#i LOVE ignoring the fact that they were never actually 'partners at law' >:)

[samanthamulder]

@usergif 1 year celebration: shuffle challenge day 3: blending | two-colour focused | url @pscentral event 14: your url

WEXLER-MCGILL — partners at law in crime

#usergif1year #better call saul #tv #bcsedit #tvedit #kim x jimmy #mcwexler #.gif #wexler-mcgill is REAL. to me #i LOVE ignoring the fact that they were never actually 'partners at law' >:) #I don't remember any business card being torn no no no #also the timeline of events is a bit wonky here but that's for the aesthetic ok. i wanted the alternating blue & red gifs #oh well. i put a normal amount of thought and time and effort into this gifset sooo pls be kind 😭😭 #(and don't look too closely at the wouldn't I gif....i tried my best)

[emilysidhe]

Sense and Sensibility is high up on my list of favorite Jane Austen novels (Persuasion is at the top), but as Austen’s first published book, it does retain a few problems that later books don’t, chiefly (imho) that there are very few on page interactions between the end game couples.

We know that Elinor and Edward exhibit closeness with each other because we see other characters who’ve seen them together react to it, but in terms of conversations that make it into the book, there are far more scenes of Edward gently teasing Marianne about the fact that they have opposite tastes in art and nature (as in, scenic views.)

Meanwhile, Marianne spends most of the book actively avoiding Colonel Brandon while he has important and surprisingly emotionally intimate conversations with Elinor.

There might be something in how the relationship between the sisters is so much more important in this book than any of the others that it’s almost more important to demonstrate how Elinor’ and Marianne’s future partners will fit into this relationship as brothers-in-law than as husbands.

But about a third of the way through the book, it’s hard not to be intrigued by the idea of an alternate ending where the sisters end up with the opposite partner. I do think the actual couples are ultimately well matched. Elinor and Edward are both “still waters run deep” kind of people who understand each other well, and the annotated edition I’ve read most recently (David M Shapard) points out that Colonel Brandon’s tragic backstory is ripped right from the common tropes for heroes of Romantic novels of the time, signaling to contemporary readers that he actually fits Marianne’s romantic ideals as well or better than Willoughby even while she dismisses him.

But wouldn’t it also be fun if, in commiserating with Elinor about his unrequited feelings for Marianne, Colonel Brandon were to realize to his surprise that his initial infatuation with her was more about nostalgia for the first love he lost than real, current interest in passionate and idealistic teenage girls, and that as an adult what he really wants is a grown woman with enough sense to match him as an equal partner. And Elinor, disappointed that Edward’s sense did not prevent him from acting very foolishly in a way that hurt her, finds herself falling for an older, wiser version of a man who could have stepped right out of the pages of one of Marianne’s favorite novels.

Meanwhile, Edward having fallen for the first time for the sharp and pretty Lucy Steele only to be disenchanted by her ignorance, then found himself in love with her polar opposite in the sensible and noble Elinor Dashwood (who initially returns his feelings but moves on from him before he can disentangle himself from Lucy Steele), loses his heart for a third time to the romantic and sensitive Marianne Dashwood, whom he had once hoped to call sister. And Marianne looks up one day from her “I’ll never love again after Willoighby” philosophizing to find that without noticing it happening, she’s already fallen for a shy, subdued man who feels emotions with the same quiet intensity she learned to recognize and love in her sister but who commits what she once considered the unforgivable crime of preferring to look at straight, healthy trees over the picturesque ideal of twisted, blasted ones.

It would be really cute is what I’m saying.

#sense and sensibility #jane austen

[thehwaynedame]

Katsuki Doesn’t Dance

Words: 832

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, bad writing?

Disclaimer: I was watching wedding dance tutorials and this came to my head. I’m not getting married or anything, I just think they’re cute to watch.

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t dance.

He’s told you this from the very beginning and has been adamant about it ever since. He first told you at a big gala to celebrate the new top charting heroes, both you and him stood to the side, watching old friends twirl each other about; they were smiling and laughing, having the time of their lives. You watched him from the corner of your eyes, watching how he lifted the expensive champagne to his lips, then, you watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in motion with his gulp. Despite his words, you could see the way his carmine irises shone with a sense of longing and loneliness —they followed the swaying forms of your friends and you couldn’t help but sigh, for you knew the idiot would never give in.

Eventually though, you settled into the fact that he wouldn’t —that neither of you would have that moment together. The dream of you both dancing to a song in the kitchen late at night was crushed by his stubbornness, and he’s just lucky that he managed to be an amazing partner without fulfilling that dream…

Besides, you’d never push him. You’d always been one to respect the boundaries that the blond set, obtaining the affection you needed from the way he held you close at night, or from the lengthy kiss he gave you every morning.

It was more than enough, for you didn’t need a dance to know how much Katsuki Bakugou loves you, he shows you in his own ways that he does.

Though, you had to admit —you were pretty giddy to learn that Mitsuki, your soon to be mother-in-law and wedding planner had made the first dance mandatory. You really couldn’t help it, the fantasies of your wedding running through your head more than ever now, thanks to the news that you’d finally get that one romantic dance with the grumpy man that you adore.

You never expected it to happen, no matter how much you had fantasized about it, you had never came to this conclusion.

For now you stood before all your family and friends with the lights dimmed, your now husband standing before you. His hand awaited yours, calloused and rough, but gentle in the way it had grasped yours, his expression shocking you to the core —for it was far from his usual scowl.

His face isn’t scrunched up, his brows lifted and relaxed. He was actually smiling —barely, but you had the pleasure of being close enough to see a dimple form from the way his lips had curved. He hadn’t scowled for most of the day, only towards the both of your friends, who were teasing him relentlessly about how weird he looked up on the altar. But the look he was giving you now was causing your poor heart to palpitate out of your chest… His eyes that spoke volumes of his soul had softened, nothing but complete adoration in them as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand resting on your waist before giving it a squeeze.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Where’s that gremlin look of yours?” You try to joke, ignoring the way a shiver ran up your spine from the way his thumb massaged the finger where your wedding ring now rested snugly. “Am I not allowed to look at my wife? I’ve only been waiting for this day since we kissed at our graduation.” He answered, the low music beginning before you could respond, he does as you both had practiced, guiding you to spin, before pulling you back to him. “I simply take pride in being able to read your expressions —and the one you made just then…” You tried but he was quick to cut you off, the warmth of his forehead making contact with yours making you chuckle.

Your eyes meet and you feel yourself melting.

“Stop thinking, soak in the moment.” He instructs, and judging by the way he completely lost himself in you, keeping you close the rest of the dance, you knew he certainly had. It reminded you of just how lucky you were —to love someone like Katsuki Bakugo, to have him love you in return. It reminded you that now you didn’t have to worry about silly little dances, for none would beat the feelings you felt that evening, in the arms of your sappier than usual husband.

Even as time would pass on, and the late night swaying to music in your home would become normal —you’d still remember that night and cherish it. You’d do so just as much as your husband does, ensuring each other a dance every gala and even more so in your home, where you’d continue to laugh together under the lights of the kitchen every time he dipped you, where the both of you would forever to continue melting into each other’s kiss.

Because, you know, Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t dance…

#bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki fluff #husband katsuki x reader #wife reader #i’m gonna cry #idk what this is #idk what im doing #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki x y/n #why am i like this

[cebwrites]

“men don’t cry” (law, drake)

a/n: i was gonna stop at just the first one, but of course i got a hankering for law’s headcanons on this too so here we are- 🙈💖

masc reader, he/they genderfuck law word count: 1k

Law

Although Law never took that sentiment to heart consciously, it’s definitely permeated in the back of their mind in slower, more subtle but overall effective ways (that said he ages his feelings by never expressing them like fine wine)

Law put on a persona to make them seem cruel and heartless, unhinged even, telling himself that this was all to build a reputation that would bring in strong pirates for his cause - taking down Doflamingo 

Of course not accounting for the fact that they’d end up getting attached to these goobers, or at least caring enough to not want to see them hurt at Doffy’s hands, and ultimately leaving them on Zou where, in his mind, they’d be safe from harm 

Law kept it up for months, playing it up for the sake of appearing as a fearsome pirate, even indulging in darker parts of their brain that they’d usually ignore - but the second the lines between personal and persona started to blur, the moment that this whole charade registered a little too close to that accursed bird; they stopped leaning so heavily into it

He’s still very emotionally guarded, though, Law has and always will be - they were never the most sociable as a child even before a hundred metric tons of government issued trauma, and Doflamingo, that demonstrably just made everything to do with their emotional state worse

Getting Law to open up is like pulling teeth, you’d have better luck trying to draw blood from stone - at least the cuts from each slash would tell if you were making progress or not - there are few and far between who actually manage to do it and it’s definitely not easy

Law’s crew, or at least a few notable members, have been painstakingly trying to get their captain to open up for years, by god they know Law needs the emotional support

So if Law were to lean on anyone, it’d have to be someone who’s been at their side for a while - someone who didn’t necessarily start out with romantic intention but now that they’re here is in it for the long haul

Platonic connections are important to, Pen and Shach almost wept in relief when Law started showing the first signs of vulnerability with them about two years after leaving Swallow Island (Bepo’s always been Law’s best friend and squish, though)

To their own surprise, Law finds that their love language is physical - not necessarily sexual, but sensual affection, especially in small to medium doses throughout the week with plenty of space in between for them to recoup is essential - it’s a comfort to know that when words fail him, Law can turn to simply holding his partner while they air out all their grievances in his arms, rubbing a reassuring palm on their back

Law would need a man understanding of their emotional struggle without judgement, someone ideally in the same boat recovering from the same toxic masculinity - maybe even joke that, sure, men suppose don’t cry, but in that case Law can thankfully fall back on the fact that they’re not a man and laugh when their captain shoots them the flattest look imaginable, followed by exasperated but loving kisses, laughing when their respective facial hair tickles each other

Drake

Drake considers his emotional state to be relatively stable and, especially in comparison to the other disaster here, it kind of is - but only by proxy

Drake was raised by a single father who was loving and kind in his early childhood but, due to reasons unclear and untold to him, grew into a day-drinking useless bastard by his teens and turning to piracy to make ends meet - to an extent, that was true; some days their choices would be down to stealing something or starving after Barrels lost his job as a marine

This would obviously trickle down into how Drake grew up, shape the young, bright-eyed marine who swore to take down corrupt people in this world like his shitty father so no one would have to suffer like he did - that’s what he told others, but Drake’s internal monologue wasn’t so naïve after what he’d been though, he wanted to believe it though, oh he so desperately did

Sengoku swung around every now and again to check up on him as a budding marine but it was hardly anything that could be considered parenting; Drake doesn’t blame him, he was the Fleet Admiral at the time and couldn’t afford to put all his focus into raising some kid they picked off an island ravaged by some lunatic pirate, those were a dime a dozen 

He appreciated the effort, though, and still holds the old man in somewhat high regard even if Drake’s been at least somewhat disillusioned with the idyllic Marine Dream™ at this point

Growing up in the navy, Drake was praised for his ‘cool headedness’ and ‘bravery on the battlefield’ or in other words, lack of emotionality - Drake was used to growing up quickly under his father, and with his superiors’ approval on this pattern of hiding vulnerability, he didn’t see a reason to stop any time soon

It’d be hard for him to open up to a partner, entertaining the idea of a partner is already awkward on it’s own (it’s not that Drake doesn’t want companionship, romantic or otherwise, but he knows that it’s a lot of work to build something like that from scratch and he just doesn’t have time for that right now, so he doesn’t go out of his way to look for it)

If Drake did find someone, it’d be a person whose connections completely snuck up on him; a person who he was so comfortable with that Drake wouldn’t even realize the years flying by - maybe it’s a man he shared an infantry with, or just a shopkeeper he ran into often on his daily routes before being sent off to Wano as a double agent

Drake would pine for them unknowingly, yearning for their touch at night without consciously thinking about it; it’d come in the form of an itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t pinpoint to scratch, but when the time comes for him to see them again?

Gosh

The moment that man runs his hands up the small of Drake’s back, whispers sweet words of how much he worried and missed him, lizard man is going to crumble

#cebwrites #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d water law #law x you #law x reader #law x y/n #law x male reader #law x masc reader #he/they trafalgar law #one piece x drake #x drake #op x drake #drake x reader #op drake x reader #diez drake #one piece drake #op drake #diez drake x reader #male reader #masc reader #drake x male reader

[secretmellowblog]

You know how Nick/Gatsby and Holmes/Watson and Enjolras/Grantaire are super popular gay classic lit ships? I’m genuinely surprised there’s not a slash-shipping community around Sydney Carton and Charles Darnay from a Tale of Two Cities…like. I get the reason Darnay/Carton isn’t popular is because no one cares about A Tale of Two Cities but their relationship is so bizarrely homoerotic for literally no reason! It’s like Built to be some Dark Academia tumblr ship! I think Carton/Darnay should be in the tumblr gay classic lit canon, repping Dickens and the way Dickens’ misogynistic inability to write convincing heterosexual relationships results in his characters seeming extremely gay.

I could write an entire essay on why A Tale of Two Cities makes more sense if you ignore Dickens’ intent and read Carton as gay (with quotes supporting my point) but like. Carton insists he’s in love with Darnay’s wife Lucie but spends much more of his page-time talking to/flirting with Darnay (to the point where he’s never had an on page conversation with Lucie until he “confesses his love” to her in a scene where he also immediately rejects himself for her, and insists that their relationship would be Impossible for Reasons and that his heart isn’t Capable of feeling things the way it should, as if he’s chosen to convince himself he’s in love with her because she’s unattainable and he will never have to be in a relationship with her.) Darnay and Carton have all these tense charged snarky interactions that feel like fanfic. Darnay’s thing with Lucie is pretty bland but there’s this huge emphasis on the fact that he and Carton are “counterparts.” Whenever Dickens tries to write Carton as being sad that Lucie loves another man it generally comes across as Carton being jealous of Lucie, because he’s almost never had a full conversation with Lucie and spends most of his time instead having these very sad clingy desperate pathetic conversations with the men who love her. Carton has a weird homoerotic thing going on with his jock law partner Stryver, who he sacrifices everything for and spends all his time with and lets invade his personal space/walk all over him for reasons he refuses to explain (all while Stryver repeatedly mocks Carton for being incapable of falling in love with women). Carton ultimately sacrifices his life for Darnay by forcibly taking off Darnay’s clothes and disguising himself as him….like?

One of their first interactions is Carton heroically saving Darnay’s life, then drunkenly calling himself Darnay’s “counterpart” and asking him on a date.

Like.

Hm.

This feels like the banter you’d find in an Enjolras/Grantaire fanfic:

Fellas is it gay to

But yeah! The main thing people remember about A Tale of Two Cities are the cool peasant women revolutionaries, who Dickens is trying to portray as villains but who are actually the best characters in the book. And if I’m going to be mean to my high school self (who was obsessed with ATOTC for some reason) I’d say that the central melodrama between Carton/Darnay/Lucie is a weakness of the novel because Carton’s arc has nothing to do with the political French Revolution stuff, so his sacrifice feels thematically disconnected from all the book’s attempts at political commentary. HOWEVER. I think it works better if it’s gay.Also the Vengeance and Madame Defarge are gay, but people aren’t ready for that conversation!

So yee!! people on tumblr love ships that are like “hot goody-two-shoes classic lit boy in a suit x hot snarky classic lit sadboi in a suit”, but so few ppl remember Carton and Darnay, who were repping that all the way back in the 1790s 😔😔😔😔😔

#posts made for a max audience of 2 people #ALSO Sydney Carton is who people want Grantaire to be. he’s fanon Grantaire #but that’s another post #A Tale of two cities #Sydney carton #Charles Darnay #carton x Darnay #I was talking on discord about this the other day but. YEE #anyway carton was my first poor little meow meow #he did nothing wrong #if high school me was on tumblr I would’ve written so many posts about him being my poor blorbo #he’s just a very sad wet pathetic creature

[nobleriver]

Based on a post I saw in the River Song tag I've come to the conclusion that, not for the first time, the world really is designed around restraining a woman's sexuality. But more importantly, it comes down to the whole world is pretty much designed around reigning women in. Abortion laws, grown women banning books because they see any little thing as "porn". Women being taught that it's their responsibility not to get raped. Men can sleep around cause they are guys etc. I love a good period piece or any time era where the couple is not looking outside their relationship for their sexual needs. Some of my favorite stories in fact. I also don't see a problem with River being just as in love with The Doctor without any of the relationships that have been brought to light in the show being condemned as source of tragic heartbreak to make sure we know that as a woman she can't possibly have enjoyed herself unless she was enjoying her sexuality inside and exclusively from her marriage.

Yeah I think I enjoy your insights that's why I keep writing to you.

Aw, thank you! I enjoy answering your questions. In this case, I agree with what that person wrote.

Do you remember the minisodes - First Night/Last Night - that showed the Doctor and River’s honeymoon? In those scenes, River confesses she believes the Doctor brought someone else on their honeymoon, not knowing the other women were actually future versions of her. That means for decades, since the beginning of their marriage, River has been convinced she was just one of many on her own wedding night, that the Doctor was with someone else. So no wonder she develops this open-ended approach to marriage, her heart was broken on her wedding night. It’s played off for laughs, but you see the real pain in THORS.

Fidelity, or the lack thereof, is an issue of character and psychology, not sexuality. I know plenty of people who love to have sex who would never step outside of their marriage or engage in sexual activity with anyone besides the one that they chose to commit themselves to for the rest of their life. Oh, I’m certain she was gratified physically, but it’s revealed in the same episode she was not satisfied emotionally. So I believe that person is correct to attribute her extra marital relations to her psychological state at the time. Especially because in the seven years we knew River, we had not seen or heard of her having other partners on the side. Her loyalty, love, and devotion to the Doctor has been one of the defining forces behind her character motivations since her introduction.

So if that’s her character, if being with the Doctor is her greatest desire (6.01), if loyalty is her core trait, then why is she suddenly being disloyal to the doctor behind his back in THORS? The doctor was surprised to find out Hydroflax was the husband in question: “That’s your husband? Not anyone else?” Ramone just added insult to injury. Though delivered in comedic form, the Doctor’s jealousy was front and center, and then, he becomes hurt. Where is the devotion? Where is the River he thought he knew? The one that would sacrifice time itself to save him? All of these extra marital relations are coming out of left field, blindsiding the audience, leaving the question: who is the real River?

But then, in the climatic scene, Moffat reveals River is in a state of pain. To believe your husband does not love you back is painful. That cannot be ignored. Though I wish Moffat had left it as a headcanon, I begrudgingly accept, for most of their marriage, River believed they were married in name only, that the Doctor did not love her back. Now it makes sense why this character who has been designated for years as one of the most loyal characters in the Doctor’s life is suddenly found in a position of disloyalty. That is a painful psychological state to subsist in for decades. One can’t put all that trauma in a bubble and think it has no influence on her sleeping with all these other people.

One also has to take into account River’s history. Like her mother, River has survived a lot of trauma. She suffered child abuse. She was trafficked as a child soldier. She dealt with a lot of neglect, torture, and abandonment. When it comes to people who have that kind of trauma, you can’t just casually love them; you have to be intentional with your acts and words of affection, so they can trust the love is real. You have to drill through all those years and layers of trauma and abuse. I love you. I love you. I love you. The Doctor didn’t drill all the way down, so he was inadvertently causing her further pain. She was falling deeply in love with him while believing he felt nothing for her because he wasn’t expressing his love in a way she could understand or trust.

But once the Doctor realizes what’s going on, he proceeds to shatter that misconception until nothing’s left: “Hello Sweetie.” “Not one living thing is worth you.” “There is a Song.” “24 years.” The fact she was able to be with the doctor for 24 years, that she was able to leave all those other relationships behind and it just be him and her, and River be at her most satisfied? That tells me all I need to know, that those relationships were symptoms of an unchecked broken heart in a woman who didn’t believe she was in a marriage that was real.

#doctor who #river song #the doctor #otp: please don't #text #just my take #apologies for the delay #as you can see it’s once again long as can be #and editing my thoughts into some legible takes t i m e #also all those spouses river mentioned to the doctor he got with them centuries before her so they don’t really count #forget the really; they don’t count so I be looking at river like boo it’s just you but I’m just as much of a simp for you as he is so… #I’ll pretend I didn’t notice that #asks #anon #meta #long post #bc have mercy I tried

[archduke-enver-gortash]

8 and 11 for regven for the askgame!

8. What do they think about romantic love? Do they have baggage surrounding it? Do they idealize it? Is it an object of longing and wanting, or were they really not thinking about it until they started falling for the other character? What are their expectations like?

ven did NOT give a shit about romantic love. when you think of yourself as not even person but only a puppet, a tool for your own entertainment, you naturally don’t deal with shit like emotions. especially love. she never thought that a romantic relationship was in the cards for her, and wasn’t bothered by that at all. in fact, falling in love with regongar was a terrifying experience for her, trying to deny her feelings for him for literal months and having to come to terms with the fact that she IS an actual person with emotions.

for regongar i think love is like air. he needs to love and be loved, or else he seems to feel like he doesn’t exist, or at least has no reason to. like, regongar is a massive shitbag in general, but his worst actions were committed in the name of love/“protecting” the people he loves. i also think reg is someone who so rarely falls in love, but when it happens it’s like a wildfire, y’know? intense, hot and passionate but also destroying everything in it’s path?

11. What fears, past traumas, etc. would be hardest for them to talk about with their partner?

one of ven’s biggest struggles is opening up to people, letting them SEE her. cuz y’know being a person is hard. she absolutely lies about her past to everyone around her and when she has nightmares or a bad episode she usually just prefers to completely shut off everything and rock back and forth in fetal position until she can ignore it and pretend it never happened lmao. like, not even her mentor and adoptive mother ursula knows about what happened with erphee (tiefling who took in tiefling kids in mendev without support, ven being one of the first ones, who erphee had a fucked obsession with. a lot of complicated shit happened there but erphee basically tried to give ven a magic lobotomy because she wasn’t the perfect daughter erphee had imagined her to be) or almost all of ven’s other issues. it takes her literal years to open up to regongar and even then the times she does are usually messy and/or regongar presses her. like the one time reg discovered the scar on the back of ven’s head, asked her about it and she completely blew up at him when he didn’t want to let it go. this was one of the only serious fights they ever had. (btw ursula is lawful good and HATES reg’s ce ass, but she realized that ven genuinely loved him when she found out that reg knows about her past)

reg doesn’t seem to have a lot of trouble opening up to people, dunno if it’s just that way because pc needs to learn npcs backstory but it doesn’t seem out of character for me.

#thanks for the ask! #regongar x ven #oc: ven #lairiend

[walker-extended-universe]

In Another Life, I Would've Loved Doing Laundry And Taxes With You

Chapter 1: Take My Hand, Don't You Dare Let Go

Relationship(s): Castiel/Cassie Perez, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Tags/Warnings: Season 7, Isekai, Universe Hopping, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Marriage, Angst, Cliffhangers, Falling in Love, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort

Summary:

Cassie has gotten really invested in a new show "Supernatural". During her latest binge watch, she wakes up in a world that appears to be the actual "Supernatural" universe- and she knows exactly where she is in the timeline. She makes the executive decision to pick up Castiel and be his new "wife" before Dean comes to pick him up to heal Sam- but she can't make herself stay behind when events actually start to unfold. How will this affect the rest of the season? How long can she rely on her memory to prepare her for the future? And what will happen when the inevitable season finale rolls around?

Written for AU-gust 2023 Prompt 28- Isekai

Taglist (if you would like to be added, let me know!): @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

------

Cassie munched on her popcorn while watching the drama unfold on the screen in front of her. She couldn’t look away for longer than it would take her to refill her bowl or go to the bathroom.

After she finished watching Hawk’s Shadow for the tenth time, she finally admitted she needed a new show to get into. After browsing through Netflix for a while and growing ever-more disappointed that all the shows that seemed interesting had only one or two seasons with major cliffhanger endings, something caught her eye.

Supernatural, a show following two brothers that hunted monsters following the unnatural death of their mother, was a show she’d heard about before but never had the time to get into. She looked at the episode count in the menu and it seemed daunting, but her research indicated it had a final finale instead of a last-ditch cliffhanger, so she decided to give it a shot. 5 episodes in and she was hooked. In the past few months, she’d binged through most of the 15 seasons.

The credits for the episode she was currently watching started to roll and Netflix had the audacity to ask her if she was still watching. A glance at her phone told her that she probably should stop for the night. But… She was almost at the season finale. It would be better to end her session on a big episode like that so she could spend the next day digesting it, right?

Yes. She was still watching.

As the previews for the next episode rolled on, Cassie felt, and did her best to ignore, the pull of sleep. Despite her best efforts, she fell asleep about halfway through the episode and the roar of the impala lulled her into a deep slumber.

Cassie woke with a start the next morning, fumbling for her phone and cursing herself for falling asleep. She was going to have to figure out where she left off and mess up her Netflix history and-

She wasn’t on her couch. Nor was she in her bed. Well, she was in a bed but she knew it wasn’t hers. In fact, this didn’t look like her apartment at all. And the phone she just pulled off the charger didn’t look like hers either. It was a slightly older model (not that she always had the latest one) and had a different, generic home screen.

Where was she? Where was her stuff? And what the hell had happened after she fell asleep last night?

—---

After a lot of poking around on the internet (did it always have this few ads?), Cassie could confidently say that she did have an identity as Cassandra Perez here in this strange world. But that was where all the similarities ended.

This Cassandra Perez lived in Colorado, for starters. Her parents were dead and she was an only child. She also worked as a dance teacher at the local community college, not in law enforcement. She’d never been to Texas and never worked with anyone named Cordell Walker, not that her partner seemed to exist in this world.

Who did exist in this world? Sam and Dean Winchester. And a certain trenchcoated “man” who went on a Word of God spree before disappearing earlier this year. Oh, and also that year was 2011, not 2023.

She may or may not have had a major panic attack after piecing all that info together.

Once she calmed down (and called off work for the next few days), she tried to get her bearings. All the information pointed to her somehow ending up in the Supernatural universe via falling asleep on her couch. If she was remembering her Supernatural timeline correctly, recent events would put her right at the beginning of the season 7 plotline. Castiel was believed to be dead and Sam was dealing with hallucinations of Lucifer and his time in Hell. Oh, and the Leviathans were on Earth and planning to turn humanity into willing livestock via a special additive in processed foods that not only made them fat and lazy (or, well, more so than average) but also killed any humans that had undesirable traits like cancer and being skinny.

Was there ever a better time to pick up a vegan diet?

But there was something else. It didn’t hit her until she attempted making breakfast the next morning (she couldn’t, because apparently TV fridges aren’t magically full of food every morning if you actually live in TV land). That something else was that Castiel wasn’t actually dead. He was going to come out of the water at some point, somewhere in Colorado, with no memory or clothing.

Yes, someone was supposed to find him. She knew that. But she also knew that she wasn’t supposed to be here. What if that changed things? What if she somehow took the place of the person who was supposed to find him (and that fireplace/sitting room did look familiar….)

She looked up the nearest rivers on her laptop, then grabbed the keys for a car she’d never driven before, and went searching. 

—----

She’d found Castiel climbing out of a river into a jogging trail near her house. She called it an act of God because, really, what were the odds that he’d be in the first place she checked? If there was anything she knew about Supernatural, it was that everything happened for a reason. She took him home, got him cleaned up, and ordered them pizza (because her fridge was still empty).

“I don’t remember anything,” Castiel said. “Not my name, where I came from, why I was naked in the river…. There’s just nothing.”

“Well, you remember how to use the bathroom so there must be something up there.” Cassie winked and set a full plate of pizza in front of him. “We’ll figure out your memory stuff later; right now you need to recover and then we need to get you some clothes,” she said, gesturing to the robe that didn’t really fit him.

He nodded and started nibbling on a pizza slice. “Thank you for doing all this. I know you don’t have any responsibility toward me.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I just…. You need help. And I want to help you. It’s…kind of a thing I do.”

“It’s very kind of you. I may not remember much about the world but I know it would be a better place if there were more helpful people in it.”

Cassie turned around (because she needed to clean up the pizza box not because she’s blushing) and hummed. “Maybe so. Anyway, finish up eating and we’ll get you settled back into life in the real world, alright?”

She needed to tread carefully. She’d seen the show. She knew how this story ended. In a few months, Dean Winchester was going to show up and take Castiel (or, rather, Emmanuel) to the psychiatric hospital to fix Sam. Castiel would take on Sam’s hell trauma and be left a shell of himself until it was time to take on the Leviathans. Then, they would both end up in Purgatory. The story was already written. She couldn’t change it. She just needed to play her part.

She wondered if this impending sense of doom and ‘if only’ was how Sam and Dean felt when they were staring down the apocalypse.

—----

“I need a name,” he said a few days later. “I can’t remember my own name but I’m going to need one if I’m going to live in this world.”

“Well, we can get one for you.” Cassie said. “You want to just look up a baby name website or go with a basic John Smith?”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t think ‘John Smith’ is appropriate. I need a real name.”

“Okay then.” Cassie got her laptop and opened the web browser to find a baby name website. “Let’s get you a name.”

They tried a few different baby name sights but nothing really stood out to them. She noticed that the ones he liked but claimed didn’t “fit” were more biblical, so she went to her bookshelf and grabbed a bible. “Maybe we can find something for you in here,” she said, handing it to him. “Have a look. I’m going to make dinner, okay?”

The next morning, he’d found his name. Castiel.

—-------

Cassie knew she shouldn’t let herself get attached. She knew that one day, Castiel would have to go off with the Winchesters and play his part in saving the world. She knew her part in his story was only supposed to be temporary.

But, as she’d learned long ago, her heart was rarely as smart as her brain.

It was one thing to watch him on the show and think his quirky behavior was kind of endearing. It was very different to be with him in person and see every side of his person.

Sure, he wasn’t technically himself at the moment. But, even without his memories, he was still Castiel at his core. He was self-righteous with a strong moral code. He did his best, even if he fumbled. He was a bit awkward and a bit of a failure but he made up for it with his heart and enthusiasm.

It was hard for Cassie not to fall for him, if she was honest.

It’s not like there was any flirting. Even as a human with no memory of his angel self, Castiel didn’t seem to have his angel capabilities. Castiel was just existing. And yet….

Castiel would keep the house clean so Cassie didn’t have to worry about it when she came home from the dance studio. He always had dinner hot and ready for her when she was out of the shower. He packed little snacks for her to eat at work (“I know you don’t give yourself enough time for a full meal.”). He dutifully sat and watched Hawk’s Shadow with her (the fact that her favorite show existed in this universe was confusing but she wasn’t questioning it), even if he didn’t get any of the references. For the first time in a long time, Cassie felt like she was in a real relationship with someone. Who cared if that someone was an amnesiac angel from another universe?

She tried to enjoy it, even as the dread of their impending doom ticked closer with each passing day.

—-----

“We need a reason to be living together.”

Cassie looked up from the morning paper. “Do we? I mean, can’t we just say we’re roommates?”

“I don’t pay rent.”

“You’re a friend I’m letting couchsurf.”

“I don’t surf and you don’t have a couch.”

“That’s not-” Cassie sighed. “Do we really need an explanation?”

“People will have questions, surely. We need an answer for them.”

Okay, maybe he had a point. Luckily, there was an easy solution to this. “What if I was your wife?”

“My….wife?” Castiel tilted his head. “You would do that for me?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I like you and I want to help. Besides, what’s the alternative? I buy you a suitcase and you just go off on your own? That’s not right. Anyway, I’ve got the day off tomorrow so we can just go down to the courthouse and-”

“Cassie, wait.” Castiel grasped her hand. “You really don’t need to do that.”

“Maybe I don’t need to. But I want to. Besides, my abuela’s been on my ass about getting married forever; you’ll be helping me too.” And also I’m slowly falling in love with you and I’m terrified of the fact that I’m going to lose you in less than a year.

“Well, if you’re sure….”

“I am.” Cassie grabbed his hand. “Let’s go get married.”

—---

They didn’t find out his healing abilities until later. Or, rather, Castiel didn’t find out about his healing abilities until later. Cassie was just wondering when they would pop up and how he would start his traveling healer enterprise.

She was cleaning the gutters (seriously, what was the point of living in TV land if you still had to do everything yourself???) and fell off her ladder, right onto her arm. Her pained cry drew Castiel from the house and he rushed over to help her.

He helped her sit up and gently held her arm. “It feels broken.” He gave her a sympathetic look when she winced. “I-I should call a doctor….”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Just- Sit here with me for a bit?”

“Of course.” He carefully held her broken arm, giving her a chance to catch her breath.

Then, she felt it. A cool feeling enveloped her arm and she gasped as she felt the bone knit itself back together.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Castiel asked, brow knit with concern.

“I- I think it’s fixed,” she said. “I… I think you fixed it.”

“But- That shouldn’t be possible. How did I….? I just knew I wanted your arm to be healed….”

She swallowed hard. This was it. The next part of his story. The part where he became a traveling healer so Dean could find him again. The part right before he was ripped away from her home and off into oblivion. And she had to play along. “And you healed it. You have a special gift.”

Castiel stared at his hands. “I… I have a gift. A gift of healing….” He looked back at her. “I need to share this gift with others. I- There’s so many people sick and dying, or who can’t afford medical care…. I can help.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, you can. And you should. I… We’ll figure something out about that. Together.”

As they went inside to start planning, Cassie tried to ignore the sinking feeling of regret in her gut.

—-----

She knew this day was coming eventually. She knew that a demon would show up and threaten her and Dean would show up in the nick of time. She knew that he could take Castiel away from her to heal Sam. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t put up a fight. “I’m going with you,” she said before Castiel could agree to go.

“Sorry, lady, I only need the healer,” Dean snapped.

“You really should stay, honey,” Castiel insisted. “You know I’ll be back in a few days.”

“No, I’m coming,” she snapped. “I’m your wife and I’m not letting you wander off with some stranger all by yourself.”

“I go off with strangers all the time,” Castiel replied, letting some irritation show.

“Not strangers that know how to kill demons!”

“Look, lady-”

“My name is Cassandra and if you call me ‘lady’ one more time, I’m gonna stab you with that magic knife of yours.”

Dean scowled at her. “Listen, Cassandra, I don’t have time to argue with you. My brother needs help and your husband is the only one that can help him.”

“And what’s the problem with me coming along then? I’m not stopping him from going, but I’m not letting him go alone.”

“Listen-”

“Sir, if I may.” Castiel stepped between them and herded Cassie into the other room. “Listen, Cassie, I understand you worry for me but this is going a bit far. Can you at least tell me why you don’t want me to go alone?”

She sighed. “I- Look, I know this is what you do. You go off for days at a time, you heal people, and then you’re home for dinner. And that’s just one of the things I love about you. But this…. This is different. He knows what demons are and he’s asking you to go heal his brother…. Do you think he’s maybe not telling us the whole truth? I just…. I worry. And I’ll feel better if I come with you. I promise I won’t get in the way, I just want to be there for you. I mean, that’s my job as your wife, right?”

Castiel nodded. “I understand. I’ll be happy to have you with me. I’ll just explain that to Dean and that I won’t come without you.”

She squeezed his hand, grateful for his understanding. “Thank you.”

—-------------

Dean was, naturally, very annoyed about having to cart her around along with Castiel but he needed his brother healed so he didn’t argue it any further. Cassie sat in the backseat of the impala (and boy wasn’t that a trip) while Dean and her husband awkwardly talked in the front seat.

She knew where they were going. She knew what would happen. She knew she couldn’t interfere (more than she already had). And she hated every second of it.

“So how’d you two meet anyway?”

Castiel answered before she could. “Cassie found me; it was like an act of God, in a way. I was naked, no memories, nothing… And she took me in. Gave me home, helped me find my purpose. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “And you just did that out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I like helping people,” is all she said. 

Dean huffed. “So you’re just an altruist then? Good for you.”

Cassie glared at him but stayed quiet. If she didn’t want to get kicked out of this little traveling party, she would need to play nice.

For now.

—-------

Cassie knew they would run into demons at the convenience store. She tried hard not to look like she was looking for them. They would find her and Dean regardless.

Maybe that was why she saw the demons first. “Dean! The knife!” She held her hand out and caught it when he (thankfully) threw it at her without a question. She stabbed the first demon in the gut, ducked the second one’s punch, then stabbed it in the back. She tossed the knife back to Dean so he could handle the other two.

“Thanks,” he said, panting softly. Then he looked at her, suspicion written all over his face. “How’d you know the knife would kill them?”

“Well, number one, you killed one in front of my house. And…. There were these Supernatural books-”

“Oh god.” Dean facepalmed. “No further questions. Let’s just grab some road snacks and get out of here.”

“Planning to rob the place like a criminal? I thought you were better than that Winchester.” Meg stepped into the store.

Dean stepped in front of Cassie and pointed his knife at Meg. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Meg held up her hands, showing her angel blade. “Relax; I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m here to offer my services. You do realize that everyone in hell is looking for your boyfriend, right? You could use an extra set of eyes and hands to look after him.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Cassie stayed quiet while they argued. She knew where this was going.

—--------

They arrived at the mental hospital after a few more hours of driving. Cassie stayed with Castiel while Meg and Dean bickered over whether to tell Cas the truth.

“I’m glad you came,” Cas murmured, holding her hand. “This is all…quite overwhelming. And I’m not sure I trust either of them.”

“Told you so.” Cassie smirked and got up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I told you when we got married, didn’t I? I’m always going to look after you.” She knew she couldn’t protect him from everything, but she would be there nonetheless.

Eventually, Dean and Meg came back over to them. “Okay, look, Castiel, I know you’re a healer but we’re going to need you to knock out those demons standing guard,” Dean said.

“No,” Castiel said. “I-I can’t do that.”

“You can,” Meg said. “Just focus and use those special powers of yours so we can get in and save Sam.”

Castiel shook his head, turning to Cassie for help. “I can’t. They’re demons. How- How could I….?”

Cassie bit her lip. She knew he could. But how could she explain that to him. “I… Well, we didn’t think you could heal people either. And that is a lot of demons. I think it’s more than Dean and Meg can handle on their own, at least not without alerting any other demons that might be around. Maybe… You could at least try….”

Castiel looked between her and the demons. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Just try. We’ll be right behind you in case things go wrong.”

Castiel looked to Dean and Meg, who nodded, and then back to the demons. “...Okay. I’ll try.”

They made their way down to the hospital entrance, Castiel in front, then Dean, then Meg, and Cassie taking up the rear.

Castiel only had to put his hands on the first demon to smite him. Then, it happend.

“I remember.”

Cassie watched with bated breath as Castiel finished off the demons outside the hospital and came back over to Dean and Meg. She tried to catch his gaze but he seemed to be deliberately looking away from her. “I remember everything,” he said. “Everything I’ve done…. Where is Sam? I need to try and fix what I did to him….”

“He’s just inside. I’ll take you to him.” The group moved to head inside, but Castiel stopped Cassie right before she could step in.

“You don’t need to come in, Cassie,” he said, still not looking her in the eye.

“I do.” I need to be with you when you lose your mind. I’m not leaving you alone with Meg.

“You don’t,” Castiel insisted. “You came here to support your husband. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“I disagree.” She grabbed his hand, finally getting him to look at her. “I meant those vows. For better or for worse, right? Yeah, things are crazy right now, but I’m not running away. I’d never do that to you. I’m coming in and I’m standing with you and you’re not allowed to tell me not to.”

Castiel opened his mouth to argue with her but she kissed him instead. “I think you know me well enough to know you can’t talk me out of this,” she said with a soft chuckle when she pulled away.

Cas sighed. “Yes, I suppose I do. Come on then.”

They walked into the hospital hand in hand.

—-------

“I can take on his trauma. It’s the least I can do. It should help him function again. It won’t solve everything but… It should help.”

Cassie wanted to tell him not to. She wanted to tell him he meant too much to her for him to lose her like that. But she knew this was a mistake he had to atone for and she wouldn’t stop him from doing that. She’d just need to stay by his side and care for him, just as she had been.

She watched as Castiel touched Sam and took on the burden of the Lucifer hallucinations and other hell trauma. She winced when she saw fear enter his eyes and he pushed everyone away. She stayed there in the room after Sam and Dean left and Meg went to get “hired” at the facility. She slowly coaxed him into sitting on the bed and laying down to rest.

“I see him, Cassie,” he said quietly. “He won’t shut up….”

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

Cassie sat next to his bed and picked up the Bible that was sitting on the side table.

“What are you doing?” Meg asked, leaning against the doorway in her fresh uniform.

“He likes it,” Cassie murmured. “It’s where he got his name. Genesis is his favorite chapter.”

“That was before he got his memories-”

“He’s my husband.” Cassie glared at her. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t know about my husband.”

Meg cocked an eyebrow but left the room. “Suit yourself.”

Cassie sighed and flipped to the chapter they’d left off on during their last reading session. “Okay, let's see…. Matthew chapter 3….”

—------

While Sam and Dean were gone, Castiel’s condition slowly improved. Cassie and Meg worked together to bring him out of the hell trauma shell. It was slow going and it was often 1 step forward, two steps back, but she wasn’t giving up. Bit by bit, they got him to sleep, then talk with Cassie, and even other patients in the facility. “They grow up so fast,” Meg joked when he successfully played a full game of checkers with a stranger.

She tried to focus on the good parts of this. She really tried hard not to think about what was coming next in the story. “I’m just glad he’s functioning,” she muttered. “I’m worried about him. About what’s next.”

“You worry too much, Cassie,” Meg said. “He’s on the mend. He’ll be up and kicking again in a few months, you’ll see.”

I don’t know if he has a few months. “You know, being a fake nurse doesn’t make you a mental health expert.

“Excuse me for trying to look on the bright side.”

“You’re excused.”

Meg chuckled. “I like you. You’re more fun than the Winchesters.”

“So are you.”

—-----------

Just like she remembered, Sam and Dean showed up to pull Castiel back into action. Just like she remembered, things went horribly and she had to pick up the pieces with Castiel. She barely even registered the appearance of Kevin and all the hubbub that came with that while she was trying to coax Cas out of his shell again.

And just like she remembered, things ended up with Castiel being called to action to track down the real Dick Roman and cut the head of the leviathan empire. She hated it, but there was nothing she could do.

“Are you sure that weapon of god is going to work?” she asked.

“We’re pretty sure,” Sam said. “We got all the ingredients- unless Crowley lies about his blood but he hates the leviathans more than we do so I doubt that- and we followed the ritual. It should work. We just need to get in and cut Dick’s head off and that should be the end of it.”

Cassie huffed. “Yeah, just go into a big building full of monsters that want you dead and hope you kill the right one. Oh, yeah, and also rescue the prophet of the lord and hope Crowley doesn’t get to him first. Easy peasy.”

Sam chuckled. “Honestly? It’s probably the easiest thing we’ve had to do in the last couple years….”

Castiel appeared next to them suddenly, holding plates of food for everyone. “I collected it myself; it should be safe.”

Cassie smiled and took her plate. “Thanks, honey. You should get some rest though, okay? You need your strength.”

“So do you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and took his food. “Get a room, you two.”

“Dean-” Sam didn’t get to finish his scolding as two angels appeared out of nowhere. 

“Where is the prophet?” asked the blonde woman. “We felt that a prophet was activated. We need to take him to the desert to learn the Word of God.”

“Prophet’s not here,” Dean said. “Leviathans have him at the moment. You’re a little late.”

“We’ve been stretched a little thin,” the blonde one said curtly. “After all, someone slashed our ranks in half.” She glared at Castiel. Cassie subtly stepped in front of him. This was not going to go well.

“Hester, I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I made mistakes, I know. But I-”

“‘Made mistakes’???” Hester screeched. “You call that genocide a mistake?! You killed our brothers and sisters! You tried to replace our father! You worked with a demon! That’s more than a mistake!” She threw up her hand, sending Castiel flying into the wall. She was on him in an instant, punching him over and over. Her companion tried to stop her, pleading that they’d lost so many already, but nothing was working.

Cassie had stolen the angel blade from Meg’s jacket before she’d even really realized what she’d done. She run over and plunged the blade into Hester’s back and the room lit up blue with her death.

Before the other angel could react, Cassie held the blade to his throat.“Tell your other angel friends to stay the hell away from my husband,” she hissed. 

The angel disappeared without another word.

—-------

The appearance of the angels had everyone on edge, even Meg. Between that and all the news coming from Dick Roman’s headquarters, it was clear they had to get this taken care of. Cassie knew she should just let it happen and play her role on the sidelines, but she’d already interfered more than she should have. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.” It was the first thing Castiel had said for the whole conversation. “It’s far too dangerous for you.”

“I’m not some weeping damsel in distress. I’m coming with you.”

“Cas has a point,” Sam said. “I know he’s your husband and all but… You’re not exactly prepared for something like this.”

“Oh, and he is?!” Cassie snapped. “I mean, he’s my husband, but we all agree he’s certifiably insane and basically defenseless. And I’m supposed to trust that you two chucklefucks will bring him back alive?! No thank you; I can take care of him myself.”

“Cassie, that’s enough,” Castiel said firmly. “I understand that you’re worried about me but killing Dick Roman needs to take priority and I won’t be able to focus on that if I’m worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“You’re a dance teacher who read a bunch of books that happened to be accurate on the supernatural!”

I’m a Texas Ranger! she wanted to scream. I’ve killed people. And now I’ve killed demons and even an angel. I have killed for you and I will die for you and I’m not stopping that now. “I can help,” she said instead. “I mean, we still need to rescue Kevin, right? And the place will be crawling with leviathan. You need all the hands you can get!”

“Cassie, no.”

“But-”

“If I may.” Meg spoke up from her spot against the wall. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her for the past few months and I can say with absolute certainty that she is going to join your little mission whether you want her to or not. I think keeping her alive will be a lot easier if you actually know where she is, don’t you?”

Cassie had never been so grateful to have a demon around.

Castiel sighed. “Unfortunately, Meg is right about my wife’s stubbornness. Maybe it is better if she comes….”

“Cas, you can’t be serious!” Dean rounded on her. “You’re staying here or-”

“Or what?” Cassie stepped right up to him, standing as tall as she could to get in his face (a skill she’d practiced often with Walker). “You’re not taking my husband on a suicide mission without me. If you don’t take me willingly, I’ll just ride along in the trunk. Or I’ll make a demon deal and show up in the middle of it. But you’re not leaving me out of it. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Winchester?”

“He’s not your husband!”

“The hell he isn’t! We got married, we signed the paperwork, we made vows! I don’t care if he’s an angel of the lord or if he’s on the run from heaven or if he let the leviathans out and started this whole mess! I made a commitment to him and I’m seeing it through, regardless of what you say. For better or for worse, right?”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to his brother. “Sam, tell the lady this is a bad idea and drive her home.”

“Dean…” Sam sighed. “Maybe we should take her. She seems pretty committed to it. Wouldn’t you rather know where she is than worry about where she might end up?”

Dean huffed and grumbled some more but eventually he gave in. Not that Cassie would’ve let that stop her if he kept fighting it.

Cassie grinned. “Alright then. Let’s pack up and move out; we’ve got a leviathan empire to dismantle!”

—----------

Cassie knew this moment would come. She’d tried to prepare herself for it.

But nothing could prepare her to watch the angel she loved be sent to a special kind of Hell. “Castiel!” she screamed, jumping forward and latching onto his trench coat.

A pulsing energy radiated through the room and she felt it on an atomic level.

Then, it was dark. And cold. And all of a sudden, she was in some very dark woods with Castiel and Dean Winchester. She knew exactly where she was. Purgatory.

She knew Castiel would leave. She knew why. But that knowledge didn’t make her feel any better when she realized her husband left her all alone despite all his concern for her safety earlier.

Dean’s hand wrapped around her arm. “Stick with me, Cassie. I’ll get us out of this. Somehow.”

She knew he would. Eventually. Somehow, that didn’t help her anxiety in the moment as glowing red eyes appeared in the forest around them.

#walker #supernatural #crossover #au #walker fic #walker fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #cassie perez #castiel #cassie/castiel #sam wincester #dean winchester #my writing #my fic

[eiiskonigin]

it's a million degrees and I made myself sad so you know what? fuck it, I'm going to finally write out the Kai headcanon / lore / whatever you want to call this nonsense. I kept putting it off because I was never happy with it but fuck it.

When Winter joined Atlas Academy, she was assigned to a team with three other people. Among those three was her partner, a young man by the name of Kai Troldenglas. The pair quickly proved a force to be reckoned with in their year, their fighting styles blending together almost seamlessly.

Despite the fact that Winter could be cold and standoffish even back then, Kai insisted on growing closer to her -- doing little things to break down her walls. Remembering the things she preferred to eat in the mess hall and saving her the last of them should she be running late. Taking an interest on the rare occasions that she did open up about herself, her home life.

If you had asked Winter, she would have said that Kai was a reliable partner. Someone she was growing to trust, someone she would begin to call a friend.

Over their first year at the Academy, their friendship blossomed into something more. Truthfully, Winter had never put much thought into romantic relationships: she knew that her father was insistent that marriage in a family like theirs was a tool to be used to move up in the world, so she had tried to never consider that sort of thing, had closed her heart off to avoid being hurt in the way her mother had been.

Kai had changed that. Kai, though his presence and patience, had wormed his way into her heart.

Winter had fallen in love, or at least whatever a teenager believed to be love.

So, when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she accepted. When he took her to his bed, she let him.

And when he proposed to her during the summer break, she thought that this was how things were supposed to happen. Weren't they? When two people found one another, this was the natural next step. Winter's own ignorance to how relationships were meant to work worked against her, accepting his proposal. She would marry him, and be happy, and that was how things would play out.

Happily ever after.

She'd never liked those stories.

It was during her engagement party that the cracks in Kai's facade began to show. It was as if a switch had been flipped: the calm and sweet boy she'd met at school replaced with a haughty, snobbish young man. Snapping at the staff working the event, acting as if he were above them. Talking to her as if he were someone completely different.

The truth revealed itself behind closed doors, a conversation she was never meant to hear. When stepping away from the party in an attempt to clear her head, Winter found her father in his office having a conversation with Mr. Troldenglas -- her father-in-law to be -- about how their business arrangement had worked out perfectly.

It was a lie. Everything she had believed about Kai. He had paid his way into Atlas Academy, buying out another student for their place. While being placed on a team with Winter was purely by chance, his getting close to her had not been.

He wasn't marrying Winter. He was marrying the SDC heiress.

Furious, Winter stormed back into the party and shut it down. Mortified at being so foolish as to believe he could have actually liked her, could have loved her. The ring was thrown back in the Troldenglas's faces, and she screamed for them to get out of her home, out of her life.

Sure enough, when the semester started in the fall, Kai was no longer enrolled in Atlas Academy.

Winter went through the rest of her schooling with no partner -- her own request, honored by Headmaster Ironwood -- and held the rest of her team at arms length. Over the years, it simply became an accepted fact that Winter Schnee was a cold, heartless person who wanted nothing to do with other people.

The wounds from her first love still show, now and then. That fear at being fooled again, the hatred of her own heart. Still desperately trying to heal.

#( headcanon ) / ✦ your destiny was chosen for you . #tw long post #/ i've tried to write this so many times so here the fuck it is #/ color naming rule: the name kai often traces back to hawaiian roots meaning 'sea' #/ kai himself is an allusion to kai / kay / kaj from the snow queen fairytale #/ and the surname troldenglas is a reference to the troll mirror which starts the story #/ the idea existed before kai did as a character but he's kind of grown to be his own entity over the years of writing winter #/ his weapon was a two-handed danish sword named Evighed #/ he still lives in Atlas and occasionally tries to fuck with Winter but she avoids him at all costs #/ i'm weirdly nervous to post this so uhhhhh... #/ please be kind #( dynamic.kai troldenglas ) / ✦ fairytales are not to be believed i blame myself if i have been deceived .

[starlit-dreaming]

[ch2] it was only one night

Rating: E Ship: Lucathy (main), Calena (side), Felily (mention) TL;DR: Modern Setting + Lawyer Athy + IT Expert Lucas + Unplanned Pregnancy from a One-Night Stand Note: crossposted to Wattpad under the same name; crossposted to AO3 under Starlit_Dreaming

1 | [2] | 3 | 4

big shout out to @lithi​ and @hwang-lucas​ for being the best of friends to inspire the creation of this fic and its continuation by fuelling the lucathy flames and being fantastic buddies.

note: i barely edited the explicit scene, but there should be a lot of things different about this compared to the drafts

EY YO THIS CHAPTER’S EXPLICIT THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING TO LOOK AWAY CAUSE IM NOT GONNA CENSOR SHIT

athanasia and lucas are both consenting adults that are both using alcohol as an excuse. if that ain’t your jam then y’all shouldn’tve continued reading a fic thats been advertised as a one night stand au for the longest time

my works are always posted to tumblr first, ao3 second (sometimes swapped with tumblr), and wattpad third.

Summary: There are three things in this world that Athanasia truly regrets. 1. Being kind to Jennette Margarita, her cousin. 2. Giving Ijekiel Alpheus her many firsts. 3. Having a one-night stand with her co-worker and friend, Lucas Hwang. (And if she doesn’t regret sleeping with him, waking up in his bed, and wearing his clothes, then that’s just something she’ll keep to herself.) // In which Athanasia and Lucas fall in love, get married, have a child, and get their shit together by reconnecting with their respective families. Possibly in that exact order… or not.

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ii. passion [EXPLICIT]

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To start off with — despite the fact that The Lovely Success sounded like a title for a cringy romance novel or one of those published self-help books about how having self-confidence was the key to success, it was actually the name of an international law firm with multiple branches in different parts of the world. It was highly reputable, and the majority of the clients she'll end up meeting are in the upper class. Some snooty or entitled customers, but many polite and the slightest bit nosy — ignoring the annoying customers who flirt with her.

So, it stands to reason that for their company's holiday parties, it would require men in stiff suits and women dressed up in fancy-looking dresses. There was alcohol and champagne and treats on a buffet table, and some people who danced informally to the music.

However, because it was a company party composed of her co-workers and their partners, with a few outside businesspeople, the quality was nothing reminiscent of her days as an heiress as it was more informal. Admittedly, it did remind her too much of when she still lived with her family, but it was different enough for her to feel comfortable with the idea of attending.

Not that she'd be able to get out of it easily. There's either going to be networking opportunities or none at all, and for Athanasia, it tends to be the latter.

On her first end-of-the-year company party at the law firm, she somehow ended up drifting over to Lucas and befriending him, so it wasn't all for naught. They were aware of the other's existence, and had spoken on a few occasions as Lucas often had to fix the crummy company computers in her parts of the building.

They both mutually benefited in hanging out together that night — Lucas repelled the single men who tried to flirt with Athanasia with only an uncaring glance that intimidated them, and Athanasia ended up warding off the women who were pining for Lucas just by being the prettiest person in the law firm standing at his side with a thin smile. It was the start of a misunderstanding among their co-workers, who started to think that she and Lucas were romantically involved, but the two of them still didn't confirm or deny the rumours and simply ignored the question to this very day.

And why would they? It helped them, so there was never any reason to clear it up. For Lucas, it reduced his ever-growing headache when the majority of his co-workers stopped trying to flirt with him while on the job. For Athanasia, it lowered the number of flowers from secret admirers that she would find in her office, as well as put a halt to the rumours about her leading people just because she smiled at someone that day. Neither outright lied, but they didn't insinuate a damn thing. It was just too convenient, and they both knew it benefited the two of them.

Suffice to say, after that first party, it seemed like a given for her to stick with Lucas. They'd always sit at the same table with Cabel, since they both decided to start eating together in their shared camaraderie, and later, with Helena joining them after she graduates from law school a year after.

There was no reason for their unspoken routine to change when their third end-of-the-year company party came around.

It was supposed to be the same as usual.

But then everything changed.

——————————

(She remembers everything about that night with startling clarity.

And why wouldn't she, when she looked at the photos Lillian had sent her? Photos of Lillian's smile, of the pretty blue engagement ring that was now on her former nanny's finger, of the bouquet Lillian was thinking of making for her upcoming wedding.

And how could she not? When she remembers watching Cabel stand on one of his knees as if he was proposing — which he wasn't — holding Helena's hand as he dramatically asked her for a dance. Remembers how she would wistfully watch as Helena giggles with a bright and happy smile, leaving the table and going to the dance with their hands intertwined. She remembers that envy, making her feel just the tiniest bit of guilt at the happy couple's sweet moment.

And if only she could stop thinking of it all. How one glass of cheap-tasting and horrible champagne doubles and triples throughout the night. And how she'll mope and sulk at the table with Lucas, who stays by her side, talking to her lest she keeps reaching out for more champagne. And how she would be relieved, knowing that her cheeks were red from the alcohol and not because of her fluttering heart. How she vividly remembers vermilion eyes staring into her eyes, and how he takes her breath away, how she felt so incredibly warm and pleasant in his arms, how he held her in a tender embrace that her heart aches. How attractive he was, when he loomed over her, their bodies pressing closer and closer together with skin touching skin—

Ahem.

Suffice to say, she remembers that night very clearly.

Not that she'll admit it.)

——————————

Athanasia never really cares to remember much of the start when it came to parties. It was the same as previous years, in which a semi-mandatory Christmas party was held. For the most part, the people who first started this party had it with the intention of making it one of those matchmaking parties for singles. Now, it was just an excuse for a party and to gossip and matchmake whoever was single. Or unmarried; that was an important distinction. Granted, married couples still attend to show off their spouses.

As per tradition, she was seated at a table, sitting between Lucas and Helena. She arrived with Lucas, to fuel the implications and because it was easier for her to catch an Uber with him than for both of them to drive when they're going to be drinking tonight. After all, the alcohol will make this whole headache of a party be much more bearable. Worse comes to worst, she'll just crash on his couch if neither of them are sober enough to get an Uber for her. She's done it before — hell, everyone in their friend group always crashed at Lucas's place after having one too many drinks.

Absent-mindedly, she takes a sip of her glass of cheap champagne — it was disgusting since the day she first tried it, but time helped her adapt to the taste. At least it was a better brand this time, still bitter, a little too dry, but better — scrolling through the pictures Lillian had texted her. She was already pumped about the engagement since she knew Felix would propose the day before the Christmas party, and she was happy for Lillian. The wedding ring was a custom-made ring with a sparkling silver band, with little light blue gems shaped in a flower that matched Lillian's pretty blue eyes.

Athanasia had to help Felix with picking out the ring, since he had no eye for jewellery, but he was the one who noticed the blue gemstones on another piece of jewellery. He had the ring custom-made and ordered it the previous year — nerves got to him, but he did end up proposing eventually.

Oh, that was pretty, Athanasia thought, looking at the flower arrangements Lillian made at her family's flower shop. The bouquet was composed of soft blue and white flowers, with a bit of light silvery grey. Lillian was definitely going all out with their eye colours as a wedding colour theme, and Athanasia definitely agrees.

She finishes her drink before she gets a new glass of champagne as a waitress passes by.

A giggle is heard, light and familiar and obviously Helena's. Athanasia glances up from her phone with a flicker of her eyes, watching Cabel holding Helena's hand with a flourish. Like a nobleman holding a noblewoman's hand, he presses a kiss to the back of her hand, flashing Helena a charming smile.

"May I have this dance, my dear?" Cabel grinned, knowing full well what his girlfriend's answer was going to be.

"Of course," Helena giggled as he stood up, guiding her to stand up as well before he whisked her off to the dance floor.

It was a very strange sight to see Helena be so overjoyed with dancing. In fact, when they were younger, Helena confided in Athanasia that she dreaded going to any sort of party where she was expected to dance at least once. Her mother would often try to push boys their age onto Helena, as if trying to play matchmaker, and all of her friends were scrutinized and valued based on their family's worth.

Granted, it did help Helena form connections with their peers, and some of them did end up meeting Athanasia when she went on blind dates, but at least Helena didn't outright expect sparks to happen.

Helena smiled wide as she and Cabel danced.

She was sure Lucas had probably gagged over how lovey-dovey the two of them were being, but Athanasia couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Having a partner was always nice, but it was always a strange thought, knowing that she would've been married by now if her life didn't take a turn in her university days. Of course, she never thought of herself as a housewife, so she wanted a partner that wouldn't hate the fact that she would be the possible breadwinner of the household.

Maybe she'll end up alone? She could adopt a dog or two...

Athanasia sips on her glass, blinking when she realizes that she finished yet another glass. This time, she gets another glass of champagne from a waiter.

Lucas slowly takes a sip from his own glass as he eyed the two empty glasses in front of Athanasia. He frowns, seeming irritated as he heaved a heavy sigh. She very clearly noticed how much his eyes narrowed as if something was bothering him.

'What's his problem?' Athanasia thought sullenly as she downed another glass.

"Alright," Lucas grumbled before diving straight to his point as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "Out with it. What's eating you up inside?"

"Well, you don't have to be so rude about it," she grumbled. "What are you even talking about?"

"Seriously. I thought you hated champagne," he stated as she was halfway finished with her third glass.

"Ugh. Let me wallow and drown in my loneliness," she groaned, slumping in her seat as she pouted like a petulant child. "If you must know, I'm going to die as a crazy old cat lady, Luke."

Lucas stared at her blankly before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Meanwhile, Athanasia opened her purse, taking out the container for her coloured eye contacts. She takes out her eye contacts; blue jewelled eyes were now showing as she took out the rose pink contacts. Even though she was still feeling incredibly sober — it took more champagne than two and a half glasses' worth to make her tipsy, let alone drunk — she was always an emotional person when she had alcohol. She sniffed, starting to feel the full brunt of her feelings. Plus, almost everyone were starting to get a little too tipsy to care about appearances, or they already knew who her birth father was.

Lucas grumbled before reluctantly rubbing her back in an awkward attempt at a comforting gesture. "I'm sure that everything's... okay."

"Everything's not okay," eyes tearing up as she downed the rest of her champagne, she had answered in a wobbly voice. She knows that she'll feel embarrassed about blubbering over everything at Lucas again, but it isn't the first time, nor was it going to be the last time it happens. She really should stop drinking the champagne, but in her defense, it was free. "I'll end up old and alone with an army of cats."

"Why are you like—" Lucas started off with a disgruntled look before taking a deep breath. With a calm and flat voice, he starts over, "You can be crazy sometimes, but why do you think you're going to end up all alone? And why cats? I thought you loved dogs more."

"Helena was the only one willing to marry me, but now she's with Cabel, and I'm happy for them, but now I'm stuck watching them be lovey-dovey while I'm still single."

She and Helena always joked about being the other's fiancée, but in a way it was still accurate. After going through a rough breakup with Ijekiel, Helena assured her that she'll find someone better, and if not then Helena herself would marry her if either of them remained single by their 30th birthday. Athanasia wasn't in any rush to get married, especially since she was focused on her career, but the what-ifs plagued her.

(Plus, Helena only made the offer because she was always down for ruining her parent's expectations of her when it came to marriage. Apparently they only approved of Cabel because of his family, but Cabel was an absolute menace when they were younger, and Helena's parents remembered that very clearly. They don't approve of them living together as an unmarried couple, however.

Not that Helena cared, of course. She was the one who insisted they moved in together.)

"You do realize that I'm their friend, too. I have to deal with their lovey-dovey shit, so why do you think you're alone here?" Lucas dryly asked. He knew better than to ask about the other details like, for example, being a cat lady.

Athanasia paid him no mind, lost in her own thoughts.

What if she was 30, and still single? It wouldn't be a big deal, but she was just tired of always being alone. She wanted to get married, she wanted to find a partner to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted this, and that, and everything else that she feels is too much out of her hands.

"I'm only 27," Athanasia slouched over the table, twirling her glass of champagne before taking another sip and sighing. "What if I do find a guy, and we end up getting a divorce? I know Helena will always be there to represent me in a divorce court case, but what if we end up going to court fighting over the custody of our dog?!" She looked at Lucas with teary eyes. "Kids are common in custody battles, but not pets! What if I never get custody of our dog and I get so distraught that I have to resort to adopting cats because of the painful memories of losing the custody battle?! Not only would I have wasted years on a failed marriage, but I'd be losing my dog!"

He stared at her, an incredulous look on as he stared at her, thinking, why is she like this? What exactly was he even supposed to say to that? Was she having an existential crisis again? Is this what her existential crisis is supposed to look like? Why does this happen to him? He's a good person, he's beautiful, he's the best in his job field, so why does he have to deal with something as troublesome as this?

"You're kidding me."

"It's happened. Ask Helena — she had a case where a financially stable couple, amicable towards each other and agreeing on a 50-50 split of their assets, got into an argument of custody over their dog," she looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. "What if that's going to happen to me?! I don't want to be one of those crazy people in Helena's cases! People are crazy from beginning to end or they're crazy about one specific thing. I don't want to be one of them, refusing to accept any kind of agreement to the point that I end up going to court over whatever!"

"I think," Lucas slowly said, eyeing her warily, "that you're the one that needs to go outside more."

"Lucas!"

"Athena," he sighed. "Look, you're not going to be alone. I'm here too, I'm not in a relationship, so you don't have to worry if you think every couple will leave you by yourself."

"That's even worse!" she cried, propping her elbows on the table as she buried her face into the palm of her hands. "I'm gonna end up all alone with you. It's just not possible! You like cats more than dogs. And yeah, sure, cats are cute, but dogs. That's a dealbreaker, Luke — we're incompatible!"

"Gosh, I'm a sensitive guy, you know, that sort of statement kind of hurts my feelings," Lucas blandly states.

Well, it didn't actually hurt, rather he found her comment to be rude. Had she been someone else, he would've said something ominous or slightly threatening for insinuating that he wouldn't be a good partner.

Instead, he watches her cheeks flush pink as she finishes off the rest of her third glass before getting a fourth one. "Also, I never said anything about liking cats more than dogs — I don't have a preference, so don't worry. Feel free to form an army of dogs instead of cats," he shook his head, sipping the remainder of his champagne.

"Really?" she brightened up, looking at Lucas with watery eyes. "You would still be with me even after I get a bunch of dogs and be a crazy dog lady?"

"Yeah, sure," he rolls his eyes. "I support you."

Hopefully, she didn't actually take that seriously, he would later think. He didn't want to imagine her getting god knows how many dogs in a fit of insanity.

She had to have known he wasn't serious, right?

. . .

Hopefully.

——————————

(And, she'll later recall, looking back on all of this, that it was hard to forget that at the end of the day she was Athanasia de Alger Obelia. It wasn't a secret that she was the former heiress of her father's business, but it was easy to pretend she was someone else entirely the moment she left home and changed her surname to her mother's.

There were plenty of blondes named Athanasia out there in the world, some with different spell variations or similar sounding names like Anastasia. Probably with blue eyes, too, if they didn't notice the jewelled part of her blue eyes, but it was an easy fix with coloured contacts and her mother's maiden name.

Lily, Felix, and Helena constantly reminded her of that past, that Athanasia Lebedeva was considered the unloved daughter, that she would still be connected to her father.

It was never malicious, of course, but it always weighed down on her, knowing how much they knew.

But Lucas didn't. He didn't even care about who she was.

Maybe that was why she...)

——————————

And it's after her mini sob fest that things start to feel a little hazy.

She justifies every word and action as something done because of the alcohol that was running through her veins. Athanasia has never actually gotten drunk off of champagne, and all champagne ever does for her is make her head float as if she's on cloud nine, but when it comes to herself, Athanasia isn't a very honest person.

Lucas is more aware than she was, she's pretty sure, but the alcohol's making him grin more, and she's giggling and happy and bright. She's not an alcoholic, but she can understand why people would willingly drink and drink and drink.

They don't even realize that Cabel and Helena had already gone home for the night, not until they decided to leave. It was 10PM, only two hours after the party started, when Lucas says that he'd rather go home than stay any longer than what he was obligated to, and Athanasia agreed with the sentiment. He was only sticking around her to help keep their so-called relationship image to their co-workers, she reasoned.

She's had one too many drinks, and since their respective best friend ditched them, he was just being a good friend by being there for her, she reasoned. So that's why he lets her lean into his side, with an arm wrapped around her shoulder to hold her steady. Because she's just the slightest bit on the side of being too tipsy to walk straight.

So, she's honest when she's had one too many drinks. Her footsteps are unsteady, she gets more emotional than she'd like to be, and she relearns a fact that she's ignored for years: she's still lonely.

She feels it deep in her bones, stuck in a place of aching honesty.

She's lonely.

"I don't want to go back to my apartment," the words slip out as they wait in the elevator, waiting together, alone and just the two of them.

"I don't want to be alone again," her whispers roared in her mind, and her eyelids would flutter shut, focusing on the warm and comforting weight of his hand wrapped around her shoulder.

"That place just doesn't feel like a home," and she's not sure if she's talking about her crummy apartment or her father's estate. Maybe it's both.

"There's no one waiting for me there." Silence.

She feels the hand squeeze her shoulder, a light pressure, a reminder that there's a hand there, or rather, that he's still with her.

(Athanasia wonders if Lucas ever realized how much that minor gesture meant to her at that moment.)

"What do you want to do, then?" Lucas eventually asks, when she finally looks up at him. Sapphire blue meeting cinnabar red. "You're always welcome to stay with me tonight."

A pause.

And suddenly, there's an implication there, an unspoken question that she did not intend to happen.

And, Athanasia would reason to herself for the sake of preserving their friendship and keeping things Not weird, that it's just the alcohol that made her feel turned on by the implications. That her loneliness amplified a desire to fall asleep beside someone who'll keep her company.

"If that's what you want," Lucas eventually said as if it were an afterthought, staring into her eyes. It felt as if his eyes, his beautiful, unwavering eyes, were searching for something in her eyes.

(She doesn't know if he ever found what he was looking for.)

.

All she says is, "I do."

——————————

Athanasia would like to state that for the record, she is not normally carried away when she's tipsy.

Or at least, that's how she justified her actions. They were both sitting in the back of an Uber driver's car, and something about sitting next to each other just seemed to... spark something. She's not sure what it was, attraction, yeah, maybe something like lust — she's no stranger to hookups, but it's a first for it to involve one of her co-workers.

Something inexplicable sparks the moment their eyes meet in the backseat, because Lucas is staring at her, and she's looking back at him. Their fingers were interlocked, and they gravitated towards each other.

Maybe there was something between them all along, or perhaps it was a feeling spurred on from the champagne.

Perhaps both.

Their friendship is on the line here, but they both have an excuse of being drunk, with the alcohol thrumming through their veins. It makes them float, inclines them to do something more. They won't have to address any awkward feelings or confront anything personal in the morning.

All that matters for now is that they want to make a mistake.

.

(And a mistake they will commit.)

.

They do end up kissing in that same backseat. Her hands were loosely wrapped around his neck as Lucas ran one of his hands through her hair, effectively undoing the hair bun she had for the occasion, as he placed his other hand around her waist. She felt so warm, and she wanted more, more, more.

It wasn't a chaste kiss.

Their kiss leaves her with swollen lips, a face flushed red, and with burning lungs. She pulled away to breathe, and when she breathed, it was the first time in years that she'd felt so much more alive — she could taste the champagne that they both had, still felt the feeling of his tongue against hers.

She doesn't think about their friendship, about the possible consequences of the two of them doing this, nor does she think of the fact that they weren't supposed to be doing this.

(The thrill of being intimate with Lucas would be worth that risk, she thought.)

Instead of their friendship, she thinks about his eyes — molten cinnabar trapped in an intense stare, for her and only her at this very moment. Instead of their friendship, she thinks about how pretty he looks with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes. Instead of their friendship, she thinks about the way his voice sounds, the way it lowers with a raspy tone as he whispers 'Athy' and how pleasant it feels for him to say her nickname like that.

And instead of their friendship, she thinks about the way he feels, his lips on hers, the way their fingers intertwined, the weight of his hand around her waist, or the comfort of his fingers that were now running through her hair.

Because instead of their friendship, all she can think about is wanting more, more, more.

So she makes her move, her fingers wrapping around his tie to pull his lips back down to meet hers in a rough rush. It's hot, it's breathier than the kiss before, it's heavy with unspoken promises, and still, it doesn't feel enough. And it's this time that Lucas is the one to pull away for air, and he stares at her with half-lidded eyes.

He looks at her as if he wants her and no one else, as if he wants more than just a bruising kiss to remember this night by.

And... she knows that she wants more, too.

Her heart is bursting, pounding hard the longer she stares into Lucas's eyes in the back of a stranger's car, as they're undoubtedly breaking seatbelt laws. And Lucas's hand creeps up the skirt of her dress, a warm hand resting on her thigh as he leans in close. It was enough to convey that it wasn't just her that wanted this, but also a reassurance that he could still back off at her say so.

Not that she would ever want him to.

"Let me have you," he mumbles into her ear, quiet for her to hear, before pulling back enough for him to look at her eyes. His other hand cups her cheek — feeling refreshingly cold against her burning skin. And as she looks into his half-lidded eyes, she finds herself effectively ensnared by his charming good looks that she often cursed.

"Okay," she breathes, thinking about how she wants his hand to crawl higher than just her thigh right now. She didn't care about the what-ifs or what-happens-next. The only thing on her mind is his touch, his kiss, his stare focused on her and nothing else.

"Okay?" he echoes with a teasing smirk, his lips so close to hers that it feels almost torturous.

She frowns.

Again, her hand yanks on his tie for another abrupt kiss.

However, Lucas has the gall to huff in amusement as he turns his head slightly, causing her to kiss his cheek instead as if he predicted that from her. And he gives her a teasing smirk when she puffs up her cheeks at him for avoiding the kiss. And instead of saying anything else, he simply grins at her unspoken frustration, his hand holding a lock of her hair, bringing it up to his lips. Her hair was loose and messy from their make-out session.

It's only when their Uber driver states, "We're here," with relief in their voice as the car reaches to a halt, that she realizes that this must've been the reason why Lucas put an abrupt pause to their backseat kissing.

(It's only later, when she thinks back on this moment, that she'd like to profusely apologize to the Uber driver.)

.

Athanasia no longer feels tipsy enough to need help with standing and walking, but their impromptu make out session does give her slightly weak knees. Lucas still uses her being "tipsy" as an excuse to hold her in a princess carry to his apartment.

And despite her initial protests, she doesn't actually mind it.

In fact, she never wants him to let go.

——————————

Lucas drops her onto his bed, his hand reaching up to loosen his tie — it's a sight she's only seen in her guilty pleasure romance movies, a sight she's only fantasized about until now. He hovers above her which makes her heart leap, and there's something about the look in his eyes, something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy, and she thinks she's going to go crazy from how hard her heart beats.

There's an ache in her skin that makes her burn for so much more that it's beginning to feel unbearable. She wants him inside her, wants to feel him being rough against her, to scratch his back.

"I want to hear you scream my name, Athanasia," he whispers against her neck, his breath and the way he says her name causes a shiver to go down her spine. He chuckles at the reaction, seeming almost smug about it, too.

That was kind of annoying, she huffed.

He's lucky that he's cute.

"I'm not a screamer, Lucas," she cheekily states, and she's pretty sure that it's true. She'll gasp and pant and quietly moan, but she's never cried out, she's never screamed her partner's name before.

She kind of wants to scream tonight, though, and she thinks that if it's Lucas, he could succeed. If it's him, she might scream his name and cry when they twist and turn in ecstasy.

But she does want to wipe that smirk off his face. It would be tempting to stay quiet.

"Not for long," he murmurs, sounding awfully confident.

"Think you're up for the challenge?"

"It's a promise, Athy."

.

.

.

With her clothes off and undergarments remaining, she's feeling more exposed than she's ever been. Her panties and bra are black and lacy — a matching set she bought to make herself feel prettier and confident, and she feels incredibly relieved to know she wore the best pair of her underwear tonight.

She just didn't expect to feel so much more than that when Lucas sucks on her neck, his knee pressing up against her panties that she knows are getting soaked more and more and — oh god, she quietly moans.

And he swallows up her moans by kissing her lips, tongue pressing against tongue, and it leaves her breathless and aching, her eyes nearly tearing up as her hips press down against his knee. It's not enough friction for the throbbing need that she feels, the heat pooling below her stomach, and she clenches down on nothing as the ache only continues to grow relentless and insatiable. She's not normally reduced to tears, but Lucas has been hitting all the right spots since their night together started.

He starts to leave a trail of kisses, starting from her jaw back down to her neck where he leaves another hickey or two — it causes her to shiver and moan. Then a kiss to her breast trailing down to her hip, his body sliding down only to stop when he's eye level with her panties. And she removes the arm covering her eyes to look down at him, wondering why he stopped.

There's an insufferable smirk on his face that turns her on, but it also makes her want to punch it off.

Preferably both. Undoubtedly both.

"Well, now," Lucas seemed just about ready to tease, his hands brushing against her inner thigh, causing her to gulp from how sensitive her thighs were. As if he figured that out, his hand absentmindedly brushes her inner thigh back and forth with his index finger, slowly and almost torturous. Again, she clenches down on nothing. "I know I'm handsome, but I never would've thought that you would be this wet for me already."

"Ugh, will you just get a move on already, you insufferable—" As if anticipating her frustrated response, he presses his finger against her clit through her silk panties. The sudden sensation causes her to let out a startled squeak, there's a spark as he rubs against the bundle of nerves that causes her eyes to tear up more as she gulps and breathes, her hips arching up, grinding into that single finger through the thin, wet layer of her panties.

Just as she was about ready to snap at Lucas again, to demand that he stopped teasing her, the insufferable tease knew the perfect way to catch her off guard.

He tugs her panties off, leaning down to lock his mouth to her clit and suck. The unexpected force of it causes her to gasp loudly, back arching as she throws her head back against the bed, the balls of her feet pressing against his back. Two of his fingers slip into her, sliding in and out with ease as he leisurely stretches her open, and the relentless pace, the unwavering pressure that keeps building up more and more — it makes her melt and cry out as she bursts.

And for a minute, he just keeps going, drawing out the overwhelming pleasure as she cries from the overstimulation.

She can feel the smug curve of his lips against her body before he finally stops, giving her a moment to breathe.

"You're terrible. Absolutely terrible," she grumbles, shooting him a withering look.

"I thought I was doing pretty good with all those cute gasps," he states impishly, that smug grin still on his face. "Do I need to do something to redeem myself, your highness? Should I properly eat you out this time?"

That was not what she meant, and he knows it.

And right now, that's not what she wants from him, either. (At least, for now, anyway, the thought of him eating her out did sound good.)

"Just fuck me already!"

——————————

Lucas is the type of person who likes to take his time, she quickly learns.

He takes his time to explore her body, making her squirm and moan and gasp with every purposeful stroke in a way she's never known. She's known that he's always been the teasing sort of guy, but she only now realizes how that translates into the bedroom as he presses his teeth across her skin, only biting down when he hears the slightest stutter of breath coming from her lips just to hear her gasp and moan. His lips kiss her inner thighs, and she finds herself sighing and humming as he leaves behind love marks wherever he touches — the reddening marks easily hidden, but will undoubtedly be felt with every movement she makes.

And yet he still manages to tease her, the way his tongue licks and presses against her breasts, sucking on each nipple until they're pert and stiff while he fingers her open. It's the first time she's ever burned with a need for more. It's the first time her eyes tear up in years, and for her hips to still uncontrollably move.

It's the first time that she desperately wants to feel everything, to be touched and held and loved and, and—

And all she can think about is "Lucas, please, right there, more, oh god—"

.

.

When he sinks into her, his entire length inside her, he groans. It's a low and raspy tone of voice, and while she's heard him groan out complaints, heard him murmur her name in a low tone, this was different, this groan causes her to shiver with eager anticipation. And as he gives her a moment to adjust to that feeling of being full, he kisses her, soft and sweet enough that it could rot her teeth.

She whines at the feeling, feeling herself adjust to the very noticeable length inside her, planning to cover her face only for Lucas to stop her arm. And he kisses her, whispering against her lips, "Don't hide, I want to see your face." And it's quiet, paired with a softened gaze.

(She'll deny it in the aftermath, but these are the moments that she'll hope to repeat.

Her heartfelt light and full of affection.)

.

.

Athanasia begs him — without prompting — to move.

And he obliges, sliding in and out with ease. The second time he slides back in, she easily decides, was much better than the first. The third time was certainly a charm. And when he slams in on the fourth, she cries out, no longer judging the movements as long as he does it again, faster, harder.

And when he drives his hips forward, she trembles, losing herself in pleasure. And it gets even better when her legs widen, and he slams down against her, hitting the spot that makes her scream the loudest she's ever been. And Lucas, ever the man who pays attention to every little thing that he's done to draw out noises that she didn't even know that she could make until now, repeats that action and makes her writhe against his bedsheets and weep out pleas.

"Please, please, please— Lucas!"

.

.

She screams his name, in the end.

——————————

In the aftermath, when they're both finished, they just lay there together in each other's arms, cuddling. She was tired, she felt sticky and gross from the dried up sweat and the smell of sex in the air. Still, she could tell that they were both satisfied and content, and too exhausted to do much else.

Her cheeks burn red at the feeling of cum dripping out of her — she really ought to go shower and clean up, but she'll do that tomorrow. She'll need to buy a Plan B tomorrow, anyway. For now, she just wants to do nothing.

And as she lays in his bed, with his arms wrapped around her, she starts to doze off with her head tucked in the crook of his neck. His fingers ran through her hair, and she sighs, relaxing against his. She allows herself to indulge in this warm comfort, and she curls up against him with a smile.

They can worry about the world tomorrow, for all she cares.

That'll be a morning problem.

——————————

The first thing that registers in Athanasia's mind is that she doesn't want to get up.

When she awakens, she allows herself another indulgence, a fantasy, a what-if scenario. "What if we were actually together and hopelessly in love" type of scenario. It's not hard to imagine, with her naked in a big and comfortable bed that doesn't belong to her.

And it's just so easy, when lays at her side, propped up on one hand as the other hand runs through her hair, fingers twirling her hair.

There's a moment, where he caresses her cheek, and she'll reason with herself, that it's just on the spur of the moment, or that he's just sleepy when he pecks her lips. A chaste kiss that's softer than anything she's ever known.

As she lays in his arms, in his warm embrace, she wonders if she should pursue this.

Ultimately, she doesn't.

Not yet, anyway.

.

(But, to be honest, that is neither here nor there.)

——————————

She manages to take a shower without much of an issue. Her muscles are sore, her legs a tiny bit weak and wobbly, but she's warm and clean. The process was a pain in the ass — literally — but she can't say she regrets a damn thing. It was the best lay she's ever had, and Athanasia has been with other people.

When she leaves his bathroom, she's wearing a large clean shirt that makes her feel like a dwarf because Lucas was a jerk who just had to pick the biggest shirt for her to wear. He did have a small pair of shorts that he kept in storage with all the other stuff he hadn't worn since his high school days. So she at least won't be stuck in a shirt the whole night.

She could still smell his shampoo in her hair. Even though she adored her apple-scent shampoo and her flower soaps, Lucas at least had the same shampoo and soap brand as her. He had the standard stuff, but apart from that, he had a shelf of lotions in his room. Helena always lamented about how unfair it was that she hardly ever needed facial cleansers or face lotions to have such smooth skin. Athanasia wonders how much Helena would find a sort of kinship with Lucas after hearing of his vast collection.

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, they don't talk about last night.

She finds Lucas moving leisurely around his kitchen, the smell of warm eggs and bacon simmering in the kitchen. He was dressed in a loose t-shirt and a simple pair of black shorts.

Apart from him stopping and staring at her, with the way his eyes trailed up and down as he took in the sight of her, blatantly checking her out, everything felt simple and normal. It was nice, domestic, even, with just the two of them without their friends.

They're both clearly aware that there's something new between them, something that wasn't there prior to last night. They talk about anything, anything except for last night.

Granted, she almost smacked him when he didn't even try to hold back his snicker at the obvious limp in her steps. It's not her fault her hips and legs were sore!

Still, she finds out more about Lucas as they sit and eat together. They talk about their upcoming holiday plans. Lucas would be going to visit his grandmother for a week, since she's been nagging him about not seeing her much, about how he never visits. She knew that he has two brothers, but apparently he's the grandmother's favourite.

She tells him about her plans to celebrate Felix and Lillian's engagement with her bridesmaids, Hannah and Ces. As she excitedly tells him about being Lillian's bridesmaid, as her mother was originally supposed to be, there's a look in his eyes that she might consider to be... fond? Athanasia tries not to think too deeply about it.

Something does change between them, after that night. Because sometimes Lucas would twirl his fingers through her hair mid-conversation. Because sometimes Athanasia would hold his hand, and he would let her hold it without a single word or any sort of complaint. There were times when he would linger around her at work — he still did his work efficiently as possible, but he was more willing to talk. He'd ask questions, he'd stay around her for a fee extra minutes after he finished, ignoring calls until he decided to grace other departments with his presence.

They don't kiss, and that suits her just fine. It's clear that they're in this awkward in-between stage, that their feelings are mutual. She's fine with staying as friends for now, and he is, too. Eventually, she'd like to date him, but she's not sure how serious she wants them to be, because she's nearing thirty now, and she does want to have a family of her own one day, and Lucas doesn't give off the feeling of being a family man...

Still, she likes how different things are. It's in the little things — the lingering stares, the secretive smiles, and their brief touches.

It makes her heart flutter, and she doesn't know what to call this feeling.

.

.

. 'I regret nothing,' she ultimately thinks.

#fic: it was only one night #wmmap au #wynter writes #lucathy #lithium tag #ilyusha tag

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

You Should Care

I've been AWOL for a little while. Brain has not been working right.

That aside this is a topic I've been meaning to cover more in depth and I really wish I could get it seen by bigger names than myself like Moist, Asmond, etc. Which is the larger issue with what happened with Russell Brand.

For those of you COMPLETELY out of the know, Russell Brand has recently been accused of sexual assault, "Being a creep", and rape. These accusations came out after a "Journalist" approached several women, specifically with the intent to find women that would say things against him. Mind you, all of these allegations are over 7-10 years old and some older than 20 years ago. (Several women also came out claiming the exact opposite, and several more women came forward saying the journalists approached them as well, but because they only had good things to say, they were ignored).

Now what I'm about to cover is the larger ramifications this is going to have in the future. After these allegations came out the BBC and Channel 4 unilaterally took down almost all if not all of his content and shows. Not long after that happened, we heard that several other people were removing Brands ability to make money, specifically YouTube. Who demonetized him outright. Now thanks in part to Rumble and also....SHOCKINGLY, TikTok. Seen here.

So this is a GOVERNMENT, who actually has a decent amount of power, sending out requests to Public and Private companies, to remove the FULL ABILITY of a Private Citizen, to earn money.

Now you can totally believe that Brand did what he has been accused of. And if you do? More power to you. However, you should not agree with him being depersoned and debanked without a trial and conviction by a jury of his peers. However, this becomes impossible as news of the allegations spreads in general. It's a social assassination using the media.

However, now for the actual scary part. Under the "Freedom loving UK's" New laws, the are now threatening to remove Rumble from their country outright for not getting rid of Brands ability to make money. Never in my life have I seen this kind of blackmail by a government this publicly. For context here is some stuff that's coming out recently.

This feels like the UK reaching out to people that advertise on Rumble in an attempt to remove Brands ability to make money, but also to remove him from the internet as a whole.

And this should scare you. Not because it's some "Rich guy who used to be kind of promiscuous publicly". This is because it proves that governments have a monopoly on companies. Regardless of the interests of the public. What do I mean by this. Consider the following.

The UK Gov, more or less demanded, Russell Brand have all money earnings removed outright to YouTube(Yes other places but let's focus on this one for the moment).

Then, YouTube, takes and removes his ability to make money and removes him from the Partner Program as well. They in fact cite "Off Site Behavior" in doing this. Meaning, this sets a precedent, for YouTube, to receive a "Claim" or "allegation" against you, and they will act on it as if it's actual fact.

That should worry you. And no matter how much you don't like that "Nazis" exist, or any other awful group of people, Rumble and Kick are places that are supposed to be arenas of competition for YouTube and Twitch. Will they ever actually overtake? Probably not. But if we don't actually take a vested interest in trying to move people over to using the competition, we are more or less letting places, like the UK, or any other country for that matter, decide what is, "Real information".

How long until the profit motive from China becomes so much that companies start removing LGBT stuff from all media. How much profit motive from China is needed before they say, "Yeah no we don't just want you to minimize black roles in media. Take them completely out entirely". And while you think, "That will never happen", It's literally happening right now. THIS is the very public start to that problem. If we don't make this the hill we fight and die on, we are bowing to censorship, and we will not win this ground back.

It might be about time you started to take notice. Shit's going to go south really soon. How long until you take a stand?

#discourse #youtube

[maybebecomingms]

it makes a little more sense now

Last fall, my boss hired someone we had both known for many years. We worked together with him often, as he worked for a company we frequently partner with. We had gotten to know him well (or so we thought), and we were so excited about him joining our team.

Neither one of us could have predicted what an absolute trainwreck this arrangement would be. You never knew when or if he’d show, he had seemingly endless personal issues, and he never actually grasped the job. (The one he’d been doing prior was objectively more difficult) He gave notice less than two months after he started, and he was gone the next day. 

He would frequently tell us things like “I want to be here,” and “I will be here; I DO want to make this work.” No one ever challenged him otherwise; he would initiate these comments seemingly out of nowhere. After the fact, we agreed he said these things in an attempt to convince HIMSELF he actually wanted to be there.

Today I was cleaning out one of those 3-tiered Sterilite organizers and I found SO.MANY.CARDS. Birthday cards. Anniversary cards. Christmas cards. Wedding cards. Whatever cards. Some of them were special, the kind you’d keep forever. A lot of them were not particularly meaningful, so I got rid of them.

Reading the wedding cards was painful. So many poignant sentiments that just aren’t true anymore. There were a lot of poignant sentiments on most of the cards from my in-laws that I don’t think have ever been true - but that’s another topic for another time.

Nearly every serious card in the pile from my husband (birthdays, Christmas, etc.) had a note written something to the effect of “I DO love you.” This probably wasn’t unprovoked on my end - I often didn’t feel loved, and even when I don’t say directly what’s going on in my head, my nonverbals usually give me away. This isn’t new.

Reading notes like that over and over again started to give me serious “he kept saying that to convince himself" vibes. 

And even if it was more a response to my continual challenges that he didn’t... why was I continually so certain he didn’t love me? Why was I constantly challenging this? I do not challenge my friends when they say they love me. I do not challenge my mother when she says she loves me. Because I believe them. I don’t need to think about it. I just know.

For so many years I dismissed my own concerns; I gaslit myself. I’m just paranoid, dramatic, manipulative. There’s nothing wrong here, except me.

You can only ignore your “gut,” your intuition, for so long, until it screams at you and forces you to understand something. 

I’m finally listening.

[fanfictiondreamscape]

"Lord Death is my dad now. Sorry, Kid." - Meeting DTK’s Father HCs

Request: Hey! If that's okay could i request some headcanons for Lord Death acting as a father figure to Kid's s/o?

And maybe kid's s/o doesn't have a good relationship with their actual parents but as soon as Death started acting this way they're immediately like "okay you're my dad (in law!) now."

The whole thing is just-

Btw can you tag me once it's ready? Thanks!

Feel free to ignore if you're not comfy with it!!

Title: "Lord Death is my dad now. Sorry, Kid." - Meeting DTK’s Father HCs

Genre: fluffy, v e r y comedic, angst if you squint, and frankly a lil romantic at some points

Pairing: Death the Kid x GN!Reader

Notes: Okay, the second I saw this in my inbox, I was excited. Like, really excited.

Not only because of the meme included, (though that was one things that caught my attention, to be fair-) but also due to the request itself. I can totally see Lord Death doing this and Kid being so embarassed, and the whole gang clowning him for it- 

A whole treasure trove of ideas slapped me square in the face, and I really appreciate you for that! On another note, I decided to roll with headcanons, so I hope that’s alright. 

Do note that there will be some slight mentions of familial abuse/neglect, so proceed with caution if you wish to read it. 

That said, I hope you enjoy it! 

Below the cut!

being a student at the DWMA was a fun experience, just as much as it was dangerous

and you were most definitely more open than you were when you first started schooling

but most people chalked that up to meeting death the kid

you came in after the main group did, even after kid did, so you were to be guided around the school by someone.

you didn’t have a partner yet, but that would be soon to come, and it just happened to come to be by the end of the day.

normally, that itself would have been a milestone

but

you didn’t expect that lord death’s son would be the one to give you the guide

you had been instructed to arrive at 7 to pick up any information and ask any questions about protocols that were needed (a staff member met you outside) 

but were told that your tour would start at 8 am as opposed to when you were done with your questions

which was weird, until kid showed up and proclaimed happiness at seeing you there on time

it clicked then, and you had been intrigued since

its been a few years now, you had met the group and had gotten along with them and your partner did as well

but the thing that not a single person expected to happen (aside from certain teachers and staff, of course) was that you and kid got close

and closer

and closer

until liz caught on and called you both out in the middle of a basketball game in the park’s court

seriously, she shouted at the both of you

“kiss and get over the tension already!” to be exact

so you two did

on your second date- 

but yeah, that started the roller coaster ride that is called your relationship with death the kid

on a more serious note, though this was completely unexpected

the only reason you had a partner was because they were an old friend of yours and you both applied to the DWMA 

and got lucky enough that you two were accepted

so you two obviously collaborated when you ran into each other and eventually became a weapon and meister pair

but again, that was due to the bond you two had growing up

your parents never really reacted well around each other, and thus the relationship you wanted with the both of them never came

in fact, it twisted what you already had and now you refuse to contact them unless absolutely neccessary

really, you wanted something more meaningful with the both of them, but their approach to relationships, love, and life in general turned you away from anyone that you just...couldn’t trust 

and kid just so happened to understand your hesitance to speak on it, and respected it

(almost) everyone else tried to pry, but he didn’t

and the way that he handled it just felt...diffferent than the way others did

you respected it

and you knew he respected you and your boundaries as well

so yeah

that trust was the reason

it wasn’t until you had been brought to the death room with him to meet his father that you saw your chance

“heya, kiddo! who have you got here with you?”

“father, this is my partner, (y/n).”

“hello, lord death.”

he sounded super cheery, extremely far off from what you expected

but it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise

“just call me pops, kid!”

that moment was when it clicked

kid was deathly embarassed, but you?

yeah, you were basking in it

from that point forward, if you were to ever see lord death, you would always do things that you wanted to do with your parents

card games, stupid paintings, discussing stupid things

hell, he even managed to pull out images of kid as a baby when you had dropped in to bring something to him before you and kid actually began your date

that was a story lol

“(y/n), dear, i’m so sorry about him-”

“no, no, no, it’s fine, kid!”

“as fine as it may be, it was quite sudden and he is often like that...”

“i can tell, but really - it’s fine, kid.”

he sighed a sigh of relief

“...but you were an absolutely a d o r a b l e baby, y’know that?”

cue kid slamming his face into the table at the cafe you were currently at 

and that’s not all 

whenever lord death would drop by the gallows mansion, he would always be sure to ask about you you weren’t there

it honestly made kid a little jealous 

but it was all in good fun

kid knew of your family issues, so he knew what lord death was to you 

which made even more sense when you had to get something off your chest but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell kid

your parents had tried to contact you, pestering you and ridiculing you for not coming over and not calling them to inform them of your state

you knew they didn’t really care, you knew they only wanted to mooch off your status as the partner to lord death’s son

it really rubbed you the wrong way, and you had to rant, kick, scream, and cry

but you didn’t want to burden kid with that

whether he would understand wasn’t what you were afraid of, rather it was burdening him

you knew that he would listen and do what he could possibly do to ease your tension

but you needed a nice card game and some tea to talk it over

so you went to lord death

(after checking if he was available, obviously) 

he was curious, admittedly, but no matter

why wouldn’t he welcome a student just wanting to talk?

especially considering that things were going as normal

(and that you were making kid happy anyway-) 

you went over, and he had already been doing some shuffling

tea wasn’t made, obviously

but you still came in

“ah, (y/n)! what brings you in, kiddo?”

you waved, slightly

“some family stuff. you don’t mind if i stay here and talk it out with you, do you?”

“of course not! let’s have a seat and then we can talk, hmm?”

you smiled slightly, nodding

“i’d like that.”

and so tea was brought in, cards were set up, and you began to play a multitude of card games 

you ranted, telling him of why you came here

(he suspected something was going on because most people that come in from out of town without their parents imply some indication of homesickness)

(you didn’t) 

how your parents were neglectful, failing to not only praise your achievements, but also failing to truly care for you

it was similar to matilda, to be frank

you even compared that movie to your life

your parents were greedy and materialistic

and you didn’t fall in with what they wanted

you could honestly care less about what they wanted from you at this point,

but the fact that they had called you and demanded - yes, D E M A N D E D - that you share the spoils of death the kid and lord death...

yikes

it tipped you over the edge

it was then that death saw what kid saw in you, the reason as to why he came to this point

not only were you respectful, intelligent, and highly capable

you were also extremely strong to endure that 

lord death let you scream, cry, even break a couple of objects that weren’t needed anymore to blow off steam

and once you were done, he gently patted your head and handed you the last cookie that was on the plate

“if you need to talk ever again, come on back. i’m here to help you, kiddo!”

you laughed brushing the nonexistent dirt off your pants before you thanked him

(and grabbed the cookie. obviously.) 

he was curious as to why you didn’t tell, kid, though...

you were walking out when he stopped you once more

“if i could ask, though, why didn’t you tell kiddo?”

you shrugged, making a face

“i don’t want to burden him. he’s already stressed out enough, i couldn’t do that to him.”

“oh, don’t worry about kid! i promise he’ll understand, (y/n).”

you nodded once more, thanked him once again, and left the death room.

and from that point forward, you and kid had lord death as your biggest fan.

on multiple occassions, you and death would team up to help kid

you both were cheering him on when blackstar wanted to challenge him to a fight to test his improvement

you were in there to tell him about the new progress you and your partner had made

but then maka had sent you a text saying that kid and blackstar were going at it

(yes, we’re gonna act like they have cell phones)

you giggled at it, told lord death, and then proceeded to watch from a window

after you told maka to access it, of course

when the image came up, you were both armed with pom-poms and confetti

kid balked and soul, the twins, as well as maka bust out laughing

(blackstar just shouted about how he was going to win and that you two should be supporting him lol)

that fight went well

(for kid) 

and the next day was spent playing basketball with the gang

it was there that you did the same thing

and who did the same thing when kid had reported progress?

of course, the one and only lord death! 

there were even a couple occassions that you would drop in with kid when he would go to report progress ‘

(or you, it happened both ways) 

that things would get sidetracked before the progress could be communicated,

and death would pull out something that kid loved when he was younger to show you

baby pictures, an old stuffed animal, some old drawings that he’d done

you loved it, lord death enjoyed it, and kid was perpetually embarrassed

(though he always knew it was all in good fun) 

he did have to admit that it made him really happy, though

he wasn’t sure if you would get along with his father considering the relationship you had with yours was far from ideal

but his worries proved false

it allowed comfort for the both of you,

and lord death really appreciated and respected you for helping kid come to terms with his OCD and help him when he would panic or simply require backup

and as for you? 

you had a lot of ammo to fire at kid if the time came for you to surprise him 

(read: lighthearted blackmail) 

and you also had a good source of information to reach out to when you were stumped for a gift 

all in all, it worked out perfectly

and, when it came time to either become a death scythe or get your weapon to becoming a death scythe

lord death had paired you, your partner, kid, and the twins altogether as a team

you not only managed to gain acclaim, but also a father that truly loves his child and a boyfriend that respects you and treats you as you both know you deserve to be treated

(plus the inside jokes that came from talking with death confuse kid often, so that’s another plus) 

- @dexpairs-blog​ - 

#deaththekid #death the kid #soul eater #souleater #souleaterdeaththekid #soul eater death the kid #dtk #souleaterdtk #soul eater dtk #souleaterxreader #soul eater x reader #souleaterdeaththekidxreader #soul eater death the kid x reader #deaththekidxreader #death the kid x reader #souleaterdtkxreader #soul eater dtk x reader #dtkxreader #dtk x reader

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Hey 👋

I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤

Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.

Or

Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.

Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣

Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕

Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!

Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.

trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking

You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.

You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.

You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.

You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.

With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."

"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."

"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."

"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."

Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.

You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.

"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"

"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.

You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.

Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."

The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"

You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."

"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"

Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.

"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.

You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."

You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"

"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.

"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"

Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.

Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."

"Will, I-" you protested.

"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."

You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.

Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.

He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.

"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."

"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."

"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.

"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.

Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."

"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.

You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.

"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"

"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.

"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"

"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.

You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."

"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.

"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.

"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."

"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.

You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.

"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."

Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.

"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"

"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.

"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"

"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.

You nodded. "Naturally."

Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."

"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."

Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."

You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #will graham x reader #will graham #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x you #poly hannigram #hannigram #hannigram x reader #anon request #anon ask

[erodasfishtacos]

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding. 

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!

please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!

---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought. 

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning. 

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding. 

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations. 

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong. 

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour. 

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date. 

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area. 

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures. 

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment. 

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly. 

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being. 

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives. 

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often. 

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day. 

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red. 

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

-

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting. 

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way. 

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were. 

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models. 

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow. 

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much. 

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

--

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous. 

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that. 

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London. 

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on. 

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner. 

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar. 

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant. 

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them. 

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

 “I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date. 

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him. 

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so. 

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight. 

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones. 

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

--

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition. 

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

-

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment. 

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after. 

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

--

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

-

Hair and makeup went fast. 

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving. 

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding. 

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing. 

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about. 

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design. 

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family. 

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle. 

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony. 

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***. 

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm. 

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off. 

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless. 

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple. 

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

--

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

--

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

--

The reception is more of a dinner than a party. 

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect. 

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry. 

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle. 

There is not much more to say than that. 

--

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough. 

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night. 

To have someone laid out underneath him. 

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek. 

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay. 

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers. 

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them. 

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would. 

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

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[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #*ficlet #i only know about bipolar from thw show so don't hold my word for anything written in this #btw anon hope you have a wonderful day #thank you for the ask!