#I have like three layers of sheets on my mattress to make it comfortable. top sheet included and it just protects the protector sheets I use

[avanatural]

I Don’t Mind

Summary: Four different hunts. Four shared motel rooms, four shared bathrooms, four shared beds. And four times that Y/N doesn’t mind getting closer to Dean.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Fluff, comfort, angst

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, stitches, nudity, cursing

A/N: Here’s some Dean fluff sprinkled with comfort and angst. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask! ❤️

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Hunt number 1

Dean exited the bathroom in a pair of boxers and an AC/DC t-shirt, his hair still damp. Waves of steam followed him, curling into the dusty motel room air. “There’s nothin’ like a hot shower after a hunt.”

Y/N looked up from the book in her lap. Her hair was still damp, too, leaving a few wet spots on her tank top and shorts. She’d gotten comfortable on the bed while her hunting partner had taken his turn in the bathroom. “Hm-mh. I’m glad it was just a regular salt-and-burn.”

“Yeah. Same ‘ere.” Dean’s subtle glance dropped to her bare legs for a second. It had been years since he’d shared a motel room with a woman. It was different from what he was used to, but in a good way. Her company was kinda fun. She was easygoing, gorgeous to look at, and he swore she smelled like cotton candy and rainbows. Tearing his gaze away from her soft skin, he cleared his throat, and with a raised eyebrow, gestured toward the bed that Y/N was resting on. “So, uh… Sleeping arrangements?”

They had one bed and one couch. The plan was to go for twin beds, but the Sleepyhead Inn was the only motel in town, and of course, all the other rooms were taken.

Y/N’s eyes went back to her novel. She put the bookmark in place and closed the book while she suggested, “Just join me.”

“You sure?”, he wondered out loud, squinting at his hunting partner.

“You’re never gonna fit on that couch. And my back still hurts, so I don’t want it, either,” she said, placing her novel on the nightstand. She stared back at him when she added, “I think the mattress is big enough for two.”

Dean strolled to the free side of the bed, taking his time, giving her a chance to withdraw her offer. But even as he pulled back the cover, she kept quiet. “You got about…” He tilted his spiky-haired head. “Three seconds to change your mind. ‘Cause once my head hits that pillow, I ain’t moving.”

“I don’t mind,” she assured him, lips jerking with a smile, “Besides… I like a good cuddle.”  

“Huh. Would you look at that.” He broke into a surprised grin, emerald orbs sparkling playfully as he climbed into bed, “A bloodthirsty hunter, who just fried two ghosts extra crispy, asking for a snuggle.” Dean might have been joking around, but on the inside, he kind of admired her open approach to affection.  

If there was one thing that hunters didn’t get to do a lot, it was to share tenderness with someone else. It was too dangerous. Scarier than the monsters that prowled the streets. Proximity and affection could get you attached. And attachment was a curse. Dean had been cursed one too many times throughout his life. Still, he couldn’t deny that Y/N’s lighthearted ways tempted him.

She let her head drop back against the headboard. “Don’t judge me,” she retorted through her slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s a lonely life.”

A layer of melancholy draped itself over Dean’s heart, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “It is, isn’t it?”, he breathed while his back sank into the mattress.

“Yeah,” she sighed and wiggled down the bed, lying down next to her hunting partner.

“So, uh…,” Dean trailed off and lifted his arm. It hung in the air awkwardly as he created space for Y/N against his torso. “You wanna… Or…?” God, he sounded like a fourteen-year-old making his first move at the movies. He had no idea how to initiate cuddling unless it was a follow-up to sex.

She snuck toward him with her sheet. Her body met his, and she curled up against his side. His skin radiated a welcoming heat through his t-shirt, providing a homey sensation.

With slow and careful movements, Dean closed his arm around her. By day, the huntress was so fiery and fierce, but now, by night, she was tame and trusting. In his embrace, she almost felt like a little dove whose wings could easily be broken. “This okay?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, her cheek meeting his shoulder, “Perfect.”

The two of them went against the general hunter code and ate up each other’s warmth. Soft breaths were passed back and forth. After a few minutes of relishing Dean’s clean scent, Y/N asked, “Hey, did you use my body wash?”

“Uh… Yeah.” The hunter used his brother’s stuff on a regular basis, without needing to ask. Old habits died hard, apparently. “Forgot mine. The motel’s body wash smells like a toilet rim block.”

A chuckle left her lips, her rib cage bouncing slightly against his side. “It does!”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry. I’d much rather my cuddle buddy smells like cotton candy than a lemongrass toilet.”

He laughed along with his new friend, setting fire to Y/N’s heart with those warm, rumbling tunes.

“Do you wanna grab some breakfast in the morning?”, Dean wondered out loud. His breath got stuck in his throat when she suddenly looked up, her eyes peering at him through her lashes. His free hand acted of its own accord and gently brushed some hair away from her forehead. “Like, proper breakfast?”

“I’d love that.” The corners of her mouth jumped up for a second. Then, her nose wrinkled apologetically. “But I gotta leave first thing.”

“Oh.” Dean’s stomach took an insecure little leap. He didn’t want to part ways with Y/N just yet. Attachment was a curse, but she was too great of a spellcaster for him to resist.

“A friend of mine called and told me about another case in Michigan,” she explained, her palm finding his firm chest. “Looks like it’s a shifter. I promised him I’d take it.” Absentmindedly, she let her fingernails scrape across the red letters on his worn-out t-shirt.

“You need backup?”, Dean found himself asking, “Shifters are sneaky sons of bitches.”

A heart-stirring smile appeared on her face, emerging from deep within her soul. “You wanna tag along? Fight another monster with me?”

He shrugged his shoulders with feigned nonchalance, making her body move along with his. “Yeah, why not?”

Hunt number 2

“Y/N, I’m just gonna grab-“ Before Dean could finish his sentence, his voice faded in his throat. He stopped in his tracks abruptly, his feet rooted to the floor. His chest expanded with a huge bashful breath.

He‘d entered the bathroom to get his phone, to slip in and then slip back out just as fast.

Instead, he was met with the sight of Y/N’s oh-so-smooth skin. She’d just stepped out of the shower, fully nude, about to grab her towel. Yes, it had definitely been a while since he’d shared a motel room with a woman.

“Oh, shit, sorry.“ Dean averted his gaze, studying the white tiles on the floor. But the sight of her bare body haunted him, still flashing before his eyes. “I was just gonna get my phone…” With his cell phone raised as evidence, he stepped back, about to leave the bathroom.

The two hunters had arrived in Michigan to hunt the shapeshifter. New hunt, new motel. Y/N’s earlier words still ghosted through Dean’s ears. “One room, please. With a queen.” She’d deliberately booked a motel room with a single bed for them to share. To say that he was thrilled was an understatement.

The muscles in Y/N’s abdomen contracted as she released a melody of hushed laughter. “I don’t mind,” she said, her tone every bit as earnest as it was casual, and wrapped her towel around herself.

Dean took a discreet peek at her body to make sure she was covered, then met her gaze with a questioning glint in his own. “You sure?”

“It’s fine,” she insisted and brushed past him, “I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of naked women.” Mischievously, she glanced at him over her shoulder as she snuck back into their room, about to grab some clothes.

“Well, yeah…” His short nails scraped against his scalp as he followed her out of the bathroom. “But that usually plays out a little different.”

She stopped rummaging through her duffel bag and quirked an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t walk in on them while they’re taking showers?”, she teased.

“I’m not some creep…,” he declared, partly joking, partly defensive, “God, please tell me you don’t think I’m some creep.”

“No, I don’t,” she chuckled, softly shaking her head, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m used to sharing these rooms. Happens all the time. Let’s just get ready to hunt that shapeshifter.”

Dean nodded to himself and repressed the flirty urges that were daring him to compliment her body. “Yes, ma’am,” he quipped, lips pulling back to reveal a grin.  

Hunt number 3

"Hey..." Y/N extended her hand across the motel bed, her fingers reaching for Dean's biceps. "You okay?"

He didn't respond. The older Winchester brother was propped up against the headboard, his stare attached to his hands, which were resting in his lap. His arm shrugged itself out of her reach.

She crawled back to her side of the bed, mumbling, "I'm sorry." Her heart thumped against her chest one, two, three times until she finally made a move to get up.

"What are you doing?", Dean inquired, removing his gaze from his hands. His green eyes narrowed, getting used to the lights in the room, slowly breaking free from tunnel vision.

"I'm giving you space." She took her sheet between her fingers and pulled it off the bed. Her feet pattered across the room, headed for the couch, which she was intending to prepare for herself.

"I thought you didn't like sleeping on the couch,” he muttered.

When Y/N looked back at Dean, she found a riddle. An enigma of a man. The muscles in his body were tight. His hands were balled into fists. His jaw was locked, the key to unclench it nowhere in sight. His eyes and lips, however, told a different story. His eyes were enlarged with a tinge of soft worry. His lips were parted by a silent plea.

"It's okay, Dean," she said, "I don't mind."

"You never do,” he grunted out, teeth suddenly gritted.

"What?”

Dean got up from the bed, scoffing, shaking his head. "You don't mind sharing a room. You don’t mind cuddling. Or sharing your body wash. You don't mind if I see you naked.” With each sentence, he took a step closer to her. “You don't mind sleeping on the couch. Tell me, Y/N, what do you mind?" With each passing word, his voice took a step higher on the ladder of tones.

By now, he was close enough that she could see a bluish vein bulge in his forehead, as well as the slight tremble of his chin. “I- Dean, what brought this on?”

"You’re just gonna act normal?”, he demanded, “You don't mind that another victim died? Because of… Because I didn’t-” His rough voice died, losing all its strength. His hand started to reach up to point at his own chest, but it crashed back down, snapping against his leg, defeated.

Y/N’s face fell, the tension escaping from her muscles as she realized what exactly his issue was. “That wasn’t your fault,” she spoke, pained by the raw sorrow he radiated. “You couldn’t have known that there was another wolf.” Her hand met the curve of his t-shirt-clad shoulder. “You did everything you could, Dean.”

A prominent line settled between his shuddering brows. His nostrils flared softly. Tears shimmered in his beautiful eyes. “Then why do I feel so bad?”, he croaked, the noises that spilled from his throat sounding broken.

“Because what you saw back there is beyond most people’s imagination.” She squeezed his shoulder and closed the distance between them. “Even if you’ve been hunting all your life, it doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t get less painful. Especially not with a heart as kind as yours.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Not because he thought she was lying. No, quite the opposite. He knew she truly believed her own words. But he would never be able to agree with her, and that hurt more than anything.

His body startled when he suddenly felt a caring pair of arms around his waist. In return, one of his own arms folded around Y/N. Her cheek pressed against his chest, her body melting effortlessly against his figure.

“You’re a good man, Dean,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. She applied pressure to his back, pushing him against her.

His eyes snapped shut and a single tear escaped his hold, burning down his cheek. His mouth quivered as he circled both his arms around her. Through their embrace, he realized just how much he wanted Y/N by his side. She could always tell what he needed. And she gave it to him unconditionally.

He placed his chin on top of her head and took a deep inhale, breathing in the compassion she was providing. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.”                    

They held each other for a few more seconds, lost in their very own world. When they broke apart, Dean cleared his throat before speaking up. “I don’t mind. If you… You know, wanna…” He pointed his thumb at the motel bed, blabbering out an incomplete offer that didn’t need much more explaining.

As their heads hit the pillows that night, a strange combination of sadness and comfort drifted through the undusted motel room atmosphere.

While Dean curled into a ball on his side of the bed, Y/N slid forward in the dark, inching closer and closer until her front pressed into his back. Her arm looped around his waist, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

Almost immediately, his palm covered the back of her hand. For once, Dean allowed himself to give away control. He let her hold him all night. He let her presence soothe his aching soul as she slept soundly against his back.

Hunt number four

“Ah, fuck,” Y/N whimpered as she stepped out of her blood-stained pants. She gasped at the pool of blood that seeped from the stab wound in her left thigh. With a troubled grimace, she clawed at one of the chairs in the motel room, steadying herself.

It had been a damn long day for Y/N and Dean. She’d called him for backup on a demon case. The black-eyed bastard had possessed innocent people, ruined their lives, and even taken a few.

“How’s it look?”, Dean asked, hurrying back and forth across their room, grabbing different supplies to stitch up Y/N. His breathing was labored, torso moving fast with concern.

“Peachy,” she hissed through bared teeth.

As he passed her, he caught a glimpse of her wound. Truth be told, it was messy. There was no way to sugarcoat it. Her entire upper leg was smeared with blood.

Dean put down a towel and spread the supplies across their mattress. “Come on, sweetheart.” Sneaking his arm around her waist, he escorted her to the bed.

With his support, she hobbled forward and sat down on the towel. Her leg was stinging with sharp waves of agony.

Dean sat down on his knees in front of his hunting partner. He took the warm washcloth he’d prepared and started wiping it along her unscathed skin, taking away the blood stains surrounding her wound.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered. She felt dizzy. The washcloth left a warm sensation on her skin, but it did little to soothe the harsh pinches that were shooting through her leg.

Dean’s hand, hardened from years of hunting, gently held the back of her knee. “You know, my little brother,” he told her, focused on her thigh as he cleaned it, “He’s a pro at this. He could stitch you up in no time.���

She gulped down the lump in her dry throat, making way to express her gratitude for his presence. “I think I’m in good hands.” There was no other person whom she trusted as much as Dean to take care of her.

His gaze hiked up her face. The corners of his mouth rose in a tight-lipped smile. Y/N was covered in blood, sweat, and exhaustion, and yet, she still radiated hope and trust. She still shone bright. “What did the janitor say when he jumped outta the closet?”, Dean suddenly inquired.

“Wha-“ Before she could finish her question, he pressed the alcohol wipe to her wound. She groaned out a bunch of profanities.

“Supplies!”, the kneeling hunter called out, finishing his bad joke.

Y/N’s groan turned into an amused chortle. Her scowl broke into an annoyed little grin. “You’re the worst.”

“Ha-ha, I know. Don’t you worry, I got enough stupid jokes to get you through this.”

“Oh, thank God,” she taunted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Secretly, though, she didn’t want him to stop lifting her spirits.

Once her wound was cleaned, Dean reached for the needle he’d prepared. “Alright, next step his is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Every muscle and bone in Dean’s body told him not to continue. Causing Y/N pain went against his very nature. He knew he was going to feel every pinch and every slide of the needle just as much as she would. But it had to be done.  

He took a deep breath, one that Y/N subconsciously copied, and went on, “What did Blackbeard say when he turned 80?”

“I don’t know, what?” As she was speaking, he planted the first stitch, pushing the needle through her skin. She closed her eyes and pushed her teeth together.

“Aye, mayte,” Dean imitated what he thought to be a pirate’s voice. Instead, he sounded like a combination of an old grandpa and a demon being exorcised.

She snorted through her suffering. With every stitch, every push of the needle, the joking hunter coaxed another chortle, snort or laugh from her. He was her distraction. Her anchor. He was everything she could have asked for.

“Alright, last one,” he announced finally, yearning to be done with the stitches. His bloodied fingers trembled slightly. Honestly, his knowledge of flat jokes did not just serve to comfort the ones he had to stitch up. It was a coping mechanism he’d developed primarily for himself. To keep himself calm when his loved ones got hurt. ”How do you make holy water?”

“I know how,” she murmured, “But I’m pretty sure that’s not the answer to your joke.”

For the last time, Dean pushed the needle through Y/N’s tender skin. His heart clenched at the throaty wince that she released. “You boil the hell out of it,” he revealed, eager to lift some weight from her shoulders.

And for the last time, Y/N was guided through the pain by his humor. Her voice was weak, but the chuckle that spilled from her throat was clearly audible.

“There you go. Good job, sweetheart.” Dean lifted his head to smile warmly at his hunting partner. Then he grabbed the scissors and cut the thread, relieved to jump past the finish line of his gruesome task. “All done.”

“Thank you.” Placing her pointer and middle finger under his chin, she tipped up his head to make him look up at her again. “Really,” she added, her Y/E/C eyes threatening to suck him in. She’d called him for backup on this hunt. And Dean had driven for hours to meet up with her, when he could easily have sent someone else.

“We’re partners,” he declared, honest jade-colored orbs staring up at her, “I’d never leave you hanging, you know that.”

She flashed her teeth at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Right back at you, Winchester.”

Spurred on by the bubbly feeling in his chest, Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out, and so he shut it again. Instead of speaking, the two of them opted for exchanging a smile with each other.

When Dean sat up, about to grab the bandages that were scattered across the bed, Y/N took the initiative.

“It’s okay, I got it from here,” she said, turning her upper body to get the bandages instead. She didn’t like leaving the entire responsibility to others, even if they were kind enough to offer.

“Y/N, Iet me finish-“ he began to protest.  

When he leaned forward, she suddenly turned to face him again, prompting their mouths to bump into each other. Two sets of lips grazed each other clumsily, tempted yet refusing to pucker – a sweet accident.

Dean pulled back, instinctively giving her some space. She glanced down at her thigh, dragging her lower lip through her teeth.

“Sorry,” he apologized. The softness of her lips still danced across his mouth, poking his plump flesh with delicious tingles.  

“I don’t mind,” she repeated her signature line, the smile reaching her eyes despite the dull ache that was still vibrating through her leg.

For a split second, Dean’s eyebrows wrinkled. Then, reassured by Y/N’s beaming face, his cheeks dimpled with a grin of his own. His hand settled on her unharmed leg and gave a squeeze.  

The pads of her fingers reached out to trail along the side of his jaw. She got distracted by his boyish smirk. By his plump parted lips. By the faint freckles that lined them. By his pearly white teeth. “I, uh…” Her voice dropped. Her common sense had long since left the building when she confessed, “Fuck, I think I’m catching feelings.”

“I don’t mind.”

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to wrinkle her brows. “You don’t?” Her confession had been more of a warning. More of a ‘you might want to stay away from me.’ She expected Dean to shy away. But when he didn’t, her heart both dropped and blossomed simultaneously.

“No.” Dean’s irises bounced from side to side, observing her reaction, hoping he was doing this whole thing right. “‘Cause I’m catching feelings, too.”

Y/N glanced Dean’s hand on her good leg. There were some cuts and bumps on the back from fighting off the demon. His palm sent a surge of comfort through her body. “Damn, this shit it nerve-wrecking,” she blurted, speaking out exactly what he was feeling. Romantic feelings were everything but a hunter’s average small talk topic.

“Yeah,” he laughed shakily, shortly blinking at the floor, “Tell me about it. So-“ Before he could say any more, he felt a pair of soft lips on his mouth and a warm palm on either side of his jaw. A low hum rumbled through his throat. He tilted his head to gently rub his mouth against Y/N’s.

Their kiss was short but sugared with sweet affection. It scratched an itch that had been building up for weeks. The two hunters broke apart with a quiet smacking sound and bashful little smirks on their mouths. “Awesome,” they whispered simultaneously against each other’s faces.

Dean pressed another lasting kiss to Y/N’s alluring lips. Then, while his fidgety fingers retrieved the bandages, he simply asked, “Pizza or burgers?”

“What? Ohh, I get it.” She held still as her hunting partner lifted the back of her knee to wrap up her wound. “No chick-flick moments, huh?”

The Winchester bobbed his head up and down, showing his agreement. “Pick your poison,” he said while he carefully looped the bandage around her thigh, “I need to get you more painkillers. Might as well get some food.”

“Burgers,” Y/N decided, head spinning due to blood loss and rushes of dopamine, “And when you get back, I think we should choose our next destination.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, the corner of his mouth curving upward at the prospect of another shared hunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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[cursedmagnificently]

spit venom, hold my heart ━ karina x fem!reader

Pleading words hang from your lips as they meet merciless ones.

"Aren't you being too greedy?" Scolding voice meets your ears. But can those words have any real meaning when you are already on top of her? Of course you want more. Your kisses keep descending, soft grateful lips on Karina's naked body. Your hand is busy playing with one of her nipples as your mouth plays with the other. Karina excels at never letting you know whether you are pleasing her or not. Blinded by ambition, you aim to get her to moan for you.

Those sweet sounds she makes, you need to earn them. Once your saliva starts to travel down her ribcage you continue wandering down until you reach her pyjamas. Her pale pink silk shorts are almost as soft as her skin, you delight yourself in the feeling of her warmth by putting your head between her legs. Karina gasps as she feels wetness on her but not directly on her skin. You lap her like a hungry dog through her thin layered shorts.

Karina doesn't particularly enjoy any sort of teasing, but she must find some amusement in your actions because all you receive as a repercussion is a low groan and grinding hips. Her back starts to arch as she pushes herself onto your tongue with such a force you have to put your palm on her stomach to keep her in place.

You admire your work with hazy eyes. The patch on her shorts doesn't compare to the wetness between your thighs. But your hands never wander to your body, instead they both grab the waistband of Karina's shorts so you can focus more throughly on her.

"Hey." One simple command has you stopping any movement your hands were making. You look up to her waiting for her next command.

"I told you before." She is no longer laying on the mattress, her back rises from the comfort of her sheets to meet your face. Her legs are open and inviting, but you know better than to act without permission. Her hand goes to your cheek first and then your lips, she cleans the remaining saliva that fell down your chin, "you are too greedy." She plays with the newfound stickiness of her fingers before she starts to run them on her slit. She opens her legs more so you can get a closer look.

The disappointment in your eyes is evident, your pouty lips scream unfair but she only wickedly smiles at your reaction. Perphas this is the consequence of your prior actions. She is a one woman show, there is no real pressure on her fingers, only meaning to provoke you. To see if you will break or continue her cruel game. You lick your lips, unable to move your eyes from the movement of her fingers. Up and down, Karina's index and middle finger keep moving.

"Look at me." You do so without hesitation, knowing what she wants. What she needs. You open your mouth, like the obliging servant you have become. She roughly inserts her fingers on your mouth, moving them from inner cheek to cheek, and then to the back of your throat. Karina doesn't stop until she hears you gag, the sound of your distress makes the sleek of her cunt drip on her sheets. Once she decides you've had enough, her saliva covered fingers return to between her legs only this time she lowers them at her entrance.

Hurriedly, both of her fingers are inside of her in seconds. Your lack of words but desperate whining has Karina giggling, the wet sounds she continues to make only serve to increase your ache. You need to touch her, to please her, to be only one that gets to make her feel good. She doesn't have to use her fingers or any toys because she will always have you at her disposal. Karina already knows this.

She calls for your name. Your hazy eyes move to her face before she has the chance to call for you a second time. She removes her fingers from her cunt before letting you know her next command.

"Eat." You convey thankfulness through your smile before putting your tongue on her cunt. You lick her once, twice and three times before Karina's hand goes to her pussy again. This time she parts both of her lips so you can do a better work. The moment you flatten your tongue on her clit, a small moan escapes her throat.

"You need help?" You nod knowing what's to come. She grabs you by the hair with a forceful hand and you stare at her collecting saliva. She spits on your mouth and you procure not to swallow. Instead, your tongue returns to licking her, more saliva dripping on her sheets, this time at a relentless pace. Karina's game might be enjoyable but she can only endure so much before needing to cum. Her telling was her roughness. When she meets with you with force, that's how you know how desperately she needs to cum. That's her unspeakable command.

While your mouth is busy, both of your hands grab her thighs, opening her legs even more. You squeeze her skin, leaving marks on her. Too lost on her pleasure, Karina doesn't scold at your recklessness. Instead, you find her hands at the back of your head, pushing further inside of her cunt until she is grinding on your face. Grabbing the back of her thighs, you assist her neediness by lifting her even closer to you.

A thread of curses fall from her red lips, bitten way too many times, as she cums with shaky thighs and labored breathing. You remove your mouth from her, slowly putting her down. Karina's knees fall close with no strength left on her muscles. She clings onto her pillow and stares at the ceiling, relishing on her orgasm. You sit on your knees and admire the vision of her, shiny from sweating, you wish to lick and bite every inch of her body. You lay besides her, and she instantly turns your way. She kisses you softly first, but her lips get more aggressive, sharp bites start to appear.

"My turn."

[sukirichi]

good girl (m.)

You’re such a good wife to Naoya that he rewards you for your obedience.

request. naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man’s gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj)

cw. explicit smut, riding, dirty talk WITH praising bcos why not, dom! husband naoya, sexism, overstimulation, creampie, lots of kissing, titty sucking, you might end up liking naoya and that’s a warning

note. LISTEN. this is purely self indulgent even if this is a request. my bestie requested this to me anyway so ik she won’t mind i pictured myself as the reader :) so if you don’t like how the reader and naoya was portrayed, that’s a you problem :) EDITED BECAUSE IT’S NAOYA YAY, also got inspired by @caizen​ ‘s ask about naoya wanting his wife to not bow too deep because he wants to see her face :)

[part of the trophy wife collection]

Being Naoya Zen’in’s trophy wife required a lot of things. You had to be immaculate, précised, refined and full of dignity in everything you did. He already did the work all by himself just to keep the house running, his hard work the only reason you were able to live such a comfortable, luxurious life. On top of that, you had an extremely powerful man trusting you to welcome him every night, and who were you to not fulfill your duty as his wife well?

The moment the black limousine parked on the driveway, the guards lined on duty opening the doors of him and the rest of the house staff greeting him, you were already in front of everyone.

Keep your head down, but don’t look too hard at your feet. Naoya-sama wants to see your face – his lovely wife’s face – upon his arrival.

He would never say it out loud, but five years and counting of marriage with him meant you knew him better than anyone. Through his confident and arrogant self, Naoya worried about a lot of things, you included. There were times he’d wake up in the middle of a nightmare in which he lost you, his arms scrambling to find your body to press it against his for reassurance. You were there, you would always be there, but the confirmation never hurt.

You bowed down to him, skin cleared, cheeks flushed, and lips glossy – all telltales of a happy, nurtured wife who was well taken care of – present before him. And you were beautiful too; the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Welcome home, Naoya-sama.”

Naoya’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the sight of you dressed in your yukata, hair done perfectly and hands clasped politely in your lap. He tried not to let it show too much though, even though his staff had watched him grow up, he needed to keep his pride as the clan leader. Not even his precious wife could make him tear down his walls in public, though you did not need to worry about his brash attitude, following him inside three steps behind as he’d instructed.

He loosened his tie and dismissed the other servants, locking the door of your shared room. “Is my tea prepared?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, mixed with jasmine just as you like.”

Naoya’s hands stilled on his tie. His gaze fluttered over yours, eyes still ducked down to the floor with a small smile playing on your lips, one that said welcome home in more ways than one.

The sight of you – so compliant and meek as ever – stirred something deep within his heart. His whole life, he believed women were useless, creatures that were below him. Until now, he held firm in that, but fuck, you were always so open and willing to do everything he asked that he could feel himself hardening in his pants. Women may be useless, but once they followed his orders and praised him so heavenly the way you did?

He fucking loved it.

Naoya’s tie went flying the other room, his cock swelling in his pants as he tugged you by your wrist. You landed on the mattress behind you, watching with a heaving chest as your husband crawled above you. His gaze felt predatory, dark eyes hooded with lust while he planted his knees beside your waist, his fingers looped with yours.

You smiled sweetly up at him, so temptingly sweet his resolve broke for a split second. He captured your lips to taste you on him, the sounds of your husband’s satisfied hum making your chest puff out with pride.

Everyone may look down on you for marrying such a ‘horrible’ man like him, calling you stupid and immoral, even going as far as claiming you were nothing but a dumb cock-hungry slut, but Naoya – even you – knew better. You were not foolish; in fact, no one could handle Naoya’s attitude better than you did, and you were smart enough to keep buying that strawberry flavored lip balm he loved so much, causing your husband to squeeze your palms.

“Good girl,” he mumbled absentmindedly, the praises shooting heat flush to your core. “You’re so good for me, you know that?” he peppered kisses all over your skin, a gesture so rare that you were panting underneath him, resisting the urge to rub your legs together.

Naoya was extremely skillful in bed, his virility as a man not to be looked down on for his ability to render you immobile to walk, throat sore and voiceless for a few days truly impressive. But he was different today; his usual tight grip the same but laced with a want that went beyond than lust. You could never say it out loud, especially not around him, but it was clear – Naoya treated you with affection and care.

“I’m very lucky to have found such a submissive woman like you, but that’s not true is it? Women like you aren’t found, you’re trained,” he harshly tugged the first layers of your yukata to the side, exposing the sensitive flesh of your collarbone that was free for him to mark. “Have I trained you well, my wife?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, trained me so good,” you rasped out, bringing your legs forward, only for it to bump against the sides of his waist.

Naoya sucked on your skin until he was sure he’d completely marked his territory, the grazing sensation of his teeth so erotic and passionate along with his clothed cock rubbing into your folds. His hand trailed down your waist, yanking the ties of your clothes apart. You gasped as he teasingly rubbed your clit, even going as far as to roll it between his strong fingers. “For you, ah, I’d do anything for you, Naoya-sama.”

“It’s my love when we’re in the sheets,” he corrected you, “When a woman knows her place and obeys me so well, a good girl like you deserves to be rewarded,” hearing your small whines at his words, Naoya chuckled at your skin. “Do you want that? Want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, p-please, I need you,” you moaned wantonly, gathering the courage to lift your hips up and grind it against his erection. He surprised you by not pushing you away, so you kept going, slathering your wetness all over the front of his pants. “Fuck me, my love, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Naoya smirked, standing up to rid himself of his pants and belt. You whined at the loss of contact and sat up on your elbows, legs spread wide open as you feasted on the delectable way he discarded his clothing one by one. His fat cock, red and flushed with pre-cum, slapped against his toned upper body.

You would’ve groaned at his bare beauty, but he’d already crawled on top of you once more, completely ridding you of the multiple layers of modest clothing you wore, revealing a redolent set of white lace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes at the nearly transparent thong, his hands cupping your seeping cunt with a low hum. “Is this for me? Did my pretty baby get dressed up for me?” you nodded eagerly, pathetically reaching upwards to wrap your arms around him. You were growing needy, soft yet desperate as your stuttered gasps hovered on his ear. “Were you thinking of me the whole time I was away for work?”

“I always think of you, my love,” you breathed out, “Your smile, your voice, your lips, your hands,” legs twitching, you dared run your knee to brush his forearm, the teasing and confident movement earning you a seductive, warning glare from your dominant husband. But oh – you were just starting to have your fun. “Your cock inside me.”

“Naughty little girl,” he snickered, grabbing your hand and shoving it deep inside your panties. That evoked a high-pitched moan from you as your nails grazed against your shaved pussy, Naoya’s smirk present the harder he pressed your palm on yourself. “Did you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself like this?” He was testing you, reminding you of his power and authority, trying to see if you would break his rules that he’d been so firm into fucking deep into your skull.

Naughty as you might be sometimes, you never forgot your place. You were daring, but never in your wildest dreams would you dare go against him. Not because you were plain weak and submissive, but simply because the thought of pleasing him more and feeding his ego was far more satisfying.

You shook your head, pitiable tears already shining through. “N-no, I would never. Only you can make me feel good, just you, mmh.”

Naoya groaned deep in his throat, satisfied at your answer. “You’re always so sweet for me,” he says, leaning over to knee your legs open wider. He situated himself between your body, slow and sensual in removing your bra and panties, the lacy material disappearing somewhere on the black marbled floors. You laid there, vulnerable and wanting, clutching at his biceps as he grinded his cock on your puffy folds. “Have I ever told you’re the perfect little wife? So fucking needy for me always, fuck. This pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy is yours,” you acquiesced, breathing hard when Naoya pulled away to peer at your body. He liked his wife to be healthy, strong and ready to carry his child whenever he wanted, and his hands squeezed your hips appreciatively.

“I exist purely to serve you, my love,” you vowed, “I have no other purpose than to make you feel good and love you. You’re my everything, the world and more.”

He’d looked at you with lust before, the desire pooling in his eyes always making you feel wanted, but this was different. Naoya would never let those cursed three words fall from his mouth, but it shone clearly in his eyes anyway. He gazed at your curves and dips so lovingly that your arousal peaked, slick coating his cock from where he was slowly teasing your cunt with his tip.

Unable to hold back any longer, Naoya flipped you over. Your breath knocked out from your chest at the sudden movement, his hands tugging at your wrist to pull you close to him. He leant back on the bed, kissing you feverishly all the while keeping you shaking on his thigh. Due to your wetness gushing, you slid down his muscular thigh, and you moaned at the contact. “As I should be,” Naoya nibbled at your lips, his harsh words contrasting the tenderness of his hold on you. “You’re nothing to me if you can’t even do something as simple as that.”

You nodded with no hesitation, fully accepting that you were purely his now – and you would honestly not have it otherwise.

Naoya helped you lift your hips up, shushing you with a slap on your ass when you stared at him nervously.

Every time Naoya fucked you, he was direct and simple. He preferred to have you on all fours where he could focus on his own pleasure, or sometimes he would rather cum upon seeing your fucked-out face, the image of your tongue lolled out while he fucked you on oblivion enough to make him nut right away.

But now he was guiding your arms around his neck, kissing the sides of your lips as if to answer your silent questions. “Sit on my cock, baby, I’ll reward you for your obedience tonight,” he said, his cock twitching as he directed your entrance right above his cock. Naoya slid you down, allowing you to feel inch by inch, thick vein upon one another – sliding inside you and stretching you out so good. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead on his, teeth locked on your bottom lip as he bottomed out.

Fuck, you’d never felt so full.

However, Naoya wasn’t pleased. He clenched his jaw and tapped your bottom lip, scolding you with his mean glare. “Don’t hold back when you scream my name, you understand? Cherish this moment – I won’t always care about your pleasure. You should thank me for this.”

“I-I will!”

Torturous. That was how you would describe it. You had never been this close to him before; not in this position and angle. Each lift of your hips caused your hardened nipples to brush over his muscular chest, his attention sorely focused on the way you bounced on his cock.

Something about holding him this close felt so intimate, breaths tangled and moans shared, along with the pleasure delivered into your bodies with the way you were rolling your hips along his length.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he said through gritted teeth, “I love this pussy so much, fuck, you’re mine. Just mine, all mine,” Naoya eventually lost it, hooking his arms under your armpits and feet flat on the bed. You kept screaming his name like a prayer, the worship falling from your lips like a broken record driving him to fuck into you faster. He’d had enough of your pace; he’d been good enough that now it was his turn to fuck you, and you were glad he did because his fast, brutal pace was so mind-numbing.

Naoya hitched you up higher until your chin rested above his hair, your breasts right at his mouth. He sucked and bit at the soft flesh angrily, grip so tight on your hips you were hissing from the pain. At the same time, it felt so fucking good unlike everything you’ve ever felt.

“My perfect fucking wife—a quiet, compliant wife is worth more than gold, baby. You’re my fucking treasure.”

Naoya thrusted hard and deep until the bed was creaking, mattress dipped from both your weight. The room felt so foggy with your lovemaking and you tightened around him, crying as he kept hitting that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. “I’m c-coming!” you whined helplessly, hugging your husband deep to your chest while your fingers tugging at his hair. “Naoya, please!”

“Then come for me,” he nibbled at your ear, delivering another hard slap at your ass. “I’m allowing you to. Come. Make a mess around me.”

“Oh my gosh, ugh, fuck,” you came around him hard, your orgasm making you shake. He still wasn’t done, but his breathless murmurs of close, I’m so close had you holding him tighter, whispering dirty words in his ear to assist your husband into reaching his high. The oversensitivity of him plowing into you even after you came was too much, but you took it all like the good wife you were. Biting the protests down at your tongue, you rode him to meet his hips thrust by thrust, his balls snapping at your ass. “Mmmh, I love you, I love you. I-I love you.”

“As you should, baby. You’re supposed to love me,” Naoya devoured your mindless babbling by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, his hips stilling inside for a moment. Fingers clutching desperately to him, you shut your eyes tight, cunt dripping as Naoya spilled his seed deep inside you.

You kissed him one last time in refusal to let go, but Naoya wasn’t having any of it. He was very iffy every after sex that you had no choice but to pull away from him, wincing as he pulled out.

He stumbled into the bathroom afterwards while you laid there on the soiled sheets, weakly fisting the pillow beneath you. You were so fucked out, tired after a long day of managing everything he wanted you to take care of. To be fucked good by your husband…there was truly no better way of life.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt something damp sliding over your inner thighs. You blinked sleepily at a silent Naoya, sending him a small smile as he wiped both your cum away. He left the towel inside the bathroom before he came back, sliding his white shirt over your frame and tugging a fresh pair of his boxers to your legs. Aftercare with Naoya…while it wasn’t impossible, it also wasn’t a daily occurrence. Your heart kept fluttering inside your chest, that feeling blooming harder when he slid under the sheets beside you, his strong arms pulling you taut in his chest.

His skin remained mark free. You knew Naoya hated being marked; reminding you all the time he wanted to be flawless. You respected that and pressed a deep kiss on the spot above his heart instead, madly and hopelessly in love as you traced circles on his bare chest.

You could stay like this forever, in the warmth and safety of your husband’s arms, but you still had wifely duties to fulfill. Naoya had already done his, prompting you to lean up to trace kisses at his sharp jaw, sweet and docile as ever as you asked, “Naoya…how was work today?”

“Same as usual.”

That meant he didn’t want to talk about it, so you didn’t pry further.

“You need to rest and regain your strength so you can work hard again tomorrow,” you mumbled sleepily, “I’ve already planned your meals for the next week. We’re going plant-based for a while, you need it.”

Naoya remained silent. You would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep if it wasn’t for his hand caressing your back in a manner so gentle that seemed so alien with him, the strangeness of it all intensified when you looked up at his face, only to see that he had already been studying your features a long time before. There was an unsettled frown on his face, one that you tried to smoothen away with the pads of your fingertips. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve already forgotten about all my worries. They don’t matter anymore,” he whispered, his voice way too soft. It fit the atmosphere, however, whatnot with the newfound intimacy that you basked in. Suddenly, Naoya cupped your cheek, utterly serious as he croaked out, “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you love me?”

You didn’t have to think twice about it. The answer would be – “Always and forever.”

However, Naoya wasn’t satisfied. He needed more, wanted to understand more, craved to find a logical reason behind your devotion to him.

“Why?” he demanded, “What is it about me you love so much?”

“Everything,” you confessed, the love so clear in your eyes that even for a small moment, Naoya felt like he understood now. “You’re perfect to me, Naoya. I’m glad you’re the one I’m spending my life with. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“But why?”

“Because,” you giggled, “You’re handsome, you’re caring even if you don’t show it that much, you’re smart, ambitious, hardworking and the best husband I could ask for,” Naoya opened his lips, probably to ask a stupid why again, until you cut him off, silencing your odd husband with a kiss. Thankfully, Naoya gave in, relaxing at your touches. “Loving you is second nature to me. It’s not living if it’s not loving you.”

Although he didn’t – and would never say I love you – he had his own way of expressing it. He let you know that he shared the same stance at you, staring deep into your eyes while he cupped your cheek, surprisingly somber as he proudly said, “I made the right decision of marrying you.”

“I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

“I could never regret it,” he whispered back, but you had already fallen asleep. That night, you dreamt no more. There was no need to when everything you’ve ever wanted was already right there at your reach, and Naoya joined you long after, the faint linger of a loving kiss a husband only ever gave to his wife the last thing you felt before you faded off into dreamland.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Forgotten Omega

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Summary: After a very stressful couple of battles the Class 1-A pack decides to make a comfort nest for them all, but it ends up doing more harm than good for one of their classmates. Warnings: Angst, ABO dynamics, mentions of abuse, referenced child abuse Word Count: 2,990 Ship(s): Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta, minor/background relationships

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To say that the last couple months had been stressful would be an understatement. Villains that didn't even know their names had been trying to kill them for months now. On top of actually having to fear for the lives and safety of their family and friends, they were also attending one of the most hard core schools in the world. They were pushed to their max in more ways than they could count with minimal breaks. They had just been through another one of the almost numerous villain attacks and were in need of some calm. The teachers had been forced to give them the rest of the week off by Recovery Girl so that they could recover mentally and physically.

"I think we should nest," Eijirou declared loudly as they walked into their dorm. They were still in their hero costumes, and most of them were bruised and dirty from the fight.

"We should all go shower, and then we should nest," Izuku corrected. He shifted his shoulder around and winced at the clicking that it was made. The rest of the class nodded in agreement. Over time, especially with the dorms, they had all formed a pack bond with each other. Allowing the omegas to create a pack nest for them would mean that they could all cuddle together and sleep where they felt safe. Sleeping alone when already in a pack made it hard to actually relax in normal circumstances.

The students dispersed to go up to their rooms. A couple of the courting partners paired off together, but for the most part they all just wanted to get clean and then get back downstairs as quickly as possible. They all got cleaned up and dressed in something a lot more comfortable before they began to gather up their nesting items. Each student came back downstairs with their arms full of pillows, blankets, sheets, and two or three of the alphas also brought down their mattresses.

Rikkidou had already gotten most of the betas into the kitchen with him so that he could make comfort food for everyone. It had been a while since they had eaten, and they all needed a task so that no one had a panic attack quite yet. All of their adrenaline come-downs would be easier to handle on a full stomach once they were cuddled together in their nest.

"We should get started," Ochako said, already purring as she looked over all of the things that they had brought down. Since everyone was using the things that they had been sleeping with during the past month it already smelled like them and so there was no need to scent things. 

"Alpha, move the couch over like this," Hitoshi requested of Tenya. The alpha listened and after the omegas had removed the cushions, got help from Katsuki to move the couches so that all three of them were in a vague semi-circle with the walls completing it. 

Tooru then had Hanta and Mashiro put the mattresses that had been brought down into their little semicircle. She and Hitoshi got to work putting the couch cushions around so that everything was padded and soft. Izuku and Ochako were gathering up some of the pillows and putting them up against the walls. Eijirou was shifting around the mattresses so that they fit more snugly against each other and better with the cushions. Denki hummed to himself as he went over to the massive pile of blankets and began to dig through them so he could figure out what would be best as their base layer and what should go on top.

"Den, hey, let the omegas be," Mina said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should go help the other betas cooking."

"Mina-" Denki started, but he clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't very omega-like since that hadn't been a quality that his parents had wanted to see in him. He rarely ever got down into his primal headspace like the others did. He didn't purr, he didn't cuddle, and he rarely ever scented other members of his pack. It wasn't the first time that he had been mistaken for a beta by someone, but this time it hurt more. He didn't know why it hurt more now than it had before.

He dropped the blanket that he had been holding and retreated over to one of the walls that was being unused for a bit. The other omegas continued their work with the pillows until it was time to move on to the blankets. Their scents swirled through the air and created a calming, protective feeling that managed to calm everyone down just a little bit. There was still a certain degree of fear and nervousness that was floating through the air but it was nothing like it had been earlier. They were purring and smiling and obviously down into their omegaspace, like he desperately wanted to be. 

Denki had had a hard day just like the rest of them, and on top of that he had also had a seizure due to his Quirk that he hadn't told anyone about yet. It hadn't been anything big or new, but that didn't mean that he didn't want comfort that everyone else was getting.

He puffed out his cheeks and then pushed himself up from the wall. He walked over to the pile of blankets and grabbed one that Hanta had brought down. He had been courting the alpha for some time now which meant that his scent calmed the omega down the most out of anyone from the pack.

"Denki, I know Mina already told you to leave the omegas to their work. What has gotten into you today?" Momo asked as she folded her arms at him.

"Momo," he objected, clutching the blanket closer to him. "I'm just helping build the nest."

"You're not helping. If you go in there and start messing things up then you're going to upset the omegas. You'll get your chance to cuddle and be in the nest soon enough. Be patient," she scolded. 

"I am an omega," he whispered. 

"Just leave the blanket and go find something to do with yourself until then," Tenya reasoned as he reached out to take the blanket from the omega.

Denki felt a spark of electricity flash across his skin as he let out a dark growl.

Izuku stopped what he had been doing in the nest and let out a panicked whimper as he looked over to Denki.

"Now look at what you've done!" Shouto shouted immediately upon hearing his courting partner get upset. "Denki, you have no right to be upsetting the omegas after everything they've gone through today."

"I just wanted to help," he whined, bringing the blanket up closer to his face like it would help him hide from the angry alphas. He glanced to Hanta for comfort, but the alpha just pursed his lips and looked away. In his defense, he had been hurt pretty badly during the battle that day. That fact did nothing to soothe his courting partner's raging instincts, however.

Mina put her hands on her hips. "Put the blanket down and let the omegas go back to their headspace. You're upsetting the whole pack by acting out."

"I'm not acting out!" he could feel the headache beginning to form just behind his eyes. His hands wrapped around the blanket so hard that he felt his knuckles beginning to form white and his nails biting into his palm through the fabric.

Momo placed a hand on his shoulder, "Denki, I know that today was hard but you need to stop. This is inappropriate and ruining the time for the rest of the pack."

He clenched his jaw today so hard that he bit the sides of his cheek. He dumped the blanket onto the ground and marched from the room, not even turning back to look at who was half-heartedly calling after him. It wasn't the first time that he had been rejected from a pack and he knew that it wouldn't be the last. 

Denki wandered around the halls for a couple of minutes before he finally gave into the impulses that were screaming in the back of his head. He went to the linen closet on the third floor that had already been cleared out for the pack nest downstairs that he was no longer welcome in. He closed the door and then went to his room. He gathered up the shirt that Hanta had left the last time they had slept together after a particularly hard training exercise, and the sheets from his bed. He took a couple more trips between his room and the linen closet, dumping the items he had found inside every time he visited.

He then ducked underneath the bottom shelf and began to make the nest. The closet had been designed to store boxes of materials, so there was enough room for him to fit. Denki grabbed the sheet first. He spread it over the floor so that it was bunched up against the walls in a vaguely circle shape. He placed the single pillow he was able to find against the wall, with the painful sequins facing away from him. He placed the two stuffed animals from his little sister that he had found in the pack of his closet next to them and then placed Hanta's shirt over the pillow. He put the small blanket he was able to find against the wall of the nest facing the door to try and build it up.

Once he had put everything that he had in the nest, he reached up to the doorknob on the inside and pulled it closed. He didn't bother trying to think of a way to lock it, since he knew that everyone was still so upset at him for trying to nest like a good omega that no one would come and find him. This wasn't the first time he had made a hidden nest, but at least no one would try to hit him if they found this one. 

Back downstairs, everyone had piled into the finished pack nest with the food that the betas had made. Hanta was the last person to get in, as he had to be woken up. The painkillers that he had been given for his injuries made him sleepy. "Where's Denki?" he yawned, taking the bowl of soup offered to him. 

"Probably off sulking somewhere," Katsuki grumbled as he pulled Eijirou into his lap. 

"He was out of line. If he wants to sulk for being out of line then he can," Tenya shook his head in disapproval.

"Out of line? What did he do?" Hanta asked.

Mashiro quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did you seriously fall asleep as soon as we got back to the dorm."

"I'm having some trouble remembering things because of the meds," he shrugged.

"We made a big scene out of it. I'm surprised you didn't wake up for it," Momo said as she leaned on her own courting partner.

"Ugh, whatever. I'm going back to sleep," Hanta said. He ate about half of his soup and then handed it to the person next to him. He was almost immediately out like a light.

Aizawa, who had been listening to his wards from his office just off of the main floor communal area, quickly became concerned. He got up from his desk and went to search for the missing omega since his pack didn't seem inclined to. He searched in the dorm room first, looking in the entire Bakusquad's rooms before he began to fear for the worst. 

He started on the top floor and began to open every closet in each communal space that he could find. His heart was racing, and with each door he opened the more his stomach fell. Denki was an omega that had been kicked out of his pack nest and left with nothing to nest with for himself. When he finally found the closet that Denki had nested in, he both felt relieved and disappointed. He would have preferred it if the omega was somewhere else, thinking or being sad. The fact that his student had chosen to nest inside of a closet meant that he had been abused and his nests had been destroyed enough that he didn't feel safe doing them where they could be found easily. 

As soon as the door opened, the omega rolled over and whimpered loudly as he curled into a tighter ball. "Please don't make me take it apart."

"I'm not going to, kid," Aizawa said as he lowered himself onto the floor so he was sitting cross-legged in front of the closet. "Can you turn around for me, please?"

"No," Denki whispered. "My head hurts. I had a seizure and now I have a headache."

"Did you tell Recovery Girl when she was checking you out?" Aizawa asked, a spike of panic running through him for a moment as he worried that this was something worse.

"Of course I did, I'm not an idiot," Denki huffed.

"Sometimes abuse victims hide their injuries so that others won't notice them and hurt them more," Aizawa shrugged. "They teach you that when you're training to be a civilian-based hero."

The blond omega turned around finally, so that he was peeking at his teacher with one eye. "Why are you here?"

"I heard your courting partner asking for you and the others explaining that there had been a scene. I think that you're hiding your gender a little too well," he chuckled. "I know what it's like to accidentally be excluded from nesting because you're hiding who you are. Do you want to go back and have me explain it to them?"

"No," Denki shook his head. "I've got my nest. I'm safe here. No one will hurt me if they can't find me."

"Denki," Aizawa sighed. "They've already hurt you. And I'll be right beside you the entire time. We won't take apart your nest, so you can come back it if they're still being stupid. You should at least go down there and get something to eat."

The omega glared at him for a little while longer before he finally conceded and nodded. Aizawa stood up and moved to the side while Denki carefully clambered out of his nest. He swayed where he was standing for a moment before he steadied out. "Come on, kid," the older omega said as he walked him back downstairs to the rest of his pack.

Hanta had woken up again, and had just rolled over when he smelled the blond come into the room. "Babe, where were you?"

"I was, um, away," Denki lied as he went to the kitchen to get something.

Aizawa pursed his lips and then turned to his class. "You idiots remember that you have six omegas in the class, right? Six alphas, six omegas, and eight betas."

"C'mere, I need Denki cuddles," Hanta opened his arms for the other.

"It's been made pretty clear that isn't my nest," Denki said defensively as he sunk down against the wall overlooking the nest and leading into the kitchen.

The wounded alpha got up and carefully got over the side of the nest. He sat down next to his courting partner and then maneuvered the small omega into his lap. "Mine," he mumbled sleepily as he kissed his forehead.

"Why wouldn't the nest be his too? I thought you guys said all the omegas made it while we were cooking in the kitchen," Kyouka said as she glanced at her best friend and then back to the rest of the pack.

"They did. Denki tried to intervene and upset a lot of the omegas by growling," Shouto explained.

"Aizawa is right, you guys are idiots," she huffed as she got out of the nest as well and walked over to her best friend, cuddling up against him.

The alphas and omegas all seemed to realize what they had done wrong at the same time. There were a bunch of jumbled words and apologies as the pack spilled out of the nest and towards the omega they had accidentally hurt. All of their dishes and spoons clanked against themselves, adding to the noise. 

"SHUT UP!" Denki shouted, dropping his food onto the ground and holding his head with both of his hands. 

Hanta's arms immediately flew around his courting partner as he realized what was happening. He placed Denki's head against his chest and one hand over his ears to help dampen the sound. "Shh, shh, baby, I've got you. You should have told me you had another seizure, I would have told everyone to be quiet way earlier."

"Seizure?" Eijirou asked as he pushed past the rest of the pack and sat down next to the other omega.

"He gets them sometimes when he overuses his Quirk. Sometimes if he has to keep shooting electricity after he overrides his brain he forgets to block off both his heart and his brain from the shocks and it can cause some pretty nasty side effects," Kyouka explained as she moved out of the way so Rikkidou and Momo could clean up the spilled meal. "But they also come with headaches, more often than not."

"Okay," Izuku nodded. "So we're all going to be quiet and Denki is going to come into the pack nest and be cuddled. No one is going to yell or be mad at him. I'm going to go and get some more soup for him to eat."

They all scrambled to do as told as quickly as they could. Denki stayed firmly pressed against Hanta's chest the whole time. Eventually they were all piled in the nest, warm and full, and cuddling each other like there would be no tomorrow. 

[cursestothemoon]

Paging Dr. Weasley

Requested: yes

George Weasley x fem! reader 

Warnings: strong language, asthma, fever and illness symptoms, food

Word Count: 3031

Summary: George is excited to go see the new products at Zonko’s and the harsh weather isn’t going to stop him. The reader has asthma and she's a bit apprehensive about going out in the cold, dry weather but George insists it’ll be fine. George, unfortunately, is wrong.

***

The night prior it was quite clear to you that the weather would be horrid. The wind, aggressive in nature, thrashed and collided with the walls of the stone walls of the castle. You were fortunate, however, tucked under your boyfriend George’s arm, asleep in his warm dorm. He had insisted that you stayed the night with him, when it got cold out he got clingy, and you had no objections to his suggestion. The following day you were to venture down to Hogsmeade with George, a week ago the plan was made when he mentioned needing prank supplies from Zonko’s, Fred unable to go because of a weekend detention he got himself. With the oncoming storm you had assumed that tomorrow’s plans had been canceled, knowing from past learning experiences the harsh cold was no help to your asthma.

Light flooded through the window in George’s dorm, a bright white that pierced your eyes even as they rest under your lids. You turned away from the harsh light, nose pushing into the warm, inviting chest of your boyfriend as you tried to slip back into a deeper sleep. A deeper sleep would not come, it wasn’t long after you turned that you were fully awoken by a deep groan.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, I told Lee to close the stupid curtains when he got in too.” George grumbled, hand smacking against his face to cover his eyes.

You were silent as you slowly shimmied yourself higher onto the pillow, motioning for him to lower himself so his face would be in your neck, concealed from the morning sun reflecting off the night's snow. George happily complied, humming his gratitude as he nuzzled into your neck before placing a gentle kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

“Who opened the fucking window?” Fred’s voice was heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

His tone showed his clear annoyance, followed by a groan and the shuffling of covers probably a result from him angrily pulling them over his head.

“I might’ve forgotten.” Lee answered from his bed making Fred chuck one of his pillows at him.

George groaned into your neck, “Will you two wankers shut up. We’re trying to sleep.”

“We?” Lee and Fred asked in unison before Fred continued, “Is Y/n there with you?”

George and you had retired to bed quite early last night, and neither of you expected Lee or Fred to check to see if George was alone last night before going to sleep.

“Yeah she’s here so shut up.” George grumbled again.

You could hear Fred, or Lee you weren’t sure, as they moved around in their bed before they spoke. It was Fred.

“Was the poor girl buried under the blankets all night?”

You decided to respond this time, “No, I had my face out to breathe.”

“Guess it’s time to get up.” Lee grumbled, moving to swing his legs out from under the covers.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains we’d all still be asleep a bit longer.” George sassed as he moved to sit up, not before giving you a good morning kiss on your forehead.

“Maybe if you closed the curtains…” Lee mimicked in a high voice, getting up to go to the bathroom.

Deciding that sleep would not be achieved until tonight, you too, sat up, knuckling at your eyes as you leaned against George’s chest. He circled his arms around your waist, placing another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Morning, pretty girl.” He rasped into your ear.

Unfortunately it was loud enough for Fred to hear and make a gagging noise as he turned away from you two.

“Disgusting. When you guys leave feel free to close the curtains, yeah?” He mumbled from under his covers, a few tendrils of fiery hair poking out.

You shuffled your legs over the edge of the mattress, standing up and stretching before grabbing the pillow you had been using to go over and smack Fred from over the sheets.

“Get up you wanker.”

He yelped before sitting up abruptly, hair a literal mess with strands sticking out randomly, “Georgie! Your girlfriend is attacking me, make her stop.”

George pretended to think for a moment before answering, “No. I don’t think I will.”

Fred feigned offence before also getting up and out of bed, his maroon boxers with green ‘F’s on them were quite the sight.

“Mate, it’s snowing out. How are you only wearing your knickers.” Lee asked, coming out from the bathroom.

“Run hot.” Fred answered simply with an overly flirty wink directed at Lee.

“Merlin…” George muttered, shaking his head as he got out of bed.

You smiled at your beloved, his hair- much like his brother’s- a frizzy mess of red locks and his eyes still puffy from just having woken up, but unlike his twin, George had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old Gryffindor t-shirt that he had cut to show his midriff. He was quite literally perfect, his pants hanging low on his hips- just exposing his v-line- and his t-shirt, now crop top, ended just above his belly button, an auburn happy-trail in view.

“You ready for today?” George asked, pulling you out of your less than innocent thoughts, his knowing smirk a clear sign that you had been caught ogling at him.

You stood for a moment in thought, “Today?”

George nodded, “Zonko’s, butterbeer, our plan to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I thought we would postpone that, the weather is horrid.”

He peered out the window before turning back to you, “It isn’t snowing much anymore, I think we should be in the clear.”

“Don’t you have asthma though? Won’t it make it act up?” Fred asked as he slipped on his shoes.

You nodded slowly, moving to fix the astray sheets on George’s bed, “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go out today.”

George pouted slightly, “We’ll bundle you up extra warm, and it’ll be quick. You’ll be ok, you haven’t had an attack in so long.”

You knew why he was so keen on going, Zonko’s had a new line of products that he was dying to get his hands on. He’d been talking about it for months, he and Fred finally saving up enough money from selling their own things to go purchase a few things. You felt bad, and he was right, you hadn’t had an asthma attack in a while so perhaps you’d be fine.

“Alright, but we’ll need to stop by my dorm so I can get my thick scarf. The one that goes up over my nose.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have it anyother way.”

An hour later you and George were ready to go, two scarves- one long enough to go over your nose- a beanie, fuzzy socks, and a pair of George’s mittens were part of the outfit you were sporting. You felt a lot more confident in your attire now, nothing could go wrong...right?

It went wrong.

So very wrong.

The first half hour out on the town was fine, a bit chilly but George was there to wrap an arm around you and pull up your scarf so it covered your nose. Then, as the forty-five minute mark hit, you started to feel a bit...wheezy. The scarf kept slipping, the wind had picked up, and it was extremely dry out. Once it hit an hour you were in a full blown asthma attack, having to pull out a rescue inhaler- something you made sure to bring with you no matter how confident you were at first- and George felt absolutely terrible as he watched you try to catch your breath in The Three Broomsticks.

George rubbed a hand in comforting circles on your back as you took a few inhales of your inhaler trying to stop the painful wheezes. You reached behind you, putting a hand on his to try and tell him it was alright and you didn’t blame him, knowing he’d be beating himself up over this.

Once your breathing had leveled enough for you to string together a few words uninterrupted, you turned to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry but I think it would be better if I went back.” You muttered, voice still a little raspy.

George crouched down, face to face with you sitting in a chair, as he spoke, “Baby,” He cooed, “You shouldn’t be sorry. I’m sorry I forced you to come out knowing you have asthma and you were worried. I should’ve been thinking more about you, pretty girl.”

You shook your head gently, “It’s alright George, you were excited. No one needs to apologize, let’s just go.”

George silently agreed, moving to remove his scarf as you stood up. He pulled up your scarf so it went over your nose and wrapped his own scarf around it in hopes of it staying up better. Once he was happy with his work, he grabbed your mitten covered hand and you two walked out of the little pub.

Fortunately, you two got back to the castle without another asthma attack hitting you. George took you straight to his dorm, and sat you on his bed. The dorm was empty, it was still rather early in the day, but you felt your eyes start to droop as fatigue from the asthma attack, shivering in the cold, and fighting your way through the snow all came crashing down on you. You were also starting to get a headache, something you were definitely not happy about.

The lanky ginger noticed how tired you started to look and felt his heart melt all while guilt nearly ate him alive. He knew it was his fault you were feeling so bad, but your tired eyes and grabby hands at him made him smile.

“We need to get you changed, love.” He said quietly, going to his own trunk to pull out a sweater and pajama pants for you.

With his sweater and pajama pants in hand he got down to his knees in front of the bed where you sat and started to unbutton your coat. Once unbuttoned he helped you shrug it off, then helped shed all the other layers until you were in a thin t-shirt before pulling his sweater over your head. You moved to take off your bra but George muttered to let me, his hands sliding up under your shirt to unhook your bra, then letting you shimmy around to get your arms out before grabbing the undergarment and putting it in his trunk- he doesn’t need the boys coming in and seeing his girlfriends bra.

He then unbuttoned your jeans, slowly helping you pull them down your legs before replacing them with his own pajama pants.

“Stan for me for a moment.” He said, going to tie the drawstring in a neat bow to make sure the pants didn’t fall off of you.

“Thank you Georgie.” You smiled leaning into his chest.

“No problem, love. Let’s get you into bed.”

You shuffled onto the bed and situated yourself under the covers, looking up at George expectantly making him chuckle.

“You take a nap, I’m going to go get us food alright?”

“Ok.” You nodded, getting comfortable.

Before George was even out the room, you had fallen asleep, the day had taken a toll on you evidently. He smiled at your peaceful form, asleep in his bed, before carefully leaving the dorm to go grab some food for a late lunch.

George came back with the food fifteen minutes later, but he couldn’t find it in him to wake you up just yet. He waited around an hour before gently kissing your hairline to wake you up, but he grimaced at the unusual heat that your skin held.

When you woke, you felt fine, maybe a little lethargic, but fine. Usually asthma attacks didn’t take this much out of you but perhaps it was just because of how intense this one was and your head was still pounding.

You two quietly ate, George asking how you were every so often, you responding with a soft ‘alright’ before going back to the sandwich he brought. When the food was finished you crawled back into George’s bed, still feeling a bit sluggish but the food helped.

“Can you lay with me?”

George nearly awed audibly at how soft and small your voice was.

“Let me just change ok, bubs?”

You nodded, “Wear the cropped shirt please.”

George chuckled at your request but of course complied, pulling the shirt over his head and letting it fall just above his belly button. You smiled at the sight making him shake his head before pulling his own pajama pants on and climbing into bed next to you.

Hushed conversation started between the two of you. He was sitting up slightly with your head placed on his chest. As the sun went down and the other boys came back to the dorm, you let the melodic thump of George’s heartbeat lull you to sleep.

***

The night was a bit rough to say the least, George barely got any sleep due to his worrying about your wheezing. You didn’t usually wheeze when you slept, so it worried him. You on the other hand woke up with a stuffy nose, painfully dry cough, and achy muscles.

You were sick.

Even worse, it was Monday morning and you could not muster up the strength to get yourself dressed and to class. You had woken up first that morning, an aggressive cough pulling both you and George out of sleep. Once you the coughing fit had subsided you turned to look at George.

“I don’t think I can go to class today.” You pouted.

George pushed your hair out of your face as he answered, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” He placed an open palm on your forehead, “You’re burning up.”

Just as he had said it your body shivered before you erupted into another coughing fit.

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled. “You are not leaving this bed today, and I’ve just gotten word that Dr. Weasley is in.”

You let out a raspy laugh, “You don’t have to miss class, I’ll survive.”

George shook his head, “Nope, I’m going straight to McGonagall to tell her that you are sick and I need to take care of you.”

He left before you could protest any further.

You turned around, getting comfortable again, and started to doze off before Fred piped up.

“I thought you two would never quite fucking yelling.” He groaned.

Lee responded for you, “Shut up you twat.”

***

George jogged to the transfiguration classroom still in his pajamas getting interesting looks from the people in the halls. He didn’t care though, not when his little love was sitting in his bed sniffly and sick waiting for his cuddles.

He made it to the classroom and pushed the door open, startling Professor McGonagall and the few students in the room.

“Mr. Weasley! You cannot just come stampeding into my ro- what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

George caught his breath before speaking, “Professor, Y/n is sick and she can't come to class and since she’s sick she obviously needs me to take care of her so I also cannot attend classes today.”

“Is Miss L/n alright?” McGonagall asked, now worried about the girl.

“It’s my fault, I took her out in the cold yesterday and her asthma acted up but now she’s also got a fever and she was wheezing all night.” George rambled, the guilt coming back.

His Professor put her hands out to stop his rambling and push him toward the door, “Alright, alright, you go take care of the poor girl, both of you are excused for today and tomorrow if it’s necessary. If it gets any worse take her straight to Madam Pomfrey, understood?”

George nodded and McGonagall continued, “And for Merlin's sake next time send someone else to come tell me, we do not need you strutting around the school in- in- whatever this is.”

She gestured toward George’s outfit making his ears turn pink, realizing just how many eyes are on him at the moment.

“Right, of course. Thank you.”

***

George made it back to his dorm just as Lee and Fred were stepping out to leave for their first class of the day. He offered them a quick good morning and ‘see you later’ before making his way to you. He found you asleep in bed and tucked the covers under your chin before sliding into bed with you, pulling you into his chest as he let sleep take over.

A few hours later he woke up to you already awake and reading a note, he assumed it was attached to one of the two bottles that had been placed on his bedside table sometime while he was asleep.

“Who’s that from?” He asked, sitting up and looking over the note.

“McGonagall, she sent up medicine.”

“How sweet of Minnie.” He smiled pulling himself out of bed, “Alright, let Dr. Weasley read it.”

You laughed, “Dr. Weasley?”

He nodded feigning shock, “Yes, Dr. Weasley, and I’m going to nurse you back to health.”

George plucked the note from you and read it over, taking in all the instructions on how and when to take the medication which he assumed were the two bottles.

The rest of the day passed with George waiting on you hand and foot, bringing up food, rubbing your back, cuddling you, you name it he did it. He also did it all in his cute little crop top that definitely helped speed up the process of your recovery.

Now as you lay in bed, George tilts your head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips but you stop him before he can.

“You’ll get sick.”

He chuckles, “I’ve been kissing on you, and cuddling with you all day. I’m going to get sick either way, pretty girl, so please let me kiss you on the lips at least once today.”

“Alright but we can’t tell anyone, I don’t think it’s very proper of me to be snogging my doctor.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa 

@hufflepuff5972 

[beware-of-you-98]

you and i (jj x emily)

Warmth.

It's the first thing she becomes aware of as she's sucked from her blissful dreamscape into consciousness. She becomes acutely aware of sunlight beating down on her closed eyelids and squints as she teeters on that edge between awakening and falling right back asleep.

She exhales softly, stirring in the sheets, light linen scratching her bare legs and crinkling beneath her frame. She unconsciously moves closer to the warmth emanating from beside her, breathing out a soft, content sigh before she forces her eyes to squint open. She blinks slowly to adjust to the morning light, one hand slowly coming up to swipe the sleep from her eyes and cementing her journey back into consciousness.

JJ brings up the blanket to her chin, snuggling her face into the pillow, unwilling to untangle herself from the confines of her really comfortable bed, at the warmth the body beside her radiates. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand, tucking it under the pillows to support her head. Instead of moving and starting her day, she focuses on the woman still asleep beside her, a smile coming to her lips immediately at the sight.

Emily is curled up at her side, one leg bent at the knee and hooked around JJ's legs while the other sprawls out behind her, toes barely poking out from under the edge of the blanket. One arm is tucked behind the stack of pillows at the head of the bed, cheek pressed undoubtedly right above her palm underneath layers of cotton and memory foam. Her other arm hangs loosely at her side, fingers curled loosely in JJ's own like they had been the night before. Her short, raven black hair, streaked with charcoal, gray and silver strands, splay out messily over the pillow. Her pale, bare skin nearly glittering under the rays of sun that poke through the curtains.

Lips slightly parted as she exhales, chest rising and falling steadily with her breaths.

She looks at peace, content, all the stresses from the job gone from her face. Instead, she looks softer and vulnerable.

Ethereal.

JJ untucks her hand from the pillow and reaches out, thumb coming up to swipe at the moisture escaping the corner of the older woman's lips with a feather light touch. Her thumb hovers for a few seconds, just ghosting Emily's lips before she slowly jerks the digit back as to not wake her. Her hand comes to barely brush through the older woman's hair, heart clenching as she stares over at her.

How she managed to wake up without this for over a decade, she'll honestly never know. She's often still so shocked, rendered completely speechless that this is her life now--that she can and does wake up to an actual angel, and angel that is completely and utterly as in love with her as she is with her, laying in bed with her on a daily basis. JJ often finds herself wanting to pinch herself to ensure that she's not dreaming because wow.

Wow.

She honestly considers herself the luckiest woman in the entire fucking world.

Blue eyes flick across Emily's sleeping figure adoringly, tracing across the sharp curve of her jaw, along her nose and down her lips. The blonde tucks her bottom lip between her teeth with a light flush when her eyes land on the red-purplish bruises in the shape of her own mouth littered down the side of Emily's pale neck, further up than JJ had consciously tried to be. They were nothing a layer or two of foundation (and Emily's hair) wouldn't cover, the blonde reasoned silently with herself, but still.

Oops.

She snuggles herself closer to Emily's side, sighing out again when the older woman presses closer to her. She closes her eyes, body relaxed under Emily's hold, at how blissfully domestic about this is. She presses her chin to the crown of the older woman's head, willing unconsciousness to creep up on her once more.

She blinks back awake when the door to the bedroom creaks open, but she doesn't make any sudden movement to turn and see who it is. Instead, she listens for tiny giggles, the sounds of tiny feet on carpeted ground, a whispered "shh," before the sound of a box spring protesting under the sudden movement. JJ braces herself for the impact of her three year old and nine year old sons to barrel into the bed to wake the up and start the rare day the women get off.

When she hears nothing and when she doesn't feel her sons tackling into either Emily or herself—that's right, Henry and Michael are at Will's for the week—does she turn to see who the bedroom intruder is.

A small, tired smile spreads on her face at the sight of the all black feline sitting beside the bed, tail swishing slowly on the carpet. Lazily, JJ hangs an arm down for Sergio to inspect, clicking her tongue tiredly when the cat bumps his chin against her palm. " 'Morning, Serg," she mumbles to the feline, voice rough and scratchy with sleep.

She yawns again, turning her head to muffle it into the pillow before scratching Sergio's cheek. " What s'matter, buddy?"

Sergio sits slowly on the floor right beneath her head, blinking up at her owlishly.

"Num-nums?" she murmurs, using a higher tone to address the feline, hoping to gauge some reaction from him. " 's a lil early for breakfast."

Sergio just blinks again, tail swishing once on the carpet.

JJ hums quietly, pursing her lips in thought.

"Walk?" she tries again.

Sergio's pupils widen slowly at the word, tail twitching as he looks up at the blonde hopefully.

"You wanna go for a walk?" JJ elaborates more clearly, chest rumbling with a silent chuckle as the cat chirps in agreement. "Okay," she relents, finally forcing herself upright.

She carefully removes herself from Emily's hold to not wake her, looking around on the floor until she spots the older woman's t-shirt she had thrown the night before. She picks up the black cloth, pinching it up by the collar and shaking the fabric until the light blue silk bra tumbles to the floor. She slips it over her head, padding over to the dresser and finding a pair of boy shorts to slip on underneath.

She glances back over to Emily on the bed, torn between letting her rest (she needs it) and asking her to come along (the blonde knows Emily hates waking to an empty bed). With that thought in mind, JJ flits her way back to the bed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the older woman's temple. "Baby...Em."

Emily groans softly at the sound of JJ's voice, stirring with a sharp, slow exhale as she wakes up. She lazily reaches her arm up, looping it around the blonde's neck and pulling her down for a kiss. Their lips move slowly against one another's, Emily slowly becoming more aware as the minutes tick by.

She plants a few more lazy, soft kisses on JJ's lips before pulling away, stretching her arms over her head with a tired grin. "Well, good morning."

JJ beams— she can't help herself.

"Good morning," she sighs dreamily, tongue darting out to wet her lips before she clears her throat with a shy smile. "Our oldest wants to go for a walk. Come with us."

Emily rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, impish grin on her face as she focuses on her girlfriend. "Is that my shirt?" she drawls playfully, pointing to the long t-shirt drowning JJ's smaller frame.

"Maybe," the blonde drags out just as playfully, reaching and grabbing both of Emily's hands in her own before pulling her up onto her knees on the mattress. "Sergio wants to go for a walk," JJ repeats softly.

Emily wraps her arms loosely around her girlfriend's waist, leaning up and pressing a kiss on her chin. "Sergio has no consideration for the time— it's six in the morning," she points out in a low, playful matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, is that so?" JJ breathes out a chuckle in amusement, hands coming up to loosely hang around the brunette's shoulder. "You're an early bird," she points out.

Emily leans in and presses a series of wet, soft kisses along the blonde's jawline, making her breath hitch. "I am," she confirms, palms smoothing out on the plain of JJ's stomach beneath the stolen shirt. "I just was thinking I would spend my six AM with my head between—"

JJ playfully swats her girlfriend's roaming hands away, placing a soft kiss on her nose. "Sorry, baby, those plans are going to have to wait until at least 8 o'clock."

Emily bats her eyelashes innocently up a the blonde. "7:30 if I get the coffee ready?"

JJ bobs her head to the side, visually weighing the offer with a hum before grinning. "You do know the way to my heart, don't you, Agent Prentiss?"

Emily grins sleepily. "I do!"

JJ presses one more kiss to Emily's lips before hoisting her from the bed, making her stand up right. "Come on, let's take our cat for a walk."

"Coffee isn't going to make itself," Emily agrees, searching around on the floor until she finds her pajama bottoms, slipping those on before tugging on a tank top while the blonde secures Sergio in his harness.

"Hey, Jayje?"

At the sound of Emily's voice, so light and sweet, JJ turn with a soft smile.

"Yeah?"

Emily's expression softens, eyes shining with nothing but an expression JJ can only describe as completely in love. "I love you," she sighs out with a smile. "I really, really do love you so much."

JJ swallows back her tears at the sincerity in Emily's voice, entire body filled with warmth at the older woman's words. She really does have no idea how she lived before without Emily in her life like this, how she managed to convince herself for years that Emily could never feel for er the way she did.

Emily made her feel like she hung all the stars in the sky, as if she were someone so incredibly special and worthy.

JJ presses her lips firmly to Emily's hoping that she can convey even a smidge of emotions she feels for the brunette with the simple gesture.

She pulls away, leaning her forehead on Emily's before opening her eyes. Her breath hitches at the soft, loving look she's sure is reflected in her own eyes as she stares back into pools of warm brown.

"I love you, too."

[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Four

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings:  (all graphic) violence, guns,  blood, smut, implied PTSD 

an: hmmm. hm. i don’t really know what to say about this chapter actually ! 

                                               Six Months Later

“Elide it’s fine already, go to lunch - you’ve been here all morning,” Darrow chided her from behind his desk. Elide flashed him a grin and scooped her papers up, resting them against her laptop. 

“I’m going, I’m going! Having lunch with that crazy niece of yours,” she teased, laughing as he rolled his eyes and waved her out of his office. 

She sighed as she closed the door behind her and went down the hall to her little office space. It was barely big enough to have her desk and one plant, let alone meetings so hers were held in Darrow’s more spacious room. 

After she put her stuff away and grabbed her jacket, Elide would be going to have lunch with Aelin, who’d she had only grown closer with over the past half year. Nehemia too - the three of them had a standing group night on Fridays where they would all convene in what was once Lorcan’s apartment and have a mellow night in. They used to go out more to clubs and bars, but Aelin hadn’t wanted to be out late or do any sort of partying for the past few months. 

It was slightly drizzling outside today - standard for fall in Varese - as she walked to her car. Even though she could’ve driven what was technically hers now, Elide had never liked driving Lorcan’s car. It lived in the parking garage and she kept it in tip-top shape, always running a finger over the black vehicle for dust. If she found any, she would carefully drive it to the car wash and top up whatever infinitesimal amount of gas she’d used.

Sometimes Fenrys came over to take it for a drive and Elide was always happy to let him take it. He always came back with red eyes to give her the keys back and Elide never questioned him. 

The drive to Emrys’ cafe was a fifteen-minute drive, all the way on the other side of the city from Elide’s school, but it was close to the studio that Aelin practiced and recorded music at so Elide never minded. 

She found a spot just behind Aelin’s green ‘67 Ferrari 275 and waited for a truck to pass before stepping out and locking her car. She looked both ways before jogging across the road and popping into the shop. 

As she put her jacket away, Elide scanned the cafe and saw Aelin had already claimed a two-seated table and had ordered them a drink each. She looked ridiculously happy and Elide couldn’t wait to find out why. Maybe she’d be able to worm it out of Aelin before their family dinner tonight. Because that’s what they were now - family. 

Aelin stood to hug her when Elide arrived at the table and they both sat down again, smiling gently. “Elide, babes, how are you? How’s that boring uncle of mine?” 

“Darrow’s great, as usual,” Elide said with a slight eye roll at their dramatics. Darrow had always claimed to be above such things, but his flair for the dramatics rivaled Aelin’s. “My research is going well, too. I’ve really narrowed down my thesis proposal, so it’s looking up.” After… it happened, Elide’s work had taken a hit. 

She hadn’t been able to think about going to school until she imagined what Lorcan would say. How he would cajole her into going and how he would neg her until she did. 

It had been hard after that too, but she still went. Still paid as much attention as she could bear and was almost present in most conversations. 

She loathed to admit, it tore at her heart to say it, but things were getting easier. Every day, every moment it was easier to breathe. To smile and sleep and to live. In a world without him, in a world where it became just a bit more difficult to find something that reminded her of him. 

They chatted idly after ordering their lunches - a soup for Aelin and a sandwich for Elide - and Elide finished her cup of tea. “Are you going to keep me waiting? I want to know your secret, Ms. Galathynius.” 

Aelin’s eyes sparkled and she broke into the largest grin Elide had ever seen. Opening her mouth, Aelin was about to tell her when Luca interrupted them with their food. “For the lovely ladies,” the young man said, bowing theatrically. 

They chuckled and spoke to him for a couple minutes before Emrys was calling him back to the kitchen and they dug in. 

Elide took a bite of her sandwich, speaking around the food in her mouth, not that Aelin would care, “So, spill. I am not waiting till tonight.”

Aelin laughed joyously, her bright laughter flitting around the intimate shop. “Let me have some soup first, ok?” She took a spoonful of her tomato soup and dipped a torn-off piece of brown bread into it before popping it in her mouth. 

Rolling her eyes, Elide stewed and silently ate, tracking Aelin’s every move until the blonde finally put her spoon down and cleared her throat, taking a sip of water. Then, she put her hands in her lap and waited for Elide to place down her sandwich, waiting eagerly. 

“I’m pregnant with- with twins.”  

The air left her lungs and Elide gaped, her jaw dropping. “Oh my gods, are you serious? How long?” 

Tears, happy ones for once, popped up in Aelin’s eyes and she offered Elide a watery smile, “Three months today. I had my appointment earlier and… I’m so happy.” 

Elide stretched her arm across the table and grabbed Aelin’s hand, squeezing it supportively, “I’m happy for you, my love. So happy.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The penthouse was cold when she got home. Nobody was there to greet her and putting her one jacket up on the coat rack only reminded her of how lonely she was. 

Elide dropped her laptop and bag on the kitchen island and turned the lights on. She sighed, sitting on one of the stools, and looked to the living room, the sheets and blankets she used to make up the couch to sleep on every night neatly folded on the end cushion. 

She was definitely pathetic for not being able to sleep in the perfectly fine bed upstairs, but she couldn’t. 

That was the bed they shared. He held her in that bed, kissed her, fucked her in that bed. She’d fallen in love in that bed, with the man the sheets smelled like. 

And now Aelin was pregnant. She and Rowan would have their own little babes, made from scratch. 

She should be happy. Elide was happy, but… she wanted to cry. To scream at the unfairness. They were married, they were in love and they got a baby? No, not a baby, twins. Twins.  

How was it fair for them to have everything she hadn’t known she wanted with Lorcan? Maybe it made her a horrible person, but Elide wished for a second something bad happened to them both. She cursed herself for it, reminding herself that they, too, had lost Lorcan.

Elide couldn’t help the tears and the sob that tore from her throat. She cried loudly, her shoulders shaking as she put her forearms on the marble countertop and put her head in the crook of her elbow, her cries somewhat muffled. 

I just want you back, Lorcan, Elide thought to herself. Just for a minute, ‘cause I need some help. I need you. 

No one answered and Elide wasn’t sure if she’d been expecting it. Slowly, she got up and walked upstairs, sniffling once. Elide hugged herself, turning her head to wipe her nose on the shoulder of her sweater. 

She turned on the hall light and looked around the level hardly anyone had set foot on in months. Walking to the end of it, to the door waiting there, Elide dragged her hand along the wall, looking at the bareness of it. 

She looked to her right, out the wall of windows, reaching out to press her finger against a raindrop that hadn’t yet fallen down the glass. For a few seconds, time stopped and Elide watched the rain, letting its calming pitter-patter soothe her frayed soul. 

With one shaky sigh, Elide padded the rest of the way to his bedroom and opened the door, holding her breath as she stepped over the threshold for the first time in six months.

Nothing had been changed. The sheets were still rumpled and a visible layer of dust over every surface. 

Elide ignored the disarray and walked to the bed, fingering the black dress shirt she’d worn that last morning with him. Silently, Elide undressed and donned the shirt, the cool material practically drowning her. She didn’t mind it at all and did up a few buttons before crawling into bed and pulling the thick duvet up to her chin. 

Sinking back into the plush mattress and pillows, silent tears streaking from her shut eyes, Elide thought about him. About life with him. What could have been. 

If they’d gotten married, would they have stayed here? In the middle of Varese? She’d always loved the Wendlyn countryside, maybe they would’ve moved out there, to a large property and house settled at the heart of their land. 

Elide didn’t know how long it took, but eventually imagining a life that would never be exhausted her and she fell into a deep, grief soaked slumber. 

What had once been her refuge, a gentle, comforting oblivion, was now a tragedy, something she couldn’t look away from. 

Lorcan was in a hospital room, a glass door separating them. On the bed, a dark haired boy was asleep. He must have been seven or eight and he was the spitting image of Lorcan, except he had a soft and gentle face as he dozed. 

A smile, soft and beautiful, appeared on Lorcan’s face as he looked at the child and then he turned around, facing the door and Elide. In his arms, he cradled a precious bundle - a wee little one whose arrestingly caramel eyes were wide open and staring out the room’s window towards the night sky. 

Tears burned the back of her eyes and Elide put her hand on the handle, twisting it only to find it was locked.

“E,” Lorcan said, shifting the baby to one arm and the other he stretched out to her, beckoning her in, “come in, love.” 

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice shaking. “Lor, I’m trying, unlock the door.”

“It’s already open,” he told her, a serene smile on his face. “C’mon, meet our kids. They miss you.” 

“Lor- Lorcan,” she sobbed, her voice cracking, “stop, just open the door, please, baby, I-.” Elide tried again, yanking on the handle and pressing her hand against the glass. “Let me in, please. Open the door.” 

“It’s unlocked, just open it.”

“No, no- it’s not,” she said, crying harder, “I miss you so much, please just stay with me.” 

“I will be with you always,” he promised, giving her a smile before looking down at the baby in his arms and leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I promise.” 

It was like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on her and Elide woke up, the sheets and duvet twisted around her, a result of her thrashing. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she gulped down air and pressed her hands to her cheeks, her fingers coming away wet and salty.

With a heavy sigh, Elide worked on untangling the fabric wrapped around her and looked at the clock on his nightstand. 

Rowan and Aelin were expecting everyone at their townhouse at six o’clock sharp. It was nearly half past four now and she climbed out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom and looking into the mirror. 

She saw her puffy eyes, tear-tracked cheeks, and red nose. Elide looked and felt very much like shit and she breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself before she left for dinner. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan Salvaterre parked his car outside a very familiar townhouse. He’d gone to his apartment first, not expecting to be welcomed by an empty apartment. 

He had wondered if Elide had even taken the apartment - it wouldn’t have surprised him if she gave it to one of their friends - but her things were strewn about the place, papers overtaking the kitchen island and half-empty mugs of tea that had long since gone cold decorated the sparsely decorated unit. 

By dumb luck, his first guess that she’d be at Rowan and Aelin’s was correct because he looked out the car window to see every light on in the house and spied Fenrys through the front window, head thrown back as he laughed. 

Lorcan got out, half-jogging across the rain slick road, flipping his hoodie hood over the messy bun he twisted at the nape of his neck. If there was one thing he was most thankful for for the old women who had found him, floating face-up in the weeds and reeds, it was that when they were fixing him up, they’d left his hair alone. 

His heart beat frantically as he walked up the short steps and winced, his left shoulder stiff and aggravated from the past few days of travelling. He’d been in a small, unheard of village nestled in the heart of the Eyllwe forest, hidden away from the world. The women of the forgotten tribe had healed him like one of their own for the past six months. 

Raising his fist, Lorcan knocked thrice and waited patiently. He heard the easy conversation inside fall silent and he could hardly breathe as the door opened and Fenrys appeared, his body half behind the door and a wary expression on his face. 

Upon seeing Lorcan, Fenrys blinked hard and his jaw dropped open. Letting the door fully swing open, Fenrys hardly dared to ask, “Lorcan?” 

“Hey, pup,” Lorcan said, smiling when Fenrys launched himself at him, wrapping his arms around Lorcan’s neck. The dark haired man’s smile grew softer and he put his arms around Fenrys. He knew Fenrys was crying and he lifted one of his arms to cup the back of Fen’s head. 

By then, the others had been intrigued with the commotion and slowly peered into the hallway, all gasping when they saw Lorcan. Aelin went to greet him, her throat constricting, but Nehemia stopped her, looking sadly at her husband and his brother, whom Fenrys had thought he killed. “Just wait a bit,” Nehemia whispered, squeezing Aelin’s hand once. 

“Is he really back,” Aelin breathed, her free hand ghosting over her stomach, where she’d just begun to show. It was a thing of comfort for Aelin and she found herself touching her belly when she was nervous or anxiety-ridden. 

Nehemia didn’t have anything to say then and they watched Lorcan pull away and say words too low for anyone else to hear. Fenrys nodded and stood up, wiping his cheeks before jokingly planting a loud, wet kiss smack on Lorcan’s cheek. Lorcan rolled his eyes in good nature and wiped his cheek before looking to the others waiting, shell shocked, down the hall. “Oh, y’all having a party? Without me?” 

Rowan let out a dry sob and the two friends met in the middle of the hall, hugging tightly. “Fuckin’ bastard, piece of shite wankstain,” Rowan muttered through his tears. “Couldn’t just stay dead, huh?”

“Fuck you too,” Lorcan said, smiling widely. They didn’t say anything else, just stood there, holding each other. It was simultaneous when they pulled apart, small grins on their faces. “I missed you.” 

Rowan nodded, too emotional to say it back. Slowly, the other guys joined them and Nehemia and Aelin took their leave, retreating back to the living room. Aelin squeezed Nehemia’s hand, worrying her brow, “N… why is he back now?” 

There was nothing good about the look in Nehemia’s eyes as she glanced to the front hall. Lorcan’s return brought on too many questions, ones she couldn’t answer and ones neither Aelin or Elide would like. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, gently pressing her hand to Aelin’s stomach and the babes she was carrying. “We always do.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Elide cursed herself after she thanked her driver, Ress, and hopped out of the black town car. The building had a car service and normally, she would never use it, but after she had gotten sucked back into her work and had been asked to fetch the cake, she hadn’t felt like driving herself. 

Aelin had told her to dress nicely tonight, but Elide didn’t have time to change out of her leggings and hoodie. Throwing on Lorcan’s flannel made it look intentional so she just went with it. 

The drizzle had turned into a full downpour and she ducked her head as she raced up the stone pathway and the stairs, precariously holding the bakery box. Elide looked out over the street as she dug out her keys, doing a double take when she saw Lorcan’s car sitting pretty across the road. 

It didn’t make any sense, unless Fenrys had taken it, but she could’ve sworn she saw the only set of keys in the silver dish when she hurried out of the apartment. Logically, she understood Lorcan wasn’t back and that the only explanation was that Fenrys had taken it, but she couldn’t quell the hope that rose in her. 

Hurriedly, Elide unlocked the door and rushed inside, already rambling, “Fen, did you take Ohitekah’s car? I could’ve sworn the keys were in the key dish.” Nobody answered her and Elide paused, slowly toeing off her shoes and continuing down the hall. “Guys?” 

Elide tucked her short hair behind her ear, feeling the need to touch the chain around her neck that had once been Lorcan’s and run her fingertips up and down the cool silver links. She padded further into the house, her furrowed brows only wrinkling more and more when the house fell dead silent. “Guys, what’s happening?” 

She turned the corner into the living room and froze, her eyes immediately zoning in on Lorcan, who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. With a gasp, she dropped the box, the cake no doubt smushed to bits because of her mishap. 

Elide didn’t notice anything else, couldn’t articulate a single thought as Lorcan stood and took a step towards her, approaching her as if she were a wild animal. “Hey, Lochan.” 

Elide let out a half-crazed laugh and flew towards him, crashing into his arms so hard that Lorcan rocked back a step. He banded his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair and breathing her in. 

“Hey, Salvaterre,” she whispered, her hands gripping the back of his hoodie tightly. She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, her nose cold against his warm skin. Her lips, slightly chapped from biting them constantly, brush over his pulse as she asked tentatively, “Is this real?” 

“Yes,” he promised her. 

“And you’re not leaving?” 

“Never again,” he said, kissing the top of her head. 

Elide sniffled and cried once, still menacing when she muttered, “You better not.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The dark figure had been lying stomach down on the rooftop for hours, watching through the window as a family reunited. 

His back was to the window, a perfect headshot lined up as they breathed in slowly and peered through the scope, watching the target hug the petite woman, who clung to him like a lifeline.

Their gloved finger slipped over the trigger of the rifle, the metal curve as familiar as an old friend. Willing their heartbeat to slow, they closed their eyes briefly, finding the headspace they needed for the task. 

When they opened their eyes, ready for the kill, a viper’s voice crackled through the earpiece, cool and commanding, “Not tonight, dear. Let us allow them to enjoy themselves a little while longer, yes?” 

“Of course, ma’am.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: ominous, no? 

@mythicaitt​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @b00kworm​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival​ @lovemollywho​ @queen-of-glass​ @jlinez​ @sleeping-and-books​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @verypaleninja​ @januarystears​ @magicalunicorngypsy​ 

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Daddy’s Nap ~ A Negan One-Shot

Summary: Negan gets woken up from his nap…

Warning(s): Fluff. Language. Tired Negan. Slightly grumpy Negan. Soft Negan. Daddy!Negan. Dick joke. SHIRTLESS JDM GIFs and images!! 

Author’s Note(s): I wrote this story this morning at 6:30 am, after I couldn’t sleep all night long. Insomnia sucks ass. Despite having a major writer’s block for the last several months, this idea hit me and I just had to type it up. I hope y’all like it!

Word Count: 2,470 words

Relationship(s): Negan x Reader.

Characters: Negan. Reader.

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl @neganslucille87​

_______________________________________________________________________

 Story Time:

 "Give me a fuckin’ minute! Fuck’s sake!”

His voice a half yell, a half sigh as he spoke. Sleep still laced his words, trying hard to cling to the syllables as he rubbed his face against the pillow before sluggishly pushing himself outta bed, leaving the soft, memory foam mattress behind. Strolling over to the thick wooden door that sealed off his quarters, Negan grunted. 

The last thing he wanted was to be disturbed. It was too early for this shit. Well, too early in the afternoon, anyway. It’d been a rough day, running things in the Sanctuary. He’d had to iron a fucker’s face as a punishment that now seemed pointless at the current time. But, it had been important for him to remind his people of the rules, and the subsequent consequences of those rules being broken.

He never liked ironing people’s faces, and it always exhausted the fuck outta him, which is why he’d been napping before some fucker knocked on his door. But, he still did it. The ironing. He had to do it. As leader, it was his job. He was the one to enforce the rules in order to keep his people safe. That’s why… 

His thoughts trailed off as he jerked the door open, glaring at the person on the other side, intent to rip them a new one for disturbing him and waking him from his much-needed nap.

“What the fu-” He stopped mid-sentence as he took in the sight of the person standing in the hallway, in front of him.

Reader’s P.O.V:

You cringed when you heard him cuss out loud before the noises of shuffling on the other side of the door could be heard. You hadn’t wanted to disturb him, but you had no other choice. You bit your lip as you waited for him to open the door. As soon as it was flung open, your throat closed up and your heart pounded faster in your chest and loudly in your ears.

You barely heard his faltering question when the door was no longer separating the both of y’all. You could see the concern flash over his face, quickly followed by the flash of worry as he furrowed his brow. Your eyes followed his hand as it moved from the doorframe to run through his hair that was no longer slicked back, but rather ruffled from what you could only assume was his pillow.

You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up more. You watched his lips move, but couldn’t hear anything he was saying as the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowned him out. He reached a hand forward and placed it on your shoulder. That seemed to calm you down real fuckin’ quick. 

After a moment, you took a deep breath and blinked, looking up at him.

“Doll?” He asked again.

You shook your head. “Huh?”

He tried to hide the small smile tugging on his lips but failed. His dimples showed as he let out a soft, breathy chuckle.

“I asked what’s wrong? You ok?” He repeated his earlier questions that you hadn’t heard over the beating of your heart.

“Y-y-ye…” You started, but stopped, shaking your head. “No. I’m sorry to bother you, but…” You lifted your arms, showing him what was in them.

Negan’s eyes softened and he nodded. “Say no more, sweetheart.”

His long arms reached out and his hands gently plucked the bundle outta your arms and cradled it to him. He took a step back, giving you room to enter into his living area as he cradled the bundle in his arms. Stepping in, you watched, in awe and amusement as he held your infant son close, and started murmuring softly to the little boy. 

You watched, not noticing the door closing, as your son slowly stopped wailing at the top of his little lungs as he stared, wide eyed up at the badass, bat-wielding leader of the Sanctuary. You heard Negan’s chuckle as he lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on the boy’s head. He looked up at you as your son cuddled to him, his chubby little fingers curling ‘round the hairs that covered Negan’s chest.

He smiled, dimples showing once more. “Not quite what I was fuckin’ expectin’ after being woken up from my damn nap.”

You swallowed deeply. “I…I’m sorry, sir. He’s been screaming bloody murder for the last two and a half hours. I tried everything and then some before I finally came up here.”

He smirked. “It’s no fuckin’ problem, sweetheart. Looks like he just wanted me.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nodded, shrugging. “I guess so. I dunno how you do it, but you seem to be the only one who can calm him these days.”

His smirk grew even more. “I’ve just got the touch, I guess. From the moment I met this cute little fucker and his fuckin’ beautiful as shit mother.”

You blushed, hoping he wouldn’t notice as he turned his attention back to the little boy in his arms.

“You just wanted Daddy Negan, didn’t you, little man? Hmmm? Yea. You fuckin’ did.” He chuckled as he cooed at the little boy.

He laughed softly as the boy let out a quiet giggle of his own and snuggled closer to Negan’s chest. You watched, wondering how the hell Negan managed to quiet your son, and make him giggle. As you watched the two of them, that was when you fully noticed Negan. You sucked in a quiet breath as your eyes raked over him. 

He was completely shirtless, his tanned skin, chest hair, and numerous tattoos on full display. Your eyes lowered, from his chest to your sons in his arms, and still lower. You bit your lip a little bit as you took in the sight of a pair of holey blue jeans, hanging low on his hips, zipped up but unbuttoned. You could clearly see “AMERICAN EAGLE” stitched in on the dark blue waistband of his boxers he had on under his jeans. 

The thick band still hung low enough to show off his abs, and the trail of hair that led to what his pants were covering. You took another breath in and tried not to stare at the developed and clearly prominent V-line of his. You forced your eyes to look lower so you wouldn’t get distracted and your thoughts wouldn’t wander more than they already had.

He was barefoot, which you had already assumed since Negan had been napping before you woke him up. He didn’t even have socks on. Not that you blamed him. It was fuckin’ hotter than Satan’s balls in a sauna on a hot July day in Georgia. The heat was also the most likely cause for the thin layer of sweat that covered his skin.

“Doll?”

You brought your eyes up to meet Negan’s once you heard his soft voice.

“Huh?” You asked.

He laughed and shook his head. “I asked if you were enjoying the view?”

You blushed harder, no longer able to idea it. “Maybe?”

His head tossed back as he let out a deep bellied laugh.

“Maybe my ass! Damn. I ain’t been checked out like that in at least 20 years, and that’s fuckin’ sayin’ somethin’ since I used to have 4 fuckin’ wives!” He smirked.

You raised a brow. “Used to?”

He nodded and grinned as he padded across the soft carpet to his bed. He plopped down on the side of the mattress that was still messed up from his nap a few minutes prior. He swung his feet up, kicking the sheets outta the way as he got comfortable, and leaned back, shifting your son so he was comfortable on Negan’s chest. 

The Sanctuary’s leader patted the spot next to him, gesturing for you to settle next to him.

“Mmhhmm. Used to. I got rid of ‘em after I met you and this little munchkin a few months ago.” He said.

You walked over and laid next to him, kicking your shoes off before you climbed up in his huge ass bed, snuggling up to him. This…the three of y’all like this, in his bed…was something that happened quite often since he’d brought you to the Sanctuary 3 months ago.

From the moment Negan had found you and your newborn son, hiding out in a store, and he’d taken your screaming son in an attempt to quiet him, the little boy only quieted for Negan. He could tell you were stressed, trying not to panic from fear that the walkers would find you since your son had been screaming as loud as his little body would allow.

He’d gently taken him from your arms, staying close to you so as to keep you from panicking more as a random stranger taking your son. You’d started to protest, but quickly stopped as your son nestled to Negan’s leather jacket and quieted down the moment he was in the man’s arms. Negan had chuckled, much like he did today, while you’d let out a breath of relief, your panic washing away. 

As he’d rocked your son to sleep in his arms, Negan told you about the Sanctuary, and offered to bring you both back. He’d explained the rules, and offered you the same offer he gave to anyone he came across. Only, he’d also offered you the position of being one of his wives. You’d turned that down quickly.

Explaining that you were sure he didn’t want a “wife” who had so much baggage and a child, you’d told him that you’d work for points. He didn’t hide his disappointment, but you could tell he’d respected your choice. When he brought you and your son to the old factory, he set you up in a room that you didn’t have to share, so it was just you and your little boy. 

He told you, as he’d laid your sleeping son down, that if you needed anything, not to hesitate to let him know. It hadn’t been until you were in the cafeteria one morning, and someone dropped their tray, startling your little boy from his slumber, making him wail, and Negan came over and gently took him, quieting him down, that you took the man up on his offer.

After that day, it was clear that your son loved Negan and would only quiet down when he was with him. You and Negan had gotten closer during the visits y’all shared as he soothed your boy back to sleep. Many of those visits had consisted of you and Negan curled up in his bed as he held your son against his chest, rubbing his back. 

Just like y’all were today. You looked up at Negan after he just dropped the bomb about his wives.

“Why?” You asked.

He shrugged. “I didn’t need them anymore. Got tired of their bullshit. It’s not like I fuckin’ loved any of them. There have been three people in my life that I loved, and I already lost one of them. I wasn’t gonna lose the other two because I wanted to keep the wives. So, I sent ‘em fuckin’ packin’. They were damn happy ‘bout it.”

“I thought Lucille was the only person you loved?” You asked softly.

You knew his first, real wife was a tough subject for him, but he’d opened up to you ‘bout her one night.

He nodded. “She was. Until I met this kid who was screamin’ his lungs out and fuckin’ freakin’ his mama out.”

He glanced at you as he kissed the little boy’s head. It hit you as to what he was saying. You swallowed deeply and your eyes searched yours. You could see it. The love in them. The emotions.

“Us?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded again, slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Mmhhmm. So, I fuckin’ let ‘em go. Just having you and this screamer…that’s all I needed. Even if you didn’t feel the same way. In a sense, you’d given me the chance to be a dad, and I wasn’t gonna fuck that up. Don’t worry. You don’t have to feel the same way. I just figured you’d wanna know the reason behind why I fuckin’ got rid of the wives. I’m content with just being here when he’s screaming so I can soothe him the fuck back to sleep.”

“I…I…” You started but when you couldn’t find the words, you just laid your head on his shoulder and stared at your son as you processed what he was saying.

Negan looked back at your little boy, who was now sound asleep and snuggled to his chest. He smiled and kissed his head when a thought struck him. Not looking away from the baby in his arms, he voiced his thought.

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You smiled and nodded. When Negan had first found y’all, you still hadn’t given your son a name yet. Nothing seemed right for the precious baby who came into your life. Nothing, that is, until 2 months ago.

That was when you decided on the perfect name for him.

“Alexander.” You murmured, and glanced up when Negan took a breath in.

“Alexander? As in my middle name?” He blinked. “You named him after me?”

You giggled and nodded against his shoulder again. “Figured it’d be fitting for him to be named after the only man in his life. His Daddy. I just couldn’t bring myself to call him Negan too. ‘Specially not since you named your dick ‘Negan Jr.’.”

He laughed as he teared. “I can’t believe I fuckin’ told you that. But, you really named him Alexander? After me? You remembered me telling you ‘bout my middle name?”

You smiled and nodded again. “Mmhhmm. I named him after his Daddy, and the man I love.”

His eyes widened at your confession and he teared more. “Well, fuck me! This was so fuckin’ worth bein’ woken up from a nap.”

You laughed. “That’s not happenin’ right now. He just got to sleep. We are not going to risk wakin’ him up again. But, soon. We can.”

He grinned and kissed your head. “I’m gonna fuckin’ hold you to that. But I agree. What do you say we take a nap? As a family?”

You smiled and snuggled closer to him. “I’d fuckin’ like that.”

He grinned when you used his favorite fuckin’ word. Moving slightly, he wrapped an arm ‘round your shoulders and held you and the baby close. You snuggled to him and kept your head on his shoulder as you soon dozed off too.

“My family.” He murmured, a silly grin on his face. “I love my fuckin’ family.”

[drjackandmissjo]

it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 9

feysand masterlist

“Feels like home, Stay in bed the whole weekend.”

NSFW!

The first thing Feyre realized before even opening her eyes was the lack of a warm body next to her. It wasn't unusual for Rhys to get up before she did, either to fix something for his day's lectures or to train, but Feyre was never particularly fond of his absence as she woke up begrudgingly. Cassian teased her non-stop about how little of an early bird she was compared to his brother, but the main reason she ever woke up before noon, without counting work, was to at least kiss her husband goodbye before he left for his own job.

The second thing she noticed was the crispness and general sense of 'new' that came from the sheets and the softness of the mattress she laid on. It felt as if she was being slowly swallowed by a cloud and the sensation was a stark contrast to what she was used to. All their family constantly teased them for their favour of silk beddings and pillowcases, but Rhys always commented that they were just jealous of their bacteria-free bed. Eventually everyone got converted from the cheap cotton they used in college to silk, as all of their bank accounts could spare the expense and splurge now that they weren't broke college students anymore. Not that any of the Nox brothers nor the Golden Queen, as Mor had been playfully dubbed by Amren, was even remotely broke to begin with.

"It's all for the aesthetic" had once told her Cassian on their old apartment roof, pissed out drunk and desperatedly trying to get her to help him decorating a cake for his Post-Spring vacation assignment . "Just think about it! Your talent and my sugar paste!". She had outrighted refused when he began claiming how he would not share the finished product, a three layers with different percentages of cacao each, with her. "It will be a masterpiece. We can't eat masterpieces!"

"Well then don't make it a masterpiece, I wanna eat it already!" said an equally wasted Azriel, comically clutching an empty packet of chips with a saddened expression. Feyre sent Amren a long suffering look and was met back with an understanding one from the only other sober person on that roof, while the tiny woman mouthed her " The Joy of Babysitting" as she stood in between a bottle of Vodka and a very handsy Mor. Rhys hadn't arrived yet and she tried not to feel disappointed. It had been over a month since her breakup and she was nowhere near ready for another relationship, yet she wanted him with them, with her , even if she wasn't ready to admit it to herself.

Feyre stretched her arms above her head, taking away the last morsels of sleep from her eyes before opening them. She was immediately brought back to reality: she and Rhys had organized a weekend away to celebrate their anniversary in peace. Mor had demanded a fancy party like the one two years before, but both of them had preferred to spend the time quietly with each other, on a beautiful resort in the Illyrian mountains that one of her clients had suggested.

His side of the bed was still warm, also thanks to her own body heat as she had scooted over him in her sleep, but she could hear the sounds of the luxurious shower running. She debated for a couple of minutes whether to join him, knowing that they wouldn't emerge from the bathroom for a while if she did and therefore miss breakfast time, when she heard the water coming to a stop.

And there was her husband, one towel wrapped low around his hips as he dried his hair with another. "You're a sight for sore eyes" he told her after having taken her in, bed hair sticking in every direction and clad only in a sheer nightgown. They had arrived the night before, too tired after the long four hours drive to do anything other than hold each other throughout the night. Despite it being the middle of August, the weather up in the mountains was still rather cold and they had enjoyed each other's warmth immensely.

"You're not so bad yourself" she said right back, letting her eyes trace over the plains of his abdomen, defined by years of training.

He chuckled at her blatant staring as he inched closer to where she rested against the headboard, the bed dipping under his weight as he moved closer, capturing her lips in his. She opened up for him, deepening the kiss as her arms twisted around his neck, bringing him fully down with her. She would never get enough of this, she thought with a smile, never get enough of the kisses and the hugs and just him . Her hands moved once more, tracing a path down his bare back as he positioned himself between her legs on top of the covers. Her laugh filled the room as he began to remove the straps of her nightgown with his teeth, a playful gleam in his eyes as he then moved his attention to her shoulders nibbling at the bare skin, turning her laugh into soft whispers of encouragement. Her hands had now reached the towel, untying it swiftly and leaving him bare before her. His own began to trace the fabric down her body, exposing every inch of her skin to his prying eyes. His lips returned to hers as he twisted them around, his back now against the soft mattress as she straddled his hips, hands never leaving the exploration of each other's bodies.

"We will be late for breakfast" she said breathlessly as his mouth worked her neck, hands caressing her back. She couldn't really care less about anything that wasn't him at the moment, but the sensible and hungry part of her grounded her to the reality of her empty stomach.

"There's room service" he called from the space in between her breasts as she reclined back, grinding against his hips in desperate need for friction, "We can order in and not move an inch". She was lost in sensation, unable to speak anything other that his name and a few choices of curses as he teased her endlessly, his hands on her hips, keeping her still as he worked on her upper body.

"Darling?" he called at her before his mouth closed around one of her nipples, teeth grazing the delicate skin and elicing a moan from her throat.

Feyre's hands moved on his feverish skin, dragging her nails over his shoulders and arms, moving downwards before one of them stopped its trek and was placed around him cock, pumping it into her palm a couple of times before bringing it into her mouth. Rhys made a strangled noise from the back of his throat, his hands fisting into her hair as her own kept on moving up and down on his length.

He was a bubbling mess, incapable of speaking. A sound of disapproval rose from the back of his throat as she removed her mouth from him, the tight grasp on her hair moving to her backside as she aligned herself over him. She slowly sank down into him, stilling to adjust herself around him while a soft moan escaped her lips. He immediately brought her downward, moving his mouth against hers as the subtle change of position elicited a series of sounds from both of them.

Instantaneously she began to move, aided by his strong hands on her ass.

"Yeah let's do that" she replied arstly, hands bracing over his chest as she slowly rose into a kneeled position between his legs to sink further into him.

They chose to move in a slow rhythm, both knowing each other's body like their own. Her fingers followed the path of his tattoos, replacing them eventually with her mouth.

It was heartbreaking slow and brutal at the same time, the pace they set, yet neither complained. Rhys only moved to capture her lips once more as she drawed near her peak, one of his hands leaving their comfortable home on her rean to move to her center, flickering her clit viciously as he heaved himself into her with more vigor from under her.

Feyre's vision shattered a few thrusts later, her back arching as the room filled with her shouts. He followed shortly, pumping into her throughout her climax and drawing it out as much as he could.

"Let's stay in bed the whole weekend" she then said, momentarily sated as she tried to regain her breath that was coming out in frantic pants, not bothering to move nor to remove him from inside of her, "Let's not move from this bed until it's time to leave."

"Why, my Darling Feyre, that is probably the best idea you ever had!" said an equally spent Rhys, toying loosely with her curls.

"I thought my best moment was agreeing to marry you!"

His dark and rich laugh filled the room, "I don't think so. The best moment was talking Greek myth in your room as we were just friends."

"Yeah. It's nice, having you as my friend" she whispered, holding him closer to her naked body as she planted a kiss over his heart. "Well then I hope you don't do those kinds of activities with all your friends."

"I don't know what you're talking about" she claimed, her face a mask of pure undiluted innocence.

A wicked smile appeared on his lips. "Allow me to re-freshen your memories then."

They didn't leave the bed for the entirety of the weekend indeed.

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Thirteen: Where the Letter Lies

Kai whistled cheerily as he walked up the stairs to Cinder's dingy apartment building; keys clinked in his hands merrily, and the overall mood of the visit was exciting.

Over the past week, Kai and Cinder had developed something close to friendship. While he knew that she was still lying to him on multiple fronts, he liked being around her. She hardly ever talked, but that had never bothered Kai. He talked enough for a dozen people.

On this particular day, Kai had been sent to Cinder's apartment to retrieve clothes for her to go home in. She had been offered a multitude of used clothes the hospital had on hand, but Kai had been vehement on getting some of her own to go home in. He wanted her to be comfortable, and maybe even a little nice for the party he was going to throw her.

Cinder didn't seem to realize that today was her birthday, but Kai knew. He had been planning the celebration since the time she had forgiven him. While it wasn't going to be the party of the century (Kai didn't want to overwhelm her), it would be a good opportunity for Cinder to reconnect with some people she had left behind. In other words, Kai had invited Cress.

After much convincing over the past week, Kai had talked Cress into coming to Cinder's twentieth birthday party. She had argued that 'Selene' wouldn't want her there, or that she would ruin the entire celebration with her presence. Kai had taken matters into his own hands and said that Cinder would be more than happy to see an old friend. He only hoped that he was speaking the truth.

Kai opened the door to Cinder's tiny apartment with the twist of a key. He stared at the dank living space with a somber mood. He could see everything from his vantage point by the door: a bedroom holding only a bed; a tiny bathroom barely large enough to accommodate a toilet, sink and the smallest shower known to man; and a kitchen with a microwave, fridge, and stool behind a small counter.

Crossing the room slowly, Kai walked into her bedroom. He felt uncomfortable entering a ladies quarters, but Cinder had told him most specifically where to find her clothes. The twin bed with rumpled sheets turned out not to be the only thing in the room. Shelves lined the walls all around the messy bed, and a thin layer of dust had begun to settle on top of the clothes resting atop the shelves.

Cinder didn't seem to have much variety in her clothing. Kai grabbed a gray t-shirt and cargo pants that matched everything else on her shelves, thanking his lucky stars that he didn't have to grab any feminine apparel; Iko had already volunteered those articles for Cinder.

Kai glanced around the room once more before tugging the beige sheets off the bed; he never could stand an unmade bed. Kai stripped the bed until it was nothing but a beat up mattress. He would have washed the bedding, but there wasn't enough time. Thorne was set to come and decorate the place in less than an hour.

Kai tucked the fitted sheet all around the corners of the bed and under the edges, sitting atop the bed to get the uppermost corners. When he got to the top right corner of the mattress, however, something was already tucked beneath its edge.

Reaching his arm deeper under the bed, Kai felt the worn starch of a paper envelope. He tugged at it gently, sure not to tear the lumpy package. When Kai's hand re-materialized from beneath the mattress, it was carrying a faded white-letter envelope.

The seal of the envelope was broken, and Kai's curiosity won over without much resistance. He lifted up the lip of the white paper, and pulled out three items: a folded up piece of paper with words scribbled in messy cursive, a water-stained photograph, and a small braided bracelet.

Kai studied the photograph, but no breakthrough came. He held the circle of braided string, trying to guess what its significance might have been. It looked about the right size for Cinder's delicate wrist, though judging from its worn quality she hadn't been its original owner. Finally, Kai unfolded the sheet of paper. He felt guilty going through Cinder's things. He knew what he was doing was wrong and a complete invasion of her privacy, but he couldn't help himself.

The sheet of paper had but a few words on it written in dull black ink. Kai read with ravished interest, reading it three times before the words began to make sense.

My dearest Selene,

I am writing you this letter because I am afraid. I am afraid that my time with you is numbered down to days, and while I cannot give you much, I can give you my words.

This life that you live is not one I ever wanted from you. If I could, I would have you be a Queen. You do have a Queen's name, after all. But life is unfair, and while you deserve someone that can take care of you, I have never been too great at my job.

As my final promise to you, I swear on the only thing I love—you— that I will protect you with the force of a whirlwind of fire. Selene Channary Blackburn, I love you. You are my world, and the only thing that I truly love. I will burn this Earth to ashes if only to prove my love for you.

Love, Mommy

***

Cinder trembled from nerves as she stood from her wheelchair and moved herself— with the help of Kai and Nainsi— into the car. The cold wasn't helping either, seeing how the ground was covered with snow and ice.

Nainsi trotted away with a soft word of goodbye, while Kai placed Cinder's crutches across the backseat of his car. She felt awkward watching them work while she sat and did nothing, but the nurses had been strict; Cinder wasn't allowed to do anything physically exerting for at least another six weeks. They were only allowing her to go home on behalf of the fact that Iko had volunteered to check on Cinder everyday, along with Kai.

Kai, finished with his work, pulled himself gracefully into the car. He fired up the beautiful machine with practiced hands, turning up the heater to full blast. The sudden heat sent a shiver through Cinder's veins, and Kai glanced over at her with concern.

"Are you cold?" Kai asked, and without even waiting for a response, took off his hoodie and placed it in Cinder's lap. "Here, take this. I'm too hot with it on anyway."

A blush crept up Cinder's cheeks, but Kai didn't seem to notice. She pulled the gray hoodie over her head clumsily, her left arm still bandaged and unfeeling. The sweatshirt was still warm from Kai's skin, and it sent tingles along her flesh. It smelled of laundry detergent, chocolate, and whatever cologne Kai used. It was the best smell Cinder had come across before, and she had to resist the urge to shove her entire face in it and inhale the scent of Kai.

"Thank you," Cinder whispered, no longer trembling. There was something calming about Kai. He was a constant in her life, no matter how hard she pushed him away. He was pure and good and kind, and Cinder was still wondering why he had decided to stay in her life.

"I should have brought you one of yours, but I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry," Kai said, his shoulders rigid and lips pulled tight. He looked guilty, and Cinder had to resist the urge to roll her eyes; only Kai could feel bad about not considering to bring a girl a jacket and then giving her his own.

Cinder pulled the sleeves of the delicious smelling jacket up around her frozen fingers. "It's not your fault. I forgot to tell you where they were, anyways." Cinder smiled at him, though he continued to not look at her. Maybe he was just a careful driver. "I like yours better, anyways."

Kai laughed, and Cinder bent her head down in embarrassment. She had not intended for those words to come out of her mouth, no matter how much she had been thinking them.

"Hey, Cinder?"

"What?" Cinder mumbled in anguish, her cheeks still brightly colored.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kai bit at his bottom lip, and Cinder watched his face with anticipation.

"I think you just did," Cinder mumbled, her walls rising up as the flashing red lights began to play throughout her head.

"What actually happened to your mother?" Kai asked timidly. "You don't have to tell me, but I know that she wasn't arrested. I... I can tell when you're lying."

Cinder knew that last part was a lie. In order to be an expert liar, you had to know when others were lying, and Kai had absolutely no practice with lying. She decided to let it go, however. She liked Kai a lot, and knew that he wasn't trying to take advantage of her.

Silence filled the car like ice water, chilling Cinder. There had only ever been one other person whom she had told the truth to. That person had betrayed her.

"You're right, my mother isn't in jail," Cinder commended with a huff.

Neither of them said anything after that.

***

"Are you sure you don't need any help with that?" Kai asked, placing a hand on Cinder's lower back as she stumbled forward on her crutches. She stiffened, but didn't push him away. Kai took her right crutch from her, and wrapped his arm gently around her waist. She slung her uninjured arm clumsily around his own waist, and they set off, Kai bearing most of Cinder's weight.

Cinder was able to wear her prosthetic, but she wasn't used to it. The crutches were a completely different matter, though. While they did help, Cinder often couldn't tell if she was holding the left one. She never said any of this to Kai, but he could tell.

"Thanks," Cinder whispered gratefully.

"Anything for you, my lady," Kai said, and while he meant it as a joke, he really would do just about anything for Cinder.

"Why do you care so much, Kai?" Cinder stumbled over the icy ground, but her words were steady. Kai contemplated the question, not entirely sure himself. Thorne had asked him the same question, along with Kai's father. There was just something so intriguing about Cinder.

"Everyone deserves to have someone who cares," Kai answered simply.

Cinder hummed in acknowledgement, nodding her head softly. "Thank you— for caring."

Kai blushed deeply, his arms tightening around Cinder. The cold bit at his face and arms, but he was filled with warmth from the inside. He wanted nothing more than to be close to her for the rest of eternity; to feel her warmth.

The duo trudged into the apartment building, anticipation clawing at Kai's skin. He was beginning to wish that he had not initiated a party, but instead gotten to spend an evening alone with Cinder. He wanted to listen to her voice tell him stories, and comfort her through the shadows of her past. He wanted to be with her.

They made it up to Cinder's floor only a short elevator ride later. Cinder was visibly sagging with relief and Kai began to wish that he hadn't thrown her a party for an entirely different reason. Sure it was her birthday, and she was finally getting home, but she looked exhausted.

Kai pulled the apartment room key from his pocket as the couple found themselves in front of the door. He opened the door with misery, knowing in that moment that he had messed up big time.

"Happy birthday, Fire Angel!" Thorne yelled, tossing glitter into the air. Kai had specifically told Thorne to leave the glitter at home, but he had always been a terrible listener. "Only one more year till you're legal!" Kai could have died of shame.

"Happiest of birthdays, Cinder." Iko smiled cheerily, her blue braids tied up in a messy bun. She looked weird out of uniform, but still absolutely gorgeous.

"Happy birthday, Selene," whispered Cress, standing in the shadows of the dark apartment.

Cinder flinched, shoving herself away from Kai as fast as she could. "What is she doing here?" Cinder's tone was indignant, but betrayed.

"I–" Kai stammered, his entire demeanor small and vulnerable. "I thought–"

"What did you do, Kai?" Cinder's face held more betrayal than any ancient biblical kiss ever could. "Why?"

"I thought you might like to see her again, she's your friend, after all," Kai defended, though he wished that she would scream at him.

"I can just go–" Cress stammered, her face pale. Her short blonde hair hung around her face in soft waves, and her clothes were bundled on like as if she were an an arctic eskimo.

"No," Cinder cut in. "I need to go. I have to get out of here. You guys–" Cinder's eyes filled with sadness. It hurt Kai to see her like this. It devastated Kai to know that he had brought this anguish upon her. "I have to go, and I don't want to ever see any of you ever again!"

Cinder stole her crutch back from Kai, and slammed the door closed behind her. Iko rushed out after her, glaring at Kai.

Kai wanted to die. He longed to be cut into a thousand tiny pieces. He wished that Cinder would punch him, kick him, scream at him for doing something so cruel and stupid. How had he not thought this through better? If Cinder hadn't kept in touch with Cress, it must have been for an excellent reason, and Kai had opened old wounds with his foolishness.

"I'm so sorry," Cress sobbed, her blue eyes supernovas of sadness. "I– I thought she wanted to see me again."

"So did I," Kai said. "Don't apologize, Cress. This isn't your fault. I lied to you and Cinder. I shouldn't have ever done that."

"No, no, no," Cress cried, "you don't understand!"

Thorne, who had remained silent since Cinder's leaving perked up. "What? What don't we understand?"

"I should... I should have told you the truth when you came to Olympia." Cress buried her face in her hands. "I know why Selene left, and it's all my fault."

[brideofcthulhu10]

Alright orginally I wanted to do these all in one go, but I figured it'd be easier for me to get them in segments that way you guys get more content. Okay heads up, guys I will be going with my family to the zoo tomorrow so I'm not gonna be posting much that day. I'll try to push something out but no guarantees!

Lost Boys Fem!S/O Gives Birth [1/4]

David

Days pushed into weeks. Weeks to months. Finally, months turn to weeks. Now it was to the point David was getting increasingly impatient. While the due date was up for speculation, 9 months began to tip towards ten. Anxious couldn't even begin to cover it. He wanted his child, he wanted to see their face, most of all he wanted you to stop hurting!

Early mornings of you crying from the sheer aching pains in your back sent him into a tizzy, he couldn't get any sleep while you were in agony. He'd lie beside you in the wee hours of the morning flipping through the stupid pregnancy book Dwayne found for him. 

"A late due date is not uncommon. Your baby will come when they're good and ready," David read to himself out loud laying beside you in bed, his face souring into a grimace. Patience was a virtue he had yet to achieve. "I don't want to wait."

With the prospect of childbirth looming over the two of you he had decided since your first trimester to sacrifice his comfort by sleeping beside you. Originally they had simply housed you in Star’s bed, but due to her wretched half-vampire form she would have no risk if the sun were to catch her. David, on the other hand, would quickly burn to a crisp at the first sign of daylight. Thus, he took it upon himself to search his way through the dismantled hotel until he found the most stable room held together between peeling walls and cave formations, tucked away from any prying light. Holes were sealed up, cracks were filled, your bed even had a canopy of thick black curtains covering it to prevent any stray beams that felt welcome.

Laying beside him you only shrugged your shoulders with a soft sigh, running your hands over your stomach. You had just gotten used to this speech by now. David tried everything to help you go into labor. Weird foods, extra long walks, those stupid exercises, even sex! 

Nothing. Your little one was as stubborn as their father. 

"You know color me crazy," you started to say, petting the platinum blonde vampire tenderly ", but I don't think grumbling at a fetus will make them come any faster."

"Shows what you know." David laid the side of his head atop your belly ready to burst. Carefully he peeled away his leather glove, sliding his hand beneath your shirt. Your skin was warm and taut, stretching to its limits. He had watched the time slip away faster than he expected, and yet somehow it felt not fast enough. When he closed his eyes he could hear the muffled, warped heartbeat submerged below. The momentary peace soothed his soul. He could sense their stirring mind. It was muddied, a cluster of emotions, no thought.

The silence gave you a moment to breathe and savor the tender moments with David until a sharp sting pulled at your abdomen. It spread across the base of your stomach, digging into the small of your back and spreading outward. You nearly recoiled from him with a harsh gasp hissed through your teeth. David sat up immediately.

“What is it,” he demanded, taking your hands into his. “Are you okay?”

It only lasted a minute or two and just like that the ache had faded away. Taking a moment to breath you simply smiled and waved it off. "Relax it's just a cramp," you assured him. “It just caught me off guard is all.”

"I'm not so convinced." He pulled himself to your side. "That's the third time it's happened in an hour, love. They’re getting shorter in between. Are you sure you aren’t in any pain, kitten?." 

You kissed his cheek softly, tucking away a lock of snow that had fallen in his face. "I'll be fine. I promise. Don’t worry about me okay? It’s already gone." 

What you weren’t aware of was that you had spoken far too soon. The discomfort persisted even into the daytime, and David's observation was starting to hold some weight. Earlier that night it had only begun as a slow ache that came once every two hours. But that time had split in half. Then again. Until you were feeling a persisting ache in your muscles that left you gasping for air almost every five minutes. In the late hours of the afternoon you softly awoke still wrapped in David’s arms. Again another pain came and went, this time you had to bite down on your lip to avoid any sudden sounds. Slowly you managed to wiggle out of his grip, hoping another blood bag may be enough to curb your discomfort. It wasn’t a surprise when even motion became a taxing endeavor. Every step weighed heavy on your body, you thought you might have to sit down before you had even left the room. Barely shuffling through the corridors, you had begun to use the walls as support.

You clutched at your stomach, dragging in labored breaths trying to catch yourself against the edge of the lobby fountain when you finally stumbled out. It was too much even to move now, and the reality of the situation was settling in. These weren’t your false contractions that visited you maybe once an hour, if that. There was maybe a minute in between them now. With what little strength you had left, you lowered yourself onto the floor. You couldn’t hold back whatever agonized groans that had previously been stifled, clenching your eyes shut. This was definitely a bad decision on your part.  

Your absence was quickly noticed by David. The bed felt lighter, he could sense some sort of difference in weight and with a tired groan he rolled over to reach you... Where were you? 

At first he lazily ran his hand over the sheets, expecting you to only be a few inches from him. When you proved further than he expected, he began rapidly patting around the mattress. His body began to panic when his fingers still failed to find you, then across the cave he heard an echoed whine. That's when he shot up out of bed from his slumber, looking at the empty space where you should've been. "Y/N," he called out, hearing you scream a second time. "Y/N!!" 

In a frantic dash he swung himself over the bed, nearly flying through until an unexpected obstacle had him skidding to a horrified stop. 

You were clinging onto the edge of the fountain just out of his grasp, the cruel sun enveloping you entirely leaving him to cower in the shadows. Paul and Marko had dove from the cave when they overheard you crying, circling through the dark until they saw David diving into the room just as limited against the ring of fire as they were.

“Y/N, hang on,” Paul called, but the moment his fingers touched the light they burst into flames. Immediately he recoiled with a shriek, grasping at his burnt flesh. There was no way they could reach you. Not until the sun went down. Everything began to hurt at once. GThere was a heavy layer of perspiration coating your skin. You hadn’t even realized your water broke until you could hear it. Like someone pouring out a bucket of water, the ground beneath you now soaked. 

David rapidly paced watching you sob alone against the fountain. What should he do? What could he do?? Just like Paul, he began to reach his hand out to touch the light. Of course it caught aflame and he rapidly shook it to dispel any further burn.

“David please, stay back,” you begged, trying to prop yourself against the concrete edge behind you. The sun proved a worthy adversary to you as well, firmly planting you in place with not an ounce of strength to spare between you and the constant contractions. David steeled his resolve, stepping forward towards you. Your words were falling on deaf ears, even Paul and Marko making a mad dash to hold him in place. With every ounce of strength he had, David tore away- right into the sun. 

Within moments the merciless rays lit his back up into a cruel bonfire. You screamed, sobbing and begging him to go back. Instead he fought to lift you into his arms, dragging his feet through hell. You were clinging to his jacket, unable to watch the look of agony he presented until finally he had collapsed with you in tow into the dark. Marko quickly covered the flames with an old tarp draped over the couches, patting it away as fast as possible. The stench of charred flesh made his nose ache, it was foul. 

Even in his weakened state David dragged himself to your side, pushing away your hair from your burning face. It took everything you had to stay still. There was no doctor here to warn you of when it was safe to push. 

With every passing hour it grew more intense. David had no choice but to feel how dilated you had become. To hell with modesty, if you weren’t ready and you tried to push the baby out you’d both die. He’d read enough of those books Dwayne brought to know what to do. Paul held your hand, helping you sit up in place. He swore you might break his hand, and once if was time you began to panic. Both vampires had to keep you firmly in place while your body began to stretch and tear. Dwayne had finally arisen, bringing in an armful of towels and a tub of warm water. At the suggestion he took over, you rapidly shook your head. It was one thing to have David with his hands up there, so instead he was on cleaning duties. Your screams filled the cave, every room vibrating with the unimaginable pain you felt. It was pushing out, all you could do was cry. All four boys were talking you through it. No one could have really prepared you for this. Stories and films always made it seem like the birth could easily take three hours tops. It had been almost the entire day. Thirteen hours from the contractions to now your labor, clinging to every excruciating minute. You felt like you were dying, everything becoming numb… and then you could hear the first sounds. Coughing and sputtering as fluids were thrown up.

All of you were just silent, David’s face in utter awe. Gently Dwayne handed him a towel, scooping up the blood caked infant now wailing in his arms. Tears spilled over his cheeks, wiping away the muck that hid his precious child from him, utterly speechless.

“Oh… shit dude,” Paul finally spoke, causing a breathless laugh from you. Even David chuckled.

“Well c’mon man don’t keep it a secret,” Marko chimed in, trying to get a peek. God, it was so tiny. Dwayne leaned over David’s shoulder at the newborn nestled against his chest.

“..It’s a girl..,” he asked. David’s nod sent a rush of warmth through you, an uncontrollable wave of tears and laughter spilling from you. Still recovering from his own endeavors into the sun, he handed your newborn daughter to Marko, who in turn, placed her in your arms. Her petit fingers grasped at your shirt, whimpering against your chest.

 “She’s… beautiful,” you hiccuped, utterly breathless. You looked over at your burnt partner trying to recover with a blood pack stolen from the fridge, bits of flesh reviving back into healthy skin. When he could finally recover enough to move beside you, he simply pulled you into his arms, softly thanking you over and over for his beautiful little one. She clung to his hand as it ran over her petite head whimpering until he gently cradled her in his arms once more. A sense of relief washed over you, laying against David's chest barely able to catch your breath. Tonight he would go hunting to recover, and for the first time he wouldn't be bringing back blood for you, but for your newborn daughter.

[rinneganwritings]

Never Far Away; Chapter Seven: Only The Lonely

Word count: 3,053 Summary: Tamako feels a little sad about her encounter with Itachi, but Tsunade tries to cheer her up by telling her that she's not sending her back to the village. Instead, the story of her parents is told and a new threat presents itself. Warning: Mentions of drinking, gambling and possible swearing.

Masterlist

Tamako isn’t sure how to feel as she trails behind Tsunade. While this used to be her ultimate goal, now it seems like an unattainable dream. Tamako always wanted to become a very skilled medical kunoichi, but now she felt like her dreams had been ripped at the seams. Her want to be with Itachi was so strong, it felt hopeless.

“Hey, kiddo, are you still with me?” Tsunade asks, looking back at the young woman.

“Hm? Of course, I’m here.” Tamako jogs a little further, matching Tsunade’s speed.

“Good, cause Shizune and those idiot ninjas we hired should keep your sister and Kakashi at bay for a little while. I need you to keep up so we don’t get caught again.”

Tamako thinks about what this truly means for herself. Did the hokage send Yumiko and Kakashi after her because she is a rogue ninja now or did Yumiko take it upon herself to do so?

“Don’t worry about telling me why you’re on the run. I’ve felt like running from that place so many times, that I just decided to leave and find a new place to call my home. It hasn’t been the best of times, but I do feel like I’ve been able to grow as a person.” Tsunade offers comforting words, but Tamako is silent.

They continue their journey towards a new village, not stopping in the next one that happens upon them. They know they need to continue past even the next two villages, and while it’s going to be a long journey, they also need to make sure Shizune catches up with them.

There was a certain anxiety that was wracking Tamako as they continued on. She didn’t know what to say to Tsunade, and she wasn’t sure if she should explain anything to her. It felt odd to her to have someone by her side who was willing to protect her, even though she felt like she didn’t deserve it.

“You know, your sister is only trying to protect you.” Tsunade says out of the blue. Tamako is a little surprised by this.

“She doesn’t know me anymore,” Tamako announces, and Tsunade can tell there’s some deep wounds there that haven’t healed.

“Is this about that Uchiha? Itachi?” Tsunade asks, and Tamako feels threatened by the fact that Tsunade knows what’s going on.

“How do you even know about that?” Tamako demands to know.

Tsunade laughs softly, “I’ve been in love before. I know what it can do to you. You just want to do what’s right for that person, you want them to have the world.”

Tamako huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She hates that Tsunade is right, but she doesn’t really want to discuss what’s going on. As if Tsunade knows anything about really being in love, it doesn’t seem like she’s with whoever she is in love with.

“I lost Dan. He’s no longer with us, but sometimes, I can feel his presence.” Tears are brimming Tsunade’s eyes, and she shrugs it off so easily when Tamako looks at her.

“What was my mother really like?” Tamako asks, changing the subject. Tsunade smirks a little, knowing what she was trying to do.

“Ahh, Takani was really fun. She could drink just like the men, but she was also very sweet and caring. Kind of like you are, you know?” Tsunade begins explaining.

“I could never imagine my mother drinking. She was always so prim and proper at home when I was younger,” Tamako expresses. Tsunade laughs.

“Wow, she could almost drink me under the table. She had a foul mouth on her, and she fought very well. She was very skilled at ninjutsu, and most of the men in town feared her. She was like a wild one...Until, she fell in love with your father.” Tsunade continues, and now Tamako was listening intently.

“What happened when they fell in love? I’ve always wondered how they ended up together, but Yumiko barely spoke of that story. I wonder if she even knew it at all,” Tamako wonders out loud, and Tsunade smiles.

“Your mother was from a smaller village, but she came to Konoha all fresh faced and ready to fight anyone. She was tough as nails, and a lot of the men really loved her fierceness. She was already a jounin when she moved to Konoha, and her clan was known for being very strong. They didn’t have a kekkei genkai, but they were a force to be reckoned with.”

Takani Kokorotetsu and her clan moved to Konoha when Takani was eighteen. She was a jounin already, and most of the men who knew her wanted to get to know her better. Still, she didn’t care for them. She resented having to move from her little village to some better known village. She resented her parents, who wanted her to marry some rich guy. All she wanted to do was get drunk, gamble and get into fights.

Tsunade and Takani often got together and did just that. Tsunade was relieved to find someone who was just like her, and of course, the two formed a bond that would never be broken. They confided in each other, and when Takani met Nakachi for the first time, the person she gushed to was Tsunade.

Nakachi was from the Shōrihibana clan, who found the Kokorotetsu clan to be just a little too proud and a little too overpowered for their own good. The two clans formed a rivalry that was unmatched, and in all the land, they knew that things were tense between those two clans. Nakachi, who was meant to be the heir of the clan, grew up happy and strong, becoming friends with almost anyone.

When he met Takani, he took to her like a moth to a flame. He was smitten with her fierce attitude, her unmatched foul mouth and her ability to drink like a sailor. She was everything he could hope for and more in a woman. When their parents found out about their budding relationship, they forbade it. It was out of the question that Nakachi should marry someone from the Kokorotetsu clan, who were basically loud nobodies.

Nevertheless, nothing can stop true love, and while they kept things secretive, Nakachi and Takani eloped. Tsunade and Jiraiya both attended the elopement as witnesses, and they never told anyone. Sadly, the news found its way to both clans, and with that, Nakachi and Takani were on their own from then on.

The love between those two never dissipated, and they enjoyed each other as much as they always had until the very day they died.

Tamako turned to Tsunade, tears in her eyes. She had never really known the true story about her parents falling in love. It was bittersweet to think that they had loved each other for that long.

“Yeah, you really do take after Takani. She was wild and she would have done just about anything to be with Nakachi. He was more reserved, but he loved that wild streak in your mother.” Tsunade says, and Tamako stops.

“She was like me, and how I am with Itachi…” she finally says after a moment of silence.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, I’m not going to send you back to Konoha.” Tsunade assures.

“Thank you,”

They continue on their journey, only to be stopped by Shizune, who has finally caught up with them. Shizune is a little frustrated, and most definitely tired. She wishes she didn’t have to be the one to fall behind, but she knew it was important for her to distract Kakashi and Yumiko.

“How did it go?” Tsunade asks.

“Exactly how you wanted it to. Although, it would seem Yumiko is a bit more concerned about her retrieval mission than helping her sister.” Shizune explains, and Tamako can feel her stomach drop. “She was quite forceful and intimidating as well,” Shizune shivers at the thought of how Yumiko was talking to her. It wasn’t what she was expecting to happen, but Shizune did know that Yumiko was really strong.

“Hmm, Yumiko did always take after her father, but there’s no way she wouldn’t be concerned about Tamako. She’s probably bluffing.” Tsunade says, and Tamako feels a little relieved.

“Anyway, the fight didn’t go exactly as planned, but seeing as how Kakashi and Yumiko are both very skilled, I had my doubts about the band of shinobi we hired. Nevertheless, they distracted them for an appropriate amount of time.” Shizune continues.

“Let’s keep going. There’s a small, almost unheard of inn somewhere around here where we can stay for the night, I’ve been there before.” Tsunade explains.

The three women follow along the path, finding it to twist and turn from time to time. Behind some giant trees and some greenery that resembles a hedge maze sits a small inn. There seems to be almost no one around, and Tsunade motions for the two other women to follow her in.

Inside, the vibe is completely changed. There are loads of people walking around in the small lobby, and they all seem like the type that would kill you in the blink of an eye. Tamako feels a little uneasy staying here, but she wants to trust Tsunade’s judgement right now. Shizune grips onto Tsunade’s jacket, yet Tsunade pays no mind to the men in the room.

“One room for the three of us, please.” She says to the host.

Tsunade pays the man, and she retrieves the key from his hands. Tsunade leads them out into the small hallway as the men watch the women.

Inside the room, it’s a bit cramped. There’s a small bathroom, but it’s not very clean. There seems to be a layer of dust on almost everything. The bedroom hardly has any furniture, and the sheets on the bed seem like they’ve been there for centuries. Tsunade tuts in disgust about the room’s condition, and Shizune looks like she might actually vomit.

“Listen, it’s just for a night or two. We need everyone to get off our asses before we even continue on,” Tsunade explains, and Tamako sighs.

Tamako walks over to one of the beds and strips it of its sheets. On top of the mattress, she places her own bedroll. It’s not very ideal, but Tamako hates the idea of having to sleep in sheets that have probably never been washed. It’s no surprise the room is in this condition considering the kind of inn this is. It’s definitely a place that attracts a lot of lowlifes and they don’t seem to care about this kind of thing.

“C’mon, let’s get a drink! There’s a good selection of booze here,” Tsunade suggests, and Shizune rolls her eyes.

Tamako drops her stuff on the bed, hoping they won’t get robbed while they are away. She wants to go drinking, but also, she’s feeling very emotionally vulnerable at the same time. After hearing her parents' love story, she’s feeling sad and just wanting to stay in the room.

“You don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to, kiddo.” Tsunade says to Tamako.

“I think I’ll opt out for tonight…”

❣

Itachi is sitting with Kisame in the Akatsuki hideout. There hasn’t been too much activity lately, and he’s been waiting on some directives from Pain and Madara. Kisame has been making some odd remarks and jokes like usual, and Itachi finds it kind of peaceful to have Kisame as his partner. They aren’t the most compatible, but the fact that they are opposites makes this interesting.

There’s also the fact that Kisame is quite the skilled fighter, but also that Kisame seems to scare almost everyone they encounter. It mustn't be easy being the Tailless Beast, but Itachi can probably think up more than one or two advantages to looking like Kisame does. Besides, Itachi had noticed more than one woman fawning over the shark-man.

“You’ve been kind of distant lately, Itachi. Are you sure you don’t have other plans going on?” Kisame inquires, and Itachi just shrugs.

“It’s not of any importance to what we’re doing here. It’s actually quite personal, but I’d rather not let the two get involved with each other.” Itachi responds. Kisame is instantly curious about Itachi’s personal affairs.

“Oh, personal you say? Would you tell me?” Kisame pleads, and Itachi chuckles softly.

“Kisame, you never fail to make me laugh. It’s nothing really important right now, let’s just wait for our leader to give us more details on our next assignment.”

Kisame pouts and is ready to beg Itachi to tell him what’s been going on, but they are both interrupted by Pain and Madara walking into the hideout. It’s very rare for both of them to visit the hideout at all, much less at the same time. Itachi worries it might have something to do with Tamako leaving Konoha, and he hopes that neither of his leaders have caught wind of this. There’s no telling what could happen if Madara knows about this.

“Itachi, Kisame,” Pain announces their presence. Both men look at Pain attentively, but Madara is quick to steal the show.

“Itachi Uchiha, from Konoha. Have you heard of that young woman who has gone rogue from Konoha? Perhaps you know her...Tomoko, is it?” Madara asks in a silly tone.

“It’s Tamako.” Itachi corrects, and he instantly regrets answering that question.

“Oh, so you do know about her! Perfect! I figured you did, but I needed to make sure before I asked you about her.” Madara says.

“There’s not much to ask about. She’s another rogue ninja from Konoha, it happens.” Itachi explains. He’s not really willing to tell Madara about Tamako.

“Really? And here I was thinking that she might be something special. Well, if there’s not much to say about her, then I guess I’ll drop the subject.” Madara says, and Itachi feels a little relieved.

Pain continues to delegate tasks to both Kisame and Itachi, while Madara begins concocting some plans in his head. He knows something is special about that girl, and with his connections with the Uchihas, he’s heard of Tamako Shōrihibana. Madara knows all about that clan, and about their hated kekkei genkai.

Madara is beginning to realize how valuable someone with such a volatile kekkei genkai could be to the Akatsuki and their plans. Without another thought, he rushes off to find the perfect spy for this mission.

In another room of the hideout, Madara finds Zetsu. It would be so easy for Zetsu to sneak around unnoticed by Tamako or anyone involved with her at the moment. Zetsu looks over to Madara, and makes his way over.

“My faithful Zetsu, I’ve got a proposition for you. I’d like you to follow this Tamako Shōrihibana, and I need you to tell me more about her.”

“Oh yes, we will find out everything there is to know about her,” the white side replied.

“Is she of any use to us, Madara?” the black side inquired.

“The Shōrihibana clan has a very strong but volatile kekkei genkai. The Static Release…if used correctly, it could be very fatal to our enemies. I’d like to look into Tamako’s control over it.” Madara explains.

Zetsu blinks, taking in the information that Madara has given him. It seems like a fairly easy enough job, but Zetsu is smart. With a volatile kekkei genkai in the mix, it could end up badly. He’s going to have to be even more sneaky than most of the other espionage jobs he’s done in the past for Madara.

“Don’t worry about it!” The white side replies.

“She’s no trouble to us,” the black side says.

“I didn’t think this would be troublesome to you at all.”

Zetsu makes his way out of the hideout, trying to decipher where this young woman could be. It’s not going to take him long before he does find her, and no matter what happens, he’ll keep himself concealed before acting out. He’s never acted out on a rash decision before, and it’s not about to happen now.

❣

In the morning, Tsunade and Shizune begin packing up their belongings. Tamako rests on the bed for a while longer, feeling dizzy and dehydrated. Despite wanting to stay in the room last night, she was somehow coaxed into drinking with Tsunade. For a while, it was going well and Tamako was winning lots of money from the gambling she was doing.

Then, she got sick and Tsunade and Shizune had to bring her back to the room. The night was spent nursing Tamako back to health, and while it barely helped, it made Tamako realize that she wasn’t cut out to drink that heavily. There was a point where she felt good, but Tsunade was quick to outdrink her.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. Your mom was like this sometimes, and even yours truly can take it too far.” Tsunade reassures.

Tamako gets up from the bed, and she makes her way towards the shower. Even though it is filthy, she decides it’s better to clean up now than later on during the day when she might be sick or sweaty again. Besides, who knows when they’ll get to shower in an inn again?

After thirty minute, all three women are ready to check out. A few of the men in the lobby have grown a little softer to all three of them, considering the women were all so charming last night.

“We hope to see you soon,” the host tells the ladies.

Once they get to the fresh air of the forest, Tsunade stops them. There’s a tension in the air, but she’s not sure if it’s an impending battle or she’s just a little hungover herself. The leaves rustle in the wind as they all listen and wait.

“What’s going on?” Shizune asks, but Tsunade shushes her. It’s a few more minutes before Tsunade finally lets her guard down.

“It’s nothing. I did feel something just now, but it was nothing.”

The three women grab their belongings and start to make their way towards the little beaten down path that will lead them towards the next village. What they never saw was two eyes blinking at them from the foliage...

[rosarenn]

The Details

What enchants me?

The question feels too big to approach straight on. The answer, I'm sure, is too broad to approach in a single writing session. I'm sure an endless number of things enchant me, and that I will discover and rediscover the details throughout my lifetime.

So the question then is what is one thing that enchants me? What feel approachable to me right now?

Let's imagine an enchanting bedroom. It doesn't need to be mine, and it doesn't need to exist. What are the details that would make a bedroom enchanting to me?

The bed must be in the center of one wall, granting free access from three sides. There must be at least five feet of free space on all three sides, to create a feeling of spaciousness. The mattress must be soft yet firm, lush and comfortable yet still support my body. It must not be so plush that getting in and out is like fighting against quick sand, and it must not be so firm as to leave my hips aching. At least six full sized pillows of varying firmness and thickness must be provided, in addition to as many throw pillows as will reasonably fit on the bed. These must be in a variety of shapes and sizes, and must not be purely decorative, meaning they must be nice to the touch and soft. Cotton or linen sheets must be provided, as well as a feather down comforter. This should be thick and plush, and provide a satisfying weight, yet be lightweight enough to be used even in the middle of summer. It must be a comforter and not a duvet with a separate cover. Pillows and comforter can be white, though colours and prints are also acceptable, but sheets must be a dark, solid colour, such as black or navy. The mattress should be elevated, not so high that it's a struggle for me to get in, but high enough to feel luxurious. It must be either directly against a wall, or if there is a headboard it must be solid - no bars or other shapes that are uncomfortable to sit propped up against. A weighted blanket should also be available. The lighting should be warm and comfortable, and should be dimmable. A directional reading light is a must. A side table must be within easy reach at all times. This must contain a water glass that never empties and always remains at just the right temperature, not too cold and not too hot. The light controls should also be within easy reach from a single place on the bedside table. A Leuchtturm1917 notebook, which never fills up, and a Pentel EnerGel Tradio Pearl 5 mm black pen, which never runs out of ink and is impossible to lose, should always be available. The pen lid either always replaces itself or does not exist, never existed and is unnecessary. A stack of interesting books are also within reach, and I read with the ease, focus, and passion that I did in my childhood. When I snap my fingers the books should read themselves aloud to me so that I can sew or crochet or accomplish some other task while listening. Failing that, someone must be available and happy to read to me.

In the bedroom there is huge bay window with a window seat, padded, as comfortable as the bed and with just as many pillows. Extra blankets are always within reach, as are the contents of the bedside table. Perhaps the bedside table is on wheels. A small tray of snacks appears, with warm croissants (the good kind), salted butter, strawberry rhubarb jelly like my nana used to make (but one of the batches that set properly!), fresh raspberries, green grapes, a few squares of dark dark chocolate. A small bowl of warm water for dipping my fingers, and a cloth napkin, the good kind, the 100% linen kind that really leaves your fingers feeling clean and dry.

There is no TV in this room. My phone does not exist and neither does social media, or at least they are left far behind before entering this room. Cars and planes and trucks and leafblowers and lawnmowers and powertools and anything else I choose are banished from a 1 km radius. The room is maintained at the correct temperature but does not use a noisy central air system. The floor is warmed, perhaps by in-slab heating, so that I don't need to wear socks and my feet don't get cold. When I want some air flow there are windows for a gentle cross breeze. The weather is dry and not humid, the sky is blue and clear with big fluffy white clouds, the kind you can sit and watch for hours as they transform. The day is bright and warm but not too warm (about 26 degrees Celsius is grand) and the nights are cool and crisp but not cold (about 12 degrees is a good low). Somehow I can see both the sunrise and the sunset from the magical picture window.

There is a fireplace, a real wood burning fireplace but with a switch to turn it on and off like a gas fireplace. Failing that little magic trick, someone should tend the fire, and anticipate my needs in the regard. There is also a big bathtub. I want to be able to see both the picture window and the fireplace from the tub, so the tub cannot be confined to the bathroom. It must be deep and wide, with moulded "seats" for comfort. I must be able to lean against the back while the water comes up to my neck. I don't have to fight the buoyancy of the water to remain comfortably in place. There are jets, and they aren't on a timer, they run until I say so. There are bath salts and bath bombs and a thick layer of bubbles that never dissipates before I want it to, and the water always remains the right temperature. There are candles surrounding the tub, and flowers in vases too - red roses, and orchids, and liliacs, and bunches of lily of the valley. I'm surrounded by greenery, vines, ivy. My books are also within reach and waterproof. I can sip sangria and never feel drunk or like I've had too much sugar. The towels are plentiful, plush, and enveloping. They must be the biggest size possible. There is a linen robe waiting for me, white, plush, 3/4 sleeves and the skirt reaching to my lower calves. The robe has a generous overlap, stays in place and does not need adjusting after being tied, and the sash never falls off or gets twisted.

Outside the picture window is a small private courtyard. The double glass doors swings outwards and are framed by sheer curtains, which float in the breeze when the doors are open. The courtyard is surrounded by greenery, likely a hedge, and there is a big old ancient tree and a garden. There's a hammock, and a firepit, and a small creek with a little round bridge over top. There's a little gate in the hedge that leads into the old-growth forest. Wasps do not exist, and neither do biting or swarming flies. Bees don't sting people or fly into their faces. Ants and spiders and flies and moths and mice and squirrels, etc. don't enter homes unless invited, like vampires. The view of the stars at night is incredible; you can see the milky way.

The house has no clocks, no watches, no way to mark the time. Time does not exist here, except as told by the sun and the moon. There is nowhere to be, anyways. We abolished the systems of oppression, exploitation and waged labour long ago, and now everyone has everything they need and we live easeful, joyful lives. Friends and neighbours come to visit, though they never come too early or too late, they never come too often, and they never overstay. I dabble, I create, I write, I forage, I garden, I rest, I play, I dance, I dream.

[bombshellbois]

The Hs Room Together

@harringroveweekoflove

Harringrove Week of Love Day 1: Bed Sharing

Rating: M (for very minor dick content and slurs)

Warnings/Triggers: Use of slurs

Words: 2182

Summary: Circumstances find Steve and Billy stuck sharing a bed during a school trip. As things usually go for Steve, it starts out kind of lame and then gets so much worse. 

There’s an odd number of players on the basketball team. They’re down a man because their main shooting guard broke his stupid arm. So not only are they in a precarious position as far as getting to state, but it makes divvying up the motel rooms really awkward. 

The public school system solution, of course, is to save money and cram 3 people into one room. 

The coach who stuck Tommy H., Billy, and Steve all in one room either has zero awareness of his team, or possibly a really sick sense of humor, because ‘You three are all friends, right? It’ll be fine, there’s probably a couch in there.”

There is not a couch. There are two beds with ugly comforters, a nightstand, and a lamp. Television sets are too fancy for this dump.

“Well since none of us are fags, guess Harrington gets the floor,” Tommy has already announced before shutting himself in the bathroom, probably to use up all of the hot water. And honestly, Steve might just take the floor because it’s been 11 hours on a bus and he’s fucking tired. It’s not like he gets great sleep these days anyway, so the floor can’t really make it worse. 

Billy tosses both their bags onto the empty bed. “I’ve got the shower next.”

“...yeah, fine. I shower in the morning anyway.” Easier to do his hair. Steve frowns and points at the bags. “Are we sharing?”

“Yeah, Harrington, we’re sharing.” Billy digs a pair of shorts out of the bag and tosses them onto the bed. “Problem?”

“No.” Steve has shared a bed with a guy before. Usually with Tommy, actually, since before Billy showed up they used to fall together in the alphabet. There was that one motel where one of the mattresses smelled like piss. And another that Tommy swore was haunted so he wouldn’t sleep alone. Steve vaguely wonders if Tommy still pulls that shit now that he’s usually rooming with Billy. “Just surprised that you’re gonna play the nice guy here.”

“Kinda wanna piss Tommy off, actually.” Billy slaps him on the back. “But it’s cute that you think we’re gonna snuggle.”

Steve ignores the sting in his back. “What’d Tommy do?” Whatever is it, Tommy sure seems unaware of it.

Billy shrugs. “Eh. It’s just hard to respect fag jokes from a guy who’d suck dick in a second to raise his social circle.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong there. And Steve isn’t necessarily against any plan to piss Tommy off. So he shrugs as well. “Alright, whatever,” he says, grabbing his toothbrush and heading for the sinks. 

***

Steve is absolutely expecting the solid 8 minutes of heckling he gets from Tommy for being in the bed while Billy is in the shower. He’s facing the wall where the bathroom is to make it easier to ignore him, and seriously, if the guy would shut up for ten minutes he’d probably be able to fall asleep. Tommy acting like an irate ex-girlfriend lost its novelty and sting a long time ago.

“Really gonna test Billy’s patience over this, Harrington?”

“So desperate you need to cop feels from the team? Has it been that long since Nancy?”

“If Billy beats the shit out of you, then you won’t even look pretty on the bench.”

“If I beat the shit out of him, that would put you on the starting lineup, Hagar,” Billy snaps as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You think I just spent all goddamn day on a bus to tank our chances like that?”

“Hey, at least I know how to plant my feet!”

“Yeah. In the shower to use all the hot water.” Billy whips off his towel and starts using it to dry his hair. “And you used all the goddamn towels. Since when are you such a chick?”

Tommy whines out some reply that Steve doesn’t really hear because he’s trying really hard not to stare at Billy’s dick, even though it’s directly in his field of vision. It jostles lightly with the rest of his body as Billy scrubs at his hair. The blonde curls that start low on his stomach are so much darker than the ones on his head and… Steve finally forces himself to snap his eyes shut. 

There’s a rustle of cloth that Steve hopes is Billy pulling those shorts on. The mattress dips behind him, and then there’s a lot of warmth at his back. 

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Billy says, snapping off the lamp. Steve isn’t sure if that was meant for Tommy or him... probably Tommy since Steve stayed out of their little tiff. But it’s a good idea anyway, and he drops off to sleep without listening for Tommy’s reply. 

***

Steve is still facing the wall by the bathroom when he wakes up. There is no clock in that direction. But Steve’s brain is fuzzy like he’s had a few hours of sleep, and it feels very early. The kind of early that comes well before any sunlight. Going back to sleep would be really nice, but something is wrong. Off. 

Is there any pain? No?

Noise? Just Tommy snoring. The rumble of the air conditioner. 

Movement? No. 

Too hot? There it is. 

The room is sweltering and he can barely move. After a moment, he realizes he’s under both the sheet and the comforter. And there’s a heavy arm on top of him. Steve wracks his brain trying to remember if he did that but... no. Who the hell sleeps under a motel comforter? It’s filthy. He shifts and tries to shove the blankets off, but he’s pinned. Not just by Billy’s arm, but the blankets. They’re wound all the way around him. 

“Billy,” he mumbles, the word clumsy from sleep. “Get off.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Princess,” Billy mumbles, half the syllables lost into the pillow. 

“Too hot.” 

Billy groans. “Oh fuck you. Go to sleep.” 

“Hot.” 

“Is this some weird thing, Harrington? Are you just a slut for body heat?” 

Steve furrows his brow. Goddammit he’s going to have to wake up for this. “What the hell are you talking about?” He feels around until his fingers close around the top of the headboard and he hauls himself out from under Billy’s arm. Cool air hits his face and he pulls in a deep breath of it.  His hair is damp, sticking to the sweat on the back of his neck. The icy air pouring out of the unit mounted in the window turns the sweat cold, and it’s gross that it’s so refreshing. 

It’s dark in the room and Steve can only barely make out the vague shape of Billy laying starfish on the bed, one arm across Steve’s back. “Did you wrap me in this shit?”

“Uh, yeah. I did. Because you kept huddling up to me like were freezing.”

That doesn’t sound accurate. Steve has standards, and Billy meets none of them. Except maybe a few really shallow ones about hair and eyes and general physique. And he’s absolutely not comforting. “Pretty sure I wasn’t.”

“Pretty sure I wasn’t laying here pining to tuck your ass in.” Billy grabs the back of Steve’s shirt and hauls him back down. Steve is too surprised to remember to keep his grip on the headboard, and gets dragged back into the cocoon of blankets. Billy drops his arm back across his shoulders, and this time Steve feels a knee on his back. “Now fuck off back to sleep.”

“I’m sweating my ass off in here,” Steve protests, flailing for the headboard again. Billy slaps his hand away. 

“You survived in there for…” A pause, a creak of bedsprings as Billy turns to see the red, glowing numbers on the clock on the nightstand. “Over 3 hours. You can handle a few more.”

“I might pass out from overheating.”

“All I’m hearing is that you’ll shut up again.”

Steve huffs and shifts his shoulders, testing his range of motion to see if maybe he can unwrap something, but it seems to go all the way around and-

Billy suddenly leans his weight on the arm he has over Steve, and his hand plunges into the mass of blankets. His fingers grope through Steve’s hair and at the back of his neck in a way that makes goosebumps break out on Steve’s arms. Before he can protest (he’s absolutely getting ready to protest), Billy’s fingers close around the back of Steve’s shirt and pull. Steve makes an indignant squawking sound he hopes Tommy didn’t wake up for as his t-shirt is peeled off him. 

“What the hell, Hargrove??”

“Now you’re down one layer. Should cool you off just fine.” Billy tosses the shirt aside and Steve hears it hit the tiles by the sinks. 

“Did you hear how that landed?” Steve protests. To his ears, anyone could hear that it was clearly a gross, drenched splattering sound. “How it was loaded with sweat from me roasting in here?”

“It landed like a fucking t-shirt. If you don’t shut up and go to sleep, I’m coming for your sweat pants next,” Billy says, giving a warning press with his knee. 

Steve pauses and tries to consider if Billy can make good on that threat. He’s going to have a lot harder time reaching Steve’s waistband than he did his collar. He’s probably just bluffing. But… if he tries it, the noises they’re going to make in the battle are definitely going to wake Tommy up. And that’s gonna be hard to explain. 

“Next time you’re pissed at Tommy, share the bed with him. That’d be way more of a punishment,” Steve grumbles, and makes himself close his eyes, figuring he’ll just have to rest them while he waits out the rest of the sweltering, miserable night. 

***

Or not. 

When Steve wakes up again, there’s light creeping into the room. Not a lot of it. Just thin, gray light that makes it possible to see Tommy in the next bed, snoring with each breath. Steve’s head is groggy and he has to remember all over again why he’s wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and sheets. 

He’s not quite as sweltering as he seems to remember, though. Earlier Billy was definitely trying to kill him via suffocation or something, but… everything seems okay now. Comfortable. He shifts a little and pauses. Something is wrong. Different wrong than before. 

“…Where are my pants?” he finally manages through the cotton in his brain. He went to bed with pants on, didn’t he?

“Same place they’ve been since you last started wriggling.” Billy’s voice rumbles right beside Steve’s ear, making him sit up abruptly, as much as his wrappings will allow. This does nothing except confirm his fears that yes, he’s curled up against Billy Hargrove’s side. Shit. 

“You took my pants?” Steve asks, trying to wake up enough to sound indignant. He doesn’t even remember it happening, he couldn’t have been putting up that much of a fight, right? That seems like the more important thing here, not whether or not Steve was trying to snuggle up to Billy. 

“I took a lot more than that, Princess.” 

Uh oh. Steve immediately grasps in vain at his waist for material that isn’t there. Billy smirks and picks up his cigarettes from the side table, slipping one into the corner of his mouth as Steve drops his head and groans. There’s a click of a Zippo somewhere over his head. 

“I get the feeling that pretty face of yours has made things way too easy on you.” Billy pauses to exhale. The smoke wafts down and tickles Steve’s nose through the opening in the top of the blankets. “No one ever handled you like the brat you are.”

“You stripped me naked!” Steve hisses, now suddenly very aware of Tommy sleeping in the next bed. Not that Tommy was a light sleeper, but being quiet seemed super important now. 

“Not for fun, obviously. You’re not in a position for me to enjoy it.” A vague pat to Steve’s side to emphasize his covered state also alerts him to the knowledge that Billy’s arm is around him. “So here’s the deal. It’s just past 5. You sleep another hour and let me have some fucking peace, and I’ll wake you up to get in the shower before Tommy over there hauls his ass up and sees your clothes scattered around.” 

Steve raises his head to glare at Billy, but all he gets for that is a smirk. Billy takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds the filter side to Steve’s mouth in offering. 

“Do we have a deal?”

Steve finds himself straining forward and taking a drag off the cigarette. He holds the smoke in before sighing it out in a long, white breath. 

“Good,” Billy says, not waiting for Steve to use his words. He puts the cigarette back in his mouth, and it bobs lightly with his words. “Go back to sleep, Princess.”

[simp4cas]

It Was Never Us

Masterlist

Dean Winchester × Reader

Chapter 1- Dean Winchester is a Kidnapper

It was the first time that your sleep was dreamless. There was no pain, no death. Just you. It had been a long time since you had a peaceful sleep.

Nightmares were regular to you because of the death and destruction caused by Micheal, the archangel. For the last fifteen years, you'd been fighting against him- not even completing your eleventh grade. But not completing your education had been the least of your worries then.

When the Apocalypse first began with Micheal and Lucifer fighting each other, there was this huge surge of power that fried all of your electronics. Electricity was out, cutting out communication, and at that time, you didn't know that two archangels were fighting each other. It was all pretty quiet from then, only minor earthquakes.

Food and water started to run out and your parents would make supply runs to the store close to your house every two weeks.

Then, the riots began. Hordes of people carrying weapons raided houses and stores for food and water, killing anyone who may stop them. It was then that you noticed real human behavior. Your parents had gone for a supply run and never came back.

Everything pretty much went downhill from there. You had no food in the house and no protection. You would hide in a nook on your roof, afraid that people would break into your house. Eventually, when you came out and left the house, you had been too numb to notice no one on the streets, the debris everywhere.

Fast-forward to fifteen years later, with camps fighting against Micheal and his army of angels. Along the way, you met and lost so many people. Innocent people who had so much of their lives left to them.

You had gone human scouting since you were sick of sitting in boring Resistance meetings and tending to the sick and dying people in camp. It wasn't that you didn't like helping people- your heart just wasn't in it. Lately, you'd been feeling that nothing really mattered anymore.

You and the other people were caught and then they kidnapped Charlie.

Charlie?

Shit, Charlie!

You bolt up in a sitting position, your sleep disrupted by the thought of redhead. Your mind floods with what had happened before- the angels took Charlie to the Northern Camp and left you with another angel. Someone saved you. Some guy wearing layers and another guy in a tactical suit- that honestly made him look like an idiot.

You had accompanied the strange men and gone to the camp, mainly cause they gave you a Glock that was way sleeker than any other gun you'd seen. You frown, remembering what Layers- you didn't remember his name- said to you. Something about them being from an alternate universe and you being dead there. As much as you wanted to believe them, you didn't have the liberty of bringing your hopes high.

A world without Micheal? The first time you imagined a world like that, it had been brought you to tears. A few years later, it was pretty obvious that the humans were losing the war against the angels and it was pretty obvious that all of you were going to die. So the next times you visualized it, you showed no trace of emotion on your face.

You bring your hands up, cradling your head as the memories flood faster and faster. You guys broke Charlie out from the camp but you had been hit in the frenzy of all the people shooting at the angels. Before everything went black, you remembered looking down at your hands dripping with your blood, staining the white snow and your clothes, Layers and Charlie running towards you.

You finally open your eyes, your heart beating quickly in your chest. Your hand immediately goes to your side, where you'd been shot and you feel nothing. It's didn't pain at all.

In a span of 30 seconds, you lifted your dirty gray tank top up to look at your smooth skin and scanned the room you were in.

It was- to you- beautiful. The walls were made with red bricks, only half of it cemented. There was a wooden table to the side with a few books that looked new- no damage or burns. The bed you were on- God, the bed you were on was heavenly. Not the tattered with springs-sticking-out mattresses or the uncomfortable hammocks at camp. It was an actual, comfortable-as-hell mattress on a bed. You scoff in disbelief, lifting the clean white sheet off you.

Wherever you were, it wasn't a camp. Couldn't be one. Either the angels kidnapped cause who knows the luxuries they kept to themselves. You hadn't seen a place that wasn't raided or had at least a few bullet holes in the walls in a long, long time.

What happened after you blacked out? And did Charlie actually leave you?

You scoff, shaking your head. She was one of the people you would give your life for- and that was saying a lot. You couldn't jump to conclusions. Not until you figured out where you were. You feel light-headed for a second as you swing your body of the bed, stretching your toes onto the hard wooden floor.

Your eyes scan the room for weapons, finally setting onto the lamp on your bedside table. You yank the plug out and wrap the wire around the stem of the lamp, widening your eyes at the weight of it. Cautiously, after eyeing the room one more time, you turn the doorknob, surprised to hear it click and open. That was strange. If it was angels that kidnapped you, why would they leave the door unlocked?

The hallway extended to your sides, with simple white walls half-covered with gray tiles. It was a huge place with at least 10 doors in the walls. You raise your eyebrows, wondering how big the place would be.

The floor was cold under your bare feet and you growl in anger. They took your shoes!

With your blood pounding in your ears you pass every door, fearing that one would open and an angel would walk out. You pass an archway that led to what looked like a kitchen with a small dining table, an island, a stove, and a few metal cabinets with black handles on them.

Your body tenses when you hear people speaking in the next room. You try slowing down your breath. You shouldn't be checking it out- if it was an angel, you had no weapon to kill it. But your legs moved on their own accord to the right.

You walk into a room that had a huge table in the middle with a map of the world on it. A few control panels were towards the side of the walls, with bright buttons and dials. It connected to a library and by the looks of it- and a huge one- lavishly decorated with leather chairs and weapons like swords and katanas. In front of you was a black staircase, leading up to a balcony that overlooked the room.

There were two men in the library. A man wearing a tan coat had his back facing you and to his left was another man with tall hair, wearing flannel. Who wore flannel anymore?

"Hello boys," a woman's voice speaks in a Scottish accent and you frown, tensing up more. Were there three people? But it sounded muffled- like she was speaking from a walkie-talkie.

Or a phone.

No, that wasn't possible. All the phones had gotten fried and only a few of them had been salvaged.

"I'm very sure I've done nothing that you know of to make you want to call but so good to hear from you," she continues in a silky voice as ripples of music play in the background- a piano and a harp.

Where were you?

"Rowena, that's not- um- we-"

"You have to speak up," the woman cuts the flannel dude as he leans back in his chair, sighing. You take a small step back, hoping he didn't see you.

"We need your help," another man says in a deep voice- a voice that was familiar to you. Your frown deepens and your heart beats faster as you try placing that voice.

"Really?"

"We must assemble our most powerful allies to save our family and confront the archangel Micheal," the man pauses. This voice was monotone and it definitely wasn't the flannel dude speaking since you could see him. So that meant that there was another man in the room. The man who asked for help- you couldn't see him from where you were. He was probably hidden by the huge beam that led the 'battle' room to the library. "Now, he's from an alternate universe so..."

Alternate universes? Another Micheal? Who spoke that bullshit to you last. Layers. Shit, did he kidnap you or something?

"Oh, the handsome angel is there, isn't he? Hello, cutie pie!"

The man in the coat stands straighter and you assume he was the 'handsome angel'. You swear inwardly. There was an angel here. You should be searching for a weapon to kill him but you remained standing there, listening to the conversation and trying to place that goddamned voice.

"Oh... Hello."

"Lads, obviously I ought to help after what you- Sam did for me but I'm in the damn North Pacific West right now working on my own little project."

"Project?" the man you couldn't see asks.

"What project?"

"Oh, nothing about you to worry about. Just checking off items from my little 'to-do' list."

"Sure, that doesn't sound ominous."

"Rowena," Flannel starts off, "are you at a party... or something?"

"I am but I'm surprised you recognize the sounds of a party since how you're all work and no play."

"We didn't call to talk... Look, the world is in danger, Rowena," the unseen man sighs.

"I'm currently surrounded by art that makes me think the world should be in danger. Best of luck to you boys, my three little Musketeers," she cuts the call after making a 'muah'.

"Damn it."

"You know, she's right. You never go to parties."

Great. All you got to know was that they were talking to a Scottish woman named Rowena who may or may not be evil and that they never go to parties?! There had to be something else-

The scraping of a chair against the wood makes you inhale sharply and hold the lamp closer to your body.

"I'm going to check on Y/n," the gravelly-voice says again. You freeze up but take the chance to step forward and confront them. Something like in a movie- timing and all.

You step out from behind the wall and freeze when you see the man walking down the stairs of the library, head inclining up to look at you.

The same green eyes of the man that saved you from the angel on the bridge. Not knowing his name, you frown, swearing at your forgetfulness. You didn't think knowing his name would be important!

"Layers?"

~

"I will not sit!" You say loudly, the lamp still extended. Dean- he told you his name after frowning at what you called him- looks down at your 'weapon' and you shake your head.

"That lamp won't do much," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up," you say and look at the man in the tan coat who stood in the library, the furthest from you, looking at everybody uncomfortably. "Why are you with an angel? And- and who's he?" you ask, looking at the freakishly tall man who stood behind Dean.

"This is my brother, Sam. That's Cas- he's our friend. You can trust him," Dean reassures and for a second, you wonder why you weren't killing all of them.

"I can assure you I will not hurt you," the angel- Cas says and you shake your head.

"I don't need an angel's assurance. All you guys do is take and take." Your voice cracks slightly and you turn to Dean who looked at the exchange between you and the angel. "Where have you brought me? Where's Charlie?"

"Y/n, just sit down-"

"Dean," Sam cuts his off and you look at him, feeling tears pool at your eyes. You quickly blink them back, not allowing yourself to feel any fear. You would get out of whatever place this was.

Dean stops talking and looks at his brother. "Look," he sighs and looks back at you, "you were dying there and I had to save you. Your camp was too far and you were bleeding out too fast."

You frown, waiting for him to continue, warily glancing at the angel again. He looked almost sad. But that impossible. Angels were ruthless killing machines and they didn't care about anyone other than themselves.

"We're in a world without Micheal, Y/n. You're safe here."

"A world without Micheal," you scoff and look at the three, trying to spot the crack in the lie. But Sam and Cas looked at you with sincere expressions and Dean- well, every time he looked at you, there was something in his eyes- something that made it look like he didn't want to look at you at all.

"A world without Micheal," Sam says this time in a reassuring voice. "Cas healed you up when you came. You're safe here, Y/n," he continues, furrowing his eyebrows and making puppy dog eyes.

"It's actually a world without Micheal," you scoff again, your heart soaring in your chest. "A world- a world without Micheal. That was a phone in your hand," you say, now smiling ear to ear, laughing. "It's a world without Micheal!"

"Yeah," Dean says, a judging look on his face.

Your smile falls, though, as quickly as it came. "What about Charlie? And the others?"

Dean looks down. "She wanted to stay back."

Guilt brings your heart down, making it beat erratically. You shouldn't even be here. You should be there with Charlie and the others like Bobby and Tyler.

"Wait, you only- no. No, no, no. They need me there," you say as your eyes dart around the room. They finally settle on Dean. "You need to take me back."

A world without Micheal. A world where you could live peacefully, not having to live in constant fear all the time, worrying when the angels would attack again. A world where angels were apparently good. A world where you could be happy. But not living in a world with the people you loved and cared about... You were willing to throw away the perfect world for them.

"We can't," Cas says in his monotone voice this time and just him speaking irritates you. You shouldn't be rude to the angel since he was the one who saved you- it still surprised you that an angel did that- but it was just instinct.

"What do you mean you can't?" Your irritation seeped into your voice, earning a slightly surprised look from Sam and Dean.

"The ingredients we need to open the door," Sam continues, glancing at Dean, "we don't have them right now."

Your eyes widen and your mouth hung but you quickly shut it, clenching your jaw. "You brought me here," you speak, voice getting louder with every word, "with no plan of taking me back?"

"Y/n, it's not like that," Sam says but you shake your head, just wanting them to stop talking.

"How do I know you're not lying- that I'm actually in an alternate universe?" You look at Dean, with your brows knit together as a smile graces his lips.

Tags: @bi-danvers0

[zayneternal]

《 ac·qui·es·cence 》

summary ↠ It’s the third year in a row that Yoongi has tried--and failed--to win the favor of your father at the annual family dinner party. He’s always reassured you that being snubbed by your family members in the name of pride doesn’t faze him. While you have faith in his thick skin, this year, yours wears a little too thin.

genre ↠ angst. fluff. member ↠ min yoongi warnings ↠ themes of familial dysfunction ((pm’s are always open if you wanna talk. I know it may seem small in these fics, but I’ve been there and it runs deep, bbys. <3)) word count ↠ 2.4k

moodboard by @jiminspjm || the only pal who lets me ask so much of them without ever ceasing to smile

~

There are three tender raps against your bedroom door.

“...Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice filters softly through the wood, waiting a few moments for a reply that doesn’t come before gently turning the knob and pressing himself into the dark space. “Y/N.” 

He strides a few more cautious steps into the room, eyes squinting to adjust to the dusk until he can just make out your curled form hidden under the comforter on the far side of the bed. His expression softens at the sight of you, movements faltering at the edge of the mattress as his feet shuffle, fingertip trailing along the fabric of the sheets, trying to gauge his next move. 

“Baby, are you still awake?” he wonders in hushed tones, leaning forward a fraction of an inch. A few beats of silence pass while Yoongi waits in itching anticipation, his gaze pinned to the space between the top of the comforter and the cascading mess of your hair where there’s just a peeking of the smooth curve of your neck. 

Just before he’s about to try again, a sigh heavy behind his lips, the covers shift, your body adjusting with reply as your head resettles on the pillow. “Yeah.” Your voice is tinier than usual, a soft squeak of its normal self.

“Oh,” Yoongi breathes, a mix of relief and surprise, not expecting you to verbally answer. His eyes stutter to where his fingers are still tracing odd shapes against your sheets as he attempts to collect the most prudent thoughts milling around his head. Another beat of silence has him catching a shallow breath, recognizing that waiting it out probably won’t lend a different circumstance. “Hey, so I know what happened down there was...a lot, and I get it if you just want to be alone for tonight.” His tone is soft and generous. “I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay before--”

Yoongi’s eyes widen with parted lips as your shape suddenly rearranges itself, the ruffling sheets cacophonous compared to the stillness of you a moment ago. His heart feels like a vice has been released when the image of your puffed and sweet face rises from the blankets with the turn of your shoulders, though the obvious taxation and weariness worn under your eyes sends an ache through his muscles. 

Yoongi watches with caught breath as you yank back the comforter from under his fingertips, opening the side of the bed your body doesn’t occupy. During the briefly dazed moment that Yoongi attempts to blink away, you grow impatient and cold, reaching out and ensnaring his slender wrist amidst your chilled digits and tugging gently until Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, searching.

“Come here,” you plead quietly, your expression so heavy that it turns his empathetic, his chest pounding as he follows the will of your hand, lifting his body--still clad in his slacks and now-loosened dress shirt--onto the mattress next to you.

The fit of your forms is natural and pulled with longing as your hands tumble around under the sheets searching for his narrow waist while he situates himself against the headboard, using one hand to barricade the both of you back under the sanction of the covers. You quickly find his form curved around yours and readjust your position until you’re half straddling him, your head against his chest, leg wrapped loosely over his strong thighs while the rest of your body lays flush and easy against his side. 

You wiggle suddenly, mewling in protest when you don’t feel his hands come to your aid while above, Yoongi is staring down at your unaware person with wide and adoring eyes, chocolate hew sparkling with contended surprise at your sudden welcoming. A stupid half-grin is tugging at his lips as he takes you in, warm and present against him, still oblivious to the way his hands are hovering oddly next to him until you wiggle once more. “Yoongi,” you call quietly, your tired tone breaking towards the end, clearing his catharsis.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m here,” he assures quickly, grinning fondly at the crown of your hair as he moves his hovering hands to you, one holding your pleasantly puffy cheek fast against his chest while the other slides under the layer of sheets until it finds the hem of your shirt. Dexterous fingers gently tug until a small patch of your warmed skin is exposed where he begins to draw various odds and ends in that calmingly familiar way you’ve always loved when you’re tired or upset. He feels you sigh into him at the touch. 

Yoongi waits a few more moments in the bliss of silence, the only sound emanating from the billowing trees and distant street cars roaring outside your cracked window. It’s a pleasant few minutes, but Yoongi knows he needs to at least press the matter once tonight before allowing these minutes to continue or else he won’t feel completely at peace after everything that happened not even an hour ago a floor below where you lay. He braces himself to speak, breathing in through parted lips, but you surprise him once again tonight by beating him to the punch.

“I don’t care what he says about us,” you state, your voice hoarse. “What any of them said.”

Yoongi purses his lips, already knowing that isn’t a completely true statement which only makes his chest clench in your stead. “You don’t?” he presses gently, watching as you shake your head against him. “You’re fine leaving tomorrow with everything that was said between you and your family at dinner? You and your dad?” 

There’s more hesitation this time, but you nod slowly. 

“You told him you were never visiting again, baby. That’s a pretty serious thing to say.” Yoongi keeps his tone as gentle as possible, hushing breathy kisses against your head with soft lips every few words. 

“I know what I said,” you defend feebly, your voice small. 

Yoongi thinks for a moment, pondering the best thing to say to you. “Y/N...it’s me your parents have a hard time liking. They love you. I would never want your relationship with them to suffer because you feel like you have to take sides in all this. There are no sides. They’re your family.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Yoongi can’t help but snort at your blunt reaction, always straight to the point even if you’ve missed it. He feels your hand fist the material of his dress shirt over his chuckling stomach as it comes to a still. “No, of course not, you irrational nut.” 

Now you’re the one snorting. “Did you really just call me a nut?”

“An irrational one.”

You’re grateful for the way Yoongi always seems to be able to make laughter the star in these little moments, savoring the gaps in the heavy without you even noticing they’ve come. You’ve never been able to stay upset around him for long, which only makes you want to squeeze his waist a little tighter upon reminiscing. 

“Breaking up is an implausibility at this point. You’re stuck with me,” Yoongi continues, readjusting the wrap of his arms for a moment so he can squeeze your shoulders in a bear hug against him allowing you to hide your smile. 

“Damn it, so even if I wanted to listen to my parents, I’m trapped, huh?” 

Yoongi wants to carry on with the playful banter you’ve entered into, but your last comment reminds him of what you’re not addressing quite yet and the reason why he’s lying with you in the first place--well it’s a reason.  An important one.

“You’re not laughing. Laugh,” you urge the boy who’s gone silent, poking him in the tummy once before he gently takes your hand captive within his, lacing your fingers together until you’re shifting your face to look up at his with a wondering expression to pair with the thoughtfully troubled one he sports.

“I just want to make sure you’re not going to regret anything,” he whispers earnestly, his dark irises searching yours with intention. You suddenly shift, detaching yourself from his canvas and sitting up, gathering your knees to yourself until you’re half-turned to Yoongi, staring back at him with a similar intensity driven by a different motivation. 

“I don’t regret being with you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” 

“That’s what they’re asking.” There’s an edge to your voice.

“There are ways for us to work and not burn bridges with your family. There can be respect even for what someone doesn’t approve of. It’ll just take time. Patience.”

“It’s been three years, Yoongi. How much longer are we supposed to wait before they see what I see? Before my dad realizes you’re the best thing that could’ve walked through his front door? Before my second aunts stop trying to set me up with every ‘family friend that just graduated from medical school’ or ‘next in line to inherit the family business’? Hmm? How long am I supposed to keep coming back here with you hoping for something to be different when it only ever gets worse? They pretend like you don’t even exist half-the time, Yoons...” 

Yoongi’s heart stretches against the confinement of his chest as he watches your face fall to the bend of your knees, eyes creased closed with a tension that speaks volumes and a rapid voice that‘s breaking more by the word. He leans forward from his place against the headboard, hand extending to cautiously trail fingers along the curve of your shoulder, trapping stray pieces of hair between his digits. 

“Are you doing this for you or for me?” 

At his words, your body is twisting again, coming to fully face him, your head burying itself into his shoulder as your arms wrap around his neck. Yoongi sighs sadly, gently tucking you under his chin and cradling you to him as he settles back, your tumbling words all the answer he needed. “You know they’re wrong, right? You know that you’re good enough. You’re more than good, Yoongi. You’re more than enough for me. For anyone.” 

“But not your dad, right? I’m not enough to him.” He can hear the sniffles start spilling into his neck and understands, now, maybe what you don’t fully understand yourself. 

“Why can’t he just love you like I do?” you cry, squeezing Yoongi tighter, your body trembling. Yoongi struggles to stay composed himself as he witnesses your emotions on display. You pull away enough to see his face, his expression grieved when he takes in your wrecked features: red eyes streaming with salted tears that leave your skin stained, cheeks sore and swollen from attempting to control the downturn of your quivering lips, and everything shaking with the torment that’s now escaping. Your brows are worried and confused in their foldings as your hands come to cup both of Yoongi’s cheeks, soft thumbs padding across the skin while your eyes map his face.

“Why can’t he feel how warm you are to touch and how sweet you are to hold? Why can’t he see into this big, beautiful mind and share the endless dreams and ambitions like I do?” Your smile is warped with sadness as you run your hands through his hair. “Why can’t he just let me love you? He’s making it so hard.” 

Yoongi’s chest heaves as you weep before him, your throat tensing with broken wails attempting to be stifled by the back of your hand. His own eyes water at the sight of your muscles clenching all over your body in an effort to release the emotional buildup inside of you somewhere without anywhere that satisfies. His heart breaks as he watches yours do the same, your insides twisting with impassioned chaos as three years of investing hope into the one man you wanted approval from the most still couldn’t meet you half-way. Your too-big heart was too-full from loving your father to walk away so easily from something you wanted so badly to be at peace between you both. It was as if a rift was continually tearing its way through this part of your life, and the bigger it got, the less you knew how to navigate it with a smile. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what else to say right now, so he just reaches out for you, hands gripping the forearms thrown in front of your face as you sob and latching you to his chest so tightly he can feel all of your internal pressure releasing in him. Your fingertips don’t hesitate to grip like iron into his upper arms, wrinkling the fabric hung there in their attempt to solidify his presence before you, but he promises he isn’t going anywhere. Your face wets his chest like there’s no tomorrow and he welcomes it, pressing the back of your head securely to the safety of his haven while you crawl into his lap, curling your legs around his waist like a child and holding on for dear life. Your cries settle into a fractured rhythm, wrecked sobs cracking from a dry throat over and over, streams of uncontrollable tears spouting down your face, over the hills of your cheeks, and around the valley of your lips while mucus befriends every orifice in the vicinity until eventually--it stops. 

You hiccup the last of your explosion into the darkness. Where once your arms had the strength to hold to Yoongi, they now hang limply at your sides. Your face, red, swollen, and raw, is twisted to one side, your cheek squished against Yoongi’s shoulder while your gaze fixes with an exhaustion to the view of the city lights in the distance of your window pane. Your knees are bent to either side of his lap still, and one of his hands sits there atop your thigh, smooth palm massaging thick circles into your flesh. His other hand acts as a belt along with his arm around the curve of your waist--the only thing holding you upright against him for lack of any energy left in your limbs. 

“I love you,” his toffee-colored voice swims into the air, the sound a divine contrast to the previous wails echoing around the walls. “So much, Y/N.” The heavenly feeling of his lips finds the crown of your head, sponging light and solicitous pressure to various spots. “It’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay.” He continues to rub soft reassurance against your thigh, fingertips squeezing. 

You say nothing, only nodding slowly against his shoulder, your eyes still transfixed on a passing car in the distance. 

“We’ll apologize in the morning, yeah? Try again next year.” 

You swallow dryly, taking a ragged breath that sends a decent hurt through your chest before surging the remnants of your energy to gather your arms back around Yoongi’s neck. Your fingers find a small comfort in the soft fronds of hair at the nape.

“....yeah. We’ll try again.”

There’s a contented sigh laced with affection and relief that expels from above you followed by the refreshing sound of Yoongi’s snort. “That’s my nut.”

~