#or i’d be throwing in the towel from the pain and exhaustion alone

[starbuck]

my body is so weak… it is soooooooo tired of fall birding and the season’s only halfway over!! it’s a good thing i’m so damn determined!

[aanoia]

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 - 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 (𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓)

James Potter x reader day four of the christmas advent calendar words; 802 warnings; fire i actually love this one SO MUCH!

“You did not just say that.” James said, his face serious as we looked between our friends.

Sirius nodded, clapping a hand on my boyfriend's back, “It’s your guys’ turn to make Christmas dinner for the group. We’ve had to every other time.”

“Have you tasted our cooking?” I deadpanned and Remus shook his head.

“No, because you burn it every time so I’d rather not eat it.” He said with a smile and I pointed at him.

“See, he’s correct. We burn it every time.”

Lily smiled, “Not this time, you won’t.”

I nodded, “Yes we will.”

“I guess we’ll see.” Peter finalized and I sighed. 

I sighed as I put my hands on my hips, already tired of cooking. Truthfully, all we had done was put the turkey in the oven, but looking over everything set out on the table I could already tell it was going to be exhausting.

“I don’t wanna do this.” I complained as James put on Christmas music softly.

“We’ll be fine.” He assured me and I shook my head.

“Okay, first things first we should make mashed potatoes. Can you peel the potatoes?” I asked and he nodded, raising his wand. In an instant the potatoes were perfectly peeled, even chopped into chunks. I raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t Lily tell us not to use magic?”

He shrugged with a smile, “She’ll never know.”

I laughed as I filled a pot with water and put it on the awaiting stove before gently throwing the potato chunks in it. I sprinkled in some salt and turned the stove on to five. I didn’t know if that was the right temperature but it’s what I decided.

“Okay.” I said, looking down at the recipe book. “Easy enough, I guess. Pumpkin pie, now?”

“How did this happen?” I asked in shock as James sat on the floor, covered in flour and rubbing his head. 

“Because you can’t cook.” He said, trying to stand up but slipping again. I scowled, grabbing a handful of flour and throwing it at him.

“You can’t with-” I sniffed the air curiously. “What is that?” I asked, burning filling my nose.

James’ eyes widened as he pointed to the oven behind me. “Uh, Y/n?”

I turned around and yelped as a fire raged inside the oven, “The turkey!” I exclaimed, grabbing an oven mitt and throwing open the door. The fire alarm started blaring as I grabbed the fire turkey and cursed James for getting a muggle house. My eyes watered from the smoke as I ran to the front door and threw the fireball into the snow, successfully putting it out. I sighed in relief, slumping against the doorframe.

I became alert again as James shrieked from the kitchen, crying out in pain. I ran back inside the kitchen to see the potatoes boiling over and the roll of paper towels bursting in flames. 

“What the fuck.” I groaned as I rushed to the potatoes and turned the stove off, yelling out in pain as I stepped in a boiling puddle and leaned against the counter for support. Pain burst up my hand and I looked down frantically to see the cookbook… in flames. 

Arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me from the kitchen as James muttered a spell and put all the fires out. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, laughing loudly. He laughed with me, hugging back just as tight and swaying us side to side. A knock on the open door brought us out of our trance as our neighbor peered in with a concerned look. 

“Are two alright?” The older woman asked and I laughed gently.

“Oh, we’ll be fine. Just almost set our house on fire.” I told her and she smiled, her eyes sparkling as she looked at us.

“We scorched Christmas dinner, and our friends will livid about it.” James said with a grin.

The lady laughed, “Oh, you two. How about you and your friends have Christmas dinner with me? The kids couldn’t make it this Christmas, so I’m all alone. I’d love to cook for you.” I looked at James, silently asking what he thought, and he nodded.

I turned back to the lady, “That would be lovely.”

“I wish I was there to see it, but I have to say, this food is much better than yours ever would be.” Sirius said with a smirk and I rolled my eyes.

“For once, I have to agree with you, Pads.” James nodded, his face full of food.

The lady slapped his arm, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” The table laughed as James was scolded. 

The window froze over as the fire crackled softly and Christmas music played gently as everyone slept in the living room. Content and full.

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[myhaikyuuacademia]

Zemo x Reader [pt 2]

Part 1 Summary: hurt comfort, worried reader, bed sharing (no smut) Warnings: none that I can think of, Zemo gets injured by Walker throwing the shield at him lol, swearwords Notes: I just had to continue their story oml, this is so sappy and fluffy

It had been a few days since you and Zemo confronted your feelings. You’d been sneaking glances and lingering touches since then, but Bucky and Sam rarely left you a chance to do anything more. The three of them were going to Mama Donya’s funeral to try and convince Karli to stop hurting innocent people, but they had been gone for longer than you thought they would. Sam and Bucky didn’t want you with them, convinced they could handle it themselves. Zemo probably didn’t mind you staying at home either, safe from any potential danger. You grew restless. Surely, talking to Karli couldn’t take that long?

Something must have happened. The decision was made: you were going out to check on them. You didn’t think of the fact that you didn’t even know what direction they went, much less where the funeral was held. All you were thinking about was their safety. But before you could even get up, the door opened and Sam and Bucky came through the door, beat up, and carrying an unconscious Zemo. ‘‘What the hell happened?!” You stood up from the couch to give them a place to lay Zemo down. ‘‘Walker happened.’‘ Sam growled. ‘‘Jesus...’‘ you sighed, making your way over to the kitchen to grab some towels, wetting them and then going back to the couch Zemo was passed out on. You were trying your best not to show how worried you were, but still couldn’t stop yourself from caring for him. ‘‘Aw come on, really? He won’t die.‘‘ Sam remarked when he noticed you kneeling down beside Zemo. ‘‘Yeah, you could have at least brought us some too.’‘ Bucky added. You turned around to face the two guys apparently moping at the fact that you didn’t bring them a bandaid for their boo-boos. ‘‘Are you unconscious? No? Then you can take care of yourselves.’‘ Without another comment you turned back around and started taking care of the wound on Zemo’s forehead. You cleaned the already dried blood from his face, carefully, trying not to hurt him. Once you were satisfied with your work you got up to put the dirty towel away and get some bandaids and ice for his head. By now Sam and Bucky were carefully observing you, done with cleaning themselves. ‘‘You seem awfully worried about him.’‘ Sam commented, right as you placed the ice on his head. ‘‘Again, he is unconscious. Plus, don’t we need him for something? That’s the whole reason he is even out of prison. Not to mention I’m a nice person, if any of you were unconscious I’d do the same.’‘ You got up to face Sam and Bucky. ‘‘I don’t think he has any medicine. Or food. Can you go get some? I’ll babysit.’‘ Reluctantly the two men made their way to get the needed stuff. Which left you all alone with Zemo once again. A groan alerted you the fact that Zemo was waking up. You rushed over to him, kneeling down beside him once again. ‘‘Darling, what did  I miss?” His voice was rough, the accent even more prominent right now. A relieved chuckle left your mouth, if you weren’t so worried about accidentally hurting him you would be kissing him. ‘‘Walker knocked you out with his shield apparently.’‘ His hand reached up to the bag of ice, mostly melted by now. ‘‘Oh sorry, is that too cold? I can put it away.’‘ You cursed yourself for sounding so worried. He just smiled, ‘‘It’s okay. You cared for me?’‘ You smiled, ‘‘Of course.’‘ He reached out for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, before closing his eyes in pain and exhaustion again. ‘‘Thank you.’‘ With a soft expression you reached down with the hand not holding his, to gently push a strand of hair out of his face, your fingers barely ghosting over his skin, in an effort not to hurt him. You kept sitting like this for a few more minutes, silent, just being in the moment. Grateful he was okay. When Bucky and Sam came home with several crinkly plastic bags full of food and first aid kits, you  were sitting on the same couch as Zemo, who had pulled his legs closer to him to allow you some space, reading a book. Careful to keep a distance that the two avengers wouldn’t question upon their return. ‘‘Food!” You put the book down with a big grin on your face, ecxited at the prospect of something to eat. “Any ideas on what you want to cook? We brought something of pretty much everything.” Bucky directed the question at you. “What are you talking about? I’m not cooking.” You furrowed your brows. ‘‘Well Bucky here can’t cook, and I am way to exhausted, but I am totally good at cooking just saying. ” Something about Sam’s statement made you doubt that he was a good cook. “I’m a terrible cook. Why did you expect me to cook?” Before the two could do any more than make grimaces and shrug, Zemo interjected. “Not to flatter myself, but I am quite good competent when it comes to cooking.” “Yeah right, as if we’re gonna let you cook.” Sam squinted his eyes. “You’ll probably poison us or something.” You snorted. ‘‘I don’t think we have any other choice, at least a death by poison is quicker than a death by starvation.’‘ You shrugged, indifferent. You didn’t even notice at first, it was honestly a little embarassing how long it took you to realise, but you’ve practically been glued to Zemo’s side the whole day. Where he went, you went. Once you realised, you just hoped that Sam and Bucky didn’t pick up on it. Currently he was preparing the food, cutting vegetables, and you were standing on the other side of the isle, head propped up on your hands with your elbows resting on the cool surface. You were watching him intently. He smirked, not oblivious to your eyes on him and your clinginess. Standing a few feet away from you was Sam, who had been watching you critically for a few minutes now. Apparently he noticed too. ‘‘Why are you looking at him like that?” You turned around, blinking, “like what?”. “You’ve been staring at him ever since he started cooking.” He stated. Bucky joined him now, taking the few steps that had seperated them before to stand next to his colleague. You mustered your best mock confusion. “Just trying to make sure he doesn’t poison us.” You half-joked, trying to deflect. Bucky shook his head, ‘‘You’ve been following him around all day, like a lost puppy.’‘ “Not true.” You just said. “You have.” Zemo chimed in. You turned around to him, dumbfounded. ‘‘Ugh shut up.” Sam looked at the two of you quizzically. “Are you two sleeping together?” You choked on your spit. “What?!” You turned around to face him again. Bucky seemed surprised too. “Sam, I don’t think she would.” He tried mediating. “Just look at her, the way she’s been acting since we came back, tending to his wounds, following him around, staring at him - without a break -  for what must have been like 15 minutes.” Sam argued. “You know what? Maybe I’ll just sleep with him tonight, just to fuck you off.” Your words laced with venom, you looked at him defiantly, before walking past him, grabbing your shoes and phone and walking through the front door. “So you haven’t slept together?” He called after you, leaving you to slam the door in annoyance. Bucky was about to follow you when Zemo spoke up. “Just leave her be. I think she wants to be alone right now.” He turned to Sam. “No, we have not had sex.” Then he just went back to preparing the food, leaving Bucky to sigh and fall onto the couch and Sam to run a hand through his face.

You were back in time for dinner, thanks to a quick message from Zemo. Most of the time eating was spent in a tense silence. Zemo tried to lighten the mood once or twice with some jokes or funny observations he made, but to no avail. In the end you all went to bed super early to avoid the weird atmosphere. Soon you found yourself standing in front of the door to Zemo’s bedroom though. You hesitated, before softly knocking on the heavy, wooden door. A faint “come in.” made you open the door slowly, not to make any noise and startle the other inhabitants of the safehouse. You closed it behind you with just as much care. “Are you here to “fuck off Sam”, princess?” He asked, amused and clearly joking. “Yeah, totally, 100%.” you said, the sarcasm obvious. You made your way over to the bed he was currently reading in. “May I?” you gestured to the bed, asking him if you were allowed to join him. He simply nodded, before continuing to read. You climbed into bed, covering yourself with the blanket and scooted as close as possible to the baron lying next to you. Head on his shoulder, reading along with him, just enjoying being able to be this close, to touch him. He soon closed the book and put it on the nightstand next to him. Wrapping his hands around you he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You were content, laying in his arms like this. Right now, you didn’t want to think about all the possible outcomes of this, most not having a happy ending for the two of you. Right now you just wanted to enjoy this moment. You held him, not daring to let you go, and he held you, not letting you slip away to an uncertain future. A/N: at this point this might as well just become a series,,, no promises but a part 3 might be planned as well- Taglist: @ajeff855 @heyassbutt05 @lowkey-love-loki​

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day five

iwaizumi hajime - role reversal 

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list  

NSFW warning featuring: the reversal of roles, begging, riding, stress relieving sex, dirty talk other tags: established relationship, Working Man Iwa, Tired Iwa, fluff  fem reader

word count: 1952

-

There weren’t many days when Hajime came home and immediately went to bed. And there weren’t many days that he got home from work until after ten pm. And there definitely weren’t many days that he turned down your offer of being his stress reliever. 

Today was one of those days. 

You had gone straight to bed with him and made yourself comfortable on top of him. It was easy for you to get him riled up with a few kisses to his neck and rocks of your hips, but by now he’d have you underneath him. 

You knew he’d had a long day. So, you asked him, “Do you need to relieve some frustration, Iwa?” and he knew what you meant. It was a nice thought, but… 

“I’m tired, babe,” Hajime told you, looking up at you with remnants of a flirtatious grin. 

“Too tired for me?” you asked, and he was completely enamoured by the show you were putting on for him. 

His eyes wandered lower to your hips which had just started their dance against his own, and even though he could hardly keep his eyes open to watch, he wouldn’t let himself look away. 

Whispers of a moan, then, “You tell me,” as his hips jerked up once solely so you could feel the problem you caused. Just the sight of you straddling him was enough to convince Hajime that he was fine losing half an hour of sleep tonight. 

“You don’t seem very tired,” you told him. 

He sighed. “I’m honestly exhausted, baby,” and your pout was too cute for him to handle. 

“Then let me take care of you tonight,” you said. “Can I?” 

“I’d love that,” he replied. “You always know what I need.” 

“I should pay you back for how well you take care of me,” you said. “What do you want?” 

Dozens of ideas ran through Hajime’s head. He’d love to have a night full of teasing you, controlling you, loving you; of telling you what to do and making sure you’d regret disobeying; of putting all of his energy into showing you exactly who owns you. 

But the view from where he lied was much too pretty to stop looking at, and the throbbing in his shorts did nothing to take his mind of the aching he felt everywhere else. He wasn’t sure he even had the energy to sit up straight, let alone enough to put into dominating you tonight. 

So he’d be honest with himself and with you. “Just want you to ride me tonight, baby.” 

“That’s it?” you cooed. “Don’t want me to suck you off first, at least?” 

“No,” he said as he pulled you up to stand on your knees, giving him enough room to lift his hips up and tug his underwear down. “I don’t need your mouth - just need your cunt. Come on, baby, ride me.” 

“But Hajime,” you said with a whine, “I want to have more fun than just riding you.” 

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’ve had a long day - I want to get to the point. Come on, get these off.” 

“It’s not going to be that easy.” 

“Y/N.”

“Hajime.” 

“This isn’t funny.” 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

You offered a good point; honestly, he didn’t feel like doing anything. All he wanted was to be taken care of, because that’s exactly what his busy day called for, so tonight there would be no repercussions for you. He couldn’t just flip you over and punish you - as much as he’d like to, he was so tired that he couldn’t even hold himself up. 

So, really, there was nothing he could do about this. He just had to lie there and wait for you to take pity on him. 

“I don’t know,” he replied with a sigh, and you smirked down at him. 

“Beg for it.” 

“What?” 

Your hips came down, connecting with his. “You heard me. Beg. I have to beg you for everything, so it’s your turn now. Beg me to ride you, Hajime.” 

“I’m not going to beg,” he said, but then you started rocking your hips, and the feeling was just enough to convince him. “Fuck - please, baby.” 

“That’s not good enough,” you whispered, and Hajime had never felt so frustrated in his life. 

And you weren’t done teasing him yet, that was obvious when you started giving him the slowest strokes possible; it was almost painful. 

“Goddammit.” He swallowed his pride and he buried his dominance, because for once, that was the only way of getting what he wanted. 

You watched with bated breath, knowing at any second you could be flipped onto your back and thrown into the position you were always in - submitting to him, letting him take control, and begging him to show at least a little bit of mercy in his punishment for you. 

You knew you were walking on thin ice, and you loved it. The risk of pushing Hajime’s buttons was one you were willing to take. 

He looked up at you with stone eyes, and what you were expecting to happen didn’t. 

“Please,” he said, and although it was quiet, your entire body heard him. “Please, baby, just give me what I need. I need you - I need your tight cunt more than anything, princess, so please - please just fuck me. I’m begging you to fuck me.” 

You had to take a second to make sure you heard him correctly, because you never expected to hear those words fall from Hajime’s lips. 

And you liked it. 

“You need me that bad?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, watching with wide eyes as you tugged your underwear off. He tried pulling your shirt up to get a glimpse at what it was hiding, but you swatted his hands away. 

“You’re just so cute begging for me to fuck you, Hajime. You must’ve had such a long day, so I’ll give you what you want.” 

You just had to give in to him - you didn’t want to drag this out too much. After all, he did deserve to be taken care of. He always works so hard for you, so you wanted to work just as hard for him. 

You didn’t make him wait any longer; when your hips came back down to connect with his again, he’d gotten exactly what he needed. 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, throwing his head back in attempt to keep his moans in. “Move, baby, fuck.” 

“Give me a second,” you told him, trying your best to adjust to his size. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, brushing his concern off with a light laugh. 

“Come here,” he said as he pulled your hips forward, forcing you into a better position. You felt him even deeper now that you were at a different angle; the discomfort you felt before disappeared. “That’s it - feels so fucking good like this, princess, you feel how deep I’m inside you, baby? Move, please fucking move - oh, fuck.”  

You swirled your hips once and that’s all it took for both of you to get completely lost. All of your movements felt like pure instinct, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do to bring the man under you to cloud nine. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he told you, grabbing the hem of your shirt and holding it out of the way so he could watch as his cock disappeared inside of you with every one of your thrusts. “Too fucking good.” 

You slowed down, just enough to give him the show you knew he wanted; enough so he could feel every inch of his cock being enveloped by you. “You think so?” 

“Yeah,” and he couldn’t catch his breath no matter how hard he tried. “Keep doing that - fuck - just like that, princess.”

It was like all of his stress from the day was melting away; he was having the time of his life and he didn’t even have to lift a finger for it. Hajime always had a suspicion that you were too good for him - now, he knew it was a fact. 

He was edging closer to his peak, and you knew it. And every time Hajime had ripped an orgasm away from you seemed to play in your mind like a picture show; that feeling was hell. You didn’t want to put him through that, did you? 

“What the fuck - why did you stop?” 

You actually laughed at him, and Hajime was so mad that he almost pushed you off of him just so he could finish himself off. 

“Poor thing,” you cooed, and your pretend sympathy had him seeing red. But you were already starting to move again, albeit slow, and it calmed him down enough. 

You leaned down and kissed him, which he hardly reciprocated, before amping it up again. 

“Touch me,” you said, and he didn’t hesitate at all to listen to your command. You weren’t sure what felt better: having him do as you told him, or his thumb swirling your clit at such a fast pace. 

Either way, it was exactly what you needed to keep you chasing your own pleasure and leaving Hajime’s behind; you didn’t have the same willpower as him to keep this game going all night, and you knew what it was like to be on the other side of this imbalance. 

So if he came with you, you’d have no complaints. You’d let him have it. 

And there was no way he couldn’t; the way you were fucking him, calling his name as what felt like your entire body squeezed him tight, he had no way of holding it back. The only thing he could do was lie there and let you take him wherever you wanted to go, and he was sure that he came harder than he ever has. 

When you collapsed on his chest, he knew you’d worked too hard for him. He didn’t even know how you went as long as you did - he was honestly impressed. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you said, a mumbled response that wasn’t too convincing. “My legs hurt like hell.” 

“Here, baby, get up.” He pulled you off of him and slid you onto the bed, then sat up just enough so his lips could reach your forehead. “Need some water?” 

“No, it’s fine, I can get it,” but Hajime was getting up anyway. 

“I’ll get you a warm towel - take your shirt off, that one’s all sweaty, I’ll bring you one of mine to sleep in.” 

You tried sitting up, tried arguing with him to let you do it, tried convincing him that he didn’t have to do this for you after the bad day he had. But he didn’t listen, he didn’t care. 

Because what you’d done for him was enough, and he wasn’t going to just roll over and sleep while you cleaned yourself up. He wouldn’t let you think, even for a second, that he didn’t care about taking care of you - even on his bad days; even on the days when you have to take care of him. 

“It’s alright,” he told you, pulling your shirt off of you because you weren’t removing it fast enough. He pressed another kiss to your forehead and ran a hand through your messy hair. “I’ve got it.” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to tonight, Iwa.” 

He knew that - and even though he didn’t have to, he wanted to. He wanted to take care of you, because you took care of him. And even though he wished he didn’t have to remind you, he knew that he’d do it for as long as he had to. 

“I’ve got you.”

- 

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 6: impregnation 

[bonniebird]

If you asked nicely

Reader x Mikaelsons

Requested by Anon

When you had fallen asleep Elijah had been neatly sat in one of the chairs in the corner of your room. He was softly reading some old book you’d never heard of. He had come in the angry wake of Klaus.

To his credit Klaus had tried for a day to coax you out of bed, soothing and fussing. He wouldn’t listen when you exclaimed you just want to be left alone for a day. To sleep until you roused only from your body being incapable of sleeping any longer. He had relented when he realised nothing he did would get you up. Not daring to move lest you catch the attention of one of your predatory protectors you stayed still. Hoping for more sleep. You just felt more tired now.

Something twitched the edge of your duvet and before you could decide between snapping your eyes shut and feigning sleep or glaring down whoever dared to disturb you and a new face peaked at you. “Hello Darling!” Kol said cheerfully. He smiled, shoving himself partly under the duvet and looked around as if he was appraising your docile cave. “I thought it sounded like you were awake. Elijah said not to disturb you. Apparently you gave Klaus quite the hard time.”

Amusement played with his face as he watched you. He received a frown. Not one of anger but more one you’d get if you suddenly roused someone with something delightful. You sighed, frowned and turned your head so you wouldn't have to look at him but by the time you’d done it, he’d rounded the bed and tucked his head under the duvet on the other side.

“Come on now love, don’t be like this! You’re no fun when you’re sleepy.” Kol teased before raising his eyebrows and adding. “I suppose it’s best you got Elijah helping you sleep last night, when Klaus helps you sleep… it’s a pain.” He smiled and rubbed his chest, wincing. You tried not to laugh knowing he was joking about the daggers. When he got a snicker out of you he beamed with delight.

“Kol! Brother are you pestering (Y/N)?” Elijah called from somewhere. Fake panic took over Kol’s face as he froze and leant up. Tugging the duvet up with him, letting a fresh breeze brush at your skin.

“How could you say such a thing brother! I do not pester… I seduce and intrigue, some think I’m a delight!” As he spoke he playfully wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. His eyes lit up as he heard the bubble of laughter you’d been holding onto escaped, bursting past your lips in peels of laughter that had you tearfully rolling in your bed in a fit of giggles.

“Yes! I did it!” Kol cheered, throwing his hands up victoriously. He cheered to himself, your duvet helplessly flopped across the room, making a last ditch attempt to cling to you as it defeatedly slipped to the floor.

“You didn't do anything!” You said through giggles the laughter ebbing away.

“Hey if you didn’t get out from under that blanket they were going to send in Rebekah.

“She would have just joined me and said it was a girl thing.” You pointed out knowingly. Kol gave you an agreeing nod as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“So what now, you’re free of that.” He said cast a gesture to your piled duvet on the floor. “Elijah is making enough food to kill a man. Honestly there isn’t any space in the kitchen. Klaus has been painting pictures for you since yesterday and Rebekah was gathering supplies so you two could take to the bed in an appropriately aesthetic manner.” He mimicked Rebekah’s voice for the last few words and you giggled again.

“Food sounds nice. I should probably shower though.” You said as you sighed.

He hopped up and your eyes widened when he started to undress. “Right let's get in the shower.” He said until he caught your eyes. He flashed you a smile and paused.

“I need a shower… not you!” You said quickly, finally sitting up and trying to tame your hair a little. “I might need a shower! You don’t know where I’ve been!”

“I suppose that’s true.” You mused. He watched your brow furrow as if you were mulling over where he could have been that day. Your attention was snatched back when you moved in a blur. You were whizzed past Elijah who dropped his plate he’d brought up for you. Though you were sure Kol had knocked it out of his hand on purpose.

“Brother!” He snapped sharply.

“Brother?” Kol answered in a tone that would definitely rile Elijah. Kol focused on fixing the water in the shower which made Elijah rap on the door several times.

He gestured for you to get into the water but you frowned at him. “Aren’t you going to leave?” You asked and he shrugged.

“If you’d like. I thought I’d help you wash your hair.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “It was something that was done as… a show of affection. Elijah’s still right there and I’ll keep my underwear on!” He gestured to his boxers and then to the door. “Elijah?”

“Yes Kol.” Elijah said in an unamused tone. You tried to hold back another laugh at the sound of his voice.

“See, a perfectly friendly shower.” Kol said giving you his best innocent look that gave a more dubious expression.

“What’ll I wear?” you pointed out and he shrugged.

“I won’t look at you if you like. But I’m a thousand or so. I’ve seen a lot.” he said as he stuck his hand under the running water, satisfied it was a good enough temperature he stepped in.

“You’ve seen a lot or you’ve seen a lot of naked people?” You asked curiously as you decided to undress. It would be nice to have someone do your hair for a change.

“Both?” Kol said as he, to his word, closed his eyes until you’d gotten in. “Women did find me rather irresistible back in the day.” He said as he brushed his fingers through your hair until it was damp enough to add the shampoo.

“Back in the day?”

“Well, I got a bit out of swing when I spent a few hundred years in a box, not much room for seduction in a coffin.”

He chuckled when you spluttered out a laugh as if his comment had caught you off guard. Kol’s fingers were soft and gentle. More gentle than you’d thought a vampire capable of. If you weren’t quite so intimidated by his near nudity you would have been lulled into relaxation, so much so that you could have leant against him and closed your eyes.

The shampoo smelled different and glancing at the bottle Kol had set on the shower shelf you realised it was a brand new bottle, an expensive looking brand that you hadn’t heard off before. You assumed it would have either been from Elijah or sent over by Rebekah.

For a while there was silence as Kol massaged the suds into your roots and rinsed it out, continuing to massage your scalp and neck. “You know. Affection really is wasted on modern humans.” Kol said thoughtfully as he reached for a second bottle. “The fun that could be had if you all let go just a little.”

“If every human let go we’d all be like Elena. Vampire lovers on rotation.” You said quietly. His hands stilled for a moment as he raised his eyebrows. When you glanced over your shoulder at him he chuckled.

“Careful darling. Glass houses and all that.” He said playfully as he rinsed the final suds out of your hair. “You could have four Mikaelson if you asked nicely.”

He grinned when you elbowed him gently and spluttered a little. With the gentlest brush of a kiss to your shoulder he got out of the shower, leaving to finish your shower as he deliberately dripped as much water on the floor as he could. He cracked the door open and snatched the towels that Elijah was holding out for him. He could see Klaus lurking behind Elijah and grinned. He didn’t envy Elijah for having to deal with Klaus’ grumpy mood.

“Come on then darling, you must be starved.” Kol hummed out as he unfolded teh warm, fluffy towel. It was definitely one from the Mikaelson's home. It was massive enough for you to step into it and have it wrapped around you at least twice.

When Elijah saw the state of the bathroom he sighed and glared at a gleeful Kol who bowed mockingly. Klaus bickered with Kol as you were escorted to your bedroom which had been tidied and your bed made with fresh sheets. Rebekah was sprawled over them with a pile of new pajamas beside her. “Off you go now!” She insisted once Kol was near the doorway. Both he and Klaus found the door slammed in their faces as she took a turn at fussing you. She fixed your hair and produced so many creams and powders and moisturisers your small desk was almost completely covered in little bottles. Once she was satisfied she’d fussed you enough you were relinquished into Elijah’s care to be escorted to your kitchen. You noticed everywhere was a lot cleaner and suddenly all the odd jobs that needed doing were done.

“You didn’t all have to make a fuss.” You said quietly to Elijah who smiled.

“Nonsense.” He muttered back with an endeared affection.

Kol hadn’t been kidding about the amount of food in your kitchen. Even if you invited the gang round there would be too much for you all to eat. You gave Elijah a grateful smile as he pulled out your chair and helped you sit. He must have been worried to cook so much. You hadn’t meant to worry them. You’d just felt so exhausted by everything going on in Mystic falls.

As you sat you noticed sweet paintings of plants and flowers adorned your kitchen walls. Klaus’ touch there was no doubt and you smiled as you looked at them. “Rebekah said renovating the kitchen was a bit much. So I settled for decorating.” Klaus said as he took a seat beside you. He admired the way you appreciated his work.

“Thank you. All of you. I feel much better.” you said with a smile. The stress of the chaos going on had ebbed enough for you to feel energized again. The Mikaelsons had gathered in the kitchen and all smiled as you beamed for them.

“Well, I have to apologise. If I had known looking at my beautiful face would be the thing to get you out of bed after a few days. I would have arrived earlier.” Kol said. You shared a daring look together as Rebekah groaned and helped herself to some food. Elijah rolled his eyes and tutted while Klaus growled quietly from beside you. Trying to hide a laugh you opted to stuff your mouth full with the food that had been carefully set before you.

[1000roughdrafts]

Summary/Request: “could you do a deanxreader fic where she goes out on a date (maybe to a bar) for drinks with a guy and towards the end of the night, the guy (you pick the name) starts being rough with her cause he’s drunk and hurts her, then dean finds out somehow and comes over to kick his ass then admits his feelings for her?” for @rileynicole1967​ <3

Warnings: Profanity, Sexual Assault/harrassment (nothing more than groping, but gross nonetheless), violence

Word Count: ~2.5k

With the towel still wrapped around your body, you use the tail of it to clear a spot on the foggy mirror. Anxious thoughts dance around in your mind to the beat of your insecurities. A hot shower could wash away the blood and dirt from a bout of gruesome hunts, but the exhaustion showcased by the bags under your eyes would need some more touching up.

Staring into the mirror at your near naked form only magnifies your insecurities, making you feel a bit vulnerable for the first time in a long while. It’d been years since you’d gone on a date, and you’re admittedly nervous. You dig through a bag of makeup you’ve unintentionally neglected for a while, and dip your ring finger into the concealer. Dabbing it underneath your eyes, a banging at the door startles you. Your body shakes from the shock, causing you to jab your eye.

Teary eyed, you curse at yourself first, then direct your frustration to the door, “what? You just made me poke my eye, damn it,” you whine.

“Sorry,” Dean shouts with a soft chuckle. “You almost done in there?”

Ignoring him, you hang your towel on the rack and look between the two outfit options you’d laid out. Jeans and a t-shirt would be comfortable, but casual. And while warm enough for a cute dress, you’re not sure you’ve the confidence to pull it off.

Quickly throwing it on, you open the bathroom door. Dean stands on the other side, his robe and towel in one hand, phone in the other. He looks up from the device as you step out, and clicks his tongue as he eyes you.

“It’s all yours,” you sass, keeping your eyes ahead of you as you step around to pass him.

“Y/N/N in a dress?” he says with an incredulous chuckle, “didn’t think I’d ever see the day,” he add sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been doing anything but work, and it’d be beyond stupid to wear on a hunt,” you say softly, glancing down to pull at it’s length. “So it’s kind of lived in the back of my closet for a while.”

“Well it looks great on you,” he smiles.

Shifting your weight, you look at the other outfit clutched in your hands, “thanks,” you say, now strangely satisfied with your choice to step out of your comfort zone. You smile, and Dean notices how, for just a moment, it meets your eyes this time.

Clearing his throat, he holds the door open with the palm of his hand. His head tilts slightly as he takes a step inside, “so I’ll see you at the usual then?”

“No, actually. I’m, uh, going somewhere else tonight.”

His hand slides from the door as he folds his arms, letting it hit his backside. Raising his eyebrows in a slight smirk, he asks, “got a hot date?”

“Yeah, something like that,” you say with a laugh.

He holds his gaze on you for a moment before uncrossing his arms, “well, I won’t wait up then,” he winks.

“Thanks, Dean. I’ll see you later.”

-

How stupid does one have to be to meet someone they barely know at a bar they’ve never been? you think as you walk to the counter. A woman’s giggle catches your ear, and your eyes follow it to a couple sitting at a tall table. Her hand rests on the man’s forearm as she leans toward him comfortably.

No, this is silly, people do this all the time, you reassure yourself. Sitting on a stool, you pull the hem of your dress down to cover more of your legs. The bartender approaches you, her smile welcoming and warm as she asks what you’ll be having.

Wondering at which point is acceptable for ordering your first drink, you glance behind her at the chalkboard menu that rests against a wooden pallet. Would it make you seem impatient to have ordered before your date even arrives? Is it only eager if you were to drink most of it alone, waiting?

The time you planned to meet has only passed by five minutes, so perhaps you’ll give it another five. After all, a drink order could be a talking point for a date, as you’re not so sure what you may have in common with this Paul guy outside of hunting.

“I’m not sure yet,” you say in an almost sheepish whisper. You try to replicate the smile she gave you, but your lips crack a bit. “You know, I’ll actually take a water for now.”

She nods, “sure thing.”

An uneasy feeling surges you as you sip your water, displaying itself in the form of nausea. You focus on the music coming from the jukebox, and in order to settle your nerves, you look around for your date.

Is he a no show? That certainly would be your luck. Not like you’d be missing out on anything, though. You only really agreed to it as he mentioned he’d been on a few hunts with Sam in the past, said they grew to be friends. While Sam had never mentioned a Paul before, you’ve never known him to divulge information about himself or his past much.

A swift, warm breeze brushes your shoulders, pulling you from your thoughts, before a large hand plops onto your knee, squeezing gently. As soon as it lands, a voice follows.

“So good to see you,” Paul says in a huff as he sits in the chair next to you, “sorry I’m late.”

You smile, shifting your eyes down to where his hand still lies on your knee, and back up to him. Placing your hand on top of his, you keep your smile. Curling your thumb under his, you lift his hand to place it back onto his lap.

“That’s okay,” you say before he has a chance to protest your rejection.

“Should we order?” he suggests, clearing his throat. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he readjusts in the chair, “my treat, all right?” he smiles.

You nod, pivoting in your chair to face the bar and ponder over the choices.

-

At only three drinks in, it becomes glaringly apparent to you how little you have in common with this man. All he can talk about is himself or his accomplishments, and for a hunter, you’re surprised at how incredibly low his tolerance is. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. You of all people know what a pain it could be to drink with the intention of getting drunk, only to get tipsy on what has turned this man into a blubbering mess.

“Let’s get out of here,” he slurs, scooting himself closer to you. You replay the night in your mind, trying to figure out at what point he got the idea that you were going home with him.

With him on the outside, you feel trapped. The booth squeaks as he pushes himself even closer to you, and when his hand drops onto your knee again, you squeak as well. He squeezes, and one side of his lips turn into a smile, but his eyes are dark.

He leans into you as his hand slides up your thigh. You keep your eyes shut in fear of what’s to come, and nervously squeak again, feeling your body tense under his touch. He either takes it as consent, or doesn’t care, as his hand glides up further. His fingers play with the band of your underwear, as his other finds your cheek. Time slows as his lips move closer to yours.

You don’t want this, so why are you frozen? Why isn’t your body responding to your pleas to push him away? You take down things much stronger and much scarier than him with no hesitation, so why the hesitation now?

“No,” is all you can manage to make out, but even to you, it’s quiet. Your head moves away from him, instantly giving him access to your neck. Did he not hear you?

The nausea you were feeling earlier returns as his heavy, alcohol fueled breath hits your ear. Placing your hands onto his chest, you intend to push him away, but he pulls his hand from under your dress to wrap them around your wrists.

“Let me go,” you say shakily, your face almost pushed against the booth as you strain your neck to keep away from him.

“Come on,” he whines. His lips pressing against your neck sends chills down your spine. “You want this as bad as I do,” he snarls, hands tightening around your wrists as he pulls them into his lap. He pulls you closer, taking in a deep breath, “I can feel it.”

“Let go,” you say again, louder this time, realizing that tears are slipping down your cheeks.

“You heard her, dirtbag,” a deep voice growls, and you relax at the familiar sound. Paul moves enough to allow you the room to see Dean standing by  the table. “Let her go,” he says through clenched teeth.

His sleeves are rolled to the top of his forearms. He stands with his legs shoulder width apart, hands resting by his thighs. Dean’s fingers wiggle, and on his face is a frown he often reserves for the worst of monsters.

Paul releases his grip on your hands, and you immediately scoot away from him to exit from the other side of the booth, standing behind Dean.

“Let’s just go, please,” you plead with him, wanting nothing more than to go back to the bunker and hide under your covers for the foreseeable future.

“No,” he says, narrowing his eyes at your date. “This guys gotta learn what happens when he puts hands on a woman,” he says, pushing his sleeves over his elbows.

Paul stands from the booth, a laugh shaking in his chest.

“Okay, tough guy,” he mocks, holding his palms up. In a laugh, he holds one arm in your direction, “she clearly wants it. Just look at what she’s wearing!”

The cracking sound that comes from Paul’s nose as soon as Dean’s fist hits him makes you cringe. Without giving a second in between, Dean throws another punch at him, not even flinching when Paul’s blood covers his knuckles.

Paul drops back into the booth, laughing. The few people in the bar gasp at the outburst, and a small crowd begins to form. He stands again, wiping the blood and snot from his nose before forming fists with his hands.

“Well, come on then. Defend your bitch’s honor,” he chuckles, lunging forward to swing at Dean. Dean leans quickly, missing the punch by a long shot.

“Dean, let’s just go,” you beg, knowing how he can get. You look around at the crowd, a couple of people stand with their hands covering their mouths, and the bartender watches on with a phone to her ear. “We have to go,” you say a bit too quiet.

Dean grunts as he throws a final punch at the guy, following it up with a blow to his stomach. Quickly, he turns and takes you under his other arm, and the two of you head for the exit, ignoring everyone’s calls to wait for the police.

He opens the passenger door of the Impala, and waits for you to sit before shutting the door, rushing to the other side. Sitting, he turns his attention to you.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Christ, I’m so sorry that happened, that I wasn’t there sooner-” he starts.

The wail of the distant sirens takes the forefront of your mind. The last thing you need now is Dean getting arrested for a bar fight, so you shake your head, “I’m fine, Dean. Get a move on, will you?” you say holding a finger in the air to gesture at the sound.

-

The drive back to the bunker is mostly quiet as you process what had just taken place. Silent, uncontrollable tears slip down your cheeks. The kind that, once started, would be difficult to stop.

Dean pulls the Impala into the garage, allowing a moment of silence after turning off the engine. He turns to see you covering your face with your hands, your shoulders shaking gently. He scoots a tad closer, being careful in his movements as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

Your head turns into his chest, and when he wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into him, you start to relax. He plays with your hair, massaging your neck and when you find yourself coming back to normal, it dawns on you that you never told him where you’d be going.

“How did you know where to find me?” you ask. His hand stops, almost tensing at the question, and he lets out a sigh.“You followed me, didn’t you?” you say in a chuckle.

He laughs, “no, uh, Sam mentioned you were going out with that Paul guy, and from what I remembered of him, he’s a real jerk. So I pulled up your location to make sure,” he says. “I didn’t want to be right, because I wanted you to have a good time.”

For a while, you’re not sure what to say as the events of the night replay in your mind. You feel a slight jab in your thigh, and turn your attention to the newly forming bruise there, in the shape of fingers. You groan looking at it, but turn to Dean with a forced smile, “well, thanks for saving me.”

The words feel and sound weird coming out of your mouth. You’ve never known yourself to be the kind of woman to thank a man for essentially stalking you, and fighting in your honor. But this is Dean, the man who’d been there for you through everything the past few years. He was one of the good ones, someone you could trust with your life. 

“You know, I realized tonight, seeing you with him, that the thought of you being with someone else makes me sick,” he whispers. “Not that it’s my decision to make,” he nervously back pedals, “I just mean to say that I want to make you smile every day, the way you did when I complimented your dress,” he says. 

His hand moves from your hair, and curls on your cheek as he caresses it. Your eyes close involuntarily at his touch, making you feel comfortable even among the butterflies. His fingers tickle you as they move across your cheek gently, and when you open your eyes the atmosphere has changed. It’s like you’re seeing Dean for the first time. No longer is he just your best friend, but someone you could see yourself having a future with.

“What are you saying, Dean?” you playfully taunt, allowing your head to relax in his hands.

He brings his other hand to your face, slipping his fingers around your cheek and ear, “I think you know what I’m saying,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to your lips for half a second before meeting back with yours. “And I think you feel the same way, but if you want me to say it,” he says, bringing his lips closer, “I like you, Y/N, and I-”

Before you could stop yourself, you cut him off with a kiss. His lips react instantly to yours, as if he could read your mind and knew your next move. His hand glides to your back, pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss, being mindful of your boundaries.

You pull away, and with his lips still inches away from yours, you smile. “I do feel the same way,” you say before leaning in for another kiss.

~~~~~

A/N: Tumblr deleted this like 3 times and I had to start over, ugh. I’m hoping to have more out soon. <3 Thanks to everyone sticking around even after I haven’t uploaded in a while. Things have been crazy. Don’t have internet, and have been working like crazy. I’m in the process of and trying to leave an abusive relationship which has taken up like 100% of me and my time, and left me with no desire to write. I’ve been so depressed it’s felt like nothing more than a chore, but here’s to a new, better me when he’s gone. LOVE YOU ALL!

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Dean Queens<3 @flamencodiva​ @akshi8278​ @squirrelnotsam​ @laxe-from-outer-space​ @ellewritesfix05​ @cluz1babe​ @lyarr24​

[iaal]

Alright then here's another ask you can answer as crack ! What would it be like to share a bed with the men from the trash quartet ? Not really to get down to kinky business, just you know ye old trope of "oopsie looks like there is only one bed in this hotel room"...I'm so cliche Imma go hide in a hole (if Illumi isn't already in it)

Thank you so much for the ask! I don’t know if I answered how in the way you hope but it was very fun to write! I just wanted to make drabbles for the trash but Hisoka end up taking too long. I’d like to say I’d do all of them eventually but now I don’t make promise I’m not sure to keep. I didn’t get it proof read so it might be worse than usual.

WARNING: NONE OMG AM I WRITING FLUFF NOW?????

Hisoka:You paused with your fist mid air. Were you sure of this? Really very sure? It looked like an incredibly bad idea now didn’t it? You were half tempted to just go back, the other half was your muscles screaming exhaustion and the promise of a comfy bed just a door away.

You took a deep breath and knocked.

“Do you want something?” Hisoka’s infuriating smile greeted you as soon as he opened the door. Yup, bad idea.

“You got the last room…and… you said I… we could share,” Here you go, you’ve been so cocky earlier laughing at even the idea of sleeping in the same room as him and look at you now, not even looking him in the eyes, stuttering like a child .

When the clerk told you Hisoka just booked the last room and there was none free unless a last minute cancellation you were still pretty confident.A dozen room or so, you were certain at least one person wouldn’t show up and at this hour you’d be fast asleep, sinking in a soft and warm mattress. Tough luck.

“Oh? What made you change your mind? Didn’t you said you’d prefer to, and I quote “Sleep deep in the asshole of a musty boar” than share a room with me?” he emphasized the musty boar part with a nose wrinkle.

Well you did said that. Shit. It’s fine, you could just go back to the lobby and sleep on a chair. It’s already been 4 nights sleeping in the forest, what’s one more? At least you’re not in the cold anymore. No way you’ll apologize to him. It’s fine even if he’s going to enjoy the comfort of a bed and you won’t. The last part made you irrationally angry. He had to endure the same condition than you during the mission but he always looked fresh and rested, you needed a good sleep way more than him.You chewed your lips looking down, thinking what’s more worth to you right now. The bed or your pride.

“So what? Are you so petty you’re taking your offer back for that?” Pride it is then. “Besides there’s no boar asshole around for me to sleep in, you’re the second worst choice,” you added, doubling down on the rudeness. You’re already fucked, at least it’s best to vent than to grovel and be said no.

Hisoka looked at you for a second and lifted a hand to his mouth and…laughed, his shoulder shaking and his other arm gripping at the door frame for support.You blinked once, twice, shrugged and decided is was as good as any “we’re good” declaration.

“I knew you wouldn’t hold a grudge,” you grinned and patted him on the shoulder on your way inside.

“You’re really shameless, you know that?” Hisoka chuckled and closed the door behind you.

“Thanks,” you threw your bag in a corner of the room and prepared yourself to jump on the inviting bed wen something stopped you by grabbing your collar.  Hisoka was holding you with a scowl on his face.

“Don’t even think of touching the covers before taking a shower,” he sighed when you looked at him quizzically, “you’re dirty,’ he concluded.It was really not that bad, just some road dust, mud and maybe a bit of dried blood. You sniffed yourself and you’ve known worse, you didn’t understand why he was so fussy about so little.

“I’ll take one in the morning, I’m too tired now! And we’ve bath this morning in the lake so I’m good,” you lose your jacket so Hisoka didn’t have a grip to prevent you for reaching the bed, you jumped, ready to be engulfed by silk and feather. And got pulled back. Landing painfully on your ass. Ah, Bungee Gum.  So close to your goal your forgot about that.

“My, my. What I’m going to do with you,” he said crouching beside you and poking at your cheek “I could pin you to the wall all night. I’m sure your cursing would lull me to sleep in no time,” you didn’t even tried to struggle, you knew it’ll only exhaust you more. Glaring didn’t take much effort though. “Or you could go take a shower like I asked and enjoy a good night sleep. Your choice,” Hisoka wasn’t impressed with your glaring and kept poking at your cheek, dodging every time you tried to swat his hand.

“Fine, you win…” begrudgingly you stood up and walk in the direction of the shower.

“Oh and there’s no use if you put back your clothes, there’s bathrobes in the drawer.” he pointed.

You almost fell asleep standing down under the hot water but it was worth it. It eased the pain in your sore body a bit and you felt the knot on your shoulder untangled. With a content sigh you washed away the rest of the shampoo and turn off the water. You stepped out and enveloped yourself in a towel and brushed your hair. It did feel good and Hisoka won’t have anything to argue about now. The bed was yours.

“Much better,” Hisoka hummed when you exited the bathroom, nodding appreciatively at how the bathrobe was clinging at your still damp body. “Should we go to bed now? We’re not in an hurry tomorrow but it’s best to be on our way as early as possible” he noted.

“Yeah, yeah you don’t have to tell me twice. I’m ready to pass out,” you grumbled, falling on the mattress. Finally, softness, fluffiness, everything was perfect, this right now was the best day of your life you had no doubt about it. You rolled on yourself with as much grace as a baby penguin and got under the covers. You smiled  appreciating your body getting warmer and the softness of the sheets on your skin.

It was a perfect moment, you were so close to attain bliss. So why does Hisoka had to be naked right now?

“Are you kidding? Can’t you at least keep your underwear??” you snapped. You just wanted to sleep, now you’re going to be too preoccupied about his dick flapping around under the cover to really rest. You knew it was a bad idea, it was going too smoothly so far, there was no chance you could have a pleasant uneventful night.

“Do I need to remind you that’s my bed you’re getting comfortable in right now? If how I sleep displease you you’re free to sleep somewhere else,” he turned off the light and lied beside you. Maybe if it was before you were already tucked in you would have slammed the door and go find a corner to spend the night but now it was way too hard to leave your comfy nest.

“Don’t try anything weird,” you warned, and you knew it was like asking the sun to stop shinning.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he whispered in a low voice way too close to your neck.

Slowly you started to drift away, your body relaxing while you lost focus on what was around you. When he’d put his hand on your hips you said nothing, same as when he placed his head on the crook on your neck. Giving him attention would only encourage his teasing, as long as he’d let you sleep you decided to not think too hard about it, it’s just Hisoka being Hisoka. Nothing to get worked up about. When he pressed himself against you, your patience ran out and you throw an elbow as hard as you could in the direction of his ribs.He intercepted the blow effortlessly, he was waiting for it.

“Cut the crap Hisoka, I want to sleep. Don’t be an asshole,” you barked, scouting away for him as much as you could.

“The bed isn’t big you know,” he whined, “There was barely enough space for me to be comfortable when I was alone, but with you…” he sighed.

“You’re full of shit,” you answered.

He’d find more and more excuses to…to what exactly? You didn’t know but you you were sure if this continues you wouldn’t get any rest and you were too tired to argue all night long.

“Put back your underwear and you can play big spoon all you want,” sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war and now was one of those moment. If he’s satisfied with that it’d have been worth it.

After a moment of silence you heard Hisoka getting up and you tried really hard to fall asleep in the short respite.

“All done, are you happy now?” you could hear his grin and it was pissing you off.

Hisoka came back next to you pressing himself closer, one harm around your waist and placing another under your neck.Is he a fucking octopus you thought when he start putting a leg between yours and encircling your thigh with the other. You could barely move and  you weren’t much comfortable.

“How am I suppose to sleep when you’re trying to smother me,” you tried to wiggle a bit to get more room but it was futile.

“You said I could play big spoon all I want,” he held you closer ,humming when you tried to get away. “Although, I should warn you,” he breathed in your ear, “if you keep moving so much I’m not sure I’d be able to calm down.”Immediately you stilled yourself. Slowly, without rubbing on anything you wouldn’t want to awaken, you tried to find a good position.

Hisoka chuckled and turned you around so you’d face him. Having your head on his shoulder was surprisingly comfortable and you were able to put a bit of distance with his lower half. For a moment you struggled to find where to put your arm but he took it and put it around his waist.

“Better?”, he asked, gently rubbing your back . The touch was soothing and his slow breathing was lulling you to sleep.

“It would do,” you answered yawning. Hisoka was so hot, you found yourself nuzzling closer just to be more engulfed in his warmness. It was nice and snug, you didn’t even noticed falling asleep.

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

You didn’t know what time it was. It was still dark outside, it’s was too early to waking up and all you wanted was going back to sleep but you were hot. So hot.Hisoka nice warmth was now a furnace and you were sweating profusely, trying to get out of his iron grip to cool yourself a little.  Kicking him didn’t work, he was still lightly snoring and the only reaction he had was to tighten his embrace.

Being agitated only made you hotter so you calmed yourself to try to think of a way to waking him.First you tried to call his name, increasingly louder but he only frowned and grumbled something. You tried biting his neck but stopped really quick when he started moaning in his sleep. Violence, in this case, was not the answer.An idea was on your mind but you were reluctant to try it, it could backfire nastily and wouldn’t let you sleep more.

After 20 minutes of suffering this heat you were ready to try anything. Carefully, you positioned yourself the best you could with the little room you had to protect your vitals and you let it out.A big wave of murderous aura poured out of you.

Hisoka eyes snapped open immediately, you barely had time to block when his hand hit, only throwing you on the opposite wall rather than taking your head off. You lied still on the floor, enjoying the coolness. Nothing broken, it was worth it.

“What are you doing?” he questioned gruffly. He was looking around, still half asleep trying to understand if the blood lust was targeting him or if there was a danger he wasn’t yet aware.

“I was too hot and you wouldn’t budge and I couldn’t wake you up,” you turned on your stomach  to cool all of your sides, smiling. This time was definitely the best day of your life, if felt so good to be free. Hisoka was watching you rolling around on the floor, his brows raised high.

“Do you have any idea of how dangerous it was?” he started laughing without waiting for your answer. A real, loud, belly laugh, for once. You ignored him, your face still pressed on the cool tiles of the room.

After a while, he calmed himself and sat next to you. “Here, look,” he put his hand on your forehead, you were ready to push it away, you’ve worked hard to get cool, you didn’t want his scorching skin on yours. But the touch was fresh, nothing like how it felt a few minutes ago.

“How?” you asked.

“It’s a secret ~ ♣” he smirked, “Come back to bed, I promise it’ll be more pleasant now,” You hesitated a moment and followed him back.

He still held you but his arms were looser around you. Hisoka was more touchy, his hands trailing on your thighs, collarbone, arms… however you didn’t pushed him away. Even if he was warmer than the floor the contact was pleasant.

This time you awoke to Hisoka’s head buried in your chest, his hands resting on your ass. You punched him in the head.

“Good morning,” he crooned.

“Get the fuck off”, you couldn’t even open your eyes in peace.

“That’s so rude. You were so cute when you were asleep, clinging to me and nuzzling like a kitten,” he lifted his head to offer you his brightest smile, still holding you.

Another punch in the head and you got out of bed.

After getting yourself ready, you sat down for a coffee, Hisoka joined you on the small table, his chin resting on his hand.

“I was the one making a reservation for all the rooms available,” his tone was flat but there’s was a glimmer in his eyes. He was waiting for your reaction.

You almost spat out your drink. This fucker. This disgusting son of a bitch. Of course he would. You complained about how tired you were and how you’d kill for a night in a proper bed the last couple of days. You walked right into his play. And now he confessed to you just to get one last kick out of it.

“Good for you,” you wouldn’t get the satisfaction to let him get under your skin, “I hope you enjoyed it because it’ll freeze in hell before you get another chance.”

Hisoka stood up and gave your head a pat.

“Well, I should get some warmer clothes then.”

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH5

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter     Next Chapter>

You wake up to a gentle tapping on your arm and the smell of home cooked food wafting around the cabin. You sit up with a yawn, lifting yourself off the man who rescued you and freeing his legs. Looking down to your bandaged leg you can tell the nap (and the pain meds) really helped numb the area, at least until you’d have to move. The man – Jotaro, his name’s Jotaro- looks down at you from where he’s standing, blue-green eyes lingering on your wounded leg as well before he offers a hand to help you up.

You can’t help the slight whine of pain that slips from your mouth, but quickly rally yourself and shift your weight to your good leg. You refuse to let go of Jotaro’s arm; you know you won’t make it far without leaning on him. He seems to be a man of few words but Jotaro understands exactly what’s going on and holds his arm firm and steady as you grip it with both hands and hobble forward to the other room where the meal has been set out.

You make it to the dining room with his help and freeze when you realize how many men are here in the house. You make an effort to straighten up and lean less on Jotaro as you both make it to the empty seats. You realize no one’s started in on the food yet as Jotaro starts heap food onto his plate. They were waiting for him to start- oh god, he’s the alpha, isn’t he? Good thing you seem to be on his good side already. Less risk of being forced out of the pack’s territory and into the path of more hunters if you had Jotaro on your side.

The redhead at the table seems ready to burst with questions, you can tell he’s doing his very best to be polite about it at least, not like the guy with the silver mohawk. Your explanation and apology seem to set everyone on edge, but they’re not throwing out accusations at you, so it must be the fact that there were wolf hunters in their territory.

It’s quiet for a minute until the older man- Joseph- regales you all with a story from his youth, how he once… crashed a plane while battling a god?

By the end of dinner, you are full of delicious food and exhausted. Just sitting upright for an hour has taken a toll and you’re pretty sure the pain killers are wearing off. Your leg throbs as you shift a bit to get the blood flowing. The rest of the guys clear out of the dining room, bringing plates and leftovers to the kitchen. Jotaro stands and offers you a hand to stand up.

“Thanks.” You wince at how out of breath you sound and sigh as you take his hand.

He looks like he’s thinking hard about something before instead of pulling you to your feet he bends down and puts your arm around his neck. “What? Wait! I can walk, I’m fine!” You’re flustered to be back in his arms as he ignores you and lifts you from your chair.

“Its fine. You’re tired, and there’s no sense straining yourself just to walk down the hall.” You let out a little huff at his logic and can’t help the soft purr that builds in your chest and you accept your fate. He purrs back in response and you melt further into his hold.

He carries you out of the dining room, but you must be more tired than you realized because when you blink and open your eyes again you’re suddenly in a hallway. Jotaro has stopped in front of one of the doors, another very serious look on his face as he thinks. You hum a little to catch his attention, and it works as those aqua eyes snap to meet your gaze.

He sighs and averts his eyes, “We… don’t have a guest room here. You’ll have to get settled in my room. I’ll sleep in the lounge.”

“Oh! No, you don’t have to… I can sleep in the lounge! I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“No, you need proper rest. And a room with a door. You don’t know how loud the old man and Polnareff can be yet.” He wears a small smile as he opens the door and makes his way inside, setting you on the queen bed. Besides the bed there is only a cheap night stand in the room. They must have just been here for a guy’s trip or something, the space doesn’t feel very lived in.

He turns and rummages through a travel bag while you survey the room and turns around holding a bundle of clothes. “You can wear some of my PJs. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?” he nods over to the other door in the room that apparently is not a closet like you had thought.

“Thanks. Just to the door is fine. The hardest part is getting up again, I think I can put a little weight on it right now.” You nod as he reaches and helps you to your feet again. You are able to hobble to the bathroom with his help and he sets the bundle of clothes on the sink counter.

He lets go of you and rummages in a linen closet for a minute, turning back to you with a slightly dusty and mis-matched washcloth and hand towel. “Sorry, this is all that I have here, I’ll go see if the other bathrooms have a real towel or something.”

“It’s fine, this will do. I’ll just get the worst of it off right now.” You pause for a moment, trying to think of a way to word your next question. “You, uh. You guys haven’t been here that long, have you? Were you guys on a hunting trip or something? Guys weekend?”

Jotaro hums to himself, “Something like that. We were actually scouting it to expand our territory. This was our test run to see if we liked it enough to stay. But you’re right, we’ve only been here a few days now.”

“Ahh. Wow,” your eyes widen as you realize, “I must have used up all my good karma or something to run right into your new territory. What are the odds…” You trail off as you realize how badly today could have gone for you. You’re shaken from your worried thoughts by Jotaro’s hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. You’re safe now. You can stick with us as long as you need.” You smile and nod at him. “I’ll let you get cleaned up. I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”

He turns to leave but something possesses you take hold of his hand before he can make it out the doorway. “I… Don’t want to be alone, tonight I mean… You don’t have to sleep in the lounge if you don’t want to, the bed looked big enough…” Oh jeez, you can feel how hot your face is from the blood rushing to it. You’re sure if you turned to the mirror instead of looking at your feet you’d see a previously undiscovered shade of red.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” He… agreed? You can’t help but smile as you look back up to his face, embarrassment forgotten. He’s smiling a little too and you have a feeling this is normally a rare sight. He heads for the door again, “I’ll get some more pillows while you get changed then.”

You shut the door behind him and turn to the bundle he left for you. T-shit and sweatpants. Good thing they were the kind with a drawstring, you had a feeling they were going to need rolled up at the ankle and the waist with how tall Jotaro is. You turn to your reflection for the first time tonight and are surprised with how pale you are, probably still anemic from your earlier injury.

You do your best to clean up the leftover dirt and smudges of blood and run your fingers through your hair as well as you can- a quick search of the bathroom had yielded no comb. You quickly don the sleep clothes and roll up the pants so you don’t trip on your short journey to the bed. You exit the bathroom and hobble your way to the bed, hand on the wall to support yourself. Jotaro comes back into the room holding two more pillows and a blanket he’s found. He must have changed as well, but you have to admit he fills out the simple clothes well.

You both settle into bed side by side. He’s opted to be a gentleman and keep a layer of sheets between you and let you have the thicker blanket all to yourself. You’re still tense, sharing a bed with a virtual stranger, but then you take a deep breath and all you can smell is him. Instantly you are calmed, enough that you unintentionally start purring again. What is up with your instincts today? You’ve never given into them so easy, were you still on edge from the chase earlier? That must be it.  The close call must still be on your subconscious mind, you’ve never been that close to…

Your thoughts are derailed again as he purrs in response to your distress, but the fear and stress you’d felt in the forest still lingers in your mind. You wish you could relax like you had been for your nap earlier. Maybe a little bit of embarrassment now would be worth a good night’s rest?

“Ok, so this may be a dumb question, but,” you pause and inhale to build your courage, “can I… just… hold your hand? So I know you’re there? That it’s you?”

He shifts around a bit and you hear a muffled ‘Good grief’ as he turns his head to you.

You look away to try and avoid the awkwardness as best you can, “Fine, just thought I’d ask. I knew it was dumb.”

“Hmm. That wasn’t a no.” He pulls his hand free of the blankets and holds it out next to you. You marvel a bit at how large his hand is compared to yours as you grasp it. You feel almost tingly as you both settle down to sleep again. This time your thoughts anchored to the present, not the terrifying chase through the forest.

<Previous Chapter    Next Chapter>

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

Some eagle eyed readers may have caught that I’ve changed at least Polnareff’s appearance a bit. This story takes place sometime between 2014-2018 so I’m modernizing their outfits somewhat- including Polnareff’s hairstyle lol.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (2)

Ahh so this was meant to go up yesterday but a gal has gotta work sometimes. Enjoy my loves:) Also I’m not 100% sure everyone was tagged properly in chap 1 so please check that first just incase!

Undercover Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

Warnings: Swearing, violence and mentions of sex. I’ll update these as the story progresses.

------

The dinner had gone nicely, Aelin thought. The newbies had fit in quite well surprisingly and after what seemed to be a game of twenty questions, they were joining in on the chaos. They were all now in the main room, drinking and playing cards while she and Lysandra sat on the floor sharing chocolate cake between them. And of course, because they knew nothing, there was judgment from said newbies.

“Very sorry to interrupt ma’am, but, are you really going to eat all of that?” It was Connall who’d asked, while his twin smacked him over the back of the head.

“Seriously Con, you don’t ask ladies such questions. I apologise for his idiotic mouth ma’am.”

Aelin didn’t want to put on the mask of Celaena tonight, she wanted to relax and they wouldn’t be able to connect the nickname and so she said, “I told you none of that when your giant over there passed the test,” jerking her thumb over her shoulder where she knew Salvaterre to be sat, “please, call me Ace.”

The whole room went quiet as soon as the words had left her mouth, Lys’ fork stopped halfway to her mouth and raised a single dark eyebrow and Aedion’s eyes had gone wide. She knew why it had stunned everyone of course, but tonight she just wanted to be with her family. Manon was the first to speak up from where she was draped across Dorian’s lap, her fingers tangled in his dark hair.

“You never let anyone call you that this early, what gives?” it was a lazy drawl, as if she thought Aelin had some sort of scheme behind it, but for once she wasn’t planning anything.

“I find I quite like this lot, there’s something different about ‘em. And yes, dear Connall, it’s only three slices between us.”

There was a snort somewhere and she turned her head to see Elide staring at her, a single eyebrow raised. “’Only three slices’ she says. The two of you have been sharing most of that cake throughout the day. I expect you to be in the ring tomorrow Ace, maybe you and Manon can go for a round, you haven’t in a while.”

Chaol, Dorian and Aedion all spoke at once then.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

“Not happening Lochan.”

“Elide have you lost your mind?”

Aelin only noticed the outburst was because she and Manon were both giving each other the same feral grin, which the other girl soon turned into a glare when she glared down at Dorian, who visibly gulped. “Is there a problem with Ace and I sparring, love?” Dorian nervously laughed and shook his head.

“No, baby. You’re a delight in the ring.” Manon simply rolled her eyes and leaned in for a chaste and shockingly mild kiss for the couple.

The confusion was evident on Gavriel’s face, speaking up for possibly the fourth time since dinner started- he seemed quite content in watching others enjoy themselves but Aelin noticed his eyes always settled on her cousin after a while. She let a smirk slip free as he asked, “What’s so bad about them sparring together?”

Aedion was the one to answer and the man gave all his attention as if he was the most wonderful person in the world. Interesting.

“They don’t spar like normal people would, they fight rough and dirty. Last time knives were involved and Manon was left with a scar across her shoulder and Aelin ended up with a dislocation.”

Manon chuckled darkly and Aelin scoffed. They were all so dramatic.

“I’ll go a round with you, if you’d like?” It was Rowan who offered and Aelin found herself quite excited at the thought, seeing as Fenrys had said he’d trained the twins on everything they knew, well almost everything as Lorcan had trained them alongside him. His fellow comrades however, didn’t seem as happy, in fact they looked incredibly cautious, Lorcan obviously the most cautious of them all as he was now sat ramrod straight in his chair.

“But you haven’t trained against anyone sinc-” Rowan cut Lorcan off, shoulders tense and a dark glint in those pretty green eyes.

“I know exactly how long it has been.” He relaxed somewhat as he focused back on her once more and Aelin was suddenly curious to know what had happened. “We don’t have to of course but I’d be willing if you’d like a partner.”

“Tomorrow morning, seven sharp. Training room as you know is on this floor, I’ll meet you there.”

He simply lowered his head in a nod before turning to talk to Vaughan but his knuckles were white where he was clenching his glass. Something bad, then.

“Well, now that the fuss is over, can a girl tend to her chocolate cravings without question?”

All nodded except for Lysandra, who Aelin now noticed had eaten most of the cake during that little discussion.

Bitch.

oOoOo

Rowan didn’t sleep that night, bombarded with memories of the past. He’d always remember, always feel the pain, he knew that but it fucking sucked. He didn’t need to be told by Lorcan that he’d not trained with another since that day six years ago. There was no forgetting that day everything went to hell and that he’d nearly killed Lorcan because of it- at sixteen years old he had no idea how strong he was, but they soon found out. It was stupid of him to push himself to do what he was not ready for but then he remembered Celaena, or ‘Ace’ as she’d asked to be called in private, was their mission, their target and so if she was hurt it didn’t matter. It also gave him the chance to figure out weak spots and how good she was at defending herself if in the end it came to a fight rather than surrender.

Now he was sat in the stupid fucking training room with little to no sleep and a simmering rage left over from the awful images he was provided by his brain. It was large room with lots of weights, a few workout machines and what looked to be knife throwing targets. Most likely for the tiny hell beast who Lorcan clearly fancied. He wasn’t the only here and was accompanied by Fen, Gav, Lorcan, Aedion, Manon, Dorian, Elide and finally the bitch princess herself. Celaena, who was dressed in very short, shorts and a goddamn sports bra, was having her hands wrapped in tape by Aedion while Manon braided her hair back while he watched from the other side of the room, hands fully wrapped and doing the usual stretches he did when he would practice alone. Seriously, did she have to spar practically naked? If she was any other girl and he’d seen her like that, it would be incredibly difficult to fight the urge to pin her against the wall and fuck her senseless. He was pulled from the utterly disgusting fantasy by the sound of footsteps to his left. Rowan didn’t need to look up to know that Lorcan and sidled up next him and with an exhausted sigh asked, “Yes, Lorcan?”

“I know you hate it when people ask you if you’re sure about something, but are you sure about this? I can make up some kind of excuse.”

He knew this was coming, had been dreading the bastard conversation since he’d volunteered himself. They were the only two on the opposite side of the room so no one could hear him when he replied, “Yes, I’m fine. The bitch will think I’m weak or some other stupid shit and we need to win her trust, all of their trust and so I am going to do this.”

“Ro, you’ve refused all of us when we offered over the years. You and I have been best friends since we were kids and I don’t want to see you like you were that day ever again, so I’m asking one more time. Are you absolutely sure you can do this?” Lorcan never spoke gently to him and Rowan was grateful, he didn’t want pity.

“I’m sure. This conversation is over.” He pulled himself to stand when he realised everyone was waiting and walked to the middle of the room where the little makeshift sparring square was. Both his people and hers, although they were all considered hers now unfortunately, were spread out around them as he stepped into the square. There was not time to brace himself because all of a sudden she had landed a very powerful left hook and rammed her foot into his abdomen causing him to stumble. He brought his hand up to wipe the back of it across his mouth and found blood there when he pulled it away.

He laughed then and returned the favour full force but instead of a foot to the abdomen he used his fist watching as Celaena allowed herself to drop to one knee, only one. From that advantage point she took his legs out from under him and had him on his back, but he rolled before she could pin him and pushed himself back up. When they were standing again she smirked before running at him and from there it was blow after blow after blow. All that rage that was simmering just below the surface from last night rose up again and made him ruthless. When he finally had her pinned on her back wrists bound, Rowan thought she might give up but he was wrong. She went pliant underneath him and then her leg was around his hip and pulled him down to grind herself against him. He’d not been with anyone in a very, very long time and so the feeling shocked him so much his grip went slack, giving her the opportunity to get him into a headlock and his limbs trapped in awkward angles. With his free hand he tapped repeatedly and Celaena let go of him, walking over to Aedion who handed her a small towel and a bottle of water waiting for her. Fenrys came over, pulling him to his feet and patting his shoulder, muttering in a low voice, “Better luck next time, ey mate?”

It was repulsive to think his hormones betrayed him for that fucking privileged nobody, but he couldn’t show the disgust or the hate and so he simply said, “You really do play dirty woman.”

There was a laugh, a coy laugh like a lover would and then she tossed a cold bottle of water at him.

“I’ve got to say Whitehorn; I didn’t picture you as a man that would let the wrong head make decisions for him.”

Play your part, no matter how horrible it is. You’ve endured worse.

He took a deep breath before he smirked back at her, making a show of running his eyes over the length of her body. “When one is trapped between the thighs of someone of your beauty Ace, such things are hard to control.”

Her cheeks were redder now and it was hard to tell if she was blushing or if it was from exertion. Part of him hoped it was her blushing as that would provide him an opening to get close to her, but wouldn’t have to go so far as actually sleeping with her. He shivered at the thought. Rowan saw that she was clearly about to retort with something snarky when a phone started ringing. Everyone stopped as Elide, who was now at her boss’s side, pulled a phone from her back pocket and began to speak.

“This is Lochan.” There was no emotion on her face and there wasn’t any way of telling what the other person was saying on the other end before she handed the phone over to Celaena. There was a mask in place when he looked back at her and suddenly he felt like he knew the reason for the nickname she was given. Yes everyone throughout London called her little followers “Assassins” but it was she who was given the title of “Assassin Queen”.

“Speak, now.” Everyone in the room was staring at her waiting but she acted like they didn’t even exist.

“Is anyone hurt?” He could only detect a faint sense of worry in her tone but then there was an awful snarl on her face which meant that this was not going to be good at all.

“By the time I get there Chaol,” mystery of the caller solved then “your wife better be safely tucked into bed and resting, and those little fuckers better be secure.” She hung up, if there was a reply from the other man, it was cut off half way through. Dorian was the first to speak up, fear in his voice.

“What happened to Chaol and Yrene boss?”

“Some little fuckwits somehow managed to track them and broke in. Clearly they have someone almost as good as Elide, as they got past her systems but must have done so from somewhere else. Yrene has a few scrapes and bruises but she held her own, took two of them out. Chaol has three unconscious and tied up. Get your shit together, we move out in ten.” No one had a chance to move before Lochan piped up.

“There’s only one person in London that even comes close to my skills boss, and you know that.” Elide spoke smoothly and it felt as if this was a topic that had been brought up before. The tiny spitfire continued, her eyes tracking her friend and boss, and that’s when he noticed Celaena’s fists were clenched, knuckles white. “He was spared once, because I knew what it would do to you but now he’s crossed a line.”

“And when we catch him, no one touches him except for Chaol and myself. Are we clear?”

They all gave an obedient ‘yes boss’ and watched as she left, not speaking to anyone further. Lorcan beat him to the unspoken question, trying to clear up the confusion. Rowan couldn’t think of anything from the files and backgrounds they were all given.

“Who is this mystery man who is complicit in trying to have a pregnant woman killed?” Rowan tried not to flinch at the memories the words triggered and turned to look at Aedion, who gave a sigh before answering;

“Sam Cortland.”

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Oooooo yeah I did that😮 if you wanna be added/removed from the tags just give us a shout!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up @mad-madeline-ace​ @df3ndyr

[fanfoolishness]

Comminuted (2/4)

SUF. Steven and Greg try to deal with the devastating revelations in “Growing Pains.”  

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

(Comminuted: describing a skeletal fracture that breaks the bone into two or more pieces.)

***

Greg stood by the blaring TV, chipper music and high-pitched koala voices attempting to drown out the pounding of his heart.  Steven was fast asleep on the couch in front of him, but he was pink again, his face twisted even as he slept.  

Greg knelt beside him, reaching out and brushing a few loose curls back from his forehead.  Slowly, slowly the pink faded from his skin, leaving just his son, looking small and vulnerable in sleep.

Greg stood up, his hands hanging loose at his side, fingers tensing with the urge to do something.  He settled for going to the closet and rummaging in its depths, pulling out a heavy blanket and tucking it over Steven’s hunched form.  Steven’s face shifted slightly, the deep-drawn lines relaxing just a little.  

Okay.

Okay.

He could do this.

He had to do this.

He made himself mechanical, a robot like something from one of Steven’s old comic books.  He went to the sink, opened the cabinet, pulled out trash bags.  He threw down a towel under the refrigerator to sop up the melted ice from the broken freezer.  He shoved the freezer door into a trash bag with soup-like Cookie Cats and soft mushy containers of ice cream.  He stopped when he saw a glow bracelet, a faint reddish color in the back of the freezer.  

He remembered that day, the parade, when Steven was the car wash boy with bubbles in his hair, when he eagerly ran back to Greg with the bracelet clutched in his hands.  “A girl dropped this!  She was watching us in the parade and I was waving to her but then she left and she dropped it!  She looked really nice, Dad, and she had these cool glasses, and I’m gonna save this for her and find her and give it back to her some day!”

His stomach dropped into his shoes.  Steven’s face, pink and huge and scared and so, so lost -- I -- I, uh -- I proposed to Connie!  

He didn’t throw it away, even though the glow was fading.  He pulled it out of the broken freezer and set it carefully on a dish towel next to the sink.  He wasn’t sure what Steven would want to do with it, but he wasn’t going to take that choice away from him.

Greg wiped his face with his hand, casting a quick look back at the couch.  Steven was still sleeping, his face and hands still peach, not pink.  

He got back to it.  He picked up the wrappers that had landed on the floor, stuffing them into the garbage.  He brought the full bag of trash out to the porch.  He’d carry it back to the car wash the next time he went home.  

His eyes fell on the stairwell.  He was glad Steven hadn’t noticed his reaction to the melted ice cream smeared in a puddle on the floor, the junk food that Steven had insisted he’d outgrown left scattered all over the room, the dirty laundry everywhere.  Greg had gasped, but managed to swallow it.  He hadn’t seen Steven’s room look like this for years.  Steven had been so eager to be more mature, to finally be close to being an adult.  How long has he been alone like this? he’d wondered.

Half his life.

And he’d just managed a smile as if Steven’s depression hadn’t just slapped him in the face, if his own guilt hadn’t been choking him, and gathered up some videos for his kid to watch like it was no big deal.

Steven was resting now, though, and that was important, that was good, that was something he could hold onto.

Greg took the stairs up, trash bags and cleaning supplies in hand.  He hummed tunelessly as he worked, scrubbing where the ice cream had started soaking into the floorboards, sweeping up potato chip shards and cheesy poof crumbs, getting all the laundry into the hamper, changing the sheets, making the bed.  He carefully set the star pillow that had fallen on the floor back on top of the fresh-made bed.

He sniffed.  The place didn’t smell great between the stale teenage boy laundry and the curdling ice cream, so he opened the sliding door, letting in some of the fresh air from outside.  A few potted plants greeted him on the path to the dome.

Steven had mentioned, off-handedly, something about a Gem issue causing the dome to need some improvements.  The dome was repaired now, but Greg looked at the plants on the wooden path, half of them knocked out of their flowerpots, some of them browning and losing their leaves.  Steven could have healed them in an instant.  But he hadn’t.  He’d healed Beach City with nothing more than his powers and his determination, and here in his own home azaleas and aloes stood browned and withered.

Greg felt weak, like his legs were going to give out from under him.  I missed so much.

But he couldn’t think about that right now.  If he started, he’d never stop.  He didn’t know how long he had until Steven woke up, and he needed to be ready, needed to be there for him in whatever capacity Steven required.  He closed the door on the half-ruined plants and finished tidying the room, then hauled the laundry to the washer and dryer.  He started the first load.

“Dad?” Steven called from the other room, a note of panic in his voice.  Greg hurried into the living room, where Steven was sitting up on the couch looking confused.  “I thought -- I thought you’d left without saying goodbye --”  There it was again, pink shining in his skin and hair, his eyes wide with panic.  Koala Princess’ cloying laughter seemed to skip a few beats, a snarl of electrical interference cutting through the cheery sound.

“Just starting the laundry, Steven,” said Greg, trying to sound reassuring.  “You know I’d never leave without saying goodbye.”

“Right,” said Steven, shaking his head, fighting back a yawn.  “I know.”  The pink disappeared again.  The TV was silent before him.  He leaned back, his fingers twisting in the blanket.

“Are you hungry?” Greg asked, hoping to distract him.

“Hm?  Oh, uh, yeah.  I guess so.”  Steven still looked half-dazed.  Greg couldn’t tell if it was lingering drowsiness from the nap, or if it was exhaustion from everything else that had happened today.  Steven rubbed at his eyes irritably and started his show back up again, hunkering down in the blanket.

Greg tried to give him a calming smile, but turned to the kitchen before Steven could see the way his eyes watered.  He started sorting through the cupboards, pulling out pots and bowls, trying to make himself busy and useful.  He reminded himself what he’d thought earlier.

You have to do this.  For him.

[magioftheseas]

You're The Woooorst~!

Summary: Even worse was that he got violently ill in front of Ouma, of all fucking people. That wasn’t the worst day of his life. That was the worst night of his life. Because, as it turned out, when he woke up, he was still violently ill. And Ouma was, of course, the one to know about it, showing up in his damn room unannounced.

Rating: T

Warnings: Kaito being sick but it’s not too bad. Also lotta cursing.

Notes: Wanted to write a short Oumota fic, thought that “taking care of him while sick” would be a simple enough premise. It ended up a little complicated anyway...

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

This was shaping up to be one of the worst days of his life. First, that bastard Shinguuji insisted on telling ghost stories, which freaked him out so much that he had to escape before he got violently ill. Which he did. But even worse was that he got violently ill in front of Ouma, of all fucking people.

That wasn’t the worst day of his life. That was the worst night of his life. Because, as it turned out, when he woke up, he was still violently ill.

“Morn-ing-star-shine!”

And Ouma was, of course, the one to know about it, showing up in his damn room unannounced, with a towel, a bucket full of water, and a puke bag. He must’ve picked the lock because Kaito is damn sure that he locked the door last night.

“Oh, wow, you look great for a sick man on death’s door! Juuuust kidding! Nishishishi! You look awful! Absolutely awful!”

Kaito groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes and wishing for a meteor to crash into his room right now. Preferably where Ouma was standing. Although Ouma skipped closer, cheeky grin splitting his face before he shoved Kaito down onto the bed.

“Didn’t your grandma ever tell you to take it easy when you’re sick?” he sing-songs. “You’re going to fall into your grave before ever taking a single step on the moon! And I’ll be sooooo sad, Momota-chan!”

Kaito growled at him, but he imagined that being in a lame cold sweat and having watery eyes decimated the effect any kind of glare would have.

“Do you really have to be here?” he snapped. “Or does seeing a guy sick get you off?”

“How’d you know?” Ouma asked, batting his eyelashes coyly before gagging. “As if! Even if I were into that, you look like a dog, especially with that goatee of yours.”

“Don’t knock the goatee!” His voice raised to a rasp. “And get the hell out! You’re the last face I need to see right now!”

“Can you even see with eyes that teary?” Ouma retorted, flicking his nose. Before Kaito could attempt to yell, Ouma scrubbed his face with the towel, not even bothering to be gentle, the asshole. “Besides, I’ll have you know I’m here out of the goodness of my heart.”

Kaito would’ve sputtered either way because of the towel rubbing against his mouth.

“That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard you told.”

“It’s true,” Ouma insisted, soaking the towel and wringing the water out. “We both know you’re such a prideful fucker that no one else is aware of the fact that you’re as delicate as a flower, Momota-chan.”

“Fuck you!”

“And as a result.” Ouma tutted at him. “You planned on just sweating it out alone in your room rather than asking for anyone’s help. Which, truth be told, is so stupid I don’t even know how to comprehend it. Seriously, Momota-chan. That’s so miserable, it brings a tear to the eye! Boo-hoo!”

“So, what?” Kaito demanded. “What kind of guy would I be if I put that kind of burden on everyone?”

Ouma wiped down his face again. He was even rougher than the last time.

“Ow, ow, ow! S-Seriously, knock that shit off!”

“You knock shit off,” Ouma retorted, pulling on his beard and hopping away before Kaito could shove him off. “You’re an even bigger bullshitter than I am if you seriously believe that.”

“Urgh.” Kaito rolled his eyes and covered his head with his pillow. “I don’t have to hear this.”

He still heard Ouma shuffling about. Soaking the towel and wringing out the water again. Ouma letting out an annoyed little huff.

“Hey.” There’s a harsh jab into his side, making him jump. “Does your stomach hurt?”

“Fuck off!”

“Not an answer,” Ouma said, unimpressed. He shrugged. “But given that you’re not bitching about it, I guess it’s fine for now.”

Kaito grumbled and glared at him.

“You’re lucky I feel too much like shit to kick your ass.”

Ouma scoffed, heading into the bathroom and turning on the sink.

“And I was so worried about you!” he exclaimed over the running water, faking a sob. “Oh, Momota-chan, you had me worried sick! I thought you might die again! I can’t go through that a second time, I just can’t!”

Ouma came back, an expression like stone and a cup of water in his hand. Rather robotically, he handed it over.

“Drink. Or else I’ll tell everyone about your little display last night.”

“Are you blackmailing me?!”

Ouma’s lips twitched at the corner.

“I would never.”

Scowling, Kaito snatched the cup and downed the water, glowering down at the other challengingly. Ouma remained stoic.

“What?” Kaito had the childish desire to throw the empty cup at him but refrained. A real man kept his cool, even with annoying shits like Ouma around. “If you got something to say, say it.”

“Don’t you get exhausted talking so much?” Ouma cocked an eyebrow. “You’re sick. You should conserve your energy.”

Kaito snarled at him but bit his tongue.

He’s riling me up on purpose. Well. I’m not gonna fall for it anymore.

To prove his internal point, he turned away with a huff, nose upturned. Ouma’s stare on him remained, feeling almost uncomfortable, but Kaito let that wash over him like water. If he couldn’t deal with weird looks from a brat, what kind of luminary did that make him?

A shameless kid like Ouma wouldn’t get that. He’s too—immature. Naïve.

It wasn’t like Ouma was a bad person. Malicious, mean-spirited, and a fucking asshole, absolutely. But not a bad person. Just a brat who sucked ass at connecting with other people.

Kaito wasn’t that stupid. He knew that Ouma was here right now because he was worried. It was more than irritating—the reason why he kept his weird illness a secret was because he didn’t want people to worry, but Ouma was the kind of kid all the more excited when told no. All about butting his head where it didn’t belong, even when it resulted in burdens that no one should have to carry.

Ouma’s existence was so exhausting that Kaito didn’t understand how the kid could have so much energy despite living the way he did. Seriously.

Maybe that’s admirable in its own way?

He wasn’t sure, but he was tired. And dizzy. And nursing a headache. Oh, that was probably the sickness again. Great. Fucking great.

Kaito fell back with a sigh, crumbling the cup in his hand. The loud crackling of plastic just felt like mockery. It made his headache even worse.

“Urgh... This sucks... It sucks so bad.”

Ouma just takes the broken cup from him, probably to toss. How responsible. Too bad Kaito’s eyes were so watery that it was difficult to see now. Ouma just looked like a blob of purple of white. Kinda funny if not for the fact that his eyes stung, leaving him cursing as he furtively tried wiping them off.

The wet washcloth is pressed against his face again, but this time it’s cold, and before Kaito can protest, it’s thrown over his eyes.

“They were getting so swollen they looked fit to burst,” Ouma said, remarkably cool with even a calm click of the tongue. “Not a lie. If your eyes did burst into bits, that would be pretty horrifying.”

“Horrifying?” Kaito echoed before snorting. “It’d be a tragedy. I’d never be able to see the stars again if that happened. Everything would just be dark forever.”

“A nightmare for a luminary,” Ouma murmured. He flicked Kaito’s nose, making him gripe and flail at nothing but the air. “Did you know, Momota-chan? You’re so dim-witted that your vision already is super dark.”

“Oi! That’s uncalled for and untrue!” Momota does push himself up. It causes a bit of a rush that nearly knocks himself senseless, but he manages to keep his body upright as he lunges for that splotch of white. He ends up tumbling out of the bed, hitting the ground harshly and with nothing in his grasp. “Urgh... Ow...”

“See?” Ouma asks airily. “You’re so stuuuuupid, Momota-chan.”

Momota lets out a pained groan, but Ouma’s standing in front of him. Ouma, who grabs the back of his shirt collar. He hears the threads protest and tear and Ouma yanks.

“Dense, dumb, dull,” Ouma scoffs and drops him. He hadn’t been able to lift him much, so it didn’t hurt, but it was still irritating. “I swear. It’s sickening. Get back into bed, idiot. Unless you want to die here? If you do, don’t worry. I’ll lie to the others and say that I killed you. Spare you the embarrassment. Of course...” There’s a grin in his voice, but the laugher afterward... “Saihara-chan’s still gonna figure it out. Nishishishi.”

It doesn’t sound joyful at all.

Ouma’s really just that annoyed with him.

That’s a real joke if Kaito’s ever thought of one, so his chuckle is a lot more sincere. He tastes blood, and it’s still funny.

“What?” Ouma sounds real unimpressed now. “Have you lost your mind?”

He snorts. “Everything’s, uh, spinning a lot. Spiraling. Like satellites around masses.”

“Come on.” Ouma grabs him properly. “Get back to bed before you spiral out of control.”

“Hahah...” He does manage to pull himself to his feet with Ouma’s help, even as he sways a little. “So no-nonsense. You’re sounding less like your usual shitty self, Ouma.”

“Actually, I’m nobody. Nobody you know. Nobody you care about. Nobody at all.”

“Nobody, huh? Then...it’s fine.”

When he falls back into bed, his fingers curl tightly into Ouma’s ragged white shirt and he digs in. Ouma gasps sharply, falling with him. Another thud. Kaito’s head hurts, and when he comes to, he feels Ouma’s arm close to his scalp, Ouma’s knee by his hip, and Ouma’s harsh exhale of breath.

“...what the hell is this? What are you playing at, Momota-chan?”

He can’t answer when it hurts too much to think.

“You’re awful. Just the worst. The absolute worst.” And yet, Ouma does lean in. That liar presses his open mouth to Kaito’s cheek, lips pursing damply against his skin before murmuring into his ear. “You’re also delirious.”

At that point, Kaito just didn’t want to think so he let his eyes fall.

“This is the worst,” he heard Ouma lament just before he fell completely and utterly out of it.

He wakes up later in an empty room, head a bit clearer. He blinks once at the ceiling. Twice. There’s a wet washcloth folded upon his forehead. It’s long since gone a bit lukewarm.

Wait. What the actual hell was that?

[domesticated-feral]

What a night. | Sterek One Shot written by me.

Squicks/Triggers: Injury and Blood, Homophobia

Read it on AO3

New York, February 28th of 1968.

It was Saturday, Stiles was on his way to a gay bar, he wore a skirt, flashy eyeshadow, and lipstick with his slightly wavy hair curled and tousled up. He reaches the gay bar that he frequented with a brisk ten-minute walk, the bouncer opens the door and he struts in.

Inside, music was playing, drinks were being served and Stiles spotted very handsome men he’d fancy.

He goes up to the bar and orders tequila shots, he drinks them up and goes to the dance floor. Dancing to the hottest songs coming from the radio, Stiles was joined by a man, they danced together until Stiles needed more drinks.

He sits down at the bar once again, using a tissue to dab sweat away, being careful to not smear his makeup which he spent a lot of time on. He drinks more shots and then orders an old fashioned cocktail.

He sits down at the seating and listens to the music as he sips on the cocktail. It was maybe twelve or one in the middle of the night now. He didn’t wear his watch, and even though it clashes with his outfit, he regrets that he didn’t.

Suddenly, he hears banging on the bar’s door.

“Police, open up!”

Stiles’ heartbeat rose up, he quickly stood up from his seat and went to the usual escape route he’d take from a back door. The police had barricaded it, they were trapped.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ Stiles internally panicked, his breath quick and shallow as the police came in.

A police officer came and tried to hold Stiles, he immediately moved away, it was the same officer from last time, the same man who frisked Stiles way too much. He had enough of these raids happening, it wasn’t like they were disturbing anyone.

Before Stiles could think his next move through, another police officer comes from behind and holds him. Stiles elbows him in the side of the rib and they stumble backward.

‘Oh no, what did I just now do?’ Stiles gasps, realizing what was going to happen next.

The other officer, the one who Stiles feared tackles him to the ground and starts hitting him with a baton. Someone throws a beer bottle towards the wall and it shatters, sending pieces of glass at Stiles and the police officer.

He felt pieces of glass pierce his head and neck as he stood up. He needs to flee the place before all hell breaks loose. He is able to run out of the bar and begins walking back home. His back hurt after some time so he sat down on a bench to recuperate before walking the rest of the way home. Something cold trickles down the back of his ear and he touches it with his fingers. He looks at his fingers to find blood smeared at the tips.

‘Damn it, someone just had to throw a beer bottle huh?’

Someone comes up and places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, making him jerk a little. Stiles looks up from his blood-smeared fingers and notices the clothing the man was wearing all dark, black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Are you alright?”

“Well, except for the pieces of glass in my head and my back bruised up by being beaten with a baton, I’m just peachy,” Stiles looks up at the mysterious man who had approached him.

He looked intimidating, the essence of a bike rider with the slight scruff, the lean but muscular build, and the gorgeous hazel green eyes that glinted under the yellow streetlight.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Thanks, I haven’t noticed,” Stiles sarcastically said, slowly standing back up.

“You need medical attention, and my house is right there,” Derek points to a house that was two houses away, “my sister’s a nurse in practice. She can help you.”

“Thanks, but how do I know that you’re not one of those homophobes who’s gonna take me to your dingy house’s basement to torture and kill, then later end up in a ditch covered in trash bags?”

“Because I’m not?”

Stiles’ mind was going off with deja vu at this random stranger, he was intimidating but Stiles felt like he’d seen him from somewhere before. Somewhere meaning the gay bar he was just at.

“Have you ever went to the gay bar before?”

“I work there. I was out for a smoke break out back when the police raid happened. I sorta fled the area, till I saw you sitting here.”

“Like a damsel in distress? Oh please, you can’t be my knight in shining armor when you run away like a cunt back there.”

“You escaped too.”

“After getting tackled, beaten, and pierced by pieces of broken glass,” Stiles let out a whimper at the pain panging through from his back as he moved slightly.

“You’re hurt and I want to help you. Especially because I know you won’t be going to the hospital tonight.”

“Hey, how could you assume that?”

“Because you sure as hell won’t.”

Stiles sighs, he needed medical attention before he bleeds out, and this guy seemed pretty genuine to help, “fine, let’s go to your nurse sister.”

Derek walks with Stiles to his house and he unlocks the door.

“Laura, get your first-aid kit.”

“Raid at the bar again? What happened this time, Derek? Was it harsh?”

“Not me, I brought someone, they need help.”

“I’m, um, Stiles by the way,” Stiles mutters to Derek.

Laura comes down from the staircase holding a red bag with a white cross on it. Derek gestures to Stiles to sit down on a chair backward. Stiles rests his arm on the top of the backrest and tries to ignore the ticklish and cold sensation of blood trickling down his neck and side of the face.

Laura puts the first aid kit on the coffee table and looks at Stiles’ scalp, noticing the blood and pieces of glass. She also notices red blotches on Stiles’ neck, fresh bruises she guesses.

“There’s a lot of glass in the scalp and cuts, um, it’ll be hard to treat the cuts with, y’know,” Laura faltered.

“With all my hair in the way, I sorta had the feeling that it would, well, I guess I could rock a buzzcut.”

“So, you’re fine with me needing to cut your hair so I can take a look at the cuts caused by the glass shrapnel?”

“Yeah, completely fine, just get it done quick. I’d like to sleep the night away as soon as I can.”

“Ok, um, Derek, could you get me the scissors and go tell Cora she has to sleep, it’s late and she's still awake.”

Derek nods and Stiles watches him go up the spiral staircase to the loft above.

“Are you able to take the shirt off or does it hurt to lift your shoulders up?”

“I think I can take my shirt off, I’ve dealt with bruises more than this,” Stiles slowly slides his shirt above his head, being careful not to move any pieces of glass in his hair.

He takes it off and holds it in his hands, Laura gets up and Stiles assumes she went to get ice. Laura walks back into the living room and she places a bag of ice wrapped in a towel on his back which was red with new bruises scattered everywhere from the top to bottom.

Derek climbs back down, a scissor in his hand and a teenage girl hopped down the stairs behind him.

"I thought I told you to tell Cora to sleep, not bring her down with you."

"But I'm not sleepy," Cora whined.

Derek puts the scissor down on the coffee table and Cora flops down on the couch.

"What do I have to do to make you go to sleep?"

"Hot chocolate."

"Fine, Derek, apply the ice on his back while I go make Cora her hot chocolate."

Derek nods again, he isn't a man of words, Stiles thinks. Derek holds onto the bag of ice and continues icing Stiles’ back.

“Soo, do you just to bartending at the gay bar or?”

“I have a day job as a mechanic at George’s Auto garage in Lower Manhattan.”

“So you like cars, huh?”

“Not really, but I’m pretty interested in fixing them. I don’t own one though, yet.”

“I don’t own a car either, you don’t really need one if the work commute is a ten-minute ride in the sub.”

“What do you work as?”

“A fraud analyst at an insurance company.”

“Hmm,” Derek hums, he moves the pack of ice down to ice the bruises on Stiles’ lower back.

Laura walks back in a while later, Cora trailing behind her with a big mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Cora sits back down on the couch and Derek hands the ice pack to her. It was slowly melting and Laura put it down on the coffee table.

“Damn, stranger’s got some hot core body temperature if the ice pack’s that melted,” Cora remarks.

Stiles hears Laura sigh from behind him at Cora. He feels Laura beginning to take out the bigger shards of glass from his head, she slowly takes them out and places them on the coffee table.

“Well, I think that’s all of the big ones, now to find the tiny pieces.”

Laura slowly looks through and picks out the small pieces with a pair of tweezers. Most of the cuts were on the back and top of Stiles’ head, one looked like it had to be stitched up.

“One of the cuts is deep, I’ll need to stitch that up.”

Stiles hums, he was exhausted and was in a can’t-give-a-fuck type of mood. Laura uses the scissors and snips the locks around the cuts, rubbing each cut with a cloth dabbed in disinfectant. She gets around to the big cut where she uses a sterilized needle and thread to stitch it up. The back and top of Stiles’ head now had patches of short fuzzy hair amongst the long waves he had.

“I'm sure I look like I escaped a circus now," Stiles said, running a hand through his uneven hair.

"Not if we don't fix it up,” Laura said.

Stiles turns his head to look at Laura from the corner of his eye, Derek was standing with his arms crossed, he was looking at Laura too. Stiles knew what Laura was suggesting.

“First of all, it’s usually me or the same hairdresser who cuts my hair, and second of all, I don’t trust anyone else with it unless they are a hairdresser.”

“How do you think I pay for my college degree?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows in satisfied surprise, “ok, have at it, I guess,” he said as he turned his head back to face front.

Laura leaves the room and Cora loudly sips on her hot chocolate to gain Stiles’ attention.

“Wait until you meet uncle Peter,” she said, leaning forward.

“Uncle who?”

“Peter wherever-the-hell-he-is Hale, our uncle.”

Stiles nods, “that middle name alone is interesting in and of itself.”

“He literally will pop in out of the blue here and will either stay for 2 hours or 2 months, there’s no in-between, and then he leaves just as he came with no explanation.”

“That’s not always true, he sometimes calls up when I’m home,” Derek interjects.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re his least-disliked nephew.”

“I think the word you’re finding is favorite?” Stiles asks.

“Nope, he describes it like that, he has no favorites, only dislikes varying from most to least.”

“Derek, no offense, but your family is a Hale-of-a-lot.”

Stiles looks over at Derek who was hiding a smile, “I can’t lie, that wasn’t not funny.”

“And that’s another one of those reasons why I’m eligible to become a clown in the circus.”

“Well, you sorta tick all ‘em boxes. Flashy makeup and clothes, weird-ass hair, funny, lowkey mutual pining between you and my brother, it’s the full package,” Cora said, setting the empty cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table.

“I am Not pining for your brother,” Stiles whips his head at Cora, ‘but was that true?’ he asked himself.

“Look, stranger, from the few minutes I have sat here, I can firmly say that my brother is pining for you. He literally never brings an adorable brown-eyed puppy like you home unless he has a little crush.”

“I do not have a crush on Stiles,” Derek said, Stiles could see through his lies and couldn’t help but giggle.

“Damn, way to break a guy’s heart, Derek,” Stiles shook his head.

“You’re a horrible liar, Derek.” Laura chimed in as she entered the room, “it’s so easy to tell when you are.”

“How could you say so?”

“You avoid using conjunction words, and your voice becomes shriller than it already is and you lose your calm and composure.”

Derek was dumbstruck, “god damn it, I’m going to get a glass of water.”

Cora coughs, “I think you meant beer. Anyhoo, thanks for the hot chocolate sis, I’m heading to bed as the agreement requires me to.”

Derek turns around to face Cora who smirks at him while he glares at her one more time before heading into the kitchen. She skips upstairs and Stiles was alone with Laura.

“Is every night like this?” Stiles asked Laura.

“Yep, all night, every night.”

“I’d lose my fucking mind if I were you.”

“Nah, the roles rotate every so often, so I’m not the tired older sibling at all times.”

“But still, I can’t imagine a life with siblings.”

“Only child?”

“Yeah,” Stiles played with the hem of his shirt, “my mom died when I was 9, she was sick long before that and she also had trouble getting pregnant. It’s a miracle I was born.”

Laura keeps quiet, as she trims Stiles’ hair.

“Yet here I am, gay and self-deprecative as fuck, which is the opposite of a miracle child.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being gay,” Laura adds.

“Society begs to differ.”

Laura hums, her hum barely heard as she turned the electric trimmer on. Derek walks in with a can of beer, he stops under the kitchen door frame, leaning against it as he watches and sips on his beer.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek, his smile growing lopsided. Derek looks away, disappearing back into the kitchen. Stiles could see a glimpse of him as he glanced out the kitchen window.

She turns the electric trimmer off and uses the towel which was previously covering a bag of ice to clean off the hairs on Stiles’ neck and shoulder.

“Well, you’ll need to pop back in here after 10 days to get those stitches out, it’ll be better than going to the hospital and getting charged about a thousand to get five measly stitches out.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver, Laura.”

“It’s what I do, Stiles,” she takes a broom that was leaning next to the cupboard on the wall and begins cleaning up the mess.

“Now once you go home, in the morning, ice the shit out of your back, no hot showers in the meantime and just keep on icing it and rest. Oh and stitches, keep it dry for the next 48 hours and no baths, showers only till you get them out.”

“Will do.” Stiles stands up and wears his shirt. He rakes his fingers through his freshly shorn hair as he looks at his reflection on a mirror hung up on the wall.

His makeup was smeared though, looking like he paid a three-year-old to do it. He looks around trying to find something he could wipe his makeup off with.

“Here, I believe you’re looking for this,” Derek approached Stiles from behind and handed him a packet of wet tissues.

“Thanks,” Stiles takes one out of the packet and wipes his makeup off.

It wasn’t going to totally rub off, he needs makeup remover for that but it was muted enough that no one would notice in the middle of the night.

“The buzz cut suits you,” he compliments.

“Well, it’s majorly different from what I looked like 20 minutes ago, but I like it,” Stiles ran a hand through it again, it was that satisfying to do.

“I’ll walk with you, to your house,” Derek said, not really giving any space for Stiles to speak his opinion, not that Stiles was objecting to it.

“Ok, my knight in a leather jacket.”

Derek rolls his eyes and Stiles puts the used tissue in the dustbin and they walk to the front door.

“Bye, Laura, thanks again, but I can never thank you enough.”

“Goodnight, Stiles, and you’re welcome,” she waves.

Derek walks out and Stiles follows him. The walk home was silent, the roads were silent and empty, and Stiles felt Derek’s hand brush against his as they walked. The small, seemingly insignificant touch, his heart fluttered and he couldn’t help but crave for more. Derek and Stiles stopped at an intersection, the light was green and late-night buses were passing the road. Stiles felt Derek slowly hold his hand.

Stiles doesn’t stop and actually accepts his hold, softly holding his hand in return. Stiles looks at Derek who was looking forward, his lips curled to a small smile.

The light was still green but nothing was passing the roads, Stiles holding Derek’s hand pulled him as Stiles began to walk on the crosswalk.

“The light isn’t red yet!”

“Do you see any vehicles coming?” Stiles stops in the middle of the empty road, his skirt twisting around even though he stood in place.

Derek looks side to side before looking at Stiles, “I just don’t like taking chances,” he said as he joined Stiles and walked across the road.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you,” Stiles held Derek’s hand firmly as they walked.

Stiles slows down as they approach his apartment building, he goes in the building and Derek follows him up to the second floor.

“Well, this is my apartment, small and quaint, but it’s alright.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek.”

Stiles and Derek lingered in the hallway for a moment, Stiles wasn’t sure of what he was feeling or what he wanted to do. That was until Derek made a move, leaning forward and kissing Stiles passionately. Stiles was taken aback by how quickly Derek leaped in, but he himself was quick to reciprocate by slowly closing his eyes and kissing back. Lips fought, teeth clashed and lips moved in sync.

Stiles never wanted the kiss to end but, all good moments come to an end. Derek looked down on the floor, he was clearly ashamed.

“Derek, if it’s alright with you, maybe we could have brunch together at this new seafood bar that opened near the coast?”

“Sure, I’d like to go out with you,” he looked back up at Stiles.

“Ok, how about next Saturday, I’ll pop into your house at 11?”

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting.”

Stiles smiles as he unlocks his house door waiting under the doorway, he didn’t want this night to end, but at the same time, he desperately needed to shower.

Derek slowly walked down the stairs and Stiles waved as he went. He slowly closes the door and rests against it.

“Damn, what a night. What a fucking hell of a night that was,” Stiles couldn’t help but say.

[lokislytherin]

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader  summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

Over the next few weeks, Jeongguk's appearances in your apartment become increasingly frequent until it's a daily occurrence, regardless of whether Seokjin is there or not.  Jin is like an older brother to you, and you know he would never allow you to bring home a boy he hasn't given his stamp of approval, let alone a vampire he's never even met.

But the thrill of breaking the rules has always excited you, hasn’t it?

Slowly but surely, you and Jeongguk grow steadily closer.  You learn a lot about him: he likes photography, but a part of the curse of vampirism makes it impossible to appear when not seen by the naked eye; impossible to be caught on camera; or reflected in your bedroom mirror, for that matter. He's unintentionally scared you one too many times for you to be comfortable stepping out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around you anymore.  He adopted a tiny white dog called Gureum, but he wasn't able to visit ever since he 'died' and was turned - Gureum barked every time Jeongguk even came close.  Jeongguk had sniffed himself, wondering if he smelled any different.  He couldn't tell.

He also learned a bit about you - like your opinion on pineapples on pizza, which had baffled him endlessly.  He'd looked at you, distrustful, wondering how you could possibly not like pineapples on pizza.  Equally horrified, you'd turned to him, asking how could a fruit like pineapple possibly belong on pizza? After a lengthy debate, both of you had reached a final decision to agree to disagree.  You'd even told him you were saving up to get two tattoos - a fleur-de-lis with mismatched angel wings, a personal choice; and a dragon, a symbol of your family.  He'd nodded in approval, lifting up the sleeve of his hoodie to reveal an armful of tattoos.  You'd asked about some of them - the tiger lily was his birth flower, and the 'please love me' inked behind it was "wishful thinking"; a skeletal hand making the rocker sign and a lyric by Nirvana was for how he'd wanted to be a singer.  Ironically, the lyric said 'better be dead than cool', and Jeongguk had laughed at his own expense.

At one point, both of you had bonded over contact lenses - you had a pair of red ones you'd used the previous year for Halloween, and Jeongguk had screamed when he saw you with them on, thinking you'd been turned and he wasn't there to protect you.  You thanked him for the sentiment, plucking the lenses off your eyes as he fell onto the bed in relief.  He told you his eyes weren't naturally blue, but brown - he'd been wearing blue contacts when he was turned, and now the color had merged onto his eyes.

Soon, you find yourself anticipating Jeongguk's midnight meetings with you, excitement making you shiver when night falls.  You're not surprised when you find yourself falling for Jeongguk, hard.  He's basically perfect: he's cuddly (but lean and muscular underneath), just how you like him; always buying you little trinkets that reminded him of you; even going to far as to bring you flowers, sometimes braiding them into your hair.  His good looks are just a bonus.  His only flaw so far is his love of pineapples on pizza.

On nights like this, you find yourself thinking - what if he was a human? What if the two of you could be something more than just friends? What if he could be yours?

You're rudely interrupted from your blissful, wistful daydream by the sound of harsh knocking on your bedroom window.  Your apartment isn't far from the ground - anybody with a good grip could probably make their way out without much sweating.  It's probably a prank - one of your exes was petty enough to throw pebbles at your window until Seokjin opened the window and screamed until he fled.

More than a little cranky and annoyed, you barely think about the consequences before you throw the window open and yell out into the gloom: "Who the fück is knocking on my window at one a.m?"

A pair of familiar but haggard-looking blue eyes stare into yours.  In the dark, his eyes look purple, until you realize that they're tinged with red.  Even though you know full well that it's Jeongguk and he wouldn't hurt you, you can't help but fear for your life: it reminds you of the first time you 'met' him, the vampire starving and driven to kill by the blood-lust that controlled him.

"Permission to enter," he rasps.  Normally, his voice is smooth enough to make you swoon, but not today.  Today, it is husky and a near growl.  "Wards increased power."

You blink.  Ward? What ward? You have no clue what he meant, but you grant the young vampire permission anyway, urging him in.  The pain and exhaustion is clear on his face, and it worries you, empathy completely overriding your innate 'prey' response of fear. “Thanks, Y/N,” Jeongguk mumbles as he staggers into your arms like a drunk man.

You clap a hand onto your mouth upon seeing the state that he's in. Oh, god. Blood. So much blood.

Oh god, he's covered in blood, dark red liquid painting his white shirt crimson.  The metallic tang makes you want to puke your guts out the window, but you notice that there are traces of it on your windowsill, and Jeongguk is dripping the stuff all over the floor. “Jeongguk? Jeongguk, are you okay?” You can hear the desperation in your own voice.

"Hi, Y/N." He smiles at you, a little loopy, the twinkle in his eyes missing.  He doesn't look like the Jeongguk you've gotten to know.  "Good... to... see... you."

He bares his fangs in a weak grin.  One is a little chipped (you've noticed that before), both are gleaming red with blood (that's new).

“Oh my God, Jeongguk,” you whisper, horrified, “what did you do?”

“Sorry… Y/N.” He looks mildly apologetic.  "Didn't mean to."

A whimper of a scream escapes you as his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses on top of you, bringing you down to the floor.

You muffle your screech with your sleeve as you shove him off as gently as you can, praying that Seokjin can't hear you from the room across the corridor.  Your hands are red with blood, all over your fingers and rolling onto your arms.  You wipe it on your shirt in an attempt to get it off, but there's blood under your nails, too.  That's not even the biggest problem - whose blood is it?

Thankfully, Jeongguk opens his eyes after a minute or two.  It felt like ages to you.  He's conscious now, but his irises are redder than when you saw them last. “What happened to you?” you ask him, confused, worried, scared.

He grunts, trying to push himself into a sitting position.  There's a long gash on his arm, though it doesn't look very deep.  "Got ambushed," he hisses, something feral in his voice.  He doesn't quite sound human, but he seems to be holding back in front of you, trying to be human even though both of you know he's not.  He carefully pokes and prods himself, trying to find out the sheer extent of his injuries.  "Damn hunters again."

You remember what Jeongguk said about the hunters before - humans who knew about the secret nightlife, humans who were so thirsty for some sort of vengeance that they would hunt down vampires, werewolves, and witches alike, regardless of how said creature had treated them in the past.  Jeongguk had sneered when he talked about his previous close scrapes with hunters, but this was the first time he'd been caught.

"I took a few down, but there were too many.  I tried not to hurt them, I really did.  But they didn't hold back, so neither did I." He grits his teeth at a particularly deep cut on his thigh, which sizzles and oozes blood.  You stare at it in horror.  Did he climb all the way to your apartment with all those injuries? He growls lowly.  "Fückin' silver knife." It's the first time you've heard him swear.  "Hurts like shït, but it's worse for werewolves." He laughs hollowly.

But why you? Why, of all people, would he come to you?

"You're the only one I'd trust with helping me," he grunts as he plucks a small shard of wood out of his thigh.  He tosses it out the window.  "Also, this is going to sound crazy, but I think your roommate is a witch.  He knows I've been here, and he strengthened the wards around the apartment." He flinches when one of his wounds begins to steam.  "That's why I had to ask for permission.  He's trying to protect you, but I put both of you in danger by coming here.  I think I lost the hunters, but they have a good tracker."

You frown.  Seokjin, a witch?

You rewind back to all the times he's seemed particularly magical in any way.  Perhaps it's his cooking, and how everything he makes seems to be better than yours even though you're not too shabby a cook yourself.  Or maybe it's his looks - most times, he goes unnoticed, but once you make eye contact with him you seem to be unable to look away.  It doesn't help that he looks the same as he did ten years ago, you've seen his pictures.

But now is not the time to question Seokjin's humanity.  Jeongguk is badly injured, and by the steam rising out of the wounds and the fading light in his eyes, he looks like he may even be dying in your arms.  "Let me help you, Jeongguk," you beg, "just tell me how."

Jeongguk shudders, squeezing his eyes shut as a silent scream rips out of his mouth.  When he reopens them, the lovely blue of his irises is almost gone, covered by flecks of red.  "Blood." Fangs slide out of his gums, and he eyes your neck.  "I need fresh blood."

“Fresh… blood?”

"I mean, dead animal blood works too," he adds hastily, "just not as well.  I'd heal faster with fresh blood." His voice is deeper and gruffer, and you like the sound of it a little more than you should.  "But please, hurry.  Make a decision.  Once my eyes go completely red, I'll lose all control." His voice goes even lower.  "I don't know how I'd live with myself if I hurt you somehow."

You can see his blood-red gaze on your throat, sharp fangs peeking out of his mouth.  The look in his eyes is damn near predatory, and you shiver when his tongue darts out hungrily.  If this feral side of Jeongguk isn't the hottest thing you've ever seen, you don't know what is.

Slowly, you brush your hair away from your neck, exposing your throat to the young vampire.  His gaze pins you to the spot - no doubt he can hear every frantic beat of your heart.

Blue briefly flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He sounds scared for you.  “'Cause once I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” “It’ll be okay, Guk. I’ll be fine.” Are you reassuring him, or yourself? “We’ll be fine.” “If you still say so.” He still sounds uncertain.

As soon as the red bleeds into his eyes, he becomes another person completely.  Gone is the Jeon Jeongguk who would make you flower crowns and buy you pretty little trinkets - here is an apex predator (who totally does not get you all hot and bothered, by the way.)

Jeongguk licks his lips, a small smirk on his face.  The tips of his fangs are stark white against the red of his lips, and you can feel your cheeks heat up.  It’s too late to back out now.

He pounces, pushing you down against the covers, trapping you under him.  You gasp as he clamps his teeth onto your neck, fangs piercing through the skin of your throat and sinking deep into your jugular vein.  The feeling is foreign, as is the pain, and you struggle a little.  Jeongguk lets out an animalistic growl, sucking hard as he pins your wrists above your head.  Your eyes flutter shut after a few moments - after the initial sting of the bite fates, all you're left with is a growing sense of euphoria.

All is well until you start to feel woozy.  Jeongguk is literally draining away your lifeblood, and if he keeps going you'll be dead in a few minutes.  You nudge him gently, but there's no response.  You nudge him a little harder, and you get a grunt this time.  Not much better, but a little progress is better than none at all.  "Jeongguk," you start gently, "that's enough." You hope the thirst has faded enough for him not to lose his temper and snap your neck.

He groans, mumbling something about your sweet blood.  You call him again, a little more fear in your voice.

Footsteps sound from across the corridor, and you swear under your breath as your housemate kicks the door open, revealing Seokjin in all his alpaca-nightshirt wearing glory.  He's wielding his phone like a weapon, the torch on as he squints.  "Y/N, what the-"

He takes in the state of your room - bloodstains all over the floor, the vampire attached to your neck.  You're less scared of Jeongguk now, more fearful of your roommate.  The only thing worse than an angry and protective Seokjin is a tired, cranky and protective seokjin. “- hell?” Well, you’re screwed.

[penwieldingdreamer]

Don’t start what you can’t finish

So as a birthday present and a hopefully good way to put a smile on @fanficsrusz​ face again, I decided to put this one out for you. This time we have Doctor Julian Mercer and we know we could all use him some days or other. Let me know what you thought. Have fun and happy reading.

As for Lucy: Happy 21st Birthday, darling 💖💖💖 hope you’ll like it

Warnings: fluff, smut, NSFW (please wrap it up, you know the drill) 18+

Words: 3774

You never thought that you would end up here:

Sitting alone at the bar, wallowing in self pity because you were the only single female there. And to top it all it was at your cousin’s wedding, who after the birth of her daughter Madelyn was born, decided to marry Danny again. Aunt Erica would have a field day, writing another one of her plays with this storyline.

Holding your empty glass up, you signaled the Barkeep to get you another drink, already feeling the buzz in your system. Giving you a raised eyebrow, he did what you asked, but wasn’t happy when you instantly donned it like it was water. A tight lipped smile was the only answer and put your glass down. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone approach, probably some guy Marin knew from New York. He was quite tall, blonde and lanky and it reminded reminded you of Andrew, an ex of yours who was currently shaking up with one of the bridesmaids. 

“Hi, I’m Josh. I didn’t catch your name.” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you grabbed your next drink. “I didn’t throw it.” You put the glass to your lips and threw your head back. If you couldn’t have fun at least you’d be able to drink it away. “And to be honest, I’m not interested.” you said, earning a scowl from the man next to you. 

“You’re pretty rude for someone looking like they’d want to be anywhere but here.”

Rolling your eyes you turned to him, ready to chew him out. “I’m sorry to disappoint. I don’t want to be here, but it doesn’t give you the right to think you only have to flash that perfect smile and I get down to my knees.”

Leaning closer to you Josh clamped his hand around your wrist, halting you from leaving. “You think your so amazing, huh?” he asked, a snarl maring his features. “No one says No to me, baby." 

"Darling.” A deep voice sounded next to you, the warmth of a hand radiating across your back. “I thought you wanted to dance.” he commented watching Josh with a dark look, which seemed like he meant business. “You’re supposed to dance with me for the second waltz tonight.” The blonde let go of you wrist, noticing the anger radiating from the man behind you.

Turning your head you saw the dark haired doctor Aunt Erica used to date. His eyes gave you a look to play along, knowing you were in trouble with the guy at the bar. “Oh, hey honey.” You smiled, feeling secure now that he was hopefully leaving. Putting your hand on his broad chest you leaned against his side, smelling the cologne he wore and a scent that was entirely his own. “I was waiting for you to be done with Aunt Erica, you guys had so much to talk about.”

“Yeah, I wanted to know how Harry was doing.” He returned your smile, his hand instantly moving to your waist, like it belonged there. “But now, let’s get going, they’re playing our song.”

The scowl returned to the blonde’s face and you knew that he didn’t like the outcome of the evening. You couldn’t suppress the slight wave when you turned away from him, satisfied that he was shut down instantly.

The doctor led you to the dancefloor, taking your right hand in his left and putting his left on your waist, slightly bunching the fabric of your green satin dress, which surprisingly Marin wanted you to wear to her wedding. Softly swaying to the music, you moved closer to him with a smile gazing into his chocolate eyes. 

“So, may I inquire the name of the damsel in distress?” he asked, a glint in his eyes as you twirled around the room.

Snorting, you bit your lip, the corner of your mouth moving up in amusement. “Who says I was a damsel and in distress?”

“Well, the guy seemed to bother you and I just came to be at the bar, so I decided I should rescue you.” he shrugged, pushing you out and pulling you back again to his body. 

Your left hand moved higher on his shoulder, so that it laid on the back of his neck, softly playing with the hair there. “Ah, that makes sense.” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N and I thank you very much for the rescue kind sir.”

“I’m Julian, I used to be Harry’s doctor.” he explained, nodding at said man you was dancing next to you. Erica raised her eyebrow at you over the manager’s shoulder, grinning as she saw you dancing with Julian. When the older man turned away from you, she gave you a thumbs up over his shoulder which you could see over the doctor’s broad shoulder. Shaking your head you turned back to him, following his movements.

“My aunt told me about you, but only briefly mentioned a name, so I didn’t have  a face to the name, so - uh - sorry for that.” you apologized.

Another shrug, another twirl and you were pulled back against his chest. “So, now that I pulled you away from that sleazy guy, you owe me.”

“Ha.” you laughed, cocking your head to the side. “And what should your payment be, oh humble one.” you lightly mocked, tickling the back of his neck and felt him shiver under your touch. 

Pursing his lips and tilted his head to the side. “I’d say, Y/N, it’s going to be quite simple.”

“Yeah?”

Julian nodded his head, putting a wide smile on his lips. “Yes. I want at least one date.”

“At least one?” you asked astonished. From what you heard from your aunt he was more the type to date older women, not the ones of your age.

“At least!”

Smiling, your teeth pulled your lower lip in and you nodded your head. Maybe coming to the wedding wasn’t such a bad idea. “And what are we to do if there’s going to be more than one date?”

“Oh.” he grinned, his hand moving slightly to lay on your lower back, just above your tailbone. “I think we’ll move on from that.”

»¤«

Five month later

Tiredly you opened the door to your apartment. You were so exhausted, being on your feet since the crack of dawn and people getting on your nerves for the tiniest things. It was crazy. 

Of course with it being the beginning of winter and the flu waves coming like every year there’s bound to be a bunch of patients coming in to get treatment, one way or another, but when you only hear them complain because they have to wait in line to see the doctor and you always have to be friendly and smile, you’ll be happy to get out of there.

Groaning you let your bag fall down to the floor, the keys jingling as they hit the carpet. You closed your eyes and leaned back against the front door, not sure what you were going to do after you recovered for a few seconds.

“Babe?” Julian’s voice sounded from the kitchen where he probably already done with dinner for the two of you, like he always did when he had the early shift and was done sooner than you. “You okay?”

He had made his way to the hallway, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. 

Squinting through one eye, you let out another groan, your head still resting against the door, you shook your head. “‘m tired.” you mumbled, closing your eye again and putting your hands up onto your head, feeling a headache coming.

Julian sobered, instantly moving into doctor mode. “Wanna tell me what’s hurting?” He came over to you, putting his hands on your face, watching you closely.

“M-My back, I’m not sure if I can even get to the bedroom.” you sighed, frustrated at yourself for feeling so weak and a bit annoyed by his obvious concern, which was sweet all together, but right now you just wanted to cuddle with Julian, your boyfriend and not Julian Mercer, the doctor.

Nodding his head, he put his arms around you, pulling you away from the door. Concern was written all over his face and you knew it would take everything to convince him to not make another phone call to the hospital. “Okay, babe, I’ll help you over to the bedroom and then I’ll take a look at your back.”

“Aren’t you just a cardiologist?” 

Laughing, he moved you along, occasionally kissing your head or brushing his hand over your hips. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around the rest of the human body.”

You moved your free hand up, giving his chest a slight hit for that comment. “As long as it’s just my body you really know your way around and not another woman’s.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Y/N.” he admonished you, pulling you closer by the waist as you finally reached your bedroom. “There’s only you, darling.”

Nodding you moved over to the bed, falling face first onto the mattress not bothering to remove your clothes before you laid down. Julian shook his head at the sight of you, one half of the body onto of the bed, the other hanging down like you were a ragdoll and carelessly thrown there. He gently pushed you all the way onto the mattress and sat down next to you. Pulling your top up, he started pressing down along your lower back, knowing that’s where most of your pain was coming from, having often treated you to a nice massage after work when he had the time to do it.

When he hit the spot, pushing against the tight muscles in your back you let out a loud groan, burying your head in your pillow. “That hurts like a bitch.” you mumbled and Julian had to lean down towards your head so he could hear you better.

“I know babe, but it’s going to feel worse if I don’t do it.”

Turning your head you gave him your famous eye roll, knowing he was right, but still not liking it. You laid your head on your arms, feeling his hands move along your spine, pushing your top further up than necessary, before they went back down again and pulled at your pants. A soft moan escaped your mouth as he moved to hover over your legs, lightly pressing his body down on yours. “Are you getting frisky with me, Doctor Mercer?”

“Only with you, Miss Y/L/N.” he smiled, letting his hands glide back up under your shirt and around your middle. 

Your hips moved involuntarily against his groin and you heard the sharp breath he pulled through his teeth, feeling the growing hardness press against the front of his jeans. Julian let his hands roam over your waist, giving the flesh a tight squeeze before they went the opposite way again. You were now leaning on your elbows, giving him enough space and access to your upper body so he could reach the destination he wanted to go. His fingers glided over your heated skin and with every inch he moved further to your lace clad breasts, you could feel your core get wetter by the second.

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

The shake of your head was your only answer, knowing you couldn’t form a coherent thought while his thumbs brushed over your nipples, pulling the nubs until they tightened under his hands.

His mouth was next to your ear and you could feel his hot breath against your skin, smell his scent that was as unique as him, fresh and musky all the same. You let out a tiny meowl when he pulled to hard, but the spark that ignited in your lower body was worth it all the same. “I’ve been thinking about you all day and I had it all planned out.”

“Yeah?” you asked breathlessly, closing your eyes at the sensation of his heated skin moving along the goosebumps that broke out on yours. “Wanted to -ugh -wine and dine me and then get around to the - ah - fuck, huh?”

The grin spread over his features, kissing along your neck, gently biting your earlobe as he went to your jaw, nipping at the skin. “Uhu, but I leave the wine and dine for later.”

You let out a disappointed groan when Julian pulled away, but it didn’t last long when you felt his hands on your waist pulling your pants down over your legs. Once they were free, he threw them to the chair in the corner of the bedroom not caring if they properly landed there or not. His hands smacked against your ass, only lightly but enough to pull a surprised yelp from your lips. You looked over your shoulder, giving him a dirty look to which he only smiled, his dark tresses falling into his chocolate eyes. “Don’t do that.” you admonished, trying to reach for his hand that still rested on your ass cheek.

“Oh come on, you secretly like it.” he whispered, giving it a gentle kiss and moving his lips up again, along your spine where he already pushed the fabric of your top away to gain access to your back. Annoyed by your still clothed state, Julian pulled you up against his body, your back to his chest and took your shirt in his hands, dragging it over your head and leaving you only in your lacy underwear.

It wasn’t that you always wore lingerie to work, but sometimes you’d go out in a nice number, hoping for a quickie at the hospital, namely with Julian there in the storage room.

Pulling you back from your thoughts, he put his hands on your breasts, brushing his fingers along the trim of your bra, growling at the sight you offered him. “Fuck, you - ugh- look so good.” His voice got deeper, darker and his lips latched onto your neck, earning another groan from you.

One hand still rested on your breast while the other moved down toward the panty line, reaching his fingers under the band and playing with your nub. He felt your wetness grow and the shiver that moved through you when his thumb brushed over your clit. “You like that?”

“Fuck, yes.” One of your arms moved behind you, holding onto his neck as his finger entered you, rubbing against your soaked pussy, feeling the heat surrounding him.

He was breathing hard, hot waves puffing against your cheek and you reached your other hand down to his groin, rubbing his hard cock through his jeans. If it was possible you sensed it getting even harder with every stroke.

“Shit.” Julian groaned next to your ear. “Don’t do that if you can’t finish what you started.”

Turning your head slightly, you nipped his jaw, kissing your way along his neck as far as you could reach. His fingers were still caressing you, bumping against that special spot that always made you scream. “I intend to finish it, Julian.” you rasped, earning another finger fondling your pussy.

A deep moan left you, your walls clamping around his fingers as you felt the tight coil in your lower belly appear. It wouldn’t take him long to pull that first orgasm from you, knowing how sensitive you were, the more tired you came back from work. Once he had found out, Julian often used it to his advantage.

“Come on, babe.” he whispered in your ear. “Cum for me.”

The words spoken, his hot breath and his fingers still caressing your insides were all it took to soak his hands as the coil snapped with a loud moan, your eyes rolling back and your hand stilling on his cock. Breathing hard you leaned back against his chest.

Your chest rising with every breath, you felt clammy, heat radiating off of your body, as Julian still rubbed his thumb over your clothed nub, his nail scratching the sensitive nerve ending. “Don’t start - ah - what you can’t finish.” You repeated his words with a smile grazing your lips.

Intended as a joke, you suddenly felt him toss you down to the bed, his hands leaving you. Laying on your side, eyes widening you watched Julian put the fingers that were inside you to his face. With clothed eyes he smelled at them, before he licked along the appendage, moaning at your taste on his tongue. When he was satisfied, the pink flesh moved along his lips, not wasting one drop of your essence and as he opened his eyes again, you saw them darker with desire than ever before. Like a predator he moved up on the bed, leaning over you and sealing his mouth with yours. You could still taste yourself on him, your own musky scent on his tongue as he glided along your own, exploring your cavern. Moaning, your hands drifted up around his neck, letting your fingers roam through his dark hair. His body pushed down onto yours, laying you flat onto the mattress and his hands started their descent to your waist. They caressed the skin along your hips, pulling your legs up over his own so you could feel his hardness against your core.

“Do you actually like these?” he asked you once he broke the kiss.

Looking down, you saw that Julian tugged on your panties. Shaking your head, you turned back to him and let out a gasp when he ripped the material from your body, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

“What am I going to wear now?”

Shrugging his shoulders the doctor grinned. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

Holding onto his waist,  you leaned in to seal your lips with his again, running your tongue along his bottom lip. You moved your core closer, pushing your body to his. Julian felt your hands moving to his face, stroking along his cheeks and chin, as you lips still stayed tightly on his own. He broke the kiss again, breathing harshly before he pulled away from you, getting off of the bed and pulling his shirt and jeans of his body. If you were already naked so would he, no reason in delaying what you both wanted now. Sitting up slightly you pulled your bra off, throwing it to the heap on the floor he had created, before he joined you again, sitting at the end of the bed.

And with that he leaned down, running his lips along the inside of your thighs, kissing his way up to your heated middle. You moaned loudly when you felt his tongue glide along the skin just above your lips, grabbing hold of his hair and squeezing tightly. Julian looked up at you from his position and saw you throwing your head back in pleasure, your back arched and your breasts pushed out and he hadn’t even reached your pearl yet.

His hands moved up over your belly, stroking the soft skin on his way to reach for your chest, lightly squeezing the fleshy mounds. You laid back on the bed and put your hands over his own, gripping them tightly, before you looked down to the doctor, positioned between your legs and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You like having control, don’t you?” you asked, when Julian pushed you back down as you moved a bit from the position he had put you in before.

The doctor only just nodded his head and leaned back down to your lower lips, his tongue licking along your pussy. Groaning, you freed his hands again and grabbed your hair tightly, when you felt him moving the wet muscle over your clit.

“Fuck!” you cried and the goosebumps spread over your, when Julian let his fingers glide to your hips, moving them under your legs, so that they laid over his shoulders, giving him free access to your soaked pussy.

“You’re so wet baby. Is it all for me?” he growled against the inside of your thigh, two thick fingers sliding inside her wet heat.

Lifting your head to look at the smirk on his face, your juices already spread over his chin, you put your hand back in his dark hair. “Yeah. And if you don’t hurry and get your dick where I want it to be, I’ll have to do it myself to get off.”

Of course he couldn’t leave it like this, so Julian stopped his ministrations, knowing you were ready enough without much foreplay, and moved up, aligning his cock with your pussy. He ran the head along your slit, coating his member with your juices, before he finally entered you. With a groan he snapped his hips forward, feeling your muscles tighten around him. He moved his upper body over you and propped himself on his forearms, stroking the fingers of one hand along the column of your throat, while the other gripped hair tightly in a fist.

Your breath harsh as you looked into each others eyes, when his lips descended on yours, sealing them and quieting the moan that spilled from your luscious mouth.

Reaching a hand up, you raked your fingers through his own dark hair. “I love you, Julian.”

Giving your lips another peck, the doctor put his head in the crook of your neck, laying open-mouthed kissed where it met your shoulder. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

With every back and forth motion, you neared the edge of your orgasm, waiting to finally take the plunge and you knew it wouldn’t take long now. Julian upped the pace and listened to the quickened gasps he drew from you, when he reached down to your pearl, stroking the sensitive bud in quick circles.

And then he felt it, your inner muscles tightened around his cock, squeezing him, your mouth opening in a silent cry and your head thrown back in ecstasy. With a loud groan he followed you, spilling his seed in your heated channel.

“I don’t want to move.” the doctor mumbled against your breast, his hair tickling against the soft skin there.

“Then stay just like that.” you said, running your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp lightly. You felt as is cock grew soft inside you, but your thighs tightened around his waist, not wanting to let him leave. You felt refreshed, loved and so satisfied, that the stressful day before was forgotten in only a few minutes.

Taglist

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[sunflowersunshinevol6]

My Way

Chapter Two

Warnings: mentions of violence, phobia, mentions of child neglect, mentions of substance abuse, kidnapping

Harry pulled off onto a dirt road, the sky was crimson and orange as the sun went down. It had been three days since the gas station, three days of constant driving. And while she had managed to grasp sleep here and there, Harry drove on. She didn't know how he stayed awake, but he had managed.

Clara felt her anxieties clawing at her, ready to drag her beneath the surface, she was filthy, her hair, oily and greasy, it smelled like sweat. Her teeth hadn't been brushed and she could feel the germs, literally smell the overall, overwhelming stench of her body. She was disgusting.

Harry parked in a wooded area, back away from the road. Clara looked at him wearily as he unbuckled and hopped out of the van. She watched him trudge around to her door and throw it open.

“Get out. Come on.” Clara fumbled with her seat belt, moving as quickly as she could, but not quick enough for him. He grabbed her hand and yanked her from the seat, she stumbled, but he caught her with ease, setting her steady on her feet.

“Y-you said you wouldn't hurt me.” Clara whimpered. She backed away, as he opened the back sliding door. He hopped up into the van, turning to look at her.

"No. We're gonna sleep. C’mere.” He knelt, extending his hands out. Clara peaked around him to see a dirty old mattress covered in rumpled blankets and sheets. A tingling sensation made it's way up her spine, as her anxiety wrapped it's ugly hands around her throat. She began to hyperventilate.

“Clara?” Harry asked, concern lacing his words. He jumped down and came to her. Unsure of what else to do, he took her hands in his. His nails were dirty. She screams internally, unused to touch by others. “Clara look at me. Breathe. What's wrong?” he placed a hand on her cheek, making her stomach lurch. She couldn't shake it off. “Look at me.” He said again, she tilted her head to look at his face. He was breathing in an exaggerated fashion, trying to help her. And as cheesy as she always thought that was, she found it endearing now.

They hadn't been this close before, and as she tried to slow down her breathing she studied him. Really studied him for the first time.

He didn't have his cap on and she saw he had thick brown,curly hair, it fell down over his eyebrows and curled below his ears. freckles on his face seemed to dance in the fading sunlight. Tattoos covering his neck in black ink, down his chest and over his arms. She wondered just how many he had. as her breathing steadied, she stared at him in awe. He was kinda…..beautiful.

“You ok?” he asked, stepping back, giving her her space again. She shook her head.

“I can't sleep on that.” She mumbled, blush rising to her cheeks.

“what?” he glanced back, “why not?”

“Germs. A-and…..”

“And?”

“I've never slept with a man before….” He raised an eyebrow, she didn't explain what she meant.

“Okay,” he said annoyed, dragging a hand over his face. “you're like, the worst hostage ever,” he chuckled.

“I'm still a hostage?”

“What else would you be?” She shrugged.

“I don't know…..just doesn't feel like a hostage situation anymore.” It hadn't since the first day. They spent hours at a time cooped up together in the car. They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies either. It was a weird in between.

“Let's get something straight.” Harry stepped back up to her, he crowded her space, making her feel small. “You're not free. Not yet. My family says you can go I'll take you home. You try to run, and I will hurt you Clara,” his voice was low, his eyes serious, “and don't get me wrong. You're all right. You seem like a good kid. So don't give me a reason to hurt you. I don't want to.”

“I-Im sorry,” she whimpered. “I guess I got used to-”

“Don't get used to me. This situation is temporary. You'll be back in your cushy old life soon enough.” He turned, slamming the van door shut. “Get in.” He was in a bad mood.

“Where are we going?”

“The laundromat.”

--------------------------

The ride is quiet. Clara can feel the tension rolling off of Harry. She didn't know what exactly set him off, maybe her anxiety about germs? Whatever it was, she couldn't blame him. She knew she was a handful.

The parking lot is empty, save for Harry's van and one other car, a little further down the way. The fluorescent bright lights shine brightly from within the building. Harry reaches behind his seat, pulling two baseball caps out, and hands one to Clara.

“Put this on. Keep your head down and don't tell anyone who you are.

Understand?” She nodded. He tugged the cap over his head and opened the door. Clara followed suit, watching him yank open the rear door and start pulling out the blankets and sheets. He stopped, looking over his shoulder. “You gonna help?” he asked.

As much as she didn't want to make him mad, she couldn't do it, “no.” She said quietly.  Harry just huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Such a fucking princess.” The words stung. There were a thousand other reasons she should be crying at this moment in time, but instead she's hurt and on the verge of tears cuz he thinks she's some spoiled brat. “Can you at least open the door for me?” She turns without a word to hold the door for him

It's quiet, except for the machines and a tv that's playing the news. Great. Clara thought. She went to the bathroom and grabbed some paper towels, taking them with her towards the table she had first seen, while Harry loads the blankets and sheets. She wiped down the table meticulously, making sure to catch, what looked like a soda stain, that had been left there.

Harry fell into the chair across from her. She could tell he was completely exhausted, and this made her feel bad. Why couldn't she be normal? That was all she wanted. Nothing else. Just to be normal, and not have people look at her like she was a freak.

“Mysophobia.” Clara said suddenly. Harry grunted, his eyes were closed, head in hand, but he acknowledged her.

“What's that?” he asked.

“Fear of germs basically….When I was a kid my dad died, and my mom started abusing pain medication as a way to cope. Instead of taking care of me she laid on the couch a lot or in bed, high as a kite. The house was always dirty, flies and gnats were everywhere and mice poop was all over the place too. It was really dirty and disgusting.” She takes a quick glance to see Harry looking at her with tired eyes. “The school reported my mom to children services, I got taken away while she went to rehab. I stayed with my best friend and his family for a little while. Until my mom got better….That’s when she met Marcus, he's a great guy, and he really helped her. By that time I had already started going to therapy for my anxieties and he was very supportive. He’s a good guy. I kept everything under control until my senior year of high school….” She trailed off, lost in thought, no longer caring if he was paying attention. She just needed to tell someone. Someone other than her psychobabble shrink. “I’d never been in a relationship, so when I met Leah I really fell for her. Hard….I had always considered myself straight, until I met her, she changed everything for me, and we loved each other a lot. She helped me tell my mom I was Bi. She didn't care that I was a clean freak. She saw me for me and she loved every bit of me.” Clara smiled, thinking of her former girlfriend fondly. Leah had been so beautiful, and strong and brave, everything she wasn't. “She brought something out of me, I didn't even know was there, she helped me become outgoing and confident. I felt like I could conquer the world, with her by my side….but then...Alex Collins came to our school.” She closed her eyes and shuddered, even his name still gave her chills. “He latched onto me right away, and had tried very hard to get me to break up with Leah to be with him. He started stalking me and wouldn't leave either of us alone...he didn't stop, it continued all the way up through senior year,” Clara felt a lump in her throat, it was growing, and she had to blink back her tears, “he killed her. He killed Leah. Shot her right in front of everybody.” She couldn't keep the tears from falling now. “he just walked up as we were entering the school, put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger….I….I was standing right next to her, her blood was all over everywhere. And he looked me in the eyes and said ‘you did this. This is your fault.’....he still hasn't been caught. He's been on the run for two years. And I….i've been even more messed up, ever since….”  Clara finished quickly, not sure if he was even listening anymore. Just to be able to talk made her feel a new sense of relief.

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry's voice isn't annoyed or angry. There is sympathy layered beneath his words, so Clara looked up. Harry's face was blank, he stared at his hands in his lap.

“I just didn't want you to really believe I'm a spoiled Princess….Im the furthest thing from it.”

“My opinion shouldn't matter to you.”

“But you're the only one in a hundred mile radius I know. So it does.”

“Jesus Clara, you don't know me.” She flinched at the way he snapped. I am your captor,” he whispered the word. “This isn't a vacation. I'm not your friend and I don't need to hear your life story.”

“B-but I thought-”

“Whatever you thought is wrong. Look,” he leaned forward. “I'll do what I can to to keep my family from killing you, but whatever they decide I have to do. And as fucked up as your life has been you couldn't handle mine for a minute, You don't have the stomach for it. This isn't destiny or fate it's a temporary crossing of paths. So don't trust me. Don't get used to me. Just don't. Just keep your head down and mouth shut.” Clara was on the verge of tears again.

“But the sheets-”

“If washing some fucking sheets, keeps you compliant I'll do it. Nothing more.” He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “Don't mistake me for a good guy. I'm not.” Clara sniffed, unable to stop the tears. Harry sighed, annoyance subsiding, he ran his hand through his hair. “I'm going to the bathroom. Don't move.”

Clara sat in stunned silence for a moment, truly processing the last three days for the first time. Harry was only being nice to keep her docile. Keep her from trying to run or find help. He only conversed with her in the van when she initiated conversation, meaning he really didn't care, probably didn't even like her as a person. She must be one fucked up girl if even an admitted serial killer didn't like her.

She looked towards the bathroom, if she was that much of an inconvenience to him she would just leave then. She flung the hat off her head and walked to the door without a second thought about it.

She had no idea where she was. It was dark out now, the sun long gone and a cool wind was blowing, leaving goose bumps on her arms. She shivered slightly, taking a deep breath and trying not to panic.

“Okay,” she muttered, “Look for help. A police man, mom with kids, anybody.” She scanned the street to see it mostly empty, most people were inside the shops and restaurants, escaping the first chills of autumn. Clara decided to walk towards a Subway down the road, passing by the same alley of the laundromat and the building beside it.

“Hello pretty.” before she could even get halfway down the sidewalk, arms burst forward from the dark alley, one dirty, smelly hand clamped over her mouth, the other wrapped around her waist, dragging her further back into the darkness. “You're mine,” a ragged voice chuckled against her ear. Clara gagged as alcohol and cigarette breath wafted into her face. Panic seized her as she was drug further into the darkness of the alley.

[atc74]

I’d Rather Be Blind

Square(s) Filled: Rogue Cupid for @heavenandhellbingo, Angel Grace for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Feelings of inadequacy, angst, mentions of sex and nudity, Worried!Dean and a healthy dose of fluff

Summary: The reader witnesses her boyfriend, Dean, fitting in perfectly with another hunter. She doesn’t know what she’d do without him and mutters to herself. The only problem is someone is always listening. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2977

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo, @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches

A/N: This was inspired by the amazing Briana Buckmaster and her cover of I’d Rather Go Blind because I thought it would make a great case. Also, I feel like I owe y’all something lighter after Watching You. This is written in first person present tense. Hope you like it!

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Werewolf hunt, Sam said. It’ll be fun, Sam said. Well, no it really wasn’t. For a number of reasons. First of all, it was a werewolf hunt. I don’t even like dogs. Second of all, is her. Bouncy, flirtatious, built and boisterous. Katrina, is her name and annoying me seems to be her game. Sure she is a hunter. An old family friend, Sam relayed. Old family friend my ass. I was willing to bet old flame of Dean’s, was more accurate. The only problem I had with that was that I am Dean’s flame now and have been for about a year. 

The history between them is undeniable and all I can do was sit and watch as she swooped right into our game of pool and made me look like a fool. In fact, she has done everything right over the last couple days on this hunt and with Dean. Annoyingly right, and I couldn’t help but feel invisible. The way she walks right next to him. The way she inserts herself so perfectly into any conversation. 

Even now, as I sit and watch them reminisce about the good old days, I see them talking and I can’t help but feel he is on his way out. With her. 

I pick up my beer, my reflection clear as day in the glass and I see tears in my eyes. I can’t compete with her. I think back to the night before. I think back to Dean’s kiss and his warm embrace as we readied for bed. Then he rolled over and fell asleep. 

Clumsily, I excuse myself to use the restroom. I’m sure I look like a mess and I had to get it together before someone, probably Sam, noticed. Or worse. Her. 

I’m finally alone in the single stall. I lock the door and press myself up against it as I let the fresh tears roll down my face. “I’d rather go blind than see you walk away from me,” I sob quietly. 

It takes all the willpower I have to pull my shit together and stop crying. I splash some cold water on my face and steel my resolve as I return to our table. As I walk out of the restroom, I bump into another woman because I can only stare at my hands as I walk. “I’m so sorry.” I rub my shoulder. It feels warm. Maybe I took a hit on the hunt a little harder than I thought. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Sam whispers as I slide back into the booth, across from her and Dean. 

“Um, yeah. I’m just tired, Sammy.” I clear my throat. “”I think I’m going to turn in, though.” I stand to leave.

“Doll? You okay?” Dean finally notices there’s something wrong. 

“Oh, yeah. Just going to head back, I’m beat.” I smile, but I know it looks as fake as it feels. Sam catches my eye and raises an eyebrow. Even he knows I’m lying. 

I make the walk back to the motel across the street quickly, practically running until I can open the door and slam it shut behind me. I let myself lose it again. I strip down to just my panties and tee shirt, collapsing into the bed I share with Dean until I my tears run dry. I am so wrought with exhaustion, I don’t hear Dean return to the room. 

The room is warm, too warm and I try to throw back the covers, but they won’t move. Something heavy is wrapped around my middle. I reach down to remove the obstacle. I can feel it’s Dean’s arm that is weighing me and the blanket down. I grunt with exertion to move him and I shuffle to the bathroom, yawning. I flip the light switch, but nothing happens. It’s still dark. My eyes search the wall again and I flip it a second time. Up and down, up and down, but it only produces a flicker of light. I turn and look toward the bed where I know Dean is still sleeping. I can’t see him. I can’t see anything. “Dean!” 

I blink rapidly, hoping it’s the alcohol from the night before clouding my vision, but it’s not working. I can’t see. “Dean!” 

“What? What happened?” 

Dean is alert now. I can hear him moving from the bed. The rustling of the scratchy comforter, the stiff sheets as he throws them aside. His feet hitting the carpet repeatedly as he nears me. His breath as he fills his lungs. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong doll?” Dean grips my arms firmly as he stands before me. I can feel his body heat. 

“Dean, I-I can’t s-see,” I choke out through my sobs. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m here,” he coos. If there is one thing Dean Winchester is good at, besides, well, everything, he knows how to keep me calm in any situation. 

“Dean, I’m scared.” 

“I know. I know. Let’s get you back into bed and I’m going to call Sam and Cas,” he says. Dean picks me up effortlessly and carries me back to the bed, setting me down gently, as if I were fine china. I breathe him in before he lets go. This is the closest we have been since she arrived. Then he lets go. 

“Sam? I need you here asap! I don’t care. Now!” Dean practically screams at his brother and I hear the angry tap on the glass as he disconnects, then another as he places another call. 

“Cas, buddy, I need you. We need you. Something is wrong with Y/N. She-she’s blind, Cas. I don’t know what happened. Just get here, please.” His voice is soft now. I can hear the worry in it. The concern. It’s not the first time I’ve heard Dean sound like this. It’s ingrained in who he is. I fear it may be the last, though. With her around, he doesn’t need me. He especially doesn’t need a blind me. 

I stand and shuffle to the restroom to try again. I need to pee and shower. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel better. 

“Hey, where you going?” Dean questions. 

“To the bathroom. I gotta go,” I tell him. “Maybe I’ll feel better after a shower, too.” 

“I’ll help you,” he offers. 

“I don’t need your help, Dean. It’s a shower,” I scoff. 

“Please let me help you,” he pleads, his voice heavy with guilt. “I wasn’t there to protect from whatever did this. Please.” 

“Fine,” I concede. “Let me do my business first.” 

I do what I need to do and wash my hands. For some reason, I’m nervous. Is it because I’m missing one of my senses? It’s not like Dean has never seen me naked, and this wouldn’t be the first time he has helped me into the shower, so why now? It’s because of her, I’m sure. She has shaken my confidence to the core. My confidence in myself and in my relationship with Dean. I reach for the knobs, but instead of where I expect them in the middle of the wall, I stumble, until my hand connects with one and my knee with the floor. 

The door flies open, banging harshly against the tiled wall. “I thought you were going to let me help you?” 

“I was just trying to turn on the water, but I missed,” I winced, rubbing out the pain in my right knee.

“Here, let me,” he mumbles. I feel his hands at my hips, lifting my shirt. The cooler air rushes over my skin and I shiver. He can feel it. 

The water turns on and I can feel the steam filling the room, filling my lungs, sticking to my skin. I can hear the rustle of clothing and then I can feel his warm body next to mine, warming me. His able arms pick me up and set me in the shower. He holds on until my feet are firm below me, and he pulls the curtain closed. 

My back is to the shower head and the water runs through my hair and down my body. Dean turns us and I can feel his hands in my hair. The fresh smell of my apple shampoo fills my nose. I hear him take a deep breath and I wonder if he knows I only use it because he loves the way it smells. I think he finds comfort in it.

He turns us again to rinse the suds from my hair, and works in a bit of conditioner. I feel for the wall behind me and step back so he can wash his own hair. I fumble for my body wash, but come up empty. The room is silent except for the running water, but I can hear his mind working, wondering why I have to be so stubborn and try to do it on my own. 

“Here, I got it, doll.” His voice is soft, but I can hear him over the rushing water. The cloth is rough on my flesh, but his touch is gentle as he runs it over me. “You want to, uh, finish or…” 

His words hang in the air. If we were feeling frisky, Dean would wash everywhere for me. We like to make it a game. See who can get the other worked up the fastest, but this is not a game. I am feeling the furthest from frisky. And it seems too intimate, given the circumstances. 

I shake my head, wet strands slapping my face. “I can do it.” I turn my back to him, using the wall for support and guidance. I can feel his eyes on me as I do. He wants to make sure I don’t slip. 

We finish and I step back into the spray to rinse the thick cream from my hair. I feel his arms reach around my legs to turn off the water and now the room is too quiet. 

“Help me find my towel?” I ask quietly. 

“I got it right here,” he responds and I feel his hand in mine. “Step up and over…good. Now the other one.” 

Dean is patient with me, with the situation. He towels off my body gingerly, as if I might crack, before he squeezes the water from my hair. 

“I’m going to grab your clothes. Have a seat,” he says, lowering me to the edge of the tub. The door opens and I can hear him talking to Sam in hushed tones I can’t quite make out. But then I can hear Sam on his laptop, drumming away at the keys, no doubt looking for a solution to my current predicament. Dean returns with my clothes and I can feel his fingers on the towel. 

“I can dress myself, Dean,” I snap and am immediately sorry. “I-I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me shower. I think I can take it from here. I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs and I feel his stubble and warm lips against mine. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

So many things we take for granted, like the ability to dress ourselves. I put my underwear on backwards on my first attempt. I take more time with my shirt, feeling for the tag before slipping it over my head. The jeans are a little easier. I open the door and am met with silence. I start scuttling along the carpet, somewhat familiar with the path to the bed. “Dean?”

“I’m right here,” he says, reassuringly. In an instant, his arm is around my waist, the other holding my hand as he guides me to sit at the table with Sam. He takes both my hands and wraps them around something warm. “Coffee. Careful, it’s hot.” 

“Do we know anything yet?” I ask, optimistically. These men, these hunters, my family, are the best at what we do. 

“What do you remember from last night?” Sam queries. “You only had a couple of drinks, Y/N, so I know you weren’t drunk. Try to clear your mind. Think.” 

I remember a lot from last night, very little of which I wish to share with either Winchester, least of all Dean. I turn my head to where I can hear him pacing. “Dean? Do you think you can grab some breakfast? I’m starving.” 

“Sure thing, Doll. Thinking on a full stomach sounds like a great idea,” Dean mumbles and slips his coat on. The keys in his pocket jingle. “The usual?” 

I nod and smile. “Thank you.” I sip my coffee until I hear the Impala drive away. 

“I remember everything, Sam. I remember her and this stupid hunt. I remember watching them together. Talking together. Walking, playing pool. Doing everything together,” I pause and swallow the lump of emotion that is caught in my throat. 

“Y/N, there’s noth-” Sam starts, but I cut him off. 

“I remember thinking how natural they look together. How perfectly she just fits into his life,” I emphasize. “I kept thinking to myself I’d rather go blind than to see him walk away from me. I’d rather be blind than to see him with her.” 

“Okay, that might be something,” Sam’s fingers fly across the keyboard, googling something no doubt. “What else do you remember? Did anything happen when you went to the bathroom? Did you see anyone that looked out of place? Did you talk to anyone?” 

“No, Sam. I went to the bathroom and cried. I splashed water on my face then came back out. I bumped into a woman on my way, then I left and came right back here-,” I recounted for him. “Wait. The woman. I bumped into her with my shoulder. It was all warm. I was thinking maybe I got hit harder than I thought, but it doesn’t hurt and it’s not warm.”

“What did she look like?” Sam asked. 

“She was short, tiny. Maybe five foot. She had light brown hair and it was pulled back in a bun. She was dressed conservatively and I remembered thinking she looked out of place in the bar,” I rambled as Sam listened intently, the keys going silent. 

“Probably not a witch,” Sam pondered. “Angel, maybe? Can angels even do that? Cas!”

The distinct flutter of wings rent the air. “Y/N, you are not well.” 

“No shit Sherlock,” I chortle. I feel his fingers press to my forehead, as they have many times before, but before Cas can use his grace, the door opens and I hear Dean’s boots on the carpet. 

“Cas? Can you heal her?” Dean demands. 

“Yes, I can. Whoever did this to her left a touch of their grace behind,” he informs them. 

“An angel did this? Since when do angels give the gift of blindness?” Dean’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Dickbags.” 

Cas’s fingers are cool on my skin, but soon a warmth fills me. I blink my eyes, shadows becoming formed figures. I glance around the room, still blinking my eyes as they adjust to the change. I see Dean, his eyes hopeful. Sam is still next to me, his brow furrowed. Cas is standing above me, anger twitching in his facial muscles. 

“Danael…” he growls. 

“Cas, what kind of angel can do this?” Sam poses. 

“Angels contain infinite power, Sam. We have the power to answer prayers. I believe that is what Danael thought she was doing,” Cas theorized. “There have been reports of a rogue cupid, but this is the only instance I have witnessed their treachery.”

“Dickbags,” Dean mutters again, but he is kneeling now, right next to me. 

“Doll, you okay?” His eyes search mine as he waits for my reply. 

“I can see,” I respond, not sure what else to say. 

Sam clears his throat and makes eye contact with me. “Tell him.” He mouths at me, then stands. “I’m going to go change. Cas, come on.” 

“You want me to accompany you to your room to watch you undress?” Cas asks. 

“Just come with me,” Sam groans. 

Sam and Cas are gone, leaving me alone with Dean. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to say. I fiddle with my hands. He notices. 

“Hey, what’s going on in that gorgeous mind of yours?” He lifts my chin and I am forced to look at him. 

“If you want to be with her, just tell me,” I whisper, then I start rambling. “I love you so much I don’t wanna watch you leave me. Most of all I just don’t wanna be free. I’m so scared you’re going to drop me and go back to her. And I just can’t take that. We’ve never been big on commitment, but I don’t want to be free. I want to be yours.” 

“What? Who?” Dean is taken aback by my words. “Katrina?” He huffs.

“Yes. Her.” I swallow heavily. “I can’t compete with her Dean. You and she obviously have a history. A history I know nothing about and I don’t fit.” 

“Y/N, there is nothing, I repeat nothing, between me and her,” Dean insists. “She is an old family friend, that’s all. We do have a history, yes. But it’s nothing compared to the history I have with you, doll.” 

My insides warm as he speaks. “But…”

“Stop. I can’t make all those feelings, all those thoughts go away. I can only tell you the truth and hope you believe me,” Dean reiterates. “She bats for the other team.” 

“What?” I can feel my eyes go wide at his words. 

“She’s a lesbian, doll. I kissed her once, before she told me she liked girls. I was relieved, to be honest. Bobby woulda killed me,” he laughed. “And you do fit. Right here next to me. You’re my missing puzzle piece.” 

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