#Sam would say fuck exclusively like WHAT THE FUCK? WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE SHUT THE FUCK UP FRED

[scoutdoesstuff]

last but not least, august 31st fic features a crossover because why not.

sam and dean get to meet ted lasso. this one was hard to wrangle and definitely exceeded the word count and still wouldn't wrap up neatly haha but it was fun to write.

a chunk of this is inspired by a ted lasso fic i read awhile back that asked what it would look like if ted was a witch, given richmond's uncanny good luck.

our last flavor on this little journey is Purr-fectly Very Berry, a pun i haven't yet managed to work into this story.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Lasso?” Dean Winchester asks, bleeding profusely from the forehead.

“I think that ghosts need to believe in themselves,” Ted answers with great enthusiasm as he mops up the worst of the mess on Dean’s forehead and roots around for a bandage.

“Oh my god,” Sam Winchester says, horrified in the bitchiest possible way and braced against the locker room to keep it from opening under the poltergeist’s onslaught. “We’re gonna die.”

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

The one problem with being unbelievably tall is that people tend to notice you no matter where you go. It’s hard to go incognito when you’re literally a head taller — sometimes a head and shoulders taller — than the rest of the people around you.

“Do you think people are smaller here?” Sam asks as he and Dean size up the exterior of Richmond FC’s pitch. They’re eating ice cream cones in an attempt to look less conspicuous but the sheer force of the Americaness of their clothes probably undoes anything they try to blend in.

“Not the people,” Dean says around a chunk of his Cornetto, “doors. The doors are so fucking small here. And the cars? How do they move bodies in this town?”

“Huh, never thought of it like that,” Sam says.

“The club is locked down pretty tight,” Sam says, a little while later when they’re back in their weirdly damp hotel room, with his laptop perched on his knees.

“Probably due to the owner being stalked within an inch of her life by the paps,” Dean sighs, cutting out fake press passes.

“Yeah, can’t blame her for that one.”

“Her ex is such a fucking creep.”

“God, right?”

“Anyway,” they both say at the same time rather than admit they’d both spent several hours on the local gossip rags.

“Think you can pass as a sports journalist?” Dean asks, chucking a fake press pass at Sam.

“I’ve done weirder,” Sam replies, snapping his laptop shut.

SIX HOURS EARLIER

The initial plan had been to sneak into Richmond’s club house during a game. It’s easier to pretend to be a member of the cleaning crew, check for ghost weirdness or hex bags, and then get the fuck out when there’s a crowd to blend into at the end of the job. They’d set up their schedule, haggled their way into some tickets from a local hunter, and were set to handle whatever was upsetting the general vibes over at Richmond FC as a favor to Bobby right up until three fans suffered simultaneous heart attacks while watching a friendly between Richmond and another team.

Then the next Richmond match got cancelled out of a sense of respect or something painfully British which eighty sixed their whole fucking plan.

They’d had to improvise and the best they could do was as a weird American soccer fanboy journalist looking to get an exclusive interview with the Rebecca Walton and Dean just … sneaking in.

“I can’t believe this is the best we’ve got,” Sam had muttered on the way in, smashed into their too small British car.

“If I get caught, we pretend I’m your photographer that you forgot to mention,” Dean had said, smiling from ear to ear. He’d missed clean and simple B&E’s. Those were the best.

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

Turns out Dean didn’t need to break in. The head coach just fucking let him walk in the door.

“You seem like a sunny young man!” The guy says when he catches Dean skulking around the back parking lot. “Would you like to come in for some tea?”

It’s been a really long time since Dean hasn’t had anything to say back to someone. What do you even say to that? How does this guy grow a mustache like that in 2022?

“I don’t know if I’m much of a tea drinker?” Dean means to make it a statement but it comes out a question.

“Neither am I,” the mustached man replies, beaming. “I have secret coffee in my office!”

Dean could go for some American coffee. This is probably a trap, but Dean wants American style black coffee too badly at this point to care.

(Espresso is good, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes you just want something that feels like home).

Sam isn’t expecting to find someone like Rebecca Welton relatable, but he knows what it looks like when you’ve spent a considerable amount of time developing a considerable amount of control over yourself and your environment. They have nothing in common, but there are a few moments here and there where it feels like he’s looking in a mirror.

“So how does an American find himself interested in football?” she asks as they settle into her office. Her hair is perfectly coiffed. Her clothes are remarkably pressed.

“Uh, I have to admit that we call it soccer on my side of the pond,” Sam says, playing for time. She laughs obligingly. Sam can’t pretend to care about sports so he flips the question back at her. “What made you fall in love with football, Ms. Welton?”

She smiles obligingly again. And they’re off. Fluffy question meet fluffy answer. Rinse, wash, repeat.

TWO HOURS EARLIER

“It’s like my memaw used to say — all in the butter, you know?”

“Exactly! People don’t respect how fucking important the butter is! Is the European stuff here really as good as they say?”

“It is!”

They really should’ve been caught or at least called out a few hours ago when Rebecca and Ted had decided to reconnoiter for lunch and brought Sam and Dean along for the ride. Instead, they’d bought their bullshit about how Dean was Sam’s photographer. Now, Dean and Ted Lasso, head coach of the somehow not terrible Richmond FC, were having a heart to heart about baking.

Their lives were so fucking weird.

Sam gives in and asks Rebecca if she plays any strategy games.

They play chess while Dean and Ted yell about the differences of jam and jelly.

ONE HOUR EARLIER

The lights flicker violently.

“Oh, there’s Marvin!” Ted says.

“Marvin?” Dean glances over at Sam. Sam shrugs. That hadn’t come up in the interview at all.

“He’s named the poltergeist,” Rebecca explains.

“He’s named the what?” Sam and Dean say together, with rising alarm.

“He does that,” Beard says, speaking for the first time in about an hour and half, eyes not moving from his newspaper. He’d introduced himself to Sam and Dean and then somehow maneuvered his chair so that he’d become one with the farthest corner of the room. “You get used to it. Or you don’t.”

“He’s our poltergeist. I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for?” Ted sets down his mug and opens up a window that somehow looks out to another room. “He likes to have the window open when he does his little fly bys,” Ted explains with a wave of his hand after turning around to see Dean and Sam staring at him. “You guys are hunters, right?”

All Sam and Dean can do is nod, shell shocked, at this point.

“And you’re hear about the heart attack victims?”

Sam and Dean nod again.

“Great! Is there anything we do to help you with the whole great white whale hunt?”

“I’m sorry —“ Sam starts.

“Hold the fuck up —“ Dean continues.

“You knew? The whole time?” The both finish.

“Oh yeah, we just wanted you guys to feel like you had to full experience. I know the infiltration and costumes part is really important to the whole shebang — or at least that’s what my Ma told me when she was telling me to avoid you guys,” Ted says, beaming.

“You mother told you to avoid us?” Sam asks, eyebrows condensed into a unibrow of confusion.

“Oh! Not you you,” Ted says, quickly like he was worried he’d hurt Sam and Dean’s feelings. “Just hunters in general.”

“Why?” The Brothers Winchester ask slowly in union.

“Oh! I’m a witch,” Ted clarifies.

The lights go out.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS Fall - Chapter 2 - Part 1

BOOK TWO: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

School sucked without Sam and my friends from High school and the constant essays and bullshit homework sucked even more.

I really didn't know how I got into UIC but it does make sense that I was in the beginner class for math and English.

I did, however like my Art class.

I was in an Art class every year in high school and even middle school, so I thought I'd continue in college.

I'd say I was moderately good at Art but when I stepped foot into my Art classroom and checked out all the other Art pieces, I realized I was a shit Artist.

So, yeah, college fucking sucked but, Sam would be there next year and though I was not really social, there were plenty of students in my classes that came up and talked to me.

Like Dinah.

She was in my Art Drawing I class.

I always got there before her and had my easel up by the time she entered class.

Dinah moved a stool closer to where I was stationed and set up her own easel to a proper height for her.

"Hey," she greeted me as she sat down.

I nodded as my greeting.

Again, more of an introvert.

Dinah talked almost the whole time during class, besides when our professor spoke but I didn't really mind because she never expected me to talk back.

Until I glanced at her sketchbook.

My eyes widened.

"Holy shit, Dinah. Why are you in this class? You should be in an advanced class," I told her in awe.

We were only drawing a bowl of fruits that laid on the table in the middle of the class room but damn, her drawing looked more real than the bowl of fruit itself.

She laughed.

"You have to start in Drawing I, unfortunately," she shrugged then looked at mine.

"Hey, what are you talking about? Yours is good,too."

I rolled my eyes.

"Now you're just being nice."

She chuckled again.

"No, I'm serious."

I didn't believe her.

I mean, I thought my drawing was good but mine didn't compare to hers.

We soon had to clean up and when Dinah had her station cleared, as did I, she spoke with excitement.

"Hey, my boyfriend's having a party on Halloween, you should totally come and bring your boyfriend. His name was Sam, right? You two are so adorable," Dinah gushed and didn't give me a chance to respond to her invitation.

"Sorry again for flirting with you, I didn't know you had a boyfriend you were exclusive with," Dinah said shyly with an embarrassed expression and yet, she herself, had a boyfriend.

"No need to apologize," I shrugged, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.

"Like you said, you didn't know."

"There's a lot Dinah doesn't know," a low voice teased from behind me.

I turned around.

A guy stood near me with a soft smile.

He had perfectly styled, gelled blonde hair.

Light hazel eyes and a small nose.

He was about the same height as me, if not an inch shorter and he wasn't in that Art class, so he must've just walked in.

"I know more than you do," Dinah claimed, matter-of-factly.

"That might be true," the guy chuckled then held out his hand for me.

"Hello. I'm Jude," he introduced himself, as his eyes scanned my body.

He was completely obvious about it.

I gave him a short nod.

"Noah," and I shook his hand.

"Noah. Hmm, I like that name," Jude smiled flirtatiously.

"Thanks. So does my boyfriend," I said with a dry, monotone voice, hoping to shut down this guy's coy attitude.

It didn't.

He chuckled, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Chill. You're pretty but I have a girlfriend."

"Do you always call the people, you've just meet, pretty?" I asked, an eyebrow raised at him.

Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

I mentioned my boyfriend and he still called me pretty?

Jude shrugged but still had a teasing grin.

"I didn't call my girlfriend pretty, when I first met her."

"Piss off," Dinah said but it seemed it was harmless banter.

Jude laughed before pulling her to him and kissing her.

'Oh.'

His hand moving down to her ass and tongue shoved him her mouth.

'Jeez.'

My eyebrows raised.

"So you're the said girlfriend," I put together as they pulled away from each other.

Jude was just messing with me.

It was weird after I figured out I was also attracted to guys, I never knew when they were flirting with me or just messing with me.

Jude had his arm around Dinah as she said...

"Since freshman year of high school," she grinned and I wondered if her boyfriend knew how much she flirted with me.

Though they seemed like the type of couple that weren't as exclusive as they might say.

"But anyway, you should come to Jude's Halloween party and bring Sam."

Then Dinah turned to Jude and explained that...

"Sam's Noah's boyfriend."

Jude looked at me.

"Yeah, definitely bring your boyfriend and whoever," he told me with a toothy grin.

Halloween was three weeks away and landed on a Saturday night, which would be perfect for Sam to come out.

"Alright. Thanks."

"Also, a couple people are coming over to my dorm tonight to drink, you should come," Dinah invited me.

Her tone was just as friendly as her smile.

I'd rather lay in bed but maybe it would be good to make some friends while I was at school.

I shrugged.

"Yeah, okay. What building are you in."

"Awesome, I'm in..." Dinah started until Jude cute her off.

"Just give me your number," he stepped closer to me.

"I'll text you time and place and everything."

I pulled out my cell-phone and handed it to him.

Jude gave me back my phone a moment later with his contact punched in.

He texted himself 'Noah' so he'd have my number.

"I'll text you," Jude told me.

********

My next class got canceled, so I was able to go home early.

I was laying in bed when I thought about calling Sam but remembered he still had school.

I checked the time on my phone, he was probably beginning lunch soon.

Sam preoccupied my mind constantly, especially with not being able to see him.

It was a different feeling, loving someone as strongly as I did Sam.

I never thought it was possible beyond the way I loved my ex-girlfriend but I realized the way I loved her couldn't compare to the way I loved Sam and Sam loved me all the same.

It was surreal.

I sighed.

I was laying in my bed, scrolling through various social medias, when I checked the time.

I had about three hours until Sam got out of school.

Then I was sure he would need at least two hours to do homework 'even if it wasn't due the following day'.

So roughly five hours until I could talk to him.

My apartment felt lonely without Sam which made me feel lonely.

I saw him the day before and I already missed him.

I missed talking to him and laying with him and touching him and kissing him.

'Ugh, what I wouldn't give to have him next to me right now.'

A thought struck me because then I felt horny thinking about all the things I'd do to him.

I stood up and went to the bathroom.

I stripped out of my clothes and when I was ready, I sent Sam a picture of my naked body.

Sam read it instantly and I wondered what expression he made when he saw the picture.

I could only imagine him blushing.

I laid back down in bed and typed out a message to go along with my picture before sending it.

And then, of course, I got off while thinking about Sam.

Fuck, I missed him.

Naughty, naughty 😈

[benetnvsch]

Time Warp Trio but Sam and Samantha are legally allowed to say Fuck. I think this would be good because they’d use it for entirely different purposes

[ares-athena]

Ck Hawk X F! Reader x Miguel

Old flames

Warnings ⚠️- a little angst in the end and swearing but that's it

Summary- your old friends from out of town come to visit and old flames reignite and secrets are revealed in the candel light

This takes place I would mid season two before middles takes a tumble off the second story

When they are all assholes and Kresse is in their head

For this to really make sense let's say you moved around the same time as Miguel and met hawk and Miguel at school

You had a lot of skeletons in the clostet from your old home

This is when you Miguel and hawk weren't exclusive

Muguel wanted to go out with Sam and hawk wanted to go out with moon

When a few of your old friends come to visit you over winter break

Miguel, hawk, aisha, and tory are all over at your place watching some lame Christmas movie to pass time by but it wasn't working

"You expect me to belive they can just bulldoze that building with people in it? That's illegal." -t

"Tory it's a shitty hallmark rom com it's not supposed to make sense." -y

Then there's a knock on the door

"This went from Christmas to holloween real quick." -a

"Shut up." -y

Miguel and hawk were going to go with you but "sit." -y

You go open the door see what the hell the girl scouts are selling this time

"Nora!"- y

You jump on your best friend

Elnora has been your longest friend

You guys met in kindergarten and had been friends ever since

"Get off me" -n

"I brought the rest of the gang" -n

"Come in there's people for you to meet."- y

"You have friends I'm shocked" -w

"Shut it will. I'm not that much of a loner." -y

"I beg to differ" -o

"Hi to you too oli." -y

You make them come to the living room where the cobra kais are

"Guys these are coria, fleur, Elora, Oliver, elijah, and William

"My friends from Indiana" -y

"Hi im coria oh god I love your hair." -c

We all know who that was directed to

"Coria hun I love you but don't talk anyone's ear off please. I just got these friends." -y

"You say that like you bought us at the store" -h

"I thought you made them up.-w

"I am really disappointed that you think I dont have social skills"

"You don't"

"Not really"

"I'm surprised you have this many friends"

You sit my miguel and hawk like before when muguel asked the dumbest question imaginable

"What was she like back in indiana?" -m

"NO. no no no no no no no."

WE are not going down memory lane today" -y

"Do they not know?" -e

"No they do not know and they don't need to know" -y

"Know what?" -h

"On a scale of 1-10 how unhinged is she?"

"I don't know like a 8" -a

"8.5 on a bad day" -t

"Thats it" -o

"Are you kidding me" -e

"This is bullshit." -c

"Where was this calm you back in indiana where we had to stop you from committing arson?" -w

"Hey that was once" -y

"Yeah once a week"-f

"Arson really." -h

"It was a long time ago." -y

"It was last year" -w

WILLIAM Shut the absolute fuck up" -y

"I wanna here more" -t

"I'm glad your laughing at my stupidity." -y

"In all fairness most of those fires were when we were all high as shit" -c

"As funny as this is we have to get home" -a

"More stories tommorow." -c

"I'll be here" -t

Hawk would take them all home

"I have a question." -o

"Yes you can all stay here tonight." -y

And the history between you, Oliver, and elijah was well known with the group and they want you guys back together

You go up to your room

"Can we bunk with you tonight? That girls are all in the second bedroom" -e

"Yeah sure" -y

The three of you were together before you left

The only reason you guys broke up was because you were moving

They knew that ans they had a feeling by the way Miguel and hawk were looking at them that they were your now boyfriends

You were in the middle of the bed elijah on your right and oliver on your left

Just like 1 year ago the last day before you moved

"We missed you" -e

"You both or the whole group?" -y

"Both" -o

That's when oliver kisses you

It's slow and sweet

Just like your last

And elijah is making himself at home in your neck

Until he sees the hickeys from Miguel and hawk

You pull away from oliver

"Those two assholes are your new boys now" -e

"E you don't eli and Miguel." -y

"Why'd you kiss me back then" -o

"We aren't exclusive" -y

"Then they don't want you"- e

And now your kissing elijah like your life depends on it

Oliver leaving New and darker hickeys on your neck for your new boys to find

While coria was at the door taking a picture

That night ends with you tangled in the sheets with your former lovers

And your current ones blowing up your phone wondering about the mystery boys

Miguel and hawk knew there was something going on

They just had a gut feeling

In the morning the four cobra kais went back to house and you and your last night lovers were still asleep

Elnora and Fluer were talking to tory and aisha telling them stories about you

Corina was in the living room with hawk and Miguel

"Where is y/n" -h

"Upstairs sleeping with Oliver and elijah"- c

"They slept in her room?" -m

They knew it

They knew something was up with those too

"They did a lot more than sleep." -c

"Honestly if y/n never moved the three of them wouldn't have broken up." -c

Based on their faces coria knew something was up

"Whats up with you two? Y/n in a new relationship or something?" -c

"Yeah or something." -m

They were about to ask coria more questions when the three of you woke up to join the party

Miguel grabbed you hand

"We need to talk." -h

They dragged you back to your room

Locking the door

"What the hell is wrong with you?" -H

"Like seriously" -h

"What are you on about now" -y

"You fucking your exes as soon as we leave" -m

"How do you know about that?" -y

"Don't worry about it why are you with them when we were calling and texting you all goddamn night" -h

"Last I checked we weren't fucking exclusive so why does it bother you so much?" -y

"Bacuse your ours no one else's." -m

"Thats hypocritical."-y

"We wanted to be exclusive thats why we came over this morning to see you." -h

"Bullshit." -y

"I am tired of this attitude" -m

Hawk pins you on the bed

Miguel is on top of you

"Your ours not your fucking exes understand." -m

Hawk whispers in your ear "we fuck you better anyway"

"Did you ask the girls I was screaming all night" -y

It was an exaggeration but if it riled them both up you were up for it

"Really" -m

"Lets really make you lose your voice then" -m

Needless to say they proved they were better

They spent all day learning more about your past which you hated

"What about the 17?" -w

"No I draw the line at the 17" -y

"I thought it was 20?" -c

"I think it was 20" -f

"20 what?" -t

"NOTHING" -y

"The 20 were people y/n here had a crush on" -e

"I'm sorry you had a crush on 20 people at once" -m

"Maybe" -y

"And people were always adding to it" -w

That went on all night

Everyone spent a night that night

When you, hawk and Miguel were in your room oliver and elijah came in to talk to you

"Y/n/n we need to talk" -o

"What"-y

"Alone" -e

"If you have something to say to her say here" -h

"This doesn't concern you so keep your goddamn mouth shut" -o

"If it has something to do with our girlfriend it does concern the both of us" -m

"So what your exclusive now what the hell was last night y/n?" -o

"Last night was a mistake" -y

"A mistake my ass" -e

"You know what you know our numbers call us when you come to your senses were leaving in the morning" -o

They walk out

Your past just walked out the door

And your present is standing right in front of you

[loserchildhotpants]

Destiel prompt from Twitter; kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, even though, it’s a lie, and the kiss proves it (from this prompt list)

“I’m just saying that I don’t think you’d get this defensive if there really wasn’t anything between you two -”

“There isn’t, and I’m not getting defensive!” Dean argues, decidedly defensively.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Sam offers with a shrug and a smirk.

Staring down into the open grave the boys are in, Castiel glances between the brothers and tilts his head, wondering if perhaps by a different angle, he may better understand what their expressions mean.

“We’re bonded or whatever - that’s it, man! There’s nothing else going on!”

“I’m not even saying there is anything ‘going on,’ I’m just saying there could be, and if that were something you wanted -”

“I’m not qu -”

“I know, I get it, I hear you, humor me for a second, okay? All I’m saying is just - if there were something between you two, and you wanted there to be something ‘going on,’ where there is currently nothing ‘going on,’ I just think you should, hypothetically go for something rather than settling for the nothing, because, personally, I think there is something there, and you could have a great thing going if that were what you wanted.”

“Even if - which I don’t - I’m not - listen, though, okay? I’m not, and I don’t want that - not that there’s anything wrong with it, or something, just - even if that were the case, Cas isn’t like that. He’s not a being that experiences shit like that -”

“I’m telling you you’re wrong, Dean! The way he stares at you -”

“He stares at everyone!”

“Do I?”

The Winchesters jump in unison, both with hands on their guns faster than should be possible. They both visibly relax again, though, when they realize it’s only Castiel interrupting.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean greets, his voice markedly more gentle than it was with Sam only a moment before.

Castiel appreciates it.

“Hello, Dean.”

With a cheeky grin, Sam clears his throat, and says to Cas, “your timing couldn’t be better, actually, Cas - Dean and I have some questions -”

“No, no, we do not have questions,” Dean growls at Sam, eyes blazing dangerously.

“I am always available to you boys for whatever inquiries I can assist in. Is this pertaining to my staring? It’s academic in nature, I assure you - frankly, I am used to having a form that hosts many more eyes; being in this Earthly form can present obstacles, as my perceptions are more limited than I can remember them ever being. I promise I do not mean to insult anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone’s thinking of it as an insult,” Sam intones; Dean shoves his elbow into Sam’s kidney to shut him up.

“This is you being defensive, by the way,” Sam wheezes, doubled over, but still smirking at Dean, “What’s the big deal if there’s nothing going on?”

Flushed, Dean scowls at Sam, drops his shovel, and tells him, “I’m not being defensive! There’s nothing to be defensive about! And I’ll prove it!”

Clambering out of the grave, Dean brushes the soil from his hands onto his dirtier jeans, and stomps more than walks up to Castiel.

“You’ve a cut,” Cas murmurs worriedly, spotting a knick Dean got on his cheek earlier in the day.

“It’s nothing. Listen, Cas -”

Before Dean can get anymore out, Castiel reaches for his left-side cheek, cups that side of his face, and spreads a cooling sensation that knits the skin back together neatly and cleanly.

“Uh - thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters gruffly as Cas takes his hand back.

“My pleasure, Dean.”

Uncharacteristically nervous, Dean glances down at the ground, his hands shoved in his jean pockets, then his eyes skim the ground until they happen upon Sam’s again, and whatever silent exchange they have works Dean up again.

“Cas,” Dean begins, looking into his eyes with determination, “We’re friends, you ‘n me, right?”

“Yes, Dean. You are my most cherished friend,” Castiel answers.

That gives Dean a moment’s pause where he seems to be searching Castiel’s face for some sign of sarcasm or deceit; there is none to be detected, of course.

“I - thanks, man. Uhm. Now - this is gonna sound like a weird question, but bear with me, ‘cause I’m not about to assume consent or something.”

“Okay,” Castiel says in confusion, tilting his head again.

“I’m tryin’a prove a point here to Sam, and to get it across - just - would you be okay with me kissing you? Like, just this once - I promise I won’t make it weird or anything, but I gotta ask, you know? I know you’re not into physical stuff like -”

“You’d like my permission to kiss?” Castiel intercepts neutrally, “Like people do?”

Something about that is funny - or startling? - to both Sam and Dean, and Castiel can’t tell which or for what reasons.

“Yeah. Just this one time,” Dean repeats.

Though he takes a respectable count of four seconds to seem as though he needs to consider his options, Castiel nods, and replies, “of course, Dean. Of all the favors you’ve asked of me before, I assure this is certainly the most convenient and pleasant of them.”

Sam snorts a laugh, Dean tosses a glare at him, and then settles gentle, if a little nervous, eyes back on Castiel.

“Okay…”

Dean steps closer into Cas’ space, bringing them toe-to-toe and he finds himself staring down; he’d not realized Cas was shorter than him. It’s not by much, not really enough to be remarked upon, even, but it means that Cas winds up looking up at him from under the cover of long, dark lashes, and even in the dark of the night, his eyes shine like twinkling gems.

Swallowing with some difficulty, Dean holds loosely onto the lapels of Cas’ trench coat, and he means to go in chaste, he really does, it’s just that he’s actually struggling to breathe a little, so his lips are just barely parted, and Cas - as far as Dean can tell, Cas takes that as a cue.

Because Cas’ full lips press in, but so does his tongue; before Dean can even secure his footing, Cas makes his loose hold on the lapels go tight, licking up into Dean’s mouth without hesitation or mercy.

Praying his shocked gasp wasn’t audible to Sam, Dean just tries to hold on while Cas turns his head, bites Dean’s heavy bottom lip, and then pushes Dean’s mouth more open with his own, and then he drags his hot tongue against Dean’s, coming in broad, and soft.

Dean hears himself make some kind of noise - he can’t tell what it is, because there’s too much blood rushing in his skull - there’s stubble. Stubble. There is stubble in this equation other than his own, and that’s new, and terrifying, and should be wholly unwelcome, but every synapse in his brain dedicated to pleasure is telling him otherwise.

One wide hand insinuates itself under the hem of Dean’s weathered flannel, calloused fingers pressing into his left hip possessively while the other hand glides over his pec, and shoulder to the back of his neck, pinky finger teasing the sensitive skin just under the back of his cotton collar, and thumb brushing the fine hairs at the base of Dean’s skull.

Dean thinks he may be swaying - he’s dizzy.

Cas is dragging him closer, pressing their hips and abdomens together, and Dean’s hands have somehow found better purchase on the front of Cas’ button-down dress shirt than his lapels.

Dean thinks he hears one of the buttons pop off with the strain of his hold, but neither of them seem inclined to do anything about it, so he figures it doesn’t matter; he tries to establish himself as a bit more dominant, thrown off his usual groove by the absolutely sinful way Cas apparently kisses.

To Dean’s simultaneous horror and delight, Cas doesn’t relinquish any control; he won’t be moved, his hands get tighter and hotter where they touch Dean’s skin, he only presses them harder together, and he kisses Dean like he wants to eat him alive.

He kisses Dean like he wants to crawl inside him, like he’s hungry - starved - like kissing is an act of carnage just as much as an act of love, like those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

He’d rather die than admit it to anyone, but Dean’s knees get a little weak, and Cas basically holds up his entire weight by just the grip he’s got on Dean’s waist.

Before he knows it’s happened, Dean’s hard enough to carve stone, and Cas readjusts how they’re slotted against one another to better accommodate Dean’s failing balance, and Cas feels it - he must. Even if he doesn’t feel how hard Dean is against him right away, the guttural moan Dean will deny having made til his dying breath clues him in.

What sounds like hundreds of cherry bombs going off has them stumbling away from each other, and frantically looking about.

The streetlights have exploded. There’s glass everywhere, and based on the echoes of car alarms and distant voices, it’s becoming more and more possible that Cas destroyed the windows and lights of several cars and nearby homes.

Even he and Sam’s flashlights are busted.

In the blanket of darkness that’s settled over the graveyard, Dean can still see clearly, because Cas’ eyes are high beams cutting through the fog of the night.

They’re both panting, Dean’s pretty certain that a resting heart rate isn’t meant to feel like this, and Cas is looking positively feral.

“Jesus fuck!” Sam curses, his arms crossed over his head where he still plucks a shard of glass from his hair.

Reminded of Sam’s presence, Castiel’s head swivels to him, the glow of his eyes dims down, and then he looks back at Dean, visibly frightened.

Dean takes no pleasure in Cas ever being scared, so he reaches out, takes a step back into Cas’ space, but that spooks him more, and in less than a blink of an eye, he’s gone.

Not cool, Cas, Dean thinks loudly, hoping it counts as a prayer that Cas will hear.

Reaching into the front of his jeans, Dean uses the near blackness of the power outage to his advantage, and readjusts himself to the best of his abilities.

It really doesn’t do much.

“Well,” Sam starts pointedly.

Dean, weak at the knees, lips criminally swollen, face flushed, hair mussed and harder than he’s ever been in his life, turns slowly to scowl at Sam.

“That was not nothing.”

Dean doesn’t see a way of winning the argument, so he kicks dirt into Sam’s hair, and leaves him to finish burying.

[kakejiszka]

Studio Fun

This is my first Jake smut, hope you enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: contains lots of smut, you have been warned.

After changing at least six times, you still hadn't chosen among the three set of clothes that were lying on your bed, surrounded by several other pieces of clothing that together created a mess in your entire room, that smelled like citrus, makeup and despair.

You couldn't help but tremble with anxiety at the sight of yourself in your lingerie in the mirror, after all, the occasion you were dressing for was unprecedented. Should you wear a fancy dress? A slutty short skirt? A rocker leather jacket?

You had hit the jackpot: after a few weeks going out with Jake, he had finally invited you to meet the studio where he and his band rehearsed every week. And furthermore, you would meet his brother Josh and Sam and their friend Danny for the first time. You were nervous, as shit was starting to get serious.

Jake was living rent free in your head. Since the first time you saw him, your standards for men had never been the same, after all, no one could surpass his beauty, talent and charisma. To top it all, he was so romantic: on the three times you went out together, he managed to surprise you even with the simplest things. On your first date, you had coffee together, but he gifted you white roses. On the second date, you two took a walk around the town and he held your hand the entire time. On the third date, where it's socially acceptable to have sex, he took you to a super fancy restaurant with wonderful food. You even wore a beatiful black dress and made sure to wear your best lingerie. But, despite taking you home and kissing you by the door (for the first time), that was it. Maybe he was shy, maybe he wasn't ready, but you couldn't help but feeling a bit disappointed for not spending the night with him.

You chose the skirt. If there was even the smallest chance of you seducing him that day, you were willing to try. You finished the look with a black tank top, which was so tight you didn't feel the need to wear a bra, an oversized jeans jacket and black boots. You applied some eyeliner and mascara.

You called an Uber to the address Jake had texted you and quickly you arrived. Your phone vibrated in your jacket's pocket. "Be there in 15" his text said. You felt your legs tremble during the whole time you spent waiting for him, which seemed like an eternity. Despite all his qualities, it wasn't new to you that Jake Kizka's worst flaw was that he was always late.

You noticed the studio: it was very big and it seemed like a place full of quality equipment. The street where it was located was full of different records and musical instruments stores, what made you realize you were in a part in town where you could find everything that was music-related. As you waited for him, all the thoughts in the world were crossing your mind: what if he's not so into me? What if his brothers don't like me? What am I doing here? What kind of idea was this? Do I still have time to go back home?

"Hey!" you were surprised by a familiar voice behind you.

"Jake!" you said, nervousness resonating in your voice.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, giggling.

"No, I'm okay, it's just that..." you didn't even have to finish what you were saying so that he could understarnd the situation.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, they will love to meet you."

Jake gave you his hand and you held it, now feeling much safer and calmer than before.

You two entered the studio and followed through a long dark hallway. The walls were painted black and were full of band posters and stickers. There were other rooms there and you could hear other bands rehearsing inside them. Jake guided you to the end of the hallway where a small set of stairs took you to the second floor.

For your surprise, there weren't other rooms on the second floor like there were on the first floor. It was a single room entirely, where you could find everything: a big couch, a frigo, technical equipment for recording, vending machines, snooker table, a mini bar, all sorts of things...

A section of the room was isolated by a thick glass wall. Inside it, the walls were covered in acoustic panels and the room was filled with many amplifiers, pedals, instruments and a bunch of other things you didn't know what were called were there.

Lying on the couch were Danny, Sam and Josh, waiting for Jake.

"Goddamnit, finally!" Josh shouted "we waited for like an hour!"

"I was getting ready for her" Jake answered, smirking and pulling you close to him by your waist. You couldn't hide the embarassment on your face.

"What a fancy studio!" you said, trying to change the subject "I didn't know you rehearsed in such a cool place."

"It wasn't always like this, ya know" Josh said while standing up and putting his hands in his pockets "we started playing at our house, but it was starting to get too noisy for miss Karen" he laughed.

"It's true, we had to look for cheap studios, but it was hard to find anything in a small town like Frankenmuth" Sam said.

You all talked a bit and, fortunately, the boys were all very nice. You felt very welcomed by Josh's sense of humor, Sam's big smile and Danny's kindness.

After you got to know them, they entered the acoustic room and started rehearsing. You sat on the couch to watch them and, although you were scared to feel bored, you had a lot of fun with the private show they were performing for you.

You couldn't take your eyes off Jake. What he did to the guitar was phenomenal, sexy and even pornographic. The way he slowly slid his hand over the guitar's neck while sweat drops fell on his forehead were making you cross your legs a bit too hard over the couch.

He noticed you were staring at him and smiled at you through the glass, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarassment. You must have been making a funny face, because he giggled at the sight of you.

After two or three hours of rehearsal, they were done. Although the air-conditioning was making you shiver, they left the room all sweaty. Josh, Sam and Danny went to the frigo to get some beer. Jake went there as well, but he made sure to get one for you too.

"Did you like to watch the rehearsal?" Jake asked, offering you an already open Corona bottle.

"I loved it!" you said, getting the bottle from his hand and taking a sip.

"I was scared you would get bored" he said while he sat by your side on the couch and opened his bottle.

"How could I? I felt very special for watching such an exclusive show!" you said, making him laugh.

For the first time, you noticed what he was wearing: a dark purple silk shirt with the buttons opened showing his chest, as he always wore them. He had tight black cuffed pants and brown boots. On his neck, some long necklaces that reached the middle of his bare chest, and on his wrists a few bracelets. His style was casual and attractive, but goddamn, he looked so fucking hot.

The rest of the day was very fun. You two drank together and talked a lot, what got you even closer to each other. Josh, Sam and Danny played snooker and drank a lot, until they decided to leave.

There were only you and Jake, that were now a bit tipsy and still had a lot to talk about. You noticed that, although you two had already went out before, this was the first time you talked this much. When you realized, you were physically very close: your legs were resting over Jake's left leg and his hand was caressing the back of your head. Your index finger was circling around Jake's bare chest. He looked so great in that shirt.

"Do you wanna see something?" he excitedly asked. You, curious as you were, immediately answered:

"Sure."

Jake stood up and walked towards the platform where there was a panel with a billion different buttons you had no idea were for. After pressing and regulating some of them, he made a sign with his fingers invinting you to join him.

"What does that thing do?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Everything" he playfully answered.

"Everything what?" you asked again, laughing impatiently.

"This is the sound mixer, where we can control everything inside the acoustic room. Bass, treble, autotune, tuning, echo, volume... and so on" while he patiently explained to you, you admired him. He would get so excited when talking about music.

"Wow" you responded, without taking your eyes off his.

"Wanna try it out?" he asked.

"What? Are you serious?" you almost spit the liquid of the forth or fifth beer bottle you were having that day.

"Very serious" he said, looking deep in your eyes.

"Okay then..."

"Put this on" he said, grabbing the two headphones thar were lying on the table over the mixer and handing one over to you.

You did as he said and Jake left you responsible for the sound mixer and ran inside the acoustic room, almost tripping due to his light state of inebriation.

"What is he doing?" you quietly asked yourself.

He shut the door of the acoustic room and got one of the 6 or 7 guitars that were inside. After that, he put on the headphones that he brought with him to the room, turned on the microphone that was resting over a tripod and said:

"Can you hear me?"

The sound came out so loud in your headphones that you got scared and jumped, almost turning deaf. After that, you laughed a lot and so did he.

"How do I turn this thing down?" you asked him, screaming so he could hear you through the glass wall.

"Slide the red button down, on your right. Oh, and you don't have to scream, on your left there's a microphone that's meant for you to talk to me while I'm inside, just hold its button down."

You did as he told you to and laughed at yourself, feeling silly for not knowing how to use those things.

"There. Can I do what I want here?"

"Yeah!" he answered.

Jake started playing a random melody and you played with the sounds, having fun like a child. Distorting, increasing and decreasing the echoes, you two laughing like fools.

When you had enough fun, Jake spoke on the microphone again.

"Did you know this room has an almost perfect acoustic insulation?"

"Almost perfect? Like, no one can hear from the outside?" you said while pressing the mic's button and arching a brow, without believing him.

"Exactly" he said, putting his guitar away "I can scream as loud as I want here, no one will listen. Wanna try it?"

"How do I do that?" you asked, searching for the function among the million buttons on the sound mixer panel.

"Just turn the volume down, all of it."

And so you did. As you turned the volume down, it was getting harder and harder to hear what he said, until you couldn't hear a word. He only realized you couldn't hear him when he saw the surprise on your face, caused by the magic of the acoustic room. You could tell by his facial expression that he was laughing, and you laughed as well.

He made a gesture with his hand, like he asked you if you could hear him. You answered through the mic:

"I can't hear anything! This is amazing!"

He smiled and made another gesture, as if he was inviting you to the acoustic room. You quickly removed your earphones and walked to the door, thinking it would be your turn to stay there as he played with the sound.

When you opened the door, Jake immediately pulled you inside and shut the door with both of you inside. Then, he pressed you against the wall, pinning both of your wrists against it over your head.

You couldn't help but feeling surprised, after all, Jake had never acted like this before. He had always been romantic and careful, so you were pretty curious about his sudden dominating attitude.

He approached his face to yours, whispering close to your ear:

"Wanna test the acoustic of the room's acoustics?"

His tone was everything but innocent. You finally understood where he was getting to, so you decided to play his game.

"How can we test it?" you answered, faking innocence, and he smiled at your acting. So he put his leg in the middle of yours, gently rubbing his thigh against your groin and pressing you even harder agains the foamy wall.

"We can try it the best way possible."

After he said it, he kissed you deeply. His hands let go of your wrists and slowly slid down your arms, all the way to your neck. One of his hands held the back of your head and the other choked you slightly, but strong enough to make breathing a little harder. Your arms, now free of his grip, curled arould his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

The kiss was getting hotter. You felt the hand that held your neck go down to your waist, and the hand on the back of your head gently pull your hair, bringing your head back and making you moan softly. Jake stopped kissing you and smirked, watching your pleasure face.

"They might see us through the glass!" you said, but he didn't pay much attention as he immediately returned to kiss your lips.

"I don't care" he answered, and although it was a bit scary, the fear of getting caught was also thrilling and exciting.

Your neck was completely exposed now, inviting Jake's silky lips which left soft kisses on your skin, making their way to your ear lobes where he gently nibbled. It sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps on your skin, something Jake noticed and made sure to show he enjoyed.

"You like this, huh?" he whispered in your ear. You nodded with a small moan, still a little overwhelmed by the situation, but certainly enjoying it.

Jake went back to kissing your neck, now a little faster. The tiny threads of growing beard on his jaw scratched your face, the sensation was even more arousing. You were so focused on that that only later you realized that his hand wasn't on your waist anymore, but was grabbing your ass.

Your body was warm, but you had chills. The mix of sensations Jake was causing on you gave you so much pleasure, but at the same time it was torturous. It wasn't enough, you wanted more and he knew that, but he wanted to keep you waiting.

Jake put both on his hands on your ass, squeezing it hard and making you moan softly. But after a short period, you felt his hands leave the place, which surprised you. Only then you realized he was taking off your jeans jacket and tossing in on the floor. The black tank top you were wearing left your collarbone and your shoulders exposed, which was exactly what Jake's lips were looking for. But before he went back to what he was doing, he took a good look at your newly exposed body part. His eyes traveled from your face to your breasts and there they stood, what got you a little embarassed.

"You're so hot, did you know that?" he whispered, staring even harder at your cleavage and then at your eyes. You smiled and blushed. The way he said those things made you feel a way no other man had ever managed to do to you. "You don't have to feel ashamed..." he said, smirking at your reaction.

His lips met yours again, but only for a short period of time. They quickly moved to your collarbone. His hands were now were wandering around your whole body, moving from your neck to your shoulders, back, waist and ass, as if he was desperate to feel you. Which was amazing, because you were eager to feel his hands all over you.

You also wanted to feel him, so you did as he did: you took one of your hands to the back of his hand and slightly pulled back some of his long brown hair, what made him moan and smile in response. Your other hand traveled through his chest, gently dragging your nails around the small part of exposed skin. My god, he looked so hot in that purple jacket. The only way he could look hotter than that would be without it.

You started to slowly unbutton the shirt, which made him stop kissing you and look at you with a naughty smirk.

"So much hurry!" he giggled.

"You take mine off, I take yours, that's how it works" you answered, winking at him.

He helped you take off his shirt and toss it on the floor, next to your jacket. You enjoyed the view of his shirtless body, staring at it just like he did to you before, sliding your nails and digging them on his torso. He held your hand over his chest, looking deep into your eyes. you were expecting him to say something nasty, but instead he just went back to kissing you, now even more intensely.

He embraced your waist and pulled you closer to him, as if it were possible. Then, his hands slowly moved upwards, passing through your waist and reaching your breasts. He squeezed them softly, making you moan. Your skin, that was already shivered, got even more chills under his touch. You weren't wearing a bra, which made your nipples appear through your shirt. Jake noticed and liked it, since he touched and tweaked them over the thin cloth. At this moment, you were already wet and impacient, but you were only getting a small portion of Jake's sexual expertise.

"Jake..." you moaned in agony between his kisses, suffering with his touches over your clothes. Although it was very hot, the throbbing sensation in your groin was starting to feel unbearable and painful.

"I know, babe" he answered, resting his forehead on yours, without ceasing to fondle your breasts "you're eager, but I'm only getting started."

Hearing that made the situation of your arousal even worse, to the point where if he decided to just lift your skirt and fuck you at that moment you wouldn't even feel pain, so horny and ready you were. He went back to kissing you, never letting your breasts go. But suddenly, you felt him pull your shirt up and reveal your stomach.

He kept on pulling it, enough that your breasts dropped down from your top, due to how tight it was. He watched that pornographic scene without blinking, dazzled. Rapidly he went back to fondling your breasts, only now he took his lips to one of your nipples.

He sucked it gently, making you let go a pleasurable moan. Glad with your reaction, he kept on sucking it, sometimes licking, nibbling and kissing. He moved to the right breast, but without stopping to give attention to the left one, playing with the nipple with his thumb. The saliva he left on the thin skin of your nipple in contact with the air made you feel a little bit cold, but it gave you pleasure.

Jake took his time there, enjoying the sensation he was causing you. You, on the other hand, dig your nails a bit deeper all over his back, feeling his skin also get goosebumps.

Jake finishing sucking your nipples and went back to kissing your lips. He took off your top with a bit of hurry, tossing it on the floor and then pulling you closer to him by your waist. His hands were now back on your ass, but now he started to lift your skirt.

"This short skirt of yours... I spent the whole day thinking about lifting it and fucking you" he said, holding the cloth with the tip of his fingers and raising it slowly. The fingers that lifted the fabric softly scratched your thighs and your hip, making you shiver.

Jake saying those things made your legs tremble with pleasure. You didn't know how good it felt to hear that dirty-talk until it was Jake whispering it to you.

"I wore it thinking about it" you answered, what made him smile in a sexy and predatory way at the same time.

When he lifted your skirt high enough, he slid his right hand over your thigh. He gently slid back and forth towards your groin, torturing you with the desire of his touch. He looked you deep in the eyes with a serious expression, like he was in control of the situation. When you couldn't stand the teasing anymore, he caressed your pussy over your panties.

"Wow, you're soaking wet... I didn't know it was that easy to make you horny, baby."

You looked at him, almost not believing what you had just heard. After half an hour of teasing, he thought it was easy?

"Jake, please..." you moaned in desperation as he now rubbed your clit over the thin lacy fabric.

"I know, love, I'll give you what you want."

Jake pulled your panties down and slid his index finger between your fold, reaching your clit. You were so wet it was slippery inside you, making his job even easier. He then started to rub your clit in slow and circle motions.

You let go a fairly loud moan and, out of embarassment, you covered your mouth with your hand. He took your hand out of your mouth and pinned it against the wall behind you.

"Moan all you want, no one's gonna hear us. Moan loud for me."

And so you did. The harder he rub your clit, the more pleasure you felt and the more you moaned in his ear. He, who was also feeling pleasure, had his lips parted, watching you squirm against the wall.

Jake increased the speed with which he masturbated you, driving you insane. But you also wanted to torture him. Therefore, catching him by surprise, you took your hand to the huge bulge in his pants. He wasn't expecting that, but he enjoyed it.

You stroked his cock, that was very enhanced outside his pants. You were surprised with its lenght.

"You did this to me" he said, grabbing your hand and rubbing it harder against his dick.

But you didn't last for too long, since Jake's expertise in masturbating you was making your legs shake so you couldn't concentrate in anything but your own pleasure. You kept on moaning ach time louder until your orgasm finally hit. The pulsation made you almost scream.

You couldn't help but feel a little embarassed, but the look on his face comforted you and made you realize there was nothing to be ashamed of, since the man was clearly enjoying it.

He removed his fingers from your pussy and licked them. what made you feel another throb of pleasure. Next, he deeply kissed you.

"Fuck, your moans are so hot" he whispered in your ear. You couldn't answer him, since you were still recovering your breath.

Although you didn't say a word, you went back to stroking his erection. Gladly, he let you masturbate him over his clothes, torturing him as he had done to you.

"It's your turn to suffer" you said, and he smirked in response.

"This is nothing, I've been suffering since I first saw you in those tight clothes, your tits almost bursting out of that small top of yours. It was hard to hide how hard I was" he answered, gently pulling your hair behind your back so he could delight himself again with the sight of your naked breasts.

You rolled your eyes, giggling. He always had an answer on the tip of his tongue. But the fact that he said he got an erection only by looking at your cleavage made you feel powerful and sexy.

You kept masturbating him over the thick fabric of his pants, watching him twitch out of pleasure. After a few minutes, you removed his leather belt, tossing it on the floor together with the rest of your clothes. Next, he unzipped his pants himselft and lowered it a little, just enough so that you could see the bulge on his boxers. You could see the tip of his cock, since it had scaped the prison of its tight black fabric, which was already wet with his precum.

You licked your lips at the sight of his rigid cock. You wanted to suck it, but you would make him wait, just like he did to you. You stroked it over his underwear, which was way thinner and allowed you to move up and down much more easily. Jake was panting, anticipation taking over both of your bodies.

When he couldn't stand it anymore, he grabbed your hand and put it inside his underwear, surprising you.

"Couldn't handle it?" you laughed.

"I need to feel you" he murmured, almost out of breath.

So you masturbated him, now inside his underwear. You started off slowly, gently touching the tip of his cock with your thumb. It was wet with eagerness. You then started to move more quickly, but the fabric of his underwear was making the job a little difficult, so you impaciently pulled it down, completely revealing his penis. Now that you could see it completely, you masturbated him even faster.

You looked at his face saw the expression of pure pleasure, small groans escaping from his mouth. You smirked and he smirked back, pleased with how much fun you were having while touching him so intimately. You then looked back at his cock and realized you couldn't take it any longer: you had to suck him off.

When he noticed you were getting down on your knees, his eyes widened up in anticipation. Knowing what was about to happen, he helped you take off his pants and underwear and took off his shoes, tossing it all on the floor. Then, he grabbed all of your hair and held it tightly in the back of your head, not letting any strand of it get in the way of you doing your job, but at the same time being able to mildly control your movements.

You slowly licked his entire shaft from the base to the tip, making him shiver and moan. Next, you placed your lips around its head, gently sliding his whole cock inside your mouth. When it reached your throat you gagged, but you kept going. Starting off with slow movements and then increasing the speed, sometimes licking, sometimes kissing, sometimes harder, sometimes easier, sometimes just masturbating it while you gathered some air. With one hand you stimulated it, with the other you grabbed his butt. You looked him in the eyes, knowing he was enjoying it. His pleasure facial expression was incredible, only making you want to suck him even more.

You kept going, so eagerly you reached a very high speed, but it didn't last long. He gently pushed your head away from his cock and pulled you up, asking you to stand up.

"If you keep going like that, I won't stand for long, babygirl..." he murmured, catching some air.

"Sorry, I guess I got carried away..." you said while wiping your lips with your hand, making him giggle.

"Don't ever apologize for giving me the best head I've ever got."

Jake gave you a deep and sloppy kiss. Next, he is the one who went on his knees.

Jake laid kisses on your chin, neck, the middle of your breasts, your tummy and, after taking off your skirt and your boots and throwing them on the floor, he kissed your groin. Your body shivered in anticipation, nervous with what was about to happen.

Jake lifted one of your legs up and laid it over his shoulder, in a way he could be face-to-face to your entrance.

Before he got started, he looked up deep into your eyes, grinned and held your hip firmly with one of his hands, while the other squeezed the thigh that laid on his shoulder so tightly you had marks of it the day after.

Jake touched his tongue gently on your entrance, spreading your lips allowing his to explore your pussy. His hot and wet tongue in contact with your soaking folds sent shivers through your whole body, and several others followed it when he started to lick your clit.

The sensation was even better than the one he caused you with his fingers. Which was surprising, since he was a guitar player, you always thought he would be better with his hands. Turns out Jake Kiszka was god with incredible with string instruments and even more skilled in pleasing a lady.

He kept licking your clit, now harder. You, who were already having trouble standing on one leg while getting your pussy eaten like that, reached a tripod that stood nearby, dropping the microphone from it. Your other hand grabbed his light brown hair tightly between your fingers, trying to hold up to something and not lose grip from reality. You two were making a mess in the studio but you didn't mind, for he continued to go down on you and you kept moaning as loud as you could.

But it didn't stop there.

Jake slowly inserted his index finger inside you. You felt your walls clench around his finger as he moved it up and down, hitting your g-spot so easily you regretted not doing this earlier. The mix of sensations his tongue on your clit and his finger inside you were causing on you combined drove you insane. At this point, you were moaning so loudly you completely forgot where you two were. Your eyes were closed and all you could say was Jake's name between groans and breaths.

Jake inserted another finger and started to estimulate you really rapidly, as fast as he was sucking on your clit. Your pleasure had become unbearable and your second orgasm hit like a tsunami, wetting even more your folds and Jake's tongue. Although you had shown him he could stop so you two could move on, he didn't want to. He didn't stop, never allowing your orgasm to reach its end and making your legs shake uncontrollably.

When he thought he had enough he started to slow his movements down, for your relief. When he finally stopped, he laid a soft kiss on your wet entrance as a demonstration of affection and stood up, immediately kissing your lips making you taste your own bitter juices.

"You taste so delicious" he whispered between your lips "I can't get enough of it."

You two kissed once more, now more romanticaly and tenderly. When you two finally caught some breath, you looked at each other and smiled, excited with what was about to happen next.

He then grabbed your hair very firmly, bringing goosebumps to your skin. Next, he whispered in your ear:

"Are you sure you want it?" he asked, you thought it was sweet of him to ask for verbal consent.

"Yeah" you answered, embarassingly anxious.

"Then ask for it."

As he said it, he turned you over, making you face and lean against the wall, your back completely exposed to him. He still had his hand holding your hair very tightly. You moan at his dominance.

He bent you over in a way your ass was tilted up for him. He enjoyed the sight of it, caressing and squeezing it really hard. Next, he rubbed his hard cock over your entrance. You arched your back even more, feeling exposed like that felt hot and thrilling. The sensation of his entire lenght rubbing against your wet folds was torturous.

"Ask for it" he repeated impaciently.

"F-fuck me" you stuttered, nervously enjoying him telling you what to do.

"I can't hear you" he rubbed his cock against you even harder.

"Fuck me, goddamnit!" you shouted, feeling obligated to put all shame aside to please that wonderful bossy man.

"Good" he said in a husky voice, seeming pleased.

Jake finally put the tip of his cock inside you, slowly so your walls could adjust to his size. It wasn't necessary to wait for too long, since you were so horny and ready that he slipped right in. When his entire lenght slid inside you, you felt chills run from your neck to your back. Finally feeling Jake inside you was incredible.

Jake started to fuck you, increasing the speed bit by bit. You impaciently start to move your hips in his direction, showing him he could go faster.

"Oh, you want more, you slut?" he asked, squeezing and then slapping your ass, what would leave a red mark on the next day.

"Yeah..." you moan.

Jake then did as you asked, increasing the speed. You were now fucking really hard, his cock moving in and out of you at a rapid pace. The pressure of his shaft hitting deep into you gave you so much pleasure your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, and your moans had become screams.

Jake slapped your ass again. The pain was intense but extremely hot. He, looking for more pleasure, pulled your hair back even more while his other hand reached one of your breasts, which shook due to the harsh movements you were making. Jake's groans were low, but vibrant and rough. He moaned your name while gasping for air.

"Your pussy feels so tight, so good."

Then, for your surprise, he got out of you. You turned over to him to see what was going on, but he pulled you to the floor before you could say anything. He lied on the floor and placed you on top of him, then putting his arms under his head and laying down, enjoying the view of your completely naked body on top of his.

"Ride me" he commanded, and you obeyed without question.

You began to ride him, getting used to the position before doing it faster. As soon as you managed to find balance, you started to ride him really quickly. That position hit different a different spot inside you, and you could see by Jake's expression that it hit different for him too.

You were fucking him so hard Jake was cursing between his breaths. He put one of his hands on your butt to guide the movements as he wanted to and the other hand on your right breast, holding it and squeezing it. You two kept that position for a while, looking deep in each other's eyes, chills running through your spines.

Jake wanted to change positions again, laying you under him. For the first time you could feel how harsh the carpet felt under your soft skin, only then remembering the place the two of you were. But that didn't matter. Jake leaned on his knees and pulled one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder and going back to fuck you again.

That position was taking you to heaven, what seemed impossible. To make it even better, Jake began to estimulate your clit with his thumb while he slid his cock in and out of you. At that moment, any drop of sanity that you still had disappeared.

"Yes!" you moaned, biting your lower lip.

"Fuck!" he hissed, sweat running down his beautiful face.

He kept fucking you in that position, which didn't take long to make you come for the third time in a row. Your orgasm made you scream and moan his name for the millionth time that afternoon, and that was driving him insane.

"I'm gonna cum" he said, increasing the speed with which he fucked you, not allowing your orgasm to end. The noise your hips crashing against each other was so loud it filled the room.

Jake reached his limit, letting his fluids fill you up inside. You, still experiencing your multiple orgasms, enjoyed the sensation the hot liquid mixed with the bliss caused you. The two of you began to slow the pace, until you fully stopped. Jake laid over you, without pulling out. You two were dripping in sweat, his hair all messy and glued to his forehead.

The both of you stood there for a while, catching your breath. He caressed your hair and you stroked his back. When you could finally breathe again, Jake looked you in the eye and you both giggled in complicity.

Jake pulled out and lied next to you on the carpet while holding your hand.

"This was..." he said.

"Wow..." you said.

You two laughed for having spoken at the same time. You two stood there for a long time, staring each other in the eyes. His dark brown eyes sparkled with joy and both of you were enjoying the serotonin the intimate moment you two had just shared produced, cuddling.

"I think I'm falling for you" Jake said, breaking the silence.

You couldn't hide your surprise in hearing that declaration, but you gave him a big smile in response.

"Me too" you said, unable to contain the huge smile on your face.

"Phew!" he said, laughing "This means we will be able to do this more often."

"Obviously. But can we do it in a more comfortable place next time? This carpet is so rough!"

"You didn't like the studio? But we can make as much noise as we want in here!" he said, comically offended by your preference of having sex somewhere else.

"It has its advantages, yes, but I bet it can't be better than Egyptian silk sheets on a king-sized bed" you said, convinced you knew better than him.

"Okay, you've got a point. But I can't promise I'll be able to provide the Egyptian silk sheets and a king-sized bed by tonight."

You hit his arm and laughed, glad for having found such an amazing partner.

[joyfulholland]

Sore Loser

a/n: this is part 3 of The Coconut Debate and Bad at Excuses.  I’ve been trying to write something else but kept getting stuck and these just kind of come out of the chaotic good part of my brain. if anyone has any requests/prompts please send them in!

word count: 1226

Y/N changed the group name to Tom owes us all £10

Sam: I only accept cash

Harry: Can I have mine in the form of an amazon voucher?

Tom: I don’t owe you anything

Y/N: don’t be a sore loser

Harrison: Yeah a bet’s a bet

Tom: it didn’t count

Tuwaine: Yes it did

Y/N: you told me the ending

Y/N: and you said you weren’t going to give anything away this time

Y/N: therefore you owe us all a tenner

Tom: I didn’t think you counted as you’re my GIRLFRIEND

Harrison: Still counts

Harry: Pay up

*

Tommy to Y/N/N: don’t watch it without me

Y/N/N: oh come on that’s not fair

Y/N/N: how did you even know

Tommy: because I’m psychic

Tommy: and you’re predictable

Y/N/N: but you’re so busy and I’m going to see spoilers if I wait

Y/N/N: you saw how everyone found out about destiel

Tommy: ok fine

Tommy: how about we watch it at the same time? on the phone or something

Y/N/N: deal

*

Sam to Tom owes us all £10: Where do you keep Ketchup

Sam: Quick I’m trying to prove a point

Y/N: the fridge

Harry: Fridge

Tom: fridge

Tuwaine: Fridge

Harrison: The cupboard

Sam: Thanks to everyone except Harrison

Y/N: Haz you heathen

Harrison: Is it in the fridge when you buy it in the shop?

Harrison: No

Harry: You can buy multi-pack cartons of OJ not in the fridge and then you put them in the fridge at home

Tuwaine: And it says on the bottle to keep refrigerated

Harrison: I’m a rebel I live by my own rules

Tom: bullshit

*

Y/N to Harry: the only logical answer is to sacrifice the washing machine

Harry: I beg your pardon?

Y/N: sorry lol that was for Tom

Y/N: actually if you’re with him can you tell him that for me

Harry: He said to remind you of the fire sneezes and the plastic

Y/N: shit he’s right

Harry: What the fuck are you two talking about?

Y/N: where you would hide a baby dragon if someone came to inspect your house

Harry: Oh right

Harry: The oven?

Y/N: I thought of that but Tom said you’d have to take the grill shelves out and that would cause suspicion

Harry: Fuck this is hard

*

Tuwaine to Tom owes us all £10: Tom I’m not speaking to your girlfriend

Tom: why??

Harrison: She beat him at the bowling snapchat game three times in a row

Y/N: and he’s a sore loser

Tuwaine: No I’m not

Tom: lol

Sam: Don’t worry about it mate she’s undefeated on all counts

Harrison: I’ve never won against her

Tom: I refuse to play it with her now she’s too competitive

Y/N: that’s not true tom you’re just a sore loser too

Harry: Y/N HOW COULD YOU

Harry: I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE YOU PLAYED SNAP BOWLING WITH

Y/N: Harry if it makes you feel better you’re the only worthy opponent

Harry: Lol yeah it does thanks

Harry: Also Tom would like me to say he’s not speaking to you now either

Y/N: lol point proven

*

Y/N/N to Tommy: would you still love me if I only ever wore the colour brown

Tommy: different shades or just the exact same brown all the time

Y/N/N: does it make a difference?

Tommy: maybe Tommy: lol nah would love you no matter what you wore

Y/N/N: even if I exclusively wore a banana costume even when we went to bed

Tommy: even then

Y/N/N: I miss you

Tommy: I miss you too

Tommy: I’ll ring in a bit x

Y/N/N: can’t wait x

*

Harrison to Tom owes us all £10: What was the name of that song that was on that advert

Tuwaine: Well that narrows it down

Sam: Yeah might need a bit more than that

Harrison: the one with the singing

Y/N: Haz mate come on

Tom: literally still could be any advert

Harry: Specifics needed

Harrison: The one with the opera singing

Harrison: But then there’s the guy on a deck chair

Sam: The Alexa advert?

Harrison: YES

Harrison: What’s the song called?

Tuwaine: aren’t there two songs in that one?

Harrison: Yeah I want the second one

Harrison: Not the one from the Magic Flute

Tom: You can remember the opera but not the other song?

Harrison: I live a cultured life

Tom: once again I am calling bullshit

Y/N: I Feel Love Donna Summer

Harrison: Thank you!!

Harry: I reckon you could have just googled that for a much quicker result

Harrison: Shut up Harry

*

Tommy to Y/N/N: do me a favour and tell Harry you don’t know what a badger is when he texts in a minute

Y/N/N: alright

*

Harry to Y/N: Your boyfriend is broken

Harry: He’s claiming he doesn’t know what badgers are

Y/N: what?

Harry: I reckon its exhaustion from over work

Harry: It’s affected his brain

Y/N: no I meant what is a badger?

Harry: Oh you have got to be kidding me

Harry: When did he text you??

Y/N: Harry I have no idea what you’re talking about

Y/N: are you sure you’re not the one who is exhausted?

Harry: This isn’t funny

*

Tuwaine to Tom owes us all £10: You guys know that Snoop Dog Just Eat advert?

Harry: Oh god not adverts again

Harrison: Let it go Harry

Tuwaine: Do you know how much he got paid??

Tuwaine: 5.3 MILLION

Sam: Damn

Tom: tbf it was a catchy song

Y/N: doggy dog christmas

Tom: exactly what a great lyric

Harrison: I liked the puppet one

Sam: Yeah did that money cover all the adverts because he did more than one

Tuwaine: No idea just says 5.3 mil

Harry: I want a takeaway now

Sam: You just sent me a snapchat of your lasagne

Harry: I know but now I want something from Just Eat

Harry: Snoop has tempted me with his lyrics

Tuwaine: Maybe that 5.3 was well spent if he’s tempting you and we’re just talking about it

Y/N: Harry as if you’re sending Sam snaps when you aren’t opening mine

Harry: it’s because I know yours is a game of wild checkers and I want to give it the proper commitment

Y/N: okay forgiven

Tom: I feel like I need to stage an intervention for you two about your snap game habits

Y/N: you’re just jealous that I don’t play with you anymore

Harrison: Why did you send Sam a photo of your lasagne?

Harry: I wanted him to give it a score out of ten

Sam: I gave it an 8.5

*

Tommy to Y/N/N: just arrived at airport x

Y/N/N: counting down the hours x

Tommy: like the tiktoks?

Y/N/N: yes but I’m not actually recording it

Tommy: so you’re just saying them out loud to yourself?

Y/N/N: no don’t be daft

Y/N/N: I’m telling them to Tessa

Tommy: oh of course my mistake

*

Harry changed the group name to Tom owes us all £20

Y/N: lol I knew it

Harrison: This is easy money

Tuwaine: Tom it’s like you’re not even trying

Sam: We’ll have the full 50 soon

Harry: I might wait to cash out until we do then have one big amazon voucher

Tom: I’m not paying any of you a single penny

Y/N: lol such a sore loser

xxxxx

tagging: @geminiparkers​ @rebekkah4766​ (please message me if you want to be added!)

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[ecto-american]

Liar Liar

Phic Phight Oneshot for Ectopal: After an argument with her now grounded son, Maddie wishes that Danny wouldn't lie to her-and Desiree overhears. [TransDanny]

The OG prompt: After an argument with her now grounded son, Maddie wishes that Danny wouldn't lie to her-and Desiree overhears.

Potential TW for trans-related venting and implied violence, but there’s nothing graphic

on FFN and AO3

The front door opened, and Maddie frowned as she glanced at the clock that informed her that yes. It was definitely hours past his curfew.

No lights turned on, but she still could tell from the faint light of the one kitchen light, the light that the family just never turned off so that they could see at night, that it was definitely her son doing his best to remain quiet. And now that she knew he was safe, all of her fears about if he was okay and his safety melted away and allowed for anger to start boiling.

"Daniel James Fenton," she finally called out. The figure froze, and she flipped the light switch on. Before her was her son, looking as guilty as ever. One hand was on the wall, guiding him as he approached the stairs, the other holding onto his binder and shoes. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"...Um...Can I plead the fifth?" he asked weakly. Her frown deepened.

"It's nearly two in the morning, and on a school night!" she scolded. "Let's not even talk about how you snuck out right now." His shoulders slumped. "You could have been dead for all I know!"

"I'm sorry," he replied quietly.

"Where were you?" Maddie asked.

"I was at Tucker's, we got caught up playing video games," he said. Maddie scowled.

"Tell me the truth," she said. Danny scowled back.

"I am!" he insisted.

"Then how come Pamela called me?" Maddie asked. At the name of Mrs. Manson, Danny paled.

"...She called you?" his voice croaked out.

"You bet she called me," Maddie snapped. "What were you thinking?"

"I wi-I just!" Danny cut himself off as he seemed to struggle to find his words. "I'm just wanting more freedom! I'm an adult now! I can legally buy cigarettes!" Maddie couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Well I wish you wouldn't lie to me!" Maddie argued back. Danny flinched at her words. "And maybe if you didn't, I'd let you have more freedom! But you lied about going to your room, you lied to me just now about where you were, and I already know that you're going to lie to me when I ask you what you and Sam have been doing!"

"We weren't doing anything!" Danny half-yelled back. "We fell asleep binge watching one of her true crime shows!"

"Don't lie to me!" Maddie told him.

"I'm not!"

Maddie made an angry grumbling noise, crossing her arms.

"You're ground, all weekend," she informed him. Danny didn't respond; he simply made a face at her. He brushed past her to angrily stomp up the stairs. She didn't bother snapping at him over that too.

"So you have wished it, so shall it be."

Maddie turned around rapidly at the voice. It wasn't Danny's...and Jazz was miles away at college…But what she did hear was Danny slamming his bedroom door shut. She'd get onto him about that in the morning.

A quick inspection, and she found nothing, and she decided to just call it a night. She went upstairs herself, pausing at Danny's door to listen. She could hear Danny shuffle around for a moment, though after a moment, she saw his light go out and heard his bed creak as he rested on it. She just knew he was going to fall asleep in class tomorrow. Maddie sighed, and she went into her room.

Jack was just coming from the bathroom with a light yawn, and she felt guilty.

"Did we wake you up?" she wondered. Jack gave her a small smile and shrugged.

"It's okay," he assured her. Maddie huffed.

"No, it's not," she insisted. "He should have been home. He was over at Sam's house until about ten minutes ago. Pam called to complain about it."

"Ah, he's just doing what teenagers do," Jack replied. Maddie frowned as she got into bed.

"Well that mentality is how we end up grandparents way too early," she reminded him. Jack gave a light sigh as he also slipped back into bed.

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed. "I'll talk to him about it soon."

"Thank you. He's pretty mad at me right now," Maddie turned her bedside lamp off. Jack chuckled.

"He'll probably be mad for a bit, but he'll get over it," he reassured her. He switched his own bedside lamp off as he got settled back in. "Night, love you."

"Love you too."

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

Despite the late night, Maddie was up early. She could hear that Danny was already up and getting ready in the bathroom, so she didn't feel the need to say anything to him just yet. They could reserve any conversation for after school.

By the time she came downstairs, Danny was in the kitchen staring at the toaster, backpack on the kitchen table.

"Morning, sweetie," she greeted him warmly.

He gave her a somewhat dirty look, and he mumbled a cranky and short "morning" in response. She opted to ignore his attitude for now, and she went over to the coffee maker. While she was waiting for Danny, she had gone ahead and scheduled the coffee maker to start making coffee, and man was she glad. It was already pouring, and it smelled great.

"Danny, do you want a cup of coffee?" she asked him. He glanced over, and he shook his head no.

"Mm no thanks," he replied.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"I slept like shit."

Maddie glanced at Danny in surprise, and he stared back at her, equally as confused. Danny never cussed at her.

"Cause you stayed out all night, huh?" Maddie lightly accused, leaning her hand on the counter.

"No, cause I slept with my binder on and now my chest hurts," he snapped back. Maddie frowned.

"You're not supposed to do that," she told him.

"Well maybe if I wasn't fucking born like this-," he began but cut himself off. He looked so confused, and Maddie was too. Not at the statement. She had no doubt that it was true, but where did all this cussing come from? He knew better than to talk to her like that, and it was so...weird. Danny glanced back to the toaster, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I...I uh…" Two pop tarts popped out of the toaster, and he quickly snatched them up. "I gotta go. Bye."

"...Have a good day," Maddie called after him, staring as he quickly walked out, and she heard the front door close. She made her cup of coffee, and she got to work.

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

She jumped as their ghost alarm went off, but Jack and Maddie wasted no time quickly collecting their things and rushing out the door and into the RV. It led them right to the scene. A fight against Amity Park's most popular ghost and another fairly familiar ghost, a green skinned woman with flowing black hair dressed exclusively in blue.

Maddie messily pulled into a parking spot off the side of the road, and Jack immediately hopped out. Maddie followed suit, and she hurried towards the action.

"Stop granting every damn wish you hear! I swear, it's ridiculous!" she could hear Phantom yell.

"I'm merely giving people what they ask for," the woman, Desiree Maddie believed she was called, replied smugly.

Phantom looked like he was gonna say something more, but stopped when he seemed to glance over and notice their arrival.

"Let's just finish this," he said instead, and he blasted her, only to miss. The woman smirked, but it was quickly cut off by a secondary blast from Jack.

"Jack!" Maddie gasped in excitement. "Excellent shot!" Jack grinned proudly, firing another. Only to miss, as sorta expected.

"I do not have time for this!" Phantom scowled. Maddie rolled her eyes. What the hell does a ghost have going on? He pulled out the Fenton Thermos and sucked the other ghost in.

"You ever going to return that?" Maddie called out sarcastically.

"It's my thermos! You gave it to me!" Phantom called back, immediately giving her a weird blank look. Maddie narrowed her eyes.

"We didn't give you anything," she replied. She held her hand out expectantly. "Give it back."

Phantom opened his mouth to rebuttal, only to get blasted. It knocked him back and made him drop the thermos. Maddie dove for it as Jack fired more shots, and she was thankfully able to grab it before it hit the ground. However when she looked up, Phantom was gone.

"Mads! Did you see that!?" Jack asked. She looked up at him with a proud smile as he jogged over to her.

"I did!" she replied cheerfully. "You've gotten a lot better!" Jack puffed up proudly. "Where did Phantom go?"

"Dunno," he admitted, and his shoulders immediately fell a bit. "After I got him, he flew off. Musta been scared." He offered his hand out to her, and she accepted it.

"Probably," she agreed. She held the thermos up. "Least we got this back though." Jack nodded. "We'll put her back in the Zone later. Let's get some lunch."

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

Maddie made a point to make sure she was upstairs so that she could make sure Danny came home on time, given his grounding situation. While she waited, she began to make some cupcakes. As she was mixing batter, she heard the front door open and close.

"Hey Danny," she greeted from the kitchen. She glanced at the clock. He was ten minutes later than he normally would have come home, but it wasn't enough for her to say anything.

"...Hey mom," came the reply. He stepped into the kitchen, and Maddie glanced at him, only to do a double take. His right cheek was badly swollen from a bad bruise. Maddie immediately wiped her hands on a dish towel, staring at him.

"What happened?" she asked, stepping towards him. He stared at her in confusion before putting his hand to his face. He pressed his lips tightly together and didn't answer. She asked once more, more firmly. "Danny, what happened?"

He opened his mouth to say something, only to choke on nothing and close his mouth again. Maddie went to the freezer to get an ice pack. She motioned for him to sit down. He sat at the kitchen table, and she pulled a chair up to him. She pressed the ice pack to his face, and he took it from her, leaning his elbow on the table.

"I'll only ask you one more time," she began, only for Danny to angrily cut her off.

"I got beat up today, okay?" he replied, sounding exasperated. Maddie blinked.

"By who?" she asked. Danny gave her a sour look, and he refused to speak. "Danny…"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he finally spoke. He began to stand up. "Look, I'm fine. It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal!" Maddie argued. She grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down. "You're going to tell me what's going on right now. Who hurt you?"

"Just some dudes at school," he tried to keep his answers short. But Maddie was having none of that.

"But why?" she pressed. Danny stayed quiet. "Daniel James-"

"What do you want me to say, Mom?" he snapped. "That I constantly get my ass kicked for being queer? That every day I get reminded that they think I'm some freak that shouldn't be allowed to exist? Let alone in any kind of relative peace? People don't like me. Why do you think I want to get my name changed as soon as possible? Why I've been begging for surgery as a birthday gift? It's so that when I go to college, nobody will know."

"...I had no idea," she said slowly.

"Yeah, I know," he said shortly. He got up, managing to evade her touch again to go for the stairs. Before she could say anything else, he was upstairs, and she could hear his door closing.

What had gotten into him? Maddie had never heard Danny talk about any of those things to her before. How long had these feelings been going on? Why had he never talked to her before about this?

She forced herself to stand and return to her baking. Mindlessly, she began to fill her cupcake tray up with batter, slipping them into the oven when she heard noise in the basement. She frowned, quickly setting her timer before going down.

Phantom was there, looking through her stuff. Snooping around. He was carefully looking around, muttering to himself as he hunted for...something.

"Can I help you, Phantom?"

The ghost jumped, turning on his heel.

"I'm looking for the wishing ghost so I can undo a wish," he replied. She raised an eyebrow at his blunt honesty.

"What wish?" She asked. Phantom scowled, narrowing his eyes as he seemed to think hard.

"That's private," he replied. She glared back at him, but then it hit her.

"Well I wish you wouldn't lie to me!"

Her son couldn't lie to her. Because of the wishing ghost still trapped in the thermos. She hadn't had a chance to empty the thermoses of ghosts she had Jack had caught over the past two weeks.

"I suggest you leave through that portal then before I blast you through it," she said. "The wishing ghost is staying here with me." Phantom narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.

"Not without that wishing ghost," he replied. Maddie picked a blaster off the table near her, pointing it at him. He held his hands up defensively. "Whoa, take it easy. Why do you want Desiree so bad? Don't you normally throw the ghosts back into the Ghost Zone anyway?"

"I do, and let's start with you," she replied. She pulled the trigger. It hit Phantom square in the chest, pushing him into the open portal. She quickly stormed up, slamming the closed button.

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

It was hours before Danny finally came down from upstairs. She knew that he had stayed upstairs, for once, instead of sneaking out again, from occasional footsteps and the sound of him talking on the phone. Maddie had actually just gotten off the phone with him, having called him to ask what he wanted from their favorite Chinese restaurant before she sent Jack out to pick it up. Soon as Jack was out the door, Danny came out of his room and downstairs. She gave him smile as he came into the living room.

"Hey sweetie, dad will b-"

"I know about the wish."

Maddie instantly felt guilt wash over her as Danny stared at her with a frown, arms crossed. She stayed where she sat on the couch.

"What makes you say that?" she questioned. Danny's lips tightened, and she knew that he wasn't going to answer her. "Danny-"

"And I know that you know about it!" he accused. "I've been through this kind of thing before! Why haven't you undone the wish yet?"

"Because you don't need to be lying to me!" Maddie finally snapped back as she got to her feet. "For once, I'm getting honest answers from you after almost three years of constant lie after lie!"

"And you're okay with this being how you get those answers?" Danny talked back. His fists balled up, though they stayed by his sides. "Instead of making me feel okay and comfortable telling you these things? Or wait for me to be ready to say something?"

Ouch. Maddie flinched, and she just knew that had Jazz been here...she'd be absolutely agreeing with Danny. And she knew in her gut that Danny was right. Maddie's shoulder slumped.

"I know," she said quietly. Danny looked completely taken aback. "...But why haven't you said anything? You know your dad and I love you so much. I had no idea you've been in this much pain."

Danny stared at the ground, shifting to lean against the doorway.

"...I didn't want you guys to feel like you were bad parents," he replied. "Because you're not. It's not your fault everybody else sucks, or that I have to wait for surgery or to get my name changed and everything. And you can't fix it. It's just how it is."

"Dad and I would have started fighting harder for you had we known," Maddie said softly. "All we ever want is for you and Jazz to be happy and healthy."

"Yeah, I know," Danny half-grumbled. "It's just...It's just how it is. And I can't even tell the therapist that, cause she keeps pushing back everything if I hint at being depressed about it."

"If that's the case, we can find a new therapist," Maddie replied. "One that'll take you more seriously." Danny shook his head.

"No, it's okay. I'll be done with school this year, and I'll be seeing a new one anyway when I go to college," he said. Maddie frowned.

"But still-"

"Mom, it's fine," he interrupted. He smiled. "Seriously." She sighed. "Please, just. Undo the wish."

"...Okay," she finally agreed. She began to walk towards the basement, only to pause, turning to him. "But first." Danny raised an eyebrow at her. "What were you and Sam doing up so late?" Danny gave her a sour look, rolling his eyes.

"...Sam's been having a hard time lately. Lots of girls at school bully her for the same reason as me, and it's just been hitting her super hard lately," he explained. "I was up late with her cause she was crying so much, and we fell asleep while I was holding her to make her feel better."

Maddie's heart twisted a bit. She truly wish she had known. And she already made a mental note to march into Casper High first thing Monday morning after having a long phone call with Pam that night. A call to Vlad too, to get in touch to see if he'd help hire a lawyer. She had absolute hell to raise, and a school she was ready to sue.

"But seriously," Danny's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "I'll eventually come and tell you these things when I'm ready. Don't rely on dumb ghost wishes."

"Yeah, I know," Maddie replied somberly. "I'm sorry, Danny." She took a few steps towards him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. After a moment, she felt him return the hug. She let go, cupping his cheeks and making him lean down a bit so she could kiss his forehead. "I just worry about you. I want you to feel like you can always come to me. You're my baby boy."

"I know, Mom," he smiled. "And I will when I need you, but I'm not a little kid. I can handle a lot of things on my own."

"Yeah, but you're still my baby," Maddie sighed. Hell, he and Jazz were both taller than her by now. They definitely got that from Jack. Or in Danny's case, he got nearly everything from him. Almost a mirror image the older he got. Danny's cheeks flushed a bit.

"Mo-om."

Maddie chuckled.

"Come on, let's go undo the wish. I have the wishing ghost still in the basement," she said. She paused. "But once we undo the wish, will you honestly tell me how you knew?"

Danny stared at her for a moment, seemingly thinking. And he nodded.

"Yeah. After dinner, just you and me," he promised. "I'll tell you the whole story. Start to finish."

[kelieah]

you guys suck (tom holland x reader)

request: @danicarosaline​ (summary): Hey cutie, i was wondering if you can do a tom x reader where they are dating but no one knows yet until Harrison, the twins, Tuwaine all have their suspicions so they planned to flirt and throw compliments at her during dinner time together to get a reaction out of Tom and he gets super jealous and upset during the whole thing until he finally snaps? I dunno i thought this was cute!! 🥺🥰

word count: 1.1k

warnings: fluff

a/n: awee this is super cute, thanks for the request! and ur cuter 

masterlist

-

As everyone knows, Tom is horrible at keeping secrets. So having to keep one of the biggest secrets of all, your relationship, is a challenge for him. Luckily, you two have been together for almost a year now without any drama.

He couldn’t help but hold your waist at times, or press kisses against your neck. Now of course you love the affection he’s shows you, but you both agreed to keep things on the down low.

There was this one time you, Tom, Harrison and a bunch of his other friends were on live. You were all messing around and answering any questions people had. It was such a mess, you two almost got caught because of Tom’s constant flirty innuendos. 

Tom’s had many slip ups, while you didn’t have many. Fans and the media aren’t that suspicious but close friends and family are. No matter how many times you tell them the two of you are just friends, they only shrug it off.

Now you and Tom were getting ready for the twin’s 21st birthday. You couldn’t help but be worried, there was going to be drinks and Tom plus drinks, isn’t the best case for keeping a secret.

“I swear babe, if you slip up tonight,” you murmur, fixing yourself up in the mirror of your room.

“I promise, I won’t darling,” he comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Right, then you take one shot and suddenly the whole world knows about us,” you hum as he places his chin on your shoulder.

“Shut up,” he huffs, placing kisses along your shoulder.

“I’m not wrong.”

“I know,” he sighs, “But how could I resist? Look at what you're wearing, love. I know I got you this dress, but do you have to wear this?” he whines.

“It’s Valentine's Day, it matches,” you refer to the red silk dress that hugged your body just right, “Plus the party is at some exclusive club isn’t it?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and spins you into his chest, “True, and luckily it’s just friends and family.”

You look up at him chuckling and smile. He holds your face and kisses you gently, “You wouldn’t have to worry anyways, I’m all yours,” you say in between kisses.

On the other hand, your friends were more suspicious than you thought. Harrison, Tuwaine and the twins were all ready for the party, setting up at the club.

“They’re totally fucking,” Tuwaine snickers, organizing the alcohol.

“Dude,” Sam rolls his eyes, “Not cool.”

“Just saying!” Tuwaine raises his hands in defense, “I mean am I wrong?” he looks over at Harrison.

“We should test our theory, if they’re dating or not,” he shrugs, leaning against the bar.

“How would we do that?” Harry asks, folding some napkins.

“What if we all flirt with Y/n? If they’re really dating, I bet you a million pounds that Tom would snap,” Harrison smirks.

“That shouldn’t be too hard to do,” Sam murmurs.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve been crushing on her ever since Tom introduced her to us,” Harry shoves him playfully.

“Shut up!” Sam groans.

Dinner came around and everyone was sitting together at a table. Everyone meaning you, Tom, Harrison, Tuwaine and the twins. Other family and friends were sitting at other tables.

“Y/n, I just have to say if you don’t mind,” Harry pipes up.

“Yeah?” you smile, sipping on some champagne. 

“That dress looks amazing on you, it hugs your body just right,” he says sheepishly.

You sputter on your drink, “Awe, t-thank you,” you cough slightly, averting your eyes over to Tom who suddenly took interest in the conversation.

“He’s not wrong, have you been working out lately?” Harrison asks, leaning on the palm of his hand.

You laugh softly, “Actually yeah, thanks for noticing.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs. Tom places his hand on your thigh and you quickly put your hand on top in an attempt to reassure him.

“Your hair looks amazing by the way,” Sam also chips in, blushing.

Tom’s eye twitches and he looks down at his food, holding his tongue.

“Thank you, it must be Tom’s conditioner I steal,” you tease, trying to lighten up the mood and cut the tension.

“Wait what?” Tom whines.

“Nothing,” you shrug, laughing quietly. Luckily, the out of nowhere compliments died down.

We were all talking about Tom and Zendaya, “Right, she’s like perfect for you isn’t she mate?” Harrison grins.

“Ah, I don’t see her like that,” he shrugs. You didn’t mind though, you trusted Tom and felt no reason to be jealous or uptight.

“She is beautiful though, are you sure Tom?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, “Very sure.”

“Speaking of significant others,” Sam says slowly, “Do you have anyone Y/n?”

“Nah, men are gross,” you shrug, hearing Tom choke slightly on his food.

“That’s too bad, I was going to ask if you wanted to dance soon,” Sam pouts.

“Oh?” you flash him a tight smile, “Maybe next time.”

“She’s just trying to be nice, she’d rather dance with me,” Harrison smirks.

You feel Tom’s grip tighten on your dress and you squeeze his hand, knowing he’s about to burst.

“In bed,” Harrison winks, causing the rest of the boys to laugh. You roll your eyes, suspicious of all the boys at this point.

“Highly doubt that,” Tom finally speaks up.

You look over at him worriedly, “Where have you been? You haven’t said a word,” Tuwaine snickers.

“Probably too distracted thinking about Y/n, I mean I don’t blame him-” Harry shrugs until Tom cuts him off.

“I’ve been trying to keep my mouth shut before I go ape shit on all of you little fuckers,” he snaps, “So would you all keep my girl’s name out of your mouth because she’s my girlfriend and unavailable!” he raises his voice, causing your jaw to drop.

The whole table goes quiet, tension rising. “Fucking called it!” Tuwaine bursts out laughing.

Harrison shakes his head, “We’re not that dumb,” he chuckles.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“We all wanted to know if you two were dating, because it’s kinda obvious,” Harry says.

“So we all decided if we flirt with you, Tom would snap,” Harrison mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, “Which he did.”

“We’re also sorry if we made you uncomfortable in anyway,” Sam says quickly. “It’s alright,” you wave your hand in dismissal, “I knew Tom would break at one point. He spoiled his movies, there’s no doubt he’d spill about us,” you giggle.

Tom groans embarrassed, “Sorry guys, I just. I didn’t like how you were all up on her.”

“You’re good, mate,” Tuwaine grins, “At least our theory is confirmed,” You let out another laugh, shaking your head.

“You guys suck,” Tom huffs rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

taglist

@rcmxnoff​ , @spideyparkerstark​ , @lidixbug​ , @pluckypete​ , @lovewolfspirit​ , @sky-cosplay​ , @janieavalos​ , @averyfosterthoughts​ , @ivvitm1109​ , @yoinkyourheart​ , @tomsppsleeve​ , @zoey-one-oh-fun​ , @tomholland-mcu​ , @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts​

[petersasteria]

The Package - Harry Holland

Harry || Main || Taglist

Requested? Nah 1,583 words Heavily inspired by Key and Peele.

* * * *

Harry was in his office bored out of his mind. He was sipping around in his office chair while throwing his stress ball up in the air and catching it repeatedly. The young CEO hated his job despite the multiple and grand benefits that came along with the job. He hated that his brothers Tom and Sam were allowed to decline the offer when their father asked them if they could take over the family business. Tom declined it because he wanted to focus more on the carpentry side of the business. Sam declined because it wasn’t his passion; he wanted to be a chef. But Harry was never asked about what he wanted. His father told him that he’s the heir of the company. With that being said, Harry hated it and he resented his brothers and father for it.

He loved them dearly, though. He knew that no one else would take over and Paddy was far too young to be a CEO. Harry just unwillingly took his fate as his father retired. Now that he’s seated on ‘the throne’, as everyone in the office called it, he felt powerful but at the same time he felt judged by the people who work for him because they were all older than him and most of them saw him and his brothers grow up. It was awkward.

Harry stopped spinning around his chair and heavily sighed before grabbing his phone to play games on it. There was nothing better to do and it was a slow day. All the shipments were done yesterday, all the forms were signed before lunch, no meetings until next month, and no new applicants to take up the job of being his assistant. His last assistant, Margaret, was his dad’s assistant. Harry loved Margaret like a family member, but she was too old, so he allowed her to retire.

The game on his phone started to become boring and with a sigh, he exited the game and went on Facebook to see anything new about the people he went to school with. He loved, for lack of better term, tea. He loved spilling tea and he loved being told tea. He and Sam bonded over it.

Just as Harry was reading a post about his former schoolmate being involved in a scandal with one of his former teachers, his office telephone rang. Without an assistant, Harry was forced to answer calls without knowing who it was on lines 1, 2, and 3.

“Hello, this is Harry Holland of Holland Industries. Who am I speaking to?” Harry asked. At this point, it was engraved in his mind now. He knew what to say and what not to say.

“Hi, Harry! This is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m calling from Master Travel Incorporated to tell you about an exciting limited-time offer, exclusive getaway to the Philippines. Can I have a few moments of your time to tell you about this new package?” Your tone of voice matched the exciting offer you asked, but it wasn’t enough to entice Harry. He didn’t even know where that pine place was.

“You know, Y/N, I would love to, but I just don’t have the time-”

Upon hearing that, you immediately hung up the phone. Harry stopped talking and looked at the phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“Huh, rude.” Harry muttered under his breath as he put the phone in its place. He grabbed his phone and continued reading about his schoolmate, but he couldn’t shake off the rude thing you just did. He sighed to himself and grabbed the phone, somehow directing the call to you, and waited for you to pick up.

Your telephone rang and you answered on the first ring, “This is Y/N Y/L/N, Master Travel Incorporated. How may I be of service?”

“Hi, Y/N Y/L/N. My name is Harry. I think we just spoke not too long ago.” Harry said as he fiddled with a pen that was on his desk. “Did we just get disconnected?”

“Um, yeah. I hung up on you.” You said blatantly.

Harry raised his eyebrows upon hearing your answer and asked, “Why? Like, why would you do that? Are you allowed to do that? Because that was rude, Y/N. I’ll tell you that.”

You sat back in your chair and twirled the cord of your headset around your finger with a smug look on your face. “Were you going to buy the Philippines package?”

“What? No! Don’t be daft. That’s not the point I was trying to make. What I’m saying is-”

You hung up on him again and Harry’s jaw dropped. He has never encountered someone so rude such as yourself. “What the fuck.” Harry said before calling you again.

“This is Y/N-”

“Yeah, Y/L/N. Listen. I don’t know why you’re being rude to me, but you don’t get to hang up-” Harry gasped as soon as you hung up again. “Oh my fucking god!” Harry shouted in annoyance. He knew it wasn’t worth it, but he was never disrespected like that in his life. So, he called again.

You answered the call immediately, “What the fuck do you want?”

“What’s your deal, huh?” Harry asked as his eyebrows knit in confusion and slight anger.

“Um, you don’t want the Philippines package,” You started. “So I don’t want to talk. I did us a favor instead of wasting our time.” You were about to end the call and somehow, Harry sensed that.

“Stop, stop! Don’t you dare end this call!” Harry raised his voice, not noticing the attention he drew to himself. Everyone looked at his office and as if it wasn’t enough, Tom and Sam went to visit him just to see how he was doing.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked Edith, the accountant,

“Harry is throwing a fit.” Edith answered before returning to do her job. Edith was a 50 year old woman and she’s so over the stage of being the one to calm a kid down when throwing a fit. Those years were behind her and she didn’t want to calm Harry down. If Harry wanted to throw a fit, she doesn’t care. She just wanted to get paid and get through the day like everyone else.

“He’s… too old for that.” Sam chuckled as he and Tom walked closer to his twin’s office.

Harry never noticed them standing by the doorframe, though.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You asked him.

“Why shouldn’t you?!” Harry shrieked. “What if I wanted the Philippines package?! You know what? I want the Philippines package!”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he looked at Sam and Sam just shrugged. He didn’t know what was happening either.

There was silence between your line and Harry’s. After a few seconds, you broke the silence and said, “Sure, you do.” You hung up the phone once more before Harry could say anything else. This made Harry scream and throw the pen in frustration.

He stood up from his seat and yelled at the telephone, “You motherfucking bitch! I will give you a piece of my mind and you will feel my wrath!”

Neither Sam nor Tom wanted to stop. They wanted to see how it would go down.

Harry called again and this time, he put you on speaker. The phone rang and you answered on the first ring, “Come on, man. Let it go.”

“Fuck you! I WANT SIX FUCKING PACKAGES RIGHT NOW!! You know what- where’s my wallet?” Harry walked around the room to find his wallet as you sat back with a victorious smile on your face.

Harry found his wallet and pulled out his credit card. He quickly walked to where the telephone was and said, “I found my fucking credit card! Now put the details there, Y/L/N! My credit card number is 1185-6514-1109. The fucking expiration date is 12-22! And then the security number is 195! Run the fucking card right fucking now! Run it now, asshole!”

You held back your laughter as you punched in his details and when you were done, you simply said, “Thank you for your business.”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “I hope you learned your le-”

You hung up once more and that made Harry scream in anger. Sam walked further into the room and tapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned around and saw Sam, “Mate, stop it! Just stop calling or you’ll get even more pissed!”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few calming breaths before looking up at Sam and finally noticing Tom who gave Harry a small wave which Harry returned.

“What was that, H?” Tom asked softly as he walked further into the office.

Harry looked at his brothers and calmly said, “Pack your things. We’re going to the Philippines for a family vacation. I just bought six packages for it.”

Bonus +

Your boss, Colin, went to your desk with a huge grin on his face. “Y/N, I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve made a ton of sales recently! I’m really proud of you for coming this far! Because of that-”

Colin turned to everyone and shouted, “Y/N is employee of the month! Let’s all leave an hour early and celebrate! It’s on me!”

Everyone cheered and congratulated you. Colin went back to his office and you smirked before calling your new ‘victim’.

* * * *

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thatforgottenangel @turtoix @givebuckyhisplumsnow @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @euphorichxlland @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @more-like-reyna

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg

[pastorpresent]

Sam was really starting to despise bars.

It's like as soon as they entered one Dean would ditch him to chat up some hot blonde, leaving Sam alone to hunch over his beer and sit miserably as he watched Dean give all his attention to some bitch in a mini skirt.

He knew him and Dean weren't an exclusive thing. Hell, they were hardly even a thing at all. They hooked up here and there but Sam was starting to believe Dean only used him for convenience. After a long, gruelling hunt why would he waste energy trying to flirt his way into a girls bed, when he knows Sam will melt into him immediately?

It made Sam feel painfully pathetic for even feeling remotely jealous.

Tonight it was worse. Tonight it had been 2 whole weeks since Dean had even looked at him with lust in his eyes, nevermind fucked him.

He was losing interest and it hurt more than it should. It only hurt worse when they ended up in yet another bar, with Dean leaving him after a record fast time of 2 minutes to go sit with some long legged brunette a few tables over.

Sam sat in his seat, alone at the table picking at the label on his beer whilst trying his hardest not to fucking cry.

"Hey gorgeous, can I buy you another?" Sam's head lifted up to see a guy smiling down at him.

He looked a little older than Dean, but he wasn't unattractive whatsoever. He was built with plenty of muscle, and his face seemed kind.

Normally Sam would've declined, but his eyes flickered over to Dean where he had his arm around the girl and he found himself accepting.

A minute later the stranger was taking the seat opposite him, sliding over a beer and taking a swig of his own.

"So, does my angel have a name?" The man grinned, and Sam felt his cheeks burning up.

It felt like forever since Dean made him blush.

"Uh S-Sam. And you?" He was admittedly a little out of his depth. He had never flirted much in his life, especially not with strangers at bars, but the guy didn't seem put off by his stuttering. In fact, his smile just got a little bigger as if he found it endearing somehow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sam, my name's Adam. Any reason why someone so beautiful is sat alone in a bar on a Friday night? You're wasted in this place, Sammy." The familiar nickname almost sent a shiver through Sam, and he took a drink of his beer to hide it.

"Let's just say my date ditched me." It wasn't a total lie, Sam thought as he looked over to where Dean was saying something hilarious, if the way the girl threw her head back with laughter was any indication.

Adam moved his chair a little closer, and Sam felt a hand move slowly over his thigh.

"Well whoever your date is? I think they're certifiably insane." He grinned and Sam found himself laughing and blushing more at the guys upfront flattery.

Him and Adam talked for 30 minutes, and honestly Sam really liked the guy. He was sweet and funny, and even if Sam doubted he would end up going home with the guy, he was enjoying the attention regardless.

Adam squeezed his knee, sent him a small smile.

"Can I kiss you then, Sammy?" Sam's heart was going like a jack hammer in his chest, and he found his eyes travelling uncertainly to Dean for the first time in the last half hour.

The girl was gone. Sam wasn't sure why or when, but she was and Dean was still sat at the table with his eyes locked on him in such a way that he couldn't read. Dean's face was expressionless almost, fingers drumming against his bottle, and Sam swallowed down any sort of reservations he had with the last mouthful of his fourth beer that night.

He didn't answer Adam's request verbally, opting to instead lean forward and close those few inches until their mouths were locked together.

At first it felt... wrong. Maybe not wrong perse, just... odd. Sam wasn't certain when the last time was that he kissed someone who wasn't Dean, but he was willing to bet it had been well over a year.

Having someone kissing him who wasn't Dean just felt a little unnatural at first, but once Adam squeezed his thigh and nibbled gently at his bottom lip Sam felt himself relaxing into it and enjoying the feeling.

It was short lived, because very early into their make out session Adam was pulled - no, yanked - back and shoved to the floor.

"Stay the fuck off him, you creep!" Dean snarled, and it took Sam a minute to comprehend what was happening. Dean had his boot pinning Adam to the ground with ease, grinding it down with spite and making the man gasp for a breath.

"Dean! What the fuck?!" Sam demanded, standing up fast enough that his bottle tipped and the few drops of beer left dribbled out onto the table.

Dean didn't lift his foot, until he noticed shocked bystanders reaching for their phones to call the cops.

He spat on Adam, before turning and grabbing Sam by the wrist and pulling him out the bar and straight to the impala.

"Get in." Dean grunted, shoving himself in the drivers seat.

Sam rolled his eyes but did as he was told, dropping into the passenger seat. He barely had his door shut before Dean was speeding out the parking lot, and Sam felt his frustration flare even more.

What fucking right did Dean have to throw a guy off him, and how the hell did he have the audacity to be the one who was mad right now?

"That's was completely fucking unnecessary in there! He wasn't some creep, Dean. His name was Adam and he was actually really sweet-"

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"He had his fucking hand on your thigh."

"So?! That girl was practically giving you a hand job under the table and I wasn't trying to cut off her air supply for it!" Sam exclaimed, and Dean's expression tightened.

"That's different."

"How?" Sam questioned, but Dean remained silent and tight lipped. Sam wasn't letting it go that easily. No way.

"How is it different, Dean? It's the exact same and you know it, you're just-"

The car jerked so violently off to the side of the road that Sam very almost hit his head off the window, gripping the dashboard to steady himself.

Dean killed the engine.

"It's different because it was someone touching you, Sam!" Dean yelled, and Sam just stared, brows furrowed and confused.

"Fuck this." Dean muttered, throwing his door open and getting out, running his hands over his face.

Sam sighed, climbing out and going around the car to be stood beside him.

"I don't get it."

"Because- look. I don't know, ok? I know it makes me hypocritical as fuck, but I saw you kissing him and... God Sam. I've never felt so fucking furious in my life. It had me reaching for my damn gun." Dean puffed out a breath, staring at the ground instead of Sam.

"Dean." Sam said quietly, inching closer and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw line.

Some of the tension left Dean then, and he brought his hands around Sam's waist.

"You know we can't keep doing things this way. It's gonna get someone killed." Sam pointed out and Dean's face hardened again slightly.

"Yeah, whichever guy thinks he can touch you next." He said, his voice low with a possessive tint that made Sam roll his eyes.

"Likely. I think... we need to either end this all together or make it exclusive." Sam murmured, and Dean leaned forward to kiss him.

"I have no issue with being exclusive. You've ruined me for girls anyway... the last couple of weeks I can't even get it up for them. That may have been the reason we haven't fucked in two weeks, because I've maybe been trying to see if I can get hard for girls still. Turns out I can, but it takes far too much effort to be sexy." That send a flush of pride through Sam and he grinned, nipping at Dean's lips.

"Maybe it's the old age?" He teased, and Dean rolled his eyes but smirked as he grabbed Sam's wrist and directed it to his hard on.

"Nah, baby. All you. Always you, Sammy."

[tobesobri]

𝓦elcome to a brand new story from me that I never thought I would be posting but here we are! This chapter is very much introductory, which is like obvious being the first chapter but tbh I don’t really do a lot of introducing characters right off the bat in a descriptive way often so this was new for me! Also, I have an old taglist from a while ago when I was originally going to post this, but I don’t want to randomly tag people who may no longer be interested SO if you’d like to be included on a taglist for upcoming chapters please let me know! Thank you! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter One: Where Happiness Begins (5.4k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

There was something very different when she woke that Saturday morning. Maybe her breath smelled a little worse than normal. Maybe the sun shined a little brighter through her curtains than it was supposed to...

Maybe there was someone in her bed who didn’t belong there. 

“Oh my god.”

Friday night was not unlike every other night that week. There was an endless bag of chips she dug her Hot Cheeto dust covered fingers into and an over-watched series on Netflix open on her laptop in front of her. And when she wasn’t distracted by Sam and Dean Winchester, she was bawling her eyes out under the comfort of her thrifted quilt, staining her poor mismatched pillowcases.

Just like any given night.

And this Friday was no different. At least not until there was a knock on her door.

By the time she dried her face, it was almost completely unnoticeable she’d just been buried in hysterics only seconds ago.

“Harry’s coming over. You want anything from the store?” Will asked, the same Will who stuck them all together in the very beginning of splitting rent on an apartment four different ways.

He was the roommate who paid the most in rent and got the biggest room with his own private bathroom. One of the two roommates who constantly had his significant other over every night to make Y/N’s miserable time even worse. Between Will and Violet’s incessant need to take over the entire living room every weekend, Y/N was bound to end up in her own room alone crying her eyes out for no apparent reason.

Then there was her third roommate, James, who never bothered her because she was lucky to catch a fleeting glimpse of him every other week.

Y/N glanced at the phone he had pressed to his cheek, assuming Harry was on the other end of the line, on hold. Just the mention of his name sucked every sad little tear back into her skull. She didn’t know why, but having Harry around always seemed to do the trick.

Even though she barely spoke a word to him over the course of the last eighteen months she’d known him.

She buried her excitement about Harry coming over and frowned, answering as if she was she couldn’t care less even though... she cared way more than she should. “No.”

And before Will could protest, she shut the door in his face and retreated back to her bed.

Not every night was spent in agonizing spirals of self-pity and dread, but it came and went. Some days were fine. She was happy by the time she went to bed at night and didn’t have nightmares or anxiety that kept her up past her self-proclaimed bedtime. Most days, she ate regularly and went about her nightly routine with a genuine smile on her face. But recently, it had all gone to shit.

And there was no explanation. There never was. She didn’t just break up with a long-term boyfriend. No one called her an ugly bitch on the train home. Her boss didn’t yell at her for the umpteenth time about her inadequacies at work.

She was just... alone. Painfully and tragically alone.

She hated how black and white it was. That she was either happy to be alive or praying for a very large rock to fall on her and end it all. There was never an in-between and it made her feel like all her emotions were made up, like she wasn’t ever truly happy or she was sad over really stupid things.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before she heard from Will again. Before she heard more than just her roommate's voice through the thin walls. Before she could literally feel her

brain swell with more serotonin than she’d had in a long time when it was Harry’s voice she heard.

He was like an unusual ray of sunshine. Every time he was over at their apartment, it was like he was some kind of ancient sun god warding off all the evil spirits sitting on her shoulders. Which...she knew was quite strange, but she really couldn’t--nor did she want to--fight off how he made her feel.

Even if he wasn’t an internationally famous pop-sensation, she still couldn’t put her finger on why he made her feel like sunshine and butterflies whenever he was around. Which had been quite often recently on account of his upcoming album needing desperate help from Will.

Okay. She hadn’t heard a damn thing from the album, but the conversations they had about it weren’t always good. It was delayed, apparently, and Harry was in the middle of a massive writing block that led him to an impromptu trip to Barcelona the previous week.

And so now he was back. To work on the album, and, upon Y/N’s quiet arrival into the kitchen of her shared apartment, to pig out on junk food. Will hovered over the kitchen island while they figured out which movie, among a small stack of romantic comedies, to watch first.

Once Harry noticed her, he instantly stood up straight, shoving the last bit of a Kit-Kat bar into his mouth quickly to hide it from her; as if she cared about the Harry Styles munching on chocolate and sweets.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked Will, even though Harry was the only one paying her any attention. She didn’t often make eye contact with him, or even speak to him at all for that matter. But Harry was used to it. He was used to her mumbling and her short phrases. The way whenever he looked at her, she always looked away.

“Pretty Woman or Notting Hill?” Will turned to her finally, holding up both DVD boxes in his hands for Y/N to choose from, completely ignoring her previous question.

“Um... I’ve never seen them.”

Will rolled his eyes and placed the Blu-Ray boxes back down on the granite countertop, “Should’ve known that. You only watch scary shit.”

It was quiet after that for a moment. A long moment of Harry awkwardly glancing between Will and Y/N. Though his glances towards her did not come easily. Just the thought of looking at her was like his body went into fight or flight mode. Fight through the nerves and the butterflies in his stomach or fly the hell out of there.

She was like an unfriendly cat who didn’t seem to like him one bit, and it drove him insane. All his attempts to have a normal conversation with her had been fruitless. She never said more than one word to him at a time. Maybe two, if she was feeling generous. He didn’t get it at all, but he got used to it. Maybe she just didn’t have any room in her life for another person and certainly not for a person like him.

“Well, I vote for Pretty Woman,” Will said, making up everyone’s minds for them, and when he glanced at the other two, they didn’t seem to care. “Pretty Woman it is then. Y/N,” Will glanced at her exclusively while he began gathering snacks and the movie, “are you watching it too?”

“Uh.. no.” She continued into the kitchen, walking behind Harry toward the fridge and making every single nerve in his body light up. He had no idea why she, of all people on the planet he’d come into contact with, made him as nervous as she did. But, here he was. Stepping out of her way and swallowing the pit in his throat when he got a whiff of her all-too-familiar coconut scented shampoo.

And that scent just about made his head spin. It took him right back to the night he’d gotten drunk off his ass after a long day of work. She’d offered her bed to him since he was too tall for their couches, and she had been up late working herself anyways. Most of the night had been forgotten, but he very distinctly remembered stuffing his face into her pillowcases and letting the scent of her shampoo completely engulf his nostrils as he fell asleep. And it took him back to the following morning where he wobbled his hungover ass to the shower and accidentally (on purpose) used her coconut scented shampoo.

And then the entire rest of the day he smelled exactly like her and hadn’t gone a single minute without thinking of her. Thinking of her soft voice and what it would feel like to hear her saying his name just once. Thinking about the way she sometimes smiled at him like maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Thinking about her hair spread over her pillowcase and tucking loose strands behind her ear while she slept peacefully beside him...

Harry was also, very, very alone.

So alone that he spent more nights at other people’s homes, particularly Will’s, than his own. Even though he had an insanely expensive house all to himself up in the gated hills of Los Angeles, it was nothing compared to being surrounded by people he cared about instead of lifeless appliances.

He blamed it on the city. It always had a way of making him feel alienated. Even if it was the city that recognized him most often, it almost made him feel even more alone than he already was. Because none of the people he met along the way really knew him. They weren’t with him at the end of the day when he broke down on the floor in his bathroom. They didn’t see the dark parts of his life where he often wished he could take it all back just to be normal again. To have normal conversations and normal relationships with people he wasn’t constantly paranoid were trying to get something out of him.

So, in a way, he understood Y/N’s unwillingness to let him in, because he did it all the time. The thing he didn’t understand was why she had any reason to worry about the people in her life. No one was out to get her money or make themselves famous off of her. But there was a reason for it anyways, and it just about killed the curious cat in his mind every time he was at her apartment and she continued to not peep a single unnecessary word to him.

By the time he and Will had settled onto their respective spots in the living room, Harry tucked back into the cushions of their armchair and Will spread out on the loveseat opposite him, Y/N had already retreated back into her bedroom with her glass of ice water.

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.” Harry said, while Will skipped through the outdated commercials on the DVD.

Will’s lips turned up into a very knowing grin and he nodded, “She’s always been quiet, man. I told you not to take it personally.”

“How did you get her to talk?”

That was a question Harry had never asked before out of the countless stupid ones he had in the past. The stupidest was probably when he’d first met her and then proceeded to ask Will shortly after if Y/N was mute.

Will shrugged, “I’ve known her for a long time. It’s not like she goes on and on around me either though. That’s just how she is. And she probably just doesn’t like you that much.”

Harry huffed and sat back into his chair, giving up on it. He couldn’t force her to be his friend, as much as he wanted her to be.

The movie went on without Harry because he was completely lost in his own mind, however, Will seemed to be completely enthralled with Julia Roberts. Harry just couldn’t bring himself to focus on the television screen for more than a minute at a time.

It wasn’t until he heard a door down the hall click open that he brought himself back to reality and let his eyes wander to the sound behind him as Y/N stepped quietly out from her bedroom again. He knew she was the only other roommate home tonight and, yet, he still made the mistake of looking in her direction and, fucking finally, locking eyes with her. It was brief, but it was enough to stir up the enormous pot of butterflies in his stomach again.

Without a single word, she sat on the last unoccupied piece of furniture between the both of them, Harry still in a bit of shock and Will grinning with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Will asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” she mumbled back at him before reaching toward the opened bag of untouched Hershey kisses. “Can I have one of these?”

Will finally peered over at her from his spot and then glanced at Harry across the coffee table, “You’ll have to ask Harry. He brought them.”

Her hand froze and she reluctantly turned her attention toward Harry, which had been the first time since he arrived that she voluntarily looked at him. She had no fucking clue how she was going to sit there and ask Harry for one of his Hershey kisses. Or if she even wanted them desperately enough.

The question went unasked, but the look on her face said more than enough. She was already waiting for his answer. And upon seeing the look on her face, Harry couldn’t possibly find it in himself to force her to say a damn thing. So he just cleared his throat instead, “Uh, it’s alright. You can have as many as you want.”

He watched as she grabbed a couple foil sealed chocolates and settled back into the corner of her own loveseat again, never willing to admit that he’d bought them especially for her. Because it had somehow managed to become common knowledge that they were her favorite candy and while wandering the local corner market, he spotted them and thought of her. His brain at the time thought there might be some minuscule possibility that if he brought one of her favorite foods over she might eventually start to like him.

Even if that didn’t happen though, he was still reeling from that one brief moment of interaction for the entire rest of the night. Splurging on an overpriced package of cavities had been well worth it.

It wasn’t until the movie ended that both Harry and Y/N realized Will was dead asleep. That he was no longer conscious enough to use the remote resting on his chest and turn the movie off. So, after a little while of staring at the credits, Y/N stood and grabbed it, flipping the controls until she brought up regular TV channels and then eventually settled for a horror movie Harry had never seen and had no intentions to. But, if it meant he got more time with Y/N, he’d sit through just about anything she wanted to watch.

And then finally, the sugar he’d consumed got to his head.

“Do you always watch scary movies before bed?” He asked, completely lost in his daydreams and not fully realizing he’d asked her a full-blown question until it was out of his mouth. Once he came to his senses, he wanted to shove every last word back into his mouth and pretend he never said anything.

That was, until a couple silent moments went by and she finally said something. “Makes the nightmares more interesting.”

He didn’t expect her to say anything at all, and so for her to say that, he had no idea how to respond to her. Was she being... sarcastic? He didn’t even know she was capable of being funny.

So he laughed, not too loudly in case she wasn’t joking. But all his worries were relieved when she glanced at him and giggled too.

He didn’t dare bring up any of the questions floating around in his mind in fear that she’d never speak another word to him ever again once he’d finally managed to break through the walls somehow. Now that he’d made groundbreaking progress with her, there was no way he was asking her why she never talked to him or why she was so quiet. So he kept a fine-tuned filter over what words came out of his mouth.

“Does that mean you have uninteresting nightmares then?” Harry really did try his damndest to think of anything to say that would get her to keep talking, because he wasn’t done listening to her voice or hearing bits of her brain spill out. He wanted to know everything about her, from her mouth only, but he also didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

“Only on Sundays.”

“Why Sundays?” He asked through a muffled laugh, curious as to what she was on about.

“Because then the nightmares are about showing up at work naked on Monday morning... and that’s not very interesting.”

He couldn’t help the widespread grin on his face, or the way his eyebrows furrowed at how fucking weird she actually was. And she wasn’t even that weird. She was kind of normal, but this entire time he thought she wasn’t like him at all, so seeing her say things like a normal person was... weird.

“So what kind of nightmares does watching Annabelle at...” Harry checked his watch, and went into momentary shock at the time, but also couldn’t care less because he wasn’t leaving now, “two in the morning get you?”

She smiled, and refusing to look at him, settled for planting her eyes on the television instead. “Walking into work naked on Monday morning but,” she held up a finger in anticipation and Harry smiled wider, “all my coworkers are creepy dolls.”

“Guess at that point it doesn't matter if you’re naked then.”

She thought about for a moment before giggling at what he said, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

There was silence between them again, but it was different this time. It was peaceful. It wasn’t full of awkward tension and things Harry wished she would say. It felt like two friends hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you sleeping here or...” She finally asked him and he wasn’t sure if that was her way of asking him to leave or not. But something about it made him feel like she was building her walls back up again.

“Oh, uh... if that’s okay. Think I’m too tired to drive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to know because I can sleep in Violet’s room and you can have my bed like before. If you want.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, that the short, uncomfortable couch would be fine. That he would get over the pain in his legs and back in the morning because he didn’t want to invade her space, again. Unfortunately for him, he already had the knowledge of what her pillows smelled like and how soft her sheets were and he desperately wanted to invade her space again.

She nodded. “It’s no problem. I’ll go clean up a little. Just let yourself in.”

She was gone before he could get another word out. And while he listened to her footsteps as she walked away from him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, resting his neck back on the chair. It felt like he’d just been through a fever dream, like none of it was real. Not only did he have a normal conversation with her, but now she was offering her bed to him again as well.

He needed a moment to process things.

When she got done tidying up her room and replacing her blanket with a clean one for Harry, he appeared cautiously in the doorway, yawning as he watched her gather some of her things to take to Violet’s room directly across the hall.

“I turned the TV off and the lights. Will’s still quite dead out there.”

She smiled to herself and gave him a very fleeting glance before picking the last item she needed up off her side table and then finally facing him. “It��s all yours.”

Ushering him in, he stepped into her room like he wasn’t actually allowed to. Like he had never been there before. Like he hadn’t nearly puked all over her poor white bed sheets that one night.

She replaced his spot in the doorway as he sat down on the edge of her bed. He stared at her back as she walked away, not getting his hopes up about her saying anything else to him. So, when she did turn to face him again, it just about knocked the air out of him.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to not drool on my pillows this time?”

He glanced at the top of her bed where all her pillows were neatly stacked and cringed at the horrible memories he had and at the fact that he’d actually drooled on her pillows. Like a fucking animal. Like a dog who couldn’t control himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that...” He looked at her again, genuinely apologetic and completely embarrassed by his past, drunken self.

“It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly, “Night.”

“G’night.” Harry mumbled just before she left and closed the door behind her.

And in all the talk about drool, it wasn’t until he was cuddled under her blanket and up against her mound of pillows that he realized something. She’d said his name, out loud, to his face, where he could hear it and obsess over it and never get sick of it. He repeated it over and over in his head and kept himself awake just thinking about the way it had sounded and if he’d ever get to hear her say his name again.

The faint hum of voices right outside the door woke him slightly. His entire body was still asleep except for about half of his brain and one eye that peeked open to investigate the noise. He could tell it was early, though, his eyes stung and his body ached to go fully back to sleep.

He could make out Violet’s voice, which confused his foggy brain because he swore Will had mentioned she’d be gone all weekend, and yet here she was yelling in the hallway and interrupting his sleep.

“Please just sleep on the couch then, I need to be alone right now.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at how distressed she sounded and flinched when the door across the hall just about slammed shut.

He heard an exasperated sigh and then squeezed his eyes shut when he saw movement under the door to Y/N’s bedroom just moments before it opened. He pretended to be asleep for as long as he could, listening to the footsteps as they carefully wandered into the room.

And then a hushed, but very exclamatory, “Ow!” got him to roll onto his back and knuckle his eyes open.

She looked at him apologetically while grasping the big toe of her right foot. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His voice was a lot groggier and a lot more raspy than she expected it to be. And she kind of hated herself for enjoying the view, a little too much, of Harry waking up in her bed. While she got her thoughts under control, he continued. “Did Violet just kick you out?”

She simply nodded and went back to digging into her cabinets for spare pillows.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Four-thirty.”

Then he slowly pulled her blanket off, still dressed in his shirt and joggers from last night but without his socks and rings he’d removed before bed.

She immediately turned to him, however. “You don’t have to get up. I’m fine on the couch.” “No, I would feel bad.”

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it.” She got him to stop what he was doing and lay back into the bed again while she opened up more cabinet doors to find her extra bed sets.

He cleared his throat after a little while of watching her, and gathered up the largest bundle of courage he ever had, to say what he was about to say next. With nervous, shaking fingers and a cold sweat on the back of his neck, he voiced the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life.

“We can just both sleep here... if that’s fine.”

She froze and he knew he’d made a mistake. Why in the actual fuck did he just suggest that? Maybe he was sleep deprived. Maybe he was still reeling from last night. Maybe he had some false sense of security with her and completely forgot about the fact that last night had been the first time she’d said that many words to him. Of course she wasn’t about to climb in bed with him.

“Oh, um...” She finally found a couple pillows and pulled them from the cabinet while turning her attention back to Harry. She could not deny how desperately she wanted to crawl back into her own bed. And have a warm body next to her, which she had literally never had. No one had ever slept in her bed besides Harry, and definitely not with her. Sure, she’d slept in friends’ beds before on occasion, but this was different. It was her own bed and this was Harry, not her college friends.

So maybe it was the sleep-deprivation talking. 

“Okay.”

In all forms but physical, his jaw had just hit the floor. Never in a million years or in any other infinite alternate realities would he have thought they’d end up here, with Harry sliding over to one side of the bed to make room for her while she crawled in beside him. Her queen size gave lots of room in between them, so it wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was just two, very tired loose-knit friends sharing a bed for a few hours.

“Goodnight, again.” Harry mumbled, realizing too late that it was technically morning now.

“Mhm,” was the only response he got out of her when she curled up under the blanket they shared and went straight back to sleep with her back to him.

And once his nerves settled, he did the same.

It was a lot easier than either of them thought possible. And for a long while, they stayed on their respective sides of the bed. But once she was lost in dreamland and he was already letting out soft snores, there was no control over what happened next. She turned and cuddled right up to his side as if her unconscious mind thought he was some kind of pillow to cradle. She wasn’t all to blame, though, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Closer than either of them had been to another living being in a long time. As close as her forearm spread across his chest and her head nestled into his neck. Close enough to smell his cologne but not realize why or stop any of it from happening. Not that she would have wanted to if she had any clue what she was doing. Not that he would have wanted to either.

With his hand digging into her waist, they both were mildly aware of what was going on, but both were also still too lost in their exhaustion. So, it just happened. And they held each other tighter as the minutes passed and the dreams took over once again. Because they both needed it. To hold and to be held. To feel the pressure of another person and the heartbeat on their skin. And all the loneliness in their bones melting away with each other’s touch as if they’d never been alone in the first place.

The only thing that could ever separate them was the knock on her door at nine a.m. Everything was a little fuzzy at first before she blinked a few times and realized that what she’d been using as a pillow wasn’t exactly stuffed with cotton and lined in silk. With a gasp, she pulled away from him abruptly. Ceasing all contact. Not because she wanted to necessarily, but because she would rather Harry not find out she was all over him like she had just been.

“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly in disbelief, mentally punching herself in the face for what she’d just woken up to.

But her embarrassment only skyrocketed when she dragged her eyes up his neck to his chin, then his nose and finally saw him staring right back at her with furrowed brows like he was just as confused as she was. When he glanced at the door is when she moved to do something about it.

Quickly, she pulled the covers off of herself and opened her door only the smallest amount possible. Just enough to peak her head out, but not enough for Will to see Harry in her bed. Where she’d just been sleeping right next to him. Or... right on top of him, as it seemed.

“Did Harry go home last night?”

With absolutely no plan to go along with her lie, she still figured it was the better option than to admit to Will she’d been in the same bed as Harry. That she’d been all fucking over him for who knows how long.

“Um, yeah. After you fell asleep.”

From behind her, Harry quietly smacked his hands over his face and fell back dramatically into her fluffy pillows.

“Oh, ok. Vi won’t come out of her room, but I’m going to go get breakfast from Jade’s. You want anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Her words fused together in a flash, just trying to get the least amount of information out as quickly as possible so she didn't accidentally say something suspicious.

She shut the door on him with a smile before Will could even offer her a pastry from their most loved local cafe. Once that was dealt with, and she had a moment to gather her thoughts as she stared at her door, she slowly turned around to face Harry.

Her cheeks were probably bright red and full of embarrassment seeing him there amongst her sheets; as if once she had turned around he wouldn’t actually be there, like maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But no.

He was there. And he was very real. And very much looking at her like they were both insane.

“I’m sorry,” they said it at the exact same time, cutting each other off from saying anything else.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, um...” Harry started once he found an opportunity to speak again, but he didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. He wasn’t sorry for how they’d ended up. He had the best four and a half hours of sleep he’d ever had.

“I shouldn’t have been like... all on you like that.” She averted her eyes when she spoke, not able to look him straight on and admit it. And she knew she was only apologizing because she felt embarrassed and like she had to. She felt like she’d invaded Harry’s space and took advantage of him.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She just shrugged. Nothing he said at this point could make her feel any less horrible about it. And even so, some part deep down inside of her, when she finally looked at him again, wanted to get right back into that spot with him for another few hours.

It just felt... right. And even though she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about, she knew it wasn’t her usual nightmare. She had felt safe and secure, and not so alone anymore, sleeping beside him like that and she felt stupid knowing it would never happen again.

“I should get going then. Before Will comes back and realizes I didn’t actually leave.” Harry let out an exasperated laugh as he began getting up, sitting himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her as he stretched. The fabric of his shirt tugged along his muscles as he flexed them awake, and she grew far too overwhelmed thinking about the fact that those fucking arms of his had been around her for the better half of the morning. She could still feel him holding onto her and his grip at her side.

She needed a very cold shower and some fresh air.

[buckysmischief]

running in the dark - 2

Bucky Barnes x reader

Alex Summers x reader

Word Count: 2,224

Warning(s): language, drinking & smoking

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Playlist

“Good morning, gorgeous.” The smell of pancakes and syrup filled your senses, pulling you out of a deep sleep.

Without opening your eyes you eventually spoke up, “Pancakes and pet names won’t fix anything, Alex. How’d you get in anyway?”

“Wanda slammed the door in my face-”

“-as she should.”

“-so I climbed in through the window.” He confessed.”And I’m not sure there is a way to make up for my actions last night, but I overreacted and I’m sorry. There’s no excuse, I’m just a dumbass.”

In all the time you’ve known Alex, he’s hardly apologized, but in no way did that mean he was sincere. “Look you can say whatever you want but actions mean more to me. Be the boyfriend I deserve or just leave. I’m too tired to keep fighting for something you don’t seem to take seriously at all.”

He’s never been the best boyfriend, but he definitely wasn’t the worst - not that that’s saying much. If he wasn’t willing to put in the work, though, then you could live without him.

“I’ll be better, for us. I promise.” You could tell by the look on his face he meant it, or at least wanted to, even his tone was different than the other times.

“Okay, but you really gotta show me this time, and give me those pancakes before I accidentally push you off the bed.”

After you stuffed your face, you let him cuddle with you. It could have been your full stomach, or being wrapped up in your boyfriend, but eventually you fell back asleep.

This was the side of Alex that you wish everyone else could see, the side where he was soft, gentle, and caring. Of course you didn’t want everyone knowing first hand just how comfortable his embrace felt, that was just for you.

You had known him since high school but were never in the same circles, your paths never even crossed unless you were in detention at the same time. God forbid anyone tried to talk in there though, the teacher was a bitch and would add days just because she could. It wasn’t until a few years ago that you met him and started dating.

Well, you ran into each other at a club, talked for a few hours, and ended up half naked in his bed the next morning. Things were very casual in the beginning, well as casual as exclusive fuck buddies could be. About a year and a half ago you both decided to make things official. That’s when things started getting rocky.

He became more jealous, a lot worse than he was the night before, that was something he needed to work on again. A part of you really wanted this to work out, you’d definitely needed to convince your friends to give him another chance but that was for another day.

Much sooner than you would have liked, Alex was pulling you out of your sleep, “Hey princess, you gotta get up. Wanda’s been blowing up your phone.”

“Ugh, I must be late.” you groaned and rolled out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and an on band tee.

“For what? I thought you were off today?”

“You remember Leslie, Pietro’s girlfriend? She’s moving in today, and so is Bucky I guess. I told them I’d help unpack and stuff.” You were lowkey expecting him to freak out, but he looked absolutely calm.

“I know I’m probably not welcome, but I can help if y’all need it.” He knew if he was ever going to make it work with you, he needed to have a better relationship with your friends. He’s trying.

“As much as I’d love that,” you say, giving him a kiss, “I think it would be better to plan something ahead of time.”

“We can go to Topgolf, maybe a cookout on the beach?” A part of you was almost suspicious at how different he was acting, you made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

“A cookout would probably be best,” another ding came from your phone, Wanda was outside waiting. “Come on, you can come back over later if you want.”

He stopped you before reaching the front door, pulling you into a kiss with enough passion to leave you breathless and weak in the knees. “Text me when you get home, I love you.”

“I love you too, have a good day babe.”

You could feel Wanda’s eyes on you from the car, silently judging you. “I’m not going to tell you what I’m thinking.” She said, pulling out the driveway.

“Small blessings.” You laughed.

“BUT, that’s because I’ve said it 100 times and I don’t feel like wasting my breath anymore.” She was thinking you were an idiot who deserves better and blah blah blah, and she’s right, but you learned a long time ago that if you couldn’t get over this crush for Bucky then you’d spend the rest of your life settling for anyone who wasn’t him.

That didn’t mean your feelings for Alex were fake or anything - they’re real - they just didn’t compare to how Bucky had made you feel almost your whole life. It didn’t help that all of those feelings came back the second you saw him standing in your living room.

“So how long is Bucky staying with P?”

“Until he finds a place nearby,” she replied, not mentioning the subject change, “he didn’t really have much though so we're really just helping Leslie.”

“So what you’re saying is the boys are going to do all the heavy lifting while the three of us just organize it all?”

“Exactly.”

As Wanda parked next to the curb you could see the boys unloading the U-Haul while Leslie directed them safely in the house.

Her and Pietro have been together for awhile now, no one knows how long exactly because they’re assholes and won’t tell. They said they’ll reveal it on their wedding day, but everyone knows neither of them are the marrying type. You know what kind of people treat their friends and family that way? People that belong together apparently.

“Thank God you’re finally here!” Leslie shouted as she ran from the front patio to hug them both. “What held you up?”

“Someone had an early moring visitor.” Wanda’s voice didn’t show a hint of irritation, but her mean sideeye did.

“Someone’s just mad no one climbed through their window and brought them breakfast.” Truth be told, that comment was kind of mean. Sam, Wanda’s boyfriend, was currently stationed on the other side of the country and she didn’t get to see him a lot. And yes, if he was here she probably would have gotten an entire breakfast platter made for her. But just because you understand her dislike of Alex doesn’t that mean she has to remind you in subtle ways whenever she feels like it.

“Speaking of food,” Pietro interrupts, “is it almost lunchtime? I’m starving.”

“Who are you, Scooby-Doo? You just ate 30 minutes ago.” Leslie laughs.

“I’ll pickup some wings and pizza,” you offer, walking inside the house, “Where’s Bucky? He’s coming with me.”

“Is he?”

“He owes me eight years, he doesn’t have a choice.”

You eventually found him in the back yard, sitting in the sand. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Never,” he smiled, “you can sit next to me you know. I don’t bite.”

“Eight year old me would beg to differ, but I’m good. About to pick up some food, wanna come with?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Nope, come on.”

Wanda called in the order to the pizza place near the boardwalk, so by the time Bucky pulled up there shouldn’t be a long wait. You decided to walk to the ABC store across the street and grab a few bottles of rum and vodka. If they thought there wasn’t going to be some kind of special housewarming party, they were wrong.

Once you got back to the car, Bucky was walking out with three boxes of pizza and three boxes of wings, “I would have asked you if you needed help but I wanted to see if those muscles were just for show.”

“You got the essentials so I’ll let it pass.” He wouldn’t have made you carry anything anyways, not because he was that nice, he just knew you’d drop at least two boxes.

“Oh, the essentials? Those are getting dropped off later.”

“You’re a mess.” He knew exactly what you were referring to and left it alone at that.

When you both got back to Pietro’s, more of Leslie’s things were inside and ready to be put away, but that could wait until after lunch… and maybe a few drinks.

As the day went on, the five of you successfully got everything organized and as a reward to yourselves, you were going to have a bonfire on the beach. A part of you wanted to invite Alex, but you’d see him later. Right now was about hanging out with your friends - and catching up with Bucky.

Pietro brought out two sheets to sit on while Bucky got the fire started, Wanda and Leslie got the drinks and you grabbed some snacks.

And the weed.

“I bought enough to share!” You shook the jar, letting everyone know if they wanted it then they could take it.

Wanda laughed out, “You know Pietro will.”

“That’s because he’s the only one with good taste.” You winked to Leslie.

It immediately - and rightfully - went to her head, “Isn’t that the truth.”

When the sheets were laid out, Wanda, Leslie and Pietro sat on the bigger one with you and Bucky on the slightly smaller one.

At one point in the evening, you tuned the others out and gave your full attention to Bucky. He was filling you in on all the things he didn’t know you already knew thanks to Pietro not knowing how to keep his mouth shut. The only thing you didn’t know was why exactly he pushed you away, just that it had something to do with his ex. Why not find out now?

“So, why didn’t Natasha like me?” It was better to just come right out and ask, no point in holding back now.

Bucky knew he couldn’t tell you the whole truth, but he wasn’t going to lie either. “Nat was - is, definitely still is crazy. I think it was your third break up with Beck, you called in the middle of the night crying and she freaked out after. Said you were “disrespecting” her and a bunch of other ridiculous things.”

“If you knew they were ridiculous then why did it work?” You asked softly, not wanting the others to overhear.

He wanted to tell you that it worked because it seemed like his only escape from you, that maybe a clean break from you was what he needed to really get over you for good. But here he was, all these years later and still hopelessly in love with you.

Again, he chose to tell you half of the truth. “She told me she was pregnant, but I found out she was lying four months later. First thing I wanted to do was call you and apologize, maybe cry a bit, but I was too embarrassed that I did what I did to you..”

“Buck..”

“No, please don’t. I shouldn’t have just cut you out, you didn’t deserve that.”

There wasn’t really anything to say to that, there wasn’t anything you wanted to say to that. Knowing didn’t make you feel better like you thought it would, truth be told it made you feel worse for reasons you couldn’t even admit to yourself. Instead you hit the blunt and silently offered it to him, slightly shocked when he took it.

On the other side of the fire, the twins were wrapped up in their own conversation while Leslie was silently watching you and Bucky through the flames.

“Hey guys,” she whispered to the twins, “did Yn and Bucky ever date?”

“Ew, gross.”

“No, why?”

If a stranger were to walk past and see the way you two were looking at each other, they would probably think you are dating. “Are you both blind? Actually, that’s offensive to the  blind, even they would know what I’m talking about.”

Pietro looked over to see you both laughing and other than you sitting a little close to Bucky, he didn’t see what his girlfriend was talking about, but Wanda did.

Around nine you texted Alex for a ride since everyone was too drunk to drive, Wanda chose to just sleep on her brother's couch instead. Once you were in his car he put your seatbelt on for you, “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“I just missed you.”

“Can I spend the night? I missed you too.” You said, trying to get as close to him as you could.

“Anything you want baby.” He was keeping his eyes on the road, but you didn’t miss the smile on his face.

“Then can we go to Cookout? I’d kill for a milkshake.”

“Already headed in that direction.” It wasn’t a guarantee he was going to change in the long run, but right now he was putting in effort and that’s all that mattered.

perm tags (46/50): @stuckonjbbarnes​ @valkyriesryde​ @hopesbarnes​ @superavengerpotterstar​ @estillion14​ @sleepingspacedragon​ @geeksareunique​ @imsoft-barnes​ @murdermornings​ @distractedgemini​ @screaming-fridge​ @readeity​ @whatinthyworld​ @my-drowning-in-time​ @buggy-blogs​ @hey-its-grey​ @pinknerdpanda​ @brokenthelovely​ @theannoyingnightmarecollector​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @rhymesmenagerie​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @https-bucky​ @also-fangirlinsweden​ @goalexis123​ @missmeganrachel​ @sunflowersandcherry​ @miraclesoflove​ @matsumama​ @reann-loves-sebstan​ @thinkoutsidethebex​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @niall2017​ @maddope​ @imagine-all-the-imagines​ @thummbelina​ @m3ga1nsp1r3d​ @romaniansweetheart​ @thebadassbitchqueen​ @king-sebb​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @bonkyboinkybucky​ @slaytherinthoughts​ @kingkassam​ @anti-the-glitch-bitch​ @poppunkdork​

series tags (2/25): @rebekahdawkins​ @writerwrites​

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH20

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

A/N: This is just a little something fluffy. And we see a lil more of what lies ahead.

WC: 3436

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean’s man helps her clean up the bar but he didn’t say a word. Only when Y/N asks him his name did he tell her that he’s Gabriel. She wonders what happened to Adam, if Dean’s really jealous and took her jokes seriously to take Adam off this job and delegate him to do something else. Because that wasn’t her intention. 

Gabriel follows her to Dean’s apartment in his own car and even follows her into the garage.

She gets out the same as he gets out of his vehicle. “You didn’t have to come down here, I’m a big girl.”

Gabriel looks at her like he thinks she’s crazy. “I live here.”

“In this building?”

“Yeah, boss provides accommodation. Here, and several other buildings around town.” 

Her jaw opens and she knows she has to close it. After a long while of staring each other down she asks, “How many of you live here?” 

Gabriel shrugs, “About twenty. The rest he rents out.”

“He owns the whole building?”

“Hey woman, you’re with him, you should know.”

Yeah, maybe Gabriel’s right. Maybe she should know. 

“And he decides who lives here and who lives in other buildings?”

“Only people he trusts live here.” Gabriel says it like it’s no big deal.

“Adam?”

“No.”

“Who’s looking after the cat when he’s not around?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“Before you? Sam sometimes Cas, but Cas is allergic to cats. Big boss doesn’t trust anyone else with a key to his apartment.”

“Ah,” She says and she feels her cheeks burning up.

“Listen, it’s late, I wanna go lie down. Will you be okay? Just hit me up tomorrow when you’re leaving for your shift. I’m in apartment 17A.”

“Okay,” She says, and adds, “Thank you.”

*

She turns the key and slips in, turns on the light and immediately, Cuddles is by her side, meowing softly. “Hey Cuddles, I’m gonna stay with you for a couple of days, okay? You hungry?”

Cuddles runs straight to his feeding dish, meows some more and she drops her things in Dean’s bedroom before she returns to feed the cat.

While Cuddles is eating, she stands up, empties the litter box and walks back into the bedroom. “I’m gonna take a shower, alright?” She says to the cat in passing.

Apparently, she talks to cats now.

*

After her shower, Y/N walks out into the bedroom with a towel around her body. She goes straight to her bag but then she has an idea.

Walking over to Dean’s closet, she opens it. 

Suits and shirts. 

A lot of it.

Almost exclusively.

Dress pants too.

She opens a drawer. Ties. Neatly rolled up.

Another drawer. Cuff-links. Neatly aligned on one side, tie clips off to the other side.

She tries another drawer. Underwear and socks.

My god, where does he keep his normal clothing? 

The second to last drawer. Bingo! Simple t-shirts and henleys. Not as many as dress shirts but enough. She finds the one she’s been looking for, and pulls it out, places it to her nose, smells Dean’s detergent on it.

It’s the same shirt she wore when she was here the first time. Led Zeppelin. The letters already faded. She wonders if he’s wearing it often.

She walks back into the bathroom, hangs the towel up to dry and brushes her teeth. Everything’s still here. His toothbrush, his trimmer, his cologne. Dean must be used to traveling, maybe even has sets in his bag ready for travel so he doesn’t have to unpack a lot once he gets home.

Walking out again, she turns on the light on the bedside table before returning to the bathroom to switch off that light. She fishes out a pair of underwear she’s packed and puts her old clothes into the plastic bag before she stuffs them into her overnight bag.

When she looks at the bed again, Cuddles’ already lying in there, waiting for her.

She grins, “Hey buddy, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

The cat gives her a look that says Duh! If you wouldn’t have wanted me in here you should have closed the door! But then it’s like the cat’s face softens up when she strokes his head. And now he’s looking at her as if to say I won’t tell if you don’t. And how can she say no to that?

Y/N cozies herself into the bed, almost gets lost in the comfy sheets. Everything smells new. Dean must have changed the sheets before he left.

Turning off the light, she turns on her side, Cuddles is already purring away next to her. 

She’s almost asleep when she hears her phone vibrate. She takes it, looks at the message. Smiles because she can’t not smile at that.

D: Is everything okay? 

Y/N: Why shouldn’t it be?

D: Is the cat giving you attitude?

Y/N: He has a name.

D: Is Cuddles giving you attitude?

Y/N: Oh shit, I was supposed to go to your place!

D: Jesus Y/N! Don’t make me drive back to spank you!

Y/N: Relax. Everything’s fine. Although I wouldn’t say no to a spanking. But yeah, we’re fine. Both in bed and ready to sleep.

D: I would hope that you’re both in separate beds. With him in his cat bed which is located in the fucking living room.

Y/N: Sure.

D: Y/N!

Y/N: Good night Dean

D: I swear, if I find out that he’s been in my bed..

She laughs at that, puts her phone aside even if it’s still vibrating with incoming messages. She’s too tired to deal with texts.

It’s about another minute when her phone rings, and she picks up grumpily. “Hello?”

“I know you didn’t read the messages.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s alright. Just want to say good night to you. So good night, baby.”

“Good night Dean.”

“Miss you.” He adds and there goes sleep because her heart is racing.

“Miss you too.” 

They’re driving to an abandoned warehouse, where the meeting with Crowley is supposed to be. They’re meeting with Crowley’s nephew. The head of Crowley’s logistics operation or so Crowley says.

The drive is a short one since they were already in town for another meeting yesterday and slept here. Sleep is maybe too good of a word. Dean has had a nightmare again, woke up in the middle of the night with sweat beading his forehead. That was when he texted her. 

It’s almost noon now and he wonders if she’s awake already.

“Dean, we’re here.” Cas says, jolting Dean back to reality. 

“Okay, you can go on, I’ll just be a minute.” He says while Inias, Ash and Cas get out of the car. Of course Dean didn’t miss Cas’ eye roll. Couldn’t have missed it if he tried.

Alone in the car, Dean thumbs over his contacts, his finger hovers above her number. He debates for a short moment, breathes in and out. He doesn’t want to wake her up but the urge to hear her voice is almost too much for him to bear.

It rings.

“‘Lo,” 

Dean exhales. The tense in his body is gone and he relaxes immediately. She sounds like she just woke up, her voice as a sexy sultry tone to it. It actually makes his cock stir in his pants and he knows he should be ashamed of it. Should be worried of the effects she has on him. Worried of the power she holds over him.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” Dean can hear shuffling, she’s probably getting out of the bed. His bed. The thought makes him feel kind of content. It should be like this, shouldn’t it? With her in his apartment, in his bed.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, I’m up for a while. How did you sleep?”

“What is sleep?” He snorts.

“Nightmare?”

Dean sighs, “Yeah.”

“‘M sorry.”

“Don’t bother,” He brushes it off, doesn’t want to dwell on the subject of his nightmares. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m—” There’s a sound of a machine. Loud and horrible. He makes a mental note to maybe get a new one. One that isn’t so fucking loud. “—oh my god!”

Dean chuckles, “It’s loud isn’t it?”

“No, I mean yeah, it is but I just had another shock moment.”

Dean’s alarmed. “What is it? The cat?”

Y/N laughs then, “Sorry, no. It’s just I was walking around and there’s a blob of your cum coming out of me and I think I need to change underwear again.”

“Jesus, Y/N! You seriously need to stop giving me heart attacks!” Then his voice gets lower, “Fuck, thanks for that image. Now I can’t stop thinking about you walking around in my apartment with cum stained underwear. You’re now wet and dripping, too, probably. Wet enough for me to just bend you over and fuck into you.”

Alright, that was a mistake because he’s half hard just by imagining it. 

“Thanks,” She says, and adds, “Now I’m even wetter.” 

“You’re welcome.” Dean grins. 

“Why don’t you do it?” 

“Do what?” He asks, wondering how she thinks he can go there right now.

“Bend me over and fuck me from behind. You always do it from the front.”

It’s the first time Dean thinks about it and yeah, that’s true.

“I-I just always want to see your face. I can’t if I’m behind you.”

It’s the truth. He can’t stand not seeing her face. Wants to know when he’s doing something wrong because she matters.

“You have a floor length mirror in your bedroom, just saying,”

“Ooookay, I need to cut this off because I have a meeting to attend and I can’t be thinking of you on all fours wet and ready for me.”

She laughs, “Too late.”

“It is.” He agrees. “Right, I’ll be in touch and I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, baby.”

Dean hangs up, stowed his phone back into his pocket and adjusts his boner before he gets out, buttoning up his suit jacket, slips into Dean Winchester, mobster boss.

“Alright, let’s go.”

*

“Gentlemen,” Crowley says as they walk in. “Take a seat.”

There are four empty chairs around a gigantic round table. The others are all occupied.

“Sorry we’re late,” Dean says, unbuttons his jacket and sits down. He looks into the round, sees familiar faces except for one.

“Yeah, he had to call up his sweetheart.” Ash snorts and Dean gives him that look. A look that says, that Ash should shut up or he’ll find himself at the end of a barrel.

Crowley grins, “Is that so? Is that why you didn’t want a girl from the club?”

Dean’s annoyed to say the least. “Can we get on with what he came here for?”

Crowley ignores Dean, turns to Ash and says, “That waitress?”

“Barmaid.” Cas corrects Crowley, a smug grin on his face but that grin is gone when he sees the look on Dean’s face.

“Ew, the one who said she had STD.” Crowley cringes his nose but then his lips form an ‘O’, “Ah, I’ve been played, I see. Barmaid one, Crowley zero.”

“Please, it’s none if your fucking business.” Dean growls, his hand comes up to scratch at his jaw, feeling visibly uncomfortable.

“Right, it’s your ‘fucking’ business,” Crowley is still grinning, air quotes the word fucking. “Anyway, gentlemen, this is my nephew Cain. He’s something higher up at Amtrak, is responsible for routes and schedules, I asked him to help out and here he is.”

“Cain,” Dean nods. It’s hard to tell that Cain’s Crowley’s nephew. He’s much taller, doesn’t look like his uncle at all. If it’s even his real uncle. Sometimes Crowley likes to take people under his wing, mentor them so he can use them. 

“I’ll have people cover up the wagons, make them believe it’s a freight train of the city when in fact it’s gonna be methylamine for buyers in the west and countless other illegal things that I don’t even wanna know about.” Crowley is explaining it to Cain. Looking around at Dean and his men Crowley then says, “I hope gentlemen, that after this, you’ll be voting for me again in the next mayoral election.”

Dean tries not to snort out too loud.

“How many wagons are we talking about?” Cain asks, balancing a pen on his finger. Dean has noticed that Cain’s taking notes like a good school boy. He doesn’t know what it is but there’s something about Cain that rubs him the wrong way. He wonders if Crowley has run a background check on him.

“About fifteen to twenty.” Dean says. 

“Excuse me what?” Cain asks, taken aback by the large number.

“Oh, you heard me.” Dean smirks and then he turns to Crowley, “I don’t think your nephew is ready for such a big thing.”

Castiel lowers his chin and mumbles “That’s what he said.” Which in turns makes Ash spit out the water he’s been drinking and splatters it across the table.

He’s working with a bunch of kids, Dean realizes.

“Cain, are you able to do that?” Crowley asks, his gaze on Cain and it’s as if Cain knows that if he says no, Crowley will probably do something bad to him and get someone else to do it anyway.

“I can,” Cain says, but his voice is not as convincing. “I need a couple of months, though.”

“Months?” Crowley’s outraged.

“Yeah, it’s not that easy, given the amount of freight I need to be thorough with the planning.” Cain tries to explain himself.

“Ash will help you.” Dean says.

*

After everyone walks out of the meeting room, Dean pulls Crowley aside. “Listen how real of a nephew is Cain to you?”

Crowley chuckles. “He’s actually not. It’s just someone I thought has potential.”

“Good,” Dean whispers. “I don’t trust him. Do you have a back up?”

“I always have a back up. Maybe not as good but when Ash can work on it sometime with Cain, maybe Ash can do the majority and we can get the backup in. I don’t trust Cain myself.”

“Why’s that?”

“Have you seen him making notes? Who the hell does that? It’s not like the things we talk about should be found anywhere! It fucking irks me!” Crowley hisses.

“Why did you get him on board?” Dean hisses back.

“His brother worked for me and got killed. Said I’d take care of his family and when I found out that Cain works for Amtrak, he was my fucking man alright?”

“For fuck’s sake, Crowley! Why do you think that he won’t be ratting us out? For all I know he’s gonna serve our asses to the Feds on a fucking silver platter!” Dean’s annoyed, punches the wall next to him.

“He’s being watched 24/7. I tapped his phone and his emails are going through my server. For now, get Ash to work with him, I’ll take care of it when time comes.” Crowley says and with that, he walks out of the meeting room. 

Dean feels nauseous, has to sit down for a moment. He rubs his face, leans back and closes his eyes. 

No, this can’t be happening. He’s not going to lay his future (or what’s left of it) in the hands of fucking Cain. This is his only shot, it’s all or nothing. It has to work out, only then will he be a free man. And now with Y/N, he has even more to lose. 

D: I have to stay here another night, will you be okay?

Her phone lights up as she’s loading the dishwasher. She finishes the task and writes back.

Y/N: Don’t worry about me. Cuddles and me are having a good time.

D: Wish I could be there.

She giggles before she types something in.

Y/N: You’d be the third wheel.

The three dots appear, which means Dean’s typing something. And then they disappear only to reappear. The same game, again and again.

Y/N: You okay?

D: Yeah.

Then a little later.

D: No, actually I’m not. I’m having a rough day. Can I call you later? Maybe it helps when I hear your voice.

Y/N: Sure. Do you wanna call now?

D: No, I’m with Cas and the others. They’re already making enough fun of me as it is. Don’t worry, I’ll call you later, sweetheart. 

Y/N: Okay. 

Great. Does he think that she won’t worry? Ugh. Men, seriously.

She pockets her phone into her jeans and walks towards Dean’s office. She absolutely hates to do that. It’s like Dean completely turns her around and that’s not good, is it?

Her heart’s racing when she opens the door. The office is sparse, a big heavy desk, a big screen, a laptop. One big ass office chair and behind it some folders and a file cabinet. 

All of a sudden a sound makes her scream up. Cuddles jumped from the floor onto the desk. “My god, you scared me for a second there.”

The cat looks at her with the look that says something like You and me both know that neither of us should be in here.

She sighs, rolls her eyes, “This is our secret, alright? I’m not doing it because I want to.”

Y/N works fast, looks through folders, files, comes up empty handed. She picks up the cat, glances back one last time to see if everything’s as it should be and then she closes the door behind her, leans against it and breathes for the first time. She didn’t realize that she’s been holding her breath this whole time.

There’s nothing that leads to his shady things. All the folders and files are about legal investments and that is as frustrating as it is a relief.

He must have all his other things at the bunker and who knows when she’ll be able to go there next and even worse, she won’t be alone in there.

She walks back to the couch, drops herself and the cat down on it, takes out her phone and snaps a picture of them together. Her face is still a little flushed and Cuddles looks as annoyed as a cat can.

She decides to send it to Dean, to help cheer him up. 

The reply came immediately.

D: My two favorite things.

Her cheeks start to redden again. And then another text. 

D: I set it as my lock screen, hope you don’t mind. You look good in my shirt. Have you been going through my stuff?

Oh, oh…

Y/N: Just wanted to sleep in the shirt I slept in the first time I was here.

She hopes he’s buying it. Which he should because it’s the truth.

D: It’s okay, I don’t keep secrets from you. It looks better on you anyway. You can keep it if you want.

She doesn’t know if she should answer. What she should answer. Decides not to because he said before that he was busy. 

Looking at the watch, she sees that she still has two hours to kill before she has to go to work. She walks to her bag, gets out her drawing book and starts to draw. It’s a passion really. She always wanted to study art but then the thing with her dad happened and she completely turned her life around. Now she only draws when there’s time. 

Opening the a new page, she picks out Cuddles to draw and when she’s about to start, Dean’s text is coming in.

D: There’s a gym and a pool on the first floor of the building if you’re bored.

Y/N: Tell me, do you really don’t have a camera in here? I thought you didn’t have a pool?

D: No cameras, just think that you might be bored. And it’s not my pool. It’s a community pool for everyone in the building.

Y/N: I don’t have a bathing suit with me.

D: Then don’t go to the pool. It’s kinda unsanitary to swim naked. 

She snorts out a laugh.

Y/N: That’s your only concern? That I would swim there naked?

D: Yeah.

Y/N: Okay.

D: My second concern is that people will see you naked and I don’t want that.

Y/N: Thanks for being honest.

D: Anytime.

Y/N: Now stop texting me and go about your business!

D: You sound like Cas.

She grins and picks her pencil back up.

CH21

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 6

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

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-

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into a month. Time passes and you fall into a rhythm that’s at the very least predictable. Your situation is not as terrifying when you know what’s coming next. Days are spent on the trail, the entire regiment moving south toward the border of Gilead and Argos. It’s slow-moving. You’re not sure how far you travel each day but it can’t be more than a dozen miles, give or take. The snow slows everything, the men freeze and the carts and carriages are continually stuck, having to be dug out again and again. 

The nights are just as routine. Sam’s expectations are clear and you find it’s easier and easier to give yourself to him. Opening your legs and closing your eyes as he takes pleasure for himself, forcing that same pleasure onto you even when you beg him to stop. 

You’ve grown emotionally numb to all of it. Compartmentalizing feelings is a coping skill you learned as a child, and you put this skillset to use as your time with the Winchesters goes on.  

Being with Sam brings an innate sense of safety. You’re his, everyone knows it, there’s not a man in the regiment that would entertain the thought of laying a hand on you. While he’s certainly not gentle, he does seem to take pride in making sure you always get what you need, before and after he’s had his way with you. His main concern is keeping you in pristine condition.

You’ve become accustomed to a certain level of care as this mighty caravan moves through the countryside. 

It’s the same routine each night. As soon as the tents are erected, the servants pour you a bath, wash your skin and hair. You’re served sweet fruits before dinner and there’s always plenty of wine and other libations at the ready. By the time the Winchester brothers arrive for the evening meal, you’re typically well into this choreographed nightly ritual. 

Tonight they’re nowhere to be found. You’re alone as the night wears on. Dinner is served and you eat alone, then sit by the fire looking around at the vast array of belongings. They carry a whole life with them on the road. 

There’s a map spread out over the table that is reset daily by the cartographer, whose sole job is to ensure the troop’s movements are accurately represented. You study the markers, sorting out who’s who. John Winchester's men are everywhere, spread far and wide across the entire continent. You didn’t realize they had conquered so extensively. News from distant lands had stopped coming in nearly a year ago. You knew it was bad but you had no clue the scope of their domination. 

Half the map is swathed in red, indicating they’ve successfully overtaken each area. You search from top to bottom until you find your family’s colors, the blue and red of the all too familiar crest. Your father is still fighting, and it looks as if he’s joined up with several different kingdoms. They’re amassing to the south, it must be where Sam and Dean are headed. 

Your heart skips a beat. Up until this point you’ve done a good job keeping thoughts of your family at bay. You do everything within your power to avoid letting the memories of your former home whirl to life, it’s too painful. But this sparks something, an inkling stirring in the back of your brain. A meager seed of hope. 

Sam, Dean and the soldiers are heading right for your father’s army. Your hands shake, trembling with a surging anxiety. What this means, you have no idea. You know the chance of ever seeing your father, uncle or sisters again is nearly nonexistent. And even if by some miracle you were able to get to him, it’s unlikely you’d be welcomed back into the fold. You’ve been defiled by a Winchester. How could anyone overlook the shame you would bring on every member of the royal family? 

Turning attention back to the map, you trail a finger up the winding blue line of the Longtree River, moving further and further north until you find your current location. 

A solid blue marker is labeled as Sam and Dean and to the west is a massive legion of men under their father’s crest. John Winchester. It looks like you may get the chance to meet the man who started all this death and destruction. There are smaller pockets of resistance outlying around the edges and you lean in closer to get a better look. 

“What are you doing?” Sam booms, standing just inside the tent. 

“I was just,” you back away from the table as the Alpha makes a beeline for you. “I’m sorry I was just looking. I-” Your voice is cut off as his hand wraps around your neck, squeezing tight. 

“What were you looking for?” he hisses, pushing you backward, his gripping tightening. You sputter, gasping for air and pulling at his hand with your one working arm. 

“P-please,” you rasp, mouth gaping open like a fish on dry land. “I-I-”

“What?” His jaw is tight, anger brimming in his eyes. You’ve yet to see this side of him, but now you understand the rumors. Another minute of this and he’ll squeeze the very life right out of you. 

“Huhh,” you make a strangled sound, eyes rolling back in your skull as he lets go, gripping your jaw instead, forcing you to look at him. “I-I was just l-looking at the figures. I watched the man set them up,” you whisper. “I wondered what they were.” Tears fall down your cheeks as you shake in terror. 

You’ve become complacent. Perhaps this is the reminder you needed. Sam Winchester is a murderer and a tyrant. And he’ll kill you just as easily as fuck you. 

“What are they?” he asks, face inches away, his nose scrunching in anger. “Tell me, what did you find Omega?”

“I don’t know!” You cry out the first of many lies in hopes of abating his wrath. You search your brain, a simple village girl wouldn’t know how to read the labels on the map, much less battle markers. “I was just looking at the figurines and the drawings on the paper. I’m sorry if I saw something I shouldn’t have!” 

“This is not for you!” He turns your head toward the table, pointing with his other hand. “You need to know your place. You don’t see. You don’t hear. You just are. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically. 

His anger is logical. This information is invaluable. If a person wanted to subvert the Winchester cause this map would do the most damage. If you were in fact a spy, this would be the holy grail of information. You should have been more careful. 

“I didn’t know. I’ll do better, Alpha.” He lets you go and you slink backward, holding your throat. 

“I don’t give second warnings. Tread carefully, Omega.”

“I will, I promise.” You watch as he pours himself a drink and takes a seat at the table as if the whole encounter has drained him. Legs give way as you sink to the floor. Tomorrow there will likely be a handprint in black and blue across your throat. You’ve felt his strength before, but this is a wake-up call. You can’t become comfortable. Sam would snap your neck without a second thought if you gave him a reason. 

When you look up he’s watching you, his face now indifferent. He sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his legs. What rage overtook him is gone just as fast as it came. 

“You are not allowed to look at the maps,” he explains calmly. “No maps, no books, no letters you may come across. And you never repeat a word you hear between Dean and me.”

“I understand...but I can’t read.” Books have been one of the great loves of your life, but Sam doesn’t need to know that. 

“Good, less temptation to be curious.” He stares at you a moment longer before downing the rest of his wine and pouring more. There’s a shout in the distance and Sam smiles, pointing at you. “Get yourself up. We have a guest.”

You manage to get to your feet just in time for Dean and the woman trailing him. There’s a clanking of metal and you look at the chain around her left ankle. She’s an Omega, you can smell her instantly. She’s a few years younger than you, but old enough that her scent is sickeningly strong. She looks around wildly from both Alphas to you. 

Dean’s brought back women before. Always Betas, never for more than an hour and definitely not in chains. 

“Brought you a friend,” Dean chuckles, winking at you. He takes the end of the chain and secures it around one of the thick poles holding up the tent, before clicking the heavy lock shut. “Gotta be careful with this one. She’s a runner.” 

“So was she.” Sam grunts in your direction as you stand frozen, still reeling from his assault. 

“You see what happens?” Dean places a hand at the back of the girl’s neck, both of them looking at you. She looks more angry than scared, an indication she doesn’t understand where she is. She should be pissing herself. “Don’t make me break your arm like hers.”

You’re the cautionary tale. The example to keep her in check. 

“One of your countrymen.” Dean goes on, appraising her from head to toe. 

You suck in a breath at the thought. She doesn’t know who you are. Few commoners had the occasion to see you for more than a few minutes during a parade through town and even less would recognize you now. But there’s no sense in tempting fate. Nothing good can come of familiarity. The moment you open your mouth you could say something that might cast doubt on the backstory you’ve created. 

You look from her to Sam, taking a step closer to your Alpha. 

“You see how good she is?” Dean explains. “You’d do well to follow her example.” 

“I thought you were riding ahead to the scout camp?” Sam asks, picking a hunk of bread off the table.

“I am. I’ll be back in a few hours. I can’t take her with me, can I?” Dean cocks his head, checking his flash before nodding to the new Omega. “Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

Sam is about to protest, but before he has the chance Dean is gone. Sam moves on as if this is nothing out of the ordinary. 

“You’re there.” Sam points to Dean’s bed. “Stay quiet. No talking. I don’t want to know you’re here.”

“Let me go,” she grits out, anger seeping from her pores. You snap to attention waiting for his reaction. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Sam snuffs out one torch after the next until the fire is the only light in the tent. “Lay down, shut your mouth and be quiet. You’ll sleep if you’re smart.”

“I’ll kill you both!” She yanks at the chain attached to her leg, glaring at Sam. 

“You should do what he says.” You speak up, offering advice you hope will keep her alive. “Stop talking and lay down.” 

Her eyes go wild, staring at you in surprise. 

Sam tugs at the back of your dress, pulling at the ties until you’re able to step out. You can feel her watching from across the room. Hidden in the shadows of Dean’s bed, she’s about to understand exactly what’s expected from her. 

Sam is already stark naked, the muscles of his back flexing as he pulls back the cover on the bed. 

“In,” he gestures. 

You lay down on your back as he slides in beside you. A hand comes down on your belly and you flinch, looking up at him in horror at your reaction. 

“I scared you, little bird.” He rubs his palm over your naked hip. His eyes fall to your neck, bruises already forming. 

“You hurt me,” you whisper back. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to look. You could have just told me. I always follow your rules.”

“Yes, you do.” His hand moves upward, tracing the underside of your breast. “And now you’ll know next time. Do you know what the penalty for an Omega caught reading is?”

“No,” you whisper, scared of the answer. “What?”

“Your eyes. Both of them plucked out.” His thumb brushes over your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch. 

“But I couldn’t even read it,” you reiterate, yet again. 

“It doesn’t matter. If anyone else found you inspecting that map, you’d be blind for the rest of your life. I wouldn’t have any say in it.”

“Oh,” you’re silent as he rubs the pad of his thumb over the hard peak of your nipple, swirling in small circles. 

“Lucky for you, I believe in my own brand of discipline. Don’t let me catch you again. Are we clear?” He waits for you to nod in confirmation. “Good. Now turn onto your stomach.”