#pls let me know if any of these managed to suck you in...

[hedwig221b]

I recently realized that I’ve literally never read a teen wolf ff despite being a huge fan of the show and sterek. So now I’m on the hunt for a rlly good one to start with but I’m having a bit of trouble finding one that not only fits what I’m looking for but actually has good writing (no offense to the authors I just want my first one to be a good one that hooks me like Crimson Rivers hooked me into the marauders fandom😅)

so could you recommend me some that aren’t aus, not necessarily canon but canon is okay, werewolf or human stiles, with sterek (I do love a slow burn but doesn’t have to be), maybe some of your favorites?

What an honor to introduce you to sterek fanfiction omg! Here is a list of what I consider sterek classics (the canon kind), my beloved 💖

Hide Of A Life War by Etharei

“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning...” The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain

“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void. It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

Home by TheTypewriterGirl

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death. The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was. So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles finds a baby on the porch. It looks exactly like him. Well, this is awkward.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf. Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks. Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody. And it’s about time somebody told him that.

Pale Horses by Jana_C 

Being bitten had never been on his to-do list, but he could deal with that. Helping Derek Hale become a competent Alpha, though, that was so not in his job description.

Truth and Consequences by KouriArashi

“The place you give the Bite has meaning," Derek says. "Biting someone on the side is to make them your beta. It makes them your subordinate, but it also invites them into the pack with the full protection of the alpha. Biting someone on the legs indicates that you’re turning them to an omega. And biting someone on the arm, particularly the wrist, turns someone as your equal. It’s a mating ritual.” Stiles nearly chokes on a mouthful of granola. “A what?”

A Similar String by snarkatthemoon 

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack. They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack. It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end. He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control. . Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

The One You Choose by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

Hold Me Close (I'm Falling Apart) by ajeepandleather

“Wolves without an emissary are naturally turbulent because their instincts are wild. Subconsciously, you’ve been balancing them, but you aren’t tied to the pack so you aren’t getting a balance in return.” “So, they’re bleeding me dry. Always knew they were parasites.” Stiles smiled dryly. “You’ll need to attach yourself to an alpha soon. There are risks for an unbalanced druid.” “Like?” “Well, a disruption in balance may show itself in several ways. It’s a disruption in nature, so nature will twist and alter in an attempt to right itself.” “What does that mean?” Stiles was getting anxious. The vet was avoiding giving direct answers and that never meant anything good. “You’re magic is heavily entwined with your will, and your will is parallel to your mind.” “I’ll go insane.”

Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone)

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

spiderweb of lies by pineneedlepants

Derek gets a chance to gain his alpha powers back. The only one throwing a wrench in those plans is Scott.

Sparks and shadows by Nival_Vixen 

Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.

The Roads Not Followed by SylvieW

Scott decides to leave Beacon HIlls with Allison and her father. Stiles is left alone to deal with the supernatural troubles of his home town, so he turns to Derek. Years later, Scott’s new pack is threatened, and the only ones who can help them are the Hale pack and Derek’s powerful mate.

It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.” “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.” “Hey!” Scott insisted. “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

Running Up That Hill by maypoison

“Even before the pack joined together, Scott was trying to protect you. And he still is trying to protect you, even if it means leaving you out of all this.” Stiles does roll his eyes at that. “Yeah, but it didn’t work did it. I was still involved, and so was my Dad. We were nearly killed by Matt, and then Gerard.” “My point is, people change. Relationships aren’t always perfect. Scott's tried to kill me before." Stiles raises an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying that someone trying to kill you is just a small flaw in a relationship?" “We’re werewolves.” Derek answers with a shrug, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Protect and Serve by MoonlitMemories

Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles?

The More That I Know You (the more I want to) by LadySlytherin

When death, in the form of hunters, comes for a family of Kelpies seeking refuge in the Preserve - in Hale territory - the Hale Pack is too late to save them. Before he dies, the male Kelpie presses a precious bundle into Stiles’ arms and begs the Emissary to take responsibility for it, which an initially reluctant Stiles does. When he agreed, Stiles had no idea what the sight of him with a baby would do to his esteemed Alpha, Derek. If he’d known, he might not have been so reluctant to agree.

Wolf Cub by moodwriter

A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist. Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope. He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles. “I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

I know you mentioned no aus, but it would be a crime for me not to mention these absolute treasures that are staples in sterek fanfiction experience. The characters are on point, and the writing is magnificent

Don't Savage The Messenger by exclamation

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange. Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.” That was a bad word. Not found. Have. Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment. One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) 

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more. “You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?” “It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.” Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes. “I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Cloaked in Gold by kaistrex (weishen)

Stiles' world tilts, the bed dipping as a weight settles over him, caging him in. Growling. His eyes flutter open in distant confusion as hot air sweeps over his throat and he stares up at twin beams of gold shining inches from his face. Werewolf. Stiles does the only thing he can. “DAD!” The werewolf jumps at the sudden shout, blanketing him tighter, and it’s only seconds until his dad is in his bedroom doorway with Melissa close behind, flicking on the light. Stiles' mouth drops open as he stares up at the thick eyebrows, sharp nose and perfectly groomed stubble of a golden-eyed and fanged Derek Hale. - When son of the Alpha, Derek Hale, ends up in his bed in heat, Stiles decides to use it to his advantage and secure the Bite for his sick stepbrother. As he and his family are welcomed into the Hale pack, Stiles grows closer to Derek than he'd ever dreamed he'd get, but with the fanged Soulbite of a born wolf on Derek's neck, he knows he's just setting himself up for heartbreak. Derek has a Soulmate out there, and it definitely isn't Stiles.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth. “Not too close, he bites.” Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting. “He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton. The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.” “Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek. He looked extremely displeased.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

[masterlist link]

[daddymaster21]

Somehow I managed to reblog this without actually putting a single note. Good job, me. Okay!! Second chapter!!! Pls Thea I’m so excited and scared and SCARED IM SO SCARED

1. I understand that golf takes a stupid amount of skill, but goddamn is it the most boring sport in existence

2. She got that Bucky Barnes walk

3. Babe you know I love you and I’m on your side, but standing in a blizzard is ABSOLUTELY stupid.

4. Calling it now that Adam is a Man of God. He’s gonna be the one that ends up betraying her, bc you said that the men of god always betray the magdalenes.

5. LMFAOOOO WEEDING HER BEDROOM. GARDENERS HATE TO SEE HER COMING

6. We should eat an apple. That definitely falls under the something stupid category, but I’m SO curious about the apples.

7. I mostly hate sports, but volleyball is fun to watch.

8. Even though golf sucks, she would absolutely kill at it. Actually, I think she’d kick ass in pretty much every sport.

9. Me too, girlie. If this man was in front of me making dumb jokes, I could not be trusted

10. Okay. Look. I’m sorry for this, but you’ve activated the Ramble. There aren’t any signs of death because on the whole, death isn’t like the other horseman. He’s not power-hungry or reckless or flashy. He’s cold and inevitable, and people aren’t dying en masse in any particular place, because he doesn’t have to kill them. He just has to wait.

11. Real. Milk sucks, cookies are delicious.

12. Dean grocery shopping and cooking and generally being a husband and girl dad 🫠

13. I can’t lie, I’m still ruminating about you saying I was the only one who caught that princess still talks about Jo in the present tense. Cause you wouldn’t have pointed out me pointing it out unless it meant something WHAT DOES IT MEANNNNN

14. Oop not that being addressed immediately after lmao

15. Oh god. The middle for the first name is fucking ROUGH.

16. I would ALSO like you to kill Zachariah, girlboss

17. John Winchester they could never make me like you

18. GET THAT BITCH. DONT EVEN LET HIM TALK, JUST DESTROY HIM IMMEDIATELY

19. Girl idk how to tell you this, but she kinda does always know best

20. Douche-maggot is my personal favorite. I feel like Ben in particular would enjoy that turn of phrase.

21. Look dude, no matter what happens, there’s literally no way this will go well for you. Cut your losses and run.

22. LMAO THE BRIDGE TROLLS COMMENT HAS ME CACKLING. SOMEONE JSUT GIVE A STRAIGHT ANSWER, WE BEG OF YOU

23. No one in the history of supernatural has been tortured with the torture like the torture Chuck will be tortured with. He’s truly my most hated character.

24. STOP NO STOP HIS FANTASY LITERALLY BEING HER FUCKING HIM AND HER NOT EVEN REALIZING IT OH MY GODDDDD

25. Girl if Chuck is The Sky, I’m DEFINITELY gonna dismantle him. I hate him so muchhhhhh

26. Gabe!!!!! My beloved!!!!!!!!!

27. You know what? We love a man who can admit he’s wrong.

28. That’s the perfect way to describe the boys, actually. Ten points to Gabriel

29. Girl I know this is a Dean story, but if it doesn’t work out with him, I would absolutely jump Gabe’s bones

30. I just have to say, heaven wants to please you is an incredibly raw line. If I ever start a band, that’s what our first album will be called

31. Our poor groceries!!!

32. Ah. My one weakness — being forgiven and shown compassion.

33. I love them so much, they’re such dumbasses

34. Girl I KNOW Dean was panicking bc he thought she was her when he said he loved her

35. I stg hunters are incapable of listening to anything without asking a thousand questions (me too though)

36. Cas is so autism-coded, and I love that for him

37. Lmao the archangels being the primary colors is great

38. Girl the angels all on some shit if they can’t see the absolute devotion she has for Dean

39. Absolutely the fuck not. I would rather be shredded into chicken than marry Chuck. Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.

40. Thea. Please Thea, don’t do this to me. You can’t kill Ellen and Jo in the same way, PLEASE.

41. OKAY Ellen’s not dead. Or, well, not permanently dead. Counting that as a win.

42. LMFAOOOOO WE HAVE HIM IN A JAR. LITERALLY THATS THE FUNNIEST THING THATS EVER HAPPENED

43. Crowley bout to be the biggest demon ever, my man just made a deal with the bride of god

Final thoughts: Chuck is going down, and when it’s over I’d like to be double teamed by Dean and Gabe, please and thank you.

Chapter 25 - And It Was Written

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I consider there to be five “big” secrets in Babylon. Here’s the first one.

Chapter Title from The Prophecy by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 19.4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You get a call. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 24 - Chapter 26

Read on A03!

“You ever play golf, Princess?”

“Do I look like someone who’s played golf?”

Dean chuckles, the sound a little static through the speaker of the phone. “You want me to answer that?”

“Dean Winchester-“

“You got that fancy walk,” he says your name, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Rich person walk.”

“I do not have a rich person walk-“

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, then-“ You sputter slightly, scowling at the ceiling. “You have a walk, too.”

Dean snorts. “Good one, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“Bossy-“

“Dean.”

He laughs, the sound filling up the whole room, and you smile into the dark. 

“And I do not have a-“

“It’s not a bad thing,” Dean cuts you off, his words suddenly almost gentle. “You walk like you’re gonna punch anyone who gets in front of you. Like, you got- Y’know. Purpose.”

“Oh. Okay.” You pause. You can have purpose. You can’t think of any ideas for purpose—and when you try to, it mostly just circles around from Dean, to Bobby, to Sam, back to Dean—but you couldhave more purpose. 

Damnation.

Not that kind of purpose. That’s the kind of purpose that got you here in the first place. Lying flat on your back in the dead of night, your phone propped on a pillow near your head, trying to pretend that Dean was next to you instead of across the country. 

Another nightmare. Death watching you and telling you no, Lucifer laughing in the background, Ketch appearing in every shadow, trying to corner you and put you in a muzzle.

Sometimes they end with Death grabbing your hands and wiping Jo’s blue from your fingertips, telling you that she belongs with him, and him alone. Other times it’s Lucifer, slowly shifting into Sam and snapping your neck, but you’re Dean and you can see yourself standing off in the shadows, doing nothing at all. Then Lucifer-Sam will lean down in hiss in You-Dean’s ear that you could have saved him, but just didn’t love him enough, and Dean dies thinking you don’t love him like it’s all you’ve ever really known.

Sometimes, after that, the dream will change. You’ll be back in a motel with Dean—just himself, just Gold, very much alive and not at all real—and you’ll rest your head on his shoulder while he tells you about how this town actually had the best diner in America, and you’ll muffle your giggle against his body because he says that all the time.

But you hadn’t gotten that, tonight. When you do, it’s enough for you to not need Dean. No need to wake him up when he needs the rest more than you do, and you’ll see him in a few days anyway.

He says to call him, whenever you wake up and you’re everything and it’s all too much. You’re the pain of the single tear in your blanket, the strain of the trees outside your window as the wind rips through their branches, the fear of the rain as it falls, unsure where it’s going. 

But Dean’s in Connecticut, hunting a demon hoard that’s been terrorizing a country club. He can’t be caught off guard just because the Silver decided to rear it’s head and you aren’t strong enough to handle it without—as he would call it—doing something stupid.

You haven’t been doing anything stupid. You might have caught a small cold last week, standing out in the sleet-storm while Sam and Dean were in Alabama—Hurricane season, trying to find a reaper that might snitch on Death’s location, a failed experiment—but you’d gotten over it quick. Mostly, whenever the everything hits you, you’ve been curling up into the sheets, dragging them over your head, and pretending that it was Dean holding you. His Gold is marked all over them, when you roll to his side of the bed you can smell cinnamon and grass, and it usually, mostly, works.

It takes longer to come down, you never fall back asleep, and when you shuffle downstairs in the morning Bobby always looks at you like he somehow knows that you should’ve called Dean or woken him up, but it doesn’t matter. If you’re a little extra tired, no one gets hurt but you. 

You’re not hunting.

You’re just looking for Death and Pestilence, trying to work out Lucifer’s next moves, and—in your spare time, when Bobby’s asleep and Sam and Dean are away—talking with Cas about things. 

Things you haven’t told Dean about. 

You don’t know how. How to look at him, in all his Golden, handsome, strong glory and say Cas and I are trying to figure out what Men of God are. All signs are pointing to you being one, Mr. Michael Vessel. And Men of God and Magdalene’s don’t have good track records, but you also don’t seem like a normal Man of God. John was a Man of God, though. Ketch might be too. And they both tried to hurt me. So do what you want with that.

And that doesn’t even cover half of it. How Cas still hasn’t worked out what The Magdalene does, only that it’s different. And he can’t spend too much time on it anyway, because he has to find God. 

You look like God. 

Your name is—according to Cas—written in Marina Trench and the caves of Mount Everest and in the Stone Forests of Japan. The Silver still isn’t cooperating, and Death still doesn’t want you, and after you’d killed Famine, he’s been added to your nightmare roster, but none of this is about you.

You’re not even supposed to be helping. It’s why you’re staying hidden. No matter what the whole Magdalene-Men of God mess is, it’s far from important as the apocalypse closes in. 

So you keep researching. And you get nightmares when you sleep, but you really try not to bother Dean with them. He doesn’t need another reason to worry about you, and he needs the rest.

You can get through it. 

You always do.

But not alone. Not tonight. The nightmare had been Ketch, but instead of the usual ending—the ceiling falls, but you’re trapped with him in the rubble and he starts to touch you, and John and Lucifer and Alistair and Azazel join him, but when you scream for Dean no sound comes out, right up until you’re ripped away and appear in a dive bar with Dean grinning at you from the pool table—Ketch had gotten you. He’d snapped the muzzle on your face, and the Silver had exploded.

You’d sat up with bed, your hand already wrapped around your throat, but it had been too late. 

The Silver hadn’t been contained to your dream. 

Before calling Dean, you’d spent an hour weeding your bedroom. Strange, glowing flowers had sprouted through the floorboards, branches had grown over the windows—as if they were trying to block you from the view of the Sky, flaring out your window without a word—and they’d been growing those iridescent apples that you’d tried to preserve for study, but the moment you’d put them on the dresser they’d shattered like glass, the shards melting into nothing. 

And you’re so fucking tired. And lonely.

You’d needed Dean. 

He’d picked up after the second ring. He’s been on the phone with you for almost an hour, talking about nothing.  

You miss him. If he was here, you’d be able to see his smile, drown in his Gold, and he’d run his thumb down your nose until you were only your own. Then you’d fall back asleep, his hand in yours, and everything would be fine.

Not about you.

Calling him is already pushing it. Him talking to you is more than you deserve. But knowing that never has—never will—stop the want. The pull. The need for Dean to maybe just lay on top of you forever, until everything is always technicolor and the Spiderweb is the only thing you can feel in the world.

But you’ll take this. Dean on the phone in the dead of night, the stains of his Gold still all around you.

Whatever bits of Dean he offers, you’ll always take. 

“I think you’d like golf.” Dean hums, and you twist your head to look your phone, as if he’d actually be there to glare at. 

“Golf isn’t a real sport, De. It’s for rich people and businessmen, trying to jack each other off and assert their dominance while wearing polo shirts. And it’s stupid.”

 “Sweetheart, you think all sports are stupid.”

“Wrong. I like Soccer and Football.”

Dean pauses. “You do?”

“Yep. I used to watch them with Rufus all the time.”

“Huh.” You can hear the small frown in his voice. “You told me you don’t care about where the balls go-“

“I don’t. I like soccer because I’d always got ice cream when Rufus put it on, then more ice cream if his team won.”

“We could just get ice cream-“

“Tastes better with victory.”

“Right. Course it does.” Dean chuckles. “What about football?”

“I like the music shows. And I think I’d be good at it.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice. “Cause of the violence.”

“Yep. I’d beat all those big men’s asses.”

“See, that’s why I think you’d like golf, sweetheart. The clubs make great weapons.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m flipping you off right now, you know.”

Dean laughs, and you can’t stop your own smile from tugging at your lips. The Spiderweb is bursting. Even with Dean miles away and only a voice in a phone, it still knows to light up for Dean.

His voice. His joy. The fact that it’s almost three in the morning—five for him—but he’s not making any effort to end the call. 

Once he does, you’ll have to let him. Not about you.

Until then, you’ll stay on the line for as long as he allows you to. 

“So there’s a joint here that does malt milkshakes.” He says, and you hum, rubbing the scar on your palm as you listen. “And they’ve got the best freakin’ burgers I’ve ever had in my life.”

You giggle. “De, every burger you have is the best burger-“

“Nah, this is it. You’d like it, they cover the whole thing in a fancy sauce, and those milkshakes? They’re free, if you get the combo meal.”

“So they’re not free-“

“They’re free-ish.”

“Something can’t be free-ish, it’s either free or not free-“

“It’s free in my heart,” he drawls your name, and it’s low and deep and teasing, and your thighs press slightly together. “And nothing is better than free food.”

He pauses, and you’re about to take over with a comment about how everything is free for us, Dean, all our money is stolen, but he continues before you can. 

“When this Lucifer-Michael end of the world shit is over, you should come check this place out.”

You swallow. You know Dean likes hanging out with you—he’s your best friend, and maybe more, but your rules mean you’re not allowed to push on it—but it still makes the Spiderweb ignite with light and color when he says it. “The burger place? Or the country club?”

Dean chuckles. “Both. You can smoke all these rich douchebags at golf, then we can go get burgers. I’m serious, Princess. You’d love the milkshakes.”

You probably will.

You mostly love that Dean’s thinking of you. Like you’re worth that much to him, to look at a milkshake and think of you.

You’d like to be worth everything to him. He’s worth everything to you.

Not allowed to say it.

“I’ve never played golf.” You mumble, and you can hear Dean’s scoff.

“Trust me, sweetheart. You’d love it.”

“But-“

Dean drawls your name. “It’s about hitting things and looking fancy. Freakin’ sport was made for you.”

You flush, wrapping an arm around your stomach. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Dean pauses, his voice dropping to something softer. “Would you wanna do that? If you don’t-“

“I would.” You say, too quick. If Dean notices, he doesn’t mention it. “At this point you owe me a tour of diners in America, Deano. The moment we’re done with this, you better put your money where your mouth is.”

“My mouth is on the burger, sweetheart.” You can hear the grin in his voice, and you roll your eyes. “Score?”

“Six out of ten. You can do better.”

“Aw, you got faith in me.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do. And you laughed, sweetheart.”

“Maybe.” You hum, grinning at the light, slowly starting to dance over the ceiling. “You can’t prove that, Winchester.”

“Don’t have to. Know it in my heart. You think I’m hilarious.”

You’re flushing again. Maybe it’s good he’s only a voice in a phone. You might start crawling over his chest if he wasn’t. “Shut up.”

“No, say it. C’mon you can do it, admit you think I’m funny.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re killing me, Princess-“

“I’ll say it,” you hum, grinning at the ceiling. “If you take back that I look like someone who plays golf.”

“Nah, I’ve got integrity. Said it, meant it, and I was fuckin’ right.”

“Okay, integrity, tell me again about that pool hustle you pulled last night.”

He groans, you giggle, and it really is better. 

Even when the conversation turns heavier, it’s Dean, so it’s better.

“Have you-“ You clear your throat, and you don’t want to ask it, but you have to. For your own sanity, so you don’t spend the whole day with your fingers itching and a lump in your throat. “Angels? Or Lucifer?”

“Not yet.” Dean says, and your nails dig into your wrist. “If it is, we’ve got the banishment sigils lined up all over the wall, and all we gotta do is keep saying no.”

You nod, but Lucifer—with all his Red and teeth—flashes over your vision, and you can’t stop your shaking breath.

Dean must have heard it, because he mutters your name softly, but you shake your head and keep pushing on.

“Dean, I- I’m worried about it.”

“I- I know, but shit, Princess, you gotta -“

“The archangels.” You whisper, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I know you and Sam don’t want to say yes to them-“

“We’re not saying yes to them-“

“But they’re not just going to take that.” You raise your voice, and Dean goes quiet. “Zachariah- He hurt Jo just to send a message to me. And Gabriel fucked with you and Sam for a week, then visited me in Europe just because he didn’t want me here-“

Dean mutters your name, an odd strain in his voice. “I don’t give a shit about what Heaven wants, I want you here. And you-“

“I’m not running.” The Spiderweb feels like it’s made of starlight. Not the time. “I’m just- My point is that they did all that just to keep me away. Between San Francisco and LA, they certainly know I’m back by now.”

“So?”

“So Gabriel said I was changing things. And maybe- I don’t know. I just don’t trust that, if we’re playing dirty, they won’t do the same.”

“Princess, they’ve been playing dirty.” Dean’s voice is gentle, but firm. “All those feathered assholes do is play dirty. But Sammy’s not giving Lucifer the green light-“

“What about Michael?”

Dean pauses. “What about Michael.”

“I- I trust Sam-“

“But not me?”

You frown. “Of course I trust you, Dean.”

There’s something sour to his voice that you don’t understand. “Yeah, sure sounds like it-“

“Dean.” You make your voice firm, and he sighs, repeating your name back. “I don’t think you’re going to say yes to Michael, I- I’m just- They’re going to try and make you. And I don’t think they have a lot of lines, and this is already so fucked, and I don’t- I’m not making any progress on Death and things are just getting worse and-“ You take a heavy, shuddering breath, and Dean mutters your name.

It would be really nice if he was here. If he was the one wrapping around you, instead of you just hiking the Golden blanket a little higher over your body. 

“Do you think I should say yes?” He mutters, his voice low, and you shake your head.

“No.”

“Alright. Then I won’t.”

“But it’s not that simple-“

“It is. I’m not saying yes. Michael’s gonna have to fist my asshole if he wants inside.”

You wrinkle your nose, swallowing a soft laugh. “That’s gross, De.”

“Score?”

“Zero.”

“Bullshit, I can hear you laughing-“

“No, you can’t.”

“C’mon-“

“Nope.”

“This is elder abuse-“

“You’re thirty.”

“Almost thirty-one. Basically genetic.”

You smile into the dark. “Geriatric?”

“Yeah, that. I’m just a skeleton, sweetheart, you gotta be delicate with me-“

“So dramatic.”

He scoffs. “You love it.”

It’s good he can’t see how deep your flush is. Heating over your cheeks and spreading between your thighs as he starts to talk about how—if you are celebrating his birthday this year—he’d really like a proper, chocolate cake. And you think you can make that happen.

For Dean, you might be able to do anything.

You’re on the phone with him until Sam starts to stir on his end, and he has to go back to the case.

“We’ll be home in a few days,” he says, and you nod, moving the phone to press right back to your ear. Trying to have him a little closer. “Just some run of the mill demon asshats, so this is going pretty quick.”

“Good,” you let out a slow breath, your grip tightening on the phone. “Let me know if you need anything. And if they show up-“

“We got wards and Cas on speed dial, it’ll be fine.” Dean pauses, his voice lowering slightly. “I- I’m glad you called. Are you-“

“I feel better.” You whisper. “Thank you. For picking up.”

You could swear you hear him let out a long, slow breath. “Don’t need to thank me. You’re- I’ll call you later tonight. And I’m keeping my phone on me, so if-“

“I will.” You don’t want him to go. Can’t interfere with work. “Bye, De. Don’t die.”

He chuckles. “I’ll try. Stay safe, Princess. Call me if you need anything.”

You need him. 

But you let him hang up the phone, and roll over to bury your face in his pillow the moment the line goes dead. You’ll stay there, until the sun is bleeding into your room. Until the Sky becomes unignorable, and you can hear Bobby rolling around downstairs. The world doesn’t care that you’d like to—just for a day—lie here and do nothing. Clinging to the sheets and pretending they’re Dean, taking slow, deep breaths until you’re certain you’ll be able to keep going. All the way to the end, right up to the finish line—wherever it may come—before crashing into Dean and staying in his arms for as long as he lets you.

You’d really just like this to be over. You’re not just going through the motions, but it’s something similar to it. Get through the night and all its terrors, then let the day creep in as you cling to your Dean-Stained blanket like a child. Go downstairs and give a mumbled good morning to Bobby, who gives you a mornin’ kiddo, in return. Make the coffee, wolf down breakfast as fast as you can—Bobby watching you carefully to make sure you finish it all—and get to work. Earthquakes and thunderstorm, new outbreaks of measles in Ecuador, Beijing, and Cairo. Bobby’s got no luck on Death, but neither do you. 

You’ve kept your word to Crowley. You’ve been thinking about it. And the more days pass, the closer you’re getting to making that deal.

You’re not quite there yet.

But you’re close. 

“He’s stayin’ off the radar.” Bobby mutters, frowning at his computer. “Both of ‘em are. Pestilence either changed his vessel or went blackout off the grid, after you and the boys tracked him last time. And Death- Fuckin’ ball, I ain’t seein’ anything.”

“Lucifer’s probably saving him for when he’s needed.” You mutter, flipping a page in your book. “He- I don’t remember him being all that happy, with what was happening.”

Bobby grunts. “You think you be able to do your soul-vision thing on him? If he pops up on freakin’- CNN or somethin’?”

You nod, pushing down the memory of Death looking at you, and saying no. “I’ve been checking local feeds whenever an omen pops up. Nothing.”

“Alright. Keep lookin’. And Pestilence-“

“Did it last night. I’ll put it on the fridge after I go shopping.”

Bobby grunts in approval, and you glance up. You’re almost done with this anyway.

“Did you look at the list?”

“Yep. Added a few things, but you handled most of it. Go armed.”

You pull out your Blade, flash Bobby a grin, and all you get is a flat look in return.

“Don’t forget the milk.”

You sigh, pushing to your feet. “I’m getting you oat milk. It’s better for old men.”

“Yeah, yeah, like Dean’ll be happy with the plant milk.”

You flush. “He doesn’t like any milk.”

Bobby pauses. “That’s true, ain’t it. Never seen him drink it without cookies.”

“Not even with cookies. Those were mine.”

“You don’t like milk either-“

“I like cookies.”

“Just eat the fuckin’ cookies.” Bobby mutters under his breath, and you give him a mock salute, crossing the room to the fridge.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Shut up and get drivin’ kiddo. You come back with oat milk, and I’m shootin’ Dean.”

You scowl—it’s not good that he knows how effective that is—and grab the list off the fridge.

It’s pinned right between the expired Costco coupon Bobby’s had there since you were thirteen, and your drawings. Crude sketches you’d done a few days after you got back from LA, outlining the Horsemen’s true appearances. You hadn’t bene able to draw Death—something about it had felt wrong—but you’d gotten all the vile oozing of Pestilence, and the gaping darkness you’d seen in Famine. 

He’d been like a black hole. A pit. Bottomless and made of shadows, taking and taking and never satisfied. You’d had a feeling, standing across from him in LA and spinning the Blade in your hands, that you could’ve tossed the world into him and he just would’ve eaten that too. 

And he hadn’t had a single effect on you. Hadn’t been confused by it, either. Just whined about how it wasn’t fair, and if he could eat your soul, he’d never be hungry again.

You’re trying not to think about it. Just like you’re trying not to think about how, the day after, you’d looked into Dean’s eyes and the floodlight had returned. Staring at him in the golden-blue light of the dawn, you’d been able to see all that life, buried deep inside of him, colorful and luminescent and beautiful. 

You missed him. You wanted to wake up like that—next to him, his hand in yours, trying to keep your love off your face while figuring out how you can live in the world of Dean forever—every single morning. 

But the apocalypse. And groceries.  

It goes slowly. With Sam your divide and conquer plan had done wonders, and you’d been able to compensate for each other’s gross lack of domestic knowledge. And grocery shopping with Dean was never really grocery shopping, but rather letting him guide you aisle to aisle and listening to him ramble about all the different meats and sauces and spices, and what was useful and what was the good stuff, Princess. Trust me. And you’d always trust him, nodding a little stupidly and giving him a soft smile, pushing the cart wherever he told you it should go.

Alone, you’re trying desperately to remember what the good stuff was, and you’re not sure you’re succeeding. Mostly, you’re just grabbing whatever’s expensive. All your money is counterfeit or stolen from banks anyway. 

Jo taught you wiretapping a few years ago. She makes fun of you for using it on fancy hotel rooms and makeup, but then she turns around and spends it on a hair mask and the fanciest box of chocolates you’ve ever seen. 

You still haven’t visited her, at the waterfall.

You will soon. Dean promised. It just can’t be done alone. But that doesn’t stop you—every single time you climb into the Firebird—from dropping your brow to the wheel and taking a shaking breath. You could go now. You have a car, and legs, and a weapon. If angels or demons come for you, there’s no better place to lose control than a forest.

Then you think of a small marker in the dirt, and look down at the pastel blue on your fingers, and you can’t. It’s going to make it too real. She’s gone. All that’s left of her is that waterfall, and what’s on your fingertips. 

You still keep thinking of her as alive. You know you do. You know Dean’s caught it, when you’ve said Jo likes or Jo hates or Jo is. 

She isn’t. 

You don’t know how to internalize that. And the moment you see the grave, you’re going to have to. 

You should’ve visited the moment you got back. But you’ve been busy, and in pain, and you miss her and you can’t do it alone, you don’t want to do it alone, she can’t really be gone and you promised her you’d be okay but you can’t-

There’s a faint buzzing, and you freeze. The world had gone blurry, as you’d stared at your hands—you have perishables, you should really get moving—but when you dig your phone out from your pocket, it’s not the one that’s ringing. Your head shoots up, turning immediately towards the console, but save for the Gatorade you gotten yourself and your wallet, it’s empty. 

The buzzing is still going. And the generic ring tone is screaming burner phone, but you don’t keep a burner phone. You have one phone, with five numbers—Bobby, Dean, Sam, Cas, Rufus—and you never just hand out your number. People don’t want to be able to reach you. You’re not someone anyone should just welcome, willingly, into their home, or seek for help. For every good deed you do, you’re ten times as sick and wrong. 

Death. Staring at you. Telling you no, and the Sky glaring down at you, and a million teeth calling you a friend-

The buzzing stops for a second, then starts again. It’s in the car. You know it’s in the car. But it’s not your phone, so you don’t know where the fuck it’s coming from. And it takes pushing your hand between the seat cushions and getting on your knees to check under the backseat for you to think of the glove compartment. And there it is. A little black burner—just enough faded Gold to tell you it was Dean’s—buzzing over and over with a number, and no saved contact. 

Dean gives his burner numbers to a lot of people. Surviving vics, in case they ever need help again. Other, more trusted hunters, for mutual aid on cases. 

Girls. In bars. With pretty skirts and shirts that show of their cleavage, batting their lashes at him and giving him sweet smiles.

And you’ve played it over a million times in your head, almost on a mechanical loop. He doesn’t look for that anymore. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t look for him. Doesn’t mean he says no, when he’s asked. He ends up back in your bed, just sleeping, but he can’t be satisfied with that. Couldn’t ever be satisfied with you, making him worry and waking him up in the middle of the night to talk about fucking golf and milkshakes. Crying in his arms every other hunt, needing him more than he needs you, asking him to stay at your side and let you infect him, failing him all the time and running and sick-

The phone starts buzzing again. 

So you brace yourself—you’ll get through it, no matter who it is, you’ll be fine, and Dean’s his own person, but you’ll be fucking fine—and pick up the phone.

“Hello?” A man’s voice—young, nervous, probably not a sex call—crackles through the speaker. “Is- Is this Dean Winchester?”

You pause. He knows who Dean is. But that’s not exactly a clean endorsement of who he is. “Who’s asking?”

“Oh- Uh-“ The man clears his throat. “Sorry, I, um- I’m just looking for someone, I think I got the wrong number-“

“You didn’t.” Your voice has to stay flat. Neutral. Not too much given away, but if he knows Dean by name, you have to know why. 

“You- Don’t exactly sound like Dean.”

“This is his phone.”

“Oh. Um, is he okay-“

He better be. “Again, who’s asking.”

“Adam? Mulligan? I’m Sam and Dean’s brother.”

You still. Sam and Dean don’t have a third brother. Not that they’ve told you. They would’ve told you, that’s definitely something worth fucking telling you if it’s true- 

Then a vague bell rings in the back of your head. Dean had told you. While you were in Europe. He’d called you at four in the morning—for him, not you—and said that it seemed like John got around, when he was on solo hunts. That he’d even had a son, barely a kid, and he’d claimed that John hadn’t known about him, but he’d still had Dean’s middle name as a first name. And John had taken him to baseball games, and taught him how to drive, and Dean had been angry but mostly with John—you’d bitten down your pride at that, not the right time to encourage Dean that John was a bag of shit—and most of all, at the end of it, Adam had been-

“You’re dead.” You snap, sitting up in your seat. Dean had said the real Adam was dead, had been dead the whole time. “Adam Mulligan got killed by a ghoul, who the fuck are you-“

“I’m Adam!” The man yelps, and you can hear the genuine fear in his voice. “I promise! And I know I died- I mean, I think I know. I can sort remember things that didn’t happen to me, and it’s- it’s really confusing. I woke up in a lot of dirt, and I found my phone with this number, and I remember Dean even though I never met him, so, um- Where is he?”

You frown, weighing your options in your head. He doesn’t sound like he’s lying, but most monsters are good actors. If you were in danger or confused, you’d also call Dean first, but you’ve known him for almost ten years, and you love him. Adam—if he’s real—has never even really met Dean. But he says he remembers both Sam and Dean, which reeks of angel interference, but if it is, they’re looking for the boys. Not you. 

And angels can’t hurt you.

Adam clears his throat. “Hello?”

“Dean’s busy.” You keep your words careful. If this is angel interference, they’re not getting anything extra out of you. 

You kind of hope it’s angel interference. You’d really like to kill Zachariah.

“Oh. Is he going to be, um, not busy soon?”

“Nope.” You lean back, resting your knees on the wheel. “But I can pass on a message.”

“Uh-“ Adam pauses. “Who are you?”

You give your first name, but not your last. If it is the angels, that won’t really matter either way.

“Oh- Okay. Are you like, Dean’s girlfriend?”

You’re going to jump off a cliff. “It’s complicated.”

“Alright.” Adam, thankfully, doesn’t push it. “Can you tell him I’m in Minnesota? And I’d like some help, please?”

You frown. “Where in Minnesota?”

“Windom? It’s my hometown, that’s where they met… not me.”

Windom isn’t that far. Barely an hour and a half for you, over a day for Dean. If it is a trap, it’s safer for you to take the bait first. If it isn’t—if Adam passes all the tests and there’s no angel brigade waiting—then it’s safer to keep Adam at Bobby’s. 

You do have perishables. But they’ll last three hours. 

“Text me the address.” You say, moving the call to speaker so you can watch for the message on the burner, and text Bobby know you’re taking care of something, you’ve got your knife, and you’ll be home for dinner. 

“Oh, you can just tell Dean-“

“He’s on another coast. I’m in within two hours.”

“But-“ Adam lets out a long sigh, right as your phone buzzes with Bobby’s response.

Dont die.

You smile, type back never do, and open Dean’s contact. 

“Adam, if you want help-“

“I know. I’m sending it now.” There’s another buzz on the burner, and Adam coughs. “Two hours?”

“More or less. Line the doors with salt and don’t answer for anyone but me.”

“How will I know it’s you?”

Fair enough. You give Adam a quick description of yourself, he mumbles and understanding, and you hang up the phone. 

Bobby’s going to call this Hunter Fever. That you’re itching to do this because you’ve been cooped up, and now you’re actin’ like an idjit. But you’re not. If Adam is possessed, you’ll see it. If he’s just evil, he won’t be able to get the jump on you. One wrong movement and you’ll blast his soul right back out of his body. The highway will even get a lovely new garden as a result. And, you’re calling Dean. You’d sugar coated so Bobby wouldn’t worry, but you’re going to tell Dean, because you’re not being an idiot.

“Hey, Princess.” He picks up the phone after two rings, and you try not to sob in relief. He’s fine, you’d known that, but it’s still like a wave of thank fucking Christ whenever you hear his voice. “I meant to call you earlier, but this turned into a whole fuckin’ thing. Nothing we can’t deal with, but this whole town is full of crazies and this blonde chick who thinks she’s Jesus. Had to call in Cas, but we’ll still be home on time. What’s- Are you okay? You’re okay. Goddamnit, you better be okay-“

“I’m okay.” You smile into the air. It would be nice to be able to grab his face between your hands and kiss his nose, but even if he was here, that would be against the rules. “Your brother called.”

There’s a long, static pause. “Sweetheart, I’ve been with Sammy all day-“

“Wrong brother, De.” You sigh, and push out the words as fast as you can. “Adam. He’s alive. In Minnesota. He called the burner phone you left in my car, and I’m close, so I’m going to pick him up and bring him to Bobby’s. You should get home soon though. After the case.”

There’s another pause, and then- “The fuck you’re going to Minnesota alone, it could be a goddamn trap-“

“Maybe.” You shrug. “But I’ve got both knives, and I’m already on I-90.”

“Then get the hell off it-“

“Dean. I’m going. You can’t stop me.”

“I can send Cas-

“You think Cas can stop me?”

“Goddamnit-“ Dean snaps your name, a tension in his voice that you haven’t heard in a long time. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself goddamn killed without me there to help-“

“I can hunt perfectly fucking fine on my own, Winchester.”

“I know that, but-“

“I’m going because you’re not here.” Your voice is raising slightly, and you glare ahead at the road. “They can hurt you, they can’t hurt me. I’ll be fine.”

“What if you’re not.” Dean hisses, and whatever background noise was on when he picked up is gone. He must have moved to fight in private. “You- You can’t get fucking hurt, Princess-“

“I know I can’t.” You say coolly. “That’s the point.”

He huffs out a dry laugh. “That’s not what I meant and you fuckin’ know it-“

“Dean.” Your voice is harsher than you mean it, and he falls silent. “We’ve done this before. I am perfectly fine on my own-“

“But you shouldn’t have to be.” 

You swallow, a hot and heavy lump forming in your throat. You don’t want to fight. Not really. Not now, when you miss him and love him and everything hurts just as much as always. 

Not ever. 

“Sorry.” Dean mutters. “Didn’t mean to shout, you’re just- Son of a bitch, you need to be here Princess. With me. And I can’t- If you-“

“I know.” You mumble, moving one hand off the wheel to rub at your wrists. Sick. Only making things harder. “I’ll be careful, De. I promise.”

Dean sighs. “I know you will, sweetheart. Just- If you need me, pray to Cas and he’ll zap me over-“

“I know.”

He grunts, and it doesn’t sound like he’s convinced. “Call me when you’ve got him, or I’m leaving these dumbasses to govern themselves.”

“Ooo, a revolution. You’re a kind king, Mr. Winchester. The people love your taxing system and patronage of the arts.”

“Nerd.” Dean mutters, but there’s a softness to his voice that makes you feel molten. “Pinky promise you’ll call.”

“Pinky promise. See you soon.”

Love you.

You don’t say it. You’re not allowed to say it. 

But you can think it, and hope he feels it. Hope that, all the way across the country, Dean knows that you’re going to be fine, because you have to be. You always get through it. You always go back to him. The address Adam gave you might look suspiciously like a church—god fucking damnit, it’s almost certainly a trap—but you’ll get back to Dean.

You always do. 

Adam’s a scrawny kid, sitting awkwardly on the dais. He’s a sort of tangerine orange color, starting in his stomach and burning up like fire in a chimney. He might be a little taller than Dean, but he’s built more like Sam. Hair a little darker than Dean’s, eyes bluer than Sam’s, and it’s not fair to already be comparing him to them, but otherwise you’ll just be seeing John. John’s nose, and mouth, and eyes. The features of the man that tried to kill you. That should have killed you. That kept you away from Dean. And they’re the same nose and mouth and eyes Dean has, but you love Dean. On him, they’re the best features in the world.

So it’s for Adam’s sake that you look at him and think Dean’s mouth. Sam’s jaw. Otherwise the Silver might start to flare. 

You’re going to have it enough trouble keeping it down as it is. 

Because standing at the dais is an angel. Broader than Cas, a little less electric, his rainbows running with an ugly, muted brown. 

Zachariah. 

You sigh, stopping at the front of the pews and crossing your arms over your chest. “I fucking knew it.”

Zachariah grins at you, ugly and shark like, and it’s only for Adam’s sake that you don’t let the Silver burst up and rip everything apart. 

He says your name, clapping his hands together with a mockingly cheerful tone. “You are infuriating, you know that? Think that you always know best, even when you’re walking into my trap-“

“Pretty shit trap.” You mutter. “I don’t think you were aiming for me, douche-bucket.”

Zachariah scowls. “Douche-bucket. I’m assuming that’s from our lovely Dean, right? His little… turn of phrase.”

You don’t answer—Zachariah can wait—and your attention flicks to Adam. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Adam whispers, his eyes wide on yours. “I just wanted to see my mom, I didn’t mean to- I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Zachariah scoffs. “Well, don’t try to figure it out. This is beyond your understanding, kid-“

“Oh, shut up.” You snap, and Zachariah’s eyes narrow.

“You have a nice voice.” Adam cuts in before Zachariah can speak, and you blink at him. “And- You’re- I like your hair.”

“Uh, thanks.” You frown. “You working with employee of the month?” You jerk your head to Zachariah, and the angel’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t answer that,” he orders, and Adam just keeps gaping at you. “And you,” he hisses your name, and you fix time with a bored stare. “You are- Such a fucking brat-“

“Sorry. Should’ve been nicer to Dean, he might have given you his real number, and you wouldn’t be going back empty-handed.”

Zachariah’s jaw twitches, and he takes a deep, heaving breath. “For your information, I will not being going anywhere empty handed. Had I hoped for Sam and Dean? Yes. But honestly,” the smirk creeps back onto his face, and a chill runs deeper than your bones. “You’re better. Bigger game, harder to catch. Boss will be pleased. I might even get a promotion. And, here’s the best part.” He raises his fingers, ready to snap. “This will be way more effective.”

He snaps, and you almost stumble forward. 

Ellen. 

Battered and dazed, a wear in her dark green, but Ellen-

You must call out to her and not hear it, because Zachariah tsks, and holds a finger to his lips.

“I wouldn’t talk to her right now. She’s a little… confused.”

Your jaw clenches, the Silver starting to rise, and while Zachariah’s smile doesn’t falter, his brown does do an odd stutter. Like a short-circuit or fritz in a power line. 

“Now,” Zachariah hums, taking a slightly step back and moving Ellen in front of him. Fucking pussy. “Here’s the deal I was going to offer Dean. Adam walks, Ellen walks, even little Sammy walks, and all he has to do is say yes. But I think-“ He pauses, frowning slightly. “He’ll want to talk to you. Sam and Dean… They’d be a problem-“

“They’re not coming.” You snap, grabbing the Blade out of your jacket. The Silver has to remain down, for Adam and Ellen. You can still cause a lot of fucking damage. “It’s just you and me-“

“We both know that’s not true.” Zachariah scoffs. “Dean at least is going to be trying to get to you, and Sam will help him. I can’t track them, but I can tip off some very angry hunters where they’re going- Yeah, it’ll be easier like this.”

Your eyes widen as Zachariah raises his hand again, the Silver turning and blistering right under your skin. “Like-“

The word is barely out of your mouth when Zachariah snaps his fingers, and the Silver rips out.

It crashed up with less warning than usual.

It’s still a second too later.

You’re everything. More than everything. Parts of you are things you don’t have names for, and a lot of you is light, but just as much is darkness. And you’re made of lava somewhere very dark and hot and lonely, and the Earth is spinning around you but you’re also every smallest bit of grass that feels so big in comparison to the bugs, and you’re the vastness of the water in the ocean, but also the vastness of every space between the stars, and neither of them feel bigger than the other. 

Mostly, you’re a song being played in an old car—old to other cars, young to the pavement it’s driving on and the trees it’s passing, barely an infant to the sky over its head—and the hands gripping a wheel so tight they’re going to strangle it. 

You love those hands. It would be nice to hold them. They’re Golden.

But you’re not you anymore. And you’re following them all the way down the roads, time somehow too slow and too fast all at once. You can see the dusty old church, and there are two hunters loading shotguns, and the shells are building themselves up to burst through a skull. The Gold is driving right to the church, and you need to stop it, but you’re too much and you don’t know how to control it all.

Then, as the Gold walks through the doors of the church, the Purple at his side, it all falls back down. You’re you again, and you can feeling the Spiderweb burning, but it’s not offline. More… confused. Straining a little more powerfully through your chest as you crash into yourself.

And you’re in the most beautiful garden you’ve ever seen.

Water that looks a little more like crystal, sunshine weaving through heavy leaves over your head, angled perfectly to spark at rainbow in every bit of mist. The flowers are blooming with heart and star-like patterns, made of colors you’ve never even seen. A familiar iridescent apple is hanging over your head, growing from a single, weeping tree that seems to be bleeding silver sap. You turn slowly—you’re not sure where you are, but it’s not Minnesota—and stop when your eyes land on an angel. 

There’s no wrath in him. Not like the other angels you’ve seen. His grace runs with green—a little lighter than Ellen, a lot softer than Bobby—and he’s big. Less electric, and more rooted. Wings twisted like branches, and eyes like knots on a tree trunk.

He says your name slowly. Your Enochian name. And when you stand a little taller, he gives you a kind smile.

“You can relax. I can’t do you any harm.”

You swallow. “Can’t?” 

“None of us can. Even the Angels that believe we’ve truly been left to ourselves…” He chuckles, shaking his head. “They are not foolish enough to try and touch you.”

“Because I’m the Magdalene.” You say carefully, and the angel shrugs. 

“Yes, but not quite.”

They must train angels to only speak like bridge trolls. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You are the Bride.” He says simply, and the Silver flares, running right to the tips of your fingers. “Being the Magdalene is, according to him, more of a cruel trick that was played, long ago. He’s told me he thinks you didn’t need the boost.”

“The- What?”

“I’m not sure,” he shrugs. “I don’t get to know everything. Only what I’ve been told.”

You open and close your mouth a few times, and the angel lets out another soft laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just heard so much about you. I forgot you wouldn’t know me. Joshua.” He extends his hands—he’s not in a vessel, it’s all hands—and gives you another smile. “I’m the gardener.”

“Oh.” You say a little stupidly, giving his hand a tight shake and looking around once more. Strange flowers. Everything too perfect, with no actual environmental logic to the botany. You should’ve gotten it sooner. “And I’m in the… Gardens. Of Heaven?”

Joshua hums, and gives you an approving nod. “He did say you were smart.”

You don’t really want to know the answer. You’re still going to ask. “He?”

“God. He likes to…” Joshua pauses, watching you carefully. “Talk to me.”

“And he’s- Told you about me?”

Joshua frowns at you, tilting his head. “Of course he has. He’s been lonely for a long while, and- Well. From what I understand, he’s very happy you’re finally here.”

“Did he…” Deep breath. Too much to deal with, and you don’t feel dead, but you’ve also never been dead before. “Send me here?”

“No,” Joshua sighs. “I believe that was Zachariah. He can’t kill you, so you were sent to me.” He pauses. “I would be on your way, before he comes looking. He’s always been a bitter fuck.”

Your lips twitch in surprise, and you’d very much like more of Joshua’s opinions on the angels, but- 

“Dean.” Your voice is barely a breath, and your arms wrap tight around your stomach. Like you’re trying to keep the Spiderweb trapped in your body. “I- He’s-“

“Dean Winchester is dead.” Joshua says softly, his words moving a little faster as the Silver starts to riot and tear back up. “But he is fine. From what I understand, two angry hunters went after Sam with a little angelic help, and he was… collateral. But God does not wish for him to remain here.”

“Here?” You whisper, squeezing yourself until you’re not sure you’re breathing. “In- Heaven?”

Joshua nods, and you let out a slow, shaking breath. The map. The stupid fucking map Gabriel took away from you, that you’d had about half memorized. You’re in the garden. That means-

Joshua clears his throat. “You want to find him.”

Of course you want to find him. All there ever is to do is find Dean. “Yeah. Where’s, um-“ You pause. Heaven’s made like a sphere. The Gardens were at the center, on the map. All roads in, with the only way out—according to a note that had been in the margins—growing in the roots of God, because the place was designed like the world’s worst, most magical escape room that you could never actually escape. Problems for later. “Where’s the tree?”

“The tree?” Joshua gives you another amused look, and points behind you. “Be careful. It’s old.”

“All of this is old,” you mutter, turning to frown at the bleeding-silver apple tree. “Do I just climb it?”

“Usually one must make an offering, if you’re not accompanied by myself. But I think it will make an exception for you. Just touch it.”

“Cool.” You mumble, and Joshua clears his throat. 

“I would be careful. Once you get to the rest of Heaven, it will be different for you.” You turn back to him with a frown, and he pushes on, his voice still gentle. “For most humans, it is their greatest memories from life. But you are not dead, or human.”

“I’ve heard.” You sigh, raising your hand up carefully. Dean. You need to go to Dean. “Do you, um- Want to come with me?”

It’s an awkward question, and Joshua just shakes his head with a soft smile. “I wish I could. But I like my plants, and they like me. I am… Hopeful for you, though. He seems to think you tend to be different, than he wants you. But you are bright. Good.”

You’re not good. You know, better than anyone, that you are far from good. You still give Joshua a small smile and last thanks before you let the Spiderweb start to light up, and you press your palm to the bark of the tree. 

Dean. You want Dean. 

And it’s all a blur, and you’re everything once more, but you can see Gold. Leaning on the doorway of a motel room, rubbing his neck and saying low words you can’t quite make out. Moving a little forward to be closer to whoever he’s looking at, then grinning like he’s won the lottery when they step to the side, and he can shuffle into their room. He’s looking at the floor and She—it’s a She, you can see shiny hair and hear a musical voice, and you want to hate Her but he looks so happy, and you can’t hate anyone that makes him happy—places a hand on his chest to shoves him onto the bed, and you- This feels like something you should know, and you’re so close-

Something that’s white and wrathful and bright grabs you before everything can come into focus. Yanking you back with so much force as a hollow scream for Dean breaks from your throat, and the Gold flares, but then it’s gone.

Your eyes shoot open, and you’re not in a motel room. 

You’re in a saloon. A big, wide saloon with fancy trim and a creaking floors, low music playing from a scratched-up record player. There’s sunlight that makes the dust seem like it’s swirling in the air. You’re wearing a flowing dress with your knife strapped to your upper thigh, but there’s no monsters here. Nothing but old, dusty bottles on shelves, the music that you somehow know buy heart and you’re humming to yourself in perfect time, and-

“Hey, Princess.” A hand slide to hold your waist, and the moment you turn, he’s there. 

Dean’s grinning down at you, light sparkling in his eyes. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, dressed completely like a character in one of his old movies that he loves to make you watch. And he’s so close, and he smells like grass and spice, but not cinnamon.

And he’s not Golden.

Heaven will be different for you. 

This isn’t your Dean.

It’s an imitation of him, from a fantasy. From the back of your head and rawest little bit of your heart that truly believes—in another world, where everything was less complicated—you could have Dean.

And you do. In this world. Because before you can say a single word he’s leaning down and kissing you. Slow and soft, like he’s done it a million times before, and he plans to do it a million more. His free hand grabs your chin and tips it back slightly, his low chuckle vibrates in your chest as you moan and twist to fully wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“Was gonna asked if you missed me.” He mutters, grinning against your lips. “Think I can figure it out myself, though.”

You giggle, shaking your head and dropping your brow to his chest, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. Just for a second, if this is heaven, if this is all you ever get, you want to have it. “I did. Always do, De.”

“Always, huh.” His arms wrap fully around you, his lips brushing a kiss on your brow. “That’s a big promise, baby.”

Baby. I love you, baby. 

“It is,” you whisper, your fingers curling on his shirt. “Don’t want to make it to anyone else.”

The world rumbles. Whatever stopped you from finding Dean—the real Dean—isn’t happy with you. And you think you know who. He might have been watch you your whole life.

You’re not quite ready to think about it yet. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper to Cowboy-Dean, even though he won’t understand what you’re talking about. “I- I’m really fucking sorry, for all of it. For making you worry and drive and die for me, and making you wait and getting mad and being stupid and reckless and-“ You take a shuttering breath, holding him a little tighter. He might not be Golden, but he’s built like Real-Dean is. All the same muscle and softness. It’s close enough. “I- I’m sorry-“

Cowboy-Dean mutters your name, tipping your head back with an open, adoring look on his face, his thumb running slowly down the bridge of your nose. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp out, grabbing his hands to keep them on your face. “Dean, I- I’m- I’m so sorry-“

“I know you are.” He mutters, swiping the tears away from your cheeks. “But I don’t mind doing that, you know. Taking care of you. You do the same for me, and I love you, Princess. All the way down.”

I love you. You know I love you, baby.

You let out a long, slow breath, and lean fully back into his arms. You’re not quite sure how to do this, but the Silver isn’t suffocating here. In Heaven, it’s almost back to how it had been before you lost Jo. Humming and bright, right under the surface, ready to be called forward at your will, as you need it. 

And you need to find Dean.

So you focus, and let the Silver bleed out, and already different from the tree. You’re more in control. You’re everything, and that includes something whatever glowing, misting fabric is weaving this whole world together. You can do this. 

You squeeze Cowboy-Dean three times, before he’s gone. If this is every bit of your heaven, you’re not going to be able to take it. 

And it isn’t. 

Not quite.

You miss your first shot. Your eyes open, and the Silver has just given you another fantasy. You sitting in the back room of that church in Chicago, a younger looking Dean laughing with you as he steals the Body of Christ bread, covers it in Nutella and something fluffy and white, and hands it to you with a wide, proud grin. 

“Sammy found this stuff while we were in Virginia.” He explains. “Supposed to taste like marshmallows. Thought you’d like it.”

“Aw, Deano.” You smile, taking a large bite, and it’s not real but it tastes so good. “You think of me?”

“All the time, Princess. You, uh- You think of me?”

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. “All the time.”

This one has to go, too. But you miss again. And again. And again. A lot of the times are just you and Dean, but more of them have a cast of side characters. Sam groans as you and Dean appear in his doorway—the fantasy seeming to be Dean didn’t leave, that first time, and everything was easy—and grumbles about how a week’s notice would’ve been nice. Bobby glares at a pale Dean across a table, and you roll your eyes because you know he’s not going to shoot Dean. He likes Dean. He just doesn’t like, in this fantasy, that you’ve been running around with John’s boy behind everyone’s back. And you don’t have any powers, and you can’t see the Sky, and you’re just Bobby’s daughter. Both of them are there in your treasure hunting fantasy, and when you pull that one apart and push it back together you’re in-

The Roadhouse. 

Sitting at the bar. 

Across from Jo. 

“You know, I never should have encouraged y’all.” She wrinkles her nose. “If I walk in on y’all suckin’ face one more time, I’m gonna shoot myself.”

You swallow, barely able to speak over the lump in your throat. “Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I’m sorry.”

“For what, being gross? I ain’t mad about it for you, but now that Dean’s not holdin’ back I can see his boner all the fuckin’ time-“

“For not saving you.” You cut her off with a whisper. “I- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jo just gives you a strange look and shakes her head. “Did you sleep last night? I’m fine.”

You can’t speak. You need to say something, to try and grab her even though she isn’t real, and bring her back. To hug her and sob a million more apologies. To do anything but stare at her and let a million words die in your throat about how you don’t know what to do. This is all so hard, and you just need a friend, someone to tell about the Men of God and Lucifer and Death and Crowley, and you have Cas for some of it but you want Jo-

The Silver is moving too fast. The pain pressing on your chest—made of Jo, she’s gone but she’s here, and you failed her and she doesn’t even know—is racking through your whole body, and you don’t want to go, you can’t go but you don’t know how to control it. It hurts and you’re sick and you miss her, it’s beating out of your chest and you have to say something, but the words keep turning to sobs in your throat. You should’ve done more. Been better. You fucking failed and what goddamn use are you if you’re so powerful but you can’t save Jo-

She’s gone before you can stop it. You’re everything again, but it feels wild. Furious. It all hurts—it always hurts, but now you can feel it like you’re the wound and the infection and the scar and the venom—and everything reforms differently. Faster.

Brighter.

This isn’t one of your fantasies or dreams. You’re back in what you’d been wearing in the church, and when you press your hand to your jacket, your knife and the Blade are still there. The room itself is a lot. There’s fire dancing in the air and grass under your feet, waterfalls making up the walls and a throne. A large, pure white throne made of light, high up on a dais of flowers and diamonds and marble. And when you climb up to stand before it, it glows brighter. 

And there is it. On one arm of the chair, shifting in the light without pain. Like it was designed to be there. Has always been there. 

Your name is written places in Heaven. 

On God’s throne.

“Wow.” A voice says from off to the side. “I gotta hand it to you, this is smart one. Nobody’s been here in a long time.”

You turn, and standing a few steps down on the dais is the Blue. Still blond and a little short, still grinning at you with open amusement, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waits for you to respond.

“Gabriel,” you whisper, and his grin widens. 

“Give the lady a cigar! She put it together! I doubt it was all by yourself, Dean and Sammy probably snitched, but I’m proud of you for telling them about our little rendezvous” He takes another step up, but still doesn’t move to the dais. “But, I do have to say, you didn’t listen to me at all.”

You scowl, your hands moving to your jacket on instinct, and Gabriel’s eyes widen, his hands raising up in surrender. 

“Hey, I’m just here to talk, no need to get stabby-“

“You stole my phone, and my notes.” You snap, grabbing the Blade. It looks sort for bioluminescent. Too many problems. “You stole my books.”

“I- I did to that. But, I was trying to help you, this isn’t your fight unless you make it your fight!”

“It is my fight-“

“Right, cause of your family.” Gabriel sighs. “You know, you are a stubborn little one. Sort of a spitfire. I get what they’re seeing in you-“

“Uh huh.” You’re a little sick of being called little, or hearing how people want you. You’re bigger than the fucking universe. And you’ve never cared how people want you, because you just want Dean. “Give me one good reason not to stab you.”

“My charming personality?” 

Your eyes narrow, and Gabriel winces.

“Fine, you’re mad at me. I get that. But I looked at your notes! It’s some pretty impressive stuff, and-“ Gabriel’s hands go higher as you take a step forward. “I was wrong! I was super fucking wrong! You’ve been tearing through the apocalypse like it’s a hacked video game, sweetheart, this is great. We’ll be home in time for dessert, if you keep this up.”

He sounds genuine, but you don’t trust it. So you stop moving, but keep the Blade in your hand. “What do you want, Gabriel. Aren’t you supposed to be hiding from Heaven.”

“That’s true, I am, but this,” he gestures around the room. “Doesn’t count. This is heaven back when Daddy was hands on. I didn’t even know the door was still open anymore, but I shoulda figured you’d shove your way in. Warning signs don’t really seem to be effective on you.”

You frown. “There’s no warning sign-“

“This whole place is a warning sign. Barbed wire, moat of crocodiles, whole shebang. But you just walked right in, so I followed. All I want is to talk, and this is the best place to do it.”

“To talk.” You echo back slowly. “Are you going to knock me out again?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You know, you really should let that go-“ You take another step forward, and his words stutter. “Understandable if you don’t, though. Fair. If it helps, what I pulled was a one-time, Earth specific trick. Won’t work on you up here.” He eyes you wearily. “And I really am here to help. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick an angel blade in my eye.”

You pause. Help. You don’t need help, but you also aren’t getting anywhere close to finding Dean. And, somehow, you seem to have the upper hand here. Over an archangel, in fucking heaven. If he lies, or tries to knock you out again, you’ve got the Blade. You’ll just stab him. “Help how.”

“You’re not gonna,” Gabriel makes a jerking movement with his hand, nodding to the Blade, and you shrug. 

“Not if you’re really here to help.”

“Alrighty, I can work with that. Down to business.” Gabriel claps his hands together, taking a cautious step up, but still not all the way to the dais. “Like I said, looked at your notes. Men of God, soul studies, Magdalenes, translations. You really are a smart cookie. I think you could put this together by yourself, if you got the little push-“

“Gabriel.” You hiss, and he sighs. 

“It’s right under your nose, sweetheart. Chasing Death and Pestilence, chopping off good ol’ Famine’s finger. My brothers aren’t going to be killed by your two bumbling Americana poster boys, and they ain’t dumb enough to not keep precautions against you. But they can be trapped. Put in time out. Shit, Luci got sent to the corner for thousands of years.”

“The-“ You frown, your grip tightening on the Blade. “What.”

“Think about it,” Gabriel says your name in Enochian, grinning up at you. “He got out, Mikey’s gotta kill him, that’s the whole thing. Dad’s not going to step in, he likes watching us beat each other up. Even tapes it to sell. But, he also like his loopholes. Fail safes. Little puzzles to keep us all busy while he fucked around. You think he’d just destroy the cage after it was open?” You open your mouth, and he shakes his head, raising a hand. “You’re smarter than that.”

You pull your lip between your teeth, biting until it stings. “There’s a back door.” You mutter, watching Gabriel carefully. “Another way to open it, and send someone in.” 

“Good girl,” Gabriel laughs, giving you a mock applause. “Of course, you’re gonna have to get Lucifer into the cage. I’d wish you good luck with that, but I don’t think you’ll need it. You’ve always liked finding other ways.”

Deep breath. He’s not taunting you—no more than seems usual—and that is helpful. But- “Why are you helping now. You wanted to stay out of it, Sam and Dean-“

“Sam and Dean,” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Are dramatic, self-righteous, annoyingly convincing little asshats. I probably would’ve flipped for them eventually, they’ve got this kinda street dog charm that coulda won me over. But this? It was mostly from watching our lovely Castiel.” He gives you a wide grin. “You know, he doesn’t understand what you are, not really, but he’s following you all the same, rather than some ancient orders from a deadbeat Dad. And I think he’s onto something. I think you deserve a choice, and that’s not gonna happen if this train keeps rolling. Actually, I’m not sure if it’ll happen at all, but Mikey and Luci ain’t gonna help. Plus, I love love. And you,” He lets out a low wolf whistle. “Are way too sexy for my dad.”

The chill rolls through your bones again, and the Silver is burning. Rolling and turning like a storm, not trying to burst out, but strained. Distressed. You don’t even know how to say anything, how to be anything but everything, and you heard Gabriel’s words, but you didn’t really hear them, and you can’t-

“Easy girl.” Gabriel says, raising his hands again. “I’d like to go back underground without being erased.”

You frown. “Back-“

“There’s no way I’m sticking around for the finale. Not my scene. You give me a call, I’ll answer, but only you. Don’t go writing my number on bathroom stalls. And hot tip, don’t be afraid to ask for some help. Not my help, obviously, but some help.”

“I don’t-“

“Also, you’re doing this all wrong.” Gabriel nods around the room. “You think about who you want, Heaven’s gonna want to please you. Try thinking about where they’d be. Their happy memories. Once you get that, you can go wherever you want, babygirl. World’s your oyster.” Gabriel shoots you a wink. “Good luck. Remember, call me.”

You open your mouth—to scream, to protest, to demand more, he can’t just say all that and fuck off—but nothing comes out, and Gabriel vanishes, leaving you alone once more. 

The steps are shocking soft, like sitting on a blanket, grass in the summer. You draw your knees up to your chest, dropping your brow with a low, deep breath. The Silver is still illuminated in your body, buzzing right under your skin and—for maybe the first time in your life—the pain is numbed. Not gone, but numbed. Like it’s being drowned in the Silver, or burned away by the light all around you. This feels like a good time to cry. To let out the guttural howl that’s been building in your throat. You don’t know what to do. You lost Jo, again. And God.

You don’t want to think about that one. Not right now. And it might be why the scream doesn’t come, why the pain remains something a little too far for you to really feel. It’s all too much, just on the right side of overwhelming to sear you together by force. 

You’ll get through this. You’ll get back to Dean. You always do, and then you’ll fall apart. After you save Ellen and Adam, after you find Sam and Dean—and maybe shove them both for dying like idiots—you’ll fall apart about it all.

Don’t be afraid to ask for some help. 

You tip your head up, and squeeze your eyes shut. “Dear Castiel, who art it,” you pause. This is so fucking stupid. “Wallingford, Connecticut. Get over here, please.”

There’s a rustle, and when you open your eyes Cas is standing over you, frowning around the room. “Where did you bring me?”

“Working theory?” You say, pushing to your feet. “God’s old throne room.”

“How did you-“

“Don’t know. Sam and Dean-“

“Are dead.” Cas sighs, and it’s good to know he has the same feelings about it. Dumbasses. “I’ve been guiding them, but they get sidetracked rather easily. And much of my guidance had to come from Earth, as my powers are-“ Cas glances down at his hands, frowning slightly. “Were, diminished. But I am not feeling any weakness now.”

“That might be me,” you mutter. “I need your help, and this place seems to like me.”

“Ah.” Cas’ frown deepens, but he doesn’t push it. “I’ll be able help you to Sam and Dean, if we remain together-“

“It’s not just Sam and Dean.” You tuck the Blade back in your jacket, looking around the room one last time. Your gaze falls back on your name, written on the throne, and you take a deep breath. Heaven wants to please you. “Zachariah said it would be better like this. That the boss wants to talk to me.”

Cas frowns. “Michael?”

“Probably, yeah. He had Ellen and Adam, I think he just killed them to stash them here. We’re going to have to get to them one at a time-“

“Sam and Dean’s heavens have merged. We will be able to retrieve them together.”

“Oh. Good.” You frown at the air, rubbing at the scar on your palm. “I think if we can work out just one of everyone’s happiest memories, I’ll be able to move to their heavens, and you can just hop around, so it’ll be best if we split up. We can meet up at Sam and Dean, you grab Adam, I’ll get Ellen and Jo-“

“Jo?” Cas cuts you off with a frown, and you nod. 

“If we’re bringing people back, I can get Jo, and-“

Cas says your name too gently, and your nails dig into your skin. Whatever he’s about to say, you really don’t want to hear it. “I do not believe Jo Harvelle is here.” His words come a little quicker, and it might be because all the fire in the room had burned a little brighter, right as the Silver started to wail in your body. “She is not in hell, either. But she’s… blocked.”

You shake your head, clenching your teeth. “I’ll get through the block, Cas-“

“We do not have the time.” His voice is firm, and he’s holding your glare. “Michael may be hunting you, and Zachariah is after Sam and Dean. You are powerful here, but you’re unfamiliar with the systems and roads of Heaven-“

“I’ll be fine-“

“It is not you I am worried about.” 

Sam and Dean and Ellen and Adam. “But whatever’s blocking Jo-“

“Is strong. You will likely be able to break through it, but it will cost us time. Time we do not have.” Cas sighs. “You called for my help. I am offering that, and advice. I will not be able to stop you, if you choose to aim for Jo instead of the others. But a soul is needed to bring someone back. And we know where everyone else is stored.”

You fucking hate this. This whole day has been shit. Everyone’s giving you pieces of a puzzle you don’t really want to solve anymore—not as the picture comes together, and it’s more and worst then you’d dared to think about—and your groceries are probably fucked, and you miss Dean, and Bobby’s going to kill you when you get home, and you’re failing Jo again, and Adam and Ellen-

Ellen. You can’t fail Jo and Ellen, again. You’ve already razed Jo just by being near her. You can’t allow the same to happen, again, without ever really apologizing to either of them. 

“Fine.” You mutter, rolling your neck and glaring at the ceiling. “You can get Adam?”

Cas nods, and there’s unmistakable relief washing all over his face. “Yes. I will meet you with Sam and Dean.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Cas?”

He frowns at you, and you give him a small, sad smile. 

“Don’t die.”

“I will do my best.” Cas gives you an awkward nod in return. “Good luck. I will see you in, hopefully, about fifteen minutes.”

There’s a whoosh, and then he’s gone. And you can do this. Heaven wants to please you—not the time to think about why, or what the fuck that means—and you know what you need to do now. Ellen’s happy memories.

All you can think of is Jo. And it’s splitting open a strong ache in your chest, making your fingers curl to try and protect her blue from the sights of Heaven. But Jo is the same to you that she is to Ellen. Family. And Ellen had told you a few stories, on nights you’d stayed at the roadhouse to hang out with Jo. She’d made you a rootbeer float and talked about how Jo got to ride a horse once, and it was the happiest Ellen had seen her since her dad died. 

The Silver starts to build outwards, and you can see it. Covered in an odd, shimmering veil, but there. Ellen with a beer in her hand, watching a blonde girl ride a horse that’s ten times her size. Both of them are smiling, and there’s a soft breeze that’s offsetting the flat heat of the summer. 

You turn back once, as the Silver started to leak out around you, and the image become clearer. Just to check that it was real. That your name is really right there, written on what can old be the throne of God.

And it is. 

Then it’s gone, and you’re caught in what feels like a soft tide for only a second, before you fall onto soft grass.

The sun is blinding for a second, and you have to squint to look around you. Baby Jo has wandered deeper into the field, and for a second you want to chase her down and bring her with you too. And you know it wouldn’t work—just like in the Roadhouse, that’s not your Jo, just an echo of her—but that doesn’t stop the ache from cleaving your ribs apart. You can hear her laughter on the wind, and it’s a sound you don’t think you’re ever going to hear again. 

That almost shatters you. You can’t afford to stop or slow down right now, but you’re never going to laugh with Jo again-

A hand brushes hair away from your face, and you turn to see Ellen frowning at you, your name soft on her tongue. “What are you doing here, honey?”

You swallow, your voice barely a rasp. “I- I’m here for you.”

“For me?” Ellen frowns. “I’m busy, I’m takin’ Jo to get ice cream after this. You can come with us, but you look…” She pauses, tracing her hand back over your face with a frown, and you swallow down a weak sob. “Tired. What happened?”

It would be so nice if you could just not tell her. If you could leave her here, happy, forever. But you don’t trust Zachariah to let her stay in peace. And you can’t shake the sight of her in the church. Pale and bruised, swaying slightly and unsure of what was around her. Broken.

You won’t fail twice. You won’t.

“You’re dead.” You whisper. “Zachariah found you, and hurt you. I- I don’t know why- But I didn’t stop him and I’m sorry-“

A weak, strangled sound breaks through your throat, the world going a little blurry, and Ellen pulls you into her arms. You don’t deserve to hug her back, you’re the one who got her hurt and killed. But you’re tired, and the physical pain is numb, but the ache is bigger than you know how to handle. So you bury your face in her shoulder and let the tears fall. 

“It’s okay,” Ellen hums your name, rubbing your back, and you shake your head. Nothing’s okay, it’s all too much, and too complicated, and you don’t know what to do- “I guess I shoulda known I was dead. Jo ain’t been this young in a while.”

Another broken sob shakes your body, and you don’t know if Ellen knows that Jo’s- That you- That-

“And I remember the church.” Ellen sighs. “Remember all of it, now that you’re sayin’ it.”

You swallow and lean back, blinking away the tears from your eyes. “I- I’m sorry.”

Ellen frowns. “Bout what?”

“Jo.” Your voice is barely a breath. You’re not even sure how you’re speaking at all, with the feeling of iron in your lungs and ash in your throat. “I- I tried to save her. I promise, but I couldn’t, and I shouldn’t have done the plan at all but I- I’m sorry-“

Another hollow noise breaks out and Ellen shakes her head, brushing the hair from your face. “I don’t blame you. Don’t think she’d ever blame you either. I was always happy you two found each other, even though I wasn’t a fan of her huntin’… I just wanted her to be happy. And you were the only real friend she had. I know you loved her like a sister, honey, and I don’t doubt you tried to save her.”

“But- You vanished-“

“Cause I was furious at everything that hurt her. Not you.”

“But I-“

“Dean told me you stayed with her to the end.” Ellen whispers, giving you a sad smile. “That you didn’t want to leave her at all. She wasn’t alone. And you killed the angel that killed her. Better than I could’ve done.”

You shake your head, your voice bitter. “Just one of them. Other one got away.”

Ellen sighs. “It was that bald asshole that grabbed me, wasn’t it. Zachariah?” You nod, and she scowls. “He’s seemed like a shitbag. You gonna kill him too?”

“I’d like to.” You mutter, sniffing up the last of the tears. She doesn’t blame you. Even if she should, she doesn’t, and you can do this. Focus. Get her out. You won’t fail again. “But he’s going to be looking for me, he-“

“Wants you to talk to the boss.” Ellen frowns. “God?”

“Michael. I’ll explain more later, but we have to go. Cas is meeting us at Sam and Dean-“

“Sam and Dean?” Ellen’s brows raise in surprise. “How’d they end up here?”

“Angry hunters and another trap. Cas will be able to resurrect you all, I think I jumpstarted him or something. I might be-“ You pause. If you’re this powerful, if Heaven wants to please you, you might be able to pull off the angel’s back from the dead trick too. You’re trying to feel out the Silver. It still doesn’t hurt the same, and it’s not dormant, but- 

You don’t want to risk it. You might be able to pull off a resurrection, but you don’t know how. And if you fuck it up, you might infect one of them. Might make everything worse. It will have to be Cas.

Ellen says your name gently. “You okay-“

“I’m fine.” You reach out your hand, holding Ellen’s gaze. “Ready?”

She nods, but glances over your shoulder. “What about Jo? I know that ain’t her, but- If Castiel is bringin’ people back-“

“He needs the souls.” You mumble. And Jo’s is fucking blocked. “I’m sorry.”

Ellen’s throat bobs, and she lets out a long, slow breath. “Alright.” Her hand slides into yours, and you really don’t fucking deserve this. The trust that you’re going to do this right, and not get someone hurt. “This gonna feel weird?”

“Um, no?”

“C’mon.” Ellen says your name with a small smile. “Bobby raised you to lie better than that.”

“No.” You keep your tone dry, and Ellen chuckles.

“That’s better. You bringin’ us to Sam and Dean?”

“Yeah, I just, um- One second.” You squeeze your eyes shut, and let the Silver out slowly. It’s going to have to touch Ellen, but that’s just another thing you’re trying not to think about. You’re saving her, not infecting her. You’re just carrying her with you to Cas. You’ve never tried to do that before, though. You could fuck it up. You could just vanish without her, or land her in the wrong place, or fuck up and raze her soul in the process-

Don’t think about it. 

Just think about Sam and Dean. Their happy memories. You just need one, from either of them. And it can’t be your happiest memory of them—you have to remind yourself that, over and over, because all you can think of is playing Trivial pursuit with Sam in Bobby’s library, and sitting with Dean in the Impala, wiping a smear of chocolate milk from his lip as he grinned at you, and they might not care for those memories at all—so your best bet is something they’d told you about. Sam’s fourth grade visit to a planetarium. Dean getting to drive Baby for the first time by himself. Maybe one of those Vegas weeks Dean’s tried to get you to join last year, or an easier night at the roadhouse. A weekend with Bobby, or the only school dance Sam ever got to attend. 

Or one of Dean’s many fun nights, at bars or on road trips. That one girl Sam mentioned years ago, who he spent a whole week with when he said he was going on a road trip. Or the sex spree after he made the demon deal, while you were still running around the country avoiding Hell’s Assassin’s. A good memory with Sam from their childhood, like a Christmas or Halloween. Or maybe just something simple. Dean loves simple things, and he loves them with all his heart. Pie and music and sleep. Pretty things. Good, easy things. 

Things that you aren’t. That you’ve never been. And you really want to be in his Heaven. You’re best friends, and you know he’s at least a little attracted to you, but Heaven is a high bar, and you’re complicated.

You’ve always been complicated, and sick, and a lot more trouble to tame than you’re worth. 

You’re caught in the tide again, and you’re not quite sure where you’re going. You’re only the Silver—and a spot of dark green, tangled up and flowing with you—but, through the haze of colors and light, you can see it. Dean’s Gold, that you’ll love until someone finally muzzles you properly, and you’re only a feral, gnashing beast trying to rip off your collar and go home. To Dean. 

You love him. It’s really all you can think. And whatever white thing grabbed you before isn’t going to catch you this time. You won’t let it, because you need to get to Dean. 

And you’re yours again, just like that, as you crash down into his gravity.

You’re sitting on something soft, in a dark room. There are blankets over your head and, peaking through a gap, you can see a bunch of little, plastic stars stuck to the walls and ceiling and-

Those are your walls. These are your blankets. This is your fucking room, from right before Dean died. His I’m dying party that you’d hated, but gone to anyway. Because it was for Dean. And you’d loved him, just like always. 

“Was this a trap, Princess?

You turn your head, and there he is. Golden. Your Dean, the real Dean, looking a little older than he did when this had happened, but giving you the same boyish smirk he always has. The one you might rip Heaven apart just to see, every single time. You’re in his Heaven.

“This,” you swallow a lump in your throat, your fingers curling on your calf. “This is your heaven?”

Dean blinks at you. “Course it is. But I don’t think you’re supposed to know that, sweetheart, you’re just a memory.”

Your lips twitch, even as the Spiderweb glows so bright you think it might turn into all that you are. You don’t know if you want to kiss him or shove him or just hug him for a million years and never let go. 

“But you died like, right after this.” You whisper. “How is that Heaven?”

“You made me a blanket fort and said you didn’t want me to die,” he sounds confused. Like he can’t possibly fathom why this wouldn’t be heaven. “You trusted me about your family, and we hugged, it was awesome-“

“Uh, Dean?” The entrance to the blanket fort opens, revealing a ducked down Sam. Purple. The real Sam. He barely even spares you a glance, as if he’d expected to see you here. In Dean’s Heaven. “I think something’s happening. Cas is out here.”

Dean frowns. “Thought he couldn’t get into past the pearly gates to help us-“

“Says that he got a boost.” Sam tilts his head in your direction, saying your name. “She gave it to him. And she’s supposed to be here too. Cas is worried cause it looks like Ellen’s showed up, but they were supposed to come together or something-“

“Sam.” You keep your voice dry, and Sam freezes. “I’m right here.”

They’re both gaping at you. And you adore them, but for all the shit Dean has always given you about hunting alone, you’re not sure how they survived this long without you there all the time. 

“You can see me.” Sam says a little stupidly. “But this is, uh- This is Dean’s heaven-“

“And I’m me.” You have to fight down the flush on your cheeks. You’re not sure it works. “I must have taken Memory-Me’s place.” 

Dean clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck with an almost nervous expression. “But you’re, uh- Have you been you the whole time?”

“Uh, only for like five minutes. C’mon,” you reach out a hand before you can think better. “We’ve gotta go, Dean-“

Your words fall into a yelp as Dean grabs your hand and yanks you forward, all the way into his lap. Your arms wrap around him on instinct, your face resting in the crook of his neck, and this really is your Dean. He smells like cinnamon, his Gold is everywhere, and his voice is hoarse in your ear. 

“Thought we lost you,” he mutters, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as the other squeezes your hips, as if he’s checking you’re real. “Son of a bitch, Princess, you were supposed to call me, and when we got to the church the Firebird was parked out from, and- I thought-“

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, bunching his jacket in your hands. “I- I’m okay. I’m not even dead, I just got sent to the Garden, and-“ You sigh, shaking your head against him. “I’ll tell you later. We have to go, Dean.”

He grunts, slowly detangling himself from you, but his hand slides back into yours in a second. One squeeze. Checking in. 

You give him a soft smile as he helps you to your feet, and squeeze back three times. I’m good.

I love you.

He gives a tight nod, and you step out of the blanket for to find everyone else awkwardly waiting for you. Sam gives you a nervous smile, Ellen’s looking around your room with a frown, and Adam is staring at you. 

Cas says your name, and you turn to find him sitting on the edge of your mattress. “Any issues?”

“Not yet. You think you can get all four of them?”

He pauses, then nods. “I will have to go two at a time. Just one resurrection requires effort, but all four them have intact bodies, and I feel… strong. I can handle it.”

You nod, and Sam clears his throat, raising his hand. 

“Can you guys explain what’s going on-“

“Once you’re alive, yes.” Cas pushes to his feet, and Dean scowls.

“Do you two rehearse this or something? I mean, Adam was dead this freakin’ morning, we can’t just move past that-“

“Dean.” You give him a firm look, and his mouth snaps shut. “We have to go. It’s not safe to linger-“

“Why?” Adam cuts in, earning a glare from Dean—which you want to laugh at, because he’d been pushing the same thing only seconds ago—and you sigh. 

“Because-“

“Of me.” Zachariah’s sneer cuts through the air, and your blood almost curls in your body. You don’t want to turn around and see him. You’re so fucking close to getting everyone out. 

But he’s there. And you’re fucked.

“This is very convenient,” he hums, walking around the room with a snake-like grin. “I mean, all of you in one place? And Castiel, too?” Zachariah laughs, and your grip on Dean’s hand tightens. “I mean, it’s like my birthday’s come early.”

“We do not have birthdays, Zachariah.” Cas mutters, taking a side-step to block Sam, Adam, and Ellen. 

His eyes meet yours for a second, and you give him a tight nod in return. You’ve got Dean. He’s got the other’s. 

“You always were so literal.” Zachariah scoffs, rolling his eyes at Cas. “And you shouldn’t be able to be here, either. I thought we made that very clear. Unless-“ Zachariah cuts himself off, turning his glare to you. “Of course it was you. Looks like the whore is learning some new tricks-“

“Hey.” Dean snaps, taking a step forward to block you from Zachariah’s view, and you love him but God, he can be such a fucking idiot. “Don’t talk to her like that, dickbag-“

“I get it, Dean. You’re a big, scary guard dog, and I should be running. But I’m not, am I? Because you’re just a meat sack that’s the perfect temperature, and she,” Zachariah lets out a long, pained sigh. “Is annoyingly the most important soul ever made. She’s my meal ticket. And I need her back, now.”

You swallow, and Dean tenses in front of you. It’s not brave to strong, to press against his back, and try to hide your face in his side. But it’s all you want to do. He’d be warm. Strong. Like a tree that shields you from the view of the Sky, all while keeping you shaded under its shadow. And you manage not to hide, but the pain is building back up as the Silver rushes just a layer under your skin. You don’t know what made the numbness stop. Maybe it’s the same thing that’s making you grab and rub your wrist, trying to keep the Silver down. You can’t explode now. Not here.

But Zachariah leans around Dean, his gaze locked onto yours and his lips twisted so horribly, and you choke on the bile in your throat. 

“Boss wants to talk to you,” he says the words like he hates them. You’re not exactly a big fan either. “And the rest of you,” he stands back up. “As much as I’d like to squish you under my shoe, it’s your lucky day.”

“Zachariah.” Cas says, eyes narrowed. “I am not going to let you touch them-“

“You can’t do anything about this.” Zachariah snaps. “You might be, if she,” his head jerks to you. “Knew what the fuck she was doing, but she doesn’t. And you might be able to break in a window, but I still have the keys, and a shotgun. So get. Out.”

You don’t get a warning this time. Zachariah’s snap is quick, and the Silver doesn’t get to react. The memory of your room vanishes. Sam, Dean, and Cas go with it, it feels like wind is ripping and biting at your skin for a horrible, split second before you land again. 

It’s not clear where you are, over the blur of the world. The Silver is more than burning. It’s molten, almost acidic, and it hurts. It all fucking hurts again, and you can’t really fucking breathe, and Dean. You lost him. His hand was in yours, but you were sick, and you’re a worse sort of pestilence that’s taking everything down with it, and what fucking use is being the Bride or the Magdalene or the Angel Killer or Death Raiser if you can’t ever fucking control it, can’t use it to protect instead of faltering and rotting-

Someone’s calling your name, but you can’t really hear anything over the ringing in your ears. One hand is pressed to the right of your heart, the other on your throat, and you’re not sure if you’re trying to strange yourself or feel for it. The Spiderweb. It’s not dark, not offline. When you press your fingers into the base of your throat, and the rioting of the Silver falters for a second—and the pain builds, but you’ve survived worse—you can feel it. Clear. Bright, and casting rainbow light around your rib cage. Even sharper than a moment before, because Dean isn’t in Heaven, but it’s because he’s alive.

He’s alive.

And if Dean’s alive, alive and on Earth, Sam and Cas are likely fine too. Zachariah said it was their lucky day. They’re okay. And you might need to be a little more worried about yourself.

Your name is repeated, with a little more urgency, and your vision clears as the Silver eases. Ellen is kneeling next to you—you seem to have fallen to the ground—and holding your face between her hands, her eyes scanning over your features frantically. Adam is standing off to the side, looking equally worried, but still mostly just gaping at you. All the furniture is embroidered. Gilded. Expensive. Maybe still Heaven. The Silver is still active, but the pain is too. Every color is a little brighter, but your eyes might just be adjusting. 

It doesn’t really matter. 

Just to test, you try to let a little of the Silver out. To see if you can expand, and turn Heaven to your will like before. 

The room shifts. All the fancy furniture turns to a well-worn couch and knotted wood table. The carpet turns into the rug in Bobby’s living room, and the tapestries on the walls turn to the old sunset painting Bobby keeps in his study. But when you try to push further, it’s like you slam into a wall. It doesn’t hurt, but it rushed through you like a small electric shock, and your eyes shoot open. 

Iron. It’s fucking iron, and it doesn’t do to you what it used to, but it still seems to have an effect. 

You’re trapped. 

Ellen snaps your name, and you blink at her. “You gotta tell me you’re with us-“

“I’m with you.” You mumble, dragging your nails over the skin of your throat. “We’re- Fuck.”

“The boys-“

“They’re alive.” You move slowly to your feet, rubbing the scar on your palm. “Most of them are.” You give Adam a small smile. “Hi.”

His eyes widen. “Hi. You, um- I still don’t understand what’s going on-“

“You’re collateral.” You mutter, scanning around the room. Not a lot to work with. You don’t know if you’re still in Heaven, even if you do escape, you can see the Enochian, etched into the wallpaper and wood. Ownership wardings. No praying to Cas. No getting back to Earth. “They want to talk to me, and I’ve been known to, uh-“ You sigh. “Cause damage.”

“Damage?” Adam takes a step forward, sort of looking at you like you’re some sort of fallen star. “To angels?”

“And others.” You tap your finger against one of the wardings, and it zaps. “Fuck.”

Ellen frowns. “What? You don’t think you can get us out?”

You shake your head. “I- I don’t know. I’ve sort of- teleported before, but only twice.“ Because something had been calling to you, the Spiderweb bursting in your chest, and you’d wanted to follow it all the way down. “And I can’t do it on command. Plus I’ve never- I needed Cas. For the resurrections.”

Ellen pauses. “Think you could try yourself?”

“Maybe.” You give her a tight look. “But I don’t know about two at once.”

Ellen lets out a long, heavy sigh, and Adam clears his throat. 

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on. I don’t know you,” he gestures to Ellen, before turning to you. “And Sam and Dean seemed close with you, and I know I’ve never actually met them, but I would’ve remember you if they’d brought you with them-“

“They didn’t.” You mutter, starting to move through the books on the shelves. When you open on, it’s real. With words, but they’re swimming a little on the page. Enochian. Better than nothing. “I was in Europe.”

“That where you went?” Ellen asks, and you freeze.

“I’m sorry-“

“Honey, I’m just glad you didn’t die, or blow somethin’ up-“

“I blew a few things up.”

Ellen laughs. “Anything important?”

And image flashes over your vision. A child’s soul, stained on the pavement and being delicately placed back into her body. 

Wait. 

Fuck.

Ellen says your name, and you can hear the frown in her voice. “You-“

“I’m okay.” You stand suddenly, the book tight in your hand. “I- I might have it. A way out. We just need to wait.”

They listen, but this is the kind of plan Dean would glare at you about. It’s a little insane. But you can do it. You can. You’ve done it before, even if it wasn’t exactly on purpose. Resurrection will be dicey, but there’s no reason to think you can’t do it. Until you’re violently and horrible proven otherwise, you can. You’re made to touch souls. Heaven wants to please you. And there’s no fucking use to any of it if you can’t do this, and get back to Dean. 

“Hi.”

You look up from your book, and find Adam sitting next to you with a nervous smile. “Hi.”

“You, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking between you and the carpet. “Nobody ever told me what’s going on.”

“Oh, right.” You sigh, closing your book and tipping your head back. “Um- It’s the apocalypse. Michael and Lucifer are going to have a death match, but they need Sam and Dean’s bodies-“

“I know that, actually. The angel guy explained it.” He frowns. “He was, uh- Kind of a dick about it, though.”

You snort. “You have no idea.”

Adam nods, and gives you a strange look. “I was kind of wondering, uh- About you?”

“Me?” You frown at him. “Why?”

“You seem interesting.” He shrugs. “I mean, you showed up threatening angels with knives, and you were flying around heaven. I’m curious. I mean, how’d you even meet Sam and Dean?”

“They were on a case.” You shrug. “Ran into them, told them they were wrong about what they were chasing, fought with John about it-“

“John? You met my dad?”

Shit. “Uh, yeah.”

“Were you-“

“He didn’t like me.” You keep your words short, and a little apologetic, but Adam only frowns.

“Why? You seem cool, and you’re, uh-“ He blushes, and you’re not sure what the fuck is going on. “I mean, you seem very capable, and Sam and Dean trust you-“

“I’ve been hunting with Dean for years. And Sam’s like my brother.”

Adam pauses. “But Dean isn’t?”

Fuck. “It’s complicated.” 

“Oh.” Adam nods slowly, looking back down to his feet. “Sorry, I’m not trying to push-“

“You’re not.” You sigh, tipping your head back to frown at the ceiling. “It’s all a lot.”

“Right?! I mean, I’ve got memories that aren’t mine, and angels are after us, and I- You’re really pretty but everyone seems to hate you- And you smell like vanilla-“

Adam’s words die before you can even fully register them, and when you look up. He’s knocked out. Head lolling to the side, eyes closed, mouth still parted and breathing steady. Ellen is the same, sitting at the table. 

Then a deep voice that you don’t recognize says your name in Enochian, and your head whips to see Yellow. Pure fucking Yellow, with eyes and fists and wings, made of gleaming, wrathful light. A little brighter than the Blue and the Red.

Michael.

“I had to knock them out.” He says, although there’s nothing apologetic in his tone. “They can’t look at me like you. It would’ve killed them, and I don’t think that’s any way for us to be introduced.” 

You swallow, and there are too many eyes looking at you. It’s like the Sky, concentrated down in a crude attempt of imitation. Because Michael isn’t the Sky. You remember the Sky, from when you were younger.

He was a lot angrier, and a lot lonelier. 

“I am Michael.” He adds, extending a hand. “And I know you’ve met.” He frowns. “Zachariah. I apologize for him, he’s a hard worker, but a bit of what human’s would call an asshole.”

Behind him, you can see Zachariah frown, but he doesn’t say a word. It’s a little amazing. 

“I think you’re supposed to introduce yourself.” Michael flexes his hands, frowning down at you. “I’m Michael. The archangel.”

You blink at his hand, then back to his eyes, seeming to crawl all over your skin. “You made me lose my groceries.” Your eyes narrow. “And my car-“

“I returned your car.” He corrects. “It is on the outskirts of your wards, Dean will find it soon. I had Zachariah return him and Sam safely, as well as Castiel. I would have put your groceries as well, but those wards are…” He chuckles. “Strong. You are quite the bright little thing. I like you.”

Your nails are digging into your wrists. “Why?”

“You are quite likable.”

“No, I’m not.” You snap. “And I meant why would you do that. For me?”

Michael frowns. “You are likable. Maybe not to humans, but you were not made for them. You are beautiful and kind and firm. Resilient. Perfect."

“That’s not answering my question.”

“You are stubborn as well.” Michael laughs to himself again. “But what is family if not fighting-“

“We are not family-“

“We will be.” Michael shrugs. “That’s why I saved your favorite humans. Which I understand. You haven’t seen. You don’t know that they’re all really the same yet. But you’ll learn. I can help you, until he gets home. And I understand why my little siblings have been so eager to keep you out, but they haven’t seen either. All they know is that you’re the great descendent of the mistake. The error. They don’t know that it’s part of the plan.”

Your eyes flick to Zachariah. “The- What?” 

“The plan. My father’s plan. He doesn’t make mistakes-” 

“What mistakes.”

“Lilith.” Michael frowns. “The first wife. A Magdalene, made wrong. But she wasn’t wrong, she was exactly what she was meant to be. Lucifer did ruin her,” he’s spitting his words now. “When he knew what the safety of her line meant to our father, but it didn’t matter. You are exactly as you’re supposed to be.”

The Silver is swirling and shifting like a storm in your body. You have an idea of where this is going, and once again, you don’t want to know. You’ve spent your whole fucking like desperate to know, and now it’s here and you want to go back, go home-

“And I would have preferred to keep you out of this,” Michael continues. “But you are moving things along. And the sooner we kill Lucifer, the sooner he comes home. All you need to do is convince Dean, and everything will be as it should.”

“I-“ Shaking breath. You have to keep it together, even if it’s by a thread. Even if it’s just so Zachariah doesn’t see you cry. “I’m not going to tell Dean to say yes to you. Ever.”

Michael sighs. “But you will. It is the only way you’ll be allowed to keep him. If Lucifer wins, he will be tortured for eternity. Alone. In pain. When we win, you will be allowed to keep him until the feelings fade. I will even let you speak to him, if you please.”

Until the feelings fade. They’ll never fucking fade. They hit you like a comet in the middle of June, almost ten years ago, and they’ve hurt, and they’re complicated but you weren’t able to make them fade, even when you tried to make them by force. “Lucifer said the same thing.” You mutter, holding Michael’s gaze. “About letting me have Dean.”

“Lucifer is lying. And he knows that you will grow bored of Dean, one I am gone. He is not who you were made for. Your attraction to him is the human part of you, but that will die when you take your place. When you sit on his throne, and know what true love really feels like.”

He’s wrong.

You know what true love feels like. 

It’s going back. Every single fucking time. Even when it hurts, even when it’s complicated, even when you want to run. Even when something is chasing you, so you do run, and you go and go and go and never stop, until you get a little tired and you want to go home. Back to where it’s safe. Back to where you can sleep through a night and lean on them in the morning. Then they lean on you, and you’ve never felt more important. And when they’re gone, you wish they were there. And you see them everywhere when you’re apart, but you still go back. You can never think of doing anything else. 

And every time you’ve looked up at the Sky, you’ve only wanted to run to where he couldn’t see you. And he’s never held you. Never leaned on you. Never done anything but shove you and yank you away. 

Every single time you’ve looked at God, you’ve only wanted to fucking hide.

“I’m not made for anyone.” You say, your voice far too soft. “I don’t have a place, I’m from fucking Chicago-“

“Your place is here.” Michael cuts you off with a frown. “It is where you were destined to be. And you were made perfectly. To mirror him. You are the Bride of God.”

You can’t speak. And you think, that if time didn’t keep moving, you’d turn to stone here. Maybe melt into only the Silver, and try to stretch to a corner of the universe where you could build something safe. Or just hover over Dean like a halo, too intangible for God to see you, still strong enough to keep him safe. Alive. Happy. 

But time doesn’t slow. And Michael sighs, scanning over you slowly, and says words you can somehow still hear. 

“I know this is likely overwhelming, but it is what you are meant to do. And it will all feel like nothing, in another millennia. I will give you time to think, if that helps. Zachariah?”

“Um- Yes, sir?”

“Do with the humans what you want. No harm to the Bride, but if we need to kid, we can bring him back, and the other one,” he frowns at Ellen, and ice feels like it’s being shot into your veins. Painful and cold. 

Startling you out of your stasis. Ellen.

“I believe her time was up already. Send her back to her Heaven.” Michael dips his head to you. “I will see you soon.”

There’s a flash, and Ellen and Adam groan behind you right as Zachariah’s eyes flash on your, and you step to the side. You said you wouldn’t fail. 

So you won’t. 

“Move.” Zachariah says your name in Enochian. “I don’t care what God wants you for, I’m not playing game with a little girl right now. They’re going back, you’re staying here.”

“I think I’m good.” You shrug, reaching past your jacket for your knife. You don’t really want to touch the Blade right now. “I recommend you move. Now.”

Zachariah sneers. “I don’t take orders from you-“

“I don’t care.”

The blur kicks in, and you’re moving. You slice at your own hand, then let the Silver fall out of you, into the knife. Then you’re rushing across the room and driving it right into Zachariah’s gut. He roars and reaches for you, but you’re faster. Studying Enochian paid off. You smear your blood Zachariah’s brow, paint it into a crude sigil as you twist the knife, and press it. 

He’s gone.

For now.

“We need to go.” You spin on your feet, your attention turning to Ellen and Adam, gaping on the floor. “He won’t gone for long, and if he gets back I’ll have to try something else, and I don’t-“ The image of Anna, ripped up by far too much power, flashes through your head. “I don’t know what it will do to you guys. Just- Adam-“

You grab his shoulders and he stares down at you. “Wha-“

“Stay still,” You mutter, squeezing your eyes shut. Life. Think of life. The summer in Bobby’s yard, and the warmth of home, and Dean, grinning at you and talking and laughing and life. 

The Silver moves forward into orange, and you can do this. You have to. 

“Sorry.”

“Why are you-“

You grab Adam’s orange, and let out a soft breath. The Silver flows with it, soft and delicate, and Life. 

You open your eyes, and Adam’s gone. 

You fucking did it. 

But when you turn to Ellen, any light dies in your throat. 

Zachariah’s holding her to his chest, and angel blade pressed to her throat. Just like Jo had been. 

You can’t fucking breathe.

“I wish,” Zachariah spits. “That I could kill you, you bitch. But I’ll settle for this instead. Maybe then Michael will let me at least chain you up properly.”

His blade presses a little further, your wrists sting with a phantom pain, you’re starting to build out. Too big. To do what you need to do, you’re going to have to be too sick. Deadly. And you’re bubbling lava under the earth and the lightning storms on a planet far away, and you can’t come back down. You said you wouldn’t fail. You said you wouldn’t fucking fail. 

Ellen says your name, and you shake your head. It’s too much. It hurts too fucking much- 

“It’s okay.” She whispers. “I don’t have much to go back to. Never had much except Jo. Always thought I’d end up dyin’ for her, and I didn’t get to, but she still went loved. She’d want you to be happy.”

“No-“

“I don’t think you know what’s happening, lady.” Zachariah scoffs. “I’m killing you, and she’s going to watch, and that’s it.”

Ellen’s gaze doesn’t break from your, and the weight of every single star—hot and pained and burning with fury and life and death all at once—is pressing onto your chest. 

“I’m goin’ no matter what,” she says your name softly. “And I didn’t get to die for my girl. Let me die for you.”

A broken sound leaves your throat. “I- I’m sorry-“

“I know. I’m good though, honey. You’re gonna be okay.”

You won’t be. 

Because when the Silver bursts out, sinking into Zachariah and pulling him out—prying him from his vessel, pressing him down until he’s contorted and his ugly brown is just a writhing little thing, in pain on the floor—Ellen goes too. You don’t think she’s gone. The Silver seems to grab her green and toss it somewhere, like ash and dust in the wind, but she’s not here. Not where you can bring her back. 

You failed.

You fall back into yourself with a shaking breath, and there’s a hole in the walls. Something is roaring for you on the other side of it, and it’s making the Spiderweb sing, tugging on something a little to the right of your heart. And the Silver goes dormant—though not quite as immovable in your body—and it all fucking hurts again. 

You’ll get through it. You have to get through it. You’re not going to be okay, but you have to get through it. There’s no other option, because you’re too far in it now, and God-

Later. A problem for later. 

You grab Zachariah off the floor and put him a small jar, before you step through the door. It spits you out on the side of a dirt road, Adam knocked out in the dirt a few feet away, and you know you’re back on Earth. 

God is watching you. Only watching, as you sit at Adam’s side and send Bobby a text that you’re alive. Dean will probably come to pick you up, and you’ll have to apologize to him. A million times. For all of it. For freaking him out, for failing, for how you have to tell him about being the Bride, and Michael, and everything Gabriel told you. That alone feels like a lifetime ago. 

You stare at Zachariah in his jar, and your head starts to turn a little too fast. You sort of have the Silver. And you’re made to mirror God. You keep saying you won’t fail, and then you do, but this- It could work. And if it doesn’t, maybe you’ll just implode on yourself and take Michael and Lucifer with you.

But you don’t have a lot of time. And you need to move. 

“Crowley.” You look up into the night sky, and there’s a soft rustle behind you. 

“Hello, love.” He’s grinning, when you tip your head back. “You ready to make a deal?”

“I don’t want Death.” You mumble, your voice hoarse. “I want Pestilence. And  I’m not kissing you.”

“One Pestilence, coming right up. And don’t worry,” He drawls your name with a grin. "I won’t take your revulsion to me personally. I’ve heard about you and Dean Winchester’s little bond.”

You ignore the Dean comment. “We got a deal?”

“Seems that we do.”

You nod, and your gaze flicks up to the Sky. 

To God. 

Watching you. Waiting for something you’re never going to give him, as long as just one fucking part of you—even if it’s just a river of Silver, embedded in Dean’s Gold—remains your own. He can call you his bride all he fucking wants. You’re not going down with anyone but Dean. 

Ever.

End Note: Times like these She really wishes she was a drinker.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[bizarrelovetriangel]

keep quiet.

mdni. 18+. not for the kids, pls look away.

dry humping. semi-public. fingering (briefly).

sylus gets a taste of his own medicine. let's go back to immobilized, shall we? but let's make it a little more freaky.

Somehow, you and Sylus found yourselves back in this situation: stuck in a small, tight closet that's barely big enough for the two of you. This time, you weren't hiding from your friends to keep your relationship hidden, but rather, to hide from the guards that are roaming around the private building that you've broken into.

This time, staying quiet was much harder.

It was all for business. Sylus needed to retreive a special weapon that was stolen from him, and you needed information that'll help with your investigation on Ever. Once Sylus sent you the invitation to join him for a mission, you didn't hesitate to agree.

While you two could easily take down any guards that get in your way, the whole point in sneaking inside that base was to keep quiet, snoop in the main offices for secret information, find Sylus' weapon, go in and out without getting noticed.

The base resembles a nice, modern business building filled with plenty of offices. It has three floors, and you two managed to get through the first two easily. The third floor is where all the secrets are hidden, which is why it's much more guarded, according to Mephisto's surveillance.

One guard almost spotted you as you made a turn at a hallway, but luckily Sylus was fast enough to pull you into an empty office, and right inside a closet, since it's the only thing that could fully hide your bodies.

You could hear guards walking around outside, all over the hallway, so there's no way you're getting out of there anytime soon. For now, the best thing to do is wait until they're gone, or at least, wait until the number of guards lessen. You will be waiting for Mephisto's signal to let you know when the coast is clear as he is outside watching the guards.

You were peeking through the small slits on the closet's door, guard on high, just in case one of them detects a movement from your direction. You were doing your best to stay quiet.

Sylus.... was not helping.

Teeth nipped the shell of your left ear, lips feverishly pecked on the skin behind it, and tongue gliding down your neck.

He was standing right behind you, left hand snaked around your waist, pulling you back so that your back is touching his chest.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, right hand catching his wandering fingers on your right thigh, creeping at the ends of your shorts.

"Just trying to pass time, sweetie." You could hear the smirk he has on his irksome, beautiful face without even looking at him. "Looks like we'll be here for some time. Since you don't want me to handle them and be out of here within a minute, we'll have to entertain ourselves while we wait for their bedtime."

You scoffed. "We are trying to not get caught so we can reach the main offices and get information along your damn precious weapon. If you fool around and make too much noise, they'll - "

"I'm not making any noise." He cuts you off before his mouth dove back into your neck. You closed your eyes as you felt him sucking your skin to leave a mark. "As for what kind of noise you'll be making.... that's up to you, kitten."

You spun around and tugged on the collars of his black buttoned-up shirt, lowering his face so your lips could align with his. "You are so annoying." You covered his mouth with your own so that he doesn't say anymore things that'll make you feel hotter than you already do in that tiny closet.

You felt him smile against your lips right before a hand supported your back and he deepened the kiss, your body leaning back while he leans forward. You closed your eyes and tangled your fingers through his hair, listening to nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths and lips colliding against each other tenderly.

A gasp slipped out of you as his teeth caught your bottom lip. Sylus' legs started to drive you backwards, intending to push your back against the back wall of the closet. "Remember, sweetie, try not to make too much noise."

You halted and stood your ground. "Me? And what about you?"

"I told you, I'm not making any noise. All they'll hear is a mewling kitten."

Your eyes twitched and shoved him forward so that you could trap him against the wall instead, though the plan failed instantly as Sylus was surprised by your action and suddenly lost balance, causing him to fall on his ass. Fortunately, no one outside the room caught the noise.

"...pffft..."

Sylus looked up at you with a raised brow as you suppressed your laughter behind one hand. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Not yet."

A grin was displayed on your face as you lowered yourself onto his lap, thighs on the sides of his hips. His breath instantly hitches as you pressed your weight against him and hovered your lips right in front of his, while your hands rested in the back of his neck.

You kissed him hard enough for his head to tilt back, and he instantly melts against your touch, closing his eyes and sighing against your tongue.

Soon enough, Sylus was thrusting his hips upwards, letting you feel how hard he had gotten. You returned the favor by increasing the friction, grinding down on him while kissing him even harder.

There was a low growl before hands gripped your thighs and made their way back to squeeze your ass, while simultaneously pushing you and guiding you into rubbing your core against his cock.

"Fuck... so good..."

You pressed down harder and shifted back and forth faster against the tent in his pants, earning a groan out of him.

"Ssshhh..." you covered his mouth with one hand without stopping your movements. "You need to keep quiet, Sylus."

Both of you were starting to sweat from all the heat emitted by the closet as well as your bodies, yet you couldn't stop.

He could feel your soaked underwear through your shorts, just as you could feel his pre-cum through his pants.

"Sweetie - I need you. Now." His chest was heaving, one hand unable to stop itself from reaching inside your shorts to feel you and easily insert two fingers inside you.

You stopped yourself from squealing and quickly pinned his hands back down to his side. "Sylus.... remember to be quiet, okay?"

You were determined to get pretty noises out of him, first and foremost.

Sylus swallowed his saliva as your hands unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He raised his hips so you could pull it down and remove them and free his aching cock. But you had other plans, it seemed.

You only unzipped him, but didn't fully remove his pants, and you kept his boxers on, leaving his cock straining and leaking through them.

"What are you - "

"Ssshhh."

Grinding against him with less layers of clothing felt even better than before, and you only stopped yourself from moaning with ecstasy by sinking your teeth against his neck and letting all the noise you let out be muffled by him.

"Faster." Through his grunts, Sylus whispered against your ear, causing your body to burn up even more. Just the sound of his strained voice had you clenching with need.

You increased your pace rutting against him, even when his hands flew to your hips as a warning. Sylus shut his eyes, unable to stop himself from breathing heavily.

"Fuck. I'm..."

A cry of euphoria makes it pass his parted lips as he comes and releases all over his boxers and pants.

It was a sound that you'd heard plenty of times, and a sound that you'd never get tired of. It's a sound that's meant only for you.

But if the guards outside the room heard it..... well.... that's a problem for another time. For tonight, as of now, you've already accomplished one of your missions.

"Sylus." You rested a hand on his chest as he takes a moment to collect himself. "Did you forget to be quiet? Or did you want those guys to hear you?"

Oh, you were so going to get it later. For now, he has to figure out how the hell he was supposed to finish the mission with cum-stained pants and a smug lover who looked like she just won a war.

[mysterymachine67]

got you into the loophole that is daredevil. i love it. talking about the blind man;

coaxing him to stay home for the night, with a lot of difficulties, but still managing to get him to bed as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, promising to take care of him in a LOT of ways, then finally relieving him, allat 🤲pls

PAIRING -> Matthew Murdock x M!reader

SUMMARY -> Taking care of Matt because he needs it.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

My writing in this is so ass I’m so sorry 😭

“C’mon, baby, you’ve done enough today,” You spoke, softly. You stood behind him, an arm wrapped around his middle. You were whispering into his ear, trying to convinced him to stay home for the night. But was he listening? No. “You deserve a break for a night. Lemme take care of you.” Matt had one of his hands on your wrist—holding a tight grip.

“I can’t stay tonight you know there’s been a lot of stuff going on lately. If I stay here—“ you cut him off because you couldn’t bear to hear him any longer.

“Matthew, not everybody is your responsibility. You deserve a break—a day off. Let me do something for you.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“No, not tonight. I can’t. Got stuff t’do.” he finally answered.

“Stuff that can wait. You’ve done so much lately, don’t you think you deserve some sort of reward?” God, this was gonna take forever. Matt tipped his head back, and you took the opportunity to kiss at his neck. Maybe not?

“I don’t know.” He sighed. Your other hand came up, sliding along his stomach till it met with his hip. Burying your face into his shoulder you groaned. Why couldn’t he just agree? You promised to take care of him—treat him for a few hours. Who would turn that down? Matthew fucking Murdock it seemed. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say another plea, he started to speak. “If I agree…” he paused for some reason. You could practically hear his smile. “Promise to take care of me properly?” Was that even a question? You popped your head up, lips brushing over his ear. Even nipping a bit.

“Course,” you whispered.

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The two of you slowly walked to his bed, with how you kept stopping to kiss him and feel him.

“I’ll make you feel so good. Make you forget everything,” you’d say, voice calm and steady. When you got close enough to the bed, you pushed Matt down then climbed on top of him. His hands immediately reached out for your body. With you leaning down to kiss him, it made it easier for his hands to roam up and under your shirt—all the way to your back. You groaned softly, pulling back to kiss at his jaw instead. Pressing small, quick kisses all the way down to his neck. Matt gasped when he felt a slight sting due to your teeth; you didn’t bite down too hard, just enough to get a reaction out of him. But either way you ran your tongue over the bite, and sucked—soothing the sensitive area. His breath hitched, legs shifting as he started to get more and more desperate. Your mouth got lower and lower, causing you to have to move your body down. You pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on his Adam’s apple. Meanwhile, your hands pushed his shirt up till you couldn’t anymore. You then pulled away, and watched as he sat up a bit to take off his shirt.

Matt threw the piece of clothing down to the floor somewhere, a problem for later. When he laid back down you went right back to the same position you were in before, but this time you were down more so that you could kiss at his chest. He huffed, shutting his eyes for a brief moment. Your hands ran down the sides of his body, all the way to his thighs. Which with every kiss you planted and hickey you made, you got closer and closer to where Matt wanted you the most. Your lips brushed over his stomach before pressing a soft kiss, and your hands started to undo his belt. With his cock finally free after a minor struggle, Matt whispered something. Which you couldn’t make out but you’d assume it had to do with you about to pleasure him.

Anyway, he adjusted his position—getting more comfortable because he had a feeling what would be next. And oh, he was right. The moment he felt your lips wrap around his tip he groaned lowly. A hand coming up behind your head, only daring to hold. Matt let out a soft gasp when you continued. Your tongue rubbing at the underside, then moving to lap up the pre. His legs moved, feet planting on the bed. Thighs tensing and attempting to close around your head when you took him a bit deeper. Keyword, attempting. Fortunately you were in between them so they couldn’t.

You moved back just enough to only have his tip in your mouth. You swirled and flicked your tongue, relishing in the sounds that poured from his mouth. A few seconds past, then you took him. All of him. Relaxing your throat and letting him sit in your mouth for a moment before starting to bob your head. Matt let out a drawn out groan, letting his head fall back against the pillow beneath him. He even dared to raise his hips. Which you shot him a look. The more and more you moved your head, sucked, and moved your tongue, the closer he got. Head turning from one side to the other. Not frequent, just every so often. Pulling away with a wet ‘pop’, you traced a vein with your tongue. Even managing to collect some of his pre-cum. The blowjob didn’t last long. It wasn’t really surprising. You had a pent up, somewhat needy boyfriend who just wanted something, even if he wouldn’t admit it. So when you finally got him like this? After all the struggles and difficulties you went through? He was finally, finally starting to let himself go.

You pressed your tongue flat on the head of his cock, then proceeded to move it upward. Hearing as he sucked in a breath and moaned. He couldn’t help it, the way you took him was perfect. A whine falling from his lips as he went to push his hips up, not intentionally, but forcing you to take more of him. Which it caught you off guard, but with a thought to yourself and a slight grumble you let him do what he needed to do. Which was slowly fucking your mouth. Moving his hips up and down while he let out sounds. Even taking it a step further and slowly putting his hands at the sides of your head. As if he was testing the waters. He couldn’t see your reaction, no shit, but he could tell that you didn’t protest or anything of that matter. In just a few seconds he held his hips up, keeping his cock in the warmth of your mouth as he came.

↓

You were buried inside him in a matter of minutes. Not moving or anything, only making out as you jerked him off lazily with one of your hands. Matt groaned into your mouth, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth when you pulled away briefly. Although this was nice, you knew the both of you needed something more.

So, you did you both a favor—switching him over on his back to finally fuck him properly.

↓

Your cock pushed against all the right spots within him. And something even better? He hugged you perfectly. As if he was made for you. His legs tightened around your waist, pulling you closer—deeper into him. He knew what he was doing, and you did too. Not that you were going to stop him or anything.

You made sure to keep your cock buried inside his warm hole when you leaned down atop him. Your lips brushing over his. First taking his bottom lip in between your teeth and pulling before letting go and kissing him. Just how he had done to you. Matt moaned into your mouth, hands coming up to your shoulders then slowly wrapping his arms around your neck. Pulling away for a quick breath he murmured against your mouth. “You’re really keeping your promise, huh?”

You smiled. “Of course.” You say, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Your hands gripped at his sides, one of your pointer fingers tracing one of his scars. With a hum you broke the kiss, Matt groaning from the loss. Within a few seconds you pulled back, straightening your position then picking up your pace; going back to the fast and deep thrusts that he loved.

Thirty minutes later, you were still pounding into him as if he was gonna disappear. During those thirty minutes, Matt came again. Staining areas of his chest white. The position changed, his legs now hooked over your shoulders—giving you a better angle to fuck your cock deeper into him. He wasn’t that tired. Maybe a few more rounds left in him. At the moment he couldn’t bear the thought of feeling the loss of your cock. You were fucking him too good. The feel of you hammering his insides made him squirm, arch his back, and do anything but stay still. That was until you decided enough was enough; moving your hands from his thighs to his hips. Grabbing him strong enough to make him stay still a bit. His mouth was hung open and all that left it was weak groans, moans, and nearly high pitched whines ‘n whimpers. Which just fueled you on even more. Not stopping till you were grabbing ahold of him once again, and cumming deep in him with a groan. Hips stuttering but still trying to maintain the pace you had set. And Matt? Matt was gone. The thought of him being able to go a few more rounds was no longer in his head—completely faded away. The moment he’d felt your cum fill him once again he came with you. His orgasm washing over him, dick jumping and absolutely throbbing. The angry shade of red it wore wasn’t hard to miss.

When your thrusts slowed, and turned into heavy, deep thrusts, the more easier it was to calm yourselves down. Catching your breath while Matt was still breathing heavily and clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. You leaned down over him, stopping the movement of your hips. Your lips hovered over his for a few short seconds before you gave him a proper, gentle kiss. “Did so good takin’ me—letting me take care of you.” You mumbled, hands starting to run up and down his sides.

This was something you both needed.

[cacoetheswriting]

dear stranger, | chapter two from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 5.2k

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, emotional hurt / no-comfort, eddie is a bit of an asshole, a little mutual pining, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

Eddie’s first interaction with you, a short conversation outside Benny’s one faithful Thursday evening, only solidified the idea of a potential relationship, but he was a couple of years older and coming from a completely different world to yours. Trailer trash, and whatnot. He simply didn’t think you’d be interested in him like that.

Instead, riddled with self-doubt, Eddie opted to go down the friendship route and being your friend was easy. 

Despite not sharing a lot of the same interests, the two of you always managed to find common ground and the conversation flow came naturally.

Eddie, in his fuck-the-patriarchy and everything-that’s-cool way, introduced you to a wide variety of hobbies which, in your world, were considered wildly out of the box: Dungeons and Dragons, Warhammer, all sorts of Anime, punk rock and heavy metal music. The list goes on.

Hoping to humanise your lack of interests aside from your social status, you taught the metal-head all things pop culture. Cue marathons of various seasons of different Real Housewives, making him read Twilight and asking him to choose Team Edward or Team Jacob, and judging celebrity red carpet looks.

There also appeared to be a few short things you both agreed on:

The colour blue sucks.

Lord of the Rings franchise is one of the best book to movie adaptations to ever exist.

Pizza is clearly the best food and can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Additionally, a debate arose one night to potentially include point four: Leia is a cute name for a girl. Eddie looked at you with those pretty brown eyes and smiled wide in agreement ‘cause even though you were still just a couple of kids, the potential of a future that saw your friendship blossoming, one way or another, excited him. However, the conversation happened when you were both quite high. Point long forgotten by the time the sun greeted the morning sky.

All in all, Eddie worshipped the ground you walked on. Back then, he would’ve done anything for you, you merely had to ask. The not-so-secret crush blossomed with every interaction and he swore if anyone ever dared to hurt the girl he told himself he couldn’t have, all hell would break loose.

How come, a hellish three years later, he’s the one doing the hurting? The question, of course, is rhetorical. He knows exactly what led to the breakdown of your friendship. That doesn’t mean however, he’s not completely riddled with guilt for how he just reacted to seeing you for the first time since the end of Senior Year.

His focus remains locked on where you’re after disappearing as his hand rubs the part of him you’ve just bumped, and Eddie swears he can still feel your arm against his shoulder. A tingle, an imprint, a ghost. His fingers curl into a fist against the material of his jacket and he eventually drops his head, sigh escaping his lips. Nancy is going to kill him for making you cry.

Upstairs, there’s a knock on your door. 

You quickly wipe any last tears that have trickled down your cheeks and call out to whoever is on the other side that it’s open. Robin reveals herself, head tilting to the side as she notices the miserable look on your face.

“Nancy is already crucifying him,” is all she says before wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug.

“She doesn’t have to do that,” you protest, resting your chin on her shoulder. “He’s got every right to be upset with me.”

“But the thing is, babe, everything we told you is true. Like, he does ask about you constantly, and he didn’t even have an issue with you coming this weekend when Nancy told him you accepted her invite,” she elaborates, pulling back from the embrace and leaning against a set of drawers.

“He’s just acting like a dweeb ‘cause you hugged Harrington first.”

You whine, a little too dramatically, while burying your face in your hands. It oddly feels therapeutic. Robin huffs out a laugh at your reaction, poking your arm to get you to look back at her.

“He’s never going to forgive me, Rob.” You sigh.

“Yes, he will.”

“How can he forgive me when he doesn’t want to listen to my apology? He practically said to pretend he’s not here.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “Honey, you realise that all you have to do is listen to his stupid-ass request?” She says it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The second you start giving him the cold shoulder, he’s gonna want your attention.”

And Robin was right, of course.

You didn’t notice it at first, fully understanding of Eddie’s request to steer clear from one another, plus dinner prep was a perfect distraction from his lingering presence.

Nancy tasks you with making the potato salad. A simple request and one you are happy to oblige. She positions you at one of the counters, your back to the kitchen island where Eddie is sitting nursing a beer. He’s messing around on Spotify, skipping through songs, and it takes everything you have not to comment about how he should just fucking pick one playlist and let it be.

The one person definitely unbothered by the constant switch in music is Argyle who fell asleep at the table. Body completely relaxed on the chair, head hanging backwards, and light snores escaping his parted lips as Rob tries to balance a stack of Pringles on his forehead.

Jonathan is Nancy’s sous chef, her helping hand, fulfilling every little request she has while preparing the rest of the grand meal. They’re giggling together and you can’t help but smile to yourself, thinking about how lucky they are to have found someone they feel so comfortable around. 

Eddie was that someone for you, the thought crosses your mind, sending a twinge signal to your stomach. The twist in your gut is a sort of pain comparable to slicing your hand open, and at that moment your gaze shifts to the knife in your hand, grip tightening. You’re frozen for a minute. Unsure how to continue with the salad when all you can think about is the boy behind you. The boy that wants nothing to do with you.

Yet, unbeknown to you, also the boy who immediately notices the pause in your movements. 

Eddie doesn’t act on it though. He thinks about it, only for a second too long because Steve approaches you first, briefly placing a hand on your back to gauge your attention, before leaning against the counter next to where you’re chopping potatoes. You smile at him. Eddie can see that it’s timid, small. Clearly there’s something on your mind and he feels guilty for most likely being the person that’s caused your dampened mood.

“How are you doin’?” Steve asks, crossing his arms across his chest, eyes glued to the side of your face.

“Good.” It’s not entirely true, but you know Eddie, as well as everyone else currently alert in this kitchen, can hear your conversation. “Delaying cutting these onions ‘cause I know they’re gonna make me cry,” you joke.

Steve chuckles. “Well, all you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.” He says before twisting in his spot and reaching for a chopping board. “I happen to be a pro at cutting onions.”

The light laugh that escapes your lips causes Eddie to roll his eyes. Not that you see his reaction though. You also don’t see how his grip tightens on the bottle of beer, or how his jaw clenches when Steve’s arm brushes against yours while you both work on the salad.

But despite the anger — the jealousy — bubbling inside of him, Eddie doesn’t stop listening in on your conversation with Harrington. In fact, he shuffles his chair closer, lowering the volume on the laptop by one. He can’t help himself. He’ll forever be invested in you, even if he says he’s not and that he doesn’t care. It’s all a pathetic lie to cover up the fact that he’s never quite gotten over you.

“So, how’s Vegas treating you? Bet it’s all parties and no responsibilities,” Steve nudges.

“God, I’d be disowned if that were the case,” you reply, chuckling lightly. You don’t tell him you’re sober, it doesn’t feel like the right time. “First year I was there, I worked. My dad scored me a reception job at his firm, so I saved a little cash and moved out on my own, just in time for the following year, when I started my degree.”

Steve hums, impressed. Eddie’s feeling proud, then a little sad because you got into college and he wasn’t there to congratulate you. Seemingly, no one from this group was.

“Gone into teaching, like you wanted?” Steve asks.

“Not entirely,” you pause briefly, “But what’s with the third degree? We’ve got all weekend to catch up.”

Harrington snorts out a laugh. “True,” he agrees with a smile, “I guess, you’re just such a mystery now. The usual social stalking doesn’t work ‘cause you haven’t updated anything in three years, and whenever I tried to call, you didn’t answer.”

You’re not sure what to say since he’s not wrong in his words, so you opt to say nothing at all. Steve seems to understand your reverence, nudging your arm with his own in the form of a silent assertion that he’s really not mad.

Eddie starts to feel guilty for being the one who isolated you from your friends, your support system. Though you never said it, he knows you left because of what happened at Chrissy’s stupid party. Ashamed of your actions and how they affected the group. Actions that were a result of his rash decisions.

“Fucking— Are you seriously going to listen to me spill my feelings for you, then try and jump into bed with fucking Harrington?!” Eddie’s yelling, arms stretched out as if he’s daring you.

The sound of Nancy clearing her throat forces the memory to freeze. Eddie glances up at the petite brunette, whose got one eyebrow arched as if to ask what the fuck he’s doing. He shrugs, taking another swig of his beer, then glances back down at the laptop and continues his not-so-secret eavesdropping.

“Tell me this, though,” Steve prompts, glancing at you, “are you happy?”

You pause your own movements, taking a moment to ponder his pretty loaded question. When you meet his brown eyes, you smile a genuine smile, surprising even yourself as to how easy it is to answer.

“Yes,” you state simply, “I’m happy.”

The screech of a chair being pushed back fills the air, causing both you and Steve to turn around, at the same moment that Eddie walks out of the kitchen. Nancy is quick on his heels, only flashing you an apologetic smile, and the entirety of the last twenty-odd seconds leaves you even more confused.

All throughout dinner, you notice how Eddie is oddly quiet, only chiming in when someone — not you — directly addresses him. No one comments on his unusual behaviour, though Robin shoots you some knowing looks from across the table every couple of seconds.

Then when the group agrees to move outside, while you get comfortable on the patio furniture, Eddie deliberately chooses the chair closest to the steps, as if he’s planning for a quick escape. He lights a cigarette, staring out at the lake, and your entire body is screaming to ask what’s on his mind, but then again, he’s made it quite clear he wants nothing from you.

So you decide to continue pretending his sullen mood isn’t affecting you.

“Merlot or Pinot Grigio?”

“Hmm?”

Steve’s at the door, a bottle of red and white wine in each hand. He lifts them up slightly, repeating the question, then waiting patiently for an answer. Although he doesn’t have to wait long because you quickly shake your head a firm no.

“I uh… I actually don’t drink anymore.”

Eddie’s ears perk up at your answer, though he doesn’t actually look in your direction. Still pretending to focus on the ripples in the dark water ahead.

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly. “Well, now we know why Nancy didn’t offer any with dinner. Assuming she knows?”

“She does.”

“Then I’m sorry for offering.”

“Don’t be,” you say and it’s true.

He goes back inside without another word, leaving you alone with Eddie. 

The silence is overwhelming and frankly, a little awkward. It’s odd to be so close to one another, yet feel as though you’re oceans apart. It’s also odd to have revealed this new and intimate detail about yourself, yet since it wasn’t said directly to him, Eddie might as well still not know.

You don’t know how to act, so you take out your phone.

There’s a text from your mom, ‘Really hope you’re having a good time, honey. Send some pictures, if you can.’

‘surviving ;)’, your fingers work across the keyboard, then you go into your album and select a photo of yourself with Robin and Nancy. The only one taken so far. ‘everyone says hi.’

‘Everyone?’

Your eyes flutter to where Eddie is sitting. He’s still looking at the lake.

‘almost everyone…’

As the three dots appear on the screen, your phone dings with the unmistakable sound of an Instagram notification. Your super secret secondary profile makes itself known, and you hold your breath for a split-second. But if Eddie heard it, he doesn’t say anything.

When you open the notification, the corners of your lips twitch upwards.

That, Eddie notices. Well, he noticed the sound too, but he’s not going to pry about your use of social media after pretty much telling you to fuck off earlier. His mind however, is running in circles. The metal-head knows you haven’t posted anything new on Instagram since you left Hawkins, so you must only be using the app for messaging, but who from your old life — that isn’t here this weekend — would be dming you at this hour of the evening? The second you smiled, at whatever the fuck you were after seeing on your phonescreen, well, Eddie wishes he handled your reunion earlier a little better because maybe you’d privy him to that information. He wants, no, needs to know who else you’ve been in contact with.

And he knows exactly who to ask.

A little too lost in your dm’s, you don’t notice Eddie put out the cigarette he’s been smoking and stump back inside. You don’t notice him approach Steve, mumble something in the guy's ear and point to his phone. You don’t notice them glancing at you through the large window, or whisper manically back and forth. You don’t notice Nancy joining in on the conversation, hands on her hips like a disapproving mom.

“She’s not in touch with anyone else,” she says and because she sees Eddie in particular is not buying whatever she’s selling, Nancy adds, “She’s got a second profile.”

Both boys are stunned, albeit only for a minute. Then the back-and-forth begins again. Questions arise. How long has Nancy known? Why doesn’t anyone else know? What’s the handle? Why not just use the old, original profile?

“It’s none of your business,” she tells them in a hushed tone of voice, “If she wanted you to know what is going on in her life, she’d post on the profile she created in high school, okay?”

Steve huffs, wine long forgotten, instead opting for something a little stronger. He pours four glasses of whiskey before motioning for Eddie and Nancy to take one, the last being for Robin who disappeared to talk to her girlfriend again. He takes a sip, liquid burning down his throat.

“I just don’t get the secrecy,” he says with a shrug.

With the glass pressed to her lips, Nancy looks out the window to where you’re sitting. A sigh escapes her lips. There’s a small smile present on your expression, focus remaining on your phone, and Nancy hates herself for being the person that’s ruined that, along with breaking the promise she’s made you about seven months into your time in Vegas.

She wanted to know how you were getting on. Considering by then you told her you weren’t coming back to Hawkins any time soon — one of the only texts you’d sent her since the time you left. The brunette girl wanted to know you were safe, happier. Calls weren’t going to work since you were barely replying to messages, and it’s not like at that point in time you were keen on letting the rest of the group know what you were up to, so your main Instagram account was out of the question.

Nancy suggested a second profile.

Then she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.

“There’s two things you should know,” she breathes, glancing between Steve and Eddie. “First thing’s first though, you need to fucking forgive her.” Poking Eddie’s chest, her expression is stern. “You’ve forgiven Harrington here, so the least you can do is have a normal conversation with her.”

“Nance—”

“Eddie, I swear to fucking Christ. If you’re actually incapable for swallowing your pride for one fucking second—”

The sound of the sliding door causes her to halt her words and the three of them turn their heads to where you’re now standing, wide-eyed and apologetic because it seems at first glance you are after interrupting a very important conversation.

“Sorry,” you say with a meek smile, “I just came to get a glass of water.”

And you don’t mean to eavesdrop when they start whispering amongst themselves as you fill a glass with ice. In your defence, however, they’ve never been good at keeping their voices quiet, and they’re no better now. You hear your name escape Eddie’s lips, then something about Instagram coming from Steve.

Oh.

Having filled your glass with water, you turn back to look at the three of them. 

To your surprise, the metal-head is already looking at you. His expression is hard to read, but regardless, it makes your heart skip a beat. It also makes you think that the only way for him to start trusting you again, he deserves to know what you’ve been up to these last few years — even by means of a now not-so-secret Instagram account.

So you call Steve’s name, not looking away from Eddie at first. When Harrington doesn’t react, in too deep with Nancy, you say it again, louder. He spins on his heel then, at the same time that you shift your attention in his direction. 

Sighing softly, you tell him to pull up Instagram and then you dictate the handle and although you’re watching Steve type in every syllable that escapes your lips, from the corner of your eye, you can see Eddie’s fingers also work the screen of his phone.

Proof of both their curiosities dings in your pocket. 

You quickly take out your own phone, silently accepting their follow requests while choosing not to comment on the fact that there were two: Eddie’s name gracing your notifications for the first time in three years. 

With a quick refresh, there in all its Las Vegas glory, is the last three years of your life.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy says, now standing in front of you, “They’re relentless little fuckers.”

“Hey!” Steve’s offence is melodramatic and Nancy just rolls her eyes at the boy, before linking your arm with hers and leading you back outside. Having one quick glance at your newly found account, Harrington follows quickly behind.

Eddie on the other hand is frozen in place.

He tries to keep a straight face as opens the first image, quickly scanning the caption, before focusing on the picture posted two days ago. Apparently you were in Fort Wayne, visiting your mom. There’s a smile on your face that he hasn’t witnessed since high school and his heart tightens thinking about how he’d do anything to be the reason for your happy expressions again.

Did you stomp all over his heart? Yes. Rationally, Eddie should hate you for that alone, not even mentioning how you flushed years of friendship down the toilet. And for a long, long while, he did. Eventually, the metal-head realised the hate was superficial because he was actually more angry with himself. 

“Your behaviour is fucking desperate.”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

That stupid party, and putting you in the position he did, all while you were clearly too drunk, was a huge mistake on his part. It wasn’t the right place, nor the right time. Eddie just thought you looked so beautiful that night, and the alcohol cruising through his own veins clouded his judgement.

Then you reacted the way you did. When Eddie found you in the downstairs bathroom of Chrissy’s house in the arms of Harrington, well, you both said some equally rude things in the aftermath. They came from a place of anger, but he could never actually hate you.

You left without a word, before Eddie got a chance to apologise for his shitty behaviour at the party. Before he got a chance to tell you that he doesn’t care that you kissed Harrington, or whether you feel the same way he does. All he cares about is being in your life.

Now, your life resides on a profile Eddie didn’t even know about until mere minutes ago. 

He’s scrolling, slowly. Taking the time to examine each photo, down to the comments left behind. Each image only adds to the ache in his chest. There’s experiences here he selfishly thinks he should’ve been a part of, as opposed to the people you’ve actually tagged. He’s known you for far longer than this dude Jax, who you seemingly went and got a tattoo with.

What hurts the most though, is seeing the proof of how happy you’ve been the last three years. How happy you’ve been without him in your life.

-

“So, babe, who the fuck is Jax?” Robin asks with a smirk.

Having been the last person to find out about your secret account, she was sure to take her time to tease you in retaliation. Starting light, with small jabs on the new wellness hobbies you’ve picked up over the years like hiking through the Nevada Trails Park, sunset yoga in the desert, and a new affinity for green smoothies. Then moving quickly to your new choice of friends, not judging them by any means, more expressing curiosity as to why these specific people replaced the group from Hawkins.

“Jax is a friend,” you answer simply.

“Looks awfully cosy for just a friend,” she teases, glancing up at you briefly before twisting the phone in Steve’s direction, to show the picture.

You roll your eyes ‘cause there’s really nothing going on between you and the boy in question, so the teasing you can take. You’re not ashamed.

“He’s great as a gym partner, honestly, he’s great for most boyfriend related activities, but he would, one-hundred per cent, make a terrible actual boyfriend.” You say with a soft laugh, sinking further into the cushioned seat as you further let your guard down.

Steve smirks. Satisfied. Clearly glad there’s nothing between you and Jax, though you don’t comment on his reaction. Instead, your gaze momentarily shifts to Eddie, who still hasn’t said a single word.

The brunette boy is staring at his hands. Fidgeting with the metal rings that coat his fingers. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about, and it takes everything you’ve got not to ask him. Is he proud of the person you’ve become? Or is his continuous resentment spiralling out of control, because maybe he’s wondering why you could change for those strangers, but couldn’t change for him? But that, you couldn’t even answer for yourself.

“So you haven’t been dating anyone?” Robin further probes into your new life.

When you glance back at the blonde, she raises a brow, and you know she’s only asking because she wants the same thing as you: some sort of reaction out of Eddie.

You shake your head. “No.”

But it’s Steve who reacts instead.

“Come on, sweetheart!” His tone is full of disbelief. “You mean to tell us that no one in Vegas tried to sweep you off your feet?”

You let out a soft laugh.

“They sure tried. I’m just not interested,” you answer with a smile, then reach for your glass of water, bringing the brim to your lips.

“Why?” He asks.

“Steve—” Nancy tries to cut in, aware of what you’re going to say next. Aware of the reason why you haven’t dated, and no, unlike everything else that’s happened since you’ve seen this group last, this decision you made not to date wasn’t because of Chrissy’s party.

“I uh…” You clear your throat. “I haven’t dated since Billy.”

The group goes silent. Suddenly it’s all really… awkward.

“Jesus, babe,” Robin exhales dramatically, “That’s like—”

“Forever?” You interject, trying to keep your tone of voice as positive as you can. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence. No one in the group is really sure what to say next, how to steer the conversation away from this topic. 

You glance at Eddie who, for the second time this evening and to your surprise, is already looking at you. Brown eyes full of compassion. They say more than words ever could and you’re suddenly feeling hopeful. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe you could be friends again. Maybe…

Though there’s still a lot of mending to do before any of that can happen. Starting with:

“Billy dying really fucked me up.”

Acceptance. Admitting your flaws, owning up to your mistakes. Making amends with the people that tried their very best to stand by you in the worst of times, even when you made it damn near impossible to do so.

“I kinda fell off the rails and I uh—“ You swallow your breath, gaze shifting from the brunette boy to the lake behind him. The sight of water soothing to your soul. “Well, I made some mistakes and I’m sorry. To all of you.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Nancy says quickly and the rest of the group nod along. Aside from Eddie, who is back to fidgeting with his rings.

One by one, everyone eventually says goodnight. Jonathan and Nancy are the first to go, citing an early wake-up excuse and reminding everyone the canoes are rented for eleven in the morning, so breakfast would be at ten. WIth that information in tow, Argyle checks out next. You learn how he hates the open water, so he’s hoping extra sleep will make him less nervous in the morning. Robin gets a call from Vickie. She says she’ll be back shortly but after she disappears, Steve jokes that the next time the blonde will be seen is breakfast. This leaves you with a less than desirable duo.

Steve and Eddie.

Silence stretches for minutes at a time. Out of some sick and twisted principle, you don’t want to be the first to leave because that might get misinterpreted as running away, and this entire weekend is about proving how you’ve changed. Plus you’re not going to give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you walk away twice in the span of one afternoon.

Luckily, awkwardness never seems to phase Harrington. Not for long, anyway.

He makes small talk, asks further questions about your new life, wonders if you are open to visitors and practically plans a trip out to see you in Vegas: sooner rather than later, as he puts it. He gets you to laugh on a few occasions and the sound comes naturally, no reservations or concerns.

You make note to apologise to him privately for everything you put him through the night of Chrissy’s party, although you already know he’ll tell you it’s no big deal because Steve Harrington has a heart too pure for this world. It makes you momentarily sick that you took advantage of his kindness in a moment of drunken despair.

“Okay kids,” Steve begins and stands, stretching, “If I tuck in for the night, will you kill each other? Or should I stay to play peacekeeper a little bit longer?”

“We’ll be fine,” Eddie answers shortly. The sentence being his first set of words in hours.

You exchange a glance with Harrington, who seems just as surprised as you by the metal-heads response, and offer up a timid smile.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say kindly.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Then he turns to address Eddie, “‘Night, Munson. Don’t be a dickhead.”

Eddie grumbles something under his breath, but you don’t quite make out the specifics. Instead, you watch Steve’s frame disappear into the lake house and once he’s fully out of sight, a sagging feeling settles in the pit of your stomach — what now?

Although, nothing happens. Silence settles around the two of you. Only the sound of the night, the woods, the water graces your ears and, despite the company, it all feels quite peaceful.

Eddie lights a cigarette. Hesitantly, he offers you one, avoiding your gaze as he holds out the box. You politely decline, further wrapping yourself up in your hoodie and sinking into your seat.

After a few more minutes of utter quiet, Eddie exhales, blowing smoke into the midnight air and finally looks up in your direction. You’re aware instantly, that his chocolate-button eyes are latched onto you. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head to meet his wide eyes then, surprising yourself, you offer him a small smile.

The metal-head surprises you too. For not only does he smile back, he says: “I’m sorry.”.

“You don’t—”

But he cuts you off. “I do. About earlier. I was an ass and yeah, I’m sorry.”

All you can do is nod. Not like you don’t believe him, you do. You know Eddie well enough to tell he’s being genuine. Unfortunately, a lot has gone down in the past and three years have passed since. Plus, only a few hours ago, he told you to practically shove your own apologies which can only mean he’s not really interested in having you back in his life. For that, you can’t blame him and as much as you’d want “I’m sorry” to fix things, it’s not that simple — you understand that now better than you did when you first arrived here.

You just need to get through this weekend, you remind yourself and slowly stand up, your own self-deprecating thoughts getting in the way of what you really want to tell him. 

Eddie’s eyes remain on you, as if he’s analysing your every move, which, unknown to you, he sort of is. This girl he thought he knew, now a mystery and it’s in part all of his fault. He’s aching inside because everyone else seems to click with you easily, like no time stole memories they’ll never get to experience. Steve cracking intimate jokes mere moments ago causing something vile to bubble inside of the metal-head.

An apology for his earlier comments is a good place to start rebuilding, that’s what Nancy said. He likes to think he listens to advice, even if he doesn’t think it’s good, so he did what his friend told him too and now he wishes he hasn’t. Even more so when you clearly don’t want to hear anything from him.

“I appreciate your apology, but we don’t have to talk about it,” you say matter-of-factly, “We don’t have to talk at all, just like you wanted.”

And Eddie can’t dig himself out of the hole he jumped into.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

story masterlist

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this story: @ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie

[unlovablelover]

sick reader x tomura

fluff + nsfw hc of tomura i think

- he wouldn't notice that you're sick

- he spends his time cooped up in his room, trying to grind on whatever game that currently has his attention

- his phone's probably somewhere after he threw it due to rage quitting

- and of course the only way you could tell him you were sick was through that same phone

- let's say you were waaaaaaay too sick, like mushy body burning flesh or whatever idk sue me i never get sick

- "tomura im sick asf pls help me"

- the message isn't read until he gets bored of his game

- when he finally finds his phone and sees your message, instant panic

- doesn't even read the other messages cuz he went to the nearest pharmacy as fast as possible to get u ur meds

- yells at kurogiri (or at least any lov member whoever can cook) to make some soup or something while he goes

- feels very bad but also very focused on getting you back to full health

- slams your door open to find you bundled like a burrito on the bed trembling but also burning up

- instant feel bad attack but he doesn't show it

- he can't actually

- just sucks it up and takes it as his responsibility to take care of u now

- awkwardly shuffles his way to you

- tries to remove the layers you got cuz you're sweating and shit but you just won't budge

- isn't the slightest bit annoyed, he just panics internally (silently too) cuz MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS HE SUPPOSED TO DOOOO

- the soup gets delivered, he shoots the person a glare before dismissing em

- tries to get you to sit up, will probably fail with how you keep falling over

- "man did they get so much worse cuz i was late :(( man fuck this shit"

- enter awkward attempts at getting you to drink (eat? man idfk im not a native english speaker) soup and the meds and also change you outta your sweaty clothes

- he can feel how hot your skin is when he presses his hands over your sides, ribs visible after what he assumes maybe two days of not eating properly

- he makes a mental note to monitor over your eating habits more closely, can't have one of his league members out of commision

- your puffy hot breaths against his neck as he holds you are doing things to him, but he grits his teeth and manages to get you out of your shirt

- lays you back down...maybe stares at your half naked bod for like 5 mins before forcing himself to look away

- was abt to get up when you grabbed his wrist soooo weakly (and it actually tugged at his heartstrings)

- "don't go away...please stay..."

- he doesn't even try to explain he was just going to get you a clean shirt, it's not like you're in any place to actually understand reason or whatever

- sits back down, slings his legs onto the bed, pulls you just a littleeeee closer

- an arm of his slung behind your back, your tits pressed against his side (he's already spiralling from the contact) maybe a leg of yours over both of his

- he pretends like he's trapped but he's actually enjoying this

- you're sooooo hot both literally and figuratively in his eyes

- no he doesn't see the way you kept sniffling, barely able to breath with your nose half blocked, greasy hair sticking to your skin and making you all in all, disgusting looking

- he doesn't see all that, he can only see the pretty blush dusting your cheeks, the way you kept panting hotly for more air and how you're looking at him with your eyes that are clearly in a daze, sparkling with tears

- oh my god you look soooo cute

- but oh no...something's rising....

- he swears he tried to move away

- he swears he tried to move YOU away

- but being the cuddlebug you are, you whine and latched onto him even more

- determined to not let him escape, what do you do?

- of course, trap him by climbing on top of him, using all your strength to move and "crush" him under your weight

- (he knows he can lift you off easily - you're weakened and you're not at all heavy to him)

- but he doesn't do that cuz he's already melting from both your cuteness and well, heat

- is it clear the main topic here is about the heat

- yeah he didn't even try, he keeps you there

- even secures you in place with his hands holding the back of your thighs, moving you just a teensy bit closer so he can...you know, feel your breath on his neck and your softness on his hardness

- i'm sorry that was bad

- he doesn't want to take advantage of you

- he never would unless you've talked abt it with him before this

- but he's soooo curious if you're just as hot internally as you are externally

- he swears he'll just feel you up a little, his fingers finding their way to slip into your panties...

- he presses on your clit, rubs circles over it and is surprised by how quicker you got wet

- he gulps, deciding to gather the hot liquid along your folds

- the sweet surprised sound you made almost had him stopping

- but you were silent after

- so he thinks you're okay with it

- (you really are but you were too sick and tired to properly register what was happening)

- slips his fingers inside you only to pull them out immediately

- GODDAMN YOU WERE BURNING

- he brings his hand up to look at the juices sticking to his fingers, can't help but taste it a little

- warm, sweet

- he's already loving it too much to stop right now...oh no...

- slips his fingers inside you again, moves them for a few minutes just to get you started

- eventually pulls them out to replace em with his dick

- tries not to move you around too much cuz he knows you're probably knocked out, trying to rest

- dunno if you're getting much rest with what he's about to do tho lol

- pushes inside you slowly, geeeeently

- can't risk breaking something already so fragile

- and the moment he's inside you fully he can't help but let out a string of curses, his own cheeks heating up

- WAAAAAAY TOOO HOOOOTTTTT

- has to hold onto you, arms tightly wrapped around your back as he adjusts to how tight and warm and good it all feeeeels

- doesn't move for like 5 minutes, even debated on just letting you cockwarm him like this but then he realizes he doesn't want you waking up to him inside you

- so he moves slow, dragging his thrusts just to experience the burning sensation a lot more clearer and longer

- he's panting and trying to keep it silent

- and it doesn't take long for him to cum

- he pulls out just seconds before he cums, stroking his reddened cock frantically before he loses the lingering warmth from you

- hot spunk spurts high, staining the surfaces it lands on (mainly on your back)

- he bites back a curse, shoving his dick back into his pants while he tries to clean you up

- after like 10 minutes and making sure you were knocked out cold, he removes you from him

- finds some proper clothes for you and helps you wear them

- leaves like nothing happened

- when he's in his room, he's crashing the fuck out... i'll let you imagine how that goes, but just know he's probably berating himself over it

- (he's replaying the whole thing in his mind endlessly)

- secretly hopes he'll be able to do more than just a quick fuck the next time

- and maybe next time you'll be awake and take the lead

- oh no, he's already bricked up again 🫡

[angelicwrites]

corrupted | logan howlett

summary. you seek help from your dad's best friend, logan, to overcome your nerves about intimacy, trusting him completely. however, the situation takes a manipulative turn as logan asserts control over you, leaving you vulnerable and trapped under his dominance pairings. dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader genre. smut (MDNI 18+), dom!logan x sub!reader, porn w no plot warnings. barely proofread this lmk if there is any mistakes, fingering & oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, manipulation (if you squint), innocence kink, breast play

a/n. hope you like this one <3 pls show some love by reblogging !

you found yourself in a predicament, one that you never anticipated. it was your idea to seek help from your dad 's best friend, logan, after all. you wanted to surprise your boyfriend with a birthday sex, but your nerves were getting the better of you.

"you know, sweetheart," logan said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine, "i can help you relax. i have a few tricks up my sleeve that might just do the job." you trusted him, as he was a close family friend, and his offer seemed innocent enough.

you agreed, your curiosity getting the better of you. logan led you to his bedroom, a place you had never been before. the room was dimly lit, with a musky scent that hinted at the pleasures to come. he gently pushed you down onto the soft bed, his strong hands sending a tingle through your body.

"let's start with some basic relaxation techniques," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. you felt his hands roam freely over your clothed body, making you squirm with anticipation. he slowly unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your delicate lace bra and the swell of your breasts. "you have such beautiful tits, my dear," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire.

logan's skilled fingers teased your nipples through the fabric, making them harden instantly. he pinched and rolled them gently, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

"oh, you like that, don't you?" he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. you could only nod, unable to form words as pleasure coursed through your veins.

he leaned down, his warm lips capturing one taut nipple through the lace. he sucked and teased, using his tongue to drive you wild. the sensation was electric, and you moaned loudly, your hands gripping the bedsheets. logan switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, until you were writhing beneath him, begging for more.

"please, logan," you managed to plead, "i need more." he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your sensitive body. "oh, we're just getting started, my sweet girl." with that, he pulled your panties down your legs, exposing your wetness to the cool air.

his fingers delved into your pussy, easily finding your sweet spot. he rubbed slow circles around your clit, making you tremble with need. "you're so wet, so ready for me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. he added another finger, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.

as he finger-fucked you, his thumb continued to work your clit, sending you closer and closer to the edge. your hips bucked off the bed, seeking more of his touch. "that's it, let it all out," he encouraged, his fingers never slowing. you cried out as your orgasm hit, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

but logan wasn't done with you yet. he wanted to corrupt you, own you, and make sure no other man could satisfy you the way he could. he positioned himself between your thighs, his thick, erect cock straining against his pants. "now, this is what you've been waiting for," he said, his voice laced with dominance.

he entered you slowly, inch by inch, stretching your tight, virgin hole. you whimpered at the intrusion, but logan's eyes only darkened with pleasure. "you're so fucking tight, my sweet little girl," he grunted, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. he filled you completely, his girth stretching you in the most delicious way.

logan's pace quickened, his cock slamming into your depths, hitting all the right spots. he angled his hips, seeking to stimulate every inch of your pussy. you felt your second orgasm building, the pleasure more intense than anything you'd ever experienced.

"oh, fuck, logan! I'm gonna cum again!" you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he pounded into you mercilessly, his own release building. "that's it, come all over my cock," he commanded.

your body convulsed as you climaxed, your pussy clenching around his shaft, milking him for all he was worth. logan roared as he filled you with his hot seed, marking you as his. he collapsed onto the bed, his heavy body covering yours, his cock still buried deep inside.

"you're mine now, do you understand?" he panted into your ear. "no one will ever make you feel the way i just did. you're ruined for anyone else." you could only nod, your mind foggy with post-coital bliss. logan had corrupted you, body and soul, and you couldn't wait to see what he had in store for you next.

logan will appear in your room if you like/comment/reblog !

masterlist

©angelicwrites on tumblr

[heartsonlyforchris]

we can’t be friends- chris sturniolo

authors note: hey guys!! this is my first ever time writing any sort of fan fiction!! this most definitely isn’t my best work lol, but i really hope you guys enjoy it!! im actually really proud of this, it turned out better than i thought😭 and ik i probably need to find a divider LMAO. anyways, enjoy!!!🫶🏼

warnings: smut | p in v | unprotected sex (pls don’t do this) | praise kink | pain kink? | aftercare | and i think that’s pretty much it lol

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“dude, what the fuck is your problem?” chris says while yelling at me.

i sit there, trying to figure out what to say as my eyes begin to water.

“nothing!! what the fuck is your deal? why are you so pressed?” i choke out.

“you keep hanging out with matt, why have you been ignoring me?” he yells, as i can tell he’s about to get upset.

“why do you care? are you jealous or something? not everything is about you!” i yell.

“watch the attitude.” he grunts.

“or what.” i say while looking at him directly in his eyes.

as i wait for him to respond, i start to see this look in his eyes. not anger, not sadness, but hunger. a way he’s never looked at me like before. my stomach flips. for as long as we’ve been friends, we’ve flirted here and there as a joke, since we always mess around, but his eyes are telling me that it might not just be a joke.

he laugh, with a snarky grin on his face.

“oh ill show you. get on the bed. now.”

my stomach drops. he’s never been like this before, and i don’t know if he’s joking or not. i stare at him blankly, not knowing how to respond.

“now.” he says in a growl.

he pushes me onto the bed, as i fall onto my back and my cheeks turn bright red.

i prop myself up with my arms as chris starts walking closer and closer towards me. my heart begins to race. “we’re best friends, we shouldn’t be doing this. we’ve known each other since we were kids.” i thought to myself, but at the same time, my pussy starts to throb, aching for his touch.

as he gets on top of the bed, he pins me down and begins to messily make out with me. our tounges dance together, it’s like our mouths were made for each other.

he starts toying with my sweatpants and my thong, and i lift myself up to help him take it off of me. he gets my gesture, and looks at me while taking it off.

“fuck.” he whispers.

he runs his hands down my body, as my body shivers from his touch. i start aching for his fingers. i pull on his shirt and take it off of him. i run my acrylic nails down his chest, admiring him as much as i can in this moment.

he steps back, taking off his pants and his boxers, and i do the same with my top.

“no bra? fuck ma you’re killing me.”

i smirk, seeing his dick twitch. he gets back on top of me and his mouth instantly attaches to my nipple. i arch my back, already overwhelmed with pleasure. he then leaves love marks all over my body, all the way until he reaches my throbbing pussy. he then kisses my thighs until his head is lined up with my entrance. he then attaches his mouth to my cunt, and i begin to moan in response. he sucks and licks my clit, hitting every. damn. spot.

i grab the sheets in response, overwhelmed with pleasure. fuck he knows what he’s doing. i begin to grab his hair as he’s face to face with my aching core, and he grunts as i pull on his hair.

“fuck chris, im- im- im getting close”

“already? you don’t get to cum until i say so. go it?”

i try to respond but all that comes out are scattered moans.

“answer me.” he says in a growl as he removes his mouth from my leaking cunt.

“y-yes. got it.” i manage to get out in a breathy moan.

he then attaches his lips back to my cunt, going even harder than before. i let out a yelp, feeling that im getting closer and closer.

“chris. fuck. im so close please.” i whimper.

“go ahead, you’ve been such a good girl. you got this.”

just his words send me over the edge, as I squirt all over his face while cumming, and he licks up every last drop.

i lay, trying to catch my breath, and he unexpectedly flips me over onto my stomach.

“ass up, get on all fours.”

i shakily arch my back, getting on all fours with my ass in the air. he smacks my ass before lining himself up with my enterance.

he doesn’t even hesitate to, slamming his cock into my pussy. i let out a load moan, the pleasure becoming too much.

“fuck ma, you’re so tight. it’s like this pussy was made for me.”

i whimper in response, his words making my pussy throb. as i begin to slow down, he notices and begins to insert his two fingers inside my leaking cunt. i let out a yelp, completely overwhelmed with the amount of pleasure.

“fuck chris. i-im so close. please let me cum.”

“go ahead baby, i can feel you getting close. im right there with you. come all over my cock angel.”

i let out a last loud moan, as i release all over him, and he wasn’t far behind as he fills up my pussy to the brim with his seed.

i feel empty as he pulls out. he then goes to get a damp towel, cleaning up the mess we made.

“cmon pretty girl, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower, yeah?”

i smile and nod my head as he picks me up bridal style, carrying me to the bathroom.

“just letting you know, you’re never getting rid of me now. we need to do this again.”

i smile and laugh, while kissing him on the cheek, following him into the shower.

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hope you guys enjoyed it!! i actually enjoyed writing this and it’s not too bad considering it’s my first blurb hehe. but leave any requests for anything you want me to do in the future!!🤍

taglist: @sweetshuga @chrisissobabygirl @strnilolover @solarsturniolo @hearts4werka @chrisbunnys @maliabakerscurls @ghostface712 @endereies @sturniololuv08 @m4ggvt @natalie69sworld

( oh and let me know if you want to be added or removed !)

[st-kitten]

707 final part

warnings: smut, p in v, degradation, toji's monster cock, choking, hair pulling, rough spanking, throat fucking, daddy kink, oral (m. receiving), orgasm denial, praise, no condom (but pls cover up. screw dem kids)

"now... turn around, and lie on your back."

you managed to do so, your legs shaking, thighs quivering and your ass flaming like a red, hot, cheeto. you felt the burn when your hips touched the mattress.

toji held you by your shoulders and dragged your quivering body closer to the edge of the bed, letting your head fall off slightly. you looked up at the man, who's now taken his pants and boxers off, revealing his monstrous cock, just hovering over you like a knighthood sword. you swallowed, trying not to come then and there.

seeing toji's tilted head, covered by the dark helmet made your stomach churn.

"so... do you plan to keep up the obedient act? or are you going to be a brat?"

you didn't give two shits about manners in that moment. all you wanted was to be dicked down by toji and you'd go to any lengths to get it.

"depends... which one pisses you off more?"

inside his helmet, toji smirked; proud of what a shameless freak you were.

"oh, baby... you know i can't let you talk to me like that, don't you?"

if only he could see the sparkle in your eye.

toji held the back of your neck, his fingers curling around your throat.

"you're an insolent brat, you know that? and brats..." he slapped the tip of his hard dick on your nose "get" and on your lips "punished."

you let out a soft whine, wishing he'd just get it over with.

"oh shut the fuck up. you're fine."

he waved his dick like a wand over your face, watching you tilt your head up to lick it. a chuckle rumbled through his chest. you managed to kiss the leaking tip.

"are you that cock-hungry, you little slut?" toji's other hand slid up and down his shaft, letting his need for release marinate a bit.

"of course you are." he slapped your face with it again, letting the wet tip damped your blushing cheeks.

"go on... open that slutty mouth. don't make me wait."

you let your jaw ease as you opened your mouth. you felt his tip touch your lips and you almost instinctively closed your mouth around it, sucking at it, then licking a long strip on the underside of his length.

"dirty fucking girl."

you moaned softly, his words arousing you even more. toji lifted your neck a little, holding the nape to support.

"i'm gonna fuck this pretty face, baby." he said, pushing his cock inside your mouth just enough to feel its warmth. "gonna fuck that throat and stuff your bratty mouth full and you're gonna lie there and fucking-"

without warning, he shoved his entire length into your mouth, its tip pushing through and into your throat, which made you gasp and choke.

"-take it."

his hips rolled almost imperceptibly, rubbing the weeping slit of his dick against your parted lips. the salty-sweet flavour of his arousal coated your tongue, making you crave more. he groaned deeply as his cock reached lengths, your wet heat engulfing his throbbing shaft, making the veins on his length twitch. the sigh of your throat stretching obscenely around his fat dick, bulging with inch he fed you, was fucking erotic.

"fuck yesss... take it like the good little cocksleeve you are..." his grip tightened around your head as he began to thrust, the angle allowing him to plunge impossibly deep, with his heavy balls slapping against your chin with each pump of his hips.

he watched with a dark glint in his eyes concealed by the helmet as drool leaked from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your face and down onto the floor. the lewd sounds of your gagging and choking only edged him on, his hips snapping forward with increasing speed and force.

"greedy bitch. come on. milk that cock."

his balls drew up tight, the pressure building rapidly in his core as he used your mouth for his pleasure. one hand released your hair to wrap around your throat, choking it just to tighten your hole, the friction increasing along with the pleasure. he could feel your throat spasming around him, trying to accommodate the thick intrusion.

"such a good cocksucker. stuffed and full with my dick... hhnnnggh... you'll swallow like a good girl, won't you?"

with a rough grunt, he buried himself deep in your throat as his orgasm hit him, his cock pulsing and twitching, and releasing a heavy load of his cum into your throat. he kept his dick lodged in till he felt your mouth full of his cum.

he finally pulled back, allowing you to gasp for air. thick strands of saliva and cum connected his still hard cock to your swollen lips, some dribbling down the corners of your mouth. he wiped the excess away with his thumb, pushing the mixture back into your mouth almost cruelly.

he manhandled you effortlessly, picking you up by your neck like a doll and spun you around so your back was flush against his sweat-stricken chest. his arm snaked around your waist to find your soaking cunt, his fingers running up and down your slit. his other hand came up to cup your large breast, squeezing it tightly. you threw your head back on his shoulder, the edge of the helmet hitting your temple. the sight was sinful, daunting, and sexy. the sunset peering through your window only made it that much hot.

"i'm gonna ruin your for anyone else. fuck you so hard, and deep... that's what you want right? whore."

you let out helpless moans as his fingers pumped in and out of you at an extremely slow pace. he curled his fingers just right to brush against that spongy spot inside your with each pass. his thumb rubbed your clit, circling the sensitive bud with maddeningly light touches. for a man of his size and roughness, he sure was capable of agonising gentleness.

he scissored his fingers, stretching you open as he added a third digit, pumping fast enough to make you tremble and moan but not enough to make you come.

"t-toji... pl-please"

toji chuckled at your pitiful begging, the sound muffled by the helmet, but no less mocking. the wet squelch of your cunt echoed in his ears as he plunged his fingers in and took them out just as fast.

he pinched your clit, then dove his fingers back in your stretched hole, twisting his wrist and grinding the heel of his palm against your pubic bone.

toji's silence only made you more restless and you whined further, trying to squirm out of his grip, to run away.

toji simply delivered a sharp slap to your dripping cunt. he growled in warning, slapping your pussy once more. and before you could protest, he spun you around and tossed you back into the bed. the way you lay there, limp, like a sack of potatoes, yet eager and needy was a dream come true. toji needed to see you.

he took his helmet off, his hair messy, and threw it on the floor, letting it roll away a little. now with his face in your view, he kissed you.

"fucking finally"

it was messy and aggressive, with teeth clashing, and biting your lower lip. he poured all his dominant energy into that kiss. his tongue plundered your mouth.

all the while his hard cock kept bumping against your thigh, hip, but never where you wanted it. you selfishly tried to align yourself with his cock and toji had to bite back a chuckle. you were too desperate.

he watched with amusement as you tried to impale yourself on his throbbing shaft, at least the tip, your movements clumsy and needy. each failed attempt only entertained him more.

he taunted, giving a teasing roll of his hips that had his tip catching on your entrance before slipping away again.

"look at you, humping air like a bitch in heat. pathetic." he leaned forward, his voice dripping with cruel amusement as he whispered in your ear, "beg. beg like the needy little whore you are for my dick."

"ple–please... please!" your voice croaked but you continued anyway, mindlessly blurting out, "fuck.. please, daddy!"

toji's eyes widened for a moment.

"well well..." he coughed, a small smirk on his face. "daddy kink, hm? you been hiding that from me, sweetheart?"

you were more than embarrassed. you covered your face with your arm, looking away. toji forcibly pried your arm away, and grabbed your jaw, making you look at him.

"you're fucking filthy. getting off on calling your neighbour daddy. i bet you saw me with my kid and thought, i wanna be his little girl. is that it? hm?"

he took pleasure in seeing your eyes getting teary.

"aww, you're gonna cry for me, baby?" he cooed, leaning down to lick a tear that slid down your eye.

"such a sensitive little thing, aren't you. so quick to cry... for d-a-d-d-y."

you hated how much you were loving it. any ordinary man would've lost his sense of self, but you? you wanted more. you wanted worse.

"come on. say that again."

you prayed to god toji didn't really mind your kink. "daddy please..." you whined softly, your voice quivering and girlish.

"oh," he almost moaned in bliss. "baby, baby.... baby."

"daddy's going to use your slutty little body now. you'll take what i give you, won't you little girl?"

you nodded with zero shame. toji slapped your cheek slightly.

"use your words, you dumb slut."

sniffling, you half-whined, "yessss... i'll take... everything"

toji smirked proudly. "that's my good girl."

he leaned forward, his cock ghosting over your cunt. "now... you'll let me fuck you raw, yeah? i wanna feel that pussy as it is... you're gonna say yes, aren't you, sweetie?"

you were too gone to even argue. you hand plan b somewhere in the drawer.

"my perfect little slut. gonna fill up this pretty pussy so well."

with a swift movement, he pulled you close, the head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance. he groaned deeply as he sank into your heat.

"what. the. fuck... how are you still so tight, princess? jesus..." he groaned. the sensation was overwhelming, better than anything he had experienced before. he savoured the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you.

he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace as he began to pound into you recklessly. your lewd moans, the ones he'd heard on quinn weeks ago, were now live, and meant just for his ears. he was the reason you were moaning so beautifully. it was like a lifetime achievement.

he felt your velvety walls fluttering around his pistoning cock, gripping him like a silken fist.

"that's it babygirl. let daddy hear your pretty moans," he snarled, one hand reaching behind your head to fist your hair, his other hand holding him steady above you.

your leg lifted itself, allowing him to plunge even deeper into your welcoming cunt. the new angle hit you in ways you never knew were possible.

"fuck, yeah. that's the shit." toji's balls slapped against your ass with each powerful thrust.

toji's eyes blazed with desire as he fucked you roughly. thighs spread, one leg hoisted up, he drove deep inside your again and again. he pounded into you like some monster.

"daddy! please! i- wan-wanna come!"

toji smirked at your desperate plea. but instead of giving you your first orgasm of the day, he slowed down his torturous pace, eliciting a pathetic whine from you.

"nope."

"UGH PLEASE! please daddyyy. let me come! please! i'll do anything, please."

toji slapped your ass. "who's a good girl huh?"

"me...m-me!"

"did you listen to me today? i don't think so, bitch."

"please toji... i can't... i need to come... please. fuck..." you begged shamelessly.

toji kept his pace painfully slow, almost with measured precision, but eventually, even he couldn't resist the urge to release. he pulled out, laughing at you groan.

he spun you around, pressing you head into the mattress again, and forced his cock back into you, holding your ass, fucking it back into him.

"alright. time to fuck this cunt properly. time to breed my needy girl. isn't it?"

toji was practically speaking to a china doll. all you did was nod to whatever he said. he chuckled and sped up, fucking you roughly, fast, hard, barely leaving room to breathe. he was a mess of grunts and moans, slamming into you with reckless abandon, balls smacking against your ass with each savage thrust.

he grabbed your arms and locked them behind your back, pulling you into his chest as he fucked you unforgivingly. he neared his climax and he knew just how much you craved yours.

"fuck. come... come for me, baby. come for daddy."

toji buried his dick deep inside you as he unleashed a torrent of hot cum into you, coming undone with you. you let out a pained, broken moan as you came on his dick, finally feeling the orgasm that had built itself long enough. he ground against you, stuffing you full of his cum. when he finally stilled, he pulled out his softening cock, and collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

"jesus..."

for a moment neither of you said anything. only your pants and breaths spoke for themselves.

"you okay, baby?" toji asked softly, shifting some of his weight off you, resting on one elbow, his other hand tracing your spine.

you let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. he smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"sweet girl... you did so well."

he took a deep breath and got up from the bed to grab a towel. dampening it, he came back to your side and cleaned you up, taking his time. he rolled you to the side, untucking the sheets and tossed them away.

"you got spare sheets?"

you pointed to a drawer and toji dug out some fresh sheets. he managed to put them on without making you get up. once done, he got into bed with you, pulling up his boxers. he let you crawl into his hug, his arms wrapping around you gently.

"i'm so proud of you."

"for what?"

"for trusting an old man like me with you, your body, your pleasure."

"toji, you're not that old."

he smirked. "as a matter of fact, i turn 39 today."

you raised yourself and looked down at him. "it's your birthday?"

toji nodded.

"why didn't you tell me before? we could've celebrated properly! gone out! i didn't even have time to make you a gift!"

"baby, you're my gift. you and my kid. that's all i want."

your gaze softened as you rested on your stomach, hoisted up by your elbows. you smiled warmly at him.

"happy birthday, toji."

you leaned forward to kiss him and he met you halfway.

"thank you, princess."

"ugh. you should've told me before. now i feel shitty."

"hey, i got to fuck you, come inside you, and now i get to cuddle with you. if that ain't a present, then i don't know what is."

you swatted his shoulder. "that's not what i meant. toji..." you looked at him apologetically. "everyone deserves a birthday celebrated with friends and family."

toji shrugged. "i got family."

"and megs would've loved to celebrate today with you."

"and you."

you looked at him, your brow creased a little. "i'm no–"

"i wanna marry ya."

you blinked at his admission and toji chuckled.

"someday. not immediately. but... eventually. i don't got time to keep dating, y/n. before... i..." he sighed, knowing now's the time to be honest. "i thought i had to find megs a mother. but..."

he gently caressed your cheek. "i want a wife. a partner. a... lover."

given his usual brooding nature, and aura, you wouldn't have guessed that inside, there's just a man yearning to be loved. you looked at him with tenderness, listening to him open up.

"i hated myself and my life most of the time because of how many women i hooked up with. every woman i'd... meet, i crossed off because... honestly, anyone who hooked up with me, shouldn't be megs' stepmother."

he leaned closer, lying on the bed, looking up at your face. he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"but... you..." he chuckled softly. "you're so young, so smart, so... beautiful. you never tried to hook up with me. you cared for megs like you would your own kid. and... i am... so..."

his eyes got blurry as a few tears collected in them.

"so... grateful that you exist."

your gaze softened and you kissed his forehead.

"i can't force you to play mom to that kid. but... if you're..." toji felt heavy even asking you that. "willing... i promise you, sweetheart, i will never let you lift a finger. i'll give you the world. i'll love you till you're sick and tired of me."

you chuckle and shake your head. "i won't get tired of you. annoyed, maybe. but..." you took a breath. "i wear my heart on my sleeve, toji. i love people fiercely, unconditionally. and megumi holds a special place in my heart. so do you."

toji smiled and cupped your jaw. "you're a rare one."

"and i'm yours," you said softly.

toji and you spent the night talking, kissing, and laughing. as the new years' fireworks went off, you sat by the window in your living room, watching the sky light up, sipping coffee, nestled in each other's arms.

[two weeks later]

toji had spent the first few days of the new year frantically planning for megumi's new school supplies. the kid insisted on dog themed stationary, so it took a trip to a million stores to get him what he wanted.

in his hectic routine, he replayed that night at your place in his mind. you were truly something else. but a part of him swayed to the one place he'd kept buried for years.

an old, dusty frame in his hand, he looked at the woman in the photo, her face clear, but her memory fading.

"our kid's growing up, ma. he's gonna... need someone. someone who ain't an ugly crook like me. she–" he smiled. "please... give me a sign. anything. tell me it's okay if i do this..."

he kissed the frame and packed it in a box, putting it away in the storage room.

grabbing megumi's new dog-themed school bag, toji headed downstairs, where megumi was waiting with you for the bus. the little boy stood near the gate, quietly reciting the tables of seven and eight—something he’d proudly taught himself. toji handed you the bag, and you knelt down to help megumi put it on, adjusting the straps snugly over his tiny shoulders.

“my, you look so smart, gumi,” you said with a grin, giving his chubby cheek a gentle poke.

megumi giggled, his eyes crinkling with delight, before the faint rumble of the approaching bus made him perk up. as the bus came to a stop, he trotted off eagerly, clutching his bag close. just before stepping onto the bus, he turned back with a big wave, his bright smile making the early morning feel a little warmer.

"bye dad! bye mom!"

you looked at him, eyes widened, lips parted. toji looked up at the sky briefly, smiling, before he looked down at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

[takes1]

omg if ur requests r still open… let me start off by saying i ate your tsukki series right up it scratched my needy loser itch SO WELL 😭😭 so much so im coming to you as a woman and begging you to do a needy oikawa scenario headcanon fic ANYTHING!!!! like i’d love a pathetic loser oikawa whos like perchance… crushing on one of the members of the girls team of seijoh…? 🫢

i’ll literally take anything u write atp that tsukki series was so fucking good that i literally put off studying for my finals to wait for ur updates instead 😭 i hope u know ur an excellent writer n wish u a very well day!!! 🤍🤍

god this request made my damn dayy!! ilysm. you're the best. i'm so glad you liked the tsukki series!! i've been waiting around for people start requesting! i love writing needy men, they're so dynamic

warnings. none. sfw, but hard-on mentioned so minors DNI info. hq fluff / yearning / needy!oikawa / loser!oikawa / volleyball team!reader / ace!reader / kind of popular!reader / oikawa getting hard talking to you / oikawa crushing / seijoh losing a match / iwa being a good friend / 1k words 🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open and empty, so give me some ideas pls!

"Come on, dumbass- the bus is here," Iwaizumi reached out to grab Oikawa's wrist to keep him from lingering any longer at the entrance to the gym floor.

"Give me two seconds," Oikawa spat. He swatted away his teammate's attempt to haul him from his vantage point.

Iwaizumi sucked his teeth and muttered something under his breath.

For once, Oikawa didn't pay it any mind. He had to see you spike. He had to watch you win.

The ball spun up, perfect and slow for your setter- his clammy hands clenched at the soaked number on his jersey. You leaped up for it. He froze that moment in time, your perfect form, perfect body, perfect force, all sculpted for this sport you both loved and dedicated yourselves to. It was a frame he could worship until the end of time.

You gave a brutal and strong slam, clean and cutthroat, that connected to the linoleum on the other side of the court.

"YEAAAAHHHHH!!"

The cries of the audience, your team, a double whistle, and the pounding of his own heart for you filled his ears. He couldn't hear the reinforcements Iwaizumi had sent to drag him away so they could leave.

It didn't matter now.

None of them were in the mood to entertain his sensitivities, since they hadn't had as much luck as you against Karasuno.

That being said, he wasn't the only one who was happy the girl's team had managed to make it. It made their group jogging back to catch the bus just a bit less out-of-sorts.

Though his plan was to speak to you first thing that next morning about the match, it never worked that way.

You were the epitome of untouchable, surrounded by many friends and always smiling at something they said to you- he couldn't stomach the possibility of you not smiling at him the same way.

But you were magnetic; as soon as he gave up on the line he prepared for you, he would watch your perfect smile light up the room and have a brand-new, better one.

Yet, a mere, "Hey," Was all he could manage on his best days when your teams switched for practice, between his own admirers never leaving him alone, and your always-occupied attention.

He wasn't enough to catch your eye.

That alone stumped him, because he never had a problem with this before you.

There was a noisy little songbird outside the window, right next to him on the other side of the glass, practically egging him on.

His gaze flitted from the bird over to your desk for the final, innumerable time that class. The heavy head in his hand tilted, studying the way you played with your hair, in hopes to replicate it.

God, if you were his, you would never have to worry about brushing it. He'd be at your beck and call, anything you needed, he would search Heaven and Earth for it.

He sighed through his nose, hand over his mouth.

There was a pain in his eyes.

You copied the last few pieces from the textbook to your notes and brushed away some eraser marks from your desk. A steady, cute, focus on your brow.

The bell rang for lunch.

A fluttering of wings and the bird he was watching was far away now, soaring through the partly cloudy sky. He turned back to you and his heart sank.

There were already guys at your desk congratulating you on your win.

You grinned and mentioned your team's hard work, casual and cool, and took your lunch out as they walked away.

He couldn't let himself be forgotten. With a bit too much enthusiasm he stood and his chair scraped the floor, loud.

Only a few people turned to look and you were thankfully not one of them.

No time to think-- just going for it, he belted out at the side of your desk,

"I saw you win the match."

What the fuck did he just say?

You glanced up at him. He didn't mean to say that, exactly. He should've just said congrats. His face filled with struggle.

"Oh!" You wiped your mouth, "Yeah, I saw you guys walking out, I wanted to talk to you!"

He stumbled over his words, unable to think clearly enough to take a second to breathe, "Y-eah, the bus- was there--."

"The girls watched you guys, too. I'm sorry about what happened."

His face was starting to get warm, and just his luck, two of his most common groupies were stalking you with dark looks at the door. He was fumbling so bad. Of course you watched him lose.

You looked down for a moment, "That was a tough match."

In doing so, you remembered that monster serve that made you jump out of your seat.

You giggled, "Oh man, but that serve of yours!!"

His chest puffed up, filled with a newfound pride that mended every lackluster attempt he ever had at getting your attention.

"That was so fucking cool!"

Heat crept up his neck, goosebumps all over his arms so bad he had to cross them. He was blushing ear to ear.

A choked sound preceded his uneven voice, "You saw that?"

"Y-eaaah, I mean," He was making it worse already, but you were grinning up at him. How could he not keep trying to impress you?

"-They're better way better at practice, ya know."

"Oh, yeah?" An unwanted, deep voice egged on from his side.

He jumped away from Iwaizumi, whom he made plans to meet with for lunch, now standing with his arms crossed and an unimpressed brow line.

You both shared an amicable wave before he slapped a broad hand on the back of Oikawa's neck to direct him away and let you eat in peace.

It was arguably in his best interest, but Oikawa scrambled out of his grip as soon as he was in the hallway, pissed that he was abducted just as it was getting good.

"The fuck?" He snapped, rubbing the hot spot just under his hairline.

Iwaizumi, not about to tolerate his attitude like he did yesterday, rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. He started walking towards their usual spot with a smirk that his friend couldn't see.

He called over his shoulder, "You should really tuck that, dude."

The few students in the hallway watched his back, some in amusement, some in carnal curiosity, as he panicked for a moment, faced a corner -beet red and muttering-, and did just so.

my masterlist.

please send requests!

thanks again anon for the send, hope you like!! <3

[hrdenha]

— little love | l.hs, s.jy

synopsis: there you are in between of the two of your favorite people, so caught up in comfort that they gave after a long, tiring month. well, feeling your holes getting filled by them wasn't a bad idea either.

pairings: bestfriend!lee heeseung x reader x bestfriend!sim jaeyun

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! twisted little story thus, twisted heejake. reader is sleeping at first. somnophilia as a consented fantasy. threesome, oral s*x, penetr*tion, kind of has corruption k*ink.

AUTHOR'S NOTE — !

since it's heetober and soon to be jake-nover (?), i decided to write polysmut (? not sure if that's what its called). lol, who am i kidding? It doesn't have any connection with hee and jake's birthday month. i just want to lessen the growing number of this blog's drafts. this smut has been accumulating spider webs since last year so i decided to finally continue and release it. well, i hope you enjoy it and pls let me know what you think. i need feedback so MUCH

There's this unknown wet yet slippery feeling that was constantly pulling you out of your dreamless sleep. Your mind was somehow groggy, your head filled with empty spaces but it's rather heavy.

The wet thing travels all over your body until it stops on top of your nerve endings. As the heavy feeling in your head was slowly but surely lifted up while you woke up so were your senses.

You felt a pair... no, not just a pair but even two sets of hands stroking your body. One has you down there while the other dominates the uppers.

A thin line between pleasure and distraught was drawn. You can't help but sigh in comfort, doing so as if it were the signal that finally blurred the said line.

You huff, eyes trying to slowly open on their own, seemingly alarmed by the new fiasco inside your head. One can even feel the dust formed on your cornea from the long sleep you just had. Slowly, albeit surely. As though, you were afraid that this fine affection would vanish as soon as you woke up.

Oh, but you were wrong.

The room was dark and silent. Still, it has a familiar inkling. There's an opened yet volumed TV in the corner thus, it was the only one that lightens the room though in a minimal manner.

Right, you remembered. It's Friday night. Heeseung and Jake decided to visit you for another movie night of the month. You recall how you laughed at Jake's corny jokes with Heeseung while all of you had your favorite food and drinks on hand. How Jake pouted, complaining you forgot about them. Of course, you responded with a peer smile, which you don't want to admit despite it being true for some reason.

You're so busy these days with your college life that you don't have the time to worry about other matters. Thus, this arrangement also takes a toll on your health. And as much as you like spending time with both of them, you can't help but fall asleep. Being in between the two of your favorite people helped you be lulled into the arms of sleep. Completely oblivious about what comes next.

As your mind processes the daily events, you hear a moan in front of you. Looking down at the sound, you saw Jake wholeheartedly sucking your breast. The sight caught you off guard though, in a good way, your lips can't help but release a mewl.

The sound causes Jake to open his eyes, looking up to meet yours, something that makes your breath shake.

The darkness and lust lurking in his eyes fight in contrast to how fluffy his black hair comes undone just above, covering a little portion of his eyes. And, the way the moonlight shines brightly just behind him, makes him look more ethereal.

Jake smirked before releasing your right breast with a pop, "Little love was finally awake! I thought you were gonna miss the party just like what you always do"

You wanted to ask, but suddenly —

A chuckle was heard from behind— at the same time, vibration rolled over your back, "You're awake, y/n?" Heeseung whispered lovingly in your ear before sucking it.

"Wh-what?" You managed to let out, demented blood flowing in your veins as the two men before you released low laughs at your reaction.

"Are you loving it? Does it feel good, love?" Jake coo-ed, humming at the end of his sentence before licking your bare nipples with his soft tongue, eyes boring into you.

"We didn't forget about the promise we made last time, little love" Heeseung whispered, taking in your scent with his eyes closed, rubbing his hands lovingly on your sides.

"We told you that we're gonna take care of you and look how we're doing well" Jake cheered while still assaulting your breast. He said those phrase unconcerned, as if there's nothing wrong to begin with.

You didn't say anything but Heeseung felt your doubts and he's determined to blur it down. "Y/N..." Heeseung whispered, and you felt like heaven just stumped on you.

Why is he calling you by your name? It should be little love, right?

You hummed in protest, courage wasn't enough for your voice to come out. Despite this, the older of the two understands it without problem.

Heeseung smiled when his eyes meet with yours. Hesitation was nowhere found everywhere on your orbs. Not one bit.

Unconsciously, you put one of your hands behind his head pushing heeseung onto yours as both of you share a messy kiss. Tongue on each other, exploring every cavern of your mouth.

"Fuck, this is the hottest scene I've seen in my life" Jake whispered causing you to cut your connection with heeseung ang look at the man who just talked.

You were sitting so well-behaved on his hyung's lap, like a pretty canvas displayed for someone with artistic eyes, waiting to be worshipped. And that someone is Jake, the one who's vocally appreciating every curve and flaw you have with deep fascination.

Heeseung's tongue brought you back to the reality of land. His clapper traveled on your neck, right hand etching fine circles on your clit. His left hand prodded on your hips keeping you intact on his lap while Jake deliciously suck on your breast, his right hand playing with your left nipples whilst his left hand caressed your body lovingly leaving you breathless.

It was fucking crazy. You were going crazy. Perhaps, that's their unsaid vow and it is definitely effective. You just can't help but want more.

"hmm— S-stop..." Both of them stared at you further observing your reaction though their hands continuously doing it's god-given work.

"Oh, really?" The younger asks, "Do you really want us to stop?" You felt him pinching your buds painfully yet surprisingly, it just made you yearn for more. "Do you really want Heeseung hyung to stop playing with this?" He whispered, putting his finger inside you. His eyes held a mischievous glint at the sound it released.

You didn't answer but the way you swallowed your objections was enough for Jake to continue his rendezvous. He smiled at you, so sweet, so innocent. A smile he always gives you on a daily basis. It made you feel safe, made you melt in their arms.

"Do you trust Seungie?" Heeseung suddenly asked peeking from your side, his eyes bare an innocent hue. "Y-yes..." A flick was felt on your clit, making you flinch in pleasure.

"Then, do you also trust jakey?" He asked once again, and this time your voice came back in an instant, letting you shout a frustrated, 'Yes!'

Both of the perpetrators chuckled, humming with their honey-glazed voices while gazing at you with lust-filled eyes. Jake lick your nipples goodbye one after another before standing up. Heeseung then pulled his hands on your cotton shorts before lifting you up like a bride.

"Let's continue this in your bedroom, little love" Heeseung whispered pecking your lips.

The next thing you knew, the older of the two gently laying you back flat on your bed.

Jake immediately abolished your stubborn cotton shorts, panties still intact while he disregard the way your tight tank top curled on top of your boobs, which he causes because of Jake's lazy antics to push it up onto your chest to soothe the burning flame on his mouth a few minutes ago.

A pair of hands folded your legs up, not sure who it is as you keep your eyes closed feeling the comfort from every soft touch they did.

"Just like that, love... relax for me" You sure it's jake pecking your forehead his hands gently pinching your nipples, his mouth working on the sweet spots on your neck.

On the other hand, heeseung affectionately caressed your thighs. leaving soft kisses from inside and out, purposely not giving your pussy the attention it needed. You're despairing, from their touch and from the fine dust of lust they wanted you to feel.

There's no doubt that the two men hovering above you, want nothing but you begging for more. And their antics just proved effective.

As heeseung's soft lips travel on your right thigh, jake was taking his time leaving feathery kisses in between your breast. You had enough, whimpering to them as your hips unknowingly lift up.

Unbeknownst to you, so did they. The two of them know how to play this game. They can be patient as long as they need it, but the wet patch on your cotton panties was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Heeseung chuckled, "Someone's impatient..."

You opened your eyes, braving yourself to look straight at both of them. "Please..." As if on queue, a single tear slid down your face then came another staining your naturally blushed cheeks.

That made the men melt on top of you. Spewing nothing but affectionate words in your ears in an attempt to coo you. They wanted this. This is the moment they desire so bad and it's finally here.

You don't know how relieved you are when Heeseung slowly pulls your panties, leaving you with nothing and completely bare. One might feel vulnerable and weak if they're bare and the other party isn't. But surprisingly, Heeseung and jake ensure that you will never ever feel that.

A soft light lighting up the room, soft sheets around you building a soft wave together with your dark brown hair. You felt like an ancient goddess, ready to be filled with love from your loyal devotees.

Heeseung part your legs apart, like someone who's parting the sea. The cold wind made contact causing you to shiver, but heeseung doesn't faze. After all, Jake's up there ensuring your warmth.

"Delicious...", he whispered looking at your folds glistening with your juice. he brought his finger slowly entering you. "And, hot as fuck"

As heeseung did his business, so did jake. He released your lips, looking so proud of how swollen they got while you lay there with your head on the edge of the bed... waiting. Jake then steps back, eyes still on you or rather on your lips. "I want to feel that little mouth you have, little love." Jake whispered, unbuckling his belt. His cock springs out, the tip slapping on his navel with pre-cum oozing out of its head. It looks angry and pink.

"You have a pretty dick, jakey..." You absentmindedly said. That made the two of them chuckled.

"Then, can you help me out with my pretty cock?" You released a shaky 'yes'. "Open wide, little love" And, you did. You opened your mouth as Jake pushed inside. He was so thick that you gag immediately even before his tip reached your throat. And when it does, you feel like you're floating somewhere.

He started slowly, pumping his veiny and thick cock in and out with affection as if he's scared it might scare you. That made you relax. You didn't know having a dick inside your mouth can make you float somewhere.

But then, someone has to pull you down to from the heavens. You flinched when suddenly you felt a tongue on your sensitive clit, teasing it.

It's heeseung, practically torturing you and your pussy from the other side of the bed.

You were so focus on pleasuring jake that you forgot heeseung had you down there. Nothing to worry about though, it's part of the plan. You just didn't know it yet.

Heeseung then had enough, you felt his presence standing up towering over you. The clanking of metal on his belt was the next thing you heard aside from the groans jake was voicing.

"Hurry up, hyung. I can't take it anymore."

The older one didn't bat an eye, instead he immediately brush his cock on your folds tainting it with your love juices. Heeseung even got cocky when he decided to slap your clit with his dick, sending waves through your body.

"A little patient, Jake. I'm still having fun..." Upon hearing it, you softly tap jake's thighs that were still rutting in your mouth. Thankfully, he understands it as jake slowly pulled out.

You lift your head, gazing your eyes to heeseung. "Please, seungie. I need you inside."

The way you fucking beg. "Fuck. Alright, love. Can't say no to that"

Heeseung then, without a word sink deep inside you. "Ugh! Fuck, heeseung!" You moaned in pleasure.

"You're so tight, little love! So. Fucking. Tight." He groaned hovering over you before taking your lips.

"Okay, you guys. I'm gonna get jealous if y/n wouldn't give me her attention now." Jake complained as heeseung released your lips. "You're such a baby, jakey." You teased looking at him as you lay your head back on the bed, your hand taking his length and pumping it before opening your mouth.

The next thing you knew, both of their dicks buried inside you. They started slow and light then gradually picked up their pace. The way heeseung thrust deep inside you made your legs quiver. Jake wasn't letting you go, either. His pretty balls slaps on your nose every thrust making your breathing limited as the tip hits your throat and his free hand travels to give your nipples some attention.

"Fuck, y/n! You're taking me so well." Jake groaned, tracing the bulge from his cock that formed on your throat.

"She's clenching me so well. Our little love is such a slut." Heeseung added. "Are you gonna cum, love? Do you want to cum?" He asked, anticipating an answer from you even though Jake's cock was buried deep inside your throat.

You didn't need to answer though, heeseung knows. That's when he started putting pressure on your lower abdomen, feeling you clenching and moaning even though jake occupied your mouth. You moaned like you didn't care. The pleasure was intense. It feels so fucking good and you can't even scream. So, you moan even if Jake hits your throat with such precision. It sends continuous vibrations to his cock that made him a moaning mess on top of you.

"Naughty" Jake whispered, his hands making it's way on top of your throat giving it a little squeeze.

The pleasure then doubles as the sounds of groans, moans, skin slapping, and cussing gets louder and louder. The room practically smells like sex. You're getting dizzy from the intense pleasure their cock was giving to you. You're getting crazier, you even swear like passing out. The pleasure on your pussy and your throat meet at the center of your body. It didn't take long to feel the bubbling feeling inside you.

"You're gonna cum, love? Cum on my cock, y/n" Heeseung groaned still putting pressure on your lower abdomen as he mercilessly thrust inside you.

"Shit!" Jake cursed feeling your throat tightening more than ever. And before you know it, you let go. It didn't took long before the two men on top of you released their frustrations inside. Jake deep on your throat while heeseung deep inside you, mixing his cum with yours.

Jake slowly pulled out before letting his body fall beside you, giving you the chance to swallow his cum before trying to stabilize your breath. Heeseung on the other hand is still buried inside you, afraid that a drop can be wasted.

You tried to keep your eyes open and your mind alert. But, your body was the one complaining. There are black dots travelling across your vision and it didn't took long before you finally black out.

-------

You didn't know how long you sleep, you're still tired but you're also loving the comfort. You silently opened your eyes, as your throat unconsciously released a hum that you regret after.

You looked around, you're still in your room but everything was changed. Your sheets are new. You don't feel sticky or sweaty just like what you always feel after sex. You're on your favorite clothes which is heeseung's clothes, which is also very big compare to you.

The door on your room opened, revealing two men walking closer to you.

"Hey, little love. How do you feel?" Heeseung asked, taking a seat on your bed beside you while Jake took the part behind him as both of them put all their attention to you.

"I-m... fine" You tried to say but your throat still hurts. It's not a surprise though knowing how intense the evens earlier. So, instead of your full voice, you just tried to whisper it, trying not to irritate your throat more.

Heeseung then look at jake with sharp glares albeit jokingly, "Why are you so harsh and intense?" He questioned the younger one before hitting Jake's thigh that was place on top of your bed. The poor man yelp, screaming as he didn't anticipate the action of his hyung

Jake then pathetically put his arms up, "I'm sorry! Can't help it. And, beside..." But then, he put it down. His face now full of mischief with that teasing smirk, "Y/n loves it. Right, little love?"

You blushed but nodded otherwise. The two men chuckled, cooing at the way you got shy.

"You did good, little love" Heeseung whispered kissing your lips and Jake with your forehead. They both smiled at you as they started to take care of your needs. That's when you realized they have a food with them this whole time.

Breakfast in bed, just for their little love.

---------

FEW MOMENTS BEFORE YOU WOKE UP

"You think we pulled it off, hyung?" Jake whispered, eyes focused on your sleeping face.

"Yeah" Jake thought the Heeseung will say something afterwards but silence wrap the room.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure so."

"This wouldn't drive her away from us right?" Jake once again, asked. His voice suddenly filled with worry at the thought that they might've scared you away. They still haven't had the chance to propose to you the idea of that relationship, so what if you run away before they do that?

Heeseung clicked his tongue, finally meeting his younger friend's gaze, "Jake, relax..." he said patting the man's shoulder. "She's the one who request this from us. She love this as much as we love it."

Jake hummed recalling how you literally beg them to fuck you at the same time.

So, we're not the only one feeling this?

You don't know how long they've been waiting to make you sit there and just beg on their knees to allow them to fuck you at the same time. How relieved and happy they are when you're thinking the same thing.

Well, The only thing is that you're drunk when you said that. But that doesn't matter. As long as they give you what you need then that's what matter the most.

"... I just know this wouldn't be the last time we're doing this with her so, your worries shouldn't be welcome here" Heeseung said, now looking at your sleeping figure.

Jake smiled, tucking your hair behind your ears. "We're ready when that happens."

"Yes, we are. We always are."

— note !

since it's heetober and soon to be jake-nover (?), i decided to write polysmut (? not sure if that's what its called). And, who am i kidding? It doesn't have any connection with hee and jake's birthday month. i just want to lessen the growing number of this blog's drafts. this smut has been accumulating spider webs since last year so i decided to finally continue and release it. well, i hope you enjoyed it and pls let me know what you think. i need feedback so MUCH

© hrdenha | 2023

[cheesit-notes]

Abuse of Power

in which Captain Price goes on a fucking power trip over his new recruit, you ♡

tags: MDNI!, power abuse, bdsm, bondage sorta, gags, whips, spanking?, reader giving blowjob as punishment, cum on face, basically Price being a big bully because he has the power to do so

a/n: slight changes to wording, wanna change more but dk what to add you know? hope you guys enjoy this ^^ i don't think reader's gender or any genital body part is specified but i had fem!reader in mind when writing (so watch out for that, pls tell me if there's any)

you're just a rookie and have so much to learn, it must be soo stressful, yes? don't worry because Captain Price here will guide you all the way. he's your very reliable captain, so trust him won't you?

all those tasks that only you seem to get? the ones that somehow end up with you on his lap or in some odd position that could easily be misinterpreted? don’t worry about it, just listen to him! remember to call him captain or sir when talking to him, he is your superior. he’s teaching you the ropes ‘cause he’s sooo kind. you’ll need what you’ve learned with him later on ;>

monday mornings are now spent on your knees in front of him. you're tied up, hands behind your back, gagged and you have to show him you can break free. oh but the ropes are too thick.. and you can't move... and oww they dig into your skin. it hurts! too bad, Captain Price isn't going to stop practicing this with you until you manage to break free. and even then, more practice doesn’t hurt.

thursday evenings have you half naked, bent over his desk as he whips you. gosh.. you really need to build your pain tolerance, you're a crying, whimpering mess on his desk! how will you handle yourself in case some awful person tortured you for information? Captain Price realizes you need a lot of training, so why don't you come on saturdays too?

oh be careful, don't let your tears spill on the documents... geez, you really had to get the papers soaked, didn't you. guess you need a punishment.

you know how he's always palming himself during your training? well now your punishment is helping him out with that. on your knees, half naked, hands tied behind your back, ropes digging into your skin, and guess what? you're going to stay this way until he says so.

he sits in front of your kneeling body on his office chair. his cock growing harder as he lazily strokes himself. his thumb pressed on your lips telling you to open your mouth, his hand holding the side of your head. he guides you closer until the tip of his cock is touching your lower lip.

Captain Price starts slow, he's pretty lenient about your punishment, at first. but god, he's getting more and more frustrated. you are not doing it correctly. the only thing happening is his cock slipping in and out of your mouth. god, you really are dumb. well, that means he just has to teach you, so listen up. he barks out orders between groans; "suck it, rookie. just fucking- ugh, don't use your teeth" but you're a little slow on understanding his verbal orders so he has to start getting physical.

a hand on the back of your head pushing you to take his cock deeper and deeper, until your nose is in his pubic hair. you're gagging and tears begin forming in your eyes. you look up at him, teary faced and you're moaning around his cock. he grunts out a string of curses before letting you go and cumming all over your pretty face.

he'll take off your restraints, look at the bruises and red markings caused by the ropes, tells you to clean yourself up and go to med bay. how will you even explain the marks? ah, doesn't really matter either way. if they find out, that's fine by Price. he doesn't mind if others see his handiwork.

"... next week, same day, my office, at 5."

"yes sir,"

is all you say, because what else can you do? he is your captain, afterall.

[wordsbyrian]

Would you pls do a Mary earps imagine with them filming TikTok’s together and being otp x

A/n: Not exactly what you asked for but close enough i think.

TikTok is the bane of your very existence.

It’s the bane of your professional life as a chef because everytime you turn around one of your crew is using prep time to make a concoction and upload it to that godforsaken app.

And in your personal life?

Well, in your personal life, it feels like every time you blink you're being sucked into filming one of those stupid videos with your girlfriend.

The first time it happened, you were barely even sure what was going on.

The two of you had been getting ready to go on a date to a relatively nice restaurant, when she pulled up in front of her phone’s camera so she could show off what you were wearing.

That had been the beginning of the madness (as well as a very hard launch of your relationship to the public).

It didn’t really matter what you were doing, if Mary had decided that a video needed to be filmed, it’d be filmed.

A literal walk in the park. TikTok.

You driving. TikTok.

You tearing a member of the kitchen staff a new one. TikTok. (Although she’d been asked not so politely by the head chef to never do that again).

You cooking in your shared flat. TikTok.

Hell, she even made a TikTok of you sharpening your knives, a task you find completely mind numbing.

And if having your every move recorded wasn’t bad enough, she also had you joining her in filming one of the more popular trends. You mouthing along to the silly sounds that are currently popular on the app. Or worse, dancing, you hate the dancing.

Asking how often you think about the Roman Empire (only as often as you need to).

Throwing herself fully clothed into the shower  and singing Taylor Swift while you were trying to brush your teeth.

Making you record a two second clip of everytime you changed clothes while on vacation.

The list is neverending.

Which is why you should be more alarmed when you see her walking into the kitchen  with her phone out but you’re too focused on chopping the vegetables you’ll be using in your meal prep.

 “Baby,” she says.

“Hmm?”

“Can we record a TikTok?”

“Can I keep doing what I’m doing,” you ask in return, still not looking up from the cutting board.

“You don’t need to do anything but stand there and look pretty,” Mary says as she sets her phone up next to you. “And answer questions,” she adds as an afterthought.

You roll your eyes but don’t make any additional comments as you see her hit record.

“So a ton of you have been asking in the comments how my wife manages to be a professional chef when she has so many food allergies,” Mary says, looking directly at the camera. “And I figured it was better if I just let her explain it. Babe?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t really been listening to every word that she had been saying, only really listening to every word that she had been saying, only really catching the words ‘allergies’ and ‘professional chef’, which is a topic you get asked about a lot. So you just answer without really thinking.

“My main allergies are seafood, peanuts and treenuts. And since I’m one of 2 or 3 sous on any given night, I just,” you pause, “wait, what did you just call me?”

You can feel cheeks heating up as your brain finally processes what just happened.

“What? Babe?”

Mary’s playing dumb on purpose. She knows it. You know it. And you both know that the other one knows.

“Not that, the other thing.”

“What my wife,” she asks.

A cheeky grin breaks out on Mary’s face as she watches even more color rush to your face.

For you, when she repeats it, you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe and you know that your next words come out a little choked (much to Mary’s amusement.)

“Yup, that.”

As calmly as you can manage, you put your knife down and take off your apron before walking out of the kitchen.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I have to find my wallet and keys,” you shoot back.

“Why?”

“I gotta go buy a ring before you change your mind!”

The sound of her laughter is the only thing you hear as you close the door behind you.

The video is up on that cursed app by the end of the week.

A photo of the ring on Mary’s finger goes up just a few hours before.

[sv5hive]

keep the lights on | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none!

word count: 694

notes: lets act like this isn't the first time i've posted since july guys thanks! not proofread at all it's like midnight pls.

masterlist!

placing the copious amount of snacks and popcorn on the table, you plopped onto the sofa and snuggled up to your boyfriend.

"so, what did you pick?"

you looked ahead of you to the screen and began reading the summary, brows pulling together tighter with every word.

"a horror movie? are you sure, charles? i thought you hated these kinda things."

"well, i haven't watched many of them, but i know you're a fan of them, so what's the harm in trying?"

the grin on your face grew at his effort as you nodded along to his words, still doubtful of his ability to sit through it in its entirety.

"alright, but you're not gonna be scared and get nightmares after, are you?"

"me? no, if anything i'll be your knight in shining armour tonight if you get scared!"

the movie began playing as you pushed yourself deeper into charles side with a knowing smirk, the screen casting a dim glow onto your faces.

"ok, if you say so."

and in all fairness to charles, he did manage to hold out for almost an hour before you noticed him flinch at a particularly unnerving jump scare. nudging him gently, you turned the volume down and whispered softly into the darkness.

"charles, you ok?"

he turned to you slowly, an almost dazed look in his eyes. and you weren't sure if it was the lighting or your vision, but his skin seemed positively pale.

"hm? yeah, yeah i'm fine."

you raised an eyebrow at his half-hearted response, wondering if he was regretting his choice (albeit a romantic gesture).

"are you sure? we can watch something else if you want, i think i saw harry potter earlier-"

he quickly brushes you off and grabs the remote to raise the volume again, rubbing your thigh gently.

"shhh, i'm ok. it's almost done anyways."

he turns back to the movie but you let your eyes linger on him for a few seconds longer, searching for any doubt but not finding any. hesitantly, you start watching again. and you really did mean to keep an eye on him, but found yourself getting sucked into the movie as time went on.

the room sunk into darkness as the credits began rolling and a dull silence filled the air. reaching for the tv remote, you looked over to your boyfriend next to you.

"so... what did you think?"

seeing the ghostly look on his face, you started to wonder whether a horror movie was really the best choice at this time of night.

"charles, you ok? you look a little...uhm..."

"me? oh i'm fine, mon coeur. see, i told you i would be fine! it's just a movie after all!"

he puts the bowl of popcorn on the side and stands to turn the lights back on. you sit up and turn to watch him curiously.

"are you sure? it's ok if you're scared it's meant to do that!"

he shakes his head, adamant that he wasn't affected by the chilling scenes.

"i am not scared. but, we are absolutely sleeping with all the lights on tonight. and that has nothing to do with the movie, before you ask."

you bite back a grin and look at charles pointedly.

"oh really?"

he nods his head rapidly, sitting back down on the sofa next to you.

"yep. and also, one of us has to stand outside the bathroom if the other one is using it."

this time you couldn't help it and let out a loud cackle.

"charles, my love, i know you only watched it for me and i thought it was really sweet of you but please, you don't have to torture yourself like that. i am just as happy to watch harry potter or cars with you."

charles breathes out a deep sigh of relief and runs his hands over his face at your words, a nervous smile on his face as he declares his own confession.

"oh thank god. i almost threw up in my mouth when the serial killer popped up out of nowhere. and i wasn't kidding earlier, i want all the lights on tonight."

[mncxbe]

15 + 16 with Skk (but pls poly I need that jshdhd)

15 — Your two faves take your virginity + 16 — Your two faves get competitive about who can fuck you better

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: virginity loss, deepthroat, threesome

"I told you she wasn't ready, idiot. You always rush into things."

"Don't worry, Chuuya, she's getting there. Our baby just needs a little easing into" Dazai's thumb pressed against your puffy clit, rubbing slow circles on the little bundle of nerves as he pushed himself deeper inside you. The stretch was borderline painful and you dug your nails into Dazai's bandaged shoulders, letting out huffed breaths. "'samu it's– you're too big"

"Relax, bella. Just breathe, you're almost there." he cooed and sure enough you managed to calm down your breath. It didn't take long for Dazai to fully slide his cock inside you and start rolling his hips into yours. The burning sensation melted into sheer pleasure with each of your boyfriend's deep thrust– your back arching off of the mattress. "D-dazai I feel so full" you whined, your mouth falling into an o as the man snapped his hips against yours.

"So good, baby, you're taking this dick like a champ" he smiled, looking up at Chuuya "Bet you're jealous you couldn't fuck her first, eh?"

Chuuya huffed in amusement, his lustful gaze falling on your features. "Nah... I don't need to be jealous. I know I'll make her cum twice as much as you do anyway"

"Is that a challenge, Nakahara?" laughed the brunette, his eyes sparkling with a fiery glint.

Chuuya's gaze never left yours as he lowered his briefs, moving closer to the bed while Dazai helped you scoot closer to the edge. Your head hung off the mattress now and you opened your mouth, lolling out your tongue so Chuuya's dick could fit inside your mouth.

Chuuya grunted when his tip reached the back of your throat, pushing past your gag reflex. With a hand pressed on your chin, keeping you steady, he started moving his hips. "That's it, princess, get my dick nice and wet"

"Don't think you need any prep, Nakahara. She's soaked" chuckled the brunette, spreading your legs even more for Chuuya to see your glistening folds, as if the squelching sounds you made weren't proof enough.

"Oh, i know she is" hummed the redhead, giving your neck a gentle squeeze. "But I know how much she loves sucking me off, right baby?"

Chuuya pulled out of your mouth, giving you a moment to breathe as you nodded. And oh, when you looked up at your two boyfriends and saw the way they eyed each other– a silent dare, smug smiles tugging at their lips, you knew you'd be in for a long night.

𐙚prompt list

[ramyeonzwithspam]

I'll Wait - Sim Jaeyun

Your best friend, Jake, picks you up after a breakup

idolbestfriend!Jake x f!reader (idolexbf!heeseung)

fluff, angst, best friends to ???

authors notes: first time posting on here, so im so sorry if the formatting sucks, im trying to learn!! pls be kind if you have any comments or tips!

The wind bit at your running nose as you sat on the cold park bench, still processing what just happened to you. The love of your life, the man you wanted to marry, Lee Heeseung, had just walked out of your life. No proper explanation. No closure. No real goodbye. He was just ..gone.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, briefly warm before chilling in the bitter cold. You stared up into the night sky aimlessly. It seemed like when you had arrived with Heeseung, the sky was full of beautiful stars. But now it felt empty, void of that sparkle you had come to love. There was no indication of where the sky ended and the ocean began, the only real sign of the beach was the distant sound of icy water crashing on the shoreline. It was like the world around you had simply stopped, there were no cars, no people, no animals, nothing but you, the sky and the ocean. It almost felt like the world was giving you the space to grieve, like it heard your shattered heart.

After god knows how long, your silent world was broken by the sound of a car rumbling up the road to the beach. You processed the sound of a door slamming and footsteps rapidly approaching you, but made no effort to see who it was. Simply focusing on the shivering of your body and the pit in your stomach. You only turned to see the person next to you when you felt a warm jacket wrap around your shaking body.

“Jake,” you managed to breathe out between silent sobs. Your best friend, the one man you trusted as much as you had trusted Heeseung. There was a faint smile on his face when you turned to look at him, but there was a sadness in his eyes. You wanted to stop and ask how he knew, how he was even able to get out of the dorms and come get you. Usually their manager was too strict on the boys to let Jake AND Hee see you, it was a miracle they even let you date Heeseung in the first place.

“He called me. Said you would need someone to pick you up,” Jake whispered carefully, not wanting to upset you more, as he came to sit next to you. His body felt warm and comforting next to you and, without a word, you cozied into his side. Slowly, your sobs became audible, the reality sinking in with Jake’s arrival. At the sound of your violent cries, Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. It felt nice, Jake’s hugs were always the best. It was warm and safe, the only place you felt grounded in the upside down reality that was this night.

“You don’t deserve this Y/N.. I can't believe Heeseung would leave you like this,” Jake muttered, talking to himself more than you. It shocked you to hear how mad he was at his own member. He had known Heeseung much longer than he knew you, but there was a pull between the two of you that couldn't be denied. But something about his words tonight felt different, strained, almost like he was fighting not to say how he truly felt.

As Jake held you, it felt like you were finally able to pick up some of the broken pieces. Your body relaxed into him, safe, warm, and loved. That was the only word you could use to describe how Jake made you feel, loved. It wasn’t a thought you could focus on now, but it certainly confused you. After an uncountable amount of time, your sobs subsided and you pulled away from Jake, looking him in the eyes again. It hit you then. Jake. Sim Jaeyun. Famous Kpop Idol. He was sitting here, on a freezing park bench in the middle of a random beach. All for you. He was here for you

“How did you get here? Why- What-” you sputtered, emotional and confused by the combatting feelings in your chest.

“Hey.. love.. it's okay” He interrupted, staring into your eyes with that indescribable look, “I took a car. I gave my manager no choice, this wasn't about me or the group. It was about you. You know I would do anything for you,” He finished as he reached a hand to softly wipe at the tear tracks left on your skin. A soft smile grew on his face as he rested his hand on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. That smile. Always that smile. There was something about Sim Jaeyun that could always make your heart flutter. You knew it was wrong. You had dated one of his members, he was your best friend for god sake. But when you stared at that smile, it was like the whole world melted away. You could forget about Heeseung, their managers, the fans, everything. At that moment, it was just you and Jake.

Jake let out a small sigh, “Let's get you home,” he said, standing up while grabbing both of your hands to help off the bench. As you made your way to his car, one of his hands rested firmly on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles across the fabric of your dress. Jake, ever the gentleman, made sure to open the door for you, and even went as far as to buckle your seatbelt, pushing down your shaking hands when you attempted to do it yourself.

The car, still warm from Jake’s drive, welcomed you in. You were quick to relax into the plush seat, smiling weakly as Jake closed your door and went around to the drivers side. It took everything in you not to curl up and go to bed right then and there. Though you knew Jake wouldn't mind, you still felt bad that he was here with you instead of back at the dorms.

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes half closed as you stared at Jake. Something about this moment felt so wrong and so right at the same time. You were heart broken, devastated, but Jake was here. Jake always made your heart full, no matter the situation.

Another one of his charming smiles spread across his face as he reached over to hold your hand, “Of course, pretty girl, I would do it a million times over to make sure you're okay,” he spoke with that twinkle in his eye again. Admiring you like you were a vintage painting, something so beautiful yet so fragile. Had it been another day, another time, you may have noticed a hint of something deeper in the way he watched you.

You don't remember much after that, just the warm, plush seat underneath you and the comfort of Jake’s fingers still entwined with yours. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt Jake steal glances at you, unaware of any meaning in them. The last thing you remember was the sound of Jake’s voice, saying something you couldn't quite understand as you drifted to sleep….

“I’ll wait for you Y/N, and when you're ready, I’ll be there”