seonghwa asks, leant against the doorframe as he watches yeosang’s unmoving body plopped face down on his couch.

“does that sound about right?”

he had figured yeosang was the late night food he ordered, ignoring the way his face was gonna puff in the morning and excitedly opening the door. 

but then his best friend of over ten years came barreling in, lowly growling expletive after expletive before adding that, “oh and by the way, you’re gonna be an uncle.”

seonghwa thought he was kidding at first, staring at the boy sitting with his head in his hands before he looked up and saw all the tension and stress and... sadness, he thinks, in his friend’s eyes.

“what happened?” seonghwa asked, his voice soft and kind even though yeosang came tearing in there like a storm; it’s one of the reasons the boy came here, honestly, knowing that his friend would help him through any crisis. 

and right now, he felt like he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

“i’m pregnant.”

he didn’t even register the words at first, distracted by your tear-stained face and watery, scared eyes, wanting to do anything in his power to stop them.

but then after a few seconds, it’s like his brain finally woke up and registered the two simple words that just left your mouth.

“what?”

“i’m pregnant, yeosang,” you mumble quietly, not being able to bask in the relief that comes over you because you’re still so scared.

you’re relieved that you told him and happy it’s not a dirty little secret anymore but you’re still terrified of what’s to come; especially when, after you say it, silence fills the apartment.

you can’t tell if it’s a good silence or a bad silence, you just know you could hear a fucking pin drop and that scares you even more.

“how are you.... when did you...” he stutters out, not being able to get his thoughts together.

you daringly peek your head up to see him shaking his and staring down at the floor with furrowed brows, finally meeting your gaze with confusion and utter shock in his eyes.

“you’re on the pill,” yeosang states obviously, like it wasn’t the first thing you, mingi and yunho said too. “how did that even happen?”

“i don’t know, that’s what i said,” you tell him, shaking your own head because it really is hard to believe this is happening to you, of all people; you’ve heard of this happening before but no one ever thinks it could happen to them, that they’d be the 1% (or 9%, as mingi suggested) that birth control fails on.

“did you forget to take it or something?” he asks, no malice in his tone but the words making you raise an eyebrow at him; he’s not seriously about to blame you for this?

“no, yeosang, i didn’t forget to take it,” you snap. “you know i’m careful and set an alarm. i’ve been on it for years.”

“babe, i didn’t mean it like that,” yeosang says, hearing the snippy tone in your voice and wincing at the look on your face.

he makes his way over from his spot on the couch to crouch below you, his hands resting on your kneecaps as you sit stiffly with your feet under you. the soft apologetic look on his face should soothe you but instead you find yourself slightly irritable. 

“i’m just confused as to how this happened,” he says softly, his eyes roaming your face in a way that makes tears continue to sting yours. you don’t know if you’re mad or upset, you just feel like you wanna cry.

“well then that makes two of us,” you mumble, a sigh leaving yeosang’s mouth as he rests his head on your legs. his forehead is warm against your cold skin as you let out a sigh of your own, not wanting to snap at him during a moment like this. 

you lace your fingers in his hair as the two of you just come to terms with everything, yeosang’s breathing a little more calm and even against your skin.

“so that’s why you were puking,” he realizes aloud, a humorless laugh leaving you as you nod your head in confirmation.

“yup. not a virus but morning sickness.”

your boyfriend has the slightest pout on his lips as he recalls how sick you felt those first few days, running his thumbs along your knee gently.

but then he remembers you started puking nearly a month ago, which was then followed by all your weird behavior he chopped up to you still feeling sick and stressed over work.

your abnormal distance, your lack of interest in sex, a far away look in your eye any time he was trying to talk to you; he feels a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach before he even asks the question.

“when did you find this out?”

he doesn’t mean to blurt the question out so forcefully but he can tell he does, hears it in his own voice and sees your face snap down to him with a look of guilt.

that was the one thing he noticed about you right away, you weren’t able to lie. you were always such an easy read and it’s one of the reasons he took such an interest in you.

he knew what pissed you off and he knew what made you flustered; but in turn, he also always knows when you lie or when you feel uncomfortable and annoyed.

when he’s met with silence, he moves away from your lap and stands in front of you. he pulls you up and over to the couch so you can both sit side by side, his body turned to look at you carefully.

his gaze is intense and scrutinizing and it only makes you that more nervous to answer.

you’ll never forget when yunho said that’s what made him so intimidating. the way he could have the softest, sweetest eyes but then also pierce through your very soul and make you nearly fall to his feet.

“baby...” he tries again, bringing his hand to your face gently.

he turns so you can look at him and you see his eyes flash when he notices more tears have welled up, stomach sinking as fear and shame build.  

“answer me, please,” he begs softly, trying to keep his emotions at bay but also hating to see you like this.

you press your lips together so you don’t let out a pathetic sob, your eyes roaming his face before you bite the bullet and begin telling him.

“when yunho came over that first week i was sick,” you start, remembering the boy only insisted on visiting because yeosang went back to school and work and didn’t want you being alone. 

“then mingi came over and was the one who said it. i-i didn’t think it was possible but we went and got tests anyway and... they were all positive, yeosang. all fucking five of them and i didn’t know what to do. i was a wreck on this couch until you got home.”

“you should’ve told me right away, baby, what the fuck,” yeosang says, his voice strangely soft despite the louder volume and curses leaving him. 

you feel comforted by the fact that even as you tell him this, he pulls you closer into his warm body and wraps his arms around you.

he hates thinking that for a month, you were terrified and dealing with this alone. keeping it from him when he thinks he could’ve made you feel better about this whole scary moment - it’d be better if you guys were afraid together.

“i was so scared and i didn’t know how you’d take it,” you mutter to him, not wanting to make him feel bad but also wanting to be honest. “i didn’t know if you’d be mad or surprised and you just seemed so stressed with work and stuff... i didn’t wanna make it worse.”

his heart sinks as he listens to your words, allowing yourself to be full of anxiety and stress just to spare him.

“my love...” his deep voice mumbles lowly, your stomach flipping at the warm affection in his tone. his hand cupping your face immediately makes your body relax against him, finally gaining the courage to look him in the eyes.

his gaze is less intense and scrutinizing, now full of love and affection and warmth that already makes you feel just a little bit better. 

maybe keeping this a secret wasn’t that big of a deal, maybe he understands because he’s going through the same fears and anxieties you were at first.

“now, why would i be mad about you being pregnant?” he asks, a small smile on his face as he looks over you questioningly. “surprised? sure. but we just talked about it, baby.... i want a family with you. i mean... i was thinking a little bit later in life but if you’re so eager now...” 

you narrow your eyes at his teasing and smack his arm lightly, almost wanting to whine about how calm and nonchalant he’s being about this. 

how is he not absolutely terrified right now? how is he teasing and smiling and talking as if a tiny person isn’t gonna pop out in nine months and change your entire life?

“how could you possibly be this calm about it?” you ask him with an annoyed groan, leaning back on the couch to rest your pounding head on the armrest. “i spent weeks crying and sick to my stomach about it.”

“maybe because you were keeping it from me,” he mutters sarcastically, his hands resting next to your head as he looms above you. 

you can only respond with your lips in the smallest of pouts, a smirk crossing his mouth before he meets yours in a chaste kiss.

it’s the most real and intense a kiss has felt between you two in weeks, his hand creeping over to hold your jaw tightly. you welcome his tongue eagerly, your own lapping against his before you two smile into the kiss.

“for real, though,” he mutters when he eventually pulls back, chests heaving from lack of air and a need to reconnect lips. “i know you’re scared and so i am. but it’ll be okay. i’m... kind of excited, actually.”

you smile softly at him, a tiny “really?” leaving your mouth that has him nodding and smiling proudly. you reach up to peck his cheek sweetly, the calmness that evaded you for weeks finally coming back to ground you.

“but don’t keep anything else from me, okay? i wanna be part of these things and know about this, babe.”

“okay,” you say breathily, his eyes so thoughtful and loving you can feel your heart swelling in your chest. 

and it doesn’t even occur to you in that moment to mention the doctor visit you already had; you’re just so distracted by his positive reaction and the need to kiss him, finally allowing yourself to deepen it and give yourself over to him.

you missed him and his touch and his lips on you, straddling his lap as you giggle into the kiss.

it’s after a few minutes of silence, you both laying there with heaving chests and your clothes littered on the floor from nearly an hour of making up for lost time, that yeosang starts tracing shapes on your stomach. 

lines and circles and even a heart that makes you bite back a smile. his own deep chuckle rings through the air a few seconds later, your head craning to the side to look at him.

“why are you laughing?” you ask, a smile pulling at your lips.

“i just... can’t believe this,” he says happily, his warm hands on your skin making your heart jump. 

“and i think it’s pretty funny that fucking mingi was the one who came to this conclusion,” yeosang laughs out, his long, gentle fingers pressing down mindlessly. “like how’d he even know about...morning sickness and shit?”

“i don’t know to be honest,” you giggle out, thinking back to the boy’s meltdown in the doctor’s office.

and maybe because you were so happy and giddy about his reaction, his warm hands on you and the soft smile on his face and the bliss from multiple orgasms, you didn’t even think about your next words.

you were just so excited to share these things with him now, let him in on the past few weeks of what you were going through and wanted to be going through with him. 

“you should’ve seen his face at the doctor, though, he looked horrified when he saw the sonogram machine. and then when they presumed he was the father, oh, my god, he nearly-”

“wait, wait, wait, what? the doctor?”

your face falls when you hear the immediate change in his voice, something mixed of hurt and disbelief as he sits up and looks at you in confusion. 

“when did you go there?”

“i... well, two days after i took the tests. we just wanted to make sure the results were right,” you say quietly, voice small and soft as your stomach starts to churn. “a-and i wanted to make sure i was, you know, healthy and stuff.”

you remember the horror stories and scary incidences of ectopic pregnancies, aware and terrified of just how many things could go wrong - and mingi was quick to remind you himself as well.

“i mean i get that,” yeosang says, surprised by how hurt and upset he’s feeling now. “but like... when were you gonna tell me you already went? the first appointment seems kind of like a big deal, y/n. i wish you would’ve told me then.”

“i was scared, yeosang,” you attempt to justify again, knowing it was wrong to keep it from him but also feeling as if you have the right to be a little nervous and scared shitless. “i didn’t know how to handle it and you were stressed, like, that whole time, i didn’t wanna-”

“i’ll never be too stressed for you, what don’t you get by now, y/n?” he snaps, “have i not proved that to you?” 

“of course you have but this is different, yeosang,” you tell him, joining as you sit up and look at him with wide eyes. he was fine about it a few seconds ago, why is this so different? 

“this is me being pregnant and possibly changing our life forever. you said you wanted to be married first. you said not for a while. so i didn’t know how you were gonna-”

“i love you, y/n,” he laughs out, shaking his head half in disbelief. 

how did you think he was gonna react? go crazy and tell you he didn’t want to be with you anymore? have a mental breakdown because he was a little stressed over his stupid boss and mundane work?

“do you not get how much i actually fucking love you? how could you think i was gonna react in any way but happy?”

“because i wasn’t happy,” you blurt out, his eyes widening and face dropping. 

“i mean i wasn’t upset or angry about it but i was so fucking scared, yeosang,” you quickly correct. you want this baby and you want this life with him, you’re just... how did this go so wrong so fast? 

“my body’s gonna change and our life is gonna change. i’ll probably have to take some time off from school and all of that scared me. and i thought it would scare you, too.”

“it does scare me but i know we’ll get through it, y/n. especially if we’re on the same page. the same way we’ve been on the same page for these past few years. we’ll be okay but you can’t keep shit from me. that’s how we got this far.”

“i didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you whisper, hearing that edge in his voice he always gets when he starts to get mad or dwell on something. 

he was hurt by you keeping it from him but he’s even more hurt you did such a big first step without him.

“i didn’t know you’d wanna come to the appointment with me.”

“how could you think i’d not wanna be there, y/n?” he asks before his face darkens and a tick begins to form in his jaw. “and then you take another man, no less? mingi looked like the baby’s father.”

and it’s like once he says that, you can’t control the outburst of emotions that erupt out of you. him being upset, you understand, but being upset that mingi, your gay best friend who has a fiancé, went with you? when you were scared and freaking out and felt like you didn’t know what to do without him?

“are you fucking kidding me?” 

his eyebrows shoot up at the bite in your words, his eyes flaring as they watch you stare him down.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i really am, yeosang, and that was wrong of me. but i went with mingi. my best friend, who was there for me when i was terrified.”

“you didn’t let me be there for you,” he bites back, hating that a fight is starting but both of you feeling far too angry and hurt right now. “why are you making it seem like i didn’t wanna be a part of it when you didn’t fucking tell me?” 

“are you gonna keep throwing that in my face? i’ve told you over and over again i was scared, yeosang. i’m still fucking scared and i’m sorry i can’t be as calm as you about this but i didn’t know what to do.”

“it’s not about being calm, y/n, it’s about telling me things. were you not even gonna tell me you went? pretend as if our first time going together was your first check up?” 

he feels like he’s being a little bit of a bitch about it at this point but he’s truthfully too hurt to care. 

he thought he made it clear he wanted a life and a family with you. he was ready to go out and buy you a ring if you said you wanted to get married right now; so why didn’t you get he wanted to be there for you, no matter what? 

he wants to be there during every step of the way, not just when things are easy and fun.

“i didn’t even think about it,” you snap, hurt and upset by his accusations. “i didn’t think you’d be this upset, yeosang. you weren’t upset five seconds ago when i told you i kept it from you for a month so why are you upset about this?” 

he can’t hear how small and sad your voice is, only focused on your words and the way they make him feel even more upset and frustrated. 

“because... that’s different, y/n. that’s something a father should be there for and that’s something that makes it real.’

“that’s exactly why it scared me,” you tell him, tears burning your eyes and your voice barely above a whisper. “and that’s why i needed someone there with me.”

“it should’ve been me there with you,” he growls lowly, possessiveness and anger creeping up on him before he can even think. 

but he can only picture you scared and vulnerable as you hear the news about your baby, listening to the doctor congratulate you and holding mingi’s hand tightly because you’re scared to hear it from a real, human source. 

“do you not think i know that?” you snap, voice raising as you jump up from your spot on the couch. “i already told you i’m sorry, yeosang. i don’t know why you’re not hearing that i’m fucking scared.”

you wanted him from the second you started taking the pregnancy tests, since the second the words pregnancy were even said. but you wanted him to be content and stress-free more, you wanted him to be okay hearing this news and not potentially destroy your relationship. 

“and if you’re just gonna keep making me feel bad about it then how about you just fuck off. because i really don’t need this right now.”

he doesn’t have anything nice to say so he doesn’t say anything, watching as you attempt to wipe at your face discretely and take off toward your shared bedroom. 

the sound of the door slamming echoes through the apartment, the knot in yeosang’s stomach only growing more as he gets up and stomps over to throw his shoes on, a similar sound echoing from the entrance of the apartment before silence fills the darkness. 

seonghwa waits until yeosang looks up at him to walk over to the boy, plopping down on the chair across from him to shrug his shoulders. 

“so... why’d you come here then?” 

“i didn’t know where else to go.”

a smirk crosses the boy’s face as he shakes his head, letting out a sigh as he watches his friend carefully.

long gone were those high school feelings of envy and suppressed anger over the situation, able to see now, three years later, that yeosang was the one meant for you. 

getting away from you two proved to work for him, distracting himself in a foreign country with foreign friends and foreign girls until he came back and saw how happy you two still were.

and all he really ever wanted was for you two to be happy - and he’s positive you two are gonna get past this by tomorrow morning. because he’s never seen a couple more perfect for each other, even despite your blowout fights. 

“well, do you wanna know what i think?” 

yeosang rolls his eyes up to look at his friend, the cocky grin and glint in his eyes already not sitting well with him.

“not really. i came here to vent and lay on your expensive couch.”

“you got me that couch, asshole.”

“exactly,” yeosang says, resting his head back on the cushion and almost regretting purchasing this for seonghwa’s housewarming present and not his own. 

“anyway you dick,” seonghwa says, suppressing the chuckle threatening to leave him. “i think you’re a fucking idiot for leaving her and have to go back home.” 

and just as yeosang opens his mouth to speak, unsure of what he’s gonna say but feeling the need to say something, seonghwa raises his pointer finger and cuts the boy off.

“you have to remember it’s gonna be her body and her life being impacted the most by this. i get why you’re upset that she went without you, i’d probably be hurt too, but it’s how she felt most comfortable at the time. you can’t get mad at her for that. it’s fucking scary, yeosang, and i’m surprised you’re not more terrified about it.”

yeosang listens to seonghwa’s words, letting them soak in his pounding head that’s now screaming at him for leaving you home alone in the first place.

he knows his friend is right and he knows he might’ve overreacted a little. 

but he also thinks he’s a little more scared than he’s letting on, wanting to be strong and secure for you but also knowing firsthand how important being a good father is.

it took him long enough to figure out how to be a good boyfriend, he would hate if it took him that long to become a good father and mess up his child along the way. 

but he thinks because he has you, the whole journey will be a lot easier. 

“i’m scared but i love her,” yeosang says, the words so sweet and honest and soft, seonghwa’s surprised to hear them leave his friend so easily. “i’ve had every intention of marrying her and becoming the father of her kids. so it doesn’t seem that scary, i guess.” 

seonghwa feels his heart pull in his chest at the mere fact this is the same friend who used to never let anyone in, would purposely isolate himself and self sabotage and thought being an asshole was easy because it pushed people away. 

but he tried to push you away and it only seemed to bring you two together, a smile pulling on seonghwa’s lips before he bites down on them quickly. 

“you fucking sap.”

yeosang’s head snaps up at his friend, an annoyed expression crossing his face before he grabs the pillow next to him and promptly whips it at his friend. 

“shut up. that’s you and will always be you. little bitch.”

seonghwa snorts as he cranes his neck to the side, eyes roaming the dark night sky and high rises of the city. silence falls between the two boys as they sit with their thoughts, yeosang about you and wondering what you’re doing and seonghwa wondering where the fuck his food-

a knock on the door causes him to spring up, rushing over and sighing in relief when he’s greeted with his late night pancake order. yeosang nosily peeks his head over the couch, his interest heightening when he sees his friend carrying a to-go box of food. 

“what’d you get?”

“none of your business,” seonghwa responds, placing the box on the table before disappearing into the kitchen. 

yeosang rolls his eyes before making his way over to the table, his eyebrows knitting together before he lets out a humorless laugh. almost one of disbelief.

"of course, why wouldn't you be stealing the last free muffin," yeosang hums sarcastically, a smirk on his lips that has you snatching your hand away.

"you're mean," you whine, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, "they were out of chocolate chip pancakes and i'll have you know i was willing to spend the $10."

"wow, $10," he says, tone dripping with sarcasm as he picks up the muffin and resists the urge to smile when a pout covers your face.

he remembers that day at the ski lodge feeling like it was longest one of his life, the night quickly falling before the power outage landed you in his room.

it’s when he confessed all of his tragic tales to you, something he hid from everyone and told you simply because a part of him was overwhelmed to. 

it didn’t excuse how he treated you but he’d hoped you’d understand after hearing that why you should stay away from him.

why trying to see any good in him at that point in his life was ridiculous. 

but you never stopped and he remembers to this day that’s when he allowed himself to fall for you, blew all his trauma and caution and doubts to the wind and tried to be worthy for someone like you. 

but he also remembers seonghwa coming in and looking at him like he was about to beat the shit out of him that night, whisking you away before they started to fight over you in dramatic, movie night fashion. 

it’s why he didn’t even hesitate to think back to that morning with you, the pout on your face and sad look in your eye about not being able to eat those $10 chocolate chip pancakes ingrained in his mind.

“can i still order room service?” he asked the front desk, the flustered voices on the other end of the phone letting out a frustrated groan before telling him yes; it probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do after an unexpected power outage shocked the staff, but he needed a one up on seonghwa at the time. 

“can i have an order of chocolate chips pancakes then?”

“don’t even try it,” seonghwa growled at the boy, pushing him away before plopping down on the dining room chair. 

yeosang let out a snort as he raised an eyebrow at the boy, looking from him to the food then back to him. without a second thought, and only a little bit of a distasteful sigh, seonghwa plopped a pancake on the lid for his friend and pushed it away from him. 

“only because i’m gonna be an uncle.”

“maybe a godfather, who knows,” yeosang mutters, a smile breaking out across seonghwa’s face before he promptly shovels a pancake in his mouth. 

the two sit in silence for a few moments, sounds of chewing and disgusted looks being thrown back and forth before seonghwa swallows and begins to speak. 

“for real, though, it’s cool you guys are gonna be parents. you’ll be a good dad, yeosang.”

the boy looks up at his friend and sees nothing but honesty in his eyes, stabbing his fork through another piece of pancake before popping one in his mouth. 

“you think?” 

he thinks this is why he came here, too; because without even him verbalizing it directly, his friend somehow knew one of the silent worries he was having. 

“i do,” seonghwa nods, a small smile on his face as he looks at his friend. “kind of early and surprising but i don’t think that matters. you and y/n are good for each other. you’ll figure it out.”

yeosang smiles at his friend warmly, popping another piece of food into his mouth and swallowing.

“and if you somehow fuck up again with her,” seonghwa adds, yeosang looking back up to see a shit eating smirk across his friends face. “i could always step in for old times sake. raise the baby as my own. i think that’d be pretty-”

“shut the fuck up.”

a deep chuckle bubbles out of seonghwa at his friend’s words, covering his face and shouting the boy’s name when a few seconds later, utensils are hurled right across the table.

the apartment is as dark and quiet as it was when he left, kicking his shoes off to the side before quickly making his way toward the bedroom.

he pushes the door open quietly, met with the sounds your breathing as you lie asleep in bed. he leans his head against the doorframe as he watches your sleeping form got a moment, his stomach sinking the whole time he walked back home. 

he felt bad about the fight and it’s hitting him even more at this very moment, walking over to crouch beside you and move a messy piece of hair out of your face. 

he frowns upon seeing your pouted lips and puffy face, his finger swiping under your cheek where dried tears are; he can tell you probably cried yourself to sleep. 

leaning forward, he presses a feather light kiss to your skin, licking over his dry lips as his stinging eyes roam your face.

he doesn’t know how long he just kneels there and watches you, his hand running through your hair as regret and shame bubble in the pit of his stomach. 

it’s a strange contrast to the overwhelming feeling of warmth in his chest, heart soaring at the fact you both have gotten this far together. that you’ll now be expecting a child, half you and half him, and start a little family that he only began to picture when he met you.

he wasn’t even sure if he wanted kids until you came along, the idea of you and only you carrying his child; watching you with them and making him love you even more.

“yeosang?” you mumble sleepily, your eyes blinking open slowly in a daze. 

you felt a presence next to you and hands in your hair, waking up panicked for less than a second before you saw your boyfriend’s familiar outline in the darkness. 

“hi, baby.” 

his voice is deep and thick with emotion, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up to look at him. 

you don’t know if you’re more alarmed by the tone of his voice or the look on his face, still dazed from sleep so you’re not exactly remembering what happened hours ago. 

you recall laying down with your face in the pillow, quiet cries wracking your body, before promptly passing out into a dreamless sleep.

but now you’re blinking at him with such confusion and such a soft, sleepy look, messy hair and sleep marks on your puffy face, that it make tears sting the back of his eyes. 

he can’t believe he left you here alone. 

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry and i know you’re scared.” 

your eyes widen slightly as he sits up and pulls you into him despretely, your face in his chest before his arms wrap around you and hold you tight; it’s almost too tight, making it hard to breathe in his warm body, but you wouldn’t dare a say a word. 

because the more aware you become of your surroundings, the more you remember from earlier in the night. you cursing at him and not being sensitive enough, finding his concerns ridiculous but also realizing, he just wanted to be there for you. 

he wanted to be there for you every step of the way and you can’t blame him for being a little hurt.  

but he also can’t be mad for you being scared and not knowing how to react right away, dealing with more than just the simple fact of telling him. 

“i know you’re scared and i know it’ll be hard for you but we’ll do it together... okay? we’ll get through it, baby, and i’ll be there for you the whole time. i just don’t wanna fight with you.”

“me either,” you mumble against his chest, tears swarming in your own eyes when you pull back and see his eyes are glossy, too. “it wasn’t fair to you and i should’ve told you sooner. i... i shouldn’t have been scared to tell you.”

“i get why you didn’t though,” he hums lowly, remembering how much he complained to you those few weeks about being stressed from work. “i get your life is gonna change more than mine and i’m sorry i didn’t-”

you interrupt his words by pressing your lips to his, worming your way into his lap as he meets your kiss with a fervor. your mouths part and his tongue teases at your mouth, just passing that line of sweet and chaste. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble when you pull back, a small smile on your face as you look at him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “we’re okay now.” 

a smile crosses yeosang’s face as he nods, pulling you into him again as he presses his lips against your forehead. 

he closes his eyes as he takes in a few calming breaths, feeling your warm skin under his lips and your body close to his; you guys are okay and he didn’t mess anything up. 

you’ll still have to take it day by day but he knows you guys are gonna be okay.

you hear him mumble a quiet “i love you,” against your head and you smile softly as you pull back, responding with a softly spoken “i love you,” before you lean back and plop yourself back down on the warm space you previously occupied.

it didn’t feel right sleeping here without him. the bed felt far too big and far too cold and far too empty. 

“can you sleep with me now?” you whine softly, a pout on your face as you stretch your arms out to him. “i missed you.” 

and it’s the fact that you missed him even though he made you cry that makes him hold back tears again, throwing himself down on bed and pulling you over so you can rest on his chest.

you cuddle yourself closer to him with a content sigh, intertwining your arms and legs as you lay your head over his chest. 

“i don’t know how we used to fight all the time,” yeosang mumbles after a few seconds of silence, his hand in yours as his thumb softly caresses your skin. “i fucking hated it.” 

“i know,” you chuckle out lightly, your eyes closed as you bury your face in his chest. “you’re soft now, though. i thought you were gonna cry or something.”

a deep chuckle leaves him before he lets out something between a growl and scoff, your loud giggles filling the room when he reaches over and grabs at your ticklish waist.

it’s the same giggles that fill the living room the next day when all the boys come over, san, jongho, and wooyoung nearly falling over in shock when you tell them the news. 

“you’re....pregnant? like... with a baby?” wooyoung asks, poking at your stomach roughly like it’s some foreign object.

“no, with a chicken,” yeosang snaps, pushing his friend back to halt him from touching you. “what kind of stupid fucking question is that?”

“i don’t know! i’m just shocked, okay!” 

a smile crosses your face as you hear the front door open, your eyes shifting to see seonghwa, mingi and yunho walking into the apartment. your smile widens upon seeing the boys, the two tallest ones bouncing over happily. 

mingi catches yeosang’s eyes and raises an eyebrow when he sees the boy throw him a dirty look, the dark-haired boy scoffing as they stare each other down.

“you still mad the doctor thought i was the daddy?” mingi growls lowly, a snort leaving you and yunho’s mouth as yeosang pushes at the taller boy and throws you a blank look.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you tell him, accidentally letting it slip on your daily morning phone call with the boy. 

but it doesn’t stop mingi and yeosang from bickering further, your own form sauntering over to seonghwa and greeting him with a smile.

“hi.”

“hey,” seonghwa smiles, handsome as ever as he congratulates you softly. 

you weren’t surprised when yeosang told you he went there last night, the friendship between the boys something you’ve watched blossom into something remarkable.

it took you a while to get over the guilt of almost destroying it but now it all seemed like a distant memory. you and seonghwa had an unspoken love for one another but it wasn’t like the teenage, puppy type love you once had for one another.

it was more so one of a mutual respect. a genuine friendship where neither you, seonghwa or yeosang felt awkward or threatened by. 

but it’s upon listening to seonghwa talk softly to you that you notice a red mark on his face, your eyes squinting and hand reaching up to poke at a deep scratch across his face.

“seonghwa, oh my god,” you interrupt, yeosang’s head snapping to you before a guilty (but unapologetic) expression overcomes him. “what happened to your face?”

part 4

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ @toffee-hwa​ @valhoez​ @miatsubaki23​ @mydaintydaisy​ @treasure-hwa​ @khjssss [couldn’t tag :( ]

#completely forgot to post this yesterday jfdkvkfvk #sorry!! on that cliffhanger too :/ #yeosang #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #yeosang scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #yeosang imagines

[vennilavee]

to build a home - ch 1

beyond the drapes

attack on titan masterlist

ch 2 - a girl in a bar

Pairing: levi x reader (attack on titan)

Summary: a modern au where you and levi both work for the Survey Corps, a non-profit organization with a mission to help the youth of the Underground District.

Warnings: cursing, suggestive themes

Word Count: 3787

A/N: im so excited to explore levi’s character in this setting!! this story will be a series of moments in no sequential order. in this modern au, the walls still exist, as does the underground district. the only thing modern about it is the technology and culture lolol ENJOY

*** This day is bound to be a long one- it’s only 10 AM and you’ve already been in back to back meetings with several of donors for the foundation. You’ve been in meetings for the last three and a half hours, your toasted bagel now cold and your second cup of coffee now empty. You sigh and roll your shoulders back, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

These rich types would be the death of you. But Erwin had specifically asked you to handle the rich donors. As if Hange or Levi would be able to sit through even one of these ass-kissing phone calls. You can hear sugary sweetness dripping off of your tongue with practiced patience and you hardly recognize it. It’s an out of body experience. As words are rolling off your tongue, you wonder how Levi would fare with this responsibility.

He’d complain the whole time and then tell the person on the other end of the video call to fuck off and get their heads out of their asses. The thought makes you scoff and you clear your throat to cover the sound.

Erwin knew your strengths and weaknesses as individuals and a team, and you were grateful for such an insightful boss and friend.

Once you seal the third donation of the morning, you take your headset off and rub your temples. You’re glad you’re free until noon, giving you some time to catch up on emails and catch up with your colleagues and friends. The drapes in your office were drawn back, illuminating your office in a faint sunny glow. Today, the sun was hiding behind the clouds so it wasn’t terribly bright.

And yes, you had drapes in your office. They were a midnight blue with threads of gold embroidered throughout. Everyone else had normal blinds, but you had seen these drapes while window shopping years ago for this new office and you knew it belonged. Something about the blue and gold made you feel royal and regal. As if this was yours and yours only.

That didn’t mean that Levi didn’t tell you how stupid your drapes were and how stupid you were at least once daily- “You think this is a stupid castle or something? You hear yourself?”

To which you would prompt reply, “if this was a castle, you’d be the damn gargoyle in front. The one that scares everyone away.”

And then he’d just ‘tch’ at you and roll his eyes.

What an ass.

You’re growing restless, so you lock your computer and get up to stretch your muscles for a few minutes. Sitting for hours at a time does a number on you in ways that you’d never expect- your shoulders sometimes hurt, your lower back, even your ass.

Maybe you need a better seat and desk setup, you muse. Walking down the hallway with your cold bagel in your left hand, you rotate your right shoulder and wince. You pass several of the new hires, Eren and Jean who seem to be bickering amongst themselves but straighten up and say ‘good morning’ to you as you pass them. You give them a smile and a wave, continuing on your way.

You stop by Hange’s office, where her door is wide open and papers are strewn all over the place. She’s viciously typing on her computer as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose in between each word. Her hair is in disarray and you sigh when you knock on her door.

“Hange,” You call, “Did you stay up all night again?”

“Huh? No way,” Hange gasps, looking at the time, “I just got caught up with things! You know- I’m this close to finishing this grant proposal! Look how much money we’re gonna get outta them! They won’t know what hit ‘em-”

“Hange,” You say firmly, “I’m calling you a cab to go home. Go to sleep. I don’t trust you to drive home, considering you’ve been up all night.”

“What?! I can drive-”

“Hange!” You interrupt her, “I’m serious! Come back tomorrow. Take it easy.”

She slumps in her chair in defeat and removes her glasses, rubbing her eyes in fatigue. “Oh alright. I guess I’m a little tired.”

“See you tomorrow, Hange,” You salute and point to your phone, “Cab’s on it’s way.”

With that, you make your way further down the hallway and come to a stop in front of Levi’s office. You knock and immediately open the door without allowing a moment of rest in between.

“What’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to barge in?” Levi asks, eyes still on his computer screen.

“It’s much more dramatic, and we both know you would’ve left me waiting. Because you’re an ass,” You reply good-naturedly, sliding into the seat in front of his desk and propping your legs up on his desk. Your shoes are in his face and he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“To what do I owe this most shitty pleasure?” Levi says, eyes narrowed at your bagel, “You here to ruin my office? Last time you were here I had to spend an hour cleaning it-”

You bite your tongue at the response you want to provide to that.

“No reason. Just have been on calls all morning. Was bored,” You shrug and wince at the slight shoulder movement.

Levi quirks an eyebrow at you but says nothing. He continues typing away, seemingly ignoring you as you munch on your half of the bagel. Once you’re finished with it, he throws a banana at you wordlessly. You fail to hide your smile.

“You’ll get hungry in about an hour with that shitty bagel. And then I’ll have to hear about it,” Levi says tonelessly, eyes trained on you. You roll your eyes at him and peel your banana.

“So you gave me this banana to shut me up?”

“Yes, it’s in my own best interest.”

A comfortable silence falls between the both of you. You eye the snow globe that you had gotten him for Christmas and his birthday on his shelf. It looks as if you had purchased it for him yesterday, when in reality it was over five years old. His office is as clean as ever, just like him.

“That’s a nice shirt,” You murmur, eyes raking over him shamelessly,  “Who’s the lucky person who bought it for you?”

And honestly, he wants to do something about the smug smirk on your face. But instead he just stares at you, face as impassive as ever. His hair falls into his eyes with a practiced poise. You see the corners of his lips turn up, nearly daring to give you something resembling a smile.

“What makes you think I didn’t buy it myself?”

“Come on, Levi. You and I both know your sense of style is… questionable most times.”

“My sense of style? You really want to talk about your shitty drapes?” Levi asks, but you sense no malice in his voice.

“My drapes? Wouldn’t you like to know if the curtains match the drapes-”

“I can’t think of anything worse to know.”

You gasp in indignation, hand to your heart. “Don’t be such an ass!”

“Then don’t be such a brat!”

“Ugh,” You groan, standing up from your seat and making sure there are no crumbs falling off of you, “I have actual work to do, Ackerman. Quit wasting my time.”

“Door’s right there, sweetheart,” Levi says nonchalantly, looking back down at his planner and not sparing you a second glance.

“See you soon, handsome,” You call, turning back to wave at him and he gifts you with an upturn of his lips.

***

The Survey Corps was a nonprofit organization run by Erwin Smith and the mission of the organization was to find and provide educational resources and mentoring to the youths in the city. Specifically, the mission was to show kids who grew up in the shadows that they could have a life outside of the shadows and in the light with the help of the Survey Corps.

That’s not to say that the Survey Corps had all of the answers and all of the funds to fix the poverty in the walls. But your team tried their hardest to help the kids. Because the kids were the future.

As an organization, you had done some pretty amazing things and had some pretty amazing connections. The Survey Corps had been successful in launching many partnerships and setting up afterschool programs for the kids to find their interests. It was the kind of work that made you feel fulfilled and driven.

Not to mention, that you worked with some of the best people. Despite everyone’s differences, everyone had a clear shared passion for helping the kids of the city.

You truly loved your job, and everyone around you did as well. Ever since Erwin had promoted you to Director of Impact all those years ago and had seen your capabilities, you had really been able to thrive.

Bringing those new kids on board was your idea for the most part- Levi had complained the whole time, asking why they needed a separate youth outreach group when Erwin’s original team wasn’t even that old.

You had kindly told him that you weren’t teenagers anymore and hadn’t been in two decades. He had glared at you but nodded in agreement.

The rest of your afternoon was relatively free, you were just finishing up a few project ideas for outreach and catching up with some of the new kids.

You should probably stop calling them kids, you think dryly. They’re all in their early twenties, fresh faced and eager. Besides Mikasa- she’s almost as neutral as Levi is, with similar eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if they’re distantly related.

You rotate your shoulder again and massage it lightly with a wince. Damn, your right shoulder has been aching over the last week. Maybe you needed a real massage. Or a new chair.

You send all of your emails out quickly with your shoulder beginning to throb in pain as minutes go by.

Death by the office.

You tell Jean and Connie to meet you in the break-out room for your quick catch-up, unable to take sitting at your desk for much longer. You bring a notebook and a pen with you to the break-out room and wait for them to arrive.

They sit across from you with their stainless steel water bottles in front of them. They’re chatting animatedly, telling you about their ideas and their plans of all the good they can bring to the kids within the walls. Their shared enthusiasm makes you smile.

You start taking notes on their ideas, already thinking of ways to bring them to life. You groan softly as your hand cramps up from the pain in your right shoulder and neck shooting down your arm.

Jean calls your name and you look up.

“Are you okay?” He asks, “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Obviously she’s in pain!” Connie exclaims indignantly, “Sorry about him. He likes to state the obvious.”

“I’ll be alright. My shoulder is just- acting up today…” You trail off and rotate it, “Anyway, I like your ideas. Keep it up, I love the enthusiasm. And don’t try to out maneuver each other either.”

You look pointedly at Jean who gives you a look of innocence.

“We’re a team,” You murmur.

“Captain still calls us interns,” Connie blurts out and you can’t help but let out a laugh. That they still call Levi their Captain, because he’s so rigid with them and that he still calls them interns.

“I’ll talk to Captain grump,” You reassure them, “He calls you interns out of affection.”

“Affection? From Captain Levi? Pff,” Jean scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You’d be surprised, Jean.”

***

Levi catches your soft whistle of pain as you slide the straps of your backpack over your shoulders. He wordlessly stands behind you and pushes the straps of your arm and carries your backpack for you instead. He gives you his phone and keys to hold on to and you give him a smile in return.

He walks you to the car in silence, opening the door for you and waiting for you to get in. Levi catches your grimace and soft exhale once more as you shift in the seat.

“You told Hange to go home?” Levi asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” You nod, “She was here all night again. I don’t know how it gets past Erwin, but I told her to come back after she’s rested.”

Levi nods, eyes trained on the road in front of him. One hand on the steering wheel and one on his thigh. After a moment of staring off into the setting sun, you feel Levi’s hand slide into yours and his thumb rub against yours. His gaze hasn’t shifted, but you can see the light in the corner of his eyes.

He has let his hair and his scruff grow out a little longer than he usually likes- is he distracted? You can’t recall the last time his hair has been this long, but you like it. You make a mental note to ask him about it once you get home.

But as always, Levi can feel your eyes on him.

“Why are you staring?” He asks bluntly.

“Just lookin’ at your ugly mug,” You say nonchalantly, not missing the way his lips quirk up.

“You’ve been with this ugly mug for the last six years,” Levi says dryly, “And what does that say about you?”

“That I have good taste,” You beam at him and he rolls his eyes fondly.

“You’re a brat.”

“You’re an ass.”

You squeeze his hand and watch the planes of his face imperceptibly relax. He wonders how long your shoulder has been bothering you like this. You had mentioned a few times over the last week that it was an odd sort of ache, but today, it seemed like you were in a lot of pain. He’ll ask you about it when you get home.

Home. The space he’s shared with you for the last three and a half years. Levi thinks about that often. He thinks about being a rough, underground kid with nothing but dirt and danger to his name. He wonders if that kid would’ve ever dreamed of living a life like this. He often thinks about Erwin finding him so young and pledging to help him and help kids like him.

Levi often thinks about you. You, who had offered him nothing but laughs and coffee when he had nothing to give. You, who offered your shoulder when he didn’t have the strength to ask. You, who found a crack in his armor of steel and buried yourself next to him despite his roughness.

You.

Even now, he still wonders from time to time if you are aware of the extent of his adoration for you. But when you look at him in that soft way of yours, in that way that’s only reserved for him, he thinks you do.

***

Levi hears your pained gasp from the kitchen and then a call of his name. He sees you standing in your underwear, clutching your right shoulder with creased eyebrows.

“Levi,” You murmur, “Will you help me out of this shirt?”

Levi hums and brushes his knuckles over your neck gently.

“Lift your arms up for a second. This would be easier if this shirt was a button up rather than this shitty material,” He mutters, “This might hurt for a sec.”

He hears your sharp inhale and exhale as he pulls your top off. Levi pulls out one of his own shirts that has now become your sleep shirt and a pair of his shorts for you. He’s quick and precise in his movements, unclasping your bra easily and tugging his shirt over your head. He even helps you into his shorts and you press a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

Levi rubs your shoulder gingerly, eyes cast over you in concern.

“Go sit on the couch,” Levi murmurs, “I think we still have some of that medicinal paste my mom gave us. The one that’s supposed to help with pains like this. Your shoulder is tight.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s tight,” You wink at him and he shakes his head, patting your hair.

You’re tempted to follow Levi to the kitchen but refrain when he shoots you a look. Instead, you settle on the couch, stretching your legs out.

“Took you long enough,” You grumble, scooting up on the couch for him to lay behind you.

“It took me two minutes. Did you lose your sense of time as well?” Levi murmurs, pulling you into his chest.

You hum, already feeling yourself relax and take his hand in yours. Levi pulls the right side of your shirt down a little to examine your shoulder. He presses a finger to your upper neck and you hiss once his fingers press a little lower. He continues his examination, trying to figure out exactly where you’re in pain.

“Gonna give you a massage,” Levi says, “Might hurt at first. It’ll feel nice after. You can hold my hand if it does.”

“Thanks for your permission, honey,” You roll your eyes but clasp his free hand in yours once more.

His fingers are steady, gentle but firm against your skin. Levi whispers words to you, words of his day, words of what he thinks of the new interns. You correct him for the millionth time, reminding him that they’re not interns anymore. They’re employees now, part of the team. He scoffs but it pulls a laugh from you.

And then you gasp sharply when Levi’s hand prods at a knot. You squeeze his hand reflexively but after a few soothing touches, the pain washes away and the knot dissolves. Levi continues to rub your muscles and you lean further into his chest, your eyes closed in bliss.

He maneuvers you so as to not disturb you too much and spreads the topical analgesic on your shoulder, leaving your skin exposed. So that the medicine doesn’t spread on your shirt.

“Good?” Levi asks, rubbing your other shoulder. You nod, peering up at him and pecking his lips in gratitude. You try to deepen the kiss, try to rake your fingers through his hair the way he likes, but he turns his cheek.

“You’re gonna waste the medicine. It’ll stick to your shirt rather than your shoulder.”

“Seriously?” You groan.

“Blame your shitty shoulder,” Levi says and you glare at him.

“Take my shirt off then.”

“It’ll stick to your shirt when I take it off. Don’t be stupid.”

“Wow, you really thought this through,” You grumble, settling back into his chest and hoping the medicine absorbs quickly. He gives you a rare smile and kisses your forehead, his hand snaking under your shirt to rub your belly, his fingertips at your ribcage. The way he knows you like.

It had taken a long time for Levi to touch you like this. But you didn’t mind though. You were patient, and he was worth it. He was an immensely private person and while he was never ashamed of you- the thought had never even struck his mind- he preferred to keep his business within the walls of your home. Even at work, Erwin often teased both of you that he could hardly tell that you were in a long term relationship with the way you two bickered with each other and the general lack of PDA. But Hange, bless her, would scold Erwin for being so dense-

How can you not tell? They argue like a married couple!

It had taken a long time for Levi to touch you like this. He can remember when the mere act of looking at you had proven to be too much sometimes. And somehow, you always knew when he needed space. When it got to be too much. It had even taken you a long time to touch him like this. He was unlike anyone you had ever met in every way. You’re certain from the way you fit within the spaces of his arms that this is where you were meant to be.

Something gentle settles in your cheeks, in the way you blink at him, in the way you’re stroking his undercut. He very nearly purrs at the touch but still-

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” You reply, not missing his ‘tch’ in response, “Your hair’s getting long…”

You run your fingers through his dark, silky strands and leave a trail of burning embers in your wake. You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, head tilting into your hand slightly. His grown out stubble prickles your hand and you push yourself closer to him.

“Something on your mind?” You murmur, “You never go this long without a haircut. Or a shave.”

“Testing something out,” Levi says vaguely and you hum.

“Whatever you say, honey,” You reply, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll hurt yourself if you think too much.”

“Noted. Thanks for looking out for me, Levi,” You say dryly, poking his chest.

“Someone has to,” Levi mutters, “Think you need a new chair at work. You’ve always had a shitty chair. Or maybe you need a standing desk. I’ll build you one.”

You’re barely listening, eyes beginning to flutter closed and you hum in agreement. Levi is just so warm, it’s no surprise that you’re asleep in just a few minutes. Your breaths are steady against his arm as you shift a little to turn on your side. You must be tired. Levi grabs the book he’s currently reading from the coffee table, drapes a blanket over you and rubs your back as you fall into a deeper sleep.

As he reads, he can’t really focus on the words on the page. He’s busy thinking about you, and how easily you grew to trust him and to love him. Despite how long it took for him to even realize that what he felt towards you was trust and love. Levi thinks back to the kid from the Underground. That kid is still him, and he remembers the faint desire to have a semblance of this life. To feel the sun against his face, the wind in his hair. To be unabashedly himself.

And somehow, not even the freeing feeling of the sun on his face and the wind in his hair can compare to your velvet touch on his skin.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot imagines #snk imagines

[winchester-reload]

hi! i just read your fic, After Dark (for the second time, it’s amazing, easily going into my top five favorite fics of all time, your writing and characterization of dean especially is phenomenal and knocked me off my feet), but i’m still a little fuzzy on the ending. if you find time, could you possibly explain? thank you so much, your writing is beautiful

Okay, so I know I’ve had this ask for a while. I haven’t been ignoring you. It’s just that this fic is one of those stories that was so consuming when I wrote it, I have a hard time diving back in when I get asks. It was my Everest. I was obsessed with finishing it but kept trying to die at the top of the mountain (so to speak).  I started writing it in June 2015 and didn’t finish it until December 2018. I have sooooo many notebooks filled with notes and rewrites for this story, it’s almost embarrassing. And, you’ve read it, so you probably know why: it’s INVOLVED. I mean, the very first chapter gives you the most important line from the penultimate chapter of the book.

So, yes. You know what? Let’s talk about After Dark. I’m ready.

Spoilers after the cut

I’m gonna do my best here to clear things up, but since you’re specifically asking about the end of the fic, I won’t do a complete chapter by chapter breakdown of the plot. Let’s instead pick up at Chapter 19 with a little more of a abridged version. 

In 19, we finally get our Sam breakdown of what he’s been trying to figure out from the beginning– why it struck him as odd that Dean and Cas had hooked up this time over all the times before. He realizes that the general assumption that God was the light that beat back the darkness wasn’t actually a metaphorical idea, but was, in fact, a literal one. God wasn’t the thing that conquered the Dark, the light he yielded was. That light was Love. Fun side note: The sources Sam cites in that chapter to support his theory are all actual academic sources/philosophical ideas. You can look any of them up to find out more about love as a daemon, or The Unity of Opposites theory. So, Dean now knows that Cas is being used by Alice for something, but doesn’t know what.

Ch 20: Alice explains that the only thing that can save Dean’s soul from its eternal fate with the Darkness is if he’s “released” (so to speak) by his light. She says that the way it works is through Cas’ ultimate broken heart.

“If he takes you, you don’t die out of hate, or spite, or fear,” she whispered. “There’s no jealousy or malice or revenge. You die in stark contrast to all those things. It’s the opposite of everything he’s ever wanted for you— Wanted with you. Everything he’s ever hoped or dreamed or fought for; he does it only because he loves you, and it’s that selflessness that cleanses the shadows. It’s the power of a broken heart.”

It’s Cas’ sacrifice that will save Dean’s soul. Alice is careful to tell Dean that he was never going to survive this. Cas  and everyone else is supposed to, but for Dean, it was always just a matter of where his soul ended up. 

Cas, of course, says he’ll do it and that Dean needn’t ask, because there’s not really a choice here.

Ch 21: We pick back up with an echo of Rowena and realize that everything she told him in Chapter 2 actually came true. (weird, right?)

Ch 22: Cas wakes up at “the start”, only, this time’s he’s fundamentally changed from the journey. It’s in this chapter that we find out why Cas was getting glimpses from the ‘end of the story’ throughout the book: 

Angels are ethereal. They’re not contained to a specific timeline–this is something they’ve talked about in canon. It was ONLY while Cas had his grace AND was actively dying that he was able to see snippets of the things that would happen after the events in Chapter 20. (IE: the dream he had in Chapter 8 of Crowley, the dream in Ch 15 where he’s walking across the field where the Winchesters crashed, even though he hadn’t actually been there yet, etc)  It turned out he wasn’t actually seeing or speaking to Rowena. She was more a figment of his subconscious as he tried to warn himself where this story was going. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really any way for him to stop the train. HOWEVER,

In Cas’ lame attempt to keep from drowning Dean like “The Fish” Rowena kept calling him, he’d made the conscious decision to give Dean some “wings” in Chapter 15. The grace had proven threatening/effective enough in the fight against the Darkness to that point, that it had spent the entire story trying to snuff Cas out. It was also the only element keeping Cas from becoming infected by the Darkness the same way Sam and the rest of the people were, which is why Cas quickly became infected after extracting it. 

So, when Dean got the grace in Chapter 15, it was enough to pull him back out of the Darkness’ grip and bring him back to life.

When Cas comes out the other side of the spell in this chapter, alive, as he was supposed to be, he realizes that everything had reset like Alice said it would– Except for him. He was still wearing the same clothes, and still dying from his own self-inflicted knife wound (sans Darkness insanity). (Dean, remember, was not supposed to reset. The actions he took during the fic were always supposed to be permanent for him.) 

It’s then that Cas understands that it’s not over yet; they’re still fundamentally connected through Cas’ grace, and that means, there’s a CHANCE that Dean’s still alive too (and with Cas’ grace). He asks Crowley to teleport him to the field he saw in his dream and it’s here that he finds Dean, still clinging to life and staring up at the newly found stars.

Cas rallies his grace one last time by laying a hand on the burn mark left on Dean, and uses the rest of it to save him. Then, the very exhausted, very exsanguinated human Cas topples over in the field.

Ch 23: is probably where I lost you and I’m gonna tell you, it’s very intentional that I’ve made you unsure. 

It starts with a dreamlike Cas in the field staring at the back of an ambulance bed. There are elements of the Darkness around him, filtering into the sky. He panics when he thinks it’s Dean on the back of the stretcher dead, but specifically points out the bare feet (Dean was in socked feet. It was mentioned multiple times in Chapter 18-20). Alice then comes out of nowhere and tackles him to the ground. She’s our dream stand-in for the things the EMTs are doing to save Cas in that moment (Cas was the one with bare feet) while she warns him that the Darkness is not gone. She tells him she’s proud of him for finding a loophole, but that he shouldn’t believe he’s won. He should, in fact, fear the opposite. 

“…it doesn’t matter how fucking proud of you I am for finding it” she says. “The truth of the matter is, it’s gonna take what it’s owed— Or try… ”

Cas then wakes up in Dean’s bed and Dean tells him he was having another nightmare. It’s established at this point that Cas has been having a lot of them since becoming human. So much so, that Dean is practiced in dealing with bringing Cas back down. Cas gets frustrated with the situation and with himself and goes to wander through the bunker and get water. Dean chases after him, like the good caretaker he is.

Cas tells Dean that he doesn’t believe it’s a nightmare. He believes that the conversation with Alice really happened and that the Darkness is not gone, but, maybe, lying in wait either to attack again, or, even, MAYBE, that it already has him… (Not Dean, but Cas this time. Like a trade.)

This leaves us, the reader with the uneasy feeling that that might be true. We’re in Cas’ POV and the last we saw him, he was face down in a field bleeding out from a wound he was probably not gonna be able to recover from. If he’s not sure what’s real and what’s a dream, then how can we be? This is amplified by the fact that everything Cas has done in the story to this point has been proven true, so we want to believe him. But his unsureness feels so much more like the answer we don’t want. 

Our unease is punctuated by small things like 1. Dean wearing a purple shirt* when Cas had specifically named that as a color he’d never seen Dean wear before (Ch 19). And then, of course, 2. the fact that his coat is there when it shouldn’t be. Did Alice leave it? Why would she leave it? How could she leave it?

We’re left, like Cas, not sure if the story has ended like it appears to have ended. We’re unsure if they both made it out safe. If they’re really together. And with everything so damn woven, how can we just have these plot holes???? 

But, that’s also kind of the nature of the trauma Cas has endured. And, if he wasn’t really living this moment with Dean, then why is he healing slowly from his wounds? Why is he out of breath before he gets to the kitchen? (You know how it is when you’ve been laid up for a long stint. EVERYTHING IT HARD.) 

So, you, like Cas, find yourself placing your trust in Dean as he reassures Cas that it wouldn’t matter if it’s not over.

 “Because you an’ me, we’re unbreakable.” 

And now this is where you really hate me because I’m not going to tell you one way or the other. I’m gonna let the story speak for itself. I will say that I would NEVER want to put them through all of that if they couldn’t live in the sunshine on the other side, though.

*more on the color purple

#luniares #and THAT is the story that tried to kill me #essentially #destiel #destiel fic #my fic #after dark #flashing gif #my art

[truecrossacademystdnt]

Jujutsu Kaisen Fic (Itadori x OC)

Fic can also be found here

I’m gonna post the first chapter here but please check it out! I’m posting chapter two tonight and will be posting every Tuesday and Thursady! (Maybe more frequently who knows 

It was raining when Izumi fell in love with Itadori Yuji. It was sunny when he broke her heart.

Even the weather the day Yuji broke her heart had a way of imparting cruel humor into Izumi’s life. Down to the atom, Izumi felt disjointed and out of place. This was in a way that could only be thought of as funny. Like a toy with a manufacturing error. Slightly off. So, it was a common occurrence for Izumi to cry at school. Her classmates didn’t call her a crybaby, though. This was. because her crying was laced with off-keyed laughter. Izumi crouched to the ground and let her arms try to keep her safe. The other girls in her class took her umbrella and called her crazy. They were children, sure, but evil all the same to Izumi. This made it all the more surprising to see a tiny hand with a Pink ribbon, lowered to the floor so she could see. She lifted her head with grogginess that only comes with crying way too hard, to see a boy named Yuji from her class. His eyes were wide and his hair unruly. As her eyes met his, the boy quickly looked down and blushed.

“I found this yesterday on the playground and thought it was pretty. Don’t cry anymore, okay?”

Before she could say anything, Yuji gently placed the ribbon in her hand, got up, and ran towards the exit of the school.

“W-wait!” Izumi wanted to scream. Instead, she just looked at the ribbon until she felt her tears dry onto her skin and her breathy laughter subsided. With a sniffle, she put her hair half up and made the ribbon into a makeshift bow. After the sun went down the rain stopped, she went home.

The next day Yuji couldn’t keep his eyes off the tall brown-haired girl with the ribbon he found, and that’s where his eyes always seemed to wander for the next 6 years. She always looked so far away. Even when she cried it was like her mind was either deeply in her or another world entirely. Yuji just wanted to see her look at him. To help her. So when she looked back at him the day after he gave her the ribbon, he laughed the rest of the day.

If Izumi hadn’t met Yuji that day, her displacement with the world might have been too big to repair. Her fights with the girls who called her crazy would have ended up a lot worse than bloody noses and fistfuls of hair.

But he was there. There to put ice to her cheek and show her the type of sincere laughter that could reach her eyes. Movie marathons and festivals made her cheeks turn pink. When they kissed for the first time the streetlights helped illuminate Yuji’s face and Izumi saw how soft and kind he looked there. They were so close his breath grazed her lips. “I don’t want to scare you away.” She asked. Yuji smiled in the way he always did. In a way that said “I have it under control. Don’t cry anymore, okay?” “I won’t leave you unless you want me too. Never” Yuji promised. He leaned in until their lips touched and she could feel his smile. “Okay.” She whispered.

Yuji never called Izumi crazy. He laughed with her. He held her when she cried. He didn’t leave when she did both.

“You sure you don’t want to go the Occult Research Club meeting today?” Yuji asked, crumbs from the chips he was eating fall out in a way that made Izumi laugh. They were laying out on the couch in Izumi’s apartment, Yuji’s head on her lap as she absentmindedly played with his pink hair. Yuji learned to not expect her parents to be there because they never were. They skipped last period because why not. Izumi and Yuji never cared about grades, although Izumi somehow always scored well to Yuji’s exasperation.

“Yea I don’t want to. It’s dangerous to be messing with stuff like that. I like Iguchi and Sasaki, but just be careful.” Izumi warned. Yuji noticed the way her eyes widened with worry and made sure to lift his hand covered in chip crumbs to hold her face lovingly. Izumi slapped his hand away with a smirk.

“C’mon, when am I not careful” Yuji asked raising his eyebrows tauntingly. The two got up so Izumi could say goodbye to Yuji.

“Oh and tell your Grandpa I said hello, okay?” Izumi said before kissing Yuji

“Yea yea!…I will.” Yuji began with a joke but knew better to hide his true feelings from Izumi. She always knew.

Yuji opened the door and looked back with a grin. “Love ya!”

Izumi gave a smile she only ever gave to Yuji “I Love you, too.”

_______________________________________________________________________

As she waited for Yuji to get back Izumi felt true evil. The plate fell to the ground and crumbled to pieces. Izumi felt a tingle in the back of her neck and the air suddenly felt aggressive. She tried to inhale but her throat wouldn’t let her. She fell to her knees in a huff, just trying to figure out how to breathe when she heard the door open. Izumi felt for sure at that moment she would die. She knew it. Something had come for her and all she could do was look at the plate she was going to use for leftovers. The air rippled and swirled around her and the room seemed to tilt until she heard a soft voice beside her. When did it get there?

“Izumi it’s okay. I’m here.” She felt the tears drop onto her jeans but didn’t turn to the voice like she usually does. She kept her eyes to the floor. Because the danger was right where Yuji’s voice was coming from. Her brain cleared for a moment.

“Yuji?”

“Yes, Yes it’s me.”

“Prove it”

She heard a sigh. But even if she didn't feel this negative energy coming from him, his voice was strained.

“You’re wearing a blue bra today. Oh, and also, Grandpa died today.” Izumi looked up in shock. She could see it was Yuji, physically. And even if it wasn’t him, she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the boy that was now on his knees next to her, forcing a smile. She pushed her fear to the side and forced herself to swallow the air that was still constricting her.

“It’s really fine. Grandpa wouldn’t want me moping around.” Yuji mumbled, but his words came out rushed. Izumi responded with a shake of her head and rubbed his back rhythmically. She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t good with words like he was, so she patiently waited. She rubbing his back, even when she heard his desperate sobs in her ear and he held her tighter. They sat on the floor with pieces of her broken plate like flower petals around them. Yuji hadn’t experienced death before, so maybe that explained why she felt such strong negative energy from him. Izumi wasn’t sure but all she knew was she would wait until he was read and then they’d talk about it. She didn’t like talking about feelings a lot. But Yuji always talked her through her feelings. Every time she lashed out or broke down he waited. So she’d wait, too.

“I’m here for you. Always” She assured him. For some reason that made him tense up more. “I know.”

Izumi woke up alone. The sun peeked through the blinders and Yuji’s side of the bed was unnaturally cold. She got up slowly. Immediately she felt her head fill up with pain. Whatever she sensed yesterday overwhelmed her. And now she was left with a searing migraine and no boyfriend to wake up to. Maybe he went to get some breakfast for us, she thought. She looked over to her bedside table to find a note with Yuji’s awful handwriting. Izumi was confused. In their years of being together, he had never written her a love letter. He preferred flowers or dates or soft kisses. As she opened it up she realized he still hadn’t written her a love letter.

It was a goodbye letter.

Izumi,

I wish I could have told you in person. I walked in ready last night but the moment I saw you I fell apart. You would have seen right through me anyway. I can’t explain much but I have to go. I am going to Tokyo and I won’t be coming back, Izumi. You were the best thing to happen to me, but I can’t be with you anymore. Do not try to find me. I do not want to see you. I will not let you see me. You will be fine on your own. You are strong enough and you are kind enough. Even if you don’t think you are, I know the truth.

Best, Yuji

And with that, He broke her heart. Her world shifted like tectonic plates in her. Like the Pink ribbon that held her mind had come undone and Izumi was left to learn how to navigate it on her own. She stifled a laugh and let herself cry for a moment too long.

Izumi walked home after buying convenience store fast food for the week. She only had to cook for one, so might as well not cook. The streetlights lit her up and it felt against her will. They were too bright and only seemed to illuminate people’s wicked smiles and shifting eyes. She practiced breathing. Five seconds in. Five seconds out. She didn’t feel strong like Yuji said, she was just surviving, and hardly. Izumi looked up.

The lights were flickering more and the people were thinning out. Leaving what seemed like only her.

“Hey beautiful, where you heading?” Izumi tensed. She shut her eyes tightly for just a second. A second to check with herself if it was real. When she opened her eyes she was met with a whistle and a man crossing the street towards her. Izumi stopped. She could run. She could survive. But instead, She felt her fists tighten. She could feel her mind settle in her body. One thing was always certain to make her feel alive, even if she died in the process.

The man sauntered closer, clearly drunk. His smile filled with saliva and malice. He was now almost at arms reach “Not running away? Aw, I like my women scared.”

Izumi dropped her bag and spit right between his eyes. “Fuck you.” She growled.

She watched him wipe his face in anger and looked at her in surprise. “Oh, you’re dead. Crazy Bitch.” He yelled. Izumi watched his arm slowly come towards her. He was inebriated and slow. She watched the air around his arm move, slowing him down. She leans back, his fist only grazing her cheek. She returns his fist in kind by shoving him to the ground. She was ready to kick, to hit. But he grabbed her leg and in a flash, she fell. Her head hit the pavement and the world rang in what she thought was C minor. She felt a knee to her stomach and her head raised by her hair.

“You really are insane”

Her head hit the pavement again and she swore the streetlight above stopped flickering.

She closed her eyes once more. It was too damn bright.

She felt her head lifted once more. Maybe she’ll die if she bashes her head just one more time. Maybe if she’s lucky.

Instead, her head was gently placed back on the pavement. There was a splat. Then silence.

Izumi breathed out. She breathed out and out. She tried to open her eyes but could feel her face slowly swelling. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She wanted to sleep. Then wake up with Yuji next to her. He’d smile because he was always smiling. He would get up before her so when she did finally get out of bed, he’d have a cup of coffee waiting for her.

“Wow. Not what I expected Yuji’s girlfriend to be like.” A voice above her stated.

“Yuji? You know Yuji?” Izumi opened her eyes slowly. Towering above her was a tall man with white hair and a black blindfold covering his eyes. At least she thought. Her vision was getting blurrier and she really wanted to keep her eyes closed.

“Yea he was a good kid. He wouldn’t have wanted me leaving you here injured. I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll talk.” She felt herself being lifted.

“Don’t forget my food” Izumi thought she mumbled. Before she let herself sleep, she tried not to focus on how the man talked about Yuji in the past tense.

#jujustu kaisen #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen yuji #saturo gojo #jjk itadori #jjk

[archadianskies]

I can't choooooosee so uhhh SWATverse any or all???: When the STRONGEST one gets injured, and they all flail around, trying to figure out how to take care of the one who always takes care of them. //Working together to carry the injured one. //“Why did you save me?” “That’s what family does.”

[SWATverse fic ‘numb until you burn it’]

The rookie goes down heavy and though technically he knew it was going to happen, it still doesn’t quite prepare him for the sight of the RK900 bracing himself behind the huge custom shield and taking the brunt of an M430 grenade. It had been the android’s idea, too, and he’d quite literally tossed them over the barricade out of harm’s way before facing the barrage alone. The fucking idiot. 

And how the fuck did those backwater rednecks get their hands on a Mk 19 grenade launcher anyway? Everything had been a manageable level of chaos until they brought that out. 

A more violent subset of Humanity First, far more vocal, far more violent, and far less uninhibited about openly attacking Jericho. They’ve been a pain in the DPD’s ass for months now, starting off as yet another slew of loud but harmless bigots escalating to a very real, very violent threat. 

When Markus received an encrypted message warning him of ‘humanity prevailing against unnatural abominations’, well, Fowler didn’t treat that lightly. The three RK units each had a separate job- the RK200 coordinating the evacuation inside, the RK800 leading defence measures on the perimeter and the RK900 in his SWAT unit on the frontline. 

“Captain, they have a Mk 19 grenade launcher mounted on a jeep.” Rook’s eyes were black with green lenses before he blinked them away back to their usual grey. “I will provide cover and you will get the team inside and fall back to my brother.”

“Rookie-” 

“I apologise in advance.” And then his feet weren’t on the ground anymore as the android lifted him by his chestplate, reaching over to grab Volkova by hers and then hefted them over the barricade to be joined by the others moments later. David had just enough time to scramble to his feet and peek over the barricade to watch Rook deflect the grenade with the impressive custom shield built for his line. The force of the blast pushed him back a good six to eight feet, and with their new target acquired the fuckers fired round after round. The shield held, but only just. For now.

“Volkova, get the others to Connor and you make sure the perimeter holds.” He grabs her arm, face stern. “Do not let them breach, you hear me?”

“Yessir.”

“Otto, Ishi, you’re with me. We get the rookie out.” He snapped his fingers and made a beckoning gesture, the two of them breaking away as the rest of the team left to find Connor. “Direct covering fire, concentrating on that fucking jeep and I’ll get the rookie to safety.”

“Yes captain.” They nod just as another grenade makes impact and his heart catches in his throat as Rook crumples to his knees, flames eating away at his gear, his uniform. The android hurriedly throws off his helmet and chest armour, ripping away the top few layers of clothing before it could make contact with his skin. Too late, though, because the heat is already too much and David watches in horror as the skin burns away in patches as Rook frantically tries to pat the flames out. 

“Go, sir!” Otto shouts as they shoot at the jeep, aiming for the grenade launcher and hoping to damage it or at least take out its operator before it can fire again. David runs and skids to the rookie’s side, forcing him to drop to the damp muddy ground to let the moisture put him out. His LED is a bright neon red in the dark and looks up at him in confusion.

“Captain why-”

“Shut up. Damage report?” David snaps, trying to focus on the mission at hand and not on the fact the android is partly melted through and has exposed wiring on his hands and all the way up arms. 

“Structural integrity unstable. Dermal loss. System heat critical. Thirium loss at 74% due to evaporation. Power at 150% capacity, thermodynamic conversion active.” The rookie is gasping for breath, desperately trying to ventilate his insides.

“How much Thirium do you have to lose to shutdown?”

“85%.” Rook closes his eyes, wincing. “Percentage is climbing rapidly. I will go into emergency shutdown in less than five minutes.”

“Then you better come with me.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, and he looks very human and very scared. “Too much power and too little thirium. Ratio is incorrect. I won’t make it.”

“How far can you make it?” David grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him to at least sit up, grateful the fancy shield is still standing to give them cover.

“A few feet at most. You have to go, Captain Allen.”

“No man left behind.” He hisses, giving him a firm shake. “Now get up.”

“I’ll only-”

“You’ll make it far enough.” He says it within enough conviction to believe in it himself as he shoulders the android and helps him back upright. “God why did they make you so fucking big?” David grit his teeth, knees nearly buckling when Rook leaned on him heavily. 

“For this purpose.” The android gestures clumsily around him. There’s a satisfying bang a good distance behind them and he doesn’t need to look to know someone’s taken out that jeep. 

“Alright, not much further. We can make it rookie.” He sees Otto and Ishikawa ahead, waving them over and they dart across to catch Rook just as the android collapses. His LED blinks red like a heartbeat; emergency shutdown mode. David curses.

“Fuck he must weigh like, 400 pounds!” Otto groans, trying to lift the android up. 

“Ishi, you cover us.” David orders as he coordinates to lift him up at the same time. “On three. One. Two. Three-!” Without Rook conscious enough to stumble along, the android’s dead weight makes it difficult for even two grown men to shoulder him on either side and drag him along. But they do it, and they make it, because David will not settle for anything less.

It’s a good thing they’re at Jericho and Jericho has a Med Bay. Even if the rookie is an RK900 requiring the attention of the Kamskis, at least he can be stabilised here. The skirmish outside seems to finally be wrapping up and only when Rook is safely under the care of the medroids does he rush back to the frontline. The night isn’t over yet.

*~*

There is a weight on his chest, and it is warm and organic in nature. He can feel a steady heartbeat, can feel the inhale and exhale of breath drawn in and out. It is a quick tempo, too quick to belong to a human. Something wet presses to his chin and when he opens his eyes there is a German Shepherd sprawled atop him, nosing and sniffing him curiously. 

“Rosie?”

“And the rookie’s awake at long last.” Captain Allen huffs a laugh, blinking tiredly over at him. His eyes are bloodshot, as are the eyes of the team who are in various states of stirring awake from their uncomfortable positions slumped in uncomfortable chairs. “I’d really rather you not make this a habit.”

“That is not fair.” Rook protests quietly. “Buela was in hospital last week and MacMaster only five days prior.” 

“It’s different when it’s you.” Rajasingham grumbles, poking his temple though not with any malice. “We can deal with hospitals and blood that’s red. When it’s you we panic because there’s no real first aid we can apply.”

He cannot refute that, so he lowers his gaze and moves his hands to pat Rosie’s soft fur. She licks his chin before resting her head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms loosely around her. She is warm and reminds him so much of Sumo back home. Oh. Wait-

“Connor’s fine.” Captain Allen reassures him with a tired smile. “Don’t worry. He and your dad visited earlier but had to leave to deal with all the arrests. They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

He looks around at all their faces, their tired, worn faces still fighting off the urge to sleep even though they all desperately need it. It is difficult not to buckle under the magnitude of their actions, not when the logical course of action would have been to leave him behind for the greater good.

“Why did you save me?” 

“Because,” Captain Allen leans forward to give his hand a squeeze, “that’s what family does.” 

#captain allen #rk900 #detroit: become human #annie writes: dbh #i didn't know if you wanted rook or caleb sorry anon! #i stuck with the swatverse fam #oh anon #adventures in text posts

[batmansymbol]

spoilery thoughts on the marvelous mrs. maisel season 3

oh. oh. my Fictionalized!Lenny-obsessed heart. his jokes are so good. his physicality is so endearing. i am crushing so hard. i am going to reblog gifs of every scene in episode five.

i REALLY wish they had just made him a fictional famous comedian instead of, you know, Lenny Bruce, because i think the writers are slowly realizing midge has way more chemistry with him than anyone else, but they can’t wind up together because he was a real person.

the writers did it! they made me like joel again!! i was so annoyed with him during season 2, but we’re back!!! crazy what can happen when a character has an objective and exhibits appealing personality traits

but why, why, is the show still determined to give abe and rose long, protracted, uninteresting subplots?! midge’s parents are ONLY interesting when they’re onscreen with midge. no exceptions.

seriously, what the hell was with the rose’s trust fund subplot??? “abe lost his job, so we’re broke!” “just kidding, we’re not broke; there’s a trust fund we’ve been pulling from!” “but now i have pulled out of the trust fund because of Pride and Feminism, so we’re broke again!” y’all could have just left them broke in the beginning, cut out the middleman, and subsequently, this totally inert subplot.

and the activist newspaper?! fuming. not even gonna get started on that nonsense.

i loved the trajectory of Sophie’s show. actually, i loved everything involving Susie this season. Alex Borstein is a GIFT from GOD and we do NOT deserve her.

can we please at some point acknowledge that she’s not straight tho?? please???? ever?????

speaking of queer things

what happened to Shy in the last episode made me so sad. on one hand, it’s written well as a genuine misunderstanding. and it’s written well overall: as midge did that final set, i felt myself moving slowly outside her perspective. i heard the set from Shy’s point of view and it gutted me!! can you imagine one of the only people you trusted, maybe the person you’ve trusted most ever (given that Shy told Midge his real name, which he hasn’t even told Reggie), basically outing you onstage in front of thousands of people? making jokes about effeminate gayness when he isn’t even an effeminate man? obviously midge is supposed to be clueless sometimes (eg when she says in horror, ”he called me a ‘white girl’!”), but watching that set felt like one of those terrible epiphanies where you realize what someone’s thought of you all along. as if the second she found out the truth, the only thing she could think to joke about when it came to him was his sexuality, and not little foibles like she lampoons in everyone else.

overall, i’m torn. part of me wishes it hadn’t happened because it just... felt bad to see. at the same time, i’m intrigued that they’d show midge’s cluelessness actually doing damage. in reality, so often, people don’t get permanently hurt out of malice, just obliviousness or miscommunication, and that doesn’t show up onscreen nearly as often.

in fact, the whole last episode seemed to show midge’s flaws in a way we’ve never really dealt with: the revelation of how much she hurt benjamin, and then possibly ruining the life and reputation of a real friend. it’s highly unusual for this show. i'd love to see the writers engage with this further and show her, idk, growing and changing from these experiences, but i honestly don’t know if they will?

which is a bit frustrating to watch! that whole tirade of susie’s about how sophie isn’t brave but midge is, because midge refused to do that live radio commercial for, basically, an alt-right politician? i feel like the idea of her bravery or principles actually could have been driven home, if at the end of that last episode, midge had voluntarily given the rest of her tour openings to moms mabley because she realized she’d gotten preferential treatment, or something. that would have demonstrated real character in the way susie was talking about, and no outing scene necessary.

anyway. shy deserved better. i don’t really want to watch the show without him. and here i was all hopeful for a happy ending where reggie realized he was in love with shy or something. :(

still, i really loved Reggie in that final scene. obviously i’m not going to prescribe what story they ‘should’ have told, and given what they chose to do, it all felt realistic, Reggie insulating Shy from Midge after she hurt him. but i wonder if them flying off into the night will be the show’s pretext for writing Shy off and letting Midge go unchanged.

i don’t think the show is trying to go too deeply into this, but there’s something interesting to me in the idea of comedy as something that strips away your desire to grow as a person. rose brushes against that concept in her final confrontation, saying she doesn’t want to laugh at people’s flaws and misfortunes. if midge keeps fucking up and fucking up and never grows, only jokes about her defects (or displays her defects through jokes), that suggests her persona is closing around her, locking her into those flaws; it suggests you can’t actually exorcise your demons onstage, only define them more and more clearly. what does it do to a person when they splay open their worst feelings and are rewarded by the crowd for it every night. what a disincentive to get better and to be better.

to conclude: fictional lenny bruce is hot in a suit. time to queue up gifs.

#personal #essay #tmmm #the marvelous mrs. maisel #long post #highly important text posts #tmmm spoilers

[currentlyreadingmanga]

Toilet-bound Hanako-kun Chapter 19: Mitsuba (Part 2)

Previously: we started a new arc! We shifted the focus to Kou and his new ghost friend, Mitsuba. He’s a new-ish ghost and not at all what I expected (but I’m honestly kinda living for it). Together they’re trying to work out what Mitsuba’s unfinished business is so he can move on. They seem to work well together (in a very chaotic type of way). It started out very cute and then it got real angsty real fast, and I suspect it’s only gonna get worse this chapter :)) I can’t wait :)))

Now onto the next chapter!

You know when you say you’re gonna upload more regularly but then life happens and you get sick (AGAIN)........yeah, don’t know what that’s like or anything……..sigh

Anyway, time to finally keep going with the feels train from last chapter. And omfg

Only the first page and I’m already feeling all the feelings ;n; Look at them!! They were so precious! I know it’s not rare for people to stop being friends when they change classes but still :C

He’s saying that he tried to reach out to everyone he considered a friend but none of them recognized him. I know I said it last chapter but god, this is so heartbreaking, this poor child. Kou looks speechless, and I can’t say I blame him, it’s a lot to unpack.

Awwww baby he was bullied in elementary school for “looking like a girl” and being “cocky” :( I know not everyone is like that, but people like these are the reason I was so glad to be over with high school (not elementary school because I went to school with basically the same people since I was five). Kids can be so unnecessarily mean :/

Ah, okay. So when he started middle school, he decided to change things up.

Oh, sweetheart ;; He tried, he tried so hard because he just wanted to have friends and be happy but it backfired. I can’t even imagine how that must have felt. Like, what was the point of locking away his true self if no one cared about him either way? “A boring guy who barely stands out from the background” I really resonate with this line (and I’m sure a lot of people do as well). I’m quite shy nowadays but I was extremely shy when I was younger; I only really had two close friends in class (they’re thankfully two of my best friends to this day) and I knew everyone else didn’t particularly cared about me unless they needed something. I didn’t really get bullied but I was made fun of a few times because I was a bit overweight, and that, inaddition to my anxiety, really dealt a blow to my self-esteem. I only started to really open up during my second year of college when I met a lot of people who had interests and personalities similar to mine. What I’m trying to say with all this is that it can take a really long time for you to be comfortable in your own skin and to be comfortable sharing who you are and what you enjoy; hell, I still have a hard time doing it. But it gets better, even if it doesn’t seem like it will, it does, and it breaks my heart to see that Mitsuba didn’t get the chance to experience that, that he didn’t get the chance to find friends that loved him for who he was when he was still alive.... Oof, okay, that got sad fast. Let’s keep reading.

In his own clumsy way, I think he’s trying to lift Mitsuba’s spirits. Since he’s one of the people who forgot about him, he probably feels guilty, so this is his way of saying “I didn’t remember the fake you, but I will do my damn best to remember the real you and I’ll let the others know as well”. And yeah, it’s brash, but I like it, I see it as a way of preserving Mitsuba’s actual memory, who he really was and not the persona that just made him unhappy.

Ah, good, he apologized for not remembering him and he also explains that the reason he didn’t recognize him was because he was so different from when they first met. Fair tbh, there’s quite a gap between the seemingly soft spoken boy and Mitsuba’s actual teasing nature and colorful vocabulary.

Kou is such a good kid. Like, I know Mitsuba is already dead but I’m so glad someone told him this. And hey, it could help him move on as well. OH! HANG ON. Okay, so, Mitsuba said that he thinks his regret has something to do with taking a picture he couldn’t when he was alive, right? If we take into consideration what we’ve learned so far, it seems like Mitsuba’s biggest regret centers around the fact that he couldn’t form long-lasting friendships. So like, is the picture he wanted to take one with his friends?? Because that’s- that’s so sad but also so sweet I think I could cry. Kou, in his own way, tells him that he’s a pretty alright guy and Mitsuba says “a lot of good that does me now” but hey, it actually does, because I think he really needed to hear that.

Ahhhhhh Mitsuba asks him if they could have been friends if he were still alive. Of course you could have, sweetie! Come on, Kou, tell him!

ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ

He’s taking a picture of Kou!!!!!!!

(TдT)(TдT)(TдT) my heart oh my god I love them so much look at these babies.

Kou is being oblivious but Mitsuba tells him not to worry about it and that he thinks that once they develop the pictures, he’ll be able to move on ;; (Or at least I think that’s what he means.) 

(⚆.⚆) (⚆.⚆)

(;;⚆_⚆) Oh…………..there he is……..oh dear

But ALSO, hello?? do they know each other?? how? when??? (also imo the stylistic choice of making that speech bubble black is incredibly effective because you can just feel the malice behind it)

Oh, I’m so glad that Kou realized so fast that he isn’t Hanako. Like, yeah, the clothes are a big help but I feel like this boy’s aura is so different from Hanako’s (well, from regular Hanako, since he does have some moments when he smiles creepily).

Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||)  (ﾟдﾟ；)  Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) HOLY FUCKING SHIT W H A T

What is he doing???? what??? did he like, kill him off, like, for good??? wha   t????

Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) OH GOD, IT KEEPS GETTING WORSE

………………….oh? So he does work as a “Hanako-kun” like Amane? That’s interesting because when I first came up with that I thought it would be possible if “Hanako-kun” was one spirit that split itself depending on who summoned him. But now that I know that he’s actually Amane’s twin, I have to wonder how and why did this happen. Like, why is it that both of them ended up with this role? Is it because they are twins and since they look the same the rumors then would consider them to be just one entity?

Mitsuba’s wish was “I want to stay in everyone’s memories” and I just ;;;;;;;;

(ﾟдﾟ；) (ﾟдﾟ；) (ﾟдﾟ；)

First: please let the child go omfg. Second: that’s not your decision to make. If Mitsuba thinks that having Kou remember him is enough, then that’s it, there’s nothing more to argue. And I repeat: ple a se let go of the child. Why is he trying to interfere? Like, yes, Hanako helped Yashiro as much as he could when she made her wish(es), but he only kept interfering because she still wasn’t happy with the outcome. Mitsuba seems to be okay with it, so he shouldn’t have a reason to meddle.

“Don’t you lay a hand on my friend!!” I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Kou is such a good kid, we don’t deserve him. But also he’s being reckless and it fills me with worry ;;

Ohhhhhhh okay. I didn’t consider that before. Whether Hanako could only grant wishes to living people or not, I mean. I assumed he did, so it’s interesting to know that there’s someone who can grant the wishes of the dead. That brings up a couple of questions, though. Like, what are the limits of his powers? What does he take in exchange? Are the wishes of the dead similar to Mitsuba’s or do they have a bigger range? Is any spirit able to summon him or are there restrictions like in Amane’s case (even if we still don’t know what the conditions for summoning him are yet)? Also, again, it seems like he’s more “pushy” than Amane is in regard to his wish granting.

…...oh, oh no. they’re gonna forcefully change his rumor so that his wish comes true (even though Mitsuba was happy before and ghost boy here doesn’t like to listen to other opinions, apparently)

[also now I feel really bad about the crooked man joke I made last chapter. I didn’t think it would come back to bite me in the ass like this;;]

Oh god, that’s some horrifying imagery. There’s nothing gruesome but the way that it’s drawn conveys the despair he’s feeling so well.

“If you can’t tell him his name then he’ll break your neck to make you look like him” jfc that’s just cruel ;; to turn his sincere and desperate wish into a weapon, to turn him into a mindless weapon (because we know that he’s gonna have to do it unless Yashiro is able to change it or unless Hanako takes matters into his own hands). Also it just hit me that Mitsuba is not dead dead so like, why the fuck did Hanako n°2 put a hole in his chest???? what was the point?? just to be a piece of shit?

…………………..I-

Yes. that, same. Wh-what the fuck

OH! Haku-joudai went to report to Hanako what happened! Oh boy, oh dear. He looked shocked and slightly afraid and I’m :)) terrified :)))

So, he’s on the side of chaos, basically. Like, he clearly does whatever the fuck he wants, and he wants complete and total freedom to do so, without a care about how that might affect others. Lovely :))))

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk spoilers #jshk #tbhk #live blogging

[janevillanueva]

jane & rafael: telenovela loves & true love interests.

disclaimer: this post/essay will discuss michael, but it’s not meant to open the door to anger or discourse. he’s just part of the story. this is not an anti-anything post and he will not be tagged, neither will the ship. if you are gonna argue, please don’t. this is meant to be a civil post. thank you! ♡

jane the virgin is a cw show based on the 2002 venezuelan telenovela juana la virgen. while some factors are altered for american television, jtv carries the same key elements as it’s telenovela counterpart and for all intents and purposes is a telenovela. under the cut i’m gonna get into what that means and how/why it shapes the show and jane’s love story. this is long so apologies if you’re on mobile.

a common misconception among non-latinos is that a telenovela is simply a soap opera in spanish. while the two share similarities a telenovela is a condensed story told over the course of about nine months. it is usually a story of rivaling families and/or a love story in the vein of cinderella or pride and prejudice. a telenovela has to be a balancing act. it has to be unpredictable and ridiculous, but have a soft landing at the end. it throws endless drama and twists at you, but the ending is always fundamentally the same. you know the story - and that is not a bad thing.

because of this, if you are familiar with telenovelas, you immediately know that jtv is jane and rafael’s story. jane and rafael’s relationship being messy is what makes them the main couple. telenovela couples are a disaster, and we love them for it. we eat up their forbidden romance, their fights in the rain, their longing. now, with that comes a lot of “problematic” and “toxic” behavior. it’s a staple. there are age differences, power imbalances, fights, potential incest, MURDER. you name it, there is a telenovela plot. if you look at it from a telenovela pov jane and rafael are actually pretty tame. but they still are a telenovela couple. and some of those trademark things are part of their story because they are an ode to the genre. and the drama is their driving force.

for me, being team rafael was never about who the better man was or who “deserved” jane. it was “this is a telenovela and this is their story.” rooting for them was about the culture i know and hoping the show would respect that and the source material. it was “THIS IS THE STORY.”

what i love, however, is how they also challenge what that means. yes, they fight. jane is judgmental of other people and rafael shuts off emotionally. they scream at each other. they do all of that. and it turns some people off. but what they also do is is talk. they communicate.

think about early s4, probably the worst raf has ever been. he fucks up big time. but it’s a learning experience for him. the show does not excuse him. he gets hit by a car, he sits with jane on the floor and acknowledges that he fucked up. he cries to her, with her and realizes he has to do things differently. and this is just one example. later that season he reads jane’s writing and finds she wrote about michael, he feels shitty - but in the end they talk, he apologizes and gets her a private writing space. every fuck up, every choice, is something that brings jane and rafael closer and makes them change toward becoming right for each other. i have no doubt they were in love in season one, but they weren’t right for each other yet. 

this is where jane and michael come in.

i say this with no malice: michael was a false romantic lead. he was a plot device. i always knew this. it sounds mean, but i don’t mean it to. it’s just a fact. that isn’t to say people who ship them are invalid, but in no way were they ever cheated or lied to by the writers. they just misunderstood the story.

the very crux of the jtv love triangle is being practical and safe vs. following your heart and being brave. i’m not going to deny jane loved michael, just like i’m not gonna deny she loved adam. love often comes many times and teaches us things every time. but a lot of jane’s love for michael came from having a plan and it being simple. from what xo and alba wanted for her, not what she wanted for herself. it fit in a binder. with michael she had settled into the idea of being a teacher, which was not her dream, and by age 23 (a baby!) she was looking forward to marriage.

(sidenote: lbr, she wanted to have sex. from a narrative pov jane marries michael so early in the show so she can have sex in future seasons while still keeping the traditional telenovela wedding series finale. it’s a bridge and a way to extend the long journey to her finding her way to rafael again.)

none of this is to say a simple life is a bad life. but we know that in jane’s heart that is not, and never has been, the life she truly wants. she loves telenovelas because she loves the idea that two people are meant to be together, she loves romance novels and she loves writing. jane plays it safe because she has the catholic mindset drilled into her by alba, and has tried not to repeat xo’s mistakes. her life is about caution, but that isn’t what her heart wants. she has big dreams. but no one who pushes her outside of her comfort zone to follow those dreams, or even simply acknowledges her as a writer. until rafael. 

and rafael is not michael. they are very, very different relationships. raf is not simple. he is a complex character and a flawed one as well. he is a telenovela lead. “i’m your romantic hero. i may be flawed, but i’m yours.” in season one jane and rafael love each other magnetically. they love each other because of their destiny. and at that time, it’s not enough. they BOTH have to change. rafael more so, of course. but even rafael being the one who changes his reality to have a life with jane is foreshadowed in season one with alba’s story about grandpa mateo giving up his money to be with her. when you look at it from a telenovela lens, it’s wonderful to see rafael go from someone who is drowning in money and doesn’t know how to ride a bus, to someone who takes a real estate job and a one bedroom apartment to support jane’s dream because he WANTS to. because that’s who he has become. does he have selfish moments? yes. but everyone does. everyone on the show fucks up and is shady because that is the dna of the show.

but rafael is a character who is ironically overlooked by parts of the fandom because of his looks and how it’s “all we like about him,” when his looks aren’t what make him interesting. to understand rafael, you have to pay attention to his entire arc, not just parts of it. he’s someone who has carried trauma and abandonment issues since he was a child. his mother left him and his dad treated him like garbage. he fundamentally believes everyone will leave him. and as much as we adore her now, petra was his wife and cheated on him - after they lost a child. and he had cancer.

rafael has known loss and that shapes his behavior. it’s why he makes the mistake of pushing jane away end of season one. and it’s also why he holds on so tightly to the hotel. because for the longest time it was the one thing that was his. and the idea that he could lose that too drives him crazy. because what else does he have? that doesn’t make it okay, but it makes it understandable. and i think so much hostility for rafael/jafael comes from misunderstanding.

on the other hand, michael is probably the main character we know the least about. outside of being jane’s love interest we know basically nothing about him. we meet his family briefly and in passing. who is he outside of the context of jane? what was his childhood, what are his own issues? we never see them. the most he changes is in montana, off screen. this isn’t to talk shit, it’s to point out that he was never the true love interest.

when michael “died,” i knew there was no way in hell he was actually dead. it’s the oldest trick in the telenovela book. michael’s death was to bring jane back to rafael. but it’s important to remember that she doesn’t run right back to raf, and he doesn’t expect her to. jane mourns, she grieves, and dates around while rafael undergoes his own journey and growth. michael’s false death taught jane that life is unpredictable and can’t always be planned for. it’s only after years that she and rafael fall back in love. and those years of growth allow for them to become friends first and foremost. friendship is the most important aspect of a relationship and what they were missing season one. they really KNOW each other, which was the argument michael had before. that they didn’t know each other.

rafael is not the same person at the end of the show as he was in the beginning. we see that change happen. we know his family, his past, his issues. and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t backslide sometimes because of the fact that. 1. recovery and healing is not linear. and 2. again, telenovelas thrive on drama. but his core values have changed drastically to match jane’s. at the end of s5 they are at a place they can openly discuss their problems before they become bigger and we know they will have a life filled with joy.

jane and rafael’s romance is all interconnected. season two and five in particular. season five people thought rafael was being unfair, and perhaps he was a bit. but him shutting himself off isn’t just because michael came back. after all, he brought him back. it’s because michael came back, jane assured him nothing changed and then things… started to change. (and i don’t fault jane for having to explore.) he sees what happened in season two start to happen all over again and he’s scared. he doesn’t shut himself off to hurt jane, he does it to save himself and his mental health. he is, quite literally, triggered. because he’s mentally ill. and while they could have done it better, the show does address it. which would never happen on a telenovela.  where a original telenovela lead would say, “leave michael or i’ll just fucking die without you.” rafael says, “leave me so i can survive you choosing him again.” no one should feel like a second choice and it isn’t inherently selfish for him to put his mental health first. the fact is this: people contain multitudes. rafael did help jane through her grief, that doesn’t go away. but when circumstances change, they change.

after jane married michael rafael felt like a second choice. but i think he was always her first choice. if he hadn’t ended things in season one, things would be different. but he did. and she went back to what was easy, and chose to try to act like her old life hadn’t been changed. but it had. even if michael hadn’t died she still would have found her way back to raf. and if rafael hadn’t taken her back, she wouldn’t have gone back to michael. that doesn’t mean marrying michael was the WRONG choice at the time, but it’s not her choice anymore. michael coming back had to happen because it let jane have full authority over her choice and let her choice have meaning. jane had practical before and CHOSE to be brave. she grieved and moved on to find happiness again. she saw the life she wants to have and wants to have it with rafael because he has become her best friend and person that knows her reality best for four years.

i spent a lot of years thinking about what the petals falling mean. obviously, they were foreshadowing a wedding. their wedding song is “una flor” by juanes. but more so, flowers bloom naturally in miami, while snow had to be manufactured. jane and rafael are also centered around water. water symbolizes fertility,  freedom, change and rebirth. 

jafael is about them seeing each other, and loving each other. even the bad parts and even through the hard times. it was about them coming to KNOW and love each other and help each other be the best and fullest versions of themselves. it was about them finding even ground after the long struggle for it and finally finding commitment and compromise between two very different and stubborn people who were destined to be together but chose that destiny as one they want to live and make it a reality. in the end they are soulmates, lovers and friends.

what i’m saying is that you don’t have to like jane and rafael. but i wish there was more respect for the fact that their relationship is tied to a long and well loved culture. and they themselves are an ode to a very well loved relationship in an already existing telenovela. jtv is a retelling/remake. them ending up together and their journey getting there was made for a latino audience first and foremost, who (mostly) would know and understand the story in it’s messy glory. jtv is jane and rafael’s story, told by their son, with symbolism and foreshadowing the ENTIRE show. it is layered, and the opposite of “superficial.”

tdlr: they honor the telenovela couple by being messy, but they challenge them by always lovingly cleaning up that mess afterwards. and i love that. there’s nothing wrong with loving that.

#jane x rafael #jafael #jane the virgin #jtv #jane villanueva #rafael solano #meta #txt #long post

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between - Chapter 9

@tinyarmedtrex​ @violetreddie​ @eds-trashmouth​ @constantreaderfool​ @xandertheundead​ @moonlightrichie​ @deadlighten​ @appojoos​ @annoyingtozier​ @burymestanding​

Read on AO3 HERE

The kiss changes both everything and nothing at all. The everything that changes, the hands that reach for each other in the hushed dawn, the eyes that lock over morning cereal, the afternoon laughs that melt into each other, the evening caresses on smalls of backs, is painfully overshadowed by the nothing. This nothing looms over their every moment, stolen moments shared together in ecstasy, rapturous but constantly aware of the behemoth that sits in the corner of the room and spits at them.

Richie’s leaving. A fact as constant, as reliable, as the autumn wind.

If Eddie hadn’t hung onto Richie’s forearm with a vice-grip as Richie welcomed the estate agent into the house, if Eddie hadn’t sat on the porch, face schooled into careful apathy as the estate agent took photos of the now finished cottage, if Eddie hadn’t sobbed with wild abandon into the frigid midnight air, great wracking moans that heaved Richie’s heart out of his chest with ghostly arms, Richie wouldn’t have guessed anything was going to change. But everything was going to change. Everything, and nothing at all.

It takes three weeks for Richie to book his flights. He opens and closes the page, getting as far as typing Edinburgh International to LAX into the search bar, but without fail, his hands shake violently and the laptop slides off his lap with a satisfying thud. Eventually, with a belly full of Dutch courage and Eddie squeezing his hand, he manages it. His flight leaves in a month.

The house sells easily. A young couple buys it, and they visit three times before putting the offer in. The man brays about the way the light floods into the study in the morning, and the woman squeals about the terrace balcony on the second bedroom. Richie accepts the offer, despite the fact it’s five grand under the asking price.

One week later and the For Sale sign is replaced by a bright red beacon, SOLD. More times than he’d ever admit, Richie catches Eddie staring at the sign with malice in his eyes. Richie always makes sure that he looks away before Eddie can catch him staring.

Two weeks, and they’ve hit the half way point. They’re still sleeping in separate rooms. Eddie had packed all of his possessions into boxes the day after Richie had booked his plane ticket. Richie only lasted six minutes of watching Eddie carefully fold his jumpers and his socks and those fucking tartan pyjamas before he had to excuse himself to wail violently in the bathroom. He’d given himself three minutes, before wiping his eyes furiously with a balled up piece of toilet paper, and emerging from the bathroom with a watery smile and tired eyes. But, as soon as he caught sight of Eddie sat on the bed, one of Richie’s old fleeces clutched in his hands, his attempts at self-preservation proved futile. They’d collapsed in a heap on the bed, a mass of shaking limbs, clutching, scrabbling hands and hushed confessions. I adore you, I adore you, I adore you.

Three weeks. They’d spent the last days in bed, moving for nothing but sprints to the toilet and visits to the kitchen. They don’t fuck. Richie surprises himself with the realisation that he doesn’t want to fuck Eddie. Not yet. He can’t bear the thought of their first time being a goodbye fuck, a ‘I’m sorry I’m leaving you’ fuck, a ‘you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m still going to leave you anyway’ fuck. So they don’t. They lie together, they touch often and kiss sometimes. Eddie drags his nails down Richie’s arm absently, a soft scratchy feeling, as if to remind Richie that he’s still here, if only for now. Richie spends most of his time running his hands through Eddie’s hair, hair that was once immortalised in a plastic-perfect quiff but now stands on end, wild and free. They talk, regale each other with animated stories from their past. Richie tells Eddie of Bev, of Bill and Ben and the time they all got drunk and swam in the water feature of their college, he tells Eddie about his mother, about the time she took him apple picking when he was seven. Eddie tells Richie about his mother, a long, painful tale that ends in sorrow, but he also tells Richie about Rupert, and how they’d met and how the sky caught fire the first time they’d kissed. Richie had expected jealousy to bloom in his stomach, hot and bitter, but it didn’t.

“What’s America like?” Eddie asks on a Wednesday afternoon.

Richie tightens his grip around Eddie’s waist. “It’s … pretty fuckin’ shit most of the time, corrupt politicians and gun crime and hatred and bigotry but …”

“But what?”

“My parents lives there, and … it’s home, it’s shitty, but it’s home. Well, it was home, I guess”

“Was home? Why? What changed?”

“You gonna make me spell it out for you, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“You know I am,” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes coquettishly. Richie rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a little shite, you know”

“That sounded pretty Scottish”

“Mike’s been rubbing off on me”

“I should jolly well hope he hasn’t been rubbing off on you,” Eddie said with a faux-stern expression that was so ridiculously, so absurdly Eddie that Richie couldn’t take it anymore.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Eddie, you know – I … You know that I really …”

“What? C’mon Rich, spit it out”

“I …”

“Richie”

“I really think we should mow the lawn tomorrow afternoon”

“…Oh”

– X –

Richie loved Eddie. It was a fact as clear as ice, as real as snow, as blatantly obvious as the nose on his face. The “I adore you’s” flowed easily, the “you’re my entire world and more” came naturally, but the admission of love, the wrenching his chest open, displaying his heart, that was different.  Telling Jasmine he loved her had been easy, partly because he’d never meant it. Endless false confessions. Perhaps it was cruel. Regret wasn’t something that Richie was used to.

“I’m going to stay with Mike”

“Huh?”

Eddie slumped down onto the sofa next to Richie, and tucked his head neatly into the junction between Richie’s neck and shoulder.

“I’ve asked him, and he said I could stay with him until you … if you … y’know. Until then”

“You know I’m coming back, right? I’m going to come back for you”

“I know you want to”

“Eddie,” Richie implored, shifting on the sofa until he was looking directly into Eddie’s eyes, “you’ve got to believe me, I’m going to come back for you”

“I believe you’re going to try”

Richie grabbed Eddie’s hands. “Eddie, please”

“Mike said I can take Mr Chips out anytime I like, I might bring him around here, check up on the house sometimes”

“Don’t change the subject”

“I hope they don’t change the house too much, I’d be ever so sad if I came back and it looked different, if it looked –”

“Eddie!”

Eddie closed his eyes, pulling away from Richie slightly.

“If you promise you’re coming back to me, it makes it too hard. I’ll just sit and wait, and I can’t … I can’t do that”

“I told you, I’m coming –”

“Don’t,” Eddie said, eyes still closed, “stop it. Just – tell me you’ll try and that’ll be enough”

“I’ll try”

– X –

Mike calls it a practice run. A trial run, he’d said, seeing as the last time Eddie stayed with him ended in a sleepless night for all three of them. Eddie’s reticent at first, initially refusing on the grounds of being patronised, but initially relenting after Richie pleaded with him that it probably was a good idea, if not for Eddie then for himself. Slowly, like melting ice, Eddie agrees. They bundle themselves into Richie’s car, the same car that Richie will return to the dealer the morning he leaves, and drive to Mike’s.

Mike’s house is warm, almost uncomfortably so, and Richie watches as Eddie peels his sweater over his head, face flushed red.

“Thanks for this, Mike. You’re a good friend”

“What about me?”

A familiar voice echoed from the kitchen.

“What the fucking fuck? Stan?!”

“Such a lovely greeting, Richard. Ever the pleasure to see you,” Stan said, sardonically, as he passed Mike a small tumbler of honey-coloured liquid.

“I thought you’d flown back to Ireland?”

“I did. I came back, though. I’ve grown rather fond of Scotland, and the things that live in Scotland”

Mike’s face flushed scarlet, and Richie hooted with joy.

“Well, well, well! The plumber and the wizard, a true storybook romance”

“Richard, do shut up. How are you feeling, Eddie? Mike tells me you’ll be staying with us for a while,” Stan said, turning to face a rather down-trodden looking Eddie.

“I – I was, but if you’re staying here too, I don’t want to … I don’t want to impose, you know”

“Shush, you’re more than welcome here. Has Richie told you about Skype?”

“Skype?”

Stan rolled his eyes at Richie. “Have you really not told him about Skype? Isn’t that what all the long-distance lovers are doing these days? Skype sex?”

Richie slapped a hand over Stan’s mouth, but got bitten for his efforts.

“Take your damn hoof off my mouth, Richie! All I’m trying to do is help you in your long sexless months ahead”

“We haven’t … um … we haven’t done that, not yet” Eddie stammered, face letter-box red.

“You haven’t? Huh. Well, Skype does serve purposes other than getting you virtually laid, I suppose. Do you still want me to show you what it is?”

Eddie nodded wordlessly, and followed Stan into Mike’s office leaving Richie and Mike standing in the living room.

“Ah take it ye told ‘im then?”

“Whatever do you mean, Michael?”

“Ye know exactly wha’ ah mean,” Mike said, passing Richie his own tumbler of whiskey before going to pour himself another. “Ye know exactly what I mean. The fact ye didn’t balk when Stan mentioned you two fuckin’? That’s how ah know ye know what ah mean”

Richie slumped into the cushiony arm chair, folding his limbs awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess I told him”

“It went well though, aye?”

“Sort of. I mean, he feels the same and … I know he knows that I adore him, but how well could it possibly go when I’m leaving him the day after tomorrow to fly back home to a country I no longer consider my home?”

Mike sipped his whiskey coolly, “ah see”

Richie sighed. He could hear Eddie’s voice floating through the house from the office, Stan’s voice chasing it.

“If ya don’t come back, if ya decide to stay in America, yer gonna have to tell him yerself. Ah won’t do it for ya”

“I am coming back,” Richie spat, but Mike just shook his head.

“Ah know ya think ya are, but be realistic, Rich. It’s a big commitment to make to someone ye’v only been involved with for a few weeks”

“That’s … that doesn’t even make sense, I’ve … I’ve loved Eddie for longer than a few fuckin’ weeks, Mikey, you know that”

“Aye. I do, but does he?”

“…Yes. He must know, I tell him all the time how much I adore him”

“Aye, I’m sure ya do. But does he know ya love him? It’s different,” Mike said, simply.

“I haven’t … managed to say those words yet. Not exactly, but he knows. He must know”

– X –

“Hiya, Eds”

“Hello, love”

Richie’s heart swells.

“This is weird”

“I know”

Silence falls around them. Eddie’s face, pixelated and two-dimensional on Richie’s screen, looks small and distant, and Richie’s fingers itch with the desire to reach out and stroke Eddie’s cheek. He does just that, but instead of flesh, warm and soft, the pads of his fingers meet glass, unmoving, cold.

“How are you?”

“I saw you less than three hours ago, Rich”

“I know, but a lot can change in three hours. Have Mike and Stan convinced you to have a threesome with them, yet?” Richie asks, cringing immediately as the words leave his mouth, but Eddie just laughs.

“Not yet, but hey, you never know, loneliness does strange things to a boy”

“Do you think you’re going to be lonely?” Richie asks, and now it’s serious. The smile slips off Eddie’s face like butter.

Eddie shrugs, a tiny movement Richie can barely see. “I guess. Probably”

“We’ll skype every day right? I’ll ring you twice a day, if I have to. We’ll talk all the damn time. Ask Mike to get you a phone, we can text, we can –”

“Rich,” Eddie interrupts, “it’s going to be okay. You don’t have to talk to me every waking second of every day. I’m going to be fine”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Richie mutters, but thankfully, Eddie doesn’t hear him.

They talk for hours, until Richie’s eyes start to droop, weighed down with leaden tiredness, and the pauses between their conversation grow longer and longer until they’ve drifted in and out of sleep in comfortable silence for over an hour. The last thing that Richie mutters to the slumbering Eddie are those words he can’t bring himself to say when Eddie’s awake.

#reddie #it 2017 #it 2019 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak #ghost au #property developer au #it fandom #ao3 #thefutureisbright

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: I feel like #8 with Diego could be kinda funny if you’re up to it!

All you wanted, was a peaceful nights sleep. The night before, a thursday, you had been working on a major project, so finally after you finished you went to sleep at five am on a Friday morning (after waking up at 6 am that thursday) and it was now 12:50 am, you were half asleep too. Almost to where you could knock yourself out for the next 18 hours- that's is until your brain finally managed to recognize the small thuds and grunt.

Quickly you flicked on the lamp on the nightstand to see a certain Diego Hargreeves halfway through your window. You grinned.

"Well Mr. Diegopoo," you teased, "is there a reason you're climbing through my window?"

This wasn't a rare occurrence, he broke in all the time. Honestly you never did mind. You loved seeing Diego, he was an instant stress relief from school, your crazy family and everything else.

"Call me Diegopoo one more fucking time I dare you." He grunted, struggling to pull himself through.

"Whatever do you mean, Diegopoo." You watched amused as he pulled himself through and dropped with a thud.

"I'll fucking kill you." He threatened, no real malice behind it.

"I'd just have Klaus conjure me up, then I would continue to call you Diegopoo."

He sighed. "Please." He looked at the ceiling. "Throw some brains this way, if not make it rocks."

"You can't get rid of me that easily! I'm here. You're stuck with me foorrrevvvver."

"I don't want to."

"Oh yes you do."

"You have 2 brain cells that you share with your dog."

"Okay Mr. 'Real men through knives'. I have two braincells." You rolled your eyes and he flushed.

"You said we wouldn't talk about that!" He glared at you.

"And you also told me if I climbed a tree and stuck my hand I'm the little hole thingy I'd get honey. I only got stung! So guess we both lied."

"We were eight."

"I haven't let it go." You clutched a hand over your heart.

"It was literally 10 years ago."

"I hold grudges Diego."

"It was LITERALLY 10 years ago."

You shook you head. "Sometimes it still hurts."

"Literally 10 years ago today. Today is that day, but 10 years ago."

You turned around and wiped a fake tear. "Now, why are you here?"

"I missed you."

"Aw you fuckin sap."

"Shut up." He mumbled looking down. "It's just been awhile and I wanted to see you."

"Baby you're so sweet and now that you're here, give me two seconds." You dashed out of the room. You had his birthday present, convenient is it not? He was eighteen today and in all honesty he had probably forgotten it was his birthday like he does every year. Diego thinks birthdays are trivial. 'They're just days' he would say 'I was born and the world goes on, why do we continue to mark that day?'

However you thought of birthdays in a completely different way. Free holiday! Presents, food, oh yes the food, getting a free pass on somethings because your mom got laid. It's great. So you always forced him to celebrate it.

You returned and smiled. He was sitting on your bed, shoes off and knife vest off. You knew that he felt comfortable and safe whenever he took that off. Even at home he left it on. You say next to him and handed him the gift.

"What's this?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It's a present for your birthday dummy."

"Oh, is that today?"

"Yep."

"Well you didnt have to get me anything." He looked at you.

"Shut up and open it." You flicked his ear and he whined.

"Okay, okay." He opened pulled the ribbon back and the bow fell apart. Then he pulled up the taped corners of the paper and slid the box out, lifting the lid. Inside the black box was a silver chained necklace, on it was an old time roman coin. It was no secret that he was a history buff. He smiled. "Thank you babe."

"Look on the back."

He raised and eyebrow. "What?"

"Go on, turn it over."

He did as he was told and he almost teared up. On the back, Diegopoo had been engraved in small letters.

"I want to die."

"I love you too."

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x reader smut #the umbrella academy angst #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #number five #vanya hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy vanya #vanya hargreeves #allison hargreeves #allison hargreeves x reader #luther is kinda annoying #luther hargreeves #luther hate club #umbrella academy luther

[okimargarvez]

JUST RUB MY LAMP

Original title: Just rub my lamp.

Prompt: JJ wants to know the truth about Penelope’ joke.

Warning: none.

Genre: funny, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: part 84 in Garvez canon Life.

Legend: 💏.

Song mentioned: none.

GARVEZ STORIES

JUST RUB MY LAMP

 -Owners of a green pickup... I have three names.- Penelope's rich nuanced voice fills the car's interior. -You are the closest to the second home.- an imperceptible pause. -I have already sent you the address on the GPS of the car.- and in fact, here, it appears. Luke is quick to follow the new path. A slight, slight smile on the lips. Of satisfaction. If she is so great, it's also thanks to him, at least in the last two years, isn't it? After all, it is he who makes her smile, it is he who is responsible for keeping her happy. Of course, he never told her about. And he never will.

The blonde woman sitting in the passenger seat smiles back, certainly in a less stupid way. -Thanks, Garcia.- she comments. It is always strange for him to hear his girl called by last name. He also does it, to be more professional, not to upset his superiors (not Emily, but not even Cruz, they speak of pure bureaucrats like Barnes...). But for him, she is mainly Penelope. -You are the best.- she adds. The compliments come spontaneously with someone like her. But she gives everyone a weight.

-I'm here to serve you, just rub my lamp.- she concludes, not missing the opportunity for a joke. Luke continues to drive, focused on work and the goal, his face practically expressionless. But he feels the weight of the colleague's gaze on himself.

When JJ snorts, he understands how she can't take it anymore, and he laughs; but only within himself. -Seriously, tell me.- in fact, she says, looking directly at him. -Is there any other meaning behind such phrases?- it is clear that she refers to the rubbing the lamp, which in fact, can easily be interpreted in another sense. But Garcia did the exact same joke with Morgan, the green monster (ever smaller, but still present) makes him remember, clasping his heart. And this was the main reason if, the first time she had run away that sentence in his presence, she had hastened to withdraw it, to deny it. They had talked about it; she had told him. It was so strange, to say something that was a joke, much more innocent than anyone had ever thought, to tell it to a man who wasn’t Derek, a man to whom I would have gladly allowed to rub my lamp... and also the candlestick, the chandelier, the bedside lamp... They had laughed about it, although Luke had understood the implications at the time: she didn't just want to have sex with him.

Despite all the thoughts and memories that swirl through his mind, the man replies with a short and concise sentence. -My mouth is shut.- taking advantage of a stop, he also makes the gesture of closing one's lips with a zipper. But this time he also smiles externally.

JJ evaluates what the best strategy is. They don’t have much to do, until they reach the suspect's house, and they aren’t particularly close, because of the traffic, which, despite the siren, they aren't able to pass. -Luke, please.- she opts for a slightly appealing tone. -We're friends.- she reminds him, with those maternal nuances that work so well with an accused. -I won't tell the others.- she adds.

Luke holds himself back so as not to laugh at her. She would be so offended, like Penelope, probably. Emily would give him a dozen more paperwork to compile, Tara a slap behind the head (encouraged by Matt and Rossi), but JJ... she's like Penelope. -I believe you, but I have nothing to say.- he then comments, focusing on the turning point. Garcia has thought of everything, so here they are facing a series of hairpin bends on an alternative route of the city.

-It's tough, eh?- she replies the blonde, a little annoyed, holding on to the handle. -I bet you're afraid Penelope will punish you.- but her provocations don't seem to have any ef-fect on man. -So? You are not the only ones who know how to use double meanings.- the Latin agrees, tilting his head slightly.

That smile again. His girlfriend is not the only one who knows how to read it. -I don't doubt a woman married...- he stops, braking not too sharply, to let cross the street an old man who pushes a cart loaded with firewood.

-Nearly nine years.- JJ helps him, giving him the missing information.

-Thanks.- he replies, polite and gentleman, like mama and abuela raised him . -And with two children.- he likes to specify, with a slight hint of malice. -But you don't always have to think badly.- he decides to be magnanimous and grant her a kind of answer. -Garcia has always made this kind of jokes, with everyone.- he reminds her. -Why should it be special now?- special implies different.

JJ doesn’t waste any time. -Are you kidding me or do you take me for stupid?- that tone foreshadowing a laugh. -You're together, you're her boyfriend. You two make... things.- she rolls her eyes and Luke can easily imagine that it's because, as much as she loves both of them, she doesn't want to visualize them in certain roles and situations. Not concretely, not outside of scenes from romance novels or theatrical comedies.

-Even you and Will, make "things".- he replies promptly.

JJ slaps her leg. -Oh, okay, I give up.- it took less than with his girlfriend, but you know... they like to play and challenge too much. -You have won.- it hardly ever counts which of the two gets the best, as they say, counts the journey and not where you arrive. -Keep your secrets, Fort Knox.- she crosses her arms and looks out the window. The GPS says that they are about five minutes to the target.

He gives her a quick glance. -JJ, the technique of making people feel bad, really?- he asks.

-With Garcia it works.- she replies, chuckling and he imitates her. Then, that ring.

-Speak about the devil. Hey, Garcia, we're almost to the suspect's house but we're not there yet.- he replies, exaggerating the professional way for annoy his friend, who rolls her eyes.

-You can also go back.- the IT technician replies in the same tone. -Tara and Rossi took him.- she communicates. -It's our man.- she adds. -It’s alive.- the voice of when everything went well and knows that this means that she will soon see her family again.

-Great. Thanks for letting us know.- JJ answers.

-You’re welcome.- she replies, but doesn’t hang up. -Oh, Jennifer.- the mere fact that she called her that, should make her worry.

-What?- she merely asks, while Luke looks at her, with slyly way.

-Stop tormenting him, poor baby.- but it doesn't seem a real reproach. -Of course, there is a double meaning. You know I like them a lot. I also used them with Morgan and rarely with others.- she explains. -But the real difference is that with Luke I don't just tease.- theatrical break. -I hit the target.- JJ blushes.

-Fuck, love, if you continue with this tone, I'll be forced to drive the jet.- says Luke.

-But as you did to...- JJ fits between the two lovebirds, curious and still shocked.

-A magician never reveals his tricks.- she answers, seriously. -I’m kidding. Next time check that you have hung up!-

------------------------------------------------------

TAGS:  @arses21434​​ @martinab26​​ @reidskitty13​​  @thinitta​​  @garvezz​​ @mercedes-maldonado​​  @shyladystudentfan​​  @pegasus-scifichick​​ @paperwalk​​​  @inlovewithgarvaz​​​ @the-ellen-stuff​​​ @astressedwriter​​​  @kamieshep​​​  @ilovecatswwehp​​​ @symphonyashley​​​ @jess-the-introvert​​​  @everythingisanidea​​​ @blackb-ird​​​ @veronicafiore88​​ @dreatine​ Tell me if you want to be removed from the tag list ^^

#garvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #luke alvez #jennifer jareau #jj #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #just rub my lamp

[lestered]

lost in your paradise

m, 9.3k

It’s been six years of surreal friendship, and an even surrealer crush. Six years of traveling all around the world, and wanting to kiss him in every place.

Six years of chickening out every time.

Dan has no reason to believe that Japan will be any different, but anything can happen when you get lost under the Tokyo lights.

read on ao3 or under the cut

written for @starboydjh for @phanfictionevents spring fic exchange! thank you Hadley for giving me such an amazing prompt to work with!

many thanks as well to my beta, irl bff @b-j-e who definitely isn’t reading this because he hasn’t used his tumblr in five years and has probably had enough of this fic by now, but still deserves an mvp award.

He wants to kiss him in Manchester.

60 meters up in the sky, gazing out over Phil’s favorite city in the world. The one he’d insisted that Dan come to visit so that he could really meet his new best friend.

Well... he'd phrased it that way at least, but Dan could’ve sworn that the words ‘best friend’ were laced with something else. Something in Phil’s eyes, in his tone of voice, in the way Dan could see his eyes moving over the screen, flickering from his lips to his bare chest and back into his eyes - that said they were best friends, no doubt, but maybe they could be more. That maybe Phil wants more. Wants what Dan had suspected himself of wanting since before they’d even spoken, and what had been confirmed on that train platform when he’d finally locked onto that ocean-blue gaze in person and been tugged so easily into a warm, tight embrace that had left him flushed and happy and still, hours later, charged with an overwhelming urge to pull Phil in close again, to put his hands on him and kiss that adorable, lopsided smile off his lips. To put it all on the line even though it’s a bit terrifying.

Not even a bit terrifying, actually. Just… regular terrifying. So he sits close and lets their thighs press together and their hands and elbows brush and meets each of Phil’s curious, unreadable glances with something just as unreadable, just hoping Phil picks up on his wanting and leans in and does what he doesn’t have the courage to do himself. But whether Phil’s just as nervous and unsure as Dan, or because he genuinely doesn’t want to, his wish goes unfulfilled.

He doesn’t kiss him on the Manchester eye. He also doesn’t kiss him that night in his bed, or all the other times in Rawtenstall, or in Phil’s crappy first apartment or the first that they share. He doesn’t kiss him all the times they find themselves leaning in too close, holding each other’s gaze for too long, letting little offhand but suggestive comments drift out and float almost antagonizingly in the space between them.

He wanted to kiss him in Manchester.

But he didn’t.

***

Their hotel room in Japan is unreal. From the plush beds to the high-tech toilet to the mirror-TV, it’s by far the nicest room they’ve ever stayed in. It’s cool - too cool for them, frankly, but no one really needs to know that. Dan’s definitely not one to complain.

Personally, he’s a particularly big fan of their jacuzzi tub. It’s big enough to fit his giant noodle body, for one - a luxury that most tubs don’t afford him. And for another thing, he’s found that there’s nothing quite like a nice hot soak after a full day of walking around, exploring, because they can’t miss a thing, because Tokyo’s been their dream destination for years and who knows if they’ll ever get to come back.

It’s a lot of activity.

And it’s definitely worth it; it’s just also a bit strenuous for someone who spends most of his time slumped in front of a computer screen. Some warm bubbles go a long way when it’s time to unwind from it.

He may have stayed in a bit too long tonight, judging by the pruny state of his fingers and toes, but he can’t bring himself to care as he dries off, taking some extra time to towel the wetness out of his hair. The sooner it dries, the sooner he can straighten it.

A puff of steam follows him when he steps out into the bedroom a moment later in just his t-shirt and boxers, causing an unintentionally dramatic scene.

He half-expects Phil to notice and tease him for it. However, Phil’s laid out on his bed, still in the exact position he’d fallen into upon arriving back to their room - flat on his back, fully starfished save for the phone that he’s now holding to his ear.

“No, come on, don’t apologize. Tell him we hope he feels better soon, yeah?”

Dan gives him a curious glance as he flops forward onto his own bed, stretching out on his stomach and sliding his arms around to hug the pillow that he’s smushed into his cheek.

“Right, good luck. And seriously, thanks for everything you guys’ve done for us here, alright? Yeah… talk to you later.”

Phil blows out a breath, sets his phone down and rolls over to face Dan in a position that mimics his own.

“That was Mimei.” He tells him, though Dan figured as much. “They can’t come out tonight, apparently Duncan’s a bit under the weather and she’d feel bad leaving him alone. I guess he doesn't handle being poorly too well.”

Dan feels the corners of his mouth turn down in a small, disappointed frown. “Oh." He shifts to adjust the positioning of the pillow under his head. "That sucks, I wanted to go out one more time. I guess we could get room service, though, and now I won’t have to straighten my hair…”

“What are talking about?” Phil interrupts him before he can finish his thought. “We can still go out.”

Oh, god. Six years later, his heart is still full to bursting with love for his best friend, but he can’t deny that Phil has a tendency to lack crucial self awareness in situations like these. Phil must sense the apprehension on his part, because he quickly follows it up:

"It's our last night, we can't not go out!"

“Phil.” He rolls his eyes. “We can’t go out alone at night. We don't know where we're going, we can’t read the signs... we can’t use data here, so Maps is out of the question if we get lost which, since you have the navigational proficiency of a blind goose with vertigo…”

Phil’s spare pillow lands against his face with a soft thud before Dan can finish whatever hyperbolic insult he was ready to make up on the fly.

He knows what comes next: the pillow falls away and he’s met with big, blue puppy dog eyes and a pout. Phil doesn’t even need to say anything, and he knows it. Pure evil, he is.

(Not really. Pure evil would be if he knew what those eyes really do to Dan, if he knew how desperately Dan wants to make them light up and kiss the pout off his lips. But he doesn’t know. As it stands, Phil just believes himself to be an exceptionally talented beggar.)

“Fuck off.” He groans, and turns his face fully into the pillow before he gets too caught up. “Fine, we’ll go out if you'll stop being an insufferable spoon.”

The giggle he gets in return lets Dan know that Phil’s very pleased with himself, but he doesn’t need to look up to see his smile. He’s got it memorized already.

***

He wants to kiss him in Wokingham.

It’s not the right time, though.

Wokingham isn’t what he wants or who he wants to be; It's everything he wants to leave behind. It's loneliness and confusion and self-doubt - really, it's everything that Phil’s not.

Phil is warmth and support and a genuine hope that maybe he won’t have to define himself by the first eighteen mediocre years of his life. Phil is someone who actually believes in him in a way that he hasn’t believed in himself for years.

Phil’s the future he wants. Their first kiss ought to be in some place that represents his hope for that future, not the place he’s so eager to ditch.

Right.

That’s what he tells himself. Really, it's a convoluted excuse to cover the fact that he’s just scared shitless. Again.  

Having Phil with him in Wokingham is strange. He’s been happy letting these two parts of his life exist completely separate from each other so far. Of course, Phil makes him feel safe, but he’d be lying if he said that having him in his hometown doesn’t make him feel… exposed. Vulnerable. As if Phil would arrive here and immediately sniff out all of Dan’s yet-unspoken baggage - that uneasy balance between stupid teen angst and real, confusing, lonely, amorphous sadness that hangs so heavy in the air of his teenage bedroom that it’s almost tangible to him.  

He thinks, at first, that Phil's not picked up on it. Phil’s just happy to see him, always so happy to see him. Inexplicably so, in Dan’s opinion, no matter how many times Phil tries to tell him otherwise.

He doesn’t realize until late that night, in bed, that Phil’s more perceptive than he’d given him credit for.

“Thanks for letting me come here, Dan.” His voice is laced with understanding when he whispers into the dark, tugging him into his chest and sending Dan's heart into overdrive. It’d be so easy to do it now, to tilt his head up, to lean in just a bit, to brush his lips against Phil’s.

But he's frozen in place because a kiss could lose him this embrace if Phil doesn’t kiss him back. And he realizes he’s not ready to take that risk.

Will he ever be?

“You’re welcome.” He whispers instead, letting his eyes fall shut and releasing the breath he’d been holding. “I’m glad you’re here, Phil.”

He wanted to kiss him in Wokingham.

But he didn’t.

***

“Remember you want the tuna roll to end up in your mouth, and not on the back of some poor unsuspecting lady’s neck across the room.”

Phil kicks his shin under the table, but his blush and bitten-back smile betray any malice he might’ve been attempting.

“I hate you.” He mumbles. “You can't just let me live that down?”

“Do you even know me?” Dan crumples his straw wrapper into a tiny ball and flicks it across the table. It lands in Phil's lap and his mind may or may not be playing tricks on him when he thinks he sees a hint of fondness in the eyeroll that follows. “Of course not.”

They’re sat at the sushi restaurant from a few nights ago. It was their safest bet - the majority of the waitstaff speak at least some English and they know enough rudimentary Japanese food-words to pick things off menu. The overlap is enough for them to order their rolls and an extra side of spicy mayo, which suits them just fine.

Last time they sat at the bar, this time they're tucked into a table-for-two in the back corner. It's clearly not meant for two men as tall as them. They keep accidentally stepping on each other's toes.

(Maybe not always accidentally on Dan's part. Lamely, he knows that it's probably the closest he'll ever get to a game of footsie.)

“Do I get to tell the internet about how you cried at the Ghibli museum, then?” Phil asks, and this time there's definitely a fond glimmer behind his teasing expression.

That earns Phil his own kick to the shin. “Go ahead. They won’t judge me for it, they’ll judge you for being the soulless robot who didn’t cry.”

The look of shocked indignation on Phil's face before he schools his features into a cooler, more neutral expression is incredibly precious.

“Whatever." He retorts. "I was emotional too, I just held it together so I could be there to support you.”

The joking lilt of Phil’s voice unfortunately doesn't tame the swooping sensation he feels by default in the pit of his stomach every time Phil says something that makes him wonder if there's any truth, any genuine feeling behind the bants.

He decides that he's feeling a little too sober for this.

***

He wants to kiss him in Blackpool.

It's a getaway, not quite the way they’d planned it, but it can still be… romantic. Maybe. If he manages to actually do something right.

It’s just the two of them and that’s gotta to mean something. Do strictly platonic friends go on holiday for no other reason than wanting to enjoy each other’s company in a more private setting?

Maybe, but do they? Dan can't shake off the feeling that this trip means something more. He’s sure he senses it in the way Phil’s fingers still for a moment on the trackpad on his laptop, the cursor on the screen hovering between the one- or two-bed options on the hotel website.

The brief silence is excruciating, but no more so than the mouse click when Phil ends up selecting the room with two beds.

He supposes that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It's just that neither of them spoke up.

Blackpool turns out to be a shithole, though, so is it the right place?

Probably not, but… it'd be far less shitty if Dan could muster up the courage one goddamn night to crawl into Phil’s bed with him, instead of his own.

He actually almost does, stumbling into their room giddy and wine-drunk after a too-expensive dinner on the last night, trusting Phil to support about half his weight with the arm slung around his waist, and his arm around Phil’s shoulders.

“Fucking hell, finally.” He doesn't bother untangling them before falling backwards onto the bed, landing Phil on top of him with a surprised 'oof.'

“Shit, sorry mate.” He manages with an indelicate snort as Phil lifts himself onto his forearms. Then suddenly, Dan isn’t sorry at all - not with Phil on top of him, face flushed from the alcohol, eyes half-lidded and searching.

He really, really isn’t sorry.

“S’ok.” Phil mumbles in reply. He stays hovering over him, unmoving, his voice barely above a whisper and Dan swears he sees those pretty eyes flicker down to his lips.

If there’s ever been a go-ahead to kiss him, kiss him right fucking now, this would have to be it.

He just needs to collect himself first. Just a few deep breaths.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale— oh.

Oh no.

“Uh, Phil. I need you to get off me now.”

All he registers is a glimpse of the confusion in Phil’s expression when he rolls off of him, only for Dan to bolt straight to the bathroom. He makes it to the toilet just in time to collapse onto his knees and empty the entire contents of his stomach.

Perhaps he’d overdone it on the liquid courage.

“...Dan?” He hears Phil’s voice drifting in from the bedroom. “You alright? Can I get you anything?”

He sounds concerned, and understandably not the least bit turned on.  Nice.

“Totally fine.” He rasps in reply, and groans internally over how his voice echoes pathetically out of the toilet bowl while he rests his forehead on the cool porcelain rim.

They go to sleep in separate beds that night.

He wanted to kiss him in Blackpool.

But he didn’t.

***

Phil, in an unprecedented display of chopstick dexterity, manages to actually finish his sushi without accidentally assaulting anyone. Dan is secretly a little bit disappointed. Dumbass moments like those become fond memories and inside jokes and another reinforcement to a bond so unique that nobody ever could manage to steal it away from him.

He'll make a memory anyway, a mental snapshot. Phil looks handsome and the lights are low and the music is soft and the food is good.

Oh, and the scorpion bowl in the middle of their table is very strong, and should definitely be shared by more than two people. But they're not letting that stop them.

In fact, Dan's been sipping a steady stream out of his straw for god knows how long.

“Christ, Dan, you're not eighteen anymore.” Phil nudges Dan’s foot with his own under the table. "Slow down if you don't wanna be hungover on the plane tomorrow. Plus you keep slurping."

“I’ll slurp your mum.” He replies without thinking, still holding the straw in between his teeth. He registers what he's actually said a second too late, just a moment after Phil looks at him with a horrified expression and he sputters before dropping his head down into his hands.

“No, no. I take it back. I didn’t say that, I did not say that.” He tries to insist, but he’s wheezing and his shoulders are shaking with laughter and he can’t take it back. Phil's joined in on the laughter and he's definitely not gonna let him take it back. “Fuck.” He sighs out when he catches his breath. “Don’t tell Kath.”

Phil’s cheeks are flushed a dark, rosy pink by the time he regains his composure and takes a long sip out of their shared drink again.

“As if I’d ever repeat one of your terrible jokes to her. She’d be scarred for life.”

Dan almost points out that Phil’s mum watches their videos, and he’s said worse on camera, but he stops himself.

Because one day of vlogging aside, this vacation has been a welcome escape, a break from the constant thought loop of youtube, youtube, fans, fans, radio, radio, youtube youtube youtube that refuses to leave them alone back in England.

His life could be a lot worse. But that doesn't change the fact that they're here right now in a whole new world where they've not been recognized, not even once, and he's breathing so easy, like a gigantic weight he hadn't even registered before has been lifted off his chest.

It’s amazing. He looks across the table at Phil. He can do that here, where they won't run into anyone, where it's unlikely that anyone's secretly watching - look at Phil for as long as he wants, not bothering to worry about schooling his features into something that definitively does not resemble heart-eyes. Phil catches his eye and stares back at him with an intent, albeit slightly unfocused gaze. He's not used to Phil looking at him this way, but his fuzzy brain can't bring itself to decipher what might be going on in Phil's head.

Whatever it might is, his best-friend-intuition tells him he likes it.

“Hey, Phil.” He says after a final decisive drink, still focused on those sparkling eyes. “Let’s go exploring.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Portugal.

It's what Blackpool was supposed to be after all, vacation-wise.

It can be what Blackpool was supposed to be kiss-wise, too, if he doesn’t majorly fuck up this time.

It’s much prettier here than Blackpool. Much prettier than anywhere they’ve been, really.

Phil especially looks pretty here, even with his pale skin slathered in SPF-one million. He’s pretty at the Zoomarine, where his eyes gleam with excitement and he makes friends with a large turtle. He’s pretty with his face flushed and his smile wide and uninhibited after a bit of sangria, when he tells him his skin looks nice under the blue sun.

He’s so very pretty on the coastline, with his sunglasses a bit crooked and his face turned up towards the sun and his hair tousled from the salty wind, sitting right next to him on the warm rocky ground.

His chest hurts when he looks at Phil like this. He’s scared sometimes of how badly he wants him.

Phil shifts closer to him, and their hands, outstretched behind them, overlap.

...Interesting. Is that more or less scary? He feels hot all of a sudden and he suspects it's from more than just the sun.

But they stay like that, and his heart races, and he has no idea what to do because Phil’s acting like they’re doing nothing unusual even though it’s been a while since they’ve touched like this.

His stupid inner romantic has never fully ruled out the possibility that maybe Phil wants him too.

So is this a move? Is he going to make another? If he does then that’s a lot of pressure off of Dan, for sure.

He waits.

He waits for a long time.

And he probably doesn’t have a right to feel disappointed when nothing happens, but he does anyway.

He wanted to kiss him in Portugal.

But he didn’t.  

***  

Stepping out into the fresh air sobers him up a little bit. Not a lot, but enough that he and Phil don’t need to lean on each other when they walk. That’s good, he doesn’t feel like looking sloppy even though Phil’s seen him at his sloppiest. And wherever they’re about to go, he wants to remember it.

They don’t talk about where they’re going, but head off at the exact same time in the exact same random direction. They walk in silence for a bit and Dan doesn’t mind. Silence is quite alright, especially if he’s sharing it with Phil. His mind is foggy and the Tokyo streets are loud enough and Phil’s right there, next to him like always. That’s enough for him.

He’s actually startled when Phil finally speaks up. “I kind of can’t believe we did this.”

Dan looks over at him and Phil’s gaze is a little distant, his voice a little dreamy, and his lips quirked into a bit of a smile. Dan’s heart swells.

“Came here, you mean?” His voice is barely above a soft murmur, but he knows Phil can hear him anyway. They find a break in traffic and cross the road towards some building he doesn’t recognize with some neon pink sign in the front that he can’t read. “I know. Kinda doesn’t feel real.”  

He thinks back over six years, how many times they talked about Japan. Too many to count, and never in concrete terms, always some vague, faraway goal.

He thinks of the times they’d sit a little too close on the couch and watch anime over breakfast, all the skype calls in the very beginning when they’d spend ages rambling to each other about Pokemon and My Neighbor Totoro. He thinks of standing at their breakfast bar in Manchester and mixing up Popin Cookin sweets, of losing their shit over Bishi Bashi special.

When he glances over to his side, he sees Phil looking right back at him. Dan can’t quite decipher his expression again, and he’s not sure it’s from the alcohol this time. The look on Phil's face quite resembles the one he'd had after spontaneously booking their tickets and following the initial excitement, something softer, but contemplative too. He likes that look. He likes having it aimed at him. He’s pretty sure his buzz intensifies for a second.

“It’s real.” Phil breathes, locking eyes with him and then looking away a little sooner than Dan wants him to. “Definitely real.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Jamaica.

He thought Portugal was pretty, but Jamaica is on a whole new level. And, as with anything else amazing that’s happened to him as of late, Phil is right there with him.

It feels kind of like a dream, if he’s being honest - that anyone would consider him important or influential enough to be on this trip.

The only reason he knows for sure that it’s not a dream is his hobbit hair. In a dream, he’d have it perfectly straightened and under control. But with the water activities and humidity here, any effort he puts in to taming his curls is entirely in vain.

Phil ruffles his hair and tells him his curls are cute. He cares a lot less after that.

What he does care about is filming and jumping off cliffs and tubing and sunset swims where Phil photographs him without his knowledge.

“What?” Phil comments when Dan whines to him about it. “It’s a cool photo. It’s artsy. You look nice.”

He scoffs at that. “It’s just my silhouette.”

“Well, it’s a good one.”

Everything around them is shades of pink and orange and gold. Warm and beautiful. Especially the golden light, bringing out the specks of yellow in Phil’s kaleidoscope eyes. Looking into them, he feels a distinct tugging somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and drifts over to Phil almost mindlessly. Phil smiles when he’s close enough.

“You have so many new freckles.” He murmurs, and taps him lightly on the tip of his nose.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. They make me look like a fucking eight-year-old.”

It’s the least sexy reply he could’ve given and he mentally scolds himself for it, but Phil doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Shut up, they suit you.” Is all he says in reply and Dan’s lucky that there’s not enough light for Phil to see the blush spreading across his cheeks.

He doesn’t even need to make an effort to get any closer to Phil; the current does all the work for them until their knees touch.

He’s close to leaning in. More than anything, he wants to close the fucking gap.

Just his luck, though, Phil glances up just then and sighs. “Crap, it’s getting dark. We should go back, don’t wanna be late for dinner.”

He can’t find it in himself to muster enough courage after that.

He wanted to kiss him in Jamaica.

But he didn’t.

***

The place with the neon pink sign that they can’t read is some kind of karaoke bar, they realize once they’ve crossed the street and lean up against the wall for a breather and immediately hear the distinct beginning of Get Low by Lil John and two, mildy-drunk sounding voices belting along into microphones.

“Oh my God.” Phil’s eyes are wide. “Do you think they know what this song means? Like, what they’re actually saying?”

Dan holds up a finger and they go quiet.

To the windowwwwww (to the windowwwww)

To the wall (to the wall)

Til the sweat drop down my balls

Til all these bitches crawl

“Definitely not.” Dan snorts, and Phil rests his head back against the wall to breathe out a disbelieving laugh as well.

“I mean… I guess it’s not hurting anyone.” Phil shrugs. “We sing anime theme songs all the time and we have no clue what they mean. For all we know they could be incredibly profane.”

“Yes, Phil. I’m sure the Attack on Titan theme tune is incredibly profane. Come on, you spork.” He pushes off the wall and walks off a few feet down the sidewalk, only to realize that Phil’s not following him.

“Uh, Phil?” He turns around, eyebrow raised when he sees Phil still standing against the wall. “Don’t you wanna go find something to do?”

Phil hesitates, seeming to ponder something for a moment before breaking out into a smile. He pushes off the wall and takes a few steps backwards towards the door to the bar, his eyes just the slightest bit challenging.

“I think we just did.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Italy.

Chris and PJ aren’t stupid. They nudge him, shoot him looks, strategically leave him and Phil alone multiple times a day with fully conspicuous parting winks.

And he won't do it. If he’s going to kiss Phil (which, admittedly, is feeling like more and more of a lost cause), it’s going to be on his terms. It’s going to be when he feels it’s right, not when their well-meaning but idiotic friends decide.

It actually does feel right at one point, when Phil’s chasing him in a tipsy, spontaneous game of tag while they’re alone. Phil catches him and he wants to spin around right then, crash their mouths together, let Phil know that he’s got him in more ways than one. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or adrenaline, or maybe he’s just damn fed up with not having Phil’s lips on his.

Probably a combination, to be honest. But mostly that last thing.

He spins and just like that, PJ and Chris come right up behind them.

Some God that he doesn’t believe in really wanted to fuck with him tonight.

They seem to realize that they’ve come upon something they shouldn’t have, but Phil catches sight of them too, and then the moment’s gone.

He wanted to kiss him in Italy.

But he didn’t.

***

Phil must be drunker than Dan previously thought, because the Phil Lester that he prides himself on knowing extremely well does not just get the spontaneous urge to saunter into a karaoke bar. Yet that’s exactly what he does, and Dan kind of has no choice except to follow him.

The air inside is thick and hot and noisy, with a couple fans whirring on either side of the bar and a floor setup of basic tables and chairs, some mismatched overstuffed armchairs against the far wall, and most importantly a small stage (more like a platform, really) all the way up at the front, complete with a karaoke setup of two mics and a screen that flashes song lyrics in bright, loud colors. Phil leads them to the only empty armchair at the edge of the room, conveniently wide enough for the two of them to squeeze into.

And Dan has to admit it’s pretty cool. The bar may be hot and crowded and loud but it’s entertaining. They hear some regular, innocent songs. They’re quite nice. But they also hear uncensored renditions of Pony by Ginuwine, The Real Slim Shady by Eminem, and a personal favorite of theirs, My Neck, My Back. They contain their laughter for the most part, meaning a lot of the time they’re red faced and shaking. The laughter gets harder to contain when they’re sent a free drink each from a couple older ladies at the bar.

They don’t really need to loosen up more than they already are, but they drink them anyway.

Of course, the best part of the whole thing is being pressed up so close to Phil. He’s warm and smells nice and Dan would very much like to kiss his rosy cheek, but he’s not quite uninhibited enough for that.

“Right, my ass is falling asleep, we can probably get walking around again.” Phil says when he stands up a while later with a stretch and a yawn. Dan follows, and just then the current song ends and the next karaoke slot opens up.

A seed of an idea plants itself in Dan’s mind, and he flashes Phil the same challenging look that Phil had aimed at him earlier. “Or, maybe not just yet.” He grins and pulls a shocked, protesting Phil up on stage. He’d be painfully too awkward to do this sober, but his head is swimming a bit, so he’s alright.

Phil is still looking incredibly alarmed as Dan sorts through the song selection, and it doesn’t take long for him to find the perfect one. He hits play and Phil pales when it starts up. Dan merely gives him a cheeky smirk and picks up his mic.

mmBaby can’t you see, I’m calling

A guy like you should wear a warning

It’s dangerous

I’m falling…

Your turn, he mouths to a Phil who now looks less terrified, more intrigued, and in a sudden show of bravery, grabs his own mic.

There’s no escape

I can’t wait

I need a hit

Baby, give me it

A loud cheer coming from somewhere around the bar puts what Dan could almost describe as a sultry smirk on Phil’s lips. Surely that’s not on purpose.

You’re dangerous

I’m loving it

It sends a rush of blood down in between his legs anyway. He breathes in deep, locks eyes with Phil and joins back in.

Too high, can’t come down

Losing my head, spinning round and round

...

...Do you feel me now?

***

He wants to kiss him in Orlando, Vegas, and LA.

He doesn’t even need an excuse as to why he won’t. More and more, they’ve been keeping some distance from each other. There’s pressure mounting. A rapidly growing fanbase, thousands and thousands of prying eyes.

Thousands and thousands of hopefuls wanting the things Phil said in that damn video to be true just as much as Dan does.

And just as much as he has to act like he doesn’t. The situation may not be that out of control, but he’s living in his own personal spiral of misery. Phil moves further and further out of his reach and it’s not supposed to bother him - hell, it’s partially his own fault.

He doesn’t know if it bothers Phil or not. They don’t talk about it. They still talk, all the time, about everything else. Just… not that. Never that.

He doesn’t hope at this point. Not the way he used to. He still wants, he still wants so bad that it hurts. All he can bring himself to hope for is that their on-camera life doesn’t bleed into their off-camera life more than it already has. He couldn’t handle it.

He wanted to kiss him in Orlando, Vegas and LA.

But he didn’t.

***

They’re giddy and nearly delirious when they stumble out of the bar later, courtesy of a couple more free drinks and the adrenaline from two encore performances after their smashing performance of Toxic.

“Fucking hell.” Dan laughs when they lean up against the outside wall again, right where they’d been leaning before. “That was…” He shakes his head and laughs again before gulping down as much fresh air as he can. “That was pretty fucking epic.”

“It was.” Phil agrees with the same type of laugh, wiping the sweat off of his brow. “We haven’t done karaoke in way too long.”

“We’ve never done karaoke, you dingus.” Dan snorts and bumps his shoulder weakly into Phil’s. “Rock Band doesn’t count as karaoke.”

Phil bumps his shoulder right back. “It does to me, you... you… rude person.”

Phil really isn’t good with the insults in his regular state. Drunk Phil’s insults, though, are simply laughable. “Ouch, Phil." He feigns hurt. "I might not ever recover from that absolute zinger.”

Without thinking, he grabs the shoulder of Phil’s jacket and starts to tug him along while Phil follows along with a weak retort of “your mum.”

He’s not sure how far they walk, arms and hands brushing and shoulders bumping and cheeks blushing, before they come upon a small, well-lit ice cream shop. Dan hadn’t even thought about ice cream, but now the light inside the shop may as well be a beacon of heaven.

They keep walking once they’ve got their cones, and Dan can’t hold back his satisfied groan when he takes his first lick and it instantly hits the spot. “God, why isn’t ice cream like, the most popular drunk food?” He asks around his next several licks. “It’s filling, it’s cold, it’s refreshing… it's literally perfect. We’ve been so blind.”

“It’s definitely better than those kebabs you used to slam with your uni mates after the club before stumbling back to my apartment.” Phil says with a shrug, occupied with his own cone.

Dan thinks that Phil’s teasing might be laced with a bit of fond nostalgia, but he could just be projecting. He has plenty of fond nostalgia over having an excuse to pass out in Phil’s bed, half on top of him a couple times a week. He also has some… slightly less fun memories of Phil nursing him back to health if he woke up particularly hungover.

“Hey, those were good times.” Dan defends, though he’s not referring to the kebabs or the clubbing or even his old uni mates. They walk further into the night, slurping their respective ice creams, and Dan lets himself wonder if Phil ever looks back on those times in the same way.

***

He wants to kiss him in London.

It’s not the first time they’ve been here. But it’s the most important.

It’s the start of something new. A huge step forward in their life, a big risk that they’re taking together, trusting each other to pull through.

There’s actual career advancement on the line. Actual grown-up shit. Actual jobs at the actual fucking BBC. They wouldn’t be here without each other, and he’s so happy. So grateful.

Now more than ever, he appreciates how much he's managed to change his life for the better since meeting Phil. How Phil's been there through everything, stuck by him at his absolute messiest. How he’s cared. So much. More than Dan’s ever imagined, more than he deserves.

They build a crappy wardrobe, and they're definitely a little too proud of themselves for it.

It’s right after that, lying side by side on the carpet next to the only piece of furniture that they currently own, that Dan feels that pull again. He feels it less these days, or maybe he just refuses to acknowledge it. It's hard for now, but he figures ignoring it will get easier at some point.

He’s just not there yet.

He wanted to kiss him in London.

But he didn’t.

***

“Stars are so pretty.” Phil sighs. “You know some of the stars we’re looking at right now are already dead? How crazy is that? They’re just… shiny little... beacons of death. So cute.”

“Oh my God, what are you even on about?” Dan mumbles as he rolls his head to the side. They’re both laying down on a bed of soft, slightly damp grass after happening on a quaint little park 15 or so minutes away from the ice cream shop. Conveniently so, as they were both just about dead on their feet.

They’ve been mostly silent, not talking, not touching. Dan gazes into the dark sky and listens to Phil’s deep, steady breathing. He feels like he’s floating, light and breezy in some space between his reality and a dream. It’s definitely not a bad way to be winding down. He checks the time on his phone. It’s nearly midnight.

“Hey Dan?” Phil’s voice pulls him back to the present after a pretty long while. “Have you got any idea where we are?”

Dan sighs softly in reply. “No clue,” he murmurs, resting a hand on his stomach and letting his eyes slide shut.

“Oh.”

Dan furrows his eyebrows when he hears a bit of an edge in Phil’s voice. It takes him a minute to catch on, but when he does, sits straight up so fast that his vision goes a little bit spinny.

“Oh.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Edinburgh, and New York too.

For no particular reason, except that he still wants to kiss him every-fucking-where they go. But he has plenty of reasons not to.

Firstly, they’re working.  They have a professional relationship now. It doesn’t outweigh their friendship by any means, but it’s there. It’s important. They’re coworkers.

And simply put, you don’t kiss your coworker. Doesn’t matter that you’ve been in love with him for three years.

They make a living off of being friends and nothing more than that. Any failed attempt at love now wouldn’t just put their friendship on the line, but their livelihood too.

Their life is good. He refuses to be the one to fuck it all up.

Secondly, kissing Phil has been off the table for a while, anyway.

Along with self expression, along with anything else that might hint at him being not-straight with a gay-as-hell crush on his best friend.

Not just off the table, even. More like fully out of the question. More like aggressively denied.

Some fans love him for it, lots of them hate him for it. He hates himself for it.

He doesn't really care. He only hopes that Phil doesn’t hate him for it.

He wanted to kiss him in Edinburgh, and New York too.

But he didn’t.

***

Trying to get their bearings and retrace their steps back to wherever the hell they’d come from is by far the least fun part of their night. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Phil worries his bottom lip between his teeth when they pace across the field in what might or might not be the direction they came from. Dan drags his hands over his sweaty scalp and tugs lightly at his hair that’s almost certainly started to curl around the edges.

“I’m sorry, Dan.” Phil sighs after a while, copying Dan and anxiously fixing his own hair. “I really shouldn’t have made us come out tonight, you were right about getting lost.”

Dan frowns when he notes that Phil seems, well… genuinely upset. This has kind of been the most fun he’s had in… a pretty long time. He doesn’t like the idea of Phil regretting it, much less feeling guilty.

“Hey, I went along with it.” He insists. “It’s my fault too. We just need to… fuck, I don’t know, but this is the direction we came from, right? I’m almost positive.”

Phil stops abruptly. “It’s not.” He says quietly after a moment’s pause. “But… oh my God, look.”

Dan follows his gaze and feels his eyes widen when he sees just what Phil’s looking at.

“Holy shit.” He whispers. “Are we gonna…?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Cyprus.

It’s hard for him not to think about it around Bryony and Wirrow, because with them around it feels like a full-on couples vacation.

Which would be the cringiest middle-class white people thing they’ve probably ever done, if that were actually the case. It’s not, though. It’s not a couples vacation; it’s a couple vacationing with their two lanky, emo, painfully single best mates.

Still, his heart flutters when he watches Phil sip down his colorful, sugary cocktail at dinner, the sunset casting angular shadows over his face. Feels nothing but adoration watching him flail in an unsuccessful attempt to swat away the gigantic, pesky Cypriot bugs.

And to no one’s surprise, especially his own, he does nothing to act on it. Doesn’t even entertain it as a real possibility anymore. It hurts. But it's just a pipe dream now.

He wanted to kiss him in Cyprus.

But he didn’t.

***

Cherry blossoms at night might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Dan fancies himself a bit of a philosopher. Whether or not that notion actually holds any merit is a different story. Still, he’d like to think that all his hours spent facedown in his bed, at his desk, and mostly on the floor haven’t all been for nothing. He’d like to think that he’s formed some sort of coherent opinion on life - why he’s here, what he’s living for, what it all means in the grand scheme of things.

Really, he hasn’t. He waffles too much, he overthinks, and before he knows it he’s back to square one. But he’s learned a couple of things.

First and foremost, that sometimes it’s easier to think in metaphors, as long as they aren’t painfully contrived. Metaphors break things down into simpler terms, put things in perspective.

Cherry blossoms, he read somewhere at some point, are a metaphor. They bloom bright and beautiful when the time is right, and then two weeks later, all too soon, they fall to the ground. Much like existence, they are transient. Fragile. Gone possibly before you can find the time, the perspective, to marvel at them properly. But their fleeting nature doesn’t make them less beautiful when they’re in bloom. Far from it; they’re precious while they last.

Life, from the wholly optimistic perspective he rarely sees, can be the same.

But funnily enough, he’s not actually thinking of that right now.

He’s not actually thinking of much at all.

It’s hard to think, surrounded by so much light.

“I can’t believe we never knew about this.” Phil mumbles from beside him. He’s got his head turned up towards the tree that’s casting its soft pink glow down over and around them. “I totally would’ve forced you to get lost with me sooner.”

He’d almost forgotten not wanting to come out tonight in the first place. I’m glad you forced me out. He wants to say. I’m glad that I’m here with you. But when he turns to his side, Phil’s not standing next to him anymore.

Before he can even panic or call out to him, he spots Phil up ahead just a bit, ambling along among some of the trees that lead down to a nearby river. He’s looking up still, clearly caught up in the ethereal view - seeing the trees lit up, seemingly on their own in the dark, does look kind of like magic. They could be checkpoints in a fantasy rpg, Phil would probably say. Or something of the sort - Dan can always ask him later what’s going on in his mind. Something interesting and strange, he's sure, because Phil’s like that.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks up ahead himself, following Phil from a few feet behind. He has a tendency to lose Phil like this - on the street, in parks, in train stations, when he’s zoned out in his own private Phil world. It’s either endearing or incredibly frustrating, depending on the situation. Right now, it’s definitely endearing.

And it's always kind of funny to see how and when Phil comes back to reality, how he fumbles to regain his bearings and is always startled at himself for having spaced out so long.

Well, this time it’s actually not very long. Phil’s only been walking for about a minute before he trips, stumbling forward a few steps, then righting himself and turning his head to the side, confused. Dan knows it’s because Phil was assuming Dan to be next to him this entire time.

“Smooth.” He remarks with a snicker, coming up on Phil’s other side. “That’s what happens when you’re staring at the trees and not watching where you’re going.”

Phil turns with a startled jump before his face falls into a frown. “You were supposed to be next to me!” He complains. “You could’ve warned me I was about to trip on something.”

“You tripped over nothing.” Dan remarks when he looks down at the ground and sees nothing in the immediate vicinity that Phil could’ve tripped on. “Double smooth.”

“I hate you.” Phil grumbles. “And you’ve got petals in your hair.”

Dan’s cheeks heat up against his will when Phil reaches up and plucks them out. They heat up even more when he smooths his hair back into place for him. They’re on fire when Phil’s hand lingers for a second before he drops it back down to his side, resuming his walking with Dan actually next to him this time.

“The trees don’t even look real, right?” Phil asks, glancing up at them again, briefly and with much more caution this time. “I feel like some NPC from a fantasy game should be living inside.”

Dan has to bite back a grin. Okay, an NPC, not a checkpoint, but still. That psychic connection that their audience, friends and family accuse them of having really is uncanny at times.

“I could see that.”

They stop walking when they reach the edge of the river. There’s a bridge about 20 feet away from them that crosses over and leads to more cherry blossom trees on the other side, but they stay put, watching the lanterns that float along in the water.

When he looks at Phil, he sees the river reflected in his eyes and the warm pink light shining behind him and realizes that actually, the cherry blossoms are only the second prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He feels something click into place.

“Phil.” He sighs. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing now besides chasing whatever feeling, whatever tug, whatever heat, whatever rush of courage he’s got washing over him, cementing his resolve. Whether he likes it or not, he’s not backing out this time.

There’s a storm of emotion looming very close in the distance. It’ll remain unnamed and indiscernible until he reaches his outcome here. Right now it’s only adrenaline, his racing heart and sweaty palms tell him as much.

He swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Phil.” He repeats in a slightly steadier tone of voice. “I need to tell you something, I—”

He turns to Phil and immediately can’t finish his sentence. He’s cut off when Phil’s lips are suddenly pressed against his own.

He freezes, his mouth slack and his arms hanging dumbly at his sides while his brain races to catch up with what the fuck is actually happening. Phil’s kissing him. Phil’s right here, right in front of him, he’s cupping his face and kissing him.

The delayed realization hits him like a freight train. His eyes slip shut and suddenly he’s a live wire, hot and electric from his head down to the tips of his toes and his inner voice screams KISS HIM, KISS HIM, KISS HIM BACK YOU IDIOT.

Phil pulls away before he can and Dan can’t breathe. He can’t even bring himself to open his eyes until a few seconds later. He waits for his vision to refocus and then locks eyes with Phil.

Phil’s taken several steps back from him, eyes wide and his expression utterly terrified, color drained out of his cheeks and both hands clasped tightly over his mouth.

“Oh my god, Dan.” His voice is muffled by his hands but Dan can still hear how shaky it is. “I’m so sorry, I’m— I shouldn’t have— I don’t know what—”

Phil, he realizes, is apologizing. Apologizing for kissing him. He feels his heart plunge all the way down to his feet and back up because Phil’s apologizing for kissing him and that’s fully unacceptable. His body feels like it’s running on autopilot when he surges forward, tugging Phil’s hands away from his mouth and just barely registering the desperation in his eyes before he grabs his face and kisses him again.

He kisses him hard and Phil’s reaction speed is far better than Dan’s because he kisses him back immediately, heated and urgent and impassioned.

They break apart technically sooner than Dan would like, but as far as he’s concerned, they now have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Phil.” He rasps, knowing that his pupils are surely blown as big and dark as Phil’s when he looks into them. “We need to get back to the hotel. Right fucking now.”

*

In the end, it's a matter of swallowing their pride and stumbling through a half-coherent conversation with a very patient park-goer, who does eventually understand what the hell they're trying to say and points them in the right direction.

Actually getting back to the hotel is a blur.

What's not a blur is the fact that Phil's mouth is on his again before the door's even closed behind him. That’s when everything turns crystal clear. His whole body’s on fire when they fall in a mess of tangled limbs onto the bed, kicking off shoes and wrestling each other out of clothes.

He straddles Phil once they’re both down to just their pants, their bodies pressing tight together when he leans down and slots their mouths together again

It's not quite the tender, romantic confession that Dan had been planning on.

But it turns out that he’s just as fine with words and half-sentences spoken in haste when they’re panting hot and heavy against each other’s mouths.

Phil scratches his nails lightly down Dan’s back and Dan tells him he wants him, wants him so bad. Phil flips them over and presses him into the mattress and latches his mouth onto the warm, sensitive skin of Dan’s neck and murmurs between hot open mouthed kisses all over that he wants him too, so so much, that he’s wanted this forever, since before they even met.

Dan feels like he could cry.

But he settles instead for an obscene moan when Phil kisses him roughly and slots their legs together and grinds his hips down and Dan notices that he’s just as painfully hard as him.

“Phil, please.” He whispers into one more kiss before Phil latches onto his neck again. Phil really doesn’t hold back, nipping and sucking and biting and there’s no way that Dan’s coming out of this without any hickeys but that’s fine. He wants to be marked. He waits for Phil to pull back a bit before reaching down in between them, hastily pushing down both of their waistbands so that Phil’s hard length is rutting against his and his precum smears onto Dan’s belly.

He feels the blood thrumming hot and fast though his veins, up and down his entire body with every hammering heartbeat. All he registers is Phil’s hot breath against his neck and chest and the sound of skin on skin and the white hot sparks of pleasure that start in his groin and travel all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“I’m… close.” He moans through gritted teeth when he feels his balls drawing up tight, wrapping one leg around Phil’s waist for leverage and meeting each thrust with his own. His squeeze shut and he sees stars and muffles his moan against Phil’s shoulder when he spills hot and fast in between their bodies. Phil’s hips stutter and he follows right after, and Dan kisses him and clings to him while he rides it out and then promptly collapses on top of him.

For a while there are no words. Just slow, deep breaths and tiny kisses pressed into any available bit of salty skin before Phil finally finds the strength to roll off to the side and halfheartedly clean them both up with the corner of the bedsheet.

They lay side by side, flat on their backs, chests flushed and bodies shimmering with a thin gleam of sweat and then at the same time, turn their heads to face each other and burst into disbelieving laughter.

“Oh my God. Jesus fucking Christ.” Dan manages, tucking his body up against Phil’s side and laying his head on his shoulder. “We actually just did that.”

“We did.” Phil sighs, and reaches over to grab Dan’s hand resting on his chest and lace their fingers together. “We should, uh. Probably talk.”

“In a minute.” Dan whispers.

When they do get to talking, the words exchanged are balm to a burn that’s been scarring Dan’s soul for so many years, for far too long. They talk late into the night, confessions and jokes and apologies and every way of saying I love you without actually speaking the three words, until they both can’t keep their eyes open any more.

They fall asleep tangled up in each other. For the first time in six years, Dan finally rests easy.

*

“Don’t wanna go home.” Dan mumbles, stretched out on his belly with his face mushed into his pillow the next morning. The sun streaming in from between the curtains is an unwelcome presence as far as he’s concerned. Phil runs his fingers lightly up and down Dan’s spine, pauses to rub between his shoulderblades, and taps on his cheek until Dan turns his head and lets himself be kissed.

“I know.” Phil sighs, burrowing closer and nudging his nose against Dan’s. “Me neither.”

It seems unfair, really, that they’re being pushed right back into their everyday grind when they’ve only just made such an amazing, dream-come-true level discovery. They need to go back to England, go back to work. And going back to work means… well, hiding in the closet. The idea of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Nothing has to change.” Phil tells him, as if he’s read Dan’s mind. “I want you back home just as much as I want you here. We’ll…” He sighs, because he surely knows they’re not in for an easy ride. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. I’ll do whatever if you will too.”

“I’ll do whatever.” Dan answers without hesitation, melting into the warm kiss that Phil presses against his mouth. “Definitely.”

Hours later, he falls asleep next to Phil on the plane, letting his head rest against his shoulder with a final, half-conscious thought that sends a burst of warmth blooming throughout his chest.

He wanted to kiss him in Japan.

So he did.

this fic was prompted/inspired by lost in japan by shawn mendes.

also if you don't know what nighttime cherry blossom viewing looks like, look here because it's very very pretty and you can imagine how it might inspire one to finally kiss their crush of 6 years (inspo for the trees in this fic drawn mainly from #3 on the list)

thanks for reading!

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #fics #* #*100

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

It's another smutty chapter.

Part 14: Desperation

“Quit touchin shit,” he mutters catching you as you try to masturbate. You thought he was sleep.

“Not when it’s mine to touch,” you counter, watching his back and waiting for him to show off. He doesn’t move as minutes pass. “Erik,” you whisper, “You’re not sleep. Why can’t you just let me borrow your tongue? You did it before.”

“Tongue machine broke. Dick machine up,” he mutters.

“NO. I want the tongue,” you reiterate.

“I know,” he says in a smiling voice that irks your soul. He knows his power.. But you're also sticking to yours.

"You can be so childish sometimes," you sigh getting up to take off the lingerie. It feels like such a waste.

“You the one with a puddle between your thighs still tryna control shit, it’s hilarious.”

You were fuming. You’d finally set your nerves aside to ask him for head, something you’d NEVER typically do just for the thickheaded negro to say NO.. Twice! It took you a while to come to an understanding as you stared at the polka-dotted lump beside you in disdain, only mildly embarrassed. You knew exactly what Erik wanted from you. He was playing a game that he expected to win by breaking you down until you relented to his sexual tyranny.

Your nostrils flare as you watch him sleep, his dreadhead smashed into the pillow. Thanks to his forced hydration, you’ve urinated enough times to fill an inflatable raft. Five times, your bladder has woken you and whispered up to your hand to slap fire out of him. The temptation has been great. The sixth time waking has you rushing to the toilet, groggy and irritated. You finally march out from the restroom slapping him on the shoulder and he doesn't stir. You shove him, his big body hardly moving, and he won’t open his eyes. He's that damn stubborn.

It's cool, I’ve got something for you, you nod. If he thinks your last move was bold, oh he'd see bold. Moving into the bathroom for a quick refresh of your nether-regions, you stick a careful finger up there to test it with a quick sniff and a quick taste. You're starting to think maybe you just don’t like the taste or mouth feel of bodily secretions in general. Looking in the mirror, you snatch your scarf off and adjust the PJ shorts and t-shirt you’d changed into after his threat. Although you wanted head, you weren’t ready for all of that extra that he wanted to do to you and you wouldn’t be intimidated into it. Erik's reign of tyranny would not commence.

Yours, however, would be effective immediately.

Watching your face in the bathroom mirror as you cackle soundlessly, mischief in your smile and intention, you turn to step from tile to carpet and pad silently back to the bed noting that Erik has not moved from that same spot that he's been buried in. That wicked smile stretches your face again. You've been a great pain in my ass, Stevens. It's my turn. You push down and kick off your shorts, not having underwear beneath and feeling the air. Suddenly this is all too real and you can feel your nerves kicking in, your heart racing. Whooshing out a calming breath, you blink and steel yourself. The A/C provides a low comforting hum in the background. No movement from Erik yet. Good. When you walk over to peek at his rugged yet youthful profile, still sleeping, you hesitate. The last time you woke him, he choked you on a reflex ingrained from his military days. You could still feel it when you thought about it. What would he do now, bite your clit off? Climbing gently back onto the bed, you throw your leg over his head and lower your pussy onto the side of his face that’s exposed, grinding. Spreading your lips, you make sure that your clit in particular wipes and grinds against his stubbly cheek. It feels good.. and bad at the same time but in the best way.

“Wake up,” you squirm. “Your country breakfast’s ready.” He still won’t move. “Eat it while it’s hot.” It's no later than 6 AM, but you've slept horribly and because of that it's time for him to pay.

He groans and breathes out deeply through his nose. “You got ya pussy on my face, ma?” His sleepy bass is so deep it makes you clench.

“I’ve got your breakfast on your face. Leftovers from last night that you’ve yet to finish. Aren’t you hungry?” Silence. You grind on his beard a bit more and wonder if he’s falling back asleep. Eventually you say ‘fuck it’ deciding to get yourself off using what you can access of his face.

“You nasty,” he mutters.

“And you’re allowing this to happen,” you contest, continuing your quest for an orgasm. His heavy hand collides against your bare ass cheek before gripping and rubbing it.

“Hella bold,” he sighs flipping over onto his back. “Go ‘head ride this tongue then.” His long pink tongue flops out and immediately the feeling amplifies. Now that he’s involved, he’s sucking and licking the right spots and making his tongue stiff for you to grind on and ride while you rock, grinding all over his lips, nose, mustache, and beard. When he snakes his arms around your thighs anchoring you down, you bite your lip containing a moan that threatens to spill. He knows what he's doing. He's got his soft lips clasped tightly on your clit and your mind goes blank, stalling like a frozen video on an old television with static. Suddenly he hums and oh my gosh... the vibrations go through you forcing your bottom lip free.

“Oh my God…”

“Mhm,” he hums, his tongue flicking for an added sensation that makes you leak. His lips suction off repeatedly with suction noises and every time, you feel yourself expand.

“Mmmmhh,” you moan breathing heavily, riding his face hard like it were a small mounted dildo or a stationary massager. “I’m gonna cum,” you gasp and he lifts you up off of his face right before you get there, flipping you onto your back. You can't stop your hips from moving as you stare up in anticipation.

---

Erik's dick was hard enough to cut diamonds having been celibate for days. He hadn't even masturbated. She looked down on Y/N's body naked from the waist down. Her pussy was engorged and ready, her sticky nectar wetting her juicy inner thighs. Her eyes showed perfect submission, her chest rising and falling fast like she was in heat. He licked his lips swallowing so not to drool, crawling over top of her body, his hands grabbing hers and pinning them over her head. Her hair still smelled like every good oil and he inhaled the scent deeply, his nose at her neck. She always smelled good, he could count on it. He kissed her right there on the side of her extended neck, biting and sucking her skin softly as she panted softly in his ear, mewling like a kitten, her hips still moving desperately. He had her. As much as she'd protested, he knew it'd end up this way. It always did when he touched her like this. He chuckled, the soft skin of her throat luring him in and calling him back. Sitting up to look her in the eye, he kept a hold on her hands.

"Relax," he whispered watching her dark pupils dilate. "I'm a let you go now. I want you to get up. Get dressed. I'm taking you to breakfast and we're gonna enjoy the day." Instantly she thrashed, like he knew she would. She was pissed. It made him laugh and his head dipped down beside her neck as she shook in her tantrum. She was so mad.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME," she yelled, her lips balling like someone's mama telling them to put something back in the store. Erik was in hysterics.

"Nah, suffer, because you can't take it when someone does this shit to you. How long have you been telling me no? Hm?" She thrashed again trying to kick her legs, but it was a fruitless effort, she wasn't overpowering him. "Calm the hell down. I asked you a question, we can stay like this all morning. It's gonna suck when you gotta piss again."

"I don't know, a few times," she yelled.

"Tell the truth...," he cautioned, brows high.

"A LOT," she snapped.

"A while... See? You don’t like hearing no either! Being left to take care of your own needs when all your partner gotta do is give in? Annoying ain't it!? You see what the fuck you be putting me through?" She was seething, trying to intimidate him with a baby glare that only made him want to kiss her.. or break her. She didn't know what real malice was. She wasn't taking his words as seriously as she needed to and he was starting to lose his patience. The rougher dom was about to come through.

---

You glare at him, thinking of yanking your body again to try to knee him in the balls because he won't let go! Your pussy is still clenching uncontrollably and independant of you and you've finally had enough. All you can really think is, "Fuck you, Erik. Fuck this room. Fuck your motherfuckin house. Fuck your stupid gotdamn rules!"

"I like that dirty ass mouth. You tryna kiss my dick with that mouth?"

"You're such an asshole, I don't know why I bother with your stupid confused ass! You don't even deserve it!" You jump again and he releases you a bit before slamming you down harder, restraining your wrists and and legs with his weight. You think of yelling again but then you see his eyes and your voice leaves.

That deep.. menacing.. ice cold, unpredictable, penetrating stare. All the warmth leaves your body at once replaced with a chill and for a second you wonder who.. or what.. you're actually dealing with. It's that look from that day at your apartment when something strong in you warned you to run. You can't tell if he's angry or detached, but you also can't look away. His mouth approaches your ear and you hold your breath, frozen, your eyes on what you can see of him.

---

The sudden fear in her eyes made him check his expression. He had a bad habit of letting himself a little too loose with her. He was seeing her as prey. Hunt, chase, kill.

“I clearly remember telling yo ass these nuts ain’t free. I don’t give a damn how fine you are, you won’t get any nut off me until you beg me and I mean that shit. From the wells of yo mothafuckin soul, I wanna feel the conviction in your voice tingle in my balls.. until I say it’s enough. Then and only then will I give you what you need.. and trust me, sweetheart… You need this shit.”

Her back arched off the bed and he could feel her body tremble, her shoulders harlem shaking under him like she was cold. It came straight from her spine as he put his nose in the crook of her neck. Damn, she was sensitive.

“Don’t move,” he released her wrists to push down on her pubic bone. Her whole pussy was wet and it had spread to her thick and shining inner thighs. He slapped her pussy listening for her light gasp as she twitched before rubbing with his hand up and down the lips, massaging away the sting. “Wet ass pussy and you still playing.” His finger stroked up and down teasing her entrance feeling her clench before slipping inside to feel her. Her mouth opened and her eyelids went half-mast as he watched her dysfunctional pupils stare past him, seeing nothing. The wet, squishy flesh rubbing against his middle finger made his jealous dick twitch in his briefs. It was laying all up on her though his briefs, he knew she could feel it. He slipped in a second finger and it was instantly coated as his fingers pumped back and forth, curling to tap and stimulate her g-spot.

Her chest heaved and she exhaled a loud breath that tangled with a mangled moan, her lip wedged between her teeth. Her dumb ass was still holding back as her ass tried unsuccessfully to rise up from the bed.

---

“You don’t even have a clue,” he sighs, humored by something. You keep your attention on his eyes unsure of what he’ll do next. The seconds feel like minutes as he stares through you as if reading a passage that’s inked onto your very soul. “You a fuckin brat. You know what that is? Hm?” You can feel his fingers stretch you apart and pull out only to push back in, stroking and stimulating your entrance and walls. When his rough thumb rubs over your swollen clit, it’s the sensation you’ve been subconsciously waiting for. That sweet spot. Your brain stalls again, an image stuck on stutter as your eyes roll and your eyelids blink rapidly. He knows exactly what he's doing.

“Look at me,” he orders gripping your jaw when you can't. “I said look at me. Open them pretty eyes.” His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your cheeks smushing them into a fish face that you don't have the energy to focus on. He’s never ceased his motion in your pussy and you just wanna cum. It’s right there, you can feel it close. His grip on your jaw tightens again and you force your eyes open to look up at him fighting the urge to close them.

“There you go focus them eyes on daddy. You gonna be a good girl?”

“Don’t stop. Don't you d-”

“Shut the fuck up, I'm controlling this shit. I control the pace and what we do.” He pulls his fingers out and you pout as they go directly into his mouth, his eyes still on yours. You feel yourself throb, missing the feeling of him already. “BEG. Show me how bad you want that nut.” You bite your lip. “I'm not buying it,” he whispers in a sing-song voice.

“Dude,” you whine, “I've been horny out of my mind since last night, I'm dying! Do that thing you did before with your tongue... Please, please make me cum already,” you moan, with your eyes set on his. You still remember when he edged you in your own room and left you aching for release. “Please finish!”

“We in the same boat and I'm not used to dry spells... You on the right path though. Let that freak loose,” he whispers holding your face in his hands, his thumb lightly brushing your bottom lip.

“You’re turning me the fuck on right now and I’m already soaked.”

“Mm..” He licks his lips giving you flashbacks.

“Please..”

The more you talk, the closer her gets. He has that look again.. but it's contained his time. Not so scary. He's adapting.. to you. You can't help but feel a little proud.

“Grab my dick. Pull it out… What it feel like?”

---

“Lead..” she scoffs, “A velvet bookend.”  

“...Why are you like this?” Erik shook his head, humored as her feminine fingers roamed up and down his shaft. He watched her as she bit the inside of her full bottom lip, looking up at him, her almond eyes falling all over his body in admiration as he stood shirtless with his locs free. He made his pecs dance and a fire brightened in her eyes. He could feel desire palpable and radiating from the brown goddess, her hips wide and rounding out into thick brown thighs.. the picture of perfection. She was still touching him in wonder and he caught the spark of an idea in her eyes. What you finna try, little girl?

“Let me suck it, please... Daddy?” That was the keyword. He knew she was smart. “Can I suck it? I wanna suck it so bad.”

Oh word?

“Put it in your mouth.” He was willing to bet money that she didn't know how to suck dick right. Usually, that would be a huge dealbreaker but somehow when it came to her, he always had the patience. He was confident in her ability to master anything she put her mind to. She put the tip in her mouth and sucked.

“Lick the shaft, up and down the sides,” he said watching her tongue flatten and glide up and down. “Spit on it. Make it sloppy. More of that,” he pointed out when she drooled spit onto him. She licked up and down the underside of his dick before returning the head to her mouth.

“If you bite me that's yo ass. Go ahead and suck that dick.” The longer she went, the more into she got, looking up at him through her lashes. “You tryna make daddy buss?” Her head bobbed in an affirmative, her tight lips and soft wet mouth enveloping him in warmth. Drool dripped down his shaft making him feel appreciated.

“Your life’s purpose as of right now is to please daddy as Daddy's lil angel. Convince me that you've given in completely to your role.” He rested his hands behind his back as she incorporated the use of her hands on his base. “You learn fast, baby.” The praise made her go harder. It made the head sloppier as she swirled her head around his head. He could tell she was loving it. “Twist your hands, like a pepper grinder,” he breathed, feeling like that nigga. “Keep sucking it. More, just like that.. yeaah, until I'm completely satisfied… Oh shit..” She was doing it a little too well now.

“You did this before?”

She shook her head no with a proud smile.

“My little genius.. lick them balls. Keep stroking my dick.”

---

You sucked, and licked, and stroked, and drooled as the more you did it, the more you wondered if you were doing it right. Would he ever cum? What was taking so long? He looked like he was enjoying it and you could hear his moans that had you dripping, but still no cum.

“If you think I’m that easily assuaged you must not know daddy like that,” he says suddenly reading your mind. “Surprise, my love,” he chuckles, “This shit stay hard like a jolly rancher. You gotta work harder.” You can feel it thumping in your mouth, his heartbeat. “Mm.. Do you want it down your throat baby? You want that big dick down your little throat?”

“Mhm.. mhm,” you mumble, mouth full.

“Say it. With the dick in your mouth, beg me.”

“Ah awhn ha hi hahee..,” he stares down and you add, “How hi hoat, hahee hees.”

“That’s my big girl.” You don't know how he understood you. “That’s how you ask for this dick. That’s how you get what you want. Tap my leg if you feel like you gonna throw up. We don't do that.” His dick slides back toward your throat. You can feel him pass your tonsils and you grab his thighs pulling him closer. You have no gag reflex. Surprise, nigga.

“SHIT BITCH,” he roars, cackling at the ceiling before he unleashes fire, throatfucking your face. Spit flies from your mouth and you can feel your nose run as his grip stays hard on the back of your head. You still need to breathe. “Look at me... Oooh shit. Eyes watering. I'm taking your fucking soul. Leave it on this dick, you don't need it.” When he pulls out, you pant with a thick line of drool down your chin and runny snot mixed with tears on your top lip. He goes to the bathroom to bring back tissue, wiping your nose and top lip clean. You still have drool galore.

“Spit that back on my dick... Now suck it,” he hisses, “Hands down don’t wipe it. Look at me and tell me what's rule three?”

If you own it it's yours and you'll do whatever the fuck you want with it. You mumble it around his dick as best as you can.

“I've been so damn patient, spoiling you. I ain't do half the shit I could've done to you. You were basically free. Now you don’t have a fuckin choice. I'm taking what's mine. If I hear a wait, stop, or no, I'm fucking you harder. Nod if you understand.” You nod and he pushes you off of his dick lifting you and tossing you back onto the bed before dropping over top of you. Your knees lift and you cover your face as they get pushed back out of the way, your ankles guided over his large shoulders. “Look down. I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

“I- w- LET ME SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT.”

“I don't wanna hear it, I already know! You look at the girls I fuck and you scared I’m a fuck you just like that, all rough and shit. Am I right? You scared I’m a slide this dick a lil too deep in that wet ass pussy.. hit it too good.. flip that switch and trigger something crazy. Newsflash, I already know you a freak.” His smirk is accusatory.

“Look! All I'm saying is.. slamming whatever amount of inches that is,” you point to the slimy monster that was just in your throat, “Into a 4 inch deep cavern is reckless and excessive. You’re a mathematician, Mr. Statistics, do the math on that. I’m not Cierra and my vagina has WALLS. You can’t just run through WALLS and what you won’t do is dog my pussy out. Save that energy for Ms. Bitch or whatever you named her. Ain’t no preparation in the world enough for all that.”

“You telling me how to give dick now? I give good dick on the regular. Yo ass never had it. How you gonna tell me,” he laughs. His dick pushes into you catching you off guard and sits at your pulsing entrance, heavy. “SHIT..,” you both gasp at once. He stalls allowing you to adjust. You can feel him throb as you squeeze, his eyes shut. Then he opens them, renewed anger on his face. “Oh I’m a fuck this pussy up.. Goddammit.. I'm a fuck you how you know deep down you need to be fucked and you gone take the shit like a champ.”

---

He went deeper as she slapped and shoved at his chest, arms, and stomach trying to keep him still. He'd already gotten a taste. It was too late. He slid deeper and she groaned, whimpering and whining between heavy breaths. “You finna cry,” he teased lowering his body down onto hers as his hips grinded into hers. “I got you. Go ‘head cry. Cry for daddy.” On cue her tears fell and he licked them as they slid past the outer corners of her eye, down the side of her face. Salt. He bit her quivering bottom lip as she moaned loudly, scratching his back with her nails. She couldn't control her volume, it was up and down, high pitched. "Way-way-wait," she gasped, pushing once she realized her mistake. "NO, WAIT!" His response was to slam his dick into her, over and over... stomach to stomach. She screamed and beat his back and arms with her fists while trying to squirm away. He kissed her neck, whispering in her ear. “Where you think you bout to go? You ain't going nowhere. You gone fuckin hate me. Then you gone love me.” Her nails dug roughly into his flesh and he knew he was bleeding, but it ain't phase him. He bottomed out listening as she whispered every profane word she knew.

"I feel you tryna nut. You think you deserve it?"

"Yess!" That was the only clear thing she said, the rest was unintelligible gibberish but he understood the spirit of it.

"Beg me for that nut," he grinned. He knew he was being aggravating. He planned to let her nut regardless. He was close himself. She begged and he could feel the urgency in her voice. She was so scared he'd pull out and leave her like that. Not this time though. She came hard, wailing, back to back her orgasms came... Her face and her eyes were stuck. He chuckled.

“Fuck.. you, mother..fucker, I hate you,” she cried breathlessly when she could finally talk.. an on and on.

“Your pussy ain't get that message. Listen to her.." The loud smacking in the air made his point. "She say FUCK you, she happy!” She was so wet, he could fill a cup. The loud smacking noise drove him crazy. “Make me wait all this fuckin time. You gone gimme my shit.” He lifted, flipping her over onto her stomach. “Toot that ass up. Spread your knees.”

She went straight to it and he sunk his dick into her pressing into her arch to deepen it.

“Oh you love this dick now,” he smirked, “Annoying ass brat. You know you irk the fuck outta me sometimes? You could've been had this dick, but you like to play. You like to tease a nigga till he grab you by your hair..” He gripped her kinky hair in his fist. “And fucks you till you can't think.. That's what you want?” Her moans were unceasing. He slapped her ass cheek watching it jiggle. "Words."

"Nnnmmmhh... Oh my God.."

"Come nut on this dick then." He fucked her roughly and she when she came yet again, the tears and whimpering returned full force. "Feel good?" Her body shook. He watched her spasm. Yeah, she was feeling good. Now it was his turn to chase a nut.

He fucked her like her name was Cierra and she'd broken ten rules, his hand gripping the back of her neck and her face in the comforter. He fucked her like he'd just lost a friend from a hit that went wrong and didn't have a chance to feel it. All of his anger and frustration and regret went into her pussy until he was sweating buckets and grunting.

She'd stopped moving. He looked down suddenly fearful, his heart skipping a beat.. slowing his stroke down a bit. "Y/N?.. Angel?"

She shuddered, blowing out a tired breath and her ass jumped in a twitch. He sighed in relief as he increased his pace again.

She panted desperately. Say no if you want, he laughed to himself. She couldn't talk.

"I'm a fuckin marry you," he gaped in awe. "I thought yo ass was dead. Hold up," he smirked, hand still dripping the back of her neck. "Daddy finna power up.. yeaah," he chuckled listening to her whimper. "Missed time, my angel... This yo fuckin fault..," he breathed staving off his nut with a grunt. "..Yo fuckin fault."

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