#i don’t think badly of my coworkers and a few of them try to make sure we find some time to switch off but it doesn’t happen much :|

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[beauzos]

Trying not to get mad every time I come into work bcs every fucking day I get put on register for a vast majority of, if not all of, each shift. Im so sick of it. I miss shelving and being on the floor this is lame as fuck

[imagineteamfreewill]

Powerful Magic

Title: Powerful Magic

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 13.7k

Warnings: Brief language, witches, magic/curses, frequent mentions of death and dying, crying, very light blood, angst, fluff

Summary: While on a witch hunt in Boston, Sam puts his life on the line to save Y/N. When he begins to suffer from the effects of the magic the next morning, they’re forced into an impossible situation with no way out. 

A/N: This is a commission for the lovely @park-simphwa. Thank you to them for giving me such a fun prompt to write, and thank you to everyone who supports me in a million other ways. As always, I hope you enjoy this story!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You aren’t expecting to run into anyone on the grocery run, least of all your old hunting partner, but life’s been throwing fireball after fireball at you lately, so you really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been years since you’ve seen Jason, and somehow he still looks exactly the same, maybe with a few more wrinkles and scars. His hair is still greasy and cropped close to his skull, and you can smell the cigarettes on him even from where you stand a few feet away. His boots are caked with dried mud that sprinkles across the tile of the grocery store every time he shifts his weight or takes a step to get out of someone’s way, which is often because he’s always been the type of guy that thinks of himself first and others second.

Smiling tightly, you yank your cart closer to the shelves of jarred salsa and bottles of colorful sodas to make room for people trying to get by, and you use that movement to look over your shoulder. There’s no sign of Sam or Dean.

Damnit.

“So, how’ve you been?” Jason asks. “You look good, Y/N.”

You nod. “Good, fine. How about you? Are you still…?” You don’t dare utter the words aloud, but Jason gets the hint. He nods.

“Still in pest control. It keeps me busy.” He grins, and you try not to grimace at the yellow tinge of his teeth. How had you ignored all of his red flags for so long? With the exception of your last hunt together, it’s not like Jason was necessarily a bad guy, he was just gross and inconsiderate. On top of the constant smoking, he always took too long to shower after coming back from hunts. You know for a fact that he only brushed his teeth once a week. Plus, you don’t remember ever seeing him do laundry, though logically, he’d done it at some point… Right? Or maybe you’d just gotten used to the stench.

“There you are,” Sam’s voice in your ear makes you shiver, but his hand on your lower back warms you right back up. “I was looking for you.” He pauses. “Who’s this?”

You glance up at him, smiling in relief. Sam doesn’t smile back. His face is a hard mask of protectiveness, one that you’re always grateful for, even if it’s being wasted. You know that he’s amping it up a little just because you were approached while he was out of sight. He’s always a little more protective when he thinks you’re getting hit on by some creep. You can’t count the number of times he’s pretended to be your boyfriend to help you avoid men hitting on you at the skeevy dive bars that you always seem to find after hunts. Part of you should be offended that he’s stepping in instead of letting you handle it yourself, but you know he doesn’t do it because he doesn’t think you’re capable. Sam does it because you shouldn’t have to fend them off on your own. You shouldn’t have to be in that position, but because you are, he’s not going to let you be there alone.

“This is Jason. He’s an old coworker, from before I joined up with you and Dean. Jason, this is my…”

You hesitate, instantly knowing that you shouldn’t. You and Sam are just friends. It doesn’t matter how badly you want to be more than that, or how easily the two of you fall into the rhythm of a fake relationship, both for a moment in the grocery store or for a week-long hunt. It doesn’t matter that Dean insists his younger brother likes you. It doesn’t matter what Sam said the one time you’ve seen him really, truly drunk. You’re just friends.

“—friend,” Sam finishes. He holds out his right hand, and his fierce expression has been replaced with a polite smile, though you can tell it’s fake. You know him well, but for a second, he almost looks a bit jealous. “Sam.”

Jason shakes his hand with both eyebrows raised. His smile had faded the second Sam approached, but now he seems uneasy. “Sam. And… Dean?” He glances between you and Sam. “As in…?”

You cut him off with a quick, “I’m so sorry, Jason, but we’re really cutting it close on time.” His mouth snaps shut and he has the decency to look chagrined. Anyone with any common sense in the hunting world knows not to name names, especially last ones. You never know who might be listening.

“She’s right. Dean’s waiting on us, and we’ve got to get back on the road. It was great meeting you,” Sam adds. “Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” His hand drops from the small of your back. You try not to let your disappointment show.

With one last smile and a promise to keep in touch, even though all three of you know that you won’t, you make a u-turn with the cart and walk with Sam toward the checkout lanes. He doesn’t say anything as the two of you unload the items onto the belt, nor does he say anything as the items are scanned and bagged. Your stomach churns as the tension crackles between you. Why had you hesitated? Why had you acted so weird? Had Sam really been jealous, or did you just imagine it?

Chill out, you think as you load the bags of groceries into the cart. Sam pulls out his wallet and swipes his latest fraudulent card, then takes the receipt. You watch out of the corner of his eye as he tucks the card into the left hand pocket, the one he reserves for cards he’ll need to ditch soon.

You’re going to make this worse if you don’t relax.

You follow him out to the Impala, pushing the cart slow enough that you won’t run into him if he stops. Dean is already leaning against the side of the car. He has an energy drink in one hand and his phone in the other. Whatever else he decided to buy has already been loaded into the trunk. He glances between you and Sam as you get closer, clearly sensing something is off, and you watch as he straightens and deposits his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks.

Before you can answer, Sam nods. “Yeah, all good. They were out of the soup you wanted.”

Dean grumbles to himself and opens the trunk, then helps you unload the groceries. His three bags of purchases are already tucked into the back, and you’re careful not to load anything on top of them in case he bought something that could get squished. As you work, Sam goes around to the passenger side and takes his seat, shutting the door behind him.

“What happened?” Dean asks you. He rearranges some of the bags you’ve put onto the trunk’s false bottom. Though there’s plenty of noise to talk over in the busy parking lot, he keeps his voice quiet enough that Sam won’t be able to hear it through the backseat. 

You don’t meet his eyes. “Nothing. Just ran into an old partner of mine, that’s all.”

“Partner?” You can feel his gaze on you, and your cheeks grow warm.

“Not like that,” you huff. “We were just… partners. For a while, it could have been something else, but it never happened.”

“Why not?”

Unloading the last bag, you glance up at the storefront, where Jason is exiting. He’s only got two bags in hand, but there’s a six-pack of beer tucked under his arm. He already has a cigarette tucked between his lips. Dean looks past you and grunts a little.

“If that’s him, I can see why.”

“Be nice,” you tell him.

“Was he at least a good guy?” 

You shrug. “He wasn’t bad. Just kinda gross, that’s all.”

Dean grabs your arm before you can walk away with the cart. You look back at him, and he’s watching you with the same protective glint in his eye that Sam had inside the store.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, and you shake your head. “Did he say something to you in there?”

“No. That’s not why it was weird.”

“I gotta know if something happened, Y/N. If I’m gonna ride in the car with the two of you—”

“I hesitated, okay?” you answer, yanking yourself free from his grip. Your cheeks are definitely hot now, and it’s not the sun. It’s still cloudy from last night’s storm. “I went to introduce Sam and I hesitated.”

Dean is staring at you like you’ve just broken into song. “You hesitated?”

Sighing, you look up at the clouds, willing yourself not to be so embarrassed by this. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal. 

“Yes, I hesitated. Instead of just saying that his name was Sam, I said, ‘This is Sam, my….’” You gesture with the hand not holding the cart, letting the unfinished sentence hang in the air.

His face twists. “Oh. Rookie move, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So what did you end up saying?” Dean asks.

“I didn’t. Sam finished and said he was my friend.”

“And you want to be more than friends.”

“I didn’t say that,” you quickly reply, but you look away, and your cover is ruined.

“Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that he likes you? You two are driving me insane. I’m going to lose my mind before we ever get to Boston if this keeps up.”

You roll your eyes and head towards the cart corral, then push the cart in with the others. Dean’s already in the driver’s seat by the time you start walking back, and he starts pulling out of the spot as soon as you have the back door shut. Sam doesn’t say anything. You cast him a quick glance, but that’s all you risk as you settle into your usual spot with the book he’s loaned you. It isn’t one you’re particularly interested in, but you’ve traded books for the trip. You’re fairly certain that you got the short end of the stick. Despite the years of friendship under your belt, he never takes your book suggestions. Then again, you don’t take his.

The universe finally takes mercy on you, and the rest of the drive to Boston goes by faster than expected. You have one overnight stay in a motel, but the boys decide to get two rooms instead of one, so you get a queen size bed and the bathroom all to yourself. 

Once in Boston, you check in to a second motel, then head out to get your bearings. The person who sent the information to Dean had only given you the address for the hotel where the witch is supposedly hiding out, plus the names of two of the victims. Sam decides to look at some old, non-digitized records of the hotel, so you go with him, knowing that if you go with Dean, you’ll most likely end up at the morgue. You’re not really in the mood for a dead body. You’ll take an afternoon with your best friend over that any day, even if your best friend is currently giving you the cold shoulder.

You’re in one of the reservable rooms at the library, looking over the papers and logbooks spread out over the table, when Sam finally brings up the grocery store incident.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look up from the patron log you’ve been carefully sorting through.

“Yeah, why?” You try not to seem surprised that he’s asking, considering he hasn’t said much of anything to you since you left the grocery store over 24 hours ago.

“You’ve been quiet since we ran into Jason.”

You shrug a little and look back down at the page, then flip it over to look at the names listed on the back. “I’ve been reading the book you loaned me.”

“It’s not that,” he says. “This is your ‘I made a mistake’ quiet.”

Not knowing how to answer, you keep your eyes on the book in front of you. Sam stares at you, and you can feel him watching you as you gingerly turn the page again.

“I don’t want to press—”

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” you finally say, still not looking up. It’s the truth, even if it’s not the whole truth. “It just… caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not every day you run into someone that almost got you killed, you know? And then I was flustered when I introduced you, and I panicked. I was worried that maybe you were offended because I got all tongue-tied.”

He’s quiet for a second. You risk a glance in his direction, only to find that Sam is already watching you.

“What?” you ask. You fidget with the corner of the paper for a second, and then you have to force yourself to release it before you damage the time-worn parchment. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—”

“No, that’s not it,” Sam interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not offended, Y/N. I don’t think you could ever offend me.”

The tension between you breaks, and you grin at him. “Oh yeah? Not ever?”

He laughs and pulls his laptop over to where he’s sitting. “Well, maybe if you—”

“No, you can’t take it back now!” you laugh. You scoot your chair closer to his, closing the palpable gap that had been left between you. Sam shifts his stuff to make room for you, and you smile wide, happy to have your friend back. You try to ignore the way your heart leaps into your throat for a brief moment after his hand brushes yours.

You continue researching, but only a couple minutes have passed before Sam clears his throat and speaks up again.

“So, you and Jason,” he starts, and you close the logbook. There’s nothing useful in it and you add it to the growing pile of books you’ve finished.

“What about me and Jason?”

“Were you ever… together?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Like, dating?” Sam nods and you grab another book, not wanting to look at him when you answer, “Yeah, for a little while, right before we split.”

“Ah.”

“Mm-hmm.” You open the book, silently hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions about Jason. The two of you have never really talked about any of your past partners. It’s a sore subject for Sam, so you’ve respected the territory, even though you’ve come dangerously close on a few occasions. You usually don’t mind, considering you’d have to lie if he asked if you were interested in dating, and he can always tell if you’re lying.

“You said he almost got you killed,” Sam says, his voice a little softer. His fingers stall over his laptop keyboard, and the screen goes black.

You look up from the book and he’s watching you carefully, gauging your reaction. He knows how hard it can be to discuss the past, and you’re in public. It’s not exactly the safest place for a hunter heart-to-heart. These kinds of conversations are best held in the bunker, or late at night in a motel room.

After a second, you nod. “Yeah. He… He used me as bait, and I didn’t know that was the plan. And then, while he was waiting for them to approach me, he got drunk. He showed up much, much later than he should have.”

You have to look away and swallow the lump in your throat. Under the table, Sam finds your hand and squeezes. 

“I promise to never do that to you,” he tells you, with such conviction that tears spring up in your eyes.

You squeeze his hand in return, blinking quickly to clear your vision. “I know.”

“I will always keep you safe, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Nodding, you look up and take a steadying breath, then smile a little. Sam’s expression doesn’t change. He’s not smiling back at you. Instead, he’s staring at you with an unmatched ferocity, and your smile fades.

“I know,” you gently reply. “I’ve never doubted that.”

You and Sam stare at each other for a long few moments. The other patrons in the library continue to go about their business, and he holds your hand under the table until his phone chimes loudly and several people look over. Sam pulls away first, reaching for the phone. You turn back to the book, feeling like a rug’s been pulled out from underneath your feet. 

What was that all about?

You and Sam have spent countless hours alone together, even going so far as to pose as a couple on a hunt, but it’s never felt like this before. He’s never been so adamant that you know he cares about you and your safety, and he’s never asked about your past love life. Sam’s a passionate guy, too, but you rarely see this side of him. His passion is normally directed toward hunts, or toward the academic subjects and topics he studies in his free time.

“Dean’s got a lead,” Sam relays, staring at the message on his phone. He texts back a response as you nod and begin to pack up. He puts his phone away and starts to help, and you finish cleaning up together, bumping elbows and hands as you stack the materials the way they’d come. Sam carries them back to the circulation desk before you can offer to help, leaving you to follow behind. You don’t mind.

As soon as the three of you are together again, Dean drives to the abandoned hotel and parks in an alley, far enough back from the street that you won’t be easily seen. You unload the guns and witch-killing bullets while they compare notes. You listen in silence as you load all three weapons. The whole thing sounds very straightforward.

“Ready?” Sam asks, and you nod, holding out his gun. He takes it and gives it a quick once-over before nodding his approval. Dean does the same.

You decide to head into the hotel through the old maintenance entrance. The two victims had been found just outside the door, and you quickly discover that it was the right choice. Dean taps on your shoulder only a minute after you enter the building, then points at a bookshelf half-full of spell ingredients. Jars of all shapes and sizes hold everything from small animal bones to a shimmering blue liquid that reminds you of the “potions” you would make using various soaps and shampoos as a kid. It’s one of the few memories you and Sam have in common from your childhoods, though you made yours at your house and his toiletries came from a long string of motels. 

There’s another tap on your shoulder and you glance behind you at Sam, who gestures to your left with his gun. You turn down the hallway, following the sound of shuffling that you hadn’t heard before. It gets louder as you get closer, and then the person begins to chant. Her voice is deep and rich, and without realizing it, you’re lowering your gun. All you want to do is listen. The Latin is almost melodic.

“What are you doing?” Dean hisses. He pulls you away from an open doorway by the collar of your jacket. You stumble and blink at him.

“She okay?” Sam whispers. 

“I have to…” You struggle to voice the burning desire inside of you, the little voice in your head telling you to find the witch. Deep down, you know that it’s dangerous and that you’re being affected by whatever spell she’s performing, but your hands move of their own accord, pushing the boys out of your way. 

Stop! You have to fight this, you think, but it’s as if your conscience is behind a thick glass pane. Your own thoughts feel muffled and far away. They’re useless against the effects of the witch’s magic.

Sam reaches for you, and you dodge him as you duck into the next room of the hotel. It’s an old ballroom with high, vaulted ceilings. A dusty chandelier with cracked crystal pendants hangs precariously over the center of the patterned dance floor, and cobwebs are strung up in every corner. Broken tables and chairs are pushed against one wall, and boarded up windows separate you from the garbage-littered street outside. A balcony winds around two of the walls, with the staircase behind the witch. The banister is made of marble columns and a dark wooden handrail coated with a thin layer of dust. Lit candles litter the floor, and beneath the chandelier, the witch stands surrounded by metal bowls of ingredients and a sigil painted in white.

She reaches out a hand for you when you enter. You’re in a daze, and as your feet carry you closer to her, your gut churns. Something inside you is screaming—every hunter’s instinct you have is telling you to lift your gun and shoot, but you reach down and place your weapon on the dusty tile instead. 

Chanting louder, the witch’s eyes begin to glow a vibrant red. An aura around her does the same, and your breath hitches at the sight. 

This is wrong!

She smiles then, beckoning you with her fingers, and the sudden onset of nerves dissipates. You smile back, taking another step. 

“Y/N!”

Dean’s voice makes you blink, and you flinch when a gunshot goes off behind you. It hits the banister behind the witch. Her volume increases again, reeling you back in as she pulls a thin, jagged knife from a sheath at her hip. Letters etched onto the blade glow red as well, and your eyes are drawn to it. Your mouth feels dry as you shuffle forward, entirely focused on the weapon in her hand.

“That’s it,” the witch coos, now finished with the incantation. “It’s alright, dear one.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Another shot rings out, but it sounds far away as you step closer. You’re almost to the edge of the sigil. Two more steps and you’ll be within her reach.

Someone grabs your arm, yanking you backwards. She screams a horrible scream, one that makes you shudder and cringe as an arm winds around your stomach, pulling you even further away. Your feet drag across the floor and you cling to the arm of whoever’s holding you. You’re torn between fighting them and letting yourself be rescued, but then the glow from the witch’s eyes fade. You gasp for air, feeling her hold on you relax.

“Dean,” you croak. You can’t see his face, but the feel of his jacket against your palms is familiar and comforting. Your throat feels raw, as if you’ve been screaming for hours. You go to say something, to warn him that her spell is almost finished, when the red light concentrates at her fingertips. “Dean!” 

There’s a flash of red. You close your eyes, turning your head away as Dean pulls you harder against him and whirls around so his back is toward the witch. Over the witch’s shout, you hear Sam yell something, and then there’s a heavy thud.

“Sammy!” Dean releases you, cursing, and you fall to your hands and knees. 

You yelp when you hit the floor. Your bones immediately ache from the impact, and you stay there for a minute. You know that you’ve messed up. Guilt blooms in the center of your chest and tears well up in your eyes. You feel weak and, for a second, violated. You should’ve been able to resist the witch’s magic.

Get it together, you silently order. You have to focus. You can feel bad after you kill her.

“Y/N!”

Looking over, you see Dean crouching beside his brother, who’s laid out on his side. Sam’s eyes are closed and your chest tightens.

“Sam!” you cry, and you scramble over to where he lays just outside the witch’s sigil.

Dean rolls him onto his back, and you kneel beside him, cradling his face in both hands as you search for any sign of life.

“Sam? Sam, wake up,” you plead.

“He’s still breathing,” Dean tells you. “She knocked him out with whatever that was.”

“Please, Sam. Please, open your eyes.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding, and you’re crying by the time he inhales sharply through his nose and blinks his eyes open. They immediately focus on you.

“Thank God,” you sob, and you throw yourself on top of him, hugging him tightly. Sam’s hand comes up to pat at your back.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Sam grunts and winces as you pull back to look at him. “I think so,” he says after a second. “Did you get her?”

You shake your head and take a shaky breath, wiping at your cheeks and eyes. You sniffle for good measure, then say, “She got away, but she hit you with something. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

He shakes his head back at you, then closes his eyes. “It’s not your fault. She was more powerful than we thought,” he tells you. With his eyes still closed, he feels for your hand. He squeezes it when he finds it, and you squeeze back, just like you had in the library.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asks. “You hit the floor pretty hard.”

“Just give me a minute.”

After several minutes, Sam slowly sits up. You and Dean help him to his feet, and then the three of you make your way back through the hotel to the car. Sam seems mostly himself on the drive back to the motel, but you’re on edge. You watch him carefully, cataloging anything that’s even slightly out of character.

“We’ll have to keep you awake tonight, make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Dean says as he sheds his jacket. He throws it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

“I definitely have a headache,” Sam replies. He moves slowly and stiffly, and you don’t blame him. You’ve been thrown to the floor dozens of times. It never hurts any less.

“I’ll take first shift,” you tell Dean. “Clean up and get some rest.”

He nods and heads into the bathroom while you help Sam get settled on the bed. You take his jacket from him, carefully noting how he winces when he moves his right shoulder, and drape it over the second chair.

“It’s a good thing we’re friends,” Sam says. He takes off his socks and shoes, then positions the pillows behind him so he can sit up against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Huh?” Your heart skips a beat. What’s he talking about?

“It would really suck staying up with me,” he clarifies. “If we weren’t friends, that is.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You smile a little before plugging in your phone. “You want some water?”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You freeze, fiddling with the lid of the ice bucket. You’ve got your back to him, so he can’t see the way you close your eyes, but he’s caught on to your lingering guilt much sooner than you hoped he would. You were hoping that Dean would at least be asleep before you had to have this conversation.

“I’m fine,” you answer. You grab the bucket and turn, giving him a forced smile. “Just tired. I’m gonna go get some ice.”

Sam swings his legs back over the side of the bed. He tries to hide his wince, but you catch it. You always do.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“You already took your shoes off.”

“What’s a little tetanus between friends?” He smiles at you and stands. You step closer, ready to steady him if needed. He’s fine, however, and he takes the ice bucket from you before gesturing toward the door.

Unable to argue, you lead him outside. The two of you walk in silence until you hear the door click shut. You’re already several rooms down, but the motel is larger than most, and the only working ice machine is in the tiny vending machine room at the far end of the building.

“What happened back at the hotel?” Sam asks.

You know he won’t judge you, but you keep your gaze forward. You don’t want to see his expression.

When you haven’t replied after passing several rooms, he gently asks, “Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets. You’re glad you kept it on. There’s a receipt in one of the pockets and you crush it into a ball as you continue, “Whatever spell she was doing… It’s like it was directed at me. I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late, but by then I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control myself. I was just—”

You inhale sharply and stop walking, looking up at the dilapidated roof covering the motel walkway. You’re blinking away tears again, and you hate how weak you feel. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says. He moves to stand in front of you, blocking the sun as it sets over the motel parking lot. “She was more powerful than we anticipated.”

Sniffling, you cross your arms over your chest and stare at one of the support columns off to the side. “I know.”

“You’re still you,” Sam says.

“What?”

“You’re still you,” he repeats. “No matter how her magic affected you, you’re still you. You’re not any less strong or smart or tough than you were before we went into that building.”

Tears truly well up at his words and you look up again, letting out a weak chuckle. “How is it that you know exactly what to say?” You wipe at your eyes and take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself.

When you finally meet his gaze, Sam answers, “Because I know you better than anyone else, and because I’ve been where you are. And you know what you told me the last time I was doubting myself because of all the crap I’ve been through?”

You sniffle and force a wobbly smile, remembering the late-night conversation you’d had months ago after he’d had a particularly awful nightmare. “That you’re still you,” you repeat. “And that we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”

Sam smiles back. After a second, he tilts his head to the side, toward the door to the vending machine room. You nod and start walking again, and he falls into step beside you. The silence that settles between you is comfortable again, and the knots in your stomach have loosened with his reassurance.

You get back to the room to find Dean already asleep, face-down on the bed. Sam climbs back into bed as well, and you fill up both your and his water bottles with ice water. He takes it with a silent, grateful smile. You slide under the covers beside him, intent on researching the witch on your laptop while he reads on his phone. You probably should yell at him for staring at a screen with a possible concussion, but you both know that he’s had so many that a few hours in front of a screen won’t kill him at this point.

Dean wakes up a few hours later and switches places with you. Though you know you should probably shower before you sleep, resting up is more important if you’re going to find the witch sooner rather than later.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. Just tired.”

“Maybe you should hang tight for today, try and get some sleep while Y/N and I do a little more research.”

You blink your eyes open and immediately squint. Dean must have every light in the motel room on. You swear he does it to spite you, and you groan in protest.

“Good morning to you too,” he teases, stepping into your line of vision.

You throw a pillow at him, and Dean catches it with one hand, laughing. You grunt and push yourself up with one hand, using the other to rub at your eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” Sam asks.

Yawning, you start to answer, but you stop as soon as you see him. Sam looks awful. His skin is pale and drawn, and the bags under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen. He gives you a weak smile.

“We’re heading to the diner down the street for breakfast,” he says. “You wanna come with?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean replies. He pulls on his jacket and digs the keys out of his pocket. “Except back to bed.”

You sit up a little more, frowning. “You sure you’re not sick?” you ask Sam. “I mean, I’ve seen you when you’re tired, but you look…”

“Like he’s been hit with a spell,” finishes Dean. “I’ve already told him that, but he says that the witch didn’t say anything when she hit him with that freaky red light.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam says. He stands from the side of the bed, but he instantly starts to sway. You’re on your feet in a split-second, steadying him with a hand on his arm.

“Maybe you should stay here,” you quietly suggest. You glance over at Dean, who holds up his hands.

“I’ll be in the car,” Dean tells you, and you nod. 

You and Sam stand in silence until Dean’s gone and the door shuts behind him. Then, you look at him with as stern a look as you can muster having just woken up.

“Be honest.”

“I’m tired.”

“Sam.”

He sighs.

“Sam.”

“I’m… exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired in my life, and I want to sleep, but I’m scared,” he admits.

Your eyebrows push together as you frown even harder, and you guide him to sit beside you on the edge of his bed. “Why are you scared?”

“The witch didn’t say anything when she hit me with whatever it was, but we also know that her magic was strong enough to affect you from several rooms away,” Sam says. “If she did something to me, we have no clues as to what it is.”

You hum a little, mulling over his words for a second before looking over at him. “What if I gave Rowena a call? Had her come check you over, see if there’s any kind of lingering effect we haven’t seen yet?”

Sam takes a deep breath, then exhales and shakes his head. “We already owe her.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay. You’re my best friend, Sam. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Because I wouldn’t know what to do without you. Those words go unspoken, but you hope he hears them regardless.

Nodding, Sam replies, “Okay. Okay. I’ll… I’ll give her a call.”

“No, I’ll do it. You should rest. I’ll keep an eye on you,” you assure him. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Sam.”

He smiles just a little bit, though you can tell it’s only for your sake. “You always do.”

You get up to grab your phone from where you’d left it charging, and Sam slowly lays back on the bed. As you type out a text to Rowena, you try to remember if the witch really hadn’t said something, or if you’ve just forgotten it.

“I’m gonna text Dean and let him know to go ahead without me. Do you want him to get you anything?” you ask. He doesn’t reply. “Sam? Did you hear—”

Turning, you stop when you see Sam has his eyes closed. For a second, you worry that he’s dead, and you hold your breath as you wait to see his chest move. When it does, you exhale heavily.

He’s okay, you reassure yourself. He’s going to be just fine.

You shoot a quick text to Dean with your order, plus a few things that Sam might want, and Rowena replies as soon as you’re done. She’s nearby. 

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. Sam sleeps for an hour or so at a time. Every time he wakes, he looks more tired than before, and the smaller-than-usual meals he eats don’t seem to help him at all. It’s hard to tell since he’s been in bed most of the day, but when he gets up around dinnertime, he looks thinner. 

Dean’s pacing the length of the room by the time Rowena shows up at the door, and you’re in even worse condition. You’re pretty sure that if she’d shown up any later, he might actually have relented and taken Sam to a hospital. You caught a glimpse of his phone when he passed by and he had the directions already open on his maps app.

Rowena stands beside the bed and moves her hands over Sam’s chest. He’s awake now, and he stares straight up at the ceiling as she works. A soft glow emanates from her palms, but as you watch from a few feet away, it strengthens, turning from golden to crimson to a vibrant purple.

“Well?” Dean asks. He shifts in place by the small dining table. His fingers twitch and he makes a fist with one hand. “Is he alright?”

She drops her hands and turns to face the two of you. Sam sits back up against the headboard, and you glance over at him. His eyes are bloodshot, as if he hasn’t slept in days. You’ve seen him look like this before, but it’s never been this concerning. He’s never managed to look this ragged so quickly.

“It’s a siphoning curse,” she explains, adjusting the jacket she’s wearing over her black jumpsuit. 

“Siphoning?” Dean questions. “Siphoning what?”

“Life.”

You suck in a breath. It’s cold against your teeth, and Sam meets your eyes. There’s recognition in them, and not in a good way. A lump forms in your throat as you turn back to Rowena.

“Life?” you ask her. “But… Then…”

“I’ll die,” Sam finishes.

You blink. Your eyes burn and you frantically shake your head, taking a deep breath. Inside your chest, your lungs stutter as you try to compose yourself.

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No. There’s got to be a way.”

Rowena purses her lips a little. She clearly knows more, and you take a step forward, clenching both hands into fists.

“Tell us,” you demand. “Tell us!”

You don’t mean to scream—you really don’t—but it just comes out. Dean reaches for you, grabbing your arm and looking toward the door with wide eyes as he listens for a response from anyone nearby who might have heard. Rowena doesn’t react. Swallowing thickly, you look from her to Sam, who has his eyes downcast and his hands folded in his lap. If you didn’t know any better, you might think he was sleeping, but the way he grimaces as you yank your arm from Dean’s tells you that he’s awake and listening.

Your throat feels raw and you swallow again. “How long?” you croak. 

“A week, at most,” Rowena adds. “It’s likely he will be unconscious for the last few days. It takes a lot of energy to stay awake, and his body will try to conserve as much as it can before it fully shuts down.”

Dean mutters a curse and shakes his head again. “No. There has to be a way. A counter-curse?”

Rowena shakes her head, and this time, her expression is almost apologetic. “I’m afraid not. Whoever cast this spell is very powerful, and it would take extremely powerful magic to reverse the curse.”

You look from her, to Sam, to Dean, and then finally back at her. Rowena is the most powerful witch you know.

“Can you reverse it?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she replies, meeting your gaze. Her lips press together in a sad smile. It’s the first show of genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, and it’s not enough. “But this is beyond even me.”

“And if we killed her?” Dean asks.

“It won’t have an effect. You still need the magic to reverse it. Not even the caster herself can reverse this particular curse once it’s taken hold.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Go home,” Sam finally says. It’s so quiet that you almost miss it in your hurry to ask about recruiting another witch to help you, but you stop with your mouth open. Sam opens his eyes and sighs softly. “We go home.”

“Bullshit. I’m not taking you home just so you can die!”

“Dean. Enough. You heard what she said.”

Rowena looks between Sam and Dean. After a moment, she says, “I need a moment alone with Samuel here.”

Immediately, Dean is on guard. He straightens up, standing tall as he stares her down with enough ire that you want to shirk back, and you’re not even on the receiving end of his glare.

“I might be able to give him some more time,” she gently adds. With more confidence than you think you could muster if you were in her shoes, she places a hand on Dean’s arm and takes one step forward, guiding him toward the door.

“One of us stays,” Dean answers, nodding his chin in your direction. 

Rowena nods, agreeing, “Y/N is welcome to stay, but you have a habit of riling him up. Big brothers always have a way of doing that, in my experience.”

“I need to know what you’re doing before you do it. No funny business,” he adds.

She nods again and gestures with one hand to the door. “Let’s talk outside.”

You stand by the dresser, watching as she leads Dean out of the room. He exits with one last look over his shoulder at Sam, but Rowena pacifies his worries with words too quiet for you to hear. She gives you a strange look before she follows him out and closes the door behind them.

You stare at the door for a second, then at the window adjacent. The white horizontal blinds have gaps in them after years of use, and you’re able to see Dean, then Rowena, as they move to the side to talk. Eventually, they walk away, most likely to the Impala for spell ingredients. Sam’s been keeping a small travel case in the trunk for the past year or so, especially since you’ve been away from the bunker more and more often.

As you wait for them to return, your gaze drifts back to Sam. He’s watching you.

“What?” you ask after a second.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” You wipe your cheeks with both hands, unsurprised that there are tears you hadn’t initially registered. “I probably look a mess right now.”

“Not any more than me, I’m sure,” he replies with a wry smile. You both fall silent for a minute before he continues, “You’re gonna be okay, you know.”

“What?” Your voice cracks. You hate it.

“Without me.”

You inhale through your nose and push your hair back, doing anything to keep your hands busy. “Don’t— Don’t talk like that. Rowena said she might be able to give you more time. We’ll find something, Sam. You’re not going to die.”

“I was going to die eventually. Everyone does.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” he asks.

You look up at the ceiling, staring for a few seconds at the circular brown water stain that stretches several feet into the room. You’re lucky it hasn’t rained in Boston since you arrived, judging by the darkness of the stain. The dark brown is unchanging, but it’s not enough to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you,” you finally say, your voice trembling.

Sam doesn’t answer, and when you look down at him, he’s wiping tears from his own face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly upset since Rowena broke the news.

Maybe it’s just finally settling in, you think.

His chest shudders as he takes a breath and it’s enough to propel you forward, to move you to his side. You stand beside the bed, staring down at him until he reaches for your hand. He grabs it with more strength than he’s shown all day and you suck in a sharp breath, tears welling up in your eyes all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam,” you whimper, and you use your free hand to wipe them away, but he shakes his head. He pulls you down until you’re sitting on the opposite side of him. Your legs are draped over his and your feet dangle over the edge of the bed. You lean against his shoulder and start to cry in earnest, and Sam holds you. He doesn’t ask you to stop, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your cries have petered out by the time Rowena and Dean come back into the room. You can’t bear to make eye contact with them as they return, so you stare at where Sam is holding your hand atop your knees. Besides letting out the occasional sniffle, you simply listen as Rowena explains her plan to help extend Sam’s life. It’s a complex spell, one you’ve never heard of. She claims it will only add a few days, essentially putting off the point where he’ll become comatose, but it’s more hope than you had before. Sam asks questions about the ingredients and the text and the magic, which Rowena answers somewhat impatiently. Dean is strangely quiet.

“You’ll have to move for the spell, dear,” Rowena gently instructs.

Nodding, you clumsily pull your legs from Sam’s lap and move to roll off the other side of the mattress, but Sam grabs your hand before you get too far. You look back at him, confused.

“Stay,” he says. “Please.”

After a second, you nod again, then settle against the headboard beside him. Sam carefully lays down on his back. He rests one arm in the space between his body and the edge of the bed, but he takes your hand with the other. You rub your thumb over his as Rowena takes her place on the other side of him and begins to mix the spell in the small copper bowl they’ve retrieved from the Impala.

She chants, her eyes glowing purple, and Sam squeezes your hand with a grunt. His grip is almost bone-crushing and it takes everything in you not to yelp.

Stay strong, you urge yourself. He can’t help it.

The glow of Rowena’s eyes grows so bright it’s blinding. You look away, closing your eyes and gritting your teeth as Sam squeezes your hand even tighter, but then suddenly, he releases you.

You open your eyes and look over to see him passed out beside you. The purple light is fading and your heart leaps into your chest.

“Sam?” 

“Sam!” Dean cries. He pushes Rowena backwards onto the other bed and pulls his gun on her. “What the hell did you do to him?”

She holds up her hands in defense as you shake Sam by the shoulder, then pat his cheek. “Your precious brother will be fine,” she soothes, a small smile on her face. “The spell takes some time to activate, like I told you. He’ll look better when he’s awake again.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you? Just like that?” Dean gestures a little with the gun, but it stays pointed in her direction.

Rowena scoffs. “Don’t forget that you came to me, Dean Winchester. You already owe me for the spell.”

You’re gentle as you check to make sure Sam’s still breathing. He is and you sit back on your feet.

“She’s right,” you say. “He’s still breathing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Rowena stares Dean down until he lowers the gun. She gives him a satisfied smile when he reluctantly tucks it back into his waistband, then stands and dusts off her hands. 

“Now,” she sighs, smoothing the wrinkles in her jumpsuit from where Dean had shoved her. “I believe some payment is in order.”

Dean turns around to look at you. For a second, you stare at each other, and you have the brief thought that he might do something stupid, or crazy, or both, but then he grits his teeth and his jaw clenches. That’s when you know that he’s fighting the urge to pull his gun back out. The only reason he hasn’t is because Sam’s life is already on the line. One bad choice could lead to Rowena casting another curse on him.

“Go,” you quietly urge. “I’ve got him.” You nod in encouragement, and Dean returns it with one terse nod of his own.

You carefully move Sam’s hands to rest on his stomach, then sit beside him as Dean leads Rowena back out to the Impala. Whatever he’s giving her as recompense for the spell, it must be valuable, because he comes back in with clenched fists and muttering curses under his breath. He begins to pace the length of the room again. You don’t interrupt. Your chest aches and an empty feeling grows as you think of what life will be like if you can’t save Sam. Dean’s jaw is still clenched, and you know he’s doing the same.

“We—” He stops by the door to the bathroom, lifting a hand, but he drops it back down by his side. “Y/N, we have to find something.” His voice breaks and a lump forms in your throat, just as tears form in Dean’s eyes.

You nod. “I know.”

“We’ll— I’ll give Jody a call, and Garth. Maybe they’ll know of another witch that can help us.”

You look down at Sam and inhale shakily. With one hand, you adjust the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt.

“I’m gonna take him home,” you tell Dean, not looking up.

“What?”

“He said he wanted to go home. I’m gonna take him home.”

“Like hell you are!”

Finally, you look up and meet Dean’s eyes. You have to take a second to breathe when you see him. You’ve been with Dean Winchester for plenty of hunts, but he’s never looked this afraid. He’s a man that laughs in the face of danger, not one whose hands tremble when he thinks about his brother dying.

“We have to try, Y/N,” Dean says, and he’s staring at you with eyes so wild that you find yourself gripping the motel sheets crumpled beside you. “I can’t just let him die. Not like this.”

You have no response. Dean will just argue if you try to reason with him, but you know that Sam isn’t one to prolong the inevitable. It doesn’t matter how terrified of a future without him you are. If he’s made his peace with it, then you need to consider doing the same.

Even if it kills me too, you think.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Okay.”

Dean swallows thickly, then nods once. “I’ll start calling. See what I can find.” He’s just looking for a reason to leave the room so you can’t see past his hardened exterior, and you both know it, but you don’t argue. 

You stare at the edge of the bed, just behind where he’d been standing, as he starts to leave. He’s made it to the door when you lift your head and look over at him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone needs to be in the bunker. It’s better if he goes with me than with you.” Before he can argue, you continue, “What if you need to check something against one of the books? Or if you need an ingredient we don’t keep in the car? What’s your plan then? Sam knows both the library and the storage rooms better than both of us combined, and he’ll be able to rest when he needs it. Plus, if I need to, I can try and recreate the spell Rowena cast to give him extra time.”

Dean is quiet for a minute, but you see him nod through the gaps in the metal floral divider that separates the door from the rest of the room.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then you two should get going. The sooner you’re there, the better.”

You’d driven together in the Impala, but it doesn’t take long for Dean to hotwire a car from the farthest row of the motel parking lot. The backseat is, mercifully, big enough for Sam to lay down without being at too strange an angle. You and Dean drag him from the room to the car together. You’re lucky that it’s getting dark and no one is out to watch the ordeal.

Dean loads your backpack and Sam’s duffel into the trunk. Then, he sends you off with a simple, “Drive safe,” and a hug. He holds you a little longer than normal, but you’re not opposed. It’s nice to know that you’re not alone in this.

The drive is uneventful. Sam sleeps for most of the night. He only wakes up a few times during the day for food and bathroom stops, and though he looks better since Rowena’s spell, he’s lost muscle mass and he still looks exhausted. You have to support him on the walk across the street to the motel the following night, but he falls asleep again almost as soon as he’s in bed. His sleep seems to be dreamless, and for that, you’re thankful.

You, on the other hand, don’t sleep much. You probably should, considering you haven’t slept in 24 hours, but your brain won’t turn off. You spend most of that night awake, listening to Sam breathe, texting Dean about his progress, and doing what research you can online. At some point you actually do fall asleep, and you wake to the sound of Sam stumbling across the room to the bathroom.

He’s getting weaker, you think, and you lay on your back, listening to the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running as you stare up at the ceiling. You’ve cried so much over the past few days that the thought of crying now is exhausting. You just don’t have the energy.

It’s not a strange occurrence for you to lay in bed and listen to the boys move around a motel room. There have been plenty of mornings that Dean has gone out for food while Sam showers after his run, leaving you to soak up a few more minutes of sleep under the covers. Now, you can’t help but feel a little nostalgic for all those mornings. You don’t have many more with Sam, and Dean can be unpredictable when he’s grieving. You’re not sure if he’ll go off on his own or if you’ll be able to stick together.

When the door creaks open, you turn on your side and meet Sam’s eyes. His face, which you’ve come to associate with bright mornings just as much as the sun itself, is gaunt. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re losing him bit by bit. His cheeks and eyes have begun to sink in as well, as if his body is collapsing inwards, like a black hole. The effects of Rowena’s spell seem to have been short-lived.

“Good morning.” He’s leaning against the open door frame of the bathroom, and he’s managed to pull on a pair of clean pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You try not to let your bad mood show. “Morning. How’re you feeling?” you ask.

Sam shrugs a little and his gaze wanders to the digital clock on the nightstand. You have no idea what time it is or how much you’ve slept. You’re lucky that your phone was plugged in when you finally fell asleep.

“Same as yesterday. Maybe a little bit more tired. Where are we?” asks Sam.

Sitting up, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head, then roll your shoulders and neck to try and release some tension. 

“Ohio,” you tell him. You roll over to grab your phone and check the time—it’s after eight, and you’ve missed half a dozen texts from Dean. None of them are useful. “We’ve only got one more day of driving if I can go straight through. It’s about twelve hours.”

“We can take shifts.”

You look over your shoulder and fix him with a look, raising your eyebrows. He doesn’t react and you stand, then toss your phone onto the bed as you pull your socks back on your feet.

“I’m not letting you drive, Sam.”

“I can do it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not risking it,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t risk it.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

You falter as you rummage through your backpack for your last set of clean clothes. Sam is staring at you from the bathroom doorway, you can feel it, but you don’t look up at him. After a second, you slowly go back to searching. 

“Does it matter?” you finally ask.

He shuffles toward you and grabs your wrist, stopping you. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. Reluctantly, you look up and meet his eyes. They’re just as resigned as yesterday, and though it makes your chest ache, you can’t look away.

“If I only have a week—”

“You don’t know that, Rowena cast that spell—”

“—then I want to spend it with you,” Sam finishes, and you peter out, not even bothering to finish your claim that Dean will be able to find something to save him. You know it’s not worth it, not if Sam’s made up his mind.

He continues, “I want to spend it doing all the things I love doing with you. You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

You close your eyes and turn away, hoping he doesn’t see the tear that slips out and runs down your cheek. You hate this. You’ve never felt this helpless before, not even when you’d been held captive for a week. In that situation, you’d known that the boys would find you and save you. You have no way of helping Sam out of this.

“I want…” Sam trails off, and he tugs on your wrist to pull you into a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around him and press the side of your face against him, keeping your eyes closed. 

I wish it was me, you think. I wish it was me instead of him.

“What are you thinking?” Sam whispers. His breath ruffles the hair on the top of your head.

“This is all my fault,” you reply. You can’t tell him what you’re really thinking without him lecturing you, so you pick the next best option. It’s really not that much better, if you’re being honest.

“Don’t say that,” he says. He squeezes you once. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Sam—”

“No, I love you, and I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. It’s not your fault, Y/N. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you quietly answer. It hurts to hear that Sam loves you. You know that he does—he’s your best friend, of course he loves you—but it hurts to know that he’ll never love you the way that you love him. He doesn’t have time to love you that way.

“I love you too,” you say after a moment. “I don’t…”

I have to tell him, you think. You start to pull away. Sam drops his arms, and he sits down as soon as he’s not touching you. The way he lowers himself to the edge of the mattress reminds you of some of the people you’ve seen in nursing homes while interviewing family members.

I can’t do this. He’ll just feel guilty.

“You don’t what?” Sam asks, and you look away.

“Never mind. I should get dressed,” you tell him. You turn back to the backpack and grab the clothes, then start heading to the bathroom with your clothes crumpled against your stomach. 

Sam reaches out with one hand and grabs your arm. “Talk to me.”

“Sam…”

“Please. I don’t want you to hide things from me because you think it’ll make me feel even worse. Trust me”—he lets out a wry laugh—“dying is the least of my worries right now.”

You freeze halfway to the bathroom, dropping your arms down to your side with your clothes clutched in one hand. After a second, you turn to face Sam, and you toss your clean clothes onto the bed behind him.

“That really doesn’t make this situation better,” you scoff. “I mean, come on, Sam! I’m about to lose the love of my life and he says that he’s not even worried about it? How’s that supposed to make me feel? Am I just supposed to be all, ‘Oh, okay! Let me tell you all about how I’ve had a massive crush on you—”

You stop talking the second you realize what you’re saying, which is much too late, and you snap your mouth shut. Sam stares at you with wide eyes and you stare back. Your heart is in your throat and when you finally feel embarrassed tears burning along your waterline, you turn around, clenching your hands into fists. 

Of all times for me to say that, you think, and you wish you could hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

“I’m gonna shower,” you manage to say. You take a step, then another, until finally, you’re locking the bathroom door behind yourself. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding inside your chest as your brain helpfully provides you with every possible outcome of the situation. None of them seem good. It should feel good to reveal the secret you’ve been holding so closely for years, but instead it’s only made you feel worse. On top of everything that Sam’s feeling and going through, he now has to deal with the news that you’re the biggest idiot on the planet. What kind of sappy Hallmark movie do you think you’re in? A hunter’s life doesn’t allow for love, let alone for a relationship with your hunting partner-slash-best friend.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly straighten up from the sink.

“Yeah?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I come in?” Sam asks. He jiggles the doorknob.

“Um..” Your voice trembles again and you inhale deeply through your nose as you open your eyes and look around. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a rat’s nest. The neckline of the old t-shirt you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning is stretched out and gaping, revealing a fading scar from a werewolf three weeks ago.

“You can say no,” Sam adds. “I can wait out here for you.”

Reaching out with one hand, you twist the doorknob and open the door. Sam has one hand against the door frame to help keep himself upright. Somehow he looks even worse than when you’d been by the bed just a minute before.

It’s probably just the lighting. He can’t be dying that quickly, right?

He doesn’t speak right away, so you step back into the bathroom and pull back the shower curtain, getting ready to start your shower. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I reacted to that poorly.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that,” you quietly admit, stopping just past the end of the counter. You don’t dare look up at him right now. Instead, you look down at a yellowed stain on the edge, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s not fair of me to tell you and then run away, especially since it’s too late.”

He leans forward, slowly entering the bathroom so you have time to back away. You don’t.

“Who says it’s too late? I know it’s not ideal, but I did say that I wanted to spend my time with you.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together as the new wave tears that have been forming finally escape. With one hand, you wipe them away and press your lips together. Sam pulls you into another hug.

“This is my worst nightmare,” you tell him. “I didn’t even know it was, but it is.”

“What? Spending time with me?”

A half-hearted laugh escapes you, and you blink your eyes a few times to try and clear the blurriness. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Sam kisses the top of your head and squeezes you once before dropping his arms so you can step away. Before you get too far, however, he reaches out to stop you.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says, and you look back at him. 

The bathroom is tiny. It’s barely big enough for a sink, toilet, and bathtub-shower combo, but it feels miniscule once Sam steps inside. He’s taking up the space between the wall and the sink, leaving you to stand with your back to the shower and both the toilet and the wall within fingertip distance.

“Finish what?” you ask. Your heart skips a beat and your mind begins to jump to conclusions. What could Sam possibly have to finish that involves you? He’s not about to confess his undying love for you, right? That would be too cheesy, and too predictable for a hunter’s life. You don’t deserve that kind of happy ending.

Then again, it’s not so happy if he dies right after. You push that thought away immediately and try to focus solely on Sam.

He takes both of your hands in his, and though he sways a little, he stays upright. You try not to think about how his grip seems less firm than it has in the past.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too. And it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way. You don’t have to pretend to try and make me feel better. I’m not offended.”

Sam shakes his head and lifts your hands a little. “I love you, Y/N. I—” He stops to cough, a deep, bone-shaking, chest-rattling cough that forces him to lean against the wall on his left. He has to drop your hands to steady himself and cover his mouth, but you step closer and place one on his shoulder, hoping it’s enough to let him know that you’re there. When he drops his hand from his mouth, there’s blood on the side of his fist. Without a word, you tear off a piece of toilet paper so he can wipe it away.

“I’ve always loved you,” Sam manages after a few moments. He wheezes a little, and clears his throat to try and get rid of the raspiness left by his coughing fit.

“What?”

“I’ve—”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I heard you. I just don’t understand.”

He frowns at you, and you glance away, hating that you’re making this difficult for him. He’s balled up the bloody scrap of toilet paper in one hand, but he pushes himself off the wall and drops it into the trash can next to the sink. Without the support, Sam wobbles, and you reach out to catch him before he can fall forwards.

“You should sit,” you urge, and he shakes his head again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Sam. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m not going to fall over. There’s no place to fall in here.”

“You could hit your head on the edge of the counter, or you could knock me over and we could both fall into the bathtub,” you argue. “You could land face-first on the toilet which sounds like a horrible way to be knocked unconscious. You could fall backwards and I wouldn’t have the chance to catch—”

You’re cut off when Sam slides one hand up to cup your jaw back with one hand, then tilt your head back to kiss you. He moves quicker than you’ve seen him move in since the curse, and you’re so shocked that it takes you a second to process what’s happening.

Sam Winchester is kissing me, you think, and you let your eyes fall closed when his fingers shift, weaving into your hair as he crowds infinitesimally closer to you. 

When he finally parts, pulling away just enough to catch his breath, you stay close, too. You can feel his chest heave a little as he breathes, and though it pains you to think that every time you kiss him from now on will be more and more difficult for him, you push those thoughts away. You want to savor this. You need to savor this.

“Sam,” you whisper, and he hums, then kisses you again. It’s shorter this time, and your hands migrate to fist in the loose fabric of the t-shirt at his sides.

“You kissed me,” you say the next time he pauses to breathe. He hums again and gives you another kiss. 

“Sam,” you insist, and he gives an impatient sigh. His hand moves to rest on your upper arm. The side of your face feels suddenly cooler in his absence.

Sam opens his eyes to look at you, and you pause for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You’ve always loved the way Sam looks—you’d be crazy not to—but it’s the first time you’ve felt it’s okay to unabashedly take in the brilliance of his eyes. Sam is beautiful, but he’s also intelligent, funny, caring, strong, and brave. You can see all of that just by looking at him. Maybe it’s a testament to how well you know him, or maybe he’s just that beautiful. 

Both, you think. The thought makes you grin, and you duck your head to try and hide it. It’s definitely both.

“What?” Sam asks, impatience clear, though he’s not angry. “What’s so important that I had to stop kissing you?”

“You kissed me!”

“I know,” he answers. He leans into your space a little more. “I’d like to do it again.”

There’s heat in your cheeks now. It’s hard to tell if it’s from how he’s making you feel or if it’s from his proximity, but you’re not complaining about either of those things.

“Why?”

He gives you a look, one that asks if you’re serious, but you don’t rescind the question. Finally, Sam drops his hand from your arm to your hand, and he fiddles with your fingers as he answers,

“Because I love you, Y/N. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be.”

You gape at him. “So when you said that you’ve always loved me…”

“I meant it.”

Your brain is whirling as you process the new information, and Sam moves to sit on the edge of the counter. He still has your hand, so he pulls you with him. You let him lead you the few steps without a fight.

“So you…” You lick your lips, and you swear that he zeroes in on the movement because his eyes seem to grow darker despite the bright white light from the fixture in the ceiling. “You like-like me?”

Sam’s eyes lift from your lips to meet your gaze. He stares at you a second, then grins wide and lets out a loud laugh. It’s almost a guffaw, and it makes the heat flare up in your cheeks all over again. You feel silly, like you’re a teenager all over again, just waiting for the cute boy in class to make you swoon.

“Like-like you?” he asks. “Definitely.”

He pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. His legs bracket you on either side. You close your eyes and revel in his warmth and the scent of laundry detergent and the motel shampoo that somehow always smells better on him than it does you. It’s something you’ve come to associate with him, oddly enough, but you’re grateful. Motel shampoo is a constant in your life and it will always be there, even if he’s not. 

Sam sways a little bit, leaning a bit more on you, and you open your eyes, moving your head back slightly so you can look at him. His head has lolled to the side and his mouth is parted slightly. His eyes are closed, but his eyelashes flutter as if he’s just asleep.

“Sam?” you ask. He doesn’t respond, and panic replaces the giddiness you’d felt only moments before. “Sam? Hey, wake up for me. Open your eyes.”

You unwind one arm from around him, pulling it towards your stomach and out from under his arm that’s still around you. You pat his cheek a little and look for any reaction, but there isn’t any.

Cursing, you try to maneuver him off the counter to the floor. It takes all your strength to keep him from collapsing or hitting anything on the way down. By the time you get him stretched out on the grimy tile and the towel that you pull from the bar on the wall to cushion his head, you’re sweating.

“Please wake up,” you plead, kneeling on his left, near shoulder. His breathing is steady, but he’s just as comatose as he was before.

After a few moments, you launch yourself up and out of the bathroom. Your phone is still plugged in on the nightstand, so you grab it and frantically dial Dean’s number as you hurry back to the bathroom. Sam’s still out when you get back, and you crouch between him and the wall as you listen to the line ring over and over again. Finally, Dean answers.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Something happened, we were just—” You stop for a second, wondering if you should admit what you’d been doing, but Dean beats you to it.

“You were what, Y/N? What happened?” He’s shouting into the phone as he drives and you swallow thickly as tears burn in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,” you choke out. “This is all my fault.”

“What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing! I mean, I kissed him! He kissed me first, and it seemed like he was alright, but then we were just talking and he gave me a hug and then he just passed out!”

Dean curses and you flinch at the volume, pulling the phone a few inches away from your ear. You’re on the verge of actually sobbing now, and you suck in a deep breath to try and stabilize yourself. Any sense of calm you’d felt less than a few minutes ago has completely vanished.

“He’s still breathing normally and I made sure he didn’t bump his head or anything—”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of him!” Dean shouts. “Where are you?”

“Ohio. At the Starlight Motel, off of I-71. We passed it on the way out to Boston.”

“I remember. I’m on my way.”

You can hear a turn signal on his end of the call and you set your phone on the floor, putting it on speaker. Judging by the noise in the background, he’s pulling off the road to turn around and head in your direction. After swallowing a few times, the lump in your throat begins to subside and you feel yourself starting to calm.

“How far away are you?” you ask, trying to focus on the steady sound of Sam’s breathing while at the same time listening for his response.

Dean answers, but you don’t hear it because Sam suddenly gasps for air. His eyes fly open as his chest heaves, and he coughs like he’s been suffocated. You shift onto your knees, lean forward, and quickly help him roll onto his side. He pushes you away with one hand as he props himself up with an elbow and continues to cough. You’re flustered and panicked, and your hands hover over his arm as you try to figure out how to help him further.

“Easy,” you soothe, and he takes another deep breath, followed by a few lighter coughs. There’s no blood this time, which is a welcome relief.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes. 

Still propped up on his left side, Sam closes his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly, steadying himself. After several seconds, the hand not bracing himself against the floor searches until it finds yours. He squeezes it once and you squeeze back, watching him intently.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” you question.

He rolls backwards until he’s flat on his back again, but he keeps hold of your hand, resting it on his stomach. He breathes for another few moments before opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

“Sam?”

“Y/N! Damnit, what’s going on over there?” Dean is shouting from the phone, and you realize that you’ve forgotten all about it. With your free hand, you scramble to grab it and pull it to your ear, taking the call off speaker with a singular jab of your thumb.

“He’s awake,” you tell him, feeling pretty breathless yourself. Your heart is still racing from the scare of Sam lurching into consciousness. “He’s okay. He’s alright.”

“He’s— He’s okay okay, or just okay?” Dean asks.

You look back at Sam, who lets go of your hand and pushes himself up into a sitting position. When he sees you watching him, he reaches for the phone.

“Hey, Dean,” he says, and he listens for a second before answering, “I’m fine. I think it’s gone.” He glances over at you while Dean replies, probably with more questions. “No, I’m not sure what it was, but I feel fine. Y/N and I will try to figure out what it was, and I’ll give Rowena a call, see if she can meet us here. How far away are you?”

“Tell him I’ll text him the address,” you interject, and Sam nods, relaying the message. He listens for a few moments longer, glances at you again, and then tilts his head away to try and hide his smile.

“Jerk,” he says. He smiles wider at Dean’s response. You don’t have to hear it to know what he says.

Sam hangs up a second later and hands the phone back to you. Without saying anything, you text the address to Dean, then slip the phone back into your pocket.

“Are you really feeling okay?” you ask.

He nods. “I think the curse, whatever it was, is gone. I don’t feel tired, and I’m not even stiff from laying down all day yesterday. Do I look any better?”

You search his face, looking for any sign of fatigue. The color has returned to his face, and the strange thinness that had made your stomach turn this morning is gone. He looks like he did just a few days ago when you’d made up in the library. Even his muscle mass has miraculously returned.

“You look a lot better,” you tell him, beginning to smile. “Like nothing even happened.”

Sam smiles back at you, as radiant as the sun, and you find yourself falling into his arms. He wraps them around you, but after a second he pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he says. “I know I said it before, but I mean it.”

Still smiling, you push his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face with one hand. “I know. I love you too.”

He kisses you then, like he did before, and your heart swells. You sit back on your feet as Sam leans into you. He smiles into the kiss when your free hand skims the length of his arm.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you murmur once you’ve caught your breath. “Okay?”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. “Okay.”

You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being so close. The two of you sit in silence on the bathroom floor. All the events of the past few days have worn you out, even with the few hours of sleep you got, and you eventually shift to rest your head against Sam’s shoulder. He reaches over with his right hand, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes. You hold his other hand, the one he’d been using to prop himself up.

The silence is broken by your phone ringing after a few minutes. Sighing, you pull away and answer the call on speakerphone, setting it on the floor.

“I hear that Samuel’s on the mend,” Rowena says in lieu of greeting.

“I’m cured,” Sam answers. “Or at least we think I am.”

She hums in acknowledgement. “I’ll need more detail than that if you want me to tell you for sure. I may be powerful, but I’m not a mind reader.”

You roll your eyes at the haughtiness in her voice and reply, “He was unconscious for at least two minutes, but there was nothing leading up to it. He just passed out.”

“Did you eat or drink anything? Say any spells? Pray any prayers?”

Sam stares at the phone, his eyebrows furrowed together. “No. We were just talking and then—” He stops.

“And then you what?” Rowena prompts.

Sam’s eyes flicker from the screen to your face, and then he lets out a quiet chuckle. He’s smiling again, and you smile back. It’s contagious, despite the fact that you have no idea why he’s smiling.

“We kissed,” Sam tells her, not looking away. 

“I see.” Her arrogance has all but disappeared, and you know her just well enough to picture the sly smile forming on her face. “When it’s reciprocated by both, true love’s kiss is a very powerful form of magic. It’s one of the most powerful forms of magic. Wield it wisely, you two.”

You grin. “We will.”

She ends the call and you leave the phone on the floor, opting instead to lean in and kiss Sam again. 

“We definitely will,” he says.

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[ateezlovely]

Good luck kiss

pairing: choi san x reader (genderneutral)

genre: fluff + racer san

description: struggling from lack of sleep you end up going to the racetrack and meet a dark-haired boy with a lip piercing that captures your heart (1.8k words)

note: that gif of him makes me think of him as a street racer so i had to indulge in those thoughts ^-^

—

Feeling yourself bump into someone else you turn to them and mumble a sorry as you continue hurrying down the hallway. Only having a passing thought about the boy with dark hair and lip piercing that you bumped into.

Waking up this morning was especially hard, you had not been able to fall asleep until five in the morning, and the class you were rushing to started at eight. It wasn’t unusual for you to be late to class or even miss class because of how badly you struggled with sleeping. You slow down and try to catch your breath as you approach the classroom, trying to not look like a mess.

Music appreciation was not your favorite class but it wasn’t the worse either. It really didn’t help that the eight am class was the only one available and usually you didn’t wake up before 11 am.

Luckily there was a minute until class started and a few other people walked in at the same time as you. Walking to the back of the classroom, just in case you fell asleep, you took one of the few seats left. As you are getting out what you need to take notes someone sits next to you but you don’t pay attention because the professor stands up to greet the class.

Only ten minutes into the lecture, you struggle to keep your eyes open and stay conscious so you lean against the desk laying your head on your folded arms. Drifting in and out of consciousness you only wake up when you hear the loud shuffling of everyone leaving. You feel confused for a moment before you start gathering your things and realize someone had opened your notebook and written notes of today's lecture. None of your friends are in this class and you’ve only talked to a handful of the other students, so you aren’t sure who wrote the notes for you. Deciding not to worry about it you head back to your place so you can get some sleep before your 1 pm class and your shift at work.

It was busy at the coffee shop you worked at even though it was Friday afternoon. You enjoyed working the busy afternoon shifts because it meant you didn’t have any time to stop moving and feel how tired you were. It was fun working with your coworker Wooyoung, he was energetic and always making you laugh. You also became close friends with him outside of work and shared some classes with him.

‘’So any fun plans this Friday night?’’ Wooyoung asked as the both of you were cleaning up the shop to close for the night.

‘’Well, I have a very comfy bed and homework waiting for me at home’’ you sigh and immediately Wooyoung starts booing at you.

‘’That’s so lame! It’s Friday night you should do something fun’’ he exclaims while tugging on your arm, ‘’Oh! You should come with me to see my friends.’’

“Oh…I don’t know’’ you wearily say walking out of the store and waiting for Wooyoung to lock the doors.

“I swear it will be fun, we are meeting at the racing tracks!’’

“The racing tracks? What do you do there?’’ you have heard of people talk about going to the racing tracks on the weekends but never were intrigued to go. It wasn’t any official racing but it wasn’t illegal.

‘’My friends compete in the racing, we just hang around having fun’’ Wooyoung hooks his arm with yours and you walk with him to his car thinking that it might not be a bad idea to go. Since you aren't able to sleep early, staying out late won't be a problem.

‘’I won’t be intruding or anything? I haven’t met any of your friends before’’

‘’Don’t worry about it, it isn’t some closed thing’’ he assured you and you nodded getting into his car. Although you didn’t have trouble making friends or talking to people you didn’t know, you found yourself feeling nervous. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or because it wasn’t a familiar setting.

The racetrack was not what you had imagined. It was a normal-sized racetrack with barriers along the outside of the track but that was it. There were four cars on the actual track and many other cars in the parking lot. As soon as Wooyoung parked his car he hopped out and started shouting and laughing at his friends. You got out and followed him to where a group of people was standing near the starting line on the track.

You stood near the group of people whom you assumed were all of Wooyoungs friends because you heard familiar names that you remember Wooyoung saying before.

‘’Hey Wooyoung, who did you bring with you?’’ the tall man with yellow and red hair asked, suddenly bringing all the attention to you.

‘’This is my coworker and friend y/n, this is their first time here!’’

Shyly you wave and introduce yourself and Wooyoung giggles at how shy you are acting. He starts to tease you a bit and you roll your eyes before joining the conversation. One of the boys, you think his name is Yunho, asks if you want a drink and you nod eagerly.

Taking a few sips and standing facing the barrier you look at the cars on the track that seem to be getting ready to start the race. It is loud with everyone talking and revving of the engines.

While you were wondering how safe this was, a voice next to you startles you out of your thoughts, ‘’Do you enjoy watching racing?’’

Looking over at the person talking to you, it’s a boy with dark hair and lip piercing you say ‘’Huh? Oh, well this is my first time watching actually…’’

‘’Really?’’ he seem surprised for a moment before smirking, ‘’I guess that makes sense cause I definitely would have remembered seeing someone so pretty like you before’’

You look away for a second but look back at him and lick your lips. He is leaning against the barrier with his body facing you.

‘’I bet you say that to all the new pretty people that come here,’’ you tease with a smile.

A small playful gasps leave his pouty lips, ‘’What do you take me for? Some creepy guy that flirts with everyone?’’

This makes you laugh out loud, ‘’Well I don’t know you at all so maybe you are’’

‘’I promise I am not some creepy guy that hits on everyone, I only hit on the really pretty people that catch my eye’’ he says staring into your eyes that make you feel like you have met him before.

‘’Hmm…well I can’t be sure of anything yet,’’ and then you realize something, ‘’I mean I don’t even know your name.’’

‘’It’s San, and yours is y/n’’ he smiles and you are shocked for a moment, not knowing that he knew your name.

‘’You know my name?’’

‘’I do…hurts me that you didn’t know mine though.’’ He pouts again and you look at his soft pouting lips wanting to feel his lip piercing against your lips.

‘’C’mon that isn’t my fault’’ you whine a bit and you feel slightly bad that you didn’t know who he was. But this makes San giggle and you can’t help but look at his side profile as he laughs, thinking that his smile makes him look pretty.

‘’So how do you know my name?’’ you ask nudging his arm.

‘’Well actually…’’ suddenly San looks bashful and he bites his bottom lip, ‘’I saw you today in class, I sat next to you while you slept and took notes for you. Your name was written in your notebook’’

‘’Really? I was wondering who did that!’’ you exclaim with wide eyes.

‘’Mhm I did that, you looked really peaceful sleeping so I took notes for you’’ San shrugged as if it was no big deal. You smiled at him and thought that even though he looked like a tough guy on the outside, he was really sweet.

''Thank you for doing that...maybe I should probably stop sleeping in class''

''Besides the drool, I thought you looked pretty sleeping but you should try to get better sleep'' San teased and you blushed.

''Hey! I didn't drool!'' you whined lightly hitting his arm, ''I have trouble sleeping so I can't help but fall asleep in class sometimes''

''Well if you ever need someone to help you sleep, you can call me'' he winked and you smiled laughing at him.

The cars on the track all started up and everyone started to yell and cheer, the race was starting now. Two of the guys on the track came up to San and started talking to him about something you couldn’t hear.

You started to wonder the reason why San came to the racetrack when he hopped over the barrier and turned to you saying, ‘’It’s my time to shine now, will you wait for me after the race is over?’’

‘’Maybe I will wait if you win the race’’ you reply teasing him, except San takes this seriously.

‘’I will win just for you sweetheart’’ he winks and starts to walk backward away from you but stops to ask, ‘’will you give me a good luck kiss?’’

A blush blooms on your cheeks and your heart starts to beat fast, ‘’how about I give you a kiss if you win’’

‘’Oh baby, there's no if, I’m going to win!’’

Watching as San gets into his car you feel as though your heart is going to leap out of your chest. Wooyoung comes next to you and teases you that he watched and heard everything that happened between you and San. The redness of your cheeks deepens and you shove Wooyoung telling him to be quiet. You barely acknowledge Wooyoungs teasing as the race starts and the four cars take off going fast on the track.

‘’Hm…that does seem fair’’ and as soon as you say that San leans over the barrier, your faces so close you can smell his cologne and see how pretty the color of his eyes are. There is a soft smile on his lips as he brings one hand to the side of your face and closes the distance between you two.

His lips are softer than you imagined and his lip piercing briefly feels cold against your mouth. You can’t help but sigh out of bliss into his mouth and San smiles against your mouth.

He pulls away softly and whispers a ‘’pretty,’’ before he hops over the barrier again so he can pull you even closer and tell you how he is going to kiss you forever and never going to let you go.

[lovemeafterhrs]

make me stay

don’t make no mistakes, you can’t have your way.

fuck that shit you think, you can’t make me stay.

satoru gojo x sorcerer! reader

part two of one night only

word count: 7.5k

MDNI!!

warnings: plot with more porn, blood/gore (fist-fighting to distract from obvious sexual tension), unprotected marathon sex, my love my light brat tamer! gojo

listen along:

the kyoto campus was eerily silent, even after the students had returned from the exchange event. cicadas chirped loudly outside, singing in the hot and humid air.

she was downright pissed off, approaching seething as she paced through the empty classroom. her mood had gone entirely sour as she looked at the items scattered across her desk. it was just like him to show up and create a gigantic mess, and then disappear before he had a chance to clean it up. she sighed and fixed the trinkets that had fallen over in their haste moments prior. she let out a loud scoff as she noticed the paperwork scattered all over the floor. she decided to ignore the fact that her legs were still trembling.

there was no fucking way she just let satoru get exactly what he wanted. she’d been holding out on him for ages, and now she was even more upset that she’d let him break her down in the first place. because now she wanted him. bad. she needed him. and there was nothing she detested more than relying on that jackass for anything.

she stared down at the debrief for the mission she’d been assigned; one she had originally planned on passing up. now, she felt that blowing off some steam would probably be beneficial. she’d canceled the date she planned that night, too guilty to face the man she’d been seeing after letting satoru touch her. she frowned when her brain reminded her that even if she had gone on that date, he wouldn’t have been anything like satoru. she used to think that was a good thing, but now she wasn’t so sure. there was a reason that she hadn’t let him get that close before, and now it was nagging at her rather aggressively.

she didn’t want anyone that badly, especially not him. she knew better than that. getting with him was quite possibly the worst idea to ever exist, and numerous women could attest to his unwillingness to commit to them. he was charismatic and terrifyingly handsome, but anything besides sex was a danger to the people around him. she knew that, and yet her brain was spinning with thoughts about him.

she frowned, dropping bandages and antiseptic wipes into her small purse. she was a sorcerer first, she reminded herself. she just needed to continue her work and forget that the last few hours even happened.

“heading out for the mission early?” utahime questioned, and her head poked through the door as she watched the girl pack her bag. “i thought you were going to pawn that off on an underclassman. didn’t you say something about it not being worth the effort of someone of your grade?”

“i was going to use it as a teaching opportunity, but i changed my mind. need to clear my head.” she shrugged, trying her best to seem indifferent about the situation. she was hoping that utahime would take her change of heart at face value, but the dark-haired woman simply raised an eyebrow at her words.

“oh. gojo show up while we were gone?” her coworker’s question was like a punch to the gut, and she visibly shrank.

“yup. how’d you know?”

“his cursed energy was gone for about an hour, i figured he’d be pissed you skipped out. shoko was flipping shit. i thought it was pretty funny.” she could imagine the scene that utahime was describing, and it put a small smile on her face.

“that’s an understatement. she probably kicked his ass for ditching her with his students.” she chuckled at the thought, hoping that his long-time friend had given him the third degree after his disappearing act. she could practically see shoko yelling across the grass, trying to track down the illusive white-haired man.

“i hope so. bastard deserves it.” utahime agreed, nodding along as she took a seat in one of the student’s chairs.

“true that. now, wish me luck on my perilous journey. tell me you’ll be praying for me when i take out that grade two.” that earned a frown from her fellow teacher, unenthused by her teasing tone.

“gross, you sound just like him. now go, before gakuganji sees you leave early.” she’s practically shooed out the door by the smaller woman, trying to keep her under the radar of their hard ass of a boss. “oh, and good luck, i guess.”

the signature horn of the train could be heard in the distance, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. she was thankful to have a moment of silence, even if she had to tear a cursed spirit to pieces to achieve it. she needed to find some sense of clarity and forget about the way satoru’s lips felt between her thighs.

as she caught sight of the manor, she let out a long sigh. the walk to the forest had not been pleasant, but the scenery was something to remember.

she had hoped that she’d be able to distract herself from the carnal need pooling in her gut, and an easy mission would do the trick. at least for an hour or two.

it was rather unfortunate that satoru had thought the same thing, snatching a file folder off the desk in yaga’s office. he had to do something, anything to take his mind off what he just did to himself. it was pure torment for him to get so close to finally fucking her, just for his efforts to crash into the dirt. he cursed shoko for not covering for him and cursed himself for taking his sweet fucking time. he could’ve gotten her off three times in the time he’d spent dragging out their little display, but he had unfortunately been thinking with his dick instead of his brain.

he thumbed through the paperwork, recognizing the address of the cursed site almost immediately. not too far, with a cushy hotel nearby.

perfect.

he dropped the file back on the desk with little care and nodded to himself. he loved when a plan appeared right before his eyes, and he had a little smile on his face as he walked out of his boss’s office.

he thought back to when he arrived back in tokyo, faced immediately with shoko’s defeated expression.

“no no you don’t understand shoko, i got so close!” he whined, putting his head in his hands as he followed her down the hallway. he had to wait an embarrassingly long time for the situation in his pants to die down before he trailed his way to her office to complain. as soon as he arrived she was walking out the door, needing a cigarette if she was going to put up with his incessant whining.

“no you didn’t, dickhead.” her reply was curt and to the point, heels clicking against the concrete as they traveled outside.

“but-“ he started, and shoko scoffed.

“shush! i don’t want to hear it. is there anything else you could talk about? i’ve been hearing the same bullshit since high school.” ieiri was growing rather tired of his persistence after years of complaining about the same thing. setting him up with other girls didn’t help, and distracting him with perilous missions didn’t work either. he couldn’t deny that he loved the chase. perhaps that was why he often made himself look so stupid when it came to the one person he couldn’t have.

“so rude! i wish you hadn’t started calling, i was kind of in the middle of something.” she had practically batted him away with her free hand, a headache already forming as she took another drag.

“let it go, gojo! it’s never going to happen!” she called out, and he flipped her off as he walked back through the doors of the school.

that’s actually how he had ended up in yaga’s office, bored out of his mind and peeking through information he had no business knowing. he was nearly in the clear when he suddenly heard the unimpressed words of the boy he raised.

“you look like you’re going out to cause trouble.” megumi stated, his tone flat. his sudden presence scared the shit out of his caretaker, and that caused the younger man to stare at him with a confused look plastered across his face. “what’s wrong with you?”

“wow. thanks for the concern towards your father figure, megumi. you’re right, though. i’ll be back before class on monday.” satoru replied, a sarcastic smile on his face as he offered the boy a peace sign before turning away.

“i think i’ve got it this time. mark my words!” he heard satoru yelling across the courtyard and frowned.

“wait, don’t do anything stupid!” he tried to call out to him, but gojo’s long legs had already carried him out of sight.

“he gets so dumb when he’s desperate.” he grumbled, remembering the many times he’d done something similar. it would always end the same, with him coming home defeated after hours of relentless flirting. he felt bad for her, truly. he didn’t know her well, but he knew that she didn’t deserve his unending pestering.

megumi sighed and watched his teacher disappear into the night. he didn’t know what was up with him, but he knew it was nothing good. it never was, knowing him.

satoru had decided to take the train instead of simply warping to his destination, and he marveled at the expansive treeline as he barrelled toward the cursed site. the sun had just started to set over the sky, casting everything in beautiful rose hues. he looked down at the comically large map he’d been carrying, and the train came to a stop.

it was just too perfect, he mused. he’d be able to kill her assignment and have a hotel room ready for her when she showed up the next day. he’d gotten so close before, he could do it again. right?

the walk to the abandoned house was peaceful until he was about twenty yards away.

a grin stretched over his features when he heard explosions in the distance and the screeches of a cursed spirit roaring through the trees.

it seemed someone had already beat him to it, and he bounced his way through the forest as he looked out for her trademark head of hair.

so what if he had broken into his boss’s office, and sifted through the file folder of the kyoto branch’s missions to find the one she’d been tasked with? it was just the luck of the draw that she happened to get there early, ruining his attempts to kill the damned thing and weasel his way into her hotel room the next day.

he paused when he reached a clearing in the treeline, and his smirk grew as he watched her rise from the dirt. her hair was up, and she had dirt caked on the platform boots she was currently using to kick the everloving shit out of the cursed spirit in front of her. he leaned against the tree, watching her spin the poor spirit around in circles.

she’s taunting it. he hummed to himself and watched her choice to rely on hand-to-hand combat. he’d only see her up so close and personal when she was really pissed off. if he wasn’t damn near unkillable he’d be concerned for his safety. instead the whole ordeal was kind of turning him on.

he could see the cursed energy coming off of her in waves, but she had left that power completely untapped as she continued dodging and weaving around the sharp claws of the corpse in front of her.

“i gotta say, that’s fucking hot.” his voice carried through the clearing, and her steps faltered. the cursed spirit used this opportunity to fling her across the grass, and her head narrowly missed a tree branch that would've sent her to an early grave. it’s claws had nearly grazed her skin, tearing into the fabric of her shirt instead.

she guffawed at her fellow teacher hidden within the trees and got to her feet once more. he stepped through the shrubbery, ignoring the inhumane screeching next to him.

“it looks like we had the same plan.” he mused and gave her a little wave. her frown deepened.

“oh fuck off, gojo. you can’t go around tagging along to every mission just because you’re the strongest.” she huffed, still catching her breath from the near-death experience. the grotesque heap of flesh roared in front of her, lunging towards her distracted form.

“is that not exactly what being the strongest means? i get to do whatever the fuck i want?” he smirked and appeared behind the cursed spirit in a flash. the disgusting sack of meat was interrupting their alone time, and he hadn’t taken too kindly to the intrusion. in moments, he had ripped its shoulders clean off its body and caused it to fall lifelessly into the dirt. viscera splattered all over her, coating her clothes in sticky scarlet fluid.

there was something about seeing her covered in blood and guts that did something to him, something he really didn’t like. he took a step closer, admiring the way the red liquid glistened against her bare skin.

“besides, if i hadn't shown up i wouldn't have gotten to see you with blood dripping down those pretty little thighs of yours.” his flirting was going to be the death of her. it was almost pitiful how close she was to folding. she decided to focus on the anger coursing through her veins instead of the lust bubbling under the surface.

her eye twitched, and he could feel her cursed energy pouring out of her from across the grass. his smile dropped when the blood splattered across her body began to move her hand, coming to life right before his eyes. he knew her cursed technique well, and he should’ve known he’d piss her off more than anything. his eyes widened as sharp, scarlet shards came barreling toward his head.

“whoa whoa whoa, let’s not get hasty here.” satoru choked out, making quick steps to get away from the onslaught of tiny spikes.

“why do you keep dodging, dickhead? you’re practically invincible!” she was yelling at him now, words echoing through the clearing of trees. he couldn’t deny that he found her raising her voice at him appealing. his slacks started to feel a little tight as she sneered at him, nose turned up in disgust. she practically dripped with malice, and he was loving every moment of it.

“because your cursed energy hurts!” he whined, dodging yet another one of her attacks. the sheer power flowing through every crystalized spear of blood she sent his way sent shivers down his spine. it was overwhelming, even for him. his infinity wasn’t going to let any of her advances break through, but that didn’t keep her cursed energy from seeping into his very soul. he’d never liked fighting her for that reason only, but his sense of self-preservation was dying in front of him as he caught a peek under her skirt.

“good! i told you to stop trying to fuck me!”

“and i keep telling you, i don’t listen!” his response earned another shard stabbing into the ground next to his feet, and she took angry steps towards him as he continued to back up.

“you never listen to me. you show up on my missions and nearly get me killed because you want to get in my pants. what am i supposed to do with that?” she growled, and he was only narrowly avoiding her attacks.

“i dunno. maybe you should figure that out.” he replied, a little too cheeky for his own good. anger started to bubble over as she swung at him with her bare hands, and he smirked. he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him as he pushed her down onto the ground.

“c’mon. you don’t want to play that game with me. do you, gorgeous? you know that you can’t even put a dent in me.” his eyes darkened as he responded, and he pinned her hands over her head to keep her in place. “you can only touch me because i want you to.”

“so you’ll let me kill you, then?” her reply was hopeful, and he scowled.

“why can’t you just admit that what you want to do is let me fuck you until you can’t walk straight. it would save us all so much time and energy.” he sighed and stared into her eyes with a tint of lust over his own.

“you’re so pretty when you’re all worn out.” he cooed, running one of his fingers through her hair. damn. he was already wearing down her defenses, and she tried to keep her thighs from rubbing together instinctively.

“i’m not worn out.” she huffed, and he chuckled at her. “i could still throw you into next week if i wanted.”

“oh, yeah? i think you should save the energy you have left for when we get back to your hotel.” there he was again, inviting himself along wherever she went. to make it even worse, she was contemplating letting him.

“who said you were coming with me?” she questioned, eyes squinted at him.

“oh, please. of course we’re leaving here together.” her face scrunched up at his words, and that urged him to continue. “you should see the look on your face right now.” satoru smirked, echoing her words from earlier that day. he released his hold on her hands, and she used the opportunity to sock him right in the nose.

“okay. i’m done.” she smiled and helped him up off the ground. “i’m still not going to fuck you, though.” perhaps she was not quite truthful in this statement. it was more like she had to keep herself from fucking him, but he didn’t need to know that.

“sure. you’re lying to yourself, but sure. whatever you have to tell yourself to help you sleep better at night, baby.” he dusted off the dirt that coated his back, a teasing smirk on his face. he was getting closer to the prize he’d been seeking.

“fuck off. if you’re not nice you’ll be sleeping on the floor.” she frowned and booed at him as they made their way back out of the forest.

she breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of the large hotel, exhausted from her walk back from the forest. satoru however, had been completely unaffected by their long trek. he’d spent the entire time throwing flirty comments her way and avoiding the punches she’d thrown back.

they stepped up to the counter, and the attendant watched them curiously. she had to imagine that the two of them together were quite the sight to see, even to a stranger who had no grasp on their importance as sorcerers. she’d almost forgotten about her tattered and bloody clothing and addressed the clerk with a smile as she received her key. satoru wrapped an arm around her as they strolled through the hallways, and she smacked it away before turning towards their door.

the hotel room was much too cramped for her liking, and she threw her bag down on the bed. she peeled her bloodied shirt over her head, heading towards the bathroom. he tried to follow her inside and whined at her when she slammed the door in his face.

“why were you taunting that cursed spirit?” gojo asked, his voice muffled through the closed door. “you could’ve taken it out in one shot, but you chose to beat it to a pulp with your hands. why?”

“not every fight requires you to rip off heads with pure force, you know.” he could hear her faint reply through the wood as the shower turned on. “besides, my cursed technique needs blood to work properly. i wasn’t looking to spend the next few hours tending to my self-inflicted wounds just so i could kill that thing quickly.”

“why not? i would’ve been more than happy to patch up a beautiful girl.” he sulked when she didn’t reply, and he sat against the wall as he waited for the water to turn off.

“so you were planning on crashing my mission the whole time, then?” she opened the door and rolled her eyes at the white-haired man. satoru always had a plan, even when he swore up and down he didn’t. “you wanted to find me all bloodied and battered, and nurse me back to health?”

“actually, i was planning on killing it before you got there. you just happened to beat me to it.” satoru shrugged like it was a casual thing to suggest. he’d put himself in danger to get a moment alone with her and she’d been blowing him off this whole time. teasing him half to death and pretending to hate everything he stood for.

“spotlight stealer.” she grumbled under her breath, and he laughed at her sour attitude.

“i would’ve let you take all the credit for it, baby. i just wanted some time alone with you.” satoru purred, leaning towards her with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, i should’ve guessed. are you this determined with every girl you try to get with?” she didn’t know if she wanted to hear the answer to that question, but she couldn’t help herself. did he pursue every girl relentlessly? would she be mad if he did?

“not even close.” he replied with a shrug of the shoulders.

“then why should i give you what you want?” satoru seemed to have been waiting for that question, and he took another step closer.

“well to start, i could have your legs shaking in about twenty minutes. and to be completely honest, i’m so desperate to see you writhing in pleasure again that i’d probably do anything you wanted.” he was getting a little too close for comfort, but she didn’t have the willpower to push him away. “are you not even a little bit curious? you were enjoying yourself before we got interrupted. why not continue the fun?”

“i suppose i might be a little curious about it, but mostly to find out if you’re all talk or not.” she admitted, holding his stare. “you reek of desperation, satoru. you’re lucky that i think it’s kind of hot that you want me so badly.”

“only kind of? i’ll have to do a whole lot better than that.” satoru smirked, and stepped closer to pin her against the wall. “i can’t stop thinking about you. i just can’t get the image of you moaning and gasping underneath me out of my head.”

“you drive me insane, i need you more than i’ve ever needed anything.” he continued, slotting a leg in between hers. she hadn’t even made it to her luggage to grab a pair of pants, in nothing but a button-up and panties.

“god, i hate when you do this.” she scoffed at him and looked away, her cheeks flushed as he ran a finger over her jawline. keeping herself from blushing was growing rather difficult, especially with his knee pressing against her clothed slit.

“do what?” he pouted at her, and batted his long pale eyelashes between his words. what a fucking tease.

“act like you like me so i’ll give you what you want. you’ve been doing it since we were kids.” her presumption was true. he’d always been determined, even desperate when it came to her. he’d say anything he could to get even just a fleck of her attention. still, he dared to be offended by her words.

“have you ever considered that maybe i do like you?” he questioned like he didn’t know the answer already, and she looked at him unimpressed. her hands moved over to his chest, keeping them apart the best she could.

“improbable. you know exactly what happens to sorcerers that get involved with each other.” she pointed out, trying to ignore the lust blooming inside of her.

“so? improbabilities have never stopped me.” his words made her pause, and her grip tightened on the collar of his shirt.

“you’re infuriating.” she scoffed, lips ghosting over his as she glared up at him. she was so close to throwing him into the wall and walking out the door, but she just couldn’t tear herself away.

“but you still want to kiss me.” he replied, and she tsked at him. he was still so close, only one more step would have them meeting in the middle. still, she tried to hold firm.

“i want to do more than that. you just piss me off too fucking much.” she rolled her eyes, surprised she’d even dared to admit that to him. perhaps she was going soft. or getting rather desperate herself.

“your boyfriend wouldn’t like that very much, would he?” he was practically gloating, certain that every comment would land him one step closer to breaking her resolve.

“no, he wouldn’t. it’s a good thing he’s not my boyfriend, then.” her response lit a fire deep inside of him, and he stared at her with eyes lidded as he leaned closer.

“oh, so that position is available?” he asked, tone feigning curiosity. he didn’t really want to know if she was seeing anyone, did he? he was just going to hurt his own feelings, winding himself up over something that she was never going to give him.

“i don’t date sorcerers.” she stated plainly, as a last-ditch effort to get him to give up. her resolve had worn rather thin, and she only had one excuse left to throw at him.

“who said anything about dating?” was all it took to break her last shred of dignity, and she pulled him in for a harsh but passionate kiss. he smirked as his lips touched hers, and he started nipping at her lower lip. it didn’t matter that he was just insinuating that he wanted to be her boyfriend. he was just saying whatever he needed to, it seemed. there was no way he was serious about it, he couldn’t be. there was just no fucking way.

she was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt his tongue pressing against hers, and she let out a small, muffled moan. that caused him to chuckle, and he pressed her further into the wall.

“cat got your tongue?” he mused. his hands had started to roam underneath her shirt. she scoffed at him, not giving him the luxury of an answer.

“c’mon, you’re so quiet now. what happened to all that attitude of yours?” he teased, delightfully surprised when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“you just keep talking…” she groaned when his fingers flicked her right nipple, his face downturned at the remark.

“you love it.” satoru cooed as he lifted her shirt above her head. “i know you do.”

her reply hadn’t even left her mouth before she was interrupted, a moan erupting from her throat as his mouth wrapped around her nipple. he was laughing at her now, even with his mouth full. the vibration rumbled through her chest, and she pulled herself away from him.

“you’re always such a tease.” she grimaced, taking him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him towards the bed. he grinned at her words and spun her around, pushing her onto the plush mattress. he wasn’t far away, shedding clothing at a remarkable pace.

“is it really teasing if i mean everything i say?” he shot back and grabbed the bottom of his shirt to pull it off.

she was soaking wet by the time satoru’s fingers made their way to her panties, and she flushed with embarrassment.

“oh wow.. excited already, baby?” he asked, but it was more of a taunt than a question. he chuckled as he pulled them down her legs, and he ran his fingers over the wetness he found. he had to admit, this was already much better than last time. she was just as desperate as he was, and he was starting to realize just how much he’d wound her up. his plan was working effortlessly.

“you’re killing me here, gorgeous. i need to taste that pretty pussy.” he seemed elated by the wetness dripping down her thighs, surprised that she was already so wound up before he’d even touched her.

“shut up.” was her reply, pink cheeks puffed with air as he spread her lips apart with his fingers.

“but you get so flustered when i tell you exactly how you’re making me feel. how am i supposed to give that up? the look on your face is absolutely priceless.” she let out a shaky breath at his words, trying to keep herself quiet as his tongue licked a stripe along her entrance. when he reached her clit, loud slurping sounds echoed off the walls as he went to work splitting her open with his tongue.

her hand came up to cover her mouth to silence the noises threatening to spill from her lips. satoru looked up at her with a displeased expression, fingers squeezing her thighs in protest.

“use your words, baby.” he taunted, pulling his face away from her clit to instead bite at her thighs. he was already basking in the glory of his victory, and now it felt like he was tormenting her on purpose.

“m-more!” she pleaded, back arching against the plush sheets as she dug her hands into his hair.

“you need to ask nicely, or i won’t let you cum at all.” as soon as his lips left her clit to reply, she let out a low whine.

“you wouldn’t.” she pleaded, pushing his head back between her thighs. his gaze darkened, and he hummed against her clit as he contemplated his reply.

“oh, i would. i could walk away right now, and leave you by yourself in this hotel room.” he moved away just an inch to prove his point, and she found herself pulling him back towards her. she needed more. she was so close to release and he was using it against her.

“does that not work for you, angel? is there something you want to tell me?” his questioning was cruel, and she wanted nothing more than to cum around him with her fingernails scratching against his back.

“fuck, satoru. stop teasing.” she choked out, pulling his head away from her thighs. “can’t do this again, please god fuck me now before that phone starts ringing.”

“how can i refuse when you put it like that?” he gave her a mischievous grin as he reached for his belt, and freed himself from his pants. he pushed the fabric towards the floor, stepping towards her now entirely bare. he looked so beautiful, skin practically glistening in the moonlight seeping in from the window.

he leaned over her, pulling her into a kiss as his dick ran over her slit teasingly. he continued dragging himself up and down her wetness, teeth nipping at her lower lip. his hands grabbed onto her ankles and pressed them against her thighs. he started slowly sinking his way into her, and she fisted her hands into the sheets. she let out a hiss as he stretched her open, nearly out of breath as he bottomed out inside of her. he gave her a minute to adjust and stilled the movement of his hips. his fingers combed through her hair, almost like he was trying to console her.

she tried to push herself up in an attempt to get him to move and let out a whine when he held her still. she was begging for some kind of friction, the feeling of him stuffed inside of her already too much to bear.

“c’mon, use your words. i don’t want to have to punish you.” she feared anymore of his teasing, and she finally gave into the desire that she’d been drowning in.

“please god just start moving i-” she cried, words barely coherent when he slowly started to pull out of her. his head teased her entrance again, before sliding back in until his balls were pressed against her ass. he set a steady pace, baiting her into begging for his touch.

her nails dug into his shoulders, barely satiated by the excruciatingly slow thrusts he was giving her. she savored every time his thighs pressed against hers, before pulling himself almost all the way back out again.

“that’s much better, baby. i want to hear you beg.” he wrapped a hand around her jaw, forcing her to meet his blown-out irises.

“harder, satoru! please!” she babbled, already drunk on the pleasure induced by the rocking of his hips. he obliged, hands going back down to hold her in place as his hips began to crash into hers harder, faster.

the way that he looked at her was driving her insane. he peered down at her like she was some glorious treasure, and he was one very lucky pirate. he was grinning from ear to ear, thrusting into her at a punishing pace. the position he’d pulled her into was far too intimate, as everything involving satoru typically was. his eyes were almost glowing and sparkling before her, like he was entranced by the sight in front of him.

her thighs were pressed against her shoulders, pinned underneath him as a plethora of curses left her mouth. the metal bed frame groaned under them, dangerously close to snapping in half as he continued his ministrations. the headboard was smacking against the wall rather violently, and she would feel sorry for the people next door if she wasn’t too busy trying to keep herself from coming undone in his touch.

most of the words coming out of her mouth were complete gibberish, speech slurred as satoru’s dick continued to pound into her. he kept asking her questions like she could answer coherently, humored by her breathy replies. in truth, he was doing it to keep himself from unloading himself inside of her before he was ready for it to end. he just kept dragging it out, bruising her insides with every harsh jerk of his hips.

she supposed she should’ve expected that of him, considering how often he did the same thing with his pants on. he was greedy with his time, determined for it to never end. he didn’t know if he’d ever manage to pull this off again, and needed to savor it as long as he could. that mindset didn’t keep his body from responding to the beautiful sight in front of him. her skin was so soft, and her insides felt so warm and inviting. her walls were drawing him back in, just begging to be stuffed to the brim. it was almost too much for him to handle.

“fuck, i’m gonna-” he choked out, head falling against her shoulder as he tried to keep up his pace.

“satoru…” she moaned, nails scratching against his back as her legs kept him caged between her thighs. “f-fuck, i’m on birth control please just cum inside me. please satoru i-”

his eyes lit up at her words and he nodded furiously as his hips started to sputter. “you’re being so good for me. gonna give you what you want, baby.” he growled against her skin and pulled both of his hands into her hair, bringing her to his lips. his tongue found hers almost immediately and he groaned into her mouth as she clenched around him.

his thrusts became more sloppy and erratic as he toppled over the edge, pushing his cum further inside of her as he continued to rock back and forth.

even when her legs were shaking and his dick was going soft inside of her, satoru still hadn’t released his hold on her hips.

“you’re so pretty, baby…” he swooned, pressing kisses to her cheeks. it was kind of obscene for him to be having this way while pinning her underneath him. his not-so-subtle gestures of affection left dread pooling in her gut, and she couldn’t help but wonder what his end goal was.

she didn’t have much time to contemplate it when satoru pulled her out of her thoughts, pressing a kiss to her lips with a pout forming. “you look like you’re a million miles away.” he stated, pressing a finger against her nose.

“i’m fine.” she replied and let out a long exhale. she ran a hand through his fluffy white locks, contemplating slapping him for making her feel anything for him at all. it was so much easier when she hated everything about him. now, she feared that she might even dare to miss him if he wasn’t right there with her. disaster was brewing deep in her chest, but she shoved it down in an attempt to convince him of her words.

“i don’t think i believe you. what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“nothing.” she frowned and looked away from him. an admission of guilt in his eyes. “just thinking about how you always get everything you want.”

“trust me, if i could have everything i want you’d never leave my fucking bedroom-” she smacked him on the shoulder, cheeks burning at his teasing. she’d think he was joking, but there was something sincere hidden between the lines of his words.

“is that really all you’re thinking about?” he asked after the laughter had died down, and she cursed inwardly. busted.

“no, i guess not.” she frowned, pinching her nose with her fingers with her eyes closed. “what now?”

“what do you mean ‘what now?’ you think i’m ever leaving you alone after this?” his question was surprisingly genuine, as though he was confused that she hadn’t known that already.

“dickhead.” she scoffed, but she couldn’t fight the smile pulling at her lips.

“you’ll learn to find it endearing.” he replied, bringing his mouth to hers. he held her cheeks as he kissed her, fingers rubbing against the skin delicately. his tongue teased hers, and she let out a moan when he bit down on her bottom lip.

she could feel him hardening inside of her again, and he pressed a kiss against her jawline. she let out a whine when he lifted her hips and flipped them both over so she was on top of him. white hair splayed against the pillow, and his strong arms pulled her down until her tits were pressed against his chest.

“satoru!” she squeaked, still sensitive from the last hour of relentless torture. he pressed his head into the crook of her neck, holding her in his lap as he kept her close. he had a talent when it came to contorting her into positions that were far too close for comfort, but she couldn’t help but lean into his touch as his fingers ran over the small of her back.

“never letting you out of my sight.” he grumbled into her skin after sucking bruises along her neck.

“you can’t always have your way.” she choked on her words when his hips began to rock against hers. it was slow at first, the pace nearly torturous as she started to whine above him.

“are you sure about that?” he retorted, pulling his thighs flush with hers. she was using the last of her energy to hold herself up, hands splayed on either side of his head as he started to thrust up into her. her legs felt like jelly as she tried to pull her hips up to match his pace, but he let out a growl as he held her still on top of him. every thrust had his dick bumping against her g-spot, pulling high pitched moans from her mouth as she leaned down to pull him into a harsh kiss.

tongues and teeth clashed as his hips faltered, walls clenching around him as he pulled away from the kiss entirely breathless. a string of saliva connected their lips as he opened his eyes, stormy blue irises filled with such adoration as she started moving along with him.

the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls of the room, serving as instrumentals behind the choir of their loud moans. her hands had migrated to his chest, nails digging into his skin as her back arched. her tits bounced in front of him, and he soaked up the sight of her entirely fucked out on top of him.

“you want me to fill up that pretty pussy again?” he raised an eyebrow, and she mumbled an incoherent string of yes and please!

his pace hadn’t let up in the slightest, even when he was dangerously close to his end. their fluids dripped onto his thighs as she squeezed around him, overstimulated as she came again. it wasn’t much longer before he was right there with her, coating her insides in pearly white.

her thighs burned as he finally stopped his onslaught, rubbing his fingers over her skin lovingly as they both took a moment to catch their breath. she had a feeling that the moment of peace wouldn’t last long.

satoru’s endurance was something to marvel at, she’d always known that. she’d seen him fight for hours on end without breaking a sweat, but she didn’t think that would equate to him being nearly insatiable in bed.

they’d been up until the wee hours of the morning and had received more than one noise complaint throughout the night. still, satoru was kissing along her collarbone sleepily. his body was still pressed on top of hers, and his hands stayed planted all over her skin. they hadn’t slept very long before his phone started ringing, and he declined the call with a huff. he pressed his face into her chest, and she let out a small giggle as he blew raspberries against her skin.

“yaga’s going to be so pissed.” he laughed, reading through the messages he’d received from his boss, as well as confused texts from both his friend and adopted teenager.

“probably. you’ll be lucky if you get to keep your job.”

“ha, he can’t fire the strongest sorcerer he has. i’m a little too busy to be worried about getting yelled at right now.” satoru’s response was muffled as his lips migrated up to her neck, biting against the skin of her jaw.

now that he had her, he had no intention of letting her go. he didn’t want the moment to end, and she gasped as his warm hands made their way back to her breasts.

“you haven’t had enough yet, have you baby?” he taunted, pinching her nipples between his fingers.

“stop calling me that, asshole.” she replied and pressed her lips to his.

“where’s satoru?” yaga’s voice boomed through the halls of the dorms, and megumi shrugged. the tokyo campus was too quiet without the annoyingly loud sorcerer, much too quiet. it had caught the attention of the principal, who had spent over an hour searching through the empty buildings.

“dunno.”

“that mother-“ yaga sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “when he gets back, send him to my office immediately.”

long before he was satoru’s boss, he was his teacher. he knew him surprisingly well, and had a sinking suspicion that he knew exactly where he was. he had never been very good at covering his tracks, and the file folders scattered across his office were proof of that.

“he went off on one of her missions again, didn’t he?” shoko asked, walking up to the taller man.

“he needs to leave that poor girl alone.” she added and sighed at his antics.

“of course he did. he’ll be back, though. if she didn’t kill him.” masamichi frowned, and took his glasses off his head. “if gakuganji finds out about this he’ll have hell to pay. that old bastard will hold me responsible for whatever destruction he caused.”

“let’s just hope he didn’t tear through entire chunks of forest in his attempt to get in her pants.” shoko responded dryly, and the two of them grimaced as they watched the sunrise peak through the clouds.

satoru was in for a shitstorm when he got home, but he hadn’t cared very much in those moments he spent tangled in her arms.

[lily-alphonse]

Rarepair Sam/Shane joja dorks

I love Sam and Shane. If they dont have a ship name Im calling them Sunnyside (for nonenglish speakers, “sunnyside up” is a way to cook eggs without flipping, so its both a reference to eggs and the sun)

Toxic or nontoxic, I love it. Give me the daddy issues angst. Give me the power imbalance. But also could be sweet! Shane learns to love life again by seeing it through Sam’s eyes. If I was actually going to write it I think I might lean more toxic, I love leaning into Shane’s worst traits (wonder why there are no Shane fics on my main account hmm?)

BUT with these asks Ive been making them all sweet and shit so let me try to think of something for that. I’ll make the age gap like 7 years (23/30 maybe?).

(Future Lily here: I got carried away with this one, it's now an official ficlet that I'll be posting to AO3 too lol)

They’ve been friendly enough as coworkers for a while. Sometimes Shane will even humor him by engaging him in conversation at work. He actually doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Funny even, if you like a deadpan sort of humor. But he’s closed off anywhere else. On Friday nights Sam watches over the pool table as Shane gets so drunk he stumbles home.

He worries about him. Despite Shane’s reputation around town as someone to steer clear of, Sam cares about everyone. And he knows he’s one of the few people Shane will talk to at all.

Things seem to get worse with his drinking. He’s calling out at work more. Coming in late.

Sam starts to come out at night to watch and make sure he gets home okay. He’s usually up when the saloon closes anyway. On nights where Shane’s stumbling badly, Sam goes out into the cold and follows him just in case. You never know with alcohol poisoning. He’s seen it at a party once and never wants to see it again.

But he will if he has to.

One bad winter night he’s following Shane as he does, when they round the corner and he just disappears on the other side. Sam looks around, it’s exceptionally dark on this path into the forest. He’s considering turning the flashlight app on on his phone when he suddenly gets pinned against the nearest barren tree.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” Shane hisses, the alcohol thick on his breath.

“Shane what the fuck!” His heart is racing. Has Shane ever been this close to him before?

“No, you what the fuck! Answer me!”

“I’m just worried!”

Shane groans angrily and lets him go. “Perfect! Of course you’re fucking worried. Let me just add you to the Yoba-damned list of people to disappoint then. No- just don’t okay? Do me a favor and don’t.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. Despite being a big guy, he doesn’t like confrontation. Never has. He just wants people to be happy.

But Shane seems to want an answer. He’s still standing there, huffing cloudy breaths into the night and staring.

So Sam meekly says what he is thinking. “I just want everyone to be happy.”

An explosive sound comes out of Shane that has Sam flinching, certainly the beginning of a rant, but then he stops as suddenly as he started. He deflates. When his voice comes out next it is weak and broken.

“Of course you do, Sam.” He sighs, and it sounds so sad Sam almost wishes he was angry again. “But maybe some people aren’t built to be happy.”

Sam steps closer to him, just wanting to see into his eyes again in the near darkness. “I don’t believe that,” Sam whispers, Shane looking up to meet his eyes again. “I don’t think you really believe that either.”

“No, you’re right… I think I was happy once. But that might be even worse. If I had never been happy this might hurt less.”

Shane’s eyes are glassy. He’s close enough to hug and Sam is tempted to, but resists. “What happened, Shane?”

“So much. Too much,” he gives a sharp, sort of rueful chuckle as he looks away. But his body stays close. Maybe its the cold that keeps him close, but his cheeks are flushed with heat. "You know I'm turning thirty soon?"

Sam bites his lip, tempted to make a joke. When Shane meets his eyes again though, he can't help it. "Actin' real sixteen to be thirty," he mumbles with a smirk.

Shane elbows him but laughs. "Shut the fuck up. Idiot."

"I'm right though."

"So am I."

"Yeah, I can be an idiot and also right."

Shane laughs again and shakes his head. "Yeah."

"So that's what's got you like this then? That you're turning thirty?"

Shane bites at the inside of his cheek. "Just puts things into perspective, I guess."

Sam nods, though he doesn't really understand. He looks up into the night sky as the silence stretches, eyes hopping from star to star. "D'you think I'll get like that when I'm thirty?"

Shane scoffs, so Sam looks down at him again. "Hard to imagine you ever being anything but nauseatingly positive."

Sam's smile widens. "I'll try and take that as a compliment."

"Course you would," he grumbles. After a moment of silence he speaks again. "Sam?"

"Hm."

"I don't actually want you to stop, by the way."

"I know." Sam leans forward and opens his arms, half-expecting to be pushed away. But Shane hugs him. He leans his head on Shane's and murmurs, "I won't."

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@doggobrie you weren't alone on this one!

[wireman-au]

SWAP COMPLETE.

Your name is Bdubs. You are currently sitting on a bench on the street in your coworker's neighborhood. About a block down the road, there's a bar you've personally decided must at least be a little evil. On either side of you, your coworkers are mother henning you. It's unnecessary. They both know you've done this song and dance before.

They both hate you've done this song and dance before.

Whatever. Two more years and you're done with your contractual obligations, and you'll have enough hazard pay that you and Etho and Cleo can all go retire to like, you don't know, a town outside a ski resort in Colorado or something. Live where all them rich, fancy celebrities live. Or, well, maybe not that, but retire to the country and you can finally actually use that architecture degree you sold your soul for. Maybe.

Anyway, none of that matters that much, given that, at the moment, you're still reeling from both having briefly been someone else (what?) and also no longer having a migraine (this should be fine but it's weirder than you thought it would be).

"I'm going to do it. I'm going to kill a general of the United States Army," mutters Cleo. "I'm actually going to do it."

"Chill out!" you shout, irritated.

"You chill out! I just watched you nearly collapse for no reason but the thing they put in your neck!"

"Yeah, well, it's supposed to help me be better, isn't it? Wouldn't'a done it if there weren't upsides."

"Oh, I can name a few reasons they would--"

"Wouldn't'a sent me out on a mission if there weren't upsides, or at least, few enough downsides to make it worth it," you clarify. Cleo shuts her mouth and looks away. Yeah. Okay. Okay.

You take stock of everything that's happened since you left base two days ago:

You've been dizzy.

You've been nauseous.

You've been having trouble sleeping--weird, because you could fall asleep on a bed of nails directly in front of stadium lights, but there you are.

You've been getting migraines.

You've been--weird. You don't know how to put it. You've been weird. Cleo knows it. You know it. You're pretty sure in the like, three hours worth of talking you've done to Etho today, he knows it.

There's been something scratching at the back of your head, like it's trying to get in.

It's stopped. You don’t think that’s because it’s gone. You suspect it’s because it won.

You have to admit Cleo has a point. You aren't going to say anything, though. She's already mad enough she might commit a federal crime and get you both disappeared for, you aren't sure, threatening the integrity of classified military experiments? Like, you're not sure you own the thing they implanted in you, which is--

Which is--

Focus. It doesn't matter for today. For right now. As long as you stop Cleo from committing a murder, you're probably all good.

"Uhh, guys, you two... okay?" Etho asks.

"Peachy," you say. "Don't even have a headache anymore."

"I hate that they do this to you," Cleo says.

"Yeah, uh, count me in. Towards. The hating things," Etho says awkwardly. God, you love that man. No one else could declare his loyalty so badly. "So I guess you're allergic to alcohol now or something?"

"What? No, that can't be it," you say. "I refuse. If I don't get a beer after this I'm suing."

Cleo huffs. "Well, if I have to perform CPR because you try to drink a beer, that's not my fault."

"Oh, screw you."

A shudder runs through your skull. It rings like a bell. You stick out your tongue and don't say anything yet; you'll put it down in the stupid diary later.

[CONNECTION GRANTED.]

Besides, the sooner you get your current job done, the sooner you can go home and ignore all of this.

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

content warnings: mutual masturbation, mentions of sex, idk what else

Part Twenty- Three

The way she tasted is forever burned into my mind. I could go the rest of my life living off of her. Her taste my fuel. Her sounds my hope.

I wanted to desperately to have more of her. To not only dip my tongue into her glorious essence but my whole body. A part of me wishes I would have given in and intertwined our bodies in the way we’ve both been craving, but the sensible side of me knows I did the right thing stopping before it went too far. I can’t explain it, but I know waiting is for the best somehow.

I keep staring at the watch on my right wrist, begging for the hands to tick faster. I’ve been on a case for a few days, and when we got back, I rushed through my paperwork. I don’t want to leave too early, so I’m waiting on the clock to strike 3.

Then I can see her.

Not so graciously, I hop out of my chair when the time finally comes. I grab my bag and practically speed walk to the elevator.

“Got somewhere to be, Reid?” Morgan asks me.

I don’t feel the need to explain myself to my friend, so I just nod and give my coworkers a little wave.

When I get to Jade’s place, she opens the door in a tank top and pajama shorts. I grin as my eyes rake down her body.

“It’s been a lazy day,” she defends herself.

“No judgement,” I chuckle softly and pull her into me so I can kiss her.

Jade pulls away with a smile. “How was the case?”

“Not too bad,” I tell her honestly. “But it was tortuous being away from you.”

She shakes her head with a chuckle. “You’re one for the dramatics, aren’t you, Spencer?”

“I’m one for the honest truth, even if it may sound dramatic.”

Jade smiles up at me again before pulling me down for another kiss. “What would you like to do?”

“I’m perfectly fine with this,” I tell her, holding onto her hips as I kiss her.

“We have about two hours before my dad gets home,” Jade says. “That’s quite enough time for this.”

I smile and lead her to the couch. It’s still weird making out with my boss’s daughter in his own home, but I try not to think about it as Jade sits on my lap with her hands roaming my chest.

“I missed you,” she says with a slight whine.

“I missed you too, Jade,” I admit, my hands holding her sweet face. I don’t admit that I’ve been craving her like an addict on the side of the street. Just one time with her was enough to get me hooked.

Her hands fiddle with my tie. Her eyes don’t meet mine. I can tell a hint of what she’s thinking.

Instead of mentioning her slightly somber expression, I lift her face up to meet mine and press my lips to hers. She kisses me back immediately. Her lips taste sweet, she must’ve eaten honey earlier.

I keep my hands respectfully on her face, trying not to let them roam. Hers stay on my shoulders.

Our lips intertwine passionately, the tension between us rising. She draws a low noise from my throat as she takes my bottom lip between her teeth. I can tell she’s trying to hint at taking this further, but she won’t make the first move.

I keep the tension between us somewhat at bay by just kissing. My head is telling me to keep it like this, keep it somewhat innocent, but my touch starved length is begging for me to touch her.

My hands move their way to her hips, holding onto her as our lips collide with heat. Jade’s getting restless, I know she wants me to touch her just as badly as I do.

After a while, she takes matters into her own hands, brushing her core against my lap. The contact makes my already partially erect crotch tingle.

I pull away from her lips, looking into her eyes with a slight warning. Jade pouts, sighing.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, brushing my thumb against her hip bone.

“I want you,” she says.

“I know, I know. I want you too, but we need to take this slower,” I tell her with a frown of my own.

“Why? Why won’t you…?”

She trails off, knowing the answer. I rest my forehead against hers, holding her closer. “I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s okay,” Jade says. “I get it. You’re right.”

I kiss her lips softly before she gets off my lap. I wish she knew how much I truly wanted her.

“I’m assuming you haven’t eaten lunch?” I question Spencer as I stand up.

“You know me so well,” he laughs softly.

I roll my eyes playfully as I go to the kitchen to make him a sandwich. Once I’m done, I sit next to him and turn on the tv while he eats.

“You’re getting close to graduation,” he says with a smile down to me.

“I know. It’s kind of crazy,” I say. “But I still have three years of school after this, so it’s not too wild.”

“You’re going to do fucking amazing.”

I smile before dramatically saying, “Spencer Reid, did you just say a bad word?”

“Oh my apologies, ma’am,” he chuckles.

It’s not long before another case takes him away from me for a few days. I stay up later than usual to talk to Spencer on the phone after speaking to my dad.

He’s talking a little quiet just in case one of his coworkers from the neighboring hotel room is still up.

“You’re quite distracting, Jade.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

He sighs playfully. “It’s hard to focus on criminals when all I can think about is how you taste.”

So he’s definitely a little horny right now. Honestly, so am I. My body reacts to his words with butterflies in my stomach.

“If only you were here right now,” I say.

“What would we do?”

He loves messing with me, getting me to say things out loud.

“Maybe you’d let me do some things for you like you did for me.”

“You’d want that?” Spencer asks.

“Perhaps.”

He chuckles softly on the other end of the phone. “I want to hear your pretty moans again.”

The blood rushes to my cheeks, burning red. “Maybe you can.”

“Oh?” I can tell he’s shocked by what I’m suggesting.

“Only if you want.”

“I want whatever you’ll give me right now.”

“I want you to tell me what to do. I like when you guide me,” I tell him, my voice soft.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Slide your hand down. Touch yourself, baby.”

I do as he says, slipping my hands passed the waistband of my pajama pants. My two fingers touch my clit softly, and a small noise releases from my lips. I drag the wetness to my clit so I can rub circles easily.

“I’m so wet, Spencer,” I tell him, whining.

He draws in a breath, and I know he wishes he was here to feel it for himself. “Good. Touch yourself as fast as you want. Don’t be afraid to make noise, baby.”

I nod even though he can’t see me. I rub my clit fast enough to draw moans from my lips but not enough to get me squirming.

“You sound so pretty,” he says, his voice low and deep.

“Are you going to touch yourself?” I ask through soft whines.

“I already am, baby.”

I smile, biting my lip.

The two of us bring ourselves pleasure as we talk on the phone, guiding each other and moaning from our own ends of the call. This made me want him even more. I wish it were his fingers dipping inside me rather than my own, but if this is all I get for now, I’ll take it.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

hi yaz 🍊 (<-for u) right now im going through that awkward friendless period of my life and have been for a while. i've been following you for a long time and wondered if you had any words of wisdom for those of us in the thick of it. thank you ❣️

(p.s - from what we see online you've seemed really well lately, and its genuinely very encouraging. thanks 4 spreading the joy)

hi! so sorry for letting this ask sit there for a bit... i wanted to make sure i could answer it thoughtfully! 🌟 i ended up writing more than i expected so i apologize if this comes across as a bit wordy.

first of all, thank you so much! it really means a lot to me to hear this... i am literally just Random Girl Online so i’m truly honored & i think you’re incredibly sweet to say so 😭💝

secondly, i’m sorry you’re feeling this way! it’s a miserable place to be emotionally & difficult to talk about... but i promise promise promise you will not feel this way forever. i was so lonely it hurt for a very long time, i guess if you’ve followed me for a while you probably remember. like it was PAINFUL how unpeopled my life was, and i was really embarrassed by it too because no one else seemed to be going through it quite so badly. but honestly, i think... most people actively are or once were lonelier than they are willing to admit, so it’s not an experience that’s awkward at all, and not something indicative of there being anything wrong with you specifically (which is all too easy a conclusion to come to), and it is definitely, DEFINITELY is not going to be this bad always. there are so many lovely people in this world who are just on the cusp of entering your life without your even realizing it yet... at one point last year i took a second to look around me & it suddenly occurred to me that things had gotten so much better for me in a way i genuinely never imagined during the worst of my loneliness, that completely unexpectedly i had come to know a good number of people i liked and cared about.

mostly all i can encourage you to do is to be around people in whatever way u can even if you don’t currently have a circle of friends to turn to. if your school or a local museum or a similar institution is holding some kind of lecture, attend it even if u don’t know anyone else who’s going! you might strike up a conversation with a stranger u unexpectedly get along with and make plans to get to know each other better, or you might just get to lightly chat with a lot of people who u never see again. both of these things are nice in different ways. if your workplace is holding a little potluck for someone’s birthday, go even if it’s just for the sake of having cake and cooing over photos of your coworker’s new puppy. text friends who live in the area who u haven’t seen in years, spend the afternoon at the park together & see if you want to make room in each other’s lives for these new versions of yourselves you’ve grown into. sign up for art classes where u can struggle through something you’re unfamiliar with alongside others who are struggling through it the same way & bond over this for a few hours each week. be the first person to text in a groupchat of people u only sort of know. tag along to study with someone from your class at the library & see if it becomes a regular thing with other people from the same class. maybe you won’t befriend all the people you go out of your way to interact with, but chances are you can and will befriend a few of them! and even if it doesn’t end up working out, a little camaraderie goes a long way in pulling a person out of the pits of despair.

if literally none of the above is an option for u in any way whatsoever right now, just try your best to keep going anyway. which sounds stupid probably, i’m sorry; i would have been CRAZY irritated if anyone told me this when i was so lonely i could hardly think about anything else. but i read a lot of poetry, i played a lot of video games, i watched a lot of movies, i spent so much time out of doors watching the birds and trees, i talked to my relatives more than ever before, i messaged some mutuals so often they turned into genuine online friendships that meant the world to me then and mean the world to me still. it hurt that i didn’t have people to share any of this with the way i wanted to but i still experienced a lot of really nice moments when i was alone & in some ways i feel more equipped to deal with loneliness after living through so much of it because i know now that i’m capable of enjoying things even in the throes of isolation. resilience isn’t sustainable and i sincerely hope you don’t need to be resilient about this for much longer, but your life is not on hold, and if u just keep going i believe you will still experience lots of meaningful and good things until your social life starts to pick up, at which point u will experience lots of other meaningful and good things!

also i guess i already mentioned this and definitely feel free to ignore this bit if it doesn’t apply to you, but be careful not to fall into the trap of thinking this is somehow your fault or because there is something inherently off-putting about you! this is absolutely not the case… not having enough or even any friends is just something that happens sometimes. it’s a much more common experience than it feels like & there is nothing wrong with you! believing this and giving in to the shame will cause you undue pain and isolate you further when people reach out or enter your life if you feel you aren’t deserving of friendship because whatever shape your insecurities happen to take. so just... try and be kind to yourself. this is something i struggled with a lot & that’s why i bring it up, but again, you can totally disregard it if it doesn’t align with your own experiences.

i guess that’s all for now! i don’t think i’m saying anything new, so i don’t know how helpful any of this was. i mostly just hope it wasn’t pedantic! i was trying to think of things that genuinely worked for me or things i would like to tell me of a couple years ago if i could speak to her somehow, and i ended up writing a lot because this is a topic that means a lot to me. basically i just mean to say u will be okay! with time and effort and a little bit of luck you will be okay & you will find yourself surrounded by the nicest friends and acquaintances who genuinely really like you and who you genuinely really like in return. loneliness is just something that comes and goes... sometimes it is a little harder and more painful to get through than other times but it never lasts forever. i hope you take care of yourself & i hope it all starts to work out really well, really soon ❣️ love u

[fruit-teeth]

I had a bit of a breakthrough tonight while I was sobbing in my room and I feel compelled to share it for some reason so here I go

Lately I’ve been dealing a lot with trust issues. Specifically: I’m socially anxious and I have very few irl friends (and online friends for that matter, I’m socially anxious on here too), but a big part of that is that I tend to instantly assume that people either a) don’t like me, b) like me at first, but then realize I’m annoying and decide to stop talking to me or c) will end up hurting me in some way if I get too close to them. These fears of mine are, as I’ve come to realize, a reflection of things that actually did occur during my life.

I had a friend who I thought of as my best friend for many, many years, only to have her randomly stop talking to me and join a completely different friend group. The last time I saw her, she barely said hello to me and acted like I was just an acquaintance. That encounter upset me so badly that I remember hiding in the bathroom and trying not to cry because I was so heartbroken. Even though it’s been years since then (this happened my senior year of high school and I’m an adult now), it led to a spiral of shame, anger, and resentment that eventually led to me deciding I would never call someone my best friend again. Not only that, but that same year, I had my high school graduation party, and I’m not even exaggerating when I say that NONE, and I mean NONE of my friends or really even any of my classmates showed up. I felt extremely betrayed by this, even more so when one those friends expected me to show up to HER party (allegedly she’d had to cover a shift for a coworker at her job at the last minute, which is why she didn’t show, but I still doubt the validity of this). These weren’t the only instances, make no mistake - I’ve had other friends that mocked my interests, and even one that turned out to be a straight-up bully towards me. She made fun of me for liking My Little Pony, and there was even a horrifying moment where she mockingly imitated one of my stims as a way of ‘teasing’ me. High school was tough on its own, but a bad system of friends made it even harder than it ever needed to be.

It’s been years since then, sure, but this has really destroyed my confidence when it’s come to making and keeping friends. I worry constantly if maybe my old friends thought I was annoying and that’s why I was so easy to cast aside like nothing, so now when I get into new friendships, I hide my true personality because I’m terrified they’ll see the real me and think it’s annoying or weird. At the same time, though, when someone is being nice to me and genuinely wants to hang out with me, I always think to myself “this has to be a trap or something, this is too good to be true”. I have a very small circle of friends now, both online and in person, but even with those friends I worry that when they see me or think about me they think to themselves “oh god not Mara again”. This leads to me being very distant, which also causes these friendships to dissipate sometimes. Social interaction is already confusing sometimes thanks to being autistic, but it’s made even worse thanks to the history I have with making and keeping friends.

I started thinking over these things today and remembering all the pain, the anger, everything, and I started feeling really hopeless. I started to feel like I was going to be alone forever, because I couldn’t trust anyone to not secretly hate me or leave me when I wasn’t convenient for them anymore. But it was during this that I suddenly remembered a comment my dad had made a couple years ago: “you don’t remember every time you ate a decent apple, but you certainly remember the times you bit into rotten ones”.

And…yeah. I don’t think about all the times people were kind to me, or the times people were gentle and said nice things to me. When I think about friendships or people in general, I tend to ruminate on all the things that have gone wrong, the times I was ignored or criticized, the moments I realized someone didn’t actually care about me. This realization broke me, though I can’t really hate myself for it. My brain is trying to protect me from future heartbreak by convincing me that there’s no point in maintaining those relationships, that my heart will just get stepped on again. That’s why the negative experiences get amplified while the positive ones fall to the wayside, it’s a method of protection. But it’s a rock and a hard place - either I open myself up to trusting again and get hurt, or I keep closing myself off and hurt myself by isolating from everyone. There’s no way to truly avoid or anticipate pain, though - we can only cope with it when it happens. That’s at least one thing I’ve fully realized lately, and it was NOT an easy conclusion to come to.

The times my old friends abandoned me, mistreated me, or shattered my heart will forever live in my memory. But the times my current friends have said kind things to me, hugged me when they were happy to see me, shared their happy moments and interests with me, even told me they loved me…those are things I can’t let myself forget. Even if my brain is trying desperately to protect me from feeling pain, I know now just how important it is to counteract those anxious thoughts with the memories of what it’s like to be loved and appreciated, because that’s one thing I don’t think anyone should ever forget.

So…I guess I’m sharing this because I think I’m not the only one dealing with this. I know how difficult it is to make friends and to open yourself up to trusting others after you’ve experienced pain, but I think finding people you can trust and who will love you for you can feel very worth it once it happens. Sorry I’m not making sense because it’s very late and I need to go to sleep but I hope you understand me

[raplinesmoon]

wow how is it already the 21st of december? i’m plodding away on your gift but i don’t think i’ll have it to you before christmas day! i hope that’s ok haha. perhaps it can be like an extra little gift to brighten up that weird time between christmas and new years when all the other gifts have already been opened.

it was so much fun reading all your answers :) my sister literally named her first born my favourite name for a girl so i feel you man. to be fair, my niece is now three and i am nowhere near having children so like i get it! but still… haha

i love baking! i actually don’t like cooking at all but baking can be so fun and you end up with such yummy stuff :D you should totally pick it back up again. there’s always going to be someone better and someone worse. that doesn’t matter if you enjoy it :P (says me who can’t make myself do anything i’m not automatically good at on the first try lol)

i have a ‘hope right here’ sweatshirt and a ‘sweet night’ sweatshirt and i love them both so much - so cozy! i’m jealous of your everythinggoes one though, that sounds so cute!

how’s your secret santa gift going? working away? obviously you don’t have to tell me much for fear of giving away who you are writing for. are you able to share which idol you are writing for without giving it away? i’ll look forward to reading it :)

another question for good measure: what are you looking forward to in the new year? could be writing related or just life related…

- merry ❤️❤️

Hi Merry!!

Merry Christmas if you celebrate🎄❄️✨ sorry for answering this a few days late haha, I was enjoying some much needed rest!! The time in between Christmas and New Year’s is so awkward you’re right… it feels like saying goodbye to the holidays but then there’s another one on New Year’s 🙃

How were your Christmas celebrations? Did you do anything special with family?

Ahhh that’s so cute that you and your sister had the same little argument over baby names… I think my sister won though, and I probably need to start looking for other options if and whenever I do have kids!!

Also, after you sent this, I did actually make some treats! They were mostly no bake desserts for one of my coworkers who’s leaving in the New Year. And while I did almost cry because it didn’t turn out perfect, I reminded myself that not everything has to be for me to enjoy myself 💗

I so badly want a hope right here shirt!! Or idk if you’ve seen them but the hope world sneakers from Sugar Seoul are so 🔥🔥🔥 half the time I’m scared people will judge me for wearing them in public, but other times I think they’d think they’re super cool too!

My secret Santa gift is still in the planning stages, I tend to impulsively write things out when the pressure’s on, so we’ll see how it comes out! I want it to be nice and fluffy though, so hopefully my muse cooperates (if you check my master list you’ll know who I love to write for 😅)

As far as New Year’s wishes, I just really want to spend the next year happy and healthy!! 2022 was so up and down for me in terms of finishing dental school but also the mental stress of what it took to finish and then starting a new program and my physical health kind of took a nosedive too! I’d like to be able to do more in 2023 without limitations from my body… so here’s to health!!

[cat3ch1sm]

🎻~ kurapika kurta losing his temper and pinning u against a wall⁉️⁉️⁉️ absolutely

this is set during the yorknew city arc at the auction at which chrollo and the zoldyck heads fight! i guess this is sort of kinda an au? the events aren’t by the book, that’s for sure, so idk😅 reader and kurapika are “just friends” here

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ fem!reader, implied nsfw, language

The two of you were both badly beaten, black suits ripped in several places and blood dripping from a number of exposed gashes. There was a dark red streak in Kurapika’s rumpled blonde hair and your nose was gushing blood, which you kept wiping away over and over again to no avail. The auction hall had been blown to smithereens behind you with terrified attendees and mafia members alike scattering all over the city. Your coworkers were nowhere to be found, nor were the perpetrators of the massive explosion that had occurred just seconds before. Meanwhile, you and Kurapika were both left wandering through the remains of the building. The mood was so tense you could practically hear the crackling electricity in the air.

Kurapika was seething beside you, his eyes glowing a brilliantly furious scarlet and his glare burning into your own. “What the hell were you thinking?! Why would you run back into the damn auction hall when you knew it was about to be destroyed? You know the Spiders are here, right? Are you insane?”

Your fists clenched, and something in your chest tightened; Kurapika’s incensed gaze was met with an equally inflamed one. “I was trying to help you, you asshole! I went back in there to get the goddamn Scarlet Eyes because I knew how much they meant to you. And now you’re calling me insane? Did you tell me about the Scarlet Eyes being here and expect me to not do anything about it?!”

“No, because that was my job,” Kurapika snapped. Now he stopped in his tracks; you’d never seen him so angry. ”Retrieving the Eyes is my mission and mine alone.” He threw up his arms, slightly wincing as he did so, and gestured heatedly to your crumbling surroundings. “And now look where we are- we are stranded in the ruins of this hellhole with no damn communication with God knows how many injuries and no Scarlet Eyes! Your efforts have only made things worse. Are you happy?”

“You say that like doing nothing would have made things any better!” you countered sharply. Blood was running down your lips and slipping into your mouth as you spoke, but you were too occupied to care. “I didn’t cause the explosion! And I certainly didn’t ask for you to run in after me!”

Kurapika took a few steps towards you, making you back up instinctively. “How could I not have gone after you, Y/N?! If I see any one of my friends running into a disaster waiting to happen, I’m going to go after them!”

Both of you were screaming at this point, the stress of the night finally bubbling over. You let out a long sigh, burying your red/stained face in your hands. “God, I don’t even understand why you’re so upset?! I didn’t know the whole damn building was going to explode when I ran back in there! And I definitely wasn’t trying to get either of us hurt.”

Now Kurapika advanced on you a little too quickly, barely giving you any time to react before you were completely backed up against a cracking wall. His shadow obscured your vision almost totally, and the only thing you could see was his blazing red eyes. You felt your heartbeat speed up to twice as fast and your stomach twist, your eyes wide as you glared up at Kurapika. Had you crossed a line?

“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know why I’m so upset?” He said this with such ferocity that you couldn’t help but sidle up even further against the wall, your nose inches away from his collarbone and the metallic scent of his blood filling your aching nose. The chains on his hand just above your head dangled down beside your face, brushing your cheek and the cold silver making you flinch. “You could have died, Y/N! What the hell gives you the right to scare me that badly?!”

Your jaw almost dropped, and you were quick to counter Kurapika’s statement. “Me?!” You let a bitter laugh escape your lips, red staining your chin and your voice shaky. “How the fuck do you think I felt when you went to kill the Troupe’s strongest member by yourself with a handful of chains? That’s the whole reason the Spiders are even here, isn’t it? Because you were an idiot and killed their best member? You can barely control your rage for even two seconds! You scare me every goddamn day!”

Kurapika slammed his other hand on the wall as well, making you jump and squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “No! I’m supposed to do things like that- it’s all I know how to do! There isn’t one fucking second where I’m not angry-“

“I don’t care! You aren’t being-“

“Jesus Christ.” And then he leaned down and kissed you.

It was so unexpected that you just totally froze. Your entire body stiffened and your eyes remained wide open. Kurapika’s lips tasted like blood and salt and you didn’t know whose was whose. But eventually, you started to kiss him back- and he kissed you harder; you felt him groan into your mouth. He took one of his hands off the wall to wrap around your waist and pull you in closer with his brow furrowed. Your entire body began to heat up and you brought a hand to the back of his head, which was sticky with half-dried blood, but you barely noticed as his body engulfed your own. With your eyes shut, all you could perceive was him.

After a full minute, you broke apart, breathless and even more disheveled if that was possible. Kurapika’s eyes lingered on your red lips as he stepped back, releasing you from his grip. Flustered, you averted your eyes to your hands, ignoring the blood from your nose that was still rushing down your face. You both were silent; even Kurapika seemed stunned.

“Kurapika-“

“Y/N-“

“Oh, there you both are.”

Surprised, you and Kurapika both turned around to see an only slightly battered Melody, standing with her hands folded in front of her stomach. She tilted her head at the two of you, and you silently prayed that she hadn’t seen anything. But your fears were extinguished when she said nothing about it.

“Yes… hey, Melody,” Kurapika greeted her a little sheepishly, trying not to glance in your direction. “We were looking for you- where are the others?”

“Oh, they’re all back at the boss’s hotel. The auction is in shambles, so many people are either dead or have cleared out. We will want to leave before the authorities get here,” Melody added pointedly, to which you nodded.

“Of course, let’s- let’s get going.” You sniffed back more blood and began walking towards Melody, face burning as you avoided Kurapika’s eyes. You could still feel the sensation of his kiss on your lips. You wondered if he could too. Anyway- it was probably safe to say your argument was mostly resolved.

Kurapika eventually took the lead, walking in his usual respectable manner in front of both you and Melody. The only sounds for a while were those of the crumbling building and debris falling, and you’d begun to zone out. However, Melody abruptly brought you back to earth when she stated aloud:

“By the way, I did notice both of your heartbeats were unusually rapid. There is a certain rhythm that heartbeats take on when the host is experiencing attraction, whether it be sexual or emotional, to another person- and your own rhythms matched that specific rhythm.” She smiled a little bit. “I’m sure the two of you will make a wonderful couple.”

[seijorhi]

Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy​ and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut. 

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl. 

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day. 

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.” 

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way. 

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key. 

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number. 

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too… 

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through. 

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you. 

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze. 

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that. 

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question. 

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it. 

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding. 

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop. 

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is. 

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath. 

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning. 

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan. 

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out. 

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch. 

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to. 

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference? 

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream. 

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts. 

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection. 

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed. 

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers. 

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him. 

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

[earnestly-endlessly]

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

[cafeacademic]

omg congrats on your milestone!!!! here’s to many more *clink clink*,,, anyways i loVED YOUR ‘off the record’ with fox, and i’m a s1ut for him sOOO maybe prompt 31? f/gn!reader is cool!!

Fox sluts unite I love that man so much. here is some pure smut for our man because he deserves some time off and a bunch of smooches. hope you enjoy my lovely thank you for all your support <33

also i saw that you were working on a new fox thing as well very excited for that👀👀

On Background

click above for AO3 link

Pairing: Fox x Reader

Rating: Explicit (You know the drill)

Warnings: PiV sex, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, teasing, semi-public sex, some objectification of reader (but it's pretty tame)

Word Count: 2.2k

When Fox stumbled into your apartment one night, the first thing he saw was you slamming the door to your closet closed.

“You alright, princess?” he asked warily. He rolled his neck as he removed his bucket, trying to ease some of the tension of the day.

“Yep!” you said a little too eagerly. Fox closed the gap between the two of you, lifting your chin with his forefinger. You looked up at him innocently.

“What are you hiding?” he teased. Leaning into his touch, you smirked.

“Oh, just work stuff. Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you said. Fox narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. “Are you working the Chancellor’s speech tomorrow?”

“Don’t remind me,” Fox groaned. The Chancellor’s annual speech was never a fun night for the Guard; they often had to arrive early to help set up, listening to Palpatine fuss for several hours before the actual main event. If that wasn’t already draining, they often had to hear faux praise from the various elites that attended the event, though they knew that most considered them less than human. Sensing that Fox was getting lost in his thoughts, you reached up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll make sure to stop by then,” you said, snuggling into his hold. Fox rested his chin on the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of being held.

~~~

The next day, Fox was running around, trying to ensure that everything was set up for the Chancellor’s speech, at least security-wise. In between pretending to listen to the demands of Palpatine and downing cups of caf from the break room, he would respond to the silly comms you would send him. On typical days, you would complain about your coworkers or send him pictures of cute lothcats you saw on the holonet. Today, however, your messages were suspiciously short.

“Miss you xoxo,” your last message read. That had been nearly two hours ago, and Fox hadn’t heard from you since. It was probably for the best, considering how much work he had to do, but it still hurt a bit.

“Are you stopping by?” he tapped out a message to you. A few minutes later, his commlink buzzed.

“Something came up. Have to take the time to get ready for a work thing tonight,” you replied. Normally, Fox would have sulked at the fact that you couldn’t visit, but he was instead intrigued by the fact that you had followed up your message with a photo attachment.

He nearly dropped the comm when he opened the picture. You were laid out on your bed, crisp white blouse unbuttoned and falling off your shoulder. A thin, lacy bra covered your chest, the material a perfect Corrie Guard red. At the very bottom of the photo, Fox could see that your skirt was hiked up over your hips, allowing just a glimpse of the matching panties.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he typed back. He could imagine you smirking down at your comm as you tapped out a response, the image only making his half-hard cock press even tighter against his codpiece. A soft buzz alerted him to your response.

“Is it a good look? I’ve been told that we’re supposed to dress nicely for the Chancellor’s speech. Wouldn’t want to make a poor impression on my first time covering the event,”

Fox nearly groaned out loud; there would be no way he could concentrate if you were going to be at the speech tonight. All he would be able to think about would be how badly he needed to see you in the pretty lingerie you were wearing.

“You better behave tonight,” Fox responded. It was only a few seconds before your reply came.

“But where’s the fun in that, Commander?”

This time, Fox did groan out loud.

By two minutes into the Chancellor’s speech, Fox was already bored out of his mind. Instead of being on alert for attempted assassinations as Palpatine had requested, his eyes were scanning the crowd for you. The general comm chatter from his brothers had become a background hum as he searched for your telltale white blouse.

When he finally found you, he was almost embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed you sooner. You were sitting in the press box near the front, near enough that you could pick up all the details of the speech but out of the way enough that the Chancellor couldn’t see you. As if you could feel his gaze, your eyes immediately snapped to Fox’s visor. You bit your lip teasingly as you toyed with the top button of your blouse. Fox straightened his posture, hoping to convey as much warning as he could with just his body language. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care; likely the latter, seeing as you popped the button with ease and pulled your neckline open slightly, revealing just the top of the lace covering your breasts.

“Hey Fox, you see that girl in the press pit?” Thire’s voice cut through the comm chatter that Fox had blocked out. Thire’s comment, however, snapped him right back to his senses.

“What about her?” Fox snapped back a little too defensively.

“She’s cute, isn’t she? Keeps toying with the hem of her skirt,” Thire commented. Fox bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his brother.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind tearing that skirt off of her!” Hound added with a snort. Thire hummed in agreement. Before Fox could start yelling at his brothers, Thorn cut into the conversation.

“Hey, vod? I think that’s the Commander’s girl,” he said warily. Thorn was the only one Fox had confided in about his newfound relationship, and that was mostly because he had heard the two of you going at it in Fox’s office. A number of curses poured over the comm, and Fox smirked at the panicked apologies his brothers gave.

Turning his attention back to you, Fox noted that the second button on your blouse had also come undone. The crimson lace was now peeking prominently through your neckline, and you had a smirk plastered on your face. With a wink, you spread your legs in your chair slightly, allowing Fox a glimpse of your panties.

Faking an important message, Fox pulled out his comm and quickly tapped out a warning: “Keep that up and you’re not going to like your punishment,”

You checked your comm and responded quickly, still smirking. “Aww, can’t handle a little teasing?”

Fox growled quietly under his helmet. Just as he was about to type out a message back, he was roused from his thoughts by thunderous applause, signaling that the Chancellor had finished speaking. Mentally, Fox made a note to thank Palpatine for keeping it short this year. As soon as he was off the stage, he sent you a quick message. “My office. Now.”

You were already sitting on his desk when Fox entered his office, swinging your legs innocently.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been trying to get you alone all night!” you said, hopping off the desk and reaching for your lover. Before you could get to him, however, Fox scooped you up in his arms and pressed your back against the wall.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growled, voice still modulated by his helmet. You smirked up at him.

“What, you didn’t like my little show? I got all dressed up for you and everything!” you pouted, reaching to take off Fox’s helmet. His hand shot out and gripped your wrist before you could touch him.

“No way, sweetheart,” he said, grinding against you. “You’re not getting away with teasing me that easily,”

Holding you steady against the wall with his hips, he ripped your shirt in two, the remaining buttons flying around the room. He could still feel the heat of your breasts, even through his gloves. You squealed as he pinched your nipple through your bra, admiring how the bud peaked through the red lace. In the back of his mind, Fox worried that he was being too rough with you, that you might not like how he was touching you. His worries were calmed, however, when he saw the absolutely delighted look on your face as you squirmed out of his grasp and sank to your knees.

“Can I please suck your cock, Commander?” you batted your eyelashes. Fox nodded and you launched for his codpiece, getting the armor off in record time. You grinned devilishly at him as you pulled his cock out of his blacks, the tip already flushed a rosy brown and a bead of precum leaking from the tip. When you licked teasingly up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, Fox reached out to roughly tangle his fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” he warned. You obliged, taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. Fox swore loudly, trying to keep from bucking into your mouth. You worked what you couldn’t reach with your hand, twisting your wrist to spread the saliva that was slicking his cock. When Fox’s grip on your hair tightened, you pulled off of him with a pop.

“Was that what you wanted, sir?” you teased. Before Fox could scold you, his words caught in his chest as you began pumping him again, this time slowly working down him with your mouth. The modulated groans of the clone above you made you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief. When you thought he was distracted enough by your tongue, you slid a hand down between your legs.

“Oh, sweetheart. You just keep testing me, don’t you?” Fox growled, tugging you off of his cock by the hair. You looked down sheepishly, not having expected to get caught. Fox quickly discarded his helmet before yanking you back to your feet.

“‘M sorry, sir,” you said. Fox looked like he was going to fall victim to your puppy dog eyes, but he shook his head and adjusted you so he could have access to your clothed cunt. With two fingers, he slid the scrap of fabric to the side, inhaling sharply when he noticed how wet you were.

“Does putting on a show like that get you this wet?” Fox said, lining himself up with your entrance. “You know all my brothers could see you?”

“Really-- fuck!” your words were interrupted by the stretch of Fox sliding into you with one movement. Normally, you would’ve been upset that he didn’t touch you first, but you were so turned on that he slid in with little resistance.

“They were all drooling over you, sweetheart,” Fox said through gritted teeth as he fucked you. The slight jealousy he felt was obvious not just in his voice, but in the rough way he was fucking you, almost as if he was worried you’d disappear out from under him. You grabbed his chin and kissed him passionately.

“Mhmm, but you’re the only one who gets to fuck me, Commander,” you said when you pulled away from the kiss. “I’m all yours, Fox,”

That seemed to unlock something in Fox’s head, because he began fucking you with even more force, trying to get as deep inside you as he could with every thrust. He began to mouth at your collarbone, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, that’s right. Mine,” he repeated into your neck. You scrambled for purchase on the plastoid armor he was still wearing as he ruined you, moans pouring out of you too loudly for the only semi-private office. Neither of you seemed to care, though.

“Fuck, Fox, I wanna come,” you whined, shivering from when his groin rubbed against your clit with a well-angled thrust. Fox seemed to contemplate for a moment before grinning into your collarbone.

“No,”

“What do you mean no? Shit, Fox!” you cried out. Fox’s thrusts were getting sloppy, and you knew he was close.

“I mean no. I’m gonna fill up this pussy, and then we’re going to go home, and if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come then,” Fox said, voice shaking slightly.

“Shit, you can’t be serious. Come on, I’m so close,” you said breathlessly as Fox’s hips snapped into yours with such force that you slid up the wall you were pressed against.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before teasing me all night,” Fox growled, breathing heavily. You whined in protest, but he had made up his mind. “Fuck, you’re all mine. I’m the only one who should get to see you like this,”

“All yours, Fox. Only yours,” you moaned, and that sent Fox over the edge. He bit down harshly on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan as he emptied himself inside you. Fox slumped against the wall, leaning into your body, and you pressed gentle kisses to his temple as he recovered.

“You know, I love you and everything, but I need you to get me home so you can fuck me properly,” you said, the serene smile on your face in sharp contrast to how needy you felt. Fox pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Are you ever going to learn to behave?” he said with mock exasperation.

“No, you like me better this way,” you teased back, making yourself presentable before pulling a lovestruck Fox out of his office, the two of you too enamored with each other to register the catcalls from the other guardsmen.

[bluejayblueskies]

Hello! I love your writing, the hand holding over the table was so much feelings <3 can I prompt 29. tickling the other one? No pressure :-)

touches prompt list

thank you for your patience with this anon! i offer you some scottish safehouse jonmartin fluff <3

.

It starts when Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s midsection while Jon is cooking, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of Jon’s sides, and Jon flinches so hard he drops the wooden spoon in the pot of red sauce.

“Oh, shit. S-sorry,” Martin says. He pulls his hands back quickly, but they touch Jon’s sides again as he retracts them. Jon can’t help the high, reedy sound that escapes him, and he feels his cheeks grow warm.

“It’s—fine.” Jon fishes the spoon out of the pot, wrinkling his nose at it before depositing it unceremoniously in the sink. “Just, um.” He debates the pros and cons of being honest before mumbling, “I’m rather … ticklish.”

“Oh.” Martin’s forehead creases, like he can’t quite decide what he’s supposed to do with that information. “On your sides?”

“Y-yes. And, um.” Jon looks down at the ground, then at a random point over Martin’s shoulder. “A-and … everywhere?”

Martin raises an eyebrow. “Everywhere?” he echoes.

“Well.” Jon frowns. “N-not everywhere, I suppose. My nose is, er, relatively safe, a-and my fingers.” He taps his fingers on his thighs a few times. “I just … have really sensitive skin. A-and I don’t…”

He trails off. It feels too vulnerable, suddenly, to say that he’s really not touched often by gentle hands, so every feather-light brush of skin against his is like a shock to his system. “I don’t usually have to worry about it,” he says instead, which seems vague enough. He thinks Martin understands what he’s really saying, though, because a moment later, a hand is on his (touching, Jon notes, only the fingers) and a kiss is pressed gently to the tip of his nose.

“Well,” Martin says softly. “I can be more careful from now on if you’d like.”

Jon flushes. “Ah. It’s not…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, then settles for candor over subtlety. “It’s not a bad feeling.”

“Oh?”

Jon’s flush deepens, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “I … I like it when you touch me. A-and I don’t … want you to stop.”

Martin sounds amused—and slightly flustered—when he says, “I can touch you without tickling you, Jon.”

“I know,” Jon says, a bit petulantly. He takes a breath. “But I … I want you to.”

Martin lets out a small huff of laughter. “You want me to tickle you? Just … whenever?”

“If you don’t want to,” Jon says sullenly, “we don’t have to do it.”

“No, I—I do want to, I just…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand once. “I want to make sure that I’m understanding you correctly.” Then, he brushes a finger gently along the inside of Jon’s wrist, and a small shudder runs through Jon’s body.

“Yes, that’s…” Jon trails off and simply nods. He hesitates, then reaches forward and takes Martin’s other hand in his so they’re clasped together, palm to palm. “I … I trust you, Martin. I—I know that you’d stop, if I asked, and … it’s nice. To be vulnerable like this.” Jon pinches his lips together for a moment. “Does—does that make any sense at all?”

“Yeah,” Martin says gently. “It does.” Then, quieter: “Thank you, Jon.”

Jon nods. The back of his throat is tight with unnamed emotions, and he swallows a few times in an attempt to clear them away. “A-and besides, I … I think this could be fun.”

Martin’s smile is gently teasing. “Fun? In this cottage? Surely not.”

“Ha ha.”

Martin’s smile widens, and he presses another quick kiss to Jon’s nose. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.” He rocks back and forth on his heels a few times, as if considering, before adding, “And you can try to tickle me back if you’d like.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Try to?”

Martin’s smile turns devious at the edges, and he doesn’t clarify. Instead, he squeezes Jon’s hands once more before releasing them. “This’ll be fun! I’m going to go start the laundry—let me know if you need any help with dinner?”

“Yes, of course.”

Jon watches Martin depart from the kitchen with a frown before returning to the pot and retrieving a new spoon from the drawer.

Try to? What did he mean by that?

Jon finds his answer a few days later when he casually brushes his fingers against Martin’s sides, just above his waist, and Martin doesn’t even twitch. A light touch to the soles of his feet elicits the same response, and a kiss on his neck results in only a smile and a kiss in return.

Martin is apparently, frustratingly, not ticklish.

This, naturally, escalates the game to outlandish proportions.

Jon will admit—albeit with some reluctance—that he is, in fact, a very competitive person. Board game nights and trivia always took on much higher stakes than strictly necessary, his research always had to be more thorough and comprehensive than that of his coworkers in the research department, and he felt a thrill of satisfaction every time he figured out the answer to a problem before anyone else. He just … doesn’t like to lose.

And Jon is currently losing against Martin. Quite badly, in fact. It only takes a few days of indignity and injustice for Jon to decide that enough is enough, and he is going to find Martin’s weakness and finally get ahead.

Every light kiss is accompanied by Jon’s fingers brushing against Martin’s stomach or sides. Every time Jon curls around Martin in bed, he’s sure to let his breath tickle the back of Martin’s neck and to trail his fingers up Martin’s spine. And every time Martin stubbornly refuses to react to Jon’s touch, Jon tries a new tactic, because something has to work. Martin can’t just be … immune. That would be cosmically unfair.

Because Martin takes every opportunity to tickle Jon in return. And the number of times that Jon has shrieked and dissolved into helpless giggles when Martin finds another spot on him that is, apparently, very ticklish is getting to be truly embarrassing.

Not that Jon is … complaining, necessarily. He likes the game—likes being touched by Martin in ways that continue to surprise him, without any expectation of something more. Martin stays clear of areas that make Jon uncomfortable, takes his hands away the moment Jon tells him to stop (usually in a fit of breathless giggles), and always entertains Jon’s attempts to tickle him in return, fruitless as they may be. He would just like it more if he weren’t losing quite so badly at it.

Not that he thinks Martin minds, judging by the fond smile that seems to be permanently etched onto his face lately. That same smile turns teasing, and a little bit smug, every time Jon fails to elicit the same breathless giggles out of Martin. Jon wishes the sight didn’t inspire such affection within him because he wants to be irritated by it.

His scowl never has any heat behind it.

A few days later, Jon finds himself ignoring the documentary they’ve put on the television in favor of skimming his fingers up and down Martin’s outer thigh. When Martin doesn’t move an inch, he grows bolder, then bolder still, until he finds himself on Martin’s lap, hands pressed firmly against his chest and lips trailing kisses down his jaw. He places a kiss on a spot that he knows is particularly ticklish on him, and when Martin still remains impassive, a noise of frustration escapes his throat.

Martin makes an amused sound. “Sorry,” he says in a distinctly unapologetic tone of voice. “I can see that you’re trying very hard.”

He sounds a bit breathless, Jon thinks with a hint of pride, even as he recognizes that that’s probably less a product of the tickling than it is of the fact that Jon is currently straddling him and kissing him quite thoroughly. Which is just ridiculous, in Jon’s opinion. Everyone is ticklish on their neck. It’s just human nature.

“I am,” Jon says primly, lips brushing against the underside of Martin’s jaw. Martin doesn’t so much as flinch. Bastard. “It’s rather rude that my efforts are going unappreciated.”

“Oh, I’m appreciating them. Very much. Feel free to continue, please.”

Jon pulls back and affixes Martin with the driest look he can muster. “I see you’re not sympathetic to my cause.”

Martin’s mouth falls into that same frustratingly smug smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” His hands, resting on Jon’s waist, skim upward suddenly and send a violent shudder through Jon’s body.

“This,” Jon says breathlessly, “is unfair. Cruel and unusual punishment. Torture of the highest order.”

“So you’re giving up, then?” Martin says sweetly. He punctuates his words with a quick pinch just above Jon’s waist that has him squeaking.

Jon scowls and pinches Martin’s waist in return, to no avail. “Don’t be absurd.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Martin shrugs. “All right.” Then, he lifts Jon from his lap like he’s made of papier-mâché, settles him back down on the couch next to him, and proceeds to attack his sides and stomach and arms until Jon is wriggling and tears are budding at the corners of his eyes and his stomach is sore from laughing.

It's wonderful.

(And maybe Jon’s just a little bit afraid that, if he finally finds a way to make Martin jump beneath his fingers, the game will end and Martin will cease trying to find new and wonderful ways to touch him gently, to handle him like he’s something tender, to take him apart and hold him close in the same breath.

Not afraid enough to stop trying to find Martin’s weak spot. But the thought is there all the same.)

In the end, none of Jon’s agonizing and strategizing and consideration of variables makes much of a difference. Because when he finally manages to tickle Martin, it happens quite by accident.

They’ve been in the safehouse for nearly a month now, and the tickling has become part of the daily routine. Jon thinks, therefore, that he should have come to expect it by now, but Martin never quite does the same thing day-to-day. Sometimes, his hands on Jon’s waist in the morning as Jon cooks breakfast are firm and comforting, eliciting nothing from Jon but a pleased little hum and a soft good morning. Other times, his fingers drum a light staccato rhythm against the small rolls of fat that have begun to accumulate on Jon’s hips, and Jon wriggles, making Martin laugh and insist that I’m hardly even doing anything, Jon.

Jon had never really considered touch as something that could contain so much love and affection within it. He’s never been more glad to be proven wrong.

The morning it happens is quiet and cloudy. The sunlight through the window is tinged with gray, bringing with it a cold that cuts through the downy duvet they have. Jon rolls over in bed with a groan. He presses himself firmly against Martin’s back, draping one arm across Martin’s chest and shifting so his legs are flush with Martin’s in an effort to combine their body heat and stave off the chill. His foot, socked and a good deal colder than the rest of his body, brushes against the back of Martin’s knee.

Martin twitches, his leg jerking away from Jon’s involuntarily. With sleep still clinging tightly to him, it takes Jon a moment to realize what’s happened and a few moments more to identify what, exactly, he had done to warrant the reaction.

Experimentally, he shifts and touches his foot to the back of Martin’s knee again, feather-light and fleeting. And when Martin makes a small sound in the back of his throat, froggy with sleep, and twitches away again, Jon grins. He buries his face in the back of Martin’s neck to hide it. Then—because he’s a bit giddy and just can’t help himself—he rests his foot against the back of Martin’s knee and wiggles his toes.

Martin’s leg curls up against his chest, effectively locking away his figurative Achille’s heel, and he mumbles something incoherent in his sleep that sounds equal parts groggy and irritated.

Jon’s smile turns soft, and he presses a kiss to Martin’s shoulder before wrapping his arms securely around him. The warmth radiating from Martin is enough to lull him back to sleep—but not before he tucks this new, incredibly valuable piece of information away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

Jon has, in his memory, never been described as a particularly patient person. He always skips the boring parts of books and movies, preferring something that can actually capture his attention and hold it firm. He used to send daily emails to colleagues until they sent him the research or information or supplies he needed. He never lets soups simmer as long as the recipes tell him to, and he firmly believes that it’s all right to set the oven temperature higher than recommended in order to cut down the cooking or baking time required.

Therefore, he thinks it’s rather impressive that he manages to avoid showing his hand until a full day later, when he walks into the kitchen in the morning to see Martin standing by the counter, his back to him as he fiddles with the teabags and mugs. The weather is still brisk, but there’s a fire going in the fireplace that makes the temperature in the safehouse tolerable. As such, Martin is clad in a (rather adorable) mixture of bright purple fuzzy socks, a thick woolen jumper, and boxer shorts with little dachshunds on them.

And, well. His knees are right there.

It has a certain kind of symmetry to it—Jon wrapping his arms around Martin’s waist, earning himself a hum and a gentle good morning, and nuzzling into the space between Martin’s shoulder blades. He stays there for a moment, relaxing into the warmth and softness of the jumper, before slowly and deliberately lifting his foot and brushing it against the back of Martin’s left knee. Except, instead of dropping a wooden spoon into a pot of red sauce, Martin startles so badly that the mug slips from his hand, shattering rather spectacularly on the floor beside them.

Jon freezes, staring down at the puddle of half-steeped tea as it slowly creeps toward his feet. “… Ah.”

Martin mutters a curse under his breath and extracts himself from Jon’s now-loose embrace, bending down to begin picking up the largest of the shards. Jon stands there for a moment, feeling a strange mix of sheepishness and pride bloom in his chest, before going to retrieve the broom.

The mess is gone in a matter of minutes. Martin throws the last shard into the bin, dusts his hands off to ensure that they’re free of ceramic, then turns to face Jon with a sigh that straddles the border between exasperated and affectionate. “While I was holding tea?” he says, clearly trying to fight back a smile.

“I didn’t know you’d drop it!” Jon says defensively, gesturing widely with the broom he’s still holding.

“Well—I didn’t mean to. You just … caught me off guard.”

Jon can’t help the smile that spreads across his face at that. “Did I? How terribly rude of me.”

“Yes, yes, congratulations. You’ve found my weakness.” Martin’s smile is dripping with fondness. “I’m still winning, you know.”

“For now.” Jon adjusts his grip on the broom, the plastic bristles at the perfect height for his purposes.

“There’s not a chance that—hey!”

Martin backs up against the counter as Jon lunges forward with the broom, trying to angle it so it reaches behind Martin’s legs. It’s deceptively difficult. Martin gives Jon a comically exaggerated look of betrayal. “I expose my weaknesses to you, and this is what I get. Treachery and deceit.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Jon adjusts his grip on the broom, but before he can make another move, Martin leans forward and presses a quick, lingering kiss to his lips. Jon makes a noise of surprise, then one of contentment. He finds his eyes fluttering shut despite himself, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders, and he thinks he’d rather like to keep kissing Martin for the rest of the morning, and perhaps the early afternoon as well.

Which is why it’s rather unfair that when Martin pulls away, Jon opens his eyes to find that Martin’s sidestepped him and Jon has lost all tactical advantage.

“That’s cheating!” Jon says indignantly.

“That’s taking advantage of all the resources at my disposal,” Martin counters. It’s infuriating, and Jon loves him so very, very much.

What commences after that is a rather short, altogether too lively game of cat and mouse that mostly involves Jon running after Martin with a broom and Martin somehow managing to stay frustratingly out of reach. Martin’s laughter is lighter and more joyful than Jon thinks he’s ever heard it before, and Jon feels a childlike happiness blossoming in his chest as he nearly trips over the corner of a rug and just manages to catch himself on the back of the couch. Therefore, he can’t bring himself to feel too disappointed when Martin somehow manages to extract the broom from his hands and corner him on the couch. His fingers find the sensitive spots on Jon’s body as Jon giggles breathlessly and swats half-heartedly at Martin’s hands.

“All right, all right,” he manages to say between laughs. “You’ve made your point. I give up.”

Martin stills his hands, letting them rest gently on Jon’s shoulders with his thumbs brushing against Jon’s collarbones. He’s hovering over Jon, knees bracketing Jon’s thighs as the arm of the couch digs into the middle of Jon’s back. It’s a position that makes Jon feel small and enclosed, but also warm and happy and safe, because … it’s Martin. Martin, who only touches Jon as much as he wants him to and stops the moment it becomes too much. Martin, who apologized profusely the first time he accidentally rolled on top of Jon at night but who, upon Jon’s insistence that it was actually quite nice, has now taken to acting like Jon’s own very warm and very lovely weighted blanket. Martin, who looks at a body that has seen so many unkind hands and unspeakable horrors and presses kisses to the scars that lie upon it and reminds Jon with every touch what it is like to feel comfortable in his own skin.

“I love you,” Jon whispers, because he feels it so acutely in this moment that he thinks he might burst.

“I love you too,” Martin murmurs, rubbing his thumbs in careful circles on Jon’s collarbones so as to soothe rather than to tickle. The care behind that touch—the difference in intent from just a few moments prior—probably shouldn’t make Jon’s chest tighten and his stomach grow hollow and fluttering, but it does.

Martin presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead, soft and lingering and gentle, before pulling back and saying, “Tea?”

Jon can’t help leaning in to give Martin a chaste kiss on the nose, then another one quickly on the lips. The small noise that Martin makes with each touch is something that Jon boxes away and treasures forever. “Yes,” he says with a quiet smile. “That would be lovely.”