#and it's burning another square mile every two minutes

[taemcains]

your faith between my teeth — cainlane

a night, a dawn, and so a different night. ao3

🎧 julia shortreed - taste

The world doesn't die in Rotkov.

It lurches after them like a wounded beast, lugging the guts and gore of all that they've witnessed there. The pursuit is slow but ceaseless on a road laid in blood. It can’t let them go; it will not rest without gagging on their last cuts of sanity.

An abandoned railroad station mercifully swallows them first, housing them in its hushed ribcage, offering them a few swigs of safety, and a tattered blanket of quiet to settle over their shoulders.

Well, it was quiet, Lane thinks sourly, too exhausted to forbid herself this indulgence in petulance.

Night had been washed away like ink, fading without notice, leaving behind a blanched dawn stained by voices of every color. Even the most muted members of the squad argue their case along with the familiar, intense tones of Anna and Noah.

In the end, survival is an individual instinct, and each member had to ensure theirs. Lane's mouth lifts faintly. Does the General know it wouldn't take all that much for his leash to fray?

A tall, muscled woman speaks up, frustration further twisting the scar cleaving the deep brown of her face. ‘We have no way of powering the snowmobiles. Setting off with barely any charge left is suicide.’

A retaliation of ‘We have two injured people with us!’ flung, knocked away by Noah snapping ‘Do you think they give medals for dying ten miles closer to Adam?’

Anna looks up sharply, hand clenched by her side, and Lane sighs inaudibly, falling back into her mind as another bout of squabbling begins anew.

Roused minutes before dawn with a stiff neck and a dull, throbbing ache in her body, Lane has been quietly leaning against a table, haggling with her mind whenever the squad's deliberation went off course. To dissolve every touch stinging like salt on her skin, to send them rippling over her body when moonlight is the only voyeur, to not have them cresting over every moment, eroding the present.

But the material is precious, rarer than a memory untainted by its future, and just as unrelenting. It slithers between the muffled din of the squad, burning fingers tracing her collarbone, the cold of a cross sliding down her neck, so vivid and real she nervously glances at the corner of the room as if his intent eyes are watching her from the writhing shadows.

Her eyes snap back to the squad as Greg rises from where he's been crouched on the floor and squares his shoulders, adopting an unfaltering stance. Though it's a weak specter of the General's vulcanized presence, the squad quietens, their bickering dying to a whisper here and a jab there.

‘Getting stranded without shelter around is riskier. For the injured,’ he swallows, ‘and the rest. The safest option,’ for most, goes unsaid, ‘is sending the coordinates of this station and waiting for the base to get us.’

Calls of protest cut through a fog of relieved sighs, mollified when Greg turns an affable smile on them. ‘Why don't we check out the snowmobiles again if it'll satisfy you?’

The smile cracks when Anna stalks out of the room with a venomous look as goodbye. The tall woman who'd spoken earlier claps him lightly on the shoulder. ‘I'll come with you, let's go.’

Guilt adroitly plastered and painted over in hardly a few seconds, he meets her with a winning grin, draping an arm over her shoulder. ‘Why freeze out there? Imagine the kind of things you can find in these drawers.’

‘Of a station? Get out of here,’ she says, laughing as she pulls away.

Watching them, Lane recalls an old feeling; her first friend, the most loyal of them all, of being wrong. Born too cold, too aloof, too asleep to this world, she could do nothing but peer like a berated child from the back rooms as the rest of them tangoed through life, switching between partners, comfortable in the arms of pain, misery or happiness.

As she'd grown older, she'd managed to snatch a table for herself, watching with shark eyes as her peers stole away into the crowd, dancing and fighting and falling, and she convinced herself it need not matter to a person with ambition like hers.

But someone had come for her, come to her, graceless and inept that she is, holding out a hand with the promise of a turn around the sky itself as their ballroom. Who had seen her among a bevy of buoyant dancers, who had picked her out from a cast of white capes, who had sat by her side, looking ahead as their boots quietly kissed and kissed.

Lane sighs irritably as self-awareness oozes in like rancid oil, blistering under her skin. He can't allow her a single thought without tailing it like a comet.

She pushes herself off the table, intending to find a spot obscured to all but sunlight, when she pauses, eyes snapping up in unison with the squad, as an abrupt thud sounds from the floor above. Hands creep to their sides, relaxing as feathers sweep past rusty walls, an eerie shushing noise echoing with every step.

Wings large enough to brush the walls. Her heart misses a beat. Not Anhea.

She swallows, mortal eyes vainly trying to scatter the dark of the doorway as her heart skips impatiently, zero point eight seconds lavish when he’s not around. A new shadow bolsters the existing gloom. She inhales sharply, lungs taking in the last sips of air before his presence siphons them, only to deflate as the immortal steps inside.

Red is garishly bright in a room abandoned so carelessly.

Lane watches with distaste as Pileon saunters upto Greg, ignoring the squad who visibly shy away from his path. ‘Anhea and I are done with our shift. I hear you're choosing to stay?’

Greg nods. ‘We'll be sending the coordinates after checking on the snowmobiles. Tell Cain to take over patrolling.’

Pileon eyes him disdainfully. ‘Do I have any more duties after an entire night of flying?’

A short, obtrusively muscled man grumbles as he gets to his feet. ‘We spend half our time looking for that angel.’

Cain's deadened eyes, the labyrinth of his mind they invite her into locked and shut, and the exhausted set of his shoulders jostle their way to the front of her mind, and an odd sting of irritation shoots through her, shoving past reason or rationality.

She speaks before she could think. ‘I'll let him know.’

Greg turns to her with a confused smile, pleasantly surprised and vaguely suspicious of her volunteering for a cause that does not concern her. Pileon looks at her with mocking amusement, going as far as to gallantly sweep an arm out.

‘Go on. The prince needs his frog. Or is it the other way around?’

Ears burning in humiliation, Lane does something she wouldn't have dared to under the General's sovereignty, and dismisses herself, wrenching past them without a second look, chased into the shadowed passageway by the demon's knowing gaze.

The further she retreats, the more her shoulders slump, until she pauses, exhaling soundly as the squad's chatter dwindles to a faint buzzing. The relief doesn't last long; on her subsequent inhale, the dust motes from the air transmute into hundreds of moths inside her, fluttering in anxiety, scattering the words she had torn apart and thrown away.

Remember this. Look and don't forget.

She scoffs as she nudges a door open. She hadn't ever forgotten. How does one forget divinity, when it glints through gleaming white feathers and eyes laden with the weight of time? It had simply… faded into the background like the hushing of the sea to a coast dweller. What would be a staggering roaring to the others, terrifying in its unknowable depths, was a quotation hum to her.

But to get used to the sea is a fool's wisdom. His rage crested over them, and she was left blinking through the fear drenching her at the savage aftermath. But maybe the destruction wrought by three pairs of wings and incinerating eyes is not more than what he broke in her, for her to look at a seraph and see a metamorphosis instead: Beautiful. Petrifying. Beautiful.

She peers into yet another ransacked room, reliving last night. Gone. Here. Gone, she'd thought, still as a sacrifice, left at the altar of his hands. Humanity is scant in her, but his fingers were greedy on her skin, leaching what he wanted, and thoughtlessly, callously brimming her with need.

No, what she had forgotten is this: that for all his sins, he is still an angel, and for all of hers, she is only a mortal.

The last door in the hallway springs upon her as if in ambush, cracked open and leaking dark like the waiting maws of a wolf. She's allowed a fortifying breath before it swallows her, and spits her out onto a chessboard of shadows and struggling daylight, with archive boxes, overturned chairs, and her, she supposes, the pawns to the angel lucent and quiescent in the corner of the room.

She makes her move, cautiously stepping around office paraphernalia like a thief in the night, trying to think ahead, not to win, but to challenge, to put up a fight, only to slow and then stop entirely.

He's… sleeping.

A few ghostly steps and she's in front of him, close enough to coax out deception, close enough for her knee to brush his in a way that an excuse of ‘accidental’ would be met with pinched skepticism. She gets to work, casting her scrutiny on him.

The sun falls back in its rising, to linger and worship him in a pour of light like white wine. Unmoved by its adoration, he dreams in a bare office chair, legs crossed carelessly, wings arcing over the armrest and flowing to the floor like a heavy veil. Truly, assuredly asleep.

The verdict lays out the next course of action. Step back to a safe distance, rouse him, deliver the message, and leave. Clear, efficient, and rational, all of which would appeal to her in any situation, so why does she hesitate now?

She glances to the side, as if sharing a look of disbelief with a stranger over an act of public idiocy, except both the idiot and the onlooker in this scenario is her, before sighing softly, stirring the wisps of his hair as she leans down.

Just this once, she thinks in a heedless rush of curiosity-apprehension-longing, inflamed by an achingly familiar voice laughing in the back of her mind. I just need some ammunition, anything.

The first shot is fired at her, by her own useless observation that Cain is almost too beautiful to bear from this proximity, too beautiful to watch and not want.

Strands of silk-white hair fall over his eyes, fitting them with a frayed blindfold, shrouding the webbing of translucent blue veins on his eyelids. His temple rests on an uncurling fist, fingers skimming his cheek like slender branches. His lips part innocently for steady exhales, oblivious to the kind of thoughts they set off in her.

Despite his unearthly beauty, catching him in such a vulnerable position almost feels like evidence. For all his perilous power, he too requires rest, implicating him in the same weakness that plagues mortals. Almost human, she thinks blasphemously.

Her mouth twists wryly. What is she doing? Her hand rises of its own accord, fingertips hovering over the spill of moonlight over his ear. Trying to knit his veins to hers, to make them of the same blood? Her finger follows the orbit of a stray lock of hair, silk sliding against her skin. Trying to make him human? It slips and grazes the delicate shell of his ear, her touch so light she can only confirm its reality when her entire arm trembles.

So close, she thinks, suddenly hollow, empty. Close enough to feel you breathe, mind eons away.

His eyes slit open.

Her heart leaps and she almost follows its wake, too panicked to worry about tripping over his feet, before going boneless, meek as a rabbit sagging dead between the jaws of a fox, when Cain lifts his hand, lazily catching her wrist.

The seconds draw out as if slogging through honey, and it's twice as sweet when he leans his face into the palm of her hand, nuzzling into it like a sated stray cat with a soft sigh of reprieve.

She stays limp in his feather-light grip, mind and body in agreement for once, to be a mute witness to his tender spot, his soft underbelly, the way the faint heat of his skin leaches into her cold palm.

Miraculously, her mind tolerates the warmth budding through her veins and blossoming in her chest for all of five seconds, before hissing and clamoring over why, to stretch the moments of his weakness, or to memorize the feeling of his skin, her softness?

She can tell the exact moment his scheming mind catches up to his gentler body, and sweeps away the last vestiges of sleep, already spinning new webs. His lashes flutter like a baited bird, tickling the sensitive skin of her fingers, sweetening the parting as he draws his face away.

He releases her hand like an afterthought, so nonchalantly it could be nothing less than calculated. An insouciance mirrored in the slow routine of running a hand through his hair, and shaking off sleep, silver cross briefly catching fire in the sunrise.

‘What?’ He doesn't grace her with his gaze as he speaks, voice lower and rougher than usual, dredged from his throat where sleep was holding it in shackles.

‘The squad asked you to take over patrolling,’ she replies, mouth emptying words mechanically, even as her mind scrambles, grasping at the fire illuminating what she had assumed to be a shameful fantasy.

He sighs, dropping his head back. Distantly, she admires the strong, graceful line of his throat, a serene backdrop against her violently overspilling thoughts. When he straightens and his eyes finally catch hers, it's not by being garbed in one of his thousand disguises, but honestly, tiredly.

He lifts a brow when she stays rooted to the spot, still blindsided by her dream confessing to be a memory. ‘Planning to let me go?’

She shoves what would be a deeply satisfying retort into an armoire of other worse things she's held back around him, and wordlessly steps aside, her real gratification the brief, confused flit of his eyes as he rises, strolling to the center of the room.

His wings stretch out, curling and uncurling, a field of moonflowers blooming in front of her eyes with every motion, as their owner twists his shoulder with a hand, wrestling with the consequences of a night spent in discomfort.

Lane watches his back, the familiar loose, languid lines now distorted as in a nightmare, shoulder blades pressed high and tight together, tensed.

Did he realize that I remember? The mystery of why, or how, her flimsy, threadbare blanket had held her tightly till dawn, entrusted to her to solve with only the barest wisps of hints. A flash of white spiked through her lashes, a kiss of cold against her neck, a whisper of feathers in drift.

She'd thought it was a dream.

‘Better not linger.’ His voice steals into her memories. She looks up as his head turns slightly, offering her the slashes of his cheekbone and jaw blade first. ‘I might’ve heard squeaking.’

He doesn't look at her.

Lane has always felt curiosity like an itch, aggravating and intolerable until she could find an answer she deemed satisfactory. But this feels new. Different. Sharper, stronger, violent like the sea, more useless than the anger it cowers behind.

But no. She's only curious. Curious about why her mind follows him like he's North Star. Curious about why she needs to look for him in every room. Curious about why she's always the fool here, on her knees to a god deafened to all but his own solitude. And angry, angry that her heart won't beat for her own pain but twinges when he's discomforted, his unease echoing in her chest.

She just has to know–

Maybe that's what possesses her.

‘Cain-’

He swivels around in a sunburst of feathers and as her vision clears, her stomach plunges. Wings fanning out behind him like a crucifix, the sunrise lending a lethal blade of crimson to his eyes, his image is of deity, angel, and sinner in synchrony. If God still lived, he would’ve walked in his shadow. Her fingers snaked around his wrist almost feel like desecration, if only she had the power to touch him.

Reverence settles over her like the hush of first snow, smothering all her gasping worries, soothing all her lacerating feelings. Her insignificance isn't a burden, but a nave she walks to faith. Her fingers slacken, unable to bear the burning perfection of divinity, when he speaks.

‘Yes?’

His voice is low, wrong, disorienting as a note missed in a fervent oratorio. Her knee jerks and she takes an unconscious step back as he arches his hand, sending her fingers sliding over a swathe of bare skin evading his sleeve. His wrist bones strain to kiss her fingertips through ludicrously soft skin, and his eyes anchor to her face, twin wreaths of fire hardly quelled by the snow of his hair falling into them.

‘What is it?’

Her nail snags on a seam, and she watches with horrifying desire unfurling claws in her stomach as his sleeve inches back. A flash of tantalizingly smooth skin marbled with sculpted blue veins, hot to the touch. When it's swallowed by night-black fabric, it feels like punishment.

When her eyes rise back to his, she finds them still, still as the air before lightning. Dimly, she realizes she should be afraid. Killing her isn't the worst of what he can do to her. He could hone and hand over her own desire like a dagger, annihilation without a touch of blood on him.

‘You're not answering me.’

His tone remains carefully flat, a void coming up to meet her hands when she reaches for a clue to predict his next move. A drop of disquiet finally rolls down her spine and this time, she's overly conscious of the distance between them as she shuffles back, stretching like a fraying cord long past its limit, a sharper tug from either side enough to snap it irreparably.

He tests it.

Lane's eyes widen as he follows her lead, a slow, perfectly overestimated step barely grazing her knee with his, before drawing back to position, locking them in a strange dance. She doesn't know the steps, but she knows she's tithing her hand to a cunning partner. She knows her body will only glide to the melody his fingers play.

She jolts as he resumes their game, forearm gliding against the loop of her fingers, firm muscle and chiseled veins straining against the obscenely thin material. His rapt eyes track every twitch and exhale of hers, pulled by the allure of even a simulation of his skin and all of it just verges on the edge of too much.

Cain tilts his head in an uncanny imitation of genuine curiosity. ‘Should I take your silence as an invitation to guess?’

He doesn't wait for her reply, accurately assuming she would need far more than a few minutes, or the distance of more than a day, to pry out coherent words.

‘You want something from me.’ The hypothesis, spoken so plainly, spoken like the truth, is shockingly crude from the mouth that spins half-truths and full lies with the prosaic ease of a spider. He cocks his head, considering her without seeing her at all.

‘No, not want.’ He leans closer and she tenses, praying his teeth would be gentle on her neck, conned into faith by his intoxicating scent. ‘Something worse.’

The sun, now seething and glorious, bleeds all over him. Two memories twine in her head, backlit by flame; the two times he's alluded to his priesthood, but only now does she see. His eyes are enough to extricate your worst sins from the bars you trap yourself in, to lay them bare on your body and flay them with a single word.

He wouldn't need to do much, she thinks, lightheaded, flushed down to her throat. Anyone would willingly sink to their knees if condemnation sounded like this, voice dipping suggestively, almost rasping the words out. ‘Need, maybe?’

Hardly able to think past the dizzying fog of something both heady and subtly sweet emanating from his skin, she makes a miserable attempt at shaking her head, silenced by his hand arcing up to brush her cheek, fingertips sliding into her hair.

Silver ensnares her peripheral vision. Though her eyes flit back to him when he draws in a silent breath, uneven around his own abstinence, a thought won't let her go, provocatively dangling in her mind.

The crimson of his eyes deepens to sanguine. Lane swallows painfully, stomach folding it on itself, anticipating the climax, the crescendo, the cuts his cunningly bladed tongue would leave.

She'd expected words. She should've remembered his touch, its fatal softness.

She jerks minutely, stifling a gasp as his hand lightly trails over her hip. ‘Are you confused?’ Waist, ribs—her heart stops—the faintest brush over the side of her breast. ‘Hopelessly excited for nothing?’ Higher still, till his slender fingers collar the side of her neck. Eyelids slipping, he presses slowly, until her pulse is whimpering against his fingertips. ‘Is your godless body always starving?’

In dazed snatches, she wonders why. Why no blood wells up now. Why, if he meant it to hurt, it feels like a confession instead, given to be absolved by her own whispered sins.

The idea of Cain miscalculating a single word, look, or touch, much less a bacchanalia of all three is what gives her pause.

He wouldn't. He wasn't.

She slumps in his dreamlike hold, delirious and preening from the victory of finally, finally sneaking up to where he schemes, the second wave of intoxication sent by the thought of what he was insinuating exactly, submerging her inhibitions, suspending the consequences.

She twists in his grip. Lightly, just enough to turn her head and catch the drooping cross in her mouth, feeling it sink into her bottom lip and indent it.

He stills.

His wings shrink and flare, flare and shrink, but he remains frozen like a god amidst the myths that keep him alive. He exhales slowly, a sigh of soundless agony, rippling the air anticipating them.

Her teeth instinctively bite down on the metal clutched between her lips as his thumb brushes her jaw, turning her back to face him, interrupting her hazy fantasy of tasting the skin it kisses religiously.

Under half-lidded eyes, she watches as his eyes rove over her face, brow furrowing in a look of almost pain. She wonders if this is his one face that isn't painted on, naked as it can only be in a moment of undiluted agony or unrestrained ecstasy, and shivers.

His thumb slides over her bottom lip, hot against the warming metal, as his tongue snakes out to wet the corner of his mouth. Watching her eyes track the movement, lips parting unconsciously, he murmurs, gentle. ‘You might be.’

Tenderness was his mistake. She could reluctantly accept her body betraying her for the worship of an angel—understand it even, when she treats it like a tool at the best of times—but the quiet affection in his voice, real as blood, nothing like the cloying pity they'd glazed as love, sends something in her skittering.

Maybe it's fear. Scared of what lurks in his eyes, scared of what she would have to dredge up within herself and hold to light. Scared enough to stumble.

Lane flinches as a storage box home to obsolete equipment skids across the floor, clattering like her mind trying to process that it was her who was the catalyst for this turn of events. Even Cain starts, looking so much like a lover booted out mid argument that she lets out an entirely inappropriate breath of laughter. I’m definitely in shock, she thinks as his unblinking eyes fall on her.

He looks at her for a long moment over the rabid pounding of her heart, before stalking out of the room and taking the sun with him, wings shooting past her like neat rows of white-flamed arrows.

She moves to follow him, body and mind working on autopilot, but staggers, identifying, recognising his parting look.

Because he didn't look like the deity from last night filled with empty curiosity, or the angel from dawn reaching for her to rest, or even the priest from sunrise touching selfishly for once. The table catches her hip, steadying her. He looked like a common sinner, just as lost as her.

✟

The night is a courteous host to whoever knocks at its door. It welcomes her into an alcove of time where obligations cannot find her, taking her worry lined coat and hanging it onto the next sunrise's hooks. Lane sits on the edge of the roof, letting the wind titter and caper around her dangling legs, playful in her fragile, exquisite peace. Silence isn't the same as emptiness apparently.

So spellbound by the tranquility drifting through her like snow, she only notices her deification, the shadow-feathered wings resting on the ground, a second before he speaks. ‘What is it about this bleak view that inspires brooding?’

He sounds less far away than last night.

Her body straightens subtly, not moths, but fireflies flitting about her spine, tiny flash fires set where his fingers strayed.

‘I wasn't,’ she replies, eyes trained onto the star-pricked sky.

‘Already have your answers then?’ His voice is blank as glass, glued together from words like shards, warping the real meaning behind them.

She inhales slowly, siphoning courage from the unsuspecting stars, before raising her head, turning to look at him. Standing against the night, all of him in shadows. The god, the man. The angel, the sinner. She gives him the only truth she can afford.

‘I might.’

She does. She'd been so desperate to fill the singular blank in her mind, furiously circled and underlined in red, so as to shelve it and let it fade forgotten, that she overlooked what has always been right in front of her eyes: Cain exists in duality. Helping and hindering, savior and ruinous, the holiest thing her hands have held, and sometimes more human than she has ever been.

Not her perfect answer, not an answer that will allow itself to be shelved and forgotten, not an answer at all, but so right it could almost be called the truth.

Lane can't read his eyes through the veil of dark.

He's still for a heartbeat, two, before dropping down next to her, wings fanning out and sinking into the dirty snow, in a motion so smooth she wonders how she wound up in his distant embrace again. He leans back on his palms, tipping his head up to the sky, and heaves out a soft sigh, heavy as time. ‘Good for you.’

‘You sound bitter.’ She peers at what he offers of his face, a flash of an eyelid, the slope of his nose, soft pink lips, all caressed by moonlight's pearlescent sheen. ‘Are you still struggling?’

‘Not in the way you're thinking.’ His words float to the mirthfully twinkling stars, following the line of his stare. ‘More so with how I chose to be blind for such a long time. And of course, the consequences taste bitter now.’

She considers him thoughtfully, angling her body to his and tucking her knees to her chest. Rare that Cain pouring words like water into her hands is, she wants to savor it. Underneath that, a smaller, stupider reason. She just… liked listening to him.

‘Long, even to an immortal?’

‘Time doesn't always exist in a straight line.’ His head tilts, gaze sliding to her. Not empty, but haunted. He looks through her, at a past neither can touch anymore and when he speaks, she's not sure if it's to the her trapped in the present. ‘Some moments run in circles, for all of eternity.’

Lane thinks of her own life. She thinks of the glowing, heatless thing in her chest after an achievement that she named happiness. She thinks of the silence ringing in her childhood house, the gaze that seemed heavier when it was turned away. She thinks of the daze of awakening as something new and seeing him, not knowing a thread of blood and snow bound them. She thinks she understands.

‘I see,’ she says quietly.

His gaze sharpens, red splintering the opaque ice of his eyes, emotions finally whirling up in them. ‘Do you now?’ he bites out, almost accusatory, somehow brittle.

Her first contention is that she understands now, what he's really asking.

Her mind reminds her that one cannot understand someone without knowing them. And how can you know a person who disappears like a card trick between your fingers, there and then wholly new when you flip it?

But a smaller, startlingly insistent part of her tells her to wait, to look. And so she does, catching all that sloughs off of him like raindrops in her hands. When they flower open, in lies a mirror, reflecting what haunts her own nights.

Forsaken and forsaking their own kind, nowhere and never to call home, the humanity gouged out of her heaped onto him. Sometimes, in her weakest moments, she believes they'd fit like two halves of a pomegranate if they let each other.

Or perhaps—her eyes flick to him—it's only the strange logic Cain lives by, and therefore pulls her into.

Leaving her cold, and then burning. His fingers on her forehead, gently chilling the feverish skin, and the heat radiating off him in an inferno, hands reaching to crush her head. The closest anyone has come to the rotten thing inside her, and so far her hands would only brush air if she reached out.

So impossibly sweet and so inexorably dangerous.

She has him—her eyes flutter shut briefly—and she doesn't.

It's so quiet. It's only the two of them in the falling universe when she speaks. I want to. ‘I can.’ Better presumptuous than incriminating.

His eyes narrow. The only warning she's conceded before he's leaning in slowly, bracing a hand dangerously close to her thigh.

‘Anything?’ he asks, red eyes boring into hers, impenetrable to the moonlight hammering weakly against them. ‘Whatever it is?’

He's turning the same look on me, she realizes with a bolt of recognition. Rooting for the trick in her words. Absurdly, her next thought is I want to touch him.

Cowardice cannot be shed in a day. Lane only gazes back into his hollowed eyes steadily, hoping what she can give would be enough for now.

Adequately chastised, he sighs, lowering his head, and she counts his breathing silently. She blinks when the rhythm breaks, stopping with a faint shudder. Her eyes follow his line of vision and her own breath catches, an odd intermingling of shame and something hotter coiling in her stomach.

She'd needed to cut into something, cling onto someone, to draw out the restraint to hold still and not surrender a single gasp last night. The aftermath of which manifested on her palm, in a trail of half-moon red marks.

When he falls back, it's with the loot of her hand with him. Cradling it delicately in one hand, he traces the testament to his effect on her, written plainly on her skin. A barely there touch, half apology, half prayer.

He speaks when the motion has eased from stirring to soothing, still watching their hands.

‘Another promise? Besides my protection and kindness?’ Lane barely has the time for incredulity to rear its head before he continues, eyes shadowed when he glances at her. ‘Don't you know greed is a sin?’

Her eyes fall to the rosary guilelessly skimming her palm. Not my worst.

Cain smiles. While it's not his usual infernally soft one, there's a tremulous quality to its edges, a frailty in his eyes too light for her to recognize. ‘I'm joking.’ He squeezes her hand gently, yielding to her more than just his words. ‘You'll have to teach me this too.’

The idea of him entrusting her with teaching something she hasn't even crawled up the steps to makes her breathe out laughter, along with real honesty. ‘I'm not the right person for either.’

His reply comes soft as a breath held, swift as a hope dashed, both impossibly full of possibilities like raindrops suspended in time. ‘Then we'll learn together.’

Lane isn't quite as delusional to believe this isn't an aftereffect of needing her in his own esoteric pursuit; not his path, but only a detour. But leeched from that look he let slip like porcelain, shattering at her feet and dissipating the haze she was wandering in, she knows that if his words bloom like wisteria in her lungs, she'd at least be a thorn in his heel. He wouldn't be able to stagger away from this untouched either.

Even so. The thought that however briefly it, this, lasts, it wouldn't be Cain, or Lane, but CainandLane is tart and bright as biting into a berry, bursting sharp on the tip of her tongue.

Together.

She turns her hand in his wordlessly.

Not his perfect answer either, but his shoulders relax minutely, fingers tightening around hers, the rosary kept warm between their skin, and she wonders if summer will be sweet this year.

[sadslay]

- IN MY ROOM ⋆☆ 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐜

warnings - fluff? nsfw content

the sun was beginning to set beyond the horizon, casting dark shadows throughout the manor. you were waiting for miles, waiting just outside it window. you lived at the property next door and you had known each other since you were kids.

you breathed in a thick cloud of smoke before removing the cigarette from between your lips. the smoke burned your throat a little as you exhaled a cloud of smoke. when the windows beside you burst open, your whole body tensed as you thought you were caught.

“how many times have i told you that you can wait for me in my room?” miles asked, taking the cigarette from your fingers before placing it between his lips.

“and how many times have i told you that i don’t want flora finding me.” you smiled, resting your elbows on the window ledge.

“she’s in bed.” he groaned, exhaling a small cloud of smoke.

he extended his hand, allowing you to hold onto his hand as you climbed through his bedroom window.

“oh is that so.” you laughed as you stumbled into his room.

miles nodded as he let out a breathy laugh, a bit of smoke puffing out his lips while doing so. he took the cigarette out from between his lips before passing it back to you as he fell down onto his bed. as you finished up the last bit of your cigarette, throwing the butt onto the pavement outside.

you plopped yourself on the red and white egg chair beside his bed, putting your feet up on a random box as you turned your attention back to miles.

“i didn’t think you were home for another week or two.” you mumbled, looking over to miles.

“comere.” he mumbled, choosing to ignore your comment.

you stood up before kneeing down onto his mattress, crawling over to his side. he held out his arm, as you began to get comfortable before finally resting around your shoulder. you laid your head on his shoulder, carefully listening to his breathing. you could feel his thumb gently rubbing back and forth on your clothed shoulder. whenever you were apart from each other time felt slow in the worst way possible, a few months feeling like a life time. but when you were together, everything melted together. hours could feel like minutes.

“i missed you.” he mumbled quietly, turning his head to look down at you.

“i miss you too.” you smiled sweetly, your hand connecting to his cheek.

he let out a soft breath, having missed your touch as he began to lower himself, connecting his lips with yours. almost instantly your lips began to meld together perfectly. you were like ecstasy to each other. as the kiss grew with lust and desire, miles had moved himself to tower over you, his hand gently holding onto your neck.

as his hand moved across your neck, you squirmed under his touch causing miles to smile into the kiss. miles used his free hand to comb a piece of hair from your forehead. your hands moved down his torso, gently tugging on the hem of his sweater. you began to pull up his sweater, miles temporarily pulling away to pulling the sweater over his head. as he flung the sweater into the corner of his room, he quickly reconnected your lips. your hands reconnected to his torso, your fingernails leaving small indents in his skin. miles’ lips moved from your lips, slowly working his way down to your neck where he still had a firm grip.

“you’re all mine.” he mumbled huskily into your skin.

“all yours.” you moaned softly, one of your hands moved to the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his curls.

“good girl.” he hummed.

your slightest movement drove him absolutely insane. the way your fingers clung to his hair or the way you’d moan out his name. he infatuated with you and every square inch of your body. in one swift movement, miles had taken off your shirt, throwing it to a random corner in his room before he continued to leave a trail of marks down your neck. you let out a quite moan sending chills up miles’ spine.

“miles.” you moaned.

miles looked up at you, reconnecting your lips as his hand gently grasped onto your neck, applying just the right amount of pressure. with his free hand, miles began to wander down your stomach lining your skin with goosebumps. his hand began to unbuckle your jeans causing you to let out an unexpected whimper.

.༺｡♱｡༻.

lying on miles’ chest, listening to his breathing gradually slow, while his finger traced up and down your spine. it was beginning to come into the early hours of the morning, both of you getting tired. your eyes felt heavy, all you wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms.

“the sun’s gonna be up soon.” you whispered, gently readjusting your head to look up at him.

his dark eyes looked sad, you knew he hated seeing you leave and it was usually to most difficult part every-time you saw each other.

“can’t you stay?” he asked quietly, gently brushing a piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

you flashed him a weak smile, admittedly also wanting you say, you let out a breathy laugh. “you know i won’t be allowed back if mrs grose catches us.” you smiled, your hand beginning to tenderly draw circles on his chest. “do i need to remind you of the time that kate caught us?” you giggled.

.༺｡♱｡༻.

you were sitting on miles’ bathroom sink, your skirt dropped to the floor. miles’ head was between your thighs, his hands gripping onto your doughy skin while your hand was entangled his his hair. you let out almost pornographic moans as miles continued to work his magic. your was mind completely scrambled as you flung your head back, your deep breaths filling the confined space.

as you came close to your high, miles pulled away before standing up to connect his lips with yours. miles pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands dugs into the bare skin of your thigh. you were sure it was going to leave a mark but you didn’t mind, in fact you liked it. the way he left small marks over your body claiming you as his own.

miles looked away for a moment, causing your lips to attach to his jaw line, leaving a soft kisses. not bothering to look at why miles had turned away, you moved your arms away from his necks before cupping his cheeks. your head snapped in the direction of miles’ bedroom door as something shattered on the floor. you let out a breathy laugh as kate quickly grew flustered as she tried to clean up the broken bits of glass.

“don’t you know how to knock?” miles grunted as his hands began to run up and down your thighs.

“well- i uh. i did but uh…” kate stuttered causing you to both let out a breathy laugh.

“get the fuck out of my room.” miles laughed.

kate quickly picked up the last few pieces of glass before scurrying out of miles’ room, pulling his bedroom door shut.

“now.” he cooed. “where were we?” he asked rhetorically before reconnecting your lips.

.༺｡♱｡༻.

pulling your one of miles’ sweaters over your head, you looked at the small analog clock on his bedside table. as you both stood up from his bed, miles’ grabbed onto your wrist causing you to spin back around to face him.

“you’re sure you don’t need me to walk you back?” he asked. “it can be dangerous out there at this time of night.” he shrugged.

“i’m sure i’ll be fine.” you giggled, planting one last kiss on his cheek before walking over to his bedroom window.

you pushed open the window before beginning to climb through the window. as you finally planted your feet onto the muddy concrete, you turned around to find miles leaning on the window ledge with his elbows.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, carefully tracing your body up and down before meeting your eyes.

“i’ll be here at 10.” you smiled, giving him yet another kiss on the cheek.

before you could pull away, miles’ quickly connected your lips, this time his movements were slow and tender.

he slowly pulled away, undeniably leaving him hungry for more. you smirked as his attempts to get you to stay before beginning to wander in the general direction of your property.

“see ya later lover boy!”

masterlist

[weaselle]

Sims 4 Build

OK. So. I started a new play through a while back and I wanted my sims to go out to eat and if you aren’t familiar with the Sims there are only bar/lounges and of course that ridiculous place in the faux Hollywood world. So I went to the Gallery and downloaded a couple of restaurants and...

Because I have worked for 25 years in the F&B service industry, I immediately became salty about a number of things.

And that’s why I built this restaurant, full of all the things people leave out of their restaurant builds.

See, it’s not a house. Stop building house shaped restaurants. And, nobody includes parking lots, but since I did, I made sure the handicap spots are the two closest to an entrance and have a loading zone adjacent.

I’m detail oriented in my sims builds.

If you’ve worked in restaurants, you’ll identify with all the commonalities I’ve found missing in most gallery builds that I’ve applied to this restaurant, even if you don’t play Sims.

If you haven’t worked in restaurants but you do build them in Sims 4, you could view this as a tutorial

FOH - The Floor

First of all, idk what people are looking at when they go out to eat, but evidently it isn’t the seating arrangements -- I kept finding restaurant after restaurant that seemed to have no ideal how to set up a dining area with tables. Like, the tables would be so crammed together the sims couldn’t actually walk between them, or they’d have a white cloth establishment with almost all 6 and/or 8 tops (a six-top is a table with six chairs) and almost no 2 or 4 tops; sometimes there would be like, mostly 10 or 12 tops!

Or they’d put chairs on every side of every table even though this makes everything cramped, or they’d jigsaw a bunch of different table sizes into a giant crowded square filling most of the restaurant. But mostly I saw people... doing all of these things at once they were all just doing all of this all the time omg. 

(Though I did see a couple builds where they had a huuge restaurant and then like, five small tables) Nobody seemed to know how many people a space should comfortably seat, or how many tables/seats a restaurant might need, or how to set them up

look

some things to notice: 

This seats 46. That’s good. When we move into the bar the bar tables and seating at the bar are going to bring it up to 63. Depending on your restaurant you’ll usually have between 40 and 80 seats, so I’m hitting my target perfectly. 

more than half the tables are 2 tops, but more than half the chairs are at larger tables; this isn’t like, a rule, but does mean there is probably close to the right mix of table sizes, especially for a white table cloth kinda place. There are only two “large” tables, which is about right.

The layout is easy to comprehend and section out. This floor easily lends itself to a two-server or four-server shift, and three servers isn’t hard to figure out. Like, I know exactly which tables each server would have as a four-server shift transitioned down to the closer over the evening.

It’s nearly symmetrical but not quite 100% which is what you usually see in a restaurant.

The lights are not placed randomly. You might think this doesn’t need to be pointed out. You’d be surprised.

There is plenty of room to move between the tables and have guests feel like they have their own area, with like, lanes to walk down, but there is no wasted space. It’s very full, but not at all crowded.

There’s a defined entrance, with a waiting area. The game tells you that you have to include this host station

which, yeah, some places just have a simple podium, but I built it out to help define the entrance, which has a menu stand and some seating for a wait list and the host stand has clutter like extra table tent menus and a condiment caddy. 

Similarly, the game says you need this server station

but I turned it into this

Now THAT’s a server station, with a drinks fridge, extra menus, plates, condiment shelves, and a coffee pot, which is orange for decaf because theres a regular coffee station that includes an espresso machine behind the bar. See?

Lastly, you can’t really tell from the pics so far, but the dining room and bar seating is only about half of the total space in the building, which is about right.

Here’s the bar tops

and the bar, which has a pass window right to the kitchen line, under the TV (don’t worry, there’s a proper pass for the servers and an expeditor through that door to the right) 

But once I addressed these issues with the Front of House, I realized: there is so much more missing from most restaurants on the gallery.

Like the back office.

BOH - Office

I didn’t find a single restaurant on the gallery that included one, but just about every restaurant has a shitty little back office crammed into what should be, like, a small closet. They all tend to look a little something like this

I had to hunt through debug for most of this clutter - it’s hard to tell in this pic, but that’s a couple stacks of money just sitting out on the desk to the right of the computer. That’s, shall we say, not super unusual to see in one of these crappy little paperwork prisons. And of course the mess of files and mail and shit.

You know what else every restaurant has but I never saw in any on the gallery?

Dish Pit

The game is not set up to allow you to make a proper dish pit. Like, there isn’t an industrial dishwasher or anything. Bu tI made one anyway. From the floor sinks, to the dish racks, to the horrible, heavy-ass red rubber mat that’s such a pain to clean at the end of the shift, I think you’ll recognize this room right away

I really had to fiddle to get this one -- those dish racks? they’re actually overlapped home counter racks that look like this

they were super hard to line up right. The “floor sinks” are actually a drain that’s supposed to go on the bottom of a pool, the dishwasher is actually three floor models raised to the right hight and overlapped facing different directions, and I added the little drain panels on either side by shrinking and raising floor vents to the height of the counters, which are actually overlapping tables. The floor I lucked out on, the Sims 4 has a tile floor pattern that comes in both grungy and clean, so I placed the clean ones on the outside edge of the dish pit floor in half-tiles along an irregular pattern with the edges matched to the lines of grout and added a couple of my own floor smudges so there wouldn’t be a straight line of dirty versus clean tile. Then I put some water stains over the whole thing to mask it better, overlapping some of the water stains to create the illusion of a flow of water going down the floor drain. 

Speaking of the dish pit, most restaurants have this cousin to the dish pit, that I don’t know what to call except maybe a 

Mop Closet

The Sims doesn’t have one of the yellow industrial mop buckets with the squeezy thing attachment, but I did pretty good here. Wish I could have erased the shower head, but I for sure needed the wall spigot handles and the hose. Managed to size up a bucket with water to the right dimensions and trick the game into letting me stick in a mop that’s supposed to hang on a wall. Added some cleaning supplies and stuff to the shelves.

Speaking of shelves, nobody ever includes dry storage when they do a Sims 4 restaurant. You know, with the empty beer kegs and those metal rack shelves full of, like, rows of little bottles and the restock items like six packs of soda and sacks of dry ingredients and way up on the top is the shit that never ever gets used but somehow you have to get up there every other week anyway?

See that door, the one with a light over it and a light next to it and a little temperature gauge? Yeah, you know what else I never see in gallery restaurants builds? 

Walk In

this was a pain, not only did I have to meticulously place every bottle on top of that fridge unit, but those kegs are actually tiny soda cans with no labels that I had to pull out of the vast un-tagged and un organized debug menu. I don’t even think they got placed by the devs anywhere in game, I think they are some kind of frame that gets a label/skin before it gets placed, usually. And see that fan up top in the middle of the wall? That’s actually two separate pieces of nonsense -- like, the center part isn’t a fan at all, its a stone wall decoration. But the design looks like a fan, so I shrank it and shoved it most of the way back into the wall til it was nearly flat and found that other thing that had a circle the right size in the middle. and viola. Oh, and it and those other vents next to it don’t just go to nothing, oh no, they match up perfectly on the outside to these

Okay, now, everybody building restaurants in the Sims DOES include a

Kitchen

And they often do a fine job, so I’m not going to spend much time here, but they do tend to skimp on prep space

(hey, see those shelves on the top right? Those are shelves full of dishes. I never see shelves full of dishes in gallery restaurant builds, but like, you need a bunch of shelves full of dishes. And off in the corner to the far left of the top wall? Prep sink tucked away back there.) 

Dude, let me just say... that prep counter?I placed every vegetable on that counter individually, AND I had to trick the game into letting me put more than the like, three items each counter space usually has slots for. What a pain. Worth it tho. It’s hard to tell, but there’s a knife next to the cutting board.

And lastly, no restaurant would be complete without 

“out back”

okay this post is long enough, but I just want to point out the stack of empty pallets, the discolored liquid and debris under the dumpsters along with a rat trap, and a little smoke break area with shitty chairs and a garbage table with some kind of bowl or something being used as an ashtray.

There’s more to this restaurant, employee lockers, bathrooms, etc, but this post is long enough, and I covered the most important stuff. 

In conclusion, I’m getting pretty good at sims builds, and other builders should ask me for tips on restaurant builds or read this post, because I swear none of them have ever worked in food service

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Attack Of The Winter Wolf: Salvaging The Lost

Summary- 6.3k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Your old pack has been torn apart by the Winter Wolf and Alpha taken. Steve and You rally the last together and offer then a home with you, some take the offer, others don’t. Steve and You prepare to go elsewhere though. A part of Steve’s past might have the answers needed. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Mentions of blood, death, smut- fingering. 

A/N- Thank You for reading and following along with Alpha Steve and Little One. It means so much to me that their story is read. I hope you all enjoy. It is a slightly slower chapter. As always, thoughts, questions and theories are always welcome. Happy Howling. 🐺💙

Chapter Two / Masterlist

After you two came to a stalemate, you insisted on heading back outside and helping the remaining wolves. Steve didn't try to disagree, even though he could see the tired lines under your eyes from the events that night. His Alpha could feel it through their bond, finally returning to his Little One who was pacing, whining. The silver wolf approached her with a slight nudge and embraced her when she sunk into him, being her strength.

 So Steve stayed close to you, even though you square your shoulders and did your best to show strength to those left. The moment you and Steve stepped out of the cabin, the scent of dried blood and death hit you both. It made your stomach roll and tears prick your eyes. You felt Steve’s touch against your hip, turning you into him momentarily so you could press your face into him, inhaling his calming scent, the woodsy smoke and steel covered the dried blood enough for you to regain your control till you pulled away. 

What was the worst part of it was that you were becoming accustomed to that scent of blood and chaos. It was sinking into the ground like a story to retold. It reminded you of the last stand with Pierce, of your Alpha bloodied and panting letting you lean against him in the underground cold tunnels, those burning moments when the Little Wolf was fighting against the serum you were given. You shook your head a bit to clear your thoughts and Steve's hold tightened as he tilted his head to your shoulder, inhaling deeply with a hot press of his nose against your mark. “You don't have to do this Little One. No one will think differently.” Everyone was in shock right now, wandering aimlessly trying to find the surviving members of their pack. Hard to believe that four wolves could cause this much destruction, killing off most of them and taking their Alpha. 

You lifted your head and weaved your hand with Steve’s, squeezing a bit. You were lucky, you still had your Alpha and mate, unlike others. Kat nearby wandered from body to body, searching for Caine. The Little Wolf whined seeing her friend search for him. Your throat shut at the pain she must be feeling. That selfish part of you thankful that wasn't you searching for Steve. “I have to Steve, they are my family.” You unwind yourself for him and went to Kat, who just blinked at you. Her eyes red rimmed as she knelt next to someone, feeling for his pulse. 

“I can't find him Y/N, I don't know where he is.” She croaked out and you sunk down next to your friend, reaching to take her hand in yours. 

“I’m sorry Kat, I'm so sorry… they took him.” You cupped the woman's face, making her listen to you. You could tell when it sunk in, when your words had a meaning for her, the utter defeat seemed to deflate her as she collapsed in your hold, her sobs shaking her as you gently tried to soothe her, strokes over her hair and along her back as she broke with her head in your lap. Steve watched a moment with a deep inhale and clenched jaw. Even the Alpha admired his partner so willing to take the others pain as your own so they wouldn't be alone. 

It was apparent that the pack no longer had their own Alpha in the midst of all this, and Steve cupped his hands around his mouth and sent out a howl, calling those still alive to him so he could give them direction. Right now they needed a leader to pull them out of their shock, figure out where to go from here. 

You felt your chest rise hearing your Alpha calling the others, his deep howl of “Come to me” made your own head tip back with the answering “Im here, Im here” song. Others started to join, moving in groups as they came out of the woods to return home, a mix of wolves and humans filling the sky with a mourning song. 

Once they joined the Alpha, Steve quieted, looking at the wolves who weren't his own, but in desperate need of him right now. “Let's put the fallen to rest.” He simply said, and the wolves dispersed to gather those they lost. 

Soldat happened to hear the Alpha’s howl he left behind reassembling the survivors from miles away. Not that there were many, it was the mission to disassemble the pack while removing the Alpha. Broken packs usually didn't survive long. The wolves either abandoned the area, finding family in other packs, or went into No Man's Land to live as loners till they lost themselves or found another to join. The Alpha they just collected was young. He laid curled up at Soldats feet, having shifted into a sleek black wolf. Soldat reached down, grabbing his muzzle to lift his head and inspect him for a moment. The Black Wolf stared back at him in defiance while Soldat snapped a picture of him to send to Brock. 

~Mission complete, we will drop off the asset and be ready for the next mission. 

He hit send and dropped the wolf's head to let it crash back to the floor. It wasn't long till an answering text beeped. 

~Excellent, stop by the office for your next orders.

Soldat leaned back in his seat, quietly they drove. Under Hydra’s control, the wolves no longer sought the companionship a typical pack brought them. Even the twins sat apart from one another, staring ahead at nothing. Just waiting for the next mission. That was all there life was about, completing the mission. There was no remorse in what their actions just caused. 

It was hours of finding the dead, hours of you finding the broken wolves in shock and doing your best to help them. Some point Natasha joined you all, having found you first. She wrapped you in her arms, and you let your friend hold you while you sunk into her strong hold. Everything smelled of death, but not her. She felt like home, as much as Steve did, and you let her be your strength momentarily.

“I got here as fast as I could.” Natasha squeezed you a bit more before letting go to step back, her hand coming to wipe at your streaked face. “Let me go check in with Steve and I will take over here. You look exhausted.” 

“No, I'm okay.” You shook off the hint that you needed a break, but lifted your head to find where Steve was, closing your eyes as you sought him out using the bond. It was a gentle brush between you. Your Little Wolf went to seek for her Alpha, twining her body around the tired Wolf and pushing her muzzle under his chin in a nuzzle. The motion made you smile to yourself, because you knew Steve felt it too by the immediate warmth you felt flow through you. “He’s over that way.” You said and Natasha glanced over to see Steve making his way over, just as much a mess as You were right now. Natasha let go of you to meet up with Steve, embracing him as well before stepping back so he could wrap an arm around you, your hand sliding up the back of his shirt to knead the small of his back, seeking that connection. 

“Natasha, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Steve gave a weak smile and Natasha gave a knowing smile back, nodding. 

“I imagine, were you able to track where Bucky and the rest went?” 

“Just to the road, I didn't dare continue. Not with everything that had happened here. It was… terrible. Whatever they did to him, they have full access to his Howling Commandos training, no one stood a chance here. Or any other pack they catch by surprise. I already warned Sam, seeing how close they are.” You could feel him rumble slightly, obviously wanting to return home to be sure their home was protected. 

“This is the second in the area they have hit. They are just picking up momentum. I don't know what they are doing with the Alphas. But every one is the same.” Natasha bit her lip as she looked around. Even though the bodies have been moved, the ground still showed the story. You thought again how the blood soaked ground was going to be haunted by the memories of all the evil that had happened here. Natasha broke your thoughts. “What can I do to help?” 

“Pick up the trail and see if you can tell where they are headed next Nat.” The silent command of ‘Make sure they are not headed for home’ was heavy between them. Natasha gave a nod and disappeared in the woods where Steve directed her. 

The Alpha nudged at Steve when Natasha slipped from sight. <She's tired Steve, it's time to clean up and rest.> 

Just what I was thinking as well. 

“Come on Little One, you are dead on your feet and the others are going home to rest.” He nudged your temple with a slight bump as you both turned around. He was right, the grounds looked basically deserted now, it seemed hard to believe this had been a bustling lively pack not even a day ago. Now, it looked abandoned. 

You let Steve lead you back to the cabin. “Go take a shower.” He eased you towards the stairs leading to the second floor. Making your way halfway up, you paused, looking over the railing. 

“What about you? Are you coming?” Your voice had a bit of a concerned whine in it, and he gave a reassuring smile. 

“In a minute. I'm just bringing us up some food and I will join you Little One. Now go on up.” His tone deepened, not demanding but encouraging you to listen, and you did. Each step up made you feel heavier, and once you entered the bathroom, you couldn't wait for the hot water to take away the feeling of death that clung to your skin, filling your senses. The idea of food made your stomach turn, but you knew it was just Steve trying to take care of the two of you. Downstairs you could hear him moving around and then the creak of the steps signaled he was making his way up when you stepped under the hot water, gasping as the heat encased you. 

Steve brought up a tray of food he found in the fridge, making each of you a sandwich with grapes on the side, along with water. He would have done more, but right now he just didn't have it in him. Setting it aside on a night stand, he made his way for the shower. 

In it he could scent your heated body, fresh with the scent of scrubbed soap, and a deep inhale of the steamy air lifted him a bit. He was looking forward to washing off as well, and ridding himself of his clothes, he joined you in the shower. You side stepped out of the spray so Steve could rinse off before going to clean himself. 

Groans of appreciation at the hot water came from both of you and as you finished rinsing off, you took the cloth from Steve’s hand and scrubbed the spanse of his back and shoulders, leaning against it while wrapping your arms around his midsection, enjoying feeling him so warm and solid against you, so very much alive. 

“Mmhh tired Little One?” Steve asked softly while rinsing off his chest, wide hands rubbing the suds away and you pressed a kiss between his flexing shoulder blades before dipping around him to step under the spray, rinsing off the soap. 

“If I said No, would you believe me?” You blinked up at him and he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes scanning over your face that was dripping from the shower, he shook his head and kissed the droplets from your lashes and down to your wet lips, kissing you slowly. Savoring the feel of your warmth in the kiss, his tongue stroking yours before pulling away. 

“I would be telling you that I knew better.” Steve stated while reaching around to turn off the shower and stepping out to grab a towel and hold it open for you to step into. When you did, he whisked you dry and you tucked it around you while leaving the bathroom to make your way towards the bedroom. 

Steve was quick to follow, sure to gather the clothes and going into the bedroom. He found you sitting on the edge of the bed, doing what would normally be your routine before bed even though it was edging right on mid morning. Your hands swiped the light smelling lotion along your arms and over your shoulders. Steve didn't even bother with boxers or sleep pants. He crawled into his usual side, stretching his side and reached over to skim patterns against your back while you let your head dip forward, setting aside the lotion you have been using. “You okay Little One?” 

You gave a shake of your head and you felt Steve’s arm circle around your waist and pull you in closer. You flipped in bed to face him, laying in against him with your head pillowed on his shoulder. “Why did that have to happen? They were just becoming a real pack Steve.” Your hand lifted to wipe at your face and you felt yourself sink further into Steve's hard body the more he rubbed at your hip and along your ribs, dipping along your curves. His rumble was deep when he pressed his lips to the tip of your head, letting his nose press against the crown of your head, burying into your wet hair. 

He wished he had the answer, something to take the pain he could feel tightening inside of you, the bond sharing waves of sorrow for your old pack. Steve tugged you in closer, your face pressing against his chest, and he felt the hot tears start to fall. 

“You should sleep Little One.” He responded while wrapping you in close and you gave a slight nod, wrapping your arm around him as well as your leg. Steve reached over and tugged a sheet over you while you cried against Steve. 

After a while you lifted your head to look up at Steve. “I just want you to know I don’t blame Bucky, Clint, or the twins. I know they are not killers.” 

Before Steve could say anything, you arched up to kiss him, whispering against his mouth. “I love you Steve, always will.” 

“I love you to Y/N” he said softly, flushing gentle nips on your jawline and rubbing his chin against his bite on your neck while you settled back down. Soon after that you went quiet and let yourself fall asleep, Steve though ended up staying awake. His fingers drifted up and down your back while losing himself in thought. The Alpha gave a gentle nudge to the Little Wolf to see that she was sound asleep before he stretched out next to her, watching over the two of them while she slept. 

<You know she wouldn't blame Bucky, it wasn't him. None of that is him.>

It's just… even in the midst of all this, she isn't angry. It's just sadness and I got to just let her feel it. There is nothing I can do. 

<That is not true, we will be there for her, her strength when she needs it.> 

Steve smiled to himself hearing the wolf, as always the beast spoke common sense he sometimes didn't seem to have. Giving a sigh, he let his head fall back to let himself drift off along with his mate.

Hours passed and you woke to find Steve not next to you. Rubbing your face in his warm pillow, inhaling deeply. He hadn't been gone long. Lifting to see where he was, you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on his cell. 

“Yea, There aren't many left Sam. And they don't have an Alpha anymore to keep them together.” 

You heard Sam respond, but couldn't understand beyond the muted sound of his voice. You shifted across the bed to drape gently against Steve’s back, letting your forehead press against the back of his neck, soaking in the warmth radiating from him.

“Same track of mind Sam, I was just thinking the same thing. I will tell Y/N. Give Sara our love and be ready. Talk soon.” With that he hung up and tossed his phone to the side. You shifted around and moved to straddle his lap, rubbing your hands against the back of his neck. Steve's hands fell to your hips and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “Hello my Little One.” he growled softly while you arched in against him, rolling your hips while you whimpered softly, nipping at his chin gently. 

“Hello Alpha. What did Sam say?” 

Steve rumbled slightly enjoying the feeling of your hands on his neck, the way your fingers brushed into his hair and tugged slightly. “I was filling him in with what happened.” He buried his face in your neck and inhaled deeply, getting lost in you then. “How we are going to offer any that want to come back with us are welcome to stay with us. They can’t stay here.” You worked your fingers against a knot in his upper back, smiling when you felt him groan into the curve of your neck. “That feels so good Little One.” 

Nipping at his ear, you shift to a stand. His hands trailing down the back of your thighs. “Thank you Steve, for taking those in that are in need of a home. For being an Alpha they deserve.” 

He followed up to a stand and reached for the bags to dig out clothes for both of you. “How about we go make the offer together, Little One?” 

Handing over some clothing that you started to pull on, you nodded. 

The wolves that didn't have a place to go ended up taking Steve on the offer, the rest making arrangements to move on. Preparations were also made for burials, those remaining picked a peaceful spot in a clearing. 

Within a few days Sam brought a crew with him, familiar faces and scents easing Steve. It was a solemn event, shared with tears as the ground was broken to lay those to rest. Each grave site was marked with a sapling that Sam had brought with them from the nursery they used to replace the areas they logged. The saplings once all set in place would one day become its own untouched forest, giving some form of life in the midst of the tragedy. That night the clearing was filled with the mourning howls telling the packs life story to the stars. 

Steve took the time to call the other packs in the area, warning them of the recent attack, even though word of mouth had spread. The last number on his list, Tony. He hasn't really talked to the Alpha since the confrontation with Ross, but he just couldn't bypass him.  

Leaning against a tree where the solitude surrounded him, he let the forests calm wash over him while the AI placed him on hold. 

Tony was going over spreadsheets with Pepper when Friday announced Steve Rogers was on hold. The pair looked up at each other in surprise. “Well… this is a surprise.” Tony admonished and Pepper pointed at the phone. 

“Answer it Tony, You know that Steve wouldn't call for no reason.” She grasped both their coffee cups and moved to a stand. Tony groaned a bit while watching his mate leave, making her grin at him over her shoulder. “Now Alpha.” Then she disappeared from sight. 

“Yes Ma’am!” He stated while reaching to pick up the phone and hooking it under his ear. “Stark residence.” 

“Tony? That you?” Steve grumbled into the phone. 

“Yes Steve, it's me.” Tony rolled his eyes up, leaning back to place his feet on the edge of his desk. “What is going on? That's the only reason you ever call me.” 

“It’s not exactly like we're friends, Stark.” Steve started. 

“Ouch Rogers, here I thought we were.” Tony snapped, unable to pass up a chance to rile the serious Alpha. 

“Stark.” Steve started in a warning and then his voice changed. “Listen, there is a group attacking wolves, they just destroyed Y/N’s old pack. Demolished them, there are only a few left.” 

This caught Tony’s attention, dropping his feet and sitting up straight again. “Is it the ones who killed Happy Steve? Who was it?” 

Tony waited, silence on both ends of the call till finally Steve spoke. “I really don't know if they killed Happy or not Tony. I will say if they did… it wasn't by choice.” 

Tony snapped to a stand while Pepper came back in, immediately her wolf was agitated seeing her mate gripping the edge of his desk, his voice sharp with commanding tone looking for answers. The one he used when he was upset, only this was Steve he was talking to. Steve couldn't be commanded by anyone. She immediately set the coffee down and went around the desk, her hand moving along his back while he snapped into the call. “But you suspect it, don't you Rogers.” 

“I'm not saying anything, all I'm saying is that you know Bucky, Clint, Pietro and Wanda would never hurt anyone willingly, not innocent lives.” 

Tony and his wolf stalled a moment. <He found them, finally.> Tony had as much invested as Steve, seeing that the twins were his pack mates. But none of his trackers were able to get as close as Natasha had been able to, all these months they just kept hitting dead ends on trails gone cold. 

“Did you see them?” He finally asked and Steve gave a Mmhm in response. 

“They weren't themselves Tony… those fucking collars Pierce had, they had something similar on. Thinner, filled with magic. I've seen them before, years ago. And only one has ever escaped them that I know of.” 

“You're talking about when you worked for Fury in Shield.” 

“Yes, when Bucky and I were in the Howling Commandos unit. I also think I can get some answers. As soon as these wolves are settled, I'm going to go get them. You have my word.” 

Tony sat back down, easing Pepper into his lap for the connection. “Whatever you need Rogers, let me know.” 

“I was hoping you would say that.” Steve responded. 

You stood at the car Kat had packed, holding her hands in yours as a teary goodbye was said. “Kat just stay safe out there, okay? I wish you would come home with me. No Man's Land, being a Lone Wolf…” You worked your lip, wrinkling your brow. “Who's going to watch your back?” 

Kat smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I need to be by myself. Maybe, maybe Caine is still out there you know? We don't know what they did with him. I have to go look for him.” 

You squeezed her hands, trying to make her hear your next words. “That's what Steve is trying to do, him, Natasha, other packs. They are doing their best to find Bucky, Clint, Wanda and Pietro. Bring the other Alphas home.” 

“Im not looking for everyone, I’m just looking for one.” Kat stated softly while untangling her hand from yours and circled her arms around you in a hug. “I know they are trying, but I have to look on my own too. I can't just sit and wait for others.” Her head dropped to your forehead, and you both just inhaled against each other in your last embrace, committing each other to memory till your paths crossed again. You had to relent. If it was Steve, you would be doing all you could to find him to. 

“Stay safe Sister.” You whispered and Kat pulled away with a nod, digging out her keys and slipping into the driver's seat. You circled your arms around yourself, watching as the car pulled away and out of sight. With a sigh, you turn to head back to the cabin, watching as Steve continued loading up a truck from someone's house. Lifting the last bag of clothes in, Steve circled around a truck he was loading up for another and wrapped you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. 

“She will come back when she's ready, Little One.” He hugged you in close as your head laid on his chest, giving a nod. 

“I know, it's just hard letting any of them go on their own.” 

Steve hummed a bit in agreement. “Everyone here is ready to go, Natasha is coming back to bring them home.” You lifted your head in wonder as to why the two of you werent. Steve rubbed your back, looking down at you. “We're going somewhere else.” 

“Where are we going?” you tilted your head in question, loosening yourself enough to look at him without craning your neck. 

“Stark. Remember how I was telling you I've seen it before? When Bucky and I were in the Howling Commandos?” You gave a nod to confirm. “The shifter who got away, he went back to his home. I want to find him, ask him how he managed to break loose of the collar.” 

“So… where are we traveling to?” 

“Norway.” 

Your eyes widened a bit, echoing what he said. “Norway?” 

“Yup, if Fury’s intel is correct that Tony acquired, a little town called New Asgard.” 

You couldn't hide the grin, knowing then what that meant. “Means were getting a jet, aren't we?” 

Steve gave a wink at you, breaking out in a grin of his own. “Sure does Little One, you gonna let me teach you to fly it?” Clearly remembering how much you had enjoyed the ride from Wakanda in T’Challa’s jet. 

You played your fingers up his shirt, skimming fingers against his stomach, gently scratching over his muscles that twitched in response to being touched by you. “I'm going to insist on it Alpha.” 

Steve huffed at your playfulness, snapping his teeth near your lips and clasping his hands against your ass, giving a squeeze that made your arch into him with a giggle, some of your sadness fading away being with him. “Look at you getting all demanding. I like it.” He nipped at your lips and you smiled against his mouth, growling back at him momentarily. “But let's finish up here and we will get on the road again Little One.” 

It was a few hours till Steve and You were the last ones left, while you waved goodbye to the last car driving away, the compound now eerily quiet. Steve nipped at your neck, nuzzling the back. “Ready to head to New York Little One.” You reached behind you and took his hand. 

“More than ready Alpha.” 

The drive was several hours, Steve had given you his phone to go through the email that Tony had sent him recalling the information of that particular mission. You read it out loud, while Steve stayed silent listening. Letting the memories of the Howling Commandos wash over him. He could tell the way your voice lifted and words rushed that you were getting caught up in the intel like it was a story. “... And then Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was taken hostage while covering his team members from higher ground.” You set the phone down, Steve could sense you looking over at him. “How long was he with them?” 

Steve was quiet a moment, his fingers thrumming on the steering wheel. “Weeks Little One. The day he was captured we were removing prisoners from an experiment facility and I had scanned the area. It was all clear, so I thought. Somewhere I missed them coming back into the grounds and Bucky… well he was so focused on making sure the victims were being covered from above that they were able to take him hostage.” 

“How was he when you all found him?” You moved over closer to Steve, and he reached over to grasp your thigh lightly, his thumb sweeping back and forth soothing, probably more for himself then for you. 

“Luckily they had difficulty moving Bucky around, I'm guessing he put up a fight stalling their plans. Made it alot easier to track them with them being hindered. When we found Bucky he wasn’t as some other hydra victims but he was weak. Some of the damage was irreversible. His left arm was damaged, and as a wolf why he limps like he does on that left side. Some of the trauma to his mind.” Steve went quiet once more and you leaned your head against his shoulder, pulling your legs up. “Before that happened, Bucky would have been the next Alpha. He had the mentality for it, outgoing, part of the crowd, a born leader. Afterwards though, he almost left the pack to No Man's Land. There were so many times the Pack mentality was just too much, disappearing into the White Wolf for weeks living feral on the other side of the lake.” You heard the tinge of sadness in your mate for his closest friend, mourning for the man he once was. 

“But he had you, Steve.” 

Steve’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking a bit. “If I had been more diligent, Bucky never would have been caught.” That's when it hit you that Steve blamed himself for what had happened. You tilted your head to inspect him, and Steve glanced at you from the corner of his eye, patting your leg. “All in the past Little One. Right now we're focused on what we have to do today.” 

You settled in against him. “You got him back then, we will get him back again Alpha.” 

He rumbled slightly without saying anything else. But his foot dropped on the gas pedal, picking up speed in order to get to New York faster. 

It was edging on midnight when he finally pulled up to Stark Towers, which Tony was waiting right out front with Pepper at his side to greet them. When Steve got out of the truck, he held out his arm and slipped it around your waist to have you slide out, when your feet hit the ground, you arched in a stretch and a yawn, making Tony chuckle. 

“It's quite a ride, I'm glad to see you two make it.” He said genuinely, holding his hand out to Steve in greeting, which the Alpha accepted with a hand shake and one to Pepper as well. 

“Pepper, pleasure as always.” Steve greeted Pepper warmly, and she returned the handshake. Tony took one look at you, giving a slight bow of his head. 

“Y/N, I sincerely hope you forgive my actions after my last visit to your home. Regardless of the circumstances, it shouldn't have happened.” 

You take a moment to consider, Steve rubbing his hand along your back reassuringly when you give a nod and hold out your hand. “Accepted Tony, Thank you.” The Alpha covered your hand in his with a smile. 

“Thank you Y/N. Now let us give you a place to crash for the night? The jet is still getting fueled and might as well head out well rested. Norway is a several hour flight, even for one of my machines.” 

Steve glanced at you as you did back at him, both of you coming to a silent agreement as the soft pattering of rain started around you, and the four of you escaped back inside. Steve gave a slight shake of his head to rid himself of the rain water and you used your sleeve to wipe away the rain water from your face. Heading for the elevator, Steve and Tony discussed some of what had happened the past few weeks, Pepper once in a while asking her own question, and Steve drawing you into the conversation when needed. But you simply answered the questions before falling silent once more, not really having the energy to be engaging to their hosts. 

After several moments, the elevator dinged and Friday announced the floor level while it opened. The entire floor was a wide open floor plan, Pepper smiling at the couple. “We hope you two will be comfortable here.” 

Steve nodded and you reached over to embrace Pepper for her kindness. “It's more than enough, thank you.”

“We will leave you two kids to rest then.” Tony was prepared for a quick exit, which both you and Steve were grateful for given the long trip there and the one upcoming.  

Biding good night, you and Steve were left alone to settle in for the night. Steve was quick to send you to shower, knowing it would make you feel better and he went in after you while you dressed in some pajamas, brushing out your hair while you wandered the suite looking around. 

You stopped at the ceiling to floor windows that ran along one wall in the suite. Your room was almost at the top of the tower, it gave an expansive view of New York City at night. It almost stretched as far as you could see, and it made you feel a bit small so high above it all, all these lives not knowing you were looking down on them. The water from the rain streamed down the panes of glass making everything slightly out of focus. Your fingertips pressed against the coolness of the glass, tracing the streams of water running down in an endless rush to get someplace else. 

Behind you, you could hear the water to the shower turn off and the sounds of Steve moving around before the door creaked and the light to the bathroom shut off to leave you both in the dark of the room. There was a bed behind you, large and inviting after a day of travel, and you should make your way there. But the beauty of the glowing city held you enraptured. 

Feeling the warmth of Steve's body move up behind you through your thin sleep shorts and tank top, you sunk back into the hard length of his body, your eyesight going out of focus to see Steve’s reflection in the glass, his eyes glowing a soft yellow haze in the darkness where the Alpha was so close. You inhaled deeply, reaching behind you to draw his arms around you, shifting his hands to slide under your shirt. 

“You smell so good Alpha.” You whispered as his fingers trailed the band of your shorts and dipped beneath them. “Woodsmoke and the forest, home.” You could feel him easing to touch you, the rumbles coming from his chest sparking your arousal. It had been days since you felt him like this, not since the day of the attack. 

Thick fingers traced your folds, easing into your heat while circling your clit. Your head fell back to his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. Steve trailed his nose from the crown of your head down to your neck while he circled slowly, pressing down hard enough to make the heat in your belly grow and your legs have a slight shake. Snaking his other arm around you, he palmed your breast into his palm, sinking his teeth into your neck to keep you held against him. 

“You remind me of home, always so good for me. Letting me take care of you. I love you so much Little One.” He growled softly and you spread your legs for him further, letting him take over. Fingers sunk into you, scissoring against your fluttering walls that started to clench, trying to hold on as he stroked your walls, knowing just where to find that spot that made you cry his name. 

“Steve, uh- more please.” you whimpered out, with Steve you could become needy, wanting only what he could give you.

Steve smirked against your neck hearing you, feeling your wetness start to pool against his palm that he was now using to press against your clit while his fingers plunged back into your wanting heat, moving faster the more you started pressing your ass back into him while rocking in his palm. Your hands were made to press against the glass as Steve stepped forward, pushing you to trap you between him and the windows. The coolness of the glass seeped through your thin tank and the warmth of Steve's fingers rolling over your nipple made it pebble, taunt and sensitive, making you whine out sharply. 

“Steve I have to-” 

Steve rumbled behind you with encouragement, your hips rocking faster and rubbing his cock harder between your ass cheeks. You could feel it rigid and thick with desire but it was all lost when he nipped behind your ear, his breath hot while he growled out his words. “Come on My Little One, My Omega, show me how good you feel.” 

The spiral of heat exploded from your belly to rush all over, locking to hold him while Steve was sure to keep you upright. The city lights wavered in your gaze, losing any focus till they became starbursts in the glass. 

Your forehead leaned against the cool glass, your hot breath fogging up the glass while you came back from your orgasm, the bursts of lights started to come back into focus when you felt Steve hard behind you, rutting his hips against yours.

He growled possessively against your mark, gathering you in his arms, ready to take you to bed and finish what he started. You clung to him, rubbing into his body with a purr of satisfaction, seeking that mindless escape with your Alpha. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Memories

Summary: When Dean discovers the reader has abilities she’s never told him about, he breaks things off. But when she wanders back into the Winchester’s lives a year later, he starts to realize there’s more to the situation than just a few lies...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Case Fic

Word Count: 8,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past abuse/violence, angst, sprinkle of fluff

A/N: Also written for @spndeanbingo​​

_____

Exactly three years and twenty two days after meeting the Winchesters it happened. Two and a half years of dating Dean. Countless nights in motel rooms, in the bunker, on hunts. Cuts, stitches, laughs. Colds and fevers. Being worried sick over one another and nearly dying for each other more than once.

You finally did it.

Dean saw it.

And he was so angry you didn’t even know how to respond.

You didn’t even say a word as he threw a pair of special cuffs on you. You didn’t mention how you weren’t a demon and the cuffs were useless on you. You didn’t put up a fight when you were sat down in the backseat and he drove the two of you back to the bunker.

You were quiet as you got out of the car, Dean not even saying a word as you headed straight for the dungeon without being told. He slammed the door shut after you as you sighed. You took a seat in the chair and slipped out of the cuffs with a little effort, the door opening not long after.

“How did you do that? The cuffs. You’re a demon,” said Dean as he walked straight over to you. 

“I’m not a demon,” you said. “You know it’s me, Y/N. Just-”

“What the hell are you,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you, his hand reaching behind his back and pulling out an angel blade.

“I’m human. I just…” you trailed off as you looked at your lap.

“Just what,” he said, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up.

“Do not treat me like I’m some monster. I saved your life two hours ago. You would be dead if I hadn’t done that. Do not treat me like the bad guy,” you said. He dropped his hand and you saw him hold up the blade.

“Talk.”

“I have certain...abilities,” you said. “One’s I haven’t used in years.”

“So you’ve been lying to me for years then, hm?” he said. 

“It’s not the abilities that pisses you off. It’s that I never told you, isn’t it,” you said. Dean cleared his throat and started to walk away, shoving the blade in his back pocket before he returned with crossed arms. “Dean-”

“You saved me, you get a pass. You have ten minutes to load up your stuff and leave,” he said.

“Dean. I-”

“This isn’t a white lie, Y/N,” he snapped, his face hard as you stood up. “This...this is whatever trust we had being over. If I can’t trust you, I can’t be near you. It’s that simple.”

“I never intended to use those abilities ever again. It’s not something hereditary. It would never have been of any consequence to anyone. I’m human. I didn’t tell you-”

“You didn’t tell me. I told you so much shit,” he said, the hard exterior starting to crack. “I told you about hell. About all the shit I did to souls. About the shit that was done to me. I never told anyone that. No one. That’s just one thing. I told you all of it. Every goddamn second and you...you…”

“It’s a very long story,” you said quietly. “A very long and horrible story that I was too scared to ever tell you. So I lied. I lied about a lot.”

“I don’t even know you,” he said. You reached out to grab his hand but he stepped away.

“Dean, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you said, trying to make your voice as soft as possible.

“You already did,” he said dryly, closing his eyes. “Please go. Don’t come back.”

“I-”

“I’m going out. Be gone by the time I get back.”

One Year Later

“Dean, we got another one,” said Sam. You lifted your head wearily, blinking your eyes open to spot Sam looking down at you. “Y/N?”

“‘ammy,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes again. Within a few seconds you were lifted up in his strong arms. You were drifting in and out, suddenly in the backseat of Baby and then in the infirmary in the bunker. After a little while you opened your eyes and sat up, feeling a bandage on your head. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, immediately plopping back down.

“Sit,” said Dean. You looked behind yourself, Dean standing at a table, most of the lights in the room dimmed down. He spun around with a bowl in his hands and a tray of supplies. You recognized the needle and he was ripping off the gauze and stitching up your forehead before you knew it.

You hissed and he said nothing.

“Cas should be back in the morning. He can heal you then,” he said.

He worked quietly for a few minutes, new gauze stuck on your head when he was finished. He quickly left and hit off the light. You sat there until you heard footsteps, Sam poking his head in and carrying a tray with grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“Hey,” he said, setting it down on the nightstand.

“Hi, Sam,” you said.

“You were out most of the day. I thought you might be hungry,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Where did you go? You were here and then one day, you were gone. It’s not like you to screw up a hunt like that either.”

“I broke Dean’s trust,” you said. 

“There’s more to it than that,” he said.

“I’m a monster,” you said, laughing dryly when Sam stared at you. “I’m human but I’m a monster.”

“You’re one of the kindest people I know,” said Sam.

“I should go,” you said as you got to your feet. You took a leery step forward and another, Sam grabbing your hand.

“Y/N. What’s going on? You’re not a monster,” he said.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for trying to save me, Sam. But you can’t,” you said. You shrugged out of his grip and took a deep breath. You wound up outside of the bunker, by the bottom of the hill. Your head was spinning but you had enough head start that he wouldn’t find you.

You were staring at the river’s water when you heard a branch snap behind you and a flashlight light up the ground nearby.

“Not a very good hiding spot,” said Dean.

“I thought it was,” you said, closing your eyes, resting your chin on your knees again. “I’m too tired to fight Dean.”

“Good. It means I’ll win then,” he said. He stood next to you, clicking off the flashlight. “You told me about this spot, you know.”

“Once I told you.”

“I used to listen to you,” he said. 

“I don’t care about a scar on my forehead, Dean,” you said. “I’m not going back.”

“Rookie move getting caught on a hunt like that,” he said. “I thought you had super powers.”

“There’s a cost to using them,” you said quietly.

“You never said that before.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said.

“What does it cost?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” you whispered.

“Your soul?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “The only thing it ever cost me was you. I’m still a monster and a liar. Using them just reminds me of that.”

“Sammy mentioned you look ill,” said Dean. “I thought you looked scared.”

“You’d be doing me a favor by using that angel blade on me at this point,” you said.

“I’ve never wanted to kill you. I’m not going to kill you. You broke us was all,” he said.

“Yes. I did. So why are you here?” you asked.

“I heard there was a long and horrible story, that it might help me understand,” he said.

“No,” you said. He bumped your shoulder and you looked over at him. He stared and swallowed, glancing out at the water.

“Why not?” he asked.

“The time for that was a year ago. You didn’t want to hear it and I respected that. Respect my decision,” you said.

“Alright,” he said, sliding his hand into your coat pocket. You reached inside and felt the ball shape, narrowing your eyes. “Hex bag. You’re coming back with me.”

“First you tell me to go away. Now you make me come back. Take it out and let me leave, Dean,” you said.

“Not without that story. It’s a dick move, trust me, I know,” he said. You plucked out the hex bag and held it in your hand. It burned up in your hand, Dean wide eyed for a moment. “How…”

“Just let me run away. I won’t bother you ever again,” you said as you walked past him. His hand caught your arm and you closed your eyes, Dean gasping behind you. You heard him fall over as you looked back, his hands tied in front of him along with his feet.

“What…” he asked.

“You can’t get out of that, Dean. It’s the same stuff they use in Hell. When I’m away, I’ll remove it,” you said. You started to walk away and you slapped a piece of the material over his mouth when he shouted. “I’m sorry. It’s for-”

You felt yourself get tackled on the ground, your head knocking back against the paved path. 

“Sammy, don’t hurt her,” Dean said and you glanced over, your hold on him gone as he stood up. You tried to push the two of them away but your head hurt too much. You put your hands on it and curled up in a ball. “Call Cas. Tell him we need him home. Now.”

“Morning sunshine,” said Dean as you flickered open your eyes. You looked around, in a dimly lit old room. You touched your head and sat up, Dean setting down his book at the desk. “Cas healed you up. He said your head was looking like a smoothie in there.”

“Felt like it,” you said.

“You should have died like, back at that house on the hunt,” said Dean.

“I know,” you said.

“Apparently you have a ‘dark energy’ about you,” said Dean.

“Yet I’m not in the dungeon...or the bunker,” you said. Dean sighed and looked over your head, your gaze going up to the ceiling. “What is that?”

“Bit of a pain in the ass for me,” said Dean. “We don’t know what you are and that little trick by the river was pretty impressive but that sigil? Anyone with that symbol carved in them ain’t leaving a one mile square area. Two man minimum.”

“You’re holding me here,” you said.

“In this cabin and the surrounding area. I can’t leave either. Not until that gets removed and Cas is the only one that can undo it,” said Dean. 

“I can make you undo it,” you said. You stared him down, Dean frowning when he saw you tie his hands together in front of him. 

“Go ahead and do that. But I literally can’t undo it. We’re both stuck and Sam and Cas aren’t coming back unless it’s an emergency,” said Dean. You got up from the bed and went down a short hall, Dean following you and out through a front door. The air was chilly and you saw the sun was barely up. You walked and walked and walked until suddenly you bounced off of something. You put a hand against it, Dean sighing behind you. “Unless you’re God level powerful, you ain’t getting out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. Let me go,” you snapped. Dean held up his hands and you sighed, releasing him before you started to walk around.

“Y/N. Cas carved it into our bones. Rowena put the spell up. We are as stuck here as the day is long,” said Dean. 

“You can’t make me go back inside,” you said as you sat down and leaned back against the invisible wall. 

“I think you’re lying to me again. Something is wrong and you know it. You look sick. You’re weak. You-”

“Go away before I shut your mouth for you,” you said. He nodded and left, going back into the cabin. You sighed and wrapped your arms around your knees. “Castiel if you can hear me, come and take this off of me. Please. I just want to be left alone.”

One Week Later

“What do you want for dinner?” asked Dean as you stared out the window. It’d been raining all day. The cabin was nice and clean, modern and nice. The bathrooms were spa like and you seemed to somehow have internet all the way out in the middle of nowhere.

It would have been a great and peaceful vacation spot if there wasn’t the overwhelming threat in the air that you couldn’t leave.

“Y/N?” asked Dean.

“Whatever you want is fine,” you said quietly, watching the water roll down the panes. Dean walked over and handed you a blanket, running his hand over your head. “You will never get me to talk, Dean.”

“I was angry and I think we both know I had a right to be. But I think we both know I should have given you a chance to explain yourself and I didn’t. We both screwed up. When you’re ready to talk, we will. Until then...we can stay here and learn to be friends again. You’re safe here. You can try to recover from whatever it is that is running you down.”

“You stuck me here so I can’t go on a hunt,” you said. “Didn’t you.”

“That was part of it,” said Dean. 

“I’m not weak.”

“You can kick my ass all on your own. With these abilities you have? Pretty sure you win every time without lifting a finger,” he said. “Maybe you’re strong, way stronger than I’ve ever been. But you are sick. I can see it all over your face. You can recover here until we figure out what to do next.”

“I know what to do next but you won’t let me leave,” you growled. 

“This isn’t up for debate.”

You turned your head, Dean shoving your arm after a few seconds. He pointed at the tie over his mouth and you shrugged.

“You speaking isn’t up for debate,” you said. He rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, starting to move some pots around.

An hour later he shoved your arm again.

“What?” you said. Dean pointed at the food on two plates. You stood up and went to the table, sitting down and digging in. Dean took a seat across from you, grunting. You slurped down your pasta and stared at him. He scratched at the tie and you went back to eating, his eyes widening for a moment. “It’s not fun having someone control you, is it? Enjoy your Red Special.”

He narrowed his eyes and stood up, going to the bedroom he’d been using and slamming the door shut. 

After fifteen minutes and a few washed pots later, you went to the room, Dean sitting on the floor, his eyes red and puffy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you said, removing the tie and kneeling down. He wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I-”

“Red Special,” said Dean. “Red Special. That’s the first step in a Red Special and you know that. I told you all about Hell but I never told you the names of certain things so how the fuck do you know the name of it?”

You got up and tried to leave, Dean on his feet and grabbing your wrist quickly.

“Tell me. You owe me for that just now,” he said.

“Because I’ve gone through a Red Special before too,” you whispered. You shut your eyes and felt Dean’s hands on your shoulders, guiding you back into his room. He sat you down on the bed and told you not to move. He left for a few minutes before you opened your eyes, Dean returning with a sandwich and glass of water for himself. He shut the door and sat down at the head of the mattress, eating quietly as you sighed.

“You went to Hell?” he eventually asked.

“No.”

“...You had to. There’s no way you could survive-”

“I don’t want to tell you, Dean. Don’t make me tell you,” you said. He leaned over and took your hand, lacing your fingers together. You swallowed and shut your eyes.

“Were you...were you going to…” he trailed off as you shook your head.

“No. I could never do that to you. I shouldn’t have done what I did. My head just...it gets dark sometimes. It gets dark more often. The longer we stay here, the bigger the odds that I end up hurting you,” you said.

“Do you think it’s these abilities making that happen?” he asked.

“I know it is,” you said, a crack of thunder overhead.

“Then let’s try to take it away. Bare minimum information. Tell me and Sam and Cas the bare minimum you think we need to know and we’ll save the story for someday later,” said Dean. “I promise.”

Your whole body shuddered and he gave you a smile.

“S’okay. It’ll be okay,” said Dean. 

“The torturer’s curse,” you said quietly. Dean tilted his head at you and you gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s called the torturer’s curse. There’s no way to remove it.”

“We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Three Weeks Later

“Hi guys,” you said as Sam, Cas and Rowena walked into the cabin. “I made cookies earlier if you want some.”

“Maybe later. Let’s see if we can get you feeling better first,” said Sam.

“Did you bring the cuffs?” you asked.

“One pair of demonic, witch and curse proof cuffs,” said Cas, pulling them from his pocket. You nodded and tried to relax, shaking your head after a moment. Cas put them on and you saw Dean leave his bedroom, shaking his arms out. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I pissed her off this morning so you know, been fun around here today,” said Dean.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said gently. “We’re gonna get you fixed up and you won’t be feeling any of this bad crap anymore.”

“I hope not,” you said. You took a seat at the table, Rowena and Sam moving around and setting things up. You had to give them some of your blood, the second it was in the bowl your whole body starting to buzz. “Hurry. It doesn’t like that.”

Rowenna threw something in the bowl and a puff of smoke appeared. She said a few words and then looked at you.

“Well?” she asked.

“I don’t feel any…” you said, quickly closing your eyes, everything off. You fell over, passing out for a few seconds.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Dean, shaking your shoulder as you woke up. Your whole body felt lighter. You tried to do something you could before, anything, but none of it seemed to work.

“Hey,” you smiled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Cas put a hand on your head and nodded.

“I don’t sense the energy in her anymore,” he said.

“It’s gone?” asked Dean. You nodded and let out a laugh.

“It’s gone. It’s gone,” you said as they helped you sit up.

“How did you get a curse like that in the first place? That’s very, very dark magic,” said Rowenna as Sam took off your cuffs.

“It was a unique situation. It won’t happen again.”

“She won’t talk about what happened,” said Sam that night in the bunker. You were laying in your old bed, the boys talking in hushed whispers outside your room.

“I’m not pushing her. This curse was fucking with her head for a while and she’s had it who knows how long and she needs a little peace and quiet,” said Dean.

“Dean. The curse she had is not normal. It is old. The book we found the cure in...they only use the curse in something called a Hellscape. No one’s ever seen it in action. How the hell did she get it?” 

“I’m guessing she’s been to someplace called Hellscape then, genius. Lay off. She feels like shit. Go find a nice easy hunt for us or something,” said Dean. You heard the door open after a moment and Dean enter, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Need anything sweetheart?”

“Do you ever wish you never existed?” you asked. You felt him move around behind you and lay down, warm arms pulling you into an embrace. “That’s not an answer.”

“Maybe I used to, on bad days sometimes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here though.”

“I’m not sure what the point is,” you said.

“Of life?” he asked as you nodded. “I think you try to leave this place better than you found it.”

“I don’t think that’s why I’m here,” you said.

“Why do you think you are then?” 

“To be miserable,” you said quietly. “A vast majority of my life has been a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Then I got out of it when I found you guys and then I fucked that up and I’m back in the nightmare.”

“You’re not,” said Dean, resting his head against your back. “You’re not, I swear.”

“Maybe someday I’ll believe that,” you said as you shut your eyes.

“Y/N. Whatever you’re not telling me...it’s okay. I know it’s big. I’ll be here if you ever decide you want to share it. If not, that’s okay too,” he said.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Hey,” said Sam the next morning at breakfast. “I found a hunt in Norfolk. It looks like a simple demon hunt if you guys want in.”

“Yeah that sounds good,” said Dean as you nodded. You went back to your eggs, closing your eyes. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Never better.”

“I think it’s that gym teacher. I had a bad feeling about him,” said Sam in the motel later that day. “No demon though.”

“Him and that assistant coach are weirdos,” said Dean. “You see the way they were looking at Y/N?”

“They’re not the person you’re looking for,” you said as you changed out of your fed suit, Sam quickly turning away. 

“How do you know that?” asked Dean. You sighed and slipped on some jeans and t shirt, plopping down on the bed. “Y/N.”

“Because this is my hometown,” you said. They looked at one another and scrunched up their faces. “I’m not from where I said I was. I lied about a lot. I get it. I went to high school with those guys, that’s why they were looking at me like that.”

“Well it has to be a teacher,” said Sam.

“No it doesn’t. It isn’t. I know exactly who it is,” you said, going to your bag and shoving your gun in your jeans.

“Care to share with the class?” asked Dean. 

“It’s my dad.”

“Your what?” he asked. “Your dad is dead.”

“A lie. My mom is but not him.”

“So a demon didn’t kill your parents?” asked Sam. “Or just your mom?”

“I killed my mom,” you said. Both of them shared a look, Dean looking you up and down. “I had my reasons.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, shaking his head. “Ignoring that bombshell, how do you know it’s your dad?”

“He’s the most evil thing in this town,” you said. 

“They didn’t...you know,” said Sam.

“Hurt me? Oh, I wish all they’d done to me was hurt me,” you said. Sam swallowed and you saw Dean nod. 

“Sammy. Go grab some dinner for us. Please,” said Dean. Sam excused himself but you knew Dean only did it for your benefit. “I’m starting to get the picture.”

“What picture is that.”

“Abusive parents with a kid that ends up having a horrible dark curse on them? I have a feeling you didn’t get that from your hunting days,” he said.

“I’ve had it since I was sixteen. I didn’t turn it on until I used an ability for the first time at eighteen when I got out of here for good. Every time I use them, the darker it got,” you said.

“Your dad do that to you?” he asked. “Curse you?”

“Indirectly. You know who gave me the actual curse,” you said. Dean tilted his head. “Alistair.”

You saw his face go white and you nodded.

“Alistair...you knew…” said Dean.

“I knew him before you did. My parents used to call him Ali when I was little,” you said.

“What?” breathed out Dean. “Don’t tell me...tell me he didn’t go near you as a child. Tell me that psychopath wasn’t near you as a kid.”

“I could but it’d be a lie,” you said. He sat down on the bed and ran his hand over his mouth. “It’s my dad that killed those two girls. I know it. Let’s just go deal with him and move on.”

“We are not ending the conversation there. Alistair? That’s-“

“Minimum information,” you said. “I already told you more than enough.”

“Y/N-“

“You of all people can understand why I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I talked about it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to and I did and you know what? After I did, I felt a little better. I trusted you enough to tell you.”

“Dean,” you said, pacing around the room. “It’s not a trust thing. I’ve never told anyone and if you ever find out the whole truth, not the scraps you know, you’ll never look at me the same. I know I’m broken but you didn’t make me feel like it. You guys never did and I know you’ll see what I really am if you ever hear the truth. I’m sorry but I can’t go through that.”

“So you think I was broken?” asked Dean. You rolled your eyes and he stood up. “Did you lie about that too?”

“Go fuck yourself, Dean,” you said, grabbing your backpack. “I never lied about anything like that. You know what? Thanks for everything but I’m gone.”

You stormed out of there, Dean barely getting to the door by the time you were down the block.

Four Hours Later

“Ouch,” you said as you groaned awake. You were cold and your body instantly recognized the chill. You sat upright, the air leaving your lungs. 

It took a moment to realize you were panicking, breaths coming in little sharp jagged beats. 

“Y/N,” you heard from the dark side of the basement. The voice sang song and you backed up against the cinderblock wall. You could feel the shirt you had on now and the light cotton shorts, feel the band on your ankle as you watched him step into the light. “Y/N. Relax, honey. Don’t work yourself up.”

“I…” you said, remembering sneaking into the house and then it all going dark.

“You promised that someday you’d come back and kill me. I took precautions and now...we can go back to the way things were,” he said as he knelt down.

“Dad, don’t,” you said, burrowing back into the corner.

“Hunters aren’t as invincible as they say. I’ll make you a deal. You be a good girl and let Dad have a bit of blood to sell off every so often since you have that been to hell thing going for you, and I will leave the townsfolk alone. Hm? How’s that sound?” he asked. “Or better yet, you be good and I won’t have to do that thing you don’t like.”

“Alistair is dead,” you said as you finally found your voice.

“I know. But I can fool your mind into believing it’s with him, feeling all of that. I’ve learned a few things since you’ve been gone,” he said. “So. Good girl?”

Your body shook and he smirked.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the way things were soon enough.”

He stood up and pet your head, walking away before he hit the light outside the door and locked it.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to use your abilities but they were gone.

The Winchesters were your only hope.

It felt like a day had gone by before the door opened. Your father had already paid you one unpleasant visit and you weren’t ready for another.

“Oh shit,” said Dean as the room filled with light. You covered your eyes before you dared expose them to the brightness, Dean rushing over and cupping your cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Me too,” he said. “I forgive you, for all of it. I promise. Let’s get you someplace safe.”

“You can’t cut it,” you said. “You need to break the seal.”

“Do you know how to do that?” he asked.

“You got a knife?” you asked. Dean pulled out a knife and handed it to you. You took a deep breath and held the tip to your foot. You dug into the flesh and sighed. You took the blade and cut into the band, the thing snapping open after a moment.

“What is that?” he asked.

“You can’t run that way,” you said. You stood up and Dean went with you. He helped you walk, pausing when you stopped halfway. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you shakily said, stepping over the midpoint of the room, gritting your teeth as you got to the door. Dean picked you up and carried you past the storage area and up the basement stairs, walking you quietly out to the front step outside.

“Where’s my dad?” you asked. 

“Sammy got him,” said Dean. “He’s in the office. I went looking for you.”

“Go check on Sam for me. I don’t trust my dad,” you said.

“If I see him, he’s getting a bullet,” said Dean. You nodded and Dean shrugged off his jacket, putting it over your shoulders before he headed inside. It was warm and smelled like him and you let yourself curl up in the warm safe feeling for a few minutes before you realized Dean hadn’t come back. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stood and looked back at the house. You reached into the pocket of the jacket and pulled out Dean’s spare gun. It wasn’t his normal spare. You looked at it and recognized it as the the other one in the set he’d gotten for you years ago. 

You took that as a sign and slowly limped into the house, gun raised as you headed towards the back.

You turned inside and saw your Dad standing by the fireplace, Dean and Sam both knocked out on the floor.

“Winchesters will sell nicely,” he said. “Pieces of course. You will be punished appropriately.”

“No,” you said quietly, pointing the gun. He glanced at you and the weapon flew out of your hands. You were forced down to the floor and you gasped, staring up at him.

“You lose. You always lose,” he said. He grabbed your arm and started to pull you back towards the hall and presumably down to the basement. You caught Dean lazily staring at you. He poked his left side wearily and you reached into his inner left jacket pocket. 

The sound of a switchblade opening was deafening in the room, your father looking down just as you stabbed it into his thigh. You pulled it out and then scrambled backwards, your Dad stalking over you.

A gunshot rang out and he dropped to the ground. You rolled away, looking back to see Dean pointing his gun. 

“You okay?” he asked.

You got to your feet and walked out of the room, sitting down on the front step. You tucked your head between your knees, a gentle hand on your back a few minutes later.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

“Hey,” said Dean the next morning as you finished off your hash brown by the water. “Neat little diner they got around here.”

“S’good pancakes,” you said, popping the last piece in your mouth.

“You uh, didn’t say much last night. Or this morning.”

“Didn’t feel like talking,” you said, swinging your feet from where you sat on the railing. 

“You okay?”

“I feel better but I can’t believe it’s actually over,” you said. “I was always too scared to ever come back here.”

“I get it,” said Dean, leaning back against the railing, staring at the diner. “Talking...helps. Even if you were a pain in the ass about it back then.”

“You know when we met, I was so jealous of you. I really hated you,” you said.

“You did? Must have been my charming personality that won you over,” he chuckled.

“You were so happy and you and Sam...you have someone to love you, always. I know you weren’t happy like most people are but you got to have a little bit, a few moments at least. You guys always had each other and I wanted that so bad. I wish I’d had an older brother like you or a little one or something when I was a kid. You have no idea how screwed up I am, Dean,” you said.

“That’s funny,” he said, turning his head towards your own. “You’re one of the most normal people I know.”

“Dean.”

“I don’t know how or why but you are a good person, Y/N. Your parents from the little I do know were horrible. But you’re good and kind. You’re the opposite of screwed up.”

“I don’t feel like it,” you said.

“You will. Eventually,” he said, smiling softly. “Trust me. I learned from this really hot chick all the best ways to help.”

You glanced down and he moved behind you, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

“I should have told you the truth back then,” you said.

“I should have been less of a dick. It’s okay. Nobody’s perfect,” he said.

“My parents made a demon deal,” you said, Dean shifting around to sit beside you. “You saw that house. My parents were nobody’s when they were younger. They wanted money and power and they met with a crossroads demon. They presented a unique deal. My soul for the deal,” you said. “I was almost two at the time I think.”

“That’s not possible,” said Dean.

“I know. The demon started to walk away when my parents got creative. Ten years from then, I’d go away for five years, with a demon. They could do whatever they wanted to me. The demon wasn’t interested at first but Alistair popped up all excited and said he wanted to test out some new stuff or something and then agreed. I spent my childhood knowing it was coming. Then I went away and lived in the Hellscape for five years. It’s like bringing hell to earth. It was basically this hidden away cabin in the woods. Apparently it can only be done every so often and needs a whole bunch of stuff and I was the lucky participant,” you said.

“Five years in hell or five years up here?” asked Dean.

“Up here.”

“Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes. “How many years…”

“If a month is ten years…” you said. “It wasn’t great. I blocked out a lot. I can’t even remember most of it. It was weird. I remember the pain but the duration is like a really crappy month or something. But yeah, I hung out in basically hell for five years before the deal was up. Alistair though, he liked me. He said I took a long time to break. He-”

“How long.”

“Hundred years,” you said, Dean nodding. “Dean...it wasn’t like what you went through. That was hell. This was his playground. Some days I was left alone.”

“Can I hear more?” he asked.

“So when my time was up, Alistair gave me the curse. He told me all about it, told me it would strip away the human emotions so I wouldn’t feel so bad. He encouraged me to rip my parents to shreds,” you said. “I wanted to too but when I got back home, I turned into the scared little girl again. I pretended to be a normal teenager at school and then home was...bad. But I met this boy. This guy was following me after one of the football games when I was walking home and this boy chased him off. Ricky. He was the gearhead kid and I was a stupid cheerleader and he was kind. He reminds me of you actually. We dated, secretly, and I started to open up and Ricky was so smart and it turned out he was a hunter’s kid.”

“Ricky Norris?” asked Dean.

“How do you…” you trailed off, Dean smiling sadly.

“Ricky was my friend when I was a little kid. It was rare to meet other hunter’s with kids. I didn’t see him much but I knew Ricky. I never heard from him after we were like twelve,” said Dean.

“His dad had stopped hunting. He and Ricky tried to help me. They helped me learn that my parents threats about going back to Alistair were lies, that it was a one time only thing. He taught me how to fight and what a safe home was and I was going to runaway, Ricky and I were during senior year. But he never showed up and I found out he’d been killed by my parents. So I went home and I didn’t think twice about killing my mom. She and my dad hurt the one person who ever loved me so I killed her and I told him next time I saw him I’d get rid of him too. Then I ran and I hunted and I got so low and down and I wanted that feeling of being loved so bad and then bam, you and Sam walk into my life and you suffocated me with it and I love you two more than you’ll ever know.”

“We know. It’s this thing called unconditional love. We know, Y/N and you got it too,” said Dean.

“You know Ricky had to explain that to me? I understood it. I saw it with my friends and their families but feeling it wasn’t something I ever got until I met you. Ricky tried, he did, but I was too scared to feel it the way you’re supposed to,” you said. “And he and his dad wound up dead because of me.”

“Hunters help people, sweetheart. If I know Ricky, me and him would have been fighting over the chance to help you out. Nothing that ever happened was you fault. You were a child. Barely a toddler. You did nothing wrong. Life handed you all the crap at once it seems,” he said.

“I couldn’t even sleep in my room upstairs. It was the pretend room. I was always in that basement,” you said, Dean putting an arm over your shoulders. “There’s so much they did.”

“All those people and things that hurt you are dead and I’m not gonna let anything else hurt you again. Neither is Sammy,” he said.

“I know,” you said, looking at your hands. “We lost a year because I wouldn’t tell you all of this.“

“What’s a year? We got this place, we got forever upstairs. Don’t sweat it. It’s okay,” said Dean. He took one of your hands and held it in his lap. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry I-“

“Stop apologizing. Please,” said Dean. “We’re good. It’s all good.”

You nodded and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“How about we take a little break from hunting, get everyone feeling better,” he said.

“I’d like that,” you said quietly.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

“Guys,” you sighed from the backseat a week later. “Why are we driving to some middle of nowhere town?”

“First off, we live in a middle of nowhere town too. Second, it’s a forty minute drive which is nothing. Third, it’s a surprise,” said Dean.

“I wanted to lay in bed and eat junk food,” you whined.

“We have a feeling you’re gonna like this,” said Sam. You sighed and a few minutes later they pulled up outside of a house. You followed them out of the car, Dean pursing his lips as he walked around Baby.

“So we may have been working a case this week without you knowing,” said Dean. “Yours.”

“Mine?” you asked.

“Your Dad said some stuff after you left that office last week. Tried to bargain us into helping him, before we finished him off,” said Sam.

“He said something that me and Sam looked into. It turns out, he was telling the truth,” said Dean.

“What?” you asked quietly.

“See that house?” asked Dean, pointing behind you. 

“Yeah?”

“That’s your house,” said Sam with a big smile.

“I’m not following,” you said.

“That is your house. That is where your parents and brothers live,” said Dean, a smile spreading across his cheeks.

“I don’t…” you said.

“The people you thought were your parents? They stole you at a park to use you for their demon deal. Your real parents are inside,” said Dean. 

“Real…” you said, both of them nodding.

“They’ve looked for decades. They ain’t half bad either. Your Dad had a blurry picture of you from your first Wendigo hunt. A little more resources and they might have eventually found you on your own,” said Sam.

“Did you talk to them?” you asked, staring at the house.

“A little. They didn’t believe us at first. I sent them a picture of you and that sealed the deal. They’re good people, Y/N. Whatever you want to do next is up to you, that’s their words,” said Dean.

You turned and headed for the front door, the boys hanging back by the car.

You swallowed as you rang the doorbell, your heart jumping into your throat when you heard someone on the other side.

An older man opened it, a cautious look on his face that turned into a long stare.

“Hi,” you said. He quickly stepped outside and hugged you, picking you up. “You’re my dad?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m your dad,” he laughed. “I’m your dad, kiddo.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, sitting on the back porch a few hours later. “Your mom makes like one of my top ten pies. Ever.”

“I’ll have to send you kids home with one,” she said as she sat back down next to you in the swing seat, your Dad on the other side.

“So what about school? You wanted to be a doctor when you were little,” he said.

“No she didn't. You were obsessed with trying to be a princess,” said your mom. Dean nearly choked on his pie as he started to laugh. 

“Watch it Winchester,” you teased. “I uh, I left school and got my GED.”

“Y/N had a rough go of it,” said Dean.

“The people that took you...did they treat you okay?” asked your mom.

You glanced at Dean and took a deep breath.

“I found some people along the way that became my real family,” you said.

“Y/N. You don’t have to tell us. We’re just glad to have you back,” said your dad.

“I’m okay,” you said, smiling at Dean. “I can’t believe you had four boys.”

“Well the twins were a surprise,” said your dad. “Never had a girl though aside from you.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, Dean polishing off another piece and looking at your mom.

“Does he want more?” she whispered.

“It’s Dean. He always wants more pie, mom.”

“Hey,” said Dean that night as you wandered into the guest room at your parents house. “Was today good?”

“Very,” you said. “I’m not giving up hunting but knowing I have this is incredible.”

“You’ve had a rough go of it. Sam and I wanted to give you your family back,” said Dean as he sat down on the bed and got down to his boxers.

“Dean,” you said, crawling behind him and giving him a hug. “You gave me a family a long time ago. It just got bigger today is all.”

“We love you. We wanted you to know you have more than us though,” he said.

“The Winchester’s have always been enough. I’m so incredibly lucky I have you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “You gave me so much, Dean. I’m so happy to have met my parents and brothers but I’m a Winchester. I’m always going to be that.”

“You have choices now,” he said.

“Yeah. I know what I pick. Same thing as always,” you said. He smiled and cupped your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. “Thank you for today and how sweet you’ve been all week. I’ve been pretty awful to you lately and I never took care of you at all.”

“You were cursed and scared. I thought I told you to stop apologizing,” said Dean, brushing his thumb over your face. “I am okay. You can take care of me too but it’s give and take and I’m good with giving right now. You still need to heal. It’s only been a week. So let’s take a few days and get to know your family. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, Dean swinging his legs up onto the bed and giving you another kiss. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

_______

[allegra-writes]

“Fool’s gold”

Peter Parker x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut. Sex pollen.

This is an alternative version to my fic "Fireproof", where the reader gets doused by the sex pollen instead of Peter, but you don’t need to have read that first. As any sex pollen fic, this can qualify as non/dub-con, so read at your own discretion and responsability.

Dedicated to @angel-spidey because without her this would have never seen the light of day💓

MY MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Peter knew it was wrong. He knew it. He wasn't delusional enough to believe it was something other than the pollen making you act that way. Making you say those things. You had always been sweet to him, that was true, but you were sweet to everybody, didn't make any difference if they were a janitor or an avenger, it was one of the reasons he liked you so much. 

He also knew he wasn't the only one. His eyes weren't the only pair of eyes that strayed to you in the lab, Harley too seemed to be rather distracted whenever he was in your presence. And in fact, Peter didn't think he had ever seen Steve visit the lab that often before. Ever. And the guy was freaking Captain America, how could he ever compete with that? 

You didn't feel the same way about him, he had resigned to that a long time ago. To watch you from afar. To love you from afar. Because at least that much was true: the only way he knew he beated the other two men, beaten them by a long shot, was that he loved you the most. 

That was why he had left the med bay, because he couldn't stand it, seeing you like that, fighting against your restraints, skin flushed and eyes on fire, calling him, begging him to…

He wasn't able to resist it. 

And why he had walked away from the lab, leaving Bruce and Tony and even Stephen, to wrack their brains trying to find a cure, when the obvious solution was right in front of them. 

That was how he had found himself alone, in the dark, pretending to nap in the little on call room right outside the med bay, still in his suit after that disastrous mission they should have never let you tag along in the first place. Far enough from you not to hear your desperate pleas, but close enough to help if something happened. If the damn alien substance raised your fever enough to- No. He wasn't going to think about that. Dr. Banner was going to come up with an antidote. They still had time. 

Yeah, he knew it was wrong. He knew he should have told FRIDAY to alert mister Stark as soon as he heard the soft sound of your footsteps on the hallway. He knew he should have fled as soon as the knob turned and you entered the room. As you made your way to him. But he was paralized, frozen in place, as you leaned down over him, running your hot, way hotter than normal, hands down his chest, leaving fiery trails in their wake over the thin skin tight fabric of his suit. You raked your nails over his abs, feeling the muscle riple under your touch. 

"Y-you shouldn't be here" He stammered, as your fingertips came close, dangerously close, to the place where his suit was already starting to feel tight around his hips.

"Hmm… but you won't tell on me" your thumb traced the base of his length, a barely there caress that nonetheless had him jumping. "Will you, Peter?"

He breathed you in, another mistake. He could practically smell your desire, leaking through your pores. Pheromones, sweet and mouthwatering. 

He wouldn't. He couldn't. 

Even in the dark, he saw you smile bright at his surrender. Discarding your lab coat, you straddled his hips, little blue skirt riding up your thighs, and released your hair from its ponytail as Peter watched, entranced by your every move. You spread your legs a little more, letting your center come in contact with his by then obvious erection. He could feel your heat through his suit, choking on thin air when he realized you weren't wearing any underwear. 

"F-fuck…" He gasped, eyes rolling back inside his skull as you started rocking above him.

He tried desperately to hold still, to stop himself from bucking his hips up to meet yours, but it was impossible. Every cell in his body telling him to move, to touch, to take what he had wanted for so long. What he had never dared to dream he could have. 

You moaned at the delicious friction you were creating, and you could hear him starting to breathe harder too. He felt amazing, a soothing balm to your burning skin everywhere you touched. This was what you needed, what the chemicals running in your blood demanded. He was warm, and hard, and male. But more than that, he was Peter, and he had to be yours. There was no other way, no other ending for this story. 

You grinded your pelvis against his harder, the pressure on your clit just perfect, the coarse texture of his suit only adding to the sensations. You were making a mess of it, ruining it, but it was worth it just to hear his groan the moment your wetness seeped through the fabric. 

"We can't… we can't do this" Peter tried to protest, even as his hands flew to your waist to aid your movements. 

"Why? Because an alien pollen is messing with my head?" You got rid of your t-shirt, and Peter's reply died in his throat, you weren't wearing a bra either "because it's wrong? Because It's dirty and-"

A wounded sound left Peter's mouth, a wordless surrender, a sob at his own damnation, and he snapped, his fragile control finally shattering to pieces. One second you were on top of him, teasing him within an inch of his life, and the next you were trapped between the soft mattress and his hard body, as his lips ravished yours, one hand roughly massaging your breasts, the other slipping under your skirt, searching blindly, fingertips digging into the delicate skin of your inner thighs. He was furious in his onslaught, desperation clear in the way he was kissing you, all teeth and tongue. Greedy. Ravenous. 

Because if this was all he was ever going to get, just one night with you, as you used him to scratch an itch, then he was going to make the most of it. He was going to commit every little detail to memory: The shape of your body under his, the taste of your skin, the smell of your hair, vanilla and cinnamon and something else, something uniquely you. The sweet little moans falling from your lips. 

"Peter, please"

He almost died when you said his name like that, breathless and needy.

"What do you need, princess?" He sobbed, "Anything… it's yours…just-"

"You. I need you" You replied, graceless fingers clawing at his suit, "take it off, please, I need to feel you"

He obeyed, pressing the spider on his chest and practically kicking it off in his haste to return to you. You welcomed him back with open arms and open legs, as he crawled up your body, kissing every inch of skin he could find in the way. Your breath hitched when he got to that little spot just under your breast, and you could feel his smile against the curve of it, right before his lips enveloped your left nipple, calloused fingers circling the other one clumsily, unskilled. But you were too delirious, too far gone to notice, the miles of skin against yours both soothing and stroking the fire within at the same time. 

You cried out,

"Peter! Please, it hurts so much, please! I- I can't-"

He kissed the tears away, softly, delicately. A stark contrast to his own demeanour just minutes ago.

"I-it's ok. I got you" He cooed, caressing your face "I'll make it better. I promise" 

He braced himself on one arm, elbow digging into the mattress next to your face, as he wrapped the fingers of his free hand around himself, aligning with your center. It took him a few tries, even slipping out once. He had no idea what he was doing, only knew that you needed him, and he wasn't going to let you down. Your life depended on it, and it was too important, too precious for him to even think of failing. 

You raised your hips just a bit, and he was sliding in, easily, so easily, as if he was meant for it. As if your bodies were two pieces of the same puzzle, finally falling into place. 

"Oh god…"

You clutched as his shoulders, burying your hiss into his neck. 

"Oh my god are okey? Did I hurt you?" The panic in Peter's voice made you smile despite yourself. He was still Peter, the sweetest most caring guy you had ever met. Soft, even with his hard cock so deep inside you, you could feel it in your soul, in your very essence, already claiming you as his. 

But you didn't need gentle. You didn't want him to thread softly. You needed hard, and fast, and more.

"Peter… fuck me"

"I-..." His eyes met yours, and you saw a new determination in them, jaw squaring as he withdrew almost completely, only to surge again, tearing a new cry from your lips. 

He let instinct take over, starting to thrust in and out of you, your tight, silky heat making his eyes roll inside his head

"Fuck! Oh god… oh my god… you feel…" He panted, amazed, handsome face scrunching in pleasure, eyes closed and mouth slack, "Fuck, you feel so good!" 

You wanted to reply, to tell him how amazing he felt too, every inch of his thick hard cock stretching you just right. Every ridge, every vein sending shocks of pleasure to your body until you couldn't see straight. You could feel you peak already building, with every delicious drag.

"More… Peter, please… more" 

How could he say no, when you were begging so prettily in his ear, hand tugging at his curls making it hurt so good? He picked up his pace, hips slapping against yours. Over, and over, and over… 

You were still on fire, every inch of your skin alight, exploding in sensation but it didn't burn anymore. Now it was a simmering warmth, making everything sharper, more intense. Better than anything you had ever felt before. He was better than anything you had felt before. 

And Peter was lost in you, in your moans, in your body, in your cunt. In the way you were taking him, consuming him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle, letting him reach deeper, bury himself almost to the hilt. Your blunt nails digging into his back until he smelt blood. 

He fucking loved it, love the idea of carring your marks even after this was over. He knew he wanted you to wear his. 

His lips found your neck almost of their own accord, sucking and nibbling until the sounds leaving your throat were nothing short of pornographic, the wanton whines and moans resonating in the room until he was sure Bruce and Tony could hear them all the way to the lab. 

"Yes, scream for me baby girl, let them know how good I'm fucking you" Peter didn't know where it was coming from, that arrogance, that… possesivenes. He knew you weren't really his. It was the pollen, you would never be doing this otherwise. And he probably wasn't that good, it was his first time after all. 

But your cries, the way your whole body was trembling under his, were giving him confidence. 

"Oh god… you're coming for me, aren't you? You gonna come on my cock?" 

You opened your mouth in a silent scream, and he almost fell on top of you taken by surprise by the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock for the first time ever, triggering his own release. But he didn't have time to recover before you croaked a weak but firm, 

"More" 

He met your eyes, stunned, but all he found there was assurance and passion. 

He turned around on the small bed so it was you the one on top. 

"Ride me" 

You didn't need to be told twice, straightening on top of him, rising slightly on your knees only to let yourself fall back down, impaling yourself on his dick. He licked his lips, looking like a king with a hand behind his head, gazing up at you through hooded eyes. 

"Show me"

"What?" 

He gestured towards the mini skirt you forgot you were still wearing. 

"Lift up that pretty skirt, and let me see how good you take my cock" 

A little whine left your mouth at his words, and you did as you were told, never stopping your bouncing motions.

It worked as Peter imagined it would, his softening cock coming to life again as he watched it disappear inside you. 

"Look at that" he whispered, almost in awe, "such a beautiful pussy, looks so pretty, stuffed full of my cock…" 

You picked up your rhythm, a little unstable on shaky legs, both hands still holding the fabric up and out of the way.

"Peter…" you whimpered. 

"What do you need, baby girl? I told you, anything you want is yours… I'm yours" 

You moaned, incapable to find the words. Thinking was impossible, speaking was inconceivable, not with him still between your legs.

He bucked his hips, 

"Uh!" 

"That what you want, princess?" He smirked, smug, "Like it better when I give it to you?"

You nodded, shamelessly, your legs burning with the effort but stopping was not an option. He sat up on the bed, enveloping you with his arms, thrusting up into you faster, deeper…

You felt the head of his cock stab your cervix, and he must have felt it too, because he groaned, eyes glazing over. 

"Can you feel me? Feel how deep I am?"

"Yes" You hissed.

"Gonna come like this…" He took hold of your hips, bringing you down hard as he thrusted up, "come so deep inside you… mark you… from the inside" 

You could feel it approaching fast, the pleasure he was inflicting on you too much, too soon. 

"Fill you up so good…"

"Yes"

"Until it's gushing out of you… and then… gonna fuck you again…"

"Yes!"

"Come inside you again… make you my little cumslut…"

"Yes! Please… please give it to me"

He could feel you tense around him again,

"What do you need, princess?"

"Your come" You screamed, "Give me your come, Peter!"

"Fuck! My pretty little slut… take it… Take it!"

And you did.

…

You passed out somewhere between rounds five and six, utterly sated and exhausted, but Peter couldn't sleep, terrified of the moment you woke up, all the pollen consumed, the spell broken. He knew it wasn't real, but for a few hours, he had been happy, pretending you truly did love him, wanted him, as he had loved and wanted you since the first time he had seen you, all that time ago, the day mister Stark had entered the lab with you in tow, announcing Peter that he had a new lab partner. 

He was running his fingers softly up and down your naked back, a barely there caress, watching you sleep, relaxed and happy, when he heard the buzzing coming from your lab coat, long forgotten on the floor near the bed. He took it out and saw Tony’s name lighting up the scream.

He slid to pick up.

“Fucking finally! Y/n, where the hell are you?!”

“Mister Stark, it’s me” He whispered his reply, as not to wake you up.

“Peter! Thank God! What happened? Please tell me you didn’t-“

“Sorry, Mister Stark,” Peter interrupted him, “We kinda did…”

“Shit! Please, Peter, please tell me you kids used protection!”

“Uh…”

Tony left out another loud curse at the other side of the line.

“Where are you? Y/n did something to Friday and now it won’t tell me where you are in the tower. You still in the tower right? I need the both of you to come to the lab right now” Tony was talking a mile a minute and Peter knew something very bad, not of the good was going on.

“Why?”

“Because,” Tony’s voice was frantic as he tried to explain the gravity of the situation, “That pollen thing? That’s not an aphrodisiac like we thought, it’s a fertility treatment. It messes your hormones and hers up with every fluid exchange! Like an artificial heath”

Peter turned to look at you, peacefully asleep, curling up to his side, blissfully unaware of anything and everything going on outside that bed.

And maybe it was the alien substance fucking up his brain, maybe he was the one fucked up, all by himself, but the mental image of you, round with his child, sleeping like that next to him every night? It wasn’t half as horrifying as Tony seemed to think it was.

After all, the girl of his dreams was finally his, and a baby would guarantee she would remain his, forever.

“You know what, Mister Stark? I have to go now. Talk to you tomorrow…”

“What? No, kid, don’t hang up on me! Peter Parker I swear-…”

Tony Stark heard the line go dead.

The end.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Under Silken Skies [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

A/N - just an angsty little oneshot I needed to get out of my head. Fufills my Break Up Square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ . My permanent Tag List is open. Find my CM Bingo Masterlist Here. Find my full masterlist here.

My request are also Open for prompts/reqs/headcannons/aesthetics or just to say hi.

CW - major character death and lots of angst. Very vague mentions of smut and virgin! Spencer, vague mentions of Maeve and what happens to Spencer in the S15 finale (if it had ended differently). This does not have a happy ending.

WC: 4K

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

He was eleven and you were thirteen. You didn’t know his name, only he was smart and awkward and got teased because of those things.

You found him tied to a flagpole as you’d left detention one night on your way across the soccer field. He was naked aside from his underwear and blindfolded. 

He cried as you untied him, his skin like ice. You insisted you were there to help, whether he believed you or not you weren’t sure. 

You stripped off your oversized jumper and slipped it over his head, helping him guide his arms in the holes. He didn’t thank you. He didn’t ask why. He just wrapped himself in the warmth.

He told you his name was Spencer. Spencer Reid and he’d been tricked by a girl and stripped of his clothes and tied to the flagpole. 

He’d been there hours before you found him. 

You sat together on the dewy grass, no more than a handful of words passed between you. He asked why you’d helped, why you’d stayed but you’d simply shrugged. 

Maybe you’d felt bad for him or maybe you’d felt drawn to him. You knew all about school bullies. 

He seemed so small and unsure of himself, as though the mere act of sitting with you was cause for panic. 

He didn’t make eye contact. You saw him glance in your direction a few times when you weren’t looking. 

He was so fragile you didn’t understand how anyone could do that to such an innocent creature. He just wanted to fit in, isn’t that all we really wanted? 

He couldn’t help being smart. 

There was a sadness about him that went further than what the bullies had done today. You could tell it was the kind of air that followed him around, a permanent dark cloud. 

It hurt you to know someone so young could carry so much pain. It didn’t seem fair that at his tender age he already seemed defeated by the world that surely had so much more to throw at him. 

What if he wasn’t strong enough to cope with the terrors of the world? You hoped maybe these formative years would make him stronger against what was to come. Maybe it was helping to build up those walls early, making him stronger for the horrors he would no doubt have to face later in life.

You weren’t sure, but one thing you were sure of was Spencer Reid had sad, sad eyes. You could tell he needed a friend and maybe you could be it. Maybe you could protect him.

So for now the two of you sat side by side on the soccer field, under the moonlit silken sky.

***

He was twelve and you fourteen and he was finally getting out of the hell hole that was high school. 

It was his graduation day and his gown drowned his small frame and his cap was too big for his head and kept falling to the side.

You straightened it for him again and gave him a soft smile. 

He was going to CalTech in the fall and you were so proud of him, but gosh were you going to miss him. 

It had only been little over a year since the night on the soccer field but the two of you had become friends. He helped you with your homework and you kept the bullies away from him. 

You’d become his protector, he looked up to you and although he would never tell anyone this, he had a crush on you. A big one. 

He was excited about CalTech but he was sad to leave you. 

There were a lot of mixed emotions in the air. You’d stay in touch and he’d come back and visit but it wouldn’t be the same.

Who was going to keep him safe at college? Who was going to keep an eye on him? What happened if the bullies at CalTech were even worse and you were hundreds of miles away not being able to do anything about it?

He’d told you not to worry about him, that he’d be fine but it was hard not to. He was still so tiny and fragile, like a baby bird and if truth be told you were scared for him. 

“I’m proud of you Crash.” You straightened his tie. 

He rolled his eyes under his thick glasses. One time you’d heard his mom call him that and you hadn’t stopped calling him it since. 

“Thanks Y/N.” He smiled but it was a sad smile. 

You placed your hands gently on his shoulders, knowing what he was thinking. You’d gotten really good at reading his mind.

“Me too.” You whispered. You leant close and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

His face turned crimson and he chewed his lip. His cheek felt like it was on fire where your lips had touched him. 

“Come on Crash, it’s time.” You slid your hand in his and started leading him towards the stage he was going to walk over and accept his diploma. 

Within a matter of weeks he would be gone and you’d be alone again just as you had been before you’d met him. 

So for now the two of you walked hand in hard across towards the stage, under the sun soaked silken sky.

***

Spencer was sixteen and you were eighteen and you’d just witnessed his second graduation; this time from CalTech. 

The gown fit him a lot better this time than it had at his high school graduation. Over the last year or so he had sprung up in height, now towering over you. He had grown up a lot over the last few years. He was slowly becoming a man. 

“Look at you.” You nudged him in the arm. “So grown up.”

“Shut up.” He batted you away with a shy smile. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I knew all you were going to do was embarrass me.”

“Sorry Crash.” you smirked. “I am so, so proud of you kid.” 

You gently tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. His cheeks burned in embarrassment. 

He was coming back to Vegas and you would have been thrilled if it wasn’t for the fact in a few months you were going off to college yourself. 

It seemed unfair life had brought you together only to tear you apart over and over again. There seemed like there was never a right time for the two of you. 

“You ready?” you asked him softly, trying not to focus on the thought of being torn away from him again. 

“Almost.” he nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

You assumed he was trying to calm his nerves before taking to the stage for his graduation ceremony but it wasn’t that. 

His hands were shaking when he came close to you and placed them on your hips.

“What are you doing?” you tilted your head at him in confusion.

Before Spencer could change his mind about his next move he closed his eyes and moved in close to you. His lips were so soft as they pressed against yours, barely ghosting your lips. You could have been convinced it hadn’t even happened. 

He chewed his lip bashfully when he pulled back, looking at the floor.

“Sorry.” he whispered. “I uhm...lets go.” 

He walked past you, leaving you staring in his wake.

Had that really just happened? 

You brushed your fingers against your lips in disbelief. But your lips were tingling, it had definitely happened. 

Eventually you followed him in confusion but there was no time to ask him about it. Hopefully you’d get a chance to later.

So for now you walked behind him, watching him adjust his cap, under the Californian silken sky.

***

Spencer was now eighteen and you were twenty, in your final year at Georgetown. 

Spencer now had a doctorate in mathematics and was working towards one in chemistry. He kept talking about doing another doctorate in engineering when he was through.  

He had grown even more so and was really starting to grow into his looks. He’d always been cute, but recently when you looked at him you saw a handsome man looking back at you. 

Hanging out in your dorm that night it was hard to say how it started. One minute you’d been engrossed in a movie, your head on Spencer’s shoulder and the next you lips were pressed together, his tongue exploring your mouth. 

He hadn’t kissed you again since his CalTech graduation and you didn’t know where this had come from now. But you did know you’d been thinking more inappropriate thoughts about your friend as of late and they were seemingly materialising in front of your eyes. 

Spencer was a virgin, you were not. In that moment you wished he could have been your first time. 

It was slow and gentle and Spencer was a bag of nerves the whole time. He groped at your body with seemingly no purpose other than to feel every part of you. 

He didn’t last long, the feeling of being inside of you was too intense, too sensational. But it was nice. It felt right. It felt like home.

Afterwards he held you in his arms in your small single bed too nervous to look you in the eye. You stroked circles on his bare chest feeling the most content you’d felt in a long time. 

You both stared up at the ceiling which you’d painted midnight blue and was peppered with glow in the dark stars. 

“Spence?” You whispered softly.

“Yes Y/N?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

He exhaled and pulled you into him closer.

“I know.” He kissed the top of your head. “And I love you.”

You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. You didn’t know if this was a one time thing or if this meant you were together now. You suppose it didn’t much matter right now. The only thing that mattered right now was Spencer holding you in his arms.

So for now you laid there together on your dorm room bed, under a mural of the silken sky.

***

He was twenty two and you were twenty four, and he’d just been offered a job at the FBI. 

In Quantico, Virginia.

You were sure you’d spent your whole relationship out of state from one another. The past three years Spencer had been away while he worked on a second BA and then his third doctorate. 

Since leaving college you’d stayed put in Vegas, getting a job as a curator at a local art gallery. 

You saw Spencer when you could but it never seemed to be enough. At least not for you. 

And then he’d dropped the bombshell about his job offer and told you he was moving to the other side of the country. 

It had been hard enough over the years to maintain your relationship but you were sure this would be the death of you. And so you’d told Spencer it was time the two of you went your separate ways.

He’d tried to argue that you could make it work but you weren’t willing to find out. The four years you’d gotten had been amazing but all good things had to come to an end.

And maybe you and Spencer had never been destined. It had always been just a little too difficult. You’d finally thought once you were in the same state it would be easier, but he was leaving again. 

It was hard but he supposed he understood. He would miss you with every fibre of his being but this job was too good for him to pass up.

You told him if you were meant to be, you’d find your way back to each other one day, although you weren’t sure you believed that. 

You sat on the swing set in the desolate park together, hands entwined together as you swung back and forth on your separate swings. 

He was leaving tomorrow. He was packed, his flight was booked and he had an apartment to go to in DC. 

He was leaving and you were staying and it broke your heart. 

“I’m gonna miss you Crash.” You squeezed his hand.

“I’m going to miss you too Y/N.” 

It felt like the end of an era but an era that had never really had a chance to begin.

He was supposed to be your one true love, your greatest love story. But this story didn’t get a happy ending.

You swung back and forth into the night, just revelling in being with him one last time. You couldn’t think about tomorrow. Tomorrow was a world away.

So for now you swung, hand in hand, under the midnight silken sky.

***

You were twenty nine and you loved him, you really loved him.

He had turned your whole world upside down and made you feel things you’d never thought you’d feel again.

You loved him, you really did.

But he wasn’t Spencer Reid. 

Maybe you’d gotten lucky and got to have two great loves of your life. Your life with Spencer was over long ago, it was only fair you were allowed to move on.

You wondered what twenty seven year old Spencer was doing with his life. Was he still at the BAU? Did he get a fourth doctorate? Was he happy?

God you hoped he was happy.

It was a small ceremony in front of your closest friends and family. No frills, no fuss. Just you and him being joined in matrimony. 

He was a good guy, a nice guy; he treated you right and he loved you. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered right?

So you didn’t get butterflies in your stomach when he kissed you. Maybe you didn’t go weak at the knees when he looked at you or felt like you were coming home when you made love. And so what if you’d felt all those things with Spencer? That didn’t matter, did it? It didn’t mean you didn’t love your new husband.

It was just a different kind of love. You weren’t in your teens falling in love for the first time. This was the kind of love you had when you grew up and got older. It didn’t mean it meant any less; that he meant any less to you.

He led you outside by your hand as your friends and family showered you in confetti. He turned and smiled at you brightly. He looked the happiest you’d ever seen him, you didn’t know if you could match his happiness. 

You smiled back at him, probably not quite meeting his enthusiasm but if he noticed he didn’t say as much. It was only now that you looked down at the ring around your finger did it suddenly feel like a noose. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about how wrong it suddenly felt.

So for now you allowed your new husband to kiss you, under the Vegas Springtime silken sky.

***

He was thirty one and she was thirty. Her voice was like honey and he yearned to be able to hold her in his arms.

Her name was Maeve Donnovan and she had a stalker which was preventing them from meeting.

It was the first time Spencer had felt anything akin to love since you. He was sure he would never love again, you were the only person that could take that place in his heart.

And then had started having headaches and sought out the help of a geneticist and he started falling in love with her. For the first time in years you weren’t the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the morning. He didn’t spend all his waking hours pining over you. 

Maeve was slowly but surely replacing you in his heart. And Spencer really needed that. He needed you finally gone from his mind. 

“I think the stalker’s gone Spencer.” she’d told him that Sunday on the phone. 

A huge weight had been lifted from her voice, he could hear the smile in it down the payphone. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure yeah.” she was smiling brightly. He knew she would have a beautiful smile. 

“That’s great Maeve.” he smiled, gripping the phone in hands. 

Did that mean what he thought it meant? Could they finally meet now? Have a normal relationship?

“I want to meet.” her words were rushed as though she weren’t sure she should be saying them. But he caught them.

She wanted to meet. She wanted to meet him. 

He didn’t care what she looked like because she was already the most beautiful woman in the world to him. But what if she didn’t like him? What if he was too nerdy, what if his hair was too long and messy? What if she took one look at him and turned and ran?

He swallowed those nerves, trying to push them aside for another day. 

So for now he smiled shakily down the phone, under the blustery DC silken sky.

***

You were forty and recently divorced. You knew on your wedding day it would end this way.

You loved your husband but you would never love him the way you loved Spencer. You managed ten years before you’d called it quits. He’d always known your heart didn’t fully belong to him.

You missed Spencer everyday and it was so unfair how he could still take up so much of your mind. It was a cruel world you supposed. Maybe you just weren’t supposed to be happy.

You’d had your happiness and it had been short lived. But you were thankful for the brief happiness you had been given. It was more than some people got you supposed.

He was thirty eight and home visiting his mother. He didn’t work full time at the BAU anymore since his reinstatement after he was incarcerated and lectured at Georgetown part time. It allowed him more free time to fly out to Vegas to see his mom.

Lecturing at Georgetown brought back so many memories for him. Georgetown was the place he had lost his virginity, the place he’d told you he loved you for the first time. Georgetown held so many pleasant memories for Spencer but they were all bittersweet.

After spending some time grieving Maeve after she died, his mind landed right back on you. It seemed he was always pining over someone. It wasn’t fair. 

He was getting coffee on his way back to the hotel he was staying in when a familiar face materialised in front of him.

You weren’t there one moment and then suddenly you were, as though you had just appeared out of thin air. 

You held your own coffee cup in your hand, your eyes wide and jaw slack. He watched you swallow a lump in your throat.

“Hi Crash.” you couldn’t help his old nickname tumble out from between your lips.

“Hi Y/N.” his voice croaked, still trying to comprehend how you could so suddenly be here in front of him after all these years of absence.

He felt like that twenty two year old swinging with you side by side in the park counting down the hours until he left you. 

He felt like the sixteen year old young man who was falling hopelessly in love with you.

He felt like the eleven year old boy utterly grateful for you untying him from the flagpole. 

“It’s been a long time.” you spoke, your mouth dry.

“A really long time.” he agreed with a stiff nod. 

“Uhm...do you want to...coffee?” you ignored the fact you both had coffees in your hand. 

“O-ok.” he nodded stiffly again.

After all these years you had so much to say to each other but no words would come out. 

So for now you walked in silence down the Vegas street, under the cloud coated silken sky.

***

He was thirty nine years old when the explosion occurred. He’d thought it was just a concussion and didn’t pay it much mind. 

You were forty one years old when you received the phone call from Penelope Garcia to inform you that Spencer was in the hospital.

They called it intracranial bleeding, his brain was swelling, bleeding; shutting down. They’d told you there was nothing they could do.

How cruel this life had been to you. It had stolen Spencer away from you when your relationship barely had a chance to blossom. It had brought him back into your life, for the two of you to fall back in love with each other only to have one final year together.

It had been the greatest year of your life and you had to try and focus on that as David Rossi read his eulogy. 

He spoke all about Spencer’s life, the life you’d barely gotten to be a part of. Hearing it second hand and not from Spencer’s lips was tragic enough in itself. 

You didn’t really feel as though you belonged here. You didn’t know him the way his team members knew him. You felt like a stranger in this place now. 

You’d jumped at moving to DC when you and Spencer reunited because there was no way you were making the same mistake twice and letting him get away again. But now DC seemed like a suddenly very lonely place. 

As the brilliant man you knew and loved was being lowered into the ground, his final resting place, the heavens opened. The rain cascaded down from the sky and you couldn’t help but think how apt it was on this already bleak day. 

Garcia came to you at his graveside when the ceremony was over. The rain disguised your tears. She nudged you with her shoulder, her own tears falling.

“The world is going to be a very different place without boy genius in it.” she sobbed as she spoke.

“You’re telling me.” you chewed your lip, your eyes locked on his headstone as you spoke. 

“He loved you know? He always loved you.”

You nodded statically not looking at the other woman. You knew he loved you, that much you were sure of. You only wished you had more time. 

Maybe if you’d know what life had in store you would have come with him to DC all those years ago. Had you known you didn’t have all the time in the world, that your love only had a finite number of days you might have been more inclined to cling to them.

That was hindsight though you supposed and dwelling on it didn’t change the past. What was done was done. You didn’t go to DC with him, you stayed in Vegas. You spent years pining over him only to have the universe throw you back together again. 

And then he’d been snatched from you once more in the most horrific way. And now it was over for good.

“Come on Y/N, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out here.” Garcia placed a gentle arm on your shoulder.

“I’ll be right there.” you told her, still not looking away from where the love of your life was buried beneath the dirt.

You heard her leave as more tears started to fall from your eyes. Your knees gave out and you fell to the grass in the rain. 

You sobbed into your hands, cursing life for being so unyielding. But there was nothing you could do about it. The wheels had been set into motion long before you and Spencer had even met. This was always the way things were going to end up. Fate was a cruel mistress. 

And so you knelt in the dirt sobbing next to the grave of the love of your life, under the grey, weeping silken sky.  

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

Tag List -

@muffin-cup​

@andiebeaword​

[mummybear]

Borrowed Time - Chapter Two - Sexting

Words: 2352

Warnings: Swearing, Sexting, Dirty Talk.... think that’s it! :)

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Bingo Square: Sexting - @spnkinkbingo

A/N: So this is part two of the mini series guys! There will be a few bingo squares featuring in the series too. Thank you to my lovely beta as always @negans-lucille-tblr, I really hope you guys all enjoy part two! :) Let me know! If I have missed you off the taglist please let me know and if you wanted to be added to any of my taglists they’re open too :)

Kofi - https://ko-fi.com/mummybear

Part 1    Series Masterlist

After Dean drives away, you take a shaky breath and finally head inside. This definitely wasn’t something you’d expected to happen today, but now he’s all that you can think about. His kisses had been like a drug, your head was still swimming from the effect they’d had on you, and your lips are still tingling. 

Unlocking your front door you head inside, still in somewhat of a daze as you walk upstairs and make your way into the bathroom. Hoping that maybe a nice hot shower can clear your mind a little. You quickly strip out of your clothes and climb into the hot stream of water, sighing in relief when the water finally hits your skin. Yet your thoughts are still going back to the time you’d spent in Dean’s car, the way that he’d held you close with those big strong arms, big capable hands that wouldn’t leave your skin, and you swear that you can still feel his touch everywhere; warm, firm and desperate to keep you close. You force yourself to ignore the flutter between your thighs at the mere memory of Dean and his touch, and quickly finish washing up. You step out of the shower on slightly shaking legs, you’re not sure if it’s from the heat of the shower or from the sheer arousal being caused by your racing thoughts.

You wrap yourself in your towel, and head to your room to start getting dressed. You’ve barely managed to get your underwear on when you hear the ping from your phone, telling you that you’ve just received a text. You finish towel drying your hair and toss the towel into the dirty hamper, before going to check your phone.

You’re a little surprised to find a text from Dean - you hadn’t expected one this soon, but that doesn’t stop you from smiling like an idiot at your phone. You open the new message feed, chewing on your bottom lip as you read the messages. 

> Hey sweetheart, just thought I’d let you know I finally made it to my hell for the night, so feel free to keep me company😉

You bite your lip as you consider what Dean Winchester’s hell might look like, especially considering that he hadn’t mentioned any plans before he’d left. But you’re glad he’s texted so that you can keep him company, because the last thing on your mind right now is concentrating on any assignments, even though that’s probably what you should be doing. You briefly consider your reply before you type it out.

< Hey Dean, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon… someone is keen 😜 Well what exactly does your hell look like? 

You hit send and lay down on your bed, doing your best to get comfortable as you wait for a reply, all thoughts of getting dressed further had been pushed to the back of your mind. You grin to yourself when you receive his reply.

> I am very keen sweetheart 😉 I don’t think that’s exactly been a secret though has it? 

> I won’t bore you with details, but I’ve been dragged to some stupid party by a friend of mine. How about you? What are you doing right now? 

< Very true Dean, you’ve got me there. Subtly is not exactly your strong suit 😂

< Aww you poor baby! I told you, you should’ve stayed here… As it happens I just had a nice hot shower and now I’m laying in bed texting you 😏

You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you hit send, and you almost immediately see those little three dots appear on your screen to tell you he’s replying. He wanted you to distract him, you’re pretty sure that did the trick.

> You’re such a little tease sweetheart. And not to be that guy but… what are you wearing?😏

< Oh wow 😲 I am shocked! Such a pervert Dean! 😜

> Don’t pretend you don’t love it and there is no way you’re surprised by that! 

> And you didn’t answer the question princess…

You look down your body and smile to yourself, feeling a blush burning it’s way across your skin as a thought comes to mind. You’re interested to see just how far you can push him, before he snaps and decides to do something about your teasing. There’s this strange pull you’ve always felt towards him, even if you’d tried to deny it. But since the two of you had kissed that feeling is so much stronger, and dare you admit that you have feelings for a man you can never really have. Soon enough he’ll be leaving your life to take over a business, he’s already told you this can only last a limited time, so why are you so disappointed? You try to ignore the uneasy feeling and decide to lose yourself in the moment, and quickly type out your next message. 

< Hmm, I guess I didn’t answer… But I’m sure you’d be terribly bored looking at me right now. After all, I'm only wearing these red lacy panties and matching bra, all alone in bed. It’s very boring 😋

> Fuck sweetheart. Are you a constant tease? 

> Can I at least get a sneak peak? You gonna show me what I’m missing? 

You bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together. You’d never done anything like this, you’d especially never sent anyone a picture of you like this before. But you don’t want to tell him that. You don’t want Dean to think that he is pushing you in any way, because the truth is you’re tempted to send him what he wants and so much more.

< Hmm… maybe you could try and persuade me to show you. But what do I get in return?

You’re a little nervous as you hit send, but to your surprise his reply is almost instant.

> I’m sure I can find somewhere private to show you just what you do to me sweetheart. 😉 I’m just betting that the real thing looks even better than what I’m imagining right now. Haven’t stopped thinking about that perfect little mouth of yours since I dropped you off, I was hard as a damn rock driving here. 

Swallowing thickly as you reread the message for the third time, you can’t help but whimper as the thought of him between your legs rushes through your mind.

> Mmm you’re thinking about it right now aren’t you? Getting yourself all wet and worked up? All I could think about was dragging you into my lap and making you squirm 😉

“Shit,” you whisper aloud to yourself, feeling the blush rising in your cheeks, as you see exactly what he’s describing playing out in your mind, almost mixing with your real memories in that front seat. Chewing your bottom lip, you shakily type out your reply.

< I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Almost had to touch myself in the shower because I was thinking about what we could’ve gotten up to, about what I wish would’ve happened. 

< I bet you’d love to know just how wet I am right now? 😏 Well so you know… I think it’s safe to say these panties are ruined now 😏

> Fuck baby. Come on, show me. What I wouldn’t give to have you in my lap right now, need a bit of help to hide just how fucking hard you make me. Instead I’m improvising. I’ll bet you could give me something to focus on, not that it would make my current situation any less obvious 😉

You wish you were with him right now too, just thinking about the fact that he’s hard because he’s thinking about you, and that has your mind running a mile a minute. What was he thinking about? How was he imagining you? What would his reply be to a sexy picture from you? How hard could he make you come?

Nerves grip you tightly as you change onto your camera app. You adjust yourself slightly in bed, wiping your sweaty palms on the duvet as you do. You decide you want to keep your pose as simple as possible, since this is your first time. You find the best angle to take the photo, laying on your back slightly off to the side, you snap several photos and then decide to go through them. Surprisingly you manage to find one you’re happy with. You can see your lingerie perfectly, every one of your curves accentuated just right, and the photo starts at your clamped together thighs, where you can see your thumb tucked into the waistband of your panties, pulling down the edge teasingly, and goes no further than you biting your lip. So at least your face isn’t visible, you don’t need this photo coming back to bite you in the ass if the worst comes of it.

Before you can change your mind, you hit send, and you feel like you’re holding your breath from the moment he receives the message up until you see those little dots appearing. You feel your heart starting to race when those dots appear and disappear several times. Before you can type out another message to ask if everything is okay, you hear your text tone sound repeatedly.

> Son of a bitch! Where the fuck were you hiding all of that? 

> You naughty girl 😉😏

> Fuck I always thought you’d look hot in red. Guess that’s my suspicions confirmed. I’d  literally kill to bite that lip of yours right now.

> Sorry about the delay. I had to hide in the damn bathroom, you got me fully worked up now. Couldn’t hide this if I damn well tried 😜

You can’t help but giggle at the onslaught of messages, but there’s no denying the blush that stains your cheeks. You weren’t expecting that kind of reaction, not from someone like Dean, who had no doubt seen it all before. Not that there’s any part of you that’s complaining.

< Very glad that you approve, Mr Winchester. Should I be expecting some sort of retaliation then? 

> Mmm baby girl, you wanna see what you do to me? How fucking hard my cock is right now… thinking about being anywhere near that sweet pussy of yours.

You whimper at the mere idea of his hard cock being within touching distance, and another wave of arousal washes over you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been this wet in your entire life.

> Yeah, show me baby, please 😏I want to see what I’m letting myself in for. Wanna see just how bad you’re gonna ruin me for every other man. 

Less than a minute later your phone pings, and you open the message immediately, feeling like you’ve swallowed your tongue and lost the ability to breathe, all in the space of ten seconds. His cock is fucking perfect, just like the rest of him. One of his big hands is wrapped around the thickness, and God, it’s thick. You back arches at the mere thought of him being inside you - you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to feel him inside you for weeks after you have him. 

< Jesus, Dean! Where the hell have you been hiding that!?

< You’re so big baby, you’re gonna be a tight fit. But I can’t wait to watch my pussy stretch around your thick cock. You gonna be rough with me Dean? Make me scream? 

Those dots are back and your heartbeat is in your throat, you can feel the throb between your legs becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

> Such a filthy little mouth. Oh I’ll be rough sweetheart, don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself. Can’t wait to hear you beg for my cock, bet you’re gonna sound so pretty. But I’m not gonna give it to you… not straight away 😏

You quickly force yourself to type a reply, but that’s interrupted when your phone starts to ring in your hand. You hadn’t realised before but your other hand is pressed between your thighs, resting against the thin soaked lace of your panties.

Your breath catches in your throat as you answer the phone and hear his deep breathy voice on the other end.

“Sweetheart? You there?” his voice is ragged, and almost desperate as he speaks.

“Dean, I need you. Come back please? You look like you could use some help with that very big problem,” you moan, barely even recognising your own wrecked voice.

Dean groans deeply, and you hear him moving around on the other end of the phone.

“I can’t baby, I told them I’d stay another few hours. But I promise you the second I get out of here, I’m all yours.” 

You sigh and push down the grumble of disappointment. 

“It’s okay, I get it, I won’t hold it against you,” you giggle, hearing him sigh in what sounds like relief. “What? Did you think I was gonna throw a bitch fit?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I wouldn’t blame you if you did, but it didn’t really seem like your style. Thank you for understanding, I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can get away,” he assures you, and you can tell he feels guilty, which of course is madness, he has no reason to feel that way.

“Don’t worry, have fun! Besides it’s not like you’re my real boyfriend, I don’t expect you to ask how high when I say jump,” you laugh, but very quickly you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing.

His laugh is humourless and his reply is very clipped and stiff.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The phone goes dead, and you can’t help but worry as you stare at your phone like it just burned you. You sigh, feeling so many mixed emotions swirl around your head, from lust to disappointment and back again. You pull on your thin lace dressing gown, and head downstairs. You really need a drink to settle you somewhat, especially after all of that excitement. But you can’t help but wonder, had you just fucked up the best thing that had happened to you in months?

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[drabbles-mc]

Hear You Now

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, Angel being a very sad boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Why do I always make Angel sad?? Why do I always give him commitment issues?? I don’t know. I owe him a happy fic or two. 😂 If you’re curious, this is 110% inspired by the song Hear You Now by Old Dominion.

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​

You were walking through Merchant Square, hand-in-hand with your fiancé. You laughed as you leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment as the two of you walked through town. It had been a long time since you had been back to Santo Padre, and you wanted him to see your hometown. He had asked on more than one occasion because he wanted to see where you grew up, but you hadn’t been ready to face the ghosts that you knew still haunted those streets. But now you were engaged, and you knew that there was not going to be any more running away from anything.

It was refreshing to walk through town, and your heart wasn’t as heavy as you thought it was going to be. Not too much had changed and you liked how there were so many aspects of the town that would always be frozen in time. You tugged him into a bookstore, and he followed you with a knowing smile—it was nearly impossible to ever get you to pass up the opportunity to find something new to dive into. Almost every wall in your house had a bookshelf built into it or pushed against it. Eventually you told him you were going to buy a whole separate house and make it your library.

You were perusing the aisles, dragging your fingertips along the spines of an endless sea of titles. Your fiancé was a couple rows away looking for a few books of his own. There was a comfort in the mild hustle and bustle of the little book store. The aisles were close together and it all felt so cozy.

You stumbled upon the hardcover edition of a book that you had loved for years, and your eyes lit up. You snatched it off the shelf and went to find your fiancé. You quickly walked up to him and nudged his shoulder, “Look what I found?”

He looked at the novel in your hands and a knowing smile crossed his face, “You definitely have that one already. I know I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, but look,” you shook the book in front of him, “Hard cover! I’ve never seen a hard cover edition anywhere! I need it,” you pleaded.

He laughed, “How am I ever supposed to say no to you?”

You kissed him quickly on the lips, “You’re not, that’s the whole point!” you laughed.

Angel’s ears burned from the opposite side of the store. He would know that laugh anywhere, even from a million miles away. He never thought that he’d hear it again. He turned and tried to look around the store for you, and his heart instantly sped up when he saw you standing in the checkout line with a book clutched tight to your chest.

He started to walk over to you, but as quickly as his heart sped up, it nearly stopped when he saw another man walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you and place a kiss to your temple. He saw the way you melted back into him with a smile, and his stomach turned into a knot. His grip on the book in his hand tightened and he couldn’t force his feet to move in one direction or another. He didn’t know if it was worse to have to take in the scene in front of him, or to have lived with never seeing you again.

After paying for your book, you turned to leave the store, and that was when you saw him standing there. Your heart sank inside your chest—it had been years but that was definitely the Angel Reyes that you had known and had loved. You wanted to walk out of the store and not open up that box of memories, but something impulsive inside of you burst through.

“Angel?” you said, causing your fiancé to look up from the book that he had bought and was skimming through.

It got Angel to finally force his feet to move, “Hey, Y/N,” he cleared his throat as he walked up to you, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yea,” you laughed nervously, “Oh, shit, where are my manners? Angel, this is Jordan, my fiancé. Jordan, this is Angel. We grew up together,” it was the understatement of the century but you weren’t going to air out that laundry in the middle of a book store.

You could see Angel’s heart break at the word fiancé, but Jordan didn’t seem to take any notice of it as he held out his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook Jordan’s hand and nodded, forcing a small smile, “You’re a lucky guy.”

Jordan laughed as he pulled you against his side, blissfully unaware of the tension that was beginning to build, “You’re telling me. Can’t believe that this one said yes.”

You chuckled and leaned your head against his side, trying to let the familiarity of his touch and scent comfort you in this situation. It half-worked, but your mind was still racing, trying to figure out what Angel was thinking as he stood there and watched you talk about a forever life that didn’t involve him.

“I had no idea you were back in town,” Angel looked at you, eyes soft as he tried to memorize every detail of the woman he hadn’t seen in so long.

“Yea,” you shrugged, “kind of flew in under the radar. I was gonna see if I could find you and your brother while I was here,” it was a lie, but it sounded nice.

Jordan gave you a light squeeze, “Do you want to catch up? Don’t let me stop you—I’m sure I can find something to do for a couple hours or so.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you shook your head, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not just going to ditch you on our trip together,” you smiled up at him.

He pressed a light kiss on your lips, “It’s fine! You guys go grab coffee or something and catch up and I’ll find somewhere we can go to dinner.”

“You sure?” you wanted him to stay with you, but one of the things that you loved about being with him had always been that you were your own separate people just as much as you were a cohesive unit as a couple. It was just this particular situation that made you wish that that wasn’t the case, that made you wish that he was a little more possessive.

“Positive. I love you,” he kissed your forehead, “Give me a call when you’re done,” he reached and shook Angel’s hand again, “It was nice meeting you. Hopefully I’ll see you again before we leave town.”

Angel nodded, “Yea, for sure.”

Jordan walked out the door of the bookstore and there was a long stretch of silence between you and Angel as the two of you stood there. You wanted to step in and hug him, but you knew that you couldn’t. You eyed the novel in his hand, “You buying that?”

He had completely forgotten where he was and why he was there. He shook his head as he set it down on one of the small display tables, “Nah,” he cleared his throat, “So, I guess we’re getting coffee?”

You chuckled, not able to hide the awkwardness that you felt, “I guess we are.”

The two of you walked down the street in silence. You gripped your book, pressing it tight against your chest. There was a small café right down the street from the bookstore, another place that seemed to go untouched by time. Angel held the door open for you and told you to grab a table and he’d grab drinks for the both of you. You set your book down on the table, nervously tapping your fingertips on the cover as you waited for him to come back over.

He sat down across from you, handing you your drink. There were a few beats of silence and you desperately wished for the power to read minds so you could know what Angel was thinking that was making his eyes look so sad.

All Angel could think about was the fact that every day, for years, he thought about you and wondered where you had gone off to. He wondered if you were safe, if you were happy, if you had found someone else. He wondered if he was ever going to have a chance to see you again, to make things up to you, to win you back. He wasn’t expecting to get the answers to all of those questions within the first fifteen seconds of seeing you again. Reality had hit him like a freight train and he was still trying to recover.

“I see you’ve upgraded from Prospect,” you nodded towards the secretario patch on his kutte.

It snapped him out of his spiral for a moment and he managed a smile, “Little bit, yea. EZ’s sporting the Prospect patch these days.”

Your eyes widened, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yep. Patch-in vote is coming up in a couple months.”

“Holy shit,” you shook your head with a laugh, “How things change.”

“Yea,” he tried to push the words down but he couldn’t, “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart hurt at the sound of him saying that. The heartbroken girl that you used to be wanted to say something snarky, to rub a little salt in the wound that he had been carrying around with him. But you worked so hard not to be that girl anymore, and the better-healed part of you wanted to comfort him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, “It has been a while,” you traced your fingers around the edge of your cup, “hasn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he’d been sitting on those words for years and he couldn’t keep them in anymore, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shook your head, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Angel. We were kids—we were young and dumb.”

“I was young and dumb,” he corrected you, “I should’ve listened to you. Things could’ve been so different.”

You nodded, not having it in you to lie and say that he was wrong. Your mind was taken over by a tirade of memories, of arguments that ended with screaming and slamming doors, with you crying alone at the kitchen table trying to figure out how to force the puzzle pieces to fit. You had begged him for just a little more, just a little bit of commitment, and he could never give it to you. Eventually you had gotten fed up waiting for something that was never going to happen, and you left. It hurt, and you spent a lot of days crying as you packed up and bought a plane ticket, but you never looked back. You changed your number and completely detached yourself from the person that you had been.

“You always said I was gonna fuck around and hurt someone,” he pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment as he shook his head, “Just didn’t think it was gonna be me.”

“Thought it was just gonna be me?” it came out more bitter than you had intended, but there was no taking it back.

It caught him off-guard, “I…yea…I guess,” he stared at the engagement ring on your finger, “He is a lucky guy. Seems nice.”

You nod and a smile passes over your face for a moment, “He’s a good man. I never thought that I’d find someone as ready as I was for the whole settling down thing. I thought men weren’t ready for that until they were in their forties or whatever,” you chuckled, “I guess I just got really lucky.”

“So did he.”

“You seeing anyone these days?” you asked, genuinely curious to the answer.

He shook his head, “Nah, not really,” he laughed despite the aching in his chest, “But I’m guessing that’s not surprising to you.”

You smiled and sipped your coffee, “I dunno, people can change,” you waited for him to look you in the eyes, “You’ll find someone, Angel.”

“I already did,” it came out before he could think better of it. He reached across the table and set his hand on top of yours, “I should’ve been better, Y/N. I should’ve listened.”

“Maybe,” you nodded as you pulled your hand away and let it rest in your lap, “Maybe you should’ve. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? Guess you’ll just have to listen a little better to the next girl.”

“If you hadn’t laughed in the middle of that bookstore, I might’ve never known you were here,” his eyes were getting glassy with tears, “But I’ve heard that laugh inside my head so many times for so many years. I thought I was going insane. But then it was really you.”

“Angel, please, don’t do—”

“Please, just let me get this out,” he waited for you and once you nodded for him to continue, he did, “I spent so much time thinking that you wanted me to be a different person, and I was so angry about it. It felt like you didn’t want me to be who I was. It wasn’t…it wasn’t until you left that I realized that all you wanted was more of me. It was never about me changing, not really. It was just about me getting my head outta my ass. I spent so much time fuckin’ around and wanting to be free that I completely missed the fact that that freedom had nothing to do with you leaving. I hate that I never really heard what you were trying to say until after you left.”

You were fighting back tears, “Maybe there was just a little too much noise with me around.”

“You told me that one day I’d be sorry,” he couldn’t peel his eyes away from your ring, “And fuck are you never wrong.”

You laughed humorlessly as you blinked back tears, “I never wanted to be right, Angel. I just wanted to be happy, to be yours. But it just…wasn’t right I guess.”

“What you have now,” he stared down into his coffee cup, “that’s right?”

You slid your fingers along the band of your ring, and nodded, “Yea, it is.”

Those three words felt like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover from it.

“I don’t think you should keep beating yourself up over what happened, Angel,” you looked at him, “I think we’re different people now.”

“Are we?”

You chuckled, “Maybe not. Maybe that’s all the more reason not to worry about what happened. There’s no way to make it turn out any differently.”

There were a few beats of silence before Angel took a deep breath and managed a smile, “Damn. This is not what your fiancé thought he was signing you on for, huh?”

You laughed, and for a moment you caught a glimpse of the Angel that used to drive you around on the back of his motorcycle in the middle of the night. The same Angel who could get you to laugh when you showed up at his place in tears. You missed that, but you knew that going back wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

“Poor son of a bitch,” you laughed, “One day he’ll learn,” you paused for a moment, “I know it’s hard, Angel, but I am glad I got to see you.”

“Me too,” it sounded a little insincere, but you knew it was the heartbreak making it sound that way.

“Keep taking care of yourself, alright?”

Angel’s heart sank, knowing that this was the start of another goodbye that would last a very long time, “You too.”

You reached and put your hand over his, your finger tracing lightly over his knuckles, “I’ll see you around, Reyes.”

“Yea?”

You smiled, “Well, maybe.”

[hqbbg]

hello! if your requests are open could i pls request a nsfw but wholesome scenario w/ tsukki where after a couple months of dating y’all finally take things to the next level? i’m such a SIMP for this guy oml pls and thank you 🥺

title: first times.

pairing: tsukishima x f!reader

genre: smut is a genre right

word count: 2.5K

warnings: 18+, oral (female receiving), language, holding hands during sex bc i'm feeling soft (but the s3x in this is not oop-)

author’s note: omg i’m so sorry this took so long for me to respond to!! wowie first request too 😳 i tried to make this as wholesome as possible, but I just watched 365 dni (aka 365 days) on netflix and all I have to say is,, I did my best 🥵 anyways, hope you enjoy!

You’re unsure of how you got to where you are now—well, actually, you know how; you hadn’t seen Tsukishima in person in over a week because the two of you had been busy with your own respective schedules and quite frankly, you missed him. Of course, you’d chosen not to tell him simply due to the fact that he’d tease you about it to no end, but at least you’re honest with yourself.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute, thoughts jumbled into a big mess inside your head as you feel Tsukishima’s tongue swipe across your bottom lip, prompting you to part them to grant him access. The familiar warmth of his tongue tangling with yours is fueled by an unfamiliar eagerness coming from your otherwise patient boyfriend and you start to feel comforted by the fact that he seems to have missed you just as much.

The night had started out innocent enough; you’d both agreed to go out for dinner, but changed your minds when rain started pouring with thunder booming, leading the two of you to simply make dinner for yourselves at your apartment and watch a movie in your room, though you were sure you wouldn’t end up watching much of it.

You hadn’t been expecting your roommate to announce that she was going to go out tonight with a high chance that she wasn’t going to come home in the middle of your movie, leaving your typically shared apartment all to yourself tonight. Well, by the looks of how things seemed to be going, it was all to you and Tsukishima.

Honestly, you’re nervous; the farthest you’ve gone with Tsukishima was just the occasional heated above-the-neck kissing with curious hands every so often, despite having been dating for several months now.

The shift of Tsukishima laying you down on your bed as he moves to hover over you pulls you back into reality and you feel the bed dip beside your head where he’s placed his elbow to keep himself propped up in order to avoid crushing you.

“I’ve missed you,” he mutters so softly against your lips that you almost miss it. You open your mouth to say something back but feel your thoughts muddle back up when his lips trail over your jaw, his free hand coming up to hold the back of your head, tilting it at an angle so he could get better access to your now-exposed neck. Your eyes flutter shut as he leaves a trail of kisses on your skin, occasionally nipping on particularly sensitive areas.

“I’ve missed you too,” you finally sigh after a few moments of savoring the feeling of him on you. You feel his lips smirk against your skin and part of you wants to follow up with something snarky but you’re unable to think of anything as his lips gently suck on your pulse point, causing your breath to hitch.

You lift your own hands to tug on his hair and pull him back up, slotting your lips against his with more heat than your previous kiss. The bed dips between your legs and you feel Tsukishima’s leg brush against yours, further stabilizing himself. His hand that had been holding your head ghosts over the side of your face and traces down your neck to your collarbone, a slight hesitation before it moves down your side and rests on the underside of your right breast.

“We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” says Tsukishima as he pulls away, albeit slightly out of breath. You look up at him and see his pupils are slightly blown and his cheeks have tinted the slightest bit pink.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you can feel your own face flushing as Tsukishima smirks, his demeanor suddenly more confident, especially in his actions.

“Well, if that’s the case,” his voice trails off as he sits up. You watch him with curious anticipation before he lifts his shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion. He adjusts his glasses as he tosses his shirt aside and something about the whole ordeal has you blushing.

Tsukishima bends to kiss you and tugs at your shirt as you sit yourself up slightly so that he can pull it off and toss it in the same direction as his own now-forgotten shirt. As he lays you back down, you feel a warmth in your stomach that spreads through your veins and heats your skin.

His lips are quick to find yours again but only for a brief moment as he leaves another string of kisses on your jaw and nibbles at your ear. His hand rounds your breast and gives it a slight squeeze through your bra before pushing the material down slightly and grabbing at the exposed flesh. He pinches your nipple between his slender fingers, and you let out a soft hiss at the feeling. Tsukishima moves his lips down to your chest and you watch as he pushes the bra down completely, exposing your bare chest to him. He captures a nipple between his lips and swirls his tongue while his hand continues to harden the other one by pinching and rolling it between his thumb and index finger. You arch your back and reach under yourself to unhook the bra, sliding the straps off your arms and tossing it to be another forgotten article of clothing on your bedroom floor.

Tsukishima begins to move further down slowly, leaving a wet trail of kisses down your stomach. His hands slide down your sides as he does so, moving them around to your thighs once he’s nestled himself between them. You watch with your lower lip between your teeth as his eyes glance upwards at you. His thumbs hook onto the waistband of your shorts and you lift your hips to let him slip them off of you.

Just as the tip of Tsukishima’s fingers ghost over your panties, lightning flashes through your window, followed by a delayed clap of thunder, causing you to flinch in surprise. Tsukishima pauses all movements and his darkened eyes look at you with concern, fearing that you’re reacting this way to him.

“I’m okay,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him with a slight smile. He nods wordlessly, his eyes training on a particularly dark spot in the center of your panties. You move to close your legs in embarrassment, but Tsukishima’s hands push them back apart. He swipes his finger from the bottom up against the dampened fabric and smirks.

“Someone’s a little excited, hm?”

“I—” A gasp interrupts you as you feel Tsukishima presses his finger flat against your slit. Tsukishima’s eyes meet yours and you can feel your face practically burning.

His lips quirk into a mischievous grin as he tugs your panties off, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You kick them off your feet and can’t resist the slight embarrassment and insecurities creep up on you. You want to say something but feel all your thoughts and concerns fizzle away as Tsukishima leans in and kisses your thigh, dangerously close to your wetness. You shiver and feel his finger prodding your folds open before pressing his tongue inside. You gasp and curl your toes at the feeling of his warm tongue as he laps his tongue. The lewd noises coming from him are drowned out by the moans and mewls coming from your lips as you look down at him. He locks eyes with you and can feel yourself becoming even more aroused.

“Mm,” he hums softly against you as he sucks on your clit, inserting a single long finger inside of you. You bite your lip as you do your best to not be too loud—despite the apartment being empty, you’re aware of how thin the walls are between you and your neighbors.

However, that all goes out the window when Tsukishima inserts a second finger and you can’t help but cry out in pleasure. His long fingers reach further than your own ever could and you can feel yourself sprinting towards your climax faster than you’d like to admit. Why is he so good at this?

You move your arm and reach over to grip his hair, raking your nails on his scalp. You can’t help but roll your hips against him, matching his rhythm.

“Tsu… Tsukki, I’m going cum,” you whimper weakly as your other hand grips tightly at the covers.

You’re unsure if he can’t hear you or if he simply chooses to ignore you, but you clench around his fingers and arch your back, moaning as you hit your climax, doing your best to not simply crush Tsukishima’s head between your thighs.

After a few moments, Tsukishima lifts his head, his lips and chin practically glistening in your arousal. He removes his fingers as you lay there, trying to steady your breathing and you watch as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of you. He climbs back over you and kisses you, enabling you to taste remnants of yourself on his tongue. You feel something prodding your stomach and you’re suddenly made very aware that he’s still half clothed and has not been able to have any kind of release yet. Your hands are quick to move down and blindly attempt at undoing his belt buckle, struggling for only a moment before he reaches a hand down to help you. Once the buckle becomes undone, you unbutton his pants and tug at them to pull them down.

He pulls away again and sits up, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls out his wallet and you watch him curiously as he opens it and pulls out a square packet. He sets it aside and moves to take off his jeans. His boxers are quick to follow, and you blush upon seeing his length for the first time, feeling yourself already recovering from your first orgasm.

“You know, it’s not very polite to stare,” he teases, and you snap your eyes back up at him.

“I wasn’t staring,” you grumble as you watch him take off his glasses, leaning over to place them down on your bedside table. He moves back to where he was and tears the condom wrapper open with his teeth, discarding the wrapper haphazardly away. You sit up and pluck the condom from his fingers, biting your lip shyly as you feel his eyes on you. You can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his length and girth, although you’re also undeniably excited and the wetness pooling between your legs is visual proof of it.

You roll the condom onto him and hear a shaky sigh escape him. Once the condom is completely on, you look up at him and he’s quick to kiss you again, laying you down. You’re almost pouting when he pulls away, but quickly forget it as he sits up and grips himself at your entrance, circling and positioning himself for you. You look down and watch as he slowly pushes into you, struggling to catch your own breath as he stretches you open—his fingers seemed to have been nothing in comparison to the real thing.

You don’t realize your mouth is hanging open until you have to close it in order to hold back your loud cries and whimpers. Your legs find themselves locked around his waist and you can see his eyes flutter closed, his own lips parted from pleasure. He leans back down over you, his palms on either side of your forehead to keep himself supported and once he’s completely inside, he lets out a shuddered groan. Your fingers grip his strong forearms, wanting to hold onto something tangible that’ll keep you from drifting completely off into bliss from the sensation of being so full. He’s quick to bury his face in your neck, staying still for a moment before he moves to pull out. Just as you’re about to whine for him to not pull out so far, he pushes back into you and you moan. He rolls his hips as he begins to repeat the process, earning several cries from you and he lifts his head to capture your lips with his.

“Fuck…” he mutters softly against your lips. You feel another fire burning in your stomach, which is only fueled when he shifts and hooks an arm under one of your legs, pushing it up and shifting his angle. Your toes curl and your back arches as he presses his lips with a newfound passion, swallowing your moans as you wrap your arms around his neck.

You feel the way he’s dragging himself against your tight walls, noticing his movements and kisses to grow sloppier as he continues to move his hips. You angle your leg a little higher and he hits a particularly deep spot that causes the both of you to moan simultaneously. You drop your arms from around his neck to grip at the sheets, but he takes his right hand to weave your fingers together, pinning it beside your head as he grunts, his lips parting and pulling away from yours as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Kei, don’t stop,” you whimper. The use of his first name seems to spur him on and he rolls his hips deeply, effectively stretching you. His left hand moves down to slide between the two of you, finding your clit and causing you to gasp loudly at the stimulation. He watches you with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, biting his lip as your own face contorts with pleasure.

At this rate, you’re sure you’ll be seeing stars very soon.

“Fuck, I can’t hold out for much longer,” he grunts as his thrusts become more erratic.

“Me too,” is all you can manage to say coherently as he rubs your clit harder.

You can feel your body begin to shake as he removes his hand from your clit, grasping at your other hand and entwining your fingers together to keep you firmly pinned to the bed. He begins panting as his hips move aggressively and he seems to forget himself as he buries his face in your neck.

“Cum for me.”

It was a simple statement—a command—and your body responds. You clench down on him as your vision blurs, your moans of ecstasy practically ringing throughout the room as your back arches up to him. Tsukishima lets out a breathy moan as he’s washed over with his own orgasm, his hips slowing quickly, still pulsing inside of you.

After a moment of catching your breaths, Tsukishima pulls out slowly and kisses you softly, a stark contrast to his character just moments ago. He pulls away and lays down next to you, the both of you staring up at your ceiling as you listen to each other breathing with the sound of heavy rain pouring outside the window.

You suddenly come to a realization.

“Hey, since when did the power go out?”

[zackcollins]

i can’t sleep without you || penny oleksiak

Author’s Note: Look... She’s the Canadian record holder for most medals at the Summer Olympics. My brain decided that warranted a little piece of writing. I hope I did it and her justice because she truly is an icon. Both for the sport of swimming and for the Oleksiak family. GIF credit to maljic!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything! Feel free to let me know if anything should be warned about though. I’ll gladly add a warning for you.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Title: Sleep Without You by Brett Young

Additional: The reader should be gender-neutral. They’re implied to be a swimmer, so I did the best I could. Anyways! I hope everyone enjoys this! Feedback is always welcomed!!

You were humming along to the music filtering through your headphones. On the tray in front of you, you were tapping a pencil against your crossword book. You only had a few words filled in and it was driving you bonkers not being able to figure out some of them. Shifting your attention from the music to the crossword puzzle, you scanned the clues again to see if there were any easy ones that you missed.

 5 Down: Layman’s oesophagus

 Bopping your head along to the music, you smiled as you wrote ‘throat’ in the appropriate squares. You were grateful that you had found at least one easy clue. Filling out a few more answers that you had somehow missed, you tapped his pencil against the book a second time when you reached a stalemate at one of the remaining clues.

 13 Across: Town at Eighth Mile of Boston Marathon

 You paused your music, slid your headphones around your neck, turning to your best friend, Penny, beside you. You put the crossword book on the tray in front of her, pointing at the clue.

 “You’re a trove of useless knowledge,” You said, “do you know the answer to that?”

Instead of answering, Penny grabbed the pencil and wrote Natick across the correct squares. Smiling, you slid the crossword book back in front of yourself. Penny handed you the pencil, turning back to the movie she was watching on the seat display; it looked like Finding Nemo or Finding Dory if you were to guess.

 “Thanks, Penny,” you said, punching her playfully in the shoulder.

 Humming, Penny smiled without looking away from her movie. “You’re welcome, babe.”

 Leaning over, Penny checked her shoulder against yours. Your mouth went dry, face heating up both from the contact and the fact that Penny had called you what she had called you. Despite yourself, your traitorous body felt gooey and fuzzy. You quickly slid your headphones on, restarting the music. The last thing you needed was Penny to figure out how you felt.

 For the rest of the flight to Calgary, you tried to focus on your crossword puzzle and the music you were listening to. You tried not to focus on the lingering gooey and fuzzy feelings the shoulder check and pet name from Penny had caused. Keyword: tried. Even with your music blasted as loud as was safe, you could still hear Penny laughing along to the movie. Every time Penny laughed, the gooey and fuzzy feelings bubbled back up deep within your gut.

 When the plane finally landed about an hour later and everyone was disembarking, you kept to yourself. You knew your face was burning as bright as the morning sun after everything that had happened. The last thing you needed was someone to question you about it.

 Thankfully, the bus ride to the hotel was without incident. You were also able to finish your crossword. Seeing as Penny was the last person you wanted to interact with right now, you went to Maggie for help. Maggie was concerned as to why you weren't asking Penny because she knew the two of you did everything together but she ultimately helped you when you said that Penny just wanted to rest after the long flight. Though, you were fairly certain you saw Maggie give you a sideways glance once or twice as she was giving you the answers to some of the clues. You couldn't be sure if it was because she didn't believe your story about Penny, or because she thought you were an idiot for not knowing the answers. Either way, you kept quiet and thanked her when the crossword was finished.

 When everyone was assigned their rooms, you and Penny were paired together to the surprise of absolutely no one. Penny was talking to you about ways to refine your butterfly stroke when you put the keycard in the door. Walking into the room, you both froze as you dropped your suitcases beside each other.

 Looking at each other after a moment, Penny cursed while you ran your hand down your face and around to the back of your neck, sighing.

 “One bed,” you said, swallowing thickly. “There must’ve been a mix-up with the room assignments.”

 Penny sighed, turning to you. “I’m alright with it as long as you are.”

 You noticed something strange beyond the surface of Penny’s eyes; it looked like hope.

 Feeling yourself short circuit, you nodded quickly. “Yeah, it’s fine.” Your words felt heavy, nervous. If Penny noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it.

 Motioning to the bathroom, Penny began unzipping her suitcase. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. It helps me sleep.”

 Feeling your mouth go dry for the second time that night, you nodded. You had seen Penny after a shower plenty of times; this time though, this time felt personal. Intimate. You would be sharing a bed, something that you had dreamt about for a while.

 As Penny went to shower, you changed into your pyjamas. Swallowing thickly, you wanted to kick himself for packing nothing more than a pair of loose boxers and a skin-tight undershirt to wear to bed. Normally, that would be sufficient; you always had your bed. Today though, some power that existed made it happenstance that you would share a bed with the woman you had a lunar-sized crush on. In other words, loose boxers and a skin-tight undershirt felt insufficient.

 When the bathroom door opened and Penny emerged wearing only sleep shorts and a sports bra, you felt less psychotic for wearing what you were wearing. Shimmying over toward the window, you allowed room for Penny on the side of the nightstand. Penny hummed in appreciation, slipping under the covers. Flicking on the lamp, she rolled over to face you.

 “I hope you don’t mind that the lamp is on,” she said, motioning behind her. “Leaving a light on helps me sleep more soundly.”

 You could see a blush rising on Penny’s face. Smiling softly, you slid under the cover and fluffed your pillow to get comfortable.

 “No,” you said, “I don’t mind.”

 You felt your heartstrings tug in different directions when Penny lit up with a genuine smile.

 “Night, babe,” Penny yawned, closing her eyes. A few moments later, Penny’s breathing evened out.

 “Night, Penny,” you mumbled, rolling over. You closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep after a few minutes. Your mind was transfixed on the fact that Penny had called you a pet name again.

 In the morning, you felt warm. Too warm. Your first thought was that you had a fever. You grumbled and shifted around, trying to get comfortable in your newfound heat. That caused another grumble that you decidedly did not utter.

 “Stay still, babe,” Penny mumbled, “cuddling you is no fun if you move.”

 You sprung up as if you were on fire, looking down at Penny. Penny grumbled leaning on her elbow to look at you.

 “Everything okay?” she asked, sounding concerned.

 You swallowed, nodding haphazardly. “I’m sorry for invading your space like that.”

 Penny ran a hand along your bicep. You shivered, leaning into the touch.

 “You didn’t invade anything. I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t like it,” Penny paused.

 “You mean...” the cogs started to turn in your head.

 Nodding, Penny smiled. “Yes. I have feelings for you. Have had feelings for you for a long time.”

 Sitting up properly, Penny cupped your face. On instinct, you brought your hands to Penny's ribcage. Shivering at the contact, Penny leaned in and ghosted her lips over yours. You felt your lips tremble at the feather-light sensation. You leaned in to chase the feeling, lips making contact with Penny's.

 You kissed each other for a moment, pulling back when you nibbled on Penny's lower lip. Penny looked blissed and content when you looked into her eyes. She caught you staring and smirked.

 Ducking your head, you placed it on Penny’s shoulder. Grabbing your chin, Penny pulled your head up. Looking into Penny's eyes, you could see nothing but tenderness and care staring back at you.

 “You have pretty eyes,” you blurted.

 Penny's face turned a soft shade of pink as she leaned in, kissing you. The kiss was soft, sweet, and the most meaningful kiss you had ever experienced. Unlike the kisses you had had with people in the past, this kiss with Penny felt like it mattered in the grand scheme of things. It felt right.

 Laying down to cuddle some more before practice, you heard one of the phones vibrate on the nightstand. It was Penny's phone that had vibrated but when you went to give it to her, she had already fallen back asleep. You looked at the phone screen and saw that the notification was a text from her brother, Jamie. You knew what Penny's password was because she had trusted you with it ages ago. Sighing, you entered the 6 digits and opened up the text thread to see what Jamie had wanted this early in the morning.

After reading the message, you placed Penny's phone on the nightstand. You kissed her on the forehead before curling around her and drifting off to sleep. The only thing on your mind was that you were grateful that Penny had a brother like Jamie.

 To: Coin

From: Giraffe

You're welcome for getting you two a room with one bed. All it cost me was a signed jersey. Now, it better have worked or else I'm flying up to Calgary myself to get you two fools together. Do you understand?

[machinegunbun]

this is based on a true story and i feel stupid typing out this novel

I slept with someone miles from home whenever I was 21 who looked suspiciously like Colson some details have been edited in order to protect identities/obscure timelines

Also shitty and boring it’s a rough draft forgive my URL also thought I could changw it when I made it omg

I’m gonna send this in pieces bc it just disappeared (I can’t take the hint omg)

~££~

The sound of pans clanging against a cold, concrete floor snap you back to your senses and also prompt you to press a Bluetooth earbud further into your brain, to drown it all out and get back to the flow. As the beat pounds on and on into your canal, aggressive lyrics soothing your movements into a ballet-esque orchestra repeating the task in front of you, you begin wrapping prepped food like a machine once again. Although burns, cuts, and bruises sting across your body (some of your trade, some for fun, and some from flat out vices) you pay no mind, as it is keeping you heavily grounded; Just as well, the crisp, wet, refreshing air (just faintly tinged with cigarette smoke,) of the emergency exit door wide open billow against your back, providing necessary healing and much needed relief from the aching muscles underneath your ratty shirt.

In the middle of your last piece of the steam table puzzle, you realize someone must be smoking this cigarette you smell? And it had been quite some time since your last, so it made you suddenly grit your teeth at the craving. Quickly checking the clock, you realize it is midnight, and you’re likely the last 2 in the store, so you need to hurry it up and finish cash drop. After all, it would be a long walk home in Cleveland, Ohio sleet.

You are jarred from your thoughts with a frigid, slender finger hooking your headphones around them and out of your ears. As you realize what Chipotle veteran is still left standing alongside you, you quickly pause the music and wipe your hands on a nearby towel before turning to face him.

“My bad I’m not done yet, if I’m holding you up Colson. I only have to stick this in the walk in, and count registers.”

A chuckle escaped the blonde don. He threw his hands up, so that you had to look up to see the tall, mysterious creature, as if to surrender. “I’m not a boss man, take your time. I just wanted to see if you needed a square. It’s been since lunch rush you had a break.” He stops to look at you sternly, although in fascination. “And you were here before me.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure, stacking bowls in your arms neatly, “I have to go by the gas station after this to get some.”

Colson begins snatching things from you to pace alongside you towards the cooler. “Let me help you. Take a break, I’ll GIVE you a cig, dude.”

You cringe at dude, because that is how everyone saw you no matter how many days you came in with make up and a clean apron. Nevertheless, you were grateful, and you told him as much.

You had become comfortable in the job itself the past 18 months, and you knew every employee from sheer silent and thoughtful observation, but you were sure this was the most you had talked to Colson (or the other, less attractive crew either, for that matter) and weren’t quite as content with small talk or favors. You noted sometime last week he must be having a hard time when you had to step on the line for him after an altercation with a customer, which he walked out over. First time in a year and a half, so you knew it must be serious.

Once the task was completed, Colson abruptly grabs you by the arm and forces a menthol into it.

“Let’s do that first and then we’ll blow this joint.” Ever the jokester, as he says this, he winks and pulls a joint from behind his ear.

“You got tricks,” I laugh

We walk out the back and Colson hops up onto a stack of Buffalo Rock crates to light the J. You walk a safe distance from him to light your much appreciated cigarette.

“So you don’t talk much,” Colson hisses, taking a big inhale, before continuing as he keeps the joint from running, “but I know you smoke, cause your backpack always REEKS, dude.” He cracks a smile, eyes low and beautiful eyelashes glistening in the flurries swirling around you.

You nod in acknowledgement, no sense denying that. “It’s for my glaucoma,” you joke dryly.

Colson snorts and chokes before leaning out with the bud to pass it.

“So how you be doing that shit all day? Lifting dishpans bigger than you and shit, doubles 6 days a week?” Colson inquires, and if it weren’t wishful thinking you would say he was checking you out. Hopefully not just to see if you’re a robot.

You smile meekly. “Well, you do it, too,” you remind.

“Yeah but I’m not a girl. I’m… Well, look at me,” he boasts playfully from atop his King of the Hill stack, arms spread out to show off, as the makeshift throne wobbles slightly below. “I’m six-foot-foe,” he smirks, holding fingers up as he annunciates.

You have to laugh at his gloating. “Well, as long as I want to eat, I’ll be here,” you dismiss as gently as you can. try as you might, This brings up the uncomfortable memory of your first month here, when Colson silently pushed a plate of steak towards you on your break after watching you struggling to stay vertical.

Colson knits a brow as brushes your fingertips softly to take the blunt back. “Another question, do you really be walking home, alone, in this shit every night?” He motions to the snow beginning to swirl.

“Yeah, I do what I have to. It was rough at first, now it’s like meditation. Only, like, 15 minutes,” you dismiss. You know you could have a car by now if you could give up the pills, and you feel the shame, all too familiar, welling up like a tight ball in your stomach.

“Well I can tell you you ain’t doing that shit tonight,” he affirms seriously, “cause I got a whip now!” His tone of concern Cascades easily info one of excitement.

You’re blushing now, whyyy? You’d been able to avoid everyone up to this point, sans your dealer. “You really don’t have to do that,” you say, though the wind off your face did sound more and more intoxicating as it whipped around the two of you.

“I INSIST,” he barks, putting the roach out between two fingers.

You make quick work of counting the registers while Colson stared on, expression unreadable. You grow more self conscious with each single you lay down , but try to ignore it.

“Damn, you a pro at this,” he snorts, sticking the same stack of hundreds through the bill counter over and over. “You one with the bands or something. Almost faster than this thing,’ he motions to the machine on the desk.

"And that’s a wrap,” you conclude, stacking drawers inside the safe with a quickness. “I’m just gonna change and we can leave.”

Cautiously and curiously, Colson stands in the doorway, waiting.

“Oh, my bad, you might wanna do that in private,” he smirks, stepping to the side.

Quickly you pull the door closed to the tiny office and pretend you aren’t trying to see if Colson is looking thru the small glass window, while you quickly strip to a crop top, sweatpants and a light jacket. Once finished, you attempt to gather your composure, and exit to find him scrambling to gather his as well.

You head in silence to his car, a used ‘96 Toyota. Once inside, Colson shakes and rubs his hands together, flicking a heater on immediately. “Sh-it, it is freezing,” he remarks, warming his hands by his mouth, eyes grazing across you, “aren’t you dying in that??” He motions to your flannel.

“Business as usual,” you say. If only he knew how many pharmaceuticals and trauma went into that demeanor.

“Shid, fuck that,” he resists, and begins digging in his backseat. “Here, this is Slim’s, wear it to make me feel better.”

You slip the jacket over your lap and give a nod of appreciation. You hated feeling like a homeless hopeless.

Colson reaches for the auxiliary cord and stops himself from pulling his phone from his pocket. You try hard not to stare at his briefs peeking over his belt.

“Let’s see what you’re bobbing your head to all day,” he smiles, hand out.

You oblige, only to realize who it was paused on.

“Oh, wait, not that playlis–”

“Dawg, is this my shit??” Colson almost screams, although curiously he doesn’t seem creeped out, he’s… Excited?

“Uh…” You bite your lip. “You… Did promote it constantly. Well, still do,” you stammer.

“No, no. Do NOT be embarrassed, this is fuckin sick! Incredible,” he whispers in disbelief, hooking up the cord, as he pulls a devil’s horn with the other hand. “We have a fan!” He triumphs before putting it in reverse and backing away.

“So, I was thinking…” He trails, fingers drumming almost nervously on the steering wheel, “we could hang at my place for a bit? Our names are next to each other on the schedule, so I know you have TWO whole days off, too,” he reminds, almost shutting down any attempt at refusal.

“I have smoke,” you offer, “but no wraps.”

Colson grins big. “Perfect, I got both at the house.”

***

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me: Whisky & Song (CH9)

A dinner is had, Claire shares a page from her notebook, and the truth comes out.

READ ON AO3

Jamie’s kitchen, mid-evening, early December, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

Jamie poured a few more fingers of Glenfiddich 12 into both of the tumblers on the counter and set down the bottle. He’d bought the bottle the first night Claire had come to his townhouse, hoping she’d notice how he’d pay attention to the detail about her escape in Scotland. She had noticed, of course, and rewarded him with a windfall of kisses. It was the night she’d learned he had been her neighbor for longer than they’d known each other, and the whisky served as just another reminder of their close connection. That night had followed Jamie into his dreams that night. Dreams, of Claire. After that night, he’d made sure to always have a bottle of Glenfiddich on hand for repeat performances. Tonight, he was hoping for more of the same.

“... Can ye believe it, Sassenach! I mean, every party with those two is a wild one but this one -- Christ! -- it was really something else!” Jamie was sitting at his island barstool facing her, but Claire’s mind was a thousand miles away.

“Hm? Oh yes, I’m sure it was a fun time. What happened next?” she asked absently.

Jamie furrowed his brows for just a moment and watched while she took a rather large drink from her glass. “Weel, that was mostly the end of the story, ken,” he replied.

She nodded slowly and took another large drink. “Yer not usually a closed-mouthed woman, Claire,” he sighed. “Care to share what yer thinking about? Something’s clearly eating ye up over there.” When she didn’t replied, he grinned and added, “Yer thoughts are sae loud I can nearly here them from way over here.”

That got a small smile from her at last. As she opened her mouth to finally spill her words all over him, a loud vibration buzzed from Jamie’s phone on the quartz counter. Without needing to look, Claire knew exactly what was about to happen: a cute blonde face would light up the screen, Jamie would silence the phone, and it would be shoved out of sight. Refusing to see it happen again, Claire blurted out, “Are you seeing someone else?”

Jamie’s hand, reaching toward the phone, settled back into his lap. “Am I what?”

“We never did have the “we’re exclusive” conversation, so it’s really not a big deal if you are.” Seeing his confused expression she continued. “I mean, you’re a grown man, you can do what you want, and who am I to stop you?”

“Who are ye to me?” Jamie quietly muttered, more to himself than to her.

“...It’s so often, and I wouldn’t mind, but it seems like a lie by omission, and after my ex, I don’t do lying. Secrets, but not lies. It’s been two months together and I really like this, Jamie. If you’re going in a different direction than me, it’s cool, I just need to know because that’s really not what I’m trying to do here and honestly, I thought we were on the same page with what we wanted…”

“Claire, wait--”

“...and I thought we were making plans together and if that’s not what you want, I want to readjust. Actually, I’d rather get out of it altogether…”

“Sassenach--”

“I’m just going to go, okay? Thanks for dinner, it’s been really fun. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Claire rambled. In the span of two minutes, she’d gone from complete silence to packing up her purse and heading to the entryway to the front door. Before she could reach the handle, a strong hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around. Crystal blue eyes burned into her.

“I’m no’ letting ye go until I explain. Then, you can make yer choice. I will no’ make ye stay, but I hope ye’ll wait around to listen to me. Just for a moment.” She shuffled on the floor, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Please, Claire. Please don’t go yet.” There was something in his voice, a pleading , that made her completely unable to walk away from him. She nodded, and followed him back to the barstools.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I misled ye, a nighean. Ye deserve only the truth, so ye’ll have it. The calls are from my friend Annalise.” Claire’s head snapped, eyes narrowed. “I take it ye remember her. Yes, my ex. She’s going through a terrible breakup with her boyfriend Charlie, and now that so many of us have left Scotland for here, she’s really feeling alone. Even though we dated, we’ve always considered each other verra good friends. She’s needed someone, and I’m trying to be there for her now, like she’s been for me.” Claire’s look softened, but only slightly. “Please, Claire. Ye have to believe I’d never hide anything from ye. She’s nothing more than a friend tae me.” He held both her hands in his tentatively, lest she tried to pull back.

“Why did you hide her from me? I’d never keep you from a friend, but Jamie, you have to understand. She’s a beautiful woman, and you were acting secretive, and--”

“Please dinna mistake dedication for secretiveness.”

“Dedication?”

“Aye. Dedication to ye. To our relationship. To our time together. Annalise is special to me, but nothing is as important tae me as you, Claire. Nothing. I’m trying my best to be a good friend for her, but nothing compares to ye. I don’t pick up the phone because I don’t want to take up my time with ye away on the phone. I didna consider how it must look to ye. Please know, ye are everything , to me.”

Claire blinked, trying to absorb the weight of what he’d told her. Still trying to process his admission and fighting through the fog of more than a few whiskies, a quiet but steady voice pulled her from her reverie.

“Yer face is my heart, Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul. Ye cannae tell by now?”

Her brow furrowed. Surely he didn’t say that. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t have. Slowly, she moved her eyes from her hands in his up his chest, to his heartbeat pounding in his throat, to clear blue eyes.

“You… you love me?”

The edge of his mouth quirked up and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “Aye, I do. I’ve wanted ye from the moment ye fell into me at the bar, and I’ve loved ye since I found ye sitting in my shop, singing yer wee songs with the sunlight hitting ye from behind. I loved ye then, and I’ve loved ye every day since then. I loved ye then, and I love ye now, Claire.” He stood from his seat and stepped closer, bringing her to her feet. “I love you. No one else. I loved ye yesterday, today, tomorrow… as long as ye’ll have me, I will love you.”

Not for the first time, words were failing Claire. Whether it was hearing that Jamie Fraser loved her or the whisky, she couldn’t tell. Her eyes finally fell to his chest, brow still furrowed. Everything around her was heavy: the weight of his words, the alcohol in her veins, the scent of him so close to her -- all ocean spray and damp earth and old books -- looming over her, an arm draped around her wait and one in her hair… everything was so heavy. Breathe, Beauchamp. Finally having the confidence to face him yet again, she prepared to lay her feelings bare just has he had moments before. Meeting his eyes, she found apprehension. He thinks he said something wrong. He thinks he overstepped.

“Wait here.” She left a stunned Jamie in the kitchen and ran back to the front door when she left her purse. Returning with a black leather notebook in hand, she thumbed through the pages. Jamie watched in confused wonderment while she searched for something in particular. Finding what she was looking for, she handed the book to him. With a sigh, he sat back on the tall stool to read what was so important to her.

Scribbled on two adjacent pages were words scrawled in black ink. On the left, a column of French words strung together in Claire’s hand:

Je te laisserai des mots

En-dessous de ta porte

En-dessous de la lune qui chante

Tout près de la place où tes pieds passent

Cachés dans les trous d’un temps d’hiver

Et quand tu es seule pendant un instant…

Embrasse-moi,

Quand tu voudras

Embrasse-moi,

Quand tu voudras

Embrasse-me,

Quant tu voudras.

On the second page, with a few words scribbled out and replaced, lay another column:

I will leave you words

Under your door,

Below the singing moon

Near the place where you pass by

Hidden in the hole of wintertime

And when you’re alone

For a moment

Kiss me

Whenever you want

Kiss me

Whenever you want

Kiss me

Whenever you want.

A clear line of tears shimmered on red lashes, blue eyes became clearer. “You love me, too.” Blue sky met whisky. He stood, discarding the notebook on the counter. “Ye love me.” He couldn’t look away and continued toward her. He took her hands in his for the second time, searching her face for any sign of misunderstanding, finding none when she tearfully smiled and slowly nodded her affirmation. “Ye love me, too…?”

“Aye,” trying her best Scottish imitation, “I do.”

Seeing the honesty, the vulnerability, in her eyes, he kissed her. No, not kissed. Absolutely devoured. He held her face in his large hands, cradling her against him. “Tell me.”

She leaned into the force of him, closing her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them to watch him, she hoped he could read her face as easily as he always said he could. Her hand covered his, and she smiled. “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His eyes danced over her face, memorizing her features in this moment. “Christ, Claire,” a single tear ran down his stubbled cheek. “To hear ye say it, it’s… it’s more than I ever imagined.”

She let out a trembling sigh, stroking his face, the path of his single tear with her thumb. His stare traveled downward in thought, meeting hers again in question. “The song from the shop, the one in French,” Claire smiled shyly, letting her gaze drop to the floor, and back up at him through wet lashes. “Is it… is that the one that…”

“I said I wrote about you sometimes,” she admitted, a smile unbidden breaking free from the corners of her mouth. “Do you like it?”

“Do I… Do I like it?” He wondered at this woman before him, in complete awe. “Aye, I love it. Nearly as much as I love you, mo chridhe.” Unable to hold himself back from her, he feverishly kissed her. A hand in her hair, an arm snaked around her waist, she was positively crushed to him. Claire moaned into his kisses, seeking purchase of him with her mouth. He only held her tighter with each kiss. Claire searched to bring them closer yet, but Jamie pulled away first. Breaking for air, he cupped her face gently, and stared into the face he’d treasure, he’d love , for the rest of his days. “You are everything, to me.”

[jbbarnesandnoble]

Smitten For You: One-Shot

Pairing: Modern!Sam Wilson x Tall!Reader

Summary: Morning runs, snowball fights, puns and coffee dates :)

Warning(s): FLUFF, play fighting (do either of those need to be a warning? idk) BAD PUNS, I edited it once, but it’s 12:53am and I’ve been exhaused all day so that means nothing.

Word Count: 1,204

Prompt: when my friend pushed me into the snow the other day. but it wasn’t romantic cause we don’t like each other like that

A/N: hey! I wrote a thing! I hope you all like it :) I really, really had to fight the urge to write some angst. I wanted to, but I thought that fluff would be much better. In this fic, Sam is roughly 5′11 (180.34cm. I’m not sure how correct that is) and the reader is about an inch or two (25.4mm or 50.8mm) taller than he is. This is my first ever tall!reader fic, I hope you enjoy, please, if you would like, let me know what you think! I also plan on writing more in the future! I have a request for it with buck and wanted to test it out first :)

(not my gif)

Purple clouds cover the morning sky, colors of light and dark blue mix together as they greet the rising sun. A pale pink and orange hue blankets the horizon. A cold winter’s breeze blows, snow falls from the trees surrounding the small park. Classical music blasts from your headphones, your legs begin to grow heavy with each passing stride; your lungs burn and the cold nips at your nose. 

Three more steps, you count, “One… Two... Three…” You continue to push one, three more, you think, lying to yourself again. Only this time your legs surrender to their exhaustion. The watch on your wrist beeps when you check how many miles you ran. It isn’t your personal best, but it’s close. Although, you find yourself disappointed considering you left a half-hour earlier than usual. You blame your unusually laggard pace on the cold. This early in the day it is still below freezing, it’s the kind of cold that reaches your bones and slows you down. 

When you check the time, you find you have an hour to get ready for work, rather than your usual forty-five minutes. Maybe going out an extra half-hour early isn’t as bad you thought it would be. Except for having to get up earlier than usual. You and mornings are still far from being friends. The only thing that gets you through is coffee and runs. While stretching out your now sore muscles, someone taps on your shoulder. You pull out your headphones and spin around to find your fiance standing behind you, hands on his hips.  

“You finally replaced me as your running partner, didn’t you?” Sam asks, an eyebrow raised and a crooked grin on his handsome face. You admire him for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the fact that he’s your person and you’re his. You bite back a smile.

Keeping a stern look, you tell him “Yup,” with a curt nod,  

“I’m hurt,” He says, exaggerating placing a hand over his heart. Shrugging your shoulders, you begin the walk back to your apartment. He trails behind you like a lost puppy, his crooked grin remains on his lips. 

A few moments pass as the two of you walks in comfortable silence. Snow from yesterday’s snowstorm litters the grass and branches of trees. You have always loved how the world looks after it snows. Everything feels fresh and new, it brings you a sense of comfort and peace. Another breeze blows and snowfalls from a tree above you, landing atop your head, an unexpected squeak escapes your mouth. The sensation sends a chill down your spine, despite still being hot from your morning run. 

Sam stifles a snicker from behind you. Stopping in your track, you turn on your heels. Only to find him taking interest in the sky above. He stops too and steals a look at you from the corner of his eyes. He quickly returns his attention to the sky. 

An idea pops into your mind while he’s distracted, you quickly grab a handful of snow and throw it at him, accidentally hitting him square in the face. Your mouth falls open and your cold hands fly to it. He always jokes you have a bad aim, which you deny, but he might be right this time. His hands mirror your own by covering his face where you had hit him.

You rush over to where he stands in two short steps, apologies falling repeatedly from your lips. Once next to him you ask, “Are you ok? I’m starting to agree that I suck at aiming.” You attampt at making a joke to lighten the mood. Though it doesn’t seem to work when he doesn’t tease you as you expected him to. 

“Let me see,” You quietly request, placing your hand over his. His hand is much warmer in comparison to yours after touching snow with your bare hand. 

He remains silent and worry begins to flood your chest. You feel horrible. Sam is always so light hearted about things, it takes a lot for him to get to this point. As you are about to apologize again, his hands fly from his face and his arms snake around your waist. You might be an taller than he is, but that doesn’t stop him from picking you up and dropping you into a pile of fresh snow. You squeak again, the noise even surprises you.

Shock settles onto your face. When you find his warm brown eyes, his carefree smile takes its rightful place onto his face. He laughs, relaxing his body next to yours in the snow pile. The coldness of the snow starts to sneak past your clothes and reaches your skin, you ignore it. You’re happy you chose to wear black today. At least no one will notice the giant wet spot on your back from the snow. 

“You’re such a child, you had me worried I seriously hurt you!” You complain, sprinkling a little bit of snow onto his head. He returns the gesture by making a snowball and rubbing into your hair. You squint your eyes shut, allowing it to happen and knowing full well you deserved every bit of it. Relief replaces the worry you felt seconds before. You smile up at him.

“I’m the child? Is that’s how it is? ‘Cause you’re the one who started the fight, not me, you?” He teases you, while he flicks more snow onto your head. 

“That’s how it is, babe.” You shrug your shoulders in the snow and place a quick kiss onto his nose. He laughs before standing up. His hand reaches out, waiting there for you to take if you need to. You don’t, but accept it for an excuse to hold his hand. Not that you need one, considering that you have been together for nearly three years.

Once you’re back onto your feet, he reaches up, brushing some of the snow off of your head. His hand is still wrapped around yours when you continue walking down the walkway side by side. 

“Your hand’s cold.” He notes, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of knit mittens your mom made him for his birthday. He is gentle to take your hand back into his, he slips the glove onto your hands as gently as he grabbed them. 

Unprompted he says, “I’m pretty smitten for you.” he laughs at his own pun, you smile.

“I’m snow in love with you.” You play along and you laugh with him this time. 

As if the prior pun exchange never happened, he asks, “Coffee?” gesturing his head in the direction of a small coffee shop across the street. 

Checking the time, you say, “Sure.” You lost a bit of time earlier, and if you stop now there is a chance you’ll be late for work. But you did tell your boss you might be late from the snow and being on time right now is less of a worry than is should be. Sam flashes you another grin before you cross the street. The scent of coffee already floods your lungs.

>>>>>>

A/N: this could easily be a crack fic, but it’s slightly off, it’s so close yet so far at the same time. This isn’t my best, but I’m honestly just impressed and happy I finished a fic in a day. I haven’t done that in ages. almost 2 years. also, the gif indicates summer, it's winter if the snow didn't give that away (yes i use sarcasim)

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Ready or not, here they come!

Taglist: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript @finder-of-rings

Chapter 11

The polished surface of Kaida‘s prosthetic fist shimmered silver in the early morning sun, suspended mere centimeters from Gideon‘s face. A bead of sweat trickled down Gideon‘s cheekbone as he froze in his halfhearted attempt to block her punch. His eyes were fixed on the entrance gate to their training field instead of her, and Kaida‘s expression crumbled into a disappointed pout.

“Forgot your reflexes in bed today?“ She dropped her fist and shook her head in disbelief. Wisps of black hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “C‘mon Gideon, what‘s up with you this week?“

Gideon didn‘t respond. He was too focused on the tuft of brown hair that appeared on the top of the staircase, where everyone who wished to enter the academy grounds had to ascend. The giant gate framing the entrance dwarfed Sahar as he lingered next to one of its red painted wooden pillars, unsure if he should cross the threshold onto the training field. His large eyes scouted the area, hopping over their teacher and the other students, most of them already in the midst of exchanging punches or jabbing the air with their spears, until they found Gideon.

Sahar‘s lips played around a hesitant smile as he mouthed a silent hello, while his fingers tapped a symphony of nerves over his pant leg. Gideon watched their gentle movement, the contrast of soft olive brown skin brushing over black linen. There was no trace of Sahar‘s mutation to be found. The only hint of what had happened in the woods was the flash of white bandages that poked out from under his shirt sleeve.

Kaida‘s eyebrows raised in surprise as she followed Gideon‘s gaze. “Isn‘t that the farm-boy? What was his name again?“

“Sahar,“ Gideon breathed, disbelief prickling down his legs like an agitated ant swarm. He stomped past his classmates, dodging still sheathed spear heads and ignoring Kaida‘s exasperated protest. What the hell was Sahar thinking, coming here during training hours? If a stray spear jab or accidental punch hit his still wounded arm hard enough to make him mutate again, all the secrecy and sacrifice would have been for nothing.

“The hell are you doing here?“ The words came out harsher than intended, and Gideon winced at the sharpness of his own tongue.

Sahar‘s tentative smile fell and his green eyes grew impossibly larger but held Gideon‘s gaze with an almost defiant kind of determination. “A a a a applying. As, as a scout.“

“You- Have you lost your mind?“

“You didn‘t strike me as someone scared of competition.“

Both boys jumped at the familiar voice sparkling with teasing self-assurance. Gideon‘s heart plummeted somewhere to his knees.

Sahar‘s smile returned ten fold. All sparkling sincerity.

“Charlotte.“

A gust of morning breeze chilled Gideon‘s sweat damp skin as he faced Charlotte fully. Some of his classmates had stopped their warm-ups, curiosity written large across their faces while they turned to them. Even the teacher glanced over as he placed the wooden basket with slingshots and practice ammunition next to the target posts he had been setting up.

“I‘m no snitch. Didn‘t tell anything to anyone-“ Gideon hissed, whisper silent.

“Calm down.“ Charlotte chuckled, blue eyes glittering amused. “I‘m here to enroll as a student myself.“

He bristled. “What?“

Gideon‘s jaw tightened, thoughts working a mile a minute, as he tried to see through her intention. There was no way she would enlist just to make sure he kept his mouth shut. “The semester has just begun. You guys know that, right? Next registration is five months from now.“

Charlotte's lips twitched around a wry grin. “He who doesn‘t fight has already lost. But-“ White teeth nipped at pink lips and left small indentations in the wake of her uncertainty. “Sahar are you sure you want to do this? If you get hurt and-“ Blue eyes wandered to his right arm, lingered, flitted back up to his face. “...-the entire village could find out.“

“I- I I I-“ Sahar inhaled deeply, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shorts. “I‘m tired of hiding. You just, just said it. He who doesn‘t fight- I don‘t want to to to to lose the life I could have because I, I‘m,- because I‘m too scared to to to to go and live it.“

Determination burned under Sahar‘s gentleness, like fire hidden in a tree-trunk, simmering just underneath the surface. Gideon‘s heart hammered against his ribs. He felt hot, burned under the same determined gaze his brother had worn on the day of his death. The shadow of a ghost flickering to life in someone else‘s eyes.

The long sleeves of Sahar‘s moss green shirt covered the scar the spider's tooth must have carved deep inside his flesh, and Gideon‘s stomach flipped at the memory. It had taken forever to wash Sahar‘s blood from his skin, out of his clothes.Warm crimson red was still smeared on the inner walls of his head like a cave painting, illustrating his own future in violent shades of doubt and hope.

“Who do you think you are?“ Dillan‘s sharp voice cut through the breeze and Gideon’s thoughts snapped back like a rubber band. Dillan‘s pale blue eyes narrowed as he marched across the training ground, blond hair flopping over his wide forehead and narrow shoulders squared. “Wanting to apply in the middle of term? There are rules here!“

“Who do we think we are?“ Charlotte‘s lips curled. “Let me shoot that question right back at you-“ Cold blue eyes dropped to the red stripes embroidered to the sleeves of every first year‘s uniform. “Neophyte.“

Dillan reminded Gideon of a particularly offended fish with his wide watery eyes and small mouth, opening and closing to gulp in air.

Sahar glanced at Charlotte, full of disbelief as he said exactly what Gideon was thinking. “Cha, Charlotte we, we, we aren‘t even students-“

“But-“ she cut him off, voice gentling a fraction, before her tone sharpened once more. “We grew up here. This village is our home and we nearly died protecting it. I won‘t let a little incomer from the city lecture me about how things work in my own village.“

The color of Dillan‘s face resembled a fire bug more than human skin and neither Gideon nor Sahar could hold back their grins. If you could call the soft bashful twitch of Sahar‘s lips that.

Just as Dillan got ready to retaliate, brows drawn tight and hands balled into tight fists, their teacher strode over. Gravel crunched under the man's heavy steps until he came to a halt just behind Dillan, casting his student in the shadow of his wide shoulders. His black beard shifted with the quirk of his lips. Dark eyes twinkled, bemused.

“We teachers were already wondering if you two troublemakers would end up here. Well, I guess I owe Sybil dinner now.“

Gideon‘s brows raised nearly to his hairline. “What‘s that supposed to mean?“

“I would like to know that as well, Mister Bassam.“ Dillan protested.

“Well,“ Bassam chuckled, relishing the confused faces all around him. “C‘mon guys, did you really think we wouldn‘t talk about you three saving a bunch of children and fighting off a spider. Even if you said you weren‘t the ones to strike it down, that's still a huge feat. You should be proud of yourselves. Especially you, young man.“

Bassam‘s large hand clapped Sahar on his right shoulder and made all three of them wince. Sahar‘s fingers began to frantically tap his thigh, but nothing else happened. If Bassam had noticed anything he graciously ignored Sahar‘s display of nerves.

“Jumping that monster with nothing but an old firewood axe. The kids won‘t shut up about it down at the tea house, let me tell you.“

“Oh oh oh, yeah?“ Sahar flushed.

Charlotte sighed. “And I told them to keep it down.“

“Well, be glad they didn‘t, or we wouldn‘t consider giving two penniless orphans the chance to join nearly a month late into term.“

“Wait.“ Gideon burst out, gesturing wildly at Sahar and Charlotte. A cocktail of worry and apprehension pumped through his veins. “You mean they‘re in? Just like that?“

“No, no. Not quite. You two still have to pass our entrance exam. We do have standards here, after all.“ Bassam, whose hand still rested on Sahar‘s shoulder, began to gently push him forward. “C‘mon you two. We‘ll talk in detail in the principal's office. And the rest of you, five rounds around the field. Hade, hade, there is never too much warm up.“

Everyone groaned in frustration except for Kaida who jogged towards Gideon with a wide grin, black bowl cut shining in the sun. He turned around and started running.