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hajimine · 4 years

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LEX’S 2020 APPRECIATION POST PT. II !

— to the lovely moots & followers who i talk to quite often (or pretty much everyday), this one’s for you.

thank u for being in my life, you made my 2020 so so much better. i’m so grateful october lex decided to make a tumblr acc 🥲

i’ll try my best to keep it kinda short 🥲👍

in alphabetical order:

@4fterh0urs — my omega phoebe 😩‼️ ily so much bc you’re both extremely stupid n extremely smart at the same time. u mean so much to me and i love talking to u even if u call me such weird as nicknames every damn day 😃 you’re so sexy n hella intimidating smfh idk how i was able to make u my bitch (JK PLS DONT KILL MEE) anyways, thanks for being a real one bae + you’re the person i block the most, so you’re special ig 😹👍 ily you’re actually such a sap but u pretend to be all tough heh <33

@archivednikes — my solar system, my wh*re (lovingly) hi bae 😣 ok yk how much i love u but. im gonna tell u again: ILYSM!! OKAY??? please know that you’re such an amazing human being and you’re SO incredibly talented. god i love u so much please take care of yourself baby, you’re always so kind to other people and i hope you can do the same to yourself. once again, i am so fucking glad you decided to slide into my inbox that day, because now i look forward to talking to you every single morning. insert grabby hands ilysm <33

@boosyboo9206 — onyx hi babes! i’m so so grateful for you omg u dont even know it. you always manage to cheer me up with your antics and you’re always here to support me 🥺 whenever i’m down you somehow aways manage to make me feel a lil better. i love talking to u whether it’s about sth as mundane as the weather or even your obsession with the word peepers. thank you for being you, please take care of yourself and stop sleeping so damn late. ilysm <33

@ch4jime — chloe bae!! 😁 hi omg ilysm you’re so cute and cool and nice urghh thanks for always checking up on me! i love love seeing you in my asks, you’re such a lovely person to be around. i seriously need to be better at dropping in other people’s inbox, so just know that i’ll work on hanging out on your blog more often this year bc ily! i wish u all the best and please never stop being you baby mwah <33

@fairyoomi — hi bae 😣😣 how are u?? i know we don’t talk much anymore, and that’s okie, but i still wanna write u this lil note because i’m so thankful i met you here on tumblr. you’re an amazing writer and u were so sweet to me even when i was a teeny blog who didn’t know anyone. i admire u a lot, yknow? thanks for being such a friendly and welcoming person, ily <33

@gu3to — mochi bestieo 🙀 idk if you’ll even see this smh so i’m just gonna text u after this (if i don’t forget to rip) okay so. hello?! you’re so mf cool and you’re a trendsetter 🤩 yes yes im fueling your god complex it’s bc ily smh. you’re so dumb i wanna choke u sometimes but i won’t bc i’m also just as dumb 😁 pls stop disappearing from the face of the Earth okay ilysm you always keep it real and i know i can always count on u to listen to uh... my shit. okay so when are we gonna make out? 🤨 oki bye <33

@hoekageyama — wifey!! maddie baby urghh yk how much i love you, you’re one of my earliest moots im pretty sure? and aaaaa i’m so so glad i decided to be weird as hell and slide into your asks that day (pancreas. sighs. iconic.) you’re my numero uno whenever i wanna bark about hot 2d boys and what i’d let em do to me coughs err yea hehe. please take care of yourself baby you’re such a sweet and kind and loving person and i’m so glad to have you in my life. smh we text each other lovey dovey texts anyway but i still wanna do this for u 😋 ilysm!!! <33

@honeyskawa — lani baby hi! i know you haven’t been super active lately, but i just wanna tell u that i appreciate u so so much!! you honestly made my goddamn week when u sent me that ask about how i inspired you bc what the heck?? never in my life have i expected to have such an impact on someone. you’re a wonderful writer honestly. i love u so much and i hope everything’s going well baby, i’m excited talk to u more whenever you decide to be active on tumblr again <33

@jougogo — kaybae hi!!! you haven’t been on tumblr much lately but hi sexc it’s me lex lol i’ve moved accs hehe 😎 i hope u see this whenever u get your phone back cries. you’re such an amazing person to be around, always so cheerful and friendly, you exude so much positive vibes and ilysm. you always manage to lift up the mood with your sexc self and i admire u for that. you’re so incredibly chaotic and fun to be around ahrgehxhh i appreciate u sm and i hope you’re taking care of yourself bby ily <33

@kemochie — my waluigi, my favorite f*rry, hi 😝 urghhh god we just started talking everyday pretty recently but god. you’re so funny??? and i love bullying u bc u give me so much material to bully u with (ok jkjk i love u that’s why i bully u smh) also, you’re so incredibly supportive and u were actually the one who pushed me to finally post that atsumu fic, even tho stupid me accidentally deleted it LMAOBSBD anw, u bring sm joy in my life, so thank u for that. we’re a small lil filf and you’re the milf to my dilf LMAO ilysm mwah!! <33

@kenmaki — gabbae! virgo bestie!! hi hi !! you’re such a talented person and you’re an amazing writer, and i hope one day u can get past your insecurities and see yourself as the wonderful person u truly are. i love how we were able to relate to each from how similar virgos think + our initial conversation of dick measurements and such will forever be seared into my memory. and congrats on getting a daily railing on the dash HSBDH i don’t look at em i promise lol 🤩🤩 jdbdhdh ilysm bby <33

@miyams — ren sweet babie hi! you’re so incredibly talented please don’t listen to stupid hate anons. i’ll stab them with a serrated knife if i have to 😠🔪 you’re so flippin cute and sweet i love talking to you, and i love love love whenever u come by my inbox to say hi. i hope we can talk even more in 2021, my dms and asks are always open for u bby (even though i suck at replying right away, sorry abt that huhu) i love u sm baby please take care of yourself <33

@miyasangel — ardie bae 😜 hi sexc!! i still cant believe we talk like everyday now lmaoo i used to think you’re so freaking cool (i still do) and now i’m friends w u whattaheck 🥲 you’re such an amazing writer wtf. i hate that we had to start our friendship on such a sour note (ehem discord ehem) but i’m really glad it brought us closer together. ily cockarden i’ll be sure to bully u even more HAHAGS IM JK makes out w u so hard bc you’re so damn hot ily 😣‼️ <33

@owlywrites — owly baby hello! ily so so much and you’re so talented, you deserve so much recognition. i hope i can read more of your fics soon bc they’re so well written ugh 😣 thanks for always checking up on me and always being so incredibly sweet. i love u so so muchhh huhu i wanna give u the biggest hug in the world :( please take care of yourself and never stop being your genuine self kith kith <33

@rilacry — milfy gorlillola 😜😜‼️ hi sexc. omfg i was so intimidated by u wtf (and i still kinda am smh) bc you’re so cool?? and your writing n carrd making skills are amazing as hell wtf. u just exude BDE bc you’re hella hot AND bc u wanna peg everyone. anyways,, i’m glad we got closer recently, even if it was out of really wack circumstances. ily bae pls stop sticking your memojis everywhere mwah <33

@rintaroll — my kue tete ☹️☹️ ilysm smh bye i can’t believe we’re close now wtf you’ve always been so cool and sexc 😩‼️ oh god i rmb when u were still on your old acc and u seemed so out of reach and i was a lil intimidated ANDBDJD SHHH but yea now ik you’re just a big h word dork and i love u for that 😣 i wish u all the best for your singing career bby you’re such a talented writer AND singer wtf. also you’re so pretty???? wtf how rude 😠 JKJK HAHHSBD ilysm kithes u so hard <33

@tetsoleil — geegee!! hi baby 😣 thanks for being such a sweet human being ily! it’s been a while since we actually talked yeah? but i still want u to know that i love u a lot and i appreciate u so much. i’m so so grateful you’re in my life because you’re such a joy to be around. you’re an amazing writer bby and i hope you get the recognition u deserve. i’m always here for u if u need anything. ilysm bby <33

@velvetfireworks — rachie bae 🤩 my bakso goreng, my golden kiwi!!! ily!! hehe im so glad i decided to slide in your dms when u asked me if i was indo. but ahhhh you’re ao sweet and cute and supportive ilysm. an amaaazing writer and i admire your work so much, but i think you’ve heard me say that multiple times before. i’m so glad we became closer recently through our love for greasy food and wonky lil faces 👁💋👁 kith kith ilysm <33

@yato-o — yato baby hi!! urgh honestly i appreciate u so so much?? i feel so lucky to be able to get to know you. i don’t even remember how we met but ahhh thank u for always stopping by and have a chat with me even though i know you’re a busy person. please take care of yourself and get some rest whenever u need to! don’t feel pressured to come on here if you’re tired baby, im so grateful to have u in my life, i luv youu <33

HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU SEXY BAES!

kisses, lex

#💬#bye this took me so long #the biggest kithes for u all mwa

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piracytheorist · 4 years

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A Kiss for Good Luck (13/16)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: With this chapter, two more and the epilogue left, I decided to post them day by day! You can expect the next and final updates on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday :D

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.6k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 13: Emma Swan, May 25th – June 22nd 2016

Emma smiles wide as she watches Killian go to the end of the now huge line to the airport checkpoint. He went back just to give her a kiss, and a part of her is delighted to realize she adores this hopelessly romantic side of him.

He doesn't turn to look at her, but the place is too crowded anyway, and she decides to go back, grab a coffee and wait to watch his plane leave. Instead, Killian's flight is delayed for a few hours. She texts him about it, whether he wants to cross back and join her, but he simply tells her to not worry and go back home.

It sours her mood a little; it may be a bit late in the day, but there's no reason for him to spend all this time alone, and if she judges by the plain tone of his message he doesn't even want to chat until he leaves.

Odd. First he gives up being first in a long line just to kiss her, then he doesn't even want to talk to her.

Perhaps he just wants to rest or sleep until his flight leaves. Emma tries to ignore the insistent little voice in her head that has never truly disappeared since Neal left her.

She turns the radio on while in her car and catches a blues station. The slow music and the complete lack of traffic back to her place calm her thoughts.

She stays up, checking on Killian's flight until it departs, hoping it doesn't mean a thing that Killian himself didn't tell her that his plane was finally leaving.

The next day is easy, checking off a few good cases, and in the evening she meets Ruby for a few drinks.

“So,” Ruby says with a meaningful look, “how was your week?”

Emma sighs happily, and it's with Ruby's smile turning warmer that she remembers she actually had a fantastic time. She's worrying too much.

“It was great. It felt... right, you know? I was a bit scared, but the moment we met at the airport made everything else not matter. He was here, and we could really enjoy our time together...”

Ruby's nodding enthusiastically. “And? How was it?”

“It was... warm and fuzzy...” Emma gives a good look at Ruby, suddenly realizing what she's asking about. “I told you we weren't ready for that.”

“Even after the whole week?”

“I mean, I spent most of my nights looking at my bedroom door and wondering whether I should go and ask him... but it wasn't just me.”

“I admire your patience. And his. And how about him? What do you think it was like for him?”

“I'm not sure, honestly.” Her face falls.

“What happened?”

“Up until the last day, I could swear it was as good for him as it was for me. I mean, he came, right? He chose to. And he looked happy to be here, with me. But a few hours before he had to leave, he seemed restless and anxious.”

“Because he was leaving?”

“I don't know. I...” She sighs. “He hasn't contacted me to let me know he's arrived safely. But I checked Messenger a few hours ago and it said he's been active today.”

“Did you send him a text about it? It would be weird for him to just forget but sometimes it just happens.”

“Should I send one, you think?”

“Yeah. Maybe he was really busy today. What did you say his job is?”

“His father has a boat rental, and sometimes he takes passengers on cruises.”

“Well, tourist season is kinda starting. Send him a message. But, you know, try to not sound desperate.”

“Ugh. I feel as if I'm in a teenage rom-com.”

She sends her message. Early the next morning, she sees his reply; a plain “Aye, I was busy, sorry for not letting you know,” and compared to his message from before his flight right above that, she can't help wondering.

She didn't have a cell phone as a teenager, and she hadn't allowed herself anything longer than one-night stands after Neal, so it's the first time in her life she has to look at her phone and keep telling herself to not call first.

She takes walks by the sea, seeing the yachts and boats and thinking of Killian. He mentioned how it had been his choice to work on his father's boats, how he loved that job where there's always a view of the sea.

Having practically grown up in Boston, Emma knows well the feelings that endless blue can bring. For Killian, they must be even stronger. The feeling of freedom and calmness and strength at the same time...

She knows he's facing his own issues, he's been open to her about them. His lonely adolescence, his grief, his drinking problem.

She decides to take a walk there every day, to remind herself to give Killian the same space that the sea gives him. Maybe he's out there at the same time, looking at the sea the same way she does.

He manages to call her within a week, though due to his bad connection, they don't share video this time. Or the next. Or the next.

“Remember how I told you I felt I was in a rom-com?” she tells Ruby when they meet one day for coffee. “I hope that at least I'm the protagonist and not the third wheel.”

“What's going on?”

“I worry too much about his calls. We used to talk every day, from five minutes to whole hours on end. And now he's just too busy, or his connection is bad, or his camera isn't working and I'm not seeing his face. But he keeps calling me back, not as often, and not as much, and he doesn't even say as much as he used to, but he's initiating calls on his part. Sometimes he doesn't reply when I call him...” She covers her face with her hands.

Ruby is patiently waiting for more, and Emma isn't sure which more to choose. Killian had trusted her with his history about getting involved with a married woman and she's not ready to betray that just to provide a possible proof that he may be cheating on her.

“We decided to take things slow,” Emma said. “We weren't shy on kisses while he was here, but it didn't go further than that. Do you think he may not consider it cheating, if...”

“If he didn't consider it cheating – if he even is cheating on you – he wouldn't be hiding like that. And taking things slow is different than having an open relationship.”

“I don't know.”

“Emma, if he didn't see it so seriously, would he have come all this way just to spend a week with you? While respecting your wish to not get intimate?”

“He said that's what he wanted as well.”

“So what, is his masculinity so fragile that instead of respecting your wishes, he would fake not being ready for sex? Is he that kind of person?”

Emma is silent.

“You do realize it would take a deep kind of crazy to only want to get laid, then come all this way and agree to not get laid.”

Fair point. “I just wish I knew what it was that tipped him that way. It's... you know, on his last day here, we were talking about our first kisses, and we realized we actually were each other's first kiss.”

“What? You're serious?”

“I know, of all people, right? And I have an inkling he might have been freaked out by that.”

“How did it happen?”

“It was a game of spin the bottle. It was as innocent as it could get at eleven.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“Yeah. When he was still here, though. I mean, at first he laughed, just as I did, then his face fell, and I asked him if he felt weird about it, and he said no, just that he didn't want to leave. Ugh.” She hangs her head. “That's not a rom-com. That's a soap opera.”

“Maybe he's going through something? Problems with work, family?”

“He hasn't mentioned anything. He said he hasn't talked to his fathers in a while. But, he's shared more serious stuff with me. If something was upsetting him so much... I can't imagine how serious something must be for him to not want to share it with me. And I don't know how much time to give him. Will I sound desperate? Like a stalker? If I take too long, will I seem insensitive?”

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“He's calling me, Ruby. He's not trying to cut off, and he's not trying to appease me either. I'm sure he knows I can hear that he's hiding something. What am I meant to make out from that?”

“Maybe confront him with the fact that you know something is up. Just put it on the table. Say that he doesn't have to explain it to you if it doesn't involve or concern you, just to stop pretending there's no elephant in the room.”

“Sounds simple enough, I guess.” She sighs. “Perhaps it was too early? We've only known each other for seven months.”

“Too early for what? You're not engaged or something. You can work things out.”

Emma nods. “Thank you. Sorry for unloading all that on you.”

“That's what friends are for.” She takes her hands in hers. “I've got lots to talk about, if you want a distraction.”

Emma has had a wonky fortune in her life; she's glad she happened to meet Ruby during one of the good times.

The next day, while she's still growing the courage to confront Killian about acknowledging at least that there's something going on, Ingrid calls her. She's joined by Elsa, who excitedly tells Emma she wants to join Ingrid in her next trip to Boston that summer – they will, of course, stay in a hotel close by so she won't be a bother.

“Maybe we'll go somewhere nice all three of us,” Emma says. “I actually bought a lottery ticket and I have a good feeling about it.”

“Oh, if you have a good feeling about it,” Ingrid says, then turns to Elsa. “You cannot imagine how lucky she was as a teenager.” She then bursts into chatter in Norwegian, and even if Emma could understand more than a few words here and there, she would still be lost in thought.

She was indeed quite lucky as a teen. In fact, the luckiest day of her life, as she'd described it to Killian, had been just the beginning of five great years.

Until her first trip to England, where she met the pirate boy.

Wait...

“Emma?”

She starts, looking back at her camera.

“Sorry, dear, I got carried away,” Ingrid says.

“We will try to use more English when we're there,” Elsa says with an apologetic smile.

“No, it's alright. Ingrid, can you remind me when you actually got your first visa? I mean, in the recent years.”

“Uh, a few days before I contacted you. The first time.”

“Do you remember how many days?”

Ingrid huffs in thought, but turns to her with a smile. “Such sudden curiosity. I'm not sure exactly, three? Four? Less than a week, for sure.”

Too close to the day she kissed that stranger at the club... the only one she didn't see around when the police was asking for witnesses, if they saw who shot that man at the hand and killed his lover.

“Emma?”

Emma takes a deep breath and does her hardest to fake a smile. “Nothing. It's... something about work.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing to worry about. When do you think about visiting?”

After a short chat, Ingrid gets the message and leaves Emma with her thoughts. Emma's hands are shaking; the lottery results will be out in two days and they can't come fast enough.

She runs out, resorting to buying a scratch ticket from a nearby kiosk. She scratches it and stares at it, nearly frozen.

Five dollars.

Emma looks around, looks at the sky, then at her phone. Her weather app clearly shows rain, but there's not a single cloud in the sky.

She is lucky. Things have been going quite well for her. Suddenly so, in fact. Just a month or so ago, she would be getting splashed by cars and losing spare change and...

And then Killian visited her.

She walks slowly back to her apartment, and somehow it doesn't come as a surprise that thunder rumbles outside right as she closes her door.

She sits on her couch, watching the rain pour outside her window.

She had a serving of quite a bad luck the first eleven years of her life. Then she met Killian at that birthday party, they shared an innocent kiss, and that very same evening Ingrid told her she would be adopting her.

Shortly after that Killian's mother died, his father left them, and his brother passed too a few years later.

She stands up, pacing around her living room.

He lived in London at the time. At the exact time she visited for Halloween, that fateful year, that she was left alone and Killian... was adopted? He had mentioned being almost too old to be adopted.

He said it hadn't been him at that party, but he didn't sound convincing, and at the time Emma brushed it off, but... if it really had been him...

Then the night of the shooting at the club. She doesn't remember that stranger's face, but their kiss was too close to him getting shot and Ingrid's visa getting accepted.

A shiver runs down her spine as she remembers the screams of that night. The screams of a man who got shot in the hand... a hand that Killian doesn't have.

Emma's nearly gasping for breath, her hands shaking again as she forces herself to sit back down at the couch.

After that, it was some good years for her, and Killian was lost in his grief, alcohol, and a bad relationship later on.

Then they met at the concert, where right after their kiss, she dropped her phone, cracking its screen.

She looks at it now. The crack is still there, but something tells her getting a new phone screen – or a whole new phone – won't be a problem a few days from now.

She feels a weight set on her shoulders as she goes back to Killian trying to convince her it wasn't him at the Halloween party.

He knows. Somehow, he does, though she doubts he found out much earlier than the moment they realized they were each other's first kiss.

And second.

The weight becomes a sudden void; the pirate boy's look nearly haunted her for years; fifteen years later, she felt a similar sensation at the way Killian looked at her in the concert.

It was the same look, by the same person.

She shakes her head. It's silly. Can it truly be, that they brought good and bad luck to each other, just by kissing?

Then she remembers how he left, when there was no-one in front of him at the queue, to get back to her and give her a last kiss, and didn't come back to join her when his flight was being delayed, because he knew there would be kissing involved if he did.

Tears fill her eyes. He left his luck with her.

And things have been going well for her. How has he been... when both times he got unlucky, people he loved died?

She keeps looking at her phone, wondering if she should call Killian about it, ask him if everything's okay.

Instead, she picks it up and starts looking for the cheapest flight to England she can afford, as soon as possible.

She can't tell Killian; he'll try to stop her, pretend that he's not in Brighton, that he'll be busy...

She finds the envelope with which he'd sent her her Christmas present; she'd kept it in case she'd want to surprise him with a gift back. The return address doesn't include the apartment number, but surprising him in the building entrance will have to do.

She books a flight for three days from now, and of course is not surprised to earn two thousand dollars at the lottery, nor to be promoted to a business class seat thanks to travel miles.

She's grown used to really enjoying flights, but this time she's too nervous to sit back and relax.

He figured out everything before she did. All he had to do was time their kisses right, then leave with his luck on his side. Forever.

But he didn't. He wouldn't. Emma may not know him that long, but she doesn't think he's capable of that. And that's why she's in this plane now.

There's a small part of her that wonders what she's going to do when she comes back. Will Killian actually let her leave without his luck? Will he follow her back? Will they just spend all their money in the effort to be the most selfless one?

She sighs in frustration. That's not something she took into consideration when she agreed to start such a long-distance relationship.

As her luck would have it, everything goes better than smoothly, and courtesy of having slept on her comfortable seat, she doesn't even feel tired from the trip.

It's just starting to get dark when she arrives in Brighton, and she contemplates going straight for her hotel and 'confronting' Killian the next day. But her note with Killian's address on it is right inside her jacket pocket when she gets in the cab, and she can't help herself. The moment she approaches his apartment block, someone happens to exit and smiles to her as he holds the door open for her.

Of course he would. She settles herself and her holdall on the stairs, sends one 'Hey, call me when you see this' to Killian, and waits.

After a couple of hours she starts wondering whether she really is all that lucky, or if it was all in her imagination. The stairs aren't too comfortable and she's slowly getting bored. There's only so much Candy Crush she can handle.

Her eyes look up every single time she sees someone even approach the entrance from outside, and again, everyone who enters or exits simply smiles at her and goes on their way.

She's about ready to give up and head for her hotel when he finally appears. He's looking down, his visibly longer hair falling in front of his face as he takes a bit too long to open the door. She contemplates going to open it herself, but he makes it and starts for the stairs, stopping at the first step and looking up slowly.

His slow reflexes, his slightly staggering step, his tired, sad face...

He was out drinking.

Coming like this was a horrible idea.

“Killian...” she says, making sure her voice sounds worried and not judgmental.

He just stares at her, looking confused and very tired.

“I know this looks weird,” she says. “I've had some time to think and... I'm not stalking you.”

“Wha-” he starts. “How...”

“I'm sorry.” She toys with her hands nervously. “I should have let you know earlier. It was...” Not just impulsive. “Very impulsive. But I would've come soon anyway.”

“How did you know where...” His voice trails off, but she gets the point.

“The gift you sent me for Christmas. The package had your address on it.”

He blinks slowly, and she's not sure he's registering everything she's saying. “Come upstairs,” he says eventually, starting to walk up the steps.

“Wait, really?” She stands up and grabs her bag. “I've booked a hotel-”

“You can take the bed,” he interrupts her. “It's got clean sheets.”

“Killian-”

He gives her a stern look that shuts her up. He's clearly not in the mood for more than just getting to a bed. “Just come.”

She smells the alcohol off of him when he steps closer to her and she wonders whether she should comment on it. Maybe she can ask, somehow, there must have been something that pushed him over.

His apartment looks tidy and smells clean. He sets himself down on the couch, taking off his brace and shoes.

“Is something wrong?” Emma says. “You're...” She pauses. How can she say it?

“Relapsing,” he says plainly. “Why is everyone avoiding that word?”

“Are you okay?”

He shrugs. “Not much to say. I'm tired.”

So hopefully, nothing horrible happened to him or his family.

“I'm sorry,” Emma says again. “I should have let you know I'm coming. I... I'd thought I could surprise you...” What else can she say to excuse such a sudden visit?

Killian lets out a cold, soulless laugh. “Lucky me,” he says, then lies down, eyes closing and breath quickly getting deeper.

His words pull at her heart, confirming that he knows of their mingled fates. She approaches him, kneeling down next to him and touching his hair. It's only been a month and she's already missed feeling how soft his hair is. How she'd love to keep brushing her fingers through it, and not just tonight.

A soft snore comes from him, and she leans forward to leave a kiss on his forehead.

#Emma Swan #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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aikainkauna · 6 years

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Sorry I haven’t been giffing/posting/reglobbing much lately, guys. It’s that behemoth of a fic swallowing up all my sitting-upright time (and a big chunk of my reclining time). Four chapters or so to go and I’m still spending about 7-11 hours every day combing the remaining text for typos (yes, some of us actually do care about our fics and don’t think it’s some dirty “trashy,” “guilty pleasure” of less value), so it’s a full-time job with overtime. So if I’m slow to respond to anything, it’s that. I’m sure that soon enough, the post-fic existential emptiness will be upon us and you’ll be seeing more gifs and tag yelling.

Although it’s just been so quiet among the nice people here and so loud among the idiots that I might just take several steps back from Tumblr in general, just for my mental health. There seems little point in making gifs nobody reblogs and saying anything when it’s drowned out by the types who give liberals a bad name (honestly, some of the shit people say on here would already have made me a Nazi were I a bloke, because apparently nothing is ever enough and I’ll always be Doing it Wrong anyway; you’re not making tolerance seem worthwhile, if you nevertheless beat the tolerant person up for wearing the wrong types of socks).

I’m still looking for that fandom old people’s home, so if you find it, that place where people are old enough to have some fucking perspective, do let me know.

This whole place is eerily reminiscent of an abusive relationship where you’re constantly having to tiptoe because you never know when the next explosion is going to come and where from, what sort of utterly random thing someone is going to call abusive now and beat you up for, even if you’ve been working hard not to upset them, have made deliberate choices to accommodate them because you know their wounds. It’s like Borderline Personality Disorder, but in the form of a website. (And yes, I know first-hand what BPD is like. Had the spouse, had the flatmate, had the fuckbuddies, had the friends.) And the worst thing about BPD is that it’s catching: being around a human minefield makes everyone jumpy, and then *their* jumpiness becomes tyrannical towards others (when the hurt person is just self-defending, they feel) and then the cycle continues. Everybody is paranoid and beating everybody up in the name of great justice, and undermining everyone else’s psyches to the point where they become human minefields themselves. And they don’t know how to stop that cycle, if they’re in denial about having a problem, because of course, if you hurt and lash out, you’re just defending yourself. (Being told you’re a shitty person for freaking out at a trigger is worse than being triggered. Good luck trying to crawl out of that into any semblance of health, if you feel you’re just an explosive piece of crap forever.)

And while I know I can help a bit by stepping outside of that and offering fic and pics and lols where people can forget about it all, I’m still in two minds about offering it in a direction where the recipient is never going to be happy anyway, and where the effort is (or seems) wasted as long as the receiving end isn’t doing any conscious healing/rebuilding itself to better appreciate healthier things. It does nothing. Why am I buying medicine for someone who abuses me for it and throws the bottle in my face? I’ve been there, trying to please people who were locked up in their traumas and paranoias, throwing all my love and effort and work at them to no avail because I thought I could help; I’m not keen on doing it again. Because now I’m old enough to know I’m wasting my time, as brutal and as “selfish” that sounds (how about calling it “self-preservation?” “Sanity?” “Kindness to oneself?” I know women are beaten out of daring to have that, for daring to even think their lives aren’t meant to be lived for other people, but fucking watch me go).

Just like partners and friends aren’t the same as professional help, fandom isn’t the ultimate cure for depression/trauma unless there’s an inner change in the ill person to better utilise it. I was that ill person and I had to go through a lot of therapy and growth to not become a 24/7 abusive bitch myself (I still have shitty hypersensitivities, but those are in-built–they’re bad enough). I changed the way I see fannish activities (I now really do see them as medicine), and only then could I enjoy them to the fullest and only then could I start writing really good fic, because it comes from a firm ground of faith in the inherent value of fic. It’s a really complicated thing to explain, the interrelationships of fandom, queer people and mental health (there should be a book on fandom/queerdom and mentalness–we are wonky in the head, sometimes fucking awfully so, and it’s *not* all due to persecution but genes).

But my gist is that there’s no point in endlessly remaining in a draining relationship with someone who doesn’t want to heal–Tumblr’s anxiety-mongering culture of self-hate, ahoy! One has to pick one’s “battles” and channel one’s energy somewhere where it’s actually going to bear fruit. Not on a site that says the phrase “I don’t discriminate by colour” is racist, or that a feminist, mixed-race royal princess “isn’t enough” or that a given sexual minority gets to rule it over everyone else. Not on a site full of kids who are too young/American to have known *real* homophobia and racism, and who don’t realise that for most people, in the real world, even not being racist or homophobic is a *choice.*

Which is why I miss that supportive community of other brainy, feminist and reasonable fans who actually had conversations so. Fucking. Much. Where are they? (DW is where the militant vegan lesbian sociopath SJWs went, and if you’re not keen on eternal frowny moral meta, ehhh.)

Where’s the actual fun? Where are the other fans who are old enough to have been through therapy and who have experienced real relationships and have known actual real “minority” people IRL, and who consequently have an open mind about things? Who can see that things really aren’t as black and white as they thought they were when they were in their teens? Where are the fans who know something about psychology and psychiatry? The ones who know how gendered socialisation works and just how deep it goes, and who aren’t fans of Tumblr essentialism and its blindness to gender-based toxins? The fans who actually understand and respect the intelligence of other fans, instead of kneejerk assumptions of ignorance and moral corruption? The fans who legit don’t think a Gen X writer who forgot to use–or simply didn’t know about the existence of–a new politically correct term, is as evil as Hitler (because ignorance=/=active, intentional oppression, Jesus!)? The fans who respect the labor that goes into fanfic and fanart and always leave comments or otherwise support fan creators, instead of thinking of writers as vending machines for something “dirty” they feel ashamed for reading?

Because I’m that kind of “old” fan and I’ll be there for you if you’re there for me.

I just need to know where the fuck you are!

#mental health #whatever else i need to tag this as #discourse #?#personal #there's an unfortunate type of the entitled american kid on here #who's never been called the n-word in her face repeatedly and spat on #and who hasn't had dog shit dropped through her letterbox #which is the reality of anyone even slightly sepia over in most of europe #so yeah...#the gap between the world i grew up in and its intolerances #compared to what some people think isn't enough now #is just... mindboggling #tolerance is still a choice #and i feel more and more spite building up in myself at the entitled shit #to the point where i'd actively want to do something nasty to the whiners #(clarification: in the sense of smacking some sense into them by showing how bad it can be/is)#but i don't bc i'm a fucking decent human being #most straight white guys though? they are now acting on that spite #if you don't give someone a chance and condemn them #you are leaving them with very few alternatives #it's the good old reactionary syndrome of demon pride--call someone evil=they'll celebrate it #ah well anyway i guess i should return to my fic

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essentiallychaotic · 7 years

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85 statements R U L E S : you must answer these eighty five statements and tag twenty people I was tagged by the always wonderful @acynicandanidealist ^-^ (also sorry if this has been tagged for a bit, my tumblr didn’t tell me so if I’m doing this weirdly late whoops :/ ) I would like to tag: @skittles-pixie, @pacificjim, @khanleesi, @keepingkaya, @astreana, @elfiethewicked, @bleustocking, @cuemypulse, @wingleader, @lokidiabolus, @scribbly-wibbly-stuff, @stenchy-wench, @universalhouseplant, @shalanos, @nancysinatras, @dragonsdawn, @hungry-angry-lyingdown, @horaetio, @inktaire, @pntmrcys, aanndd anyone else who wants to do it!

Also sorry if the formatting is wonky, I’m on mobile. Part 1: the last: drink: Water, I have this like quart mason jar with a drink lid, cause I’m one of those people I guess :P phone call: I talked to my Dad this afternoon text message: Uummm… I had to go check haha, it was Cece song you listened to: Probably something by David Bowie this morning (followed by me wandering around the house just singing his name, just repeated dramatic “Bowie!” My dogs loved it) Ooo unless movies count, then whatever is the credits song for the new Ghostbusters :D time you cried: I cried cutting up shallots tonight… other than that idk… I cried during Wonder Woman, seeing my childhood hero portrayed so perfectly was emotional Part 2: Ever: dated someone twice: Like gone on two dates? Yes. I think I’ve gone on two dates (technically three) with two different people. I don’t really date much tho, it takes so much time and college is a lot of work kissed someone and regretted it: Nah, I’ve learned something about how people are every time, hard to regret useful life lessons been cheated on: That involves a relationship so no lost someone special: No one that has passed away, but last fall I had to realise that a friendship had turned really toxic and was impacting my stress and health, which was really hard because she was very important to me, and losing that friendship has been a point of pain this year been depressed: Yes, I’ve just gotten to the point in the last two years where I am able to manage it and not let my depression or anxiety impact my life. I’m really lucky that I don’t have to take meds for it, mainly because I’m super forgetful and never remember to take any pills I’ve ever had gotten drunk and thrown up: Yes and I don’t recommend it. It’s very not fun Part 3: Favourite colours: Green, blue, brown, gold, and red Part 4: In the last year have you: made new friends: I have, and they are all wonderful people fallen out of love: Nope laughed until you cried: I think I have, but even if I haven’t actually cried I’ve gotten close, I’m blessed with wonderfully funny people and pets in my life ^-^ found out someone was talking about you: Yeah my professors, apparently it was nice things but it still freaks me out when they casually are just like “oh that reminds me, we were talking about you at the meeting the other day…” met someone who changed you: Maybe more of met people who affirmed my belief that people can be good and kind and caring, and that I should keep working to be present in the kind and caring parts of myself (cause boy did I used to be bitter and grumpy) found out who your friends are: I feel like this is that “when times get tough you’ll find who your REAL friends are” kinda thing… which I don’t really put a lot of stock in because I think awareness of who people are and where they are at is important in respecting them as individuals… I did lose a couple of friends in the whole big ending toxic friendship thing, but I kinda saw those coming and there’s no hard feelings kissed someone on your facebook list: Nope Part 5: General: how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: I have met them all in real life but one. He and his friends were drunk and at the same hostel as my friend when she was on the phone with me and he asked her if he could talk to her friend and it was hilarious and he added me on facebook do you have any pets: Two puppies do you want to change your name: Nah, my name means born of fire, and I kinda like that… plus it also is connected to my mom’s name in a weird, circuitous way and I like that too what did you do for your last birthday: I had class and work, and then planned on meeting up with friends for our usual pub-and-board-games night and they surprised me with cheesecake and those candles that relight themselves… it was a fun night :) what time did you wake up: 9am-ish what were you doing at midnight last night: Playing with my phone I think… reading something on Ao3 name something you can’t wait for: I start grad school in Belfast this fall, so I’m really excited and also crazy nervous about that when was the last time you saw your mom: A couple of hours ago when we were watching Ghostbusters (I love that movie, Melissa McCarthy is my hero) what are you listening to right now: Silence. Also my dog licking her paws. Everyone here is asleep. have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yeah, remember that one random friend on facebook? His name was Tom… there are probably other from college but I’m drawing a blank something that is getting on your nerves: Just… just so much of the social inequality and how badly our social system fails people who need support… and the fact that their voices aren’t respected and sought out when it comes to telling their stories, like what is that??? most visited website: Ummm… tumblr, gmail, facebook, and my grad school’s website are probs all really close rn hair colour: Natural is a mediumish darker brown colour… currently it’s a brownish/purple colour bc I dyed it months ago and just let it fade long or short hair: Shoulder length, so longish? It makes it easier to control my curls and make them feel fun do you have a crush on someone: Nope what do you like about yourself: Aahhh…. I like to think I’m fun to hang out with I guess… I’m that person whose like “let’s go on an adventure!” And then drags friends to walmart at midnight before walking around campus piercings: I have my ears pierced, and my nose. I used to have my septum pierced too but I took it out. blood type: B positive nickname: Mack or Kenzi relationship status: Happily single, dating takes work and always feels like I’m trying to present this nice and shiny version of myself…. anyone else feel that? zodiac: Aries pronouns: She/Her favourite tv show: Gilmore Girls gets my soul, but Stargate Atlantis is right there too tattoos: Tribalesque (i don’t know any other way to describe it) Celtic woman on one shoulder blade, Celtic tree of life on the other, I have the words “hope is a thing with feathers” (Emily Dickinson) on my left forearm, two black bands around my right forearm, three dots on my right hand ring finger, and this three dots, three lines celtic symbol on my left ring finger (those last two were done in my dorm room last year by friends). I’m also about to get a rose on my right forearm and my bro and I are going to get small sibling tattoos right or left handed: Right, but I can kinda write with my left bc in elementary school this kid in my class broke their dominant arm and it freaked me out bc if that happened to me I wouldn’t be able to do my schoolwork so I practised writing with my left hand. (I can also write so it’s perfectly backwards like a mirrored image bc I used to get bored in class sometimes) piercing: Yup. sport: I watch soccer and baseball, but I don’t play anything (Sleep break and also tired of fighting with mobile yaaayyy) vacation: Oooohhh anyplace with marvellous culture and history really. But I’d love to go to Paris or Rome. pair of trainers: Do converse count? Part 6: more general : eating: All food is wonderful but I love my dad’s bigos stew. drinking: Water with lemon in it. Or coffee and tea I’m about to: Finish watching Ladies in Lavender then go to bed.

waiting for: Grad school to start this fall. (See: also slightly nervous about starting) want: To see the David Bowie exhibit in Seattle. get married: If I find the right person. I want something lowkey and fun tho, like a party that happens to have a wedding at it haha. career: I dunno, I’m looking at college professor/author right now. Or just switching gears and pursuing musical theatre haha. hugs or kisses: I like hugs more, but not when people just surprise me with them. lips or eyes: Always eyes. shorter or taller: I’m 5'9" so I guess taller…? older or younger: I am 24 sooo I feel older but really that’s quite young in the grand scheme of things. nice arms or nice stomach: I gotta be real I love nice biceps. hook up or relationship: Relationship. troublemaker or hesitant: Depends on my mood and the situation. kissed a stranger: Yup. drank hard liquor: Yeppers, quite a bit actually. lost glasses or contact lenses: I misplace my glasses around the house all of the time but not actually lost them yet thank goodness. turned someone down: Yes. sex on the first date: Not my scene. broken someone’s heart: I really hope I haven’t, but I feel like I might have. had your heart broken: Only platonically by friendships that went south been arrested: Nope, and I hope to keep it that way haha. cried when someone died: I’ve yet to have someone I know personally die, and I hope it’s a long way off still. fallen for a friend: I have friends that I was attracted to at the start of our friendship, but never really fallen for them no. Part 7: do you believe in: yourself: I do now, but it took several years. miracles: I do, but I also think they’re not quite what we describe for them in our cultural narratives . love at first sight: No, love involves seeing people clearly and unconditionally caring for them. I think we can have connection at first sight but not love really. Santa Claus: I believe that Santa Clause is the spirit of Christmas and a wonderful way to see good in the world. kiss on the first date: Depends. But normally no. I did have a first date that ended in a firm handshake. That was interesting. He was also the one who on our second date listened to me explain the beowulf text narrative arc for St Christopher and was genuinely interested so… angels: I am definitely open to the possibility. Part 8: Other: current best friend’s name: Cece is my bae. eye colour: Green. Favourite movie: Reality Bites or Pride and Prejudice

#tagged #personal #only do it if you want to!#zero pressure guys ^-^

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fanforfanatic · 7 years

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As You’re Told - FOUR

Relationships: Castiel x Reader Rating: Smut Warnings: Dom/sub, bdsm A/N: Orgasms occur this time!

~8000 words

Summary: You start dating Castiel, a famous physicist, when you get hired at the same university as him. A few months into the relationship, you explore dom/sub dynamics within your sex lives.

Read it on ao3

Chapters on tumblr: ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

Chapter FOUR

You lock the door after him and let out a massive breath. You lean on the wall for a little while, waiting for the shit storm to hit. Waiting for the panic. For the embarrassment. For the What the fuck just happened? It doesn’t come. You wonder if it’s normal that you liked what you and Cas did so much. If it’s normal to enjoy- not just enjoy but relish- following orders as much as you did. But that’s the extent of the ramifications.

You’ve had wilder sex than this. Hell, you’ve had wilder sex than this with Cas. Hell, you didn’t really even get to the sex part. It was freaking frottage at the most. But. But. It was so intense. Every little thing felt massive, felt like the only thing, until the next thing. Then, that became the only thing.

You were nervous (really fucking nervous) in the beginning, but it definitely got easier. You hadn’t been able to get up from your chair when he first asked you to, but by the end you were under his damn thumb. (Your hand drifts to your left breast, then, though you don’t feel it through the thickness of the robe.) When you managed to do what Cas asked of you, it made the next task less daunting. At some point you stopped even thinking about it but you think that had more to do with how much you wanted to come. Probably.

You sigh again. No trainwreck for now. To keep it that way you know that you need to avoid thinking of just how pathetic you were at times. Begging and pleading, choking on your own words.

“Nope nope nope. Not going there.”

You trudge to the kitchen, realising just how thirsty you are and down a glass of water. You fill it up again, waiting patiently for the water distributor in the refrigerator door. You take another few sips and leave it on the counter.

You go find your discarded clothes next. You pull on your jeans, forgoing underwear, and smell the shirt you had borrowed from Cas. It didn’t smell like sex or sweat or debauchery like you thought it might but you decide to get a fresh one anyway. You head back to the bathroom, the one that’s in Cas’ room and, once you pick up your panties and Cas’ underwear from the floor, drop them and the t-shirt in the laundry basket. You hang up the bathrobe and return to the bedroom.

You put on the bra you’d had yesterday and go to his dresser. The undershirts (and the socks) are in the second drawer. You open the first. The sight of the toys is too much too fast and has you slamming the drawer shut. You’re not a fucking prude, okay? You own toys. You didn’t feel embarrassed when you went and bought them in the store (ordering online is for wimps). You dirty talk as much as the next guy. Better. You really have a mouth on you when you get going in general. You’re a rambler. An excessive talker. That transfers into sex.

Usually.

You had your tongue caught in your throat with Cas earlier today, because it’s not the same. It’s just not. Cas wanted you to say things and it was so out there. Not the words being said, but the saying of the words. Usually, when you’re saying the nasty while doing the nasty, you don’t see the other person staring at you like they’re holding back from ravaging you. Usually your head is pressed into a pillow where the words are muffled and your eyes are closed. Or the other person’s head is between your legs and you’re not maintaining constant eye contact. Usually, you’re so far gone by the time your lips get loose that you can’t be bothered feeling embarrassed. Can’t be bothered filtering any of it. It was different this morning, though.

Just like these toys are different. These toys aren’t in an old shoebox under your bed. They aren’t the alternative to your hand. These toys are full of Cas. Hand picked by Cas. Thoughtful and careful choices made by Cas. Rebuilt my collection , he’d said. He placed them here, in this drawer that has dividers. He organised them, probably re organised them when all the dildos didn’t fit in one section, decided to put the butt plugs there instead or some other arbitrary shit that happens when people are figuring out storage. Point is these are Cas’ . Meaning, he wanted to use them on someone in very specific ways and now he wants to use them on you. And you’re going to let him. You’re going to let him.

So, yeah, these toys are different and it’s a little hard to look at them. The world can bite your sweet ass.

You open the drawer again, just an inch and peek inside. There’s so many things in here, it’s full to the damn brim. You open the drawer more fully and force yourself to stare inside until you can stop your muscles from clenching. You don’t really take in most of what’s in there. You’re just- Exposure therapy. That’s what you’re doing, you realise. With a huff (once you’ve unclenched all your muscles), you close the drawer once more. You don’t need to be practicing psychology on yourself.

Except maybe you do. Shrugging on a new t-shirt from the second drawer you say, “I want you to touch me.”

Walking back to the kitchen you say, “Fuck me, Cas.”

After a sip of water you say, “Fuck me, Cas, please.” And then, “Please fuck me, Cas?” You wonder if there’s a grammatical preference for the order of the words. You shrug and head to the coat stand with your water. You’d left your satchel bag at the base of it, last night.

“Yes, I want you to take my underwear off. Yes, I want to stop being such a fucking loser. Would I like to not suck? Sure!”

You plop down onto the couch and pull your computer from your bag. You get about an hour of work done, taking care of the grades first, then diving into the powerpoint. You are the newest member of the faculty, at least as far as the physics department is concerned, so you get a lot of the tasks the people with seniority don’t want. Like hosting a seminar for confused freshmen who haven’t declared their major. You don’t mind it so much. You figure everyone’s gotta pay their dues.

After that first hour, you have to consciously stop yourself from researching dominant and submissive relationships. Information is power, but information can also get inside your head. Well, obviously that’s where information goes, but, whatever, you get what you mean.

You think what you glimpsed while filling out the checklist is enough to tide you over. You know that you can ask Cas questions, in any case, and he probably has trustworthy resources if ever you want to delve in deeper. Jumping blindly nerves first in the wild sea of the internet is not something you’re interested in doing when it comes to this. Still, you end up having to stop yourself from doing exactly that at least four times.

It’s when you’re trying not to cave for the fifth time that Cas decides to text you, like the saviour that he is.

How are you feeling?

About what we did?

We’ll talk about that in person. How r u feeling rn?

I’m good? You type out.

Cas got weird after Charlie called and at the time your mind was sluggish so you hadn’t caught on, but you know now that Cas was doing aftercare. Which is sweet, really, but unnecessary. You weren’t going to have that thing that subs have where they feel wonky after a scene, because you aren’t a real sub. Besides, you guys barely did anything, it probably doesn’t happen even to real subs unless there’s actual sex involved.

You continue typing: Nbd. Getting hungry, you gonna be here for lunch?

Cas’ answer is immediate. Nbd??

No big deal, old man

So you’re alright?

Yes sir :p ;) You follow up with, food?

I’m gonna be another two hours at least. Eat w/o me

Is the part.acc. data retrieved?

Working on it :( And then, Should be fine tho. What are you doing?

Procrastinating, because im a model prof

You feel up to doing something for me? It can wait til im home

You swallow. Are you up for it? Before, Cas was there to reassure you every time you thought you were in over your head. Cas isn’t here now. Then again, that also means you could freak out privately. And Cas’ eyes on you was thirty percent of the struggle.

Baby? It’s nbd :P we can wait

Shoot

Ur sure?

You type: yeah, bruh, hit me with your best shot. You erase it and type: Wouldn’t say that I am if- You erase it and type: Im sure cas

Ur perfect

I want you to go the dresser and open the first drawer

Take every single toy in your hands and decide if you’d like it used on you

Make a no pile on the bed

Pick the one from the yeses you’d like to try first and put it on top of the dresser.

You stare at the onslaught of texts for a minute. Or two. Or maybe a whole fucking year goes by. Absentmindedly, you turn the sound of your phone off, in case Cas decides to go on another texting spree.

Do you understand?

Yea cas

Would you like to wait for me?

You picture it for a moment, Cas sitting on the bed, grinning at you while you go through each and every item, probably as red as a tomato.

Should I feel insulted?

Extremely so. I prefer when youre not around, i just rly like ur place

You’re cruel

Gottago deans got smt

Be good.

“Fuck,” You mutter, rubbing a palm against your left boob. “You be good, asshole.”

You shove your computer away like it’s what’s offended you and rise to your feet. In a Great Act Of Defiance, you decide to eat before doing what Cas asked. You’re a real rebel, alright.

You eat peanut butter on toast. You like that if the bread is hot enough the peanut butter melts a little. Then you eat one of the cannoli. And an apple. And a banana. And the leftover blueberries from breakfast. In fact, only once you’ve divested the kitchen of fruit (Castiel doesn’t keep junk at his place), do you go to the bedroom.

It mocks you. The drawer. It’s telling you that you’re a chicken shit and it’s right. You don’t need to be doing this. There’s literally no reason for you to do this. Expect that Cas told you to.

You sigh. You signed up for this. You don’t regret it, either. You enjoyed it this morning. You know that you did. So just shut your whore mouth and get rid of the toys that freak you out. Christ, it’s not nuclear physics.

Honestly, it’d be easier if it were.

After your pep talk, things go relatively smooth. You start with the buttplugs because that’s simple enough, you’d discussed them first during the checklist. You toss the largest one he’s got on the bed because you’re not interested in dying. It’s the same for the dildos but you also remove one of the smaller ones, just because you don’t like the shape.

Once you do that, the rest feels like more of the same. You pick up each vibrator and then put them back down, trying not to feel silly for picking up the ones you’re sure you’ll keeping just by looking at them. You continue through the rest of the gizmos and gadgets calmly, only squirming when you get flooded with ideas of just how Cas might want to use them. It’s almost therapeutic.

As far as bondage items go, you get rid of everything that has patent leather because you don’t like how shiny it is and how very sex club dominatrix queen (or something) it looks. There’s enough of the matt leather that you don’t think it’ll be a problem. You get rid of the rubber restraints that are so stiff you think they’d cut into your skin. You get rid of the cuffs that have fuzzy fur on them, even if its softness surprises you. If you’re going to be tied up you want it to be with classy stuff. Not something tacky even if you can tell that the cuffs are really good quality.

You get rid of the actual whip he has. Kinky, fucker. You get rid of a small pizza cutter style knife that has blunt points. You get rid of a wooden ruler because if Cas wants to do a professor role play so help you God. (You put the ruler back in the drawer.) You get rid of a gag that’s shaped like a penis and after a bit of hesitation you keep the ring gag.

Despite the healthy pile of things you did take out, what’s left outnumbers it by far. You’re about to close the drawer, but something gnaws at you. You leave the room only to return with post-its and a pen, all stolen from Cas’ desk. You write maybe on one and stick it on the ring gag. You write never before on another and stick it on magnetic spheres that mostly confuse you. You write out one more post it for the compartment of nipple clamps: Can’t really tell how intense these are, so we can work our way up? You black out the question mark because it’s not really a question, you decide.

You return the supplies to their places and settle on the couch again. Still, something gnaws at you. You go back to the drawer and remove the maybe post-it from the ring gag. You’d said on the checklist that you weren’t sure about it and you trust Cas to keep that in mind. This time, when you return to the couch, it’s with a deeply satisfied feeling.

The indicator on your phone flashes and you find you have texts and two missed calls from Cas.

20 minutes ago: How’s it going?

19 minutes ago: Are we having fun yet? ;)

10 minutes ago: Baby, I need you to tell me you’re alright

7 minutes ago: Answer me, now.

5 minutes ago: I’m going to call, pick up.

4 minutes ago: I need you to pick up, alright?

2 minutes ago: Im on my way

“Shit.” You click on the icon of a telephone at the top of the text conversation and listen to it ring once before Cas answers.

“ Thank, fuck. Are you okay? What are you feeling? ”

“Cas, I’m fine, seriously. I was, euh, I was, doing the thing, and I left my phone in the living room. No need to rush back.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief on his end of the line and it sounds like he slows down.

“I’m sorry, I freaked you out, Cas.” You say, guilt creeping up your spine. You had started to feel like you wouldn’t fuck up and yet…

“ I’m on my way .”

“Cas, I swear I’m fine.”

“ We’re almost done here. The rest is pretty technical, anyway, so I’m going to leave Dean and Charlie to it. I’m fifteen minutes out. ”

“A-Are you upset with me?” You just- you need to know. Need to prepare yourself.

“ What? No? Baby, no . I’m just- I’ll be there soon, okay? ”

“Okay, Cas.”

It’s barely ten minutes later that you hear the jingle of his keys outside. He doesn’t waste time at the door, dropping his bag, kicking his shoes off and slinging his coat in the general vicinity of the stand somehow all at once. Then he’s beside you on the couch, taking the water out of your hands, placing it on the table, and gathering you in his arms.

After a moment he pulls back so he can watch your face, which he holds in two large hands, while he asks, “How are you, baby?”

You grin at him. “Cas, I’m good. I see what you’re doing and, honestly, it’s overkill.” You all but stick your tongue out at him.

Cas searches your face for anything that might ring false. When he’s satisfied that you’re alright, he lets go of you and his eyes narrow playfully. “Overkill, huh?”

“Mhmm, if you’re not careful you’re going to drive me away with all this affection.”

“Is that so?”

“Yea-”

He pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him (again). The position turns your entire body on like some kind of pavlovian effect. Jesus, even the dog needed more than one run through.

You kiss, gently, then hard, then gently again and your arms wrap around his neck like they belong there.

“I was thinking about you all day.” He says.

“Liar. You were probably running around like a chicken with its head cut off worrying about the experiment.”

“That’s true but my mind kept being tugged back to this pesky thing I left at home.”

“Pesky? And here I thought I was just unbearable.”

He kisses you. “You’re both.”

“You’re very good to put up with me, then.” You kiss him.

“That’s also true. What I want to know is if you were good for me.”

Everything changes, then. His eyes are on yours, just like usually, and his voice is the same as ever, but it’s different. You take a deep breath. You can do this. You practiced like a loser. They’re just words.

“I was.” You say.

“You were what?”

You don’t even glare this time. You don’t huff in annoyance. You don’t even call him a prick in your own head. You just take another breath and say, “I was good.” And then, “For you.”

Cas’ heart fucking pounds out of his chest and breaks a rib on the way. “Show me.”

You lead the way to the bedroom, your hand in his as he trails behind you. You steal a few furtive glances over your shoulder and sometimes you’re met with soft eyes, other times with a look of mischief.

He settles you on the bed and spreads out your no pile. Your heart is racing and you think Cas hears it because he grips the back of your neck, tilts your head up, and kisses you. He goes back to examining what’s laid out but he doesn’t question any of it. When he’s done he scoops it all up in a canvas bag he gets from and returns to his closet.

Next he opens the drawer and you know the huff of laughter is from the post-its. Of course, he thinks, you’re nothing if not thorough.

He looks around the room, after that. The sun beams through the two windows on either side of the bed. They’re narrow but start at the floor and go all the way to the ceiling so the light floods in easily. For a moment you wonder if he’s trying to choose what he wants to fuck you on. The space is minimally furnished so you don’t think it’ll take him too long to decide.

“Take out your phone.” He says from his place by the dresser, his tone serious, reprimanding.

“I- What?” Your brain short circuits. Did you screw up? No, you did good. You know you did, you picked up every single thing in that drawer and-

“Take out your phone.” He repeats, still stern but patient.

“Okay, yeah, okay.” You lean back, somewhat, to pull it out of your pocket and hold it out to him. What’s he going to do? Take a picture of the drawer and send it to everyone you know? Look at all the things she wants used on her. Of course he doesn’t want to do that. This is Cas. Not a creature straight out of purgatory.

Cas shakes his head at you. “Open it and go to our texts.”

Your hands move of their own accord.

“Read the instructions I sent you.”

“Okay?” You say, scrolling up. “You’re-” perfect. “I want you to go to the dresser and open the first drawer. Take every single toy in your hands and decide if yo- you’d like it,” You clear your throat, consider shooting Cas a pleading look, but ultimately continue, “If you’d like it u-used on you. Make a no pile on the bed. Pick the one from the yes -”

You stop, eyes wide and on Cas. “Cas, I-”

“Finish reading.” His eyes have darkened and he looks like a brewing storm in the sunny room.

“I- Okay,” You sigh. “P-pick the one from the yes es you’d like to try first and put it on top of the dresser.”

“Did you do that?”

“No,” You say, looking down at the floor.

“Did you do what you were told?”

You meet his eyes and whimper, “No, Cas.”

“Do you have an explanation?”

You’d forgotten but you say, “I, um, I just wanted you today?”

Cas’ demeanor steels even more. “Did you just lie to me?”

“What? No! I mean yes- I mean I didn’t mean to- I- I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t, I…” You trail off but by then you’ve crossed the room and plastered yourself to him. “I’m sorry.” You say again.

There’s a moment where Cas doesn’t say anything. It’s because he’s reeling a bit. You’ve taken to this so much more than he could have imagined, even if you’re still struggling with that fact internally. You can’t tell, though. In fact when Cas doesn’t say anything, you think you’ve really gone and ruined things.

Before you can spiral too much, Cas pets your hair and says, “It’s okay.”

He moves you away, even as you’re reluctant to give into his hands, so he can look at you.

“It’s okay, even good girls make mistakes, okay?” He’s gentle but very much in control.

You bristle. You don’t want to hear good gir- those words right now. “I’m sorry.” You repeat.

“I know you are.” With a grin that soothes you more than anything else has, he says, “We’re going to find a way for you to apologise alright?”

You nod. “Okay, Cas.”

“Okay,” He echoes then turns you both so he’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, and you’re facing the drawer. “Open it.”

You rush to comply.

“Good.” He squeezes your shoulders. “Now, pick the first toy you’d like to try.”

You nod but you don’t move. You don’t know what the right choice is. You don’t want to take something too safe, in case he thinks it’s a sign that you’re not all in. Because you are all in , you realise. You also don’t want to take something too-

“I’m going to repeat something I told you earlier, alright? Wrong answers are the ones that are lies and the ones you give because you think they’re what I want to hear. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Cas.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Pick the toy you’d like to try first.”

You take out a pair of leather cuffs. You don’t necessarily prefer them over everything else, but it’s a place you feel comfortable starting. You place them on the dresser, just like the original instructions had said and you hear Cas grunt softly behind you. He presses his body against yours and you feel him, half hard.

“You’re perfect,” He whispers in your ear making you tremble in his hands.

“M’not.”

Cas turns you so that you face him and firmly says, “I decide.”

You don’t know what to do, but you’re not about to argue with him. “Okay, Cas.”

“Good. Kiss me.”

You asked him just that earlier today but right now Cas is telling you. So you do the only thing you can do and kiss him.

When he pulls away, he steps back from you entirely. “Lift your shirt up.”

You grunt. “Cas, not again.”

He grins at you, glad that you’ve shaken your slump. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Fine.” You lift up your shirt so that you’re holding it under your chin.

“What’s this? No, no, that won’t do.” Cas looks almost offended to see the undergarment. “Take it off and take your bra off. Now.”

“Fuck yeah,” You half cheer, tossing your shirt to the ground followed by your simple white bra. You move your hands to the button of your pants but wait, expectantly looking at Cas.

He laughs. “Are we eager, babe?”

“We’re horny, babe. ”

“Take ‘em off.” He says.

“Yes, Sir .” You say sarcastically, dropping and kicking your pants off faster than you knew you could.

Cas would be impressed, if he wasn’t so distracted by the fact that you aren’t wearing underwear. And if his eyes weren’t narrowing at you for giving him lip.

He stalks over, very much how a predator would, and places his hands on either side of you, flat against the still-open drawer. He slides it shut backing you up against the dresser.

He leans down so his lips are near your ear, just a breath away from brushing against it. “You already have two things to apologise for,” He says, his voice deep, rough. “Do you want to make it three?”

You’re completely naked between the tweed clad arms of this handsome man who isn’t touching you but who is so so close it’s making you a little dizzy.

You say, “No, Cas.”

“Get on the bed, on your back.”

You expect Cas to watch you obey, he’s always watching you, but he shrugs off his jacket and walks into his closet instead.

You wait patiently once you’re settled. Well, you don’t really ever settle, placing your hands by your sides and then on your stomach and then by your sides, again, but you wait. You’re rewarded for it because when Cas steps out of the closet, he’s sans sweater, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone, and he’s rolling up his second sleeve, exposing his forearms and looking so damn good it might be a sin. It’s got your hips shifting involuntarily and you decide you’re going to ask the Human and Legal Resources at the school if it’s at least against the law to look so damn good.

If you missed Cas’ eyes before, which you realise that you did, you don’t anymore because they’re on you now, intent as ever. He moves to stand by the foot of the bed and places the tip of a finger in the crook just behind the knob of your ankle.

He watches your face while he drags just the tip of his finger up over the curve of your calf. He watches you bite- chew- your lip as his finger dips in where the back of your knee does. He watches your lashes flutter from trying to keep your eyes open- he loves that he doesn’t even have to tell you to- while he traces the shape of your thigh.

He glances down, just for a second, to see the way his finger presses into your flesh. Then, he’s right back to watching your face as your breath hitches because his finger is making its way up your body but also towards the center of it. Not enough, though. Not there. He smirks at you like the cat who got the creme tapping your hip bone twice almost chastising you for your dirty thoughts.

He follows the curve of your hip, of your waist, of the mound of your left breast. He circles your nipple once, twice, and it either hardens or it had already puckered. You don’t know. You’re not sure you care. You just want to be touched.

Cas knows, so he touches you. He pinches your nipple but there’s no bite. It’s more like he’s holding it between his thumb and forefinger and it’s weird but mostly it’s not enough.

“Cas,” You breathe out.

“Tell me, which toy you chose to have used on you first.”

Does he have to use all the fucking words? Is he trying to make you self combust? He could have said what did you pick or which item did you choose, but nooo Cas has to go and be an asshole. Asshole .

“You saw what I- Leather c-cuffs, leather cuffs!” You’re quick to rectify when cas squeezes your nipple.

Your hips buck off the bed and your heels dig into the mattress and you expect Cas to let go but he just continues to hold your nipple with the same pressure.

“Ask me.”

“W-wha-” He squeezes just a little harder and jesus fucking christ you feel it between your legs. “Alright! Okay, jeez. Cuff me- fuck. ” The pressure increases more as he twists his fingers this time. It’s a little painful but it’s mostly not and that’s freaking you out. “Please u-use the leather cuffs to r-restrain me.” You say, writhing all the while and Cas only has the tips of two fingers on you. Not even in you.

“To what?”

“What? Cas I don’t know, I don’t know okay, that’s,” You inhale because you haven’t been getting all the oxygen you need. “That’s my real answer, okay? I don’t- Whatever you want. Cuff me to whatever you want. I don’t care. ”

“Hmm.” Cas ponders for a moment, eyes on yours. “No.”

He steps back, taking his touch along with him and you want it back as torturous as it was. He goes to the dresser and puts the cuffs away.

“You disobeyed me earlier so you don’t get the help. You’re going to have to restrain yourself.”

He’s back by your side when he says, “Arms up, hold the headboard.”

Your hands fly over your head, your fingers gripping the wood of the bed frame.

Cas brushes the back of his fingers over your cheek. “You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

You choke a little but you sigh out, “Yeah, Cas.”

Cas moves away from you again but this time it’s to climb between your legs. He bends them at the knees and spreads them, making one hang off the bed. Then, very true to character, Cas looks.

He stares and when you squirm and try to close your thighs to try to hide yourself from his gaze, he holds them open.

“You won’t move.” He says without even glancing up. “You’ll let me look at you for as long as I’d like.”

“Why?” You complain and you hate how whiny you sound.

He grins then, sparing you a once over. “Because I want to and because I said so.”

His hand drifts up your thigh in a feathery touch, but when he presses his thumb between your lips to pull one to the side it’s with a contrasting firmness. You fidget at the feeling and Cas’ other hand smacks your thigh, packing a bit of sting.

“What? I kept my legs open.” The words come out of your mouth and you feel like a whore in a brothel saying them.

“I told you not to move.”

“Like at all?” Your eyes widen. “How am I supposed to do that with you touching me and- and looking at me like that.”

He shrugs.

“Cas, c’mon, you’re killing me here.”

He hums and says, “ La petite mort.”

“What?”

Cas moves his thumb so it’s right against your entrance and tugs gently at the rim.

You sigh, enjoying the sensation and trying to keep your hips from participating.

Cas pushes the tip of his thumb, not even to the first knuckle, just inside of you.

You breathe deliberately. It feels good, he’s giving you so little but it feels good.

“Cas,” You moan, a quiet little moan.

Cas wishes he’d already taken his pants off altogether but settles for undoing them with deft fingers, giving his straining erection some room.

He pulls his thumb out and you barely manage a grunt of disapproval before he’s pushing it back in, maybe a millimeter deeper than before. He rubs it along your opening and the slow pace of it all is absolutely maddening. Which you tell him.

“This isn’t just punishment, Cas. It’s damn torture.”

Cas looks away from where he’s working you over to give you a deceivingly confused look that’s all too knowing. “This isn’t punishment at all.”

“W-what? What do you mean?”

“This is your apology. I won’t be punishing you this time.” The hand on your thigh squeezes warningly. “Don’t think I’ll be as generous with my leniency beyond this point. I won’t tolerate you lying to me.” As an afterthought, because it is the lesser infraction in his eyes, he adds, “And I expect you to do as you’re told and not forget a task when you’re given clear directions.”

You nod a little too willfully. “But… Cas what you’re doing…”

He swivels his thumb and you just manage to keep from using your leverage on the headboard to take him in deeper.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“No, I- I am, but-”

“Then it isn’t punishment.”

You nod, gasping as Cas draws his thumb out then pushes back in again and again, fucking you with it. Your chest heaves making it so that if Cas couldn’t hear your breathing, he can now see it. This time, when Cas pulls his thumb out, he glides it upwards to land and press on your clit.

“ Fuck. ” Your hips rolls, chasing the pleasure as sharp as it was.

There’s nothing for your hips to meet, though, because Cas’ hand is gone.

“No,” He says. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” You make promises you don’t know you can keep.

His thumb returns to your clit but he also sinks his pointer finger into you. He goes so goddamn slow the feel of him is more agonising than not. You want more, you want so much more.

“Good,” He says when your only movement is the tremors of your body.

His thumb rolls your clit at a calm and steady pace but with varying pressure. The finger inside you doesn’t move at all. At first, it’s okay. At first, what he gives you is enough, you struggle to remain still, but it’s enough. You murmur to Cas that it feels so good and that he always touches so well . He’s got you panting and he’s got you forgetting to be embarrassed about it.

Then, minutes pass, however many, and you find yourself needing more. Needing anything more. You find yourself begging Cas quietly.

“Please, please, please, Cas, please, I- please. ”

Cas needs to physically restrain himself because seeing you like this does things to him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to move, I want- please, Cas.” You thrash your head to the side, to keep from thrashing your hips, and press your face into the cool pillow.

So Cas moves but it’s as unhurried as everything else he’s done. He drags his index out, pressing along your upper wall all the while, then nudges it back in. Over and over and over and you can’t.

“ No, ” Cas snaps, taking his hand away and slapping your mound with it. It shocks you more than anything else but has you writhing on the sheets letting out a low groan nonetheless. Cas smacks your thigh this time, getting some of your wetness on it. His voice is deeper than usual, which you hadn’t thought was entirely possible. “I told you not to move.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You gasp when you manage to calm yourself. “I am, I’m sorry, Cas.”

“You asked me to fuck you with my finger, correct?”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, Cas.”

“And what did I do?”

“It?” Even as you say the word you know it isn’t enough so when Cas raises an unamused brow at you, you shift and mumble, “You fucked me with your finger.”

“And what did I ask you?”

“To not move.”

“Did you do that?”

You shake your head but seeing Cas’ hand lift you quickly say, “No, I didn’t.”

His hand falls gently back to you, even rubs your thigh soothingly, spreading more of your slick onto your skin. You shiver beneath him.

“So you understand then, that you can’t be getting what you want, right?”

You suspect the question is rhetorical, but you don’t really end up pondering because Cas returns his hand to your pussy, thumb toying with your clit and finger buried inside of you. It seems contradictory to his words but when he doesn’t move inside of you, you get it.

“Cas, please.” You whisper. You strain your muscles to keep from shifting.

“Hmm? You want something?” He leans over you to place a teasing kiss on your lips.

“You know I do, come on, Cas.”

His tongue finds your right- right! - nipple.

“Cas please,” You take a deep breath. Cas likes it when you use words? You’ll give him words. “Finger me, Cas.”

He gives your breast a peck before leaning back. “That’s not going to be enough, sweetheart.”

“I won’t move, Cas. I promise. I’ll be- I’ll be-”

Cas smirks at you, his thumb unrelenting in its lazy circling of your clit. His other hand leaves your thigh to push his pants and boxer down enough so he can grasp his cock and stroke it leisurely. The sight has you moaning and purposefully not moving. Cas does feel you contract around his finger though and he lets out a small laugh.

“You’re so needy, baby. You’re desperate for it aren’t you?”

“ Yes, Castiel. ”

His full name on your lips is a rarity and it has Cas grunting out a fuck as he picks up the pace of the hand on his dick. The hand on you keeps torturing you just as slowly.

“What will you do to get it, hm? What are you going to do for me?”

You’re shaking now, but it’s a tremor that Cas can’t fault you for. “Anything, Cas.”

“Will you stay still for me?”

“ Yes. ”

“Good.”

This time, Cas fucks you. His finger thrusts in and out of you at a rhythm that can get you there. A rhythm that builds you up and up with the help of his thumb still sparking pleasure out of you.

To help you not fuck up into his hand you chant his name, you probably cuss him out a little too, you might pray to God once or twice. Your fingers dig into the wood above your head and you think this is how beds are broken. You keep your eyes on Cas the whole time. Either locked with his or following the movement of his hand on his leaking cock.

Cas stops fingering you exactly once. It’s a horrible moment where you think you might have moved despite your best efforts and now Cas won’t give you more, won’t make you come. It’s a brief moment, though, and Cas just ends up pushing two fingers from the hand that had been working himself into you, curling them and going right back to his dick, using your wetness to slicken the way.

It’s so hot, it’s so fucking hot that your entire body flares up. Your clit fucking twitches. Then the hand that had been on you all along comes back. He uses two fingers to pump into your pussy and you only feel the stretch a little because of how soaked you are, but it’s enough, hurts just right.

“You’re going to come,” Cas says, as if you were possibly unaware. “I don’t want you to worry about-” He pauses to moan. “About moving when you do.”

You don’t even manage a full nod before your orgasm overtakes you. It’s a good one too, the kind that you think might be fading but then peaks again. Cas is saying something all the while but it’s only when you come down that you tune into the words.

“-so good. Look so good. Feel so good. So good for me. Fucking, perfect. You’re- fuck! ”

Cas comes too, mostly on your stomach, some of it on your breast.

He leans back on his heels in his kneeling position to catch his breath but once he does his eyes are on you. You smile lazily up at him, still basking in the afterglow. Cas moves up your body, gives your left nipple a lick picking up a drop of come, then kisses you.

After a few moments, he slumps beside you and tugs you into his arms, bringing yours down, unbothered by the come he’s smearing between you. “You did such a good job, baby.” He tells you. “How are you feeling?” He brushes his fingers along your back soothingly.

You’re still sporting a silly grin when you tell him, “Really good.”

“That’s right, you did really good.”

You knock his shoulder with barely any force. “No, Ass, I feel good. That’s what happens after you get off.”

“That is the general course of action.”

You can’t be bothered with thinking up a retort and simply nuzzle into his arms. “You did really good, too, Cas”

The hand at your back stutters for a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” He says.

You push yourself up to your forearms and you’re honest-to-god impressed that they don’t give out under you because your entire body feels like jello. “I mean it. Since this morning, you were really patient and I appreciate that.”

He kisses you, long and soft and then he says, “You want another shower?”

“Yes, please, but I don’t want to get my hair wet again.”

You two lay there for a long while before moving to get cleaned up.

Later, Cas lays on the bed in boxers, his arm slung above his head. The sight of him is distracting, all long lines and taut muscles stretched out along the mattress, so you focus on getting yourself dressed.

“Have you seen my socks,” You ask as soon as you’ve buttoned your jeans, bending down to pick up your bra and t-shirt.

“I put them in your boots last night, right before we went to sleep.” True, they’d been scattered in your haste to get in each other’s pants.

“Cool, thanks.”

Castiel watches you slip your clothing on and almost audibly grunts in objection. There’s a little bruising on your left nipple and it looks so good on you. He wonders if it’s too early for rules like no bras in the house .

“We need to talk.” He tells you, sitting up.

You’re tucking Cas’ undershirt in your pants when he says this. You look up at him curiously and tap the first drawer of the dresser behind you. “About this?”

“Yes, about how it was for you.”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” You glide over to him, sit on the bed, one foot tucked under you and the other on the floor, mirroring him. You’re close enough that he can place his hands on your hips so he does. “You said it was good, I said it was good.”

“I think we’re a little more clear headed now, I want to make sure that’s still how you feel about it. I want to know if you’re interested in doing it again, in pursuing this further.”

You grin at him. “I’m very,” You push him onto his back, again. “Very.” You straddle his hips. “Very.” You kiss his lips. “Interested.”

He grins back at you. “In that case…” Cas flips the two of you, so that he’s the one doing the straddling.

“No, no,” You laugh, smiling the kind of smile you can’t suppress. “I gotta get going, Cas.”

He lifts his head from where he’s kissing your neck and frowns. “You’re leaving?”

“Gotta. Singer wants a diagnostic report on the latest variable shift by wednesday and I’ve barely started looking at the results from the last test run. Files are back home too.”

Cas leans down so his body presses into yours more firmly. “Let me ask again, give you a chance to change your mind. You’re leaving?”

You chuckle and crane your neck to peck him. “Yeah, Cas.”

He grunts and rolls off of you so you can get up.

“I have to go water my elephant ear, too, it’s been a few days.”

Cas sits up quickly. “You’re supposed to keep the soil of that plant damp at all times.”

“Huh,” You say with a teasing look. “Guess you aren’t the botanical expert you fancy yourself after all. In the winter, they say to let it dry out for rest periods. Something about fertilization, or whatever. I researched it.”

Your studio is nothing like Cas’ place. The entire thing could fit in his bedroom. It’s ill lit with the one window and the hanging overlight that seems to perpetually be swinging at least a little. Whatever light does get in gets swallowed by the exposed brick of the walls.

The window is directly across your front door. Below it, there’s a low and wide filing cabinet that you also use as a side table. To the left there’s your bed and at its foot a trunk. There’s a door on each wall that form that corner of the room, one leads to the bathroom, the other, the one next to the entrance, to a closet.

To the right of the front door there’s a dining table for four pushed up against the wall, with two chairs tucked in. There are a couple things on it at the moment, including a reading light, because it’s where you eat but it’s also where you get work done. The wall that runs perpendicular to the table-desk-hybrid is the kitchen. It’s lined with one long countertop that’s only interrupted by a sink, a refrigerator and a stove. In front of the very last cupboard, below the window, beside the filing cabinet, there’s the colocasia plant Cas got you, two months into the relationship. It’s more commonly called elephant ear plant or angel wings plant, because of the shape of the leaves.

You can afford a bigger place but you want to pay off your student loans as quickly as possible and rent seems like the best place to cut back expenses.

You kick off your boots and drape your coat over one of the chairs, then pick up a half full bottle from the table. You cross the room in roughly six steps and pour the water into the pot, cooing at it. You’d read a study that compared the growth and health of plants that received compliments daily and plants that were yelled at. You were skeptical of the results the article shared but figured you have nothing to lose.

You change into sweats but keep Cas’ shirt on and get to work. You get half of what Singer’s expecting of you done before switching tasks and finishing the powerpoint, even running through the presentation you’ve prepared once. It’s when you’re back on the report, with tabs that have nothing to do with it open on your computer, that Cas texts you.

What are you doing?

Working on the part.obs. for singer (procrastinating)

You do that a lot.

Aha are you going to call me a bad girl?

Fuck, why would you say that? Here you are having a very normal conversation. Not everything is about sex no matter how much Freud disagrees. It takes Cas longer to reply.

Would you like me to?

You think for a moment before replying. No

This time his response is immediate. Good, because you’re perfect.

w/e ur lame

That’s just not true. And then: What are you wearing?

Ahahahahaha shut up Cas

:P did you eat?

Not yet. I kind of ate ur kitchen earlier

Come over, I’m making carbonara

Im starting to see a pattern

Really? Which one is that?

The data points to an undeniable correlation between you trying to feed me and you trying to have sex with me.

Data doesn’t lie.

:P I think im gonna crash early

Worn out huh? How did that happen? You can imagine Cas smirking as he wrote this text.

This asshole where I work fifty shades of greyed me

Lucky guy. I bet he’s hung.

His ego is definitely inflated. Gnight cas

Goodnight

Read it on ao3

Chapters on tumblr: ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

These lovely people asked to be tagged in this story (or my writing in general): @xleggo-my-elevenx @nickylarrywigetta @trexrambling @impandagrl @hannahindie [let me know if you’d like me to stop doing that]

#castiel x reader #dom castiel #castiel smut #castiel fanfiction #spn fanfic #as you're told #as you're told fanfic #as you're told chapter four #my writing #fanforfanatic

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