#the cursed fucking post is so getting PLENTY of notes

[altruistic-meme]

finally, we have once again reached the point where my notes are usable <3

#the cursed fucking post is so getting PLENTY of notes #but they are not all-consuming anymore #and in fact i have finally gone a good period of time with NO new notes #nature is healing <3 #itll be fucked up again next year but that's a year of relative peace and only occasional jumpscares <3 #maybe next year it won't blow up 2 weeks early (it probably will) #shh ac

[galaxysgal]

𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader

summary: just lip being a cute bf + debbie and ian being little shits

warnings: lowercase on purpose. poorly written tbh. swearing but y’all know how it is. heavily unedited. gen said yolo so i’m posting

A/N: i’ve been on hiatus for god knows how long but my roommate and i started watching shameless and i can’t get this mfer out of my head. things w school and life are hard rn so i just wrote this comfy cozy little thing in my notes app. yolo asf.

wordcount: probably like 500 or less idk i wrote it in my notes app at 1am

— — — — — — — — — — —

you’re nestled in lip’s arms, high up on his rickety top bunk. somewhere between finishing your nails and kissing until you could barely breathe, you had fallen asleep right against his chest.

you stirred now, your cozy world interrupted a squeaky little voice. “are you in love with her?” debbie questions.

lip shushes his sister, “be quiet, she’s sleeping.”

you were wide awake now, but much too comfortable to move and make that little fact known. plus, you wanted to hear his answer.

“i asked you a question dummy. are you in love with her?”

lip stutters, “i-i dunno. i really like her, okay?”

you’re satisfied with that answer. “in love” was a little too much too quick. but “really like” was something that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“what d’ya like about her?” ian presses.

you can practically hear the gears turning in lip’s head as his siblings impatiently await a response.

“she’s- i dunno, she’s pretty?” lip replies. you hold back a scowl, annoyed at him for not having a better answer.

“yeah, great rack,” debbie comments.

“jesus, deb!” lip’s head falls back in frustration, one hand coming to cradle your head as not to wake you with the sudden motion.

“cut the shit lip,” ian interrupts. “tell us what you really think.”

you hold your breath as you wait for his response. his lips brush your hairline before he sighs. “she’s sweet, yeah? real kind.”

“a real woman of the people,” ian snorts, “princess diana type.” then “ow!” as you hear debbie shove him.

“and- and she’s real smart, too,” lip continues. “really, really fuckin’ smart. an’ she works hard. she just tires herself out sometimes.”

he strokes your hair gently, pressing a few more fleeting kisses to your forehead.

“you’re so whipped.”

you hear debbie shove her brother again, and this time ian fights back, the two making a ruckus as they push each other back and forth.

“come on guys, out. now.” lip orders his siblings around with that same stern voice you’ve heard plenty of times before.

debbie pouts. “but-“

“no buts. go on, she’s fuckin’ sleepin’ in here an’ you’re gonna wake her up. fuck off.”

“we were just-“

“fuck. off.”

“jesus,” you can practically hear ian roll his eyes. “alright, alright. we’re going.”

debbie yells for fiona as the two shuffle out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind them.

you smirk to yourself as lip groans above you, showing your cards. “you’re awake?”

you peer up at him through your lashes, a smirk planted on your lips that he’s just dying to kiss off. “can’t believe your little sister said i have a great rack,” you whisper.

lip laughs, loud and genuine. “yeah, she’s been stuffing fi’s old training bras. growin’ up an’ shit. i don’t like it.”

you’re quiet for a moment, admiring him. you know how important those kids are to him. he’d do just about anything for them, including the minor crimes you find him tangled up in on a weekly basis. he loves them like they’re his own kids, which honestly they kind of are. they may shove each other around, curse each other out, yell and scream at the top of their lungs, but at the end of the day lip has been more of a father to his siblings than frank ever was.

“you really meant all that?” you ask.

lip looks down at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. “yeah. yeah, i did. meant every word.”

you smile, leaning up to place a solid kiss on his lips. “for what it’s worth,” you murmur, “i really like you too.”

#shameless #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher #shameless fanfiction #idek how to tag anymore i’ve lost my tumblr interface memory and abilities #sos. #mags writes

[lynnlovesthestars]

The sun, the moon and the stars.

Pairing: Astarion x reader.

Synopsis: with the solution in your hands, you give back Astarion all he has lost.

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, kinda smut but not graphic?

Warnings: mentions of insecurities and self doubt, mention of past abuse, death. Extra warning: Astarion being so loving and caring. Tav/reader taking risks for Astarion. Post act 3.

WC: 5k

Alternate name: Curses, Undead, Deseases.

Author's note: Hello everyone, before i posted "One and only" I didn't expect it to be loved so much, but after seeing the love it received, I took it to my heart to grant your wish. So here it is, the part two of One and Only, which I'll link down here.

One and Only.

Taglist: @skittleabyss

Cure for vampirism: kill and resurrect the vampire with a scroll of true resurrection or, use a scroll of wish and hope you won't fuck it up.

Finally the scroll was in your hands, the legendary wish.

The great Mordenkainen spoke plenty of this spell, the inevitable results of using it and the power it held.

The risks were great, like being sick and weak for weeks, and the chance you might never be able to cast the spell ever again. It was a one shot enchantment, and you would have done it in a heartbeat if it meant your Astarion would be free from vampirism, even if it meant not being able to control the weave ever again.

You were all on the floor, weighing the situation while you read and reread the spell.

Astarion sat next to you, his hands shaking as he kneaded your thigh. The adrenaline from the fight was still cursing through your bodies, even though you were all eagerly to get over with this, you knew that it'd be better to cast the spell in the safety of your home, where you could rest right away.

Gale spent the whole trip explaining the hows and whats of the spell, especially the risks, trying to remind you that there could have been other ways. nevertheless your mind was set. You would risk it all for Astarion.

Everyone scattered around the living room, tea cups were all over the place to ease everyone's nerves as you mentally repeated what you were going to ask.

Shadowheart protected your home, making sure you could feel safe as you rested afterwards.

Wyll was sitting close to you, in case you would pass out and needed to be carried to bed.

Gale was reading and rereading Mordenkainen's tome to make sure there was no trap.

Karlach was trying to cheer everyone up, offering hugs to everyone.

When she planted herself in front of Astarion, ready to beg him to be hugged, he took her by surprise.

He was shaking ever so slightly, the pure anxiety was ebbing through his veins, he was not going to back away from an hug.

"Can you stay next to me? I trust you" He smiled weakly as she squealed happily.

"Of course" She beamed. She took the spot next to Astarion and opened her arms to wrap the pale elf's body in her warm embrace.

When you finally raised your eyes, ready to cast the wish, you locked eyes with everyone one at a time.

All your friends were gathered there because they loved you and Astarion, and were not going to miss the moment. Even Lae'zel was uncharacteristically sweet, even in her harsh and bitter words. "Tck, you better not come back as a zombie, cause I don't know what zombies need" She scoffed. "And you already reeked like this, I can't stand zombie stench at all". She said scrunching her nose.

You took a long breath and lastly locked eyes with Astarion, exchanging a nod as the silence fell around you.

The knot in your throat was tight, your words almost were strangled out of your lips.

"I wish.." You could feel the air being knocked out of your chest. "That Astarion Acunin" the words wrapped around your throat tightly, the magic vividly ebbing from your body for everyone to see. "Could be" The soft blue-purple glow flowing out of your body, wrapped around Astarion's throat, making him breath harder. "Cured.." You felt the word drain you almost completely. "From vampirism and" You breaths were heavy, worry in everyone's eyes while you didn't stop. "Could live his life as elf" You were shaking, threatening to hit the ground, but no one had to intervene, you had to endure it all alone, for him.

"Like before being turned" As you spoke the last word, the magic that was holding you in a chokehold suddenly released you. The magical flow disappeared in Astarion as you fell to the ground, and him with you.

Everyone scrambled around the room, checking for pulses and bringing you to your shared bed.

They tucked you under the comforter, as they planned turns to take care of you both.

They didn't know how long it would take for you to wake again, but they concentrated on things they had power to do.

Your body was heavy with an inexplicable tiredness. Your eyelids felt like bricks as you fought to open them.

The soft light of the sunrise filtered through the curtains of the room, almost blinding you for a moment.

You were in your bed, tucked in and warm. An arm was wrapped around your waist protectively as you could hear the faint chatting coming from the other rooms.

You turned to look around you,then it hit you.

The arm around you, it was warm. The complexion was still pale, yet it looked like it was almost a very faint shade of pink.

You almost jolted up, if it wasn't for your limbs, that grounded you, startling the sleeping Astarion next to you.

He gasped as he awoke suddenly, his eyes squeezing for a moment before opening wide at the realization that you were awake.

He didn't change much, his body at the end of the day was mostly the same, if not for the color that he regained.

His hair was a mess from sleep, the soft white curls were all over the place, untamed. His cheeks, nose and lips were warm with a pinkish blush, and his eyes.

Oh his beautiful scarlet eyes were still there, but softer. A shade that was more pinkish blue, than red. A color so soft that swirled peacefully. His canines were still slightly vampiresque, but way duller than before.

And when you leaned in his arms, you could feel it. His heartbeat, fast in the beginning, probably from the scare, but then rhythmic as it calmed down.

Astarion's arms wrapped around you, pushing you tightly against him as he sunk back in the comfort of the bed.

Your eyes filled with tears, before you could even process the elf in front of you.

"We did it" You sobbed in his tight embrace, relishing the newfound warmth.

"No my love.." He whispered as his own eyes were teary, threatening to spill any second. "You did it" He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You cured me and I will be forever grateful for this gift" He lulled you, gently tapping his fingers on your skin.

You sobbed harder, your arms wrapping around him as well as you allowed the realization to completely hit you.

You weren't quite sure what day it was, or how long Astarion has been cradling you close to him, but you didn't care anymore.

Only when you finally regained a bit of your control, your head started filling with questions.

"How long have i been out?" You asked, before yawning.

"So.. if i did the math correctly" He counted on his fingers before beaming. "You sleep for a whole week. I fed you and hydrated you as you rested. The wish literally drained you" He gently raised your chin to look at you, a tender smile spread over his face, along with the warmth of a blush.

He took in your beauty, gently tracing the tip of your pointed ear to your cheek, resting his palm on it.

Your body chased the warmth of his touch, leaning into it.

"How long were you asleep instead?" You asked as your body was melting.

"The thing is, I didn't sleep" He shrugged. "Gale gave me a long and boring explanation of what happened, but I'm going to take out all the useless informations he added" He explained, waving his hand in the air. You couldn't help but snort at the remark.

"Anyway, making it quick, you killed me" He blurted out, making you jolt up confused, your mouth hung open and your index finger pointed up as you were about to ask something. Then you curled back your fingers and closed your mouth, thoughtful.

"Basically the cure for vampirism involves killing the vampire and using true resurrection on the body or soul" In a way it made sense, cause a vampire is a dead person turned into undead, reason why restoration spells and curing curses wouldn't be effective. You didn't have to remove a disease either, but revert the body back to its original form. And the only way was true resurrection.

"Oh, cause the spell would be able to bind your soul back to your body completely, reversing death instead of just raising you as undead as vampirism does" You whisper shouted as you connected the dots. "But your death was way past 200 years ago" You remembered.

"I'm glad you remembered how long it's been since my first death" He tucked a stray hair behind his ear. "But apparently that's where the wish spell comes in aid" He kissed the top of your nose.

"It erased the time clause from the spell, since it was a wish" He smiled.

"Mhmh makes sense" You whispered as you tapped a finger on your chin and slowly eased again in the silence.

There was so much you wanted to say in that moment, like the fine print of the spell, whether he could already walk in the sun freely now, how did he feel, and so many more questions about this new story you were going to start together, but your body started growing heavy and thick again, drawing you back in your sleep, but this time you were lulled by Astarion's steady heartbeat.

Hours later you woke up still in Astarion’s lap, though now he was using a magic hand to read a book that you couldn’t quite recognize.

“That’s a very smart use of a magic hand” You stretched your arms, squinted and yawned loudly.

“It is, and this book has been very enlightening as well” He flips pages quickly, getting back to one that had a bookmark.

“Really?” You asked mindlessly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He nodded, skimming through the page looking for a specific paragraph.

“I always wondered why you choose to sleep every night, aren’t you bothered by the weird dreams?” He asked. He never thought about it until he started reading this guide he found with the wish scroll. It was a book by Mordenkainen himself which spoke of his studies of all the races he encountered. He picked it up to read about what he missed through the decades about his culture and habits, just in case elves grew a new horn at a certain age or something. Dying so young, really cut off a huge chunk of his youth. At the time he was still considered young by his family, he was looking forward to that 100 birthday so much. At least he was glad he kept his youngish self for a little longer than his peers. if that really mattered.

“Mh, no I like them” You mumbled, another yawn escaping between one word and the other. “I found meditating boring, what even is the point of relieving past experiences when most of the memories are negative?” You shrugged, slowly stretching your legs.

“I never thought about that” He was definitely contemplating ditching meditation, if he had to see less of the memories, and more of.. anything but that. He usually slept when you happened to fall asleep next to him, or while you were traveling, and everyone would take their sweet time in the morning. He didn’t need to be up for 8 hours so why not just sleep, he always thought.

“You should do it more often” You smiled at him as you crawled out of his embrace, already missing the warmth of his chest, but you needed something to eat, a whole week asleep really took a toll on your stomach.

The house was still crawling with friends lounging all over, even withers found a corner for himself, in case a resurrection was needed, funny since the conditions of this party, you thought.

Whoever allowed Gale in your kitchen would pay the price. You walked slowly towards the chair in the kitchen, making sure you could hold on to the wall, in case your body decided to be too tired to move.

Gale didn't notice you joined until he turned and unexpectedly saw you sat with your arms crossed, staring stoically at him.

The most satisfying part? The squeal he let out, though it didn't last long. In an instant he was next to you handing you a glass of water.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he sat in front of you, playing with a peanut he got from your nuts basket.

"Groggy" you mumbled. "Tired" You took your time stretching a little more. "It truly drained me" You leaned on the table wondering what to fill your stomach with.

"I cannot even imagine" He patted your back. "Though actually i could since the netherese orb whole ordeal" He mumbled.

"The price a man must pay to seduce a goddess" You rolled your eyes jokingly.

"Ehy, if you knew Mystra, you'd do the same" He poked your shoulder before handing you a fruit that was laying nearby.

You rose from the table, taking a bite from the apple he gave you. "No, I don't think I would. I'm more the whole I will fix your vampirism I promise, person" You shrugged before taking another big bite.

"I would have never guessed" He laughed.

"Oh so I'm a type, you did this for other spawns?" Astarion chimed while wrapping his arms around you, and placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Yeah, don't you know?" You took the last bite from the fruit before attempting to throw it in the trash. "I've kept a diary with all the names of the spawns I saved" You picked up a piece of paper nearby and scribbled a few names all over the paper, and handed it to Astarion.

"So, we got: Astarion, the annoying one, the mysterious one that almost cut my throat, the one that almost sucked me dry, the one that I recently casted a wish spell for" Astarion counted on his fingers. "Damn that's a lot of people right there, you must be an expert" He joked as he folded the paper.

"Of course, don't you see?" You pointed at yourself, sluggish on the chair. "I'm so good at it, I'm not even tired" You jokingly dropped your upper body on the table, faking to be asleep.

"Well, this is my time to leave the room" Gale awkwardly said before standing up and quickly escaping the kitchen.

"I've got sad news for you, my dear expert" Astarion took the seat in front of you, and took your hand in his, absolutely ignoring your friend. You didn't even wait to raise your head, you were already lost in his eyes. "You don't have all the names of the spawns you freed." He poked your nose.

"Mh, who's missing?" You smiled at him as the sly grin appeared on Astarion's lips.

"You will know in due time"

When was the due time? You had absolutely no clue. A few days passed by, everyone left when they were sure you were at least able to move on your own, and Astarion was remembering his physical needs. For so long he only drank blood, and for most of his life, it was very inconsistent as well, so they just made sure he had all the necessary to stay hydrated and well fed, while you were still recovering.

One afternoon you were sitting outside on the porch, the chirping of the birds and the whooshing of the trees was the only sound around you. You enjoyed the warmth of the sun as you waited for Astarion to join you. You had planned a nice picnic in your garden, so together you could enjoy your first sunset since he was a normal elf again.

Astarion just appeared from the door, mittens in hand as he carried out a tray. You could still see the steam coming from it as you were eager to know what he had been fumbling with in the kitchen.

"My darling, they might look wonky, but I promise you, they are way better than what they seem" He smiled, as he placed the tray on top of the low table you set up outside for the two of you.

They did indeed smell delicious, though the cookies looked like they lost their shape.

You couldn't hold back your smile as you picked one that looked like a disfigured kobold.

As you took a bite of it, Astarion joined you. "Wow that's how you treat our dear Wyll uh?" he asked, trying to not laugh at his own joke.

"That was Wyll?!" You took another bite of it, the look of fake surprise on your lips was adorable.

"Didn't you notice the detail of the fake eye and the horns? I thought it was pretty obvious" He joke-scoffed as he relaxed.

For a moment you couldn't believe this was real: the soft breeze lullying you and Astarion as you had a late afternoon snack together. You no longer had to worry about the sun burning to ashes your other half, or to eat alone, though Astarion always sat at the table with you. You didn't have to worry about excuses or mirrors that wouldn't dare to reflect Astarion's beauty.

Just the thought of mirrors brought you back two memories you held dearly: the night you helped him read his back, and the first time after 2 centuries that he could see himself with his own eyes, rather than through yours.

It was the same night you finally awoke after a whole week. He had waited through that week eagerly, as you recovered. All those things that he lost the habit of doing, he wanted to experience them with you.

So you both stood in front of the mirror, you were behind him, your arms tightly wrapped against his hips and your head on his shoulder, as he stared wide-eyed at his reflection.

"See?" You twirled one of those curls that fell in front of his face. "This is what I mean" you gently twisted his head so he could see better his ear and the way his curls wrapped behind it.

He was speechless as you guided him through all those things you always swore to love, but sounded silly for him.

You even ended up telling him a joke about kobolds and goblins to steal a smile from his lips, just enough you could show him those creases that made your knees like jelly.

But the more he'd look at the reflection, the more he'd notice also the details he always dreaded would forever haunt him: like the bite mark on his neck, so deep that it never healed properly, or the scar he never knew was on his shoulder. It was a cold shower while you were trying to cheer him up, and he was so sad because he thought he ruined such a lovely moment between the two of you, focusing on the wrong details.

The one thing he was truly afraid of though, was looking at the rest of the body, the back in particular, terrified of what gruesome scars might have harbored between his shoulder blades, so he didn't dare yet.

He wore his best smile as he turned your way, placing a tender kiss on your lips before muttering—

"My love, are you alright?" He asked, sitting closer to you, and placing a hand on your thigh, drawing slow circles, bringing you back to your picnic and away from memories.

"Yeah, sorry" You muttered, still half lost in the memories. "I just remembered your smile, and I couldn't stop. '' You said softly, your cheeks warming up at the look on Astarion's face. His eyes were wide and soft, so beautiful as the sunset light started to reflect in them. The now softer red of his irises danced and swirled with the soft shades of pink that twinkled reflected. His lips were turned in a grin that he couldn't wipe away even if the world would be crushing on him. Even his ears had a cute reaction as the tips twitched for a moment.

Lastly his cheeks flushed, a sight that was so unique, as they took the colors of peaches.

He wanted to kiss you now that you were so close, but then his mind connected the dots, and he couldn't help but yelp ever so slightly at the realization.

"My love" He called lovingly, his gaze not leaving yours as you admired him. It was not about the admiring itself, but the love those eyes were shining with. Eyes that twinkled like that only for one, him.

A soft hum was your answer as you just enjoyed the little corner of peace you were sharing.

"In the beginning I thought me and you were like the sun and the moon, destined to chase each other and never meet in the middle. Even before we knew each other, deep down- very very deep down I might point out- I would dream of a love like this, of being rescued by a kind soul that would teach me what I never had the chance to experience." He didn't stop, he poured it all like a river during a high moon. "And even in those dreams, you were a fleeting presence, you'd run around kissing everyone's cheeks, and meeting with me in those small moments when the sun and moon would be next to each other"

You could see the raw emotions seeping through his eyes as he just let it all out, while you listened devotedly.

"I wonder if in those two hundred years, we met accidentally down the roads of Baldur's Gate. If by any chance we stumbled upon each other as we were running for errands. If the universe tried to bring us together earlier but failed over and over again" He sighed, taking a long breath before starting again.

He didn't notice your hand reaching for his and cupping it with your fingers, until the pads of your thumb brushed delicately against his knuckles.

"But then we met, and you were no longer running away. Yet I was so afraid that I ended up being the one who did, and you chased me" He smiled ever so softly.

"I was truly awful to you if I think back. I initially planned to toy with your feelings to have a safety net, and instead I had you there, poking with your dexterous fingers where no one ever did. You came every morning, before leaving camp, to say hi. You offered your neck to me and trusted me, it was so new. All of it."

He unclasped your hand, bringing it to your cheek, and caressing it.

"Then I saw it. We were no longer the moon and the sun. We became the moon and the stars. You were there in all that darkness. You listened to a story that would make anyone weep in pity, and yet you offered me a shoulder to cry on and ears willing to hear. You offered a heart to share the burden with, willing to help me carry it. You were my moon, the light that I couldn't help but yearn for. So I became the stars, lingering around you and taking in all those little things you'd do." He could feel his chest tighten as he went on, seeing the way your eyes would soften by the minutes.

"You taught me all. With you I didn't have to be afraid of being myself, I didn't need to be afraid cause you had my back. I didn't have to charm my way through you, and despite the fact that I could give you nothing, you still managed to patiently give me your everything. You taught me love, something I've never thought I could feel, in any way" He leaned forward, placing a ever so soft kiss on your forehead before sitting back.

You were still there where you leaned as well, your eyes yet to open. Then he spoke again, his voice low yet delicate.

"And I will be forever grateful for it, my love. I will forever be grateful for you to be in my life. I will be grateful of the gifts you made me, giving me a second chance at life" It was something he couldn't fully explain, and neither could you, how naturally you two fit together. How the universe made sure his arms would perfectly wrap around your waist, or how he could shake you like no one ever could. The fates truly took their time threading you two together, and you both were grateful for it.

A calm was between you two, silence filling where words could have been, silence where you allowed your eyes to say it all. Yet that silence was abruptly stopped.

"So my love." He took a long breath, mustering all his love in his heart before gifting it to you. "I was wondering if you'd like to share the night sky with me forever, until the end of time." You smiled, and he swore he saw the universe in your irises.

"I thought it was obvious, my star." You brushed your thumb along his cheek. "I'd cross the nine hells if it meant staying by your side. I'd sail the elemental planes and even at the edge of the universe if it meant to kiss you" You leaned in, your lips barely caressing his in the most delicate and pure kiss.

He hummed, closing his eyes at your warmth, but quickly brought himself back to the reality around you.

"So" He cleared his throat, swiftly reaching into his pocket. "My moon, will you marry me?" His words came out so full, like he wanted to scream the question into the void, and yet so gentle, like he was holding a single flower in his palm, out for you.

Warm tears traced your cheeks as your heart swelled. You wanted to say it out loud, to yell it. Yet the words were stuck in your throat behind the trembling lips as you were so overwhelmed.

Your head did it all for you, nodding before you could control the rest of your body.

Your touch was delicate against his chest, even when you were pushing him to have him lay down.

You towered over him, as you gripped the collar of his shirt, and crushed your lips together.

You poured every drop of you to him, cause you were his and only his.

He didn't let go of you, or of your kiss. He basked in the slow dance you were making together, while the cookies and the ring laid forgotten on the table. You don't know how or when you moved back inside, your bodies still flush against each other, and your lips still tangled.

It was something so harmonious, the way you'd moan in his lips, as he grazed your skin. You were one as you made love over and over again. So tender, slow, emotional.

Sometimes tears would swell on your eyes just for a brief moment as you'd profess your love to each other between those choked moans.

You were truly the other piece of him. The only one that would fit perfectly wrapped around his hips, and still perfect when he'd be tangled in your limbs, coaxing those sweet sounds that drove him insane. You were perfect when your arms held him to you, and perfect when he filled you to the brim.

He wanted to say so many things as you showed him the stars, as his head rested in the crook of your neck while he could feel his body lose control over and over again. For you, with you, in you.

"I'll be yours in every universe" He'd kiss your shoulder.

"L-love you in every life" He'd lock your leg on his hip.

"M-my moon" He'd moan as he'd spill in your warmth.

He was glad they were alone, secluded away from any prying ears, cause all he wanted was to drown in the sweet sounds of the love you'd give to each other.

And then you laid in his arms. Your head pressed against his chest as your bodies grew tired, as your legs were still tangled with his while he'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

"I'll never love again the way I love you" He'd let his fingers trace the hills and dips of your body, and for a moment he'd indulge in thoughts he always feared to cross his mind; like his hands cradling your swollen belly, or the tiny life you'd protect with every fiber of your beings. The byproduct of your love asleep in his arms. He dared to dream about growing old by your side, and for a moment he dared to imagine meeting you in his next life, but this time he'd waste no time.

Like that, he'd also forget about that folded piece of paper in his pocket where he added one more name to the list. He wanted to finally uncover the mysterious person you saved: your husband.

#vault: lynn ☆ #lynn: updates☆ #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader fluff #astarion x you #tav x astarion #oc x astarion #astarion x oc #you x astarion #astarion x reader smut #reader x astarion #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff

[touyasdoll]

Day 26 Bonus: Stuckage

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: stuckage kink, reader gets stuck in a window & it has nothing to do with weight or size or whatever and everything to do with Kats being unable to help himself when you find yourself trapped, praise kink, mild degradation, light teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism sorta, daddy kink, nicknames used: princess, baby, & sweetheart, uhh if I missed any lemme know politely pls <3

notes: so..yeah. here’s another Kinktober post. even though it’s August lmao. maybe I’ll finish these by November ajdhdhs I’m sorry. these are all literally sitting in my drafts fully formatted, so I'm not changing them 😂

“Hey, babe?” You call in your sweetest voice to Katsuki, who is not-so-patiently waiting for you to retrieve the set of keys that you were so sure were right here in your bag.

“Yes, baby?” His tone borders on mocking as he stands there with his arms crossed, leaning against the car that he was hoping would’ve been open by now.

“What would you say if—hypothetically—the keys weren’t in my bag aaand I already locked the door on the way outta the house?”

“I would say that’d probably make you look like a pretty big asshole, considering that you swore they were in your bag. Hypothetically,” he adds with a shrug. 

“Yeah..s’pose it would, huh?” You frown and stick your bottom lip out in a pout to answer the heavy sigh that falls from your lover’s lips. 

“You’re not allowed to be in charge of the keys anymore,” he grumbles while strolling back over towards the door to lift up the plant where your spare key should be, but it isn’t there. 

“We, uh..took that in to make an extra copy to give to your parents,” you gently remind him, physically feeling the frustration radiating off of Katsuki. 

He closes his eyes and splays his hand over his face to pinch his temples, dragging his digits together as he rubs them over his eyes. 

“And both of those keys are still sitting on my fuckin’ desk where I left ‘em.” He heaves a sigh and looks at you, shrugging against as his hands settle on his hips. “Whaddya wanna do? Should we call a locksmith?”

“Is this all it takes to put you in full blown dad mode?” You giggle, unable to help yourself as you take in his stance and all too serious demeanor, not that your boyfriend was much of the carefree type anyway. He narrows his eyes, rolling them while his mouth moves in a mocking gesture. 

“It’s daddy to you, princess,” he teases, not-so-lightly swatting your behind and making you yelp as he strolls past you and starts walking around to the side of the house. 

“Hey, wait! Where ya goin’?” You call after him as you scurry along. 

“M’gonna check the back door. Maybe we left it open,” he explains with a shrug. It was doubtful, but worth a shot. 

“Fuck,” he curses, trying the obviously locked back door one more time like it might make a difference. It doesn’t. He tousles his hair and goes to head back to the front of the house. “Locksmith it is, I guess.”

“Wait!” You bounce a little on your feet and he turns around to hear your bright idea. “What about a window? I bet the one in the kitchen is still unlocked. I can climb through it.”

“That could work.” He nods and pivots to head further into the backyard, making his way over to the aforementioned window with you on his heels. 

He grabs the bottom and lifts up and, much to his relief, you were right about it being unlocked. He pushes the window up plenty high enough for you to crawl through and onto the counter that sits below it inside. 

“Alright, c’mere, baby.” He curls his fingers, gesturing for you to come closer before he bends his knee and taps the outside of his thigh. “Grab the sill and step on my leg. I’ll help boost you up.”

You nod and step in front of the window, placing both hands on the windowsill and putting your foot up on his knee to help propel yourself up and through the window. Everything’s going according to plan. Until you lose your footing on his leg trying to give yourself enough of a push to crawl through. That awful feeling of falling washes over you for half a second before his strong hands find your hips, keeping you from falling backwards onto your ass when your feet touch the ground again. 

“Motherfucker,” you sigh, closing your eyes as you take a moment and a breath to collect yourself. “Okay, let—ahh!” 

You’re cut off by the sound of the window closing. Again, thanks to his heroic reflexes and reaction time, you’re spared from injury as he catches the window before it hits you. You breathe a massive sigh of relief, practically wilting in the window, which now you can no longer simply slip back out of. 

“Babe, can you lift it back up, please?” 

“I’m trying,” he mutters. 

“What?”

“I said I’m trying,” he repeats, sounding frustrated, though you know it isn’t aimed at you. It’s aimed at the window that suddenly won’t budge an inch. “Damn thing’s fuckin’ jammed,” he gripes, heaving a sigh before his hands are on you, soothingly rubbing your back. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reassure him. “I’m fine I just,” you sigh. “Don’t know what to do now. Who the hell do we call for this? I’m not letting the fire department find me this way,” you state as you shake your head and briefly imagine what an interesting interaction that might make for. 

“I’m not either,” he scoffs, his eyes being drawn to your backside, which he had to admit looked especially great with you in this position. 

“Try opening it again. Maybe you loosened it,” you suggest, turning your head to try and look over your shoulder at him, but the angle is rather awkward with how you’re trapped. 

He tilts his head thoughtfully. It couldn’t hurt to try, but it certainly felt pretty well stuck. He leans over you and places his hands beneath the window again, trying in vain to lift it while his crotch presses right up against your backside.

“Are you really getting hard right now?” You can’t help but giggle, wiggling your ass against the bulge that you can feel growing in his pants. 

“You’re bent over in front of me,” he mutters, grunting as he attempts again to shove the window upwards. “And looking pretty vulnerable, I might point out,” he adds with a smirk as he relents his attempts and instead runs his hands along your sides. “How the fuck am I not s’posed to be hard right now?”

His hands seize your hips, bringing you flush against him while he grinds his hips forward, You close your eyes and let out a quiet groan, feeling a pulse between your thighs.

“You wouldn’t take advantage of me in a position like this, would you?” You ask in a sultry tone, no doubt implying that you sincerely hoped that he just might. 

“I wouldn’t say that, princess. You know how much I like seizing opportunities and this one seems too good to pass up.”

“Katsuki,” you whine his name, knowing full well that it makes all the blood in his body redirect to his dick. 

“Fuck, baby,” he gruffs, already feeling his breathing shallow from the pure sense of need that you can still feel pressing into your backside. “You want it that bad, huh? Want me to take you just like this, where any of our nosy fuckin’ neighbors could peek over and see me drillin’ ya?”

“Yes, baby. Don’t just want it. I need it, daddy. Please,” you insist, writhing as much as you can in your compromised position. 

“Shit,” he huffs the curse as he bunches your dress up over your hips, only pulling his hips away from your to appreciate the view. 

He hooks a finger underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs, letting it snap back against your skin while his other palm takes a greedy handful of your ass. 

“Still can’t fuckin’ believe someone as hot as you puts up with me,” he snorts, delivering a swift smack to your cheek before he soothes the ache with his palm. 

“I could say the same,” you reply, shaking your ass and grinning when you hear him groan at the sight, but you’re growing impatient, so you poke at him a little. “Have you even got your dick out yet? I want you so bad, baby..”

“Patience, princess. M’gonna take care of ya. Lemme just look at’cha for a second, yeah?” Both of his hands grope your behind before he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulls them aside. “Wanna appreciate all this before I ruin ya.”

His thumb parts your folds and you shiver, juices gushing onto his digit as he snickers. 

“That worked up already, huh? Guess ya really do need me.”

You don’t need to see him to know he’s wearing his signature smug grin. His thumb finds your clit and he begins drawing it in slow circles, making you clutch to the wall inside the house. 

“I do, I do. Please, daddy,” you whine, rocking your hips to chase the friction he offers you. 

It’s gone a second later, but you hear the jingle of his belt coming undone and clench in anticipation while he frees his leaking cock. 

“All this beggin’ sounds real good, baby. Gimme a little more and then you can have this,” he promises, letting you feel his rock hard erection as the head teases through your lips. 

“Please,” you blurt the plea out, instantly complying in order to get what you need. What you crave. “I’ll do anything, baby. Want you inside me. Need you to fuck me. Want you to ruin me, daddy. Take this pussy. S’all yours. Always all yours.”

“Such an overachiever. S’what I love about you, princess,” he chuckles, giving you no notice before he lines up and bottoms out in a single thrust, stuffing you full with his impressive length. 

“Fuck!” 

You claw at the drywall beneath your fingers, pressing your hands to the surface to hang on as he begins to thrust, showing little mercy to your drooling cunt. 

“Goddamn you feel good. You’re really into this, aren’tcha? Like being stuck and lettin’ me use your pussy like I wanna?”

“Y-yeah. Oh fuck, yeah, daddy. U-use me. Oh my God, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

You’re babbling now, too far gone already with the way his cock moves inside you, deliciously dragging along your walls as the tip finds that special, velvety spot inside you and starts knocking into it over and over and over again. 

“M’not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not ‘til you’re creamin’ on my cock. You ain’t gonna last long, are ya? Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight already. Shit.”

“Mm-mm. N-no. Feels too—haa—s’too good, baby.”

And he’s right, of course. That white hot heat burns in your belly, searing you from the inside out as it builds and spreads, spiraling out of control as he continues to snap his hips, offering you no mercy now as you rocket towards your orgasm. 

It hits you like a freight train, making you scream as you slump over the sill of the window, simply trying to hang onto the structure as your cries echo around the empty kitchen. You don’t even notice the way that the window seems heavier on your spine now. 

“Good girl,” he grunts, breathing labored from his efforts as he keeps it up, sprinting towards his own undoing. “So fuckin’ good. Pussy’s too fuckin’ good, baby.”

He doesn’t even falter when he finds his release. If anything, he moves faster, willfully pummeling your poor, abused cunt as he fills you to the brim until the mixture of your essences begin to seep out as your own name falls from his lips, ringing in your ears through the haze you find yourself floating through. He looks down, entranced by the vision of his cum being pulled from and pushed inside of your again and again.

“Fuck,” he pants, sweat dripping from his brow and landing on your exposed lower back. He watches the bead trail along your heated skin to mingle with the rest of the fluids joined between your bodies. 

A whimper is all that you can manage as he withdraws himself and leans over you, a decisively more gentle touch skimming along your sides before he begins rubbing your back and feathering kisses along your spine. 

“You okay, baby?” His tone is as soft as his touch as he restores your modesty, dipping down to return your panties to their rightful place before he reaches for the hem your dress and pulls it back down. 

“Mhm,’ you hum, blissfully content as you continue coming down from your soaring high. 

“Good.” He continues rubbing your back, working up to your shoulders when his hand nudges the window and he realizes that it’s finally budged. “Well, shit,” he chuckles, reaching over you to lift the window up, freeing you from your entrapment. 

“Hmm?” You feel the pressure lift off of your back and step back from the window, shaking your head as a smile graces your features. “Well, I guess that works out.”

“Think you still have the strength to crawl through?” He grins, a little smug and a lot handsome as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he rubs your arm. 

“Gimme a minute.” You laugh quietly, closing your eyes as you wind your arms around his and rest your head upon his broad chest, nuzzling into the fabric of his shirt to inhale his cologne. 

“Take all the time you need, princess. I’m good right here,” he murmurs into your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

likes, comments, & reblogs especially are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #tw stuckage #tw daddy kink #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

[beansricejc]

John Wick x F!Reader: Fake It

summary: AU, in a post apocalyptic world, John has assigned himself a daunting task. he buys you off of a group of raiders, and you don’t necessarily have a choice when he has you help with his mission. in fact, it’s either your help, or his wrath. 5382 words.

warnings: unprotected piv, NONcon, fuck or die, breeding k!nk, creampie, cursing, threats of violence, firearms, human trafficking, forced breeding, kidnapping. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat! Minors DNI. not proofread!

author’s note: here’s to my darkest yet, if you like this one, please support me by liking and reblogging, Ty!

The infection spread efficiently and ruthlessly. Originating at a scientific testing facility in Toronto, it didn’t take very long for the world to go to shit. Zombies made life a hell of a lot worse for everyone on the planet.

And 5 years later, the population declined by 70 percent. Everyone surviving now was either in some sort of encampment, a survivor in the wasteland, or, in John’s case, in a repopulation center.

About fifty miles north of Rock Springs, Wyoming, is a fortification built by John and as the group of men that all had the same goal.

Survive.

Soon enough, they made a name for themselves after trading with raiders who would snatch up female survivors. John was picky. They needed to be healthy, with good genetics, and the ability to carry a child. Just because you had a pussy didn’t just mean free access to the compound, there were standards.

So when a truck full of raiders pulled up to the large gates of John’s fortress and dragged you out of it, John’s immediately intrigued. You’re kicking and screaming into the duct tape gag over your lips, definitely not making it easy for the three burly men to hoist you over for John to inspect you.

Your eyes widen at the middle aged man with long hair, it’s slicked back in a ponytail and he’s got a full beard. He honestly reminds you of those vinyl hipsters before the infection, but meaner.

His sharp brown eyes scan your body, he likes what he sees. Of course you don’t know this, no one does, for John is a master at hiding his emotions.

“She’ll do.” John states plainly, standing up straight and facing the raiders. ‘She’ll do’ was the understatement of the year, he was absolutely attracted to you. Of course he can’t let that show, otherwise the raiders will demand more items to trade you for.

“100 rounds of 9 millimeter ammunition, and four medical packs. I’ll even throw in three gallons of gasoline.” John offers, the raiders immediately grunt in agreement, the leader shaking John’s hand to seal the deal.

You’re still kicking and struggling against your restraints, refusing to be auctioned off like a damn cow. Oh if only you knew what you were in for.

In reality, John has never used his own sperm for his repopulation project. It’s only been his own men, which he has plenty of. His fortification’s ratio of women to men is 1:15, which just goes to show how rare females are in the apocalypse. Women are a hot commodity, and no amount of feminist waves are going to stop that. Men will be men, thirsting over the opposite sex, and once they lay their eyes on one? They’ll stop at nothing to get a piece.

Revolting to think about but it’s just the truth. It is the end of the world after all.

“Take her to my quarters. Now.” John orders his group of men, which two of them scoop you up from the dirt road as you squirm and scream into your gag. John sees your futile determination, and it lights a fire within him.

If he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard in front of everyone at the gate.

John cleared his throat and walked ahead, trying to think of quite literally anything else as he attempted to get his mind off of you, and hearing your muffled pleas for mercy don’t help him in the slightest. A tingle trickles down his long spine, and the little hairs on his arm rise as goosebumps begin to form, just from hearing your voice.

“Shit.” He murmured to himself, as he books it to the nearest building, he needs to distract himself quickly.

-

John’s men heave you into his personal cabin, plopping you down on the comfy vintage looking couch in the corner. You grunt and the men scurry out of the cabin. They know better than to look at John’s new prize.

Little do any of them know, you’re a fighter. Surviving in the wasteland alone is an impressive feat. A feat you have only overcome because you’re tough as hell. You can hunt, scavenge, shoot, stab, whatever it takes to survive, you can do it. The only reason why you’re here in the first place is because 5 grimy raiders jumped you while you were resting in an abandoned building. You felt pathetic, now in the predicament of a lifetime.

There were a few options.

You knew this fancy trick where you could dislocate your own shoulder blades in order to force your arms to be in front of you instead of being bound from behind. Painful but quick, then you could take your gag off and then thrust your arms into your own torso. The fast motion and force would tear the tape from your hands.

But then there were all of the men outside. There was about, what? 30, 40 men from what you could count when the two guards brought you inside. There were women too, not very many though, and for some odd reason, they were all pregnant.

Noticeably so.

You were good at killing, but 40 all at once? You didn’t have a chance in hell.

So, either a suicide mission, or you could wait it out and see what the hell was going on.

You decide on the latter.

Not to mention, those raiders stole all of the equipment and weapons that you had. So that fucking sucks.

Waiting it out sucks too. You may or may not have dozed off on the old comfy couch, your taped face resting against the floral patterned fabric while you rested. Awoken only by the soft sound of the wooden door creaking open, you decided to fake being asleep. Maybe it would give some sort of insight on what the hell was going to happen to you.

John’s boots squeak over the wooden flooring, he groans and immediately goes for the large glass bottle that was sealed underneath the small sink in his cabin.

John’s living space is very nice compared to the other residents in his compound. It’s about 750 square feet of a cabin that looks like it’s straight from the 70s. The small home is of course run on a solar powered generator, providing semi luxury living in the apocalypse.

You noticed this when you were scanning the place for any noticeable weapons to use to your advantage. Unfortunately there wasn’t much.

Nothing out in the open anyway. You continue to fake sleep, laying down on the couch with your pretty eyes closed.

John grunts as he flips through a stack of papers, figuring you would be asleep when he arrived. He knows you’ve been tied up in here for about three hours. The man takes a few steps over towards the couch, looking over it and staring at your lying figure. His heart rate goes up by a few beats.

“Gorgeous, might have to keep you for myself.” John mumbles under his breath, you catch the comment.

John looks at his papers, scribbling a few words down. While he looks at your sleeping face, he debates on whether to wake you up or not. He does. John’s large and calloused hand runs through your hair for a moment, and now you can’t help but open your eyes. This gives you a good time to study your captor’s facial features, he’s towering over you at the moment.

His back bends over and his hand that rubbed your head is now ripping the duct tape off of your mouth as if it were a bandaid. Yelping, you glare at him and clench your jaw.

“Hey shithead, that fucking hurt!” You cough out, gritting your teeth. His stoic expression seemed to lighten for a whole three seconds before he jotted something down on that stack of papers, before sitting in a recliner that was against a wall.

His jeans rub against the leather of the seat, and his brown eyes never leave you, paying even more attention when you manage to wriggle your way up into somewhat of a seated position.

“You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here.” John’s voice is gravelly, and he even seems a bit awkward. “I’m sorry, I typically don’t do anything with intake. Made an exception this time.”

You frown, more confused than anything.

John’s hands fumble with the stack of papers that’s in his hands, as he goes over a few pages before looking up at you again.

“Can I start with your name?”

Blinking a few times, it wasn’t what you were expecting. You could tell him a lie but for some reason your conscious is screaming at you to tell the truth.

So you do, your first name falls from your lips as if you’re talking to a trusted peer. Last names don’t matter anymore in the apocalypse, it’s just one of those things that fell off of the importance scale.

John hums out loud, nodding as he writes your name down, crossing his legs.

“Age?”

You tell him the truth. His bottom lip sticks out a bit and he nodded, jotting that down as well.

“Still have some time left.” John breathes out, so softly that you can’t even hear him.

“Marital status?”

You frown again.

“Why does it matter?” you asked, looking at John with this dumbfounded expression. He sighs.

“Just, whatever it was before the infection.” John elaborates. Still. It was quite irrelevant. At least to you.

“Engaged.” You tell him, honesty is the best policy here. “Died a few years ago.”

John paused before writing anything down.

“Sorry to hear that.” John apologizes, his expression is quite somber, as if he’s recalling bad memories. His canine tooth is digging into his tongue. “Any allergies?”

This strange interrogation went on for about 25 minutes, with answers you provided and small talk in between. You don’t know why but you’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable around him.

“Let me get to the chase.” John sighed, he had told you his name in the middle of your conversation, and it’s been nice having a name to put next to his face. It was so simple and so fitting. John.

“You have two options. Both are similar but one is much nicer than the other.” John tells you, as the hairs on your neck stand up. Your fingers twitch from behind, it’s hard to contain your anxiousness when you’re bound.

“You’re a woman that’s in excellent health, a diamond in the rough, really. Your age is decent for it as well.” John mentions. “You’re also such a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t even seen anyone come in here that was close to looking like you.” He sighs.

Silence fills the room as we stare at each other.

“Our goal at my compound is to do our best to repopulate the country, and to inspire other groups to do as we do.” He explains further. “We have an extensive human breeding program in our compound. It’s a requirement for the females that are brought here to participate.”

During his entire ramble his dark eyes have been ogling your legs and hips.

“So, here are your options.” He starts.

You can’t even fucking believe what you’re hearing right now. The pure shock is causing a ringing in your ears, and you barely pick up what he’s telling you next. John stands from his recliner and takes a few steps towards you.

“I’ll assign you to a random member of our community. You’ll live with him, and he’ll be attempting to conceive with you, my men aren’t known really for being all too kind or gentle.” John says, clasping his hands in front of him.

Your heart is racing and John notices the panic running through your body.

“If they don’t take a liking to you after you reach conception, we’ll just send you to live with the other women on the other side of the fortress.” John shrugs, tapping his boot restlessly on the cabin floor. “Or…” his large hand grabs your chin and lifts it to force you to look up at him.

His rough feeling thumb rolls over your bottom lip, the gears in his head turning while he takes a deep breath. “I can keep you for myself.”

John’s taking in every aspect of your body language and face, he’s noticing the way you are just barely trembling under his touch. He’s really hoping you don’t notice his cock twitch in his pants. He’s gotta get ahold of himself, honestly, he’s a grown man. Why are you making him feel like a horny teenager all over again?

You’re going over the options in your head, while still attempting to find anything to bash John over the head with. But your arms are still bound behind your back. As it stands, you’re completely at the mercy of the long haired man who’s practically drooling over you.

Your pretty eyes blink up at him as your mind races, your heart thumps, it feels like you might even pass out. Was this even real? This had to be a nightmare, right?! Right. There was absolutely no way you were traded for some bullets, gasoline, and a first aid kit and dragged into a human breeding camp, right? All you had to do was wake up.

Wake up. Come on.

Fucking wake up.

Except it was all too real, proven to you by the lingering sting on your mouth from the ripped duct tape. Your lip was even bleeding a bit still from the injury.

Shit.

“I wanna show you how good I am.” John interrupts your rampant train of thought, and snaps you back into your hell hole of a reality. His hand clenches a bit harder against your face, thumb shoving inside of your mouth once you open it to respond to him. This move gives you no time to even create words, instead it gives off a risqué image. An image John is enjoying purely for himself, of his large thumb in between your pretty pink lips. John grunts.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” John asks rhetorically. “God you’re stunning, your parents really blessed you with good genetics.”

You have no idea what the hell you should do, so you do what you think would be best in this scenario.

You suck his thumb. The act in itself is suggestive, but with your pretty eyes batting up at him, your lips around his finger, and a slight bob of your head.

You have John in a frenzy. There’s a bead of sweat that even rolls down the back of his neck, as his breath hitches to the sight of you taking his finger into your lips.

“We could make such good looking children.” John groans at the sight of you. “Please, just, oh god.” His eyes roll to the back of his head. John pulls his thumb from your mouth as he catches his breath.

He’s been anticipating finding the right woman to come along. Delusional as he currently is, he thinks he’s been waiting all of these years just to meet you. It has to be fate, right? You’re just so perfect to him.

“Just, ugh, fuck it.” John growls, his right hand latched onto your throat as he forcibly kissed your dry lips. You gasp in surprise, as his grip on your throat becomes tighter.

“Wa-wait!” you choke out, it doesn’t stop him. He easily grabs your body and brings it to his bed, tossing you onto the mattress. You sit up quickly, but then hear a click, the feeling of cold metal pressing against your head makes you freeze.

Looking up, John’s smiling down at you, his heart fluttering at the mere sight of you. He’s holding a pistol straight to your temple, clicking his tongue at you while your pretty eyes widen at the sudden tension change.

“No waiting, sweetpea.” John grumbles as you notice the handgun safety is off. Shit. “You’re gonna cooperate. I’m not going to let you make that choice, there’s no way in hell I’m letting my men breed you.”

The gun is still being pressed against your skull as he grabs a book from his bedside table, he flips through a few pages and reads the contents over. You’re not able to see what he’s reading since you don’t dare make any sudden movements. His eyes are still on the book while he asks you a question.

“When did you last menstruate?”

You’re still in shock from everything he’s said so far, and this certainly didn’t help.

“Uh, what?” you can’t even comprehend the fact that he asked you such a personal question.

John pressed the gun to your head harder. “Answer me!” he yelled, frustrated at your stalling. John’s deep and frightening voice bellows off of the wooden walls of his cabin, making you wince.

“I think like, 2 and a half weeks ago?” you shakily reply, it feels like you’re about to pass out from the chaotic situation at hand.

He hums affirmatively and grabs a knife, flicking it open.

“No, no please! Please I-“

He goes to cut the tape off from your wrists, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash nearby. John chuckles at your sudden fear as he continues to hold the gun to your head.

“I haven’t made love to anyone since my wife died.” John croaked out, his eyes looking a little empty and off to the distance as he spoke. He shakes the firearm a bit to intimidate you a bit. As if you’re not already. There’s a gentle smile that plays on his lips and a crazed glint in his brown eyes.

“I never partook in the repopulation process, I just could never see myself making love to any of those other women.” He informs you. “But, you? You’re just,” he takes a sharp inhale and bites his lip. “I think I can manage to be passionate with you.” John whispers, rubbing the back of his neck and nodding to himself. “You're going to reciprocate. Like we’ve known each other for years. And you’re going to do a good job, if not,” he taps the barrel of the gun against your head. You’re trembling beneath him.

“Think you can do that for me?” John asks, looking back at his book and flipping through some pages.

You reluctantly nod, battling the urge to scream and fight for your life. He gives you that same deranged but soft smile, sighing in relief as if he was expecting you to say no, as if there wasn’t the threat of death in the air.

“By the way,” he sighs. “My name’s John.”

You nod awkwardly, as he looks over his book for a few more moments.

“The book says that missionary is the position that has the most success in conceiving.” John mentions, as the reality sets in. This is actually happening. You feel like your world is collapsing in on itself. “Really sell it to me; okay? I’d hate to shoot you.”

All you can do is force a nervous smile and nod, before he sets his firearm down on the bedside table. John continued to stare at you before he cleared his throat.

“Well? Take your clothes off for me, sweet pea.”

You’re slightly disgusted that you’re even listening to the orders that John is giving you. As if you actually have known him for years now. As if you loved him. Your stomach feels sick, you attempt to hide your disdain as you quickly peel off your long sleeve shirt, before John places his hand on your arm before you can pull it over your head.

“Put it back on.”

You let out a deep exhale through your nose, eyebrows furrowing, but you obey. Slipping the shirt back over your body.

“I changed my mind. Stand up.” John commands, as he switches positions, sitting where you were on the bed, as you rise. “Do a strip tease for me.”

He had to be fucking with you now. So you frown and grimace at the thought.

“You’re kidding.” you laugh.

John reaches for his gun.

“Okay! Okay, fine.” You grunt, sighing. You didn’t even know how to do such a thing. John smiles wickedly, leaning back a bit on his bed as you turn around from him. Your hands slowly lift your shirt up, and over your head, John’s staring at your bare skin while the shirt drops to the floor. He bites the inside of his cheek while his shaft presses against his jeans.

You undress to only your undergarments, and you quite literally have no idea what to do next. You really don’t want to wing it and anger him, but you have a feeling if he keeps guiding you through it he’ll lose his patience. So you turn around, surprised to see John with his belt and pants undone.

His large hand is giving his own cock a few long strokes. Speaking of long.

You’re terrified of what that thing is going to do to you tonight. The tip is thick in itself, that’s the spot John’s hand seems to give the most attention. He’s even bucking his hips and thrusting upwards into the grip of his own hand, his eyes never leaving your body.

“Sell it to me. Don’t make me question it. If you don’t, I’ll fucking kill you.” John moans, and your heartbeat races. You notice his free hand is gripping his gun that’s sitting on the mattress.

It’s now or never.

You’ve done this a few times before, it’s been years, but you can probably fake it pretty well. Right?

You saunter up to him, mustering up all of the energy in your body to act this out as realistically as you can.

It’s not like John was ugly. He had a handsome face, you can tell he’s in shape, with those brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. And you have a thing for big noses anyway. Not to mention, his cock looks really nice.

Alright. You got this.

You straddle his waist, biting your plump lip and taking John’s shirt for him.

“Can’t just have me take my clothes off without you doing the same. Or it’s not fair.” You tease, giggling while your small hand grazes John’s lower shaft in a playful manner, pulling your hand away just as quick.

You were right. He is in shape. He’s lean with a muscular figure, alright, you’ll admit it, he’s attractive. This will help sell it.

“John, baby…” you mew, batting your eyelashes. His breathing gets heavier when you call him that. Okay, that’s good. He likes that.

“You should touch me instead.” you tell him softly, removing his hand from his cock and moving it to your breasts. John even lets go of his gun to unclasp your bra from behind your back. Your nipples harden from the cool cabin air hitting them, and John’s fingertips run over both of them.

“My pretty girl,” he grunts. John’s hands travel down to your hips and he grabs them with a killer grip. You try your best not to wince, but you know damn well there’s going to be bruises all over your after this.

“Our baby’s going to be beautiful…” he mumbles as his lips attach themselves to your neck, planting kisses on your throat. One of his hands trace down to your underwear, sliding it to the side a bit as his finger gently moves onto your clit. You jerk a bit from the sudden pressure, John chuckles at your reaction and from how wet you are, despite him forcing you to go through this.

“Oh yeah. You’re lucky that I make so much cum. It makes this process so much easier.” John tells you, and for some reason, it makes your stomach jump.

A whimper escapes you as he massages your sensitive nub, your head burying itself in the crook of his neck and collarbone, you’re instinctively grinding yourself against his finger.

You hate to admit it but this feels fantastic. It’s been years since you’ve even touched someone else like this. Shit, it’s the end of the world, the last thing that’s been on your mind was a good fuck.

That’s when you feel the gun against your chest this time. The barrel is ice cold compared to John’s flesh, and you look into John’s eyes as he continues to rub your clit.

“Say it.” John demands, finger on the trigger, with that same deranged twinkle in his brown eyes.

“S-say what?” You blubber out in between needy moans. John frowns.

“You know what I mean. Say it like you mean it.” He orders. He must get off on this. John’s gotta get off on having a helpless woman in his arms, with the threat of her losing her life, while also pleasuring her to the brink of euphoria.

You know what he means. But those three words, they’re important. You can’t just throw those around at every crazed man that insists on it. They’re reserved for people who actually deserve it.

Well, you are pretending after all.

The metal digs harder into your upper breast, and you grunt.

“John, I love you.”

He tossed the gun onto the floor and grabbed you closer, kissing you frantically as he took off the rest of his clothing, switching positions so he’s now on top of you.

You hate yourself for liking the way he smells. For the way you moan whenever he touches you in a pleasurable way. You don’t want a child, let alone want a child with an insane, breeding obsessed man.

John’s breathing is ragged while he lifts your hips up, yanking your thong off and sliding a pillow under the small of your back.

“Gravity, it helps sperm reach the cervix.” John musters out in between sloppy kisses between your neck, jaw, and mouth. “Won’t last long, it’s been years since I’ve done this.” he says, quickly moving his cock towards your mouth as you’re pinned down to his mattress. “Come on.”

You unhappily oblige. Opening your mouth to let his dick travel through your lips and down your throat. Swirling your tongue quickly around the shaft as he groans in pleasure from above, pulling himself out quickly. Strings of your saliva hang from his tip as he spreads around the moisture all around his erection. He lines himself up with your cunt, spreading your legs and even lifting each one onto his shoulders.

Fear sets in as you know he’s going to go deep. John shudders in pure ecstasy as he inserts his tip into you, the natural lube helps but it’s been far too long, your initial reaction is to dig your nails into his muscular back and wince.

It’s weird, John seems to actually care about your pleasure. Which in itself is odd since he’s a complete stranger, with only one goal in mind at the moment. He peers down at you, reading your facial expressions, before his thumb lightly kneads your clit once again.

His other hand goes towards your face, stroking your warm and flushed cheek as he kisses your calf that’s placed on his shoulder. Your cunt is now in a mixture of pain and pleasure, confusing you as grunts and whimpers leave your mouth.

“That better? When I do that?” John questions, his long hair draping over his eyes.

You nod.

John begins to thrust, slow and shallow, actually allowing you to adjust to his size. “Say it again, pretty girl.” he grumbled, pushing deeper into your tight cunt. You yelp from the sheer girth that is his cock, nails still making wounds into his flesh.

“I love you! I love you, John!” you cry out, his fingers moving faster on your clit while his thrusts quicken. You still have to sell it to him, so you reach your small hands up to his face and pull him into your own, slamming your lips onto his. You can help but moan loudly against his lips, since the slight repositioning of his body has given him even deeper access to your pussy.

But even this, you can’t fake. Your moans and pleads for more are all too real. And by the way John is wickedly smiling down at you, he can tell. Your tits bounce in rhythm to his movements, as he goes faster, chasing his own climax.

While he pounds into you, you can feel yourself getting close. Your legs instinctively tighten around John’s shoulders as you wheeze. John puts his large hand over your womb, feeling his bulge move in and out of you as he fucks you. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, drawing blood, going absolutely feral at the thought of his seed working it’s way inside of you.

“You’re gonna be my good little breeding doll, aren’t ya? It’s for the greater good, sweetpea.” John moans out, while sweat drips from his forehead. “For the greater good, greater good,” He’s repeating the phrase to himself as he fucks into you, his balls smacking the cusp of your cunt and ass. You can hardly handle the sheer overstimulation you’re experiencing, barely realizing he’s speaking to you.

“Tell me you love me, sweetheart.” John growls. “Be a good little wife, come on now.”

You feel your orgasm drawing closer the faster he goes. You’ve definitely had good sex but nothing like this. It was wrong. You didn’t want it. You don’t even know this man. Tears brimmed your eyelids as you made unhinged noises underneath him.

“I, I l-love you, J-John,” you manage to sputter out, suddenly, you’re seeing double since your eyes are crossing, your orgasm hitting you like a brick.

Your cunt clenched around John’s cock, sending him over the edge. He holds you closer to his large muscular frame, his arms swimming under your back and squeezing you tight. John grunts and moans as he cums, panting as he fills you with it.

“That’s right, baby doll, take my seed, that’s it.” John moans, keeping himself buried deep into your pussy as it finishes dripping out of him. Setting you back down on the mattress, John notices your body that’s completely limp from your cock drunk state. You can hardly move but that doesn’t stop you from feeling John’s cum shooting inside of you.

He strokes your cheek gently and smiles, sucking the blood from his lip and sighing.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” John asks, planting messy kisses on your bare chest and torso, caressing your stomach as he does so. He pulls out, keeping your thighs and hips elevated on the pillow beneath you.

You can hardly think, hell, you can hardly breathe. The weight of the situation sets in your chest but you can’t deal with the emotional repercussions of it at the moment. All you can think of is that gun that’s on the bedside table.

You hate that he made you cum so easily.

You hate the feeling of his cum dripping further into your cunt.

You hate that you didn’t just let him shoot you in the damn head.

You hate that he has a pretty smile and pretty eyes, no matter how demented they look.

You fucking hate that you’re probably going to miss your next period.

You swear you’re gonna be sick.

John is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over to grab his underwear and pants. Against your better judgement, your arm thrashes towards the firearm on the table, and you graze the barrel against the back of his skull of long dark hair. To your surprise, he doesn’t budge, and when your small finger pulls the trigger…

Click.

Click.

Another damn click.

You frown, pressing the magazine release button, only to realize it has been empty the entire time.

Your hands shake with the hunk of metal in them, your jaw clenching.

You swear you’re seeing red, as John lets out a deep throaty laugh from above.

It’s that handsome shit eating grin again.

Pearly whites accompanied by his five o’clock shadow, he’s already tied his long hair back and is even giving you a nod of appreciation.

“Oh, now I know I chose the right woman to carry my child.”

#john wick #john wick x you #jw #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #jw4 #keanu #john wick fanfic #john wick one shot

[kbrick]

Peak Drarry: Celebrating Incredible Writers - lettersbyelise

Peak Drarry is a series of posts celebrating the absolute treasure trove of talented writers in this fandom, and a reminder of how lucky we are to have them here with us. Find last month’s post featuring @aibidil​ here. This month features a fan-and-personal-favorite, @lettersbyelise​.

✨lettersbyelise✨

I was introduced to Elise’s writing when they returned to the fandom in late 2021 after a little haitus. Being fairly new to Drarry at the time, I had not yet heard of Elise, though plenty of other readers were chomping at the bit to get their hands on Elise’s new work. I kept hearing good things, so I figured I’d check it out—and immediately fell in love after reading Burn the Witch. The fic was poignant, exciting, and, above all, full of dreamy, delicious romance. So, why should you read Elise’s fic? Here are a few reasons:

The ungodly levels of UST

Elise’s Harry and Draco are fully in lust from the first, even if they still despise each other. In Unfold Me, Harry hates his roommate Malfoy so much that he can’t stop thinking about him or the smell of his laundry detergent. And then, when Malfoy accidentally includes his own t-shirt in Harry’s clean laundry pile, Harry has had enough. He sleeps with Malfoy’s t-shirt under his pillow (and does other, unspeakable things while sniffing it) as retribution. In Cabin Fever, Harry doesn’t like Malfoy or anything, but he can’t help but notice when a sudden gust of wind “whipped through Malfoy’s burgundy, standard-issue Auror cloak and exposed his shapely posterior for Harry to admire.” Okay, and fine, he’s also noticed the way Malfoy laughs, how he strides “through the Auror department corridors like a young prince perusing his future kingdom” (Harry’s words, not mine), and sometimes runs a hand through his “short, stylish, impossibly blond hair.” But don’t worry! Malfoy’s also lusting over Harry, a fact that he accidentally lets slip when he calls Harry ‘pretty’ out of nowhere (which obviously makes Harry lose his damn mind).

Sometimes Harry and Draco’s lust is very inconvenient, like in Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar, when Draco recalls a time Potter was pressed against him in the lifts and afterward, Draco had to “walk around with a manila folder held in front of his crotch for a good fifteen minutes.” Poor Draco. Sometimes, Harry is so hot that Draco’s body can’t handle it, like in Burn the Witch, when Draco sees Harry for the first time in years and his heart skips a beat. Literally, “[s]kipped a fucking beat, like in a cheap romance novel.”

Thankfully, Harry’s usually in the same boat. He’s cursed with having a sort of sixth sense when it comes to Malfoy. He can “walk into a room and know Malfoy is there before he even sets eyes on him.” (Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar). The back of his neck prickles whenever Malfoy’s around, okay? It’s not his fault. Malfoy only encourages it, doing things like wearing body-con leggings during a play (Upstaged) so that Harry is basically forced to go and see him perform a bagillion times in a row.

Further complicating matters, Elise’s Harry has typically been thinking about Malfoy for a very long time, in very R-rated ways, like in Laws of Gravity, wherein he muses over the fact that Malfoy kneeling in front of him in a cloakroom is “every fantasy Harry has ever blocked coming to life with an incandescent lack of warning.” Oh, generic gay fantasies, you ask? Hardly. We’re talking Malfoy-specific fantasies that involve “the version Harry’s always kept in the back of his mind, all these years—a hungry, debauched version…” Mm hm. This lust has been brewing for ages.

Occasionally, Elise likes to throw in they-almost-go-there-but-stop-themselves moments that make the UST levels fly off the charts altogether. I literally wrote in my notes on Had To Be You, “oh my god! No!! No! Just have sex! Oh my godddd!!!” (look what you’ve reduced me to, Elise). But Harry and Draco did not have sex at that time. Instead, they proceeded to eat dinner together, sporting what I can only imagine were horrendously painful blue balls. Don’t worry, though—it’s worth the wait when it happens.

Because, listen, if you’re sitting there thinking that all this UST buildup must lead to some scorching hot smut, then you are one hundred percent right. I’m not going to spoil these sexy, delicious, smutty scenes for you here by telling you too much about them, but as a preview, here’s Harry narrating in Had to Be You:

Harry’s heart keeps wanting to escape his ribcage, or at least burst it open, it’s beating so loud. He’s never felt anything like this — this anticipation, like the second before a kiss, only drawn up for minutes, for hours, for bloody months, if Harry’s perfectly honest with himself. There hasn’t been anyone else than Draco for months, maybe years...[T]he back of Draco’s hand brushes his, soft and warm and secret, and Harry nearly gasps, because just that tiny touch of Draco’s is the most erotic thing he’s experienced.

A brush of Draco’s hand does that, ladies and gentlemen. So, yeah, the smut is good.

All that sweet, sweet pining

Listen, I’m not going to say that Elise enjoys torturing readers—I can’t see into their mind! But if I had to guess, I’d say maybe they enjoy it a little? Because Harry and Draco pine so hard in Elise’s fic. Oh, sure, they’ll eventually come to experience a life-changing, soul-filling love for the ages, but first they are going to suffer. If you are anything like me, though, you’ll eat it up because it’s beautiful in its own right, and because it makes the payoff so, so sweet. But first, the pain.

Sometimes jealousy is involved, like in Had to Be You. For years, Draco and Harry watch each other date around and absolutely hate it. This results in various degrees of tantrum-throwing. When Harry makes out with Draco’s friend at a music festival, Harry notes that Draco is in a black mood the next day, and that it has “nothing to do with the weather.” Draco stops talking to Harry for a month after that. A month! When Draco sets off on an Italian holiday with a boyfriend, Harry stomps around until he gets a text from Draco that says Draco misses him (yes, Draco’s texting Harry that he misses him while on a holiday with his boyfriend, and no, neither one of them realizes what this means at this point).

Other times, there is no one else in the picture, and yet our dear boys still pine. They yearn for the thing they think they cannot have (even though they definitely, definitely can have it). In Laws of Gravity, Harry is completely obsessed with Malfoy from the start, although he’s sure it won’t work out because Malfoy’s a pickpocket, and also because he’s Malfoy. Harry thinks maybe the feelings will fade? Fat chance, when he readily admits that his life is “bisected into before and after Malfoy’s mind-boggling blowjob.” Harry. Buddy. You’ve divided your entire life (which included a starring role in a war, mind) into pre-blowjob and post-blowjob. I’m pretty sure your feelings are here to stay.

And the reality is, sex is never enough for these two. Nothing short of lifelong love and devotion is ever enough. After Malfoy keeps putting out for Harry in Laws of Gravity, Harry tells him he’s sending mixed signals. Malfoy points out that he’s given Harry not one, but two blowjobs at this point, and he very clearly wants him. Harry argues that it’s “not the same as liking someone.” Because see, Harry and Draco want everything from each other in Elise’s fic. Not just blowjobs, not just friendship, not just casual dating. They want everything.

They’ll make you believe in true love

Which brings me to my final point. Elise’s stories are about the most unabashedly romantic things I’ve ever read. In their first fic on AO3, Had To Be You, Elise notes that it’s inspired by When Harry Met Sally, a film they admit to having watched ‘a hundred’ times. This is not surprising to me. Because if you love When Harry Met Sally, you are someone who loves love, who has a tender center and a soft heart. And after going through Elise’s fics one by one, let me tell you: Elise loves love. Elise loves romance. And this comes through in all their stories, which are, at their core, tender and beautiful depictions of true love.

In Elise’s fic-universe, Harry and Draco were always meant to be, and literally everyone around them knows it. In Had To Be You, Hermione has a heart to heart with Harry in which she makes him acknowledge his feelings for Draco. “I’ve seen how you’ve been practically drooling over Draco for months now,” she says. “And you’ve been obsessed with him…for years. It was the weird thing you had for him in Sixth Year, and now it’s this very intense friendship.” Harry argues with her about the intense friendship, but eventually has to concede the point. In The Generation Who Lived, Neville and Luna scheme to get Harry and Draco alone in their house so that they’ll reconcile (again, because everyone knows they’re meant to be). My favorite fic in this vein is Re: Harry’s Crush, wherein the entire Ministry is emailing back and forth about how obsessed Harry and Draco are with each other. It’s common knowledge. Everyone else can see it, it just sometimes takes Harry and Draco a while to catch on.

But Harry and Draco do know, deep down, even when they don’t admit it at first. It comes out in flashes, like when they have sex for the first time in Had To Be You and Harry notes that “the connection was something [he’d] never felt, not with any of the many lovers he’d had in the past, and it left him feeling raw, exposed and shy, despite the deep pleasure coursing through his veins.” Or in Paper Rings, when Draco reminisces about his Eighth-Year fling with Harry and how he knew, even at the time, that it had been both “inevitable” and that he would never recover from it, emotionally. Or in Laws Of Gravity, when Harry realizes he doesn’t want Malfoy to go, even though he doesn’t know what that means. (It means you love him, Harry!).

One of the things I adore about Elise’s fic is that there is always this fantastic, pivotal moment when things click. It’s the moment when our guarded main characters let their walls fall, let themselves see what everyone else has known for so long. And then this thing—this love—that has felt so impossible suddenly seems easy. There’s a surety that comes flooding in, a recognition that yes, this is the person for me, and yes, they want me too. It’s even said tongue-in-cheek (although we know it’s hilariously real) in Kill, Fuck, Marry when the boys wake up after their first night together. They’d been playing the titular ‘marry, fuck, kill’ the night before, and Draco says, well, you’ve already tried to kill me and you’ve already fucked me, so “[t]he only thing left to do is marry me, I suppose.” Does this scare Harry off? Not at all. “You’ve already got more birthday presents than you deserved Malfoy,” Harry says. “This one will have to wait until next year. If you’re good.” One date and shag, and they’re already joking about getting married. God help us.

But lest you think this is some sort of shallow insta-love, it’s not. Elise, particularly in their long fic, depicts a love of equals, of two men who root for one another and stand up for one another, who have each other’s backs. It’s lovely, the way they see one another so clearly, the way they advocate for one another. Whether it’s Harry in Burn the Witch fighting against a Ministry that’s unfairly targeted Draco, or Draco in Paper Rings advocating for Harry in Harry’s divorce, these are two people who admire and respect each other. It's evident in Harry’s thoughts about how brave Draco is regarding his sexuality in Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar. Or, beautifully, in Draco’s thoughts in Paper Rings, when he contemplates that “Harry had spent so many years not being appreciated for who he was…not being loved.” He wonders how “blind Ginevra Weasley must have been not to see how good [Harry was]…how utterly perfect in every one of his complicated ways.” They know that the other is not actually perfect (after all, they, more than anyone, are familiar with the other’s faults), but they love them just the same. In Fire Meet Gasoline, Draco spells out his shortcomings to Harry—all of them—and Harry just says, “Do you think that frightens me? ‘Cause it doesn’t. I told you already. I want everything you are.”

Incidentally, after that gorgeous bit of dialogue from Fire Meet Gasoline, Harry asks Draco to stay with him. Draco thinks about how he doesn’t do love, but Potter was the exception (sort of like how Harry muses that he’s “Draco-sexual” in Paper Rings). Then he says, “I couldn’t leave you if I tried…I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now, Potter.” Cue the violins. Le sigh.

Ahhh, Drarry in its best and most natural state. Soulmates, each other’s one and only, together forever and ever, amen.

And one of my favorite things about Elise: they will get you there every time, no matter how improbable it seems at the start.

You can count on it.

Recommended For…

Lovers of love. Connoisseurs of quality, emotional smut. Anyone who wants to get swept up in an epic sort of romance, who believes that romantic partners should lift you up and bring out the best in you. People who believe in soulmates. Those who believe (or want to believe) in happily ever after. Here are a few you might want to check out, but honestly, you can’t go wrong with anything Elise has written.

Top 3 Fics Over 25,000 Words (by kudos)

Burn The Witch (E, 96k) - When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

Had To Be You (E, 59k) - Draco Malfoy is possibly the last person Harry expects to find at the wheel of a Muggle car, on a beautiful summer day on the road to London. This is the story of how Harry runs into Draco once, twice, three times, and how he doesn’t leave their next meeting to chance. A fic inspired by When Harry Met Sally.

Paper Rings (E, 50k) –  When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

Top 3 Fics Under 25,000 Words (by kudos)

Kill, Fuck, Marry (E, 4k) -  Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar (E, 2.7k) - Draco Malfoy offers to help his coworkers to improve their seduction techniques, with unexpected consequences.

Re: Harry’s Crush (T, 1.9k) -  Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs. A fic where the interdepartment betting war at the Ministry gets out of hand, Millicent and Hermione get scheming, Harry Potter ends up wearing black eyeliner, and everybody ends up getting more than they bargained for.

Kbrick’s Picks (in order of obsession)

Paper Rings (E, 50k) –  When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

The Laws of Gravity (E, 31k) - When he runs into Draco Malfoy picking pockets at a charity gala, Harry Potter is forced to face the desires he’s avoided for years — at the risk of shattering the public image he’s so carefully curated since the war.

Fire Meet Gasoline (E, 63k) -  When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right?

#drarry #peak drarry #kbrick recs #lettersbyelise #fic recs

[torchickentacos]

DREW + 4, 12, and 23

OKAY. TUMBLR'S LETTING ME ANSWER THIS ONE NOW. hellsite. Long post. I joked about being normal and hinged on the other ask about him I answered and CONGRATS, you get unhinged and long-winded thoughts! Curse of being my friend, I'm comfortable being unwell around you and now you get a dissertation <3.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

I mean, here's the thing. Literally any answer is objectively going to be hilarious. He's absurd in whatever you throw him at. Off the top of my head. Skyrim. Any romcom ever. Red Dead Redemption. Zelda. Great British Bake-Off. Like. Literally anything is really funny to imagine kdjfhskjf. Real answer, though, I think he would THRIVE as a Stardew Valley townie. That seems genuinely up his alley. Little florist's shop with a greenhouse in the back, a small-town with plenty of wilderness around to explore, and damn it now I just want to make an SDV pokeani au.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Long section incoming. Lol. Sorry. I have.... thoughts. A couple of 'em, even. Not adding a read-more because at this rate tumblr's gonna auto-shorten this for me.

kdjfhdskjfhdsjfhdsj. okay. You, the one asking this, already know WAY TOO MANY OF MY HEADCANONS ABOUT HIM and you are complicit in all of them lmfao. Assuming the french-canadian thing doesn't count since it's arguably canon (?), here's a potentially ~controversial~ one that literally nobody is obligated to agree with, dw, but I can back it up (sort of) (as much as you can back up ANYTHING in AG): I do not think Drew stays in coordinating in the long-term. Here's the thing. Think about episodes where he's being annoying and high-strung (/affectionate). Now, think about episodes where he seems to actually have serotonin for once. In group one, high-strung, you're going to get a lot of contest (like, contests on stage, not shorthand for shipping)/competition themed episodes. I have my... OPINIONS (/derogatory) about the Absol scene in Thinning the Hoard!, but I can use that as an example of "Well. This can't be great for his emotional wellbeing." EVIDENTLY it stresses him the fuck out. He's never more moody and stressed than he is in grand festivals/contests. But, in group two where he's actually kinda chill (albeit still himself), we have episodes where he's out doing literally anything other than coordinating- Unbeatable Lightness, WWWWW (why is he more relaxed in the episode where he drowns than the episodes where he wins ribbons?), On Cloud Arcanine. Hell, even contest episodes where he's not the one competing! He seems genuinely happier outside of contests.

This isn't even getting into my thoughts on coordinating fame and canon's portrayal of it (which is actually interesting and consistent, if unelaborated on). Some people thrive in that attention. Others won't. I think Drew genuinely loves the ART of contests. The planning of it, the technical side, working out strategies and appeals. And he's good at it. But the other parts of coordinating are things he struggles with and is uneasy with (also seen briefly in Unbeatable Lightness, A Fan With A Plan, and Spontaneous Combusken, my beloved absolute dumpster fire of an episode).

Now, it's a real shame to headcanon him as someone driven out of a career he loves by the culture of it and to just leave it on that sour note, though- so, where does he go from there? I've spoken to friends about it and there's different schools of thought about this- the one I usually lean towards personally is a career change that still allows him to partake in the parts of coordinating that he loved without the parts he hated, like becoming a mentor of sorts for new coordinators. I can see him being, like, a coordinating professor of sorts. Something that still allows the artistic expression and self-challenge, but more contained and focused specifically on the parts he loves about it. I can see him finding more satisfaction through teaching and nurturing others' talents and watching THEM go off and win rather than putting himself through it.

And obviously, his entire canon character is about how he's good at coordinating! This is maybe a weird take that sort of takes canon and does a hard pivot, so absolutely no need to agree at all, and I LOOOOVE interpretations where he stays and thrives in it! Because honestly, on a selfish note, the less he does coordinating the less I have to worry about the rules of contest appeals and battles, so. Can't say I don't have a personal stake in this. Because dear god do not make me try to understand the gen 3 anime's contest point system or lack thereof, what the FUCK.

Anyways. Thoughts. I have them. Sometimes. On occasion.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

lmao. BUT also 1.) every single face he's ever made at Harley, and 2.) every single face he makes in Unbeatable Lightness, which I think this is the third time I've mentioned it here BUT IT'S A GOOD EPISODE AND I'M NOT TAKING ALTERNATE OPINIONS ON THAT! If the sunset scene rewired my brain chemistry as a kid for probably the worse, then that's everyone else's problem and not mine. insert Taylor Swift "Drew looks-" FUCK YEAH MAN HE SURE DOES!!!!!

#non pokeani mutuals . do not worry about this. we're all really normal here :) #taylor's tag #taylor talks #drew #THANK YOU TAYLOR. taylor^2

[trektraveler]

Breathe Free Part Two

Summary: You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He'd seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn't about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he's not too late!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sick!Reader, Hospitals, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 5873

One Shot - Two Parts

Author’s Notes: I have been sick with Covid for a month. Well... down sick for 2 1/2 weeks and recovering my stamina for 2 more. Its been a real bitch. Plus my disabled mother has it now. This is following a nervous breakdown I had in June. Writing has been my passion and my mental health balm, but I've not been able to produce anything in months. So this... this is a fucking triumph!! I'm still working on all my other WIP, so please stick around. I'll get there... eventually :) I'm hoping to finish part two shortly and post in a week... ish.

Thank you all for the continued support! Additional Notes: Still hanging in there, long covid is a bitch, but it does improve. More or less. I am SO happy with myself that I've finished a story! Even a little self-indulgent two parter. As always, thank you all! Your kind words and encouragement have really helped me. Love you guys :)

Masterlist (Part One)

     Hospitals were noisy places.  Filled with squeaking wheels, scuffling shoes, and code calls.  The ICU was worse with its beeping monitors and hissing ventilators.  The constant stream of nurses and doctors talking in hushed concern about things like hypoxia and bradypnea and other terrifying medical babble.

     This wasn’t the first time Dean sat beside someone he cared about while they lingered between life and death.   He was a hunter; it came with the gig.  Broken bones and bullet holes.  The waiting and the worrying were pure hell, and he would know.  It was the reason he was so quick to put himself in the line of fire.  Not just to save a life, but to spare himself the agony of the wait.  Minutes that ticked by endlessly, ratcheting up the uncertainty.  Underscoring just how powerless he was.

     Never did it cross his mind that illness would snatch you away from him.  That you would simply get sick, like a normal person.  Pneumonia could be dangerous for anyone, but for someone with asthma, it could be deadly.

     You were sedated for three days while the ventilator breathed for you and gave your body a chance to rest and heal.  The doctors assured him that it was standard procedure, but damn was it intense.  Dean had never seen you look so fragile.  So pale.  You looked as if you could slip away at any moment, the only thing keeping you tethered to the Earthly realm were the wires and tubes attached to your body.   

     Dean took your hand.  He wondered about your soul.  Were you here with him?  Watching from somewhere nearby?  Or were you negotiating with a reaper?  Would you bargain for more time, or would you choose heaven?  A soul like yours was guaranteed a ticket to the penthouse. 

     It was in times like this that he cursed his profession.  What good was a lifetime’s worth of supernatural knowledge if he couldn’t use it to save you?  God knows he tried.  He tried every trick in the book, in the end it was Sam who talked sense into him.

     “She doesn’t need you to sell your soul Dean!  She just needs you.  Be there, hold her hand, tell her it’s going to be okay.  Let her know she isn’t alone.”

     Sammy was right, as he usually was.  The nurses said you’d shown enough improvement that they were taking you off the ventilator today.  As much as Dean wanted to believe it, he was cautious in his optimism. 

     He was so wrapped up in his own worry that he didn’t notice your fingers shifting against his palm.  Your eyelids fluttered, then went still.  It was so slight, that Dean thought he’d imagined it. 

     He desperately searched your face and held his breath.  God please…

     “Y/N?”

     A few seconds later you did it again, this time you gave his hand a proper squeeze and Dean felt like his heart was going to burst. 

     He squeezed back, his other hand coming up to brush your cheek, “Y/N… baby, can you hear me?”

     After several tries, you finally managed to open your eyes fully.  Exhausted, you looked around the room.  When your gaze landed on Dean, he smiled.  You tried to say his name and when you couldn’t, you panicked!  Choking on the tube shoved down your throat, your eyes went wide.

     “Hey!  It’s okay!  You’re in the hospital, Sweetheart.  Just stay calm.  We’ll get that tube out, let me go get the nurse.”

     He stood and your grip became desperate.  And strong.  Incredibly strong.  Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes as you tried to convey your thoughts.  You were wide awake, and you needed him.  Relief washed over him; no reapers would come knocking today. 

     “Okay, okay.  Shh…” he sat beside you and pressed a kiss to your forehead while his free hand hit the call button.  “I’ve got you; I’ve got you.  I’m not going anywhere.”

     Sam was walking down the corridor towards the ICU rooms with two large coffees balanced in one hand.  You were only allowed one visitor at a time, so he and Dean took turns.  Although, Dean always came back early.  And he begged the nurses to let him stay past visiting hours.  Sam got the impression they felt sorry for him, but knowing Dean, he would have found a way around the rules one way or another.

     When Sam saw his brother in the hallway, he quickened his pace.  He was leaning against the wall, bent at the waist with his hands braced on his knees. 

     “Dean?  What happened?  What’s going on?”

     Dean raised his head, sniffling back emotion, “She’s awake.  They’re... ah… they’re taking out that tube.”

     Sam caught the glossy sheen in Dean’s eyes.  He clapped a hand on his shoulder, “That’s fantastic.  Dean, that’s great.”

     Dean nodded and pulled Sam into a brief, tight hug then released him and took a coffee. 

     “Good thing you talked me out of selling my soul, huh?’

     You weren’t really sleeping when Sam and Dean walked into your new room in the regular section of the hospital.  But every muscle in your body was so taxed that even keeping your eyes open was an effort.  There was an oxygen mask covering your nose and mouth, but it was far more comfortable than that damn ventilator tube.  You were cold too, but that was part of being in a hospital.  It was all so familiar and disheartening.

     The squeak of the door prompted you to open your heavy eyes and you smiled.  The Winchesters were there, a welcome contrast of denim and flannel against the sterile hospital décor.  They had arms filled with gifts; balloons, books, a bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers, and the biggest arrangement of flowers you’d ever seen.  Dozens of roses, hydrangeas, and snapdragons.  

     “Flowers.”

     Your voice was a raspy whisper behind the mask, but it still made Dean beam brightly. 

     “Hell yeah, Sammy and I bought out every white flower they had.”  He set the massive vase down on the table.  “They’re your favorite, right?”

     You nodded, tracing a finger over the edge of one perfect bloom.  You had a late-night debate with him eons ago about how white couldn’t be your favorite color because it wasn’t really a color.  It’s a shade.  Technically, it was a sum of all possible colors.  Hence, the debate.

     Sam pulled out a stuffed a huge, stuffed moose from behind his back.  It was impossibly soft with floppy antlers and was wearing one of his flannel shirts tied in place with a white velvet bow.

     You laughed, “Aww!  A… Win..chester of… my own.”

     Sam’s throat got tight as the halting cadence of your words.  Even with the oxygen, you were out of breath.  He leaned down and hugged you.  Normally, he would squeeze you tight and lift you off your feet just to make you giggle like a kid sister.  Today, he was careful.  Mindful of the electrodes and wires and of how fragile you felt in his arms. 

     “You’ve already got two Winchesters,” he said, kissing the top of your head.  “Add him to your collection.”

     Your eyes were drooping, even after just a few minutes your energy was completely depleted.  You let your head fall back against the pillow with a tired smile, “Thank you… Sammy.”

     “We should get out of here, let you sleep,” he replied, catching his brother’s attention.

     “Yeah,” Dean gave a reluctant nod.  “If you’re lucky, we’ll smuggle in one of those triple thick strawberry-kiwi shakes you like.”

     You grabbed hold of his hand again and tugged.  It was so much effort to talk, you hope he got the message. 

     A wordless look passed between the brothers and Sam took his cue, leaving the two of you alone.  You tried to focus on your breathing and on the warmth of Dean’s hand holding yours.  It took every bit of strength you had to stay awake, but it was so important.  You couldn’t let him leave, not yet.

     Dean wiped away the single tear that slid down your cheek.  “Hey, hey.  What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

     “I… I’m… s… sorry.”

     He soothed back your hair, “Sorry for what?”

     “Should have… gone… to… th… the doctor.”

     “No, hey, don’t worry about any of that.”

     “Scared… you.”

     Dean cupped your face with his large palm, “Listen to me.  I don’t want you to think about any of that stuff, okay?  It doesn't matter.  The only thing that matters is you getting better.  That’s all I care about.”

     You nodded; your eyes shuttered to half-mast.  “Tired.”

     He let out a chuckle and ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow, “I’ll bet you are.”

     You shook your head and pointed at him.  When he tilted his head in confusion, you patted the mattress beside you.

     He was exhausted.  It was etched in every line on his beautiful face.  His green eyes, the ones you had loved since you first looked into them were bloodshot.  His strong shoulders slumped under the strain of recent events.  Dean had been by your side for days, even after taking care of you back at the bunker.  It was a testament to his impressive stamina and force of will that he was still standing.

     Without a word, he turned down the lights, kicked off his boots and climbed into the narrow bed.  It should have been uncomfortable, given his size, but he gently arranged it so that you were partly settled on his chest.  Your weary body melted into the warmth he provided as his arms wrapped around you.  You were both slipped into a dreamless sleep without any effort at all.

     Three Weeks Later:      You were in the hospital eight days in total, three of them in the ICU.  When they finally released you, it was with a whole list of stipulations and guidelines.  Breathing exercises.  An oxygen tank for times when your levels dipped below a certain level.  Antibiotics the size of horse tranquilizers and updated rescue inhalers.  It was intense, but still preferable to staying one more night in the hospital.

     It was Sam alone who picked you up on your release date.  You were disappointed, but not surprised.  Dean was gone when you woke the morning after the two of you shared your hospital bed.  He texted you every day but only came back to visit you once when he and Sam dropped off some of your clothes. 

     It was okay, it really was. 

     You understood.  You’d scared him big time.  Frankly, you were still so sick that all you did was sleep anyway.  But when you were home and days passed with still no contact, you worried.  God bless Sam, he was right there every step of the way.  He drove you to therapy and helped you come up with a strength building regiment.  He kept you company and offered insight to his missing brother.

     “Give him some time, Y/N.  He’ll come around.  You know how he gets.”

     And so, you did.  Sam’s words offered solace, but they didn’t make up for the fact that you missed that salty, pain in the ass.  Somehow, the fact that Dean was just down the hall made you all the more lonely for him.  But you were determined to respect his need for privacy.  After everything that happened, you owed him that at the very least.

     When you were in the kitchen a few days later making one of Sam’s health smoothies, the last thing you expected was to hear Dean’s voice. 

     “Tell me you’re not gonna drink that.”

     You smiled but didn’t turn.  “Of course not.  I haven’t added the spirulina or wheat germ yet.”

     You heard him mutter something about pond scum under his breath while he rummaged through the fridge. 

     “I’ve got enough for two,” you teased.  “Should I get you a glass?”

     “Too bad your stay in the VIP suite didn’t improve your sense of humor, smartass.”

     You turned around and grinned at him.  God, he looked incredible!  Maybe it was not seeing him for a month, but he was a sight!  Dark jeans on bowed legs.  That red and black flannel shirt that somehow made him seem even broader.  Especially when he crossed his arms across his chest.  Like he was doing right now.  And glowering at you!  Ridiculous man!  You’d been busy recuperating from serious illness, and he looked like he wanted to reprimand you for leaving wet towels on the floor.  It might have pissed you off, if you weren’t so pleased to see him. 

     So, you laughed. 

     His expression went from sexy and grumpy to utterly baffled.  “Why are you laughing?”

     You shook your head with a goofy grin and answered honestly, “I’m just happy to see you.”

     He cautiously smiled back, “Yeah?’

     “Yeah.”

     “Huh.  Well in that case, you wanna get out of here?  I was thinking of going for a drive.”

     Your heart felt light, “I’ll get my coat.”

     Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he knew he had to.  Even if it killed him, and it just might.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made the hard choice.  Break a heart, save a life.  He may as well get it tattooed on his ass.  At this point it was more of a life motto than saving people, hunting things.  He glanced over at you gazing happily out the window and he tried to burn the image into his memory.  Beautiful.  Hands down the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.  Even after he’d ignored you for weeks and pushed you off on his baby brother, you laughed and forgave him. 

     You looked just like you always had, maybe a bit thinner from your time in the hospital.  But Sammy had been adamant about those smoothies of his.  Nutrient dense.  They tasted like absolute ass, but they certainly seemed to help you get your color back.  Your hair was shiny and bouncy, he loved it when it was bouncy like that.  Cascading over your shoulders and framing your face.  It looked so soft and smelled like peaches when you tossed it back.  Your eyes were bright and glowed with good health.  Looking at you now, it was hard to believe you’d been on a ventilator only a few weeks ago. 

     “Hey, you wanna get out and walk for a bit?”  You asked, pointing out one of your favorite state parks ahead.

     “Sure.  You bring your scarf?”

     “Obviously,” you replied, pulling out the length of soft, white fabric from your bag.

     It was still a bit chilly out, but all the snow had been cleared from the paths and only an inch or so remained around the trees.  Dean kept shooting glances your way, checking for signs of distress as the two of you walked along.

     “I’m not going to keel over, you know.”

     Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket.  “You need to be careful in the cold air, it’s no good for you.”

     “True, but walking is very good for me.  It helps build stamina.” 

     He didn’t reply to that and the two of you walked along in silence until you really couldn’t take it anymore.

     “It’s ridiculous, you know?  Me, having to rebuild stamina.  I was in the best shape of my life; I could run up ten flights of stairs and still chop the head off a vamp no problem.  Now I have to stop halfway through a beginner’s yoga class.”

     “Almost dying does that.”

     There was venom in his voice, but the fear was too.  Evidently, he hadn’t worked through it as much as you’d hoped. 

     “Is that why you’re kicking me out?  Because I almost died?”

     Dean stopped and turned to you, but he kept his eyes downcast.  “Y/N…”

     “Its really not fair.  You’ve almost died several times and I still keep you around.”  You tried to keep your tone light, but it was difficult with the tears threatening.

     “It’s not funny,” his eyes were getting red as he recalled the terrifying night he carried you into the E.R.  “You stopped breathing.  Your fucking heart stopped!”

     You knew this part.  After Dean closed himself off from you, you asked Sam to give you all the details.  Full cardiac arrest from a severe asthma attack, brought on by complications from pneumonia.  It had taken the doctors a while to stabilize you, but when they did you were so weak, they weren’t sure you were going to pull through.  Sam had a hard time talking about, even though you were sitting there alive and well in front of him.  That night shook them both to the core.

     You brought your hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

     He closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of your touch comfort him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  All this time… a fucking two year long pandemic… Covid is a respiratory virus!  What if…”

     You hurt him.  Far more than you’d realized.  And you hated yourself for it. This was going to take much more than a simple reassurance to work through. 

     “Can we sit?”

     He led you to a park bench, “We should head back to the car, it’s too cold for you.”

     “I’m okay, Dean,” you grabbed his hands, “I really, really am.  And I’m sorry.  I didn’t deliberately keep it from you, I just didn’t think about it.  I know it’s hard to fathom, but I’ve lived with it my whole life.  The things I do to minimize my risk are second nature to me now. And I haven’t had an attack in years.”

     “This wasn’t my first trip to the ICU; I spent my childhood in and out of hospitals.  Mom was very protective.  The doctors had her so scared that she didn’t let me do much.  No sports, no sleepovers, no camping trips.  She even moved us to Glenwood Springs because of it.”

     “Like Doc Holliday.”

     You rolled your eyes out of habit.  Every time you mentioned your home, Dean spewed every bit of old west trivia he knew.  Which, you had to admit, was extensive.  Last time you were there he insisted on visiting the Doc Holliday museum, he even had you take his picture with gambler’s gun. 

     Then:      “Nice place,” Dean said, scanning the neatly maintained garden beds and brick walkways.

     “Yeah, it is.  Remember, this is just a quick stop so I can pick up some stuff.  Don’t do what you normally do.”

      “What are you talking about?”

     You ran a nervous hand through your hair and straightened your denim jacket, “That charming rogue routine you do whenever there’s a woman in front of you.”

     His grin turned cocky, “Sweetheart, that’s just me.  Can’t help it if the ladies love it.”

     You brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder with an impatient huff, “Rein it in, cowboy.”

     Before you could ring the bell, the front door swung open and revealed a woman who would have passed for your twin in her youth.  Tanned, with a bright white smile and silver bangles stacked on both arms.

     “Baby girl!”

     “Hi Momma,” you managed to say while she squeezed you tight.

     Your mother drew back and quickly scrutinized your appearance, “You taking care of yourself?  Regular appointments?  Feeling good?”

     “Yes, Ma’am.”

     That radiant smile was back, “Good girl!  And this tall drink of water must be that friend you told me about.”

     “Yes, this is Dean Winchester.  Dean, this is my mom, Beverly.”

     True to form, he turned up the charm to eleven.  “No way I’m gonna believe you are Y/N’s mother, you must be her sister.”

    “And you are the smoothest liar I’ve had on my doorstep,” Bev said, slipped her arm through Dean’s with a wink, “But please, don’t stop.  Why don’t we go out back and have coffee?  Y/N, I made that peach pie you’re so fond of!”

     “I love pie!”  Dean gave you an infuriating grin over your mother’s head as the two of them sailed into the house together.

     Three hours later, you had endured the torture of baby pictures and embarrassing stories from your adolescence.  While Dean supplied plenty of his own anecdotes of you getting lost in the grocery store and getting locked out of the motel room in only your underwear.  Luckily, the pie helped keep your mood from going sour. 

     “Okay, I’m going to head up and grab those boxes.”

     “Lift with your legs, Baby girl.”

     “Yes, Ma’am,” you replied, disappearing through the sliding glass door.

     Bev’s jovial mood turned serious as soon as her daughter was out of earshot.  “Okay, Winchester, shoot me straight.  How is my daughter?”

     Dean blinked in surprise, “I’m sorry?”

     “I may not be hip to everything going on, but I can feel the pair of you dancing around something big.  I’m not going stick my nose in, Y/N isn’t talking about it, and I respect that.  But I’m a mom and that girl is my whole life, so tell me… is she okay?  Do I need to worry about her?  About you?”

     Dean weighed his words carefully, “Y/N is… amazing.  She’s smart and strong.  She has the biggest vocabulary of anyone I’ve ever known, and she loves to show it off.  Even when she shouldn’t.  But she knows how to handle herself.  She kicks ass.”

     The corner of Bev’s mouth quirked, “It runs in the family.”

     “I can see that.”

     She leaned back in her chair and studied him, “You seem like a decent man, the sort who keeps his word.  That being the case, I have a favor to ask.  Keep an eye on my girl for me.”

     “Already done,” was his quick reply.

     Bev shook her head, “It’s not the dangers of the world I’m talking about.  I’m talking about looking after her when she’s not looking after herself.  Y/N… has a lot of life to live and when she gets busy… she just doesn’t see how far gone she is until she falls flat on her face.”

     Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees, “You’ve got my word, Bev.  I’ll never let her fall.”

     Now:      “I like your mom,” Dean looked down at his boots.  “She made me promise to look after you.”

     “You never told me that.”

     “I got the impression she didn’t want me to.  Thought maybe she had a mother’s intuition about you getting into the hunting business.  Guess she was talking about something else.”

     You let your gaze drift over to the lake in the distance, half thawed already.  It would be an early spring this year.  A sign of hope for the future.

     “We got in this huge fight when I was nineteen.  I wanted to move out, go to college, see the world.  I missed out on so much as a sick kid, but I survived it.  I worked hard to strengthen my lungs and build up stamina.  I followed every doctor’s order to the letter so that I could actually live my life like a normal person… and it worked, but when the time came, I still didn’t have her support.  I was so pissed!  I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night.”

     “How’d that go over?”

     “I hadn’t yet mastered the art of covering my tracks.  Plus, she was dating the sheriff.  I was back home twenty-four hours later.” 

     Dean snorted, “Amateur.” 

     “Mom and I came to an agreement after that.  I stay local, stay in communication, and keep doing everything my doctors ask and in return, she would stop focusing on my condition like it was a death sentence.”  You shrugged, “Things were better after that.”

    “Your mom is awesome, I’m glad she supports you…. You’re lucky, Y/N.”

     Dean took your hand, surprising you.  His fingers linked with yours, rubbing his thumb over yours.  Then he frowned, his brows drew down over his eyes in worry.  Like a black cloud had settled over his heart. 

     “Y/N…”

     You knew what he wanted to say, you could feel it.  You could see it in his eyes whenever he dared to look at you.  The sorrow.  All you wanted to do was save him from it.  From himself.

     “It’s amazing how much we still don’t know about how the human body works,” you blurted out, making him blink in confusion.

     “What?”

     “Being sedated, for example.  Medical experts still aren’t sure why some people retain a certain level of consciousness and others remember nothing.  When I was seven, I was in the hospital for a month, my mother read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe to me even though I wasn’t awake.  When I came out of it, I remembered the whole thing.” 

     You could see the realization slowly register in his beautiful eyes.  If you heard your mother, you must have heard him.

     Then:      It was cold in your room.  You hated being cold, it was one of your main complaints about the bunker.  You cranked the thermostat, took boiling hot showers, and frequently stole clothes from both Winchesters.  Although, you seemed to favor Dean’s over his brother’s.  A fact he griped about, but secretly liked.  He liked knowing that you felt at home enough to make yourself comfortable.  If you were comfortable, maybe you would stay. 

     Dean brought your favorite blanket and tucked it around you, careful of the machines and wires.  “There you go, Sweetheart.  Just like home.”

     He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed and studied your peaceful face.  He tried to think of you as an enchanted princess.  Sleeping Beauty, just waiting for the right prince to swing by and break the curse.  Unlikely in his world.  Still… it was easier than the truth.

     He might have been able to fool himself for a while if it weren’t for that breathing tube.

     “Actually, that’s a lie...  this place is nothing like home.  Home has all the amenities, right?  I’ll bet this state-of-the-art medical facility doesn’t even have a firing range.  Or a dungeon!” 

     “Course, it wasn’t always so awesome.  A lot of spiders when we first moved in.  Plus, Sammy and I added our personal touches to make it more comfortable.  That mini fridge in the library, totally my idea.  It really pulled the room together, you know?”

     He chuckled a little at his Big Lebowski reference, disheartened when the only response was the hiss of the ventilator. 

     He reached over and gently combed his fingers through your hair.  Your skin was cool to the touch since your fever broke in the night.  That had to be a good sign, right? 

     “I’ve got a confession, but you gotta promise not to tell Sam, okay?  I never really wanted to live in the bunker full time.  Not at first.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked it!  It was our personal Batcave!  But Batman… he doesn’t live in the Batcave.  The Batcave is for work only.  And that was my plan.  Work in the bunker as a base of operations but live like we always did.  On the road.”

     Dean’s hand moved to yours, toying with your fingers.  You had such elegant hands.  You never wore jewelry, just like you never wore make-up.  You didn’t have a closet full of clothes.  You wore things of nice quality, but you didn’t have lots of them.  Only what you needed.  Same with everything else, you didn’t do fussy or extravagant.  But it wasn’t because you liked to keep things simple, it was because you were focused on living your life, not adorning it.  

     He liked that about you.  You were straightforward and up for anything.  You never hesitated to jump right in.  You were quick on your feet and quick with your wit.  You came up with better cover stories than he or Sam ever did.  Your contributions to the team were welcome and seamless, almost from the start.

     With anyone else, your eagerness might have come across as a need to prove yourself.  But you didn’t seem to be afflicted in that way.  You knew your worth.  You were confident.  And that rubbed off on everyone you came in contact with.  Cops, sheriffs, coroners, witnesses, victims.  All of them responded to you in ways that were remarkable.  Your presence calmed them.  Dean too.

     “The longer we stayed in the bunker, the more obvious it became that life on the road was never gonna be like it was before.  Sammy loved it, and I never could deny that kid anything.  But for me…. I dunno.  It took a while.  I even slept in Baby those first few nights.  Eventually, I picked out a room, got a bed that remembers me, and it was better.”

     “You were our first guest; did you know that?  Well Cas was, but he doesn’t sleep so that doesn’t really count.  You were the first non-Winchester to sleep in the Batcave.  On that old army cot, remember?  Tried to get you to take my bed… stubborn.  You were so stiff the next day you could barely walk, but you stuck it out.  You should have taken me up on it, I was on the couch most nights anyway.  Nightmares.”

     “I’ll never forget the morning I woke up and found you there with me.  All warm and cuddled up against me.  I moved and you shushed me in your sleep, mumbled that everything was okay.  God, I don’t think I’d ever slept that good.  We went to that diner in town for breakfast and I asked you to move in.  Sammy nearly choked on his egg whites,” Dean laughed softly at the memory.  “The bunker was a home then.”

     “If you were awake, you’d probably laugh and tell me what I sap I am.  And you’d be right, but I can’t help it.  It’s you, Y/N.  You have this magic… I don’t know what else to call it.  You don’t even have to say anything, and my heart starts to race.  I think about you, more than I should.  In ways that I shouldn’t, and I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.”

     “I love you, Y/N.  In case you don’t know; in case you can hear me in your dreams right now… I love you.  I’ve always loved you and if you stay, if you come back to me… I’m going to show you every day just how much.”

     Now:      He tried to speak, but you moved your fingers to his lips to stop him.  Tears shimmered in your eyes, but you managed a wavering smile. 

     “I love you too.”

     You watched the conflicting emotions flicker across his handsome face.  Joy and torment.  Ecstasy and pain.  He traced the underside of your jaw with his fingers, making your shiver inside and your eyes closed on a sigh.  When his lips connected with yours, it was electric!  The world shifted.  Colors, tastes, sensations, all redefined from that moment.  Soft and warm and connected on a level that could only come from love. 

     It was everything you’d ever dreamt his kiss could be, and it ended far too quickly.

     He rested his forehead against yours, puffs of white, heated breath mingling between you.  After a few minutes, he brushed the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, “Don’t cry, Sweetheart.  It breaks my heart when you cry.”

     “Don’t send me away.  Please don’t send me away.”

     “Baby, that bunker is no place for you.  There are no windows, the ventilation is crap, there’s a mildew problem.  I talked to those doctors about the type of environment an asthmatic should live in… Bomb shelter from the fifties didn’t make the cut.”

     “I’ve been living there for five years without an issue,” you pointed out.

     “Yeah, with a humidifier and inhalers.  But it’s different now, that round of pneumonia damaged your lungs.  You need to be someplace where its easier to breathe, not harder.”

     “You’re right.  Which is why Sam and I have been designing a new HVAC system.”

     That stopped him, “Really?  Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

     “Because you went all emo and hid in your room for a month.”

     “I’m not emo!  What kind of HVAC system?”

     “A kick ass one,” you grinned so that your tongue peeked out between your teeth.  “Any other concerns?”

     “What about hunting?” he challenged.

     “I don’t know,” you answered honestly and there was a pang of longing that went with it.  “I have no idea if I’ll ever get back to the physical condition I was before all of this.  No matter how hard I work for it or wish for it and the truth is… going into the field with that kind of a handicap is not in the cards.”

     Dean nodded grimly and dropped his gaze to his lap.  Admitting the possibility of an early retirement was killing you, and he knew it.  You loved hunting, it was as much a part of you as it was for him.  The uncertainty of not knowing if you could do it again, must be terrifying for you.

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I’m not.”  His head shot up and you shrugged, “Most hunters don’t get sidelined, they get killed.  My life might not look they way I thought it was going to, but I’m still here.  Living it.  I’m going to take that win and run with it.”

     “You’re amazing, you know that?  You’re so damn strong… your life got turned upside down and you just roll with it.”  Those impossibly green eyes looked at you with such awe, like he couldn’t quiet believe that you actually existed. 

     “You deserve the best, and that’s not me.”

     “That’s not for you to say.”

     “Doesn’t matter, it’s my choice.”

     “That’s where you’re wrong,” you lifted your chin in proud defiance, “Team Freewill, right?  I will always have a choice, no matter what hand you try to deal me.  I love you, Dean Winchester!  And I am never going to stop.  And I am never going to disappear from your life.  Even if you tell me to hit the bricks, I’ll still call and text and email and whatever just to make sure you’re still alive and well.  Even if this ends, I will still love you!  You ridiculous man!”

     There was a change in his gaze, subtle but there all the same.  He shook his head with a chuckle.  He knew when he was beat, and he was grateful for it.

     “Your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink when you get all worked up, you know that?”

     “My cheeks are pink because it’s freezing out here!”

     Dean ripped his coat off and wrapped it over yours, “Damn it, Y/N!  I knew you were cold!”

     “Well, if you were any kind of a boyfriend, you’d take my back to the car and warm me up properly!”

     He was pulling the hood up over your head when he paused, “Boyfriend, huh?”

     “Yeah, the kind that warms his girl up in the backseat,” you grinned and playfully rubbed your nose against his.

     He growled in your ear and stood, sweeping you up in his arms and making you yelp in delight. 

     “Dean!  I can still walk, you know!”

     “Save your energy, Sweetheart, you’re gonna need it.  Tonight, we’re gonna fog up all the windows!”

TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis  @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @chucksfavouriteprophet

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x you #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x you #breathe free #dean x sick!reader #sickfic

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Breathe Free (Part Two)

Summary:��You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He’d seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn’t about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he’s not too late!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sick!Reader, Hospitals, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 5873

One Shot - Two Parts

Author’s Notes: I have been sick with Covid for a month. Well… down sick for 2 ½ weeks and recovering my stamina for 2 more. Its been a real bitch. Plus my disabled mother has it now. This is following a nervous breakdown I had in June. Writing has been my passion and my mental health balm, but I’ve not been able to produce anything in months. So this… this is a fucking triumph!! I’m still working on all my other WIP, so please stick around. I’ll get there… eventually :) I’m hoping to finish part two shortly and post in a week… ish.

Thank you all for the continued support! Additional Notes: Still hanging in there, long covid is a bitch, but it does improve. More or less. I am SO happy with myself that I’ve finished a story! Even a little self-indulgent two parter. As always, thank you all! Your kind words and encouragement have really helped me. Love you guys :) Masterlist Breathe Free (Part One)

     Hospitals were noisy places.  Filled with squeaking wheels, scuffling shoes, and code calls.  The ICU was worse with its beeping monitors and hissing ventilators.  The constant stream of nurses and doctors talking in hushed concern about things like hypoxia and bradypnea and other terrifying medical babble.

     This wasn’t the first time Dean sat beside someone he cared about while they lingered between life and death.   He was a hunter; it came with the gig.  Broken bones and bullet holes.  The waiting and the worrying were pure hell, and he would know.  It was the reason he was so quick to put himself in the line of fire.  Not just to save a life, but to spare himself the agony of the wait.  Minutes that ticked by endlessly, ratcheting up the uncertainty.  Underscoring just how powerless he was.

     Never did it cross his mind that illness would snatch you away from him.  That you would simply get sick, like a normal person.  Pneumonia could be dangerous for anyone, but for someone with asthma, it could be deadly.

     You were sedated for three days while the ventilator breathed for you and gave your body a chance to rest and heal.  The doctors assured him that it was standard procedure, but damn was it intense.  Dean had never seen you look so fragile.  So pale.  You looked as if you could slip away at any moment, the only thing keeping you tethered to the Earthly realm were the wires and tubes attached to your body.   

     Dean took your hand.  He wondered about your soul.  Were you here with him?  Watching from somewhere nearby?  Or were you negotiating with a reaper?  Would you bargain for more time, or would you choose heaven?  A soul like yours was guaranteed a ticket to the penthouse. 

     It was in times like this that he cursed his profession.  What good was a lifetime’s worth of supernatural knowledge if he couldn’t use it to save you?  God knows he tried.  He tried every trick in the book, in the end it was Sam who talked sense into him.

     “She doesn’t need you to sell your soul Dean!  She just needs you.  Be there, hold her hand, tell her it’s going to be okay.  Let her know she isn’t alone.”

Sammy was right, as he usually was.  The nurses said you’d shown enough improvement that they were taking you off the ventilator today.  As much as Dean wanted to believe it, he was cautious in his optimism. 

     He was so wrapped up in his own worry that he didn’t notice your fingers shifting against his palm.  Your eyelids fluttered, then went still.  It was so slight, that Dean thought he’d imagined it. 

     He desperately searched your face and held his breath.  God please…

“Y/N?”

     A few seconds later you did it again, this time you gave his hand a proper squeeze and Dean felt like his heart was going to burst. 

     He squeezed back, his other hand coming up to brush your cheek, “Y/N… baby, can you hear me?”

     After several tries, you finally managed to open your eyes fully.  Exhausted, you looked around the room.  When your gaze landed on Dean, he smiled.  You tried to say his name and when you couldn’t, you panicked!  Choking on the tube shoved down your throat, your eyes went wide.

     “Hey!  It’s okay!  You’re in the hospital, Sweetheart.  Just stay calm.  We’ll get that tube out, let me go get the nurse.”

     He stood and your grip became desperate.  And strong.  Incredibly strong.  Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes as you tried to convey your thoughts.  You were wide awake, and you needed him.  Relief washed over him; no reapers would come knocking today. 

     “Okay, okay.  Shh…” he sat beside you and pressed a kiss to your forehead while his free hand hit the call button.  “I’ve got you; I’ve got you.  I’m not going anywhere.”

     Sam was walking down the corridor towards the ICU rooms with two large coffees balanced in one hand.  You were only allowed one visitor at a time, so he and Dean took turns.  Although, Dean always came back early.  And he begged the nurses to let him stay past visiting hours.  Sam got the impression they felt sorry for him, but knowing Dean, he would have found a way around the rules one way or another.

     When Sam saw his brother in the hallway, he quickened his pace.  He was leaning against the wall, bent at the waist with his hands braced on his knees. 

     “Dean?  What happened?  What’s going on?”

     Dean raised his head, sniffling back emotion, “She’s awake.  They’re… ah… they’re taking out that tube.”

     Sam caught the glossy sheen in Dean’s eyes.  He clapped a hand on his shoulder, “That’s fantastic.  Dean, that’s great.”

     Dean nodded and pulled Sam into a brief, tight hug then released him and took a coffee. 

     “Good thing you talked me out of selling my soul, huh?’

     You weren’t really sleeping when Sam and Dean walked into your new room in the regular section of the hospital.  But every muscle in your body was so taxed that even keeping your eyes open was an effort.  There was an oxygen mask covering your nose and mouth, but it was far more comfortable than that damn ventilator tube.  You were cold too, but that was part of being in a hospital.  It was all so familiar and disheartening.

     The squeak of the door prompted you to open your heavy eyes and you smiled.  The Winchesters were there, a welcome contrast of denim and flannel against the sterile hospital décor.  They had arms filled with gifts; balloons, books, a bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers, and the biggest arrangement of flowers you’d ever seen.  Dozens of roses, hydrangeas, and snapdragons.  

     “Flowers.”

     Your voice was a raspy whisper behind the mask, but it still made Dean beam brightly. 

     “Hell yeah, Sammy and I bought out every white flower they had.”  He set the massive vase down on the table.  “They’re your favorite, right?”

     You nodded, tracing a finger over the edge of one perfect bloom.  You had a late-night debate with him eons ago about how white couldn’t be your favorite color because it wasn’t really a color.  It’s a shade.  Technically, it was a sum of all possible colors.  Hence, the debate.

     Sam pulled out a stuffed a huge, stuffed moose from behind his back.  It was impossibly soft with floppy antlers and was wearing one of his flannel shirts tied in place with a white velvet bow.

     You laughed, “Aww!  A… Win..chester of… my own.”

     Sam’s throat got tight as the halting cadence of your words.  Even with the oxygen, you were out of breath.  He leaned down and hugged you.  Normally, he would squeeze you tight and lift you off your feet just to make you giggle like a kid sister.  Today, he was careful.  Mindful of the electrodes and wires and of how fragile you felt in his arms. 

     “You’ve already got two Winchesters,” he said, kissing the top of your head.  “Add him to your collection.”

     Your eyes were drooping, even after just a few minutes your energy was completely depleted.  You let your head fall back against the pillow with a tired smile, “Thank you… Sammy.”

     “We should get out of here, let you sleep,” he replied, catching his brother’s attention.

     “Yeah,” Dean gave a reluctant nod.  “If you’re lucky, we’ll smuggle in one of those triple thick strawberry-kiwi shakes you like.”

     You grabbed hold of his hand again and tugged.  It was so much effort to talk, you hope he got the message. 

     A wordless look passed between the brothers and Sam took his cue, leaving the two of you alone.  You tried to focus on your breathing and on the warmth of Dean’s hand holding yours.  It took every bit of strength you had to stay awake, but it was so important.  You couldn’t let him leave, not yet.

     Dean wiped away the single tear that slid down your cheek.  “Hey, hey.  What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

     “I… I’m… s… sorry.”

     He soothed back your hair, “Sorry for what?”

     “Should have… gone… to… th… the doctor.”

     “No, hey, don’t worry about any of that.”

     “Scared… you.”

     Dean cupped your face with his large palm, “Listen to me.  I don’t want you to think about any of that stuff, okay?  It doesn’t matter.  The only thing that matters is you getting better.  That’s all I care about.”

     You nodded; your eyes shuttered to half-mast.  “Tired.”

     He let out a chuckle and ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow, “I’ll bet you are.”

     You shook your head and pointed at him.  When he tilted his head in confusion, you patted the mattress beside you.

     He was exhausted.  It was etched in every line on his beautiful face.  His green eyes, the ones you had loved since you first looked into them were bloodshot.  His strong shoulders slumped under the strain of recent events.  Dean had been by your side for days, even after taking care of you back at the bunker.  It was a testament to his impressive stamina and force of will that he was still standing.

     Without a word, he turned down the lights, kicked off his boots and climbed into the narrow bed.  It should have been uncomfortable, given his size, but he gently arranged it so that you were partly settled on his chest.  Your weary body melted into the warmth he provided as his arms wrapped around you.  You were both slipped into a dreamless sleep without any effort at all.

     Three Weeks Later:      You were in the hospital eight days in total, three of them in the ICU.  When they finally released you, it was with a whole list of stipulations and guidelines.  Breathing exercises.  An oxygen tank for times when your levels dipped below a certain level.  Antibiotics the size of horse tranquilizers and updated rescue inhalers.  It was intense, but still preferable to staying one more night in the hospital.

     It was Sam alone who picked you up on your release date.  You were disappointed, but not surprised.  Dean was gone when you woke the morning after the two of you shared your hospital bed.  He texted you every day but only came back to visit you once when he and Sam dropped off some of your clothes. 

     It was okay, it really was. 

     You understood.  You’d scared him big time.  Frankly, you were still so sick that all you did was sleep anyway.  But when you were home and days passed with still no contact, you worried.  God bless Sam, he was right there every step of the way.  He drove you to therapy and helped you come up with a strength building regiment.  He kept you company and offered insight to his missing brother.

     “Give him some time, Y/N.  He’ll come around.  You know how he gets.”

And so, you did.  Sam’s words offered solace, but they didn’t make up for the fact that you missed that salty, pain in the ass.  Somehow, the fact that Dean was just down the hall made you all the more lonely for him.  But you were determined to respect his need for privacy.  After everything that happened, you owed him that at the very least.

     When you were in the kitchen a few days later making one of Sam’s health smoothies, the last thing you expected was to hear Dean’s voice. 

     “Tell me you’re not gonna drink that.”

     You smiled but didn’t turn.  “Of course not.  I haven’t added the spirulina or wheat germ yet.”

     You heard him mutter something about pond scum under his breath while he rummaged through the fridge. 

     “I’ve got enough for two,” you teased.  “Should I get you a glass?”

     “Too bad your stay in the VIP suite didn’t improve your sense of humor, smartass.”

     You turned around and grinned at him.  God, he looked incredible!  Maybe it was not seeing him for a month, but he was a sight!  Dark jeans on bowed legs.  That red and black flannel shirt that somehow made him seem even broader.  Especially when he crossed his arms across his chest.  Like he was doing right now.  And glowering at you!  Ridiculous man!  You’d been busy recuperating from serious illness, and he looked like he wanted to reprimand you for leaving wet towels on the floor.  It might have pissed you off, if you weren’t so pleased to see him. 

     So, you laughed. 

     His expression went from sexy and grumpy to utterly baffled.  “Why are you laughing?”

     You shook your head with a goofy grin and answered honestly, “I’m just happy to see you.”

     He cautiously smiled back, “Yeah?’

     “Yeah.”

     “Huh.  Well in that case, you wanna get out of here?  I was thinking of going for a drive.”

     Your heart felt light, “I’ll get my coat.”

     Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he knew he had to.  Even if it killed him, and it just might.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made the hard choice.  Break a heart, save a life.  He may as well get it tattooed on his ass.  At this point it was more of a life motto than saving people, hunting things.  He glanced over at you gazing happily out the window and he tried to burn the image into his memory.  Beautiful.  Hands down the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.  Even after he’d ignored you for weeks and pushed you off on his baby brother, you laughed and forgave him. 

     You looked just like you always had, maybe a bit thinner from your time in the hospital.  But Sammy had been adamant about those smoothies of his.  Nutrient dense.  They tasted like absolute ass, but they certainly seemed to help you get your color back.  Your hair was shiny and bouncy, he loved it when it was bouncy like that.  Cascading over your shoulders and framing your face.  It looked so soft and smelled like peaches when you tossed it back.  Your eyes were bright and glowed with good health.  Looking at you now, it was hard to believe you’d been on a ventilator only a few weeks ago. 

     “Hey, you wanna get out and walk for a bit?”  You asked, pointing out one of your favorite state parks ahead.

     “Sure.  You bring your scarf?”

     “Obviously,” you replied, pulling out the length of soft, white fabric from your bag.

     It was still a bit chilly out, but all the snow had been cleared from the paths and only an inch or so remained around the trees.  Dean kept shooting glances your way, checking for signs of distress as the two of you walked along.

     “I’m not going to keel over, you know.”

     Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket.  “You need to be careful in the cold air, it’s no good for you.”

     “True, but walking is very good for me.  It helps build stamina.” 

     He didn’t reply to that and the two of you walked along in silence until you really couldn’t take it anymore.

     “It’s ridiculous, you know?  Me, having to rebuild stamina.  I was in the best shape of my life; I could run up ten flights of stairs and still chop the head off a vamp no problem.  Now I have to stop halfway through a beginner’s yoga class.”

     “Almost dying does that.”

     There was venom in his voice, but the fear was too.  Evidently, he hadn’t worked through it as much as you’d hoped. 

     “Is that why you’re kicking me out?  Because I almost died?”

     Dean stopped and turned to you, but he kept his eyes downcast.  “Y/N…”

     “Its really not fair.  You’ve almost died several times and I still keep you around.”  You tried to keep your tone light, but it was difficult with the tears threatening.

     “It’s not funny,” his eyes were getting red as he recalled the terrifying night he carried you into the E.R.  “You stopped breathing.  Your fucking heart stopped!”

     You knew this part.  After Dean closed himself off from you, you asked Sam to give you all the details.  Full cardiac arrest from a severe asthma attack, brought on by complications from pneumonia.  It had taken the doctors a while to stabilize you, but when they did you were so weak, they weren’t sure you were going to pull through.  Sam had a hard time talking about, even though you were sitting there alive and well in front of him.  That night shook them both to the core.

     You brought your hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

     He closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of your touch comfort him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  All this time… a fucking two year long pandemic… Covid is a respiratory virus!  What if…”

     You hurt him.  Far more than you’d realized.  And you hated yourself for it. This was going to take much more than a simple reassurance to work through. 

     “Can we sit?”

     He led you to a park bench, “We should head back to the car, it’s too cold for you.”

     “I’m okay, Dean,” you grabbed his hands, “I really, really am.  And I’m sorry.  I didn’t deliberately keep it from you, I just didn’t think about it.  I know it’s hard to fathom, but I’ve lived with it my whole life.  The things I do to minimize my risk are second nature to me now. And I haven’t had an attack in years.”

     “This wasn’t my first trip to the ICU; I spent my childhood in and out of hospitals.  Mom was very protective.  The doctors had her so scared that she didn’t let me do much.  No sports, no sleepovers, no camping trips.  She even moved us to Glenwood Springs because of it.”

     “Like Doc Holliday.”

     You rolled your eyes out of habit.  Every time you mentioned your home, Dean spewed every bit of old west trivia he knew.  Which, you had to admit, was extensive.  Last time you were there he insisted on visiting the Doc Holliday museum, he even had you take his picture with gambler’s gun. 

     Then:      “Nice place,” Dean said, scanning the neatly maintained garden beds and brick walkways.

     “Yeah, it is.  Remember, this is just a quick stop so I can pick up some stuff.  Don’t do what you normally do.”

      “What are you talking about?”

     You ran a nervous hand through your hair and straightened your denim jacket, “That charming rogue routine you do whenever there’s a woman in front of you.”

     His grin turned cocky, “Sweetheart, that’s just me.  Can’t help it if the ladies love it.”

     You brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder with an impatient huff, “Rein it in, cowboy.”

     Before you could ring the bell, the front door swung open and revealed a woman who would have passed for your twin in her youth.  Tanned, with a bright white smile and silver bangles stacked on both arms.

     “Baby girl!”

     “Hi Momma,” you managed to say while she squeezed you tight.

     Your mother drew back and quickly scrutinized your appearance, “You taking care of yourself?  Regular appointments?  Feeling good?”

     “Yes, Ma’am.”

     That radiant smile was back, “Good girl!  And this tall drink of water must be that friend you told me about.”

     “Yes, this is Dean Winchester.  Dean, this is my mom, Beverly.”

     True to form, he turned up the charm to eleven.  “No way I’m gonna believe you are Y/N’s mother, you must be her sister.”

    “And you are the smoothest liar I’ve had on my doorstep,” Bev said, slipped her arm through Dean’s with a wink, “But please, don’t stop.  Why don’t we go out back and have coffee?  Y/N, I made that peach pie you’re so fond of!”

     “I love pie!”  Dean gave you an infuriating grin over your mother’s head as the two of them sailed into the house together.

     Three hours later, you had endured the torture of baby pictures and embarrassing stories from your adolescence.  While Dean supplied plenty of his own anecdotes of you getting lost in the grocery store and getting locked out of the motel room in only your underwear.  Luckily, the pie helped keep your mood from going sour. 

     “Okay, I’m going to head up and grab those boxes.”

     “Lift with your legs, Baby girl.”

     “Yes, Ma’am,” you replied, disappearing through the sliding glass door.

     Bev’s jovial mood turned serious as soon as her daughter was out of earshot.  “Okay, Winchester, shoot me straight.  How is my daughter?”

     Dean blinked in surprise, “I’m sorry?”

     “I may not be hip to everything going on, but I can feel the pair of you dancing around something big.  I’m not going stick my nose in, Y/N isn’t talking about it, and I respect that.  But I’m a mom and that girl is my whole life, so tell me… is she okay?  Do I need to worry about her?  About you?”

     Dean weighed his words carefully, “Y/N is… amazing.  She’s smart and strong.  She has the biggest vocabulary of anyone I’ve ever known, and she loves to show it off.  Even when she shouldn’t.  But she knows how to handle herself.  She kicks ass.”

     The corner of Bev’s mouth quirked, “It runs in the family.”

     “I can see that.”

     She leaned back in her chair and studied him, “You seem like a decent man, the sort who keeps his word.  That being the case, I have a favor to ask.  Keep an eye on my girl for me.”

     “Already done,” was his quick reply.

     Bev shook her head, “It’s not the dangers of the world I’m talking about.  I’m talking about looking after her when she’s not looking after herself.  Y/N… has a lot of life to live and when she gets busy… she just doesn’t see how far gone she is until she falls flat on her face.”

     Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees, “You’ve got my word, Bev.  I’ll never let her fall.”

Now:      “I like your mom,” Dean looked down at his boots.  “She made me promise to look after you.”

     “You never told me that.”

     “I got the impression she didn’t want me to.  Thought maybe she had a mother’s intuition about you getting into the hunting business.  Guess she was talking about something else.”

     You let your gaze drift over to the lake in the distance, half thawed already.  It would be an early spring this year.  A sign of hope for the future.

     “We got in this huge fight when I was nineteen.  I wanted to move out, go to college, see the world.  I missed out on so much as a sick kid, but I survived it.  I worked hard to strengthen my lungs and build up stamina.  I followed every doctor’s order to the letter so that I could actually live my life like a normal person… and it worked, but when the time came, I still didn’t have her support.  I was so pissed!  I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night.”

     “How’d that go over?”

     “I hadn’t yet mastered the art of covering my tracks.  Plus, she was dating the sheriff.  I was back home twenty-four hours later.” 

     Dean snorted, “Amateur.” 

     “Mom and I came to an agreement after that.  I stay local, stay in communication, and keep doing everything my doctors ask and in return, she would stop focusing on my condition like it was a death sentence.”  You shrugged, “Things were better after that.”

    “Your mom is awesome, I’m glad she supports you…. You’re lucky, Y/N.”

     Dean took your hand, surprising you.  His fingers linked with yours, rubbing his thumb over yours.  Then he frowned, his brows drew down over his eyes in worry.  Like a black cloud had settled over his heart. 

     “Y/N…”

     You knew what he wanted to say, you could feel it.  You could see it in his eyes whenever he dared to look at you.  The sorrow.  All you wanted to do was save him from it.  From himself.

     “It’s amazing how much we still don’t know about how the human body works,” you blurted out, making him blink in confusion.

     “What?”

     “Being sedated, for example.  Medical experts still aren’t sure why some people retain a certain level of consciousness and others remember nothing.  When I was seven, I was in the hospital for a month, my mother read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe to me even though I wasn’t awake.  When I came out of it, I remembered the whole thing.” 

     You could see the realization slowly register in his beautiful eyes.  If you heard your mother, you must have heard him.

     Then:      It was cold in your room.  You hated being cold, it was one of your main complaints about the bunker.  You cranked the thermostat, took boiling hot showers, and frequently stole clothes from both Winchesters.  Although, you seemed to favor Dean’s over his brother’s.  A fact he griped about, but secretly liked.  He liked knowing that you felt at home enough to make yourself comfortable.  If you were comfortable, maybe you would stay. 

     Dean brought your favorite blanket and tucked it around you, careful of the machines and wires.  “There you go, Sweetheart.  Just like home.”

     He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed and studied your peaceful face.  He tried to think of you as an enchanted princess.  Sleeping Beauty, just waiting for the right prince to swing by and break the curse.  Unlikely in his world.  Still… it was easier than the truth.

     He might have been able to fool himself for a while if it weren’t for that breathing tube.

     “Actually, that’s a lie…  this place is nothing like home.  Home has all the amenities, right?  I’ll bet this state-of-the-art medical facility doesn’t even have a firing range.  Or a dungeon!” 

     “Course, it wasn’t always so awesome.  A lot of spiders when we first moved in.  Plus, Sammy and I added our personal touches to make it more comfortable.  That mini fridge in the library, totally my idea.  It really pulled the room together, you know?”

     He chuckled a little at his Big Lebowski reference, disheartened when the only response was the hiss of the ventilator. 

     He reached over and gently combed his fingers through your hair.  Your skin was cool to the touch since your fever broke in the night.  That had to be a good sign, right? 

     “I’ve got a confession, but you gotta promise not to tell Sam, okay?  I never really wanted to live in the bunker full time.  Not at first.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked it!  It was our personal Batcave!  But Batman… he doesn’t live in the Batcave.  The Batcave is for work only.  And that was my plan.  Work in the bunker as a base of operations but live like we always did.  On the road.”

     Dean’s hand moved to yours, toying with your fingers.  You had such elegant hands.  You never wore jewelry, just like you never wore make-up.  You didn’t have a closet full of clothes.  You wore things of nice quality, but you didn’t have lots of them.  Only what you needed.  Same with everything else, you didn’t do fussy or extravagant.  But it wasn’t because you liked to keep things simple, it was because you were focused on living your life, not adorning it.  

     He liked that about you.  You were straightforward and up for anything.  You never hesitated to jump right in.  You were quick on your feet and quick with your wit.  You came up with better cover stories than he or Sam ever did.  Your contributions to the team were welcome and seamless, almost from the start.

     With anyone else, your eagerness might have come across as a need to prove yourself.  But you didn’t seem to be afflicted in that way.  You knew your worth.  You were confident.  And that rubbed off on everyone you came in contact with.  Cops, sheriffs, coroners, witnesses, victims.  All of them responded to you in ways that were remarkable.  Your presence calmed them.  Dean too.

     “The longer we stayed in the bunker, the more obvious it became that life on the road was never gonna be like it was before.  Sammy loved it, and I never could deny that kid anything.  But for me…. I dunno.  It took a while.  I even slept in Baby those first few nights.  Eventually, I picked out a room, got a bed that remembers me, and it was better.”

     “You were our first guest; did you know that?  Well Cas was, but he doesn’t sleep so that doesn’t really count.  You were the first non-Winchester to sleep in the Batcave.  On that old army cot, remember?  Tried to get you to take my bed… stubborn.  You were so stiff the next day you could barely walk, but you stuck it out.  You should have taken me up on it, I was on the couch most nights anyway.  Nightmares.”

     “I’ll never forget the morning I woke up and found you there with me.  All warm and cuddled up against me.  I moved and you shushed me in your sleep, mumbled that everything was okay.  God, I don’t think I’d ever slept that good.  We went to that diner in town for breakfast and I asked you to move in.  Sammy nearly choked on his egg whites,” Dean laughed softly at the memory.  “The bunker was a home then.”

     “If you were awake, you’d probably laugh and tell me what I sap I am.  And you’d be right, but I can’t help it.  It’s you, Y/N.  You have this magic… I don’t know what else to call it.  You don’t even have to say anything, and my heart starts to race.  I think about you, more than I should.  In ways that I shouldn’t, and I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.”

     “I love you, Y/N.  In case you don’t know; in case you can hear me in your dreams right now… I love you.  I’ve always loved you and if you stay, if you come back to me… I’m going to show you every day just how much.”

     Now:      He tried to speak, but you moved your fingers to his lips to stop him.  Tears shimmered in your eyes, but you managed a wavering smile. 

     “I love you too.”

     You watched the conflicting emotions flicker across his handsome face.  Joy and torment.  Ecstasy and pain.  He traced the underside of your jaw with his fingers, making your shiver inside and your eyes closed on a sigh.  When his lips connected with yours, it was electric!  The world shifted.  Colors, tastes, sensations, all redefined from that moment.  Soft and warm and connected on a level that could only come from love. 

     It was everything you’d ever dreamt his kiss could be, and it ended far too quickly.

     He rested his forehead against yours, puffs of white, heated breath mingling between you.  After a few minutes, he brushed the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, “Don’t cry, Sweetheart.  It breaks my heart when you cry.”

     “Don’t send me away.  Please don’t send me away.”

     “Baby, that bunker is no place for you.  There are no windows, the ventilation is crap, there’s a mildew problem.  I talked to those doctors about the type of environment an asthmatic should live in… Bomb shelter from the fifties didn’t make the cut.”

     “I’ve been living there for five years without an issue,” you pointed out.

     “Yeah, with a humidifier and inhalers.  But it’s different now, that round of pneumonia damaged your lungs.  You need to be someplace where its easier to breathe, not harder.”

     “You’re right.  Which is why Sam and I have been designing a new HVAC system.”

     That stopped him, “Really?  Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

     “Because you went all emo and hid in your room for a month.”

     “I’m not emo!  What kind of HVAC system?”

     “A kick ass one,” you grinned so that your tongue peeked out between your teeth.  “Any other concerns?”

     “What about hunting?” he challenged.

     “I don’t know,” you answered honestly and there was a pang of longing that went with it.  “I have no idea if I’ll ever get back to the physical condition I was before all of this.  No matter how hard I work for it or wish for it and the truth is… going into the field with that kind of a handicap is not in the cards.”

     Dean nodded grimly and dropped his gaze to his lap.  Admitting the possibility of an early retirement was killing you, and he knew it.  You loved hunting, it was as much a part of you as it was for him.  The uncertainty of not knowing if you could do it again, must be terrifying for you.

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I’m not.”  His head shot up and you shrugged, “Most hunters don’t get sidelined, they get killed.  My life might not look they way I thought it was going to, but I’m still here.  Living it.  I’m going to take that win and run with it.”

     “You’re amazing, you know that?  You’re so damn strong… your life got turned upside down and you just roll with it.”  Those impossibly green eyes looked at you with such awe, like he couldn’t quiet believe that you actually existed. 

     “You deserve the best, and that’s not me.”

     “That’s not for you to say.”

     “Doesn’t matter, it’s my choice.”

     “That’s where you’re wrong,” you lifted your chin in proud defiance, “Team Freewill, right?  I will always have a choice, no matter what hand you try to deal me.  I love you, Dean Winchester!  And I am never going to stop.  And I am never going to disappear from your life.  Even if you tell me to hit the bricks, I’ll still call and text and email and whatever just to make sure you’re still alive and well.  Even if this ends, I will still love you!  You ridiculous man!”

     There was a change in his gaze, subtle but there all the same.  He shook his head with a chuckle.  He knew when he was beat, and he was grateful for it.

     “Your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink when you get all worked up, you know that?”

     “My cheeks are pink because it’s freezing out here!”

     Dean ripped his coat off and wrapped it over yours, “Damn it, Y/N!  I knew you were cold!”

     “Well, if you were any kind of a boyfriend, you’d take my back to the car and warm me up properly!”

     He was pulling the hood up over your head when he paused, “Boyfriend, huh?”

     “Yeah, the kind that warms his girl up in the backseat,” you grinned and playfully rubbed your nose against his.

     He growled in your ear and stood, sweeping you up in his arms and making you yelp in delight. 

     “Dean!  I can still walk, you know!”

     “Save your energy, Sweetheart, you’re gonna need it.  Tonight, we’re gonna fog up all the windows!”

#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn fic #Breathe Free

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Twenty Two. Big Tweets and Bigger Questions.

warnings: cursing, p*ter, doxxing threats :/, word count: 5.2k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl!dream x f!reader) series masterlist main masterlist

note: UHHH rememberit's been so long i'm so so sorry this took ages i hope it's worth it T-T this is the LAST CHAPTER !!! maybe maybe I'll do extras later but don't count on it bc we know how long THIS took. thank you guys for loving bugsy :(( and for being patient omg ENNJOYYYYYYYY

PREVIOUS

It was basically her worst nightmare. Y/n’s ex-boyfriend tended to find things out on his own so in hindsight, maybe she should have expected him to find out about her online career too. There was a reason she never told him or anyone in her real-life about what she did on the Internet. This exact reason. 

“Hey, there you are. I thought you wanted to swim with everyone?” 

Y/n heard Dream’s voice but couldn’t process his words, her eyes still staring at the unanswered texts she had received from her ex-boyfriend over the last few days. 

“Bug?” 

She blinked, looking up as she breathed deeply. “Did you say something?” 

Dream frowned. “Are you okay?” 

She just stared at him, brows furrowed softly and mouth open like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He stopped drying his hair with the towel and made his way towards her, crouching in front of her and looking up at her intently, his hands resting on her knees. “What happened?” 

“Um…” 

Dream’s eyes darted to the phone in her hands then back to her face, clearly seeing her distress and worry in the way her eyebrows pinched together and breathing was uneven. 

“Y/n.”

“Have you ever had… well, okay, I know you have but like, so, okay–” she cut herself off with a huff when she noticed herself rambling and took a deep breath before continuing. The front door opened and she realized they were out where anyone could hear their conversation.

“Come here,” he mumbled, standing up and leading her outside to the back porch, opposite the house from the lake where most of their friends were playing. “What happened?” 

Y/n took a breath and leaned against the railing, looking out at the view to avoid having to see his reaction. “I know people have threatened to dox you on Twitter and stuff like that all the time but have any of them been real threats? Like, I’m sure they’re all terrifying no matter what but I mean has anyone you know in real life ever threatened to expose you? Or have they all been internet trolls?” 

When he didn’t respond, Y/n snuck a glance at him and was met with a deep frown, something close to panic in his eyes. “No, they’ve all been people who just want to get clout. What happened? Did that happen to you? Who is it?” 

Y/n pulled out her phone and handed it to him, the screen open to Peter’s texts. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dream seethed under his breath before handing her phone back quickly. 

“There’s plenty more of him begging for me back but the doxxing is a new threat.” 

“You picked a really… tame name for his contact.” 

“I only kept his number in case something like this happened.” 

They both stood silently looking out into the backyard for a few moments. “Why is he only just now threatening you? Hasn’t he been trying to get you back for months?” 

“Basically,” she sighed. “But I never told him about being Bugsy. He was never super into Twitch or YouTube or anything so it was easy to hide and I guess… in the back of my mind I always kinda assumed something like this would happen if he knew. Like we would break up and he’d take out his anger by trying to tell the world who I was before I was ready. So, I never told him. I guess he finally found out.”

“Fuck,” Dream whispered. “He has no credentials though, right? Like he’d probably have to make a Twitter account just to expose you and people would see he’s new and think it’s a burner account and no one would believe him… right?” 

“Maybe, but what happens when I do post a face reveal and everyone sees he was telling the truth? They’d trust any insider information he has about me, which would all be complete bullshit lies.” 

The frown never left Dream’s face, and he looked broken at Y/n’s predicament. She had seen him less bothered about his own threats before than he was about this. 

“So, what are you going to do?” 

“Beat him to it, I guess,” she decided. His face turned into one of surprise as she continued. “If he ever posts about me later on I can clarify that he’s an asshole ex so no one should listen to him, but at least he won’t have taken away my face reveal. I should get to decide how to do it. He’s already taken enough from me, he’s not taking away this too.” 

“Can I please hug you?” Dream whispered quickly. “You can say no, but I really want to give you a hug.”

Y/n smiled and nodded, but didn’t move away from the handrail. Dream came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her as he pressed his chest to her back, resting his chin on her shoulder. When he kissed her shoulder softly, she rested her head against his and placed her hands on his arms as a sign that it was okay.

“I’m really sorry, Bug. I’m sorry he’s taken so much from you.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered sadly. “It will be.”

“Wanna face reveal together?” he asked half-jokingly, making her laugh. 

“You want to get outshined?” 

He chuckled and kissed her ear. “I wouldn’t mind if it was by you.” 

“Cheesy.” 

“You know I’m by your side, right? Whatever you do, I’ll help you and stick with you. I’ll even help pick out a cute picture to be your reveal if you’re just going to post it on Instagram or something.” 

Y/n smiled and turned around in his embrace, back against the railing as she looked up at him. “You know you’re kinda stuck with me, right?” she countered. “I was already going to make you help me pick a picture.” 

Dream smiled like he won the lottery, and somehow this conversation went from dreadful to exciting. Strange that that tended to be the case when Dream was involved; he somehow made everything a little more bearable. “I’m honored. But you look hot in every picture I’ve ever seen of you, so it’s going to be tough deciding on just one.” 

“I can’t stand you.”

“Would you be able to stand me if I kissed you right now?” 

“I love how this started as you about to cry because my ex-boyfriend wants to tell the world my name and face and it’s ending with you wanting to kiss me.”

“...Is that a no?” 

“No, kiss me.” 

He smiled and leaned down, placing his lips against hers gently, sweetly, for the briefest moment, before standing back up and cupping her face with one hand. 

“The sooner I post, the better, right? Since he could probably do it any time?” 

Dream stared at her lips while she talked but nodded. “Yeah, we probably should go do that now.”

Y/n nodded and leaned up to give him one more small kiss before dragging him back inside. “We’ll choose tonight and I’ll post it tomorrow morning. I don’t want to rush.”

“I did it,” Y/n whispered, opening Dream’s bedroom door and stepping inside quickly. He looked up from his book. “I couldn’t wait. Oh, god, I did it.” She posted her face reveal sooner than intended, hoping less of the world would be awake to see it, but as she refreshed her tweet, the numbers raced higher and higher. “Oh, god. What if that was a mistake?” 

“It wasn’t,” Dream reassured quickly, opening his arms and welcoming her to sit with him, which she did immediately, both of them leaning against the headboard. 

“Reply to my tweet so I don’t look like a loser,” she begged, making Dream laugh but comply. She buried her face in his shoulder and watched him reply to her tweet as if he wasn’t sitting right next to her. He set his phone on the nightstand and she followed, turning off the phone and burying her face in her hands. 

“Hey, it was a good thing. Now, what’s-his-name can’t hold it over you. You’re one step closer to being free from him.” 

“I feel like I’m never going to be free from him,” she admitted, her words muffled by her hands but Dream understood her clear as day. 

“I know. I know how that feels, Bug, I really do. But I promise it gets better.” 

She looked up at him and nodded. “I trust you. Part of me is so relieved that it’s over with but… I feel like shit knowing part of it was done because of him. I have wanted to face reveal for a while but he’s the reason I chose now. I hate it.” 

“Hey, you did it because you wanted to. He just helped you pick a time.” 

She sighed, frustrated and sad. Dream turned to her, crossing his legs so he could face her as he placed a hand on her knee. “You’re allowed to be mad at him, obviously. You were kinda forced to do it now, but why not focus on the positives of this situation? Don’t let him take up any more of your mind. Plus, you told everyone how someone threatened to doxx you, so if he starts trying to tell bullshit stories to make you look bad, once they know it’s him they’ll know he’s an asshole liar and won’t listen to him. It’ll all be okay.” 

She nodded. “You’re right.” Dream waited to see if she was still panicking while she was lost in her thoughts. “Do you think people are responding well?”

He smiled. “Of course. They got to see how hot you are.”

“Shut up, simp.” 

One thing she loved about Dream was that he was clearly whipped for her, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Every time she called him out for liking her, it only encouraged his behavior more and she would notice him staring at her more intently, more lovingly. 

It made it hard to not want to kiss him all the time. 

“Thank you,” she said softly into the night air, shoulder pressing into Dream’s as they sat side by side. 

He turned to look at her. “For what?” 

“Being there for me. You’re kinda cool.”

He laughed through his nose. “Has anyone ever told you you can be kinda emotionally constipated sometimes?” 

She laughed and nodded. “Occasionally.” 

“Unluckily for you, I’m not, and I feel like being sappy right now because I’m so proud of you.” 

“Oh, please don’t–” 

“You are very kind and seem to always know how to brighten people’s moods without even realizing it. You make me smile when you talk to me about literally anything. Like, the other day you asked me what kind of pizza I wanted and I swear my heart skipped four damn beats.” 

“Why are you being like this out of nowhere?” Y/n laughed but he wasn’t done.

“Get used to it. You are so sweet and every time I think I’m used to it, you go and do something even sweeter. Like you bought all those stupid little, oh what are they called? The things you flip and they pop up?” 

“Poppers? That’s what I’ve always called them.”

“Yeah! You bought a bunch of poppers even though they annoy the shit out of you just because you thought Tubbo might like them.” 

“I should have known Karl and Alex would steal them and try to scare me with them.” 

“It’s random things like that that just… you’re incredible. Really. Everything you do is so selfless and you’re also so funny and crazy smart and I swear on my life as much as it pisses me off when you beat me in Geoguessr, it’s also insanely hot.” 

Y/n laughed loudly at the abrupt compliment, hiding her face behind her sleeve. “Okay–”

"I like that you know who you are and aren't afraid of it. You're confident in the most humble way and it's really endearing. You always seem so sure of yourself and know what you want from life and you get it. You work so hard and you don't get nearly as much recognition as I think you should—"

"Biased."

"—but you still treat everything like you have more than you could ask for even though you deserve so much more. You're such a genuine person and I think that's in part because, like I said, you know who you are. You're not afraid to speak your mind because your mind is brilliant."

Y/n smiled and looked back at Dream, whose eyes softened at her face.

"I also like how you make me feel when you look at me like that."

His speech seemed to end so she smiled, softly whispering a thank you. She leaned forward and gave him a small kiss, which he chased after with a frown when she pulled away. 

“What was that for?” he asked, a huge smile that she loved to be the cause of.

"You didn't say anything about my looks."

Dream's face dropped. "Wait, Bug, you're also very, very, very, beautiful. And I promise I'm not saying that just because—"

"Clay," she interrupted. "It's a good thing."

He paused. "It is?" His fingers twitched and she reached out to grab his hand, his large hands immediately wrapping around hers like she was water in a desert. 

"My ex, um," she cleared her throat as she started her explanation, "you know how I said he always told me he was the only person who could ever like me, or whatever? Well, more specifically, he always told me the only thing I had going for me was my looks."

"Bug..."

"So, I guess it's ironic and relieving in a way that you, um, that of all the things you said you like about me, that being pretty wasn't on there."

"Because there's so much more to you," he promised.

"I think I know that now."

"So... would you like me to not comment on your looks anymore because of what that jackass said?"

Y/n shook her head. "No, no, I actually really like it when you call me pretty." Her face heated up at her own words and Dream smiled.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose before resting their foreheads together. "Now tell me all the things you like about me?"

Y/n smiled at his joke but obliged, knowing he wasn't expecting a real answer. "You're so gracious and supportive to all your friends and you're very charming and funny, and you always check on everyone and—"

"Okay!" Dream leaned back and laughed. "I was just joking! Don't actually tell me. Not now, at least."

"Good, it was starting to get too mushy, that was embarrassing.” 

"Agreed. Tell me things you like about me but make it memes."

Y/n laughed. "I like that you're sooo good at Minecraft and that you're someone who's actually taller than me. You're one in 7.5 trillion, baby."

Dream laughed loudly but Y/n noticed the pink dusting his cheeks. "I like that you're tall too."

He shifted to lay down, his head laying next to her leg as he looked up at her. “Wanna sleep in here?” 

She frowned but laid down next to him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. I’m too anxious thinking about how people are responding  to my tweet.” 

Dream smiled mischievously. “I can think of a few other things we could do.” 

“You have a dirty mind.” 

His face contorted in confusion then turned to one of fake disgust. “Oh, ew! Bug, that’s not at all what I was implying! Ewww, you’re the gross one! I was going to suggest we talk about our favorite things in space.” 

She laughed loudly. “Yeah, sure. I think Jupiter is pretty cool.”

“I’m lying, can I kiss you?” he deadpanned. “I’m too tired to talk and you’re pretty.” 

“I can’t believe you only like me for my looks…” Y/n joked, but Dream’s face fell. “Too soon to joke about?” 

“Yes. It makes me want to punch a wall.” 

“How are you going to do that if you’re too busy kissing me?” 

Dream smiled and sat up halfway, resting on his elbow and leaning down to kiss Y/n. “You’re dumb,” he said pulling away for a moment. 

She chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“There she is!” Karl giggled as Y/n entered the kitchen, covering a yawn as she grabbed a mug and Dream’s box of tea. Maybe she had a thing for it now. Sue her. 

“Looking for me?” 

“Yes. Where have you been, young lady?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You were not in your room last night,” Karl accused pointedly. 

“Sure I was,” Y/n countered lazily. “Where else would I have been?” 

“With Dream.” 

She looked at him quickly and frowned. “Uh, no. Weirdo.” 

“You sure? After all the looks you two give each other and all the giggling and secrets and–” 

“Stop,” she hissed quietly, a giggle behind her words that she couldn’t suppress no matter how hard she tried. She jumped on the island counter as George walked in, heading straight for the kettle. 

“Are you making tea already?” he asked. 

“Yeah, there’s enough water in there if you want some too.”

“Epic,” he yawned, slumping against the counter as he grabbed a bagel and cream cheese. George, bless him, was blissfully unaware of the teasing going on behind his back and looked way too tired to care. At the silence in the room, he looked over his shoulder just as Y/n mouthed at Karl to shut up, who was hiding giggles behind a sweater paw. “What’s happening?” 

Y/n blurted, “Nothing!” at the same time Karl answered with a question. “George, guess where our sweet Bugsy slept last night?” 

Y/n groaned and covered her face in her hands. “Karl, shut up.”

George took a large bite of his breakfast and his words struggled to get past the pastry. “I’m guessing… not your room?” 

Karl giggled maniacally as an answer. 

"How do you even know?" Y/n asked as she dropped her hands to her lap and looked at her best friend. Her eyes darted to the living room adjacent to the kitchen, where Sapnap and Quackity were messing around. George was the only European awake but that's because his sleep schedule was already completely messed up. The others were getting used to the jet lag still.

“Well, I barged in to tackle you for randomly face revealing – congratulations, by the way, I’m so proud of you–” 

“Oh, yeah, good job,” George butted in. 

Karl continued without missing a beat. “–but I waited for you to come back because I figured you were having a deep conversation with Dream and didn’t want to interrupt. But it took so long and I was so tired so I went to bed.”

“So? Maybe I went back to my room right after you went to bed?” 

"Naomi texted me asking where you were at, like, four," Karl deadpanned. "I saw it this morning. She must've woken up in the middle of the night to you still not there."

Y/n felt her cheeks flame up as she thought about what she was doing at four a.m. Completely innocent things! With... a certain........ boy.........

"So you're gonna use Naomi's sleepy mind to recall where I was? You know how she is when she just wakes up. It's like she's drunk."

Y/n caught the way George's lips turned up at that and made a mental note to tease him for it later. Right now, she had her own tracks to cover.

“Where is she, by the way?” you asked.

“In your room doing her makeup,” Karl answered. “Which you would know if you woke up there! You've basically admitted that you weren't in your room, so just tell us where you were," Karl bargained. "Did you pull an all-nighter with someone? Go skinny dipping? Sleep in the arms of a handsome–"

Karl didn't finish because he got slapped in the arm, making him laugh. Y/n couldn't help but glance at the living room again as if Sapnap and Quackity would suddenly hear the teasing over their own loud noise and join the interrogation party. She couldn’t handle 4/5 teasing her at once. Maybe she was just worried the overall chaos would wake up Dream and he would walk in mid-conversation.

"So you were with a boy?" George laughed, suddenly more awake. "Karl, I wonder who it could have possibly been! I can't think of a single person Y/n might be interested in." Sarcasm was thick in his voice as he beamed at Y/n, suddenly waking up since George loved to gossip.

Y/n's face scrunched with the use of her name and George's face softened in apology. She still wasn't used to all her friends knowing her name and face.

"Maybe we should ask–"

Karl's words were cut off again, this time by the appearance of the man who he was about to mention.

Y/n's face caught fire again as she watched Dream look around the living in confusion, one hand stuck in his unruly hair and one in the pocket of his hoodie. His squinted eyes scanned the living room, then wandered to the kitchen where he finally met Y/n's eyes. His confused look softened and he pretended like he wasn't obviously just looking for her. Y/n kept watching as he made a joke to Sapnap, who suddenly realized his friend was there and kicked Dream from the floor.

Y/n turned back to Karl and George, who were looking at her with shit-eating grins on their faces. Their faces were dead giveaways that they had been talking about him.

"Wipe those stupid looks off your faces."

"What looks?" George laughed. "We aren't doing anything!"

"You are both the human incarnation of 'colon capital D."

Karl lifted his tattooed hand and made a circle with his thumb from his pointer finger to recreate the face. He cackled loudly and her face only gained warmth. He was drawing too much attention to them. Why was she so embarrassed for him to find out they were talking about him when he so obviously liked her?

"Hello," Dream said slowly as he approached the trio. Just as her eyes were glued to him, his were to her.

"Hi, Dream. Sleep well?" George teased, earning a subtle kick from Y/n.

"Sorry, leg twitched." She smiled through her teeth. After a few beats of silence, she looked up to see George and Karl looking at each other awkwardly and Dream still staring at her.

"What was that, Quackity? You need us?" Karl asked loudly.

"Coming!" George followed and they left the kitchen. Y/n pulled her hoodie collar over her mouth like always, trying to hide subtly.

Dream walked towards her but rested his hands on the island counter to her left, methodically pounding the granite softly. "Hi."

"Hi," she squeaked after a pause. Despite her nerves and fear and confusion, she had a big smile plastered on her face.

"How did you sleep?" he asked innocently. 

Her mind raced at his question. Better than she had ever slept in her entire life, honestly. Nothing like being curled up against a 6'3 boy who happened to make her heart race with every look. She settled on, "Good. You?"

"Like a baby,” he smiled. “Except, it would have been better if you hadn’t left.” 

She smiled. “I was hungry.” 

“What did you have?” he asked, hopping on the counter next to her, hands between his legs and thigh pressed against hers. Similar to the night they kissed for the first time. 

“I’m waiting for my tea to finish before I figure out what I want to eat.”

“Tea?” he asked. “Did you steal mine?” 

“I’ll buy you more.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just proud I converted you.” 

Y/n laughed and hopped off the counter as the kettle started whistling. “George!” she called. “The water is ready!” 

George wandered in a few moments later, eyeing the two suspiciously as Y/n poured him a cup of hot water. 

“Hey, I never said George could have any of my tea,” Dream protested as he watched the Brit dig through Dream’s box of teabags. 

“Didn’t ask,” George responded, grabbing his mug and a teabag, smiling cheekily at Dream. “Bugsy said yes, and what she says goes.” 

“That’s fair,” Dream agreed, smiling at her. She rolled her eyes and opened a teabag for herself, looking up just as George headed for the stairs. Part of her knew he was going to her room to hang out with Naomi. Cute. 

With them alone again, Dream leaned back on his hands, observing Y/n cautiously. “What’s on your mind?” she asked softly, noticing the seriousness in his eyes. 

He hesitated, licking his lips before shaking his head. “I’ll tell you later. When there are fewer people.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “We can go out to the dock if you want. No one is outside right now.”

Dream glanced out the window at the dock, the lake water still and vacant. “Yeah, let’s go. It’s chilly out though, grab a jacket.” 

“I’ll trade you,” she bargained. When he raised his eyebrows at her, a smile on his lips, she wasn’t embarrassed to elaborate. “The ones you gave me don’t smell like you anymore.” 

“Simp. Deal.” 

They met back at the front door, where they handed each other a hoodie. It was admittedly very cheesy, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when she got to bundle up in a hoodie that smelled like Dream. He held her tea as she put on her shoes and they slipped out of the house undetected. 

Despite their friends definitely knowing they liked each other, Y/n wasn’t sure how much Dream was okay with them knowing. Of course, Naomi knew everything, but Y/n didn’t know what the boys knew. She knew Dream liked her, but it was unclear whether he was just having fun or if maybe something could happen between them. 

“Is this secluded enough for your big conversation?” Y/n asked lightheartedly after they finally sat down on the dock, shoes off and feet hanging in the cold water. 

Dream laughed through his nose, clearly nervous. “Yeah.” 

She frowned at his hesitance, placing her hand on his leg and squeezing lightly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just.” He took a deep breath and put his hand on hers. “I’m sure it’s obvious that I like you–”

She laughed and put her head on his shoulder, realizing this was going to be a good conversation. “Maybe a little.”

Dream laughed softly, seeming to ease up a little at her touch. “And I don’t know if– like, how much you want to work for… this,” he gestured between them, “because I know we don’t really live near each other, but I like you so much that it doesn’t really matter to me. I really like you, Y/n. Like, a scary amount.” 

Y/n placed her chin on his shoulder and looked at him. “I like you a scary amount, too.” 

“Really?” 

“‘Really’, he asks the girl who hates people being in her personal space, who is currently laying on him,” she teased. “Yes, Dream. I really do like you. I wasn’t sure if you thought we were just having fun or something.” 

He shook his head as he looked at her and she sat up. “I mean, it is fun. But I’m scared to go home and not get to hug you.” 

Y/n pouted fondly at him. “You’re so cute.”

“I mean it!” he laughed. “I like you, don’t bully me about it.” 

“I’m kinda dreading going home, too. At least you have Patches. I have Karl and Naomi the smotherers.” 

Dream shook his head with a smile. “Oh, another thing. I wanted you to know... I know you have that whole thing about not thinking people can like people without seeing them but… It’s important to me that you know I don’t just like you for your looks. You are so pretty, but I definitely had a crush on you before you sent me a picture.” 

“Really?” she asked, smiling. 

He nodded, cheeks a light pink. He would blame the cold, but she knew it wasn’t that. 

“I wanted to tell you sooner that I liked you, but I was worried you wouldn’t believe me because I didn’t even know what you looked like. But it didn’t matter to me.”

“What did you like about me?” she asked.

“Everything. You were just so nice and funny and sweet and it was so easy to talk to you about anything for hours. I was always so giddy when I found out you’d be joining a stream I was on or when you’d message me or anything like that. I still am.” 

“It’s still weird to me, but the more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure I kinda liked you before that FaceTime call. Which disproves my whole theory.”

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

Y/n laughed loudly. “I’m my own worst enemy.”

Dream watched her laugh with a fond, lovesick smile. 

“What are you thinking about now?” she asked teasingly, seeing his bright smile. 

“Will you be my girlfriend, Bug? We can plan visits like twice a month at least or whenever we have time. I’m pretty sure it’s only about a nine-hour drive, which seems like a lot but I’d have no problem driving that. It still wouldn’t be enough but it’s better than not being able to see you at all.” 

Y/n cut him off by grabbing his chin and turning his face to her. He stopped as they looked at each other. “Of course, Dream. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” 

He smiled so big, she was sure his face was hurting. But it fell as she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him gently. 

Maybe her asshole ex would make up things to turn her fans against her. Maybe she would go crazy never being able to see her boyfriend. Maybe her career would fall apart and her deepest fears would come true. 

Or maybe, with Dream on her side rooting for her, along with all her friends, maybe everything would be okay.

taglist: @loraleiix @iamnothereatthemoment @charsdummb @jeyyes @notgeoreg @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @fee-btheweeb @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @fatherfigured @sometimeseverythingsucks @tinyegg @nikkineeky @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman @crybabyjabby @mushroom-main @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @sunbunniie @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade @sparklykeylime @youhyakuya @danny-devitowo @clubfairy @loser-keiji @alm334 @the-katastrophe @wreny24 @applecakeradio @hehe-red @brendalopez99 @spacecluster @justonemoreepisode @strawbrinkofdeath 

NOTE: WOOO IT'S OVER TY FOR STICKING AROUND FOR SO LONG LMAO LUV U HOPE YOU LIKED IT <3333

#dreamwastaken fanfiction #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken x y/n #dreamwastaken x reader

[age-of-greta]

The Lovers

The Lovers represent relationships and choices. Its appearance in a spread indicates some decision about an existing relationship, a temptation of the heart, or a choice of potential partners. Often an aspect of the querent's life will have to be sacrificed; a bachelor's lifestyle may be sacrificed and a relationship gaine, or one potential partner may be chosen while another is turned down. Whatever the choice, it should not be made lightly, as the ramifications will be lasting.

Pairing: Jake x reader & Sam x reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, angst, adult content, all the sexual content, minors DNI

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s note: hi!! the LAST chapter is here I cannot believe it! This fic has truly been so fun to write and I cannot thank you enough for following along. With that being said, I am happy to announce I have a new story in the works and will start posting in January! As always, this fic has two parts then and today. I proofread, but typos happen. Epilogue will be out next Wednesday at midnight. Buckle up and enjoy!!!

PART 13:

THEN:

“Listen, I think you could fit in my suitcase.” Jake says, throwing shirts around in his bag.

You laugh at him. “After the spaghetti you made, I’m not so sure.”

Jake looks up at you and huffs a little. “Are you sure you can’t come?”

“Jake” you sigh. “As much as I would like to, I can’t just fly to Europe and abandon all responsibilities. I have an important case coming up next week.”

You had driven to Nashville for the weekend. The boys were starting their European summer tour in a few days and you volunteered to drive them to the airport. You were saddened by the idea of not seeing them for over a month, but in a strange way you thought it would help distance your feelings for Jake. Whenever you were away from him for an extended period of time, you felt it made your feelings easier to push to the side. You had a hunch Jake knew this and that’s why he was especially reluctant to go.

Jake lets out a long breath before responding. “Okay, fine. But we need to figure out a schedule where we can at least FaceTime or something.”

You smile a little at that. “I think that could probably be arranged.”

He walks over to you and puts his hands on your arms. “God, how am I going to go a month without touching you?”

“Technically over a month.” You add.

“That’s it. You’re getting in my suitcase.” Jake says, as he lightly picks you up and takes you towards the bed.

You start giggling your head off. Jake sets you down on the bed and looks down at you. His eyes are soft and gentle, but his gaze is intense. You both stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, then Jake leans in and softly kisses your lips. You feel an aching burn for him in your heart. The next month was going to suck. The kissing turns into a passionate almost make out before you’re interrupted.

“Jake, do you have my backpack in here? Ah fuck.” Josh says, barging into the room.

Jake rolls off of you and sighs. “Josh, remember how we knock before we enter rooms?”

“Yes Jake, I’m aware. However you’re supposed to be packing, not canoodling all over your tour clothes. Also you have a lock” Josh says.

“I wouldn’t need a lock if you knocked. Your goddamn backpack is in the studio behind the amps I think. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a month's worth of canoodling to do, so off you go.” Jake says, getting up and shuffling Josh out of the room.

Josh laughs at his boldness and mumbles some comparison of you two being like bunnies on his way out.

Jake locks the door and turns around back to you. “Where were we? Ah yes, canoodling.”

You burst out laughing at that. “You need to finish packing. You’re going to be so tired in the morning.”

“It’s true I do need to finish packing. It’s also true that we’re going to both be tired tomorrow. I apologize lover, but it’s my last night with you for the foreseeable future and I need to give you plenty of memories to think about when you miss me.”

You try to remain unphased at Jake’s words, but they definitely have you worked up. “Well then you better get to packing and then get over here.”

Jake smirks at you. “Yes ma’am.”

**

The next morning was chaotic. Everyone was running around trying to pack last minute things and making sure they had everything they needed for their trip. You tried your best to help, but when the arguing started you took yourself out of the equation. It was always like this, frantic, excited, and unprepared when the tour started. But this was a little different, Jake was in a mood to say the least. He has been biting off everyone’s head, but yours. Finally you got everyone in your car and the tour company sent over a truck for the instruments and everything else that wouldn’t fit. You looked over at Jake as you pulled out of the driveway. It seemed like there was a permanent scowl on his face. He lightened it when he met your eyes, attempted a small smile, and placed his hand on your leg.

“Everyone ready?” You asked.

Everyone answered almost in unison. Then you were off. The drive wasn’t too long until you reached the airport. You tried to mellow the vibes as you played John Denver in the background. There wasn’t much talking, everyone was tired and stressed. You could tell Jake was on edge too. You pulled up to the drop off lane and everyone gathered their things. You opened your door and got out while the guys unloaded their suitcases.

“Thanks for driving us! We’ll miss you.” Danny says, as he pulls you into a hug.

“Bye mama.” Josh says, kissing your cheek. “Tell Jake to get his ass off his shoulders please.”

You laugh at him and Jake rolls his eyes.

“Bye Sammy, safe travels.” You say hugging him, he hugs you tightly. He looks down at you and gives you a smile. “Try not to get too bored without me.”

Jake steps in front of you and lets out a sigh while pulling you into his chest. “Fuck.” Is all he says.

“I know.” You say back, softly.

Jake holds you for a minute before you start to pull away.

“You better be off. You’re going to miss your flight.” You say with as much courage as you can muster.

Jake looks down at you with sad eyes. “I’ll text you when we land.”

“Be safe.” You say.

“I will. There’s someone I have to get back to.” Jake says as he smiles at you. “Be good.”

You laugh a little. “Always.”

Jake pulls you into a final hug and grabs your cheek before planting a soft and slow kiss on your lips.

“Jake, I know this is a hallmark moment and all but we really have to go.” Josh says.

Jake lets out a breath and looks at you. “See you soon lover.”

You nod at him and watch him walk away. They all wave as you get in your car. You can’t even tell that your eyes are teary until you’re back on the interstate. This break is going to be good, you tell yourself. It’s going to allow you to bottle these feelings up. When they come back you’ll be detached enough, you’re pretty sure Jake knows that.

**

“Hi there.” You say, as you answer your FaceTime.

It had been two weeks since they had left for tour and it had gotten easier everyday. You mainly focused on work and spending time with Lana.

“Hey lover. Did you receive something in the mail today?”

Jake asks.

“I did. It smells really nice, thank you.” You say picking up the bottle of perfume and showing him.

Jake smiles. “We were in a small apothecary shop in Paris and I found it. It was so unique, you had to have it.”

“I really do like it. I have a question for you.” You pitch.

Jake hums at you. “Ask away.”

“The first weekend you get back. Are you busy?” You ask.

Jake chuckles. “Yes, very busy actually.”

You frown a little. “Oh.”

“With you lover. I need you to clear your schedule.” He says wearing a smirk.

You huff. “Well there is a music festival in my hometown that weekend. I thought maybe we could go the first day?”

Jake beams a smile at you. “I suppose that could be arranged, but after can you come to Nashville for the weekend?”

You smile back at him. “I suppose that could also be arranged.”

***

TODAY:

“Hi…” Jake said standing in your doorway.

“Oh hi.” You say quietly.

“May I come in?” Jake says.

You stare at him for a moment before taking a step back and opening the door wider for him to enter. Jake walks in and sits on your couch. You turn the TV off and stand there across from him up against the wall. It’s silent for a minute before Jake begins.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Jake says, running his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t know what to say.”

You sigh a little. “Jake, if you came here to break up with me I have clearly already gotten the message. This is unnecessary.” You say.

Jake looks up at you with a scowl. “No actually that’s not why I’m fucking here. I’m trying to find a way to fucking forgive you- I don’t know get past all the shit.”

You scoff a little and look at the floor. “Seems like you have already moved on.”

“Are you serious? You’re going to say that to me after fucking my brother? You know I saw the picture you two took that night. That dress you were wearing? No wonder you two fucked. You were sober and consciously wanted him to see you like that.”

“You fucking ghosted me Jake! You left me and Sam was there. That’s all. It didn’t take me leaving you for you to find your way with someone else.” You reply with spite.

“Because I brought Jessica last night?” He says standing up.

“Yeah well of course it had to be her Jake. I just don’t know why it couldn’t have been someone else.” You say cowering a little because you know how it sounds.

Jake laughs a little. “You are really not the one to talk here.”

“Then why show up with her last night and then kiss me? What sense does that fucking make Jake?” You say.

Jake sighs. “I only invited her because I knew it would piss you off. I didn’t fucking lay a finger on her like that.”

You’re quiet for a few seconds.

“But you know I could have.” He says taking a step forward. “I absolutely could have fucked her. I thought about it, many times actually. I could have texted her when I was home for Christmas and she would have been eager to come right over. I could have taken her back to my hotel last night and fucked her raw on the desk. In fact I could be fucking her right now.”

You feel like you’re going to vomit hearing Jake say that. Your stomach is twisting in knots and you want to scream and cry simultaneously.

“Okay I fucking get it Jake. Congratulations. Why don’t you fucking go ahead and do it. Go fuck her. You act like you’re so innocent. I was going through it and you said oh well! Fuck it! Deal with it on your own.” You say with rage.

Jake seems to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I know and I’m sorry. I already apologized for that. I think about what would be different if I would have fucking acted differently, but we can’t go back in time can we sweetheart?”

The edge in his voice is back. You want to roll your eyes, but refrain.

“But I didn’t fuck her. I couldn’t. You know why?” Jake pauses and looks at you with intentful eyes. “She wasn’t you. As much as I tried to stop thinking about you I couldn’t. When I saw you last night I was almost brought to my knees. You looked so beautiful in that dress, you changed your hair, you were wearing the perfume I got you. You looked like you were thriving without me and that stung. So fucking bad. The thought of not being your New Year's Kiss burned me up inside. So I kissed you, and I felt better in those three seconds than I had in weeks. At that moment I knew I would never be over you.”

A wave of hope washes over you. You can feel your heart swelling, aching for Jake.

“I tried to call you. Multiple times.” You say meekly.

“I know. I’ve been working through some shit. You did fuck my brother you know.” Jake sighs before continuing. “I can’t even begin to explain to you how that feels. I always knew Sam had a crush on you, it was obvious from the start. Then he flat out told me he had feelings for you. Of course, this was in the beginning when you and I were fucking around. I didn’t stop, because I obviously cared about you too. Then they all found out about us. It was pathetic the way he continued to pine over you, even with my fucking arm wrapped around you. I let it go for the most part, that seemed to have been a mistake.”

You’re quiet. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think.

Jake steps forward. “Did you enjoy fucking my little brother?”

You shoot him a glare before looking at the ground.

Jake takes another step closer to you. “Did he make you cum?”

You look at him almost bewildered. “What?”

“You heard me. Did. He. Make. You. Cum.” Jake says, stepping right up to you.

You swallow hard. “Jake don’t-“

“Answer.” He says.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “Yes.”

He breathes in before he continues. “Was he better?”

“No. Of course not. You know that.” You say making a face at him.

“Do you love him?” He says, almost in a desperate way, pain behind those words.

“No Jake. Not like I love you. I love no one like I love you.” You choke out, as your heart sinks.

Jake stares at you for a moment before moving closer, only inches away from you. His eyes are searing down at you, he looks hurt but also like he wants to fuck you until you can’t move. You don’t hesitate to look up at him, you have hot tears formed in your eyes and your throat has a lump in it that burns profusely. Jake wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. Once the initial shock wears off, you hug him back tighter. You’re both breathing shakily and you don’t know what this means for you, but it feels good. Hot tears stream down your face and collect onto Jake’s flannel. He holds you for a few minutes before releasing you and kissing you softly. His lips are warm and electric and fuck have you missed them. You kiss him back gingerly, but then Jake deepens it. His hands start to roam around you, and you’re putty in his hands. You think you’re about to have passionate and needy sex, but that dissipates when Jake puts you up against the wall. His soft kisses soon turn aggressive, and he’s digging his hands into you now. Jake bites your bottom lip before stopping for a second.

“I love you angel, but tonight I’m going to fuck you like the slut you’ve been. Remember your safe word?” Jake asks, wiping the tears off of your cheeks.

You nod your head wide-eyed. He still loves you. “Yes.” You squeak out.

“Say it.” Jake growls.

“Lavender.” You half whisper.

Then his lips are back on you. He’s being so rough, but fuck do you love it. His hands find the hem of your shirt and he pulls it over your head. You aren’t wearing a bra and his hands are instantly on your breasts. Jake kisses down your neck and slides your shorts off leaving you just in your black panties and fluffy socks. His hands find the swell of your ass and he grabs it hard, biting down on your collarbone simultaneously. You moan out a bit and start to get exceptionally worked up. You try to unbutton Jake’s flannel, but he knocks your hands away.

“Nope.” He says.

Jake then kisses you more, guiding you off the wall into your bedroom. Jake sits you down on the bed and steps back from you.

“Look at you. So fucking pretty.” Jake taunts and he unbuttons and removes his shirt. “Such a shame that you’re such a slut. Sluts get punished. Sluts don’t get to cum until I say so. Understood?”

You nod.

“Words.” Jake spits out.

“Yes Jake.” You say.

“Remember your safe word?” He asks.

“Yes.” You reply.

“Good girl.” Jake praises.

He is down to his boxers now, you can see how hard he is. You knew tonight wouldn’t be easy. Jake was going to push you. That excited you and terrified you, but you knew you could take it. More so, you wanted it. Jake is kneeling down before you kissing your thighs, his fingers teasing your pantyline. You’re more than turned on. He pulls your panties around your ankles and starts kissing around your center. Jake dips his fingers into you and you gasp out.

“Mhm. So sweet.” Jake says, almost inaudible between your legs.

You try to sit still, but when Jake plunges two fingers in deeper you tilt your head back and like muscle memory your hand is wrapped in his hair. Jake lets it slide for a few minutes before he feels you start to shake.

“Not so fast angel.” Jake says coming up.

You whimper slightly at the loss of contact. Jake flips you over so your ass is up in the air.

“Gotta do something about those hands.” Jake says walking into your bathroom before returning with your black silk robe tie.

Jake pulls your arms back and ties your hands together behind your back. You won’t be able to touch yourself. Jake runs his hand all over your ass. Lightly smacking. Then he smacks your ass harder, and harder until your skin stings and you’re sure there will be a welp. It hurts, but it also feels so good.

“Fucking whore. Goddamn.” Jake spits out, moaning that last word a little.

It’s probably wrong but that turned you on even more. You can sense that he is removing his boxers now and you are dripping with anticipation. He rubs his member all down your slit as you lightly moan out. Jake doesn’t go slow, he plunges straight into you. You let out a half whimper, half moan, and your whole core is burning. You haven’t been fucked like this in a while and goddamn did you love it.

“Fuck Jake- please.” You whine out hoping he will untie you so you can touch yourself.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, sorority girl.” Jake seethes, annunciating the nickname while thrusting into you.

Hearing that formed a lump in your throat, not of sadness… but excitement? Holy shit. Jake continues to pound into you and he laces his fingers in your hair. He lightly tugs before wrapping that hand around your throat and pulling you up to him. He doesn’t get too aggressive here, you know he would never actually hurt you. He lightly squeezes at your throat causing you to spiral in your pleasure.

“Who fucks you like this?” Jake says in your ear.

You moan out. “Fuck. No one Jake. No one but you. No one could ever make me feel like this but you. No one could ever fuck me like this but you.”

Jake inhales sharply at this; but continues to fuck you. His fingers on his freehand slip down below your navel, swirling around your clit. He’s rewarding you. When you’re close yet again, Jake removes his fingers. You have tears pooling in your eyes from the constant edging. Jake drops you back down to the bed and pulls at the silk around your hands until you’re free. He pulls out of you and flips you back around. He climbs on you and takes your hands holding them both above your head. He dives in and sucks and bites at your neck while entering you again.

“Jake.” You shutter. “Please let me touch you baby.” You whine.

Jake looks at you and then kisses your lips before letting go of your hands. You immediately pull Jake closer and run your hands all up and down his back. It seems that his aggressive edge has softened and he’s close. You lace your fingers in his hair and tug while he slips his tongue in your mouth.

“Fuck. Touch yourself angel I’m about to cum.” Jake says in between kisses.

You don’t have to be told twice. You keep one hand in Jake’s hair and send the other down to your clit. You swirl your fingers and it’s not long until you're throbbing around him.

“Oh fuck.” Jake moans out clamping his eyes shut and his mouth is hanging agape.

He cums right after you start, and you both ride out your orgasms. You’re both a sweaty mess of curse words, praises, and moans. The next few minutes you both just lay there breathing. Jake pressed his forehead to yours and left it there for a minute. When he finally rolls off of you he looks over and quietly asks, “Did I go too far?”

“No, not at all.” You reply still sweaty and fucked out.

“Are you sure?” He asks, furrowing his brows slightly.

“I’m positive.” You say lightly smiling.

“I love you.” Jake says, lowly.

Your heart melts at that. “I love you too.” You say back.

Jake jumps up and tells you not to move while he gets a washcloth to clean you up.

**

You and Jake had spent the rest of the night talking, crying, and apologizing. You woke up the next morning in his arms. It was January 2nd now and you and Jake had spent all day together in your apartment. You ordered takeout, drank wine, fucked, joked, watched movies, and cuddled. It seemed like things were returning to somewhat normalcy? Jake told you that he wanted things to go back to how they were, before the beach trip. He didn’t want to harp or discuss the incidents. You had agreed, but somewhere in your stomach you felt guilt. Guilt for Sam.

Had you really been stringing him along? You loved Sam, and perhaps if you hadn't met Jake you could see something there. You would never dare say that out loud. But you did meet Jake. You loved Jake. You couldn’t imagine it being anyone else, but Jake. But you wanted Sam to be okay, you wanted your friendship back.

On the 3rd of January you were sitting on your kitchen island in only Jake’s flannel sipping coffee and watching Jake cook breakfast. You still hadn’t replied to Sam’s text, it was eating you up. You and Jake had a blissful almost 48 hours, but it was time to face the music.

“Jake?” You started sipping from your mug.

He looked over at you with a spatula in hand. “Yes lover?”

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” You ask cautiously.

Jake furrows his brows at you. “I’m not leaving tomorrow. What do you mean?”

Fuck. He didn’t tell you that. Sam did. You had just assumed.

“Oh. Sam texted me telling me he was leaving on the 4th, so I just assumed you all were. He wanted to grab lunch before he left.” You say as your stomach churns.

Jake huffs and stays quiet for a little bit. “Yeah, we were supposed to. But I’m staying here for a few more days if that’s okay.”

You nod your head.

“As far as Sam goes, you should talk with him. As fucked up as all of this is I love you both. This shit should all just be put to bed. Though I don’t mean literally.” Jake says shooting you a look.

You can’t help, but slightly laugh at that. “I just don’t know what to say to him. I feel like I have fucked up royally.”

Jake wipes his hands on your towel hanging on the oven handle. “Yeah well you have. But that doesn’t erase the year plus of friendship between you two. I know you love Sam. I know he loves you too, maybe a little too much. At the end of the day neither one of you are going anywhere. You might as well try and patch things up.”

Jake has a sour tone towards the end, but you know he’s being genuine.

“You’re right. I can see if he wants to meet up tomorrow before the flight?” You question.

“No need. We should all just go to dinner tonight. I need to apologize to Jessica as well. She has been blowing my phone up. I know you’re not her biggest fan, neither am I, but it was wrong for me to use her to make you jealous.”

You huff out at that name. If Jake can let it go, then so can you. “I suppose it’s damage control night then. Have you told your brothers that we are back together?”

“Nope. I haven’t talked to them other than to text them that I’m safe. I’m sure they think I’m out on a bender wallowing in self-pity about seeing you.”

You laugh at that. “Oh you’re not?” You say jokingly.

Jake smirks at you. “Shut up and come eat your french toast.”

**

You had texted Sam and asked him to dinner, but to invite everyone so you could say bye. You told him that you two could talk at the bar and grab drinks before dinner. You neglected to mention that Jake was coming with you. Josh had texted Jake inviting him to dinner, of course Jake agreed. You were nervous about tonight, but it made you happier that Jake would be there with you.

You had on a black long sleeve bodysuit that dips down a little, with light wash mom jeans with ripped knees. You put beach’s waves in your hair and did a full face as it was night, but also Jessica would be there, so. You wore taupe heeled boots with a gold necklace with your initial and chunky gold hoops. You put on your black and white plaid peacoat, spritzed perfume and you were ready. Jake wore his regular light washed jeans with his chelsea boots. He had on a halfway buttoned black shirt with a flannel jacket over it and his normal necklace.

Jake grabbed your purse for you. “You ready?”

You sigh a little. “Yeah let’s go.”

**

When you both arrived at the restaurant your confidence was waning. Jake held your hand and gave you an assuring squeeze sensing your hesitation. You had all decided on a casual pub that had decent food, a good bar, and old arcade games.

Jake opened the door for you and you both entered. Jake never let go of your hand. The place wasn’t super big, so you could see everyone and eyes were on you when you entered.

Sam was sitting at the bar. His eyes were on you and he looked incredibly solemn. He had a beer in his hand but paused on sipping when he saw you and Jake enter. Josh was sitting next to him, turned now to look at you two.

You swear you saw Josh’s lips say, “Well I guess we know where Jake was at.”

You flick your eyes over and Danny is at the pinball machine with Jessica. Her arms are crossed and she’s giving you a death stare. Jake kisses your cheek and sends you off to the bar while he heads for the pinball machine. You take a deep breath and smile as you approach Sam and Josh. Josh jumps up and pats Sam on the back before giving you a smile and walking to Danny, who has also been sent away. You take your coat off and sit it on the back of the chair before sitting down.

“Hi.” You say as you get situated.

Sam sighs a little. “Hi.”

“What are you drinki-“ you start but get cut off.

“So you and Jake are back together huh.” Sam says, a statement rather than a question.

You feel your heart sink for Sam. “Yes.”

Sam lets out a small laugh and takes a drink. “Damn. That’s a bummer. I guess when I didn’t see you two together at Daniel’s party, and Jake dragging Jessica around gave me hope. But none of us are dumb. We all knew why Jake decided to out of the blue invite Jessica to Atlanta.”

You bite your lip trying to find the best words to say.

“I still held out hope for us, all this time. I feel like a fucking idiot. I guess it just wasn’t in the cards for you and me.” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer and looking off at the distance.

“Sam” you start trying to take his hand but he pulls away.

“No. It’s okay. I’m not a child and you don’t owe me anything.” He says.

You huff. “Sam, please listen to me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I let this happen. I’m so fucking sorry if I have dragged you along or given you hope. I’m sorry.” You start to get choked up.

Sam looks like he might cry too. “Hey please don’t cry. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry. I’m just as complacent in this. I should have told you how I felt sooner. This just sucks.”

“I know, but Sam I want you to know how much I love you. You mean so much to me and I don’t want to lose you in my life. You’re my best friend.” You say actually grabbing his hands this time.

Sam sniffles. “I love you too, and more than in the way that you’re inferring. I just want you to know that.”

You look up at him and give him a pity smile.

“But I also love my brother.” Sam clears his throat and continues. “And no matter how much it hurts, I want him to be happy. I want you to be happy. You’re my best friend. Although I can’t be in your life how I want to, I would rather be in your life as a friend than not in it at all.” Sam sniffles. “Plus you need me as a cornhole partner.”

You laugh at that and Sam wipes a tear from your cheek then wipes one from his own.

“Are we going to be okay?” You ask.

“Of course we are, it’s you and me sorority girl. Time heals all wounds- well that and alcohol.” He says raising his beer up to you.

You giggle at that. “I will drink to that. Hey bartender! Can I have what he’s having?”

**

The rest of the dinner had gone surprisingly well. Jessica left after Jake told her there was no chance he would ever leave you. She was livid, and called you a whore- Jake put her in her place quickly. Danny and Josh tried their best to pretend like everything was normal, but before long it started to feel normal. Drinks kept on flowing, you all shared appetizers, and played the arcade games until the place shut down. When it was time to leave you had given everyone hugs.

“I’ll call you soon?” You say to Sam mid hug.

“You better.” He smirks down at you.

You return to Jake’s side and he puts his arm around you.

“Yeah I’ll be back in Nashville in a week or so for the label meeting.” Jake says to them.

They wish you both well and you part ways. When you get back to your apartment you feel like a massive weight has been lifted from your chest. You and Jake both discussed the conversations you had tonight, and decided that the past was the past. You were ready for your future together. The night ended with you two in between the sheets. You didn’t fuck, you made love.

You laid awake that night while Jake softly snored next to you. You observed his beautiful features as his arm laid across your chest.

All you could think about was the tarot card you pulled on Halloween night. It didn’t matter the true meaning of it or what changed since you drew it. What mattered is that you interpreted how you wanted, how it fit in your life. That interpretation was Jake. It has always been Jake, since the first time you met him in that bar. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, the way he touched you. He captivated you in a way that no one else could. He was who you saw yourself being with forever, through sickness and health.

It has always been Jake.

And it always will be.

**

• wow can’t believe we made it to the end! Thank you so much for reading, your comments & feedback brighten my day. Make sure to stick around for the epilogue next week :)

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #the lovers

[squibbles-gubwee]

Hey! I cot a commission from @artsyfartsybro for a Rook x Leon oneshot and was kind enough to say i could post it!

Warnings: Cursing, mild sexual themes (No actual sex or nudity, does include grinding/sorta frottage) , talk of amputated limbs.

Without further ado:

Punch Drunk

•••••••••••

Sugary lemon lime tingled on his tongue, sparkling with hints of grapefruit. The carbonated drink fizzed against his lips, and the cold of the aluminum can felt pleasant in his warm palm. Drips of condensation slowly creeped and dripped off the drink, a few errant drops streaking up Rook's wrist.

The whole gala was dimly lit, with streamers of softly glowing and flashing lights strung up between tall pillars and high walls. The floor was a glossy wood that was flooded with yokai of all kinds, mingling, dancing, eating, laughing…

Rook's eye itched. He didn't dare rub it though.

The man instead took another sip of his soda, eyes sweeping the crowd of guests, watching the security guards posted up everywhere. He didn't get why he had to be part of everything, but he supposed if the turtles needed his help, it was the least he could do for saving the world. And honestly, he had such a hard time denying them, especially if Raph started giving the big puppy eyes.

Do not. Itch. Your eyes.

Rook blinked hard, trying to prevent messing with his contact lenses. He couldn't see better out of them, they were purely cosmetic to help him blend in with the Yokai crowd with their gold color. He needed to stay hidden amongst the various shaped bodies. He felt far too normal yet not at all. Odd one out in a sea of oddities. He hoped the kids were doing okay.

Ping!

The Aegean haired man pulled his phone out as he sipped his sparkling water. 

[You stick out like a sore thumb.]

Glaring, Rook whipped his head up and looked around before spotting Leon, snickering with a few river otter yokai, laughing as he typed something on his phone.

Ping!

[You're acting like a wallflower, get over yourself.]

Oooh ho ho ho. Rook felt his face get red as he shot a message back.

[It's not like movies, you know. I won't be ousted for leaning against a wall because I need to cool off. There's so many ppl literally doin the same.]

….He defended himself too much. Way too much.

Rolling his eyes, Rook went back to looking over the crowd. He took another sip of his drink, and thought quietly about when he should jump in the fray and start mingling more. Which he normally, y'know wouldn't HAVE to worry about, except today his leg was being particularly Bitchy. It ached something fierce, from shin to hip.

Must be a pressure system coming in.

"Excuse me. Is this wall taken?"

Rook stiffened and looked over, noting the toad yokai who just walked up. He shook his head, scooting over a bit to make more room available to the amphibious woman. "No! Sorry, I can leave-"

"No need! I just need a break. Carbuncles are always so chatty. Good fun, but I need time away from them, you know?"

Humming a noncommittal reply, Rook turned his face away, making sure to avoid showing too many features to the stranger. "Mh, yeah."

"Are you having fun at the party?"

"Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I am, I'm just, y'know. I'm waiting for a bit, having a rest before I jump in to go dancing?"

Rook gave a charming grin, masking his anxiousness. He knew how to rub elbows. He went to plenty of parties and shindigs. It was just the talking he was bad at.

…he should go get some food. Yeah, yeah that-

"Oh! You intend on dancing with your friend?"

"Hm?"

"The kappa who keeps looking your way. Is…Is he not, or…?"

You have to be fucking kidding-

Rook scrunched his nose in confusion and whipped his head around, catching Leon just as he went back to chatting up the Kawauso. Definitely caught staring. The human sighed and looked back at the toad yokai.

"He's my uh, boyfriend actually."

"And he is not with you?"

Shaking his head, the navy haired man waved her concern off. "He's chattier and knows I have issues mingling. He can do what he wants. He thinks I'm lame. Pun not intended."

The toad woman looked back and forth between the two, before puffing herself up some. "Well! How about we show him, hm? You mentioned dancing, care to join me for one?"

Rook looked up. He glanced over at Leon, showing off a slight of hand trick that had several of the otters gasping and a few itachi nearby to stare in awe.

"Mustelids, tch…you can totally see the card."

Rook turned red and looked back at the toad once more. "Ah, sorry I…Well, I'm down, just be mindful of my leg-"

"Great!! Come on, there's a song with a good beat on!"

And soon he was whisked away, led like a stray dog right into the den of lions. The toad had taken his drink, putting it on a table and dragging him away. Swallowing nervously, Rook allowed himself to be pulled along, the toad's grip firm and eager as she led him onto the coloured floor.

This was a trap. This was a trap and you were so fucking stupid. She knows. She SO knows you're human and she is going to reveal it right now, or get security to throw you out. Or better yet? In fucking yokai jail. Yeah. Yeah good for you you jeopardized the whole mission and-

They were dancing.

Rook blinked as he continued to box step, finding the music and movements wholly taking him as he flowed through dance moves and step routines he remembered from years passed.

Right, left, twist, left, right, twist, right back, left back, left forward, right forward, Left, Right, left, right.

…Rook grinned, grabbing slightly webbed hands, and the toad woman squealed and croaked a laugh as he spun her into a rumba, mindful not to crush any toes with his prosthetic foot. The music was quick, so he kept his pace up, weaving steps through the lit tile dancefloor.

He was having a blast. Teasingly, he sashayed his hips some and the yokai laughed before taking a dramatic pose and pulling out all the stops. They two danced chaotically, playfully, freely.

Leon couldn't help but stare.

His hand clenched. Unclenched. His eyes bore into the two, entirely disregarding the group of kawauso he had been entertaining. One whined as she tried to grab his attention, wanting to see another trick. 

"Dude, just like, go talk to him already. You've been eyeing him all night. Live your shitty high school prom romance movie moment."

Leon whipped his head back around, laughing and waving the woman off. "No, no, it's fine! It's all good-"

"Oh no," a particularly dark-furred otter hummed. "You got it bad. What, is he your friend you never told you liked him? You've been texting him all night-"

"He's my boyfriend," the terrapin huffed.

The gravelly bark of a laugh came from the yokai. "You haven't been acting like it. You might go cut in before that Ōgama can get her warty hands on him!"

Leon frowned, his muzzle scrunched some. He wasn't…worried about something like that, but… well, the two were drawing attention. He and Rook were supposed to keep a low profile.

Steeling himself, the red-eared slider slipped away to the dancefloor, slinking between bodies in search of the human. Once close enough, he fell into rhythm and easily gravitated closer, before sidling up close to the two. 

"Mind if I cut in, guapo?"

Rook's eyes narrowed.

Yes. Yes he did mind. Leon didn't get to just… just decide when Rook was having a nice time that he could now cut in. Not when he wouldn't be near the man earlier, claiming that he was going to "cramp his style".

Please. Rook didn't need him.

The toad woman chuckled, and Rook felt her loosen her grip, only for the man to squish her hands and lead her into a tango, ignoring Leon. His shoulder was cold to the lowest degree, and it left the amphibious reptile in shock as the two danced away. He swore he saw Rook turn his nose up and away, even, as he spun the bewildered toad out and back in. 

Oh.

Really now? That was how the therapist was going to act?

Glaring, he watched Rook dance for some time more, the human commanding the room with how he moved on the floor. He had to admit, Donatello did great work on the prosthesis. It seemed to really help, and it was quite flexible.

However, after two, three more songs…

Rook stumbled. Figuratively and literally. Leon caught him wincing and at one point, Leon feared his knee was giving out as he awkwardly caught himself from falling, playing it off like a dip.

Leon brushed past several people, and this time cut in by simply grabbing the human's hands.

"Sorry miss, but I need to steal my boyfriend."

"Like hell you do."

"Oh! Here you are, have fun!"

Oooh, the look the mutant got as the amphibian ran off was utterly livid.

"Can I help you?"

The mutant ignored the petulant tone and slowed their steps, swirling here, there, flowing and weaving to the edge of the crowd. At one point, there was a soft gasp from the human and he stumbled again, so he was swept up and spun, until the two of them were off the dancefloor and the Hamato was dragging him down a hall.

"Let- dammit, Leon! This is getting more attention! Let go-"

Rook was slammed against a wall, teeth clacking, and the terrapin had him trapped between an arm and a corner.

"What the fuck was that, hm?"

"What, you weren't doing me any favors. I made a friend and went to have fun."

Green thumb and forefinger flicked him in his head. "Fucker. I'm talking about the attitude- we're on a mission! You, and that stunt, got a lot of attention."

The human rolled his faux gold eyes. "I'm sorry, is the mutant turtle from the apocalypse telling me what parties are like? Leon, no one actually cares. In fact, even if I had eyes on me, they're not going to assume it's suspicious to actively seek out the limelight. It's a party. YOU acted suspicious when you stole me away like that. It wasn't- you just leave! You don't try to ease out all sneaky like that. That was weird!"

"Mm, yeah. That. Don't think I didn't catch what was happening." The medic glared. "You were also overdoing it. You needed to stop if your prosthesis was hurting that bad."

Rook became red. "It- it wasn't my prosthesis-"

"REALLY? Because I watched you almost fall into a group of fire spirits. I bet they would so listen to whatever fucking excuse you have."

"Leon-"

A thick finger pressed to his sternum. "If you can't take this mission seriously, you shouldn't be here. Not only are you pulling some petty shit back there, but not taking care of yourself is a pretty big no-no. You should have stopped the moment your prosthesis started fucking hurting. But no! No, you had to go do this prideful 'I don't need you telling me what to do' shit! You nearly compromised us! You could have caused the whole mission to fold!" Huffing, the mutant crossed his arms. "What, if it was me are you going to act like you wouldn't jump down my throat?!"

"No! Yes?! Leon, it's fine-"

"No! No it's not! You could damage the port! Or your nerves! You could have caused irreparable damage, you know this!! So why did you think it was okay?!"

"BECAUSE IT WASN'T THE FUCKING MISSING ONE, ITS THE STILL HERE ONE THATS HURTING!!"

Leon stared quietly, but Rook barreled ahead, fire licking in his eyes. 

"I'M SORRY I DIDN'T STOP HAVING A FUN TIME! SORRY I ENJOYED MYSELF DOING MY FAVORITE FUCKING THING. WHEN AM I EVER GOING TO DANCE LIKE THIS AGAIN?! NEVER!"

Under normal circumstances, Rook would probably be emotional and start crying, but he was just too heated right now that they wouldn't come. Instead, a sticky, muggy anger clung to his skin and refused to let go.

His leg was shot for the rest of the night, but he didn't care.

"I-"

"NO! NO, IT'S MY TURN. You wouldn't listen so I won't either! I get it. You don't want to hang out with me because I cramp your style or whatever. But you don't get to be mad at me when I have fun!"

"When it hurts-"

"IT ALWAYS FUCKING HURTS! IT JUST SOMETIMES HURTS LESS THAN NORMAL!" Rook hated screaming. He hated it so much. "I have more metal in my stupid fucking flesh and blood leg than the prosthesis. It hurts. Always! And if I let that keep me in bed, I'd be riddled with sores and wounds. I will not quit doing stuff I love because it hurts me."

"There's a balance!" Leon chided, cupping his face and staring into those glossy aurum eyes. "You can't overstrain yourself, you know thi-"

 "I WOULD RATHER DANCE TIL THIS PINS AND RODS PIECE OF SHIT ROTS THAN BE MISERABLE," Rook howled, cold fire in his lungs and salt in his eyes. "I REFUSE TO LAY AWAKE AT NIGHT, WISHING I HAD ONE MORE DANCE, ONE MORE TIME TO HAVE FUN, ONE MORE-"

Leon smashed his mouth against the other, and despite the few hits to the plastron or arm, he kept kissing. Teeth scraped and clashed, and Rook was all fury as he kissed back. Nails scraped against the back of the mutant's head and shoulders, making him churr deep in his chest. Rook slotted a knee between his legs, and Leon couldn't help but grind against it.

The two broke away in heavy, hot breaths.

"You're insufferable," hissed Rook.

"Bite me."

Leon yelped and moaned as the human dud just that, teeth sinking into the meat of his neck juncture. The two then began angrily making out once more, tongues swiping at one another between bites and nips to lips and jaws.

"The contacts are pretty, but I much prefer your real eyes."

"Oh, please."

"Pft, don't you know? I've been wanting to do this all fucking night." Leon growled, voice husky and a bit gravelly. A three-fingered hand slipped down the back of Rook's slacks and palmed his ass. "Just drag you into a hall or closet, have you all to myself and-"

The two flinched as Leon's phone beeped loudly. The ninja pulled the device out and answered, only-

"WE ARE TRYING TO DO A RECONNAISSANCE MISSION, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" Donatello screeched, making them flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, Leon could see a camera not far away, pointed right at them.

Oh boyyy…

The adults both winced, Leon shifting his collar to hide a bite mark and Rook looking away, face red.

"Ah, 'Tello! Uh, we were-"

"QUIT DRY HUMPING YOUR BOYFRIEND AND GET BACK TO WORK, NARDS!!"

Nothing more was said, and the call ended. Quickly, their clothing was sorted out and fixed. Rook stared down.

The duo shuffled out of the hallway, keeping a foot's distance between each other. Neither one would look at the other, and Leon watched as Rook limped to the tables to have a seat, successfully cowed.

Right. 

Back to work.

#rottmnt #ocs #omwf #once more with feeling #future leo #future leonardo #future leo x male oc #peepaw leo #omwf rook #omwf au

[mr-leach]

I had a dream last night where the premise was "what is the funniest party of 4 combo of Baldur's Gate 3 companions to throw into Curse of Strahd" and my subconscious decided on Astarion, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel

Astarion is the obvious choice but specifically in my dream this was post BG3 and apparently Cazador hadn't been dealt with?? Like wherever Tav may be they're apparently a fucking cunt who didn't help free the poor bastard. So he was understandably miserable and scared and very cranky on account of becoming violently ill any time he tried to feed on animal blood. I didn't get far enough into the dream to figure out how they dealt with this but I could see it getting ugly real fast.

Karlach was a mean choice I feel like. I mean I can see the first week or so being fun for her cause she gets to help people who need helping and kill a bunch of evil creatures and in that sense she'd be having the time of her life, and thus it would be very funny! But also like. Trapping her in another realm of death and misery and telling her she can never leave? Don't make me think about it I'll cry

Shadowheart is another obvious choice tbh. Provider of snarky commentary and snide remarks a plenty, naturally she would have a field day in a place like Barovia. She had black hair in my dream so I assume she was still big on Shar. The dread realms are supposedly located in a deep corner of the shadowfell so tbh she would probably be sitting pretty. EXCEPT FOR THE WOLVES GODDAMN IT. Seriously, what was my subconscious on. Evil.

Lae'zel is the only true pure comedic choice my brain came up with tbh. Barovia is just as alien as everywhere else to her, foul beasts and undead are no doubt regrettable to encounter but not nearly as troubling or foul than mindflayers and other illithid horrors, and then most of the horrible shit going on in Barovia would be so inconsequential to her that at most she would be just a passive commentator to some of the most gruesome shit ever and then add her two cents like "RIP to Mordenkainan but I'm built different" "idk if it were me I think I'd just kill Vargas and put his severed head on display in the town square to send a message" and aside from really wanting to leave she would have so little stake in anything going on. Dark powers won't even fuck with her cause she's highly trained to resist manipulation and on that note Strahd would seem like such a loser to her. Wait you were a formidable conqueror and renowned warrior and you did what? Extremely cringe dude, couldn't be me.

Anyway I don't remember a whole lot from the dream tbh aside from the premise deliberately trying to be as funny as possible and the party members that were chosen. I think Astarion got sick from eating spider blood and Karlach had to carry him into town. There was some silly stuff about the Barovian citizens having no idea what Gith were, Lae'zel having no social skills, and Shadowheart providing "cultural translation" so they wouldn't get chased out for every extremely off colour thing Lae'zel said. It got very dicey but Karlach was cute and charming enough to make up for how much the rest of the party unsettled everyone.

#cool stories

[ca1e70]

daverose indie rock house show au chapter........ 1.5?

"so like i didn't write this song or anything, but i mean technically i should be on the credits because i DID come up with one of the drum fills and i totally deserve credit. don't let them tell you any differently" the first few words came out echoey through the shitty speakers stacked around the living room and kitchen. at least until the blond guy with the shades fiddles with with the microphone while still giving his little spiel. he also manages to kick the "pedalboard" by his feet and nearly sends the cracked skateboard housing questionable equipment clear into the kitchen. he doesn't, though, but the mic picks up his worried curses anyway. back to the situation at hand. "our regularly scheduled lead is on vocal rest because of... what was it?" 

hes turning back from the only slightly attentive crowd to look at the bassist. she has rubber bands youd expect to see on a set of extensive braces adorning her fingers while she mines a line and makes a face at him. she doesn't know. shes not even the regularly scheduled bassist. 

"actually fuck it who gives a shit but i'm not changing the lyrics so just bear with me while i butcher some sapphic undertones" and their fill-in for the fill-in drummer is coming in early. 

this is the second time rose lalonde has come across the man currently fumbling his way through a guitar riff like he'd never picked one up before. she would be none the wiser if it wasn't for the fact she knew the stand-in bassist, and she had heard plenty of talk about the stand-in drummer turned lead guitar and singer. this place did a lot of stand-ins. you'd think by now they would have created at least ONE set band, and maybe they did, but rose couldn't care less about the semantics of indie bands and their makeup of artists. she knows she heard one girl on her way to the bathroom talk about a different guitarist sending an unsolicited dick pic, and decided she didn't really want to be involved in the politics of 'local musicians'. 

she was here, once again, at the request of her dear friend blowing everyone away with her ability to jump around the small dining room area and still hit every note. every time it looked like her hair had obscured her vision enough to send her tumbling into the guy not only wearing shades inside, but at night, jade managed to keep her balance up right. it's the only reason she stayed firmly planted on the kitchen counter in the background. it's also the only reason rose came again, because jade promised to "make it up to her by actually showing up and performing". 

no one said anything about dave strider being front and center, though. she had half the mind to turn around and walk out the second she saw him tinkering with a power outlet. jade had already spotted her, though, and the escape plan went out the window. which is why she is once again stuck watching performances from what seems like a messier counter than last time, but i digress. 

dont get her wrong. dave isnt half bad! if he had some training, maybe a better grasp on guitar work in general he would be good. if he had some more practice with the song he is, as he said, butchering. it isnt until he picks up in on the lyrics that she takes a second to really pay attention. 

he isnt anything special. the southern accent he tries desperately to cover up makes its way out on certain words, he manages to keep in pitch and tone well enough she doesnt have to cover her ears, and theres a couple girls in the living room that yell when he starts singing. they scream, is more like it, and one of them is giggling at the other and theres a slight twinge in rose’s stomach that makes her want to run out of this house and never stop running until she makes it to antarctica. 

she wants the girl to leave. she wants the guy in the shades to shut the fuck up and stop singing in front of everyone here. she wants jade to leave her bassist post and come over here right this very second so she can slap rose and tell her shes going insane. instead of any of that happening, rose hops off the counter again and starts to fill up a red solo cup with sink water. the physical act helps her keep her mind off of dave and how she feels her heart rate picking up at the idea that another girl could think he was cute. or that his voice was nice. or want to do something like go on a date with him when rose has already done that, ruined that, and ghosted him. 

well, she didnt ghost him. itd only been a week and she just hadnt replied to his messages because she was busy with school. just because he and jade had school together and talked every day, and jade said that dave asked about her and was worried, and she never replied back, does not mean shes ghosting him. 

if she was ghosting him the nickels wouldnt be still sitting on her bedside table, like a memento of something that happened with a weird boy in a bathroom. 

rose manages to overfill the cup and continue overfilling it until the song is over. when silence hits the room (just before scattered applause) she turns the faucet off and stares at the ripple of the water in her cup. she would never drink something like this, but it had given her something to do, so she dumps it back into the sink and crushes the cup to let loose a little bit of self contained anger. 

she should have waited because theres a rather jazzy little guitar fill – not bass, guitar – and she has to walk around the wall in the kitchen just to make sure she isnt hallucinating. it must be a cover, one he’s worked on before, because the audience goes a little crazy and when he starts singing again they sing along. its one shes never heard, but it isnt as if shes all that up to date on the scene shes currently swathed in. dave had sent her a playlist of music to listen to, ones that would help her out if she ever came back, and she wondered if this one was on it. she wondered if she could have been singing along with him like the girls stationed right in front of his microphone. she wonders if she could have been cheering him on like he deserved. 

no, he didnt deserve it. hes just a boy. hes just a boy with a kind of good voice that can apparently play the guitar well enough and supposedly plays the drums like a god. something rose has only heard rumors of and yet to see, and theres the smallest part of her that hopes she does one day, but she shoves that down quickly in favor of staring into the back of those girls heads like shes going to make them explode.

this is jealousy and she doesnt like it. she didnt even know she was capable of jealousy. she wants to never feel jealous again, and jade is gearing up for a bass solo and sees rose in the actual ‘audience’. her name is yelled into the microphone and rose can feel her face turning red when dave’s face appears between the two witches he has as fans.  the witches turn around as well. the entire house turns around to look at rose right as jade starts playing and rose just… stands there. still as a caught mouse. a truly dead possum. caught in the fact dave smiled when he caught sight of her and went back to messing with the pedalboard. she wants to run away and disappear right then and there.

she does, to be fair, once jade has finished her solo and looks back at rose for approval shes back to trying to find an escape route for the time being. somewhere that she doesnt have to look at a stupid little blond boy or feel emotions she hasnt felt since her mother smiled wider at a wine shipment than the carefully crafted scarf she had made her for christmas one year as a kid. she wanted to break every bottle in that crate just like she wanted to break every bone in those girls bodies, so she takes her rage up the stairs and into a bedroom she can find unlocked. theres shockingly no one in there, but it doesnt take her long to realize why. 

above the bed is an entire shelf of preserved animals. there are cords across the floor like nobodys business, the entire room is a tripping hazard, and the sheets on the bed look rumpled and unchanged and the entire room smells of formalin and teenage boy. 

no one is going to come in here, though, so its safe. its safe enough she shuts the door behind her and carefully crosses the room to open a window for airflow. the fan in the corner doesnt really do the room much help, so this should make it less stuffy. her head is sticking out and her hands are on the ledge of the window and she can still hear dave singing underneath her but its muffled. far away. just like her house, and yet, last friday he walked her all the way there. it had to have been forty minutes. she took a cab here again, no idea how she would get home. she fully hoped jade would give her a ride back so she didnt have to walk or be walked by a man who probably went way out of his way for that. 

she doesn't even know where he lives, after all.

#writing tag #daverose indie rock house show au

[gaoau]

Hands

Raison d'Être warnings — none. word count — 2.4k

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Chifuyu would never lie. Chifuyu was an honest man. Chifuyu saw the world as it was. Chifuyu could think.

If he had told her that her skill was worth it, if he had told her he could see all the blues that she cried over, if he had told her he loved it, then surely he had meant all of it. Her skill was worth it, and there was color, and Chifuyu loved it.

So why was [Name] still running around in circles?

Not because she didn't believe him, really, she knew Chifuyu spoke only from the bottom of his heart. He had no reason to lie to her. Well, maybe he did, maybe he didn't want to hurt her feelings, maybe he didn't trust her as much as she thought he did.

No, that didn't make sense. Why else would he take her out to dinner? It was a genius idea, truly, seeing as [Name] was impossibly stubborn when it came to self-loathing. Using the price agreed for the painting to pay for her food? Just saying he could think was a painful understatement.

So Chifuyu never lied. And [Name] believed him.

Or at least she tried—she wanted. She really wanted to agree with him. He expressed how much he appreciated her art and she desperately wished she could say the same. He spent money on her for the sake of a painting she couldn't even bare to glance at and she fucking begged her own brain to work like his.

Her eyes scanned once more over the dozens of unfinished pieces scattered across her living room. The corner of her lips lifted briefly with the ghost of a smile when she spotted Ai sleeping on one, his brown fur blending in with the autumnal landscape she had attempted.

Ai was brown. Chocolate, and milk tea, and—maybe she was a bit hungry—she could see those colors. She had saved those colors with her own two hands. Those colors became her favorite reason to get up in the mornings. If it hadn't been for Ai, she would have completely given up on art. He had been so frail and tiny, and with only two months, he grew in size and spirit. All with the help of her hands.

What cursed hands [Name] had.

Those same hands that had saved a life seemed like strangers to her. She knew and acknowledged they could create wondrous masterpieces. Art was definitely not linear; as much as she scorned plenty of her own works, she was proud of a good percentage of them as well. All her fingers and wrist needed was a fountain pain and india ink and she was good to go. She could create proper art—stunning, moving, full of emotion, eye-catching. Equals part pretty and makes you feel something.

But those same stupid hands couldn't figure out how to use colors. Maybe the problem really was in her hands. Maybe it was in her brain. Maybe it was in her eyes. Maybe it was everywhere. When they were on Ai, the browns looked lovely; when they came from her hands, she wanted to set on fire the forest she had illustrated. She left the canvas to be Ai's temporary bed.

Landscapes, portraits, fruits in pieces and whole, skies, trees, plants, flowers, so many trees, the moon, the moon again, another moon. All unfinished. Particularly the moons. She could never stare too long at a white hole threatening to swallow her up. She could never find peace with anything that wasn't black.

She tried a pineapple, a lemon, an orange, strawberries—terrible idea, worse than worse—classic apples. Nothing. People of all skin tones, undertones, hair types, nose shapes, eye colors. Nothing. Trees during all seasons, skies at every hour, clouds in every weather. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Her eyes traveled to the ginormous canvas she'd been ignoring for the past weeks. The post-it note with Chifuyu's full name was still clinging onto it. She didn't like his name and how it simply did not fit him. It birthed ideas in that dry little brain of hers, but none of which she was willing to ponder over. As the vast emptiness of white glared back at her, she hated the thought of winter and blankets of snow.

It was in a moment of weakness that [Name] lost track of herself. Perhaps a moment of strength, even, because her hands could create as much as they could obliterate. As she snatched a pallete knife from among her tortured supplies, she didn't trust it could cut at all. She swung and swung and swung and Ai startled to his feet, claws digging into the fabric of his painted forest, ripping a tear through the canvas. He barked in a panic at [Name] and the unrecognizible fury in her eyes while she mercilessly attacked a blooming, abandoned daffodil. The canvas tumbled from its stand and crashed on the floor, where [Name] watched it lie for a brief moment before she chucked her weapon at it.

The ringing in her ears didn't allow her to hear Ai and his progressively louder calls of fear to bring her back. A sardonic chuckle slipped from her lips as she glared at the mess of ripped fabric on the tiles. Ai's claws slicing at her legs helped ground her once more. Out of breath, panting heavily, she managed to shush the frantic barking. She didn't understand how laughter could morph into sobs in the span of a few seconds. Tears she didn't know she'd been fighting trailed down her cheeks.

She crumbled to the floor beside the torn painting, swatting it away from her as if it burned. With a few sniffles to recompose herself, she sat cross-legged and hunched her back, her head hanging towards her chest. Her own fingers felt rough against her skin when she wiped her tears. "So childish…" she sneered at herself, another bitter giggle falling from her tongue.

Ai's whimper called for her attention. She forced her softest simper to help him settle down as well. It really was almost like he understood at times. He approached her calmly and sneaked onto her lap. Like a puzzle piece, there was a gap in [Name]'s distress that Ai fit perfectly in.

It was embarrassing to drop by XJ Land after leeching dinner off of Chifuyu. Again, yes, it was fair payment for the commission, but it didn't feel fair. She was in over her head way too much to the point it annoyed her in her self-pity.

An involuntary frown twisting her features, she walked into the shop solely because Ai needed more food. Otherwise, she would have considered never stepping foot in there again. She wanted to get the bag, pay for it, and book it right out of there back home. But when she headed straight for the usual aisle, she found the universe hated her more than she hated herself. The brand that Ai enjoyed the most was nowhere to be found.

A sigh tumbled down to her feet. She scanned the shelves over and over to make sure she didn't need to interact with Chifuyu. Not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't face him. Her eyes met with Kazutora's and she caught him flinching. [Name] couldn't help the instinctive grin. Where people reacted with either fight or flight, the poor man chose freeze.

She rushed over to him before he could react. Kazutora saw his life flashing before his eyes at the scorching feeling of her gaze on him. "Hanemiya-san, hello," she greeted him so softly, ensuring she didn't scare him off any more than she already had. He merely nodded, smiling uncomfortably. "I'm looking for a brand of dog food called Dimply? Green packaging?"

Please, get this woman away from him. "Yeah, we have some left in the back." It was definitely a lie. "I think." That turned it into a half-truth. "I'll go check." And just like that, he was successfully free from [Name]'s eyes looking at him like he was extraterrestrial. He disappeared into the storage room, dreading the sound of her footsteps following him.

She stopped before the hung painting of the cat entered her field of vision. As she waited at a safe distance from the poor working soul, she beamed blissfully to herself. She knew art wasn't linear at all, especially now that the cogs in her brain began rushing with ideas. She couldn't help it, genuinely, she couldn't just not look at him and see everything she loved to work with. It was so easy, so simple—man, she wanted to draw him so bad.

Kazutora emerged from the room with the dog food in hand and [Name] never wanted to kiss a man so much in her life. He didn't even look at her as he shoved the bag into her arms. "Chifuyu can ring it up for you." Fuck, she never wanted to murder a man so much in her life. The absolute betrayal of trust he didn't owe her, but on every existing deity, she felt personally offended.

"Thanks, Hanemiya-san." She offered him a nod and a tight smile. Damn him. No, poor guy, he didn't even like her, it was fine. But damn him.

She strode up to the counter with too little confidence. Chifuyu immediately grinned at her the instant he recognized her. "[Name]-san, good to see you again!" He received the bag of dog food from her, raising a brow at how quiet she was. "How's everything? Haven't heard from you in a week."

"Yeah… I've been, you know… busy, for… lack of a better word." Absolute bullshit, but not like he needed to know that. Her eyes flickered towards the cat painting on the wall out of pure self-torture.

Chifuyu followed her. "People really seem to like the eyes." [Name] cringed, caught red-handed. "You've been working on more art?"

Chifuyu would never lie to her. She should never lie to him. It was embarrassing, really, downright pathetic, but her shoulders hunched as she let out a heavy sigh. "No… No, I haven't, dammit…" Her brows bent down almost as if she were right about to burst into tears. "I've been trying, but nothing works, you know? Colors just don't…" She burned a hole through the blue eyes of the painted cat. "…work."

Judging from the amount of people that had complimented the painting, Chifuyu believed [Name] had skill. He knew she had trouble looking at the world with all its hues, it was too overwhelming and it was okay. He understood that was the reason she had jokingly but not jokingly said she wanted to try out drawing Kazutora. Because the black and the white and the contrast and the visual interest without needing all those colors.

He hummed, "What about me?"

[Name] blinked perplexed, finding the intense blue of his eyes to be incredibly welcoming. "Sorry?"

"Want to try drawing me?"

If Kazutora wanted to hate [Name], then she wouldn't have the heart to blame him. This was the second time she accidentally stole Chifuyu away from XJ Land. She could barely wrap her head around why Chifuyu was willing to leave his store just to give her a hand. Boy, was she grateful anyway.

He suggested a coffee shop immediately, his treat again—which she protested against—and the smile on his face made it hard to refuse him. She used needing her sketchbook and dropping off the dog food as an excuse. He instantly responded with, "I don't mind! We can go pick up Ai while we're at it."

And what was she supposed to do? Turn him down? Seriously? When his blue eyes glimmered with the enchanting intensity of excitement? Chifuyu was giving her the honour to draw him, to capture every one of his features onto paper, show him how it was that she saw him. He trusted her with his own face.

They made a detour to her apartment. She grabbed not her art supplies but her old, high-school pencil case, still filled with plenty of pens and markers to doodle with. Her sketchbook, her supplies, Ai, and a little bit of confidence in herself.

"Anything you want me to do?" Chifuyu asked as she began getting comfortable in her seat.

[Name] looked up from her open sketchbook, pen in hand. "No, not really. You can talk to me if you want."

And talk he did. It was perfect background music for her brain to concentrate. She glanced up at him and scanned every shape of his face, only to snap back down to the paper and let her wrist flow freely. He didn't seem to mind how intensely her gaze pierced through him. His lips, his nose, his cheekbones, and she found drawing his single earring was more fun than she had expected.

"Actually, could you look to the right for a sec?" she interrupted his chattering without thinking. Solely because she wanted to get that earring at a good angle. "Thanks, you're good."

"Are you gonna let me take a look at them when you're done?"

She blinked to refocus her sight to take a step back. She liked the spread filled with Chifuyu's face—she liked what she was seeing. "Oh, absolutely. Please carry on, I want to hear more about your cat."

Chifuyu chortled as he watched her interact with him on autopilot. [Name] was listening while she worked, humming and nodding and making sure he knew that she was listening. She used her free hand to sip from her drink, and every now and then petted Ai on the floor. He rambled on about Peke J and his friends' ramen shop and that one time he ate Takemichi's crepes.

Absentmindedly or completely conscious, she reached for a highlighter. Chifuyu clamped his mouth shut for a second. He stared as she slapped down some blue color onto her drawings. "Hey, that actually looks good." She grinned to herself, she seemed pleased and so content with herself. It made his chest tighten. Then she grabbed the pen again and carried on creating art.

#Raison d'Être #Tokyo Revengers #Matsuno Chifuyu #Chifuyu #Matsuno Chifuyu x Reader #Chifuyu x Reader #Tokyo Revengers x Reader #tokrev #tokrev x reader

[blackacre13]

more teacher/student au?

Part 30 here; Here's part 31:

“Come back for dinner?” Debbie pleaded, pouting her lips, Lou cursing softly, unable to resist. “I promise I’ll behave and actually let you study.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” the blonde whispered, kissing the crown of her head as Debbie grabbed her wrists lightly, looking up at Lou with bright eyes.

“Hurry back to me?” Debbie murmured softly, running circles against Lou’s skin.

“Of course,” Lou promised, hooking their pinky fingers. “I’ll bring PJs too so I can sleep over.”

“I prefer you without the pajamas in the way of…sleep,” Debbie grinned.

“You’re relentless.”

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

The house felt empty without her. Wrong. And Debbie had an odd moment of a desire for simplistic, domestic bliss that she had never quite craved before.

She hadn’t been lying when she proposed dropping everything and flying to another country. She wanted to show Lou the world. Wanted to give her anything and everything. She wanted to see the world through her lover’s eyes. 

She had been plenty of places before. But she wanted to experience fresh pasta through Lou slurping at spaghetti and laughing over it draping over her chin. She wanted to watch Lou as she walked through galleries, her face full of awe and intrigue.

She had never wanted to be squished on an hours-long airplane next to someone, hoping that the blonde might use her shoulder as a pillow for a nap.

There were papers to grade and lessons to plan, but shortly after Lou left, Debbie found herself on her computer, several travel tabs open and idea post-it notes going up on the wall. Which place had the best galleries? The best food? The most luxurious shopping?

And then there were the hotels. Would she want luxury or simplicity? What was simply too much? Debbie was surprised to find she’d be happy in a parking lot in a tent, so long as Lou was by her side. And that was something new. Debbie had always only really been in other relationships for the perks, the person more of an afterthought. 

And then the thoughts of hotels had Debbie giggling and blushing like a teenager as she thought back to just moments ago. It was insane how flustered Lou got her. How distracted. And now she was distracted by even the memories. How she teased her and whispered dirty things to her. Hell, Lou had carried her into her own room and thrown her on the bed before fucking her with skill, and passion, and pleasure that Debbie had never felt before.

There was something deep between them. A connection like never before. It was love, Debbie knew. And she was only now realizing that she didn’t think she had ever actually been in love before. Certainly not if it was supposed to feel how it felt now.

She only had a few hours before Lou would be back from class and although it took great concentration to snap herself out of it, Debbie put a bookmark in travel plans for later and started planning dinner instead. And mood music. And lingerie.

Changing the sheets, freshening up the house, thumbing through her vinyl collection, even cleaning out a cabinet shelf in the bathroom and a drawer for Lou. She was beyond smitten. Debbie didn’t even recognize herself anymore. And she absolutely loved it.

Suddenly, Debbie’s phone rang as she was examining her reflection in a pair of silk underwear, frowning with concentration before her face broke into a smile, the brunette lifting her phone to her ear.

“I was just thinking about you, baby,” Debbie chuckled. “Actually, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. But tell me, how do you feel about naked fondue? Too dangerous?”

“Baby? Naked fondue?” A deep voice laughed, Debbie’s heart jumping into her throat as her eyes went wide. “Guess that means we’re on better terms than I thought. But I know that can’t be true. No, no. Cause you don’t Fuck anything with a dick anymore. God forbid I get promoted for actually doing a decent Fucking job for teaching. Oh no. Has to be sexist because that should’ve had your name on it, because you’re so great.”

“Claude,” Debbie seethed, gritting her teeth as she sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Who is she, Deborah?”

#queue #blackacre13 #ocean's eight #oceans eight #oceans 8 #ocean's 8 #ocean's eight fanfic #ocean's eight fanfiction #ocean's 8 fanfic #ocean's 8 fanfiction #o8 fanfic #o8 fanfiction #lou miller #Debbie ocean #Lou Miller x Debbie ocean #Debbie Ocean x lou miller #lou x debbie #Debbie x lou #lou and debbie #Debbie and lou #lou x deb #deb x lou #lou and deb #deb and lou #heist girlfriends #heist wives #loubbie #Claude becker #teacher/student au #teacher/student