#outside when i smoke. the key to me not smoking as much is truly just for Something Else to hold my attention

[actualbird]

hilarious thing i just realized: playing hsr makes me smoke less. it has Noticeably made me smoke less these past few days because i play it on a rather large ipad, which is hard to hold while smoking (as opposed to when im playing tot on an easy-to-hold-while-smoking phone, or when im using my laptop that doesnt need to be held and can just be placed down on a table)

so uh. thanks hsr for helping w my addiction these past few days!!

[hemmingshouse]

a nice pair / matt sturniolo

summary: matt has a thing for you and makes that very clear when you’re smoking together.

warnings: making out, swearing, mentions of sex, smoking, fingering etc etc etc.

“pass me that lighter again?”

your words slowly shook him from the haze he was in as he breathed out the smoke he inhaled seconds ago. he looked at you for a second, adoring the way your eyes were a bit droopy because of the impact of the joint you two were currently sharing.

matt opened his eyes from where he was slumped upon the couch, head resting against the back of the comfortable leather. he reached for the black lighter that was next to him before he chucked it your way, the small object hitting you straight in the boob. “ow!” you laughed, “you got aim, brotha.”

he chuckled and rolled his eyes at the nickname, watching how you were lighting up the joint from where it slowly burned out before. with the dimmed lighting of the living room and the scented candles you had lit before lighting up the joint to block out the strong smell, matt noticed how relaxed you looked. it was a nice contrast to a few hours ago, where you came barging through the triplets front door after a massive fight with one of your best friends.

she had multiple problems with her boyfriend and because you were such an empathic person, you continuously tried to help her out by giving advice whenever you could. it became a bit harder for you when she neglected you for the motherfucker of a boyfriend, all your energy and time disappearing into thin air when you realised she had never truly listened to you in the first place.

“god,” you breathed out the smoke, shaking your head, “can’t thank you enough for letting me lounge around your place, matt. truly means a lot.”

he sent you a smile, waving you off jokingly. “you have a spare key, sweetheart. can’t stop you from anything.”

“oh fuck off,” you laughed, sitting up straight after you took another hit of the blunt, “as if you’d ever stop me to begin with. you love having me around ‘cause you can lay your head on my tits when we sleep together.”

matt sucked in an audible breath after you jokingly called him out, shaking his head playfully. “can’t deny that, you’ve got a very nice fuckin’ pair.”

the way you always joked around with each other was something people from the outside would rarely ever get. strangers could never truly figure out of you two were a couple or just teasing friends, and sometimes it was a trick question for you and matt as well. even nick and chris would often make bets about who of you two would cave in first and admit to having feelings for one another even if the both of you stated you were just friends. the line between being friendly and being friendly was sometimes being crossed without you two even being fully aware of it.

you handed him the joint so he was able to put it out onto the ashtray sitting on the coffee table because you nearly finished it. matt let out a content sigh as he sat back onto the couch, much closer to you this time. the heat radiated off of him as matt rested his head against your collarbone, an arm draped across your stomach.

“don’t fall asleep on me,” you smiled softly, hand reaching up to tangle in his unruly mop of brown hair, “i don’t want your drool on my chest.”

he chuckled softly, your vanilla cotton scented perfume filling his nose as it brushed against your neck ever so lightly. matt adored the way you let him be his clingy self when he was a bit hazy, always very content the way he was able to cuddle you and sneak a hand underneath your (his) t-shirt.

this time was different though. you wore a strappy crop top that matched your wide leg joggers and matt swore his mouth dropped when he saw you barging through the door a few hours prior. the red material was a nice change from the black you usually wore as it brought out your eyes and he couldn’t stop lurking at your collar bones and neck as they were on full display for him to admire.

the way your soft and bare skin felt against his stubbly jaw made a knot form in the pit of his stomach, your familiar scent making his head dizzy as he thought about how you’d feel when you were fully naked and pulled flush against him as he was filling you up.

“matt?” you whispered, almost sure that he fell asleep until he slowly moved his hand from where it was still draped across your stomach to the waistband of your joggers. his action caused your cheeks to heat up slightly, breath caught in the back of your throat when the tip of his fingers softly dipped into waistband. “matt-”

“mhm?” he hummed, nose brushing against your jaw as he featherly kissed your neck. you weren’t sure if it was actually happening or if you were imagining it because of being hazy, but the way your body reacted gave away that you were more than okay with matt touching you this way. “what’s wrong?”

his muffled and low words in combination with the way his slender fingers untied the knot of your joggers made your head spin, hands unconsciously pulling matt’s hair slightly. “n-nothing,” you stammered quietly as his fingers brushed your underwear, “just getting a bit hot over here.”

he chuckled, “maybe we should take these off then,” he suggested as he tugged onto the drawstrings of your joggers once again, a hint of playfulness in his voice. you didn’t know what ignited in you, but you pulled matt’s head back from the crook of your neck to look him in the eye. 

you were sat in silence for a few seconds, gazes locked, before you felt like it went on for long enough and pulled him closer to you by the back of his neck. matt was quick to cup your jaw with one hand and smash his lips onto yours, not wanting to waste any more precious time as he deepened the kiss by letting his mouth work together with yours.

you never expected a shitty afternoon could turn into you kissing one of your best friends, his fingertips now digging into your waist as you casually seated yourself on his lap. a groan fell from his mouth as you accidentally rocked your hips against his after he softly bit your lip, his hands sneaking underneath your top.

the coldness of his rings in combination with how his calloused fingers were currently dragging across your skin made your head spin. your acrylic nails grazed his scalp as you ran your fingers through his hair, a soft wimper falling from your lips as matt’s hands dipped down to grab a good handfull of your ass.

“oh my god,” he breathed as you took off his hoodie and threw it onto the floor next to the couch, “if i knew this was gonna happen, i would’ve gotten you high sooner.”

his joke made you punch his shoulder lightly, matt’s hand grabbing your wrist before he placed a kiss onto the palm of your hand. “i’m joking baby,” he chuckled, “but fuck, if i don’t get you naked in a second-”

“matt,” you chuckled as he took ahold of the hem of your top, looking into your eyes, “the only thing that’s stopping you from getting me naked is you running your mouth.”

it caused him to laugh and shake his head, “i just wanna take my time,” he mumbled, fingers curling around the fabric of your top before he looked up at you to silently ask for consent. you didn’t say anything, just raised your arms with a small smile before he threw the strappy red fabric onto the floor. “look at you,” he said softly, running his fingers along your skin. “so fuckin’ beautiful, aren’t you?”

the way his husky voice was ringing in your ears whilst his big hands trailed along your entire torso made goosebumps arise on every inch of your body. the way he was so gentle but still took control was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, loving the way he spoke to you while he took the time to explore your body.

“matt,” you mumbled, his lips pressing feathery kisses along your boobs and neck as his hands remained warm on your waist. he hummed at you as he continued his actions, tongue slightly dragging up from your neck to your ear.

“yes baby?” he asked you, nickname falling from his tongue as if he called you that every single day. you didn’t want to waste any more time as you took his chin in one hand, pulling him in to kiss you once again.

matt loved how you knew what you wanted and adored that you showed him you wanted it now. he couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss as you deepened the kiss, letting out a whimper when one of matt’s hands slowly slid into your underwear as he kept his gaze on you. “god,” he hissed, nose bumping against yours, “never knew i could find you even hotter than i already did, but now that you’re soaked on my couch i fear i actually can.”

the way his cold fingers worked against your clit and eventually slid inside you made you moan, hands tangled in matt’s unruly hair. “mh- oh fuck.”

the way you responded to matt’s touch caused his ego to burst through the roof, your body almost like putty running through his fingers. he couldn’t stop looking at how your face scrunched up in pleasure as his fingers pumped in and out of you, a rosy blush spreading across your cheeks as your eyes locked with his.

“you’re doin’ so well for me, sweetheart,” he told you, continuing his pleasuring as his free hand squeezed your thigh, “can’t wait to fuck you even better.”

you let out a whine when matt’s fingers slipped out of you, “broooo,” you sighed, “why the fuck did you stop?” you asked him with a whiny chuckle, eyes darting up at him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his jeans, leaning forward to kiss you once again in the meantime.

matt chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, “need to hear those pretty little moans when my cock fills you up before you cum, pretty girl.”

PART TWO.

[romanoffsbish]

I’m Fine 🙂 / Save Me 🙃

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Familial / Sisters)

Warnings: Angst w/Bittersweet Ending | Reader Dies | Black Widow / Red Room Canon | Addiction | “Cry for Help”

All she had left was the memory of you. | WC: 1,512

"Do you ever feel like you're all alone in this world?"

Natasha looked up from her laptop quick. "What?"

"Like, no matter how hard you try, no one will ever love or regard you in the same way you do them?"

——

Natasha tried to approach you gently, "Y/N." Yet she wasn't quick enough as you jumped back. "Shut up."

There was a fire in your eyes she hardly recognized, and she took a step back. Looking in your eyes hurt, because you were not the same little girl who used to pick flowers from the garden just for her hair and part of her took blame for that. "Don't try and pretend like you do." If you were a wine you'd be the most bitter. "I don't know why you even keep me around Natasha."

The redhead scoffed bitterly, "because I love you!" It stung to feel the burden in her words—you're hurting yourself just to spite her, but she hurt you first and with the way your mind was racing this made sense.

"Or is it because you feel guilty?" You countered, and hit it on the head as she whispered, "Y/N, please..."

Crushing her the same way she did you the day she left you behind, in a place built to destroy a dreamer like you, in the hands of a man set out to punish you for the mistakes of the woman you loved the most. Ouch.

"Do you think the world would miss me if I vanished?"

"Of cou—." You mindlessly cut her off, words tinged with vitriol, "Of course not. You're the one they'd hold the candlelight vigils for, you'll be on a mural and I'd be the one the stray cats would miss, because just like them I know what it's like to truly have no place."

"Have you been smoking pot?" It reeked the longer she stood closer to you. Then you all but confirmed it as you grew defensive. "Is that all you can ask Natasha?"

Natasha clicked her tongue. "Answer the question."

"Yes," you monotoned, "what does that change?"

"Everything." You grew rather frustrated, "but how?"

“You’re not making any sense,” she tried to reason but you laughed incredulously, “this is the first time in my entire life that I am making complete sense, Natalia.”

"I don't like it when you're like this, sestra."

"I'm always like this." Natasha sighed, "yeah..."

"Yeah?" Natasha nodded shamefully and you couldn't stop the sob from breaking. She hated you.

"Then I won't be anything to you, anymore."

Natasha shot up in a cold sweat, her wife beater tank top sticking to her skin, the words of your last fight still ringing in her head; a cry for help and she was useless.

"Fuck," she hiccuped, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobbed alongside the sky just outside the window. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and tried to force the pity she felt for herself away, the grief...

There were so many things she could have said; done.

I don't understand, but I want to; talk to me...

Had she ran after you, would it be different now?

Could've grabbed you by the arm. Don't go. Stay.

I love you more than you could ever know.

Instead she scoffed, 'at least I can finish my paperwork now,' and let you storm out the door without noticing the keys to her brand new jet black Porsche were gone.

Yelena still won't return her calls. Melina and Alexei are beside themselves in a grief harsher than her own. Though she internally wagers that her loss was the greatest, because you were her little widow first...

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

"Natty?" the blue haired girl looked at you with a wide grin, the innocence of the nickname you gave her was endearing and in the same breath, twisted. It was clear to her you didn't remember much of the before. You were four years her junior, so similar to Yelena, this life was honestly all you'd known. "Da, malen'kiy pauk?"

Natasha laughed just as soon as you giggled. It brought her joy to know, that for a while, you could be free of the harsh shackles that awaited you all back home.

"A little girl at school today told me about how in her family, when a person goes away, that they can become something else when they visit." Natasha nearly lost the joy on her face as you curiously approached death. In her mind the hope you held onto was futile, that when you shoot someone between the eyes, they are as good as gone, but she could never destroy you like that.

Instead, she gave life to your wonder, "What would you want to be then, a kitty?" You shook your head and blurted your answer easily, "malen'kiy pauk." The gaps in your teeth only made your smile more endearing, and the redhead opened her arms to you. You launched yourself into your sister's arms and gripped her tight.

"Then I could visit you," you mumbled against her shirt and the natural redhead tensed. The idea of you no longer existing felt unpleasant—her walls crumbled the moment you and Yelena entered her life but this was the first time she'd felt anything excruciating.

"Moya malen'kiy pauk," she chuckled softly so as to not cry instead, she placed a kiss to your cheek then hoped your childlike attention span would change the tune.

Then a familiar jingle sounded and you were scrambling into the house, shrieking for your mom.

Natasha shook her head and walked to the old man who knowingly parked out front of your house. He handed the redhead three ice creams, and a disk.

—————

You stood next to Natasha in the line for lunch, which was just a tasteless tray variety of essential nutrients. It was rule of thumb not to talk in line, but you were never one to follow the rules, and neither was Natasha.

"Are you scared of death?" Natasha frowned. "What?"

"I think a healthy fear for the end is fair, but I'm not losing sleep over the concept. Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm honestly not," you shrugged, stance indifferent but Natasha unfortunately believed you as you went on to say, "just wondering if I'm alone."

"Never with us," Yelena chimed in. "Death is an inevitability, just a matter of the when and how."

It wasn't hard to see to the fear in the blonde's eyes as she kept up her indifferent demeanor. Deep down, Natasha knew she was still that little girl from Ohio, who up until recently called fireflies, forest stars.

—

"I can't believe it," your tone clipped, the warmth you used to greet her with was gone. "I'll be back," she lied without realizing, but you could see it clearly. "Izhets."

(Liar)

"Y/N, I am going to end it once and for all," she hoped you could see the bigger picture, a promised freedom.

"Tozhe tupoy," you chuckled humorlessly. "There is no end, just more opportunities to build up defense."

(Dumb too)

Natasha fell for the American's words of ignorance.

"I love you," she said with certainty before she was one with the shadows, the last piece of your hope gone as it'd been years since you last caught sight of Lena.

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

A loud cry outside the purposely cracked window pulled her from her bittersweet thoughts of you...

Natasha stood beneath the tarp of your balcony, eyes downcast on a gorgeous white cat, paws soiled by the mud she trudged through with her three kittens. The redhead set a plate of food down for her then settled down beside her, towel in hand as she dried her babies.

The light of the moon cast over the kittens, reflecting off their varied fur patterns. A black one meowed, calling to her first among the litter, he hissed softly at the unfamiliar lift but settled fast as she began to dry his fur, pulling off grime and putting him to sleep.

The same occurred with the next boy cat, who was a gorgeous shade of gray, with faint swirls of orange.

Lastly, the smallest of the three, a gorgeous blend of white, brown and orange. She was the most vocal.

A grateful purr came from the mama cat when the redhead moved on to her paws, her eyes fluttered open at the unexpected contact, and when Natasha lifted her own gaze she gasped. With the light now on her face the color of her eyes was clear, a tear streamed down Nat's face without warning. The color and deep feeling of understanding behind them were just so, you.

"Oh my," a subdued laugh left her as she caught sight of something else, she scooped the feline into her lap, and placed a finger on her wet, pink nose in waiting. The blur of black transferred right on over and the woman smiled truly for the first time in eight months. "Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, moy malen'kiy pauk."

(Welcome home, my little spider)

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.” 

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.” 

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said. 

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.” 

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here. 

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied. 

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though. 

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.   

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…” 

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became… 

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”    

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.” 

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.  

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.  

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.  

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.  

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.  

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?” 

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.” 

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real. 

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”  

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight. 

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him. 

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said. 

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[lichenes]

"...Losing Dogs"

this one scene from the film when they're drinking and reader loses their keys lol not much in common with the mitski song, just thought it'd be fitting?? (gif's not mine) vincent renzi x gn!reader CW: slight (lies) mischaracterisation, possibly spelling and gramatical errors (sorry!), kissing, the french, SFW wc: 592

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ _____

Vincent would be considered a patient man by most. Now that he was standing in your garden, amongst the quiet buzz of insects instinctively following the light coming from your phone's flashlight, he found himself... curiously intrigued.

"I could've sworn...." Vincent chuckled at your misfortune, giving you an apologetic look after you stared at him with playful disdain. You continued looking for your lost keys, which you assumed fell out of your pocket when you were sitting near the fire, which was slowly going out, the last of it lazily flicking its scorching toungues over the charred logs.

"They must me around here somewhere, I distinctly remember you locking up the house." Nothing escaped the lawyer's attention it seemed. He took another swig of the beer you two were sharing.

To say you were embarrassed was an understatement, you and the man you've been yearing for for years both were locked out of your house because of a careless mistake you've made. Your cheeks were burning with shame as you scoured for any sign of the small pieces of metal.

Vincent was looking at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. Still waiting for the keys to magically turn up he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, asking you if you wanted a smoke as well. He was a gentleman at heart priding himself on his virtues. Inhaling the smoke he remarked.

"Did you know that you can only trust people if you can put an animal head to their face?" Amused, you stood up straightening your back. "Is that so? What animal am I then?" He answered without hesitation. "A dog. How do you say... a basse- basset?" He added.

You giggled. "They truly are gorgeous animals..." He looked at you expectantly. "You'd be an echidna." You jested. Feigning offence he put his hand on his chest. "Mademoiselle, how dare you!" You both laughed at that giving you ample opportunity to appreciate his smile lines.

A few moments passed and you spoke up. "I guess we'll have to sleep outside tonight." Focusing solely on your unfortunate position it escaped your focus that Vincent was looking at your lips more and more with each passing minute. "I guess so..." he said absent-mindedly.

You gestured towards his cigarette which he immediately interpreted as a request. Vincent passed it to you. "It's like and indirect kiss you know." You winked when you said that feeling yourself cringe at your own actions. He visibly tensed up at your words, giving the impression that you made him uncomfortable.

When you noticed it you wanted to start apologising profusely. Despite years of friendship you still couldn't read him. Lawyers privilege you supposed.

Right in the middle of your first 'I'm sorry' he grasped your cigarette holding hand and put the bundle to his mouth inhaling the smoke and subsequently blowing it in your face with a large grin, getting dangerously close to your lips.

Vincent chuckled at the heat that was eminating from your face and asked "Do you ever wonder..." still so close he put his hand on the back of your neck and put his forehead to yours. He exhaled shakily. "What if..." and put his lips on yours waiting for your reciprocation.

Your racing heart slowed down with each passing second as you grabbed onto Vincent's face and deepened the kiss. His grip on your neck lessened as he relaxed into the kiss.

He was a patient man, just not when it came to you.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ _____

masterlist

[adverbally]

I Still Got You to Be My Open Door

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘Go, see if I care.’” | wc: 662 | rated: T | cw: referenced parental neglect | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve’s parents suck, references to cutting off contact with parents | title from “Grey Room” by Damien Rice

Steve’s own voice echoes after him as he slams the front door and stomps to his car.

“How did you think I would react?” Infuriated. Poisonous.

He fumbles his keys and they fall to the asphalt with a discordant jangle that sounds the way his nerves feel. He has to shut his eyes and breathe for a moment so he doesn’t fall apart.

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll go somewhere else.” Emotionless. Numb.

Another breath, then Steve retrieves his keys. He wonders, as he unlocks the car door, if he should leave his house key. He could drop it in the mailbox, slip it under the doormat. He could throw it in the pool or toss it into the woods behind the house…

The silence inside the car is deafening. It was quiet enough outside, the sun already setting on a short fall day, but every bird’s song and rustle of leaves had seemed magnified by the roar of his pulse in his ears. The car muffles everything outside, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

“Go, see if I care.” Sneering. Disdainful.

That’s the part that stings the most. His parents dropped this on him over the phone. They couldn’t even be bothered to come home to discuss it. Probably because in their minds, there is nothing to discuss. They will be selling the house, they will be moving to New York for his dad’s business, and they need his belongings packed up by the end of the month.

They didn’t invite him to come with them. They hadn’t even thought to ask what his plans were, now that they were yanking his home out from under him.

“Good luck in the city, I guess.” Hurt. Abandoned.

Steve drives around town in silence for what feels like hours, replaying the conversation over and over. What should he have said differently? Would it have changed anything? No, he decides. At the end of the day, the fact is that his parents don’t care about him, don’t even know him, and this kind of fight was a long time coming.

It still makes Steve’s throat tight. Standing up for himself like this means he’s given up all hope of having a relationship with his parents. As unlikely as that was, the possibility had been there. They could wake up one day and realize how absent and neglectful they had been, could apologize and beg for his forgiveness and try to make it up to him. That bridge is well and truly burned, now, which isn’t surprising but still feels like a gut punch.

Without consciously picking a destination, Steve finds himself parked outside the Munson home. He kills the headlights, shuts off the ignition, but doesn’t get out of the car. Now that he’s stopped moving, he doesn’t have the momentum to start again.

The tap on his window is gentle but it still makes him jump. Of course it’s Eddie, standing there in one of Steve’s old Hawkins High sweatshirts, peering at him through the glass with that concerned frown Steve loves so much. “You okay?” he mouths.

Steve can’t begin to answer that right now. He opens the car door, careful not to hit Eddie, and slips out right into Eddie’s comforting embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Eddie murmurs, one hand holding Steve’s head against his shoulder and the other rubbing up and down his back.

“My parents,” he sighs. That about sums it up.

Eddie doesn’t ask him to elaborate, just squeezes him tighter. “You can stay over if you want. Wayne won’t mind, and he’s working tonight anyway.”

Everything will wait until tomorrow, when the hurt isn’t so fresh and he can make plans with a clear head. For tonight, Steve can cuddle up with his boyfriend, in borrowed clothes that smell like Eddie, maybe smoke a little, and stop thinking so hard.

“Thanks,” he tells Eddie, his voice small.

Eddie kisses the top of his head. “Any time.”

[itsasainz]

Heyy, welcome to the club (I’m a red too),

I wanted to request some Kylian fluff, where there at a party or a wedding and their relationship is accidentally exposed because in a story, they’re caught dancing together, and it’s all cute and always and maybe at first reader is scared of her relationship being public but Kylian calms her down — idk I just got inspired from the song bébé by dadju, so if you could include it in some way, ☺️🥹 thx again

hehe I love wedding fics lmao, this got a bit longer than I thought it was gonna be but anyway!! I'd literally never heard the song before but I listened to it while I wrote the dance bit <3

also I just used a random photo of him I found on Pinterest lol

-

"Kylian, we're late, and we need to leave time to check in!" you called, struggling to pull your heels on as you checked the time, groaning at the thought of him turning up late to a wedding where he was literally the best man.

"Bébé, it's fine!" he says, coming out of the bathroom, fully dressed up in a suit and smart shoes, looking handsome as ever. You pause slightly when you see him -- him in suits would well and truly be the death of you, you thought, fixing the buckle of your heel. He winks when he sees your eyes follow him across the room as he gets the car keys and wedding present.

You get one of your smarter coats -- it might be a wedding, but it was also the middle of the winter, and you weren't prepared to die of hypothermia. He takes your bag for you, sticking it in the boot as you get in the passenger seat, texting the groom's sister to tell her you were on the way.

"I love weddings." you confess on the motorway, seeing the photos your friends are sending you from the venue.

Kylian hums, "I love the free alcohol."

Frowning, you close your phone. "There's more to weddings than free alcohol, love, we're seeing all our school friends and the food sounds like it's gonna be great, plus two of our best friends are getting married."

He chuckles, "And that's all good, but they take forever."

"You're infuriating, y'know?" you tease, letting him know he had to take the next exit. The venue isn't far from Paris, but you'd agreed that rather than getting a taxi back to your place in the middle of the night, you'd rather just stay the night at the hotel, an old Chateaux overlooking the Seine that had been renovated in the past few years to be the perfect wedding venue; picturesque and charming.

The closer you get, the smaller the roads are, but you spot the venue long before you find the adjacent street, excited at the majestic architecture and the rows of cars already parked outside; he finds a space in the carpark and you check in, splitting ways so you he can catch up with the groom and you can go to find your friends before heading to the chapel.

As it turns out, the ceremony is delayed anyway, and you end up sitting on the bride's side of the audience with an old school friend, Amélie, even though you're technically here with the groom. Kylian's stood at the front with the groom, smiling and laughing at something he's saying, pausing his conversation to wave when you sit down.

"God, you guys are cute." Amélie mutters she settles beside you. "How much d'you wanna bet you guys'll be the next to get married?"

You roll your eyes. "We haven't even gone public yet, Ams."

"It's a matter of time, trust me." she chides, shushing you as the ceremony starts.

Hours later, after a prolonged meal and, eventually, the first dance, you're laughing with Amélie about the time you got suspended for smoking in the field during school, having lost track of Kylian a long while ago. Just when you're starting to get concerned about his whereabouts, you feel his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you on the temple. "Dance with me, please?"

You sigh, "Only because you asked so nicely." you tease, letting him pull you into the dance floor as the song starts up, a poppy ballad that you've danced with him to a thousand times before. Teasingly, as he spins you round, he sings the lyrics to you, laughing as you get flustered. pulling you close during the bridge, hands on your waist, your arms around his neck as you kiss him, smiling into it, happy to feel so relaxed about being with him in public, knowing it's only really family and friends seeing it.

He kisses you again, peppering you nose and cheeks as you giggle, squirming from the ticklish contact. You dance for another couple of songs before he goes to get you another cocktail, leaving you to check your Instagram. There are a few stories about the wedding -- photos from the ceremony and meal, but the one that catches your attention was posted by Marc, one of Kylian's friends; the photo is of him and his girlfriend, but you can see yourself in the background, laughing as Kylian spins you around, his face also clearly visible. Telling yourself that fans are hardly going to notice him in that background of the story -- especially since it would take some really deep digging to even know he's friends with Marc -- you put your phone away, seeing Kylian returning, Mojito in hand.

You sip the drink, sticking to his side as another guest, the bride's aunt, comes to greet him, denying you the opportunity to tell him about the photo, even though you know he'd just remind you of what you already know -- fans don't even know who Marc is, they're not going to see the photo.

It's only as people are starting to head home or up to their hotel rooms that you see all the notifications; within a matter of hours, your Instagram followers have shot up by nearly ten thousand people, and your DMs are full of people asking about Kylian; confused and more than a little panicked, you check Twitter, only to see your concerns are correct. Kylian's name is trending, with 90% of the tweets featuring various screenshots from different photos from the wedding, different angles of your little dance with him and his hands on your waist as you stand at the bar. You look across the room at where he's telling a story to the bride's parents, Amélie catching your attention as she rushes across the room to you. "

"Oh my God, have you seen the photos?" she asks, a little too tipsy to be genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, just now -- I'm totally freaking out." you admit, fighting the urge to bite your nails. "This is awful -- I'm getting absolutely spammed on all my socials."

She sighs, offering you a sympathetic look. "Talk to him. Oh, and if you're public now, that means there's nothing stopping him from proposing."

You roll your eyes, bidding her good night as she goes to leave -- seemingly in tandem with one of the bride's cousins, not that you say anything. Instead, you make a beeline for Kylian, hesitantly pulling him away from his conversation and saying your goodbyes to the other guests.

"What's wrong?" he asks, immediately catching onto how fidgety you're acting and how quickly you're ushering him to your room.

"'What's wrong?' Kylian, your entire fanbase has just found out about us!" you practically squeak, thrusting your phone in his face. "I am being bombarded with shit and I'm freaking the fuck out!"

He takes your phone from you, seeing the mass of notifications and frowning deeply. "Shit."

"Yeah, 'Shit', Ky." you groan, sitting down on the bed.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sitting beside you.

"No." you say, blunt as ever. "This is crazy."

He takes your hand. "We'll make it work -- there's nothing we can do about hiding it now, but we can control the narrative at least."

You look at him, at his worry-stricken face, at the cogs turning in his mind. "How?" you sniff. God, this was so embarrassing -- you were crying now too?"

"Cherie, don't cry, okay? We can post some photos from tonight and announce are relationship but leave it at that, okay? Confirm the rumours so that there's nothing more for them to say. Like, yeah, I have the most stunning, beautiful girlfriend ever, so what?"

You giggle. "Okay. yeah, okay."

-

k.mbappe

k.mbappe l'amour de ma vie

view all 54,895 comments

yourusername mon amour <3

k.mbappe je t'aime

achrafhakimi It was about time

psg 👀

[survivalist-anon]

Log 19: The Chase

After the night's performance, the crew headed back to their rooms after another near perfect performance.

As for the rest of the Astartes, they headed back to their hotel rooms, with mixed feelings.

Bilhard, scowling in frustration, was looking at Wick from across the hotel room.

Wick, glared back.

Sten had been observing the situation, wondering when the tension would break.

A few knocks at the door was just the break he needed.

Looking through the peephole, he could see Cahrilo and Toke both giggling a little, with a bag in their hands. Sten opened the door, he could smell the potpourri of cigar smoke, buffet food, liquor.....and ladies perfume.

"ah....I see you lads were enjoying yourselves...", Sten droned.

"AH HA AYE, BROTHER! This may be a hive of hedonism, but it do be a fun row!", Toke chuckled giving his lips a lick. "Oy, Cahrilo, pass me that bottle again.", it was then Cahrilo pass him a sizable novelty bottle in the shape of a woman's boot. He than proceeded to chug a little, "you want some? It makes for a fine treat.".

"If you mix a dozen different drinks at once, people bet money you to see how much you can drink, and when they lose....", Cahrilo shows a pillow case of cash.

"So... gambling? Is that what you two have been doing? Absolute debauchery? I expected better from you Cahrilo.", Bilhard stared daggers at Cahrilo.

"Oh please Bilhard, let your guard down. The heretical activities here in Las Vegas are hardly anything worth worrying about. I've been here long enough to say, there nothing truly sinister outside of the usual struggles of man.", Wick motioned to Cahrilo to show him the bag. "How much were you able to make?", he peered into the bag and could there was a little more than money. Random valuables, car keys to cars he most certainly had no idea where to find them let alone were not guaranteed to be rentals, lingerie and a phone or two. "....I believe you may want to return some of these.", Wick gave an awkward smile.

Sten was mildly amused at the whole situation, "but it's now time to get into more important matters...how can we help you on your mission...", Sten asked Wick.

"For starters, I had originally planned to leave by the end of the week I now plan on leaving by tomorrow morning. I had given Selene instructions on what to take and when to meet me. I have a colleague tha-", he saw Bilhard raise his hand.

"-we will not be including any civilians within this mission. You will have to notify your colleague his services are no longer required.", Bilhard sternly responded.

Wick turned his head to Bilhard, "I have everything under control, what you all can do is simply get us out of the city as fast as possible. The rest of the plan is to divert attention away from Sleen and his men. He's a weak and greedy man and I'm certain he may find some way in finding out our escape.".

"oh come now, what can one wee fat man do to us?", as Toke had finished his sentence, there was a heavy knock at the door.

"THIS IS LAS VEGAS PD. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP.", blasted from the door.

The room went silent, Wick stood up to check the peephole, ....it wasn't the cops.... But a group of heavily armed men in tuxedos.

"interesting..... gentlemen...I do suppose we have enough space in here to stuff them in the bathroom....do we?... I'm counting four m-", suddenly, bluish smoke started bellowing from the under the foot of the door, flooding the room with gas.

At first all five Astartes weren't too worried until it became clear something about this smoke affected them much more differently.

"What th-~~~", Wick went down first as he was closer to the door.

"COVER UP!", Bilhard tore a piece of the bed sheets and covered his face with it like a bandana. The others followed soon after.

Toke was coughing under his mask as he was the second closest to the door, "how could this be?!? What in thiii-~~", Toke had fallen unconscious.

It was clear what was happening, the gas was knocking each of them out. Sten quickly headed to the glass window and broke through to let fresh air in, "WE HAVE TO TAKE THEM OUT OF HERE NOW!", he toted Toke over his shoulders, Cahrilo with Wick.

Looking down from the sixth floor, Sten had to make a quick decision, "I hope you all are not afraid of heights!", he leaps out and attempts to land on to the next building, nearly breaking through the roof.

Bilhard quickly gathers their equipment in case if it's left behind, "Cahrilo go ahead! I'll follow you guys down!", he commanded as he began to barricade the door with his body, the banging continued as the group of four men on the other side of the door were unsuccessful. Looking through the people again, he was now seeing that there was five more men, holding a battering ram this time. "GET OUT OF HERE NOW!", this time, the battering ram was starting to help.

Cahrilo had followed Sten to the same building, the both of them running away and leaping off to the ground level.

Bilhard had been left behind for the sake of barricading the Intruders, he looked at the door and decided to take the same leap of faith, without somebody holding him, his landing would probably be a lot more smoother. As he sprinted out of the window, the sounds of the door crashing open had echoed from the window.

All five Astartes were on the move, Bilhard had just caught up with Cahrilo and Sten. "How is this possible?!? What was in that gas, theres no materials on Earth that can knockout an Astartes like that so quickly!", he ran in perfect pacing.

"there's a lot we don't know about this planet Bilhard! And there's an unfortunate chance we could find something here that can incapacitate us!", Sten concluded as the conversation was immediately interrupted by a large transport truck nearly colliding with all of them at once, nearly dodging them.

And the back of the truck, five other heavily armed men point tranquilizer guns at all of them, shooting off as many shots as possible.

Sten, Cahrilo were all hit in the chest. While Bilhard had been able to dodge a few, he reached into the bag pressing an emergency signal for Moors to come in and assist.

"Looks like Wick's lady friend is going to have to wait for us on a later date.", Bilhard quietly assessed, suddenly he felt a sharp electrical shock on the thigh of his leg. He had been used to electrocutions before from enemies prior, but this was an extraordinary amount of electricity. He looked down and saw what looked like a more stronger version of a cattle prod.

With a loud clank, he felt something around his neck, it was a restraining claw. He looked to his left and right and saw that Sten and Cahrilo had begun to slow down, being hit with some unknown substance.

What Bilhard hadn't noticed was that he too was injected with a tranquilizer dart. Has mine begin to slow down and slowly fade, fighting the mystery cocktail, you can feel his muscles weakening, falling to his knees shaking as his body was trying to metabolize the injections, but to no avail.

Just before he was about to go unconscious, you could see Sleen slowly coming out of the truck, chuckling to himself.

"What's da matter Jughead? Getting sleepy? Hehehe... enjoy your nap.", Sleen mocked him as he passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staring out into the starry Nevada sky, Moors couldn't stop thinking about what Gus had told him about the long road to the Stars.

How he could feel the urgent need in Gus's voice to commit to his plans.

"....I swear Gus...if you don't come out of that bunker next time I'm there....", he let out a sigh. He had no idea what he was going to do.

Gus was a son, little brother, and friend all rolled into one for Moors ....it only been as recently as the past few year since he's been far away from him.

He left the last of his cigars, it was his third box of cigars too. He had been listening intently to the radio to keep his mind off of things.

Until a faint beeping started, turning to the dashboard and saw the emergency rescue signal had been activated. "By the throne?", by this point, Moors was not expecting Bilhard do you have any need to activate the signal to begin with.

He checked a security camera around the bus in case it was being used to signal that group was near the bus, nothing. He had decided to check the GPS scanner to see where was the signal coming from. The signal was heading to an open desert lot near South Point casino. "What the??", he starts the truck immediately, heading straight to casino.

"What in tarnation....", Moors thought to himself.

Never at any point for an Astartes here on Earth to have needed the emergency signal.

What could have been so serious to actually have Bilhard use it?

A few minutes past and Moors stops a few yards away from the mysterious building housing several large cattle trucks. Yet, these trucks look like they were big enough to handle transporting animals the size of elephants. Moors had scoped out the trucks and could see this was far more than animals.

He could see that there was moving platforms transporting five large crates.

He could see a group of well dressed men with an older Latino gentleman with a bright white suit with red accents on the legs and arms. He looked like a cartel boss from the amount of armed men he had.

A short, fat man in a business suit came out of one of the trucks. Greeting the other man with zeal, only for him to be stopped by his bodyguards.

".....mind if I listen in on you two conversing...", Moors turns on a device that connects to any cellular device, turning it into a secret microphone.

As the static from the speakers come through he could hear there conversation.

"Well Ola, Señor Gustavo Mateo! What a pleasure to finally meet you.", he held out his hand.

Mateo said nothing but smiled gently, leaning to one of his bodyguards to translate for him. "Señor Mateo says that it is also a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Sleen. He wants to know where is the cargo? Three steers?", the bodyguard finished.

"Oh change of plans! There's more of them! So I'm afraid you'll have to raise the paseos a bit. I mean one is rare but five is a deal of a life time!", Sleen finish.

Mateo's changed to a more pensive expression, thinking about the sudden change, he leaned again to his bodyguard, "Señor Mateo would like to know what colors are they.", he finished.

Sleen was confused for a little, until remember what he meant by colors, "oh sorry I have no idea actually, they're naked. No armor. Sooooo it's a bit of a blind bag. Hehehe", Sleen chuckled.

Moors was confused, what was any of these men talking about?

"come look for yourself, this is one took a little while to get him to calm down. He's definitely a fighter." Sleen hits one of the cargo boxes and it moves a little.

It was Bilhard, his shouting was muffled but he was still fighting.

"Can you believe that it's taking 12 ounces of your lovely tranquilizer to put him down?", Sleen said exacerbated, knowing well that those tranquilizers were not cheap. Costing almost half a million each dose.

Mateo peered in the box carefully, he could see Bilhard glaring hatefully at him, he was restrained heavily by industrial grade cattle restraints. His mouth covered by a heavy duty muzzle. Mateo was not too impressed but not too surprised. "Ah........sí, como un toro rabioso. Perfecto para El Niño.....", he leaned again to his translator. "Señor Mateo wants to see the others", he finished.

Sleen knew what he was doing, he was checking the merchandise before purchasing it, regardless as long as one of his purchases included Wick, he had out of the buyers looking for Astartes for their own.... purposes. "Ok, just please take the pale, black haired one, he's a pain in the ass.", he showed the rest of the team.

All restrained similarly, Mateo was more curious about the Sten and Toke. Never had he seen more hairy Marines, he pointed to the both of them for purchase, he also pointed to Wick, as Sleen requested. Sleen peered into the one cage with Wick in it. "Hey! You hear me!? You insufferable little bastard! I'm finally having Selene all to myself! She would make a much better little play thing than she would anything else.", the second he mentioned her name, Wick woke up.

With the immediate strength he was able to snap out of the restraints, as it turned out, because he was unconscious no one expected him to escape the restraints so easily. He snapped out of them and broke through the wall of a change, just barely reaching Sleen.

He let out an ear piercing roar, something about this roar was primal and unnatural.

It was closer to a high frequency shreeck with a billowing of a large animal.

The bodyguard's immediately began to shoot at him but none of the bullets had pierced his skin. He broke out of the box and went straight for Sleen.

The second he picked him up to crush his windpipe, he saw Moor's truck from a distance.

Now he had a choice to either finally take revenge on Sleen for all the abuse he had put him and Selene through, or regroup with Moors to rescue the rest of his team.

For him to make a decision in his mind felt like forever, but he only just had a few split seconds. He tossed Sleen as hard as he could on to the wall of the truck, and sprinted to Moors.

From the truck, Moors was already preparing to pick up Wick mid run.

As the bodyguards were entering their vehicles in order to catch up with Wick, Wick on foot was out running them by the skin of his teeth.

"MOORS!", Wick shouted.

As Moors maneuver the truck in a way that Wick could enter through the back hatch, Wick made a jump for it and narrowly escaped.

Moors turned over to see Wick, "Hey buddy! Where are the others?!", Moors could see the pain in Wick's eyes.

"We need to go back!", Wick shouted.

Moors looked at his rearview mirrors and could see that there were currently six cars driving at top speed after him, all of them taking out what looks like heavy weaponry in order to shoot the truck.

"Hold that thought!", he pushes a few buttons to let out from the rear of the truck hundreds of spike strips.

As they all deployed it, all the the car is immediately begin to swerve as their tires tore apart.

There was no way of them catching up to Moors now.

"Alrighty, we're in the clear. What happened back there?! Where are they taking the others?", Moors question after question trying to understand what happened.

Wick was panting, not only did he feel as if he'd abandoned the others, but he now knows Sleen was going to hurt Selene somehow.

"We need to go back!", Wick pleaded.

"We will buddy....we will ....", it was up to Moors and Wick now.

End of log 19

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster @starfrost740 @squishyowl @sleepyfan-blog @lawnchair86

[that-basic-simp]

Date Night

Karlach X Fem! Reader Continuation of Modern AU CW: Smoking, Trauma dumping, Language WC: 2.4k+

Brushing out my hair, my mother knocked on the bathroom door before opening it up.

"You ok, Y/N?" she asked.

"Yeah," I smiled, turning to face her.

"You look wonderful," she said and set a few things down that I needed.

"Thanks. Hey, mom?" I asked as she was turning away.

"Yes?"

"I know you've met Karlach a few times," I said. "D-Do you remember her accident?"

"I remember a lot of accidents and patients, but Karlach is the one I will always remember."

"Why's that?"

"For starters, Karlach lives alone."

"Her parents are gone?"

"Yes, unfortunately. So when she told me she lives alone, I offered her a place here. While she was grateful for the offer, she was already living with some friends of hers. She didn't want to be a burden. But her outlook on life was something we all need. She was grateful she was alive with nothing but a broken horn and multiple scars. She was considered lucky since she was driving a motorcycle. Especially since she wasn't wearing any protection for her head."

"She still doesn't."

"I know she doesn't," she chuckled. "If I am being honest, I don't think she needs it. She's been a careful driver since the accident. But she should still wear something. Anyway, is she coming in? I'd like to see her."

"I can tell her you'd like to see her," I pulled my phone out and messaged her.

It's been a few months since we started becoming friends. We kind of hit it off after the first impression didn't go well. She made it up to me over and over. She truly was the sweetest person I have ever met ever since we became friends. So much so that when she knew I was having a bad day with classes, she came over, after asking me a million times, and cuddled with me while watching a movie. She was like my own personal heater at times. That was when I knew I had to ask her for a date night. I could feel her heart beating a million miles a minute whenever we were cuddling together. I knew my heart was beating pretty fast as well.

"She had already planned on coming in," I chuckled, calling to my mother as she had left the bathroom.

"It'll be good to see her. When is she coming?"

I checked them time and just as I was about to answer, I heard the engine of her motorcycle right outside the window.

"Now," I said.

"That was quick. And you're not even ready, Y/N!" my mother laughed. "I was like that when I was dating your father," she muttered.

I texted Karlach something before finishing getting ready. Once I was finished, the doorbell rang. I walked out of the bathroom to find my mother had gotten the door. Karlach walked in with jeans on, what looked to be boots, a belt around her waist, a white tank top, and her leather jacket. She had a small boquet of flowers in her hands as she smiled at me.

"Good to see you again, Karlach," my mother hugged her.

"Nice to see you, Mrs. L/N," she smiled.

I walked over to her and hugged Karlach tightly.

"Always lovely to see you, Y/N," she smiled, handing me the small boquet.

"Thank you, Karlach," I smiled, smelling the flowers. "These smell nice."

"I'll put them in a vase and I'll set them in your room. Sound good?"

"Yeah," I said. "Sounds good."

"I've got to get going, but it was nice seeing you again, Karlach," my mother said.

"Nice seeing you. Hopefully I can see you more," she smiled.

"Just not in the hospital," my mother pointed a finger at her.

Karlach chuckled, "I'll try not to."

"Alright, have fun you two," my mother kissed me on my forehead before hugging Karlach and I goodbye.

"So," Karlach said, putting her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "W-Want to head out now or do you need some more time getting ready?"

"I think I am ready to go. Let me just grab my keys."

I rushed into my room and then came back out, leaving the apartment with Karlach. She was about to get onto her motorcycle, but she grabbed something that she attached to the side of it, handing it to me.

"And you're not going to wear one?" I asked, putting on the helmet.

"I am working on finding one that will fit my horns," she gestured to them.

"That was the one thing I didn't inherit due to my father."

"Was he human?"

"I-I'll tell you more when we get to where we're going."

We got onto the motorcycle and Karlach drove off into the city, past the city, and out towards the mountains. Reaching the spot where we were going to be, Karlach cut the engine and set down the kickstand. She got off and helped me off, making sure I was alright. We set out the blanket and sat down, overlooking the bay that had boats coming and going.

"My father," I said after a while of sitting beside her, watching the sun start to dip below the horizon. "He was a human and married my mother because of selfish reasons. Very selfish reasons. When I was born, I took on a lot of attributes from him, such as my skin color and literally everything about me. The only thing I got from my mother, as you saw, is a full tiefling, was this."

I grabbed my top lip and pulled it back, opening my mouth. Little fangs pointed outwards as the rest were human teeth. Removing my fingers, I let out a sigh.

"Sometimes I wish I looked more like my mother," I said, taking note of Karlach's tail. "Sometimes I wish I didn't look like a human among the other races here."

"You remember Wyll, don't you?"

"Yeah. What about him?"

"Well, Halsin is an elf and Shadowheart is a half-elf. Lae'zel is Githyanki and Astarion is a vampire who was able to conquer the sun. And then I am the tiefling. Wyll doesn't mind being human among others like us. It makes him feel just as unique as we are. And you," she reached over and placed her hand on my cheek, caressing my skin with her thumb. "Even though you didn't inherit much attributes from your mother, you're still a tiefling. You have tiefling blood in your veins."

I smiled, "Thank you, Karlach. B-But I look more like my father in terms of facial structure. A-And every time I look at my reflection, i-it just reminds me of what he did."

Removing her hand, she placed it behind her so she could lean back on her hands, "You said he left for selfish reasons. M-May I ask why?"

"My mother, while she was making a lot of money, he was spending most of that money on useless shit such as alcohol for himself, gambling, and drugs. There was even a point where we were almost kicked out of the apartment because my mother wasn't able to pay rent due to his spending habits. They got worse the year before he left. My mother tried to get him to go to rehab and he'd go for a few weeks, say he was better, and then revert back to his ways. About five months before he left, he was caught cheating on my mother and she kicked both of them out right then and there. She filed for divorce and he never paid child support and never paid back how much debt he had. My mother had to do all of it and we're still trying to get by from everything happening."

I shook my head, "H-He was such an awful father, never taking care of me because I was never deemed important to him."

Hot tears slid down my face as just thinking about him and what he didn't do made my blood boil. My hands gripped at the blanket beneath me to where my knuckles turned white. Karlach reached over and placed her hand on top of the one closest to her. Once my hand relaxed, she slipped her fingers in between the gaps and intertwined her hand with mine. Her tail came over and wrapped around my waist, the pointed end resting on my lap. She came closer to me and I rested my head on her shoulder, letting out a deep breath.

"I never want to see that man in my life. He caused so much damage to my mother and I that I don't think we can ever get out of the situation we're in."

"Hey," she reached over and softly placed her hand underneath my chin, turning my head to face her. Placing her forehead against mine, she let out a soft sigh.

"I know you have resentment towards your father, but he's out of your life now. You and your mother are getting over what happened and while I know it takes a while for trauma to heal, know this, Y/N. I will do whatever I can to help you."

I smiled and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you, Karlach."

She hugged me back, "I'll always be here for you. Both you and your mother."

Pulling away, we continued to sit together as we watched the sun disappear and the city lights became the light we needed to guide our way back. As we were driving through the city, I couldn't help but take in the sight of all the lights illuminating the streets.

"Hey, are you hungry?" Karlach asked over the roar of the engine.

"We just ate," I chuckled.

"That was like three hours ago."

"And you're hungry again?"

"Yeah. I'm going to hit up a place real quick."

"Alright," I laughed.

Going to a local burger joint, she drove through the drive thru quickly and we sat in the parking lot together. I removed the helmet and set it on the side of the bike as Karlach turned around to face me so we could still talk to one another.

"Want a fry?" she asked, pulling a couple of fries out of the container.

"No, they're yours."

"I can still share," she said.

"I'm good."

"Come on, Y/N," she chuckled as she raised the fries into the air, pushing them towards me to where she was poking at my lips with them.

"You know you want some fries," she giggled.

"Karlach," I couldn't help but smile.

"Come on, take some," she ate the ones she was playing with while she handed me the container. "This is a lot."

"Then why did you order it?" I chuckled, taking the container and eating some fries.

"I thought I could eat everything," she said, unwrapping the burger finally.

Getting an idea, I reached over and grabbed the hand that was holding the burger. Pulling it towards me, I took a bite.

"Aye!" she chuckled, pushing me playfully. "If you wanted some, I would have gotten you something."

"I just wanted to mess with you," I said after swallowing.

She laughed, shaking her head, "What am I going to do with you, Y/N?"

I shrugged, "Be there whenever I need you."

"Always," she said, taking a bite of the burger before I could mess with her again.

After she finished everything and threw the bags away, she came back over and sat on the motorcycle, facing me though.

"We're not going to head back?" I asked.

"We are. I just need to let things settle before we get moving. Also," she reached into a bag that was attached to the side of the bike. Grabbing a small white stick, she got off the bike and leaned against it. Raising her thumb up, it caught fire and she lit the end of the blunt. Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled, smoke coming out from her lips and some out of her nose.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"It's medicinal," she said. "Helps with my anxiety."

"Anxiety?"

"Yep," she popped the 'p' really hard. "That's what I get for being used in my life."

"Used?"

"After my parents died, I was taken by someone. His name was Gortash. I thought he was helping me since he gave me a home and took me in, but he then gave me off to a fucking devil that used me in battle. I fled from that literal hell, but after that trauma, I had to go see someone and while meds weren't doing the trick, I decided to try this. It helps calm everything down."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that happened to you, Karlach," I said.

"It's alright, though," she let out a sigh. "The only thing that makes me remember is everyone there telling me I was a monster. That I must have been bred for war and that I will never be seen as beautiful."

She took in another deep breath before exhaling, more smoke swirling around her horn. She flicked the rest of the blunt away and stepped on it, snuffing out the light so it doesn't burn anymore. About to get back on the bike, I stopped her.

"Everything ok?"

"Before we head back," I said.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Can you come here for a second?"

She nodded and got back on the bike, facing me once more. I leaned towards her and placed my hand on her cheek, caressing the soft skin. When compared to the other parts of her body, her face was the softest I have ever seen and felt. Her tail came up and wrapped around my waist, wanting me to come closer to her.

"Karlach," I whispered. "If it means anything, know that I don't see you as a monster. And they're right. You're not beautiful. You're gorgeous."

A tear slid down her face as she reached up and grabbed my hand, nuzzling her cheek against the palm of my hand. Turning, she placed a soft kiss to my palm.

"Thank you, Y/N. It means the world to know that you don't see me as a monster."

"Come here," I leaned towards her and lightly placed my lips against hers.

She let out a small hum as she happily kissed me back. It was like how she was: soft, warm, and sweet. Pulling away, she placed her forehead against mine, smiling wider than whenever I first met her.

"W-Would it be too early to call you mine?" she chuckled.

"I'm yours, Karlach."

She giggled, pecking my lips lightly, "You're mine."

Heading back to my apartment, I got off her bike and she was about to head back to where she was staying.

"Goodnight, Y/N," she said.

"H-Hey, Karlach?"

"Yeah?"

"W-Why don't you spend the night with me?"

"Is your mom going to be ok with it?"

I shrugged, "I hope so."

She chuckled and got off of her bike, heading into the apartment with me. We headed into my room and as soon as we got in there, I fell onto the bed and she fell on top of me. Her arms wrapped around my waist while mine wrapped around her. She tucked her face in the crook of my neck while I rested my head on top of hers. I placed a few kisses to her head before I closed my eyes, taking in her warmth.

"Goodnight, Karlach," I said.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

[drabbles-mc]

Just One Week (11)

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, smoking, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: IT’S HERE. The final chapter. I am. So emotional over this. I don’t know what to do with myself. We love a happy ending. Thank you all for coming along on this ride with me, I’ve truly loved every moment of writing this story. I don’t know what else to say.

Chapter Index

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @anditsmywholeheart @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @alm0501 @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc​ @southotheborder​ @supersanelyromantic​ @padbrookcottage​ @mysun-n-stars​ @raincoffeeandfandoms​ @bport76​ @marrianena​ @ashlingnarcos​ @passionatewrites​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You whipped into the first available parking spot that you saw when you got to the base. The lot was usually close to empty when you got there—you were always one of the first people to show up. Not today, though, hence you practically drifting into the spot. Technically speaking, you weren’t even late. But you were late by your own standards. And, while you had been looking for a spot to park, you saw both Steve’s and Javi’s cars, and you knew that you were never going to hear the end of this.

Ripping the key from the ignition, you reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed your bag, tucking the strap over your shoulder as you pushed the car door open with the ball of your foot. You hated that you felt so frazzled over nothing.

You were locking the door of your car when you heard someone clearing their throat behind you, causing you to flinch violently as you let out a gasp. Turning around, relief flooded through you when you saw Horacio standing behind you. His shoulders shook just the tiniest bit as he attempted to hold back his laughter at your reaction.

“This isn’t the place to be sneaking up on people, you know,” you said as you shook your head and stuffed your keys into the pocket of your jacket.

“I didn’t think that I was sneaking.” There was a smug grin on his face as you walked by him, letting him fall into stride with you.

You noticed that he still had his jacket on, his hand fidgeting with his car keys as he walked. Apparently you weren’t the only one running a little behind schedule today. Since you and your team were more or less benched, not getting in quite as early or staying quite as late didn’t make much of an impression to outsiders one way or the other. But for Colonel Carrillo to not be showing up ahead of time the way that he usually did, that stood out a little bit more. You failed to hide the smirk on your face at knowing exactly why the both of you were a few beats behind that morning.

The two of you walked in together, picking up a quiet conversation as you walked. There was a decent amount of hustle and bustle around you since you were both running a little later than usual. The people milling around you almost felt like it gave you some kind of cover, though, like you were hidden in the busyness of it all. Aside from someone giving the occasional nod to Carrillo, no one seemed to take note of you now that they were already steeped in their routine for the day.

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you, Colonel?” you joked, the title itself almost feeling like an inside joke between you at this point.

Despite his best efforts to keep a strictly professional and serious demeanor at work, he flashed you a smile. “I got home later than I planned last night. Out of my routine.”

You chuckled, “Oh, that was it then, hm?”

He shook his head at you. “That was it.” The two of you were almost to the area where your desk was pinned with Javi and Steve’s, and you could see him fighting to get back into his typical work persona.

There were so many potential comments on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t push it. Maybe if you weren’t so close to being within earshot of two of the most insufferable men on the planet, you would’ve cracked another joke. Instead you toned back your smile a bit and gave him a nod, knowing that he was heading towards his office. He returned the gesture before looking at Javi and Steve, offering them each a brief greeting before continuing on his way.

You wondered if Carrillo had originally planned on saying more to either of them, but then saw the looks on their faces and decided against it. They both looked like they were about to combust with laughter, with questions, with everything in between. You knew you could handle it because you’d been handling it for the last two weeks. Carrillo, however, didn’t have as much practice. He and Javi were constantly giving each other a run for their money, but the stakes had never been quite like this before. Horacio was smart to cut his losses when he saw the look on Javier’s face.

Setting your bag down, you shrugged off your jacket and draped it over the back of your chair before taking a seat. You had two sets of eyes so aggressively glued to you in anticipation it almost had you laughing. You found it far more entertaining to ignore their prying stares, though. If they really wanted to know something, they could ask.

“What the fuck was that?” Javi broke the silence, eyes wide.

“What was what?” you played dumb.

He gestured back over his shoulder towards Carrillo’s office. “Did you two show up together?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “What? No. Why would we show up together?” It wasn’t a lie, but you were both running late for the same reason. That wasn’t the question, though.

“So it’s just a coincidence that you both showed up at the same time?” Steve chimed in, tapping his pen against the top of his desk.

“What, you and Javi haven’t ever gotten to work at the same time?” Trying to skirt around it was more fun than anything at this point. They already were fairly certain of what was going on—it wouldn’t be as shocking as it would’ve been a week ago.

“Maybe,” Steve shook his head, losing the battle of trying not to smile, “but I don’t ever get Javi to smile like that.”

You leaned forward onto your desk. “Maybe you’re just not that funny,” you said with a grin.

Javi had been watching you and Steve banter back and forth, still very much stuck on the fact not that you and Carrillo showed up at the same time, because you were right, that happened with people all the time, but the fact that in all the years that he’d known Carrillo, he could count on one hand with fingers left over the number of times he’d seen the man smile like that. It was a quick thing, a look that anyone around the two of you not paying attention would’ve missed. But he and Steve were far too invested in all of it to miss anything.

“Thought your parents went home the other day?” Javi asked, the look in his eyes letting you know that there was more to this question.

“They did.” You nodded.

“So the gig’s up, right?” he prodded.

You nodded once more. “Yea, gig’s up. No more fake boyfriend for me.” Again, not a lie.

Both the agents were nodding, watching you intently. You knew that they were waiting for you to crack, but you could play the game just as well as them—that’s how you’d gotten this far. You knew better than to give information away without making them work for it.

“So now, what?” Steve asked, gesturing vaguely in the air with his pen. “You two just…go back to working together like nothin’ ever happened?”

You shot him a confused look. “We’ve been working together.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t. You know what I mean.”

You laughed, nodding. “I know.”

There were a few beats of silence between the three of you before Javi finally spoke up again, “So? What now?”

You laughed. “Why are you two so invested in this? You got money riding on it or something?”

“Yes!” they both answered in unison, laughing.

You couldn’t help but to laugh, assuming that that was going to be their answer. Still, you said, “Fuck both you guys.” You opened your desk drawer and pulled a small stack of files out. “Just for that, I’m not gonna tell either of you guys shit.”

“I feel like that’s our answer,” Javi said with a nod.

Your eyes were glued to the papers in front of you but you weren’t really reading them. Your eyebrows lifted at his comment. “Depends on what the bet was.”

Even without looking up, you could tell that both agents whipped their heads to look at you, to try and get a read on your expression. You didn’t ask what the bet was, and you didn’t care too much if you were being honest, but you did want to know who had won it.

Steve pretended to return his attention to his work. “So, what was it that had the Colonel running late for once?”

“Wasn’t late, technically,” you corrected.

“Late for Carrillo,” Javi said eyes focused on the typewriter in front of him.

You shrugged as you made notes on the documents you had been reading. “Guess you’d have to ask him—I’m not sure.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head as he let himself actually focus on his work. He knew that he’d get the answers out of you eventually. And, even if you didn’t explicitly say anything, time would tell either way. He’d be willing to play the long game solely because there was no universe in which he would be brave enough to march into Carrillo’s office and grill the guy on his love life.

Javi thought about it for a second, though. For a brief moment he considered barging in and making Carrillo settle the bet once and for all. He wondered if Carrillo would even be honest—maybe he’d be caught too off-guard to try and lie about it.

His eyes wandered over to the man’s office, and the thought grew a little louder. Before he could try to do anything about it, though, the phone on his desk started ringing. He reached over, bringing it up and pinning it between his shoulder and his ear as he went back to typing.

“Peña,” he answered, monotone as ever.

“Leave the man alone,” you said into the other end of the line, trying your hardest not to laugh.

He huffed and put the phone down on the receiver a little harder than necessary. Steve managed not to laugh out loud at the two of you but you could see the shake in his shoulders as he tried to keep it that way.

“I don’t know if you two forgot or something,” you said as you flipped to the next page of the stack in front of you, “but we do have a job to do. Like catching the world’s most wanted cartel leader.”

“Since when can’t we multitask?” Steve asked, smiling.

“I’ve watched you two try to multitask,” you said with a laugh. “It’s not pretty.”

The comment got all three of you to laugh, but more importantly, it seemed to get them off their track of questioning for the time being. You knew that when another lull in the day hit, or the next time that Carrillo had to ask one of you for something or if he just so happened to walk by your cluster of desks, they would start right up again. For the time being, though, they were occupied with other things. You took advantage of them being so focused to look over at Carrillo’s office yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips when you saw him standing, leaning over his desk as he looked over the photos that were splayed out in front of him.

The morning didn’t bring anything crazy with it, which you were thankful for. The lack of chaos helped you recover from the frazzled feeling you’d been battling with on your way to work and for the first few minutes as you walked in with Horacio. You were busy, and thankfully so were the other two men that you worked with, and that kept everyone’s minds occupied with the things that they should be.

You had your headset on, playing back a tape that had been passed off to you earlier that morning. You were scribbling down notes as fast as you could, so immersed in all of it that you didn’t hear anything that was happening around you. It wasn’t until a stack of folders dropped onto the desk across from yours, making just enough of a vibration for you to notice, that you looked up to see who it was. Your eyes widened and you hit pause on the tape when you realized it was Horacio.

Normally you wouldn’t have been phased by his being there, at least not outwardly. But even without being able to hear the first few parts of the exchange between him, Steve, and Javi, you knew that it couldn’t be anything good for him, or for you.

The first thing you heard when you placed the headset on your desk was Javi. You never thought that it was actually possible to hear someone’s smirk until you met him. “So?” he asked as he looked intently at Horacio, eyes lit up like he was playing the most amusing game of chicken, “What do you say?”

“I said,” Horacio was fighting to stay more professional than sarcastic, which was quite the task given present company, “here are the files with the last of the updates from the field missions you haven’t been allowed to go on, Peña.”

You were watching the two of them locked in their stalemate, eyes drifting over to Steve for a moment to see what he was making of the entire scenario. He was gnawing on the cap of his pen, and it was the only thing that was attempting to subdue the grin that was threatening to break out across his face at whatever had been said between his partner and Carrillo before you tapped into the conversation.

The silence between them allowed Javi to notice that you were paying attention now, and his glee only intensified. “Oh, good, you’re listening.” He reached and grabbed his pack of cigarettes, casually plucking one out as he spoke, “Drinks tonight?”

You knew there was more to it, but you weren’t going to give him any undue satisfaction. Shrugging, you nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

His grin grew as he placed the cigarette between his lips. “See?” he paused to light it, taking a drag before turning back to Carrillo and continuing their previous discussion, “Y/N’s gonna go. What other plans could you possibly have?”

Horacio sighed, and you almost felt bad for him. “I never said that I had—”

“Great,” Javi cut him off, “We’ll see you tonight then. Four of us are due for that, right?”

“Yea,” Steve finally brought himself into the conversation, drawl making his presence as known as possible, “’s been about a week, right? Way overdue.” He chuckled, amusing himself more than anyone else, “You two been busy with somethin’?”

You rolled your eyes but allowed yourself a smile. “Sounds like drinks are on Murphy tonight.” You reached for your headset again as you said, “Let me know if there’s anything in those files you need me to look over. Otherwise, give me the liner notes.”

“Why is it our—”

You didn’t let Javi finish the sentence, “They’re on your desk, for starters. That, and Steve can’t listen this fast in Spanish so he’s not getting anywhere near these tapes.”

Both of them wanted to argue but you had your headset back on already. Even though you could still hear them because you hadn’t hit play yet, they knew better than to try to drag more conversation out of you. They were each shaking their heads as they divvied up the folders. You took advantage of their momentary distraction to look back up at Horacio, offering him a quick smile as you reached for your pen once more. The slight lift of his lips was the best you were going to get out of him for now, especially since he was on high alert because of your obnoxious desk-mates, but you would take it nonetheless.

The end of the work day crept up on you faster than you thought it would. There had been no fires to put out, and you were beyond thankful for that. The last thing you wanted as you got back into your usual work routine was a crisis of some kind.

“Alright,” Steve said as he stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, “go get your man.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes just as much at the look on his face as the comment he’d made. They were lucky that you loved them, and that they were at least mildly amusing, or you would’ve put in for a transfer a long time ago.

“Why don’t you go get him, Steve?” you asked as you grabbed your bag.

There was no hesitation in his reply, his grin still plastered across his face. “’Cause he’ll say no to me. All you gotta do is bat your eyelashes at him and he’ll cave.”

“Who’s to say it wouldn’t work if you tried to bat your eyelashes?” you asked, laughing.

“She’s got a point, Murphy,” Javi said with a chuckle.

“See?” You bumped your shoulder with his. “Who can say no to those baby blues?”

“Alright, alright,” Steve shook his head at you, “that’s…that’s enough.”

You relented, even though he deserved all of that and more. Looking over to Javi, you said, “You wanna go get him, Javi? I feel like you have personal stakes in this.”

The two of you watched as Javi made his way over to Carrillo’s office. The door was shut, but the lights were on and the blinds were up. You could all clearly see the man sitting and poring over paperwork like he had been for most of the afternoon. One thing about the lack of chaos for the day was that it basically guaranteed that he wasn’t going to have a good excuse to not go get drinks with the rest of you. And, you knew from personal experience, that if he wanted to make time in his schedule, more often than not he would.

You couldn’t hear what Javi was saying, but going solely based off of Horacio’s facial expressions as he listened to the other man speak, you had to assume that it was nothing short of amusing. Horacio looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor underneath his desk. He didn’t though. Instead, you saw him nod at Javi, the man taking the cue to leave.

“Let’s go.” Javi strode past you and Steve. “He’ll catch up.”

The three of you were camped out at the same bar you’d been at hardly two weeks before, the same place you always went. But to you, it felt like so much more time had passed than what really had. Everything you’d packed into the last week made it seem like it had been so much longer.

You were halfway through your first beer, sitting across from both Steve and Javier. It wasn’t lost on you that they had left the empty chair on your side, knowing that it was going to force you and Carrillo to sit next to each other. You didn’t mind—you really found it quite funny. But you were curious to see if Horacio was going to squirm beneath the jokes and the third degree that he was going to receive from Steve and Javi. It was going to be much worse now that they weren’t at work, now that they were off the clock.

You weren’t facing the door, but you knew the moment that Horacio walked in because Javi and Steve’s faces lit up like they were a couple of kids in a candy store. You laughed, shaking your head as you took a long drink from the glass in front of you. It was the only thing you could do to try and prepare for whatever was about to unfold. You waited for him to sit next to you, and you couldn’t help the warmth that spread across your chest when his glass hit the tabletop, followed immediately by him sitting down on the chair next to yours.

“So,” Javi tapped the ashes off his cigarette, “what’ve you two been up to?”

You smiled over the rim of your glass as you spoke, “Didn’t you hear? We eloped.”

Horacio choked on his drink at your flippant response, not having expected it. Steve was laughing, just as much at the colonel’s reaction as your reply. It wasn’t often that Steve saw the man get caught off-guard by much of anything, and he was going to soak up that moment for all that it was worth.

“Shit,” Steve laughed, “and no invite for us?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “Especially not for you.”

Your sarcasm was enough to throw the topic of conversation for a little bit, which Horacio was infinitely thankful for. He wasn’t quite as quick on his toes with those types of things as you were, clearly. But it also made it somewhat clear that you weren’t really talking to the two of them about all of it yet. There was a bit of a reprieve in that, in a way, but as much as he tried to say that they were, Horacio knew that the two agents weren’t total idiots. They knew that something was afoot. And clearly they were going to make it everyone else’s problem as often as they could.

You were wrapped up in your usual bickering and banter with Steve and Javier. It wasn’t as though the three of you didn’t give each other enough grief on the clock, but there was something better about doing it over drinks. Carrillo sat back, watching the three of you as usual. Every now and then he’d chime in, but he wasn’t the one leading the conversation by any means.

He was locked in an exchange with Javi when he felt your hand land on his knee underneath the table. He tried not to let his expression falter, and he had to assume that he did a pretty good job since Javi didn’t say anything. Carrillo spared a glance over at you, but you and Steve were still locked in whatever petty debate you had been for the last few minutes. Both of you were emphatically gesturing at nothing, acting like it solidified your point. Horacio tried not to think too much on the fact that the passive affection came so second-nature to you now, even in settings like this.

Refocusing on his conversation with Javi, Horacio let one hand slip below the table, fingers lacing with yours. He didn’t miss a beat as he spoke with Javi, but it didn’t matter. The man sitting across from him didn’t miss a goddamn thing, a smug grin immediately curling the ends of his mouth as Carrillo spoke.

Feeling braver than he probably should have, Carrillo huffed and asked, “What, Javier?”

The smugness faded away just slightly, still there but less aggressive. He shook his head before taking a drag from his cigarette. “Nothin’, Carrillo,” smoke slipped out and emphasized each word he said, “just glad things are going well for once.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He had been geared up for more sarcasm or discomforting commentary. The genuine sentiments between them usually went unspoken unless things were falling apart. They weren’t now, though. And yet, Javi managed to rein in his remarks for the time being.

Horacio chuckled, subconsciously giving your hand a light squeeze. “For once.”

The four of you stayed for a little while longer, and even though it seemed like Steve and Javi weren’t ready to call it quits, you were definitely ready to go home and officially call it a night. Not that you would dare to say it in front of your partners, but you were still feeling tired and behind schedule from your late night the night before.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled some cash out of your bag and set it on the table, more than enough to cover your drinks and your share of the tip. “I’m gonna head out, try and get some sleep.”

“Yea,” Javi chuckled knowingly, “can’t be showing up late again.”

You pointed at him. “I wasn’t late.” You shook your head as you stepped down from your chair. “You three try to keep each other out of trouble.”

Javi waved his hand dismissively, “We know the police—we’ll be fine.”

Carrillo didn’t look amused at all by the comment, but it got you and Steve to laugh regardless. You looked and waved to all three of them, your eyes lingering on Horacio for just a beat longer than usual even though you didn’t mean to. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

They all gave their own version of goodbye and goodnight. As you walked away, you could hear the three of them get wrapped back up into conversation with each other, and you found yourself smiling wider than you meant to.

Horacio was staring down at his glass more intently than necessary, anything to keep himself from gazing after you and making things worse for himself than they needed to be. He didn’t realize, though, that his focus on the almost-empty cup in front of him was creating the exact same issue. The only thing that clued him in was the laughter happening from the other side of the table.

“Just fuckin’ go, man,” Javi said as he snubbed out the last of his cigarette.

“What?” Carrillo’s ignorance was mostly genuine.

“Go,” he waved towards the door, “go after her. Walk her to her car, tell her to get home safe while you gaze into her eyes, whatever other sappy shit the two of you have been doing the last week.”

“I don’t—”

“Carrillo,” Steve interrupted, a smile on his face that spoke volumes, “just go.”

“I—”

“Drinks are on me, remember?” Steve chuckled.

It was clear that neither of the men were going to let Carrillo get a word in edge-wise. He was honestly expecting something much worse, but this felt supportive in a way that he wasn’t really prepared for. He was ready to deflect at best, argue at worst. But this left him with nothing to do but listen to them.

Without saying anything else to the two of them, Carrillo pushed his chair back and got up from the table. He gave the two of them a nod of sorts before weaving his way towards the main door of the bar. He hoped that you hadn’t taken off already. Although, even if you had, it wasn’t like he couldn’t go and see you anyway.

The breeze hit him immediately as he stepped out onto the street. Looking down the stretch of road, he immediately spotted you as you stood by your driver’s door, digging around your bag for your keys. He felt his body relaxing as he got closer to you.

“Hey, querida,” his voice was soft but still carried with how quiet the street was.

You turned around, smiling with your keys in your hand. “Horacio, you…you could’ve stayed. You don’t have to leave when I do.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “They kicked me out.”

You laughed, knowing that they didn’t mean the people who ran the bar. “Surprised that they didn’t try to pry any information out of you.”

“What is there to pry?”

“There’s bets happening,” you said with a laugh.

“Bets?” his confusion was so genuine.

You nodded. “Yea. I don’t know the specifics, but I figured they would be grilling you to at least figure out who owes who.”

He didn’t know what else to say to that besides, “They didn’t.”

You chuckled, leaning back against the side of your car, letting your hand slide from his chest down so that it tangled with his hand. You gave him the slightest tug, silently asking him to step in a little closer. There was no way that he was going to tell you no.

“You’re going home tonight?” you asked as his other hand came and gently caressed the side of your face.

He heard the hopeful lilt in your voice and he found himself feeling bad that his response was, “Yes.”

You hummed in thought. “You should come over tomorrow night, then.”

He smiled at your persistence. “I might be late.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, “I don’t care, Horacio.”

His smile grew a little wider. “Alright,” he kissed your forehead, “I’ll be over tomorrow.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact, the feeling of his breath across your skin. “Good.”

He pulled away, and you opened your eyes. Sliding his hand so that it was beneath your chin, he tilted your head up just slightly so that he could easily catch your lips in a kiss. It was soft at first, almost felt like it was going to be a fleeting thing. But instead of pulling away, he leaned into you a little more, hand slipping so that he was cradling the back of your head and keeping you pulled against him. Your car keys clattered to the ground as both your hands rested on the sides of his neck, soaking up the warmth that was seeping from his torso into yours.

The moment was interrupted by the sounds of sharp whistles coming from down the block. Carrillo pulled his lips off of yours, frustration etched in his features as he turned to see who was causing the ruckus. Laughter burst out of you when you saw that it was Steve and Javier causing the commotion, because who else would it be. They were whistling, laughing, clapping each other on the back.

Once their laughter subsided, you could hear Steve speaking as he held his hand out to Javier, “Pay up!” he laughed as he waited, “Making my money back.”

You saw the resignation in the way that Javier’s shoulders slumped. He dug into his pocket and slapped a couple bills into Steve’s hand, who was still almost cackling with delight due to the fact that he’d one whatever the bet was between them.

“Carry on,” Steve said with a laugh as he waved to the both of you, he and Javi proceeding to head towards their cars.

Horacio tilted his head back as he let out a deep sigh, meanwhile your forehead dropped so that it was against his chest, laughter bubbling out of you at the antics of your two friends.

“I told you,” you said as you pulled away, leaning back against your car once more, “you’re never going to know peace.”

“Clearly,” he said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head just as much at you as he was at the two other agents.

“C’mere.” You pulled him in for another kiss, determined to finish what the two of you had started. He didn’t put up any sort of fight about it, melting back into your instantly. The way he kissed you would’ve had anyone thinking that he wasn’t going to have the opportunity to do so again for a while, even though he would be seeing you again in less than twelve hours, able to kiss you again in less than twenty-four. You didn’t mind it in the slightest, though.

“You’re sure you can’t come over tonight?” you asked, a little breathless when he pulled away.

He shook his head, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sure.”

You let out a needlessly dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling still at your dramatics. “Querida, don’t…”

“I’m done,” you held your hands up in mock surrender as you laughed, “I’m done.”

He could still see the mischief in your eyes. “What’re you thinking?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Nothing, nothing.”

He tilted his head, more curious now than ever. “What is it?”

You laughed, knowing how it was going to sound but forging ahead anyway. “You know what this means now?”

“Hm?”

You were trying to talk through the giggles building in your chest, “Next thing will be me meeting your parents.”

His sigh was mixed with a laugh as his head dropped, tucking his chin closer to his chest as he listened to your laughter. Lifting his head so that he was looking at you head on again, he smiled, shaking his head. He kissed you once more. “Get home safe, please.”

“I am right, though,” you laughed.

He chuckled, nodding as he crouched down and picked up your keys for you. “You’re right.”

You were beaming as you took the keys from him. “This is gonna be so good.”

He kissed you again. “Get some rest.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you phrased it as a question even though it really wasn’t.

He nodded, stealing one last kiss before stepping back and heading towards his own car, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[drustvar]

Ch. 10: Vanishing Act

Quick thinking and help from someone who is no longer.

WC: 1,102 A/N: Had some fun with foreshadowing + flower symbolism in this one! Sorry if the end feels disjointed, this was another case of "gotta break down these huge chapters". Ao3 link in reblog || Full text under cut

The jangling of keys outside the library door was one of the most frightening sounds Rosie had ever heard. 

“Rosie, we need to leave, now .” Julian said, his eye wide and frantic. 

“Stay behind me,” She said, as she ushered him as far back into the corner as possible. The first lock in the door clicked, ringing through the quiet library like a death knell. ‘ Nine left, ’ she thought as her eyes darted around. They were out of direct view of the door, but it would only take a dozen steps into the library for them to be clearly visible. The two voices outside the door could be heard much more clearly now: Portia and the Countess. 

“Oops, dropped the key ring again!” Portia could be heard saying, followed by the clank of metal landing on the floor.“I’m so sorry, milady. Don’t know why my fingers are so slippery today!” 

“It’s quite alright, Portia.” Nadia’s voice was soft and unassuming. “Perhaps I should try, on account of your slippery fingers?”

“What? Oh no, milady! I can’t have you opening doors for me! I promise it'll only be another moment.” Another click. Rosie’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure it could be heard through the door. Julian turned to her, his face pale. “I won’t have you caught in my mess,” he said in a hushed tone. “When that door opens, you run. Or hide, you just get out of here. She’ll be too busy arresting me to notice you.” 

“No!” Rosie hissed. “We’re getting out of here, together.” She glanced at the window—could they jump? She didn’t like how high it was, but she figured a broken ankle would be a preferable alternative to a hangman’s noose. ‘ No…no time... ’  “Rosie, you need to go! Use some hocus pocus and vanish in a puff of smoke, something! Please, just go.” Julian’s voice was pleading. “You have to stay safe.”

“I said no! I’m not leaving you behind!” 

“Damn it, Rosie. You have to! There’s not room in this library for two self-sacrificing fools. Let me do this, please. If you’re caught, you could be hanged alongside me.” Locks eight and seven clicked. “Go, Rosie.” His hands shook as he gripped her arms, the insistence his eye unwavering. 

‘Is he really going to sacrifice himself for me? ’ she thought. Tears began to burn the corner of her eyes. “We haven’t discovered anything yet,” she clasped his hand and tried to keep her voice from breaking. “Are you really willing to die without answers? Without the truth?” 

“I’ve been ready to die since I came back to Vesuvia. A few unanswered questions won’t make me turn in my grave.” 

“No. No, no, no! ” Rosie stomped her foot as she planted herself firmly between him and the rest of the library. “I won’t leave you. Y-you cannae make me!” Another lock clicked; only a few were left. Time was running out.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good. You’re really going to risk it?”

“Always.” Magic crackled over her fingers. She had no idea what she was going to do when the door opened; only that she would do anything to protect him. He stared at her, like she was some puzzling, unbelievable thing. 

“Fine, you’re the boss. Let’s get the hell out of here.” His gaze shot to the window and the trees far below. “We could try to jump, but your hip-”

“Forget my hip. That can be mended.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t suppose you can fly, er, can you? Turn into some great hawk, maybe?” 

“Afraid not.” She gritted her teeth as her eyes darter around them, searching for anything, anything . She had never wished to be a skilled transfigurer more than in that very moment. Her chest felt tight as it began to set in how truly cornered they were. 

‘ Anchor points, find the anchors ,’ a voice not unlike her own seemed to whisper in her ear, and her eyes lit up. She cast her magic out, frantically feeling for any lingering magical resonance. Wonder of wonders, there was something there, just on the edge. She didn’t wait a second more, grabbing his hand and hauling him behind the bookshelf on the furthest side opposite to them. Set into the wall behind it were two marble pillars covered in ivy. 

“I cannae believe I missed this,” she said as she hurriedly tore the leaves away. Carved in the stone was a small sigil that resembled a celandine flower. The magic that pulsed beneath it was faint, clearly having not been renewed for years. But what was still there felt promising, almost familiar. As if coaxing them to safety. She hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

“What is that,” Julian asked as he cast a worried glance at the door as the penultimate lock clicked. 

“It’s our ticket out of here. I just need-” Rosie was cut off as the final lock clicked, and the door slowly began to swing open. The shelf would buy them a bit more time, but not much. Julian slumped next to her, as if ready to walk out and surrender. 

“Rosie-” 

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed and grabbed his arm, keeping her close at her side. She could only just barely hear the Countess asking Portia if they should begin looking for ‘Asra’ and herself over the pounding of her heart. But by some miracle, they were interrupted by a wonderful, familiar voice calling from the hall: 

“Countess, were you looking for me?” ‘God bless Asra!’ Rosie thought as she watched him saunter into the library, drawing all of the Countess’ attention. 

“Ah, Asra. Not in the library after all?” Nadia smiled and folded her hands. “Where has Rosie gone?” “I sent her off to pick up an ingredient from our shop. It will be needed later.” “What a pity. She could have joined us for dinner. You will join me, will you not?”

“I’d be delighted, Countess.” 

The Countess turned to leave, Portia at her heels. Asra paused, his head tilted slightly in Rosie and Julian’s direction. Their eyes met briefly through the shelves. Julian tensed like he was ready to run out and confront them. But Asra just turned away and followed after the Countess. The still quiet returned to the library as their footfalls faded, the only thing left behind being a heavy tension. 

“He bought us time,” Rosie breathed. “Come,” she hooked her arm in his. The portal in the wall activated, the stone rippling like disturbed water. Without another word, she pulled him through to freedom.

[gothic-mutt-rambles]

Anxiety is a truly beautiful thing, it keeps you safe, aware, and ready but sometimes the poor beast gets too excited. When they suffer you do. Anxiety is like a stupid fucking needy child, calm the heart rate, breathe, stop shaking, I want my blanket, I want my bottle ass motherfucker. I hate them sometimes, but within the anxiety and panic there’s peace. There’s them forcing you to stop and notice what’s around you, or making you get a breath of fresh air so you get to see the first peaking of dawn. Or you meet a lil cat who’s just chillin with you, enjoying the calm, enjoying the quiet. Do I wish I could live without him? Yes absolutely, but I’m glad I have my anxiety, even when they turn to panic.

It’s a beautiful morning, warm and mild but a crisp breeze makes me just barely shiver. The sky a pale grey, the aloe vera stupid, sharp, and green as always. The palm trees dancing in the breeze and one sleep deprived mutt. (Me) As much as I hate the 100°+ days I find a joy in the nights here. It’s tropical without being humid, it’s warm in all the right ways, and it makes me love my cold bedroom even more.

I haven’t had time to write or feel recently with all the stress of making rent, and getting grocery money. It’s been annoying, writing was my first love and I’ve abandoned him without meaning to. I used to write beautiful poems and stories, create complex worlds and beings to live in them, now I’m just an average guy. I mean I still draw when I get the time but even that’s turned into a way to try to make money. Man I hate capitalism.

The stupid stained rock beside me keeping me company, the smell of smoke from my neighbor, the cries of cats in the night. It’s all beautiful and peaceful in an odd way. The rumble of cars as they go about their nightly commute. The wind blowing dry leaves and dust into my face making my eyes water.

A car’s panic alarm is going off, I guess I’m not the only one panicking tonight haha. It’s kinda calming in a way, to know that this unfeeling, uncaring object is panicking, all the same as I was.

Do you ever wonder if the stars get lonely up there? Shining down on us, giving us their beautiful light. I mean the moon has the sun but who do the stars have? I guess they have each other. They have community, something a lot of humans don’t have. I feel like an outcast in my communities.

I feel like an outcast alot of the time. I feel like I’m just here not wanted, not needed. It’s a hard thought to deal with. But at the end of the day if I’m not wanted then giving those bastards my time isn’t worth it. I’ll find my people who want me one day, if not in this life then the next.

Fourteen cars have driven by me in the thirty minutes I’ve been out here. I wonder where they’re going? I wonder what stories the passengers have, or even the car themselves. Everything has a story if you think about it, and I find that beautiful and fascinating. Make that fifteen.

My story isn’t an exciting one but like all stories it deserves to be told. I may not be not be strong, or fast, or even brave but I have a story. One full of pain, triumph, and love. Maybe that’s the key, love drives us all.

It’s now 5:08a, I started this at like 4:30a and I still have more to say. Wow, when taking time to just relax and think I sure have a lot to say haha. My problem is I worry about the impossible and the inevitable. And where has that gotten me? Sitting outside after a panic attack, exhausted and deep thinking. They recommend so many contradictory things for easing panic attacks it’s funny. “Relax, distract yourself and breath” but at the same time “Let it run its course”, So what am I supposed to do? I went with the, “sit outside, get fresh air and write method” (Patton pending) it’s a rather great method ya know, you just sit outside, enjoy the night and write your heart out.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m special. Like will I make something of myself one day? I was taught if I work hard enough I can do anything (as long as I’m white and cis of course) and I am neither. Maybe I write to make an impact on someone, even if it’s just one person. Who knows.

God I’m tired, I need to go to bed. Ya know, this was good for me, all of it.

[undeadgoathead]

Don't get me wrong, I am still super proud of myself for finding such a cute, affordable flat in such a short amount of time, especially considering the mental/emotional hell I was struggling with from a messy breakup(and the aftermath of which continues to haunt me). And I also take great pride in all the organization, renovations, installations, and interior design that I put into it.

But...I mean... it's still just an apartment. In Albuquerque, no less. I can fluff it up with all the fancy French furniture, expensive appliances, and girly decorations I want. But it will always be kind of hood, just a little bit ghetto, no matter how much I fuss and fawn over the interior. It's what's outside that I'm worried about. Location, location, location!

I mean, in my first week here, I already lost a Louis Vuitton purse (!), as well as brand new rose gold hair straightener and matching curling iron, still in their boxes. Someone probably stole them, so I already mistrust my neighbors. And management acted all buddy-buddy right until the moment I signed the contract and they handed over the key, and then their true colors immediately started to show. When I reported the missing purse and salon products, and asked whether they were covered by my renter's insurance, they never answered the phone, nor returned my many messages, so I guess I just have to take yet another L.

On my first week, a crackhead also followed me up three flights of stairs while my hands were full carrying heavy boxes of stuff, and I barely made it inside in time to lock the door behind me, before he started banging on my nextdoor neighbors' window and begging for a lighter. As annoying and creepy as he was, I can't judge him too harshly for his pathetic addiction, as I also have several of my own. In fact, right before I chucked a used BIC in the crackhead's general direction, just to bribe him to shut the hell up, leave me alone, and go away, I had just googled "how to open a wine bottle without a corkscrew", and tried the so-called "Switchblade Method", with dubious amounts of success. In many ways, he and I are in the same boat. Desperation sucks. Depending on the kindness of strangers sucks. Needing a smoke or a drink as a crutch sucks. Like I get it bro. It could have been me knocking on doors at 10:00 pm asking for a corkscrew. It's whatever, man.

Even though I'm trying to see the best of this place, the property management sure as hell doesn't make it easy! This morning I saw a lease violation notice on my door, for supposedly violating the drape policy... Yeah yeah, I already know, no posters in the windows, no colorful drapes, just plain white curtains or nothing at all, to make the exterior as bland and boring and uninteresting as possible... It's an asinine rule, but one I follow regardless. Homie, I just left the plain white blinds that were already pre installed. Do I really seem like the kind of chick who would install a fluffy set of gawdy floral granny curtains?! Unless... They can't possibly be telling me to take down my drapes I installed on the bedroom doorway, for some kind of privacy, because there was no actual door?! Or maybe even the shower curtain that I had to install by myself and paid out of pocket for, because the landlord never even delivered on his promise to at least give me a freaking tension rod?! Either way, fucking yikes...

Landlords be wilding. Why am I paying nearly $1000 a month just to feel like an unwanted guest in my own home? And homeowners associations are even worse! Like imagine finally breaking out of the paycheck-to-paycheck monthly rent payment poverty cycle, finally being able to afford to buy your own house, the pride of truly being a home owner, of possessing your own personal property at long last, just for your grouchy old neighbors to still be able to tell you what you can and cannot do in your own house...

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Atonement

SEO MOON-JO X READER

When the world falls apart, you have him by your side, loving and caring for you every step of the way. Accidentally stumbling upon his most sinful line of work, you wonder how much you really know about the dentist you fell in love with.

The cold and dreary night sky looked overhead and the moon cast a shimmery glow onto the pavement in front of Eden Residence. The flowerbeds that seemed to be teeming with life at one point in time were now filled with weeds and miscellaneous cans and bottles. The sidewalk was perfect on the way up to the residence, however as soon as you stepped foot in the vicinity of your new boyfriend's place, you noticed how broken and jagged the cement was. Overall, you had expected a bit more from the dentist, but you weren't going to be the one to judge. Moon-jo wasn't close to anyone really, so when he'd offered to take you on a date the first couple of times, you were excited and surprised to say the least. You knew he had secrets (everyone does), but little did you know the secret he kept from the world.

Smiling, you see the familiar figure standing outside the entryway, smoking a cigarette. Moon-jo was wearing a black turtleneck and grey dress pants with a black leather jacket on top. His hair had been gelled down previously to his arrival but was now strewn about his face and ears; it was disheveled in the "I may have just got out of bed but I'm still sexy" type look. He had a piercing in one ear that was just barely visible from his curly black locks of hair and upon seeing your face, his expression changed from daunting to pleasant. Even his demeanor changed as he stood up just a bit straighter and positioned his hands behind his back, a stance that you were familiar with when he welcomed you to the clinic.

"Why hello there." You said with a knowing glance, making it obvious that you were checking him out. He didn't seem to mind though, in fact, he looked expectant of it. His eyes shifted downwards from yours to your lips and then to your outfit, never staying in one place for too long. How he was so good at undressing you with his eyes, you didn't know. All you knew was that you wanted him to do it again and again.

"Hello." He said in his soft deep voice. He smelled of Dolce and Gabbana or something similar in exquisiteness, with a faint familiar touch of... bleach?

"You look sexy as hell." You said, just itching to voice what was on your mind. It wasn't fair for him to be so taunting with his angled features and impeccable style.

"Wow. I thought I would've had to put in a bit more effort before you offered to sleep with me." He laughed and snaked an arm around your waist, leading you up the stairs. You smiled up at him and wondered how you found such a godlike person. From the way he walked to the way he acted, everything seemed so meticulous and beautiful, almost as if he was never truly from this realm. You were in awe of Moon-jo in every way, and you scared yourself with the thoughts of what you would let him do to you...

Up at the landing, he removed his arm from your body and pushed open the door to reveal the apartments on the floor which he resided. It was dark and dreary and had the faintest smell of mold and cleaning chemicals; you wondered if that's where you picked up the bleach smell from. The walls were a dark green which made it even darker and the walls were so close together that it felt suffocating trying to navigate your way around the building. There was not a decoration in sight, not a plant, not any of the other tenets. The silence was so deafening that your ears started to ring.

Opening up the door to his room, Moon-jo looked on the shelf above him for the car keys he needed to take the two of you on a proper date. He had offered to give you a ride to the new restaurant that had just opened, and you agreed even when he said you two would need to stop at his place for the keys.

"Where are they.....?" He asked himself as he shuffled about the shelves, looking for the familiar shape of the keys. You started to feel somewhat sick the longer you stayed in the building, the walls and the lighting started to take a toll on you. It was disorienting and uncomfortable and for a moment you thought back to the possibility of parallel universe liminal spaces, since the place reminded you of it so much. Clutching your purse closer to your body, you hold the cool chain around your neck to get some feeling back into your nerves.

"Hey, baby are you okay?" You hear him ask on the opposite end of the room.

"Yeah, yeah. I just need some air." You lied, trying to look at the floor to appease your stomach. Your shoes even felt tight.

"You can go wait for me in the kitchen, if you'd like. It's a bit more open in there. Down the hall to the left." He said, shrugging his shoulders and continuing to look through the cabinets. How he lost something in such a small place, you had no idea. But, you took him up on the offer of leaving the room and you made your way to the brightest but dreariest kitchen you've ever seen in your life. The wallpaper was ripping off the walls and dishes were piled into the sink as if their intended use were to sit and collect dust. Sitting down on one of the dining chairs, you place your head in your hands and take deep breaths as you try to steady yourself. What was wrong with you? Why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

"I think I might've left them on the fourth floor." You heard the familiar voice resounding from behind you. Moon-jo knelt down beside you, placing his hands onto yours and removing them from your face. His expression was one of genuine worry and you felt bad for him for having to deal with you when you were like this. He offered you a slight smile as he tried to read your expression; his fingers brushing away at the hair that had fallen into your face. "Are you alright?"

"I guess I'm just claustrophobic or something. I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this it's just that this place-"

"-Feels like a cage." He said, completing your sentence. His gaze turned into a dark one but you had no idea why he was so bothered by the thought. It was reassuring to hear that he felt the same way about Eden Residence that you did.

"Yeah," you said, "something like that."

...

Walking up towards the fourth floor, you were relieved to catch your breath and to breathe in the night sky. The ascent to the floor above meant climbing one flight of stairs and trying not to step on any broken glass. This place that Moon-jo lived in made you nervous for him as it didn't seem all that safe. You wondered if the rest of the tenets were a bit strange.

The big heavy door to the women's area of the building looked even older than everything else. There were charred marks on the door (you didn't know what from) and the way it was tucked neatly into the corner all by itself shrouded it in an eerie darkness. The sign was chipping away and soon enough any evidence of there ever being any humanity living behind the door would be gone forever, like dust in the wind.

"Why were you on the women's floor?" You asked, slightly accusatory. You and Moon-jo had only been together for two weeks, but you still felt hurt to know that he could be around other people that sparked his interest.

"I was working." He said, revealing a hallway even darker than the one from downstairs. "I have a side hustle of..... sorts."

Walking into the room, the sensation of being trapped filled your senses once again. The walls had the same charred marks as the doorway and the floor was scuffed and dirty. "What happened in here?" You asked, noticing how it looked as though someone had set the place aflame.

"It burned down shortly after Eden Residence was built," Moon-jo held your hand, walking towards the end of the hallway slowly, "Everyone died except for the old lady's cat. Sometimes you can still hear it up here, moving about and scratching the walls."

The hallway ended and the two of you were in a room so isolated from the rest of the building that you felt a knot in your stomach. This was the type of nerve-wracking that people on Criminal Minds talk about before they're brutally murdered, and you finally understood now why Moon-jo had insisted that you stop at the Residence to grab his car keys. He was trying to get you alone and vulnerable and you didn't think it was for sexual related reasons.

You slowly stepped back from the middle of the room as Moon-jo grabbed something off one of the wooden planks on the floor. "Here they are. Would you look at that?" He said, turning to you with a wicked malicious grin. In his hands were the keys, pristine and clean as he liked the rest of his belongings. That's what drew him into you, the fact that you seemed so pure and innocent. Something he could make an absolute mess of. Dirty hands on a white towel. Satan holding a sacred dove. You were his most precious belonging.

"Moon-jo? I think I'm going to call it a night. I'm still not feeling all that well." You let out a slight whimper, trying to feel around for the door you just came through. Instead, your back hit the wall and you were met with Moon-jo's face just inches from your own. He wrapped his arms around you and forced you into his embrace, not caring whether or not you wanted to be touched at the moment. The truth was going to come out tonight and he knew you would take it well. You would have to take it well. And if you didn't, he would make sure you felt too threatened to leave him either way.

"You're not going anywhere, love." He pushed his nose into the crook of your neck and allowed for his face to rest there, listening to the rapid pace of your heartbeat and taking in the scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating to him knowing that your life belonged to him and he could end it at any moment. He could, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't ever lay a finger on you in the way he killed so many others. You were different. You spoke to his soul and made him feel something after years of searching for something to fill the empty space within his chest.

Your entire body froze as Moon-jo held you there, calmly breathing into your skin. You wanted to run away but you had no idea how you would be able to leave without him following you. He knew where you lived and you worked within the same office. Rejecting Moon-jo would be impossible.

Finally, he turned to look at you as he continued to hold you close to his chest. "I'm a killer, (Y/N). You were going to be my next target but I think I accidentally fell in love with you."

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. There's no way he was telling you the truth. This had to have been a lie, the antisocial doctor whom you had gotten to know was quiet and poised. A killer wasn't even an option in your mind as to what he could've occupied himself with outside of his work. And that's when it hit you: the dead bodies that had been found all over Gyeonggi-do with missing teeth.

To confirm your suspicion, you noticed a dentist's chair in the corner of the room, the white upholstery now stained with colors you did not want to familiarize yourself with. Next to it laid a table with various tools, all clean and polished.

"I kill them. And then I eat them after I take their teeth."

That's when you fainted.

...

Waking up in Moon-jo's room, you look up at the ceiling overhead. It was cracked and crumbling and visibly painted over layers and layers of ruin. The window closest to the top of the room let in just enough light that you were able to barely make out your surroundings...and the person who shared the bed with you.

Moon-jo looked so innocent while he slept. His head was resting on the bed (he had given you his pillow) and his hair was a mess as he nuzzled deeper into the sheets. His arms were around you still and you noticed how hard it was for you to move in his intense grasp. His face was completely calm and his skin glowed in the soft light above. You didn't know when you had passed out or how you had gotten into his bed, but you assumed he had taken you here after your vision went blurry. In other circumstances, you would have found him to be cute in the position he was in, but instead your stomach was filled with worry. What did he mean by killing? Why was he sparing you? What did he mean by loving you?

Even with the nervousness bubbling up inside of you, you still found yourself glued to your spot, not even because Moon-jo was holding onto you so tightly. You knew that you wouldn't have left even if he allowed it, so instead you nuzzled up closer to his chest which awoke him softly.

"You're awake?" He asked in a deep soft voice, holding you even tighter in case you decided to make a run for it. He seemed confused as to why you were still okay with being near him and why you hadn't tried to escape while he was vulnerable.

"Yeah." You said after a moment of silence.

Moon-jo noticed your slight distress and watched you conflict in your head the possibilities of loving him and leaving him. He watched your eyes and saw behind them that you were trying to keep your morals, noticing it became harder and harder as you leaned into his touch, giving into him completely.

"(Y/N), because I love you, I'm letting you leave if you decide not to be here anymore." He felt his chest tighten as the words left his mouth, knowing that he was being entirely honest with you and dishonest with himself. He didn't want you to leave his arms.

"Moon-jo, I'm not going to leave you." You said, looking up at him from the pillow. He looked beautiful in the soft light.

"Why not?" He asked, certain that you were going to make a run for it.

"Because I think I love you too much to do that."

[charturnus]

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

a/n: Thank you all for being so patient, this one was a real fight between me and imposter syndrome. Special thanks to the lovely anons in my inbox, you guys really keep me so motivated, even in the worst of times.

Tags/warnings: 18+ minors DNI; top!wanda; bottom!reader; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; praise; dominance; slight dirty talk

Word count: 8K

Summary: Chapter VIII; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU

The one where you explore the stars, Wanda is the moon, and you engage in some premarital hand holding. 

Previous chapter

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

The air outside is chilly, the whole neighbourhood is quiet. The only noise is the sound of hushed laughter, as Wanda tries to fit her key in the lock. I have to stifle my giggles in the crook of my elbow as she tries every single one of her keys, apparently having forgotten which one goes to the front door. Then, when she finally finds the right key, I have to use the torch on my phone to light the keyhole for her. She shakes with repressed laughter, her hand failing to keep steady enough to slide the key into the lock. It takes a few more moments of almost silent hysterics from the both of us, before she manages to unlock the door and usher us inside.  

It’s well past midnight, and I ought to be tired, but the air feels charged and heavy with the prospect of possibility. All of a sudden, a whole other world has opened up to me. There’s so much Wanda and I could do, simply because we want to, because we are now an ‘us’. We could lay on the sofa for hours, without the barrier of pretence, intertwined in each other’s embrace until morning. I could wrap my arms around her waist and press my lips to hers, allow myself to be lost in the feel of her.  I could reach out and touch her, whenever I want to, just to feel her warm skin against mine. No more excuses, no more lingering touches disguised as something other than what they truly are. 

I watch Wanda as she shrugs off her outer layer, stripping to just her white blouse. With her sleeves rolled up, I can see the freckles dotting her arms. I take my coat off too, and Wanda’s suit jacket, but despite the relative warmth of the house, I still shiver. I got so used to the warm velvet of Wanda’s jacket, that now my skin comes out in gooseprickles, revolting against the lukewarm air.  

‘’Are you cold, honey?’’ 

Wanda is still grinning, her smile wide and mischievous. She reaches out her hand, groping into the empty air between us. I go to her instantly, intertwining my fingers with hers, and allowing her to pull me into an embrace. She holds me tight to her, just as she did when I told her I wanted to be hers. She cradles me against her like I'm about to slip through her fingers like smoke. I nuzzle into the crook of her neck, her hair tickling my face, and I nod, humming in affirmation. Though it's warmer here, close to Wanda. Even more so now, I can feel the charged energy between us, as though we both know what’s coming, but neither of us can mention it.  

''Do you want to go upstairs and warm up?'' 

My heart jumps to my throat, and I nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically, because Wanda laughs heartily at my response. ''Let's get you nice and toasty, then, sweetheart.'' 

The trek up the stairs seems to last several lifetimes, and I am forcibly reminded of the first time Wanda led me up this staircase. I remember how hard I tried not to stare at her as she walked in front of me, my eyes resolutely focussed on the thick carpet covering the steps. Now, however, I look at her unabashedly. Her suit hugs her in the most beautiful way, and I'd be content to simply watch her like this, fully clothed, even just that feels like a luxury. Not having to avert my gaze, to hide the longing in my eyes. Wanda clearly wants to be assured of my desire for her, and I’m more than happy to provide that for her. 

I am lost in my thoughts, watching the curve of Wanda’s hips, when she suddenly snaps her head around to look at me, catching my downturned eyes. To my surprise, I am not ashamed.  ''Why don't you take a picture, honey? It'll last you longer,'' she teases. I chuckle in return, mulling over the thought of having a beautiful photograph of Wanda to call my own, something to place on my desk or my bedside table. But that won’t quite do, not for a woman like Wanda. 

She’s like the moon. In reality, she is the most breathtaking beauty I have ever had the good fortune to lay my eyes upon, and I could sit for hours on end simply taking her in. But every time I try to capture her beauty, to keep it with me, even when she has long since left, the photograph turns out dull, and nothing at all like the real thing. No one can take a photograph of the moon, which is more beautiful than what you see when you look up at the night sky. Wanda looks beautiful in photographs, how could she not? But every time something is missing. That glint in her eyes, the vibrancy of her smile, it’s never quite right. It doesn’t do her justice. She needs something more, something much more substantial than a simple picture. 

I think of an art exhibit I went to once on a school trip, when I was a teenager. The theme was space, and there were lots of fantastic sculptures and paintings, depicting all the different wonders that our universe has to offer. But, throughout the whole visit, I couldn’t get myself to look away from this one particular piece. A huge canvas, larger than myself, depicted the full moon in all her glory. Every crater, every dent, every last detail was masterfully crafted. It looked so real, it looked so beautiful, like I could reach out and touch the actual moon, not just paint on canvas. I took a picture of it, but it never looked the same as it did on that day at the exhibit. 

Wanda stops on the staircase to strike a pose, a hand in her hair, a cheeky smile on her face. I don’t pull out my phone to take a picture, I reach for her hand instead. 

‘’I’d rather have a painting of you, to be honest,’’ I say, ‘’but I suppose the real thing will have to do.’’

*** 

The door to the bedroom, our bedroom, has never looked more inviting. Wanda lets me in, and I feel the nervousness hit me for the first time. I try my best to look casual, and unassuming. I fuss with my earrings, taking much longer to take them off than is strictly necessary. I can tell Wanda is watching me, I feel her eyes burning hot against the back of my neck, so I struggle to find something to break the silence.   

''I should probably shower and wash this makeup off,'' I say, not because I mean it, but because I want Wanda to tell me to stay. I need her to acknowledge to me that she wants me, just as she needed me to tell her over and over again that I want her. I turn to look at her, and I can see that she's undone three of her buttons, exposing the soft, pale skin of her chest. Wanda cocks her head at me, taking in the slight pinkness of my cheeks, and the barest tremble in my hands. ''I think you'd rather be doing something else, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?’’

''I- I-'' My voice seems to have failed me, my throat drying up like water in the sun. Wanda gives me a sympathetic smile, like she almost pities me, but not quite. ''I think you want to stay, don't you baby?'' She moves closer to me, walking slowly, like a predator stalking her prey, until she has me in her grasp once more. ''I know what you want,'' she breathes against my waiting lips, ''but you're going to have to ask nicely.'' 

This time, when she kisses me, there is a sense of urgency behind it. Her hands leave their usual spot, resting against my cheeks or grasping at the back of my neck, to roam over my body. She glides her hands down my back, over my hips, and up again. My skin tingles with her touch, and I wish it were my bare skin she was touching, not the silk of my dress. In response to her touch, I allow my own hands to wander. With my fingers I draw a path up Wanda’s arms, from the bare skin of her forearms, to her biceps, hidden by her white blouse. She's strong, I can feel the muscle hard underneath her soft skin, and I wonder how easy it would be for her to throw me around if she wanted to. 

Feeling brave, I break our kiss, to dip my head into the crook of her neck, and place a soft kiss there. Wanda shudders when I dart out my tongue, to glide it against her skin. I can taste her perfume, but I don't mind, not when I finally get to do this. Wanda groans at the feel of my tongue against her, and slides her hands to my lower back, lingering just long enough to whisper breathlessly, "is it okay if I- ?" 

If my frantic nods, as I let go of her neck, aren't enough to make it clear, my desperate plea of "yes, God, please," most certainly is.  She slides her hands down, grabbing at my ass, squeezing and pulling me ever closer to her. I stumble a bit when she pulls me flush against her, but she holds me tight, not letting me fall.

"Why don't you lay down, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, her voice sweet like honey, "I don't want you falling over and hurting yourself."

So, I allow Wanda to lay me down on the bed, flat against the mattress, the pillows too far to reach. She straddles me, her strong thighs enclosing my hips. Leaning down to look at me, her coppery red hair falls down to frame her face. She reaches out a single finger to trace my cheek, where I can feel the heat blooming. "Baby, you're all flushed. Are you hot? Maybe we should take off that pretty dress."

I’m afraid to speak, unsure of what words to use, scared to make myself look like a fool in front of Wanda. I want her to think I’m pretty, that I’m sexy, but most importantly, I want her to see how obedient I can be. Her words make me tremble, and I reach for the straps at my shoulder instantly, knowing what she wants and wanting to please. Wanda chuckles, the sound coming from deep in her throat. "Ah, ah, honey. That's my job. You're my little present to unwrap." 

She leans down to give me a quick little kiss on the tip of my nose, before finding the small zip at my side and tugging it down all the way. Her touch is careful and gentle as she slides the straps from my shoulders. She presses her lips to my collarbones, peppering them, and my shoulders with kisses, as she slides the top of my dress down my torso, to expose my breasts to her. My dress was designed to have formed cups, and underwire support, so I forwent wearing a bra. When the cool air runs over me, I feel my nipples hardening. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest, my face aflame in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. ‘’Oh no, baby, don’t hide. You look so pretty like this,’’ Wanda husks. My face glows red-hot, and I can tell without looking that it has spread to my neck and chest too. ‘’Come on pretty girl,’’ she coos, running her hands along the outsides of my thighs, ‘’let me look at you.’’

With my face still burning, I cautiously uncross my arms from my chest, choosing to let my hands rest on Wanda’s thighs instead. When she gets her first good look at me, she lets out a little sigh of delight, the kind you make when you can see the stars on a clear night. Her hands abandon my thighs in favour of my bare torso, her fingers tracing the line where my skin meets the pushed back fabric of my dress. Her nails tickle my upper abdomen as she trails her fingers up, and up. Her hands skirt over my ribcage, like a musician performing a glissando on a xylophone, before finally coming to rest over my breasts. 

She’s so gentle as she touches me, like she’s afraid I might startle, or break, or both. She watches me closely for any reaction, but her watchful gaze makes me nervous, it hits me like an acute case of stage fright. Her touch is nice, more than nice. Her thumbs rub over the stiff peaks of my nipples, and I squirm and hold back a sigh. But when she leans down to take a nipple into her mouth, I can’t help but let out a soft gasp, my hands shooting slightly up, moving from her thighs to her waist. I can feel her smile around my breast, pleased at even the most miniscule reaction from me. 

She stays there, bringing up more saliva from her mouth, sliding her tongue over my hardened nipple and sucking gently. With her right hand, she teases my free breast, squeezing and pinching to make me writhe under her, before switching her attention to the other breast. Her mouth is warm, and wet, and when she flicks her tongue over my stiff nipple, I imagine it’s my clit instead. The pressure between my legs grows by the minute, and I find myself trying to buck up my hips, to rock against anything that might alleviate some of this ache. However, Wanda’s legs enclose mine so tightly that I barely have any room to move at all.

She evidently takes notice of this, because she lets go of my breast with a pop and looks down at my feebly moving hips. Her eyes shine with amusement when she looks at me, my lips parted, breasts wet and puffy from her attention. ‘’Awww,’’ she tuts in fake sympathy, ‘’am I making you feel good, honey?’’ 

Her words cut a path straight to my clit, and I feel myself throb. I want to say yes, to shout it at her. To beg her to touch me in the way I’ve fantasized about for so many years. Have I not dreamt of being forced to kneel and beg for what I want?

Now I’m in the spotlight, however, with Wanda observing every twitch and shudder, I feel rather shy. I can’t hold eye contact with her, and I most certainly can’t say the words I know she wants me to say. So instead I cast my eyes downward, focussing, not for the first time this night, on the swell of her chest. The buttons she undid earlier reveal the barest hint of cleavage, but when she leans down to kiss me, I can see straight down her blouse. Greedily, I stretch out my hands, to fumble at the other buttons of her blouse with trembling fingers. Wanda throws her head back and laughs, ‘’I’m sorry baby, I’ve been so greedy taking you all for myself, I forgot you might want to see me too.’’

She helps me to unbutton her blouse, her fingers much more steady than mine. My head feels rather clouded, partially from the ache between my legs, partially from seeing Wanda like this for the first time, and partially from the exhausting night I’ve had. 

I marvel at the sight of her, blouse hanging off her shoulders, breasts spilling out over the top of her bra. Her hair hangs down over her face in a fine curtain of shining red hair, like the soft glow of a hearth fire. She has freckles on her chest too, a whole other galaxy of tiny little stars, waiting to be explored. Over the past few weeks, I have become intimately acquainted with the freckles on her face and arms, connecting them all with the tips of my fingers, weaving an unseen tapestry of a skyline only known to us. The freckles on her chest are wilder, somehow, than those on her face and arms. They’re spread farther apart, and are fewer in numbers. I want to put my mouth to them, and kiss each and every one. One of my fingers darts out to begin mapping out the first few connections between the freckles, the stars in my galaxy, and Wanda, my perfect, shining, moon. 

I don’t realize that I’m crying until I feel my nose close up. The tears haven’t quite escaped my eyes yet, instead they pool in the corners, waiting for me to tip my head, so they can be released. When Wanda hears me sniff, she starts and raises her gaze from her chest where my finger is still connecting one star to the next, to my tear filled eyes. A wild sort of panic flashes across Wanda’s face, and it’s enough to draw a teary laugh from me. ‘’What’s wrong? Why are you crying, honey? Do you want to stop?’’ 

Wanda is so sweet, and so kind, and so gentle. She extracts herself from me gingerly, shrugging off her blouse to cover my chest, and she looks down at me from where she’s laying on the bed, raised with one elbow braced against the mattress. I shake my head, smiling, knowing my voice will be thick with emotion if I try to speak. 

‘’I can’t say I expected you to be crying and smiling at the same time when I tried to seduce you for the first time.’’ This makes me laugh, a real, deep laugh, and as my eyes squint the pooled tears fall down my cheeks. Wanda swipes them away with her thumbs, leaning over to kiss me on my forehead. ‘’Do you want to stop, honey?’’

I shake my head quickly, vigorously, making Wanda smile. ‘’No! I don’t want to stop at all, I just- I don’t know, you’re just so pretty, and I still can’t believe this is real and that you want me.’’ I feel silly saying it out loud, and I’m cursing myself inwardly for not having a grip on my emotions. But, Wanda’s gaze softens, her hand cupping my cheek to pull me into a warm kiss. When she pulls back, she scrunches her nose at me affectionately, pushing the hair back from my brow. Even in such a tender moment, I struggle to hold her gaze, and I lower my gaze, forgetting that she’s no longer wearing her blouse. 

She snorts, teasingly dipping her head to catch my eyes as they linger on the swell of her chest. I flush. ‘’I’m sorry, I didn’t-’’ But she breaks me off with the sound of her dazzling laughter. ‘’Honey, don’t apologize for that. I want you to look at me,’’ she says, intertwining the fingers of her free hand with mine, ‘’because this is real, and I want you more than anything or anyone in the world.’’ Her words wash over me in a wave of warmth, like getting into a hot bath after being out in a chilly December evening. It feels so good, so warm, so safe. ‘’I want you too,’’ I whisper, ‘’more than anyone or anything.’’ 

Wanda’s mouth opens just a tad bit wider, her chest expanding just a bit farther. Her eyes glow with the same greedy expression that was there when she asked me to tell her again that I want her. I am overcome with a sudden urge to give myself completely to her, to let her utterly consume me. 

***

For a while, we end up laying side by side, safe in each other’s arms. We take our time, getting lost in the taste of each other’s mouths, running our hands up and down each other’s exposed sides. Wanda’s blouse lies forgotten, and she allows me to reach my hands behind her back to undo her bra, as I want nothing more than to feel her skin pressed against mine. 

I marvel at the sight of her, bare in front of me. With a single finger I map out the newfound freckles on her chest, marking them all with a touch, before placing a gentle kiss on every single one. Wanda makes good use of the time I spend with my head inclined towards her, and she pulls every last pin from my elaborate braided updo, until the braids fall down my back, and she undoes those too. Finally, my hair tumbles free over my shoulder, a little stiff from the hairspray, and wavy from the tight weave of the braids. 

While she’s busy, I let my thoughts wander to all the lonely nights I’ve experienced in the past few years, and the fantasies that kept me warm during them. I have been trying my hardest to pretend I haven’t noticed Wanda’s hardened nipples pressing against my chest as I focussed all my attention on her freckles. But now, I can’t keep up the charade anymore. My mouth, hungry and eager, moves lower, and I take her into my mouth. Wanda gasps, and the fingers in my hair tighten. 

It’s everything I’ve been dreaming of, and yet so much more. Her warm body pressed against mine, her fingers in my hair, her stuttered gasps as I lick and suck to my heart's content. The ache between my legs returns in tenfold, and I find myself unabashedly straddling one of Wanda’s thighs with both of my own. Even though there is still too much fabric between us, the muted pressure feels heavenly, and I wonder if this will be enough to make me come undone. 

Hours seem to fly by, but in reality I know it’s only been a few minutes. Wanda is breathing hard, panting as my mouth remains relentlessly on her breasts. I too have caved in, my shame making way for the pleasant cloudiness of pleasure, and I let out several muffled moans, even through a mouthful of breast. When I finally let go of her, the ache between my legs becoming too overwhelming, Wanda seizes the opportunity to extract herself from underneath me. Her hands fly to her belt buckle, and a thrill runs through me at the sight of her undoing her trousers. How many times have I imagined this? Imagined her strolling into my office after hours, bending me over my desk, and sliding off her belt to have her way with me. 

All I can do is lay there and stare as she pulls off both her trousers and her underwear in one go, leaving her completely bare. The sight of rust-coloured curls peeking out from between her legs makes me feel weak in the knees, and I’m grateful for the solid mattress underneath me. She doesn’t give me much time to dwell on the expanse of newly revealed skin, because her hands are on me now, sliding all the way up my thighs, and not stopping when her fingers catch on silky fabric. She pushes my dress up and up, well over my hips. ‘’Arms up, baby,’’ she says with a sweet smile, as if she isn’t about to devour me in a single bite, like the big, bad wolf.

Obediently, I comply, raising up my arms, so she can slide the dress over my head and throw it in the general direction of the laundry basket. I try to close my legs, trying to hide the evidence of my arousal, that I’m sure is there by now. But, Wanda seems to have a different idea, because she holds my legs open firmly with both hands. 

‘’Oh, honey, would you look at that,’’ she says with utter delight, ‘’did that get you all excited?’’

My cheeks glow red, but my cunt throbs at her words. I look down to where her hands are resting on my inner thighs, and I can see just how soaked through my underwear has become. The fabric sticks to me, moulding to the shape of my body. From between my labia, my hardened clit sticks out ever so slightly, swollen and throbbing, begging for Wanda’s attention. 

She sees it too, I know she does, and when she reaches out a hand I am sure it is to touch me there, but to my great disappointment she only settles it comfortably on my pubic bone, holding me in place. A desperate little whimper slips from my lips, my hips canting upwards, searching for friction. My voice is small, and soft when I whine for her, ‘’please, please, touch me.’’ 

Wanda smiles, a devious, horrible smile, that lets me know I’m in for a long night.

***

‘’Ah, ah, oh God, fuck. Wanda.’’

The heels of my feet are digging into the mattress, my hips raised up high, rocking desperately into Wanda’s touch, but she’s not relenting one bit. My underwear has long since been removed, my wetness now dripping down and soaking the sheets. Her fingers glide comfortably over my soaked cunt, carefully caressing my labia, teasing my entrance, but still stubbornly refusing to touch my clit. It’s so swollen it almost hurts, and tears of frustration prickle at the edges of my eyes. My shame left me several long minutes ago, and now I’m unabashedly whining, keening and whimpering. 

Wanda shushes me gently, a look of utter delight on her face. ‘’I know, baby,’’ she coos, ‘’I know it hurts, doesn’t it?’’ My tortured wail in response only makes her laugh, rubbing my lower stomach in a calming gesture. ‘’I haven’t heard you ask nicely yet, baby, you need to tell me what you want.’’ I groan, letting my raised hips sink back down onto the bed. ‘’Please, please, I can’t take it anymore, please just touch me.’’ 

The twinkle in her eyes shows something of mischief, but her gaze softens quickly when a single frustrated tear drips slowly down my cheek. The comforting hand on my stomach rubs in gentle circles, trying to calm me down. ‘’I’m sorry, sweetheart. We need to go slow today, okay? Slow and gentle, because you’re not used to any of this yet.’’

A part of me wants to laugh in her face, to tell her all the things I do to myself, that are far removed from being soft or gentle, never mind all the things I want her to do to me. But, in this state, I really don’t have much energy to put up a fight. I want her to touch me where it matters, before I go clinically insane. 

‘’Wanda, please, I’m not going to break, slow is good, but I’m going to lose my mind.’’

‘’What if I like you like this?’’ she teases, ‘’you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.’’ I open my mouth to argue with her, but she’s already ahead of me. She holds out the index and middle fingers of her right hand, they hover in the air in front of my mouth, and I don’t need her to tell me what to do. I raise my head slightly to take her into my mouth, but she pushes forward, sliding her fingers in to the second knuckle. This allows me to lay back down, contently suckling her fingers, gagging ever so slightly when she begins to move them in and out, in a languid pace. 

‘’I think you like having something to keep that pretty mouth busy, baby,’’ Wanda says, her voice low, and sultry. When I look over at her, I see her watching me with a slightly parted mouth, the barest hint of a flush evident on her cheeks. I nod eagerly, gliding my tongue this way and that as she begins to move her fingers a little faster. Too soon, however, she slides herself free from my mouth, a heavy string of saliva still sticks to her, before falling down onto my chest. 

‘’Good girl, honey. You’re being so perfect for me, and it’s only your first time,’’ she says, leaning down to lick the string of saliva off my chest, stopping to suck heartily at my hard nipples. Her praise warms me from the inside out, I want to hear her say it again and again. I want to be her perfect girl. 

‘’Are you going to keep being good for me?’’ she asks, moving up from between my spread legs, to straddle my waist. My stomach lurches when I feel her slide her wet cunt over my stomach, rocking against me. She doesn’t miss the gasp that escapes my lips, even as I nod my head yes, yes I will keep being good for her, I will do anything to be her good little girl. ‘’Do you feel that?’’ Wanda asks, deliberately grinding down hard against me, so I can feel every inch of her soaked skin. All I manage in response is a weak, ‘’fuck.’’

‘’’That’s all from you, baby. Watching you try to fuck yourself on my fingers, taking me so well down your throat. You make me so wet.’’

My mouth is dry, my throat is dry, my voice has evaporated. I can’t comprehend how this is real, how this is genuinely happening. Wanda above me, grinding her wet cunt against me, the wetness that she says I made appear. My own ache is forgotten, as Wanda moves up higher, her cunt hovering over my chest, so close to my face that I can smell her, and I know what it is she wants from me. ‘’You’re going to put that busy mouth to work for me, alright?’’ she coos, stroking my cheek with her still wet fingers, ‘’and you’re not going to stop until I cum all over your pretty face.’’ 

And with that, she moves upwards, framing my face with her thighs. She holds herself open for me at first, spreading her lips to give me a good look at her. She’s swollen and red, her clit stiff and hard. She glistens with her own wetness, thick and copious, spread all over her. I secure my hands around her backside, lifting my neck to get my first taste of her.

I take her clit between my lips and apply my tongue gently, letting the taste of her overwhelm my senses. It takes only a few seconds for the muscles in Wanda’s thighs to grow taut, and she lays me back down, the back of my head firmly against the mattress. The soft flesh of her thighs slots over my ears, drowning out the sounds of her sighs. She’s careful with me, hovering over my face and holding herself up, careful to not obstruct my airways.

My tongue moves downward, to where her wetness is collected, and then I drag it all the way up to her hardened clit. I am a quick study, testing out all the possible combinations of movements that she likes best. Licking, sucking, flicking, moving my head this way and that. I pay attention to the quiver of her muscles and her muffled moans above me, as I work to keep a solid and steady rhythm going. It isn’t long before the cracks in Wanda’s veneer begin to show. She looks down at me, a slight smile on her slips, her eyes wild with desire. ‘’Your mouth feels so good, honey, I’m going to rest more of my weight onto you now, okay? Tap out if you can’t breathe.’’ I give her a little squeeze to show that I heard and that it’s okay, and Wanda gingerly sinks herself down onto me properly. The change in her demeanour is immediate. Her moans come faster, and louder, and soon she’s rocking her hips erratically against me, sliding her clit over my mouth and nose, grinding and bearing down.

My face is wet, and warm, sticky with her arousal, the flyaway hair at my temples sticks to my cheeks and forehead. It’s messy, and sloppy, and the most perfect thing in existence. I can’t see much of Wanda’s face in this position, but her mouth is agape, her head thrown back, her chest flushed red. She looks like a painting, like a piece of artwork I could sit and watch for hours, filling up notebook after notebook trying to put into words the otherworldly beauty captured within this scene.

I never want it to end, I want to hold her to me like this until the earth caves in on itself. I could die peacefully knowing that even if it’s just for one night, just for this moment, Wanda Maximoff wanted me, desired me, ached for me. I clutch this thought close to my heart, trying to hold on to this feeling of being wanted. 

Too soon, however, Wanda’s rhythm becomes impossibly erratic. She moans long, and low in her throat. Her fingers weaving themselves tightly into my hair, holding me in place as she fucks my mouth. Dutifully, I lay still, mouth open and tongue outstretched, allowing Wanda to use me as she pleases.  ‘’Are you ready, baby?’’ Wanda asks, voice breathless and trembling, ‘’be a good girl and take it all.’’ 

She sinks her weight down onto me, rubbing her clit against my lips in a way that has her gasping for air. Then she goes rigid, muscles tightening, but her hips keep moving, even faster now. Unexpectedly, a copious amount of sweet tasting liquid bursts forth from Wanda, most of it dribbling down my face, but I manage to swallow some of it. She groans, and moans, somehow at the same time. It’s a noise of the purest pleasure, that sounds like absolute heaven to me. 

She rides out her pleasure for several long minutes, teasing her breasts with her hands, rolling her nipples between her nimble fingers. Then, she lifts off of me, kneeling next to my face,  allowing me to get some good breaths in, checking in to make sure I’m feeling alright. Which is almost laughable, considering I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now. 

‘’Do you think you can go one more time, honey?’’ she asks, still breathless from her relief. ‘’Fuck yes,’’ I say, instantly reaching for her thighs to pull her close to me again. Wanda laughs at my eagerness, but takes hold of my hands to prevent me from grasping at her. ‘’No, baby, I want to try something else.’’

She crawls up the bed to position herself with her face looking down at my body, hovering on her knees high above my waiting mouth. Her fingers find my hair, nudging me to lift my head up for her, so she can get a good grip on me. ‘’You did a great job baby, but now I want to properly fuck your mouth.’’ Without any further preamble, she pulls my face up towards her, aligning my mouth with her clit. ‘’There you go baby,’’ she coos, ‘’now suck.’’

Just like I did before, I suck her clit gently between my lips, putting pressure on it with my tongue. Above me, Wanda groans loudly. ‘’That’s it, keep going just like that, now I’m just going to-’’ With her hands firmly in my hair she pulls me up against her, and then drops me just a tiny bit. A slight up and down movement, that makes Wanda curse and groan. She does it slowly at first, making sure to support my neck. But it can’t be much more than two minutes before she begins to lose control somewhat. She pushes my head harshly up against her, before pulling back just enough that her clit doesn’t escape from the sweet suction of my lips. 

It’s amazing to watch the impeccable Wanda Maximoff lose herself in pleasure like this, and knowing that it’s me who’s making her feel this way, makes me glow with pride. Every moan and gasp, every spasm in her muscles, is a tiny victory. 

I can tell she’s close from the way she begins to swivel her hips, no longer just moving herself up and down. She leans forward somewhat, trying to steady herself on her shaking thighs. And then, she’s coming. Her hips move frantically against me, this way and that, holding me so tightly against her that I can’t breathe. This time, none of her cum makes its way into my mouth, and I’m upset that I missed my opportunity. But, with Wanda above me like this, moaning so loud that the sounds reverberate across the room, and so lost in pleasure that she’s forgotten about my need for oxygen, I can’t really be upset for very long.

***

It takes a while for the both of us to catch our breath. Wanda kisses me heartily, tasting herself on my tongue, showering me in affection. She tells me over and over again how good I was for her, how well I took her, and how proud she is of me. With a wet wipe from her nightstand, she wipes my face and neck down, clearing her sticky wetness from my skin. ‘’I’m sorry I didn’t warn you beforehand,’’ she says, leaning over the side of the bed to drop the wipe in the bin. ‘’I think I forgot about it myself for a sec, that only happens with oral.’’ 

I shrug, ‘’I really don’t mind, it was nice actually, I’m sad I didn’t get any of it in my mouth the second time.’’ Wanda inhales sharply at this, her gaze darkening. ‘’Careful,’’ she says, crawling on top of me, and placing an open-mouthed kiss against my neck, ‘’I want to reward you for that good behaviour, it won’t do for me to get greedy with you again.’’

She spreads my legs with her palms, encouraging me to get comfortable. ‘’Look at you, pretty baby,’’ Wanda says, settling herself in between my open legs. ‘’I bet you’re aching so bad.’’ Her fingers find the source of my wetness, coating themselves in it, sliding inside to the first knuckle without any resistance. ‘’You’re so wet for me, honey. Is this what you’ve been dreaming of all those nights sleeping next to me?’’ 

Her voice is sweet, and gentle, not in the slightest accusatory. But I find myself freezing, holding my breath. Her smile widens, ‘’did you think I didn’t notice, baby? All those times you slipped out in the middle of the night? Going to the bathroom or the room next door? Did you think I didn’t hear you fucking yourself?’’ To punctuate her accusing words, she slides her fingers in father, to the second knuckle, and curls them upward. I can’t help but moan at the sensation, but my face burns in humiliation at the knowledge of her finding me out. ‘’I- I’m- sorry.’’ I manage to stutter out, but Wanda shakes her head. ‘’Oh no, baby, don’t be sorry. I think it’s wonderful.’’ 

Her fingers slide back out, moving up to draw wide circles around my clit, making me writhe underneath her. ‘’Every time we cuddle a bit too closely, I couldn’t help but tease you, baby. Just to get you riled up, because I knew you’d slip away at night to make the ache go away.’’

Her fingers are dangerously close to my clit, and I try to buck up my hips, but she holds me firmly against the mattress with her free hand. ‘’I fucked myself too, you know, listening to you cum. You sound so pretty when you cum, baby, even when you’re trying to keep quiet.’’

I whine now, long and loud. I’m wound too tight, the coil in my belly ready to unfurl. My clit is hard and throbbing, and the knowledge that Wanda was touching herself to the sound of me finding my release, is making me ache to the point of pain. ‘’Wanda, puh-lease!’’ I almost sob. ‘’Shhh, it’s okay,’’ she coos, her free hand rubbing gentle circles over my stomach, ‘’you can let go now, sweetheart.’’

The pad of her finger finds my clit, pushing down on it, creating a wonderfully dizzying amount of pressure. She rubs me firmly, fighting to stay in the same spot, in spite of the copious amount of wetness that makes it easy for her to slip and slide. Her mouth finds my neck, sliding her tongue over it and sucking hard. I can tell there will be a mark there come morning, but I don't care in the slightest. 

All of my senses are taken over by her, her body pressed against mine, skin against skin. Her mouth on my neck, her fingers on my clit. In this moment everything else simply falls away, nothing matters, only Wanda and I, and the rapidly unfurling coil in my stomach. I've been built up too long, teased too much. It's been only minutes, not even five, surely. But time feels strange right now, passing by in huge dollops or dragging on for centuries. My fingers find her hips, holding onto her for dear life, something to anchor me to this reality. Then, Wanda adds two more fingers to the one already working my clit, and it's all over. 

My body seizes up so forcibly that I fear I might stretch or tear a muscle. The sound that leaves me is absolutely ungodly, tearing my throat red raw with the force of it. Wanda is smiling against my neck, praise tumbling from her perfect lips. "That's it, good girl," she coos, "let it all out." 

It takes a long time for me to come back to reality, and when I do, I sink limply back onto the mattress, my heartbeat racing. My clit throbs so much that I'm convinced it's actually moving in time with the beating of my heart. The relief is so instant, so wonderful, that I can't help but laugh, throwing a hand over my flushed and sweaty face. 

"Was that good, baby?" Wanda asks, nuzzling the side of my neck, giving me little kisses all over. "Good?!" I say indignantly, "I'm sorry, did you miss the bit where I ascended to heaven, because I sure as hell didn't."

Wanda pulls a thoughtful expression, humming like she's really having to mull it over. "I don't think I saw anything of the sort, honey. I better try again" 

***

Five more orgasms. 

Five. 

By the end I am a blubbering mess, babbling and crying, begging for her to keep going, or to stop, or both. She takes her time with me fucking me with her fingers, pushing in with three digits, to the third knuckle. She turns me around to bend me over, before laying me back to put her mouth on me. She’s gentle, her touch and her words nothing short of reverent. It’s frustrating, but good, so fucking good. When the fifth orgasm wracks through my body, I fall completely limp back onto the bed. Too far gone to speak, or move.

The whole world seems to have shrunken down to this bed, with Wanda and me in it. My eyes are closed, and I can’t seem to muster the energy to open them. I’m laying boneless, on my back, unable to move from the position Wanda left me in. Everything feels warm and fuzzy, the deep, steady thumping of my heart threatening to lull me to sleep.

‘’Hey, little dove, come back to me,’’ Wanda whispers, pressing a tender kiss to my sweaty brow. Blearily, I open my eyes, if only so I can look at Wanda again. She smiles when I meet her eyes, her hands drifting down to rub at my shoulders. ‘’Did you enjoy that?’’ 

Enjoyment doesn’t begin to cover the wide range of emotions I felt throughout our night together, but I am so tired, and talking takes up so much energy, that I merely nod my head slowly. I try to hum in assent too, but the most I can come up with is a burst of air with no sound to accompany it. 

Wanda sees my struggle and chuckles, ‘’Oh, sweetheart, I put you through the wringer, huh?’’ I try again to make some sort of noise, and this time I manage a little whimper. Wanda pets my hair gently, running her fingers through it in a calming gesture. ‘’I know you’re tired, but we have to shower, honey. After that, we can sleep.’’ 

I want to protest, but I know she’s right, and even though I’m dead tired, I allow Wanda to help me up and into the bathroom. Wanda makes me use the toilet, mentioning something about avoiding STI’s, and in turn I make her leave the room, which she thinks is very funny. ‘’I’ve just seen it all, you know?’’ she complains through the closed door. 

Finally, after we’ve both scrubbed the makeup from our faces, Wanda turns the shower on. She lets the water run for a while, steam already beginning to rise up and circle around the ceiling. ‘’Go on, get in,’’ she says, motioning with her head, ‘’ladies first.’’ For a few moments we just stand under the hot water, holding each other tight, skin against skin. It’s so nice, and I feel so safe, that my eyes begin to get heavy again. ‘’I could fall asleep like this,’’ I mumble against the wet skin of Wanda’s shoulder. ‘’No, honey,’’ Wanda says gently, extracting herself from me, to reach for a wash cloth and soap, ‘’we just need to clean up, and then we can get to bed, okay?’’ I nod slowly, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. She squeezes out the reddish pink soap onto the cloth and begins to drag it gently over my arms, and then to my chest. I sink myself back into Wanda, too tired to care about how vulnerable I am, or how intimate this is, I just allow her to take care of me. 

***

I am so close to nodding off now, kneeling on the bed with Wanda sitting in front of me. She has a toothbrush dangling from her mouth, and with my eyes half closed already, I weave her coppery red hair into a long plait down her back. Her pyjama top is still a little wet at the collar, from her damp hair, but the fabric of it is soft and warm. I can’t wait to bury my face in it, and sleep like a dead man all night. 

The clock reads 03:48 by the time we get into bed and climb under the sheets. I yawn hugely, reaching for the lamp on my nightstand to turn it off. The both of us are too tired to chat as we normally do when we go to bed, but we still seek out the comfort of each other’s arms. Wanda holds me closer to her than she has ever done during nighttime cuddles, our legs tangled together, and my face pressed closely against her soft shirt. Wanda kisses my forehead gently, one of her hands cupping the back of my head to keep me close to her. 

My eyes are already closed, my breathing slow and steady, and I wonder if it's always this easy to fall asleep when your heart feels so light. Wanda’s breathing is slow too, but not as slow as mine, her heartbeat still a tad too fast. Her fingers dance up and down my back, swirling and writing nonsense words. Her presence and my exhaustion quickly lull me into that state of half sleeping, half waking, the moments just before you fall into your dreams. 

Suddenly, her fingers stop, and I think that it's because she's too tired to keep going. But she holds still next to me, listening, waiting. "Are you asleep?" she asks. I'm close enough, I think, and I don't say anything back. She's silent for a little while longer, before her fingers return to my back, and I feel her press a kiss to my cheek. She lets out a heavy sigh, her breath tickling my face. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" She whispers, and her voice is so soft I can barely make it out, even though she's right next to me.

"I think I love you." 

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

Taglist:

@swirlofsnow @emeraldevan @ichala @romeo-the-cactus @lainjupi @lissaaaa145 @princessprudy @333hhm @im-my-hope @inluvwithfictionalwomen @imthenatynat @imnotawitch @gay-trash-in-a-paperbag @messuhp @loudsharkface @ripofflizzie @alwaysbimyself @how-to-disappearrr @s1ut4nat @cookiesimpt

Next chapter

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Florals: Chapter 1

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x (Fem!)ReaderMC

Summary: You and your best friends are one of the most popular local bands. After a gig you meet the bartender, who has caught your eye and interest.

Chapter Warnings: Smoking [Not the Main Character]

A/n: N/A

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, Bold/Indent = Text Messages, Bold/Italic = Dream Sequence, [Words] = Song lyrics, +*+ = Time skip

Chapter Theme: NO WAY! - Clubhouse

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

You close and lock the door to your apartment after driving 20-30 minutes with Lark to get home. You put your hands in your pockets and hear something crunch. You take it out and it's a sheet of paper. You unfold it and you find it to be a phone number… And a note.. From Wanda.

“Call me,” You read aloud

It has a simply drawn flower and a heart with Wanda’s phone number on it. You hop into bed and type in the number into your phone and text her.

Hey it’s Strel, the girl you met earlier

You initially wait for a text back immediately but none of the sort. So you decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up before you head to bed. Though a few minutes later you check your phone to see a text back.

Hey you ;)

You texted her back almost immediately, a stupid smile forming along your face. You two were talking about childhood, growing up, etc until you loose the perception of time. You look on your phone to see that it was almost 1am.

Shit...

Hey, I think I should get to bed, got work tomorrow

Okay, sounds good, I’ll text you tomorrow, Good night Strelitzia

Good night Wanda

You plug in your phone into its charger and turned out the lights as you settle yourself underneath the covers. You look out your window out your window and the road below; a few cars were still out and about. Pine’s lamp is still on. 

Must be reading still… 

You look next-door to see Lark; smoking a joint. Poppy’s apartment is dark. As well as Roses’ room. After long and gazing at the outside world your eyes finally grow heavy enough to fall asleep. Still listening to the world below.

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

You open your eyes to see yourself back at Banks Theatre. However, no one else was around, not even your friends. 

“Wanda?” You look at the bartender

She turns around and low and behold, it was her. 

“Hey,” She smiles

“Care to explain to me why we’re the only ones here?” You ask, leaning over the table

“You tell me,” She replies, “But hey, wanna get out of here?” 

“To where?” You ask

“Anywhere,” She smiles

She grabs your hand and pulls you closer to her. But the second she pulls you, you’re in a whole different setting. 

“Where are we?” You ask her

The setting wasn’t anywhere familiar to you. Wanda doesn't answer you as you look down at her.

“Wanda?” You try to call to her again

Again, she doesn’t say anything but doesn’t nod either. She only smiles and finally kisses me.Once she pulls away from my lips, a smile appears across her face. She leans close to your ear.

“You can run away with me, anytime you want,” Wanda whispers

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

You jolt awake, sighing as your phone alarm goes off. You let out a tired groan and grab it to shut off the alarm. You take a look through your notifications and immediately see a text from Wanda.

Morning sleepy head

Morning :)

Did you sleep well hun?

Yeah, yeah I did, hbu?

Not very much, couldn’t sleep

Awh, I’m sorry love, hey why don’t I bring you something to your work? A little pick-me-up from yours truly

That actually sounds good ;). Wanna bring it over when I head to my lunch break? And where do you work?

Just at Guitar center here in town. You?

I work at a grocery store, I think where you work isn’t too far from where you are.

Really? Great! I’ll see you then!

It’s a date!

Wait…. Did she say… Date???

You get out of bed and finally got around to freshening up, grabbing a quick breakfast and grabbing your coffee to go. You put on your jacket and stick your lanyard which has your essentials into one pocket and your phone into the other. You take the elevator down to the garage to head to your car. The Guitar Center you specifically worked at is about 20 minutes north from where you live. 

“Alrighty my boy,” You speak to your car, turning the key in the ignition, “Lets go back to our regularly scheduled lives shall we?”

You throw in in some beats from spotify, a playlist meant for everyday life. The first song that played as soon as you hit the big green button was “NO WAY!” by Clubhouse.

[If you want honesty, then you’re better off alone] [Went too far, you crushed my heart] [How you gonna fight me when you’re wearing his cologne?] [You break me down, shit’s way too loud]

It had barely been a full 24 hours but you already missed being in rehearsal with your friends and performing. Though you all still have shows after the summer time, but they’ll but not be as frequent as summer time would. Rather than performing every other weekend, it’d be date picked and agreed on between all five of you two to three weekend nights.

[Woah babe, what you on?] [That shit must be potent] [The smoke, haze in my lungs] [Makes it unimportant] [It's a cold case, my love] [We should probably seal it] [There's no way we could unfeel the way we feeling]

You pull into the parking lot of Guitar Center and hop out of the car. As soon as you shut the car door, you put your coffee mug on the top. Before heading inside to clock in, you tie your front bangs up into a half-up, half-down hairstyle. 

Easier to work when nothing is in your face right?

You grab your coffee mug and began walking to the doors, locking your car once you reach the front doors of your workplace. Realizing you didn't have proper keys to unlock the door, you use your knuckle to knock on it. 

“Good morning Phoenix,” Roy smiles, unlocking the door to let you in

Even since working there, Roy always found a fascination with your natural hair color. As it wasn’t really natural at all; he always called you ‘Phoenix’ since day one.

"’Sup,” You greet him

He lightly punches my shoulder and I clock into work.

“Since everybody’s back to school or work, big chances are it’ll be slow today,” Roy states

You nod and go into the drum/cymbals area. your best sales were always with drums, drum heads and accessories. Roy was more of the in-general store manager of the place. You sit behind the drumset and grab some sticks that were in the stick bag. Roy never minded you drumming while the store was open, just as long as you were able to greet/assist anyone and everyone who would come through the drums area.

+*+

The long hours of the morning go by slow. Here and there there would be on looking customers but not really coming up to me and asking me about anything.

“Strel,” Roy calls

You look up from the set you haven’t gotten up from for who knows how long.

“You’re free to take lunch right now if you want,” He says

Huh? Lunch? Already?

You take out your phone and it’s already past noon. You get up from the chair, nearly falling over due to your legs being asleep for most of the time. Every step of the way to the punch in-out clock was walking on a bunch of pins and needles.

“Just a heads up,” You start, finally reaching to the clock, “I might be back late. Hopefully not but I’m only saying this just in case.”

Roy raises his hand above his head, meaning he heard what you told him, even if his back was turned to you.

“That’s fine, just keep me posted,” Roy waves

You head out to the local diner to pick up lunch for you and Wanda. Slightly busy but that’s with the dine-in people.

“Heyyy Strelitzia,” Pappo says from the kitchen, “What can I get for you today?”

“I have two orders for you Pappo,” You say, “Two cheeseburger meals, one with a vanilla creme soda and a cherry cola.”

“Will you ever get over your obsession with vanilla creme sodas?” He asks

“Never,” You smile

He smiles back at you and gets to your order. You reach into your wallet and slip a small handful of bills into the tip jar, to give at least an even split between everybody working in the diner and take a seat. It wasn’t long before Pappo comes out of the kitchen with a decently sized bag.

You step in and I see Wanda. And I see him… Oliver. He’s in another band; My Heart Your Teeth. A rivaling band. He’s their bass player. 

[There’s no way we could unreel the way we feeling]

He sees me and he groans…

“If it isn’t fire head,” He announces

[I think you’re crazy] [We do this daily]

Wanda turns around and she smiles, she immediately runs over to you

“Hey you,” She says completely ignore Oliver and focus on you 

"Don't listen to her Wanda," He starts, "She'll just use you and break your heart."

"Unlike how you leave all of the girls you wanna hit up on read," You call back, "Didn't you leave one of my best friends on read? And how she came crying to me about how you guys were supposed to go on a date and you stood her up. You didn't answer any of her texts."

He gives me a death glare. He comes marching up to you. He was about to open his mouth to make a come back however his boss calls him back over.

“You already took your lunch to go smoke!” His boss says

[Bet you could never call my bluff] [Unless something's up] [Boiling my blood] [Burning up my cut]

You watch him hop back onto a register as Wanda leads you to an outdoor seating patio outside the store. You and Wanda organize the food. She brushes one side of her hair back. However, the wind continued to brush it all over her face. You stand up and walk over to the other side to stand behind her.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks

“Helping you tie your hair back,” You say

You did a similar half-up, half-down hairstyle to yours.

"There," I say, smiling, "Now you won't have any sauce or crumbs in your hair."

You seatyoursele back in the opposite chair across from the other woman and take a sip out of your pop. 

"So, you and Oliver know each other?" Wanda asks between bites of her burger

"Yes but we're not all close friends," You state, "what I told him for what he did to my best friend, that is true." 

She looks at you in surprise as she continues chewing.

"Since then I never forgave him," You say, "I hate him and his friends. Because they probably believed what he told them. But Roy, I think he's his cousin. I like him. He works with me at the Guitar Center up the road." 

“Is that why I hear him rant about how ‘The Florals’ have privilege over them?” She asks

“What?” You ask

“Yeah, sometimes when we’re on break he would rant about how you guys have a better rehearsal spot, better equipment, better advertising,” She explains to you

“That’s only because Banks Theatre, is owned by our bass players’ father,” You start, “We save up our money; by working our asses off by working like full time employees and we have our families post, of course, we don’t ask them to post it but we’re okay with it if they do. We’re not really privileged. We worked our way to have a great rehearsal spot, we saved up money for our equipment and our own places.”

Wanda looks surprised as she puts her burger down to eat some fries. 

“Sorry... It’s just, we’re rivaling bands,” You mention, “So I guess it’s expected. Though I don’t rant and make up things like he does.”

Wanda giggles and the two of you finish out the rest of your lunch, talking about other things. You decide to walk Wanda back into the grocery store.

“Thanks for Lunch today Strel,” Wanda says

“You’re welcome,” You smile

You watch her walk back into the store but she stops. Just before the automatic doors close, she catches one last glimpse of you and winks and flirt waves to you ‘bye’.

Was that... Flirting????

As soon as you walked right back into work, you had come back in the nick of time. The store was absolutely packed. You quickly clock back in and begin making your way to find Roy.

“Roy!” I call out, “Hi how are you? Hi how are you? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

You repeated those phrases and found him with Charlie; My Heart Your Teeth’s Guitar/Singer. 

“Roy, the floor is busy with customers,” You state, “Where have you been?”

“Seriously?” he asks, “I was busy talking to Charlie.”

Likewise with Oliver, Charlie doesn’t like you very much either but not as much as Oliver does. 

“We got a full house that’s about to start rioting if we don’t head out there,” You state

Roy follows you out to the main floor where a lot of customers had come to gather. 

+*+

By closing time there was only two people left. A dad and his little girl. She was excited to have her first ukulele. Roy took care of them as you begin clocking out. You depart ways with Roy and head to your car.

I wonder if Wanda’s still working...

You decided to drive down to Wanda’s workplace. Sure enough she was still there, but with Oliver. But, the look on Wanda’s face didn’t sit right with you...

Chapter 2