#how can I stay sane over this drop dead gorgeous man

[preciousqiqi]

230907 Cheng Yi Studio weibo update

[sinner-as-saint]

when no one is around.

Butler!Steve x Reader AU

Run-through: You have had a shameless crush on your butler, Steve, ever since your parents hired him. And you’re even more shameless when it comes to showing it. Poor Steve always has to put up with you no matter what. He didn’t have much of a choice; mainly because he was in charge of your household, consequently, in charge of you but also because he likes you, even though he shouldn’t. Yet he always resists you and your charms, for multiple reasons. However, the man finally breaks and gives in to you, following some unholy circumstances… 

Themes: age gap, smut, masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight daddy kink, bratty!reader, dom!Steve, daddy!steve, fluff, Butler!Steve, angst

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s voice, like you did every morning. 

“Miss, it’s past eight thirty. If you don’t wake up now, you’re going to be very late for work and your father will not be thrilled.” 

You groaned and tried to hide under your blanket knowing that that would buy you at least another minute or two. And it did. A couple of minutes later you heard Steve sigh. 

“Miss, will you please just wake up?” 

You peaked from under your blanket and stared at the eye candy standing right beside your bed in a white shirt, black tux with a bow tie and white gloves. You couldn’t understand how he was a butler when he belonged on the front cover of a magazine. Tall, handsome and older. Just your type. 

“Can’t you be a little more loving, Steve? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss or flowers or something romantic like that.” You teased, sitting up in the middle of your bed and stretching your arms and ignoring the way your thighs clenched together at the sight of him.  

He stood there watching you, trying his hardest not to stare while fighting back a smirk. “That would be highly inappropriate, Miss.” 

You sighed, reluctantly getting out of bed and stood right in front of him. “What’s highly inappropriate is you having the nerve to look like that all the time.” You took the liberty of leaning in and pressing yourself against him. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Do you have any idea what it does to me? Do you know how bad I wanna just-” 

He gently pushed you away. “No.” He shut you up softly. “Now be quick, you have little time. Breakfast and your car will be waiting downstairs in thirty minutes.” 

You rolled your eyes at him and rushed into your bathroom. As you got ready, you thought of the past almost six years. Steve has played a huge part in your life. 

You still remembered the day your parents announced that they had hired a butler who would handle the household better since they were always away. It was important to have someone to look after you too, given you were the only one who lived in the big, empty house most of the time. 

And in walked Steve, straight into your home and your heart. Upon hearing the name ‘Steve Rogers’ you had expected an older gentleman, much older. But then upon seeing Steve for the first time, you were swooned. Totally whipped at the sight of the muscular, suave and drop dead gorgeous man. Brownish blond hair, blue eyes, dashing. He carried himself with elegance. Just his gait was enough to make your heart go all crazy. 

You remember thinking to yourself, how the hell would you be able to stay sane with a man that gorgeous around you all the time? Obviously you knew you had a crush on him since the very start. But as the days went by, that meaningless crush morphed into something a little more solid without you even knowing. 

You liked Steve, more than you intended to perhaps. Unfortunately, for him you were just his masters’ daughter. He dodged every attempt you made at flirting with him. He always let you down gently though; always with a smile or a smirk or a soft look in his eyes. 

And the more he pushed you away, the bolder you got. And you began hearing these phrases more frequently;

“Miss, this is highly inappropriate.” - Whenever you shamelessly flirted with him. 

“Miss, I am too old for you.” - Which wasn’t that big of an issue for you personally. He wasn’t old, old. He was in his early forties and you were in your twenties. You knew people with age gaps bigger than that who were happy together. 

“Miss, for the love of God, behave.” - your personal favorite. 

You never crossed the line though. You sure did tease him a lot, day and night. But he always kept his calm and composure, never breaking. Although there were times when he almost did. 

Like the time you were getting ready for a party and you needed some help with your dress. You called out for him and he appeared in your bedroom instantly. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam your half exposed body. 

“Can you zip me up?” You stood in front of your mirror, your back exposed, waiting. That was the first time he seemed really nervous around you. He walked up to you and zipped up your dress, slowly, taking his time. His soft, white gloves lazily grazed your skin while he pulled the zipper up, leaving goosebumps behind on your skin. He stood behind you for a moment or two, just staring at your reflection with his lips parted after he was done. “How do I look?” you asked, mischief in your eyes. 

He swallowed audibly. “Beautiful.” 

Then there was the time when you felt really bold and wore a see-through white, oversized t-shirt over some bright red underwear while parading around the house casually going about your day. Steve saw you and almost dropped the tray he was carrying. 

“Oh hi Steve.” You smirked when you caught his gawking for a moment or two. 

He recovered and peeled his eyes off you, looking down at his shoes before looking back up at you with a defeated look in his eyes. “Where are the rest of your clothes might I ask?” 

“In the laundry bin.” 

He sighed. “I had fresh laundry sent to your room just this morning.” 

“They’re all dirty.” 

“All of them?” he sounded frustrated. Not necessarily because of the topic of discussion but because of your rather scandalous appearance; sprawled on the couch carelessly while dressed like that. You knew just how to make a man lose his mind. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

You pretended to think for a moment. “I soiled them while painting this morning.” 

“You don’t paint.” He knew you were lying, being a brat as usual. 

“I started this morning.” 

He sighed, allowing his shameless eyes to take you in one last time before he walked away shaking his head mumbling under his breath about how you were incorrigible. You made it hard for him to go about his day in peace with your little antics, in more ways than one. 

Then there was the very famous: “What would you like for breakfast today?” he’d ask almost every morning. 

To which you replied, “You.” on a daily basis and it earned the same reaction out of him each time. He’d roll his eyes at you, resisting the urge to have indecent thoughts as best as he could. 

Steve was torn between wanting to be strictly professional and wanting to give in to your relentless attempts of seduction. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t into you, or had never had an immoral thought when it came to you. 

He thought of you all the time, mainly because his job required him to but also out of genuine concern for your well-being. You were a kind, smart, courageous and beautiful young woman - or rather you could be all this when you weren’t being a brat. Steve had seen the kind of dedication you put towards your work; while handling a huge chunk of the family business. He always admired you for how well you managed the burden your parents placed on your young shoulders. 

He sometimes caught you letting out tears of frustration when the stress got too much. Or when you missed your parents because they barely ever came home. You basically lived alone here, in this big, empty house your parents owned. Steve often wondered what would happen to you if he wasn’t here to take care of you. He liked you, a lot. But there were factors which didn’t let him reciprocate what you felt for him. 

First being his job, then his age, then the fear of your parents finding out and what they would do to him if they did. Besides, he thought, you were young. Young people feel things for people left and right without ever truly meaning it, correct? 

Though that never stopped him from feeling the tension that exists between the two of you. Fiery, hot, burning; it was always there. Even when there were other people around, or when your eyes met for a brief moment. Even on days when you weren’t being a little brat, when you weren’t seeking his attention all the time, even then he couldn’t ignore it. It was there, present loudly. 

This flirty, tension filled bond between the two of you remained constant for years. But it wasn’t always just inappropriate and sexual. Steve had been a friend, a confidant, a good listener to you more times than you could count. 

With your parents always gone, and you having to bear some of the burden of your parents’ companies, it left you with little to no time with friends and family at all. Some you unfortunately drifted away from due to work, others just stopped reaching out or simply refused to understand your busy lifestyle. 

But the one person who was always there for you, always fiercely loyal and constant; no matter how much of a brat you were, no matter how much you annoyed him all the time, no matter how dirty your jokes were, was Steve. Naturally, you unknowingly fell for him at some point - despite knowing that this would go nowhere.

Or would it? 

-

Your daily routines barely changed. It always started and ended the same way. Steve would wake you up, you would annoy him a little, get dressed and ready for work, get to work, go to lunch with your assistant almost every day, get back home, annoy Steve a little more until he leaves. Only for him to come back the next day and repeat. 

The days you hated the most were Steve’s off days. Fridays. 

With him not around, your days weren’t as animated and fun. No one to tease, no one to be a brat to, no one to annoy. Your other staff members were great, but none quite like Steve. 

So Friday, you turned in early for the night. Your housemaids and everyone else had already left so it was just you in an empty house. You tried reading, then got bored. TV wasn’t really helping either. 

You tossed and turned in bed until you realized what was wrong; you were feeling frisky. You groaned, if only you had someone to take care of those needs of yours. More precisely someone with bronde hair, blue eyes, and a taut, muscular body which was always found under a crisp black tux, white shirt, black bow tie and white gloves… and a voice which made you feel things you hadn’t felt before. 

As you thought of your sexy butler, your hand found its way in between your legs. Your other hand toyed with your breasts; fingers pinched your erected nipples as your back arched off the bed slightly. You sighed in pleasure. 

Your flushed, naked body writhed on the silky, cool satin sheets as your fingers toyed with your wet folds. You moaned as your two fingers slipped inside your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already. 

You moaned at the thought of a certain pair of blue eyes, and soft lips as your back arched off the bed again, the cold air mercilessly hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further. Your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you; your fingers ever so gently stroking your walls making every nerve of yours tingle. The palm of your hand rubbed against your sensitive clit over and over again as your moans got louder and louder. 

What you didn’t know, was that hidden in the shadows just outside your partially open bedroom door, stood Steve. Lips parted, short breaths, heart racing, his blood rushing downwards as he watched you. He was too aware of everything; his body and yours, his immoral thoughts and your own, how your lust and hunger ignited him. Aware of your soft moans, and the fire in his loins. 

He felt guilty, and very ashamed of himself as he took in your bare body. But he couldn’t stop looking. He was entranced; hungry just to have a taste. He begged his body to move away from your doorway, but he didn’t budge. It wasn’t like he was purposely peeping or being a creep. 

It was his day off, and yet he dropped by for a casual check, like he had the habit of doing even on days when he wasn’t working because he still had to make sure you were alright. But normally when he dropped by, your bedroom door was always shut so he knew that you were fast asleep. 

But today, he found soft, golden light coming through your bedroom. He had to make sure you’re okay but then he saw that the door was almost halfway open, and he investigated further and saw something he wasn’t supposed to. You. Naked on your bed. Touching yourself. And now, he couldn’t look away. 

His cock was throbbing at this point and it was difficult to ignore it. He shamelessly drank in the sight of your naked body against the silky sheets. The way your back arched off the bed, the way you bit your lip to hold back your sinful moans, the way he could just tell that your shorts breaths would feel so warm against his skin… fuck, he had goosebumps and a shiver danced down his spine. 

He begged himself to slowly walk away, and he almost did. But then he heard you moan his name. And he lost his mind. 

“Steve… daddy, please…” you mewled, whimpering under your breath as you took yourself higher and higher. 

Steve froze in place, he had never known his name could sound so gentle and vulgar at the same time. He was almost panting as he let his sinful eyes roam your naked body, and he wasn’t even being stimulated in any way, just the sight of you and the sound of your voice was bringing him on the edge. 

He was a mess. 

He could just walk into that room and give you all that you’ve been practically begging him for all this time, but that would mean risking all that he has now. Or he could simply leave, and pretend this never happened. Self-abuse under a cold shower once he gets back to his apartment would work best. However, he’d have to come back here tomorrow, now with the recollection of what he was currently seeing. 

How will he be able to resist you from now on when he could barely take his eyes off you now?

That’s enough, Steve. He managed to slowly back away from your doorway and into the corridor which would lead him to the staircase. As he walked away, he heard your slightly louder moans as you came. Fuck. He stood at the landing, in the dark and groaned internally. Oh how pretty you must have looked, coming undone all over your pretty fingers. It drove him crazy just knowing that he’s the one you think of when you touch yourself. 

As discreetly as he could, Steve walked out of your home, rushed into his car and drove past the gates as fast as he could. Needless to say, he had quite some trouble falling asleep that night. 

---

You noticed some changes in Steve’s behaviour the next day when he showed up. He was avoiding you, you noticed that the minute you saw him. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He would barely be able to hold a conversation for too long. He seemed… shy and timid, definitely not his usual confident self around you. 

You tried to start up a conversation but his replies were just dry. You thought that perhaps he was having a bed day, or he woke up feeling grumpy. So you let him be. You didn’t annoy him all day. But at the same time, having him around but not having his attention was driving you crazy. You hated it. 

“Steve, what’s wrong?” you asked him at some point during the day. You were in the kitchen at the time and he walked in. 

He wasn’t expecting to find you there so he seemed visibly nervous. “I… uh, nothing. Everything is fine.” He cleared his throat and straightened his back a little more. “Did you need anything, Miss?” 

You could tell he was avoiding the topic, whatever it was. “No,” you answered, “nothing.” You walked out of the kitchen feeling a little troubled by his behaviour. You frowned as you walked upstairs into your study room. Since you were feeling gloomy, you decided to do some boring work until you figured out what to do with yourself. 

Checking the security camera footage was something your father insisted on. You had people for that, but your dad said that it was important you did it yourself just to make sure everything around the house is in order. So you sat back in your seat, rewinding all the footage of the week and sped through it, bored out of your mind. 

Surely you wouldn’t find anything because your staff members were all- 

You almost fell out of your chair when you saw the footage of last night. 5th indoor camera which surveilled the spacious corridor which led to your bedroom. You checked the time on the frame, it was around 11 p.m and you saw Steve walking up to your partly open bedroom door. 11 p.m ish, around that time pretty sure you were… oh… 

You were very well aware that Steve has the habit of coming by to check up on everything even on his days off, you just never knew at what time he came by. Apparently last night he came at the wrong time. Or not...? 

You watched the footage of him standing there frozen in place. He took a step back from your door, then inched forward again. Then backed away, then leaned forward again, and you could tell he must have debated turning back around and leaving multiple times but he didn’t. Oh?  

Your lips lifted up in a smirk as you pieced it all together. So this is why he’s been acting weird all day? Your devious mind came up with a plan. 

-

Steve left that evening, after ignoring you for the entire day and you decided to be a little bit more of a pain in his lovely ass. So you waited for an hour after he left, and then drove all the way to his apartment. Nothing but mischief on your mind. 

When you showed up at his doorstep, he was surprised but still maintained his calm and composure. You shamelessly checked him out; he looked like a god even in his sweatpants and white sweater. His damp, messy hair gave away that he must have just stepped out of the shower. Hot. 

“Hello Steve.” Your smirk gave away that you were up to no good and he caught on pretty quickly. He gave you a faint smile. 

“How come you’re h-,” You cut him off by opening his front door wider and taking the liberty of stepping into his home like an insolent little brat. He sighed as he shut the door behind him and followed you in. “Do you know that it’s considered quite rude to just barge into someone’s home?”

You stopped right before entering his living room. You turned around to face him with a sly smirk. “And do you know that it’s considered rude to come into someone’s home at night and openly spy on them while they’re naked and touching themselves? Hmm?” You had no shame. Also nothing to hide given he had seen it all. 

The look on Steve’s face was priceless. He was less bothered about how you figured and more worried about what would follow now. His job could be at risk yes, but what must you be thinking? He couldn’t figure you out. 

“That’s not what… I was-,” He looked frustrated and nervous, but also guilty. “I wasn’t spying, I didn’t…” He sighed, trying not to stutter. “Listen, that’s not what-”

You cut him off again by walking up to him. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” You said with a flirty smile. “In fact, it would’ve been better if you just walked into the room.” You heard him gasp as you leaned in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Because I was thinking about you while I was pleasuring myself,” you giggled, “but I think you know that already.” You pulled away to look at him. He was flushed. Troubled. Dare you say, aroused. 

The memories of last night filled his mind. He remained silent, still processing your words and wondering how he should handle this situation. You spoke again, “If I had known you were there watching me, I would’ve put up a better show.” His handsome face was void of any emotion. He was confused, but also burning. 

He was feeling too much at the same time, he didn’t know how to act. Not to mention that your words sent chills all over his body. He was barely able to maintain his calm demeanor any longer. 

Silence. 

You spoke up again. “If you want, I can do it right now.” You noticed how his hands flexed at his sides. He was struggling. You smirked. “What, you shamelessly watch me get off and now you’re acting all calm and collected?” You reached out and gently trailed a finger down his forearm. You watched him shiver for a moment. “Come on Steve,” your hand moved right to the bulge in his sweatpants, “admit it, you want me.” You teased him by gently feeling his erection. It excited you just as much as it did him. 

He finally spoke up. “Y/N… we shouldn’t.” Fuck but he wanted to. He was dying to just reach out and touch you. He kept thinking about how you looked last night; bare, lying in your bed and touching yourself so gently. Your moans… they had tormented him all night even after he got home. His accelerated heartbeats echoed in his ears as he stood unmoving under your wild stare. He swallowed audibly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist you for long. His primal, feral desires surfaced more and more as you spoke and he was hungry. Like a wild animal in heat. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh?” You walked around him, circling like he was a prey. When you stood right behind him, you stood on your tiptoes and leaned in to whisper again, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “But what you did was highly inappropriate Mr. Rogers. Can you imagine what that would do to your reputation, should people find out?” You kissed down along his neck, from his ear to the side of his lower jaw where you could feel his pulse. You scoffed, “Your heart is racing, Steve. Give in. I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” You whispered softly. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to ignore the pressure in between his legs. His cock was throbbing. His hands were almost shaking as he held back from touching you. He could so easily just pin you to the wall and have his way. He so desperately wanted to. But… he shouldn’t. You were his bosses’ daughter. 

Despite knowing it was futile because you had the reputation of getting whatever you wanted, be it in your personal or professional life, he still tried to act responsibly rather than just giving in to his burning desire and instincts. 

“I’m not one of your business deals, Y/N. You can come in here and talk terms with me in my own home.” He sounded frustrated and… hot. 

You walked back around and stood right in front of him. Judging by the look in your eyes, he knew what was coming and he silently accepted defeat. “Why? What’s so special about your home?” 

He stepped closer, stopping at just inches away from you. “Careful, Y/N.” His tone caused you to stop smirking. “My home, so I make the rules. When I tell you to stop being a little brat, you stop being a little brat.” The way he looked down at you only made you want to misbehave even more. 

“Else what?” 

And that was it. There went all the self-control he had. His eyes, dangerous and mean stared into yours as he stepped closer, grabbed you by the throat gently and pulled your face closer to his. Your lips parted as you struggled to breath right - not because of his grip around your throat, but because of the proximity. You could feel his body heat and it made you whimper. 

“Else you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences. I’m gonna have to teach your bratty self how to behave.” He chuckled darkly. “But something tells me you’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” He could tell by you whimpered that you would most definitely love that. 

“Steve,” you were at a loss of words. But you were so ready. “Please…”

He smirked. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl for so long. Teasing me, tormenting me,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “touching yourself while thinking of me. Who said you could do that? Hmm? Did you ask for permission?” 

“No…” you felt your arousal drip out of you at the sound of his lewd words. 

“From now on, you will come to me when your greedy, little cunt needs to be taken care of. Or you will touch yourself only when I give you permission to. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” Your voice sounded shaky already. 

“Yes what?” 

Your walls clenched around nothing down there as you uttered the words, “Yes daddy.” 

He smiled. “Good girl.” He whispered and as he looked behind you, you saw how his deep blue eyes lit up once he saw something. “But since you’ve been such a brat lately, you still need to be taught a lesson. Don’t you think?” 

You nodded. He let go of your throat. “Anytime you want me to stop, just say so. Okay?” You nodded again as he slowly walked the two of you back until your legs hit the couch. He caught you by the arm before you fell backwards. “Bend over the armrest.” 

You did what he asked, supporting yourself up with your elbows. And let out a soft moan when you felt his warm hands slipping under your little dress and kneading your butt

“Daddy’s gonna spank you until your pretty little cunt is dripping, is that okay babygirl?” His voice got you all flustered and whiny. 

“Yes daddy.” 

“Good.” He dragged your underwear down till your ankles, waited for you to step out of them and lifted your dress up. He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You whimpered in pleasure as the tingles died down eventually. “That’s for being a bratty little girl all the time.” 

Spank! “That’s for torturing daddy, and teasing him all day when he’s just trying to get work done.” 

You let out a little moan as he spanked you again. “That’s for always doing the exact opposite of what I ask you to, causing you to then ask for help for every little thing.” Spank! You moaned louder as his fingers trailed down to your wet folds, teasing you. “Daddy has to help you out with every little thing, isn’t it?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, “That’s okay. Daddy loves it.” 

Your skin burned under his lips. You were breathless, desperately wanting more. 

Spank! His hand lingered on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where it felt sore. “That’s for being a whiny little brat when you don’t always get what you want, when you want it.” Spank! “Such a spoilt brat, aren’t you babygirl?” 

You let out a breathless moan. You wanted more. He could tell by the way you pushed your butt out more and more each time after each spank. “Please…” 

He smirked and slid his hand further down, stroking your wet folds. “You’re so wet.” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. And again. And again. You whimpered in pleasure and slight pain. 

Spank! He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled as he pulled you up against him again, your sore ass pressing into his erected cock, making both of you groaned under your breaths. “You did so good, babygirl.” His hand traveled to your front and under your dress and he touched your wet core. “You’re so wet for daddy,” He mumbled in your ear, “but you can’t cum yet.” You whined again. He chuckled. “Now you know how it feels when you tease daddy all the time. It’s not fun, is it babygirl?” 

“No.” You answered as he gave you space to turn around and face him. “It’s not. I’m sorry.” You stared at his lips and he noticed. 

“You know what would make daddy really happy though?” That made you look up into his irresistible eyes. “If you got down on your knees like a good girl, and sucked daddy’s cock and made him feel good.” He leaned in to brush his lips against yours. “Won’t you do that? Won’t you be a good girl for daddy?” 

You nodded frantically. Excited. But also needy. 

He plopped down onto the couch, manspreading and making you whimper just looking at him. “Come here,” he pointed in between his legs. “Kneel.” 

You did as he asked. He took your hand and placed it right on his erection. You bit your lower lip as you felt him; big and hard. Your hands hurried to lower the waistband of his sweats to free his erected cock. The sight of his perfect cock had you whining with need again. 

“Go on babygirl. Suck.” His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip. Steve held your head gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat.

He gripped your hair gently, moaning as he told you how much of a good girl you were. The sounds of his moans and grunts only made you whimper with his cock in your mouth. Your ass was sore, but that was the last thing on your mind. Right now, you needed to be Steve’s good girl. 

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum which signified that he wasn’t going to last very long. His taste was all you could focus on; his raw taste and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth. 

He looked down at you and moaned again, he loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked perfect on your knees, taking him so well just like he wanted you to. 

You looked up and met his wild, blue eyes. Just to mess with him, you took his cock out of your mouth and teased him a little bit more; licking his length from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. He swore under his breath as you dragged your warm tongue over the slit of his tip lazily. 

He looked down at you with a smirk and a warning in his eyes and that was all it took for you to take him back into your mouth and suck on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue.

He gripped your hair, moaning loudly as he came. “Fuck.” He threw his head back to catch his breath. “Such a good girl.” he mumbled, looking down at you as you licked him clean; pulling his sweats back up before you climbed onto his lap, wiggling on purpose. 

He pulled you closer, making you grind against his semi-erected cock. You whined in need. “Aww, what is it babygirl? You want daddy?” he cooed, mocking you. He loved the effect his voice had on you. 

You nodded, pleading with your eyes as best you could. You needed him so bad, it hurt. “Please daddy.” 

He cupped your face and leaned in for a kiss. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could. A gentle, deep kiss; the kind that made your heart flutter and made your knees weak. He undressed you slowly, and you him. 

Once done, neither one of you could keep your hands off each other. 

“Steve… please,” you mumbled against his lips. He could feel your hunger, which then fueled his. Skin on skin, the desire burning between you two could no longer be ignored. 

He smirked. “I know baby, I know...” He whispered against your lips before flipping the two of you around and asking you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

He got up and stood behind you. You knelt on the couch in front of him, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch with your back to him. You could feel him right there behind you. 

He gripped your hair gently into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled your head back just enough to take your breath away. His soft, warm lips hovered over the side of your throat, kissing along your neck as his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously toying with your clit and making you moan. 

“This is all you wanted, huh? To be fucked, and owned. You wanted my cock so badly, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy when he spoke, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. “All this time, you’ve been practically begging me to fuck you. Well now’s the time baby. Go on, beg for me.”

You whimpered. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer. You begged; wantonly, shamelessly.  He chuckled and tugged harder on your hair, making you whimper and moan even more. “That’s a good girl.” 

He gripped each side of your hips, tightly; spreading your legs apart a little more as he aligned his cock to your entrance. You shivered in anticipation as you waited. You couldn’t see him, and in front of you, through the large glass floor-to-ceiling window, you had a lovely view of the city lights but that didn’t matter anymore. 

He hand reached around and gently grabbed you by the throat again. “Are we good, babygirl? You okay?” 

You nodded quickly, heart racing, your body heated. “Yes, yes please...” You mumbled. 

He gave you a gentle kiss on your cheek, his stubble pressing into your skin. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip as his soft lips kissed along your lower jaw. “I’m gonna fuck your sweet little cunt until you’re shaking…” he murmured, more so to himself. 

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely. You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you. 

You shuddered as you felt all of him, while he mumbled about how good you were. He panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face as his hand left your throat and roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, memorizing the shape of you until he finally cupped your core and played with your swollen clit. Your moans were incessant, you could already feel a sore throat coming. 

“You feel so good, baby…” he mumbled, slamming into you relentlessly, stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. 

“Fuck…” his voice cracked as he moaned under his breath. 

You could feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud. Your body moved along with his, your legs felt numb as he relentlessly slammed into you. 

Your moans got louder and he bent down to kiss along your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. “Take me, babygirl. Take all of me like you’ve dreamt of so many times…” he whispered against your skin as he rocked into you, faster and faster. He could barely hold it together himself but he had to give you what you’ve been wanting this whole time. 

You were a teary mess, he couldn’t see but he could tell by the sound of your voice. The view of the city in front of you was now getting blurrier with each passing second. Yet, you still wanted more. 

You cried out loud in pleasure as his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him more and more each time he filled you up. You felt a sweet pressure forming in between your legs, intensifying each time the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot. 

“Steve…” you cried, unable to handle the pleasure. It was overwhelming. 

He slowed down for just a second. “I’m right here, baby.” He kissed the side of your face. “I’m here, it’s okay. Are you gonna cum for me? You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for daddy? Hmm?” 

You nodded, now a whimpering, tear-stained mess. He took you higher… and higher… 

“Cum for me.” his voice was all it took for you to come undone. You came hard without any warning.

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back; kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm as your walls clenched around him, squeezing him like he had dreamt of last night. 

He gripped your hair in his fist and tugged on it again, moaning right in your ear as he felt his orgasm forming. Your walls tightened around him, and he groaned as he came undone right after you; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

You were struggling to hold yourself up, your legs shaking and your body trembling. But Steve held you against him as he threw himself on the couch, pulling you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck. 

He rubbed along your sides as he whispered comforting words in your ear. His hands rubbing your body everywhere he could. “You did so good, baby.” 

---

You don’t remember getting to Steve’s bed the previous night, but that’s where you woke up; under his warm sheets, a pair of lips kissing your face gently. 

“Wake up, Miss.” 

You groaned. “Don’t call me that.” You mumbled from under the sheets. You tried sitting up and you felt sore in places you didn’t know one could feel sore. Steve caught the frown on your face and when you looked up and to send him a death glare, he just chuckled. 

You noticed that he was dressed already. 

“Come on now. We have to go.” 

You hid under the blankets again. “No.” 

He sighed. Of course, he should’ve known he’d have to deal with all your antics again. “You need to get home, and I need to get to work. Now come on, we have to go.” 

You peaked from under the blankets. “Give me a kiss first.” You bargained. 

He rolled his eyes and walked up to his bed, leaning over you. “You’re just gonna pull me back into bed with you and then we’re both not going to want to leave at all.” 

You held both your hands out, “Just one kiss, I promise.” 

He gave in, he leaned in and cupped your face with one hand and pressed his lips to yours. It started out all gentle and slow but then you pulled him closer by the back of his neck and he accidentally let out a moan. You tried pulling him back under the covers but he pulled away right before he gave in completely. 

“No.” He pulled away. “Home, now.” He used the same tone as he did when waking you up for work each day. 

You groaned and eventually, reluctantly, got out of his bed. 

 ---

Everything was going great after that night. 

Your days just got a whole lot better with Steve around. Sure, you kept being the brat that you are, just so he could drag you all the way to your bedroom and ‘teach you how to behave’ at any time during the day. 

It was safe to say that you began catching feelings for each other. You brightened up Steve’s days and him yours. Bathroom quickies, morning sex, and spending nights together quickly became more frequent than you expected. 

You teased him just the same, and it almost always resulted in him fucking you just how you wanted him to. 

All was well. 

Until your parents came home for a weekend out of nowhere. And they left just as quickly as they came but their arrival made Steve feel terrible. Steve couldn’t help but feel guilty when your father asked him if he was taking good care of you. Obviously, he guarded your little secret well. But he felt terrible, like he was betraying your parents. 

He wasn’t supposed to do this. Above all, he shouldn’t have even thought that he could be with you. Really, what was he thinking? This was wrong. He worked for your parents, and you. This was unprofessional. Inappropriate. 

You noticed that his stand-offish manner remained even after your parents were gone. So you confronted him about it one morning. 

“Is everything okay between us?” 

He looked up at you, and nodded. Truth is, he didn’t know how to let you down. 

“Steve, seriously.” 

He sighed. He walked over to where you stood and faced you with a look which gave away what he might have been thinking all this time. “This has to stop.” 

Your heart raced. “What does?” 

He pointed between you and him. “This.” 

You were sure you could fix whatever was wrong. “If you’re worried about mom and dad finding out then-,” 

He cut you off. “No. Listen to me. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing here, like I’m leading you on because… let’s face it, we can never be together.” He could visibly see how he was breaking your heart. He took a deep breath. “I should have tried to make you see sense. I shouldn’t have… used you. I can’t help but feel like I’m using you, I-,” 

You cut him off this time. “Steve, you’re not.” He stepped forward to cup his face but he caught your hands before you could, pulling away from you. 

“You don’t understand. This… this can’t happen. It probably isn’t real. What you feel for me could be something else and you’re mistaken and-,” 

You couldn’t believe him. “How dare you?” You got defensive really quickly, trying to hide how it hurt. 

He got quiet. Maybe this was the wrong way of dealing with this situation? 

You straightened your back and took a step away from him. “Look, if you don’t want me anymore then just say so. Don’t make silly excuses, we’re not children.” 

He spoke up quickly. “All I’m saying is that you’re young. Perhaps you’re not thinking straight. Look, I’ve mistaken lust for love too in the past, when I was younger. It’s not-,” 

You stopped him before he hurt you even more. You were hurt, but mostly angry at this point. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean that my feelings aren’t real or valid, or that I don’t know what I want. Also you have no right to water down my feelings like that. Who are you to tell me what I feel? How fucking dare you?” 

He realized he must have dealt with this differently. But it was too late now, he hurt you. The sight of your watery eyes was unbearable, knowing that he’s the one who caused it. I’m sorry, babygirl. “Y/N, I’m just-,” 

You raised your voice. “Enough!” You didn’t let your tears fall in front of him. “Screw you, Steve.” You grabbed your bag and made your way out of your house, got in the car and drove to work in anger and your heart aching. 

You cried in the car before you got out. What happened? Everything was so perfect. Why did he feel this way all of a sudden? To a point where he made himself believe that what you felt for him wasn’t real? Where did that even come from? Did he think that you were just a confused young girl, seeking attention? 

That bit really hurt. It hurt more because you fell for him, hard and it wasn’t something you could control. 

You started your day rough, and it seemed it was only going to get worse because you’d be replaying the scene from the kitchen this morning all day long. 

 As for Steve, he was equally a mess as you were. He kept cursing himself as he tried his hardest to go about his day but the thought of your teary face this morning was haunting him in broad daylight. 

He could’ve been less mean, more understanding. You were human after all. How could he have hurt you like that when all he ever cared for this whole time was your well-being? 

He was upstairs doing something when your bedroom door caught his eye. He stepped in and immediately regretted all that he did this morning. It was unfair towards you and now he felt even more guilty. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, standing in the middle of your room. It smelt like you; floral, fierce and enticing. His favorite girl, how could have hurt you so much? He felt guilty, but perhaps he failed to see how happy he actually made you. 

His eyes fell on your freshly made bed. In the past month following that night at his apartment, he had spent quite some nights here. Memories of all times spent with you, not just for the past month, but the past years as well flashed in his mind. 

Oh he had fucked up. 

He walked out of your bedroom, already taking his gloves off. He needed to change and go find you and apologize before it gets worse. 

-

You were in the middle of yet another business call when you heard a knock on your door. You quickly wrapped up the call and called out in annoyance, “Come in.” You had been quite moody since this morning. 

Steve was the last person you expected to enter your office this afternoon. You stood up immediately; not having the heart to tell him to get out. All your anger vanished the minute you saw him standing there, all that was left was the hurt. And fuck did it hurt. 

He closed the door behind him and lingered around the door itself, still wondering how he should start his apology. Also the broken look in your eyes felt like a thousand daggers piercing him all at the same time. 

“Came to tell me some more about how much of a stupid, young and confused girl I am?” You sassed. Your go-to method of dealing with emotions was to be as sassy and as ruthless as humanly possible, Steve was aware of that. 

He sighed. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have said all that.” He took a deep breath and kept going. “I felt terrible when I spoke to your parents.” He finally confessed. “They trust me to take good care of you, like a guardian. But I have been…” he couldn’t find the right words. “I felt guilty. And it’s not your fault, but I couldn’t figure out how to deal with all this. I thought maybe if I push you away it would… I don’t know. I don’t know, Y/N. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

You listened, trying to grasp the reasons why he said what he said this morning. 

“Then what made you think that I might be confused about what I feel?” You questioned. 

He took a step forward, feeling terrible now that he was voicing out everything. “I don’t know, I thought that you- that maybe you… I-,’ 

You cut him off, repeating your question because you could tell he had an answer but didn’t want to tell you. “What made you think so, Steve? The truth, please.” 

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds. “I thought that perhaps you weren’t sure about your feelings… for me. Why would you fall for someone like me, I mean, I work for your parents.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I thought that maybe you were mistaking everything that’s been happening since that night at my apartment to be… something it’s not.” 

You scoffed. You simplified and rephrased what he had just said, “So you think that I’ve been going on about how much you mean to me just because you fuck me good?” 

That felt like a slap across his face. “That’s not-,” 

“Do you even like me? Or is it just… I don’t know, convenient sex to you?” 

He had the same look of hurt on his face which you had this morning. “Don’t you dare say that. You know how I feel about you.” He had told you many times how he feels and he meant it. The fact that you even questioned him hurt. 

You scoffed and nodded. You walked around your desk, stopping at the side of it. “Take a seat.” 

He looked confused for a moment. “What?” 

“Take a seat, Steve.” You pointed to one of the chairs and he walked right over without any question. 

Your heart burned as you looked at him, wanting to just shower him with tender love and affection but you had to clear some things up first. 

He looked up at you with his deep blue eyes, wondering if he had lost you for good. It would kill him if that were the case. He could no longer imagine his days without you. 

“Do you remember the night of my 20th birthday, Steve?” You asked. 

He looked down at his lap and cracked a little smile. “That was 6 years ago, Y/N. It’s a little blurry.” 

You smiled at the memory. “Mom and dad were away, as usual. But they promised they would make it back before the night ends, for my birthday dinner. But then, they both forgot about it and later blamed it on the workload. I went to bed crying that night, like I had all day.” As you narrated that day, it helped him remember a little bit. You continued, “But then someone knocked on my door. It was you, standing there with a little cupcake and a candle. It was your day off but you were the only one who didn’t forget that it was my birthday.” 

He remembered it now. He remembered how he found your little teary face when you opened your bedroom door and how you jumped in his arms. 

He remained quiet. 

You kept going. “The year after that, I begged mom and dad to be home for Christmas because I was dying to have some family time with them. But they called and said they couldn’t make it. Do you know who put with my shit and helped me decorate the entire house with obnoxious Christmas music on? You.” 

He smiled a little bigger at the memory. He remembered how you pouted and followed him around the entire day, asking him to help you with decoration. He remembers the way his heart fluttered when he saw the biggest, most genuine smile on your face after he agreed to do so. He would do anything just to see that same smile on your face right now. 

You stepped a little closer. 

“Do you remember the times when I used to go clubbing almost every weekend? And you would have to track me down and bring me home safe at like three in the morning every time?” You chuckled at the memory. “And then you sat me down one day and asked me to get my shit together.” 

He remembered that as well. That was one of the only times he had been so strict with you. He simply could not watch you waste your life away like that and put yourself in danger. He was glad you listened. 

“And all those times when I missed mom and dad but I couldn’t call them because I knew they were always busy, so I called you. At odd hours and you would always show up. And you’d stay for as long as I needed you to. And I’d drag you along to go get ice-cream with me in the middle of the night. You remember that?” 

He looked up at you and his smile vanished. You had tears streaming down your face. “Y/N…” 

“It was you, Steve. It’s always been you.” You fought the need to cry. “I didn’t fall for you because of that night at your apartment. All these years, all those mundane things added up to now, when I can finally tell you how I feel and how important you are to me. And when you try to reduce it to nothing but lust and confusion, it really hurts.” 

He got up from his seat. “Baby… I’m so, so sorry.” 

You wiped your tears away. “It’s okay if you want nothing to do with me. None of this will affect your job, and my parents will never find out. You can walk out of this, I’ll understand. But don’t tell me what I feel for you isn’t real. Because it is. I love you, and that’s real.” 

He closed the distance between the two of you, grabbing your face and to pull you closer gently. “Shh…” he whispered, one of his arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, “I’m not gonna walk out. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He pressed his lips to yours, gently. He kissed you passionately; arms wrapping around your body, tongue stroking the inside of your mouth while he occasionally bit down on your lip. Your hands found their way into his soft hair, you tugged on it gently while moaning softly into the kiss. 

He gave you a second to catch your breath. “I adore you, babygirl. And that’s real too.” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you again while gently pushing you against the edge of your desk until you got on top of it. He stepped in between your legs and deepened the kiss. You gripped his hair and tugged a little more and he let out a quiet, breathy moan. 

His warm hand caressed your thigh, given your dress had bunched up higher than before. His other hand gently held your lower jaw as he kissed and nibbled on your skin, down your neck; making you squirm and forget all about the world outside. Here, with him now, was all that mattered. 

You felt his fingers lazily making their way across your inner thighs. His knuckles gently stroked your clothed core and you leaned your head back at the sudden wave of pleasure; letting out a soft moan. 

Steve gently toyed with your still clothed, now wet, core. Your hand tugged on his sweater and you pulled him closer, placing your lips on his again. Your other hand dipped in between your bodies and you unbuckled his pants as quickly as you could. You felt him bite down on your skin when you palmed him through his underwear. 

“Steve… I want you…” You whispered in his ear. 

You moaned as he kissed his way up to your neck. “I know, baby. I know…” he pulled away to look at you with hooded eyes. 

You lowered his underwear and pulled out his cock. He rapidly dragged your underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. He spread your legs open and aligned his cock to your core. 

You could feel his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your clit. Slowly, he slipped inside of you, groaning at how tight you were. You felt his length stretching you out entirely. He started rocking in and out of you slowly, then eventually, he sped up. 

“Steve…”You moaned out loud, feeling all of him; stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was his body.

“I’m right here, baby…” he whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and mewls in the process. 

You whined upon hearing the wet, slapping sounds your bodies made when they came in contact with one another. Mixed with his scent and the growls leaving his mouth, it was all too sinful, too good. 

“You’re all mine.” He stared down at you, his ocean blue eyes showing you all the love he had for you. You could only nod, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. He leaned in again, kissing you softly. “Say it, babygirl. Tell me you’re mine.” he whispered against your lips.

Something about how he sounded so calm even while he was fucking you hard made you tremble under him. “I’m yours…” you whispered, shuddering under him. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it.

Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you, he wanted to feel all of you and he wanted you to feel all of him. He wanted you to know that he was here, and was not planning on going anywhere. He was relentless. He moaned right in your ear as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so, so much...” 

You whined; feeling a thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies as your walls milked him perfectly. A tear fell from your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away. He bent down and kissed your lips, pounding into you rapidly like his life depended on it.

“I love you more…” 

He felt you clench and tighten around him, “Cum for me, baby...” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. Your mind was foggy by now, and it took your brain a few seconds to even process his words.

Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you; his cock throbbing against your walls. He came with a growl, gripping your hips. You whined as you came around him as well, hard and fast. 

He didn’t pull his cock out of you as he engulfed you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin as he held you against his warm body. You could hear his frantic heartbeats, and he could feel yours. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again. 

You pulled away from his hug just a little so you could look at him. “Hey,” you reached out to touch his face. “Stop apologizing. We’re gonna be okay.” 

He smiled down at you. “I’m gonna have to love you in secret.” He leaned down and rubbed the tip of his nose to yours. You giggled. 

“Not for long. We’ll figure something out.” You grabbed him by his face and pulled him closer, and whispered dramatically, “Or maybe we could run away.” Your words made his smile. You pulled him in for a kiss, and whispered, “Till then, I’ll love you when no one is around.” 

[angelicmichael]

renegade

Andy Dolan x reader

Summary: After another night where Hedwig abandons Andy; reader is left with no other choice but to try and help console him the best she can.

Words: 3.6k+

Warnings: vague mentions of drugs and being intoxicated, some jealous! reader, lotsss of angst, brief fluff, mainly hurt/comfort fic tbh hehe, major Hedwig slander oops, maybe a bit of unhealthy relationships (??), slowburn, some conflict/arguing 

A\N: hey y’all, hope u enjoy this hehe. I was mostly going for a angst and fluff vibe when I wrote this but it just turned into hurt/comfort so.. hopefully it’s still enjoyable !! :) this takes place sometime in episode three probably lol. ALSO fic is named after the song Taylor swift has recently been featured in 👉🏻👈🏻

The town, Eden; regardless of its beauty was a force to be reckoned with.

Being practically forced to live in a town that was so.. particular was never something you envisioned for your future in the past, but now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else; even given the choice.

After all how could you exactly complain?

If you were to ask any person- (or any sane person that didn’t know of Eden that well) they would say that living here would sound like complete fucking heaven. A small coastal town, a tight knit community that was overly abundant with beautiful people and drugs seemed beyond euphoric.. and it was. Atleast for the first week or two.

Looking back; you were purely fucking naïve, and far too much of a optimist to assume shit wouldn’t crash or burn eventually.

Your first red flag was Hedwig.

She was one of the first people you met, and you two quickly hit it off and became close but.. things never exactly felt right with her, per say. Maybe it was because of how guarded she was, or because of the drugs she dealt.. it was hard to tell. However; Hedwig was completely fucking harmless compared to the man she introduced you too.

Andy Dolan.

Just like everyone in Eden; he was drop dead gorgeous but.. oddly hostile. At first you only saw him at parties, ones that you tried your best to avoid him at since you knew he had a notorious temper but, Hedwig being the great friend she is introduced you to him.. and that’s all it took.

You two quickly hit it off after that night (mostly because you were tired of Hedwig being your only friend and branching out never hurt anyone.. right?). Your attraction towards each other at first was strictly platonic, that was clear in how he treated you and how careful you were around him. It was almost stupid to try and not think about how pretty he was but letting your gaze linger on him for even more than two seconds felt erroneous.

You saw almost daily (or atleast every other day) how quick he was to anger and how cold he was to nearly everyone he met.. The only exception at this point was you and Hedwig but your sure if you were to even show a sign that you had romantic interest in him, he would drop you without a second thought. That thought alone was beyond fucking torturous but it wasn’t enough to stop you from daydreaming about how soft his hair or lips probably were. Ones that you doubt you would ever get the pleasure of touching but- atleast it was a nice distraction from how fucking weird Eden truly was.

Sure, it was beyond beautiful and the weather was fairly nice most days but that didn’t make up for peoples attitudes; and you weren’t referring to Andy’s. It wasn’t hard to tell that people were strangely secretive and cliquey, which only really left you with Hedwig and Andy for your friends. No matter how pretty she was, Hedwig was really only surface level friendly so you never particularly trusted her. That only left Andy (which wasn’t exactly any better when it came to being friendly but you knew he cherished your company, which was way more you could say about Hedwig).

However; it didn’t take too long for you and Andy to form a routine. Every weekend he would throw a party and you would stay with him after. The first time it happened, it was purely because you were far too fucked up to go anywhere else (which perhaps is also why Andy finally started being nice to you..) but after that, it was a question you never had the heart to say no too.

How could you? It’s not like he exactly had anyone else which made the possibility of saying no, close to impossible. Just because everyone else who lived in Eden were assholes didn’t mean you were going to be one, which is what lead you to your current predicament.

Five calls you had made that had all been unanswered is what currently lit up your phone screen, as well as your room. It was far past midnight and instead of sleeping like any other sane person would be doing - you were calling Andy or trying too anyway but he wasn’t fucking answering.. naturally.

You weren’t calling for any particular reason, but that wasn’t the point anymore. The fact that Andy wasn’t answering was a huge warning that something was wrong, after all it was a weekday and you knew he wasn’t sleeping or exactly busy.

Unless.. He was with Hedwig?

The thought automatically made your blood run hot under your skin. The feeling seething and utterly consuming until you quickly found yourself going out to your car. Doing the only thing that you knew would make your sudden paranoia go away.

As you drove through the roads that were completely vacant of any other cars and drove past houses and neighborhoods that also looked vacant of any life - you couldn’t help but to think why you even cared.

Andy never really showed interest in you, so what if Hedwig and Andy were actually doing anything?? Unless you caught them in the act, it’s not like either of them would admit to doing shit anyway but that didn’t stop you from still feeling irrationally angry and a bit betrayed.

You didn’t realize how tight you were gripping the steering wheel until you stopped the car and had to let go of it. Your fingers unnecessarily clenched and stiff to the point where they physically ached. Not to mention, you were shaking with the possibility that you could really find them here together, but now that you were actually here- you quickly realized that there was no other car here.

Odd.

You quickly (and quietly) stepped out of the car and paced up to Andy’s house. Not bothering to knock as you let yourself in, knowing that Andy wouldn’t necessarily mind that you did so.. well, you knew if he wasn’t with Hedwig anyway.

The only thing you heard were your footsteps as you took a few steps into the house. Looking cautiously for any signs of life.. any sounds or anything that could indicate anyone was in the house at all but you found nothing.

It took your eyes a minute to adjust to the near pitch darkness that omitted from the large windows that sat on the vast majority of the living room walls. The only light came dimly from the kitchen but even that was too sparse to truly allow you to see anything.

You slid your shoes off and left them by the door, not wanting your steps to allude to your presence before you could see him first and say something. Your steps far more quiet and easier to control now that you only had socks covering your feet.

You made it about halfway up the stairs, originally trying to make a beeline to Andy’s room but quickly freezing once you heard something.

It was shallow and soft but, with the contrast of pure stark silence it was nearly fucking deafening. It was a whimper at first, and it was coming from downstairs on the couch.

Your heart sank once you realized what exactly you were listening too. The first sniffle you heard nearly making you jump from how off guard you suddenly felt; that was the last thing you were expecting to hear..

You looked down from the staircase at the couch; making out a very dim outline of someone slumped over and sitting on the edge with their head in their hands. Their chest and back heaving from how deep they were crying..

You stood idle for a moment, not knowing whether to continue standing or to leave silently but you felt as if you didn’t exactly have a option. Even without asking or being able to necessarily see; you knew who it was but even knowing this- you knew getting him to talk was a good first step.

“Andy?”

Your voice automatically cut off his sobs - almost stopping instantaneously.

You saw his hands move down from his face and drop down to his lap, his head turning up to look at you. Your eyes finally adjusting to the near pitch black atmosphere.

The silence only permeated the room for about three seconds but that was nearly far too long to withstand. Knowing how unpredictable Andy was, you didn’t know if the words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be kind or purely vile.

You started to speak fast without a second thought, the silence driving you to immediately apologize and try to fix the damage before Andy completely went off on you.

“I’m really sorry. I just got worried because you weren’t answering my calls and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but.. obviously your not,” You said. Swallowing harshly after realizing that Andy was still diligently listening and not cutting you off or telling you to leave.. That had to be a good sign, right? “What happened?” You pressed on.

“What do you think happened?” Andy answered quickly. His voice rough and rugged from sobbing, as well as probably from previously yelling.

You slowly walked down the stairs, choosing to not shy away from his sudden outburst of anger. You weren’t exactly certain which direction you would go in once you were finished descending.. but atleast you knew Andy wasn’t fucking Hedwig. Not right now at the very least.

“Was it Hedwig?” you blindly guessed. Wanting to affirm what you were so desperately hoping wasn’t true and that you could finally relax a bit. That’s if Andy wasn’t mad that you practically broke into his house.. but he didn’t seem to be. Not right now anyway.

You heard him softly laugh in response which made you smile for a second. You could tell by how he was previously crying and in the tone of his voice that he was still hurt. His laugh wasn’t genuine in the slightest; but it showed that he was done crying for the moment which was worth a smile.

“Why does it matter to you if it was her?”

“So it was,” you affirmed.

Your feet stepped off of the final step, and you found yourself approaching Andy. The choice came naturally. The closer you got to him the more apparent it was how broken he truly looked. He stopped crying but his eyes and cheeks were still glossy and wet with tears. His lips red and trembling; among looking entirely and utterly broken there was a hint of agitation present as well. You started to wonder if Hedwig truly did something or if Andy once again was blowing things out of proportion.

“Will you tell me what happened?” You asked cautiously. Your voice was soft, not wanting to unintentionally come off as too strong or hostile.

He studied you hesitantly and with a gleam of uncertainty in his eye - but nonetheless he patted the seat next to him on the couch he was sitting on. Silently urging you to sit next to him and letting you know that he would probably tell you what happened.

At first he remained quiet. Awkwardly avoiding what he knew you wanted to talk about but he still remained silent.. but his voice suddenly broke through. Making you jump at the unexpected sound that suddenly sounded so loud, even though in reality his voice was still low in tone.

“She left me.”

You stared at him numbly for a second, not feeling necessarily surprised at his words (After all, since when was Hedwig not a flight risk?) but instead feeling weirdly a bit frustrated and sad for Andy.

You knew exactly how he felt; it wasn’t like this was the first time this ever happened but hopefully it would be the last. Seeing Andy this sad and broken over someone who in reality, didn’t give two fucks about him was beyond heartbreaking. It hurt even worse for you to keep witnessing him coming back to her though.

Just when you finally opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s my fault and I’m such a fucking idiot-“

“Andy, stop!” You said a bit too loudly. You tried your best to hold eye contact with him when he finally turned to meet your gaze as he reluctantly looked at you. You fought the impulse to apologize for raising your voice but there was no need because you didn’t truly feel sorry. He needed to hear you out. “You need to stop blaming yourself. Hedwig’s actions aren’t your fault.. she’s like that with everyone, Andy. She’s always been-“

“I don’t give a fuck what she’s like with other people y/n! She should’ve acted differently with me, she was supposed to care about me and stay..” his words cut off with a deep inhale.

He was trying not to sob and failing miserably.

Andy quickly left the couch, taking a few steps away from you with his back turned. Trying to compose himself as you sat and.. felt entirely guilty.

Even though he had practically blown up at you; you weren’t leaving but you knew approaching him wasn’t the answer either, so you stayed seated at the couch. Hoping he would atleast sit back down next to you.

“I can’t control Hedwig or what she does, Andy but I know solely saying that I’m sorry isn’t enough either,” you started and then paused. The words you wanted to say next.. words that you knew were true but barely had the courage to say were heavy on your tongue. You knew this wasn’t exactly the time to even be thinking about how you truly felt for Andy but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted nothing more than for it to stop. His tears, his words and pleading with Hedwig, your feelings.. it wasn’t enough to just submit to it anymore and to be a witness to how you truly felt. If anything, it was slowly but surely driving you mad and you knew unless you atleast hinted at the fact that it was making you upset; Andy wouldn’t change his behavior.

You knew he payed for sex from Hedwig, it was the one thing that always kept her coming back no matter how he acted and well.. Even if his time was being bought, he liked the attention. He craved it.

It felt weird to admit to yourself that he was taking you for granted.. because he wasn’t really but, compared to how he treated Hedwig - you were definitely on the back burner. You didn’t blame him; why would he ever notice you when he could have someone like Hedwig?

You slowly looked back at Andy, noticing he was staring at you once again with glossy blue eyes which appeared dark in the lighting. A dark, almost midnight blue that would surely match the ocean waves that you could faintly hear from inside the house since the back door was open. He looked a bit annoyed but mostly intrigued. He was waiting for you to continue.

“But you deserve better, Andrew. You shouldn’t allow her to repeatedly do this to you because I know she knows how upset it makes you. She doesn’t care-“

“How do you know how Hedwig feels about me y/n?! You need to keep her name out of your fucking mouth. You don’t know her like I do,” Andy spoke roughly.

You stared at him blankly for a moment. Purely appalled that he was saying this to you in total seriousness; but you knew in reality that it was foolish to be surprised.. to not expect that he would talk to you like this eventually. After all; he blew up at everyone else, why wouldn’t he do the same to you?

You knew nothing made you inherently different and well.. this was just proving that assumption. Andy never viewed you differently from anyone else; that was now crystal clear.

Your hands started to gently tremble in your lap; and it didn’t take long for the rest of your body to follow suit. The sadness and self pity quickly washed away in what was quicker and more rapid than waves. Anger surged through your veins, forcing you to stand up suddenly. You could barely stand to make eye contact as you spoke, barely able to bear to witness how your words made him feel.

“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to talk to me like that. If I didn’t randomly decide to come and check on you because I guess I’m the only one who actually gives a fuck about you, then you would’ve been alone again with no one to yell at. And maybe that would’ve been for the best,” You turned around on your heels. Walking fast and headed for the door, trying to quickly slip your shoes on before you heard Andy’s voice solemnly.

“Y/n wait.”

You stood still at first, weirdly feeling numb and waiting for the metaphorical shoe to drop. Andy’s voice was soft this time as he spoke, the roughness that was present earlier was long gone but.. you didn’t trust it.

You waited for him to catch his breath and to raise his voice and just say more words he would apologize for later; your throat tightened as you felt your body react almost instinctively. You slipped the other shoe you previously put on back off. Turning around just enough so that you could make eye contact, or attempt too with the horribly dim lighting.

“Yeah? Wait for what?”

Andy swallowed in response to your words. Almost bashfully looking down briefly to avoid saying anything or having to look at you any longer. You could see tears staining his cheeks, continuing to run down and nearly slid down his neck. He looked pathetic; and it would’ve almost been funny to see a grown man fully sob in front of you with no shame if it wasn’t your best friend and well.. the person you loved.

“Never mind. You were right; it’s probably best if you just go,” Andy’s voice cracked.

You wanted to believe that the best option for you was to turn around and leave but your judgment felt entirely skewed. Was it really the right thing to turn around and leave when he needed you? Probably not.

You knew if the roles were changed and you were the one who was upset that Andy would probably stay.. but that also depended on other circumstances as well, of course.

Stepping away from your shoes and the entrance of Andy’s house; you approached him. You tried to do so as quickly as possible before he could try to stop you or protest, but by the time he looked up you were barely a foot away.

You reached up, and with a shaky hand (that you hoped desperately he didn’t notice or wouldn’t swat away) you gently placed your fingertips on his cheek. Your thumb softly pressing against his skin, dragging your finger up as to wipe away his tears as the rest of your fingers lie under his jaw.

You tried to ignore how unsettled he looked at you doing this, and how he almost looked uncomfortable or as if he was on the brink of telling you off.. but he didn’t. He watched you diligently as you continued to brush away his tears.

“I’m sorry.. But I couldn’t stand to see you like that,” you said. Trying to give some rational explanation for your behavior even though, Andy didn’t look like he particularly cared why you were doing it. It was the fact you were doing it at all that seemed to have his interest piqued.

You tried to pull your hand back since his cheeks were dry, but he stopped you. His hand softly grabbed your wrist before his hand slid into yours.. your fingers slowly lacing together before you turned your gaze from your laced hands up to his eyes.

“Will you stay?” He asked. His voice was still rough and gravelly but this time, it was starting to sound a bit genuine.

You studied him for a second longer - your mouth dry but you knew the answer before you even spoke.

“Yeah. I’m not going to leave you Andy. I’m not Hedwig,” you spoke as if it were more of a promise rather than a statement.

You felt your stomach churn for a split second as you remembered how he scolded you earlier for talking down on Hedwig, but you smiled instead. The laughter you heard quickly subsiding your previous emotions.

“Okay,” He spoke almost uncertainly.

You could see the outline of him walking away before you felt him gently pull on your hand; making you follow him into the dark hallway which would eventually lead too, you could only guess, what would be his room.

Holding his hand like this almost felt weird but you couldn’t deny how almost.. right it felt too. Even perfect, you would dare say.

There was no way to guess what the rest of the night would entail but you didn’t exactly mind guessing; after all, how could you complain if you were to spend it with Andy?

You couldn’t. There was no way you could.

Whether it was platonic or not, spending the rest of the night right next to Andy, most likely in his clothes since you didn’t bother to bring any more of your own, sounded like heaven.

And since when did you ever complain about spending a night with someone that you had craved so bad?

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed to the taglist :)

[sincerelybluevase]

Careful, Madam Chapter Seven

A/N: Here it is, the final chapter! Thank everyone for being so patient with this one (the first chapter was published in June 2020, insane how time flies) and for the lovely comments; they mean a lot to me! For a gorgeous preview made by @thegirlisuedtobe, click here. Tagging @alice1nwond3rland, @need-not, @mlletina, @msmaryadmitrievna, @solattea, @halewynslady.

Maxim was the first to speak. “Steady, Mrs Danvers. You wouldn’t want to shoot me.”

Mrs Danvers did not waver. She held the gun steady. Not a muscle in her face moved so that she seemed hard and resolute to me, marble-made. “Let go of Mrs de Winter, sir.”

He released my arm with a theatrical motion, raising splayed hands in mock surrender.

“Come to me, Madam.”

I went so quickly I nearly stumbled. I wished to clutch her arm, to feel the reassuring solidness of her long lean limbs, but I was afraid of what might happen; I didn’t want to set off the gun by accident.

Maxim looked at us with hatred. His face had turned cold and masklike with it. “Now what?” he asked. “You’ll shoot me, Mrs Danvers?”

“I will if you force me, sir,” she said.

“And then what, Mrs Danvers? What happens then? Have you thought about that? Should you kill me, you will hang; the law won’t take pity on you for being a woman. They’ll string you up by that thin neck of yours until you are dead.”

“They won’t if they know what you are, sir.”

“And what am I?”

She glanced at me, at my reddening cheek. “A murderer and a wife-beater.”

He laughed coldly. “That’s no reason to shoot me, now is it, Mrs Danvers? I think you and I and the law can all agree on that.”

“It is if you provoked me, if you threatened your wife and unborn child, sir.”

The laughter petered out. Still he smiled, showing his sharp canines. “You’d have to aim well then, Mrs Danvers, and kill me with one shot, because if you leave me well enough to talk, you’ll be done for. Who do you think the police and lawmen will believe: me, a gentleman with an impeccable reputation, or you, a mad, old, sexually-frustrated maid with unnatural tendencies?”

I wished to speak so I could defend her, but fear held me in its grip, petrifying and silencing me.

Mrs Danvers set her jaw and tightened her grip around the gun. “I’m a good marksman, sir. If I aim to kill, I shall.”

“Perhaps,” Maxim jeered, “but are you certain? And are you absolutely certain that, even if you kill me, you won’t go to prison? They’re harsh places, prisons. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cold, damp room, with only a strip of sky to remind you of what lies outside?”

Still Mrs Danvers held the gun steady, her joints seemingly locked into place. “Here’s what men like you don’t understand,” she said softly, “I gave the best years of my life to your first wife; I’m willing to lay down what years remain to me for your second.”

My love for her made a pain rise in my throat. I swallowed against the tears. I looked at Maxim, thinking he would refute her or curse at her. He did no such thing. Instead, he began to yawn, making a great show of it, his mouth opened so wide I could see the fillings in his molars. When he was done, his eyes watered. He brushed the tears away with a fingertip, then turned to me. “You shall stop this nonsense right now,” he said. He spoke as if I was a naughty child.

I shook my head. I could not speak.

A vein at his temple began to throb. I could see it jump around under the skin, writhing like a worm. “Oh, but you shall. You shall stay here, with me, and we shall forget this moment of madness. Mrs Danvers shall have to go, of course, no sane man would keep a housekeeper who pulled a gun on him, but I shan’t press charges. I’ll even give her a good reference. A woman with her qualities can work for any fine family in England. But you, my little darling, shall remain here, by my side, as my wife and the mother of my children.”

“No,” I whispered.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I don’t want to stay.”

He laughed in disbelief. “You don’t want to stay? Do you understand what you’re saying? Before you met me, you had no friends or kin, money, no prospects. You were an old lady’s plaything, her little whipping boy. I raised you up out of darkness. I gave you a name, a house, a reputation to uphold. Without me you have nothing and you are no one, just a grubby little schoolgirl with bad nails and a name no one can spell. Do you hear me? You are nothing!”

“She won’t be nothing. She’ll be my mine,” Mrs Danvers said.

With a roar, Maxim lunged at her. She pulled the trigger, but he knocked the gun out of her hand. The shot went wild, the bullet damaging one of the plaster leaves on the ceiling, causing crumbs to rain down dryly. The gun fell to the floor, skidded, came to rest not a step away from me.

Maxim punched Mrs Danvers in the face, once, twice, thrice. Her head snapped back. She staggered. Blood poured down her mouth and chin. She made a soft choking sound, coughed. Drops of blood flew from between her lips.

“Stop!” I meant to scream it, but it came out as a whisper.

Again Maxim struck her. This time she stumbled and fell, her skirts billowing around her like black sails. He bent over her and continued to beat her. His fists came down on her face and throat again and again and again, dull slaps of flesh against flesh.

“Maxim! Maxim, stop! You’ll kill her!” I screamed. The sound carried, though for all the good it did, I might well have kept my tongue; Maxim continued to brutally, systematically beat Mrs Danvers. She tried to sit up to fend him off, but he pushed her down. Again she rose, again he beat her down.

As a child, I had witnessed our cat playing with a mouse. It would let it run, only to smack it down with its paw before it could get away. The mouse didn’t stand a chance, yet it persisted hopelessly, just as Mrs Danvers would persist in trying to sit up until she could rise no more.  

There was only one thing to do. I bent down and took hold of the gun. It was still cool despite Mrs Danvers’ grip. I raised it and found it surprisingly heavy for its size; it almost slipped out of my clammy hand. With one eye closed I aimed the gun at Maxim, but I was shaking and dared not fire for fear of hurting Mrs Danvers.

I brought the gun to my temple instead. “Maxim, look at me,” I shouted. “I’ll kill myself! I’ll kill myself and your unborn child if you don’t stop!”

He looked over his shoulder. His face was spattered with blood, his lip curled into a snarl. He let go of Mrs Danvers’ dress, causing her to thud to the ground, and came to his feet. “Don’t!” he said. “Don’t you dare!” He stumbled to me, his hands outstretched to wrest the gun from me.

I pointed the gun at him, closed my eyes, and shot.

*

All of this happened many years ago. My life now is very different from the one I led at Manderley. I’ve said goodbye to England and now have no estate to call my home, no husband to lord over me. Here, my name means nothing, and my face, once plastered over every English newspaper, is just another face, easily forgotten. No one need know that I once was the second Mrs de Winter, the one who everyone knows because she killed her husband. An act in which she was justified, of course, since he had murdered his first wife and now wished to kill her, too, before putting a bullet through his own brain, but that never made the case any less sensational. Whenever I think of it – which, when I am honest, is seldom but still too often for my taste – I can’t help but smile wryly. After all, there is a cruel sort of irony to the whole affair; Maxim killed Rebecca to safeguard Manderley’s reputation, but her murder proved to be the first link in a chain of events that would lead to a nationwide scandal. If I close my eyes, I can still see the reporters pressed against the gates, pen and notepad in hand, clamouring to see me.

There are no reporters in my new life. They do not know where I am, and to the local ones I am of no interest. I live in a cool little cottage, painstakingly paid for with the money I earn with my drawing lessons; I have given away everything I inherited upon Maxim’s death, for I never desired his money even before it became tainted with murder and madness.

Every day is much the same, but that I don’t mind. There’s comfort in familiarity, safety in routine, and after all that we’ve lived through, Danny and I have a certain hankering for comfort. Besides, raising a child together provides plenty of challenges and excitement, we’ve found.

Dear Danny. She’s wonderfully patient with me. I fear I am not always easy to live with. For all my efforts, I’ve not been able to banish the past completely. It still inhabits and possesses a part of me, one that I can fight when awake but must succumb to in slumber, so that, at night, I walk the grounds of Manderley once more. In my dreams, the house and grounds have fallen victim to rot and ruin. The lawn has gone to seed, sickness has turned the chestnut tree into a bleached husk, and the rhododendrons have reared to the fantastic heights of fairy-tale briars. The house itself sags to the side, its walls pockmarked by sour rain, the windows dirty and broken.

But for all its neglect, it is not uninhabited. I do not talk of the birds and bats roosting in the rafters, nor of the mice living underneath the floorboards and the silverfish who slowly eat away the wallpaper.

The library, with its masculine smell of leather and smoke and newspaper ink, is his domain in death as it was in life. There, he paces up and down, up and down. All that pacing has worn the carpet to threads. Each night I must go to him. It does not matter that I am unwilling; my mind and feet betray me, and take me to him. He knows that I am coming and awaits me with impatience, smoking cigarettes in quick succession, littering the ground with ash and butts. His face, once so handsome in a peculiar, medieval way, is ruined by the shot that killed him. It turned his left eye to pulp and smashed the orbital bones to pieces so that the area around the eye is curiously dented.

There must have been no time for Maxim to realise my betrayal; the bullet bored itself into his brain, killing him instantly. The Maxim of my dreams, though, gives me an amused, cruel little smile. Then – just as my life has become routine, my dreams have, too, and so this next moment never varies – he opens his arms to me. I don’t want to, but I must step into his embrace. He pulls me close to him until my head rests against his chest, against the fabric of his tweed jacket turned sodden by blood and the jelly leaking from his burst eye.

“My little love,” he murmurs as he strokes my hair, his breath stinking of the grave, “you didn’t think you’d ever be free of me, now did you? I shall never let you go.”

It is then I wake, gasping and sobbing.

Danny aims to soothe me, kissing my face and folding her long arms around me. I cling to her so tightly it must hurt. She’s no longer as strong as she used to be. No one would be after what Maxim did to her. He damaged her left eye to the point of blindness. During the years, it has turned milky white. She has taken to wearing a velvet eyepatch over it to keep out the light, for even the flame of a candle upon her left eye can trigger a mighty headache. Even covered up it pains her, but she never complains.

She holds me well after the shaking has subsided, kissing my hair. I kiss her throat in return, her chin, her cool sweet mouth. I always hesitate when I reach the scars Maxim left on her face. He embossed her cheek with his signet ring, the M and W intertwined. Yet whenever I hesitate, she brings her mouth to my ear. “No need to be careful, Madam,” she whispers, and then I know.

I have someone in this world to call my own.

I have someone to love.

[mummybear]

Dinner With Friends

This Is Day 10 Of Roleplay May

Words: 3034

Warnings: Smut, Teasing, Jealous Damon, Biting, Damon Drinking Blood, Secret Relationship. Think That’s It.

Characters: Damon Salvatore, Reader, Stefan Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett, Caroline Forbes, Alaric Saltzman, Lexi and Tyler Lockwood

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Reader

Summary: When Caroline and Stefan decide to throw a getting to know you party for the reader, she and Damon are forced to cooperate. But with their secret relationship going on in the back ground, will Damon be able to keep his jealous tendencies at bay, will the two of them be able to stop their wandering hands.

A/N: This is also for my girl @lettersofwrittencollective‘s and her 1000 Followers challenge. Congratulations my girl! So very well deserved, I hope you enjoy it! Love you Nat! <3 My prompt was ‘We have to be quiet’

Staying with the Salvatore’s was interesting to say the least. Nothing was ever boring, witches, vampires and werewolves were the most sane things in Mystic falls, especially these days. Tonight wasn’t likely to be any different, Caroline had decided to throw a party to introduce you to everyone, with Stefan’s help. No matter how much you and Damon had refused to be involved, here you were helping Caroline and Bonnie set the table while the boys cooked up a storm in the kitchen.

As annoying as it was to have your plans disrupted, Caroline and Bonnie were really sweet and they’d been nothing but nice to you since the day you’d met them. As far as you knew you were only waiting on three other people to arrive. Tyler Lockwood who was a werewolf as it turned out, Alaric who was human and Damon’s best friend. Then there was Lexi, Stefan’s best friend who had helped him through some of his hardest times, she was a vampire.

You were feeling a little overwhelmed with the prospect of meeting all of these new people. Placing the last fork on the table, you watch Stefan walk into the dining room and wrap his arms around Caroline and the girls fall into an easy conversation with him, giving you the perfect escape route. You slip out of the room immediately bumping into a solid chest, you look up finding those gorgeous blue eyes looking down at you.

Grabbing your hand he pulls you into the kitchen.

“Well, fancy bumping into you,” he smirks down at you, licking those lips that you dream about.

You drag him into the pantry and close the door behind you.

“This is a stupid idea Damon! I cannot do this!” you confess frustration clearly thick in your voice.

“Again with this princess, I’ve already told you. Yes, it’s stupid and I want nothing more than to drag you up those stairs and fuck you good and hard,” he bites his lip as you press up against him, placing a firm hand on your hip. “But, since things are already in motion, we just need to put up with it, until later. Or until I get bored.” he reasons running his fingers through your hair giving an experimental tug when he leans in closer.

“Damon, come on don’t talk like that, you know what it does to me,” you pout his lips drag across your jaw, until they’re pressed against your ear, teeth dragging over your earlobe. 

“Wait until dinner if you think i’m being unfair now. Maybe I should have a bite” he says as his tongue licks along the thick vein pulsing in your neck. When you moan quietly his blunt human teeth drag over the spot that he knows makes your knees week.

“I hate you” you grumble as Damon moves his face to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah? You hate this?” he asks hotly against your lips as he pushes one of his thick thighs between your legs, the hand on your hip helps you to roll your hips down into the muscle.

“Quit lying to me princess, we both know just how much you fucking love me and how good I make you feel,” his cocky voice only turns you on even more and God doesn’t he know it.

“Then take me upstairs then you cocky bastard, fuck me and quit being a tease,” 

“Oh that’s just adorable. You know I love being a tease, you can wait until I’m ready little one. Now, get out of here before I take you over that table in front of everyone.” he smirks, pecking your lips, chuckling when you growl at him.

Opening the door he gently pushes you out of the pantry, walking closely behind you. You jump as Stefan walks back into the kitchen and Damon’s back presses against you.

“What’re you two up to in here?” he asks confused looking between you and his brother.

“Well little brother, Y/N here was just telling me how bad she wants to get me on my own” Damon smirks at you as he walks past to stir the sauce.

The blush is flaming in your cheeks as Stefan laughs, “Ignore him Y/N, he doesn’t understand that some girls will just never be interested in him. The girls were looking for you by the way,”

Thanking Stefan you leave quickly, ignoring the conversation that starts between the brothers. You make sure to shoot Damon a glare as you walk back into the dining room, where you find everyone already sitting at the table. All the newcomers included. 

Caroline is on you as soon as she spots you, wrapping her arm around you she leads you over to a chair between a tall dark and handsome looking guy and Bonnie. You take your seat as the boys walk in with the food, “Dinner is served,” Stefan announced proudly.

The dinner moves along quickly, laughter and conversation flowing. However you’re completely distracted by the blue eyed vampire glaring at you from across the table, which pauses your conversation with Tyler. Who had just asked you something perfectly innocent, though by the look on Damon’s face he may as well have groped you under the table.

“You okay?” the young werewolf asks with a kind smile, resting his hand on your arm.

If looks could kill the man beside you would be dead. The trouble was with you and Damon was that this was half of the fun of your relationship, he was by far one of the most jealous men you’d ever met. You loved winding him up because an angry Damon was a rough and sexy sight to behold, not that it was hard to achieve. 

Crossing your legs beneath the table you turn towards Tyler with a smile, “Yeah, I’m okay. I guess I was just a little nervous about tonight. But I have a feeling things are about to turn around.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Tyler asks leaning in closer. However, just like you’d expected before he gets a little too close. A large hand lands on Tyler’s shoulder, roughly pulling him and his chair back from the table. 

“You’re moving. Now” Damon growls as Tyler stands ready to argue, Damon takes his chair and slams it down beside you making you jump a little. You look up at him biting back your smile, watching as he takes the seat and pushes the plate forward.

“O-kay” Caroline says loudly, as Tyler takes the chair by Stefan with a little persuasion. 

You can feel Damon’s glare burning into the side of your head as Alaric slides him a bourbon across the table. “I’m Alaric by the way, you can call me Ric,” the older man smiles, shaking your hand. To your surprise Damon doesn’t even twitch beside you, clearly this was a man he trusted, definitely more than Tyler.

“Nice to meet you finally, Ric. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you smile genuinely pleased to meet the hunter. 

Things calm down from there as dessert is served, but right as you take your first bite Damon’s hand lands on your thigh and squeezes. Glancing his way you narrow your eyes at him, he just smiles and nods at something Alaric asks, but you’re far too distracted to pay attention to what they’re saying. 

Still gripping tightly Damon’s hand drags up your thigh and slips beneath your skirt. Your hands are white knuckling the table as he pulls your legs apart and hooks one over his knee. Noticing that everyone is preoccupied in conversation Damon leans in close, pressing his lips so close to your ear they’re almost touching.

“If he ever touches you again, I’ll rip his fucking head off. I don’t care that you wanna keep us a secret for now. Nobody touches what’s mine, not in front of everyone else and especially not some mangy mutt.” 

You turn to look at him with a smile, licking your lips, your hand drops to his lap as you lean in closer pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“You know I’m not interested in anyone else. So, how about you let me prove it to you again?” your question seems to peak his interest and that irresistible smirk is back.

You watch his eyes flick around the room making sure the coast is still clear, before focusing back on you again. Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip he glances down at yours.

“Mmmm, okay. I’m listening baby girl,” 

Cupping the bulge in his pants you turn back to your drink and take a sip, hearing Damon groan beside you when his fingers move a little higher, brushing against your completely bare center.

“See I told you I listen.” you smile against your glass before placing it back on the table.

“Fuck, no panties all for me princess?” he breathes out, pausing to wink at Ric when he sees him looking. 

“Clearly you don’t listen to me though, Salvatore. He knows doesn’t he?” your irritated voice questions and is promptly answered by a shrug and those icy blue eyes glance back into yours.

“How about I make it up to you?” he smirks wiggling those eyebrows at you.

Rolling your eyes at him you sigh. “You’re such a smart ass. Leave it five minutes and then follow my lead.” you tell him quietly, purposely knocking your drink over and soaking yourself. Pulling your leg back from Damon’s you awkwardly stumble backwards out of the chair. 

“Oh dammit! I’m so sorry guys, just excuse me for a minute. I should really get this cleaned up,” you rush to explain, practically running from the room before anyone can speak to you. Rushing over to the large staircase you run up to your bedroom and close the door behind you. 

Stripping yourself from your soaked clothes, you climb onto your bed naked and lay in the middle, with your back resting against the headboard. You can’t help but think maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if people started finding out about the two of you being together, it had been a while now. Besides, whatever you decided Ric seemed like a nice guy and you know Damon will keep respecting your wishes the way he’d proved to you the last few months. Even when things had become more series between the two of you, he’d respected your wishes at every turn. 

It’s maybe two minutes before your bedroom door opens and Damon steps inside, closing it quietly behind him. Taking long strides towards you, his piercing gaze never leaving your naked body. You bite back your smile watching Damon’s shirt drop to the floor, quickly followed by his shoes and ass hugging jeans. He vamp speeds towards you and pins you beneath him, wrists trapped under his big hands.

“You look good enough to fucking eat baby girl.” He mumbles into your neck, licking along the pulsing vein under your skin as his hands roam your body, your head drops back into the pillows and a gasp leaves your lips when he bites down on the muscle between your neck and shoulder. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” you moan out as he sucks a nipple between his lips and drags his teeth over the hardened bud. You can feel the thick length of his hardness pressing into your thigh, as he rocks his hips into you.

“Yeah, probably. But we both know I’ll make you feel good baby girl.” 

Damon pushes a hand between your legs and you can’t help the loud moan that leaves your lips. The man above you chuckles, pulling back slightly so he can meet your eyes. A large hand quickly clamps over your mouth as he presses two fingers inside you, a cry of his name is muffled against his hand. “Don’t forget princess. We have to be quiet, unless you want everyone down there knowing about the big bad vampire who’s about to ruin you? Again.” he smirks as his hand leaves your mouth, fingertips trailing down your body, over your stomach where he presses down as your hips arch into his hand and his tongue flicks over your clit.

Your fingers tangle in his thick black locks as he curls his fingers inside you, slowly stroking against the spot inside you that makes your entire body shiver. A needy whimper leaves your lips when he bites your inner thigh with his human teeth. 

“Always with the teasing, Damon. You owe me,” you remind him as those blue eyes flick back to yours.

“I fully intend to pay princess” he winks, sealing his lips around your throbbing clit, as his fingers speed up, curling just right with every movement. You’re biting into one of your hands before you know it, the fire licking at every nerve ending as you try to quieten your screams. 

“Damon, I can’t. Please” you beg behind your hand.

Damon moans into you when your pussy clamps down around his fingers, then he adds a third finger and with a flick of his wrist your entire body arches into his hand. 

“That’s my girl” Damon chuckles as your pussy flutters and clamps uncontrollably around his fingers, his tongue swirls around your clit and his fingers keep moving, helping you through your orgasm until you’re pushing at his head with your hands, too sensitive for anymore.

He crawls back up your body, cocky smirk still intact as he licks his fingers clean. You wrap your arms around his neck as soon as he’s close enough, you kiss him. Tasting yourself on his tongue you pull his thick bottom lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth.

“Fuck, I love you. So damn sexy,” he growls as you flip him onto his back in a practised movement. 

The rules were the rules in your relationship, Damon knew every time he messed up and you told him he owed you, he really owed you and he did exactly as you asked and exactly as he was told.

Sitting up on your knees you grip his length in your hand, until it’s pressed against your opening. “I love you too baby.” you purr finally lowering yourself down all the way onto his hard waiting cock.

Damon’s hands go straight to your hips, not guiding your movements simply holding onto you tightly. His grip was bruising when you started to move, leaning forward your hands landed on his chest, nails biting at the soft skin as you grind down into him like your life depended on it. His hands move to roughly grip your ass when you start to rise and fall on the thick length inside you, the slap he delivers to your ass only spurs you on.

You pull at his shoulders so he’s sitting with you in his lap, “Fuck princess, you want it bad tonight huh?” Damon grunts as your nails drag down his back hard enough to draw blood, the slap of your skin echoing around the room as you speed up your movements with his help. 

“Don’t care anymore. I need it, need you,” you moan loudly as he starts to meet your thrusts with sharp hard movements of his hips as you keep him pulled close. Your teeth drag over his earlobe before you whisper in his ear. “Do it, I know you want to” 

Damon’s grip on you tightens, his breath hot against your neck. You can even feel the scrape of his fangs against your skin, causing a shiver to run through your body, “you know what your blood does to me princess, they’re gonna know if i do. You taste like the most incredible bourbon ever made” he moans breathlessly, feeling your walls clamping down around him all over again.

“You mean you’re gonna be blood drunk off your ass? I don’t care what they think anymore, let them know I’m all yours baby” You whimper feeling one of his fangs slice through your skin, the drag of his cool tongue lapping up the falling droplet makes you whine. “Do it” you demand your voice wrecked as you do your best to hold back your orgasm, “You know the rules Damon” 

Your reminder does just as you’d planned snapping the only string of self control the vampire beneath you had left. A low growl leaves his throat when he finally sinks his fangs into the pulsing vein in your neck, you let out a pleasured scream, finally getting what you’d been waiting for all week. The band in your stomach snaps immediately, dragging you back over that edge like only he seems able to do. 

You’re barely coming down from your earth shattering orgasm when Damon finally gives into his own needs, moaning as your blood fills his mouth and his orgasm hits him hard. 

His smooth tongue is soothing over the mark he’s left behind when your hips finally still and your chest is heaving against his. He drops onto his back with you still on top of him, leaning on your forearms on his chest you look down into his gorgeous blue eyes, which are still lidded as he licks his lips. He goes to bite into his wrist but you stop him, “Leave it, I want it there” you smile as he tucks the hair behind your ear which has fallen in your face.

“What have you done to me princess?” he smiles back, that genuine smile that not many people get to see. 

“Nothing you don’t deserve” you reply honestly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Well keep it up Missy and there’s a round two up for grabs” those wiggling eyebrows of his only make you giggle.

“Oh keep talking Mr Salvatore, I hear that shower calling your name” he reaches for you as you climb off the bed and head towards the on suite.

“You better run then” he grins, vamping off, you squeal as his arms wrap around your waist and he throws you over his shoulder and smacks your ass. “Don’t wanna keep the shower waiting do we baby” 

Tags:  @chewie-redbird @julzdec​ @stiles-o-dylan24​ @mogaruke​ @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​ @dylanholyhellobrien​ @desireepow-1986​ @emichelle​ @lilulo-12​ @22sarah08​ @deanwanddamons​ @simsadventures​  @charmed-asylum​ @nicole-lynne​ @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog​ @defenderrosetyler​ @emilyshurley​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @mylovelydame21​ @sunshineandwings86 @captain-shannon-becker​ @heimdoodle​ @plushpyrate​ @winchester-wifey​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @fandomfic-galore​

[velociwrangler]

server promptfest: joey/kate

SO I’M BACK ON MY MEDS AND TRYING TO CRAWL BACK ONTO THE WRITING WAGON

I did a little prompt fest in the Dead by Baelight server! I don’t think they’re really good enough to throw up on AO3 but I am  fond enough of them to share. please be prepared for their short and  rough form, as it was an exercise in low-pressure writing :)

dead by daylight, kate/m!killer, anonymity & lockers, for @obscurefrost​

this one was heeeavily inspired by @crit-afterdark​‘s gorgeous Joey art here. most of the promptfest fics were around 500 words, and this one was more like 1600 LOL. please go and gaze upon her work

Some people just don't learn. That's one of the things that keeps Kate sane in this place. That no matter what they suffer, no matter how often it turns foul, there will be people lunging for the rescue, fighting for each other. She loves them for it, these strangers. What else can you do?

The thunder of the heartbeat in her ears just won't die. The world is pulsing and red around her and Kate shoves her elbow into the splintery surface of the door, legs shaking, and closes her eyes. She's fighting to keep herself upright. Running out of time, she thinks. Running out of time, running - just leave damnit - But it stays and it stays and she's afraid of the creak of the hinges, grimacing tautly against the pain. Just a little longer, she tells herself, but it's not up to her. The heartbeat dies, abruptly. Kate grabs for the door, pushes her shoulder against it. If she can mend, if she can press her wounds together the strange fevered sickness of death's door that Legion's masked members inflict will - Too late, too little time. Her legs fold under her and she crashes to the floor, teeth grating together. The air of the basement is thick and torpid, and she feels every inch of her bruised body. If she starts to crawl up the stairs, will she find a silhouette waiting, returning to find her? She tries to swallow her cries of pain, muffling them with bitten lips, cramming the back of her fingers against her hands. No one is coming for her. She can sense them, far corners of the trial grounds, hiding or bent to their tasks. Tonight's trial had not been a forgiving one. The heartbeat suddenly blooms again and she stiffens. She doesn't want to bleed out, but that logical thought doesn't keep the surge of adrenaline and terror from happening, doesn't prevent her heart from thumping like a rabbit's against her ribs. Come on, she tells herself, trying to summon the aggressively cheerful voice she'd summon to drag herself back out on the road, to promise one more hour before a motel, let's just fucking get this over with and have a little peace and quiet, folks. And then she sees a silhouette, the soft tread of a boot. A light build, but bigger than Nea or Ace. Her vision is swimming and uncertain. "What are you doing?" she slurs, feeling a surge of affection and impatience at once. "Run. You have to run." His head cocks to one side and he comes closer. Cautious, as if his ear is perked for a killer's footstep above. "At least hide," she says. Her voice sounds far away to her own ears, sleepy and scolding. "Don't be a martyr." Closer he comes, weaving around the edge of the wall and crouching down beside her. Kate still has her medkit clutched in her hand, more from a reflexive unthinking stiffness of her fingers than from any real strength of grip. She sighs, half-laughing. "Okay, sugar," she breathes. "If you want to play hero, give me a shot?" Some people just don't learn. That's one of the things that keeps Kate sane in this place. That no matter what they suffer, no matter how often it turns foul, there will be people lunging for the rescue, fighting for each other. She loves them for it, these strangers. What else can you do? Her mind snaps back to the present. He reaches down and methodically works her fingers free of the handle. She slurs, "oh, sorry," and he pauses, then finishes. Her hand drops to the floor, fingers curling. A split second hesitation. The heartbeat is still loud and insistent in their ears. The killer must be patrolling close, determined to find her. Her unknown companion pops the medkit open and looks over its contents. "Syringe," she says dreamily, "I'll be right as rain...I dreamed of it and it gave me something nice this time, right? Instead of just air freshener." She hopes her voice is quieter than it sounds in her own ears. She seems to have lost the knack of whispering. He finds it, lifts it up, and then brushes her hair back. She sighs, feeling gloved fingers brush her throat, The briefest sting in the curve of her bared shoulder. "Now you run," she mumbles. "Or he'll find you." The man stays crouched, easy and relaxed on his haunches, waiting for her. She wishes she could see his face; she's met survivors just about this bold before, devil may care after living too long in this place, but she can't place him. "At least hide," she says. Strange moments like these in trials are odd spots of macabre fascination, always. When the urgency gives way to light-hearted fatalism, when all you have are each other. "Get in the locker." She shivers on the ground, feeling a prickling wave travel from head to toe. Whatever is in the syringe - no matter what material it mimics, no matter what shape the Fog gives it to be crudely recognizable - it's as natural and recognizable as the Fog itself. But as long as it does its job, she'll take it. "Get in the...." She reaches out and tries to grasp his pant leg. Her fingernails scrape and slip off. "Sugar," she says again, that strange giddy mix of endearment and annoyance bubbling in her veins, "stop being a dumbass." When he moves, she slumps against the ground in relief and closes her eyes. But then she feels his hands on her again, and he picks her up off the ground, cradling her against his chest. She murmurs something incoherent, confused, and then hears the locker door open: his grip shifts on her, keeping her pinned to his chest by the waist as he walks them inside. The door closes behind them. She slumps against his chest, obliging, and they are squeezed together from shoulder to hip. His legs fit between hers, the coarse fabric of his pants brushing her inner thighs, and he keeps her on her feet with the pressure of his body alone. Which is. A problem. Just until the syringe finishes, she thinks. Just until - But the syringe working moves over her in a prickling wave. Her body feels hot and tender. Whatever it's doing to her, whatever strange machinations it performs inside her body, it makes her shiver and flood with sensation, nerves on overdrive. The warm weight of his body against hers is secure, persistent. His pelvis presses the crease of her shorts against her and she shivers. A little sound escapes her, involuntary and high-pitched, and he lifts on gloved fingers. It grazes both of their mouths, they're so close, when he presses it to his lips and whispers, "shhhh." The first time he's spoken, she realizes, but it doesn't give her many clues. Still no clue as to who he is. Is he a new survivor, or will she be real embarrassed when they stagger out of the basement together? "Sorry," she tries to whisper back. It probably comes out too loud. Her face is flushed, and the cool damp air of the basement is banished by their bodies together in such a close space. His breath, soft and steady, grazes her mouth. "Sorry," she repeats, "I'm..." "Hn?" he says. Has he never used the syringe before? She tries to hold still and not rock against him, tries not to rut pleadingly against the line of his body. Her fingers curl into the loose sweatshirt around his frame and a vivid image flashes through her mind: of pushing her fingers under it, smoothing her hand across his lower stomach and dipping her fingers under the hem. It's an absurd thought, especially because the heartbeat hasn't eased. Has the killer really fixated on this one down, or is he chasing someone else? She tries to remember if a generator has gone off while she's been bleeding out. "Feels like - " she gasps, and then he presses against her, rocks his hips slowly and deliberately inward, and she realizes she's been squirming without meaning to, and her fingers in his sweatshirt having been giving weak little tugs. She moans and tries to cover her mouth, but it's hard to maneuver her hand up. He kisses her. Presses his mouth to hers to silence her and she feels a rasp of fabric. From far, far away, distant alarm bells begin to sound in the back of her head. But she's still woozy, and the effects of the syringe haven't worn off yet. If anything they've gotten worse, because neither of them are helping her calm down. He presses even closer, which she didn't think was possible, and one gloved hand rucks up her shirt and settles on her waist, flexing against her skin. "He'll find us," she protests muzzily, and he gives a huff of laughter against her lips. She's still holding onto his sweatshirt anyway, tugging and guiding his body against hers desperately. He's settled into a slow, hard rhythm, grinding against her through both of their clothes. If she could cant her hips, wrap her legs around his waist, guide him where she really wants it - she'd probably have come already. But instead it's pressure, flares of just right there yes god and then rocking away, a tease that disintegrates the last fragments of her reservations. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and shoves both hands up under his shirt, moulding them against the lines of his back, feeling his muscles move with the rhythm of his hips even in this confined space that cramps their bodies together. "Please," she whimpers, "oh, fuck - " He lowers his head and puts his mouth on the wound that downed her, the red slash that gouges down over her shoulder and upper chest, just as the syringe kicks in and it closes. The bright, violent burst of pain as his tongue strokes over it crashes her headfirst into orgasm, even as, in this last moment, the alarm bells in the back of her head go klaxon-loud and she realizes -

[spnsmile]

“It’s okay Sammy, I’m here…”

Dean stammers through chattering teeth, body numb in pain while he sits on the hard floor, staring blankly up the ceiling to the crack of doom on the ground they have fallen into where the sky is now dark. Apparently, falling in a cave is now also a thing.

Dirt and moist tingle his skin, earth and musty smell like rotten eggs from stagnant water fill his nose, and he is freezing from cold sweat but all he could think about is getting Sammy out and kick him back to safety, as any sane older brother would. But he soon lost track of the hours keeping an eye in the darkness wrapped about him. His eyelids begin to feel heavy and there’s a scream in his head he really wants to go away.

Then there’s light. Burst of it. He hears Sam calling him, shaking him and telling him something about “people”. Great. Many people to remind him how he got his brother in danger. Sighing and ignoring the brutal pain brought by his consciousness returning, he sucks air in his chest only to end grunting.

There’s someone speaking to him. No, not Sammy. Someone with rich deep voice, thick and velvety almost reassuring and calming. Someone obviously not there to scold him for being an irresponsible adult. He opens his eyes, it’s blurry at first then—

Dean gets the shockwaves of his life as he stares at a pair of pristine blue eyes almost a blink close and breathing on his face. White lights shower behind him and Dean can’t help gaping.

He must be one of those handsome fairies tasked to kidnap him or put him out of his misery. The kind blessed with hardened features, frowny face, high-profiled cheekbones that could cut, but which Dean totally digs as hot.

He hears him ask questions about “second round”, “fingers” and “tying you” like some bad foreplay. He is saying more, the movements of his pink lush lips too distracting to ignore. But he is not speaking to Dean, no. He is speaking to his radio while saying soothing words of comfort about rescue teams. Dean snaps in attention and sees reality of flashing lights, shadows of people from the crack up the ceiling.

And then this man in helmet and safety gear kneeling in front of him with grave look eyeing him clinically as he runs expert hands on Dean’s thigh where his erect boner lies long and solid.

Dean panics. Sparks shoot up his spine in pain and Dean both blushes and tries to squirm away.

“Stay still, you’re okay,” blue eyes hold Dean’s gaze for a moment it eases all the pain away like a drug.

“ I am from the Cave and Vertical rescue team. I got you, Dean."  He speaks to his shoulder radio again. “…one broken leg, no other external injury… may need surgery… bring the litter down here,” he reaches one hand and probably cup-a-feel the back of Dean’s head the way he tenders touches, running calloused fingers on points of Dean’s nape, all the while keeping steady blue eyes on Dean’s own.

Dean forgets what breathing feels like. He might actually be drowning in those ocean blues.

Warm palms cup his cheeks neck and tilt it up and down but Dean doesn’t dare look away. Blue-eyed seems not to wanna lose his attention, being distracting and all.

“S-Sammy…” his instinct remembers. Blue-eyed fairy blinks and smiled a little.

“He’s okay, only grazes, smart kid he told us what you did… Sam will be fine and so are you.” God, his voice rumbles and echoes in Dean’s ear, “We’ll get you out soon. It’s a good thing you didn’t land on any stalagmites, they also grow up from the floor. It’d be too bad for nature.”

Dean blinks but the smile is warm and playful. This guy is really distracting whether he means to or not.

“Consider yourself lucky you landed in a soft boulder and safest part of the cave. I am sure you are familiar with stalactites. They are icicle-shaped form up the cave ceiling, we don’t want them dropping on you. Same with those twisty helictites that also grow on the ceiling, wall, and floor and is not good for any landing body. Saying so, this cave has its hidden beauty. There’s a network of passages like an underground plumbing system down there, naturally formed with untouched green pool… so beautiful.”

Dean’s heart kickstarts at the piercing blue eyes seemingly wanting to know the depth of his soul.

“You romance your rescuee  with your rock stories?”

"Only if they jump after their brother without regard to their own safety, thus breaking a leg or two.”

Dean lowers his eyes to his leg where the rescuer's gentle hand lay above the first aid cast protectively still.

“How many did I break?”

“Same question about hearts.” The man smiles gummily and when he wraps Dean in his arms after securing him in the built haul systems to get him up the vertical pit, he stays right next to him.  “How many have you broken?” he queries.

“You’re not good for my heart yourself…” Dean breathes out, but he is smiling wide and feeling all funny and happy despite the rough hours he spent hurting. It all seemed to magically go away under his handsome blue-eyed rescuer. And they said angels only found in heaven. Obviously, they go here in the pit too, just for him.

His rescuer begins talking in his radio again with lips unhelpfully getting Dean excited. He doesn’t remember being so thirsty until then. More ropes fall and more ropes wrapped around his stretcher, then gorgeous blue secures the harness and smiles down at him.

“I’m raising you from perdition.”

His eyes are so serious and full of confidence that Dean’s heart swells. The rigging team begins hauling and Dean knows he is safe. He sees Sam wrapped in a thick blanket and he’s sure he can finally be at peace with the warm hand on his shoulder not leaving him until they reach an ambulance where Dean gets strapped in a rolling stretcher securely.

And he is still there inside the vehicle too, like a true guardian angel watching over him.

“You need sunflower next to you, ask for it when your partner comes around, you will light up with it in the room.” Says his rescuer, still stationed beside him

“You gonna give it to me?” Dean is already drowsy, but he can keep up. Rescuer guy hesitates, but he stares at him, hopeful.

“I’m not sure it’s my privilege…there could be others…” he presses his lips. Dean should really ask for his name.

“There isn’t,” Dean says quickly, blinking sleepiness away but failing, “I love sunflowers… all sunshine... will look good yeah—"

“I’ll bring it. Wait for me to come.”  The resolute tone in his voice is mesmerizing.

They share a look and this guy’s dorky way of flirting is way overrated by his heart but his mouth is so dry and he wants the safety of this man’s hold. 

“What’s your name?” Dean blurts out and gets blinded by heavenly smile because next time he goes caving, this guy will be with him.

“Castiel.”

The next time they meet is in the hospital where the handsome idiot knocks on the door and comes in wearing a suit inside a tan trench coat. In his arms, he is holding a bouquet of sunflowers.  Dean instantly remembers the feeling of falling in love and he’s sure Castiel sees it in his green eyes with his beaming smile a dead giveaway.

“Hello, Dean.

Ao3: Caving

[etherealfangirl10]

Friend?

One Shot

Masterlist

Pairing: Jerome x Reader

Gender: Female

Genre: Fluff (?)

Warning: Mention of murder (?)

Summary:

-(Y/N) is an inmate at Arkham Asylum, preferring to keep to herself and her only want to get out of that hellhole. But what happens when she catches the attention of a certain red head?-

(Y/N) let out a long sigh, plopping her head down onto the metal table she had seated at. Day 17 at Arkham. All she had to prove that she was sane, which shouldn’t be too hard, considering she was. But, alas, her psychiatrist didn’t think so. The creep. He probably only wanted her to stay so he can continue to ogle at her and have an excuse to brush his disgusting hand over hers. It made her wanna chop it off, sometimes.

Now, now. She truly wasn’t crazy. But taking the insanity plea was better than wasting away at Blackgate for 20 or so years. She figured she’d be out of Arkham in no time. But the more days (Y/N) spent wasting here, the more she doubted she’d get to leave anytime soon.

The slop on her tray forgotten, she lifted her head to place an elbow on the table to support her head as she gazed around almost lazily. It was full of crazies and psychos in here. Serial killers, cannibals, rapists... (Y/N) shivered at the thought of it. She didn’t have any strong opinions against murder, considering the reason why she was there in the first place, but she certainly didn’t want to be the object of those dark thoughts.

It was difficult, though. Being a woman in Arkham made it hard to stay unnoticed. Men, and even some other girls, seemed to watch (Y/N) every time she entered a room. Not because she was drop dead gorgeous, at least she didn’t think she was, but because they were thirsty, horny, and, oh alright, she wasn’t a terrible sight to look at, but she just couldn’t believe there was anything special about her.

(Y/N) tried to avoid the other inmates, mostly. It would do no good to get buddy- buddy, and do even less good if she were to get on bad terms with some of these people. If she stayed away, she’d be okay.

That’s why, when her (E/C) gaze caught the eyes of another, a dark green gaze framed by dark red lashes, standing out against pale skin... she instantly looked away, down at her tray, biting her lip gently in slight panic. They didn’t think she was staring, right? Oh jeez, please don’t come over.

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut as she heard a shuffle from that direction, then footsteps. Please be walking away, please please please?

Nope. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Hi, gorgeous.” A boyish voice sounded above her, and she felt the table shake as someone jumped over the seat next to her, settling down beside (Y/N).

The girl slowly opened her eyes, plastering on a fake smile. Don’t piss other inmates off, (Y/N). She turned towards the male, taking him in. Oof. The male looked more boy than man, with boyish features and body shape. Lanky, but she could tell that he had lean muscle hidden under those stripes. Pale skin, freckles scattered across his face. Catching her attention, her gaze flickered up to his fiery red hair, combed neatly into place, or at least attempted to be. It gave off untamable vibes, strands of fire falling over his forehead, leading (Y/N) to his facial features once again. Not gonna lie, cute nose. It wasn’t too small or too big, and his pink lips were boyishly thin, stretched into a wide smile. While the smile seemed to portray the male had ‘friendly’ intentions, she couldn’t help but be unsettled by it, yet some part of her drawn in, nonetheless.

“Anybody home?” (Y/N) was broken out of her trance as he spoke once more, his words trailing off into a short, contagious giggle. (Y/N) felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment as she realized she was staring, and ducked her head before meeting his gaze once again.

“Er, yeah, sorry.” The girl breathed, and cleared her throat cautiously. “Can I help you?” (Y/N) inquiried, gazing at him curiosly.

“Sure ya can, Doll. You can start off with telling me your name.” He hummed, leaning forwards slightly, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Didn’t you know it’s rude to ask for someones name before giving your own?” (Y/N) shot back without thinking, and she internally face palmed at her stupidity. Why would they care about manners? We’re in Arkham for goodness sake.

Surprisingly, the males grin only widened, and he placed a hand over his heart, his eyes turning mockingly apologetic. “Oh, how rude of me! The name’s Jerome. I hope you can forgive such that grievous mistake on my part.” Jerome chuckled, teasing her. Well, too late to turn back now.

“We’ll see about that.” She responded, and he tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised before she continued. “I’m (Y/N).” Instinctively, she reached a hand out for him to shake, but, with a glimmer in his eyes, Jerome took her hand and raised it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. Letting out a soft, nervous laugh, (Y/N) took her hand back and placed it on her lap.

“Nice meeting ya, (Y/N). Whatcha in for?” He pressed on casually, as if he was asking about what she was eating. Ah, right. Couldn’t forget she was surrounded by maniacs.

“Ah...just...murder.” More specifically, her ex boyfriend and ex best friend, even though they were her boyfriend and best friend at the time they decided to bang each other. She didn’t mean to kill them, but things escalated, and once she grabbed a knife and drew blood, it was like something else took over her body. She liked the feeling, and that’s what scared her the most.

“No way! Me too! Chopped up my mom.” He replied almost enthusiastically. “She deserved it, though.” He added, his boyish tone discarded and replaced with a type of darkness, his eyes darkening and his smile suddenly appeared to be more sinister. What the frick?

“I’m sure she did, Jerome.” (Y/N) responded after a couple of seconds, trying to gauge his change of attitude. It disappeared in a flash, though, returning back to the bubbly personality he had before.

“Ya know, a girl as pretty as you is sure to attract attention around here.” He continued, propping his head up on his fist. “I thought you might wanna have a friend by your side, (Y/N).” Jerome hummed, blinking innocently up at her. Had she just imagined all of that?

“A friend?” She questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. She didn’t need a friend. She just wanted to keep to herself and get out of here. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Aw, come on. Everyone needs a friend! See that big handsome fella staring at you like you’re fried chicken?” Almost reluctant to turn and look, (Y/N) followed Jeromes gaze to see an older looking man, indeed checking her out. Eesh.

“Yeah? What about him?” She inquired, instantly looking away and back to Jerome, wondering what he had in mind. She was used to the staring.

“Richard Sionis. He’s a millionaire. Got his own airplane, got a boat with a hot tub on it. And he killed twenty five people-.” Jerome gave a tiny chuckle at that. “Just for fun.” Why was he telling her this?

“Am I supposed to be scared or something?” (Y/N) huffed. For some reason, this whole exchange had fueled her with the confidence to actually speak up for herself. So that’s what this was? She was a damsel in distress to him?

Jerome grinned at that, turning to face her more clearly, angling his whole body towards her. “So. He likes you.” He chuckled, and she lifted an eyebrow, feeling her own smirk play at her lips from watching the male smile so much. What was with this dude? “He wants to be your friend.”

She spared another glance over to the man, and caught his gaze running over my body. (Y/N) fought back a cringe and turned to lean closer to Jerome. “But I don’t wanna be his friend.” She murmured, frowning. “I don’t know about you, but he doesn’t seem like the... friendly type, if you know what I’m saying.”

Jerome giggled, before whispering, almost like they were on some secret mission, “That’s why you could use a different friend, to protect you from guys like him.” He persevered. Hmm. He had a point. She didn’t exactly need protecting, but extra armor couldn’t hurt. (Y/N) analyzed him once more. But how would that Richard guy know that she even had a fr- ohhhhhh.... well, public displays worked. She just hoped she was on the same page as him. And if not... ah, well, let’s just hope they are.

“Mm... I see.” She murmured softly, letting her gaze travel down to his lips and back, leaning in closer. Jerome blinked in mild surprise as he felt her hands delicately run up his chest, her nails trailing over his neck before resting her thumb on his jawline. “So will you be my friend, Jerome?” (Y/N) asked with a slight purr to her tone, batting her eyelashes innocently up at him. His smile had faltered slightly, his eyes trailing down to her lips and back, his breathing becoming shallower.

He didn’t get to reply before she finally connected their mouths, brushing her lips over his softly before pulling back, his body automatically leaning forwards to try and stay in contact. (Y/N) let out a smug hum as he pressed his mouth to hers eagerly as she ran her free hand through his already untamed locks, grabbing onto it and tugging gently, enticing an almost inaudible groan to to fall from his lips.

It was over quickly, perhaps quicker than (Y/N) would have liked. The girl pushed against his chest lightly, tilting her head away from his as he caught his breath. She was used to kissing, her ex had loved to drag her into bed anytime he could, even if she didn’t feel like it. But to her surprise, Jerome was quiet, a large smile taking over his face. Little did she know, that was his first kiss.

Sneaking a look over at Sionis, he could see the man looking away, a disappointed expression on his face. Huh. That was easier than expected.

Turning back to face Jerome, she saw he was now gazing at her, clearly amused. “You’re bad...” he muttered, and for a moment, she couldn’t think of anything to say in reply. Bad in what way? Bad bad? Good bad? Was bad bad a bad thing? Was good bad a bad thing?

Luckily, she didn’t have to sort out her thoughts and reply, because the bell signaling that lunch was over rang out through the room.

Without another word, her mind struggling to figure out what had just flipping happened, she stood up and strode away, not even bothering to spare a glance behind her.

If he was serious about her being his ‘friend’, then he should be following like a lost puppy.

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 6 - Feels Like The First Time

Seattle Washington, February 13 1988

(Andi is 18, Chris is 23)

ANDI: "Andi... girl, come out with me. You stay in this freaking room all the time playing your guitar and you never come out with me to actually play, play y'know?"

Xana La Fuente stands in my bedroom of our small two bedroom apartment in downtown Seattle, facing my full length mirror that hung behind my bedroom door. She pulls up her long golden curls into a high ponytail on top of her head, and adjusts her black long sleeve crop top, turning in the mirror to check out her brand new black leggings . I'll never understand how she can wear the least amount of clothing in the dead of winter.

I had just moved to Seattle back in September, on a scholarship to Seattle University for a major in Marketing with a minor in Musical Performance. I wanted music to be my major but my father had convinced me to go for something more substantial, that would guarantee me a job to make good money since he couldn't bare to see me struggle with a musical career like he did. Even though I was reluctant to do so, I eventually agreed to apply for Marketing, since I could still use that in the entertainment field and still study music, my one and only vice, the thing that keeps me sane and centered, the only thing that keeps the time slips at bay.

I graduated from Etobicoke School For The Arts in Toronto with honors - early - and received a scholarship for two semesters at Seattle University. I worked my freaking ass off and it definitely paid off, especially since I've had no time slip episodes since that night of my parents fight.

I met Xana the day that I arrived in Seattle, in a café downtown while I was perusing the corkboard of ads for apartments available. We hit it off immediately and since we were both looking for a place, we decided to look for one together, that way it would help us both out with rent costs and what-not. She is the complete opposite of me - outgoing, energetic, fun, not shy whatsoever but we've become so close in the short while we've known each other. Considering the fact that I have no friends, which did make it easy to move to Seattle. I just hate being away from my father.

"Only because I'm not that great around people," I say as I flip my curls out of my face and go back to plucking the strings on my Desert Sunset Burst Gibson Les Paul, a remake of the original 1959 model that my father gave to me as my graduation present. When I opened the case, I outright cried and hugged him so hard. He spent his savings to get it for me since I was eyeing in the local guitar shop in downtown Toronto ever since I was 13 years old.

"Andi, it's ok... I mean everyone's a little shy most of the time, that's what whiskey is for. It gives you that courage that you wouldn't otherwise have. C'mon, come out with me and Andy," Xana pleads, placing her hands on her hips as she turns to face me.

"I don't know," I say as I continue to play away at the strings, my dark curls falling in my face.

"Y'know... I know someone who would be perfect for you, and we're also hanging out tonight after Andy's gig. Come on... come out with me. You always say 'no' so just this one time can you just say 'yes'?" Xana says as she drops to her knees, shuffling over to me with her hands together pleading. I glance at her as she does so, and giggle as I keep my guitar across my lap.

"Ok, ok...jeeze, I'll come out ok? You're so dramatic," I giggle.

"Uh huh and it always works," She laughs as she gets up from the floor. She then moves over to my closet and starts going through my clothes.

"Xana what are you doing?" I ask as I unplug the patch cord to my guitar and lean over to switch off my amp.

"I am looking for something for you to wear and - jeeze Andi, do you have anything that's not just ripped jeans and band shirts?" She says quickly flipping through the hangers as they squeak with each flick.

"What's wrong with what I wear?" I ask as I stand up from my bed and move over to set my beautiful Gibson down on it's stand.

"Nothing... as long as you plan on becoming a biker in the next coming months, it's perfect," Xana says still flipping through.

"Hey," I wasn't exactly hurt by that statement but I resent the fact that she's judging my beloved attire.

"Well... here we go, why have you been hiding this? It's perfect," Xana pulls out a little black mini 3/4 length sleeve lacy dress.

"I haven't been hiding it, I just haven't worn it yet," I say as I wrap up the patch cord.

"Ok, well you're gonna wear it tonight, and then you have to let me borrow it after cause it's freaking sexy,"

"It's like 10 degrees outside, I'll freeze," I say as I set the patch cord down on my amp.

"But dude, you'll look hot wearing it," Xana says and I giggle as she tosses the dress over to me.

*****

A short while later, I find myself standing in front of my full length mirror, in my little black lacy mini dress scrunching my damp dark curls with leave in conditioner to keep the frizziness away. I already finished my make-up - a black smoky eye, and once my curls look decent enough, I slap on my silver studded wrist cuff and move over to my bed to tie up my black soft leather Doc Marten's.

"How do I look?" Xana says bursting through the doorway to my bedroom, in the same black long sleeve crop top only this time she changed into a white mini skirt and let her golden curls fall down around her shoulders.

"Amazing," I say suddenly feeling self conscious.

"Thank you," She smiles and as soon as I stand up from my bed Xana's eyes practically pop out of her head.

"Holy fuck, Andi..."

"What? It's too short isn't it?" I say as I look down at myself, and pull down the bottom of my dress. It felt like it was barely covering my ass but when I look in the mirror, it's actually not that short.

"No, it's not that... it's just... damn he's gonna have a heart attack when you meet him,"

"When I meet who?" I ask.

"You'll see," She winks at me and disappears out of my bedroom.

"Xana, who am I meeting?" and I follow her, grabbing my leather jacket from my reading chair and close the door.

*****

The Central Tavern, Seattle Washington

"Ladies, ladies... welcome to the most amazing dressing room this side of Seattle,"

Andrew Wood opens the door, dramatically leaning against the door frame. His wild blonde hair all around him, wearing tight fitted ripped jeans and a Seattle Seahawks football jersey with a colorful scarf draped across his shoulders.

"Oh, babe," Xana smiles as she leans into him and places her lips to his.

The lead front man of the band Mother Love Bone, who looks like a mixture of David Lee Roth and Axl Rose with the flamboyancy of the former, takes her in his arms as they continue their 'greeting' while I stand behind Xana, feeling just slightly awkward.

"Hi Andi... how are you?" Andy says once Xana breaks away from him and he leans in to give me a hug.

"Hi," I say shyly, as I hug him back. I've pretty much grown close to Andy as well over the last few months since Xana practically has him over to our place almost every night. He is just the sweetest guy and perfect for Xana. I'm not even going to get into the fact that I can hear them in her room since our rooms are beside each other. That's usually my cue to turn up my guitar and pretend I don't hear anything.

"Damn, you're looking hot tonight though... what happened?" Andy says when he pulls away from me, his brown eyes glancing over me as Xana heads in. I shyly look down at myself and back up at him.

"I have no idea," I giggle and he laughs.

"What'd you think of the show? Was I entertaining enough? Did I live up to your expectations, given that you're such a goddess with that guitar of yours?" Andy says as he attempts his Elton John impersonation that he sometimes does.

"Um, thank you," I say shyly and he just looks at me breaking character.

"But yes, yes you always live up to my expectations, you know that," I giggle and he chuckles shaking his head at me.

"C'mon love, lets have a drink, what would you like?" Andy says taking my hand and leading me into the room.

"Um... Jack and Coke?" I'm not that much of a drinker, but I've pretty much figured out that Jack and Coke is my drink of choice. That sour Tennessee Mash just always hits the spot.

"You got it," He says and heads over to the mini bar fridge towards the back of the room to make some drinks.

"Hey guys! Has the party started yet?!"

Jeff Ament and Stone Gossard come through the door with a few other guys and girls following in with them. I have to say, that this room has become filled full of people quickly which once again made me quite nervous.

Ok, Andrea, just center yourself. You're fine.

"Yes it has, and you guys are the guests of honor," Andy says as he hands me my drink and I take a sip while everyone greets each other with laughter and smiles. Andy doing his usual dramatic and flirtatious welcoming, hugs each one of them as they enter the room.

"Chrissy!" Xana exclaims excitedly as she quickly runs over and wraps her arms around a very tall, dark and lean but toned, blue eyed Adonis with his dark curls flowing passed his broad shoulders.

"Hi Xana," He says, his voice mellow and deep, a coy smile spreading across his pouty lips. He breaks away from Xana, flipping his gorgeous curls out of his face and glances up to see me, unable to take my eyes off of him.

"I have someone for you to meet," Xana says sweetly taking his hand and leading him over to where I was standing. I could feel my heart start fluttering immediately as he came closer, those incredible blue eyes of his already flicking over my body. To calm myself, I take a sip of my Jack and Coke that Andy made incredibly strong but it's still so good.

"Chris, this is Andi... Andi, this is Chris Cornell... he's the amazing front man of Soundgarden," Xana introduces us and Chris smiles at me so sweetly, his eyes still wondering over my body and I'm wondering if the dress I'm wearing is somehow sending the wrong impression of me.

"Hi," He says so sweetly with a coy smile, his eyebrow raising slightly, his eyes looking right into mine.

"Hi," I say shyly, feeling my hands becoming clammy and my cheeks flushing to a pinky shade of red. At least I can pass the blushing off as just the alcohol hitting me.

"Soundgarden? Cool," I say trying to be sly about it.

"You've heard of us?" He asks.

"A little," I smirk.

"Andi here is an incredible guitar player ... she pretty much spends all day playing - "

" - Xana," I cut her off and raise my eyebrow at her. As much as I appreciate that she's trying to help the conversation, I didn't really want her to.

"Sorry, I was just... well anyways, I need another drink, JD Chris?" Xana turns asks him.

"Sure," He grins and I swear I thought I was going to faint.

"Green Label right?" Xana asks and makes her way over to the mini bar fridge.

"Uh huh," He says, pushing a few curls from his eyes and glances back at me while I take another sip.

"So um... you still have that '59 Sun Burst Gibson?" Chris asks raising his eyebrow at me, shifting a little on his feet, his silver ring attached to his necklace sparkling in the overhead lighting and for a moment I was confused.

How does he know I have that guitar? Xana must have told him.

"Um, yea I do," I say shyly and take another sip.

"I know you were um... so happy when you're dad surprised you with it," He says looking down at his feet for a moment, then back to my eyes.

What? I never told Xana that it was a gift from my dad.

Xana comes back and hands him his drink, she pats him on his bicep and heads over to Andy and the rest of the guys.

"Um, yea... how did you - ?" I start but he moves closer to me, leaning in and he whispers in my ear.

"I'm not really supposed to say this, 'cause you told me to go easy on you but... I'm so fucking happy you're here. I've missed you so much,"

With the smell of his incredible cologne lingering, I can feel the warmth from him and his voice sending shivers all over my body. I close my eyes for a moment as he moves away from me, taking a sip of his Jack and Coke. I flick my eyes open and he takes a sip of his drink, his blue eyes looking into mine.

He knows me already? Ok, Ok when did I time slip? The last time slip I had was back in the summer... did I slip without knowing? Damn, I would remember if I met him before I mean, dear fucking god he's absolutely gorgeous! We must know each other really well if he's missed me...

"You um, you look amazing by the way," He says, once again giving me that coy smile and taking another sip of his drink.

"Thank... you," I say and smile back pushing my curls behind my ear. I then move closer to him and lift myself up to whisper in his ear.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember um... meeting you before,"

"That's 'cause it hasn't happened yet... for you anyways," He whispers back.

I move away from him and take another sip of my drink, and he smiles. I smile back as we catch each other eyes once more, his glance embracing me in a comfort of familiarity though I haven't even experienced it yet.

*******************************************************************************************

[trippydooda]

,,,idk what to say for myself at this point :^) a preview for a slow burn fic get ready again bois

Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San

Rating: blurb is G unless you don’t like cursing

Word Count: 2,040

Jung Wooyoung, in some people’s eyes, has royally screwed up.

Now, there are levels to that statement, and you can really close your eyes and take a pick at this point. Is it when he flunked out of university? Ran away from home? Didn’t take his dog out when he was ten, and so when he beloved Coo shat on the carpet he was scolded for being a terrible dog? Or perhaps it’s where he finds himself now, pinned to a wall in an alleyway while a stranger humps his leg. Well, he’s hesitant to say “stranger”. They met on Tinder (another screw up to pick from), talked a few days and when Wooyoung got sick of masturbating, agreed to dinner. The thing is, he should have been more careful. The thing is, Tinder doesn’t really have a “swipe left on serial killers” options. Not really, anyway.

He has his reservations about sneaking in an alleyway to make out, but desperation and loneliness made him forget reason. So now his Tinder date’s tongue is down his throat, the taste of wine smeared into his conscience at this point, and a reluctant erection growing in his pants. This is, of course, until his date speaks.

“You humans are all so easy to rile up,” his date whispers into his ear, and Wooyoung can actually feel the ferocity in which his dick deflates.

And Wooyoung tries to respond, push back, has the indignant “Excuse me?” in the forefront of his mouth, but that’s before a sharp piercing is driven into his neck. Precisely two piercings. Followed by the feeling not unlike getting his blood drawn. So maybe he realises it a bit too late.

His Tinder is apparently some kind of vampire, and he’s being murdered. And Wooyung being Wooyoung, his last thought as he crumples to the ground is at least he doesn’t have to pay off his student loans anymore.

                                                           -

There are a few things Wooyoung thought being dead entailed. For one, he was pretty sure it didn’t involve being carried away by a stranger (another one, he reminds himself), nor did it involve the distinct feeling of humanly and living sensation of waking up. Yet he blinks all the same, albeit slowly, staring at a ceiling that looks right out of an Italian romance novel. It’s got carved ivory on it in the shape of angels, so Wooyoung is fairly convinced himself at this point he’s dead. Died, whatever.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a soft voice says, and Wooyoung tenses. He doesn’t look away from the ceiling, tries to figure out if it’s too late to pretend he’s still asleep (if dead people did that) when the voice continues, “I was worried you were too far gone.”

And… What? Wooyoung tears his gaze away from the rather pretty ceiling, sitting up to see an even prettier man. He has soft eyes raven black hair. Pale skin, but there’s still a hint of bronze in the undertones. Yet the nagging feeling of being distinctly dead pries at his conscience, so of course the first thing he blurts is, “Are you an angel?”

The man immediately erupts in a laugh that makes Wooyoung flush. He tells himself it’s from embarrassment and not the way the man laughs, like it’s from the back of his throat. It’s too endearing. Far too. “I’m not sure that’s what mortals call me,” he says, and Wooyoung can feel the precise feeling of the flush disappearing. 

He lowers his shoulders. Mortals, the pretty man had said. That seems to really prove everything Wooyoung needs to know, so he ends up saying out loud, “So I’m really dead then.” He flops back down on the bed, glares at the ivory angels and tries to will his heart to beat slower. But then it strikes him. His heart… Is beating? Do dead people do that? Man, he wishes he had paid more attention in church. 

“I suppose in a sense, yes you are.”

Electing to ignore the hot angel-not-angel, Wooyoung rolls over. He buries his face in the silk of the pillow and pulls the covers up so his head pokes out of a hole like some form of undead burrito. He can hear the man sigh and feels the mattress adjust in the weight of him sitting down, but Wooyoung ignores that too. He feels tears prickling at his eyes and tries to blink them away, but all that serves is to make one fall. And then he feels a hand on his shoulder, which just sends the flood gates open wide. Thankfully Wooyoung has mastered the art of crying silently, but he can still feel the betraying sensation of himself shaking. He hadn’t quite mastered that bit yet.

“I had considered letting you die truly,” the man says, rubbing small circles on Wooyoung’s shoulders. “Your blood was impossibly sweet, it’s hard to get blood like that. But… You had managed to open your eyes, and I just. I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

Wooyoung blinks in confusion. For one, this man is talking rather nonchalantly about Wooyoung’s blood, and in the same breath… Did he compliment him? Still, the man called him dead by all means and so he’s only harbouring a little animosity, so he stays silent. The man sighs, removing his hand. Wooyoung won’t admit he’s a bit sad at it. “I suppose it was a bit selfish of me,” the man explains, “But it’s not like I could have really asked if you wanted it.”

Confusion gets the best of him, so Wooyoung shoots up. “If I wanted what?”

“To be a vampire,” the man replies instantly. 

And Wooyoung just stares. The man stares back. It gets a bit awkward, if he’s honest. “A what,” he finally says, presenting it more of a statement rather than a question.

The man (vampire…?) answers anyway, “Yes.”

It doesn’t help. In fact, none of this is really helping Wooyoung so he just nods silently, lifts a finger. “Right, well, your bed is very comfy and the ceiling is pretty, but I’ll just be… Leaving.”

“I wouldn’t leave the room,” the man says as Wooyoung ungracefully untangles himself and nearly falls on the floor. He ignores the warning anyway, stumbling as if he’s hungover as he makes his way to the door.

He can hear the man let out an exasperated sigh behind him as Wooyoung swings the door open. He meant it to be not as dramatic as it turns out to be, what with the door practically cracking the wall with the force in which it slams against it. Under normal circumstances he’d say sorry, but instead he feels like being a petulant child and stomps out into a barely lit hallway. The whole house seems to scream Victorian, he notices, and is apparently too distracted by a rather regal painting of his angel-vampire, slamming into a hard object. As it turns out, when he looks up, “object” really isn’t the right word, as he comes face to face with another stunningly gorgeous man, one with slightly curled silver hair this time (he’s not sure when he started to categorise hot men by their hair colour, but it seems to fit so far). Gorgeous man number two’s eyes are a deep red as he peers down at Wooyoung.

“Well, it seems San wasn’t exaggerating when he spoke of you,” number two says, flashing a smile and… Fangs. Wooyoung would call them sharp canines, only they’re honestly not and he knows this. It doesn’t stop the undignified squeal of terror that erupts from him anyway. “My, what a voice too,” he continues as Wooyoung swings himself around, darting down the hallway.

More tears tug at his eyes and he hates it, hates how confused he is and how gorgeous men aside, he’s not getting any answers. He eventually slips and falls as he now realises he’s running barefoot, and comes crashing to the ground and through another door. Pain radiates through him, particularly on the side of his neck, and when he looks up he can’t help the, “Oh fucking hell” that falls from his lips.

A whole congregation of people stare at him, dressed in everything from what he swears his grandmother wore in her casket to some God awful neon crop top and matching shorts. They all sort of share this awkward blink session before the neon wearing woman comes up to Wooyoung, who is definitely still sitting ass on the ground, and she leans down. Her eyes are a deep red as well, and at least he’s somewhat prepared for when she exposes fangs as well. 

“You smell awfully pretty, mortal,” she coos, stroking a clawed finger along Wooyoung’s cheeks. 

“I don’t really like girls,” Wooyoung blurts, and the woman just laughs. It’s devoid of any true humour though, especially evident when she cuts into his cheek, drawing blood. Wooyoung is a little glad he still bleeds (he doesn’t think dead people would), but any good feeling is washed away when the woman licks his blood rather enthusiastically off her finger.

What were once red eyes now shift into pitch black, no whites visible, and her fangs protrude more than before when she looks back down. Wooyoung is pretty sure he should get the fuck up even before she snarls, “And to think San would hide such a delicious meal from us.”

So Wooyoung does what he assumes any sane person would do at such a sentence as that, and punches her right in the nose. As she stumbles back and shrieks, Wooyoung springs to his feet with his hands balled up in fists in front of his face, gets ready to run, but someone grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks. He shrieks this time as he’s raised several inches off the ground, and he flails trying to break free of the rather painful grip this person has when he’s twirled around and comes back to face with someone else with black eyes. 

“Some beta bitch isn’t going to drink you, allow a nice alpha to take her place,” this one growls and Wooyoung whimpers. 

He’s promptly dropped on the ground when another person roundhouse kicks this one in the side, but before Wooyoung hits the floor he’s caught, but when he peers down at another clawed hand he’s pretty sure he’s not saved by any means. “Hands off you filth,” his catcher growls right back, “Something as precious as this one needs to be drank by royalty.”

“Royalty!” The woman from before barks, “I’ve never heard such bullshit before! Unhand the omega and I’ll consider not killing you too.” 

Wooyoung doesn’t get much of a chance to ask why in the hell these people are talking about ranks of wolves before the whole room erupts in screams and arguments. He catches some rather unsettling words such as “halfling”, another “omega”, “virgin”, before they all just fall silent. Wooyoung, who was being passed around like some crude game of hot potato, is finally let go in earnest, although the only thing it gifts him is a hard drop on the ground again. His neck pulsates and he brings a hand to it as he swivels around to see why he was finally spared.

It seems two people have rather dramatically entered the room, and Wooyoung sort of hates that he recognises them. It’s Gorgeous Number One and Gorgeous Number Two, and the first looks only a little displeased. Wooyoung isn’t sure how he noticed before, but this man has brilliant red eyes as well. Only they flash to a piercing yellow when he peers down at Wooyoung, who suddenly feels just so small. The second one trails slowly behind, hands in his pockets as he nonchalantly looks around at the room of people who Wooyoung was sure were just arguing at who got to kill him. Nothing is making sense.

He barely notices when the first man kneels down at him, eyes back to a softer shade of red. They stay that way only a moment before they fade now into a more normal looking brown, and he smiles. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to leave the room.”

[saltnhalo]

Where There’s Smoke (6,183 words, Mature)

When Castiel accidentally locks his keys in his car on a miserable, rainy night, a handsome, green-eyed firefighter comes to his rescue. Despite their initial spark, it takes a few tries before they can turn it into something more...

firefighter Dean, bookstore owner Cas, fluff, first meeting, first kiss

Commissioned by @blueeyesandpie for the @fandomtrumpshate auction and written as a gift for @rocksaltandhoney.

The first time Castiel meets Dean Winchester, it’s pouring down rain, and he’s managed to lock his keys inside his car.

This late at night, all he wants to do is head home and watch Netflix on the couch with his cat. The delivery of stock he’d received in the late afternoon still needs to be counted and affixed with price stickers, which means that it has to come home with him. He grunts as he hefts the heavy box onto his hip and carries it awkwardly over to the door, stretching his fingertips up to the light switches. His shop plunges into darkness, lit only by the light of the streetlamps and dimmed by the rain that is falling steadily against the pavement outside.

Of course it’s raining, he thinks, grumbling under his breath as he stares through the glass door to where his car is parked, at least twenty feet away. There’s a small awning on the front of his shop that Cas uses to shield himself from the rain while he locks up, but the cold air bites at his exposed skin and he can feel some of the rain droplets sneaking beneath the collar of his jacket.

He’s going to have to make a run for it.

When he turns, the his face is misted with the same spray—droplets falling so thick and fast outside the awning that it’s impossible to stay dry even here. Three, he counts in his head. Two… One.

He runs, box clutched awkwardly beneath his arm, and thanks every god that’s out there that the books are plastic-wrapped beneath the cardboard. Cas has his keys ready before he even reaches his car, but in the darkness and the rain, it’s hard to see what he’s doing. He swears as his key scrapes against metal, trying to find the lock for his trunk.

When it catches, Castiel is quick to shove it all the way in and turn, popping his trunk while trying not to soak the interior in the meantime. The box is shoved in in a hasty, clumsy mess of limbs, and then he’s quick to slam the trunk shut. The books are safe—and now it’s his turn to get the hell out of the rain before it soaks him all the way down to his skin.

Except for the fact that his car keys are no longer in his hands.

They’re also not still in the lock to his trunk, or any of his pockets, or in his bag. Castiel checks every single spot, to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found on the ground, either, and it’s with a sinking feeling that Castiel realizes… he’s locked his keys in the trunk of his car and has, in the process, well and truly fucked himself.

He can’t go home, and he can’t let himself back into the shop, because all the keys he might need for either of those are currently unreachable. At least he has his phone, though—things could be worse, as much as standing out here in the pouring rain well and truly sucks.

Thankfully, he has connections.

He retreats back to the relative shelter of the awning and tries not to shiver from the chill of his saturated clothes as he pulls his phone out of his bag. Inias (his closest friend and the reason he moved to this town a month ago in the first place) should be at work right now, and it’s his number that Cas dials with frozen fingers. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters as he holds the phone up to his ear.

It rings once, twice, and then Inias picks up. “Cas, what’s up?”

Fuck, this is embarrassing. “Don’t laugh at me,” Castiel warns, before he says anything else. “It’s been a long day and this is not how I wanted it to end. I’d give anything to be at home right now, but instead I’m outside the shop, in the fucking rain, and my keys are locked in the trunk. Can you come out and save me, please?”

For a long few moments, the other end of the line is silent. When Inias speaks again, his voice sounds strained—as if he is, Castiel guesses, trying very hard not to laugh. “That’s quite the predicament,” he says, and there’s a definite tone of amusement to his words. “We don’t really do locked cars any more, that’s the AAA’s job, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He pauses. “Or, at least, I would, if I weren’t buried in paperwork from the house fire we dealt with yesterday. But,” he adds, before Castiel can start to beg or bribe him into coming out, “I can see if anyone can be spared and I’ll send them to help. You said you were at the shop, right? The station’s close, so you shouldn’t be waiting too long.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Castiel tells him, honestly and earnestly. He doesn’t know how long he would have had to wait for AAA to come and bail him out, but he suspects that it would be more than long enough for him to lose all feeling in his extremities. He’s already well on his way.

“I know,” Inias says, sounding more than a little smug about it. “Hold tight, and I’ll send someone over, okay?”

“Will do.”

True to Inias’s word, Castiel is only waiting about ten minutes before his knight in shining armor turns up.

Or, more accurately, his knight in a big, red firetruck.

Thank god that all the sane people are currently at home and out of the rain, and there’s no one around to see Castiel’s embarrassment at having to be rescued by the fire department. His cheeks burn as the truck pulls up into the empty lot a few spaces away from his car. A man jumps out of the drivers’ side, the hood of his waterproof jacket pulled over his head to protect him from the rain. Initially, he’s shrouded in shadows and rain, but as he approaches, Castiel can make out his wide smile, the bowlegged swagger in his gait, the greenness of his eyes beneath the hood.

It wasn’t enough to have to be rescued by a firefighter, but a drop-dead gorgeous one, as well? Inias is doing this to fuck with him, surely.

Continue reading on AO3

[alexkestavin]

This is not a happy story

( I just want to preface this by saying none of this is canon but I just wanted to try writing something due to my writing funk that I have been in. With Ellie’s constant adoration of it while I was writing I feel very comfortable posting this.)

WARNING: DEATH, BLOOD, TORTURE ALLUSION, AND PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR

Darkness swallowed around him like a void of nothingness. No sounds, no light, not even a feeling of touch. All of it was just black. Black and unending. And then a pressure. As if everything was trying to squeeze the last speck of life out of this void. The silence became deafening the darkness too bright. 

It was then that a voice boomed out, “We did not forget about you, flea.” The voice sounded large almost impossibly so. It threatened to break Alex’s ear drums. 

“We did not forget how you dabble in our darkness. How you swim within it. Taking its power for your own. We did not forget she who has driven our whispers out. Who has kept you sane for months longer. We have come to reclaim you, little flea. To take your sanity and corrupt it for our own making. You swim within our power and expect to stay free? No. You are ours to do with as we wish. You have lived freely long enough.”

Alex struggled against the voice. Feeling the darkness penetrating his mind. The darkness of his past coming to the forefront. The pressure that had been surrounding him and threatening him to choke on a lack of air seemed to release just ever so momentarily. Once it came back on however he was thrust forth. 

A soft crunch of snow could be heard under his feet as he stumbled forward. Everything sounded just slightly muffled. Much like the world when there’s a new blanket of snow upon the ground. The brightness nearly blinded him. His eyes adjusting slowly as he’d look around. He couldn’t figure out why this was familiar. 

The cold bit into his form as he’d trudge through the snow. The evergreens jutting up at odd angles all around him. The sounds of nature completely void. It was eerie in the way that a padded room could make someone crazy. 

His steps continued forward before he’d start to see drops of red within the snow. They continued the way he was headed and it caused him to pick up his pace. Someone needed help. As his hands rubbed at his forearm and biceps to gain some kind of heat from the friction, his eyes flicked back and forth over the drops of red that grew heavier and more numerous. Alex moved to pick up the pace. His eyes drawing forward. 

There appeared to be the crest of a hill before him. Or was it a mountain? Everything was disorienting and he felt as if he’d been making his way through this snow forever. The closer to the crest the red covered more and more of the snow. And once he reached the top his eyes went wide. 

Before him for seemingly miles before him were rows and rows of his wife. All of them laying within a plain of blood and flesh. Alex rushed forward to the closest one. The cold growing harsher as he got closer but the snow covered ground was just blood now. Alex waded through the viscous chilling liquid that stained his clothes and skin. His arms wrapping around the closest Ellie as he pulled her close to him, “No no. NO! I can’t lose you. I can’t.” Or that’s what he was trying to say. The words wouldn’t leave his lips. No sound could escape his mouth. But there was a deafening roar of screams that started to arc out all around him. Each Ellie’s mouth was open and wailing into the sky. 

As he held his wife and endured the constant screaming Alex felt his vision going dark. Tunneling before he’d fall back into the nothingness once more. That pressure returning as he’d choke for breaths. The voice returned.

It seemed to chuckle delightfully before speaking, “We can make that a reality. Hundreds of thousands, millions of your beloved all dead and screaming out for help that will never come. You can’t save her. Just like you can’t save yourself. You are -OURS-.” 

The pressure intensified as Alex would choke and gasp for air. He could feel his hands reaching out for something, anything. He didn’t expect to actually grab on to...something however. What terrified him is how it tried to wrench away from him. Something was there in the dark with him. 

And then he heard it. Himself, “Stop! Don’t hit her! Let her go!” 

Alex’s eyes opened as he’d look down. He was standing within his home...his old home. Before him was a terrified girl with jet black hair. And next to him was a boy, roughly ten or so. Alex just stopped as he’d drop to his knee. There he saw himself at ten years old. Which made him Andres. He’d stare down at his hands before looking up towards a nearby mirror. 

All Alex could see was his own adoptive father staring back at him. His eyes went wide before the room flashed. All he could see around him was blood and decay. A concordance of chuckling surrounded him. 

Upstairs was a thump...thump...thump noise. Spread out every ten seconds or so. He looked into the mirror once more. Now it was decayed and tarnished but he could still see himself a bit. Alex looked decayed and bloated. Only he still looked liked his adoptive father. Like how he’d look if he had died. His movement was sluggish. 

As he slowly made his way up the stairs the thumps grew louder. They were coming from the end of the hallway. Alex tried to look into each room but the doors gave away to pitch black. It was clear his destination was the door at the end of the hall. The thumping started to thunder in his chest. 

Those bloated fingers pressed against the door and the sight within was horrifying. Beyond the blood that coated the room Alex stood over countless bodies of himself. The child version or himself. In the corner stood a grown Alex who was slamming his own head against the wall and crying. 

When the door creaked open he’d jump out towards Alex before disappearing into a cloud of bloody dust. Alex felt his vision darkening once more. Then the pressure. All of it was so heavy. He couldn’t take this anymore. He wanted out. He needed out. But the voice would just chuckle.

“You don’t get to leave until you have sided with us, flea. Don’t you get it? You’re trapped here. Trapped in your own mind which is ours to control. Once you break. Then you’ll be allowed to leave. Not a moment before.”

The pressure subsided once more. Alex felt his senses return. First his feeling and then his sight. He could feel the thick liquid before he could see out of it. He was within a giant vat. His eyes searing with pain as he tried to look through the heavy viscous liquid. 

Outside of the vat Alex could see hundreds of himself and his wife, Ellie. They were just murdering each other in a giant war. Alex tried his best to slam upon the wall of the vat. Even going as far as trying to draw upon his magic. However the second he did so. Everything froze and stared directly towards him. 

Each and every person beyond the vat had a crazed look upon their face. Even those presumably dead on the ground looked at him with that same crazed look. Alex tried to swim his way up to push up on the top. 

It was futile unfortunately. Finding it hard to breath once more Alex watched as the hundreds of himself and his wife just continued to stare at him. Those unsettling eyes looking at him within the vat. That is until one of the Alex’s picked up a javelin from the ground and chucked it right at the vat. Unfortunately with no-where to go it speared right into Alex’s arm. While also shattering the giant glass tube that surrounded him. 

The jelly like substance spilled out from within the vat and the various hundreds of him and his wife immediately sprinted at him like animals. They ripped Alex out of the liquid and dragged him across the giant room. He felt so weak and he was coughing up that liquid that was in his throat. The javelin still sitting in his shoulder. 

Everything was so loud and unsettling. That is until he was thrown down before a throne. Or was it a set of thrones? However what he saw was even more unsettling. Sitting before him was yet another him and Ellie. However they were clearly the leaders here. They sat upon these thrones with those same unhinged eyes. Ellie was sharpening a dagger that was covered in caked blood. Alex was surrounded by what appeared to be other Ellie concubines of some sort. 

As the Alex sitting within the throne raised his hand. He was dropped by the subservient Alex’s and Ellie’s. Alex Prime just looked at everything. His right hand reaching up to clutch the wound in his shoulder. Coughing up more of the liquid, “What...what the fuck is this?” 

Around him a concordance of laughs seemed to erupt all at once. Said laughs were immediately silenced by the supposed “King Alex”. The concubine Ellie’s moved aside as King Alex stood up. That unsettling grin of his widening as he’d step forth. He seemed gigantic in size. His form seeming to stretch upwards forever until he stepped down off the raised platform. 

His right hand coming to smack across Alex Prime’s face, “We hear you’ve been dabbling in that dark magic. The void and shadows. What possibly made you think that was a good idea, hmm? How do you think this goes, Alex?” 

Behind him Queen Ellie piped up, “Let’s just kill him. It’d certainly be more merciful than the man deserves.” 

King Alex held his hand up, “No no. They want him alive. They want that mind. The resilient fortress it is. They want someone like that. Someone who takes so much to break that it will be beautiful to see. Like an explosion that takes a bit to go off.” 

Queen Ellie just grinned, “Let her torture him. If she can’t break him. I don’t know if there’s much that could.” 

Alex’s eyes half closed as he’d look down at the dirty marble floor, “I just want to wake up. LET ME OUT OF HERE!” 

As King Alex snapped his fingers the other Alex’s and Ellie’s would pick Alex up and take him to another room

Alex Prime’s eyes went wide as he saw a seemingly normal Ellie within the room. It was unsettling this gorgeous golden eyed woman offset by all of the torture impliments within here. The door was shut and she locked it once he’d been strapped down. A soft loving smile upon her lips, “You’re safe now, love. Nobody can hurt you in here.” 

Alex’s eyes were hopeful once more. Wanting to believe anything that could make all of this better. When she started to mess with some of the implements he would just smile nervously, “Ellie. What are you doing? Don’t listen to them. It’s you right? My wife? The one who can get me out of here?” 

The Ellie just grinned happily, “I’m afraid I’m not -that- Ellie. She hasn’t existed for a -looong- time. And she wouldn’t be able to help you here to begin with, Alex.” Ellie gave the man a perky smile before picking up a scalpel and what appeared to be a bone saw of some kind. 

What he had missed was the crazed eyes hidden behind the fake love and the fake caring. She was just like the others. Preferring to make herself seem like a friend instead of an enemy. Alex struggled at the bindings. His entire chest and waist lifting up off the table as he’d try to wrench away from the leather straps. 

It wasn’t of any use unfortunately. All he could feel was the pain of the blades cutting into his flesh. His scream echoed endlessly within the infinite halls of Alex and Ellie. And then a single sentence, “I love you Alex. You’re safe now.” 

Everything went dark once more. It was different though. Moon peaked through blinds. The snoring of wolves could be heard. The feel of his beloved in his arms were confirmed by a soft squeeze. Alex’s breathing quickened. Was this real? Or was this another nightmare?

He couldn’t tell.

He couldn’t know.

He doesn’t know. 

[trashmagines]

I Took A Chance: Leah Clearwater x Female!Reader One-Shot

TrAshy Says: I love Leah and I’m not even sorry.

Warnings: None

One look was all it took; not even that.

A glance.

One glance at your gorgeous y/e/c eyes, and Leah felt it. The sensation of the ground crumbling beneath her; the feeling of the gravitational shift she’d heard so much about but never thought she’d experience. Yet here she was, frozen in place, staring at you like she was seeing the sun for the first time.

“Um, Leah? Here’s your change.” “How-how do you know my name?” “It’s written on your cup.”

The small laugh you give makes her heartbeat quicken, and she quickly takes the few coins from you then finds a seat next to one of the large front windows. She stays there a while, languidly sipping at her coffee and silently watching you out of the corner of her eye. It was too late and she was too far gone; she couldn’t leave you alone if she’d wanted to. 

When Leah arrives back at the reservation, she avoids the boys at all costs. She’d rejoined Sam’s pack after Jacob imprinted on Renesmee, deciding that she’d rather put up with Sam’s constant thoughts of Emily. Her mind is linked to the rest of the pack’s again, and she knows that they now know what happened. She’s not in the mood for Jared or Paul’s sly remarks and Sam’s questions; she still needs to figure out what she’s going to do.

It was a part of herself that Leah had hidden away, but even though she’d always known she wasn’t straight, she never imagined she’d imprint on another woman. Hell, she never thought she’d imprint at all. She had all but given up on the idea, resigning herself to the fact that she’d probably never experience the profoundness of the act. Now that she had, she was unsure of how to feel. She only knew that she wanted, no, needed to see you again. 

You notice that she only stops in on Saturdays, but she usually stays for hours on end. Her black hair frames her face nicely, and also offers a contrast to her tawny skin. You catch yourself staring more than once and hope that she never notices, not knowing that she’s doing the exact same thing. Sometimes you think about taking a break early to go and sit with her; maybe strike up a conversation just to see where it leads. You think about it, but you never do because she looks so peaceful and you’d rather not interrupt. That doesn’t stop you from wondering what she’s thinking about, though. 

Leah thinks about you a lot when she’s alone; she always stifles her thoughts when she’s around other members of the pack. When she finally stopped avoiding them is when the questions started, and eventually she snapped and told everyone to just leave it alone. She wasn’t sure how it would work in the grand scheme of things, but for the first time in a long time, she felt happier. She was no longer weighed down by the feeling of being left behind, and that alone was a welcome change. 

“You don’t even like coffee. It’s a coffee shop.” “I’m not going for the drinks, I’m going so I can meet your imprint!”

Seth had been hounding Leah for weeks about meeting you, which was ironic considering she still hadn’t met you, at least not formally. She knew your first name and that you worked in cafe in Port Angeles, but that was it. She had been thinking about asking you out today, but she did not want to do it in front of Seth. By no means was she a timid person, but she would be talking to her imprint and that fact alone was enough to make her nervous. Having Seth there would just up the chances of her possibly being embarrassed, and she also didn’t need a secondhand account of the event flowing through the rest of the pack’s minds. 

“I said no, Seth.” “If you don’t let me come, I’ll tell mom about those times you snuck out and left me home alone.” “You little- that was years ago!” “So? You really think you won’t still get in trouble?”

Leah’s irritated sigh is the only confirmation that Seth needs, a triumphant smirk situated on his face. 

The day is dragging by; you’ve stocked and cleaned and updated inventory just to keep busy. You’re wiping down the counter for the sixth time when the welcome bell above the door rings. Your coworker makes no move to man the register, too engrossed in their sleazy magazine to be bothered, so you make your way over to it and sign in. You’re halfway through your greeting when you look up and see her, Leah, you remember, standing there with a younger boy.

“Hey, I’m Seth!” “I’m Y/N; what can I get you? Would you like your usual, Leah?”

Leah’s heart skips a beat at the mention of her name, the only other person able to hear it being Seth, who’s grinning like an idiot. He gently bumps her with his shoulder to tell her to get on with it, and she stumbles a bit before responding. 

“Actually, Y/N, I wanted to know if you’d, maybe, like to.. go out sometime?” “If you don’t want to wait, my break lasts an hour.”

The smile on your face is brighter than any star Leah could point out, and she finds herself nodding quickly. You inform your uninterested coworker than you’re going on break, and Leah sends Seth on his way because she’s not going to let him listen in while you two get to know each other. You both sit at her usual table, sipping on coffee and munching on the pastries you brought over while chatting about nothing and everything. The hour flies by too fast for either of your liking, but you give her your number and tell her that you’d love to actually go out on a date with her. When Leah gets back to the reservation, she’s on cloud nine; not even Paul’s stupidity can bring her down. She calls you that night and you answer on the second ring. You resume your conversation like it never stopped and pick a day and time for your first official date.

“Shouldn’t you wear a dress or something?” “We’re just going to a movie, Seth; I’m not marrying her.” “Not yet.”

That remark causes heat to rise to Leah’s cheeks, but it fades rapidly as thoughts of the future take hold. You still didn’t know about Leah being a shapeshifter, or that she had imprinted on you. Though she didn’t want you to be involved with the supernatural, she had to at least tell you that much, and the thought of doing so scared her. She wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection, especially not after months of being with you. 

Everything that could have gone wrong on that first date had, and it’d ended with Leah being called away to deal with a bloodsucker that was getting too close to her home. The mishaps hadn’t deterred you, however, and you insisted on trying again. You’d both hung out so many times now that you lost count, and when you asked Leah to be your girlfriend, she almost started crying. You were definitely the one for her, but even though she’d gotten the okay from Sam, she still couldn’t bring herself to tell you the pack’s secret.

Until tonight.

“The ending was a little cliche; I still think she should have ended up with Tony.”

You were conversing about the movie you and Leah had just sat through, your melodic voice the only thing keeping Leah grounded. She knew what she was about to do would make or break everything, but it wasn’t fair to let you continue to fall for her without knowing all the facts. 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.” “...Okay?” “Well, show and tell. Just let me explain and, uh, don’t freak out.” “You know, the minute you tell someone not to freak out is when they start freaking out. What’s up, Leah?”

It’s just you two surrounded by the darkness of the night; Leah had made sure to lead you a little ways away from the city so that she could phase without the risk of someone seeing her. According to your heartbeat you were on edge, and she couldn’t blame you because any sane person’s fight or flight response would be going haywire. 

“Y/N I can... I’m a.... I can turn into a wolf. It’s a special ability attributed to my tribe so that we can protect people from... Just know that we’re protectors. Anyway, there’s also something called imprinting, which is how wolves find their soulmate. I imprinted on you, Y/N, and I know how it sounds but that doesn’t mean that if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have ever gotten together, it just kind of lit a fire under my ass so that I could ask you out. But, since I know you don’t believe me, I’m going to show you.”

Leah takes several steps away from you; the last thing she’d ever want to do is hurt you while she phased. Before you can even get a word in, you notice her body start to tremble a split second before a giant beast erupts from her skin. 

A wolf. 

You drop your popcorn, frozen in place as Leah-wolf steps closer to you. She bows her head as a sign of surrender, and in the dead of night you can just make out the silver color of her fur. Your hand reaches out to pat her head, and the massive wolf’s entire body rumbles with a sigh. Holy shit, your girlfriend can turn into a wolf. 

Leah disappears behind the treeline, only to reappear a few minutes later wearing a completely different outfit. You’re still in shock, understandably, and when Leah tries to take your hand you step away from her. That tiny interaction causes a sharp pain to shoot through her heart, one that only gets worse when you speak. 

“So... you can turn into a wolf.” “Yeah.” “And you imprinted on me.” A pause. “Mhm.” “And imprinting is the way that wolves find their... soulmates.” “Yes, but Y/N-” “So I’m your soulmate; do I have any say in this matter?” “Of course-” “It doesn’t sound like it, Leah. If this is like, a predetermined thing, how do we know that what we feel is real?”

The silence that falls over you both is deafening. Leah had always wondered about that, but now she knew her feelings for you were real, regardless of the imprint. However, by the look on your face, you were doubting every single moment you’d ever spent together and it was making Leah anxious. 

She leads you back to the edge of the city, the street lamps flickering overhead and lighting your way home. Neither of you had said a word to each other the whole way back, though both of your minds had been racing. When you turn to her, Leah holds her breath, awaiting the worst. 

“I need some time to... process everything. I’ll call you; promise.”

Leah hadn’t heard from you in close to a month. She thought she’d experienced heartbreak when Sam left her for Emily, but this was a thousand times worse. She was in constant physical and mental anguish; the only thing that slightly alleviated the pain was running in her wolf form. She could never go that far alone, Sam’s orders, but she always put enough distance between her and the other pack members so that they wouldn’t have to feel what she felt so intensely. She’d honestly given them enough of that. 

She’s trudging her way to Emily’s for dinner when your scent causes her to break out into a full on run. She doesn’t knock and instead almost jolts the door off of its hinges. You’re standing next to Seth, who has his lanky arm around thrown around your shoulders, and conversing with Collin, Jared, Emily, and Sam. The commotion causes all of your heads to snap towards Leah, and tears involuntarily spill from her eyes at the sight of you. You shake off Seth’s arm, a half-smile adorning your features as you step in front of her. You wipe the small droplets of water off of her face, and she pulls you into a surprising but very welcome kiss. 

“Do you have to do that right in front of the door?”

Paul’s annoyed tone forces you both to remember where you are, and Leah moves over slightly to let him by. She keeps you trapped in her arms, though, vowing then and there to never let you go. 

“I know I said I’d call, but..” “It’s okay, Y/N. This is much better.”

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Aurette and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

I'm deeply honoured to be asked.

A true titan in the world of SS/HG fic, many of our readers will have broken their hearts over your story The Tattered Man.

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Honestly, it was a whim. Long before I thought of writing, I needed a login name to read fanfic. It was a play on Auror. I had no idea it was an actual name.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Hands down, Snape. I know that might sound strange, but he was the one that clicked. My niece introduced me to the books. Being in my 30s at the time, I already had kids of my own, so I didn't identify as one of the students. I loved Harry from the start but he had this uncanny ability to keep being wrong about nearly everything. The character who best expressed adult annoyance with that was Snape. And I do love a good jerk. Snape was a jerk.

Do you have a favourite genre to read? 

I'm a sucker for fantasy and science fiction. I hated reading as a child. All there was available when I was a kid was Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys and it was insipid. I glommed on to mythology early but once I'd read all the books in my library on the subject, I gave up reading at all. That was about 4th grade. Children's books in the 70s were total garbage and YA books only had one author: Judy Bloom.

Ironically, my first job was working in a bookstore. It was a college bookstore, so it was all textbooks. I wasn't even a student, so I had no interest in any of them. One semester. A Lit prof assigned Fahrenheit 451. The cover art caught my eye and I read the blurb. Then started reading the book. I finished it in about 5hrs. It blew my mind. I had no idea writing like that existed. And the book was about someone discovering the value of books. It was intellectual Inception waaaaay before that was a thing.

After that, it was like a switch flipped in my head. I sucked up books air. I was never without a book or two. Or three...

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

Obviously Fahrenheit 451. I'm going to go ahead and say Les Miserables as well. I was in my 30s when I finally read it and sobbed like a baby at the ending. The care and tenderness Hugo showed when portraying these disposable lives were so unique for that age. Sadly, even today. A lot of our culture is wrapped around the belief that only the wealthy have value and beauty is a pathway to wealth. The poor and ugly are a constant plague to be shunned or dealt with, not humans with crushed dreams that deserve to be valued in their own right. Look at how often fanfic recreatesSnape as handsome or Hermione as gorgeous. Those are always the least interesting stories. (hops off soapbox)

At what age did you start writing?

Whatever age I was when I wrote Safe House. Probably 40ish? That terrible little fanfic is literally the first thing I ever wrote beyond shopping lists and emails. It's an ugly child, but my first, so I love its pointy head. I intentionally leave it up so new writers can see my learning curve. No one starts out good. Read my stories in reverse chronological order and you'll see they get a little worse each time. That's how much I grew as I learned the craft.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Reading tons of it. I was at a total loss after the book Deathly Hallows came out and it was all over. Reading it had become an event in my house. My husband and I would snatch the book out of each other's hands "You've had it long enough. My turn." And then there were no more...

I couldn't even tell you how I found fanfic, but it kept me sane. I keyed in on SS/HG because at the time there was a noticeable difference in the talent level in that ship. I must have read SS/HG fanfic for a solid 2 yrs before I took a leap and wrote my own. I was inspired by the amazing stories, but also by the crappy ones.  "Heck, I could do better" became its own form of allowance. So I had a small 'what if' and just went for it. Of course, it was crap, everyone's first is. But taking the leap and writing it was a huge thing for me to have done.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I'm a sucker for a story where characters overcome emotional adversity, both external and internal. If you squint. You'll see that theme repeated throughout my fics.

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

None. Nothing else ever grabbed me as a sandbox I wanted to play in before or after HP.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

Gosh, I don't think I would change a thing about JK Rowling's work. Things I would change would only be me forcing her story to fit my preferred ideal. However, if you think about it, her world, the good and the bad,  challenged all of us to churn out 100,000+ what ifs. Some out of anger. Heh.

As for fav piece of fanon, probably that Malfoy jr was Snape's godson. He's totally not, but whoever started that created a great layering of the dynamic between them that you can share in so many tones.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?  

I was a stay-at-home mom when I was writing most of my fanfics, so I wrote in a chaotic and very noisy environment. I didn't listen to music when I wrote, but music was often the inspiration. When I would get stuck in writing, I would leave it and go listen to music that was emotionally similar to where I wanted the story to be while I thrashed out plot points. Colossus by Afro Celt Sound System is amazing for plotting a prelude to a battle.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Gosh, there are so many. Sadly, many of the authors who first inspired me are gone and pulled their fics off the web, like my fanfic bestie Dressagegrrrl. I would have to call out Pet Project by Caeria as the one I found most inspiring.  Anything by ApolloniaV is pretty high up there in my book. There are dozens I'm forgetting. There was one called Resurrection Man about Snape accidentally creating a hilarious Zombie apocalypse. Best. Fic. Ever. It disappeared from the web when the author moved on. An incredible loss.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

Total pantser. The obvious effect is to drive the story right off a cliff and be unable to salvage it. It's why I vowed to never start posting until I had a rough draft ending. Too many dead stories waiting for an ending that never came. But an outline for me is a killer in disguise. I lose interest in telling the tale because I already did in the outline. The fun part is over. Sitting at a keyboard typing your fingers off, while muttering, "What the hell are these people doing? Who's writing this stuff?!" is an amazing experience.

What is your writing genre of choice?

In fanfic, I ran with every genre there was. Mostly I wanted to see if there was one I couldn't tackle.  Most of my o-fic is a hard-to-define mishmash of fantasy and sci-fi. I want to write romance, but it always turns into something complicated and angsty that no longer fits the box.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

The Tattered Man.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote?

It came off exactly as I'd planned in my head. A rare occurrence for me.

What did you learn from writing it?

I could make people cry with my words. Up to that point, I'd made readers laugh and yell and blush, but to get a reader to the point of actually weeping? That's not easy. JK Rowling did it with ease. It was a challenge.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

It's very personal. My father had just died.  He'd had cancer, and it might have got him in the end, but what actually killed him was being sent home with a feeding tube and the wrong instructions. None of the homecare nurses realized the mistake until his kidneys shut down. It was devastating. When I next took up writing, I was still hurting so I tried to make others feel what I felt at a death that didn't have to be. It was crazy easy to write. I wrote it all in one day. Based on the reviews, I achieved my goal. It helped me work through my loss. Pretty sure I gave a few readers PTSD. My bad.

What books or authors have influenced you?

My all-time favourite book is Iain M. Banks' Use of Weapons. Definitely a classic among the eighteen people in the United States that read it. The man was a shockingly gifted author and I was devastated when he passed away. His ability to just drop you into the action from the first page and not bother to explain what's going on is sadistic genius.

How do you think that shows in your writing?

It led to my belief that a writer is always better when they assume their readers are smart. Grab their interest and just run. They'll catch on and even pass you with their theories of what's going to happen next. I've no patience with stories that spell out everything in minute detail. They're tedious and insulting. Less really is more. On the other hand, writing over your reader's head is just as annoying. Intentionally using obscure SAT words in your story just makes you a pretentious twat. Unless your character is a pretentious twat and it's part of the dialogue.  In that case, twat away. *gigglesnort*

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

My family all knew. They were tremendously supportive. Especially Mr. Aurette, my personal Snape. Outside of my family, I was less forthcoming. Mostly because it was so crazy hard to explain. I think it's a lot less weird now, but back then? It was far more stigmatized.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

That's a hard one. For someone who'd never tried to write a story before, it was an amazing journey to realise what I could do. That changed me forever. Having the instant feedback of reviews was intrinsic to that experience. The downside is you can get sucked into writing for reviewers, and they will tell you clearly what they want and expect.  That can stifle. I knew no one wanted The Tattered Man to end the way it did. I was pretty terrified of the reaction. But it's what I wanted. It was the entire point. I wrote that ending for myself, but I cowered after posting.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I absolutely loved interacting with my readers. I made some real-life friends and some really great fic buddies all over the world. I watched them become friends in reviews too. It was a really great experience. Spam-posting a fic would often take on a festival atmosphere. Unfortunately, when my review count started to really take off, I couldn't cope with the sheer numbers the same way. There weren't enough hours on the day to reply to everyone. Trying to personalize my response to a review grew overwhelming. I actually grew quite depressed over it. Connecting on a more removed, professional level seemed cold. I connected the most on Livejournal when that was a thing. But I had to back off. "Aurette" became far more witty and wonderful than I was in real life. Everyone wanted a piece of her. I couldn't keep up with the bitch. Lol.  I faded away from most interactions on social media out of self-preservation. Even tiny fame can make you whacko.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

There's a few that come to mind.

1-If you want to be a better writer, kill every adverb you come across.

2-Read your words out loud to yourself. If you run out of breath, your reader will run out of patience at that exact point.

3-Dressagegrrrl was the one that finally made me see how playing POV ping pong within a scene was something that marked my writing as an amateur.

4-Stop trying to be clever. Be clever, if you are clever, but don't try. It comes off hamfisted every time. Readers hate that.

5-Never, ever, ever post something you wrote that day. You've left half of it in your head and you can't tell. It's awful.

6-If you're not even a little embarrassed by something you wrote 6 months ago, you're no longer growing as a writer.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

That's a bit of a sticking point. Stress is a muse-killer. Anything you can do to rid yourself of stress will help. Writer's block is usually the result of something going on elsewhere in your life. Fix that and the creativity will come back.

That said, my life has turned into constant stress with the result being I no longer write at all.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Everything has. 'Write what you know' is true for fantasy too. Whether it's heartbreak, or a drunken hookup that turned into love (Hello, Mr. Aurette) or a moment when you were a child and ignored or teased, or maybe the bully, all of it makes it's way into the emotional truth of a scene or character, no matter how outlandish the setting.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I have a Dropbox full of stories I've run into the wall or had to leave half finished, both fanfic and o-fic. No teasers, because at this point I don't think they will ever see the light of day. Never say never, but the light of hope is dim.

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Anyone can write and everyone has something to say. Be open to the process. Part of that process involves having a stranger tell you that your shiny new love is really shit. Being defensive only prolongs your shittiness. Embrace criticism. Sometimes,  the process of justifying something can actually buttress your choice, so you double down with better results. Other times, you'll see your idea wasn't working after all. Be ruthless in your editing, but don't delete. That scene you cut because it caused everything to go off the rails could be a different story trying to get out. Take that leap, you fail at everything you don't try, so why not try something you really want?

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

It's been my pleasure.  Thank you for the opportunity.  *waves to my readers*

[oyesmendes]

I'll be there

a/n: I got this idea a while ago and I've really been sitting on the fence for it, but since you guys asked, here it is. grab a snack, tissue and lots of emotions. if you're feeling down or you need an ear to hear you our, my inbox is always open and im here for every single one of ya beautiful humans. xx ash

warnings: mentions of death, hallucination, angsty and kinda sad 

“Shawn?..Shawn I’m so sorry baby, Riley is gone…” He let out another choked sob, his mother only able to comfort him through the phone. You stood there in front of him ready to catch him if he fell, which he did and you had him in your arms in seconds. The phone smacked straight down to the floor and he completely broke in your arms. You squeezed him as tight as you could, whispering into his ears softly.

“Shh, its okay I’ve got you gorgeous, I’ve got you” once his breathing evened out, you picked up the phone on the floor, surprised that Karen hadn’t hung up on Shawn. Instead, she still was behind the phone breathing softly into the speaker. Shawn had his head buried into your neck, tears rolling down his face uncontrollably

.“Hey Karen..”

“How’s he holding up?” A soft sigh escaped your lips as you massaged Shawn’s scalp with your free hand. 

he’s broken. “He’s okay, for now at least. We’ll be on the next flight back.”

“Alright sweetheart, take care of him for me okay, I’ll see you both when you’re back” Karen hung up and the dressing room was once again filled with silence. The crew had given Shawn the privacy that he needed when he received the call, so the room was only occupied with you and a broken Shawn in your arms. You pushed Shawn away from your chest, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes were bloodshot, cheeks puffy and read as he breathed heavily. Tears couldn’t stop flowing from his eyes and you wiped them off with your thumb every single time. 

“Shawn… why don’t you go sit on the couch over there? I’ll talk to Andrew about the flight and we’ll get out of here as soon as we can” it wasn’t an option for Shawn he knew, so he helped himself up hands still intertwined with yours as he curled up into a couch way too small for his frame. You planted a kiss to his forehead, and watched him stare off into space as the light in his eyes slowly faded. 

Riley was shawn’s best friend. They  had been best friends ever since they could remember and you loved the boy too. He was the kindest, biggest sweetheart of all time but bad things happen to good people. Last week as Riley was driving up to Toronto to stay over at yours and Shawn’s apartment, he was met with an accident as his car had slipped on some black ice on the road.

-

“Riley has what?!” Shawn shouted over the phone as you placed your hand on his knee. Shawn shot up immediately, grabbing his keys and you followed suit behind him. he tucked his phone into his pocket, immediately grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him. 

“he’s he's been in an accident..” was all Shawn managed to say as you both stood in the lift. you slipped your arm around him, taking his car keys and driving the both of you safely to the hospital. it felt too surreal for you, the tubes, the bandages and beeping machines. but the doctor said he would be okay, which gave Shawn enough assurance that his best friend would survive and that Shawn could continue touring. 

- 

so Shawn trusted Riley and he left for tour. 

He’d been in the hospital for a week now and doctors were optimistic until this morning when Riley quietly slipped away in his slumber. No explanation, nothing. Riley just left and that has left Shawn in the state that he is right now. 

“Andrew, we’re going to need to fly out as soon as we can” you said, watching the older man, click something on his laptop. He turned the screen over, nodded as you looked at him.

“Go, go pack and get to the airport. I’ll have Jake and a few others take you guys there for better security.” You nodded, hugging him tightly before heading back to the dressing room. Shawn was still in the same spot, but he stopped crying now only a pillow hugged tightly in his arms. You picked up his stuff one by one, shoving it into his backpack before doing the same for yourself. You grabbed shawn’s hand and he followed as if he were a three year old being taken around by his mom. He slung his backpack on his back, and intertwined both your hands together. Andrew had Jake take your luggage out of the tour bus, and he was waiting out front for the both of you. the ride to the airport was silent but shawn’s hand never left yours, even on the 5 hour flight home. 

-

“Shawn oh my goodness, I’m so sorry baby I really am” Karen hugged Shawn tightly and once again started the tears from his eyes. Manny and Aaliyah took you in for a hug too, settling the both of you down in Shawn’s old room. He was in the middle of the queen sized bed, knees brought up to his chest as he buried his head into his hands.

“Why?” He croaked out, the first words Shawn had ever said since the news. You stopped unpacking his clothings and sat right at the edge of the bed. 

“Some things happen for a reason baby, this being one of them” you reached out to rub shawn’s arm and he shook his head. 

“No, why aren’t you crying? Are you not sad?” there was a hint of anger in his voice which made you frown. But you understood where he was coming from. This was one of the 5 stages of grief that you were all too familiar with - anger. And that you shouldn’t take anything Shawn says to heart. So you didn’t, and you continued to rub his arm comfortingly, hands tracing his tattooed arm. 

“I am, I am devastated Shawn but one of us has to stay strong and I’m doing that for you” you pressed your forehead against his. and that was the truth. Your whole life you’ve been grieving — your dead pet fish, your grandparents who passed on one after the other, and your brother who went to the military and died in war. You knew how this works, you knew Shawn needed that lighthouse in the dark in order for him to stay alive. That’s how it was for you every single time, the people around you kept you sane, kept you out of it from wanting to join those that had left. But Shawn didn’t understand this, he couldn’t understand how you were not crying, how you didn’t look like you were in pain. So he pushed you away. 

its the grief, its the grief you repeated to yourself multiple times, hoping that some how or rather, your mind would choose to believe it.  You placed the pyjamas at the end of the bed, and kissed Shawn on the forehead before leaving the room.

“How is he?” Aaliyah asked as you shut the door softly. You shrugged your shoulders, taking her in for a hug so tight, you felt slightly better again. 

“He’s grieving, thats all” you said, ruffling the younger girl’s hair. She nodded linking arms with you as you headed downstairs to the kitchen to make yourself a much needed coffee. Turns out, Karen and Manny has already beaten you to it, an iced coffee sitting on the counter with your name on it.

“You okay?” Manny asked, sliding over a glazed donut to you which you gladly accepted. 

“Yea I’ll be okay, I’ve been there before” you mumbled under your breath, and both Shawn’s parents and Aaliyah nodded their heads, engulfing you in a family hug. the warmth that they all needed, the slightest hint of hope that this wasn't as bad as they felt like it was. 

-

You were dressed in a black long-sleeved dress and if Riley was still here you could hear him say that it was nice and fitting, and you look amazing. You shook your head bringing yourself back to reality as you checked on Shawn in the bathroom. He had his signature black jeans on with a black button down, the one Riley “hated” to see Shawn in because it got him more looks in the club than he did. You sent Shawn a small smile in the mirror as he styled his hair and as you reached forward to touch his hand, Shawn pulled away immediately leaving you behind in the bathroom. he had been avoiding you for the past week and you knew it was the anger and feeling of hopelessness boiling in his bones so you constantly reminded yourself,

it’s part of the grieving, it’s part of the grieving.

as you arrived at the church, your breath hitched as it reminded you of all the past memories that came flooding back. You tried to push them out of your mind shaking the thoughts away as you walked beside Aaliyah and Shawn. A figure of your brother smiling at you would appear in one corner and your grandparents in the other such that it all felt too real. But you kept going. This was Riley’s last goodbye, it was you paying tribute to him, not about you and your thoughts. but the worst part about this was that you couldn’t hold shawn’s hand, or tell him about any of this because he was in pain. So you took a deep breath, and sat down in one of the pews with his family. Like all funerals, this one was solemn too, mentioning how great Riley was, how he had left an amazing legacy behind and that he was taken away too soon. You gulped when you saw another image of your brother in your mind along with all your childhood memories, and your hands trembled slightly on your thigh. Somehow Karen managed to notice this, and she had her hand in yours, gripping onto it tightly. 

When the service ended, Shawn immediate slipped out of the pew to Riley’s parents, leaving you by yourself. you felt the pang in your chest once again but you quickly ignored it, turning your attention to the Mendes family and to Riley one last time to say goodbye. You dropped a white rose into his coffin where he laid to rest, whispering a soft goodbye before leaving down the aisle with Aaliyah. Your hand was in hers as you walked, but when you saw a figure of your brother in front of you again, that was when you lost it. You stopped right in your tracks, yanking Aaliyah slightly. She turned, seeing your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew it was all a hallucination, that whatever you had seen in the hours before was not real but the sight of your brother in his signature jeans and tight fitted white shirt had you breaking down. The thought of losing the people around you - Shawn in particular just came to you like a tsunami. your hand clutched your chest as you let out racked sobs, and soon enough Karen had wrapped her arms right around you. 

“It’s okay baby girl, you’re safe here with me, I’ve got you” Karen whispered softly into your ears. 

“I- I see him- brother… my brother I miss him. I dont want to lose Shawn- I’m sorry” you managed to choke out, and Karen just rubbed circles on your back. 

“Shhh, its okay you’re not losing him honey, I have you baby girl”

Shawn, who was still oblivious to it all, had been dragged by Aaliyah to you. “Liyah, please stop dragging- mom? Y/n?” He stood there in shock, taking in your puffy lips and tear stained cheeks. You shook your head, unable to face the man who was supposed to be there for you, just like you had been for him for the past week. You let your legs carry you as far way from him as possible, black heels hitting the ground under you as you went round the church over looking the city. You let out another sob, calling out for your pet fish, your grandparents, then your brother and then Shawn. 

“I’m here, I’m here” a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You leaned back, still crying out and apologising every few seconds. shawn let you apologise, but still shushed you every few seconds when your voice got louder and more broken. Shawn spun you around so your chest was pressed against his his hot breath on your forehead. You leaned your body on to him, too exhausted by everything. 

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He asked, hands smoothening out your messy hair. 

“I told you, one of us has to be strong for the other���” you let out a small smile, brushing your fingers on shawn’s cheeks. He clearly had been crying too, the tear stains and bloodshot eyes evident on his face. “And having gone through this many times before, I’m used to being the strong one. Its just that this time I saw you in pain and yet you kept pushing me away so I couldn’t do anything. That, that hurt and it reminded me so much of myself and my ex when my brother left. I thought you were going to leave me to. And my brother, I saw my brother today…” you continued, keeping your head down. Shawn tilted it right back up so you looked him in the eyes, his hazel brown orbs looking right into yours. 

“I’m sorry babe, I promise never to push you away again” he engulfed you in his signature bear hugs, squeezing you so tightly in his arms. “I promise I’ll be there when you need me, I promise I won’t ever leave you, y/n.”

[lokisgame]

A Case Of You

First date. Excerpt from Aprons And Scrubs. THE SONG

Thank God it wasn't exactly Valentine's. Initially the plan was to take her out on the 14th, but that kiss ruined his plans in the best way possible. He thought about the crowds, the tacky hearts and forced romance and decided it wasn't them. The place he chose was small but had no problem with his last minute reservation and he was confident the food would be great. Mulder debating what to wear, decided to go with fun, with a dark shirt and suit as a backdrop for the vibrant tie. At 6:30 he knocked at her door, a bunch of red carnations in hand. Roses weren't him either, pretty at the florist, dead two days after. Carnations lasted for weeks, if taken care of, a girl in college told him once, and he lived by it. Not Phoebe, damn her blackened soul, she cared nothing for hearts and flowers. Especially not his.

Scully had the rare weekend off. She took the time to get ready glad that a dress was no problem at least. A slim fitting little black dress, she went for simple elegance with only her gold cross and diamond earrings, a gift from her father, after she graduated from med school, chosen as a nod to his memory. Hair pinned up, with a few strands framing her face, she knew that if by any chance... no, too soon to think about that, she scolded herself trying to suppress a smile. It's just dinner, just a night out... With Mulder... who kissed like a god. How did he know what she liked? Most guys fumbled around, missed the spot, too much grabby hands too soon, she hated that. She didn't like to hurry because it was different each time and small steps meant the guy was in for the long haul. And that kiss, how did that happen? The very thought of the slow languid strokes of his tongue in her mouth defeated the purpose of applying blush. Yes, they have kissed before, but it was always sweet and tender, filled with promises. The kiss last night was like a first of those promises being kept, and she kissed him first no less! So far things that started like that ended bad for her, usually because she wanted someone whom she couldn't have, but this was Mulder so she made an effort to believe things will be different this time. She brushed the mascara over her eyelashes, lips slightly parted so her eyelid wouldn't flutter, because her hand did shake with excitement. Excitement and fear, that tonight she might gain a lover of lose a friend. She was fairly certain the chance of the latter were slim, but she tried to plan for the worst as she hoped for the best, even if she had no idea where even begin to look for a plan B. A wool coat and stockings, who said Dana Scully didn't know how to go crazy! The moment she zipped up her high heeled boots she heard a knock.

"Hi," Mulder greeted her, taking in the low square neckline of her dress and the magic thing it did to reveal only hints of what might be the most perfect pair of breasts he's ever seen. "Hi," Scully turned to shut the door and gave him a precious second to gather his jaw off the floor. And he thought she looked gorgeous at the New Year's Eve party. How silly was he. "These are for you," he handed her the flowers and she brought them to her nose, breathing in the subtle fragrance. "They're beautiful, thank you," she said turning and heading for the kitchen to put them in water. Mulder stood corrected, her ass looked even better in that dress, the high heels making her hips sway gently as she walked away. That woman will be the end of him, if she looked this good dressed he didn't dare to imagine show she looked naked. He felt warm instantly and had to unbutton his coat for a moment. She looked back to him and noticed his tie and shirt, managing not to laugh because after all, he was wearing her gift. "Mulder, you look like a high school basketball coach trying to look fun chaperoning the prom." "Heeeyyyy..." he shifted uncomfortably because that kind of hurt his feelings, but only until she stepped around the table and came closer. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him sweetly and reached to pull the tie from around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. With the smile her kiss caused him, he once again looked like a picture of confidence framed in casual nonchalance she knew and loved, only more drop-dead handsome, if that was even possible. She folded the tie in half and draped it over the back of the couch. "You'll get it back." Mulder was going to make sure of that, because this was quickly becoming his favorite tie. "Come on," he took her coat, helped her put it on and offered his arm which she took, "the cab is waiting."

The restaurant was small, just a few tables, two waiters and, to her delight, a young man playing piano in the corner of the room, probably son of the owner. The kid had talent and imagination, Scully appreciated that. Somewhere between main course and desert Mulder moved from the chair to the plush seat beside her. He continued to conquer her personal space, his arm on the back of the seat, casually draped around her, as if unaware of the intimacy it projected. Scully herself only realized it, because of the warmth that he brought with him. It felt almost as natural as breathing, to touch him, to be touched, to keep him in. With other men it took months to get here, if it ever did. She felt very relaxed around him, as if all the small touches and kisses they shared before had no other purpose than say "I'm here." "Mulder, what made you open up a bar?" "Hmmm?" Mulder seemed fascinated by the cut of her earring. "I mean, you left the FBI, but you're still a psychologist, why not open a practice, live comfortably doing nothing but listening to congressmen complain about wives and mistresses?" He chuckled. "That's just it, I wasn't that good at listening to other people's problems and fears. A real therapist knows what to do with it, not me. I'd suck up all their angst and sooner or later I would come across some lost soul that would drag me down with him. I can't, I care too much sometimes for it to be healthy. And I was a profiler, I lived for the puzzle, not confessions of others." "But why a bar? Why not grocery store or a book store or heck, go crazy, a hair salon!" Mulder laughed. "Yeah, grocery store seems safest, but can you imagine?" He took up a mock french accent playing with a strand of hair that fell down her cheek. "Oh Miss Scoolly, so good to see you again so soon, what will we do today? It's too early for color, you look marvelous, how do you do it, with more customers like you I'd be out of business, how about a little trim, half an inch from the sides, it will transform your life, I guarantee!" She ducked her head and laughed, a loud belly laugh hat made his night, just like that. "I could see the ladies lining up for three blocks. We need a name for that, let me think," she giggled, "Mulder's Coiffeurs or better Fox's Curls and Tresses." "No, not that," he groaned rolling his eyes, "I hate my first name." "Why? It's so original, and graphic, no wait, I know, you could sell hats! Your store sign would have a pretty girl with a fox's tail falling down her shoulder from the brim of her hat." "Yeah, animal lovers would love that," he snorted. "Oh, right, haven't thought of that," she noticed the line between silly and honest approaching and backed down. "I can't sleep," Mulder's tone indeed turned honest. "It's as simple as that. Insomnia had me staying up all night since I was twelve," with a bit of sadness in his eyes he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and brushed the back of his hand over her sensitive spot, making a shiver run down her spine. She ignored it for now, this was more important. "Before I left the bureau, I spent a year going through old X-files. And most of that time, my day consisted of getting up, going to work, sitting alone in the basement and reading, then going home to an empty apartment, not sleep for hours, insomnia in full swing at that time, eventually crash for maybe two hours, nightmares waiting the moment I closed my eyes." Scully took care to listen and remember every word he said, so he wouldn't have to go through this story again. "Profiling did horrible things to me before that, and I was alone, week in week out. The most significant human interaction I would get, was an occasional night out with the Gunmen and "99 cents" from a dead tired clerk at the kiosk where I bought sunflower seeds every day." She felt bad for asking, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask." "No," Mulder took her hand, squeezing reassuringly, "it's okay, because that was the moment I decided that I needed a change. X-files were going nowhere, and by that time I read enough, that I could fill my own Library Of Congress section on paranormal and unexplained. Cases that landed on FBI's lap reached as far as the 2nd World War, and Roswell. Cold war must have been a real page turner, judging by the number of censored files, and no one was doing anything about it, and no one planed to." He was no longer sad, the fire was back in his eyes. "That was when I realized our government doesn't care about the people, only his own twisted agenda and I couldn't support that. I crossed the the F and the B, and focused on I in the FBI. You know I write for "The Lone Gunman", under a pseudonym naturally, but it's something I could never do if I worked for the bureau. I travel sometimes, talk to people, write down their stories and give them voice, so others would know, that they are not alone, there are people with similar experiences and the fact that I can do something for them, gave me the strength to keep going, to keep looking. For Sam, to know what happened the night she disappeared." Pure conviction in his voice took her breath away. "The truth is out there. And it won't stay hidden in their basements forever." "And the bar?" "It's a way to keep me sane," Mulder chuckled, "to keep that human connection alive and well. That year in the basement, it was bad, to be that disconnected made my mind fester. I realized I needed to be around people, and like you said, there's a bit of a therapist in every bartender," he smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to fill her glass. "I pour drinks, I listen. The difference is that I have a fancy diploma to back it up. 'The Believer' is always open for people with strange stories and memories to share, and besides," he smiled at her broadly, back to here and now from the depths of his past, "I'm not sure I would ever meet you, if I'd still carry a badge." Scully listened, truly amazed. Once again Mulder's story was not what she expected to hear, not on a first date anyway. She had no words to begin describing the feeling his journey evoked in her, so she cupped his cheek and kissed him. This man so remarkable she wouldn't believe he was real. He saw it, too much awe, too much pride. He didn't want it, he knew he never deserved it, so he kissed her back, resting one hand on the curve of her waist, parting her lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss for two heartbeats, barely decent, bold enough to kick down that pedestal he saw in her eyes. "Mulder," she had to squeeze in the warning between arousal and want in her tone. If they were at the bar, this thing might escalate pretty quickly. "What? Desert?" He kissed her again, quick, deep and hot, "I think you're right, what would you like." "You," she whispered pressing her lips, chastely this time, to the corner of his mouth. "You've got that," he teased, "but I feel like I need to redeem myself after dumping my past on you, so tell me." she leaned back, her hand back in his while he made due with kissing her knuckles, happy he managed to wake her desire. He wanted her to know and still want him, not worship or admire. "What would you like?" "Ice cream sundae," she said without skipping a beat, "and we share, it's a Valentine's Day date requirement." Two spoons, a ton of chocolate and Scully's giggles saved the moment.

They took a cab back to her place, the night was cold. Mulder got out to help her and she took his hand as her feet touched the pavement. It was a moment of silent agreement, her hand squeezed his, she took a step without letting go, and he knew to pay the driver and let her take him upstairs to her apartment.

Scully's heart pounded in her chest, as she searched for keys in her small purse, Mulder less than an inch behind her. She found it, let them in, and turned to find his warm soft lips. He took her face in his hands, warming her cold cheeks, as she unbuttoned his coat to slip her arms around him. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as his hands traveled down her shoulders to the buttons on her coat. He helped her slip out of it, tossing it to the back of the couch, then pulled on her scarf. Blue silk freed her perfume, and again he felt dizzy from it, compelled to bury his face in her neck, this time by way of kisses. His coat landed next to hers, mouths searching, missing targets, sloppy but increasingly more fun with each step that brought them farther inside the apartment. He stepped out of his shoes as she peeled of his jacket. Scully bumped into the back of the couch, walking backwards, and he knelled to unzip her boots and pull them off her small feet for her. She looked stunning, as she pulled one pin from her chignon and her hair fell down in soft waves down her shoulders. Without looking away from her eyes, Mulder ran his hands up the back of her calves and stood up, towering over her for the briefest moment, before he picked her off the floor, hands grabbing the backs of her thighs, stockings dear God, the word goddess flashing through his mind. Scully's legs went around his waist, arms around shoulders, she did not fight for fear she'd topple them over, and he carried her through to the bedroom, ignoring her protests, your leg, no need, I can walk, he was def to her concern over him or his health at the moment. He pleaded temporary insanity from her breasts pressed against his chest through silk and satin of their clothes. "Mulder," she breathed into his ear, holding on to him as he reached to push the door open, "condoms, bathroom, medicine cabinet." He didn't stop but walked in and put her down on her feet. He took her hand and without a word slipped it into his pants pocket, smiling as her palm closed around two foil packets and brushed against the erection that was already starting to feel uncomfortable. "Small steps, Scully," he reached around her and found the tab on the zipper of her dress, and started to pull it down slowly, "I wouldn't do this if I wasn't prepared." "I saw your blood work," she explained taking her hand out of his pocket and dropping the condoms on the bed, "and I'm on the pill but..." he shushed her with a soft kiss, hands caressing her bare skin on the way up to her shoulders. "I know, small steps." A kiss to the side of her neck and a brush of his fingers and the dress pooled around her feet with a whisper of satin. Black lace and silk stockings were all she got left and felt like he was definitely overdressed. "You need some help?" Scully reached to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. Soft light filed the room and the sight stunned Mulder into silence. He could do nothing but stare at her skin, body all soft curves and freckles and female perfection standing before him. She reached up and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from his pants, already bulging impressively. Scully pulled the belt from the loops of his pants and dropped it to the floor, taking a step around to switch places and push him on the bed behind him. "You run around too much, I told you that already." Hovering above him, keeping her tone playful, she slowly unbuttoned his pants to pull them down, mindful of his recent injury. His socks followed suit as she knelt down on the floor between his knees, looking up. He was looking at her, propped up on his elbows, his erection straining his briefs. "Scully, are you sure?" He asked quietly, not concerned, just making sure. "If I wasn't," she replied with confidence, standing up and resting her toes on his knee, "we wouldn't be here." Mulder got rid of his doubts and reached to peel the last of the silk and lace of her body.

Scully laid on the bed, his face inches from hers, watching every change in her expression as he ran two fingers between her thighs, learning what made her tick, following her hand. They fumbled at first and he decided to just let her take the lead. Now she was straining against him, arching her back. He kissed her from time to time, wet sloppy kisses, all soft brushes of languid tongues. He kissed her breasts and nibbled on her nipples, and shoulder and neck, but now he was watching her knead the soft flesh and pinch the hard tip of it and circling around it with her thumbnail. Each moan was like a reward for a well aimed stroke of his hand. He dipped two fingers inside her, her clit swelled as he brushed past it from time to time. He returned there but not too often, she was very responsive to what he did for her. Sometimes her finger joined his, showing him what to do and how, but mostly she just let him explore, take his time. "Like that," she threw her head back and he felt her walls soften under his touch, become pliant, ready for him to join in on the fun. Mulder knew his leg was not yet 100 percent healed, so he brought her as close to the edge as possible without wasting the strength he knew, he would need. She thought he was teasing when his hand moved away, but as his weight shifted and the tip of his cock started to push inside her, she welcomed him into her arms. The sensation was pure and undiluted bliss. "You feel so good," she whispered pulling his lips to hers, her tongue in his mouth as hot as her centre. "I've wanted you since you tossed back that first shot of whiskey at the bar with me," he confessed pulling her knee up and around his hip, shifting so that most of his weight rested on his good side, and started to pump into her, slowly, like he did earlier with his fingers, "you trusted me, I see that now." "I never did that," she panted as he started picking up pace, "let a guy talk me into doing something." She dropped a kiss on his parted lips, "but with you it felt different." her one hand pushed between them and found her clit, the other scratched down his back all the way to his ass, she relished the way his muscles flexed with each thrust. "Like this." Mulder wasn't sure if she was speaking of that night or urging him on, "like what?" "Amazing," she breathed, and he could do nothing else but agree. He felt himself quicken, as she swelled around him. Their lips met and she was whimpering softly with his each thrust, now urgent and hard. "Keep going, like that," her finger moved fast in tight circles, "Mulder, oh God, I'm going to..." She didn't need to finish because just then her body spasmed under and around him. Scully held on, trying to pull him inside her, her free arm now tight around his shoulders, her hand at the nape of his neck, her lips at his ear. "Let go, come for me," and she ran her tongue around his ear, bit his earlobe and he couldn't fight it anymore, he came and fell and she caught him.

It was her turn to watch him, limbs intertwined, bodies sated, sheets pulled warm around them. "What did you do to me?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, with tenderness she hasn't felt in years. "What do you mean?" "I feel like you just moved in here," he said taking her hand and placing it over his heart, "and started redecorating." "Do I get the attic as well?" Scully chanced a joke, kissing his temple and running fingers through his hair, silky smooth and soft, now that she knew he liked that. "If you don't mind the toys there," he teased back. Self deprecating was his idea of honest when speaking about himself. "Mulder, you are a good man," she told him, kissing his lower lip gently, she knew it and felt it, and that made it as good as true for her. "I'm Spooky Mulder howling at the moon," he countered, a faint sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, you care about people, that's noble, you're like a white knight that way" she explained, feeling his midnight stubble with the back of her fingers. "Wait," he looked alarmed for a moment, "not like Don Quixote or something, right?" "What, you want me to stroke your ego some more?" She reached under the covers and found his shaft, running her palm up and down its' length, and circling the head with her thumb. His eyes rolled back as he started to get hard again, she was starting to love how he could not resist her. "That's not where it's at, but it has a direct line." "Shut up Mulder," she straddled his hips and kissed him for real this time.

The next morning Mulder woke up in Scully's bed. In pain. He untangled himself from her small warm body, asleep with her back against his chest, and knowing it was impossible not to wake her, he turned onto his back and groaned. His thigh was killing him. "Mulder?" Her sleepy voice sounded concerned as she turned to face him, "what's wrong?" "My leg," was all he managed to say, the pain was spreading to his hip and lower back. She uncovered his side and saw no bruising or alarming swelling around the freshly healed wound. "You pushed yourself last night," she covered him and started to get up, "I told you not to carry me." "Adrenaline rush Doc, couldn't help it," he joked, but really felt terrible, "where are you going?" "I'll be right back," she kissed his forehead and left him to his suffering. Scully went to the kitchen, tying the robe around her waist and noting in passing the path of clothes they left behind last night. They needed coffee. She opened the fridge, scanning it's contents and finding it satisfactory, took out the coffee and started a fresh pot. "Take this." She came back handing Mulder one pill and a glass of water, and noticing his hesitation clarified, "it's Tylenol 3," then pulled the covers back off his leg and covered it with a bag of frozen peas. "Bad news, you're not going anywhere today." Mulder looked at her and barked out a strained laugh. "And how is that bad news?" His reaction shook her out of her doctor persona and she realized what she just said. "Right," she laughed and leaned over to kiss his smiling lips, "happy Valentine's Day Mulder."