#I feel like it's filling up my chest. its surrounding my lungs and tightening my body

[qilinkisser]

I need to stop engaging in things that make me compare the attention I get with others. unfortunately if I want to exist on the internet at all I have basically no choice. sorry about that 😔😔

[darkshelbyfiction]

Debt Paid (Thomas Shelby Blurb)

Warning: Non-Con, Virginity Loss, CNC

It was a Friday afternoon when you were sent to Thomas Shelby's office in Birmingham and you felt like lamb led to the slaughter, ready to be devoured whole. Your father's debts had piled up high – so high it blackened your mother's delicate complexion and buried your little brother's innocence from a pauper's upbringing. 

You had to settle these debts with nothing less than your innocence and purity. That is why you stood at the threshold of Thomas Shelby's office, your whole being shivering, your lungs collecting dust instead of air.

You could see that Shelby's office exuded rich mahogany furniture, intricately crafted wooden carvings on the walls, and large floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of Peaky Blinders territories below. Yet, despite the grandeur, it reeked of death and decay. Much like Shelby himself.

You stepped inside, softly like a cat, skulking into his presence.

Shelby looked up from the ledgers he was looking over, his dark hair falling into his piercing eyes. He was an intimidating sight, with a muscular frame and an air of authority that surrounded him like a cloak. You felt yourself shrinking before him, wishing you could be swallowed up by the large Turkish rug beneath your feet.

"You are quite a picture of innocence, eh" he said almost aggressively, causing you to shiver. "Come closer, Love," he ordered and you didn't move at first, rooted to the spot by fear and disgust.

"Please sir , I beg you not to do this. I will find another way, I promise." You said tearfully, uncertainty painted all over your face.

He didn't reply but rose from his seat, and you stumbled backward, trying to put distance between the two of you. But he moved swiftly, with a predator's grace, closing the space with each step.

He closed the door behind him and locked it, the metallic clatter of the key echoing in the silence that followed. Your heart hammered, fear gathering in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked towards his desk, shivering quietly. 

"Don't be sorry," he murmured back, so close behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You felt his hand on your shoulder, turning you around. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, terror written all over your face.

"Now, I don't have all day, so I need you to be a good girl and bend over my desk," Thomas Shelby ordered you , his voice cold and detached. The room spun around you as his powerful hands spun you roughly around. The air smelled of cigar smoke, whiskey, and beneath that, something you couldn't quite put your finger on—submission.

Thomas Shelby's office made you shudder, with its rich mahogany outfitting and the countless rows of books lining every available wall space. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling, prevailing Birmingham cityscape. It rendered you powerless beneath his iron grip, more vulnerable than ever.

"Please Mr Shelby. I don't - ," you whimpered, your voice wavering in desperation, but you were cut off by the gangster's hands who pushed you down against his Mahagony table.

"Sshh, quiet now," Shelby muttered darkly into your ear as he pushed you down, making you bend over against his desk. "Stay nice and still for me, Love."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you began as you nodded in defeat while the much older man lifted up your skirt.

His calloused hands yanked your panties down your legs like a man possessed, causing you to wince in pain. His fingers found their way to your aching virgin hole causing you to stiffen and squirm beneath him. The sensation was foreign, as he slowly pushed his index finger into your dry hole.

"Fuck, Love. Your hole is so small," Thomas Shelby sneered as he continued to force his finger into you, drawing blood.  The smell of iron filled the room, but he didn't seem to care. His grasp tightened around your wrists, making you gasp at the pain.

A wave of disgust and shame washed over you as he pulled his finger out and wiped it on his handkerchief, before placing same on his desk. The white fabric was stained with blood — your blood.

You then heard the man undo his belt , followed by the loud sound of his zipper leaving you trembling as you waited for him to assault you. The clicking sound of his belt was oddly loud in your ears, and every second seemed to stretch on forever. The thought of what Shelby was about to do to you made you queasy, and the entire situation started to feel surreal.

He grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it towards him, taking his place between your legs. Thomas Shelby's erect manhood touched your behind, feeling hot and smooth against your porcelain skin.

"You know, I've been wanting to fuck you since the moment I laid eyes on you," Thomas Shelby growled before placing a hand on your cheek.

He then licked his fingers and slowly rubbed them against your dry pussy lips, wetting your hole with his spit.

"Good girl. Nice and quiet now ," Thomas Shelby whispered gruffly, positioning himself behind you and aligning his manhood with your tight entrance. "This might sting a little," he warned as his coarse, raw length poked delicately against you, teasingly. Your heart pounded in your ears as he began to apply pressure, pushing inside your dry hole without an inch of yourself prepared.

A sharp, painful intake of breath escaped your lips as Thomas Shelby finally entered you with a steady thrust. Your inner walls stretched wider than ever before as he drove himself deeper inside, your blood smeared on the tip of his shaft.

"That's it, Love. Fuck," he hissed, pulling back almost entirely and slamming harder into you. The sound of your bones meeting ripped through the room, obliterating any sensible thought. Every thrust was more excruciating than before.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, staining the polished mahogany underneath you as you strained to break free, but Shelby kept you pinned in place, brutally pounding your aching, battered hole.

"You are so tight, Love. Bleeding all over my cock," Thomas Shelby groaned as he continued to ravage your inexperience.

With every piston-like drive, the pain intensified, yet your feminine core trooper on, responding to the intrusion with a rhythmic trembling.

And so it continued, Shelby plowing into your tightness like an untamed beast, indifferent to the silent wails you tried to silence. His crown hit your cervix with each thrust, making you feel like your insides were on fire, and your voice continued to grow louder, sobbing from the pain.

"Please, no more. It hurts, it hurts!" you cried, trying to escape the agony by inching away, but there was nowhere for you to go, caged and cornered by his overpowering presence.

"I am almost done Love!" He responded, like this was some sort of natural, everyday activity that you should be forced to put up with. Your pain seemed to excite him more, and his thrusting grew more vigorous and relentless. You were just a body to him, a hole to fill, a source of pleasure.

"Just hold still for me now so that I can fill you up with my cum, sweetheart," Thomas Shelby commanded hoarsely, his grunts and moans reaching a frenzied pitch. 

He took his time, savoring the sensation of your hot, wet pussy gripping him tightly. He closed his eyes and groaned, shuddering as he felt himself getting closer to reaching his orgasm.

"Fuck , yes, Love. I'm almost there. You're so fucking good," Thomas Shelby muttered through his gritted teeth, gripping your hips even tighter as, finally, he stilled.

He let out a low groan and you could feel the warm rush of his release as he filled you up, each spurt of his cum igniting another gasp of pain from you. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, as he caught his breath, before slowly pulling out.

You felt the mix of your blood and his cum drip down your thighs, leaving an undeniable mess on his expensive rug. Shelby stepped back, allowing you to stand up, wobbling on your feet. 

He then handed you his handkerchief and ordered you to 'clean up'. Numbly, you followed his instructions, your hands trembling as they tried to remove every stitch of him from your body. 

"Good girl ," Thomas Shelby commented, walking casually back to his desk and, after you finished cleaning yourself up, Shelby dismissed you with a flick of his wrist. "See yourself out," was all he said, as he returned to his papers, the loss of his attention sending you stumbling back to reality. Physically broken and emotionally decimated, the door slammed abruptly shut behind you.

[feyhunter78]

Tourney Injuries and a Proposal

Description: While you and Helaena are watching the tourney, your former betrothed injures Aemond.

You sit beside Helaena watching as the knights galloped at each other, their lances shattering each other’s shields, one knocking the other from his horse.

“I just don’t understand the appeal of these things.” You said, grimacing as an agonized scream rang out from below.

“I believe the displays of strength are considered quite attractive.” Helaena said, her eyes searching the men standing on the sidelines. “Oh, there’s Aemond, in the black armor.”

You stood and rushed to the railing as he stepped into the ring, burying your hands in your skirts, your heart pounding against your chest like dragon wings in a storm.

He noticed you and made his way over, confidence in every step that brought him closer to you. “Fair Lady y/n, might I request your favor?” He called up to you, a playful smirk on his lips.

You threw your handkerchief down to him, and he caught it, pressing it to his lips before tucking it in his pocket

“Good luck, my prince.” You said, eyes filled with fear.

Aemond never entered tourneys, claimed they were a worthless waste of time, but after your former betrothed, a young lord from House Tully had insulted you, Aemond suddenly found them worth his time.

He patted his pocket. “I don’t need luck, when I have the favor of the most beautiful maiden in all the realm to protect me.”

You ducked your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m honored by your words, Prince Aemond.”

He reentered the ring, and you returned to your seat.

“It seems that Aemond is going against Lord Tybalt.” Helaena said, a tinge of worry in her lilting voice.

You grabbed her hand, stomach churning. “No. This will not end well.”

Tybalt was your former betrothed, a strong man, he had a nasty temper, and no fear of striking those who angered him.

Aemond himself had saved you from Tybalt’s anger when the Tully lord had caught you both in what looked to be a compromising position, but really was a misunderstanding.

You’d been sitting under the Godswood with Aemond when a spider dropped from the tree and made its way beneath your gown’s neckline.

In your panic, you shrieked at Aemond to get rid of it, and he sliced open your bodice with his dagger, plucking the spider and flicking it away from you.

Tybalt walked in on Aemond’s hand gripping the shredded fabric of your bodice, his other hand on your waist as he tried to calm you.

You watched with bated breath as the two men circled each other. Tybalt was snarling something at Aemond and your grip on Helaena’s hand tightened when he lunged.

Aemond easily dodged his blade before returning the blow.

They went back and forth, and once it seemed Aemond was to win, you relaxed, taking your eyes away from the match.

Gasping and a frightened scream made you whip your head back to the duel.

Tyblat collapsed Aemond’s sword through his abdomen, but Aemond was kneeling in the sand, his hands covering his face.

“Y/n, wait.” Helaena yelled, as you bolted out of your seat and down the stairs.

The maesters were already ushering Aemond to their tent, and you followed behind them, fear gripping your lungs.

You pushed aside the fabric to see Aemond surrounded by maesters. “Aemond—”

“Out, everyone out.” He ordered, pushing the maseters away from him with his free hand.

They scurried out, but you stayed put.

“Someone remove Lady y/n.” He shouted, turning his face from you.

You elbowed the maester who tried to grab you and rushed up to Aemond cupping his face. “Aemond, are you hurt? Let me see.”

He tried to shake you off, but you stood your ground.

Aemond removed his hand slowly, and you sucked in a breath.

“I’m hideous, I’m aware.” He growled.

You picked up a clean cloth and dipped it in the nearby bowl of water, gently bringing it to his face. “Hideous? My prince, you are more beautiful than the sun setting over the Narrow Sea.”

He looked at you warily, but allowed you to dab at the cut on his face. “It’s not very deep, does it hurt?” You asked, quietly apologizing when he hissed in pain. “I feel responsible, I should have tried harder to explain the situation to Tybalt, but…”

“But?” He echoed, his hand resting on your hip.

You wrung the cloth out before re-wetting it. “I have no real answer for him that would quell his anger. I can’t lie, and say I'm not fond of you, or that I didn’t wish that perhaps your gaze could have fallen upon my skin in a more intimate setting.” You admitted, not meeting his eye.

“He was the fool who tried to take out my eye, not you. You were merely the victim of a spider.” He chuckled. “Besides, his aim was terrible, he got the wrong eye.”

“Well, I’m glad it is, I don’t know what I’d do if you were injured because of me.” You said softly, focused on your task.

His hand caught your wrist. “Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” You asked worriedly, dropping the cloth back in the water.

He shook his head and his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer. His lips brushed against yours, his violet eye flickering up to yours.

You rested your hand on his chest and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his.

His free hand grasped your waist as he spread his legs, pulling you flush against him. “Marry me.” He breathed against your lips, his thumb caressing the nape of your neck.

“Truly?” You asked, praying to The Seven, this wasn't a cruel jest.

He nodded, sapphire glinting in the low light. “Allow me to make your wish come true.”  He connected your lips in a heated kiss, lips pulling you under, the taste of peppermint and mead intoxicating your sense, his scent of leather, and dragon surrounding you.

 His grip on you tightened as you returned the kiss eagerly, your fingers gripping his tunic, as you let out a small whimper.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You smiled into the kiss and giggled when he stood and swept you off your feet.

He kissed you once more, leaving you breathless and dizzy with joy as he carried you out of the tent and towards the stands where his mother sat.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list, and requests are open right now!!!!

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧

Synopsis: Steve Rogers loves Y/N. There’s no question about it. She’s his calm in the middle of the storm and his sunshine in the middle of the rain. But, when Hydra resurfaces and Y/N's name is suddenly whispered with doubt, Steve is faced with a decision that will test the limits of his love and loyalty. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avengers!Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes and allusions to sex. Description of blood and violence. Minors DNI.

Genre: Angst | Fluff

Word Count: 10K

All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄 stillness that came with midnight; peaceful darkness that arrived before the chaos fell.

In the depths of midnight, the world danced to its own steady rhythm, a symphony of harmonious notes in the grand orchestra of the universe. And amidst this whirlwind of silent activity, Steve was a steady beacon of calm, not caught up in the tumultuous currents or pulled down by the undertow. He was just a man embracing the stillness that surrounded him. Embracing her.

“Stevie.” His heart fluttered at the whisper of his name, running one mile faster. He tightened his hold on the woman in his arms, eyes shifting from the dark canvas of the night to her brilliant eyes. “Why are you still awake?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” His voice resonated in a low register, a stark contrast to the higher octaves it reached during the day. Even his eyes were a few shades darker, blue-green diluted to a cobalt blue. It was an aftermath of darkness, one that he didn’t hate one bit. 

Y/N’s eyes fluttered, sleep weighing her lashes down. She tilted her head and stared at Steve with a dazed look filled to the brim with the love they had spent the night chasing. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?” 

His thumb traced the edge of her lips. Goosebumps rose on his skin when her quiet sigh glided across his naked chest. “Thinking about you,” he admitted, absentmindedly pushing her upper lip with his thumb. “When am I not thinking about you?” 

“I feel like this is a trick question.” 

Steve chuckled. “It’s not.” 

“Then can you rephrase it into one I can confidently answer?” 

Do you know how much I love you? he thought of first. Have you got a single clue about how much I want to draw you? Here. With me. In this very moment, and immortalize it for the rest of my life and evermore? But his words always faltered when they traversed the distance between his mind and tongue. In the end, the sight of Y/N's face left him speechless. 

A profound stillness descended upon the moment and a divine feeling that felt too magical to be real set off a burst of fireworks in his body. Steve's hand sought out Y/N's, his fingers delicately tracing the contours of her palm. “Will you promise me to be careful on the mission tomorrow?”

He settled for an easier question, though there was so much emphasis on the unsaid than on the question itself. But Y/N understood. She always did. She lifted herself just the slightest bit. The lavender sheets slid down, exposing the swell of her breasts and the colorful mark Steve’s lips implanted on the walls of her heart. 

Her index finger left a trail across his sternum, neck, and cheek. Steve groaned then, his lungs heavy with the pressure of her love. He closed his eyes, fingers tightening on her exposed back—not enough to leave a bruise yet enough to make his claim. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Stevie.” 

“It’s Hydra, Y/N,” he breathlessly replied. He chewed on his lower lip, partly because of her earlier ministrations and mostly because of the way her lips curled into that tired smile he loved so much. 

“And I’m just Y/N?” 

“No,” Steve refuted. “You’re not just Y/N. But you’re not enhanced either, doll. I hate it when you get involved in dangerous missions, more so the ones I’m not involved in.” 

"Steve, I understand where you're coming from. We've talked about this before. I know I don't have super strength like you and Bucky or any special powers like Bruce and Thor. But that doesn't make me invaluable. If Natasha, Tony, and Clint can do it, then so can I."

The force of her words brought a heavy sigh out of Steve. Y/N was always soft-spoken. Gentle with her words and even more with her voice. And it amazed Steve that even at midnight, when the world was sleeping and the quiet overbearing, Y/N never made an effort to shatter the silence. 

“Natasha did get a version of the serum, and Tony has his Iron Man suit. As for Clint…” 

“He finds himself in the cradle more times than Dr. Cho can count. I know.” Y/N tried to mask her annoyed reaction but couldn’t. 

The crease in the middle of her brows disappeared with a quick kiss left by Steve on her temple, but the pout on her lips remained. Steve took this as an excuse to kiss her properly. His heartbeats matched Y/N’s—his enhanced hearing told him that, and Y/N didn't need the serum to figure out that his heartbeats had been galloping at an inhuman speed. 

“I worry about you. That’s all.” 

“I worry about you too.” She placed her forehead against his, the tips of their noses touching. “But I trust you enough to know that you will do everything in your power to come back to me. And I know I’m just, well, me. But can you trust that—”

The words barely reached the edge before they retreated back into Y/N’s mouth. Pushed by the force of Steve’s tongue. Y/N whimpered as she fell on her back. Steve's hand weaved into her hair, his fingers curling around the strands and pulling gently to reveal the nape of her neck.

“I trust you,” he groaned while placing open mouth kisses on her neck. Y/N moaned without any restraint when Steve licked her collarbone and sucked the skin with his swollen lips. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Her legs subconsciously opened, allowing Steve to settle in between them. As soon as his erection met the bare skin of her pussy, Y/N’s restraints shattered. One hand gripped the bedsheets while the other found refuge in Steve’s blond locks, holding onto him without a single willingness to let go. “I love you so much.” 

He eagerly drew a line from her navel to her hip bone with his hot breath, reveling in the way she squirmed and lifted her hips in search of friction. Teasingly, he let his teeth subtly scrape her skin. Y/N sighed in delight, her own teeth grazing her lower lips as Steve pursued his ministrations. “Why do you love me, doll?” 

She breathed deeply, tugging on his hair to bring him to the surface, but he refused. Steve tutted, tongue exploring her most sensitive area in a slow, sensual dance. "I don't need any reasons to love you, Steve. My heart just knows what it wants."

He smiled, moving down further to kiss those lower lips of hers, showing her exactly how much he loved her too.

Steve and Natasha were losing it. Their jet had barely landed before the two of them rushed across the hangar bay, their hearts overcrowded with anticipation. 

According to FRIDAY, the mission Y/N, Bucky, and Sam were on had gone terribly wrong. The AI had relayed this information while Steve and Natasha had been in Patagonia following a lead on Hydra. 

The base had been infiltrated with disconcerting ease, a fact that didn't sit well with Steve. It was then that the misfortunate news reached their ears. And it seemed like this would be the first checkpoint in a road of unfortunate circumstances because FRIDAY barely had time to explain further when a high-pitched static noise filled the air, drowning out her words. 

Steve and Natasha instinctively clamped their hands over their ears, trying their best to focus despite the sheer force against their skulls. They momentarily closed their eyes—as if this would help soothe the sound. And when they opened them, dozens of Hydra operatives poured into the room with their weapons at the ready. 

Without a word, Steve and Natasha sprang into action, moving in perfect unison as they fought back against their attackers. 

Mind consumed with thoughts of Y/N and her safety, Steve was desperate to get back to her. As if his shield could sense his urgency, it flew from his grip with newfound vigor, striking enemies with a force that seemed almost supernatural. But no matter how hard Steve and Natasha tried to neutralize the enemy as fast as possible, it took them a lot more time and effort than anticipated. 

The two worked together tirelessly, taking down Hydra agents left and right. But when they finally reached the room where the intel they were looking for was supposed to be, it was completely empty.

Now back at the compound, Steve vehemently punched the elevator’s buttons, grabbing Natasha and hastily pulling her inside. The two impatiently waited for the elevator to signal that they’d arrived at the med bay. Once they heard it, they didn’t miss the chance to bolt across the hallway. 

Steve didn’t know the extent of his worry, nor did he understand the severity of his anxious thoughts, until he burst through the sliding doors and found Y/N sitting in the waiting room. Unharmed. Unscathed. Alive.

"Y/N," he whispered, enveloping her in his embrace. She clung onto his combat vest with all her might just as he tightened his hold on her tinier frame. “What happened, babydoll? FRIDAY said the mission was a bust before all communication was cut off. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Stevie. I’m fine.” 

Her voice was shaky and riddled with anxiety. Maybe it was his own panic that made her voice seem muffled compared to his thunderous thoughts. But she sounded so small at that moment, he couldn’t help but plant a kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the remnants of her orchid perfume. 

"I'm so relieved to see you're unharmed, Y/N. Are Bucky and Sam alright too? Could you tell me what happened, doll?"

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away from Steve but remained within his grasp. She peered at Natasha, her eyes glassy and sorrowful, enough to tell her that whatever happened wasn’t good.

“Sergeant Wilson is in the cradle while Sergeant Barnes is in a private room," the new voice spoke up, catching Steve and Natasha's attention. Sharon strode towards them, holding a manila folder in her hand. “From what Dr. Cho and her assistants said, they’ll both be okay. But they were significantly hurt. Barnes is heavily sedated at the current moment. Dr. Banner is also trying to figure out a way to fix his vibranium arm.” 

For a second, Natasha’s eyes flashed with worry, her composure faltering under the weight of Sharon’s words. “What happened to his arm?”

“They destabilized it, Nat. I don’t know how,” Y/N answered. 

Natasha nodded grimly. She didn’t say anything else, leaving the three of them to search for her boyfriend. 

“I know this may not be the right time, Cap. But I just got off a call with Mr. Stark. He and Clint are injured too, and their mission was as much a failure as Y/N’s was. They couldn’t find anything. Was your mission at least successful?" 

Steve’s left hand came up to rub his face. He breathed out heavily, the weight of the information bearing down on him. “No, we didn’t find anything either.” 

“I don’t understand.” Y/N shook her head. “SHIELD followed these leads for weeks. How come none of us found anything?” 

Sharon opened the folder in her hand, reading through her notes. Her blue eyes peeled up from under her lashes, focusing on Y/N. “According to your preliminary briefing, you mentioned that there were more than ten Hydra ops. Heavily skilled and highly specialized. Mr. Stark reported the same thing. But why would Hydra station their best men and women at these facilities when there was nothing to guard? Did something stand out to you two?”

Y/N scrunched up her nose, deep in thought as she tried to piece together any relevant details from her trip to Peru.

“We didn’t have the element of surprise.” It wasn’t Y/N that remarked, but her boyfriend that did. “They knew we were coming. As soon as we crossed the threshold, they were there. They disabled FRIDAY and all means of communication at a ten-mile radius. It took us hours before FRIDAY went back online.” 

“Did they do that with you too?” Sharon asked Y/N. 

“No,” she replied. “But they did disable Red Wing and Bucky’s arm now that you mention it.” 

“Different technologies at different facilities?” It was Steve’s turn to inquire. Sharon disagreed. 

“I don’t think so. The Madagascar facility disabled FRIDAY too. And Mr. Stark’s suit malfunctioned.” 

“Then, what do you think it is?” 

“They planted false intel, knew the Avengers were coming, and made a show out of it. And they had the right technology and tools to harm everyone on the team.” Sharon paused, eyes briefly turning to Y/N. “Almost everyone, thankfully.” 

Y/N tapped her foot against the tiles, deep in thought. “What if they’re stalling? Maybe they’re trying to steer us away from the main issue.” 

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

“I agree with Sharon,” Steve added. “We didn’t have a lead on anything else at the moment. So, they didn’t have to use all those resources.” 

“What are they doing then?” Y/N inquired aloud. 

“Planting a false trail. Trying to deplete our energy so when they do strike, we wouldn’t fully be able to fight them.” 

“Strike,” Sharon repeated. Her thumb went to her mouth, teeth gnawing at the skin—a bad habit Steve had noticed early on when they started working together. “You don’t think we’re facing STRIKE team 2.0, right?” 

Steve felt Y/N bristle next to him. He turned to her, catching a glimpse of her fearful eyes before he turned back to Sharon. “You think Hydra infiltrated SHIELD again?” 

“Maybe. They knew the Avengers were coming, maybe even knew who was coming. Rumlow was once one of Fury’s most trusted agents before he joined Hydra’s ranks, and his entire plans blew up in his face. Literally.” 

Y/N audibly gasped. Steve didn’t need his enhanced hearing to pick up on it. In a swift motion, he whirled around and placed one hand on Y/N’s face and the other on her waist, dutifully scanning her for any physical signs of injuries. She was shaking, hands trembling, and knuckles white from the tightness of her grip on Steve’s biceps. 

“Doll?” 

Y/N hummed. She caught Steve’s fearful gaze, her chest rising in an explicit shudder. “I’m…I—that’s just too much information within such a short time.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have brought all this up now. It wasn’t the right time.” 

“No, Sharon. It’s okay. I’m…I don’t have any physical injuries, so I’ll just go get some rest.”

“I’ll come with you.” 

“No, Steve.” Y/N cleared her throat, trying to even her voice. “Talk to Sharon. I’m not going anywhere; I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

As Y/N left, Steve felt a sinking feeling in his chest that he couldn't shake off.

In the quiet of the night, Steve found solace in Y/N's presence. The pile of paperwork on his desk could wait because nothing was more important than the way her fingers danced through his hair, easing the tension in his neck and shoulders.

“Doll.” He leaned back against his chair. His hands reached out to take hers, the contrast between her delicate fingers and his calloused ones not lost on him. “There’s no need for you to stay awake. You came back from a mission not long ago. Go get some rest.” 

Steve brought her hands to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the back of each palm before holding them close to his chest. Y/N placed her chin on his head, her fingers dancing across the fabric of his shirt. 

“It was only a recon mission. I’m okay.” 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get your rest.” 

“What’s the point of sleeping in our bed when you’re not there with me? I’d rather stay here.”

“Y/N…” Steve began, voice trailing off the more he got lost in her eyes. He couldn’t even think of the next word to complete his sentence. 

Y/N leaned down, her lips merrily caressing his. He smiled, eagerly accepting the love she offered him with every brush of her sweet lips. Steve tugged one of her hands, urging her to walk around his chair and sit in his lap. As soon as she was settled, he let one of his hands effortlessly pull her legs apart and slide tantalizingly over her thigh. 

Even with the dark leather pants covering her legs, Y/N let out a moan, feeding Steve’s ego. He dove into her mouth, tongue brushing against the roof and teeth nipping her lower lip, pulling it away. Prematurely, the pair had to pause as a knock echoed through the door, disrupting their moment.

"Come in," Steve's gravelly voice commanded. Y/N quickly rose from her seat, her fingers instinctively wiping the smudged lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry to barge in so late.” It was Sharon who had knocked. She walked inside with an apologetic smile. “I just wanted to drop this by. Fury said it’s better you have it as soon as possible.” Steve nodded at her, extending a hand. Just as he was about to open the file she had handed him, she interrupted, “I feel the need to tell you it’s a Level 8.” 

“None of us here are a Level 8.” 

“You’re the Captain, and I personally gathered this intel,” Sharon remarked. She turned to Y/N with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You know how SHIELD is.” 

Y/N's agreement was evident in the soft smile on her face. “Of course. You should probably discuss this with Steve."

She hadn’t taken less than a half step before Steve grabbed her wrist. Surprised, she turned around, her features softening as his thumb rubbed the edge of her wrist. 

“I’ll look at it later. Stay, doll.” With a subtle bite of her lower lip, Y/N watched as Steve unlocked one of his drawers and slid the file into it. Her eyes never left his hands, tracing his long fingers. “Is it Hydra?” he asked with eyes on Sharon. 

She nodded. “It looks like they’re building a new division across their facilities. The entail I’ve gathered mentions everything. It looks pretty serious.” 

“Scope of intelligence?” 

“Sufficient.” 

“Validity of insights?” 

“Accurate.”

“Level of priority?” 

“Urgent. Fury’s going to set a meeting soon, but he wanted you to have the information right away,” Sharon answered. 

Steve nodded, still caressing Y/N's skin with his thumb. "I appreciate it, Sharon."

As the blonde turned to leave, she suddenly halted and pivoted on her heels. “Captain, there shouldn’t be a need to remind you to be vigilant. We still haven’t ruled out the possibility of a Hydra informant among us.” 

To the naked eye, Y/N's nervousness was imperceptible, but not to Steve's trained senses. With his thumb pressed against her pulse point, he could feel the subtle increase in her heart rate and the slight tremble in her fingers.

“You okay?” 

Y/N tried to steady her breathing, hoping to hide her nerves. She forced a small smile and replied, "I’m fine.” 

Her reply didn't satisfy Steve, but he refrained from pressing the issue any further. Once Sharon left, he drew Y/N closer to him. The Hydra ordeal had him feeling on edge, and he knew it was taking a toll on her too. Nevertheless, Steve remained resolute in his determination to make everything right. 

But what he didn't know was that the only way to make things right was to let them go wrong first.

"What's happening?" 

When Y/N stepped out of the elevator, there was a flurry of activity. Agents littered the floor, talking amongst themselves and pointing at their tablets. While this was a common sight at the compound, there hadn't been any commotion when Y/N went to grab dinner forty minutes ago. Yet now, pandemonium reigned over the place.

“Miss Y/L/N!” Peter's voice boomed in contrast to the tense atmosphere. The teenager skidded to a halt next to her. He had both hands up in the air as if he was debating whether he was allowed to hug her or not. “It’s great to see you okay and in one piece! Not that anyone’s hurt, of course. Everyone is perfectly fine. It was just a tiny breach. Well, not that tiny since Miss FRIDAY was disabled, and Mr. Stark was pretty angry that it took him five whole minutes to get her back online. But the good news is everyone is fine, right?”

"Easy there, Spiderling," Bucky said as he stepped out of the corridor, just as Y/N was processing Peter's words. The gashes on his forehead and cheek were now gone, and Tony had successfully rebooted his vibranium arm. “Y/N obviously doesn’t know what’s happening. Don’t bombard her with all this information.” 

Peter scuffed his shoes against the floor, his gaze dropping to the ground.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bucky.” 

“What’s going on, Pete?” Y/N gave the adolescent a sympathetic look. “Why’s everyone on edge?” 

“There’s been a breach in security, Miss Y/L/N. The cameras went down, and Miss FRIDAY was unresponsive for five whole minutes.” 

“What?" Y/N blinked in confusion. "How did this happen?”

“We’re trying to reboot the cameras to see if we can figure anything out. I think you already know who's the prime suspect.” 

"Hydra," Y/N sighed wearily, her gaze fixed on Bucky. "Did they manage to get hold of any sensitive information or plant any malicious software in our systems?"

Peter, who was typing furiously on his laptop this whole time, perked up. He shook his head vehemently, shoving the device in Y/N and Bucky’s faces. "I'm making some progress here and getting closer to cracking the wall they've built. I'm guessing they infiltrated the cloud network and launched a coordinated attack that deactivated all security protocols at once. That’s amazing! No, wait, not amazing. I mean amazing in a sense that—”

“Peter!” 

“Right. Sorry, Miss Y/L/N. Here's the thing. I'm almost certain this was an inside job. They didn't only bypass Miss FRIDAY; they deactivated her and created their own wall for a full five minutes. I'm not entirely sure what they were up to during that time, but they didn’t weaken our—”

Peter's sentence was left unfinished. At first, Bucky and Y/N thought he managed to restore the camera footage. And he did. Because all of them showed no sign of unusual activity as they replayed the five minutes in question. 

But just as the footage was coming to an end, the entire screen went blank. The three Avengers looked perplexed. The screen suddenly lit up, displaying a single sentence. 

Your time is running out, Bambi.

They each wore a different reaction. Bucky bristled, cobalt eyes trying to break through the screen and strangle Hydra. Peter pursed his lips as he read the sentence again and again. As for Y/N, she was transfixed in place, hands trembling by her side, her knees doing very little to keep her steady. 

“Looks like they meant to send a message,” Bucky remarked. And Y/N prayed his super soldier hearing didn’t pick up on her ragged breath or erratic thoughts. 

To say that he was pissed was an understatement. Steve might as well have been livid. It had been almost two weeks since the security breach and a whole month and a half since they suspected a mole in SHIELD’s ranks. Yet, they couldn’t find anything. 

He spent almost every moment working on the latest Hydra missions they’d received—most of them being a total bust. And alongside Fury and Tony, he was digging deeper into SHIELD’s resource pool, trying to find out who could be a suspect. 

Acknowledging that he was in dire need of a break, he begrudgingly retreated to his apartment. Once he arrived, he swiftly removed the jacket that clung to his body and made his way toward the refuge of his personal quarters. When Steve entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the sight that greeted him. There stood Y/N, basking in the natural light that filtered in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, adorned in nothing but his shirt. At that moment, his features softened, and a sense of warmth flooded through him.

He walked up to her, the distance between them closing until they were almost an inch apart. But just as he was about to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, Y/N spun around with surprising speed and swung a punch straight toward his face.

“Woah, Y/N. It’s me!” Steve said once he caught her clenched fist. She gasped, pulling her hand to her side and cradling it close to her chest. “Doll, what’s wrong? Why are you so tense?” 

“I…I, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

Steve pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "You don't have to apologize, Y/N. But you need to tell me what's going on. You've been different ever since that Hydra mission almost two months ago."

He tried to pull away from her, just the tiniest bit to see her face, but she clung to him vehemently, nuzzling her face in his shirt. 

"I'm just scared, Steve. I'm scared of what Hydra could do; what they could have done to us," she murmured softly.

Steve stroked her back soothingly. “Doll…” 

"I'm not just worried about myself," Y/N said, pulling away from Steve's embrace. Her tear-filled eyes glistened, making his heart ache. "Everyone was hurt during those missions. Now, they're playing mind games and making threats. Who knows what they're capable of? It's just..." she trailed off, unable to finish her thought.

“Hey, hey, hey. Babydoll, look at me.” 

“Steve,” Y/N sounded, lower lip jutting out. “I’m scared that after all this, I'll lose you."

Steve's voice was gentle as he reassured her, reaching out to touch her cheek. "You won't lose me," he said. "I'll always be here for you, through the calm and the rain. We're a team, Y/N, and we stick together no matter what."

“Through the calm and the rain,” Y/N mimicked. She held him tighter, and Steve didn’t miss her shuddering breaths. 

“Steve? You okay, punk?” 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed from his place at the medical cot. He touched his jaw, his nose scrunching as he touched the multicolored bruise. “Can’t believe this marks another failure. Y/N personally collected this information on her last recon mission.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Steve. Hydra’s winning streak is going to end at some point. Didn’t you say you were switching tactics anyway?” 

Steve hummed in acknowledgment while reaching for his shirt. “Nat and I are trying to find the mole. But every time we’re close, we’re faced with an impasse.” 

Bucky squeezed Steve’s shoulder, the one that wasn’t dislocated at least, giving his friend a terse smile. “Not for long. Nat’s a mastermind at this. She’ll find the bastard, and this charade will end soon enough. You’ll see.” 

Steve could only hope Bucky was right because everyone was getting restless, and they knew this was what Hydra wanted all along. The missions had become borderline brutal, and Steve had taken it upon himself to lead most of them solo—Hydra’s intent at the end wasn’t to kill any of the Avengers. At least not now. They just wanted to weaken their resolve. 

Bucky helped Steve stand up straight. His shoulders deflated when the latter stifled a wince. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Y/N?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Punk, the serum’s too busy fixing your broken rib. If you want to leave the med bay so badly, at least let me call your girlfriend to help you up,” Bucky argued with a disapproving look. Steve wanted to laugh, being reminded of his best friend’s attitude back in the forties. But his ribs were killing him at the moment, and he couldn’t say a word. 

"It's already three in the morning, and other than you and possibly Tony, who's most likely in his lab, everyone else is asleep. I don't want to disturb her sleep."

“She’ll wake up when you walk inside your room, either way. Y/N’s been worried about you all week. I don't want to be on the receiving end of her disappointment when she realizes I knew you were hurt and didn't tell her."

“Buck.” By now, the two super soldiers were nearing the elevator. Steve’s twisted knee made it hard for them to get there faster. “I’m going to sleep in Y/N’s old room. When morning comes, the serum would have healed most, if not all, of my wounds. There's no need to worry her for nothing.”

He could tell Bucky didn’t approve of his choice, but his mind was already made. By the time Steve reached Y/N’s old room, exhaustion had started to weigh him down, and sleep felt like the best idea in the world. 

Lucky for him, Y/N hadn’t moved out all her things when she took permanent residence in his, now their, room. She had kept a few things lying around, spare clothes and toiletries, in case someone ever needed them. 

"Do you remember when Wanda and Pietro arrived?" she asked while sorting through her clothes, pondering which ones to keep and which ones to leave behind. "They had to borrow some clothes from us until Tony could order them some. It just made me think about how nice it would be to have a comfortable space stocked with everything someone might need. Is that silly? I have a lot of things that I don't use, and I just..."

Steve got up from the bed and walked over to Y/N, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He took the clothes from her hand and helped her fold them. "There's nothing silly about wanting to create a warm and welcoming environment for someone in need," he said reassuringly. "And for the record, this makes me love you even more."

At that time, he had also pitched in, offering to contribute with some clothes and other things that he hadn't yet touched. So, he entered the room and headed towards the closet, grabbing a pair of jogging pants and a loose shirt. Steve moved to the ensuite and carefully placed his clothes on one of the cabinets by the sink. He then crouched down to take the towels out of the basket, his mind already turning to thoughts of the long shower he was going to enjoy. But as he rummaged through the pile, a manila folder suddenly slipped out from inside the longer towel, catching his attention.

Steve eyed the folder curiously, bending down to pick it up. Why would Y/N store a folder in the bathroom out of all places? He really wanted to dismiss the thought, but the fact that the folder was hidden inside the towels made him question the situation even more. 

Curiously, he opened the folder. He had barely laid eyes on the content before he blanched. This was the folder Sharon had delivered him weeks ago. A copy of it, at least. But this couldn’t be possible. Y/N would never steal from his office; she didn’t have the need to infiltrate it or sneak files or data. Everything of his is hers to have. So, why did she possess a monochrome copy of the latest Hydra schematics Sharon had sent him with the notes and strategies he had inscribed out and marked with his ballpen?

As Steve's eyes scanned the pages, his mind raced with questions and doubts. Was Y/N involved with Hydra? Had she been spying on him all along? He couldn't believe it. He knew her too well. But the evidence was right in front of him, and he couldn't ignore it.

He sat down on the marble tiles, his world spinning as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Maybe there was some explanation for all of this, some reason why Y/N had this file. 

The original was kept under lock and key in his office. Now that he thought of it, even Y/N didn’t have a key to that specific drawer. So how could she get it? Steve's mind raced as he held the folder in his hands, wondering how Y/N managed to get her hands on it.

Every word felt like a punch to the gut, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that Hydra was always two steps ahead of them. Steve remembered how nervous Y/N had been lately, especially after the security breach that proved to be a warning than an actual attack. 

The truth was that Y/N walked unharmed from every mission, yet she was the one who was the most nervous out of the team, particularly every time Hydra's informant was mentioned. And now that Steve thought about it, he could see Y/N’s eyes following his movements as he stored the file in his drawer and placed the key in the pocket of his pants, the same pants she took off when they went to their room afterward. 

Steve's mind raced as he recalled all the little details he had overlooked in the past two months. He remembered how Y/N had seemed lost in thought and jumpy, and how she had been the only one out of the compound during the security breach, even though she didn't have any mission.

Steve's hand tightened on the sink as he stood up, refusing to believe what the folder in his hand was suggesting. "No," he muttered to himself. "Y/N wouldn't do it. There has to be an explanation."

With the folder still clutched tightly in his hand, Steve rushed out of the room, his bruises forgotten in his determination to find out the truth. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he ran through the empty hallways, his mind racing with the need to prove that Y/N couldn't possibly be a Hydra agent.

He furiously clicked the elevator buttons again and again when it refused to get to his level fast enough, thinking, who the fuck would be up and about late at night and taking a trip using the elevators? When it took a second too long for it to reach his floor, Steve bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

Though fueled by adrenaline and urgency, his footsteps were light—shoes barely leaving a trail of noise despite every rushed step he took. He was almost at Y/N's door, two steps separating him from finding his answers. And when Steve's hands came in contact with the metal of the doorknob, Y/N's disapproving voice filtered through his ears.

“Are you kidding me?” she whisper-yelled. For a second, Steve thought she was addressing him, but she couldn't have known he was there. He pressed his ear against the door and made out Y/N's voice. She was up, and her shoes were squeaking against the parquet. "Watch your mouth when you talk to me," she spoke again, anger in her tone. "And keep Steve out of this."

Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he strained his ears to listen. Who was Y/N speaking to in the dead of night? He couldn't hear any other voice, despite his efforts to focus and pick up on any additional sounds. His breathing became labored as he desperately tried to discern any other heartbeat or whisper, but all he could hear was Y/N's voice echoing through their room.

“Nobody knows. You think I'm stupid enough to let anyone find out that I’m associated with you in any way, shape, or form?” Y/N's voice was tense, and Steve could tell that she was probably on the phone with someone. “You won’t ruin the trust I’ve built with the Avengers. I don’t know what game you're playing, but… no, Brock! I'm not finished yet!”

The manila folder slipped from Steve's hand, the sound of it hitting the ground barely audible. His heart, on the other hand, crashed to the floor with a resounding thud. Steve stepped back, putting as much space as he could between himself and the door, unwilling to listen to another word from Y/N.

It couldn't be true. Y/N couldn't be talking to Brock Rumlow of all people. He would have known, wouldn't he? Y/N was never discreet with her phone, and he would have noticed any strange behavior.

Steve’s eyes caught the papers that fell out of the folder. The strategies and outlines he considered, the plans he had made, and the ideas he had offered. They mocked him and his blind trust in Y/N. And that phone call was the cherry on top of the cake. 

The sharp edges of his broken heart stabbed at his soul. Steve gritted his teeth and straightened up. He had missed a good chunk of the conversation, but Y/N was still talking, though mindful of her tone. 

He could hear her pacing and then stopping in her tracks to drum her fingers against the table or the wall. Steve prayed that there would be an explanation, that there was a story there, something that would help explain why Y/N would be talking to Brock. But he wasn’t prepared to hear it. 

"You can try to ruin my reputation with the Avengers, but it won't work. We'll meet under my conditions. In five hours, at the alley near Café Epoque. No SHIELD or Hydra. Don’t worry about Steve, he’s on a mission. That's all I'll say. Now leave me be."

Y/N hung up and, most probably, flung the phone on the bed. Steve heard the soft thud followed by Y/N’s harsh breathing. She was pacing the room, mumbling words that were too fast to understand. Then, he heard her halt her pacing. She shuffled close to the door, her heartbeats clearer now. And when she opened the door and walked out, Steve was already halfway across the stairs, thinking about what the hell he was going to do.

As a spy, Y/N had a talent for deception. Earlier that morning, when Sam caught her wearing tights and a hoodie, she smoothly claimed that she was heading out for a run. When he questioned why she hadn't joined him, she had a quick retort ready, saying that she wasn't crazy enough to wake up at five in the morning like he did.

Sam had laughed it off, wishing her a good time. And she wasted not a second longer before rushing out of the compound. She took the usual path Bucky, Sam, and Steve took when they were out running. So if someone deemed her actions suspicious, the security cameras would confirm her going out on a run.

Extreme? Maybe. But the last thing she wanted was to let anyone know that she was meeting Brock. Speaking of the devil, his silhouette lingered by the alley, urging Y/N to step closer. Her stomach churned with every step she took closer. Yet she squared her shoulders and never stopped walking, determined to hide the anxiety slithering through her body. 

“What do you want?” Y/N cut to the chase, enunciating every word. She crept closer to Brock, thinking he might retreat further back into the shadows. Much to her disappointment, he didn’t.

"Well, well, Bambi, aren't you a ray of sunshine," Brock taunted, noticing the flicker of displeasure in Y/N's eyes. "I've been curious about your well-being."

“What do you want?” 

“Ah, I'm relieved to hear that you're doing fine. As I am, in case you were wondering.” 

"I wasn't," she snapped, her patience wearing thin. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to contain her frustration. "Don't push me to ask for the third time, Brock. Just answer the damn question."

“I just wanted to see how my favorite person in the world was doing.” He outstretched his hand, reaching toward Y/N’s hair. She quickly caught his wrist, using her thumb to put pressure on his pulse point. 

“Hate to burst your bubble, but if you called me here expecting a glimpse of your own glorious self through my eyes, I'm afraid I've always considered you a lost cause. And that was before your face decided to experiment with the art of spontaneous combustion.”

“Lost cause, eh?” Brock smirked, adding to Y/N’s irritation. “That’s not a nice word to describe your brother. Let alone your big brother, Bambi.” 

Despite her composed demeanor, Y/N's fingers subtly twitched at her sides, a telltale sign of her building tension. She averted her gaze, the sight of her brother churning her insides. Her eyes wandered, scanning the narrow confines of the alleyway as if searching for solace in the surrounding walls. Brock’s words lingered in the air, a painful reminder of the blood ties that bound them together. A reminder she despised.

“Stop comparing me to a fawn.” 

“Hmm, maybe I should. You did stop being the prey a long time ago.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Ask Rogers. You’ll know then.” Y/N was quite grateful that she was not endowed with superhuman strength because the grinding of her teeth and tightness of her jaw could have caused quite the collateral damage. Her brother, a term she hated to use when describing the unhinged being facing her, did not seem to care as he continued with his monologue. “When you first wanted to be a spy, I had my doubts. And I do admit that I never believed in your abilities. At least, not until you managed to hide your true identity from your own boyfriend.”

“In case it skipped your notice, Brock. I never asked for your shitty seal of approval.” 

“Language, Y/N. Jesus, I thought being with Captain Righteous might straighten you up a little, but I guess I was wrong.” 

“Rumlow…”

“Right back at you, sis,” he chuckled. Callously on top of it all. 

In times like this, I wish I had Wanda’s powers, Y/N thought. “If you’ve called me at three in the goddamn morning to waste my time, then congratulations, Brock. Mission accomplished.” 

“With your assistance, they all are,” Brock smirked. “Contrary to what you may think, I don’t have an ulterior motive. You’ve been less reachable lately, understandable with the mission you have—”

“You haven’t reached out to me in years!” Y/N countered. 

It might’ve been a trick of the light, but there was a noticeable moment of hesitation in Brock's demeanor. “Not directly, no. You know I can’t do that.” 

“You send subliminal messages instead.” 

“I’ve always had a flair for the dramatics.”

“If you’re waiting for me to deny it, I won’t.” 

Brock's head shook in a subtle motion. Y/N's senses heightened as she observed his hand inching closer to her side, prepared to react swiftly if necessary. But instead of a threatening gesture, his hand landed softly on her shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze. “You know what else I have a flair for? Caring for my little sister. I know the pressure Hydra is putting on both of us is massive, but you’ve been doing better than expected. I’m proud of you. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain?” 

Captain? Y/N's face scrunched up in perplexity. Brock had lost it. Not only did that explosion scorch his face and erase half his features, but it must have taken his entire, and relatively small, brain with it. 

"I don't know what kind of twisted game you're playing, Brock. But I warn you, if you don't put an end to this nonsense immediately, I won't hesitate to involve the Avengers."

The uninterested look Brock gave her made Y/N feel uneasy. He withdrew his hand from her shoulder in a slow and deliberate manner. Malice fed the hunger in his eyes the more he kept them on her. “Haven’t you done it already? Why else would your boyfriend be standing behind us?” 

In hindsight, Y/N shouldn't have turned around. Not without calculating her next steps. It’s not that Brock wasn’t right—Steve was indeed standing behind her with features that exuded both sharpness and menace. But Y/N should’ve been smarter. She should’ve known that Brock had been tugging on her hands, forcing her to dig her own grave. 

“Steve?” she squeaked. The super soldier didn’t twitch at the sound even though she knew he picked it up. He remained unmoving, like a tree defying the violent storm, gaze flickering between her and Brock.  

“If you want me to stop treating you like a fawn, then you should stop clinging to that part. You’re right. It doesn’t suit you.” Briefly tearing her eyes away from Steve, Y/N leveled Brock with a nasty glare. And as ironic as it was, her brother’s deformed face held far more emotions than Steve’s maskless one. “You said your boyfriend was on a mission. I didn’t realize I am the mission.” 

“Don’t overestimate your own importance,” Steve finally spoke. His voice carried a menacing undertone akin to a sudden thrust of an unseen knife. The words settled deep within Y/N's bones, leaving a chilling resonance.

“Just as you overestimated my sister’s? That’s right, Cap. Y/N is my sister. But I imagine this revelation isn’t the most shocking information you've learned about her, is it?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Brock?” 

Irritation was quickly thrown out the window in favor of confusion. What the hell was Brock saying? And why was he so composed despite Steve’s looming and threatening presence behind her? 

Brock was setting her up, no doubt about that. But there was something about Steve’s seething character and Brock’s Machiavellian attitude that made the sirens in her head blare. 

Revelation, he had said, on top of pointing out that she was more prey than victim. He didn’t flinch at the sight of Steve, more like welcomed it with open arms. Her mind was racing to find out what he was planning, knowing well that he wanted to drive a wedge between her and Steve. But could being a Rumlow warrant such a treatment? 

Brock pursed his lip as the malicious glint in his eyes intensified. “Drop the act, Bambi,” he said. “Hydra won’t be too pleased with you choosing me as your sacrificial lamb.” 

A surge of anger engulfed Y/N, her frustration boiling over. How could she have been so blind? She turned her back on Brock, fixating her gaze on Steve. At that moment, all her SHIELD training felt futile, discarded in the depths of the alley, as she recklessly diverted her attention away from Brock.

"Steve, please," she pleaded, desperation lacing her voice. "I don't know what brought you here, but you have to believe me. I have no connection to Hydra. I'm not the spy!"

“You’re a Rumlow,” Steve spat, tearing her apart with three words just as he had always built her up with three.

Y/N’s lips trembled, shaking from the cold realization that Steve did not believe her. “I—I’m not. If being a Rumlow means the same as being treacherous and conniving, then I’m not. You know me.” 

“Does he?” 

“Stop talking, Brock!” Y/N shouted, closing her eyes in annoyance. Brock didn’t relent. 

“I'm just offering my observation, sis. Isn't that what you do to add some excitement?”

“Enough.” Steve’s voice came out low, composed, and measured. Yet every hair on Y/N’s skin stood up. The roots he seemed to have planted in place disappeared, and it took him four steps to reach Y/N’s side. “No more talking.” 

Y/N ached to erase the heaviness that laced his words. Those words that were once so calm and gentle, whispered to her before Steve showed her the magnitude of his love and desire, were now an erratic hurricane that swept her off her feet for all the wrong reasons. 

“Steve…” She tried to defend himself, but the green in his eyes was so scarce. It gave her a silent indication that words were truly unwelcome. 

“I don’t trust you, Rumlow.” It burned. “I don’t believe you.” It hurt. “And I may be out of time, but I’m not out of my mind to desperately latch on to any word that comes out of your treacherous mouth.” It scarred. 

Steve’s gaze tormented Y/N. She screamed silently, letting him know that he was making a mistake. She could never be the traitor in their ranks. She would never betray her family—him. But despite his guarded eyes consuming hers, disbelief defiantly lined his irises. 

His fingers wrapped around Y/N’s wrists, causing her to gasp. With a quick tug, he yanked her protectively behind his solid frame. And to her utter disbelief, he threw himself at her brother. 

Brock's belated realization of Steve's assault came crashing down as he collided with the ground, the impact echoing loudly. Steve seized him by the collar, jaw clenched with determination, as he prepared to deliver another blow. Yet, just as he readied his fist, a sharp sound resonated around the alley. Steve’s hand instinctively reached for his wounded shoulder where a bullet had found its mark.

"Steve!" Y/N's voice trembled with panic. In an instant, Steve grabbed her waist, forcefully pinning her against the wall as a barrage of bullets cascaded around them. Brock saw his opportunity amidst the chaos and attempted to flee, but Steve and Y/N were determined not to let him escape. "Natasha?" Y/N urgently called out, activating her Stark watch.

“In pursuit of the Hydra agent.” Natasha’s voice came through. 

Y/N gently pushed against Steve, but he quickly caught on to her intentions. "I'll go after him," he asserted, gripping her hand firmly. She shook her head, her gaze fixed on his injured shoulder. "You're not the only one who called for backup. Bucky is on his trail too."

Y/N hesitantly nodded, understanding the double meaning behind his sentence. She placed her right palm over his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll help, Nat. Not up for debate.” 

Steve relented, and with that, the both of them dispersed. Through her Stark watch, Y/N managed to pin Nat’s exact location. She was moving fast, from one rooftop to another. 

Trusting that Steve and Bucky had her brother covered, Y/N pulled out the concealed gun and sprinted through the streets. The enemy agent must have taken a different route, as Y/N could see her adversary land on the ground right in front of her and recover within seconds. 

Y/N's instincts kicked in, and she swiftly raised her gun, taking aim at the fire hydrant mere steps away from the agent. With a well-aimed shot, she punctured the hydrant, causing a forceful jet of water to erupt toward the agent. The unexpected deluge forced the agent to jump back, momentarily disoriented by the sudden surge of water.

Natasha swiftly comprehended the situation, sprinting across the street to close the distance, while Y/N made a split-second decision to alter her path and intercept the Hydra agent head-on. The sound of Natasha's exertion echoed in Y/N's ears, intensifying the urgency to pick up the pace. Despite Natasha's inherent speed advantage, the task of incapacitating the agile agent proved challenging, as if their adversary had an uncanny ability to anticipate every move.

In a blur, Natasha shattered a storefront window with a gunshot, causing shards of glass to spray near the agent's face, driving them closer to Y/N. She reacted quickly, delivering a swift kick to their face. Their hood fell off, revealing wisps of blonde hair. She didn't have time to look at their face as she was determined to disarm them.

With a growl, Y/N rushed to deliver a blow to the agent’s ribs. She ducked as the woman brought her fist to her face, using the momentum in her favor to hook her ankle around the woman’s own and drive her to the ground. 

As the woman looked at her with a glare, Y/N’s eyes widened. “Sharon?” she whispered in disbelief, and even Natasha, who still hadn’t seen Sharon’s face, bristled. 

Too stunned by the reveal, both Avengers weren't quick enough to intercept Sharon's next moves. She swung her leg to kick Y/N hard across her stomach. Still on the ground, she repositioned her body enough to throw a metal ball at Natasha. It beeped fast, faster than anyone could have anticipated, before dark smoke erupted from it, trapping Natasha in a mirage of darkness. 

“It would’ve been so much easier if he didn’t love you,” Sharon’s voice resonated. From the corner of her bloodshot eyes, Y/N could see her reaching for the gun. Y/N stood up on shaky legs and roared, bulldozing her way into Sharon and knocking her to the ground. 

In the midst of the fierce struggle, knees collided with noses and limbs grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand. The scuffle caused Sharon's gun to be flung out of reach, lost somewhere in the chaotic fray. With a flicker of determination in her eyes, Sharon's gaze darted between Y/N and her immediate surroundings, desperately seeking a potential weapon. And there it was.

Y/N's knife loomed just out of her reach, poking out of a hidden pocket. But before she could grasp it, Sharon's hand darted toward the hilt. With a forceful push, Y/N was knocked down, and the gleaming blade was poised, ready to deliver a lethal strike. 

In that perilous moment, a large hand closed around the knife's metal, halting its deadly trajectory. Blood trickled down Y/N's face, eliciting a gasp of disbelief, but Sharon seemed to bear the brunt of the shock. Gripped by fear, the knife slipped from her grasp. The next instant, Sharon was sent hurtling backward, colliding with the unyielding embrace of Bucky's metal arm. 

Y/N's eyes flickered upward, her mouth agape in astonishment. "Steve?" she stammered, caught between shock and relief.

“Wrapping your hand around the metal of a knife is the opposite of being careful, Steve!” Y/N chastised. Now in the med bay, she was disinfecting Steve’s wound, about to wrap a bandage around it. 

The fight was over and done with after Bucky caught Sharon. She was now being interrogated by Tony and Secretary Ross while Brock was on his merry way to the Raft. 

Y/N, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky were all required to sit in for questioning. It was protocol after what happened, especially given the new information about Y/N’s identity. But Natasha was disoriented from whatever chemical Hydra had developed, and Bucky looked one more word away from reverting to Winter Soldier mode—his worry over Natasha’s well-being overpowering his sense of self-preservation. Not to mention that Steve was bleeding and Y/N was covered in bruises and blood. 

In due time, they made their way to the med bay, reaching a mutual understanding that they would share their accounts and perspectives later.

"What? Were you hoping for that knife to find its place on your collarbone, Y/N? If that's what you desired, you should have mentioned it earlier, and I would have arranged a more suitable scenario."

If his smirk was any indicator, it was clear that he was joking. But even his lighthearted smile didn’t ease the worry on Y/N’s face. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, wrapping the bandage nice and easy. “It was bad enough that a bullet found its target in your shoulder.” 

“I’m a super soldier. I’ll heal by tomorrow. But if that knife came closer to your body—”

“I know,” Y/N sighed disgustingly. Her index finger traced the white bandages with a featherlight touch that made Steve shiver. “Did Natasha tell you I was meeting Brock?” 

Though her voice was low and gentle, it caused a spike of anxiety to travel the length of Steve’s veins. “No.” 

“Then how did you know I was meeting him?” 

“I came back at around three in the morning,” Steve admitted. He caught the sight of the dark veins under Y/N’s eyes, immediately smoothing them with his thumbs. “I didn’t want to wake you up—I may have been injured on that mission. I went to your old room, Y/N. And while I was there, I found a copy of a Hydra mission file I was working on.” 

“In my old room?” 

“In the bathroom of your old room. An odd place to store files, if you ask anybody. Which is why I was shocked when I found the copy. And then, I remembered that you were the only one who was out when Hydra had overridden FRIDAY. And you were the only one of us who barely sustained a scratch on our missions. You were always so anxious at the sheer mention of the double agent, and I…”

“I can’t believe it,” Y/N muttered under her breath. She couldn’t believe the lengths her brother and Sharon went to go frame her. It disgusted her more that she was too busy wallowing in her anxiety to pick up on their actions. 

“I didn’t believe it.” Steve’s hands found their place on her waist and pulled her closer. She could see the tranquil shade of green nestled in his irises, urging her to listen to him and breathe. “I didn’t, Y/N. I know you. I trust you. I went to our room to talk to you, but I heard you on the phone with Rumlow. I froze in place. And before I knew it, I ran back to your old room. It took me a solid ten minutes to gather my thoughts, and by the time I did, I found you talking with Nat.” 

His words were sincere, but there was more than just comfort in his every syllable. They carried a hint of disappointment, a tinge of hurt. And as he whispered the last sentence, Steve's pain was evident.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Y/N whispered. 

Steve gave her a considerate smile. “Even if I were, I have a feeling you wouldn’t have told me.” 

“I wouldn’t have known how,” she confessed with sadness in her pupils. “I knew Brock was up to something, and believe me, I didn’t want to tell Nat everything. But… she understands what it's like being judged for something that’s completely out of your hands. The words, the truth, it all spilled out.” 

"I understand, babydoll. I understand," Steve reassured, the endearing nickname washing over Y/N, bringing a sense of ease. Y/N gently cupped Steve's cheek, allowing their noses to brush against each other.

“What happened then?” she continued to whisper, and Steve found comfort in the calmness of her voice.

“It was clear Natasha wasn’t going to involve anyone else. But I wasn’t going to stand idly while you two dealt with whatever Rumlow had planned. I went to Bucky. And as soon as he knew Natasha was tagging along—”

“He didn’t waste time asking any more questions.” A pause followed Y/N’s statement. She kept her eyes on Steve, her hand absentmindedly running up and down his thigh while his uninjured one kneaded her back. Luckily, she and Bucky sustained no more than a few bruises. It was only Natasha and Steve who were moderately injured. 

Steve’s voice interrupted the silence. “What are you thinking?” 

Y/N chewed on her lower lip, thinking hard. “Did you hate me? The moment you found out I was Brock’s sister?” 

“Never.” Y/N sighed in relief. “I was shocked beyond words. But I understood. I did. We’re more than the names we inherit and the roles we shoulder. I wasn’t going to hate you for something you so clearly despised yourself. If anything, I loved you all the more for your choices.” 

“You loved that I lied?” 

Steve laughed. “I loved how you embraced your mother's surname, showing that you didn't rely on your brother's influence to succeed in SHIELD. I loved your unwavering loyalty to your team, to me, despite sharing blood with Rumlow. But most of all, I loved your instinct to involve someone, even if it wasn't me, the moment you sensed trouble."

“I was going to tell you,” Y/N assured. “One day, I was going to tell you everything. I was just scared.” 

“Then don’t be,” Steve said. His fingers laced through Y/N’s locks, tenderly stroking the back of her head. “I love you, Y/N. I trust you. No matter the fears you have, share them with me. I’ll never run just because you have something to say that I might not like. I’m always with you.” 

Love blossomed within Y/N's heart, its warmth spreading across her face in a radiant smile. Her eyes shimmered with unwavering devotion as she whispered, "Through the calm and the rain?" In response, Steve's lips seamlessly melded with hers, a gentle dance that spoke volumes of their affection and tenderness. Their embrace was a testament to the deep bond they shared, a connection that could weather any tempest that came their way.

At last, Steve pulled away. His silence was a soothing reminder of the peace that could never be snatched away from either of them no matter the circumstances. With one deep sigh, he whispered, “Through the calm and the rain, my Y/N.” 

And so it was, amidst the serenity and the downpour, that Y/N and Steve stood firm, their love resolute and unyielding. They were intertwined, like ancient oaks with roots that ran deep, unshakable in their commitment to one another.

So excited to announce that I will now be writing for Steve Rogers too! I know this is a long one, but I couldn't help myself. Hope you liked it!

Don't forget to send in your Marvel/Harry Potter requests!

Can't wait to share more!!

[rorykeanersactualgf]

request where the reader and Benny have a sleepover

CW: symptoms of a panic attack, descriptions of Benny being hurt (just a dream dw xx), fluffy stuff because Benny is the absolute best boy, Benny having happy tears from our love because he's so sweet and deserves all the love in the world :))

A/N: im so sorry these are taking a long time to get out but school has been kicking my ass and removing all motivation from me recently, especially with all the work i have to catch up on from reading full books for classes and doing course work but i have not left and i don't think i ever will :) as always if there is something wrong with this or anything you want changing then i am more than happy to help xx

The Night After

Through the night of the sleepover, a few... troubling dreams befell me through the night. Vivid images of blood, violent screams, and worst of all, Benny in despair, writhing beneath various torture contraptions, similar to the ones in the movies we saw earlier. I couldn't handle it.

I arose, sudden with a cold sweat running over me; hyper aware of my surroundings, but not aware enough to know that I woke Benny up. My breath shuddered and my shoulders trembled in the cold air of his room. I felt tears run hot down my face, mixing with my sweat and collecting at the base of my chin, some dripping down my neck and others cascading down onto my sleep shirt. I was in a trance, heavy attempts at breath failing to permeate my lungs and body, making me disassociate more. The warm hand placed gently on my shaking shoulder and a small murmur broke me out of it, I couldn't hear what he had said but when I looked over to him, my chest swelled with joy that he was okay and that it was all a dream.

It didn't stop the tremors that racked through my body, almost vibrating the bed but when I started to calm down a bit I could actually hear what he was saying now. Small affirmations that whatever woke me up was just a dream and that everything was okay fell from his soft lips and filled my ears, I turned towards him, feeling like a fragile piece of glass that could break any second. My eyes met his, my vision started to become more wobbly and distorted, my face felt hot, either from embarrassment or the tears but it didn't deter Benny.

His soft, deft hands wiping my tears away and stroking my hair, holding me close to him. While I leant in to him, my hands came up and held onto his forearms, legs came and entwined themselves in his and relaxed in to his side. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up,

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice croaked, still full of sleep.

"You almost died in my nightmare, I thought I lost you," my voice tapered off at the end, hoarse from sleep, struggling to breathe, and crying.

"Was it because of the movies earlier?" He asked with concern and love in his tone.

I didn't say much other than nodding and still basically seeing what was happening to him in my mind, hearing his vocal cords scrape while screaming, making me spill more hot tears, this time onto his shirt.

"I know, it's stupid. I'm sorry for getting my tears on your shirt," I say while trying to wipe them off, "I'm okay now, you should go back to sleep." I said with a small smile that barely reached my eyes.

Immediately, he started to shut that down, "No, no, no, no, no, its not stupid for crying over a nightmare that basically counts as trauma, you shouldn't feel sorry for getting your tears on my shirt, I don't mind baby, and I'm not going back to sleep knowing that you are definitely not okay. I'm staying up with you whether you like it or not my love," he said, a small smile on his lips and a gently kiss being left on my forehead and his arms gently tightening around me so I know he's serious.

We stayed up for a bit longer, making small jokes to make each other laugh and to cheer me up so I go to sleep easier and hopefully not wake up again through the night. Which actually worked, I fell asleep on Benny's chest, a stray leg strung across his legs and my arm holding him close like I was protecting him from the night. His head planted stop mine, a gentle kiss left on the crown of my head and his hand holding my leg in place.

When we woke up a few hours later, we laid in a comfortable silence, completely content with each others presence, happy that we were both still okay. I looked up towards his face and saw his sleepy grin, that seemed to never leave his face. My hand crept up to cradle the side of his face and rub small circles into it, his head leaning into the palm of my hand and letting a soft sigh escape.

We eventually got up and got dressed, brushed our teeth, and had some breakfast. We were sat in my living room when he turned to me,

"Want to go to the mall and window-shop, eat, and mess around in random arcades?" He said with a slight smile gracing his face and a head tilt, knowing that I would want all of that.

A small "Mhm," gave Benny the initiative to jump up and start getting some things together for our trip to the mall. When 15 minutes passed and I heard a big bang upstairs, I knew it was him. I cautiously climbed the stairs and peeked my head around the corner, being met with Benny laid on his back in the corridor, laughing slightly but I could tell he was in pain.

I stepped closer and noticed he was holding his foot, probably from stubbing one of his toes. My theory was proven right when he looked at me, a playful pout on his face with a small embarrassed laugh reverberating in his chest. I helped him up and asked what he was doing, to which he answered with a wince in pain and a simple "I was thinking of how to surprise you with these," holding up a copy of my favourite movie and a teddy bear, which he made with his magic.

I gave him an upside down smile and a kiss to his forehead and thanked him for being so thoughtful and sweet. We went back downstairs and after I helped him with his foot and we were off to the mall.

After a short bus ride to the mall, Benny and I had a walk around the various stores; looking at all the figurines of our favourite characters in some games stores, meandering through the aisles in hot topic, going to clothes shops and making some god awful outfit mixes that had us doubling over in the middle of an urban outfitters, and getting some pizza to top off our little visit.

While walking out of the mall, I saw a small ice cream stand, holding our favourite flavours, dragging a happy Benny over to the stand with a big smile on my face, bounding like a child seeing a puppy and when Benny realised why I was so happy; he reflected that by grabbing me by my forearm and sprinting over to the stand, effectively dragging me until I caught up with him.

Slowing down when we were a few feet away, we waited in line for a few minutes and started talking again. It was mainly about the stuff we got and what we wanted to do afterwards, bringing up the point of wanting to stay at Benny's that night. He was immediately on board because not only did he get to spend more time with his hot partner, he also saw it as an opportunity to make it up to me for having that nightmare earlier, even though it wasn't his fault.

We got our ice creams and started walking to his house. About 10 minutes into our walk to a bus stop, we finished our ice cream and continued in a comfortable silence until we got the bus stop. We sat down and only then did the events of the day caught up with me and I felt tired.

With my eyes drooping and my breathing levelling out, I rested my head on Benny's shoulder and held onto his arm and nuzzled my head into his neck, inhaling deeply and sighing, feeling more comfortable.

Benny looked down at me and held his arm around my waist after I let him go and held his other hand instead, his gentle grip around me made me feel safe in his arms and let me relax further. This became more apparent when he started drawing soft circles into my side, tickling but not enough for me to move away.

When the bus eventually came, he nudged me to wake me up and we got on the bus to his house. The journey didn't take long since he laid on my lap having a little nap of his own while I played with his hair and listened to music. On the odd time I would go to change the song and stop playing with his hair for a bit, his nose would scrunch up a bit and start reaching for my hand again, not without a few disgruntled groans leaving his chest.

We eventually made it to a bus stop near his house so I had to wake him, which was easier said than done. Once he finally woke up, we rushed off the bus, just barely getting off before it left.

We got inside and we started planning what we wanted to do, Benny using most of my ideas since he still felt bad. We ended up playing a few board and video games, Benny still being as competitive as ever but not without making sure I still won now and again. As the night progressed, we started getting hungry again so we ordered some take out and put on a movie while we waited.

He let me pick the movie and because we needed a good distraction for about 30-45 minutes, I put on my favourite comedy movie. 20 minutes in to the movie and we had basically forgotten about the take out and was almost crying with laughter.

After a few more minutes, the loud knocks took us out of our fits of laughter, looking over at each other and starting to giggle a bit. Benny took liberty of getting the food and came over with the take out bags and boxes and placed them down on the coffee table, getting a plate and some utensils from the kitchen.

We continued to eat and talk while watching movies and tv shows, soon getting tired and curling up together. The warmth of Benny's hands placed featherlight on my sides gave me a comforting shiver up my sides and spine, feeling my eyes slowly close when I remembered I didn't have any pj's. I sat up and turned to Benny, sat bushy tailed and happy.

"You okay?" Benny asked with a quirk of curiosity in his voice.

"This might sound weird but I forgot my pj's, can I borrow some of your clothes?" A shy smile found its way onto my face, blush slowly creeping up my neck in anticipation of his answer.

"Of course you can, what do you want to wear?" His enthusiasm seeping into his words, making my heart flutter in my chest.

We went upstairs and looked for some clothes for me to wear. I ended up with a slightly oversized collared shirt and a pair of his shorts, quickly changing in his bathroom and getting ready for bed while he went downstairs to let me change and quietly shouted up to me to bring down a pillow and blanket since he had forgot them when he was up there with me.

Benny saw me slowly descend the stairs as to not wake up his grandma and he swears it was like something out of a movie, like I was walking down the steps in a ballgown/suit/fancy clothing, to meet him and let him take me by the arm to a fancy dinner. In reality, I was in mismatched socks, his clothes, and a pillow and blanket stuffed under my arm.

He met me at the bottom of the stairs, taking the blanket and pillow from under my arm and giving me a small kiss on my forehead, leaning to my ear and whispering "You look amazing in my clothes, I love you."

We made our way to the couch and turned on a random movie, instantly curling into each other. My arms wrapping tightly around Benny's shoulders, my hands drawing feather-light designs on his arms, back, and shirt, occasionally making him shy away from it when accidentally tickling his sides.

One of my legs laid absentmindedly over his stomach, leaving just enough room for him to hold it and rub gentle circles on the outside, a warm feeling flooding my chest at his simple acts of affection that I would never get used to and never tire from. His face nuzzled into the side of my neck since he was laid lower than me, a soft kiss was left on the edge of my jaw and one right on my cheek, slowly inching towards my lips. I turned to him and left a long kiss on his lips and when we pulled away from each other, his face and ears flushed a bright shade of red, still not used to the affection I gave him either apparently. At this, his head laid on my chest, definitely hearing my heart pound in my ribcage from our close proximity and the shared love we have for each other. Of course, because he is Benny, he had to make a comment about it.

"Is that all it took to make your heart race? I should do that more often." His signature smirk following.

"I don't know how your talking with that blush all over your face and ears, B." I replied, matching his tone.

"Shut up." His smirk turned into a lopsided smile, blush only creeping over his face, and now neck, even more.

We both laughed and turned back to the movie, trying to pay attention to it. I, however, struggled to keep my eyes off of the boy laid with me, his fluffy brown hair tickling my neck and chin when he moved, his surprisingly strong arms wrapping around me even tighter the more tired he got, his gorgeous green eyes, sparking like emeralds in the occasional bright flash of light from the tv, his soft lips that seemed to always be pulled in a smile or smirk, his frequent nerdy outbursts when we were together and I would reference something, knowing he would love it, his awkward but cute dress sense, just everything about him made me fall more and more in love with him everyday.

I started playing with his hair while he was talking about a little easter egg he noticed that connected movies together and he stopped abruptly in his tracks. His gaze averting from the tv and going towards my face, curious to what I was up to, if anything.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing, I'm just admiring you my love. I've never really noticed how absolutely beautiful you are, not only are you beautiful but you're funny, sweet, cute, nerdy, a gentleman, a man with a heart of pure gold, but you know just how to make me feel better when I'm upset or annoyed at something because you listen so well, you never judge me no matter how strange some of the things that I say or do are. I'm so happy that you're with me and that I get to give you all the love you deserve because you're perfect, I wouldn't change you for the world. I love you Benny Weir. I mean it."

When I finished my little monologue of love for him, I felt him squeeze me tighter to him, warm tears fell down his face, making me panic slightly. Sitting up and pulling him with me, I held both sides of his face, scanning fervently over his features to see if I said something wrong when I was met with his growing smile. Confused, I inquired why he was crying.

"It's just - um, no ones ever said anything like that to me before. Stuff like that just doesn't really happen to me. I'm sorry for crying, I'm just so happy and I feel so loved. I love you, I can't live without you." He rambled, the word melding together but still making sense. I pulled him closer and fell back with him laid fully on top of me, and I whispered in his ear.

"I'll tell you things like that everyday if I have to just to make you feel loved because you deserve it, B. I love you." I solidified my last sentence with a kiss and a long hug caressing his back, shoulders, and playing with his hair, continuing to whisper sweet nothings to him. Unbeknownst to me, his heart fluttered in his chest at my words, his brain almost short-circuiting and his tears coming to a slow stop.

He looked at me with puffy eyes, a red nose and a lovesick smile, still absolutely gorgeous to me. My hand came up and brushed away his previously fallen tears, then holding his face in my hands to keep him as close as humanly possible. We shared that moment of closeness for what felt like eternity, which in reality was only a few minutes before he leaned back to look at me for a while. I could practically feel the heart-eyes and love emanating from his face, soaring to my eyes and soul, not wanting to look away.

It only took us a moment for us to be back to giggling from our serious moment, from us both not really being used to having moments like that. We shared one final kiss before Benny laid back down on my chest, head resting over my heart, hearing it beat just for him, knowing that he was the only one I loved.

We ended up falling asleep, not knowing what time it was when we did but content in our places.

The following morning :))

Apparently, Benny had made plans with Ethan to come over the next morning to hang out with us, it was that or he managed to break in without waking us or his grandma up, which was a miracle in of itself seeing as to how clumsy he is. I woke up to a fairly confused Ethan looking at the mess we made from the sleepover, to Benny's clothes on me, and to his lightly snoring best friend, clinging to me like I was a form of life support. He didn't say much but I could tell he had a few questions, some I don't think even he wanted the answer to.

I just looked at him and shrugged, a quiet `I don't even know myself,' was all that could be heard... aside from his slightly growing in volume snores. I didn't want to share Benny's moment of vulnerability seeing as it was something he apologised about doing, I would let him bring it up on his own terms if he pleased.

Eventually, Benny woke up in the middle of a conversation about what ice cream flavour we would be and why, to which Benny answered "Personally, I'd be vanilla and chocolate brownie. Basic, but a classic that you can never go wrong with." We continued to talk and debate, spanning from which animals we could beat in a fight to what superpower would be the worst to have and why.

Our lives were strange, there's no doubt about that... but I wouldn't have it any other way.

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Seat 21 - Chapter 9

A/N - guess who forgot this fic existed againnnn

The change room is packed uncomfortably full, girls bustling around getting changed.

Shimmying on my shorts, I try to stick to Tsu’s side. I’ve found her to be like rain.

Fresh.

Grounding.

“Time to go, kero.” The girl croaks, tightening her hair. With a sharp nod, I lift my hands up to adjust my mask.

But I touch skin.

It isn’t apart of school uniform, and this is a nationally televised event. 

My chest stings as I let my hands trail down my neck, anchoring at the base.

I let them drop as we meet with the boys of the class in the dungeons of the arena. 

Midoriya flashes me a quick smile that I can’t help but return. But the slight prod of fangs on my lips brings a hand to cover them. 

I’m lucky enough to have Tsu take enough pity on me to be my friend.

Wanting another is just greedy.

The loud booming of speakers steals my attention away.

“And lastly, our final class. The infamous class 1-A! Come on out kids!” Yamada’s voice is a welcome comfort. 

Our class moves onto the field, taking its place in the line of all other first year classes. 

Midnight stands on a small podium, inviting a student representative to lead the school pledge. 

Bakugou stands up, and I feel myself cringe preemptively. 

“I pledge,” He hesitates, and my stomach is on the floor.

“That I’ll be the best outta all you bastards!” A shit-eating grin on his face, my classmate steps off the podium as other students roar.

Midnight sensei raises her brows, shooting a quick look up at the commentators box.

Her body sags slightly, and I swear her eyes roll.

“Now, let's get started right away!’ She claps, voice filling the arena.

“This year’s fateful first game is,” She pauses, dramatics seeping into her tone.

“An obstacle course race!”

My mind buzzes as she explains the rules.

Four kilometres. Outside the arena. All eleven classes.

And we start.

My legs pump faithfully as I push myself to weave through the masses. 

Hairs on my arms raise with the cold, and I search for the culprit.

Up the very front - bicoloured hair. Frost starts to cover the ground.

Todoroki.

Air burns my lungs, and I push harder until I get out of the corridor.

Heavy, cold air turns fresh; and I look around to gain my bearings.

Again, Todoroki leaves evidence of his success.

A number of zero pointer bots are frozen to the ground, some students frozen with them. Glancing to my left, Momo is pulling a cannon out of her stomach. Olive metal cuts my vision, and I skirt out of the way.

Something barges into me, and my knees buckle.

“Sorry Hinode-chan!” Uraraka calls over her shoulder, weaving through the legs of the bots.

I gotta keep moving. 

And I force my legs to keep going. 

Booms echo from behind me; and I can only assume that its Momo.

The ground is relentless, pounding and pounding until there’s no ground left.

Lines of rope string across a chasm, people huddled around the edge. Frantic and scared whispering surrounds me as I push my way to the front.

Kneeling down, I give a spare rope a feel.

It’s thin, but sturdy. Sturdy enough to hold me, but not wide enough that I feel confident walking.

An idea hits.

Experimentally, I throw my legs over the side of the chasm, bending over to grip the rope again.

A deep breathe, and I jump off.

It’s times like this that I’m grateful for my quirk. 

Swinging is similar to swimming. Move my legs, use my arms to keep direction and balance.

By the time I’m across, my palms sting with friction burn.

My arms welcome their rest as my legs start pushing on once more. 

Next; an opened field - one with holes everywhere.

And a familiar flash of green sails through the air in the distance.

A wrong step from someone part way through the field, and pink smoke covers the area.

Land mines.

They’ve given us a field of land mines.

Carefully, I follow the path of deep divots in the earth.

And I push again.

Further, faster.

Another corridor, people surrounding me again.

Then the arena.

I made it.

MATERLIST

[dumpsterkittenao3]

Chapter 18: Virgin and the Serpent

Fandom: Oblivion-Elder Scrolls

Summery: Innocent/virgin non-descrip fem reader makes her way back to Cyrodiil from studying abroad. Lending aid to Xvatch after the oblivion crisis was resolved. Kidnapped to each realm of the daedric princes where each one has their way with her. Straight to the point smut with each chapter tailored to the pertaining daedric prince. There is a cohesive story line and slow burn romantic feelings. Plus obsessive/possessive behavior.

Daedric Prince: Boethiah (fempresenting) x non-descrip femreader

This is a section out of a chapter out of a 100k+ fanfic. Excerpt is 900 words.

Content Warnings: non-con, dub-con, hand play, groping, kidnapping, dominant reassurance/guiding, femxfem. The fanfic has plenty more tags but this should cover the excerpt.

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“You need only submit.” Now that the panic from not being able to breath had subsided I noticed the voice had a more prominent feminine tone. I tried doing as they said, relinquishing myself to my surroundings, the thought wasn’t easy nor was the task. I struggled to maintain balance or mental footing.

“Do you need help?” They teased, I nodded desperately. “Ask for it.” They demand. My teeth clenched, breath was already just an achievable task now they asked for words? When they made no further move to help the truth of a Daedric Princes cruelty sunk that much further in.

“I need your help, please.” Each word was painful, my tongue felt like sandpaper here. Though my lungs permitted the air here enough to sustain me, the rest of my body fought being here in every capacity possible. My knees buckled, the arm wrapped around my chest now under the sole responsibility of keeping me from the ground. The laugh from behind me was a wispy dark one, that sent fear into my veins.

Every theory sounds good…as a theory.

The practice of said theory was becoming a quick descent into a terrifying reality.

The hand around my chest slithered to grope my breast, their forearm braced against my sternum as they massaged the tender flesh. Taking the pebbling peak between their fingers and rolling it till sharp pleasure tore down the pain. A raspy cry fell breathless from my lips and my back arched into them. It was all metal behind me, hot sharp metal, unyielding against the soft of my skin. A foot kicked my legs open and my balance wavered, what little I had managed on my own.

The hand traveled down from my breast, trailing the flesh of my stomach and the sweat that saturated the fabric of my robes. Blade like nails sliced through the drenched fabric revealing my skin to the hot wastes of whatever realm I know resided. I stiffened, dread filling me as the hand slid further, leaving a trail of ruined fabric in its wake.

The grip they had on my jaw was harsher now as their fingers came to rest right above the slit of my cunt. My clit throbbed just beneath my folds, begging for their fingers to delve further. To ruin me in the hot arid wastes. I tried to squeak out a protest, to cry out anything that would let them know I didn’t want this. Yet no words filled my mouth, nothing to spill from it but hot puffs of breath as if my body begged for them to delve.

That they did, gliding between my folds to find refuge upon my clit. We both let out a relieved moan. As if it had been too long since either of us had been touched. My stomach churned and the thoughts of disgust and shame bit deeply.

“Submit, do not think.” They spoke sharply as their fingers continued a frenzy that washed hot pleasure through me. I grit my teeth, trying to follow their instructions. Still every circle was another shred of me disappearing. My core tightened, my body stiffened, where I was incapable of keeping myself up I found myself suddenly willing. Fighting against the nature of this world that was seeking to consume me for keeping. Tears welled sending a shiver of relief through me as the agony soothed. There was little room for pain now, the pleasure burst within me, pushing any other thought or feeling away. My small breathy pants turned to cries for more as they kept me on the precipice with just enough to keep me there but not enough to send me off. They leaned in, close to hear their breath, feeling it cool against my blazing ears.

“Sweet coiling viper, here is where you will learn just how the others lack.” Their promise was not hollow, my hands clenched and I broke down into soft cries. Not knowing just how much my body had craved to be touched like this. They unraveled me and held me steadfast as I rode through my release. Their fingers careful, languid, there to see me through it rather than over stimulate me. I slumped against my captor, not capable of being as afraid as I should be at this moment. They held me there almost, tenderly. Sliding the pads of their fingers up then down my slit. My stomach heaved breath in my lungs as the release flooded me, pinning me to where I stood.

“You can stand?” They asked after a long moment and I nodded. Carefully they undid their physical bind and when I found footing they stepped back entirely. My heart was racing, pounding against my ribs as I tentatively turned myself around. I drug my eyes up the sharp thick black metal armor. To the woman that stood before me

:3

[grandma-susan]

Orb Weaver & the Moth

A little Hazbin Angel Dust drabble:

The muffled sounds of screams and gun fire were in the distance, there had a complete mutiny on the third and second floor. The noxious smell of burning electronics and melting plastic filled the hallway air and raked at Valentino lungs. The overlord of lust reached out and stumbled through a door, into a dark room roaring and saliva splattering toward, "YOU LITTLE BITCH! WERE YOU SABOTAGING US THIS WHOLE TIME?" He staggered gripping his side as he glared into the dark where suddenly the glow of eight pink eyes flashed open and a toothy grin with a sultry voice answers, "No."

The floor and the walls flickered and illuminated with a pink and green sheen webbing, laced and draped all throughout the room. Valentino's breath hitched with a hiss as he noticed his limbs have all made contact with a dribbling sticky substance that glistened like an oil sheen. He looked up, scowling out a hateful, "Angel Dust. Answer me! You whore. Answer me or I'll fucking kill you." And yet, relaxed and reclined in a leather chair, Anthony sat with his legs crossed and arms folded, his usual powder pink pinstripe was no longer adorning his voluptuous body but rather now he dawned a brand new, stylish, well tailored fit in alizarin tones with a hat to match.

"Ha, No, no babe. What I did....wasn't sabotage....it was clean up." Anthony purred from his seat. "You see, what you three do...you do it well. You make a big show and everyone knows. But the thing about big productions, Valentino, is the mess that gets left behind.

"I was doing yous three a favor. I was cleaning up after you mother fuckers...tidying up your..." He pauses, pulls himself out from the leather seat, took a step on one of the glistening wires and stepped forward. There was a look Valentino had not seen before, though the look of anticipation he knew well, and he was right, Anthony could feel the slight tremble from each of his silk strands. He leaned forward with a teasing snicker to his former Pimp. The Moth Demon who had lured and swayed so many sinners into his world with his intoxicating fragrance, now felt a ravenous chill that pricked at his skin to the tips of his antennae. Where had this bitch gotten this sort of power?

Valentino tried to pull away but the more he struggled the more metallic green droplets slid along the tensioned silk like beads on a string, tacking him further into place. "Angel Baby~" He purred, "Amorcito. Heh hehe! This was fun~ But playtime is over baby, whatever shit you think you're pulling, I'm letting you know that--"

"Have you ever heard of the Spider Harp, Valentino?" Anthony interrupted. His extra arms extending out and resting his fingers on the various lines surrounding them. "Its a harp, designed by some hot shot engineer up on Earth, who wanted to understand how spiders can find exactly where their prey lands in their webs. He borrowed the design of an orb spider's web. Made a web outta paracord and figured out with each vibration... A spider could calculate and narrowed down to the pin point location of the sorry piece of shit who lands in it. The harder they move, the higher the frequency. " a screech pierced through Valentino's head violently blurring his vision. Gasping he blinked and lifted his head only to come into direct contact with Anthony's left eye. Normally a black sclera with a magenta pupil was now a vivid green.

The spider demon started to chuckle, and yanked at the silk threads snapping the Moth's limbs and wings together. "Bondage is your favorite, ain't it, Valentino? Leather and chains? Thing is BDSM is one of my favorite kinks too... 'cept ..." He lifted a finger, and the heart shaped marking on his chest began to shine through his suit with a reddish glow. "I got a thing for Shibari~" and with a flick of his wrist, the his web twisted and tightened around Valentino and haphazardly dropped him upside down by the ankles and wrists. The threads crushing and wringing his wings shut. The moth let out a snarling yelp, a series of squeaks dripping out from between his gnashed teeth. "Angel....Dust! You think this will stop me? You think this will stop US? You and your pathetic friends aint got shi--" Anthony let out a hearty laugh, "Oh man! Aint this a look for you, babe!" he said strolling over to a cabinet in the room. He ran a finger along the edge of it, "You seem to have forgotten an important detail about me...Tesoruccio~" he said opening the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of liquor specially labeled by the hotel's head bartender. He popped the cork and took a swig of it before strutting back to Valentino, knelt down, grabbed his head and locked lips with the wretched pimp, filling his mouth with the hot liquor, before ripping out a handful of fuzz off his wings and stuffed the man's mouth with it. "I was an underboss, when I was alive." he reminded, "Which means.... I can be really good at pulling strings and orchestrating a plan. And..." he tipped the remains of the liquid onto his former boss, letting the alcohol soak right into his demonic form. "If I say, I want to burn this fucking tower to the ground. It means...." Valentino let out an angry muffle, fighting against his restraints, promising that he would end the Spider demon and the entirety of the hotel. Anthony gaze hardened and slammed his fist on one of the lines slicing into Valentino's arms, and cutting him off of his tirade. "You forget the lessons you taught? If I say I want to burn this fucking tower to the ground. It means....What??? Valentino?" The mans eyes eyes narrowed on the Spider cursing him, and his body began defensively to ooze with a thick red mucus ,but Anthony was unfazed by his pheromones.

"Seems like the king is too stupid to figure it out, just a squeaking dumb ass bug." He said walking over the cabinet once more, and tapped it and it began to rattle with excitement and glee. "The floor's yours, Sweetheart. The Joker's all~ Yours!" He declared as the credenza burst into flames with a deranged gleeful cackle and engulfed the room with a red, orange and white flames, as he strolled over to the door. "Remember what I said Nift?" He hummed with over the panicked muffles of the Overlord.

"CLEAN IT AND BURN IT DOWN WITH FIRE!" "Atta girl~" He praised as he closed the door behind him as a blast of heat roared though the cracks.

[mandospace]

Honey (Din Djarin x Reader Smut)

Summary: Din comes home from a long hunt tired and in need of his girl.

Word Count: 2,509

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DNI! Oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), language, uhhh fluff? Two idiots that missed each other? Idk what else.

A/N: I know I haven’t written in a long time but then this popped into my head tonight so I had to write it. I hope you all enjoy :) 

MASTERLIST

Din was exhausted.

The type of exhaustion that is bone deep, the kind that aches with every step you take. He had been gone on a hunt for the past two weeks and was currently dragging the dead bounty behind him. Despite being tired and dirty, the only ache that was consuming his mind and body was the ache for you.

It never used to be like this; Din could go weeks away from his ship and never felt the weary need to sleep in his own bunk until he had met you. As soon as you had joined his crew, Din found himself rushing through his hunts to get back to you — and that was even before the two of you got together. 

Now, it was like there was this invisible string that connected the two of you, the tension of it pulling him back to you with every step he took. Once the Crest came into view his steps fell quicker and the body behind him seemed lighter. It was as if knowing that you were safely tucked away inside his ship had renewed his strength.

The ramp screeched as it descended, a telltale sign that his ship was older than the Empire. He would need to get that fixed, but that chore was pushed to the back of his mind. Din trudged into the softly lit hull and shoved his bounty into the carbonite chamber — he didn’t even check to make sure that the bounty was standing upright — before he took off his helmet and tossed it to the side. He could practically feel the sweat and grime that clung to his skin after being away on a hunt for the past two weeks. He was sure he did not smell the greatest but he didn’t care, he only wanted you. 

“Mesh’la?” Din called. “Where are you?”

“I’m in here,” your voice sounded from behind the metal door of his refresher. Din smiled at the sound of your voice and the steady rhythm of water. 

He began shedding his armor and flight suit while he made his way towards you. The refresher door slid open to reveal the small room and the even smaller refresher stall that was closed off, hiding you from him. Steam filled the room with the scent of your shampoo — the scent of home. 

Without a second thought Din slid open the ‘fresher door and stepped under the cascading water, crowding you into a corner. 

“Din!” you shrieked, trying to cover your chest. “I’m naked!”

He couldn’t help the lopsided smirk that graced his face. “That’s kind of the whole point, mesh’la.” Din reached for you and pulled you into his chest. His arm wrapped around your wet waist while his other hand slithered it’s way into your hair. He titled your face back until you met his eyes and he almost melted down the drain when he saw their beautiful color. 

Not wasting another moment, Din tugged your face closer and slotted his lips over yours, sighing into the kiss. Oh, how he had missed this feeling. Din lived for the feeling of your body pressed against his, the feeling of your plush lips mingling with his. He tasted the mint on your breath and tried to breathe you into his lungs — he wanted to be completely surrounded by you in any way possible.

“I missed you,” he sighed, mouthing at the corner of your mouth before traveling down your jaw. Din relished in the shaky stutter of your breathing at his ministrations — a sound reminder that he affected you as much as you did him. 

“Missed you too,” you sighed, scraping your nails up his wide back, pulling him into a hug. Din buried his face in your neck, gripping you tightly to him. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the water from the ‘fresher washing away the grime from his hunt. 

A comfortable silence filled the air while you massaged his own shampoo through his curly locks, fingers detangling the knots that had formed from wearing his helmet constantly. Din hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp. He was always the one to take care of others, but it was nice to be on the receiving end of such pampering. He placed kisses to your forehead while you continued cleaning him, grateful for you and everything you did. 

Before long the water ran cold and the two of you had to end your relaxing bathing early. You each toweled yourself off and before you could reach for the pair of sleeping clothes you had set aside; Din had grabbed your hips and picked you up, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs. He hit the button to open the door and carried you out into the main hull of his ship and over to the nest of blankets that the two of you had made into a makeshift bed. After the two of you realized that his bunk space was way too small for both of you, you had made this makeshift bed in the corner of his ship.

Din dropped to his knees before carefully laying you down on the soft blankets. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and Din hovered over you, hands on either side of your head. He leaned down and captured your lips.

“I missed you,” Din whispered against your mouth. 

“You already said that.” He could feel the smile on your lips mirroring his own.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he pressed his lips to yours this time with more passion. A hunger settled deep within him, similar to the weariness he felt before but a hundred times stronger; fueled by every breathless sigh that passed your lips. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and moaned at the taste of mint. The combination of your shampoo and the taste of your breath was driving him insane. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up and into his body in an attempt to imbed you deep into his being. 

“Din.” That breathless moan that had slipped accompanied with the feeling of your nails scraping into his shoulders unhinged him. He could feel the hot ache of his cock throbbing between his legs and the fire that roared deep in his stomach. 

“Need to taste you, sweet girl,” Din moaned into your skin, his lips trailing down your damp body. He bit and sucked on your neck until he was positive that there would be marks later. A thrill of excitement raced through him at the thought of you walking through a market the next day, purple bruises littering your neck and chest while onlookers stared at the marks — his marks — that claimed you as his own. 

Din traced his tongue over one of your nipples before sucking the hardened peak into his mouth. His free hand made its way to your neglected breast and his thumb teasingly traced circles around the pert bud. He relished in the feeling of your thighs tightening around his trim waist and the way your chest arched into him with a shuddery breath. 

He mapped out the expanse of your skin, worshipping it with kisses and marks left behind in his wake. When he got to just below your navel his broad shoulders pushed your legs apart, allowing him to sink lower on your body. He nipped and soothed the love bites he left on your inner thighs as he made his way closer to where you needed him the most. 

Din groaned at the sight of your puffy lips that were glistening with arousal. He pressed a quick kiss to them and buried his sharp nose in the soft curls at the base of your mound, breathing in your scent. Din couldn’t hold himself back any longer and relinquished his control to his most base instincts. His tongue darted through your folds, licking from your entrance to your clit while he tried to taste as much of you as he could. 

His name fell from your lips and your fingers curled into his hair at the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs. Din sucked on your clit and slowly worked a finger into your entrance before adding a second. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweet girl,” Din groaned into your pussy, licking at your clit while he curved his fingers up. Your hips raised off the blankets but he slung one strong arm over them to keep you still. “Hush, I have to get my girl ready for me. Be patient.”

You whimpered his name and bit on your fist at the immense pleasure. His fingers were slowly working you open and his tongue was relentless on your clit. Before long you could feel a building sensation deep in your stomach. 

“Din—,” you tried to warn him of your impending climax but the pleasure was too much.

“I know, sweet girl,” Din growled into your pussy, picking up the pace of his fingers and tongue. He could feel your orgasm approaching and he intended to deliver. “Come for me, sweetness. Come all over my face.”

As soon as those words left his mouth you were crashing into your orgasm, the insane pleasure brought to you by your lover coursing through your veins like tidal waves on a beach. Just when you thought you were about to get enough air, another wave of pleasure crashed down on you from Din’s continued movements. 

One of Din’s favorite things in the whole galaxy was making you come from his mouth alone. He loved the way your whole body shook from pleasure and how your thighs tightened around his ears from the intensity of your orgasm. Now was no different and Din drank your flowing juices straight from its source. 

“So sweet,” Din moaned and licked at your pussy while you came down from your high. Soon you were whimpering and shaking from overstimulation and Din decided to take mercy on you. He wasted no time and crawled back up your body so he could place his lips on yours. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and the two of you moaned at the taste of your essence on his tongue. “Sweeter than honey.”

“I need you inside me, Din,” you whined. The entire time he was going down on you all you could think about was his hard cock that kept brushing against your ankle. You were sure the tip was already leaking precum so you reached down and grasped his shaft, thumb brushing over the tip — you were right. He whimpered at the sensation of your small hand tightly gripping him. “Please.”

“Anything for you, mesh’la,” he pressed his lips to yours fervently and gripped his cock at the base to line his tip up with your entrance. Din shuddered at the feeling of his tip dragging through your wet folds before notching it at your entrance. He grabbed behind one of your knees and hitched your leg over his waist as he slid into you with one thrust, both of you moaning at the sensation of him bottoming out. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetness,” Din dropped his head and bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He could feel your pussy squeezing around him and after being away from you for two weeks, he felt like he was about to come already. He pressed his nose to your neck and breathed in your scent as he tried to calm down. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

Your words were caught in your throat and all you could do to respond was card your fingers through his hair. He was so much larger than you and you basked in the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours. 

After a few moments Din was ready to move and he slowly dragged his cock out, shivers running down his back at the feeling of your walls trying to suck him back into your warmth. It took all of his strength to not pound into you and chase his own orgasm. After being away for so long, he wanted to make it memorable for the both of you. 

He set a slow rhythm and left you breathless with every drag of his cock. Both of you were a breathless, moaning mess at the feeling of the other. Din’s hands were firm on your hips and his forehead was pressed against yours in a keldabe kiss, leaning down every once in a while to slot his mouth against yours. One hand was buried in his curls while the other trailed down his back admiring the strong muscles that were pulled taut as he rutted into you. Your breaths mingled together and the air around you heated up a few degrees as your bodies moved together. 

Before long, Din could feel his balls tightening at his coming release. His grip on your hips tightened as he tugged them up towards him in time with his own, driving his cock deeper into you with every thrust. His name fell from your lips at the new angle and the grip you had on his locks tightened, pulling on the chocolate curls. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer, s-sweet girl,” Din stammered while he picked up the pace. He could tell that you wouldn’t last much longer either by the way your pussy was clenching around him.

“Come for me, baby,” you gasped against his mouth before pulling him into a heated kiss. It was sloppy and wet and extremely passionate and the use of his pet name sent him over the edge. 

Din groaned when he felt his balls pull tight and he spilled his seed into you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you up and into his lap while he fucked his cum into you. His head was tilted back so he could reach your lips and his wide hands spread across the expanse of your back so that he could hold you to his chest. Your hips ground down on him as you rode him through his orgasm until it eventually brought on your own. Din’s eyes screwed tight at the feeling of your walls clenching down on his spent cock and he couldn’t help the animalistic growl that ripped through his body at the sensation of your pleasures combining. 

“I love you,” Din admitted, chest heaving against yours. He could feel the weariness from his hunt returning so he lowered you both back to your nest of blankets and pulled one over you. He grunted when he pulled his soft cock from your spent pussy — he would stay inside you forever if he could — before he settled down and pulled you into his arms. 

He felt you smile against his chest before you placed a sweet kiss on it. “I love you too.”

[kashi-prompts]

Rating: T

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

Genre: Fluff. Teeth rotting fluff.

"It's stifling in here," the silver-haired Hokage managed, slipping a finger under his mask to let the air hit his face. He took a deep breath, trying to relax the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Kakashi," Gai stood from the wooden chairs before the Hokage's desk, "relax, my friend. I've never seen you so tense."

"I'm not tense," Kakashi brushed off Gai's hard reassuring pat on the back.

"The crease between your eyes has never been so prominent," Gai poked his friend's forehead, stopping him. Kakashi sighed heavily, meeting Gai's gaze.

"I'm fine," he reassured his friend.

"Having second thoughts?" Gai nudged him.

Kakashi looked at his friend and pushed past him to walk to his desk, "no, never. Are my robes here yet?"

"Then what is it?" Guy followed him, watching him as he shuffled papers around on his desk, "We're so young; how could anything bother you on your wedding day?"

"I'm not bothered," Kakashi turned, looking at his oldest friend, giving him a reassuring promise. "Just a little nervous."

The silver-haired shinobi turned Hokage had never felt this way before. His chest swirled with tightness, and his mind raced from thought to thought. The whole village had its eyes on him and [y/n] today. Every gaze would be turned to their marriage, the Hokage and his new wife.

Gai slapped Kakashi on the back again, smiling broadly, "I'm happy for you, my old friend. You're a lucky one."

Kakashi laughed nervously, his fingers pushing the hair at the nape of his neck down. He still hadn't gotten used to the missing thicker locks that had been cut off earlier in the week. His mind traveled to his bride, dreamily manifesting the image of what she would look like walking towards him. He felt his chest tighten more, exhaling shakily.

"Your haori is ready," Yamato came through the office door, towing the Hokage's formal attire behind him carefully. Kakashi nodded, realizing the ceremony would be beginning shortly. He turned to the window behind his desk, looking down at the ceremony space designated for his wedding behind the Hokage's manor. Guests were trickling in one by one, all being greeted by Iruka, whom he had appointed.

"Perfect!" Gai exclaimed, grabbing the attire from Yamato's grasp, "let's get this party ROLLING!"

The sunlight was overbearing on his back as he made his way down the steps towards the ceremony space. His haori fit nicely, but the black, heavy material felt like two weights on his shoulders. He smiled at the guests, greeting the other Kage's respectively. Each congratulated him and encouraged him to not worry about hosting duties on his big day.

Kakashi looked around, taking in the surroundings for a moment as he adjusted his sleeves. Then, he thought of the day he asked y/n to marry him. Sitting quietly under a tree, her head had leaned against his shoulder, dozing off after their rather long walk to their favorite quiet spot on the outskirts of Konoha.

The wisteria blossoms had been in full bloom, dangling above them to create a sea of lavender-colored petals. He had taken her hand as she rested, silently and covertly slipping a ring on her finger with his shaking, cold hands. She hadn't budged at his movements, her breath shallow against the side of his neck.

"I love you," he had whispered against the shell of her ear, "and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Her eyes had fluttered open in surprise, dazed by his words. His fingers had grasped her hand gently and pulled them to his lips, kissing the tip of her ring finger with a tender, fervent gaze. When the realization had hit her, her arms had flown around him, pulling him close to her with a shower of kisses and affectionate affirmations following.

Looking back, the thought enveloped him in a warmth that wasn't from the sun casting down.

"Kakashi," Iruka called out, a smile stretched across his lips as he checked his watch, "all the guests have arrived."

"Good," Kakashi nodded, "I guess that means we're almost ready."

"Yes," Iruka smiled again eagerly. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned in, his voice just above a whisper. "It's time to go get your bride."

Kakashi looked over quickly at Iruka, his eyes glistening with excitement and nervousness. Iruka raised his eyebrows, urging the Hokage to go meet his future wife.

*****

You stood in your kimono, flattening the white fabric out nervously at your waist. Your hands felt clammy, and your heart thumped uncomfortably in your chest. Glancing at the clock, you couldn't help but think of the moments that ticked by that brought you closer to being Kakashi's wife.

Reaching up, you traced your eyelashes with the back of your finger, feeling the moisture from your eyes lying modestly between them. The emotions in your chest were overwhelming you, threatening to burst at any second. The joy consumed you as you inhaled heavily, feeling your lungs expand before letting out a shaky breath.

At one last glance, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes fluttered from the ornate flower in your hair, the rouge on your cheeks down to the bouquet you held at your waist. So this was really happening, you thought.

The sound of a gentle knock on the door caused your heart to skip into your throat. You turned, watching the handle turn quietly before opening a crack.

"[y/n]?" you heard Kakashi's hesitant yet soft voice from behind the opening.

"Yes?" you asked, unsure as to why. You had been waiting for him - for this moment when he would open the door and see you for the first time in your wedding dress. Your heart quivered in your ribcage.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly, the smile evident in his voice.

"Yes," you replied, your voice exuding like a content sigh.

He didn't swing the door open like some men would, eager to see their bride and get down the aisle. Some men would never even think to knock, knowing full well that what was behind that door was theirs. But the Hokage was different, gentle in more ways than one, yet fiercely protective of what was his.

You hadn't realized you had been holding your breath as you watched him open the door. The sight of his slender fingers tenderly gripping the knob was all you could focus on for a moment, the overwhelming excitement and nervousness engrossing every cell in your body.

But when you finally looked up at him, your eyes catching his, everything felt peaceful. Nothing else mattered except for the gentle upturn of his eyebrows and the soft slope of his lips that curled into a smile. The recognition of his uncovered expression that you only saw intimately sent an electric shock through your body.

The distance between you both disappeared almost immediately. You felt the dance of his fingertips curve around your waist, pulling you close to him as you stifled a giggle of excitement that quickly turned into tears of delight. Tears brimmed at your eyes as you hugged him close, feeling his steady body against your chest and his fingertips spread between the skin of your shoulder blades. Nothing mattered at that moment.

"You look so beautiful," you felt his lips brush against your ear. You smiled against his jaw, feeling the soft prickle of his skin and the scent of his aftershave fill your senses.

"I wasn't expecting you to not wear your mask," you whisper into his neck as your hands hung lazily around his body. But, instead, you felt his hands gently grasp your shoulders, pulling you away to look at you. Your eyes scanned his face, the small mole on his chin resurrecting the smile you couldn't quite tame.

"I figured you'll be my wife shortly, so you should certainly get used to it," he lifted his finger and traced the curve of your own jaw, the feeling of his rough index finger traveling across your skin sent an electric shock through you. You felt heat erupt within you, and by the firm look he gave you, he had felt it too.

"Will you not be wearing it during the ceremony?" You asked hopefully.

He chuckled, pulling you back into his chest. You felt the echo of his laugh reverberate against you.

That was a no.

*****

The surreal environment you walked into with your fiance on your arm felt like you had been transported into a far-off dream you had had many months ago. The realization that all of your planning and praying for things to singularly come together to this moment overwhelmed your senses.

You looked down the aisle at Kakashi, his mask returned to cover his sharp features. Yet, a part of you didn't mind. It was the familiar face you had fallen in love with. You could see the shadow of a grin under the fabric of his face as you walked towards him. Sakura blossoms bobbed all around you, whispering in the breeze that swept his short hair to the side even more.

Once you reached him, you could see the outline of red around his eyes. The man who never showed his emotions in public unless absolutely necessary couldn't help but be overcome with passion at the sight of his bride. You reached for his hand, feeling the clamminess of his skin as you threaded your fingers through his. You smiled at him, and he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on your temple.

****

"You may kiss your bride," was all you heard as the ceremony ended. You looked up at him, delirious with joy as he smiled down at you, his wife. You narrowed your eyebrows when he didn't immediately press his lips to yours at the reader's consent. He waved your maid of honor over, pointing to your bouquet that she held for you.

"This?" your maid of honor asked, holding up the floral arrangement. He nodded, taking it from her as your attendees continued to cheer. You took it from her and looked back at him, puzzled by his strange request.

But when he pulled your wrist up to cover both of your faces with the bouquet, it all made sense. Shielding the two of you from the audience, you felt the pleasing satisfaction of his bare lips to yours, the sensation enough to send an electric shock through every cell in your body as he pulled your waist closer to his hips. Your whole body blushed at the thrill of kissing your husband without his mask in front of a hundred or so people.

Pulling away breathlessly, he looked down at you, relishing the look of awestruck satisfaction on your face as he pulled his mask back over his nose. Setting the bouquet back at your waist, you gave a dazed smile to the cheering attendees.

As you turned back to the ever louder cheering guests, you felt his lips touch the shell of your ear while you walked back down the aisle.

"Was that good enough for you?" He quipped, smiling behind his mask. You giggled at his remark, waving to your guests.

As you reached a private place behind the crowd, you let out a long sigh, waving your hand to fan yourself. You smiled, joy filling every nerve ending in your body.

Looking out at the crowd that dispersed to a cocktail hour, you felt the warm embrace of the Hokage's arms around your waist. You sighed again, inhaling his scent as he buried his lips in your neck. You felt his grip tighten on your hips.

"I love you," you murmured to him, caressing the hand on your hips. Quickly, he turned you around to face him, searching your face as if to emanate with his eyes how he was feeling.

"I don't think you understand," he whispered to you, his hand on your jaw. You reached up, your fingers brushing over his knuckles and the warm wedding band on his fingers.

"Understand what?" You giggled.

His face remained serious, his gaze overwhelming.

"Understand what?" You repeated quietly.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

[silksaddle]

lullaby

rating: 18+ only!

pairing: frankie morales x afab/fem!reader

summary: two love birds fucking to sleep.

word count: 2.2k+

content: fingering, brief intercrural sex, piv sex, biting, praise, choking (if you really, really squint)

a/n: ahhh. ignoring all the day’s responsibilities to write frankie smut. you know how it is.

It’s that usual slump of the rainy afternoon, your brain fogging over at the same rate that your eyelids grow heavy, blurry bursts of attention dwindling down to a steady and constant disinterest. Caffeine would do little to help, you think, clicking the pen in your hand— the only thing that keeps you alert. Incessant, slow snaps of noise against your thumb.

Resting your chin in your palm, you look over the same string of words that have flown through your vision three times, always forgotten once your sight leaves them. A break would help, should help, but you can’t pull yourself up from the chair. Instead, your arms become a pillow underneath your head, crossed and slightly uncomfortable for your neck as you scoot the chair outwards and lean against the desk.

Half-conscious, you hear the door crack open, then listen to the way it squeaks further as Frankie carefully pokes his head in. You hum in acknowledgement of his presence, but it’s the most you can manage, turning your head to rest the other cheek over your forearms, pushing the work back in the process.

His chuckle follows, warm and cheery sounds filling your ears until his large hand rests firm on your shoulder, fingertips applying light pressure in a too-gentle attempt at pulling you upright.

“Baby...” he whispers, lowering his head until his lips are just shy of your ear, “that doesn’t look very comfortable.” There’s a concerned tone lurking underneath the sweet edge of his voice as he begins to rub his fingers into both shoulders, working into the knots and tension. “Time for a nap?”

He presses a little harder into the spaces beside your neck and you raise your head with a sigh, leaning into his calming touch. 

“Looks like it,” he continues, bending to leave a soft kiss on your neck. “Come on, sweetheart. Up.” He places his hands under your arms and lifts, raising you a fraction of the way until you hold yourself up for him, standing on your feet and then lazily falling into the support of his strong arms.

“Hi,” you smile into his chest, all woodsy and warm with the essence of campfire.

“Been working real hard, huh?” he smiles back, gingerly leading you to bed, minding the steps you take.

At the foot of the bed, he sits you down and kneels at your feet, deft fingers working at the button of your jeans. His tongue pokes out in his focus, sliding across his upper lip.

“What’re you doing, baby?” you question, brushing a curl off his forehead with a single finger.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but jeans aren’t comfortable to sleep in,” he laughs, his head chasing that subtle touch of yours. His fingers hook at the waistband and tug, you lifting your hips for him to aid in the process. The denim bunches at your feet and he pulls off each pant leg, dropping a kiss to each knee.

You thank him as he stands once more, planting his palms on either side of you as he leans in for a long, simple kiss to your lips. “You know I’m always available if you need to be undressed,” he says into your mouth and you giggle back into his. He urges you to lay down after ridding himself of his own pants, pulling you up with him on the mattress.

He’s a warm, solid comfort behind you as he tucks his smooth legs into the backs of yours, a heavy arm draping over your waist and bringing you ever closer to himself. His nose tickles the back of your neck as he uses it to move your hair, getting it out of the way for his lips to leave kisses there.

“Frankie,” you laugh, light and airy, squirming in his gentle grip while his kisses gain firmness and you feel the unmistakable yet lightning quick swipe of his tongue. His movements slow, an arm sneaking under your shirt and a thumb seeking out your nipple. He brushes over it languidly, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch you and hear the way your breathing quickens. 

“Frankie...” This time, you sigh his name instead of laughing it out and you can feel him rapidly hardening against you, his hips beginning an unhurried roll.

“What kind of man would I be...” his breaths are shallow in your ear and he punctuates his words with a rough grind, “if I didn’t fuck my girl to sleep?”

“Oh, God, baby...” Breathless, you match and mirror each roll of his hips, listening to the low groans falling out of him. He brings his thumb up to your mouth and waits for you to take it in and wet it; you swirl your tongue before he withdraws it and brings it back to your nipple, massaging its wetness into the sensitive skin. 

“Is this okay?” He moans the question, reaching his hand down the front of your underwear and whimpering when he feels how slick you are for him, how physical your neediness has become.

“Fuck, always, Frankie, keep going,” you splutter, earning a pleased chuckle, his fingers spreading your wetness and circling your clit softly. Your head falls back into his shoulder and your body rocks with each thrust of his, sheets rustling beneath the both of you.

“Shit, you’re wet, baby.” His voice teeters on the edge of trembling as he slides two thick fingers in to stretch you out, fucking you with them in time with his grinding. Your own hand is quick to grasp at his wrist, nails digging, your moans filling the room in high and breathy, desperate and desirous noise. He curls the fingers inside you, pressing them tight to that spot he knows you can barely handle and keeps them there, rubbing it, massaging it. 

“Fuck, I need to fuck you, have to... have to have you,” he grunts, rubbing a few more circles before slipping his hand away, leaving you whining at the loss. “Shhh, baby,” he soothes, reaching down and tugging your underwear off. You kick them from your feet and attempt to turn and help him out of his but are powerless against the strength of him pinning you on your side. “No, I want you like this,” he tells you— warns you, sliding an arm under your neck and bending it to hold you still, squeezing you between his bicep and forearm. 

Taking his cock out, you feel it hard on your skin with the slight dampness of precum dripping. For a moment, he slides it between your thighs, your arousal allowing it to slip easy and thoroughly through your folds. At another whine of his name, he notches it at your entrance and before stretching you on it, he hooks a hand under your knee and raises your leg.

He gives you the first few inches and pauses to let you adjust, though his restrain is steadily running out. Once he’s sure you’re okay, he lunges forward to the hilt and his grip tightens on your neck, your leg, and the sound that leaves him is wrecked; a serrated and low hiss causing you to wet his cock even more.

“Jesus, fuck— you feel perfect like this,” Frankie babbles, lips catching on your ear lobe. You tilt your head to leave a free space for him and he takes it, open mouthed nips pulling at your skin, but not lasting— he turns to simple mouthing at your neck when he pulls out and pushes back in, the ability to place proper kisses diminishing, replaced by his pleasure.

He’s so thick, even more so at this angle, filling you to the point you feel complete with him nestled into you like this. The scruff of his cheek scratches on your neck, your hand reaching back to keep him there, fingers threading through what used to be a neat head of hair, now a mess of curls.

“M— more, please,” you beg, wishing you could turn your head enough to kiss him. Frankie notices the strain of your need, leaning his face as close to yours as he can, capturing your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss; it’s a desperate joining of mouths. His thrusts grow more urgent when he feels your slick dripping out onto the rest of him, sharing his breath with you; his groans to your lighter sighs.

“Yeah baby? You want some more?”

Lifting your leg even higher, deepening the crease in your hip, he fucks into you faster, harder, hitting something profound inside you and he tells you how fucking good you feel, how pretty you are, how gorgeous you sound. 

Mewling, you tug roughly on his hair, jolting with every push. His teeth scrape your shoulder, trailing until he bites down on it with a loud grunt, grinding his cock deep instead of fucking you in and out, keeping it inside you with each small but hefty shove.

He surrounds you; his flannel-covered chest and soft belly flush to your back, his wet, desperate mouthing, his cock filling you up so well. He lets your leg free, dropping that hand to your clit, running the tip of his middle finger over its slippery surface.

“That’s right, baby, just let me fuck you,” he coos, nuzzling his cheek on your shoulder, “just let me take— fuck— take care of you.”

“Frankie, you feel so good, baby, I can’t—”

“S’okay, I’ve got you.”

Another moan breaking from your throat forces him to start moving again, hard enough to make those sharp slapping noises of his pelvis against your ass, though not as loud as his harsh breaths in your ear, his strained praise. He picks up the pace of his fingers, swiping petal soft patterns on your clit, your sensitivity allowing that gentleness to be wholly pleasurable.

“I’ve needed you like this for so fucking long,” Frankie confesses, a deep furrow in his brow, his teeth catching his bottom lip. “Thought about fucking you from behind, making you cum on my cock, hearing you moan just for me...” 

“Francisco!” You cry, his fingers working you up almost too fast, and paired with the sensation of his intense pushes, there isn’t much time left to brace yourself for the way you’re about to cum, for the way it’s swiftly building up strong and relentless.

“Come on, baby, cum on me, I wanna feel it.”

You can faintly hear him urging you to take a deep breath right as it washes over you, the tingling, fiery release spreading from your head to your toes, all while Frankie fucks you through it. His cock brushes every inner part of you, his finger on your clit stopping just to apply pressure that sings from your core.

“Good girl,” he rasps those sweet words, your throat turning sore at the endless panting and use of your voice, your leg falling limp to the mattress after holding it up so long for him. From the corner of your vision you can see him fisting the pillow underneath you, the veins of his hand prominent, the muscles of his forearm tensing.

“Can I—”

“Yes, please, baby, cum inside,” you whimper, his cock pushing in even smoother with the added slick of your orgasm and he mewls at those words, getting a few more rhythmic thrusts in before they turn ragged and he spills into you with a soft shout. His nose burrows into your neck as he tries and fails to catch his breath; you, letting him hold you close as he comes down.

He resumes those featherlight kisses, a line leading up to that spot just behind your ear— warm presses of his lips with no other intention than to feel you.

“Okay?” He manages to ask, so quiet and bashful, even, as he feels his cum trickle out of you and onto his lap.

“Mhm,” you smile, finally able to turn in his hold, and the sight of him makes you want to do it all over again; his flushed face, his wide, dark eyes looking back at you in admiration, the disheveled state of his button up. The sleeves pushed up to his elbows are all crinkled, and you let your thumb run over the edge of the fabric before feeling your way up his arm. He smiles, a sleepy state of contentment taking over him and he pulls you onto his chest, keeping you safe, a hand on the back of your head.

The patterns of your breathing match, in and out, slowing down, his heartbeat losing speed under your ear.

He makes a happy noise when you place a chaste kiss on his collarbone, the rain picking up outside, washing down the window behind the see-through curtains. He taps the small of your back three times, and you know this is him telling you he loves you, a tap for each word; so you kiss him three more times, two kisses on those smooth spaces where hair refuses to grow, and once on his lips which he returns gratefully.

Drawing the comforter up over your shoulders, he ensures it’s snug over the two of you. “Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you deserve it.”

+ taglist: @filthybookworm​ @frannyzooey​ @omgreally​ @kjim16 @anatanotegami​ @redkenobi​ @yeliahk @acrabbybish​​ @battletales​​ @catsnkooks​​ @mitchi-c​​ @xcertaindarkthingsx​​ @ihavenoaesthetic​ @belleropho-n​​ @i-love-marble-hornets​​ @trollsarenotwelcome​​ @tossacoin2yourwitcher​​ @lycheemi​​ ​ @jennacide02 @astroboots​​ @wigwitch​​ @buckypascal​​ @altarsw​ @thirstworldproblemss​ @agent-catfish-kenobi​ @leonieb​ @sleep-tight1​

[badgirlcovenrep]

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

[fic-request-blog]

A Welcoming Sea

This is inspired by @srapsodia  ‘s art here. I am, of course, still behind on about six requests, but I saw Jaskier’s little smile and have had nothing but it rattling around in my brain since. (I have fallen into the Witcher fandom over the last few months, in large part because of @srapsodia  ‘s art, though plenty of authors have also contributed to this.) To those of you still waiting on requests, I am swiftly getting my writing feet back under me. 

This post finally ends my roughly three year hiatus, so thank you to everyone in the Witcher fandom, most especially @srapsodia

Gen fic, just Geralt realizing something. 

A Welcoming Sea

Geralt looks up, scanning the clearing for any last supplies, hands busy strapping their bags to Roach for the day. It's not long after dawn, but the day is bound to be hot and he wants to get a few hours of travel in before he needs to give her a rest from the incoming heat. Jaskier, thank the gods, is actually up, though he's still a while from coherency. He's of no help in the mornings, but at least he's dressed and Geralt doesn't have to drag him from his bedroll. 

Geralt nods, finding nothing missing. 'Time to go, bard' forms at the tip of his tongue, but it washes away in an instant, the rest of his thoughts dropping from his mind just as quickly. 

Jaskier stands in front of a break in the trees, hands wrapping loosely around the strap of his lute case, looking off to his right. He is quiet for once, utterly motionless, his hands idle as he drifts outside of true wakefulness. A little smile is playing over his soft features, blue eyes still fuzzy with sleep, but warm with fondness. Their blue is all the deeper from the doublet fitted across his shoulders, the rich fabric seemingly reflecting its matching color in Jaskier's eyes. Geralt's breath stutters. The rising sun halos Jaskier's head and shoulders, the golden rays almost appearing to spill forth from his chest where the doublet splits, a bright yellow chemise peaking from underneath. Yellow wildflowers caught in the same golden rays of the sun dance in the open fields behind him. Jaskier is a motionless sea, risen over an easel of blinding gold. 

In the backdrop of morning light, he looks brilliant, looks like the sun has risen with the sole purpose of filling him with its rays. Everything else in the little clearing they've camped in remains dull, muted by the long shadows stretching from the surrounding trees. It is as though the sun filters through Jaskier alone, as though Jaskier brings forth its light, holding it out to wash joy and color into Geralt's grey world. 

And then, slowly, those blue blue eyes sweep across the clearing, moving with the inevitability of the rising sun, to land on Geralt. Suddenly, Geralt is the subject of that little smile, the object of fondness so clearly reflected in those eyes. Time seems to grind to a halt. Geralt is transfixed. He feels as though he is drowning, dropping slowly, endlessly, into two warm pools, no seafloor to be found in their depths. His lungs expand, but can fill only with the sweet softness rolling over him from Jaskier's gaze. 

Geralt has never been caught so thoroughly. The crinkles at the very edges of Jaskier's eyes are there because it is Geralt they have anchored upon. He is bound, trussed and tied tightly, by the realization that the fondness in his bard's sleepy eyes is for him. 

Jaskier loves him. 

There are no other words for the emotion swimming across his face. Jaskier loves him, and the sun rises as it always does. Jaskier loves him, and the sun rises as though the foundation of Geralt's understanding of the world, of himself and his place here, has not gently crumbled into a welcoming sea. Jaskier loves him, and the day moves on.

Geralt finishes tightening the straps on Roach without looking and, even as the sun continues inexorably to rise, he meets Jaskier's gaze. He feels an answering swell of fondness, as natural and powerful as the tides, and decides. 

Jaskier loves him, and this will not just be another day on The Path.

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

[lustbile]

Xiaojun wanted nothing more than to listen to what you were saying, and with his friends drunk bodies scattered pass out around the living room, you’d think he’d had nothing to distract him now. But unfortunately for you both, he had gotten a little dizzy so he had chosen to sit on the floor, and after you had taken your pants off while complaining that it should be a crime to be forced to wear pants after drinking, you perched yourself on the edge of the kitchen table with a soft peach stuck between your teeth.

Which should be fine, he had no issue having to strain to hear your happy rambling, but the placements had given him a perfect view of the soft space between your legs.

Your relationship with him had always been a little different, you’re not sure when it happened, but one day you and him started exchanging flirty glances. Flirty glances turned to flirty words, and eventually even suggestive jokes and taunts. And once that threshold was crossed, Xiaojun couldn’t get making the jokes a reality out of his head. His current view, wasn’t helping.

“Are you even listening Dejun?” you ask, the addition of his name pulling him out of his trance and making him jump. Even through your rambling about how you’ve been thinking about finally getting a puppy, the sweet fruit filling your belly had sobered you up enough to notice that his eyes had gone blank right in the middle of your sentence about where you’d be able to fit a dog crate in your apartment.

“Huh what? Yes!” he shakes his head as the words tumble out, his sudden raise in volume making a body that’s laying close by turn. Whoever it was, the darkness of the room making it only a shadow but based on the size maybe Lucas?, only shifted a bit before settling back down.

“Yeah right. I can tell when I’ve lost you,” you state so matter of factly it through a mouthful of peach that it throws him off. He didn’t think you’d be able to tell something like that, “so what is so important on your mind that you don’t wanna listen to me talk about puppies?”

“No no it’s.... it’s nothing,” he shakes his head again before his eyes shift down, the idea that whatever it was would make him not want to look at you making your chest tighten a bit.

“Bull, it’s not nothing. Tell me what’s up.”

‘Easy for you to say,’ he thinks to himself, the idea of having this conversation getting even more stressful when he chances a peak up and sees you had your lips wrapped tightly around the pit of your once existing fruit, your tongue working the get any remaining pulp.

“Do you know how distracting you are,” the breathless what he speaks tells you that the words weren’t said with total intention.

“How am I distracting you, from myself?” you ask with a soft laugh, you hand lifting and your tongue peaking out to lick at the left over juice left on your skin.

“Do you know how pretty you are?” he asks, his voice falling soft again as he sits upon his knees, the skin of his cheek brushing against the knee of your leg that hangs off the edge of the table.

“You can tell me to stop,” he locks his eyes onto yours as his hand begins to trail up your other leg, the gentleness of his touch making a shiver wrack up your spine, “but I don’t think that you’d want me to.”

“Dejun...” you trail off, not interested in telling him to stop in the slightest, but still unaware of what you should say.

“So pretty” he mutters to himself, his lips brushing your skin as his fingers get closer and closer to the warming space between your legs.

Your breathing is shallow, your brain doing leaps as it tries to catch up to its surroundings. Your hand moves without you even thinking, and it only clicks that your brushing the tips of your middle and ring finger over his bottom lip when, at the same moment his middle finger pushes against the wet spot forming on your underwear, he take the digits between his lips and laves his tongue over them.

“So um, ... is this what was distracting you?” you want to kick yourself for asking, but it was hard to get the words structured out in your brain when you have a boy you’ve been smitten with for so long sucking on your fingers and petting at you through your underwear.

“Everything you do is distracting,” he says blatantly and without thought after letting your dampened fingers fall from his lips, “do you think you taste as sweet at the peach on your hand?”

His question makes your heart race, you almost feel like you’re not even still on planet earth as everything happens so fast, the only thing that pulls you back down to earth is a quiet cough from the living room and his teeth gently nipping at your palm.

“I dunno,” you want desperately to play along, be as naturally alluring as the boy knelt between your thighs, but instead your flustered and hot, your ability to keep up with the flirting being thrown in the trash now that your being hit with a reality check.

“Will you let me find out?”

“Yes, please,” you nod eagerly as your hips start to tilt towards him, the stuttering motions making the fabric catch on the wood below you and start to tug them down.

“So sweet asking so politely,” his praises make your face warm even more, your nails digging into the table as he curls his middle finger around the fabric and pull the garment down your thighs, “but promise you’ll be nice and quiet cause wasted or not, their ears still work.”

“I promise,” you squeak quietly before you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, your legs falling apart and bruising against the edge after he shoves the fabric into the pocket of his pants.

With a teasing glint in his eyes, he looks at you with a soft smile. His hand pulls away from his pocket to push his index finger against his lips in a shushing motion, before he leans in a places a soft kiss against your skin.

The muscles of your thighs twitch, a sharp gasp pulling into your lungs at the tingling brush of stimulation. He immediately looks up, a faux look of disappointment on his face at the noise you make, and with a pouting smile, you mirror his shushing motion in hopes to get him to continue.

He only shakes his head in endearment in response before he’s back to the task at hand, his hands grabbing and pushing your thighs open before the flat of his tongue is pushing against you and dragging against your dripping entrance.

“Fuck Jun,” your brain feels like it melts, as well as the muscles winding up your back, but your still aware enough to keep your words quiet so he won’t pull away. But the way he licks slowly over you clit before pulling the flesh into his mouth and sucking, makes holding back even a squeak almost impossible.

The soft wet noises that raise from below you makes you incredibly aware of how quiet the house had gotten since everyone had passed out. You had turned the music down to only a rumble, hoping the soft rhythm would help the guys sleep better regardless of their bed for the night being couches, recliners, and the floor. There was also a soft uneven rumbling of a few of their snores and grunts here and there, but without the whispers of your and Xiaojun’s conversation, it felt like the universe could hear him indulging in your arousal if it would only strain its ear.

The moan you let out is comparable to a purr, and as you rock you hips against his face, your fingers sink into his hair and you slowly lean back until your laying flush on the wooden surface.

He follows your movements with ease, his shoulders raising as he puts his whole body into lavishing every inch of your sensitive skin.

His hands tickle at the skin of your stomach as they trail up your sides, the sensation making your breathing pick up and your body start to squirm. He doesn’t seem effected by any of your moving though, as he welcomes you squeezing his head gently with your thighs with a deep groan and his hands squeezing roughly at your swelled chest.

You whine into the thick air of the room, bordering on breaking your promise to be quiet when he continues to groan into you and scrape his blunt nails down your skin and against your stiffening nipples.

Your eyes begin to roll back as you feel the promise of an orgasm start to crawl up your spine, the flat of your foot pressing into the table top while the other pushes against his back with your toes curling into and tugging at his shirt.

“Please, please,” it’s only a whisper, but it’s enough for him to pinch at your side in warning. Though his disappointment is obviously faux, when you meet his eyes and they sparkle playfully as he silently begs you to let go.

He knows you staying silent is lost cause, and he’s come to embrace it, when you back starts to curve away from the table. A grumbly moan shakes your chest and he only laps at you faster and you start to shiver against him.

Your head is still a bit fuzzy from the night that now lived behind you, but it only adds to the overwhelming amount of pleasure that takes a hold of you. His tongue feels like heaven and the orgasm that rocks through you is one of best you’ve ever had. You can’t help but scold yourself for taking so long to let him take his claim between your legs.

It’s not until you harshly pull at his hair, his thick eyebrows scrunching together in response to the dull pain, does he finally pull his lips and tongue from your skin, a lewd popping noise following as he detaches from your sensitive clit.

You don’t let him speak before your pressing your still glossy lips against his, the taste of your arousal mixing from his mouth with the still lingering taste of the peach in yours as your tongues brush one another’s, and the flavor makes you both happily groan.

“Let me take you to my room,” it’s not a question but a plead that he lets out against your lips. A plead you answer with a fast nod of the head and desperate hands that grab at his clothes.

And with clumsy feet and groping fingers, you run with him to the room, the scattered drunken bodies of your friend tripped over, but mostly forgotten.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

YOU ARE WERE MINE

Summary: Sacrifices are often made for the ones we love....even if it might hurt.

Parings: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader, Hinted at Male!reader x John Winchester, and Sam Winchester x Unmentioned girls

Warning?: Bi Sam ,Dean still flirting with reader, No jess death for M/n, Reader is a hunter...and never told Sam, Yellow-eyes, mention(hint at) smut

Sam looked up at M/n with a smile he wore a sexy fireman outfit for the bar outing the yellow shirt looked like it was going to rip if the surprisingly taller male flexed a little too much the red suspenders held up loss fitting brown pants and a axe that leaned on the door frame. "Come on Babe dress up a little." He said tightening the suspenders straps.

"You know I don't like Halloween." Sam sighed as his boyfriend came up to him kissing his cheek with a mischievous smirk. "Too bad guess I can't give you your treat." The h/c man growled nipping his ear as he walked out of their shared bedroom. With a fake pout he chased after him. "If I put on a Halloween shirt will it pass?" He said hopefully putting his arms over M/n shoulder causing him to put his hands on his hips. "Hmmm....If I get to pick the shirt." Sam chuckled and nodded. He'll soon regret that.

Luis was loosing his shit laughing at the shit while M/n smiled proudly at what his boyfriend was wearing it was a plain dark gray t-shirt with the words 'Just the tip. I Promise.' And a knife. "This has to be your best work, N/n." Stephan, M/n best friend, said dressed as a cop high fives the awaiting hand.

M/n gave Sammy a small grin and winked causing him to blush slightly. It was time to celebrate with friends Sam's accomplishment he can wait later to celebrate with Sam his own way.

(Time skip past smexy times~might do it later)

M/n woke up in a empty bed to the sound of a fight he quickly got up in only his boxers to see what was wrong. He knew it was human since he had symbols all under wall paper and floor boards. Turning on the lights he sees Sam and a shorter man next to him "Sammy?" He said causing both of them to look over maybe he should have put on pants eyes raked down his form. "Woah. Hi I'm Dean Rapunzel's older brother. You must be his roommate..." The green eyed man bit his lip looking down south of the s/c man before him. "...I just love Scooby-Doo.~" Dean said keeping his gaze on the mystery machine briefs M/n was wearing. Sam quickly got between both of them pushing his brother back. "Dean this N/n my boyfriend" A confused look crossed his face. "Where's Jess you girlfriend?" He asked. "She was my roommate graduated a year ago and M/n moved in."

Dean looked back at M/n the flirtatious smirk back on his face. "You're way out of my brothers league." Sam put a around his boyfriends waist pulling him close. "Why are you here Dean?" There was a pause of silence. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." The blonde said before it was shot down. "Let me rephrase. Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days." With that Sam tensed up and looked over to M/n. "I'll be right back." His tone rushed as he peeked him in the cheek and left their shared apartment brother in tow.

Once the sound of their foot steps were heard going down the stairs M/n sighed his hand running through his bed head. "Fucking Winchester’s." He mumbled before going back up stairs going to his old room. M/n went to the closet moving boxes out of the way till he got to the duffel bag he was looking for. A burner phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered back to bed. "If he goes I go." He mumbled to himself looking at the mirror on the nightstand. M/n has been off and on with hunting ever since he started dating Sam and he knew who he was the moment his last name left his lips, but he only put on a smile and gave him his first and middle name since L/n were famous in the community.

Sam came back to the apartment and started to pack a bag. "Sam what's going on?" M/n said innocently as he watched more of his boyfriends clothes fill the bag. "Just going to help look for Dad. Probably just went out with a old friend and didn't bother to pick up." Sam zipped up the bag as he threw it over his shoulder. "You know what's Monday right?! You can't just not show up it's your dream on the line, Babe!" M/n stepped forward slowing down the rushed pace. "I know...you're right and I'll be back on Monday." We walked out of the building. "Promise to call me when you get there." The h/c man said hugging the long haired brunette close. "I promise." With a final kiss goodbye M/n waved him off before going inside. Time to jump back into the L/n family business. Pulling out the burner it rung as the first number was dialed. "I don't give a damn of you are the IRS or girl scouts selling fucking cookies it's one am you idjit!" The familiar voice rung out. "Good talking to you to Uncle Bobby." M/n chuckled and the older man's breath caught in his throat. "Well I'll be damned do my ears deceive me or is that little F/n all grown up?"

"Glad you didn't trash this number."

"What are you calling for boy its still 1am?" Bobby asked.

" I need to pick up my truck. I'm going hunting."

~~~~Time Skip~~~~

Sam sat in the motel room trying to call M/n, but he didn't pick up. If only he knew that right at that moment he was beheading a vampire while laughing like a sadistic prick. After cleaning the blood off and burning the barn that held the nest M/n tried calling back when it picked up he heard Sam's distressed voice. "M/n now is not a good time. I'm so cold hold me" A voice spoke over Sam's. "Who the hell was that?!" I heard a loud hissing noise. "Sam!" That's when a shotgun went off, glass shattered, and the lime went dead. M/n stood up and paced un his room it would be late before he got home he'll have to hall ass to get there before Sam.

Going out to the truck he opened the bed lifting the metal cover and false bottom loading the weapons. He had no time to drop it back off. The road was silent till a voice interrupted it. "Hello, handsome. What's the rush?" Almost swerving into a ditch M/n looked over and saw a man with graying blonde hair. Reaching for a weapon the man's eyes flashed yellow gazing at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He snapped causing the h/c make to look straight and push hard into his seat. "You're the little Winchester’s boy toy. Well in two hours he'll be home and dead by the time you arrive." M/n's breath caught in his throat. "Liar. I'm not stupid every hunter has heard what happened to Mary it doesn't take a genius to see they weren't the only one's. You need him alive and well, so why are you hear?" He growled low in his throat as the demon chuckled. "Got me there. You see Sammy boy needs to get back in the life and you being, I don't know, alive is getting in the way." The pressure grew stronger on the restrained man's chest till he almost could feel his lungs squeeze. "But I'm a business man. You work for me you live and maybe see Sam again or die in a blaze and the last thing he sees is your burning corpse. Can't be a protective boyfriend if your dead."

"What will happen to me if I agree?" That's when a sick smile pulled on his lips. "You become a demon. No a demon doesn't possess you! You yourself become one you memories and personality intact. So deal?" He held his hand out to the s/c man as he sighed taking his eyes from the road. "Deal." The demons yellows eyes shined bright as he yanked the young man forward pressing their lips together sealing it. "You are mine." He growled possessively as M/n pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It went to voice mail. "Hey Rapunzel. I want you to know...I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. You mean the world to me...so once you figure out how to open you voice mail this is waiting for you."

Sam woke up from his nightmare of his burning apartment building. It been almost three years since then and he never gotten over it. It took a year to get to his messages and what M/ n left behind gave him more questions then answers. He couldn't even get into the apartment before the flames erupted. Sam had doubts about M/n in the fire, but after the police report was released only one casualty of M/n Middle/n. Dean tried to tell my it would at some point get better, but the guilt still felt heavy in his chest. Nightmares of M/n in the fire not in pain, but seeming to absorb the flames made him question what really happened. The brothers had a lead on yellow eyes that their dad led them to. It all seemed to convenient that after the fight he knew to much about the demon that pledged his nightmares. The warehouse was falling apart it was in shambles as Dean parked baby next to it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Sam asked his brother. "Dad said this was it. Load up." Dean got out the car popping the trunk. This didn't feel right.

Tied up, beaten, and tortured. The Winchesters look up at their own fathers face with those horrid yellow eyes. "You boys never questioned a thing didn't even hesitate to come inside!" He chuckled darkly as the surrounding demons grinned. "This would have been the part where I laugh at you kill you dragging your sorry souls to hell to be my toys for the next millennium, but I have something better!" Signature Winchester grin lifted his lips as he called out seeming to no one. "Oh, honey bear! Come say hi." The sound of a strong gust of wind came from behind them as the clack of well made dress shoes hit the shifty floor boards. A man wearing black dress pants, shoes, and a open f/c(not black) silk button up. His back was to the brothers as John lifted his head up to kiss the man's cheek. Turning around white eyes looked at them, but that face was unmistakably M/n's a scar on his brow but it was him. Sam was chocked up M/n was in front of him looking well and oh God he's with enemy that took their dad's body as a meat suit.

"Do you like him, Sammy? Hells best torturer!" John said running his hands over M/n as the man kept his gaze locked on the tallest Winchester analyzing him as he seethed with anger at the demon touched his boyfriend. "Oh the things he's done would make Lucifer blush." Yellow-eyes trailed his hand down the scarred chest biting his lip making Sam struggle more. Snapping his fingers the other demons took Dean, but Sam was left there. "You're not useful to me dead Sammy boi." The demon circled him. "What's the best kind of torture, love?" M/n seemed to move for the first time getting right in front of Sam dropping to his knees being face to face with him. Cupping the beaten cheek of the hunter in his s/c hand his white clouded orbs turned the lively e/c giving a sympathetic look before it switched off. "Physiological." Sam didn't notice the room shifted into their old apartment tears pooled in those e/c eyes. "Where were Sammy?" A hiccup in between silent cries ended the sentence as a scene played out of M/n on the phone trying to talk to Sam before it cut off. "I needed you!" A scene of M/n chained to a wall seeing figures of his past hurt him till he gave in. "You were mine. And you threw it all away, threw me away like garbage!" The images went to Sam being with girls, but he could see familiar h/c hair in the background.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as white eyes filled his vision the eyes he loved fading away. What felt like hours happened in only a few seconds and within those seconds Sam was broken. He buried his face into the palm still cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!' Sam would do anything for his M/n back even if it meant killing the monster his father has become. A gentle kiss stopped the trail of tears. "You are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quote= I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. -The Vampire Diaries

Tagged: @spnquotebingo

First male reader it was fun.