#this show had a long slow build but. it sure is built now huh

[curiosityschild]

Oh my God guys I'm watching Midnight Mass (....first of all.... 🤌) episode 4 and Bev just went from my least favorite character to my most favorite holy shit. I mean she's *awful* she's a bitch she's a bigot she's a pious arrogant bastard but she is so. ride. or. die. it's incredible. Bev I hate you so much but I am in awe. In awe! No hesitation whatsoever. ALSO black-haired priest covered in blood shivering sadly in the corner is 100000% my aesthetic. That's gender. Or something.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,188 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan + flashbacks in other eras Warnings: language, fear and anxiety, mention of fear of heights Summary: Y/N and Daryl head out on the run for the requested medical supplies. Things are tense, but possibly about to get worse... This part is written in Daryl's POV!

Your name: submit What is this?

* * *

“I ain’t waitin’. I got a whiff of him and I gotta go before it disappears.”

“Daryl, are you sure about this?” Carol pressed him, creases from worry between her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?”

“What is there to think through? If he finds her again, he’ll kill her. And I ain’t waitin’ around for that to happen.” The archer was a blur of activity, gathering his gear and shoving it into his pack.

“I think you need to talk to her about this,” Carol insisted, relinquishing her hold on his poncho somewhat unwillingly as Daryl pulled it from her hands.

He shook his head. “Nah. Ya know she’ll want to be there and I can’t risk that…” he trailed off. “I can’t risk—can’t risk that.”

A thick silence stretched for a moment and Carol wrung her hands. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”

He paused, his hands on the clasp of his pack. “I ain’t tellin’ her anythin’. I’ll leave before its light tomorrow. By the time everyone is up, I’ll be gone.”

“What am I supposed to tell her then? When she inevitably asks?” Carol pressed him. “You want me to lie to her too?”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Daryl snapped. “‘M just not—not tellin’ her everythin’. ‘M ending this so she can move on.”

Carol’s jaw tensed. “It feels like a lie.”

“Just tell her I went north. To see what I could see. Lookin’ for supplies,” he drawled, setting his pack and crossbow on the ground beside his bed. “I don’t know.”

Carol sighed heavily and shook her head as he straightened up. “I don’t think this is—”

“Look, tell her whatever ya want. Just wait until ‘m gone. This is happenin’. It’ll be done. S’gonna be over with. For good.”

She shook her head and gave him a long look before crossing his cell and gently clasping his shoulder. “Be careful. I mean it,” she said, surrendering to the fact that there would be no changing his mind. He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment.

“I will.”

Carol gave him one last look full of anxiety and left him.

* * *

I hardly slept. Maybe caught 20 minutes here and 15 minutes there. Anxiety about the run—that’s all it was. At least, that’s what I kept tellin’ myself. Wanderin’ into a hospital was about the dumbest shit we could do. They always promised to be loaded with unexpected bullshit and floods of undead assholes. But lyin’ flat on my back in the dark, I knew deep down it had a helluva lot more to do with her than it had to do with the run. I was tryin’ to remember the last time I’d spent more than ten minutes alone with her and it left me with a feelin’ like somebody had dropped a damn lead weight onto my chest. I turned over in bed in an attempt to throw it off, but it still sat there on my lungs. I knew exactly when we’d last been alone for longer than a few minutes. Of course I fuckin’ knew. It was burned into my goddamn memory.

But it wasn’t doin’ me a lick of good to think on it so I pushed it away and waited for the clock beside me to read 5:15 before I climbed out of bed. My gear was all waitin’ ready, except for pickin’ up a gun on the way out. I half-expected to run into her in the armory, but it was dark and empty when I grabbed a handgun and some ammo. It felt like a lonely walk to Aaron’s, up the empty street, dew heavy on the grass, and my bootsteps echoing loudly off the dark rows’a houses. I never feel right in here… with the square little lawns and lights on by the front doors. It just felt fake, like somebody had built paper houses and was plannin’ to light ‘em up to burn any minute. I couldn’t feel settled. I just felt… lost. Outta place. Like I didn’t belong.

I’d gotten rid of that feelin’ once… My mind drifted back to her like it always did. It was like I didn’t have no damn control over my own mind. She’d been the one who’d made me feel like I belonged. But now? Fuck. I’m doin’ it again. Focus, dumbass.

She wasn’t waitin’ by my bike either, so I rode up to the gate. As the lookout platform came into view, I caught sight of her climbing down, followed by Gabriel. Her pack was slung on her back, a shotgun hanging at her side and her favorite pistol in a holster on her thigh. I found myself chewing the inside of my cheek. Nerves. Anxiety. This was gonna be a long fuckin’ day.

“I’ve got the gate,” Gabriel said, heading for the latch. She wandered over and I felt a jolt when she met my eyes. I nudged my nose up in a nod, but she just looked back at me with that same stony expression. Unreadable. It always seemed like I never saw her smile anymore. Maybe she did, just not around me. I got that blank look or a glare that I probably deserved…

“Were ya on watch?” I asked, curious why she wouldn’ta gotten rid of her shift in favor of sleep, knowing we’d be heading out on a run early.

“No,” she said simply. No extra info. Typical. Why waste more on me when one word would do? She didn’t owe me nothin’. And she knew it. I swallowed my other questions and leaned forward on my bike so she could climb on. I felt her settle in behind me and glanced over my shoulder at her. She caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking away, down toward the ground. That was typical too. It was like she just couldn’t look at me. Felt like somebody twisted a blade in my chest every time she dodged me like that. And yet I couldn’t get enough of her, even if she was purposely a giant pain in the ass most of the damn time… I still felt like she was a mirage in a desert. A mouthful of cool water in a drought. Food for a starvin’ man.

Gabriel was waiting with the gate open, so I revved the bike to life again. Her arms wrapped around my waist to hold on and for a second I thought I felt her cheek press against the back of my shoulder, but I knew I must have imagined it. My heart was racing as we pulled out. I was more anxious than I had been all night. The thoughts rushing through my head moved so fast I couldn’t even focus on any of them.

Gabriel yelled at us to be safe as we moved through, kickin’ dust up that left a glowing red cloud behind from the reflection of the taillights. The ride to the city was smooth. We made good time, luckily only passing lone walkers or small herds that were easy to avoid. Around the curves, for a brief moment, she’d hold tighter to me and lean into the turns like I’d taught her in what felt like another fuckin’ lifetime. Each corner I could feel every individual fingertip pressing into my waist or stomach. It was always followed by a sudden wash of heat like somebody had shoved me in a shower with the temperature all the way up. I couldn’t control it. Didn’t matter how hard I tried to ignore the feelin’ of being so damn close against each other…

I slowed down as we neared the hospital. Cars sat rusting in gridlocked traffic, tires long gone, frozen in time—same place they were when everythin’ shut the fuck down. I slowed my bike to roll over some debris and hit a chunk of concrete a little harder than I meant to. Her arms tightened around me reflexively at the jolt before loosening again the next second. My heart jolted at the same time. That feeling… of her clinging onto me for safety—but fuck. Let’s not make it out to be more than it is, dumbass. I turned toward my left shoulder. “Sorry,” I murmured. She didn’t say anything back, just shifted in her place behind me, puttin’ an inch more space back between us. The hospital came into view ahead, tall over everything else on the block.

She tapped my arm and I turned so I could hear her over the engine. “We should park. Sound of the bike,” she said. I knew what she was thinkin’. Any walkers or people anywhere around would hear us. I turned down a side street and parked in a loading dock bay. She climbed off about as damn fast as she could. Kicking the kickstand out and swinging my leg over, she was already walking back toward the corner of the building to look down the street.

“Hold up,” I called after her. I still had to get my gear off the back. She either didn’t hear me or didn’t give a shit and I found myself gritting my teeth. But when I rushed around the corner, I nearly collided with her. She did wait. She was leaned up against the brick, her shotgun in her hands, staring ahead at the looming building.

She straightened up as I stopped beside her and we started windin’ our way down the last couple blocks, keepin’ to the shadows of the buildings, stayin’ in cover as best we could. Even so, I couldn’t help glancin’ up at the endless windows, too many high points. All it would take is one asshole with a rifle and a scope... My hands started to sweat as I gripped my crossbow. I glanced at her, but she was as stony-faced as ever. “C’mon,” I said, quickening my stride. “I wanna get the hell off this street.”

I heard her let out a small scoff behind me. “Yeah, you’re the only one worried about being out here,” she murmured. My teeth clenched again but I did my best to ignore it. There was no point gettin’ riled up this early in the day. We still had a lot of fuckin’ work to do. We reached a set of double doors on the side of the hospital, but one glance inside showed they were well barricaded. I stood there rubbing a hand over the stubble on my face. “S’try the south door,” I drawled. To my surprise, she didn’t argue. But that side was a fuckin’ bust too. “Shit,” I spat out. There was a tall cabinet blocking the entrance.

“Good call,” she said sarcastically.

I shot her a glare. And this time when I bit my cheek, I tasted blood. “Ya got a better fuckin’ idea? Huh?” I challenged her.

She rolled her eyes, studying the door for a moment. There was a large glass pane above it that was broken out and I saw her eyes lock in on it. “Boost me up there,” she said, inclining her chin to indicate the window.

Did she want to go in alone? Well, that sure as shit wasn’t fuckin’ happenin’. “Like hell,” I growled back. She rolled her eyes again.

“Just boost me through and I’ll get the door open. I’ll let you in.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “Ya gonna move that cabinet? By yerself?” I asked skeptically. The muscle in her jaw tensed.

“I don’t have to move it far. Just enough to let you squeeze in. And you can help from the outside.”

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. I didn’t like the idea. I paced a tight circle, thinkin’, as she shifted impatiently beside me. “What if ya get in there and there are walkers? Huh? We can’t see shit down the hall.”

“I’ll be quiet. Come on. We haven’t got all fucking day and we’re sitting ducks out here. Unless you’ve come up with something better—”

I didn’t like it, but she was right. Shit. “Fine,” I interrupted. She leaned her shotgun up against the wall as I set my back against the door, fingers locked together and hands low at my bent knee. “C’mon. Gimme yer foot.”

She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she was having second thoughts, but the next moment she stepped close in front of me and her hands came to my shoulders. “Ready?” I asked. Her face was maybe six inches from mine, her hands light. I started to feel warm again, a flush of heat across the back of my neck that started spillin’ into my chest. I could see every fleck of color in her eyes, the upturned curve of her eyelashes, that little scar on her chin... Fuck. Focus.

“Ready.” She planted her boot in my hands and I boosted her up so she could grab the window edge. The tinkling of glass dropping in was all I could hear for a moment, and then her weight disappeared from my hands. Spinning around, I watched her pull herself through onto the top of the cabinet. She stayed perched there for a moment, glancin’ behind her, scoutin’ the hallway, before she dropped to her feet lightly. She made it look easy. Graceful.

I couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting my weight. I watched her face tighten as she wedged her shoulder into the cabinet, using all her weight, and it started to move at an angle away from the door. I pushed in with my shoulder from the outside and we finally had enough space for me to slip through. I passed her shotgun through first before turnin’ sideways and slidin’ in. It was dark and completely silent except for the sound of our own breathin’. It felt stuffy inside, and I could vaguely smell somethin’ sharp like animal piss and a sickeningly sweet smell. Death. Decay. I paused to draw the string on my crossbow back, cocking it ready to fire, a bolt nestled in the flight groove.

She pulled her flashlight out from the side pocket of her pack and clicked it on, shining it partially up the hallway ahead. “Jesus…” Her boots crunched over broken glass. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her shotgun, her eyes fixed down the hall, following the moving beam of her light. “This place is a fucking wreck,” she whispered. In her distraction, her tone lacked the usual hostility or sarcasm.

“Somethin’ went down since we were last here,” I agreed. There was a lot more debris and furniture toppled over and strewn about. A lot of obstacles to a clean getaway if we had to make one. “Let’s just get this done and get the hell out.”

“What a unique idea…” she remarked over her shoulder. There it was. Damn sarcasm was back.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and movin’ past her so I was in the lead. I knew it would annoy her, but I secretly wanted to be the one in the line of fire if somethin’ was crooked. I headed for the stairwell, pullin’ my own flashlight out and shinin’ it inside before I tried the door. It looked clear. “Upper floors are more likely to have shit left. Let’s go.”

We moved in silence. I could feel her ghosting behind me the whole way, almost mimicking my movements. This was the first time the two of us had been alone on a run since… since I dun even know when. But despite it being so goddamn long, we weren’t out of step. Once we started movin’ it was like no damn time had passed. We fell right back into our old rhythm. I knew her and she knew me. We worked well together when she put aside her need to argue with everythin’ I said. It still felt like we each knew what the other was thinkin’. Not that I expected this run would magically make working together bearable again for good, or solve anything, but at least we could if we had to. I also now was realizin’ this whole thing was probably orchestrated by Rick. Did Denise really need the supplies? Sure. But did it have to be Y/N and I gettin’ ‘em? Alone? Fuck no. I dunno exactly what he was hopin’ for but I’m pretty sure he’ll be disappointed…

Moving steadily upwards, we had most of the supplies on the list, plus plenty of extra finds, but I was growing more and more uneasy as we went on. We hadn’t run into a single fucking walker yet, and to me that meant they were probably herded up in a massive hoard somewhere. It felt like a matter of time before we found them or they found us. I could sense Y/N’s tension risin’ again too. She was more fidgety, more careful about each step she took. I found myself frequently sweeping my eyes back behind us to make sure nothin’ was lurking just outta the flashlight beams. There were the usual signs of walkers nearby; smears of blood on the floor and walls, that fuckin’ smell ya could never get outta yer nose, even chunks of flesh from the rottin’ fuckers. But we still hadn’t seen one, and I was fuckin’ worried.

“Almost got everything,” Y/N whispered to me, shoving a couple more bottles into her pack. “We just need to find the CPAP machine,” she murmured, staring down at the list. “I don’t have a fucking clue what the hell that looks like.” She glanced over at me, one of her eyebrows quirked in a question and I realized she was waitin’ for some kinda response.

“What? Yer lookin’ at me? I ain’t got a goddamn clue what the hell that even is,” I said gruffly. Shit. I saw it. Just for a second, but one corner of her lips twitched up in a smile and I swear there was a spark in her eyes—like the ones I used to see in her all the time. My heart jumped and I tried my best to ignore it. She seemed to turn away, hidin’ her face right as I was puzzlin’ over it.

“Right… well, let’s try down the hall. There’s probably another supply closet at the other end,” she said, nudging her head toward the darkness ahead.

We made our way cautiously. I pushed into the lead again and was surprised when she didn’t argue. I tried every door handle but most of ‘em just led to empty or trashed patient rooms. I caught her frozen in the doorway of one that had a massive bloodstain on the floor and spatter partially up the walls. Her eyes were wide and vacant, and I wondered what she was reliving. “Hey,” I said, just over her shoulder. She seemed to pull out of it abruptly and she turned away, moving on like nothin’ had happened. I let her go ahead, mainly so I could keep an eye on her for a minute and make sure she still had her head in the game, but I didn’t need to worry. Not about that anyway. She’d always been tough. She wasn’t shaken by shit easily. I knew that. And yet I still had this drive to want to protect her, even though she didn’t need it from me. And she definitely didn’t want it from me.

“Here,” she said suddenly, slinging her gun back on her shoulder and more fully opening the door to a small supply closet. There was hardly enough room for her to stand inside, so I posted up just behind her and strained my eyes and ears for anythin’. “It’s all electronic stuff,” she whispered, entirely focused at the task at hand. Her hands floated from one device to the next, illuminated by her flashlight. She was looking for some label or model number or somethin’ to tell her what they were. She bent down and grabbed some scattered papers from among the boxes on the floor. Swearing under her breath she held one up to the flashlight. “Of course the cover and all the useful shit in the front is torn off,” she muttered. She was bending down to grab another handful when there was some sudden, deep noise on the floor above us.

My heart seemed to stall out for a moment and she straightened up and froze, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, lips partially parted. The sound seemed to reverberate through the building. I could feel it beneath my feet. It resonated through the walls. After a moment, I was looking at her and she glanced over and met my eyes, her eyebrows a little furrowed with worry.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked in a harsh whisper. I only shook my head. She gulped and refocused, shakin’ it off, focusing back on the papers. She was flipping page after page, scanning them as fast as she could.

I started to hear some more noises above us and then eventually spilling toward the other end of the hall. My grip on my crossbow tightened. “We need to move,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She was still intensely focused on the manual in her hands. “Just gimme a minute…” she said vaguely.

I shifted, turning more toward the far end of the hallway, straining my hearing. There was more clattering above us. “We might not have another damn minute.”

“Just—hold on—”

Fuck. I stood frozen for a moment as a herd of walkers started to spill out from the stairwell at the other end of the hallway and start toward us. “We ain’t got a minute, Y/N!” I urged in a harsh whisper. She didn’t seem to hear me.

There were more walkers than I could count. They hadn’t spotted us yet but I had to move fast, so I did the only damn thing I could think of and pushed her forward into the closet, pressing in after her and shutting the door as quietly as I could. I instinctively clicked my flashlight off and hurried to grab hers and do the same, plunging the two of us into darkness in that small space.

“Daryl, what the hell?!” she snapped at me. She’d been so focused she was completely oblivious to the mass of dead wandering our way. The goddamn closet was so small I had no choice but to be pressed into her… My heart started to pound and I think it had more to do with her against me than the undead assholes outside. I was sure she’d be able to feel it and prayed she’d just think it was adrenaline or somethin’. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I shoved my hand over her mouth, all my patience gone. Did she really think I’d shoved her in a closet for the hell of it? “For once in yer goddamn life just shut up!” I growled in a low voice. She seemed to tense against me but in the quiet the sounds of the walkers outside the door were now easily heard above our ragged breathin’ and they were growing louder every second. I still had one hand over her mouth and the other clenching my crossbow at my side. She shifted against me and pulled my hand away. I could hear and feel her breathin’ pick up pace. I planted my palm on the wall behind her, next to her head, very aware of the growin’ heat pooling between the two of us where we were pressed together. The air felt suffocatin’. I started to worry the walkers outside the door would be able to hear my breathin’ I was so nervous. I wanted to shift, move away from her like I’m sure she wanted… I wanted to change positions and get my bow up, but it was impossible.

She didn’t seem to know where to put her arms within the tight, dark space. I couldn’t blame her. I was leaned in against her, sorta over her even. I felt her hand accidentally brush my arm and my body jolted a little at the contact, like some reflex I didn’t know I had. My teeth ground together. After that she seemed to settle away from me, into the wall behind her.

We had to just stay there, fuckin’ frozen, hardly room to breathe while the hoard passed by. Every once and a while, a body would thump hard against the door and I’d feel her flinch. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck and beading up on my face, my hair sticking to it. We were so close I could feel her breath against my skin when she faced toward me. I felt the rhythm of her breathin’. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that in that tiny ass closet, the only thing I could smell was the faint scent of her shampoo. I tried hard not to notice, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t try to put some name to the smell. Lavender? Not quite. Maybe more like rose? I dunno. And despite the possible death lurking just outside, I found it hard to focus on anythin' other than the feeling of her against me.

It felt like it took hours for the hoard to pass, but it was probably only ten minutes. But after the sounds drifted away we were still left with a big fuckin’ problem. They had to go somewhere, and my best guess was that they were travelin’ down.

It was so dark in there I couldn’t even tell if my fuckin’ eyes were open or closed, and it seemed to be makin’ it hard to think… Or maybe the angle of her one hip pressed into me was—fuck. Get it together, man… I fumbled for and clicked on my flashlight, findin' the two of us both wincin' at the sudden glare, noses almost touchin'. She was lookin’ up at me, her lips softly parted, her expression only full of concern for once, that little worry line she always gets near her eyebrow.

We both stayed like for a second. I guess just struck by actually seein’ how close we were in the sudden light, until finally she tore her eyes away and turned her head.

I tried to clear my throat, worried my voice was gonna come out soundin' strained or somethin’. “Uhh… sounded like they were goin’—”

“—down. Yeah,” she finished.

My eyes traced the angle of her jawline as she kept her face turned away from me. I heard the paper manual crinkle in her hand and groped for the doorknob behind me. “Yeah,” I agreed quietly. “So, we got a problem about gettin’ out.” My hand finally landed on the doorknob and I turned it and slowly opened the door on the hall, checking both directions carefully but also feelin’ like if I didn’t put some damn space between the two of us again I was about to explode. It looked clear and I stepped out. Glancin’ back, she still seemed frozen, up against the wall, her face turned away toward her shoulder so I couldn’t really get a read on her. “Hey. What is it?” I prompted her.

“Hmm?” She seemed to snap back to herself. “N—nothing…” She went back to searching the manual in her hand, like nothin’ had fuckin’ happened. Just one goddamn time I’d like to know what the fuck is goin’ on inside her head… But I ain’t got no right to that. She’s made that pretty fuckin’ clear.

It wasn’t the right manual or the right machine. But she went through two more until she found it. “Got it,” she announced, waving the paper at me before shoving it into her already full duffel bag. She seized a small machine from the shelf and started trying to rearrange items to make it fit in her pack.

“I got room,” I said, still nervously checkin’ over my shoulder. I thought I could hear the hoard moving below us, maybe two floors down.

“It’s fine. I can make it fit,” she said, jostling more stuff in her bag.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the damn thing from her, slinging my crossbow strap over my shoulder. “Ya’d really rather split yer pack at the seams than take any fuckin’ help from me,” I murmured. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need one…

She stepped out of the closet and I caught her wiping her forearm across her forehead. It left a smear of dirt near her hairline. I had to pull myself back to the present. “So, how are we getting out of here?” she asked, adjusting her pack and the duffel bag strap on her shoulder.

I glanced at her, knowing she wasn’t gonna like my idea.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously got something. Just get on with it.”

“Fire escape,” I said.

I watched the muscle in her jaw twitch as he jaw clenched. “Fuckin’ great…”

“Unless ya got somethin’ else—”

“You know I don’t,” she snapped back at me. She wiped a hand across her forehead again, swiping away fresh drops of sweat. “It’s—” She cut herself off. “Let’s just go,” she sighed, defeated.

I looked at her for a second more, trying to gauge just how freaked out she was, but it didn’t seem to matter. We didn’t have any other options.

“Let’s go,” she snapped again. “Before I change my mind about being able to handle this.”

“It ain’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and I watched her body tense. “I swear to god, Dixon, if you say ‘It ain’t that bad’ or ‘It ain’t that high’ right now, I will lose my shit and attract every fucking walker in this goddamn building. I don’t even give a fuck.” Her jaw muscle twitched.

I couldn’t help letting out a sigh that was more of a growl than anything but then I turned and headed for the window a couple doors down that I’d noticed was busted out. Leaning through, I scanned the outside of the building for a fire escape. Nothing on that side.

“It’s probably around the other side. Let’s try the end of the hall,” she suggested. Her boots stayed rooted to the floor and I glanced at her again. She caught my eyes and must have read the concern on my face.

“I’m fine. You’re the last person I need worrying about me,” she growled.

Fuck. She could be infuriating… I found my hand clenching and unclenching a few times before I followed her back out of the room.

She was right. There was a fire escape down that side. I grabbed a piece of metal off the floor and straightened up. “Ya ready?” I asked one more time. “They might hear this glass break so we gotta fuckin’ move.” I thought her hands were a bit shaky.

“Just do it,” she said. And this time, I could hear the quiver in her voice.

I smashed the window and knocked out the glass before pullin' myself through. The metal grates rattled under my boots and she looked suddenly sick as she approached the window sill. I hesitated a second before reaching a hand out to help her through.

“I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t look fine, but she gripped the ledge and climbed out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck…” she muttered as her feet landed on the platform. She was keeping her eyes fixed straight out. Even just the metal grates at th prison used to freak her out, and that was one floor.

I wanted to comfort her but… I wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d help or that she wanted me to, so instead I just started down the stairs at a good pace. She followed stiffly behind me, gripping onto the railing with white knuckles and falling behind.

Every once and a while I’d glance back and she looked like she was about to be sick, but she was still following. We hit a snag as we reached the third-floor platform. A large part of it had rusted and fallen away, leaving a gaping hole we would have to edge around to reach the next set of stairs.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I heard her behind me and when I looked back her eyes were wide and round and she was clutching onto the railing like it was a lifeline.

“S’fine. I’ll cross first. Just keep over—”

“Oh, really, Daryl? I should keep over to the side? You mean I should stay away from the huge fucking hole in the goddamn floor?” It kept drawing her eyes and I’d see her rip them back up and away, reeling.

I knew that was mostly coming from the fact that she was fuckin’ terrified, but every harsh word from her still stung. “Fine. Clearly, yer good,” I spat back. “Ya don’t need me and ya don’t give a shit and yer fine. I fuckin’ got it.” So much for trying to calm her down. I edged past the hole in the metal grating and went down the next set of stairs. Finally, I just had to push down the ladder, climb down, and we’d be on solid ground again. But when I looked back up, she was still frozen where she had been, on the far side of the platform. I watched her for another minute, waiting to see if she’d move. I knew she wasn’t gonna ask for help, not from me, but she obviously needed it and tough shit, I’m the only damn person here. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck, anxious to even try again, and climbed back up. I edged past the rusted-out hole and stopped next to her. “Just gimme yer hand.” She didn’t loosen her grip on the railing, and her eyes landed on my face. “S’fine. Just for two seconds, lemme fuckin’ help ya.”

Her chest was heaving with fearful breaths and I guess the idea of tryin’ to cross along that edge alone was worse than puttin’ her hand in mine. Part of me still thought she’d take the heights over me, but she didn’t… She pried her hand off the railing and placed it into mine. I—I can’t say my heart didn’t jump when my fingers closed around it. The motorcycle. The fuckin’ closet. Now this. We’d hardly been within six feet of each other for years and now all this in one day… I felt dizzy. It ain’t like Rick could have predicted these things would happen. He sure as shit couldn’t command a hoard to force us into each other in a tiny closet… but he must have been hopin’ for somethin’ by sendin’ us out here. Was it gonna work on her? I fuckin’ doubt it.

As we stepped along the edge of the edge of the platform, she held her breath. She always seemed like nothing in this fucked up world scared her anymore, nothing phased her. Half the time it almost seemed like she didn’t give a shit if she died. But this? Heights? This still scared her on some level she couldn't reason away.

But we made it across just fine. She was gripping onto me so tightly I thought she might have bruised the bones in my damn hand. And as we climbed down the next set of stairs, long past the danger, she was still holding onto me. But just as quickly as I realized it, she slipped her hand out and stiffened next to me again, fixing her eyes away toward the railing, which she grabbed onto again desperately.

We made it down the ladder, dropping onto the concrete and making a run back to my bike, slippin' from cover to cover, packs heavy and weighing us down. I was thinking how batshit crazy it was that we’d just done a hospital run and hadn’t had to kill a single walker AND managed to get all the damn supplies... when we rounded the last corner and a string of curses left her mouth.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the fuck?!” She knelt down next to my bike and as I looked, my stomach dropped.

“Son of a fuckin' bitch.” Both tires on my motorcycle were slashed. Ruined. Fuck.

We were stranded in the city without a runnin’ vehicle and somebody knew we were here.

[ohheyitsokay]

fear

pairing: Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) x reader

wordcount:2.6k

warnings: allusions to unhealthy views of relationships, angst with a happy ending? mostly fluffy, you guys know me by now

summary: you had always been told that power brought destruction. why wouldn’t you be afraid of the most powerful man you’d ever met? 

>>

“Wait, Mandalorian,” you called, voice trembling - but gratitude was more powerful than fear. He didn’t stop trudging through the outskirts of your little town, steady, as though he hadn’t heard you.

“Please,” you tried again, a touch annoyed that he was making you chase after him, and the warrior mercifully slowed to a stop. He did not turn around, he was not that polite, but his helmet did shift, and that was enough to give you the courage you needed.

You averted your eyes as you placed yourself in front of him, but stared at his knees with determination as you held out your arms, gift light in weight and heavy in value.

“I know you said you would not take extra payment, but you need this, and we will no accept no for an answer.” You had rehearsed the words with every step you’d taken towards his back, but still they came out unsteady.

“No,” he said, and you almost imagined laughter in his voice, but it was not mocking, and it pierced through your hesitation.

Sand ground against his feet as he went to move, and again under yours as you dug in your heels, venturing to look the mask full on.

“Please reconsider – it is a med kit with high quality bacta tools.” You tried to look as confident as you felt.

The Mandalorian's helmet tilted at you again, as he said, “What?”

Finally you had his full attention.

“My family, harvests from destroyed med droids sometimes, to get supplies, and we’ve got a lot of it saved up now.” Resolve was heavy in you, sinking your feet even deeper, willing you to stay in his way. “We owe you a great debt; this is a more honest gratitude than credits.” Something told you that your eyes had found his, through the T of his visor.

“If not for you, then for the little one,” you added, quieter, not that he couldn’t use it himself. After freeing your town more or less by accident, he was covered in scrapes and bruises in between the beskar. This gift was invaluable for bringing him back home in one piece.

Slowly, thoughtfully, he took it, his gloved hands surprisingly gentle. The air was suddenly awkward, and you worried briefly thay you had somehow insulted him.

“Thank you,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, his tone was almost bashful.

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling at him, before you remembered to be demure, and you ran off, heart racing.

His gaze might have followed you, if the hairs on the back of your neck were any indication, but you didn’t look back until you ducked into your building. The feeling returned – of meeting his eyes – and then he was turning away and you were alone.

You had your own home, made of smooth clay and filled with repurposed objects and materials. Chairs made from old racing bike seats and a bed full of scraps of fabric. You sunk into your favorite corner – your workbench and table. Piles of broken droid pieces were in a relatively organized pile nearby, and you grabbed one and began gently disassembling it. Soft clinks and the gentle squeaks of metal were music to your ears, even though you didn’t know anything about the mechanics, you loved the process of finding beautiful things in the chaos of wires and washers.

“Your family, huh?” the voice was low and amused, with a touch of something lighter, almost nervous?

The Mandalorian was at your door, curtain pushed aside to make room for his large frame. The grease stains on your hands became incredibly interesting as you shrugged, confused as to why he was here, in your home? Wasn’t he leaving not so long ago?

“I am my own family,” you tried to laugh, the awkwardness from before returning.

“Why are you… is there… do you need…?” you felt flustered, not wanting to offend him but trying to ask what in the world was happening.

“Would you want to come with me?” his words came out quickly, rushed and little too loud. Instinctively, you flinched, before even fully processing his question.

“What?” you looked more towards him, his movements seemed irritated as he looked away.

“I looked at the medkit and I don’t know half of what’s in it. I need some help anyway, with the kid, and,” he gestured noncommittally to the room and you understood.

“Okay,” you said. He was right, this was barely a home. And after all he’d done for the town, the least you could do was help him out for awhile.

For all he was covered head to toe, he still looked startled. But he nodded, curtly and walked back out the door.

You scrambled to shove your own stock of things into a bag and ran after him, feet thumping in the sand, mind racing.

-

Traveling with the Mandalorian was … not what you expected.

When he has first appeared in your town and you had beheld him, with his armor and weapons and swirling cape, you thought to yourself, this man is like a summer storm. Powerful, destructive, and beautiful from a distance. If you got to close you would be overwhelmed with him, his life, and there would be little room for survivors.

You were in awe of him, but afraid.

Apparently, not so afraid as to follow it, but you waited for it to hit you, tear your apart, and leave you in pieces.

You thought it would come on his next outing to find work, as his contact scoffed at your presence, but it didn’t.

Then maybe, it would come after the second mission, when it had come sooner than expected and you’d been there, improvising against his orders trying to keep you all alive. It didn’t then, either.

Long nights were spent, talking quietly, and you would show him how to use the creams and the sprays to heal himself, and you waited. The longer it took, the more sure you were that it was building, behind the armor, and he would grow sick of you, sick of your questions and touches and presence.

It was almost cruel, that you couldn’t find any evidence of it building, somewhere, anywhere. You had been told your whole life that a man like him would hurt you. You had even seen it, time and time again, and the images haunted you. It was unfair that you got all those wonderful moments with him first. Moments when he would get excited and eager and awkward at your kindness, or when he would open up with halting, thoughtful phrases, or when he would prioritize your safety, even over his own. Because how could you have those moments, and still survive when they were inevitably taken from you?

Maybe the waiting was the storm, because it was consuming you.

You found him in the cockpit, hating that you had a chair of your own to sink into.

“I think I should go home,” you whispered, fixing your gaze on the stars. He turned to look at you; you didn’t have to see it to know. The silence was loud and you felt the first tremble in your hands. Maybe asking would be the final straw?

“I don’t understand,” he said, carefully, and you heard the confusion in his voice and to your surprise, a touch of hurt.

“I…” you hadn’t prepared for this part. The words came more honestly than you intended, “I am afraid.”

Once, Din had seen a spaceship torn apart midflight. It cracked open at the same time as it caved in on itself.

That was how he felt, hearing those quite words, out of the mouth of his companion.

His voice was broken in a way that he could not blame on the helmet.

“Of me, cyar'ika?”

You took so long to answer, hope and fear pooled together blending in his chest. It was hard to think, hard to sit side by side suspended in the sky and to think.

“Of what you must be,” finally you admitted. A little more hope dripped in. Din thought he must be almost nothing. Other than his creed, and his role as the little ones buir, he could – would – be anything he wanted.

“What must I be?” he asked, and you seemed frustrated, like it was unfair that he didn’t already know.

“You are a warrior – strong and powerful and…” you swallowed, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “And those who are like that tire of those who are like me. And when you do, it will hurt.”

His gloved hands slid over the plates on his thighs, almost dancing with thought.

“Have I shown you that I tire of you?” he asked, and you had to close your eyes, searching, almost desperately, for a single time that he had.

Your “No,” was barely audible.

“That’s because I have not,” he answered almost as quietly. “I will not.”

The certainty, the fear, built up for years and years of warnings and reminders, was slipping through your fingers, and his hand was filling them. It sent a shock through you, but you didn’t push him away.

Suddenly you realized that you could’ve, that he would have let you – and another shock came.

Even through the glove, his hand was warm, and for the first time you allowed yourself to acknowledge to yourself that it was gentle.

“Are you tired of me?” he asked and the question sunk into your soul. He was the strongest man you’d ever met, capable of destroying everything in his path. He was holding your hand, asking for permission to keep you by his side.

This “No,” was louder, more resolute.

“Then this is your home,” he said, with even more determination. “And I will protect you.”

For the first time, you felt like you were seeing and hearing him clearly, fully. Not as you had been told to, but as he actually was. Even the unsaid words were clear.

The Mandalorian would not hurt you.

It would take time to unlearn, but you took a deep breath, and held onto his hand, and let a little bit of your fear go. It made room for something else, in your heart, something better.

Din felt it too, and his own resolve strengthened. He could show you – those people existed, but he, with you, would not be one of them. Even more than that, he wanted to be your comfort. It would take time, too, but now, at least he had that.

-

He didnt even need to say anything, only shoot you a look, and you knew. Under the helmet his face was surely as panicked as yours, and fast as a blaster shot you were on a bike, child tucked into your chest, racing away.

There had been local festival and you all had been excited after finishing a job, too intoxicated by the easy victory to remember the price it came with. You shouldn've known better - gotten out while you were ahead, but now that didnt matter because sharp, electric objects were flying past your head and wind was whipping in your hair and you were scared.

The Crest was barely within reach, you knew that, unable to stop desperately checking the fuel on the bike. The attacks were slowing and you tore your gaze up to look for Din, willing him to be close. It was getting cooler, both suns dipping towards the horizon and all you wanted to do was get out of range, get to the Crest, all safe.

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, and before you registered that it wasn't warm and inviting, you were face to mask with someone as covered as the a man you wanted, but who was far, far worse.

Everything was a blur. There was sharp pain on your back and your thighs tensed, gripping the bike and the child and shooting your blaster for all you were worth. The ship was in sight, and then you were on it, and the door was closing and you hadn't been sure you were breathing but you couldnt start yet because it wasnt over.

Pain was radiating from your back and there was boom and bangs of fists and weapons on the shell of the ship and most importantly, Din was not back yet.

You blindly slapped a healing patch onto yourself before lowering yourself into the darkest corner of the ship, the child still close to your pounding heart. Your tried to focus on the sounds of the machines around you, tried to remind yourself that you had healing tools in case... in case he needed them. The thing about safe spaces is that they never overlapped with the ones that let you see what was going on, which only amplified your terror.

Maker, you didnt know why you were so scared but when you heard familiar footsteps and shining beskar came into view, the relief you felt was overwhelming. You breathed again.

It felt like there should have been a light show or a musical fanfare, how free you suddenly felt, it was a new and bizarre sensation but nothing... happened.

And then you realized.

"You are okay," he breathed, almost disbelieving, as the two of you stood, soaking in each other's miraculously living presence. There was a tightness to his posture, stress visible in his frame.

His breathing was ragged, cracking through the helmet, but he turned and out of habit you both moved away, remembering the danger just outside.

Your mind was racing as your forced yourself to set up everything properly, make sure the child was safely tucked away and the ship was secure and ready to fly. Feeling liftoff sent another wave of relief and shock through you, and your feet carried you up, up and around to the cockpit to find Din. By the time you reached him, the Crest was sailing through the stars, and the air in the cockpit matched that of before. Your hands had found the medkit you'd given him, all those months ago, updated by you regularly, and you held it out to him, almost in a trance.

Din took it before setting it aside, and turning to you. His arms opened, feeling suddenly vulnerable, in an action he'd never really done before.

You took his offer without hesitation, sinking into his arms, ignoring the rough edges of the beskar. It was one thing, to see him be gentle when it was a quiet night, and another entirely when intensity and his own fear and anger had been running high. It gave you the final note of bravery you needed to profess your realization.

"You make me feel safe, Din," you whispered into the cloth around his neck. One of his hands found the patch you'd put on, fingers barely tracing its edges.

"I do?" If possible, his voice was even more ragged than before.

You nodded, knowing he would feel it, and unable to say more.

After long, exposed moments, there was a shift and you both moved to sit in your respective chairs, not fully able to look at each other just yet. You wondered if his face felt as warm as yours did, or if he could feel the ghost of the shape of you, as his lingered on your skin.

The silence was comfortable, but still he asked, "Are you still afraid?" And you pondered the question, reflecting on all the little moments you had waited for the hurt to come, and it hadn't. The moments he protected you from them, as he had today.

"Less and less," you said eventually, relishing the honesty on your tongue.

Din reached over and took your hand again.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[okaywa]

I love your works omg! 🥺 could I request hcs for oikawa , Kuroo and bokuto where their s/o just finished a bunch of school work and they “reward” them 😳 if you get what i’m saying 😂 (smut is all I ask for basically 😳) thank you! ❤️❤️

ddHahah my classes just started so here we gooo 

... wish I had a haikyuu man to reward me lmao 

NSFW BENEATH THE CUT

Oikawa

is first of all one of the neediest boys even though he acts indifferent sometimes (mainly when he’s stressed about volleyball)

but even though everyone says he only cares about volleyball he is actually so attentive and in tune with you

he’s an amazing boyfriend and you can pry that out of my cold dead fingers  

so of course he sees how hard you've been working and is so proud of you for powering through your massive workload 

bc sometimes its easier to get overwhelmed and lost in it 

(this is unnecessary to the request but y’all met in Argentina while you’re  studying abroad and he’s playing in the San Juan club) 

But he’s barely seen you all week :(( stupid exams so he let himself into your apartment after practice to find you passed out in your bed, backpack tossed against the wall 

He smiles softly at the sight, he can't help it, you're just so cute. You're hugging one of your pillows while wearing a sweatshirt of his that he’d left here (on purpose but you didn't have to know that.) He crawls up the bed, careful not to bounce the mattress and leans over you, pressing featherlight kisses against your cheeks and lips. He can tell you're starting to wake up by your little twitches and the scrunch of your eyebrows. 

“Mm, Tooru, when did you get here,” you slur sleepily, shoving aside the pillow to wrap your arms around him instead. 

“Just now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, not letting up on his kisses until you purse your lips for him. 

He kisses you languidly, like the slow build up of the morning tide just a few miles away, until he’s got you pinned to the mattress. His hips grind down on yours, soft gasps shared between the two of you when his tip hits your clit just right. You're still sleepy, despite the sudden arousal that sends sparks through your tummy, so he keeps it relaxed. He captures your lips again, the rutting of his cock against your damp panties steady as to cause a quick buildup of heat in your core. 

“So proud of you, sweet thing,” he sighs into your ear. “Hnn- ah.. you work so hard..”

“Tooru,” you whine, now moving in time with his slow thrusts. 

“Shh-shh, let me take care of you,” he smiles down at you gently, rolling his hips at a new angle so his tip nudges your clit each time. 

You nod weakly, lips parting for his tongue as he guides you to completion. His hips lose their rhythm once you stiffen beneath him, whining as your orgasm finally crests and spreads through your core. Oikawa grunts above you, dropping his forehead against your clavicle while his cock throbs against your ruined panties and he spills into his pants. 

“Love you,” you pant against his hairline. 

“Love you too,” his lips press warmly against your throat. 

Kuroo

probably has just as much work as you but hes clingy so he insists that y'all study together even though your majors are totally different and you're not much help to each other 

He’s the type to shove your papers out of your lap so he can lay his head there, or he just puts his head right on top of them 

just constantly in the way but you love him so its kinda cute 

also I think Kuroo is one of those ppl who barely takes notes, is on his phone the entire lecture, and only studies the night before and somehow still has a 4.0, I hate him (sike)

that or he’s so studious he keeps track of your due dates as well

Yall come back to your shared apartment exhausted but pleased exams are over

“Mm, just one more semester and we graduate,” Kuroo sighs, wrapping you in a tight hug so he can rest his chin on the top of your head. “How do you think you did?”

You laugh into his chest, squeezing your arms around his waist. “I feel good about them, actually.”

Kuroo smiles proudly, ruffling your hair before grabbing your chin to pull you into a kiss. You smile against his lips, humming when his fingers start to play with the hem of your shirt mischievously. 

“Tetsuuu,” you whine when he tugs insistently. “We just got home...”

“I knowww,” he mimics, slowly walking you backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. “But I want to show my pretty girl how proud I am of her for getting through these exams.”

Your stomach flutters at the low, sultry drop of his voice. He nips at your ear teasingly before pushing you to sit. 

“As soon as I saw you put this little skirt on this morning,” Kuroo grins, dropping to his knees in front of you. “I’ve been thinking about how much I’d like I hide my head under here and...”

His fingers tease the damp cloth of your panties lightly. “Devour you.”

You whimper as he looks up at you through his lashes, fingers stroking your covered folds more firmly. He cocks his head curiously until you nod desperately, parting your thighs eagerly for him. His smirk widens once he lays his eyes on your ruined panties and he wastes no time pulling them down your legs and shoving them in his pocket. 

Grabbing your thighs, he pulls your butt to the edge of the cushion and drops your calves over his shoulders. He immediately draws his tongue through your soaked folds to tickle at your clit. He moans throatily, murmuring about how delicious you taste before burying his face between your thighs. 

“Haaah- ah! Testu!” 

Kuroo’s tongue immediately licks inside of you, his nose pressed firmly to your clit. Gasping at his fervor, you grasp at his hair, knowing how much he enjoyed having you pull it. His eyes immediately fluttered open, heavily lidded and foggy with lust. Winking up at you, he curls his tongue just right and groans when your thighs lock around his neck. He shakes his head slightly to give your clit just enough stimulation to have you hurdling to a quick orgasm. 

He licks up your slick eagerly, determined to catch every drop but is cut short when you writhe away from the intense overstimulation. He laughs softly, climbing up the couch to smash his lips to yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth so you could taste yourself. 

“Mm, let’s go to the bedroom,” he rumbles, nibbling at your bottom lip.

Bokuto

He is so damn proud of you it’s adorable 

He’s been gushing for the past week and a half to his teammates about how smart his girlfriend is 

He’s a little bummed you haven't been able to pay attention to him but he understands and is happy to just watch you study

So when you finally get home from your last exam he pounces on you

Scoops you up and brings you to the bedroom immediately 

“Kou!” You laugh into the crook of his neck, squeaking when he suddenly drops you on the bed. 

“I've missed you so much,” Bokuto clambers on top of you. “Been driving me crazy with how busy you’ve been.” 

“I know, handsome,” you frown sympathetically, bushing your fingers through his wild hair. 

“I’m so proud of you though,” he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, you're so smart. Pretty sure Atsumu was ready to throw a ball at my head because I wouldn’t shut up about you.”

He settles on top of you, kissing a wet trail up to your jaw. Your hands are gliding up his back muscles and grabbing at his broad shoulders. 

“Kou... I need you to-” you're cut off by his lips on yours. 

“I know, baby, I got you,” his rough hands shove your pants down so you can kick them off. “How about I make you cum for each of your exams, hm? I think that’s a good reward for all your hard work.”

“Please,” you whimper, needing him to release all of the stress that had built up. 

“How many was it, baby?” He asks while pulling his shirt over his head. 

“Six,” you take in his toned chest and defined abs hungrily. 

“Six orgasms it is,” he grins, pulling your own shirt off. 

Within seconds he’s knuckles deep inside you, groaning about how ready you always are for him. He pumps and curls his fingers perfectly, thumbing at your clit until you’re cumming all over his hand.

His cock is always a delicious mix of a burning stretch and a sensation of fullness. Bokuto’s cock was thick and long, his head dragging along your g-spot with each of his rolling thrusts. Your walls suck him in greedily, clenching so tightly that he’s whining against your lips. 

“So wound up, aren't you?” He pants. “Need me to take the edge off, huh?”

You already have tears in your eyes as you nod, crying out when his fingers find your clit. He ruts his cock into you roughly, gritting out praises until you arch underneath him and cum for a second time. He stops completely, kissing your cheeks gently while you recover.

“Kou...” your eyebrows draw together. “You didn't...?” “Four more times,” he grins, and slowly starts thrusting again.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Pack Tactics (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Couple, Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2896 words

Summary: You are in a wonderful relationship with your sweet partner, Gray. But this far into the relationship, you’ve yet to tell him you have no intentions ever of having kids. You can’t help but wonder, how will your child-loving werewolf boyfriend will react?

Request: I live for very specific comfort! No pressure if this doesn’t inspire you or if you just don’t want to write it obvi.... but could I have a f!reader x m!werewolf where the reader is 100% sure she doesn’t want to have kids ever never ever in any capacity and is worried about how her werewolf bf is going to react, worried she’ll be dumped or something (ya know cause idk I feel like werewolves are built with a breeding kink and like into the whole having a lot of pups) there can be smut if you want!! I love me some dramatic angst comfort :)))))))

A/N: Sorry this took so long y’all, school and stuff has been kicking my ass. But writing this sweet little fic has been a nice reprieve from my work. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, I’ll get the chicken, the asparagus, and the pasta. You’ve got the wine and the dessert?”

“Sure thing.”

The two of you nod, Gray stepping away from the grocery cart before you call out to him.

“And not one of those huge tubs of ice cream.”

Gray emits a dramatic whine, pouting.

“But the big one is 25 cents cheaper than those little pints. It’s practically free!”

You furrow your brow and pat him on the shoulder.

“Not if we don’t finish them, they aren’t. Now go.” Gray rolls his eyes, clutching his heart and throwing his head back. You playfully push him, walking away with the grocery cart and towards the deli section. You can see the top of Gray’s wild brown hair as he moves into the next aisle, his 6’5” form towering over all the little old ladies who usually crowd the store.

You’re browsing the chicken, trying to decide between 2 breasts or a full rotisserie, when a familiar sound reaches you.

“Oh! If it isn’t ____.” You forcibly paint a smile, fingers automatically clenched around the stellafoam package as you turn to see your next door neighbor Mrs. Star. Her teased, bleached blonde hair teeters on top of her head, bobbing back and forth with the clack of her neon blue heels. While you can respect the 60-year old for digging her feet in and refusing to update her wardrobe from the 80’s, her pension for gossip is a little less admirable. “Shocked to see you out and about, what with that big ol boyfriend of yours.” She says, blue eyeshadow crinkling into a wink and nudging you with your elbow. You wheeze a bit, quickly covering it with a laugh. “Back in our honeymoon phase, Richard and I barely left the bedroom. And he was half-way balding back then, not the babe-a-rama you got going over there.” Mrs. Star’s laugh reaches a pitch almost too high for your human ears to pick up, maybe even giving Gray 2 aisles over a headache.

“Well, y’know, gotta keep our energy up.” You wince, immediately berating yourself for that comment. Mrs. Star throws her hand up in a “oh, you” gesture, letting out another half-whistle half-screeching chuckle.

“Oh I do, honey, I do.” She sends you another dramatic wink, which you return with a shaky smile. The corner of your cart bumps into hers as you begin walking along the meat aisle, trying to forcibly end this interaction. But Mrs. Star pulls off an impressive turn with her cart and strolls alongside you. She does little to hide her wandering eyes, trying to piece together any juicy info from your groceries. “So, are you two trying for kids yet?”

The wheels squeal to a sudden stop, forcing you to choke on your saliva as the shopping cart’s handle digs into your stomach. You keep your gaze locked on the frozen steaks  and turkeys, already way past the chicken you meant to grab.

“Uhhh, no. We’re not really in the phase of our relationship yet.”

Mrs. Star clicks her tongue, pressing her hand to her chest in a show of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, dearie. Old habits you see, whenever a new couple moves in together I assume they’re halfway to the wedding already. You young kids like to take it slow, huh?”

You nod, hastily grabbing a package of buffalo wings, hoping for an excuse to escape this conversation.

Mrs. Star continues to walk by you, her cart blocking off any convenient means to leave unless you significantly pick up her speed. Her eyes glance over the sweats sat in a display in the center of the aisle, humming a small tune.

The end of the aisle is approaching, you’re almost home free! You ready your feet to book it with an excuse, but Mrs. Star clears her throat and begins to speak.

“Now dearie, I don’t mean to pry-”

What do you call these last 3 minutes, Star?

“But I’d at least pop on a ring on that finger soon. Someday someone’s going to snatch that boy up like a piece of meat, saying all the right things. Men got all those suspicions about over-the-hill pregnancies, his eyes might start wandering. That’s how my first divorce went, so I should know.”

You pull your cart to a stop, breathe catching as you look at Mrs. Star, shocked. You can handle some inappropriate questions, but to question your boyfriend’s loyalty and insulting your relationship is crossing another line. Your brows furrow with a simmering anger, your cheeks heating up as you're ready to let loose.

“Well, Mrs. Star, if you must know I have the most wonderful boyfriend on this side of the planet, and unlike your deadbeat first husband, he’s as loyal as they can be.” Mrs. Star looks at you, eyes widened and right hand halfway to grab a pack of oreos. You huff, pushing your cart away from hers and towards the cash register. Right before you leave her sight, you turn back to her with a simpering smirk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Star!”

Your heart is heaving with anger, prepping a rant to Gray about the horrible interaction you just had. On the other side of the store, you spot Gray, his curly hair all tussled, holding a large Rosé and a package of ice cream sandwiches. Just the sight of his back calms you a bit, excited for some delicious food and late-night cuddles. You jog a little towards him, but slow down when you see him crouch down, looking at something hidden from your sight.

You turn your shopping cart slightly, trying to peer behind his massive form, and freeze.

Gray’s sticking out his tongue, pushing up his nose, and making many more silly gestures to a baby in a stroller. The baby laughs, it’s chubby cheeks bright red as Gray blows another raspberry, thrashing its arms up and down with joy. The dad is laughing at Gray’s antics, leaning down and patting his kid on the head.

Gray promptly stands up, sending another big smile to the kid, before waving goodbye. The six-month-old waves back, uncoordinated and decidedly adorable. Gray laughs, turning away and walking towards you.

Your feet feel cemented to the floor, heart down in your stomach.

He’s a natural, you think, nausea building up in your throat.

Gray was the oldest of eight, not a large number for a werewolf family. You adored them, and they you, but Gray had a way of dealing with his youngest siblings. Whether it was letting them climb all over him like a jungle gym, or attending imaginary tea parties, Gray was a pro. He was the guy to cram himself into a tiny chair at the kids table, eating tiny cookies and cracking jokes. ‘Dad’ seemed to be stamped into his very being, the cuddly werewolf with a love of children. He’s any mother-in-law’s dream.

But all those sweet things turn sour when you think about what Mrs. Star said. Gray, moving on without you.

Gray’s eyes light up when he sees your cart, jogging over and holding up the bottle of wine like a prize.

“Hey!” He says, quickly sliding an arm around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek. “I got your favorite, and those delicious mint-chocolate sandwiches.”

His happy voice and comforting touch help abate whatever it is your feeling, but the way Gray’s brow furrows tells you your  discomfort is present in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” His large hand comes up and rubs your shoulder. You give him a shaky smile, fighting away negative thoughts with a bat.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

---------

Wet fur presses up against your bare neck as you lazily stir the boiling water, Gray’s shifted muzzle now snug in the crook of your shoulder, the white flecks across his dark fur peeking into your periphery. Your free hand instinctively goes back to scratch between his ears, causing him to let out a satisfied huff, hot air blowing across your chest.

“That smells good baby.”

“It’s just salt and water Gray. The pasta’s barely al dente.”

Gray laughs, turning his head  slightly so he can press a small kiss onto your cheek.

“You could make even that taste delicious, ____”

You dramatically roll your eyes, pushing away his chin as he continues to peck and nip at your neck. After showering Gray always made sure to rub in some cherry-blossom leave-in conditioner into his fur. The artificial perfumes just lightly touch your senses, but the mental connection they have to Gray make them smell that much sweeter. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the lips, patting his shoulder once more.

“Do you mind setting the table? Maybe get started on those messy dishes?”

“No problem.” Gray mumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and tugging up the towel that hangs loose on his hips. He barely needs to reach for your fancy plates on the top shelf, his chest muscles flexing and bicep taut. Even with his thick fur, you can see the bone of his clavicle which accentuates his long neck.

God, he’s so hot.

You think, smirking a bit as you continue stirring.

And all mine.

You hum, but the cheery mood you’re in quickly sours once you remember your conversation with Mrs. Star. That small seed of doubt seems to grow and leech from your chest.

2 years into this relationship and the two of you have only danced around the conversation of the future. You of course had agreed on living together, what your career paths looked like, even the potential of getting married in a couple years, but never kids. As two 20-somethings, you felt like you had all the time in the world.

But the thing was, you didn’t really need all the time in the world.

You didn't want kids. Even with your family or your neighbors needing that your opinion “might change some day,” you were confident in that decision. Not that you hated them, you just could never picture yourself being a mom. A fun aunt, maybe, but never a mom. It wasn’t even a point of contention in your own mind; The picture of you, your partner, and maybe a couple of pets thriving into your elders was bliss enough.

You sneak a glance to Gray, now clothed and back turned to you as he sets the table. He’s diligently folding the napkins into  fun shapes, a ritual he does every date night. From the hole in his jeans you can see his tail wagging, content as he hums to the low radio playing on the window sill.

A smile crawls onto your face, a small giggle escaping you as you watch Gray’s hips bob to the beat, silently mouthing the words. You snort as he does a dramatic little shoulder shift, Gray’s head whipping back towards the kitchen as you throw your hand over your mouth.

“What, don't you like my moves?” Gray says, shimmering his shoulders again, a large grin across his face.

“They could use some work, Kevin Bacon.” Gray clutches his chest, throwing his head back in mock pain.

“You wound me. After all these years, you would cut me so deep?”

“Sure would.” You turn back towards the simmering pasta, setting the wooden spoon on the rim and brushing your hands on your jeans. “Oof!” You squeak as you yanked away, Gray wrapping his arms around your waist, twirling you in a stumbling circle.

“And how ‘bout now, m’lady?” Gray simpers, eyebrow cocked. Your hands slap his chest as you laugh. He lets your feet back down on the floor, but keeps his arms locked around your waist. The two of you slow dance to the beat, and when the chorus hits, Gray gives his worst rendition possible. You bemoan and feign plugging your ears, but find yourself singing along anyway.

Everything about Gray is warm and bright, from his goofy grin to his excitable tail to his two left feet. He adds that pep of energy to your daily routine, pulling you out of an exhausting cycle for a quick jog to the beach or an episode of your favorite drama. Gray fills out all of those little spaces, makes them a little less gray.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the fur through the fabric of his t-shirt as the two of you sway back and forth.

You want it to stay this way.

But that pestering weed squeezes your heart again, forcing images of Gray with a kid on his shoulders. Showing up to little-league football games with a big cooler and a “#1 dad” T-shirt. All those little moments, all without you.

You can’t fight the deep sigh, pressing your face even deeper into Gray.

Just let me have this. Just this moment, just for now.

-------

“Ugh, I think my stomach is going to explode from excess-pasta.”

Gray huffs, laying his head on your lap as the two of you slump onto the couch. His tail wags lazily, flickering back and forth as his legs swing over the coach's side, his long torso bunched up as he curls into you. The fur of his head is soft as you twist your fingers into it. “But I gotta say, what a way to go out.”

You giggle, losing your thoughts in his soft fur. Gray lets out another deep breath, nuzzling his face into your hand. You brush over his cheek with your  thumb, admiring the cheekbone you feel just underneath.

But that burning question refuses to leave your mind, and you ask it without even thinking.

“Do you want kids, Gray?”

Gray’s eye’s stay closes, his posture relaxed as he sinks into your massaging fingers.

“Hmmm, maybe. Never really thought too much about it. Why?”

Your throat dries up, mind reeling. It wasn’t even a definitive yes, but your heart is still reeling. Your fingers pause and Gray's eyes open. He shifts his head when he sees the look on your face, concerned. “Babe?”

You nod, eyes still wide, trying to fight off the inklings of a panic attack. Gray pushes himself up on his elbows, paw quickly coming to caress your cheek. “Baby, is everything alright?”

You find the energy to breathe, and suck in deeply. Your heart begins to slow down as you look into Gray’s yellow wolf eyes. You dig your cheek into his large palm, smelling the perfume of his conditioner.

“Yes, sorry, I just-” You pause, taking another deep breath. “I ran into Mrs. Star in the grocery store, and-I’m sorry I’m overthinking things.” You mutter, patting yourself  on the cheek as to snap yourself out of your mood. Grays other hand rubs the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Did she say something?”

“No-Well, yes. It’s silly, typical Star things. She just brought up how ‘ought to get started having kids, and it just-” You let out a shaky sigh, pulling away Gray’s hand with your own and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to have kids, ever.”

In Gray’s eyes, you expect to….something. Confusion, disappointment, maybe? But instead, all you see is relief. Gray rests his paw on your thigh, squeezing it.

“_____, is that what you’ve been worrying about?” You nod, throwing your eyes back down, but Gray tilts your chin towards him. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids. Simple as that.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your face back.

“Seriously? But-what if-”

“____, I grew up with eight siblings. I’m going to have to deal with more nieces and nephews then I can count on my fingers and my toes, I think I can handle not having kids.”

A weight lifts off of your chest and you slump forward into Gray, pressing your forehead against his clavicles as you let out a long, relieved sigh. He laughs, patting your back and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this all day, I didn’t even realize you were so upset.”

You slap his chest, letting out another frustrated sigh. With him? No, but yourself, and Mrs. Star, for stirring up nightmares for no damn good reason.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine for being so paranoid.” You press your chin up, pouty lips admiring your boyfriend's face. “I’m sorry for freaking out. She really got me into my own head.”

“No apologies needed baby.” Gray says, giving you a small peck. You send him a cheesy smile, chasing after his lips with a couple of small kisses. A low rumble growls out from his chest as you nip at his jawline. Behind him, you hear his tail begin to hump on the floor.

“Hmm, does that mean you feel better?” You nod, pressing another kiss into his pulse point.

“Yes, thank you for letting me get that out.” Another kiss, now on his Adam’s apple.

“Welp,” Gray says, quickly adjusting himself. In another second, you yelp as he picks you up by your butt, legs quickly wrapping around his waist, “Let’s give Mrs. Star something to talk about, hmm?”

You throw your head back with a laugh, clinging tight to his chest as Gray blows a raspberry into your neck. “That good with you, my lady?”

You nod, giving him another kiss on the lips as he carries you off into the bedroom.

Yeah, you have it good.

[flamencodiva]

A Different League 1 - Walls

Description: Y/N never experienced the life of luxury. Being the daughter of a hunter never gave her that experience. But what happens when she finds a job working for one of the most prestigious hunting companies in the world?

Word Count: 1960

Beta: @wonder-cole

Warnings: Language, Violence, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn (yes, that's a warning), Rivals to Idiots, Idiots to Lovers, Lovers to Idiots.

Main Masterlist 

Series Masterlist

<< Prologue 

Code Red! Code Red!’

The red lights and alarm sounded throughout the building.

‘Level 10 monster detected.’

Y/N Y/L/N made her way through the hall towards the locker rooms to suit up. As usual, she was part of the ground team, which did all the messy work when hunting monsters for Hunter Corp.

Marching down the hallway, she made her way to the briefing room, grabbing the folder handed to her and reading it right away.

“Think this is the one?” Benny asked, standing by her with his folder.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “don’t know. Maybe it is. But according to the data recon has gathered, not likely. If it’s a level ten, then--”

“It’s most likely an Alpha monster,” Ketch interrupted. “Y/N, darling, when are you going to take me up on that offer to wine and dine you?” he asked, trying to flirt with the huntress.

“When hell freezes over, Arthur,” she sighed, “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, my focus is on work, not my--”

“Libido,” Benny and Ketch echoed with matching smiles.

“We know, Cher,” Benny chuckled, “then again I did see you eyeing--”

“You say it, and I hog tie you and castrate you,” Y/N growled, “I lived on a ranch for a good amount of years while dad was taking care of a pack. Don’t think I won’t do it, Benjamin.”

Benny lifted his hands in surrender and chuckled, walking toward his seat on the conference table. Other squad leaders filtered in as they were ready to talk about the Level 10 monster that had appeared. This included the two sons of the CEO, the eldest of the two, Dean, taking a seat next to Y/N.

“Units 1 and 2, you will take the lead on this, “ John Winchester said as he walked into the room, taking a seat at the head of the table. “These two units will oversee operations and capture. I will repeat that,” he said, looking at each unit leader in turn, “capture the target. Our goal is to learn as much as we can before eradicating their species.”

“Do we have the special equipment that I had made for occasions like this?” Y/N asked as she flipped through the different pages, analyzing the data collected. “Do we also know what kind of Alpha we’re dealing with?”

“As of right now, we just know it’s an Alpha. I’m waiting on relay team Gamma to get back with the complete analysis,” John announced, impressed with his top hunter. “But I do want my best teams there in case something goes wrong.”

Y/N simply hummed as she let her mind process the strategy the boss set up. Her boss wasn’t wrong. Her squad, along with Snob, as she liked to call Dean, would be a formidable force. That is if he wasn’t trying to talk about his exploits on a private jet.

No matter where they were, he always had some way of interjecting how nice it is to have money and experience things. Y/N has never had the pleasure of doing. Sure she had the money to do those things now, but she never saw the big deal. It only spurred her annoyance at Snob when he would try to make conversation with her. They had nothing in common, yet he continued to try to talk to her while she ignored him.

After the meeting ended, Y/N made her way back to her room. She was the only one of the squad leaders not to have a place of her own. It was something that didn’t go unnoticed by the other leaders, especially John. Y/N would brush off the comments of her not having a place to unwind away from work. In all honesty, she didn’t know what else to do. She grew up hunting, and she figured living in the facility would give her faster reaction time to save more lives.

As she packed her things, she could feel a pair of eyes on her.

“What do you want?” she called out, never facing the person who stood at her doorway.

“I was wondering--”

“No, Dean. I will not go to whatever fancy place you want to take me to,” she sighed, moving around her room to collect what she would think she would need.

“I’m not, Ketch,” Dean grumbled, “And I know for a fact that you barely leave the compound. You don’t even have your own place.”

“Why do you care, Snob,” she hissed at him. “To someone like you, I’m just a worker. Why do you care that I live in the compound?”

“If this is about the gala, I already apologized,” Dean whined, “What more do you want from me?”

“To let me do my job,” Y/N huffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pushing past him, “and right now, my job is to make sure we know what we are dealing with before we go in blind and kill good hunters on a hunch.”

“The recon team--”

“Has been wrong before,” she pointed out, “Your brother has been wrong before and at my expense!”

“Samuel would never-” Dean began.

“He has, and he did, Dean,” she argued. “That scar on my back was not because I thought it would be fun to ignore that there was another Rugaru.”

She glared at him, “It was because I was told by your brother that there was only one when there were, in fact, three of them.”

Dean stayed silent as she walked away from him and towards the garage. Never in his life had a woman angered and enamored him before. The minute he had laid eyes on Y/N three years ago at the gala, he could feel his heart pound in his chest. His insecurities had gotten the better of him, and he had to play the millionaire asshole. When she didn’t bow down to his charm, he was intrigued.

After a year of training, moving up the ranks, and being her partner, Dean learned that Y/N was all business. Not like any of the girls he ever dated or bedded. Y/N had a drive, but what it was, she wouldn’t say. Y/N began to distance herself more from him for every case they had, only communicating if it had to do with the hunt and to turn down his invitations.

Dean made it to his dorm with a deep sigh and began packing his things, hoping he could try to break through the walls Y/N built with this hunt.

Looking at her watch, Y/N wondered where Charlie was? Usually, Charlie would be her research partner on cases like these. Well, Charlie is always her choice as a research partner. The woman was a genius when it came to technology and making her way into security footage to search for monsters.

Y/N didn’t notice as Charlie walked up behind her. Most of Y/N’s attention was on the recon folder. She was trying to assess what the team had found.

“You know,” Charlie said as she approached Y/N, “You’re really taking this not thinking with your libido thing a bit too far.”

“I am focused on my work,” Y/N replied, never taking her eyes off the file. “I have a feeling we’re dealing with a Shifter-Alpha.”

“What gives you that idea?” Charlie asked as she sat down next to Y/N.

“It’s the fact that in every house reported, Mom and Dad are dead,” Y/N pointed out as she pushed the folder towards Charlie. “But the baby goes missing,” she pointed to the details in every story.

“Huh,” Charlie let out, tilting her head to the side as she looked over the notes, “I guess that means we’re heading out early?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, “going to talk to John first.”

“Really?” Charlie gasped, “you’re usually gung-ho about going when you have a hunch like this?”

“Okay, I’m a hunter, not suicidal,” Y/N drawled.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to point out the details in the story and voice her suspicions to John. Of course, when John agreed with her suspicions, he organized all quad leaders and put his plan in motion. Nearing the next house that Alpha would attack, Dean and Y/N placed themselves in charge of moving in to capture the monster.

‘Leader 1,’ came Dean’s voice through the walkie-talkie, ‘we have movement inside the house. I repeat, we have movement inside the house.’

“Copy that, Leader 2,” she responded before taking a breath, “Red-Recon, Red-Recon, what do we have on the video feed?”

‘Can’t I have a cooler nickname?’ Charlie whined through the intercom, ‘like Red Hawk!’

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a chuckle before responding, “Okay, Red Hawk, can you just tell me what the video feed shows?”

‘You were right, Leader 1,’ Charlie confirmed, ‘glowing eyes in the feed. We’re dealing with a nest of shifters. We also are seeing a large nursery through the micro-cam footage.’

“Shit,” Y/N cursed, “we might need to abort and come up with--”

‘You are going to do nothing of the sort, Leader 1,’ Samuel’s voice came through, ‘we’re here to do a job. We will kill every last one of them if we have to.’

“Samuel, there are kids in there. No matter what the species, kids are kids!” Y/N argued.

‘That’s Recon-Leader to you, Leader 1,’ he barked.

‘Recon-leader,’ Dean’s voice came through, ‘I agree with Leader 1. We are only here for the Alpha. We need this to be a quick and clean operation.’

“I don’t need your help, Leader 2,” Y/N growled. “If Recon-Leader wants us to go through the paperwork explaining why the squads changed Leader Prime’s plan, he can do it himself.”

‘What are we going to do, Leaders 1 and 2?’

Y/N closed her eyes, knowing full well the consequences of her actions, “we are going to go as planned, capture the Alpha, take down as many shifters as you can.”

‘Y/N,’ Dean called over the com, ‘I think your instincts were--’

“I’ll deal with the fucking consequences,” she called back, “we move on my mark.”

To say the operation was easy was a big fat fucking lie. Just as Y/N predicted, getting to the Alpha with all the other Shifters in their way was a challenge. So much so that they had to call Squads 3 and 4 for backup. It took longer than it should have for the team to capture the Alpha, and that was after Y/N was full of bruises and deep scratches. The nursery with the children was empty when they searched it. Some Shifters made it out with the abrupt change in plans, while others were killed trying to let them escape.

Once Y/N was patched up, she prepared herself for the yelling she knew John would give her. Even if they got the Alpha, the method they used almost cost the lives of good hunters. Y/N had made sure to try and save as many hunters from death as she could.

“Y/N!” she heard as she walked out of the medical tent.

Rolling her eyes, she turned away from Dean, who was jogging towards her.

“Thanks, Jess,” she called to the doctor on staff that stitched her up.

“Damn it, Y/N. Please wait!” Dean called out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I talked to Samuel and--”

“Save it, Snob,” Y/N growled. “I am going to head to my room in the hotel and write up the report. Don’t worry about Douchebag. I will take all the heat on this.”

“Why do you do that?” Dean growled, “Why can’t you let me tell Dad about--”

“Leader Prime,” Y/N barked, “when we are on the job, you address him by his title.”

Dean let out an audible groan, “can you take the stick out of your ass for just one fucking minute!”

Y/N turned to glare at him, “what could you possibly say to me? That you’re going to use your privilege to get Daddy not to punish me because your brother was being an ass? Please spare me. I’m used to this. You and Samuel get away with everything while the rest of us have to struggle!”

“You are such a bitch, Y/L/N. No wonder people don’t want to hang around you,” Dean spat, his eyes widening at the realization of what he said. “Y/N I’m--”

“At least people don’t hang around me for my money,” she spat, “leave me alone. Why are you even talking to me, Snob? We have nothing in common, you live in an ivory tower, and I live in the mud. You stay with your people, and I’ll stay with mine.”

Dean watched her walk away, unsure what to say or how to fix what he did. He hated himself for the way things went down. Dean should have talked to Samuel about his behavior, but Samuel was just as stubborn and headstrong as their father. Dean knew he could only do one thing, and that was talking to his father about what happened, whether Y/N liked it or not.

Dean stayed silent as he contemplated how to fix things with Y/N.ht--’

“I don’t care what Samuel says. The operation could have gone smoother if he had just listened to Y/N. You can’t fire her--”

‘Calm down, son. No one is getting fired. Especially not my best hunter,’ John interrupted. ‘Now, calmly, tell me what happened.’

Dean began at the beginning, telling his father all about how there were more Shifters than just the Alpha and how Y/N wanted to re-adjust the plan to lessen any casualties. As Dean continued to recount the tale, he never noticed Samuel walking in. The younger brother crossed his arms, scowling at his older brother.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said before hanging up the phone.

“You called, Dad?” Samuel let out, making Dean jump.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Samuel,” He scolded.

“Don’t, Dean,” Samuel huffed, “You called to tattle on me? You know as well as I do that you should be Leader 1 no matter what a stupid test said all those years ago.”

“Is that what this is about? Is that why you have this grudge against Y/N?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“She is nothing but a--”

“Don’t say it, Samuel,” Dean growled.

“A second-rate hunter with no class,” Samuel continued, towering over his older brother. “You need to forget about her, Dean, and learn to take her position from her.” he let out a huff, “besides, she dresses in nothing but second-hand clothing. Does she even know what designer clothing is? Does she even care about the clothes that she wears and how she presents herself?”

“Samuel, her choice in clothing doesn’t mean she is incapable of being a good Leader. Besides, what she wears is her business. And what good would taking the position from her by force do? How would being Leader 1 make me any more capable of running the company?” Dean crossed his arms, staring right into his brother’s eyes.

“For one, it would show Dad that you have the skills to lead,” Samuel huffed. “Y/N couldn’t even stand up to me after what I said. She could have tried harder to go over my head. She has no leadership skills.”

“No leadership skills?” Dean said, his voice rising in anger. “You call putting her life on the line to make sure no one dies, poor leadership skills?” Dean shook his head, giving his brother a disappointed look. “Do you realize that she didn’t go over your head because she feels you would use nepotism to get away with it?”

Samuel tilted his head in confusion, “what? Since when? I--”

“Dad spoils us, Samuel. You know he does, but it’s different in hunting and our lives, and Y/N doesn’t know that. She already thinks we’re pompous snobs.”

“So?” Samuel chuckled, “I love that we live a life of luxury. Someone like her is never going to understand us. Besides, why are you trying to get her approval?”

“I am not looking for her approval, but I am trying to establish a civil working relationship,” Dean said, turning away from Samuel.

“You had had eyes on her since the ball all those years ago,” Samuel chuckled, “‘if you want her that badly, woo her and leave her. Or you could take Bela Talbot on her offer.”

“Bela?” Dean shook his head in disgust, “she is nothing but a low-grade black market dealer. “

“One who has had her eyes on you for a while,” Samuel said, smiling slyly at his brother. “You don’t have to make a business deal with the woman, just bed her and be done with her. She also knows her way around good scotch. Let’s not forget that Bela also has better fashion sense than Y/N. ”

Dean contemplated the thought of having Bela in his bed. Bela had more than shown she wanted to lay with him, wanting to have Dean pleasure her in the ways he was taught. Shaking his head, Dean sat on the couch of the double room suite he shared with Samuel.

“I’d rather fuck a porcupine than Bela, Samuel,” Dean sighed, leaning back to place his hands over his face.

“Then at least go find a sweet lounge fly and bring her up to have your way with her,” Samuel said as he walked over to his bedroom, “I mean, we should put the skills Dad had us learn for a reason, right?”

Dean stayed silent as he contemplated how to fix things with Y/N.

Chapter 2

Tags in the Reblog

[lostnct23]

Noona?

Pairing: ? x Reader Word count: 2974

Summary: You are the new SM staff whom other members can’t seem to shy away from your charm. But there’s one person who’s more than eager to get you all for himself.

Warning: Slow burn. Possesiveness. Suggestive Disclaimer: This is a pure fiction. There’s is no way that the portrayal of the artist’s character mirrors the artist’s actual true self A/N: Please do not repost this other on social media platform without the consent of the author. Feedbacks are always appreciated and if you have any request or scenarios in mind, I’d be more than willing to entertain your ideas. 

All rights reserved.

*****************************************

Recently, there has been this SM staff who suddenly became famous among to other staffs. It’s no secret that she’s been the content of the mundane talk of other people within the vicinity. Well for one, it’s because she was extremely talented, new, graduate from abroad and the most infamous one was because, for once, Jisung the ever-shy boy around girls is very comfortable around you. He’s not even very subtle at hiding his adoration towards you.

Ever since you started working in the company it was no surprise that you were extremely approachable despite the fact that you were extremely shy at first. People really adore you for your sincere nature and your genuine heart. That’s why it’s not even a mystery why the NCT maknae was so drawn towards you, however, with that being said, so does the other NCT members.

At first, it was Johnny who was very blatant at showing that he found you adorable, and considering that both of you are very familiar with what is it like to live abroad you quickly click and become comfortable with each other. Then there’s Jaehyun who has his ways of charming people towards him, and then Mark Lee who was unquestionably very friendly and comfortable to be around. Despite the fact that many people swarm their way towards you, you are good at keeping your safe distance, never going beyond what is considered unprofessional which is why you perplexed one person in particular.

He noticed how despite being friendly and tending to other people, you have your subtle way of putting lines between you and them. It’s like you can read other people’s intentions without making them uncomfortable of knowing what was their agenda, that’s why he kept a safe distance from you. Not because he doesn’t want to be close to you, but because he wanted to be able to pass through the walls that you built around you.

With that being said, he just quietly observe from afar, silently studying what he should do, what were these people doing wrong, why despite their attempt you still have that tall wall around you, how should he do things right to win your favor without a single restraint as you have with others.

“Noona!” the maknae exclaimed after seeing you emerged from the curtain behind, today you were assigned as their photographer, it was one of SM’s marketing strategies for their upcoming comeback and you couldn’t be more excited to work with all of the members. They were always with their units, but today, SM decided to have all of them merge. 

“Jisung-ah!” you replied and gave the youngest a warm hug, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the brooding man at the back, silently throwing daggers towards your direction, his make-up artist is not so fond as well at his sudden long face expression. “ Have you been well? “ you asked adoringly. 

“Jisung-ah!” you replied and gave the youngest a warm hug, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the brooding man at the back, silently throwing daggers towards your direction, his make-up artist is not so fond as well at his sudden long face expression. “ Have you been well? “ you asked adoringly. 

“Yah, what this eyebags, you stay up all night didn’t you?” you playfully scolded him. Jisung suddenly grew embarrassed and even a little guilty at disappointing you.

 “ 밥 먹었어요?” (Bap meogeoseoyo) you asked the boy. He just shakes his head as a no and you scoffed at his answer. “그래, 알았어, Let’s eat after this, Noona’s treat” (Grae, arasseo) you said then patted the young boy’s back which earns a delighted smile at his end. On the other hand, someone was not very happy at the scene that unfolded before his eyes. How come, that the ever wallflower Jisung managed to win you over, the only women he laid eyes who doesn’t flatter at other people’s advances towards her. Even the oh-so-great flirt Yuta didn’t manage to have you swoon over your feet.

He was snapped back to life when other Dream members started to tease Jisung because of his encounter with you. Jaemin was the loudest to utter ‘Our Jisung-a is no longer a baby boy huh” Jisung only rolled his eyes and utter how they don’t make sense and how other members were saying the most rubbish, and weirdest non-sense ever. Starting from that day he started to make his own move at making his effort of getting close to you. Doesn’t matter if he can’t break your walls because he’s more than willing to climb it just to get to you.

*****************************************

Weeks have past and he can already see the progress within your relationship, you were warmer to him than before, you would even greet him first when you do happen to crossway in the hallway. He was also almost confident that you favor him an extra bit more than the others. You were usually shy with other members, would wait for them to acknowledge you first but with him, you would say hi first once in a while. He even became more confident when you asked him first to help you get to know the city when he’s free until it became your thing to invite one another to visit a shop that has only been open recently. 

The keyword was almost.

Once their photoshoot from last month was initially released you were relentless at showering Jisung with a compliment. Telling him how proud you were with him, how handsome he looks at some shots. The breaking point was when you told him that you will treat him, AGAIN, with a meal.

“Let’s celebrate this, there’s this restaurant that just open, we should try it” you beamed happily to the boy, even snaking your hand around his right arm. He couldn’t bear the sight, he knows it’s wrong for him to feel hostile towards the youngest member but at this point, he is beyond his rationality. “I want to come to!” he said way too loudly and too aggressive than his normal tone.

All eyes were now focused towards him, shocked at his sudden outburst. But the thing that’s been running in his mind was the fact that he can’t let you be alone with another man that’s not him. He was only starting to build his way at winning you, he can’t let other men have an advance in his game. 

Meal with a new restaurant was our thing.

Midnight stroll in the city was our thing.

Going out to visit a new store was our thing.

He’s missing something. Do you like younger boys? Was the problem was his age? Was that it? Was that the reason why you always pin over Jisung despite other members pine over you? He thought you were getting along. He almost even thought that his feelings towards you were starting to cease from being one-sided.

“Oh sure, no problem with that Taeyong Hyung, you can always tag along whenever,” the young boy said, completely oblivious to the way Taeyong’s eyes were raking your form as if he would take you right there and there. You on the other hand found his outburst peculiar and very out of character.

*****************************************

Starting from that day, Taeyong was more obvious at dropping hints towards his affection. He’s no longer subtle at giving you compliments. The members were not oblivious to this, the moment that Taeyong made his affection towards you obvious, was the moment the other member took it as a cue to back off. They never really saw their leader took an interest in anyone, he’s always too busy to take care of everyone that he always neglect to fend for his own self, so when started to become all puppy eyes whenever you are around, follow you everywhere you go, do everything just to get your attention from bringing your files for you up to the littlest things and reason just to be with you, they knew you were now a serious deal.

Taeyong may have made things obvious, but whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you, it was never confirmed nor denied verbally. 

Taeyong always made sure to be pinned in the hip with you whenever he had the chance. May it be the time where you visit their practice room to disseminate some information, may it be the time that they’re free and just casually chilling at the cafeteria, Taeyong would even bring you a drink every chance he got, staying at your station just to casually hang around in a place where you were doing your own things, so basically you were dating without actually being said to be dating.

People around the company started to suspect that there’s something going on between the two of you. Interns who have shown their interest towards you were always warned that you were already Taeyong’s and it would be in their best interest to find someone else than bother you because Taeyong might be the sweetest guy, but boy was he possessive as hell.

There was even one time where an innocent intern was too close to you for Taeyong’s liking and behold, it was the first that everyone witnessed his possessiveness. He wouldn’t keep his hand off of your waist. He would constantly be glued at your side, towering whoever comes in your way, intimidating every single employee who would just approach you. He might not verbally tell them to get lost, but his intimidating aura alone is enough to send them off.

And that was the time that everyone knew better than jeopardize you and Taeyong. It might never be officially stated that the two of you were an item but he’s an idol, and they would never vocally nor announce publicly that they were dating, even if it’s only inside the company. Nevertheless, the way he was behaving around you was enough to show that you were indeed his, and his alone.

*****************************************

Everything was well, the day was bright, everyone was just having fun, well that’s until someone was having TOO much fun without HIM being by your side. Taeyong doesn’t appreciate the fact that Jisung’s hand was around your shoulder and that you were laughing way too loudly for his liking at to what the maknae was saying. And the fact that you were bare except for your beachwear right now doesn’t make anything better. Seeing other people, especially men, holding your skin like that irks him in so many ways.

“Jisung-a, we’re having too much fun here are we” the innocent boy can only smile towards his Hyung completely oblivious to the sarcasm that coated his statement. 

“Oh Hyung, annyeong!” he greeted. “Neh, I was just telling Noona about that time where we skipped and spent all day in the city” he laughed. “Pretty much risky, isn’t it Noona” the boy beamed looking down on you. You on the other hand catch a glimpse of how Taeyong was basically shaking and gawking his eyes on the hand that is around your shoulder. 

“Jisung-a,” you said sweetly, which made Taeyong even more annoyed than he already is. He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth and it shows with the way how his jaw clenched. “Neh?” Jisung responded, almost too endearing if you asked others' perspectives. But Taeyong’s foul mood is too palpable that you can’t help but acknowledge it. “Maybe you should find Chenle first and...” you haven’t able to finish whatever you were saying because Taeyong basically tears you off from Jisung’s arm and drag away from the shore towards one of resort’s room. 

When you’re completely away from the eyes of anyone you were surprised when Taeyong pin you harshly towards the wall, eyes were almost popping from its socket, his boba eyes which everyone adored were replaced with something predatory. 

“Were you really oblivious towards what I feel even after making it too fcking obvious or do you really just want to play all too naive and innocent? What are playing Y/N?” he said while carefully caressing your cheeks, despite the fact that he does it so gently it feels like it’s burning because the way of how he’s body is basically restricting him from losing control all at once. You can feel his breath fanning the side of your cheeks.

You gulp loudly not expecting that this is the way Taeyong would finally burst. “Or are you just nasty and enjoyed being called Noona?” he said lips almost touching yours but not enough to actually have contact. His hand slowly traveled towards your delicate neck. “I can also call you Noona you know” he said, almost like a growl. “If that’s what you want if that’s what I’ve been missing all this time, so tell me Y/N, why do you always have the knack of pissing me off through Jisung”.

You on the other hand were too lost with how close your body is with his and the fact that he’s basically manhandling you right now. You wanted to chuckle at how unreasonable he is but at the same time also too aroused to actually compose a coherent answer.

“Answer me or I will force it out of you, you minx” he tightened his grip on your neck. Part of you want to test his patience and the other just wanted to submit, you decided to choose the first one.

“Maybe you haven’t marked what yours properly” you answered hoarsely and Taeyong’s eyes darkened because of your answer. He quickly smashed his lips to yours and one thing lead to another. The last thing you know he’s already giving your neck a hickey, a big and very prominent one you can tell with the way of how hard he was sucking and biting your neck.

Before things can go too far a figure appeared in your peripheral vision which caused you to push Taeyong off of you. Taeyong on the other hand looked too perplexed but when he saw the person cause of your awestruck state, he grew smug. 

“Eww, Noona! I know you and Taeyong were now basically a thing but” Jisung exclaimed pointing at your neck looking dumbfounded, “good luck at telling Appa where does that thing came from because I’m basically not telling that my sister is doing the dirty with my leader Hyung” he said leaving the two of you. But even at the end of the hall, you can both heard him murmuring to himself how he can’t believe that his Noona is not as innocent as he thought you were. 

Meanwhile, Taeyong looks so perplexed, he just looked at you with a puzzled expression silently begging for an answer. 

“Jisung is my dongsaeng you know, I can’t believe you just got jealous of my baby brother, and the maknae of your group” you scoffed. Lightly fixing your dress. “And definitely don’t expect that of all people he would be the one to walk in on us” Taeyong on the other hand look so lost, you can see in his feature some trace of regret, humiliation, guilt but you can only smile at his dumbfound state.

“To answer your question earlier, it’s not like you don’t make things obvious, it’s just that you don’t make it vocal so it’s not like I can really say anything other than what you show” you shrugged trying to bring him out from his dazed. 

“Hello? earth to Taeyong?” he remained silent. You decide to say something to finally snapped him out of it. “Since you have already stolen a kiss from me, which is, by the way, my first kiss, and you as well basically already mark me, are finally going to ACTUALLY ask me to be your girlfriend?” still none “or should I finally take that carnival date with Yuta?” that might have done the trick because Taeyong held you by your waist with the blink of an eye. Looking at you hungrily before giving you another kiss, this time it’s sweeter and more sensual than the first time. 

“You are only mine, jagiya” he said, and you wonder how can he look so feral just a moment ago, and now he looked so ethereal and cute with his toothy smile.

Fin.

[secretshinigami]

All Noble Things

Author: @kiranatrix For: @resilicns Pairings/Characters: Near and Gevanni Rating/Warnings: Gen, no warnings Prompt: Near reflecting on his relationship with Wammy’s and L’s reputation Author’s notes: In How to Read, it says that Gevanni’s hobby is building ships in a bottle. So I imagined a scene where Near is observing Gevanni, now in the role of Watari, building a special ship. The time period is flexible but I imagined it after the C-Kira case and before the case with Minoru. This is a loose interpretation of your prompt but I hope you enjoy it!

—

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gevanni.” Near didn’t look up as he carefully laid out another domino on the floor, perfectly spaced from its neighbor and approximately two centimeters from chaos. Pinched fingers pulled back carefully and twisted around a strand of white hair. “Two things, really.”

Gevanni looked up from his workbench as the long but comfortable silence between them was broken. Since Roger had died and he’d taken on the role of Watari, he was usually the question-asker. Would you like lunch now? Have you heard back about this or that piece of evidence? Did you have another nightmare last night? 

He’d gotten used to it, to Near. To being the bedrock that an island could rest upon. “Two questions?”

No, he was more of a species imported to Near’s world and being gradually altered by the isolation, evolving to fill his niche. But he had no complaints–it was a quiet, stable life and Near paid him well. He didn’t mind the solitude. “You’re exceeding your daily allotment. I’ll have to demand a raise if this keeps up.”

“I believe I gave you a raise just three months ago. If these demands keep up, I’ll have to find another Watari.” Near deadpanned it but his eyes flicked up briefly, and Rester knew he was joking. Another domino clinked against the terrazzo floors, this one with hand-carved scrimshaw detailing a breaching whale.

Gevanni snorted and turned back to the ship in a bottle he was working on. “Good luck finding someone else to source those pajamas with the specific blend of Pima cotton you prefer. I’ve kept that a secret. Iron-clad job security.” He grinned as he carefully reached a long wire into the bottle to pat down blue and white putty mimicking ocean waves. “So, what’s question number one?”

“Can you tie back my hair? It keeps getting in the way.” Near flicked a long strand over his shoulder but it fell again, dangling dangerously close to his creation. “Mind the–”

“Dominos? Yeah, I’m practically a ninja at this point.” Gevanni pushed his loupe glasses to the top of his head before carefully making his way over spiraling lines of set-up dominos to Near at the center. He knelt and pulled a hair-tie from his pocket, holding it between his teeth as he gathered up all the silvery strands. “Holf spill,” he murmured around the band. Near was stone-still as he made a quick and slightly messy ponytail, leaving some loose hair around the face for twirling. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Near very briefly made eye contact as Gevanni went back to his workbench before looking back to his pile of dominos. He sorted through them for another scrimshaw piece. Gevanni had made a special set for him on his last birthday but he always saved them for the end. 

“Mmhm.” Gevanni slid back into his chair and picked up the little ship, a model of a 19th-century whaler. “So what was the second question?” 

“I was curious what you were working on.” Near let a domino tumble across his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. “You’ve never spent that much time on just one ship before.” He caught the domino with his thumb and placed it next in line. 

“Oh, so you noticed?” Gevanni held up the little whaler on his palm, clearly proud of the highly detailed craftsmanship. All the masts were down and tied with an array of strings that could be pulled up once it was in the bottle to raise them. “I guess this one’s special since it doesn’t really exist. Thought I’d challenge myself. It’s…well, it’s how I imagine the Pequod to look, the whaling ship in–“

“Moby Dick?” Near stared at the miniature vessel, head slightly cocked as he smoothed a loose strand of hair. “The ship Captain Ahab used to chase his white whale.”

Gevanni smiled. “That’s right. It’s one of my favorite books. Have you read it?” 

“Years ago. I remember not liking it very much. The whale killed him in the end.” Near placed the last couple of dominos and let out a long sigh. The moments before flicking the first piece were the ones he both cherished and dreaded. The satisfaction of creation could be drawn out like a  monotone note, but when it was finished, the spectacular destruction was often over too soon. So, he hesitated and stood up instead, padding to Gevanni’s workbench to watch more creation. 

“I bet you’d like the book more these days. Single-minded obsession to defeat a power past human control? Throwing all caution and sense of self-preservation to the wind? The thrill of the chase?” Gevanni arched a brow. “Can’t tell me that doesn’t sound familiar.”

Near frowned slightly and hunched in on himself. “I suppose you mean L. Or do you characterize me as so foolish?”

“You’re L now.” Gevanni disliked that he had to remind Near of that even now, years after the first L had died. “But yes, it reminds me of what Matsuda told us about your predecessor’s obsession with Kira. I never met the first L, but maybe I can understand him, in a way.” He quoted Melville, "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.’ You’re L but you’re not him, and I’m glad for it.”

Near wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or not. So many times over the years he’d compared himself to that avatar and wondered if he could measure up. Drily, “I guess that makes me Ishmael." 

"You survived, didn’t you? Lived to tell the tale and learn what he couldn’t." 

Gevanni turned back to the little ship, carefully threading another string through the rear-most mast. He worked quietly for a while, cognizant of Near’s focused attention and feeling sorry for bringing up the Kira case. It wasn’t often that Near took such an interest in his own projects, or perhaps the man was merely thinking about what he’d said. “Sit down, if you want to. I’m about to get to the exciting part.”

Near pulled a chair closer and slinked into it, one leg pulled tight to his chest and the other dangling off the end. “Which is the exciting part? Stuffing it into the bottle?”

“That’s part of it. The thrilling part for me is raising the masts and sails inside the bottle.” Gevanni pointed to the flat masts and the multiple lines of string leading from them. “If anything goes wrong or a string gets tangled…or some bit of glue doesn’t hold, well–”

“You’re screwed.” Near smiled faintly and rested his chin on his knee. “Hours of planning for one moment of glory. Or disaster.” It also sounded familiar, so familiar.

“Exactly.” Gevanni chuckled and looked over at Near, pleased to see that small, rare smile. That in itself was the product of so much patience, of hours spent in understanding and the slow building of confidence and trust. “Once I get the ship in, would you like to raise the sails?”

Near’s eyes widened and he rocked slightly in the chair. That was Gevanni’s moment of glory and he deserved it after so much time and hard work. The inlaid wood, the meticulous paint, the delicately carved and articulated ship’s wheel capped in brass. The hand-sewn sails and gold script that read Pequod on the ship’s side. Each detail was evidence that someone else had built this and he would only be stealing the best part, swooping in for the end of the trick.

“You built it so you should do it.” It didn’t help that he was worried about making a mistake and ruining it at the last moment. How would it even fit? Despite the masts lying flat, it seemed impossible that the ship would make it inside the bottle. “I don’t know how.”

Gevanni sensed Near’s hesitation and uncertainty, recognizing the subtle tics of anxiety. “I can show you. You’re great at stuff like this.” He motioned to the vast lines and towers of dominos filling the room. “Plus, I trust you.” 

When Near didn’t answer, he turned back to the ship, placing a small line of glue at the bottom and oh-so-carefully maneuvering it into the narrow mouth of the glass bottle and onto the ‘waves’ of translucent blue putty. It was a very tight fit and when it stuck down in the right position, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Not bad, huh?” The strings dangled from the bottle’s mouth as he held it up to show Near. “Offer still stands.”

Near wanted to do it, to try. Honestly, he wanted to ask Gevanni to show him how to build one of his own, how to trump the rigid enclosure and build something impossible inside. To raise it up not by magic but by human ingenuity and patience. A creation not to destroy but to keep.

“Alright.” His fingers moved from his hair to tentatively touch the white strings hanging from the bottle’s mouth. “All of them?”

“Just these.” Gevanni pointed out several lines connected to the three masts. “Don’t yank, just pull slowly until you feel resistance and I’ll tape them up.”

“If it works.”

Gevanni laughed quietly. “It’ll work. Stop stalling.”

Near mumbled, “I’m not stalling,” but stalled a moment more before gently tugging the strings. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat when all three masts raised in unison, perfectly aligned and straight. He smiled as Gevanni secured the strings, then slid off the chair to gaze at the bottle from the side. This floating world, this impossible thing that’s bottled the sea. “I can see why you like these so much.” 

“It passes the time.” Gevanni felt warm inside since it was rare that they connected like this, despite all the time spent in each other’s company. He glued the strings to the ship with a long wire and then cut them, leaving no trace of how it had really been made. Setting it on the bench to dry, he said, “Would you like to have it? I have about a dozen. I mean, if you want it.”

“As a warning against white whales?” Near smirked and climbed back into the chair. He fingered the hem of his specially-ordered Pima cotton pajamas, the exact blend he preferred. “Or for the memory of Ahab?”

“Neither? Or…maybe both.” Gevanni knew that so much had changed for Near when Kira died. Monster or not, that moment of destruction had ultimately felt unsatisfying. He knew Near struggled with assuming the name and reputation of L, a legacy that had become so confused in the mind of a world that would never know two L’s had died and a third now had to make peace with that. It was easier to bottle ships than emotions.

Mildly, “Or maybe just because it’s something we built together.” It was odd, but somehow it would mean a lot to him for Near to have it. “How about it?” 

Near found a loose string at the hem of his pants and yanked it, snapping the thread. He got up and crouched beside the winding, spiraling rows of dominos and pressed a slender finger against the first one. That catalyst set off the reaction, the staccato clack clack clack! that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. It was over in seconds and silence crept in again. 

“I’d like that.”

-End-

[The title comes from a quote in Moby Dick: "A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that.” It reminded me of  Gevanni’s rather solitary hobby as well as the occupation of solving cases as L.]

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 4

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”, horrible description of death and feelings lmfao I’m sorry

Word count: 3.4k

A/n: sorry about the late update! it’s my 18th birthday and it’s 11 pm and i just got home HAHAHA. 

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You were barreling towards death with your eyes closed as your body hit the elevator’s ground, deafening screams emitting from your mouth as you thought, this is it. This is where I die.

Multiple callings of your names sounded through the empty shaft, and you were sure Spider-Man was one of them.

The elevator was hit by a stray metal pole on the right side, but it wasn’t enough to stop it, only enough to cause a dent on the inside. It was like a rollercoaster - slow as it reached the top, but fast and gaining speed as it dropped.

Only, rollercoasters were fun and safe, and didn’t make you feel like The Grim Reaper was welcoming you with open arms like a friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.

I’m sorry, you found yourself thinking, over and over again. You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, or to whom, but your life flashed before your eyes like they do in the movies, and only then did you realize that you regretted most of it.

You regretted not begging your mom to stay.

You regretted not asking your dad to be home more often - for you to see him at least more than once a year.

You regretted not going after Peter, you regretted not telling him how you felt, you regretted bullying him. Two wrongs never made a right, and you should’ve known that sooner, but you let your anger blind you.

You weren’t a bully. That simply wasn’t you.

But that was how you were going to die.

You were going to die with everyone believing that you showed your true colors this year, and were proud of it.

I’m sorry.

But it all happened so quickly.

“Gotcha!” Someone said as a figure wrapped itself around your body - warm but stiff and solid. The floor beneath you was long gone, and you wondered if you died, still unwilling to open your eyes to check if you did.

It was proven that you didn’t need to, though.

You heard Peter. Peter and his reassurances: “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He was breathing hard against you, the fabric of his mask straining his voice, but it was still as clear as daylight. The loud crash of the elevator below you echoed through the emptiness, which caused your breath to hitch in fear.

"I got you, Y/n. I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.” He whispered in between pants, hugging you close to his body while you clung to him for dear life, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, like they had just found their other half and didn’t want to let go.

You were sure you were squeezing the life out of him, but he didn’t complain. He never did.

You couldn’t tell if it was your heart that was beating like a thumping drum or if it was his.

And you lost it, right then and there.

You let harsh sobs wreck through you like a tidal wave. The kind where you felt like your world was falling apart, your fingers tingling and your shoulders feeling heavy, like boulders were trying to weigh you down as the air around you stilled.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He repeated, tightening his arm around your body as salt water made its way down your cheeks and onto your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, voice thick with remorse and head heavy as you dug it into his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, “don’t be, you’re okay. We’re okay.”

You knew that he was talking about being alive, but you couldn’t help but look for a double meaning - the other one where he was talking about the destroyed relationship between the two of you.

Still, you kept crying, releasing built-up sadness that you never allowed yourself to release. It felt liberating, to be frank, and if you hadn’t been right on the edge of death for the second time, you’d be embarrassed by the amount of tears you shed.

But you let yourself shed them anyway. Deep down, you knew Peter was the one that left you, but what you were doing, bullying him, wasn’t right, either. This time, you chose to be the bigger person.

Once you calmed down, save for your hiccups, Spider-Man spoke, “Hey,” he gently coaxed you out of your hazy mind, almost as if his words could break you. You knew from experience that they could.

You sheepishly lifted your head and bore your red eyes into his, aware of the fact that you looked like a train wreck. You were sure your head looked like a bird’s nest with your face as red as a tomato, and it mustn’t have been a pretty sight that Spider-Man was getting a close up of.

Your faces were merely inches apart, and it was too easy to imagine his uncovered face this close to you. You felt his thumb rubbing comforting circles on your waist where his arm remained.

“I’m gonna need you to trust me, all right?” He softly asked, “I’m gonna need to jump, but I promise I won’t let go. Okay?”

As soon as he said the word ‘jump’ your brain began spiraling again. You looked above you at the height that he would allegedly leap through, tracing the length of the web that he was holding onto, and then looked down to see how far down you’d fall if you had.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening and arms subconsciously tightening around him in fear of slipping down, down, down. It seemed to go on forever, like a bottomless pit, but you knew what awaited you at the end of it.

“Don’t look down, don’t look down.”

You glanced back up at him, petrified.

“Just keep your head on my shoulder and close your eyes.”

And eventually, you did, taking deep breathes and allowing yourself to reminisce a time where you’d do exactly what you were doing. You’d hang onto him like you were now, and he’d allow you to, knowing a hug was always what you needed to calm down.

He was your anchor, keeping your ship from sailing away into dark and stormy oceans.

A gush of wind later and your feet were safely planted on stable ground, and he was long gone before you had the chance to say anything.

No opportune time came. It never felt like the right moment, and you thought that it wouldn’t ever come.

Sally had asked that you stay after school to do your hefty science project, and you agreed since you had nothing better to do. And that’s when you saw him most of the time.

Two weeks after the Washington DC. save, you started paying even more attention to him. You noticed him participating in Spanish class more, you saw him stay after school for detention due to him skipping out on Decathlon, and you noticed he didn’t dash out of school when detention was over.

Sure, you felt like a creep just watching him from afar, but you knew something was up. He seemed less enthusiastic, and you were pretty sure it had to do with the fact that Spider-Man sightings dropped to zero, as New York questioned his whereabouts in newspapers you saw in bodegas.

Your guess was that after the ferry incident, Tony Stark took his suit away. Peter was a genius, through and through, but you knew he didn’t have the items necessary to build his suit, and so you guessed Tony made it for him, and had the ability to take it away whenever he pleased. You weren’t sure what the reason was, but you hoped it was a good one.

Even after seeing him multiple times throughout the day, you’d always rush to the bathroom to rehearse your speech in the mirror and hype yourself up, only to chicken out last minute. You wondered if you should text him or call him, asking to meet up, but you always shook your head and thought, “better not.”

Your brain was constantly seeking out chances and imagining different outcomes, and that resulted in your nerves skyrocketing and mind blanking at inappropriate times.

Like right now.

“Y/n!” Flash’s loud voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Um,” You sheepishly rubbed your arm and bit your lip, avoiding Flash’s questioning eyes.

“Penis Parker is right there! Come on, this is a great opportunity.” He nodded towards Peter who was sitting at the waiting office, tediously toying with the strings of his hoodie. Flash believed you were still in shock, and his way of bringing you back to life was finding opportunities to bully Peter. You used to love it. But now, now you couldn’t bear to do it. Not that he knew that.

Before you could object, Flash strutted his way over to him and leaned on the doorframe, “Yo, Penis Parker.”

Peter closed his eyes and deeply sighed, looking up, “What do you want, Flash?”

“You know, Spider-Man never mentioned anything about knowing you,” He taunted, getting straight to the point, “I mean, he would’ve had he not stood you up at that party. Probably isn’t your first time getting stood up, though, huh?”

He chortled, “I’d bet my life that you probably don’t even have a date to Homecoming. I don’t know who to feel worse for. You, for 100% getting rejected or the girl being asked by you, right, Y/n?”

He twisted his head to see your blank face, your body stiffening as your vision moved to Peter, who was watching you with an almost pained expression, as it brought back memories of the weeks before. The weeks that felt like they happened years ago.

You knew Peter was waiting for another insult to hit him, but you found yourself unable to speak as your eyes were glued to his, feeling your stomach closing in on itself.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You knew it wasn’t right, and you knew that it was time to stop, especially after everything Peter had done for you. After all the times he saved you.

You cleared your throat and focused on anything but Peter, “That’s enough, Flash.”

Flash’s posture slacked and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“That’s enough.”

“But-“

“Eugene.” You cut him off, looking him dead in the eye and delivering a message that meant you were serious. You jutted your head in your direction and walked away, missing the way Flash and Peter stared at your retreating back incredulously.

With Homecoming approaching fast, you agreed to go with Zach, one of Flash’s friends and the boy who wouldn’t stop bugging you about going with him. You knew he just wanted to use you to tell others he ‘scored’ but you couldn’t care less. Truthfully, you were only going to confess to Peter that you knew his secret. Homecoming, you thought, would be a perfect time considering you planned to be each other’s dates to the event when you were younger.

Guess you didn’t know that time not only brings people together, but separates them, too.

You drove yourself to Homecoming and parked your car as close to the school as possible in case things went wrong and you needed the escape. You took a minute to touch up your hair and makeup, which really wasn’t much more than your normal everyday look, and inhaled deeply before getting out and walking into what you were sure was going to be a disaster, purse hanging by your side.

You met up with your group of friends, rolling your eyes as Zach hugged you (too tightly), that were drinking punch in their most stylish dresses and tuxes and dancing to upbeat music. Liz and her team definitely did a good job setting up the decorations and disco ball, successfully transforming the boring gym into a chic dance floor.

Flash had informed you beforehand that he’d be taking ’this chick’ to a lavish restaurant before coming to the dance and asked if you wanted to tag along, but you refused to be a third-wheel, telling him you’ll instead meet him at school instead.

Homecoming meant close to nothing to you if you weren’t with the person you’d been waiting for your whole life, which is why you spent the first fifteen minutes eyeing the crowd for a certain boy. The sooner you told him, the less you’d feel like you were going to throw up the contents of your stomach.

And finally, you saw him entering the building looking pale, like he’d seen a ghost. You worried, your gut telling you something was seriously wrong as you watched him walk to Liz, appearing to be distressed, and perhaps..guilty.

Everything only worsened when Liz’s face dropped and-

He was running. Running away from Liz. Which clearly didn’t make any sense, but goddamnit nothing is making sense these days!

You contemplated going after him, not understanding what the fuck was going on. Why was he running? Does this have something to do with Spider-Man? Should you run after him?

Something was pulling you towards the double doors he sprinted through, like it was calling your name and luring you in. You didn’t know if you should answer its callings or ignore them.

He could be in danger.

But he also could’ve just panicked.

It was obvious Liz was his date, and maybe he ran to the bathroom to freshen up and give himself a pep talk. Usually, you were the one to do that, but you lost your place as his personal hype girl long ago.

But then, why is Liz crying?

No, no, this isn’t something Homecoming related. This is Spider-Man related.

You excused yourself from your group and made it look like you were heading to the bathroom, but once everybody was out of sight, you threw your heels to the side of the hallway and raced around the halls, wondering where he would be.

You were short of breath as you took a minute to stop and place your hands on your knees. You ran through almost every hall you could, and you were running short on routes to take.

While stretching your neck, you saw something on the ground in your peripheral vision. A strewn tie.

You went over and picked it up, confirming that it was indeed the tie Peter was wearing. Up ahead were a whole bunch of stray items of clothing scattered around, and you followed those, picking them up along the way and tossing them in a big pile beside the lockers.

You hoped to God he wasn’t naked like you thought he was.

The clothes stopped when you reached the back of the school, where the buses were usually parked. You quietly opened the door and let your bare feet touch the cold asphalt below them. You heard talking, a man’s voice, and the same purring sound you heard when you found the glowy-machine thing, only louder.

You hastily followed the noises, hiding behind one of the large buses, placing a hand on your mouth to keep your gasp inside at the shock of the scene laid out in front of you. There Peter was, on the ground beside an upside down bus, attempting to escape from the man that was advancing towards him with another strange machine.

“Why did he send you here?” Peter grunted, using his elbows to crawl away. You panicked and looked around for something, anything, you could use to fucking stop the guy from killing Peter. Your eyes lit up when you recognized one of Peter’s web shooters thrown to the side, sauntering over to it and turning it in your hands, trying to get it to work.

“Come on, come on.” You muttered, hitting it multiple times while aiming at the guy to get it to shoot, but you didn’t know how it worked, and nothing that you were doing seemed to be doing anything.

“Guess you’ll never know.” Said the dude, pulling back and getting ready to shoot at Peter.

“No, no, no, come on! Shoot your gross webs!” You desperately mumbled under your breath, hitting it harder and faster. Your palm ended up smacking a button, making a large web come out and cling to the machine. You were frozen in spot as the guy’s eyes met yours, pure anger swirling in them.

“Yes!” Peter said before turning to look at you. His shoulders stiffened, but he shook his head and pulled on the web, taking both the bad guy and the web shooter down with him.

Now that both of the webshooters were in his hold, he used them to web up the villain to the bus.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until a voice came out from behind you, “Holy shit!”

You jumped in surprise, pivoting and raising your fist to punch the stranger behind you. Your jaw fell open the second your hand collided with Ned’s face, guilt rendering you motionless.

“Oh my God! Oh my God, Ned!” You gasped, hesitantly putting a hand on his back, feeling absolutely horrible as he held his eye, moaning in pain, “I’m so sorry! I-I thought you were one of them so I just- are you okay? Holy fuck, I’m so, so sorry!”

“Damn, Y/n.” He weakly laughed, “Who knew you could punch that hard?”

You bit your lip in worry, “I’m so sorry, Ned. I didn’t mean it, I swear.” You said, trying to get a look at how bad it was.

“It’s good, I’m fine. Well, maybe I’m gonna need some ice but I’m cool, it’s all good.” He gave you a thumbs up before hissing and opening his eye.

It looked swollen and was starting to turn into a nasty shade of blue, but he kept reassuring you it was okay, which didn’t make you feel any better.

“I’ll get you ice, I promise.” You said, rubbing his back gently with a pained expression.

The clearing of a throat behind you called to you and Ned’s attention, an awkward silence setting between the three of you until Ned's eyes widened as much as they could.

“Oh! I-it’s Spider-Man!” Ned said, unconvincingly trying to sound surprised, “W-what a coincidence that you’re here, Spidey! I-I’m such a huge fan! And I’m sure Y/n is, too.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep breath, “Why do you do this to me?” You mumbled into the sky.

“What are you doing?” You asked Ned.

“What do you mean? It’s Spider-Man. Isn’t it shocking that he’s here?”

You heard a long, disappointed sigh coming from Peter, who stood far away from both you and Ned. Too far, in your opinion.

“Ned, I know who he is.” You admitted, somehow hearing Peter’s breath getting caught in his throat.

“I..I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Dude! I know it’s Peter, cut the bullshit. You’re horrible at lying.” You turned to look at Peter, giving him a sad smile, “And you’re still not good at hiding things from me.”

Peter’s shoulders visibly sagged, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, something he did when he was uncomfortable. He must’ve seen you dissect his action because he immediately put his arm down.

“Okay,” Ned sighed, “well, what now?”

“Look, I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” You cautiously said, “I’m just..I can help if you want me to. With that.” You pointed towards the webbed dude, offering your services to Peter. You swallowed down the feeling of you doing this to make yourself feel better about the way you treated him. Almost like you were trying to reverse what you’ve done.

Regardless, Peter stared at the villain for a long time, and then abruptly spoke.

“All right, here’s what I want you both to do.” He finally said, hastily moving closer, “The guy with the wings is Liz’s dad-“ Ned gasped, “-I know! I gotta tell Mr. Stark. Ned, I need you to call Happy Hogan, he’s Mr. Stark’s head of security. Y/n, I need you to track my phone for me, okay?”

You nodded, and even though you were confused as shit, you were happy to help in any way possible.

Ned quickly took off, holding his white hat to his head as he ran back into school with an obvious pep in his step. Peter was getting ready to swing away, but you weren’t going to let your chance leave with him. You readied yourself, the speech in your head tumbling around in your mind, ready to exit your mouth.

Ready to get some closure, and to finally be the bigger person.

“Peter?” You said, your voice coming out as a whisper, but the wind seemed to have carried it over to him because he stopped and hesitantly turned around.

You had to remind yourself how to breathe as you looked at him. He was so close, yet so far away, and just like that, your mind went blank, the words erasing themselves and leaving you with a tight throat. You gulped, your legs carrying you over to him before you chickened out even further.

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his rigid body, feeling the tears starting to cascade their way down your cheeks.

What for? You didn’t know, but you just let them fall anyway.

“Thank you.” You wobbly said, slightly afraid that he was going to push you away when he just stood there. It took a moment for him to give in and return the hug, pulling you closer. He nodded into your shoulder, and you knew he understood what you were thanking him for without having to say it.

You both worked like that.

You couldn’t comprehend how much lighter you felt after saying those words, how much had been lifted off your shoulders that you finally, finally did the right thing.

Finally, you did something you wouldn’t ever regret.

You gave him one last squeeze and pushed him back, keeping him at arm's length, fighting the urge of staying in his arms forever, "Be safe.” You sniffed, stepping back to give him space.

“I will.”

And with that, he swung away, leaving a promise behind that he’d be safe, and that he’d make it out okay.

You breathed out and straightened your posture, wiping the tears away with your hand and running into school to pay the nurse’s office a visit.

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Tags: @peachescream06

[kenganparadise]

As much as I love Ohma I also adore and love cosmo so may I humbly request a cosmo x adorable fem reader smut/nsfw where he’s her best friend and he’s trying to teach her the basics of sex and stuff since she’s a virgin and new to sex and she gets frustrated and just asks him to be her first time since she trusts him and I picture him to be a switch but for the sake of this can he be a soft dom with a size kink and likes to praise her for doing so well and In the heat of the moment they confess they love each other and have a blissful filled night ꈍ .̮ ꈍ

UGH ANON. I normally don’t feel much writing for the mushroom boy but this!! THIS! THIS!!!!

🔞WARNING NSFW AHEAD🔞

Cosmo didn’t know how to feel about his situation, he feels awkward with his best friend- and longtime crush asking him all these questions. Though you didn’t know what was coursing though his mind. You looked at the medical diagram again. “So the penis gets hard and gets bigger?” You scratch your chin. “Just how much bigger are we talking about?” You ask him, cocking your head to the side. God you looked so cute asking such a strange question. “I- I don’t know it’s different for every guy!” Cosmo says, he’s frustrated beyond content. He’s been trying to give you the birds and bees talk for over an hour now and you’re still not grasping it. “How does it feel exactly?” You ask another question with those cute owl eyes of yours. “Ah! I can’t exactly answer that, you’re an adult! Go to a novelty store, buy some toy that can answer that question!!” He says scratching at his hair. You sigh deeply, then get lost in thought. Cosmo takes a deep breath. “Cosmo.” Calling his attention towards you, he can see that your cheeks are flushed red. “Can you show me?” You ask innocently. “H-huh?!” He blinks at you. “What... did you just say?” You sigh deeply. “Well I mean. You’ve been my bestie for a long time. I trust you! And what if you were the one who took my virginity!” You say, you’re eyes locked in his. Cosmo’s heart leaps in his chest. He sputters then tries to regain composure. “I- just! Let me gather a couple things! Meet me at my place tonight at 7!” He says as he picks up his bag. “Huh? O-okay!” You wave him goodbye as he leaves your house.

Cosmo goes to his local adult novelty store. He goes trough the isles picking out things he’ll need for your night together. Condoms and plenty lube- but wait? What are your allergies? What if he picks out something you’re allergic to?! He picks up every type of lube and makes sure to buy latex free condoms. He passes the vibrator isle and picks up a nice wand. He prepares for your night together. He’s lucky he just fought a match just last week, because he spent the wad on lube alone. He runs back to his house full speed- not before stopping to buy a nice scented candle. Once home he begins frantically cleaning his whole room. He changes the sheets on his bed, and double checks to make sure nothing is out of place. He lights the candle then jumps in the shower. He uses the most potent manliest smelling soap to scrub himself head to toe. Every inch of his body is scrubbed raw. He studies his pubes in the mirror, he’s never manscaped before. He trims it till it looks nice and well kept. He spends ample time in his closet, studying each pair of his underwear, no stains, no tears, they have to be prefect. Cosmo throws on his nicest, cleanest smelling clothes just as you ring the doorbell.

“Hey, Y/N!” He greets you, trying to sound like he didn’t just run to hell and back. You smile and greet him back, but you could barely hide the nervousness that filled your gut. Your stomach felt heavy almost. “Well... uh are you ready or do you wanna order food? Or watch a movie?” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s do it now.” You say with a determined look on your face. He nods. Excitement and nervousness filled both of your guts as you climb the stairs to Cosmo’s room. He opens the door for you- what a gentleman. Right when you step inside you can’t help but snort out a laugh. “W-what?! What’s so funny?” Cosmo panics. “N-no it’s just- I don’t think your room has ever been this clean before!” You laugh, a smile creeps on Cosmo’s face as well. He chuckles with you. He goes and sits on the bed, he pats a place next to him. You join him as he picks up a bag or two. He dumps them out on the bed. There were maybe 15 different types of lube and condoms before you. “I... didn’t know... your allergies.” He timidly says. You two bust out laughing again. It takes a while before the two of you calm down enough to pick out a bottle. “Here... this one. The packaging looks promising.” You say, picking up a bottle of lube. Cosmo nods. A comfortable silence fills the air. Cosmo breaks the silence “Um right then I guess we should start.” He lifts his shirt over his head, his muscular body is presented before you. Cosmo grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging on it, asking for permission. You nod and lift your hands up, letting him remove your clothing. Finally you’re naked before him, he removes his pants and the boxers he took so long to pick out.

“I think it would be best if you laid on your back.” He orders. You do just that, you feel shy being nude next to him, he fumbles around in one of his bags. “Can you... spread your legs for me?” He asks blushing. You’re shy as you do. Your blushing as he looks over your body. “Beautiful.” He whispers just under his breath. You just barely catch it, but it makes you feel a lot better. Out of the bag he pulls out the little vibrator he bought. “Remember if you wanna stop at any time let me know, and we’ll stop, no questions asked.” He stares directly into your eyes, you nod. His attention is turned back to between your legs. “Alight, can you spread them a little further?” He asks. You do, giving him a good view. He placed the round end on your clit. He switches it on to the lowest setting, you gasp audibly as he does. “You okay?” He asks, you nod quickly. He pushed the vibrator down further onto your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pussy, your pelvis, even your tummy is eloped with waves of pleasure. You gasp again as he turn it up a notch. He grips his cock in his hand, the sight of you in pleasure has gotten him riled up, he pumps himself gently. “Y/N... you look really beautiful like this.” He says with half lidded eyes. “Cosmo!! This feels so good! Mmh!!” You cry. You grip the sheets below you. He jerks himself off quicker now. He turns the vibrator up again, Causing you to whine loudly. Your legs begin shaking. You see Cosmo stroking himself, the lust is clouded in his eyes. He licks his lips. You wrap your fingers around his dick, you mimic him, giving it gentle slow strokes. His breath catches in his throat seeing your pretty hand wrapped around his dick. His hand goes to your pussy, he prods a finger in, making you gasp once again. In and out he pushes his finger, till your nice and slick, he adds another. Two fingers curl inside you, along with the vibrator was a sensory overload. You feel something deep within your pelvis, a pressure is building, you don’t know exactly what is is you’ve never felt anything like this before. You let go of Cosmo’s dick. The muscles in your gut tighten more and more, becoming compacted and knotted up. The pressure built more and more until- you throw your head back and scream as you experience your first earth-shattering orgasm. Your legs are tense as they shake uncontrollably, your pussy convulses, Cosmo does his best to help you ride it out. You back arches off the bed. Slowly you come down from your high, you still try to buck your hips. That felt so fucking good, you’ve never experienced a feeling like that. You catch your breath and try to rack your brain around the euphoric experience you just had. Cosmo tucks the vibrator away. “Cosmo-“ “Take as long as you need you-“ “I want you! I want you now please!” You beg. He nods frantically, scrambling to find a condom and the lube you picked out. He coats himself, then he lines his hips up with yours. Cosmo holds his breath as he pushes himself inside. You wince feeling a new stretch. He chokes feeling how warm and tight your are. You wrap your legs around his hips, Cosmo leans down and hugs you, nesting his face in your neck. Your hands rest on his back. His hips begin moving slowly in slow but deep thrusts. You moan, feeling movement inside you. His hips slowly pick up speed. “Hah- you feel so nice, Y/N.” He grunts. You smile into his neck. In and out he pumps his cock, sweat has built up by now, Cosmo begins groaning and grunting in your ear, you claw at his back. “Ugh-you’re doing so well- Ah- Y/N!” He moans. You stifle back a whimper. “F-faster!” Is all you can say. He obeys you, pulling his cock into your sopping pussy. Your toes curl in the air. He won’t last much longer. He’s dreamt of this moment for so long, you have no idea how many times he’s masturbated to the thought of you. His hand travels down your belly to rub at your clit. You moan loudly as he does, he’s rough when massaging it. You feel that tightening pressure in your pelvis again. “Yes! Yes! Cosmo! Like that don’t stop!” You sob. That wonderful

feeling is coming back. The tightening and pulsating. Cosmo focuses all his energy on making you cum again. “Cosmo! Ugh! I love you!” You cry out as that knot snaps and your brought to a shaking moaning mess. Cosmo presses his lips sloppily to yours, he swallows all of your cries and moans. The tightening and convulsing of your walls around his dick milk out his own orgasm. He groans loudly, dick twitching inside you. Slowly the two of you come down from your releases, Cosmo rolls over. He pulls off the condom, tying it and throwing it away. The two of your are a sweaty heaving mess. Cosmo cocks his head towards you, “Did... you mean it? Or.. did you just say that in the heat of the moment?” He asks, he has to know the answer. “H-huh? Oh... yeah... I meant it.” You know exactly what he’s referring to. “I love you too, Y/N. More than anything.” He’s got stars in his eyes, you laugh. He puts his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. His lips press to your sweaty forehead. The two of you enjoy each others company for a little while longer before a nice hot bath.

[stargaze-issei]

— "𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞" (𝐛. 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; when your father, the head of the japanese mafia, was killed, your childhood friend swore to protect you till his death. now, you're the empress of the underground world, and he doesn't know what's harder, to keep you safe or manage to hide his feelings. what will he do when, for the first time, your life's at risk and he isn't anywhere near?

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; mafia!au, angst.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; swearing, mentions of blood, guns, murder, kidnap, yk... mafia stuff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; lemme know if u want a part two bc i felt like it was getting too long and i don't know if anyone will read it or like it 👉🏻👈🏻

"where the fuck are you?" bakugou's voice stroke over the phone, noticeably angry. he had told you several times to never go anywhere without him, which you mostly did, if it weren't for him being away a lot of times. nothing less was expected from your right hand, who handled every dirty job, and considering your line of work, it wasn't scarce. but you did had other bodyguards, just as trained as katsuki, willing to give their lifes for you, which was extremely better than having bakugou giving his life.

to his eyes, you were still the little girl from before. he saw you as a someone who needed protection. at first, you agreed. your father was murdered, someone managed to get through all his security and killed him, none of the guns he and his security team carried around could protect him, killing you would be like stealing a sweet from a baby. bakugou had always kept you safe, despite his agressive usual safe, he cared about you more than he cared for himself. so you stuck to his side, believing, hoping, he'd die for you. but that was a long time ago, now, you could defend yourself, and had raised a sense of loyalty in your people by your own. your father's empire was based in fear, yours? by admiration. you didn't see your people as working ants, but as important parts of a whole. still, anyone who was a threat to you, bakugou made sure to erase them forever.

"don't talk to me like that, i'm your boss" you could feel him losing his shit, a smile began to form in your face. even when everyone respected you, he was still the same.

"you can't boss anyone if you're fucking dead, you dumb shit" a laugh came out of your throat, he couldn't avoid smiling at the sound "wait, oh, okay, i know we're you are. stay there, i'll be in three" he hung up before you could reply.

you looked back, at one of your guards who was just putting away his phone. of course they told him. why couldn't you go get your own coffee? being in the office all day was tiring, to be five minutes outside was all you asked for. a few seconds after, they handed you your coffee, obviously, a guard had to try it first, in case that barista wanted to suddenly murder you. of course he didn't.

"who let her go outside without me knowing, huh?" a furious katsuki appeared through the door, making a scene in the place. you gave him a warning look. if there was something you hated, was that. everyone in the area knew who you were, but why make it any more obvious. those people were just living their usual lifes, and people tend to get nervous around you. "the car is waiting outside" he understood, but you knew he was going to scold you anyways.

you walked outside, smiling, and got into the car, followed by katsuki and one of his subordinates, the other one got in the front sit, next to the driver.

"save it, i'm n–"

"the fuck you are" he cut you "your safety is my responsibility, if i say you can't go out without me, then you fucking don't. specially not when there are people after your head" there was no denying he was right, but still, it upset you.

"there's always people after my head, bakugou".

two weeks ago, two men went into your office. they were in charge of some dealing territories, though small, important. most contraband had to pass those places, you controlled those police departments making everything easier to your truck drivers. they were beaten, cover in blood and barely standing.

"our men, all of them... they all..." only one of them could talk, the other being too shocked to even look at you. "kazuhito's men, it was them... they said we had to tell you, they're coming after you" you couldn't show any fear in front of your so called soldiers, and your template remained at ease. a shout was enough to get those men the help they needed, after holding their hands, you promised to go see them once they were checked by doctors. you called bakugou as soon as they left, he was the first who should know and help you decide what to do next.

the kazuhito family had always been rivals, enemies of the worst kind. everyone suspect they were behind your father's assassination, but with no proof, even you knew it would be the biggest mistake to charge against them, despite your personal desires.

"i already told the drivers they had to take rout b for a while, but we can't let them just keep what's our" you explained to katsuki once he arrived. "those drugs have to get in town by us, damnit". it was clear how frustrated you were, those assholes had mess with your and your father's hardwork.

"if we retaliate, a war will unchain. your father tried to avoid that for years"

"and see how he ended up" bakugou didn't know if it was the anger, or you talking. "we will lose everyone's respect if we don't do something, they killed dozens of our people, katsuki".

he was trying hard to stay objective in that situation, but it was near impossible. a war would put you in more danger than ever, your life was at stake, and bakugou wasn't sure if he was willing to risk it. growing up by your side, your father taking him in when his parents died, you were his only family. more than that, he loved you. the only reason he was able to do his job right, was the fear of losing you. your head was already valued in millions, how could he protect you in the middle of a conflict, that would end only with your death or the kazuhito's leader's death? your power was bigger than theirs by little, but they did something that reckless, which meant they thought they had out powered you. had they? or were they just bluffing? had they miscalculated?.

"we're taking action, wether you support me or not" you looked into each other's eyes, you knew him enough to understand his fear, just not the reason behind it. your voice softened "but i'd much rather do it with you by my side".

"you're the boss" he spoke, already regretting it "i'll schedule a meeting so the high charges let everyone else know, i'm staying at your place so we can trace a plan".

and there you were now, being reprimanded by bakugou. he was extremely tired, he decided to stay with you until things were calmer, which could be several months from then. getting up at six a.m, going to sleep past midnight, being always looking for possible threats, it had given him bags under his eyes.

"i'm sorry" you said once you were alone with him, it was only then that you could let your guard down "i'm making this harder for you".

"yeah, you are. but it's my job, after all" that came out wrong, he thought. it wasn't his job, it was his fucking life purpose. he wanted you to live a long, happy life, as hard as it seemed.

"i guess it is" deep down, his response disappointed you.

"hey, look at me" out of nowhere, his body was insanely close to yours, you felt his breath in your face as he lifted your chin with his finger "there's nothing i wouldn't do for you, got that, dumbass?"

for a brief moment, the taste of his lips was all you could think about. i bet they're soft. but as fast as it started, it was over, katsuki pulled away harshly, inventing an excuse to leave. he had flown too close to the sun, so close that it burned his skin.

a few more people went to see you that day, asking for diverse permissions, advice and stuff like that. since it had been slow, compared to other times, you decided to home early. a call to your team, and the car was already outside. bakugou left instructions for your departure, because he had things to do somewhere else, much to his displeasure. you were accompanied by your escorts to the doors of the building, that seemed like a normal office compound. there were waiting two other guards, making a total of six people protecting you. way to go, bakugou.

"how's your wife, ryota?" you asked the driver. of course, not everyone fitted in the same car, so you got into the second one, middle seat, between a built up woman and a big man. you tried to remember everyone's name, but it was difficult.

"she's good, ma'am, sends her regards" he smiled at you over the mirror.

"and the baby? he must be a month old, right?" at the memory of his child, his face lightened "you should take some days off, i bet your wife and son miss you"

"i have a duty with you, m–" a loud impact interrupted him, the front glass had exploded. the car had an abrupt movement back and forward, all you could see was blood, everywhere.

the woman next to you took her gun out, in order to protect you , you thought, completely wrong. before everyone could react to her act, she shot the guard in front of you.  you looked at your side, searching for someone alive, the same bullet that had killed ryota was in the guard's at your right forehead. besides you , the only other person was that woman. if she hadn't glasses on, that stare could've seen throughout your soul. then you remembered, katsuki made you bare with a knife under your sleeve. with a weird move, you felt its sharpness against your skin, it was there, but she read you like a book. before you could even pull it out, another shot stroke followed by a intense pain in you thight. the bitch had shot you. you blamed it on the adrenaline, because nothing hurt. what happened after was a couple of blurry images in your memory.

bakugou had called you more than a hundred times, you, the drivers, the guards, everyone in his fucking team, but no one knew anything. the cameras at your house never showed you arriving, your phone's location was off. he was out of his head, if he didn't hear from you in the next five minutes, someone's going to die. he rushed into his car, following your rout at a dangerous speed. 

both cars were full of bullet holes, and every guard he had hired was dead. there wasn't a place without blood. tears of pure rage came to his eyes, fuck, it was his fault. he started to look for you, but the whole world was spinning around him. where were you? where was your body? were you alive?, this couldn't be happening. he had left you unprotected, alone, and now you could be dead, because of his uselessness. his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"sir, we– we have– the kazuhito's are here" he left as fast as he came. they had touch you, they had taken you away from him, and he wasn't going to let them get away with it, even if he had to go against a whole army, whoever was behind it all was going to pay.

a man in a suit was sitting in the chair of your office, smoking a cigarette, as calm as a rock. katsuki was so close to rip his head of right there, that somebody had to hold him down. his own people updated him, saying that he had gone into the building alone, with no weapons of any kind, not even a cellphone.

"where the fuck is she?" he crashed his hand against the desk.

"ah, mr. bakugou, please take a se–"

"tell me where she is right now if you want to keep your head, fucking bastard" his hand had wondered to the tip of the gun in his belt, menacing to blow up at any second.

"you won't do that, mr., if i don't return to my people in one hour, she'll be so fucked up that not even you will recognize her" a laugh surge grom bakugou, a dark, cold laugh.

"i don't have to kill you, then" one of the man's hand rested in the desk, like asking for katsuki to rip it off his body. as you did, he also carried knifes under his shirt. in less than a second, one of them was buried into the man's hand. he screamed, both in shock and pain, giving your bodyguard a hatred look. "what do you want, shitface?"

"i-it's quite simple, actually" his face was white as paper, and even though he wanted to talk normally, his voice shivered "we want you to take over the y/l/n's business, under our command of course" he let out a sigh, trying to keep his composure and ignoring his bleeding hand "if you– if you agree, she will have to leave japan and never..."

bakugou won't agree to that. not now and not ever. to give away what you and your father built from scratch, and spent decades keeping safe, was like killing your child, and your father's memory. to send you away, alone, where he most likely won't see you again in years, was also off the table. it wasn't funny anymore. he started walking around the man's chair, picking up his sleeves. he checked the clock in the office, he had forty-five minutes with the man, meaning, forty-five minutes to make him talk. he ressourced to every fast interrogation method he knew. the people outside the door weren't surprised when they heard the man's screams, even wondering what had taken so long for the boss to start acting. katsuki was never a patient man. his senses were blocked, he couldn't hear anything but screams and begging, all his eyes could see was pain through all the man's body, his hands felt nothing but warm blood. but for the first time in a while, he wasn't enjoying it. he was doing it out of need, the need to save you. every minute that went by, was a minute were your life risked. he never felt so close to losing his sanity.

"outside the city! she's in one of our safe houses outside the city! i don't know which, please stop!" ten minutes before the timeline he finally gave up. your intelligence had all their safe houses, storages, garages, every location needed. not a second passed when one of yours men delivered a map with all the points marked. there were five in total.

"throw him outside in ten minutes" he shouted, walking to the armory "two teams, six people each, my fucking people, hear me? now, dammit! we're leaving in a minute, if i have to go by my fucking self, i'll do it"

when he was armed to the teeth, almost a dozen of people followed him outside. they were his most trusted men and women, being trained together, he knew they were as skilled as him, and they were all willing to put their life's at stake for you, their boss. in the car, bakugou barked the instructions. he had narrowed it down to two possible locations with all the information he had. if they had to kill every person in those places, then be it. he's going to get you back.

[hannie-dul-set]

araw-araw [na jaemin]

(EVERYDAY)

part of “the puhon playlist” collection

SUMMARY | mahiwaga— someone or something that you’ll choose every single day no matter the circumstance. and for you, that was na jaemin. even if time decides to set you apart. PAIRING | na jaemin x female! reader GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, college! au, romance, slow-ish burn, fluff, humor, tiny angst, biology major jaemin and art major mc HEHE WARNINGS | excessive swearing, talks about insecurities and all the jazz WORDS COUNT | preview: 1.1k, actual fic: est. 14-15k RELEASE DATE | early to mid january TAGLIST | @prettyjaems​ @lcvemark​ @shra-vasti​ @danishmiilk​ @probablygonnahurtsomebody​ @jccv​ @rebel-lious-alien​ @dalkomhanchocolateicecream​ @kthpurplesyou​ @fullsuhnshine​ @dejvns​ @nctzun @sweetjaemss​ @sehunniepot​ @wownajaemin​

a/n: you ever just.... love someone so much that it shows through your writing... yeah JHFJSD i feel like i chipped off a part of my soul in the process of this, so i really really hope that you guys will like this :’> 

preview under the cut because it’s very long!

Five-thirty-seven in the morning, grey clouds stretching throughout the sky as you peeked outside the window, falling right above oceans and buildings and people that you couldn’t even see. You sighed as you sank deeper into your chair, closing your eyes and adjusting your earbuds to clear your thoughts that were brought about by your sudden move.

You felt a nudge from beside you, coming from your mother (your dad was long knocked out since earlier), and so you politely pulled the earbuds away. “Excited to come back to Korea?” she asked. You simply responded with a smile and hum.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like the idea of returning— it was the prospect that it did not even feel like you were returning in the first place. Indifference was what you felt. After moving to Los Angeles when you were twelve because of your father’s job, you had to say goodbye to all your friends living in your hometown, all the traditions and customs that you were used to, and all the memories that you have built up in order to get used to a new environment. Seven years later when you thought you were just about to fit in with the west, you father comes out with the news of going back to Seoul again.

So it was difficult to manage a full smile.

You had a thought as you looked down through the window, recognizing a few of the landmarks that stood out—

How strange it was to have somewhere that used to be home feel so foreign.

Just as you were about to put in your earbuds back in, your mother suddenly brightened, looking at you with a large smile on her face, eliciting your curious gaze.

“Oh! Do you still remember your old friend Jaemin?”

A smile tugged at your lips. How could you forget him?

Na Jaemin. Nana. Jaems. Your childhood best friend for six years until you were forcibly shipped all the way to LA. You still remembered how hesitant you were to tell him that you were moving because you didn’t want him to cry— only to have you crying and refusing to let go of him until your parent's pried you off of him at the airport. He assured you while wiping away your tears that you’d still get to see him one day.

Maybe that day would actually be one of these days.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the drawstrings of your jacket. “Why? I haven’t been in contact with him for years now.”

“His mom and I talked the other day and I told her that we’re moving back! And just earlier, she told me that Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport so we won’t have to take a cab. Isn’t that great? You’d get to be reunited with your old friend again.”

“Ah,” you paused for a moment, in thought, just before pressing your lips together into a tight smile. “Yeah, it would be nice to see him again.”

That was what you said, but even until you left the plane, lugging your carriage across the cold floors of the airport with your music at full volume to drown out the noise, you were actually rather conflicted about meeting him again. A lot could happen within seven years, and therefore there was no assurance that things would still be the same. You weren’t sure if he’d still be the sweet boy that was determined to fight the park swings after you fell and cried, if he’d still be the same kid that stopped talking to you for three days because you tricked him into eating a strawberry flavored lollipop. Maybe he’d still be, maybe he wouldn’t, but it was exactly that uncertainty that made you feel uneasy.

Still, there was still a hint of excitement, a string that tugged your heart away from all the uneasiness, just enough to bring a smile to your face at the thought of seeing him again.

“Y/N, let’s go?”

Your father called out to you and you didn’t even realize that you have actually stopped walking amidst your musings.

“Oh, yeah I—” you stumbled in between the ever moving airport crowd, looking down to see your shoelace had become undone, and so you let go of your suitcase. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec!”

You ducked down, right beside the large, grey case to fix it, lips pursed in concentration. People passed by without minding you too much, but at one instance, just as you had finished retying your shoelace, your suitcase moved away from you with a shadow looming from above. Panic struck, and so you jolted up, instincts forcing your hand to move, quickly grabbing the handle. There was another hand resting on it. Your eyes moved up to meet with the culprit's.

Weirdly enough, he was just as shocked as you are.

Even weirder— he looked way, way too attractive to be a thief. Or maybe that was the modus these days? Still, you harshly dragged back the suitcase, ripping it away from his grasp with a glare. “What the fuck—”

At that moment, you recalled your mother’s words. Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport. This guy looked a little too much like your old friend from your old neighborhood.

It felt like you were looking into the exact same large, dark eyes that used to be always accompanied by a pretty smile, now matched by a mouth hanging slightly agape from surprise. He even had the same dark hair that always messily fell over his eyes. There was a moment of pause in between the rush of bodies, the both of you in a frozen trance staring at each other until you had finally realized that motherfucker— this was Na Jaemin.

When did he get so hot?

“I—”

He flashed you a smile. The same damned smile. It brought you to the conclusion that seven years really didn’t do anything except make him far too attractive for his own good. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious about your own appearance as you gawked at him. God really liked to play favorites, huh?

You could see him say something, his lips moving just enough to represent a few words, but it was muffled thanks to the blaring music. Your confusion reflected clearly on your face contorting and Jaemin only shook his head and laughed before reaching his hands to your face, bringing you to a momentary halt of haywire because what the actual fuck was he doing.

“You shouldn’t listen to music too loudly in public,” he said, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and gingerly placing them into your open palms with a smile. Holy fuck, his voice got so deep. “I’ve been calling out to you since earlier, but you couldn’t hear. Let’s go, your parents are waiting.”

Before you could even try to recollect yourself from the sudden crashing of events, Jaemin took your suitcase in your stead, leading you to his car.

© hannie-dul-set, 2020.

[itsstrange]

I’ll Be Here

Adam Ruzek x Reader

A/N: Here’s something short for y’all meanwhile I continue to procrastinate with other stories 💗I haven’t posted in a few days due to certain things happening in my life, so I wanted to drop something here for y’all. ✨

Summary: After a tough case everyone is in much need of a few drinks, Reader taking the case a lot more harder, decides to down her sorrows shot after shot, leaving her unstable to get home. Ruzek, being the ever loving gentleman and partner volunteers to take the Reader home. During the process of doing so, Reader accidentally slips her true feelings towards the man.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Alcohol, highly intoxication, Mentions of Violence, Ruzek being a gentleman, comfort, kissing,

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ENJOY!! ✨

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“‘Nother one,” You mumble, tapping a finger on the rim of the shot glass,

Greg, the bartender, who you learned through a blurry version, gives you an unsure look, but the one you give in return has him pouring your 8th refill of straight vodka. Giving him your best loopy sided smile, you tip your head back as you down the liquor, not even wincing at the bitter taste as it falls down your throat, which should be a sign to stop drinking but after what you saw today you needed it. Needed the blackout. It was the only way for you to fall asleep without the horrifying image playing in your mind all night. So getting drunk till your completely shit faced is a must.

Motioning another refill to the poor man, he forcefully obeys, not wanting to get on your drunk bad side, because from the looks of it he can tel it won’t be fun. Just as you downed the liquor once again a voice settles right next to you.

“Alright you, how bout we call it a day huh?” You snort, turning your eyes to the one man who can tolerate you in any given state,

Literally.

“I told you... I’m gonna get s’drunk,” You slur at him, slightly catching the way his lips curl upwards,

“Looks like you succeed that goal. C’mon, I’ll take you home,” Adam offers a hand for you to take, but you shake your head,

“Nah.. it’s still early, and m’not even there yet,” You grin at him, eyes twinkling in dim light from the liquor,

Adam softly chuckles, “(Y/n) it’s two in the morning,”

Your furrow your brows at him, “Wha-?”

Looking over your shoulder as much as you can without toppling off your stool, you noticed how the place looked completely deserted, only a few people remained. The rest of the gang had left an hour ago while you were busy downing the image away at the bar. It was just you and Adam now. Giving a surprise hum, you turn back to the bar, calling after Greg, which sounded more like ‘Reg’.

“You can leave if.. y’want,” It was more of an offer than a question,

Adam shakes his head, “Not without you,”

“Geez Ruzek.. if you’d wanted m’in your bed, all you hada’ do is ask,” You give him your best smirk,

Adam chuckles and nervously scratches the side of his neck. If only it would be that easy with you, not that he would only want you on his bed, no that would be the bonus, what he truly wanted was to claim you as his own. You two have been friends since the academy days, and when you both got chosen by Alvin it just grew from there. Especially with the death of your recruiter, something had been built in between you two, causing the both of you to show your vulnerability to one another. You guys trusted each other and knew each other better than anyone else, and as the years passed, your relationship grew as well.

Your feelings to one another wasn’t visible after the whole marriage devastation with Burgess, then once again with Hailey. Adam wasn’t sure at first, would do his best to deny such feelings by sleeping around, but once he’d wake up he felt guilty about the whole night. Feeling wrong for sleeping with a women that wasn’t you. He finally admit to the feelings one day during a case, it was a close call, he didn’t say anything, but he certainly realized how much he cared for you. The moment he saw your body falling on the ground, face twisted in pain as you tried your best to gather air, he thought the worse. If it wasn’t for your awkward position and the heavy bullet vest, the entire situation would have been a lot more horrible.

“‘Reg,” You call out again,

Adam watches as the bartender makes his way over, vodka bottle in one hand and a weary look on his face. Just as nears them both and brings the bottle towards the shot glass, Adam throws a couple bills on the counter.

“She’s done for the night pal,” The bartender nods his head, relief showing on his face as he quickly collects the payment,

You turn around with narrowed eyes, “C’mon, everyone else went home, it’s time for us to do the same,”

You stay quiet for a few seconds before dropping your eyes down to the counter, “Not everyone,”

Adam’s smile slowly falters. He knew exactly what you were referring to. The little girl that had been kidnapped along with various other kids, had been rescued, except for Isabel Pace, a 7 year old girl. She was one of the offenders favorite apparently, just as the gang found his hideout where he kept all the kids, he had took off with her. You had followed him in the car, tried to keep up with him, but an oncoming truck had rammed you off the road, making you lose visual on the beaten up car. Although, after a few minutes later a park ranger caught visual on the car, but once you all arrived on the scene it was a horrifying sight. Sat on the drivers seat was your perk, bullet wound to the head, but what made your stomach twist with pain and rage was the little girl in the back seat who shared the same wound to the head.

The image would forever haunt you along with the others. So of course, Adam couldn’t blame you for wanting to drown yourself in liquor, it wasn’t easy.

He watches as you down the rest of the drink before sighing quietly through his nose, “Come on,”

With hesitation you finally climb off your stool, gripping tightly on Adam’s jacket as he helps you with an arm around your waist, steading you on your feet before slowly walking out the bar and towards his car. Luckily, you hitched a ride with Hailey, leaving your car back at the station and not having to worry about it in the morning.

The ride to your apartment was less than 20 minutes, but still managed to doze out with your head leaning heavily against the cool window. Parking in front of your apartment building, Adam softly nudges you awake before climbing off and walking over to your door. Once helping you out and up the flight of stairs, the both of you finally made it to your front door after what seemed like ages. The elevator had broken down, leaving the stairs the only option available, Adam thanked the lord you stayed in the second floor, he didn’t think he’d be able to go through another pair of stairs with your drunken state.

Another minute passed of Adam trying to open your door while you leaned heavily against him. Kicking your door open with his free shoulder, he leads you both inside and shuts it with his foot before walking you over to your couch. Gently settling you down on the cushions, he walks back to front the door, locks it and turns back, heading towards the kitchen. He’s been in your apartment long enough to know his way around the house. His movements in the kitchen can be heard, but honestly it didn’t faze you, in fact you were nearly dozing off—again— on your couch as he made himself at home in the other room.

“Here,” Adam’s voice makes your eyes flutter open, he sat on your right with a large glass of water,

With slow movements you sit right on the couch as you reach out towards the cup and finish it one gulp. At least it’ll somewhat help with the headache in the morning, it won’t subside the brutal hangover, but it’ll at least help some. Handing him the cup, you settle back in the couch, not to sleep, but to drift off. It wasn’t even a minute when tears start to fall down your cheeks, you thought they were silent tears, but the way you sniff had Adam turning towards you. Not wasting a second he wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings you towards him, your head resting heavily against his chest as silent sobs leave you. Seeing you in pain was the last thing Adam wanted, no matter the situation, he hated seeing you in pain, especially when he doesn’t know exactly how to comfort you. Physically he’s good at, but when it comes to words, he’s the worst, till this day it still surprises him when he manages to spill any comforting words to anyone who’s in need of them.

Comforting someone with words wasn’t his best suit, but words weren’t exactly what you needed at the moment, hell, it never is most of the time, so all the detective does is wrap a tight arm around you as he softly rubs soothing circles on your shoulder and leaning the side of his cheek at the top of your head. Getting a small whiff of your coconut shampoo, along with your Calvin Klein perfume he had gotten for your birthday a few months ago, the scent alone made his heart flip.

A few moments had passed when your tears had finally subsided, but still remained on the couch with Adam, head leaning against his chest, heartbeat playing in your ear and feeling yourself calming down. Another minute passes as you two remain on the couch, his fingers gently massaging your scalp as your own fiddle with a button on his shirt. Although, the sound of you yawning finally breaks the silence in the room, and bringing Adam back from his thoughts.

“C’mon, let’s take you to bed,” As much as he wants to hold you in his arms all night, Adam knows you both need sleep to get up for work in a couple of hours,

Which will be a bitch for the both of you. But mainly for you.

You shake your head and only bury yourself closer to his chest, which honestly made Adam want to allow it, want to fall asleep on the couch with you, but he knows it would be uncomfortable and knows it will only worsen your headache in the morning. Slightly chuckling to himself, Adam places a finger underneath your chin and lifts it up until you meet his chocolate orbs.

“You’ll be okay,” He referred it as a reminder more than a question,

Which was true, and you knew it was. Your job was all about dealing with tough cases that will sometimes get personal, that will have a strong effect on you, both positive or negative and then slowly learning how to move forward. Whether the pain is still there, you learn to use it as motivation to be better, stronger, and knowing you have support from your team, Adam, you knew the pain that you were currently dealing with would also be easy to get through. It might take days, weeks, but you knew it was all about time and patience.

With a hint of hesitation you nod your head in agreement, earning a small smile from the man and then getting lost in each other eyes. Your eyes dart from one pair to the other and then down to his lips, you repeated it a few times before finally closing the little gap between you two. You rest your lips against his for a few seconds and slightly pull back, testing the waters before seeing him lean back in. The way your lips felt together was like a feeling no other, like the missing pieces of the puzzle have been placed in their proper spot, they felt just right. Relief and happiness washed over both your chest, after what seemed like a lifetime you two have finally gave in to one another, and it honestly felt fucking great.

Gentle kisses were exchanged for a few minutes before slowly growing into firmer and deeper kisses. Without much warning you straddle his lap, immediately feeling his hands on either side of your waist, holding you upright as you two continue to lavish each other’s mouths, however, the way you begin to move your hips has him coming back to reality. A small gasp escapes from him when you circle your hips once again, giving you the opportunity to dive your tongue, earning yet another small moan from both of you. The moment was quickly escalating when Adam was beginning to feel all his blood going south, not that he didn’t want to continue, matter of fact he’d take you right here and there but he knew it wasn’t the right way nor right time. You are just acting on impulse, heat of the moment, and more importantly you weren’t sober. What if whatever is going on at the moment is all just a drunken night for you, what if you’d regret it when you awoke? Even if the kiss felt just right to Adam, and to you, he still didn’t want to take advantage of you at this state, it would feel real to him.

“(Y/n),”

“Adam,” You whimper against his lips, moving your hips once again, emotions heightening at the feeling of his member growing underneath you,

The hand that was resting against the mans chest had made its way at the back of his head, fingers finding they’re way into his small soft locks. It wasn’t the way you had pulled his hair that made Adam stop your movements, no, it was the way you angled your hips against his. He had to stop otherwise he knows things will soon start to escalate even more. Gripping tightly on to your waist with both hands he hauls your movements, earning another small whimper from you. Breaking the kiss you stare at him with hooded yet confused eyes.

“You don’t-..,”

“No I want to,” Adam stops you, placing a hand on the side of your cheek, “but I want it to be you, the real you,”

You melt against his hand at his words, you never knew he could be such a gentleman, well more than you’ve already seen him act towards females, and that alone made you fall harder for him.

“Okay?” He asks, hand still on your cheek while eyes search for any disapproval in yours,

Placing your own hand over his, you angle your head to place a chaste kiss in his inner palm before nodding in understanding. Feeling less weight off his shoulders, Adam nods as well before helping you off his lap and leading you towards your bedroom. Helping you remove your denim jacket, boots and pants he tucks you under the covers. Just as he pulls away you grip on to his wrist, holding it loosely as you glance up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Adam didn’t need words to understand what you were asking for,

You drop his wrist and watch as he shrugs off his own jacket and boots before climbing on the other side of the bed, where you immediately settled against him. Your head leaning against his chest, just like earlier while your fingers drew imaginary shapes on his black undershirt. The feeling sending relaxation to the man and making his eyes flutter shut, awhile so many questions piled in your head. What does it mean for you two now? Did he feel the same way or was he just being a gentleman and not wanting to take advantage? Was it just the heat of the moment? Not being able to handle so many thoughts you call out his name.

“Shh..go to sleep,” He says through closed eyes, as if knowing exactly what you were planning on asking and continues with, “I’ll be here in the morning,”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, even if the questions still laid heavily in your head, you knew he would be there in your arms when you awoke. You just hoped you would be able to wake up next to him in the upcoming weeks and in the future. As you got comfortable against him and start to drift off, you fell asleep with his last words of the night..

“I’ll always be here,”

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- Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

- Make sure to turn on those Notifications on to get new updates!! 🔔

- Love you all for the support!! 💗✨

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[zmediaoutlet]

fic: there will be better days

I’m so glad about the ending of Supernatural. It found its way, in the end. This fic is me drawing out that sensation as long as I could. I hope y’all like it, but it was written in a small way for a special group in a special discord, because I’m so glad we got to experience this dumb happy thing together. <3

title: there will be better days pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E length: 9500 words tags: Post-Season/Series 15, Spoilers for Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Heaven, First Time, Pining Dean Winchester

summary: Sam and Dean settle into their heaven.

(read on AO3)

They stand on the bridge, in quiet, for…

How long? It doesn't matter. Dean keeps his hand on Sam's back and Sam's shoulder tucks against his side, Sam being kind enough to slump down against the railing so that the position works, at all. The view's beautiful. Some woods, a river. A place Dean doesn't recognize but that hums with steady life. What a miracle, that death can bring them something new.

He's splitting his attention, though. The trees, the flowing water, the late-summer feel where the bright gold of everything burnishes down toward fall, it's a sweet goad toward peace, but. Dean's eyes drag away, every few minutes, and it's just—Sam. His eyes steady on the rush of the receding water, and his hair tucked behind his ear, and his back, steadily rising and falling under Dean's hand. Not pulling away. Not fidgeting, or impatient. Like he'd be content with this, exactly this, as long as eternity stretches out in front of them.

A bird flits by, blue-and-white against the green of the trees. Sam's eyes follow it and he smiles, just barely, a pull of lips that makes Dean's heart thump sorely against the inside of his ribs. His body keeps thrilling, reminding him, over and over: Sam. Sam. He slides his hand up to Sam's shoulder and squeezes, and Sam's eyes slide to his face. "Ready?" he says.

Sam doesn't ask for what. "Yeah," he says, soft and easy, and Dean drops his head, laughs. Something that had been knotted in his chest, for years and years, loose now—everything in him, free.

He steps back, and Sam turns to keep him in sight. Dean spins the keys to the car in his palm, grinning. "You want to drive?" he says, tipping his head at the car.

Sam blinks. Shakes his head, and swallows, and when he speaks his voice is thick. "No," he says, and clears his throat, and shakes his head again. "No, I want you to drive."

*

On the road Dean gives Sam a version of the same explanation that Bobby gave him. "We can go see him," Dean says, glancing across the seat, and Sam smiles and says, "We will," but he says, "Later," and Dean's—yeah, he's good with that. Later. They have forever, to do anything they want.

It's hard to wrap his head around. He doesn't know how long he waited, for Sam. A lifetime. The length of a drive. It felt—feels—like infinity, like every second is stretched and slow and exactly as long as it needs to be. The roads out here are gorgeous, empty, room for the Impala to stretch her legs, and Dean knows in a strange and centered way that if he wanted he could drive forever, and at the same time if he parks it'll have been ten minutes, as far as his mind's concerned, and he won't have missed a thing.

The radio's playing Zeppelin, quietly. Has been since Sam got into the car. Tangerine, right now—does she still remember times like these?—and Dean looks over to find Sam looking right at him. Dean's not sure Sam's turned his head, the whole time. He could make a crack—it rises to his lips, take a picture or what, got something on my face?—but it feels distant. He gets the impulse. Sam smiles, his back against the passenger door, and Dean smiles back sort of helplessly before he turns it back out on the road, and leans back in his seat, and settles into the drive.

*

Anything they want. Anything they could need, or dream of. There doesn't seem to be any real requirement to sleep, or to eat, or to do—anything. Time, slipping strange, and a stasis of a kind if they want it. That isn't what Dean wants, but he's not totally sure, about Sam.

The world changes around curves. Massive trees obscure the turns and it feels like a new road with every switchback. A short way past and there's—a house. Not a house Dean's seen, but he rolls slower, and Sam finally looks out the window at something that's not Dean, so—a house. Okay, Dean thinks. He can deal with a house.

Two stories, and a basement, and an attic full of dust. Dean goes into a sneezing fit when he opens up the hatch and Sam sniggers at him. It's not perfect, by any means. There's a sagging porch, and the sink in the first floor bathroom doesn't work, and there's some seriously fugly wallpaper that's peeling, and a stained carpet in the rear bedroom that, yikes, did something die on it? Would that even be possible? But Sam says, "This'll work," with content in his voice, and Dean looks around and tongues the inside of his cheek and thinks, well, yeah. This'll work fine.

There's food in the fridge, when Dean opens it. "I'll fix something," Sam says, and Dean looks at him in total surprise. A lifted shoulder, like Sam's been able to make anything other than eggs and bacon and bad, bad pasta his whole life. "What? I learned."

He did. They have chicken, roasted broccoli that Dean admit doesn't taste entirely like farts, these crispy potatoes that are—well, goddamn. There's not a dining table and so they sit out on the porch, a six pack of cold beer between them, watching the night settle in. It's cool but not cold. The lamp on the porch flickers, and Dean smiles, because he's damn sure that's not a ghost and instead that he's gonna have to rip out the wiring and start fresh.

Sam leaves his empty plate on the step behind them. He leans his elbows on his knees, and looks out at the darkening sky. The treetops are shadows against deep purple and Dean wants, very badly, to put his hand in Sam's hair, to feel his neck, his back. To settle himself against the fact of Sam's spine, his ribs and lungs, all of him here. Breathing, and here. "You learned to cook, huh," he says, instead of doing anything else, and gets to watch Sam turn his head, just a little. He's still wearing the same clothes he showed up in. Strange things, that tug a little at something Dean feels like he used to know. Sam turns his head but he doesn't look at Dean; Dean just gets his three-quarter profile, and the shape of his mouth turned a little solemn, and his eyes as they flick over the view of the dark, surrounding trees.

"Yeah, I did," Sam says, after too long. "I…"

That's all, for a few minutes. Dean puts his plate down, too (mostly clean, other than some broccoli he's not gonna be forced to eat), and shifts down one more step so they're sat right next to each other, and presses his knee against Sam's. Sam looks at their knees instead of at him.

"I wanna hear everything," Dean says. He reaches and gets Sam's hand, and squeezes it, and Sam's eyes close. Shit he wouldn't have done before, but hell—he's dead, he gets to. "Everything. Okay? Every—dumbass repair you screwed up on the car, and if you took Chinese lessons at a community college, and who won the World Series, okay, because I remember, we had a bet, and I need to know if I owe you or you owe me."

Sam swallows. "Jesus," he says, under his breath, and then laughs, a little. "Jesus, we did have a bet. That was—uh, that year it was the Dodgers." He swallows again, and when he opens his eyes they're wet, and a tear rolls down very slowly, against the crease of his nose, and his mouth hitches up at the side in a piled-up dimpling fold, and his chin creases, and Dean squeezes his hand very tightly. "Dodgers. But I can't remember which way you bet."

God, Sam. Dean knocks their shoulders together and lies: "Damn, I bet they were gonna lose. How's that figure, huh? I go down and my team does all in the same year? Shitty luck." Sam shudders out another laugh, wet, and nods, looking down at their clasped hands. "Guess I owe you, Sammy. Whatever you want, okay? Figure, we got time up here. I can figure it out."

Sam's chin is still shaking. A tear falls onto the back of Dean's hand, shockingly hot. Sam takes a deep breath. "I'll think of something," he says, when he can get his teeth out of his lip. Their knees grind together, close enough that Dean might get a bruise, if there's still such a thing as bruising. Sam sniffs, hard. He always was a sloppy crier. He looks at Dean a little sidelong, and smiles kind of embarrassed. Like Dean isn't an inch from losing it himself. "I kinda—I watched a lot of soccer."

Dean rolls his eyes, theatrical, and releases Sam's hand. "Of course you did," he says, layering on the disgust, and it's enough that Sam snorts and dashes his hand over his face, and when Dean gathers up their plates Sam's enough together that he can repeat his old dumb argument that there's a lot of strategy to find interesting in soccer, and anyway over the years the U.S. got better so it wasn't even really like rooting for foreign teams. Dean brushes it off, like he always did, and the argument's dumb but it feels—right. Something locking in, something solid. He washes the plates by hand in the sink and Sam dries them, and stacks them in the rickety cupboard Dean's definitely going to build a replacement for, and then he braces his hands on the countertop and closes his eyes again and breathes, slow. Calm, now, but still something built up inside that Dean doesn't know.

It doesn't bug him, like it might have, before. Dean chews his lip, and drains the sink, and tosses the dishrag over the faucet to dry, and says, neutral, "Hey." Sam makes a small noise, so he's not in some other universe. "Just—one thing. How long?" Sam turns his head, looks at Dean, and Dean lifts a shoulder. "It's—with how the time works, up here, I got no idea. How long was it, for you?"

He looks the same, is the thing. The same as he did when Dean was standing there, in the dark, with that strange numbness everywhere south of his spine and a stillness creeping up in his heart. The terror of that moment has already faded but the rest of the feeling is right there—looking at Sam and loving every single part of him. Pinning him into memory, exactly as he was, with his goddamn stupid haircut and his wide mouth. A few greys, at his temples. His body, lean-but-muscled, trim from running. His eyes, beautiful, even as panicked as they were, even as he told Dean that it was okay.

It wasn't. Dean knows that, now. Sam's cheek sucks in, on one side. "I was 68," he says. Dean feels the air go out of himself, a little. That's—jesus. Sam doesn't look sad about it. Not exactly. He slides his hands into his jacket pockets, tipping his head. "I was—I was in bed. It wasn't bad."

Dean bites the corner of his mouth. "Guess that makes you the older brother, then, huh?"

Sam smiles, just a little. "No," he says, and doesn't elaborate more than that.

*

There are two bedrooms, upstairs. That first night they sleep in the living room, watching old movies on an old TV, Dean in a recliner that's ridiculously comfortable when he kicks the footrest out and Sam on the couch. He wakes up at dawn to Sam still sleeping, his arms folded around a pillow like he always used to do, still in that old jacket, that hooded sweater bunched up and twisted around his waist. Dean recognizes it, now. He dreamed it. His heart feels like it can hardly take knowing, but there it is, anyway. His face is soft, sleeping, and Dean gets up with his back aching just a little—turns out that there are still aches—and he crouches down, and he settles his hand on Sam's jaw, and runs his thumb over the sharp-angled turn of his cheekbone. Sam opens his eyes, slow but not like he was even really asleep, and he looks at Dean looking at him, and Dean just—it's enough. If it was just this, for eternity and past it, that would be—that'd be good.

There's a library, in the house. A small office kind of room, off the kitchen, but Sam says the books change, when he goes in and out, so it stays fresh. The fridge always seems to have something in it. There's always gas, in the car, although sometimes little things need fixing, and in the garage there are things that Dean can use to fix it, so he gets to spend afternoons contented under the big black bulk, while Sam hands him things from the toolbox, and is distracted half the time from reading so that he hands Dean the 3/8s wrench instead of the 5/8s wrench, but that gives Dean an opportunity rag on him so it works out, either way.

"Mom and Dad are here," Dean says, one day. He's doing the wiring, on the porch. As good a place to start as any. Sam's helping, kind of—actual electric work apparently wasn't one of the things he learned, over the years. "They've got a house, Bobby said."

"That's great," Sam says, and when Dean looks down he looks like he means it, soft smile and all, but Sam doesn't suggest they visit, and Dean thinks—well, later's still always on the table. They haven't gone anywhere, really, except for drives sometimes through the mountain roads, and Sam's gone for his runs in the early dawn before Dean wakes up, and Dean's found on a path through the trees a good creek, where he's fished with Sam mostly ignoring him, reading again in a lawnchair with his bare feet kicked out into the soft grass, but still paying just enough attention to smirk behind his book when Dean doesn't catch anything.

They don't really stay apart for more than the time it takes to leave a room and come back. Even with those runs, Dean only knows they happened because as he's waking up Sam comes back with sweat in his hair, and Dean gets to make fun of him for stinking up the place before Sam rolls his eyes and clatters into the bathroom to turn on the creaking ancient shower, and he leaves the door open when he does so Dean can hear the water running, and the splashing, and how Sam's apparently started to hum. He doesn't sing, but Dean recognizes the tunes anyway. When Sam comes out Dean has breakfast ready—they take turns on dinner, but for some reason Sam doesn't like to make breakfast, anymore—and they eat, and then there's some project to do or a movie to watch or a book to finish, and—Sam's right there, solidly content. Like he's making up for lost time, and taking his sweet time in doing so.

Whisky, one night. In the cupboard. It's good—some Scottish blend Crowley had left in the bunker, once, sharp and sweet and rolling smoke down the throat—and they're out on the porch again, on the new bench this time, watching the sunset come down. Sam's mostly holding his glass, rather than drinking, but he looks okay. Head leaned back against the wall, and his shoulders relaxed, broad and strong. He doesn't seem to mind that Dean watches him as much as he does the sky, but he's looking thoughtful, and finally Dean says, "Tell me." Sam rolls his head against the wall, and meets Dean's eyes. "It's been on your mind, all day. Spit it out, man."

The corner of Sam's mouth lifts. "You would've made a good therapist, you know that?" he says. Dean raises his eyebrows. "I've been… I had a son."

Dean's jaw drops. "That's—" he starts, and his brain doesn't supply anything else. Shock—bewilderment—joy, and it's the joy that wins out, and he punches Sam in the shoulder and says, "Frickin' mazel tov, dude! That's—what was his name?"

"Ow," Sam says, half-laughing, clutching his arm. "What do you think? I named him after you."

"Great choice, pick the handsome brother," Dean says, nearly automatic, and Sam rolls his eyes like he's supposed to, but Dean's still spinning through it, taking it in. Sam—with a little boy—and Dean wants to know everything, everything, but Sam's gone from content to content-but-pensive, and Dean makes fun of him for going emo a lot, but this is… "He a good kid? Doing the name proud?"

"Yeah, he is," Sam says. He huffs, after a second, like he's remembering something—some memory that Dean doesn't share. There's been a lot of that, really, although Dean's not sure Sam notices when it happens. "You'd hate his taste in music, though. And he drives an electric car."

"Heathen," Dean says, and Sam raises his hands in surrender, and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Dean looks at his back, broad in the grey t-shirt. He sips at his scotch. "We could—probably see him. I'd like to meet him. And you must…" Miss him, is what he wants to say, except that his heart seems to catch up to what it means, what Sam's saying. That he had a boy, a kid, and he was old enough to drive and have shitty taste in music, and it was a whole life—that the kid had a mother, and Sam had a world separate to this one, and of course Dean knew that and Dean always wanted that for him, and that was true, that wasn't ever a lie no matter what else Dean felt, deep inside where he never, ever intended for it to matter, but. Dean misses Jack, sometimes, in a soft sore way—misses Ben, even, when that pain's far-distant and not even truly his to feel—but what Sam's going through, that's different, and Dean doesn't know how to touch it.

Sam shakes his head, though. "I do," he says, answering what Dean couldn't say out loud. "But I—no, I don't want to see him. Not yet. He's living, and I think—I hope he's doing the best he can. I was kind of an old dad. Old-fashioned maybe, too, but I taught him right, I think, and he'll be okay. I want to just—let him live. In my head. You know? And later, when he's finally—god, he'd better be really old—then. I'd want to see him then."

Dean gets it, and doesn't. He's not sure he could've waited another minute for Sam, if he'd been forced to. He picks up Sam's glass, abandoned on the bench between them, and holds it forward. Sam takes it, and accepts Dean's clink when it's offered. "To Dean," he says, and Sam huffs and gives him a slanted look back over his shoulder, but he nods, and repeats it, and they finish the bottle between them that night.

*

Funny, that they ended up in the mountains. Kansas was all flat prairie and farmland and endless horizons, and Dad used to joke sometimes when they'd drive across the country's flat middle that you could roll a marble all the way from Abilene to Lincoln and the only way it'd stop is if someone picked it up. Up here it feels—different. With the hills, and the trees. Like they could be hemmed in, if they were feeling bad about it, but instead it just feels like shelter. A place of their own. A place to make their own.

Sam left the bunker, he says, one day. A fishing day, when Dean's got his cooler full of cheap beer and Sam's working on yet another friggin' book, though this time he's at least enjoying the cool air, watching the birds and the river more than he's got his nose in some old dude's ancient wisdom. "Couldn't stay," he says, and Dean—yeah. That makes sense.

Little revelations, now and then. Sam doesn't seem to be in a hurry to tell them, but he doesn't seem to feel bad about them, either. Like they're sorrows mostly dealt with, or details that don't matter in the grand scheme. Dean never had a place, when Sam was gone from him, but even the car—he couldn't drive it, when Sam wasn't there in the passenger seat beside him. He gets how the bunker could've been less a shelter than a prison, when the halls were empty, and the silence got too thick. "I left it to him," Sam says, after a little while. He tucks his bookmark into his spot, tucks the book under his arms. Dean's just holding onto the fishing pole at this point, barely paying attention to the line, but Sam's watching it for the both of them. "I didn't—take him there, ever, but I told him about hunting, about the job, and I left a letter. Explaining it all, with the key and everything. It's there if he wants it."

"Good," Dean says. Sam glances at him. "Someone should use it. He's a legacy, too."

"Yeah, he is," Sam says, and it's quiet for some reason, and then he nods down at the creek. "You're getting a bite, dude—" and oh damn it, see, this is why Sam's a distraction on fishing trips, and Dean fumbles the rod and cusses at his brother and Sam just laughs, and the afternoon's easy, and Dean finally does get a damn fish and brings it home and considers leaving the guts under Sam's pillow, but instead he fries it up with dill and cornmeal and Sam makes nearly orgasmic noises, eating out on the porch because Dean still hasn't built them a table, and Dean says, "Jeez, dude, get a room," and his ears are pink but—he's happy. Sam's happy. That's been the only goal, this whole damn time. A falling-down house in the mountains, with the two of them totally alone, turns out to be as good a place to be happy as any. Go figure, Dean thinks, watching Sam suck his fingers and then turn his eyes hopefully toward the kitchen for more.

*

A drive. There's a road that snakes up high, ending in an empty lookout point, and Sam convinces Dean to come further—a hike, up to the very top of the mountain, where the trees start to thin and there's a view like—

"Holy shit," Dean says, when he heaves himself up over that last friggin' boulder, and Sam says, "Right?"

A vastness. The forest is thick and the sky's this clear, depthless blue, and the valleys and hills spread out in front of them untouched. Like they're really the only people in all of heaven, nothing but them and the trees and the house. Sam stands with his hands on his hips, looking out, looking like a damn model for that weird orange hiking jacket he's wearing, and Dean sits down on a handy flat rock and feels the sun on his back, takes it in. "You know, I thought the memory thing would've been okay, honestly," Dean says. Sam glances back at him. Instantly knows what Dean means, from the way he's furrowing his massive forehead in disbelief. "I mean, maybe it would've gotten boring, I don't know. Stuck on our hamster wheels forever. But there was good stuff, in there, and we—I mean. We would've been together. Right?"

It had been brutally painful, at the time, but in later years Dean had thought about it. Approached it cautious, like something that would break if he touched it. Soulmates, he thinks, now, deliberate inside his own head, and Sam smiles, like somehow he heard it. "Yeah, I guess so," he says. He tips his head. "Could've watched that memory of you turfing it into the pasture on that wraith hunt about a hundred times, I think."

Dean raises his eyebrows, says, "Ha," while Sam grins at him, but then Sam looks back out at the view. "Would've been some choice ones of you, too, you know," he says, but then shakes his head, even if Sam's not looking anymore. "This is—better, though. Glad Jack did it like this."

"And Cas," Sam says, and, yeah. Cas.

Dean takes a deep breath. He hasn't gone there, in his head, really. Castiel, free of the death he'd cursed himself to, free of darkness. Dean drags his hand over his stubble, remembering. The dark, reaching out. He looks out at the clear, bright day. "He was in love with me," he says.

Sam turns his head, but Dean's focused on the trees—past them—through to that day. All the time after, Dean never said anything about it, out loud or even in his head. They hadn't had a body to burn, and Sam hadn't asked questions, careful and kind in that way Sam had learned to be once he was older, and it had been an old bruise, unhealed, that Dean didn't like to press on because what was the point? It doesn't hurt now, but it's…

"He told you?" Sam says, and Dean nods. A pause, again, and Sam comes and sits down on the rock, too. His hands are clasped between his knees and Dean looks at them instead of the trees. Broad and tan, and big, and calm like everything in Sam is calm, now. "And you didn't know?"

Dean looks up, sharply. "Did you?"

Sam's mouth tilts. "I wondered," he says, and Dean huffs, leans back on his hands, looks up at the clear sky. A breeze, just chilly enough that he's glad of his jacket. Sam shifts, beside him. "Did you want to see him?"

It's asked—a little careful. Like Sam doesn't want to influence him either way. Dean imagines it—praying, and saying—what? He doesn't answer, and Sam doesn't press him, and they sit there for a while, in quiet, with the breeze bringing the smell of the trees.

"I didn't marry her," Sam says, after a while. Dean lifts his head—another revelation. Sam's slowly rubbing his thumbs back and forth, a dry chafing, looking out at something Dean can't see. "She was a really good person. Good mother. I wore a ring so people wouldn't ask questions, but I—I think she would've said yes, if I'd asked, but I didn't ask. She moved across town, when Dean was ten. We got along fine—hooked up a few times, even, after we split, but it just…"

"Never came together?" Dean offers, when the pause has gone too long, and Sam lifts a shoulder, his mouth curling wry as he looks at Dean. "I know the feeling."

Maybe it was some cruelty of Chuck's. To make it impossible for anything else to feel true. Dean tips his leg out so it touches Sam's, and Sam huffs, and touches Dean's knee, and the heat of him sinks right through the denim before he pushes to his feet, and offers a hand to help Dean up, too. They walk back down the trail, back to where Dean parked the car, and they drive down the winding roads with sunset spilling through the valleys behind them, and when Dean parks in front of the house the porch light's on like they left it, and Sam's getting out and saying something about maybe burgers, for dinner, and he'll make potato salad if Dean'll take care of the cooking, and Dean has to pause, with his heart suddenly thick and full in his chest, and thinks—well, if it was intended to be a punishment, then shit if Chuck didn't get it wrong.

They have burgers, and potato salad. Sam doesn't put in enough mayo and Dean tells him so. They watch The Right Stuff, and Sam listens mostly patiently to Dean filling in all the extra details about the astronauts before he tells Dean that he's a nerd, and Dean says, "Oh, if anyone's the nerd—" and they bicker, and wash the dishes, and Sam's beautiful, is the thing. Beautiful. Whole and healthy and content, in the lamplight in the house they're building. Beautiful his whole life, from when he was a little kid and Dean was wiping his snot-nose with the edge of his t-shirt to when he was a bitchy asshole of a teenager to when he was a high-handed and distant adult to when he was just—Dean's brother, paying him half-attention in the mornings, getting all his jokes, being bossy and being kind and being himself, and himself is all Dean ever wanted him to be.

Sam picks up one of the endless books that he's left on the kitchen counter. "You going to keep watching old nerd movies?" he says, a dimple tucked into his cheek.

Dean's chest feels somehow tight and full of molten gold, all at once. "Sammy," he says, and Sam hears the change in his voice, and blinks at him. Dean knows what Cas had meant, those years ago. How it could feel so entirely perfect, just to hold it like this, under your heart. To acknowledge it and know it for true. "You're it, for me. You know that, right?"

A slight tightening, around his eyes. He searches Dean's face but Dean—he doesn't know what expression he's wearing. It hardly matters.

"Our whole lives. I never—there wasn't ever really an option, for something else, but I don't think I ever even really wanted something else. Ever since I was little. It was you and me in my head, no matter how I thought about the future. I wanted you to have more but I never pictured anything else for me, not really. Even when I got the chance. Never came together, you know? But I don't think I wanted it to. All I wanted was you." Sam's lips have parted. Confusion there, but concern too, and Dean smiles at him. "I guess this sounds—this isn't like a goodbye or anything, or a… I don't know. I just… wanted you to know. In case you hadn't guessed."

Sam lays his hand on the counter, like he's looking for something steady. "Dean," he says, and then doesn't seem to know how to follow it up.

Dean shakes his head. "Didn't mean to drop a bomb on you," he says, and it's that loose knot again, an untangled free thing. Easy, when this had never, ever been easy. When he'd died for it, and lived through way worse than dying. Here, looking at Sam's expression—shock but also not quite shock—his other hand still clutched around his book—it feels like nothing but right. He smiles, looking at Sam's eyes. "After the life we had, man, this is the cherry on top. I don't need anything more than this."

He goes to bed. Sam's still standing there, in the kitchen, when he does.

*

Time moves more because they expect it to than because of any rules. Sam's been studying it, sort of, out of curiosity more than anything else, and he says he thinks that if they wanted it to be it could be about two pm in a warm July forever. Dean's noticed, even if he doesn't much care. How long have they been here, and still it's those last days of summer creeping into autumn, where it's cool in the shade and the sun's warm, and it doesn't snow, and if it rains it's just for long enough to make the house feel cozy and right, and then when the sun comes out again the world's washed-new, and he doesn't have to dig his car out of the mud.

It's raining the next morning, and Dean lays in bed with the covers pulled up around his shoulders and enjoys it, knowing there's nowhere to go. His room is his room only because it's the bed he picked, with the north-facing window and the view of the car, if he wants to glance down and see it; they leave their doors open, almost all the time, and they hardly have possessions that need keeping anywhere. He lifts up on an elbow after a while, and looks over the foot of the bed down the hall, and on the opposite end by the stairs Sam's door is open and he's a solid lump, in his bed, still snoozing through the rain, and Dean's heart folds up in his chest, looking. It tends to do that.

He goes through some morning things. Making the coffee, and sipping at a cup while he eats a slice of toast. He goes into the library and picks something off the shelf, and carries it back upstairs, and then it's the solitary, strange contentment of a morning crap (the door closes for that at least, and he'd wondered why that was something that stuck around in heaven until he experienced the weird peace of an unhurried morning), and then a coffee refill, and then it's still raining and he thinks—yeah, back to bed, crawling in with his coffee and his book, his back to the headboard, the house warm, the sifting rain outside nothing but soothing.

"Hey," he hears, and looks up.

Sam—oh. In his flannel pants and one of those v-neck sleeping shirts, black this time, his hair rumpled, leaning in his doorway. He closes his book and lets it fall down by his leg. Sam's eyes follow it, with a small frown.

"You really went for the beauty sleep, huh?" Dean says, as though the clock means anything. Even in heaven, he feels weird when Sam catches him reading. In that time in the bunker—after Jack disappeared—he'd started again, like he used to when he was in his twenties. Dumb stuff, nothing like what Sam would pick, but he liked the stories. Sam's never made fun of him for it, but he still—well, still.

Sam's still looking at the book but the silence has stretched, with the patter of the rain filling the space between. "I stayed awake for a long time, last night," he says, finally. "Thinking about stuff. What you said. Other things, too."

He seems okay. Not bitter, or angry, or even particularly stressed about it. Still, "Sorry," Dean says.

Sam shakes his head, and looks up at Dean's face. "Don't be sorry." He pushes a hand through his hair, sort-of smiles. "Figures, you wouldn't say anything until you knew I was a sure thing."

Dean snorts. He moves the book over to his bedside table, leaves it with his empty coffee mug. He pulls his knees up under the blanket, making room, and Sam comes and sits at the foot of the bed, one knee pulled up onto the mattress, looking at Dean steady and—and okay. They're okay.

"I had a dream last night," Sam says, finally. Dean nods—the dreams come pretty steadily, up here. Never nightmares, just invention, and memory recontextualized. "It was about… when Azazel had Dad. You remember that? Forever ago. All I wanted was to kill him. All you wanted was for us to be together. Remember?"

Of course, Dean remembers. The way he'd dragged Sam away from another fire. Sam looking at him with almost-pity, when he'd finally admitted what he wanted.

There's not a trace of pity in him, now. He pulls his knee up against his chest, comfortable. "You know, I thought about it," Sam says. "After you were gone. How everything felt—incomplete. Half-a-loaf. Even…" He shakes his head, and Dean wonders what goes there. He'll find out someday. "We were always breaking the world for each other. Normal siblings don't really do that. I don't know if you realized."

"I bet Mary-Kate and Ashley would give it a shot," Dean says, and Sam smiles at him, but rolls his eyes, too. "Sam—"

"I wondered," Sam interrupts. He lifts his eyebrows, a little, and Dean hears it as the echo it's meant to be. Despite everything he can feel his cheeks going pink. "If it wasn't just that we couldn't find something that was better, but that we never would. If you'd…"

He trails off. Dean picks at the blue yarn-ties on his blanket, watching Sam's face. Turned now, toward the rain outside, lit beautiful with morning. "I wouldn't have said anything," he says. Sure, somehow. "Even if we'd had—hell. Another decade, just you and me. When I said this was enough, I meant it."

"I know you did," Sam says. "And I know you wouldn't have. Because you wouldn't have wanted to ruin anything for me, right? If I had some outside shot—some kind of normal I might've dug up?" Dean nods. Sam nods, too, and then reaches out and flicks his knee through the blanket, hard it enough that it nearly stings. Dean claps his hand over the spot and smacks Sam's hand away, but Sam's already retreating, hands up, smiling. "Truce, truce. Just saying. I wouldn't have tried for anything, if you'd been there. It would've just been me and you and the dog."

The dog. "Did he—" Dean says, distracted, and Sam says, "Old and kinda fat, and happy as he could be."

Sam's just looking at him, along the length of the bed. "Sammy," Dean says, and chews his cheek for a minute. Sam's patient. "I know it wasn't easy, that I was gone. But I'm still glad you got that shot. Glad I didn't ruin it."

"You didn't—" Sam starts, and then closes his mouth. He smiles at Dean with his lips closed, and then breathes out slow through his nose. "I'm glad you're glad," he says, instead, and maybe that's all the compromise they'll ever get, on the subject. Dean's not sure Sam gets it, smart as he is. That Dean would've always wondered. That there would've been some horizon, distant and gold, that Sam might've always looked to, and imagined something different.

The rain's slacking, outside. Sam looks out the window again, at how the sun's drawing out, the light changing. "Do you want to try to figure out the cabinets today?" he says.

God, Dean loves him. "You can work the band saw," Dean promises, and Sam rolls his eyes again, and stands up, and says, "Let me shower first, before all the excitement," and Dean watches him step into the hall and then into the bathroom and hears the shower come on, through the open door, and he thinks it'll be a good day. Inevitable argument over what color to stain the cabinet doors notwithstanding.

*

It sits between them. Dean didn't feel tense about it but saying it aloud nevertheless makes him feel almost weightless. He knows that Sam's thinking about the conversation—going over past conversations, and things they've done, and choices they've made, over and over, because Sam's an egghead who had to puzzle things out forever before he can come to some kind of peace with them—but that's okay. They're still together and nothing's ruined, and the house comes along. They work on the kitchen for a while, Sam pulling down the horrible wallpaper while Dean does the woodwork, and there's a week nearly where they build a fire outside every night and dinner's what they can rig up over the flames—hotdogs, and kebabs, and mac and cheese even that gets a weird smoky flavor to it, and honestly it's about the best version Dean's ever had.

When Sam starts talking he comes at it obliquely. They're watching a movie—Moonraker, just as dumb and wonderful as Dean remembered it—and right over the top of the scene where Jaws is whaling on the guards, Sam says, "I didn't sleep with anyone for almost fifteen years."

"Makes sense, your game is terrible," Dean says, and grins when Sam sighs. "What do you mean? After the breakup with—"

Sam still hasn't said her name. "It just didn't…" Sam shrugs. "It wasn't important somehow."

"Plus you would've thrown your back out," Dean says.

"Yeah," Sam says, dry. "Plus that." A pause, while they both watch the end of the fight. Roger Moore was a way better Bond than people gave him credit for, Dean's always thought. "How long for you?" Dean makes a sound. "Before… You used to brag about it, you know? But you didn't come home bragging for a long time."

"You trying to get me to say just looking at your goofy mug every morning was enough?" Dean tips his head on the couch to find Sam raising his eyebrows, actually surprised. "Hah. Well, it was."

"Seriously?" Sam says.

Dean shrugs, not sure why it's coming as a shock. He doesn't actually remember himself, even though it's closer in memory for him, when he last had that urge—to just go for a hookup, to let off nervous energy. On the screen, Bond's punching someone, and Holly Goodhead's in trouble. "No need to try to fix what ain't broke, as they say," Dean says, and he can tell Sam watches his face for a while before Sam turns his attention back to the movie.

Later: Dean's peeled back the scary carpet and it turns out there's good wood flooring underneath. Go figure. He's trying to decide whether he wants to cut it out in pieces or roll the whole thing up and see if he can get Sam to carry it. Sam brings him a cup of coffee, while he's standing in the doorway to the bedroom and frowning, and then says, "I never thought about being with a guy."

Dean slops the coffee, a little. Good thing he's tearing out the carpet either way. "Uh, okay."

The corner of Sam's mouth tugs up. "It just never occurred to me," he says. "Not really."

Dean takes a sip from his mug. Even in heaven Sam manages to screw it up, somehow—this time, way too strong like he used three times the amount of grounds needed—but it's Sam's coffee, and Dean's so damn gone for him that he's fond of the sludge, too.

Apparently he's been silent too long. Sam tips his head, leaning against the doorframe, opens his mouth and closes it again.

"Do you really want to know?" Dean says, after a minute. He'd answer, he thinks. If Sam asked. What would be the point of keeping it secret, after all, with what they both already know?

"I think you just told me," Sam says, quiet, but shakes his head, and then jerks his chin at the carpet. "If you think I'm carrying that whole thing downstairs you're insane."

"Worth a shot," Dean says, and they put it away, for another day.

Later: they're painting, in the hall between the kitchen and the living room, and it was a long bickering session to come up with the color but Dean thinks that Sam was really arguing just to argue and not because he cared, at all. It smells like paint, which in theory is unpleasant but which really Dean's always kind of enjoyed—because it means there's a project being done, and progress being made, and that always settles something, in his bones—and Sam's got a full on handprint of slate blue on his ass that Dean thinks somehow he still hasn't noticed, and which should cause some entertainment when he does—and Sam says, standing back and squinting at his edging work, "How did you know?" Dean grunts, not following for once. His brush needs to be cleaned. Sam reaches up and fixes a line, carefully swiping blue away from the ceiling, and says, "About us. When did you know?"

Dean pauses, fingers all tangled with the brush in the murky water. Sam's frowning up at the ceiling, patiently doing his part. That's a question he never really asked himself, and he doesn't know the answer. Too easy to say always, even if sometimes that feels like the truth. November 1983 is another answer, but of course that's wrong, too. From the first time Sam smiled at him. From the first time he guided Sam's hands around a gun and helped him pull the trigger, and they nailed that empty Coke can like it was a vamp, at thirty paces. From the day Sam left, at that shitty house in Utah, and Dean stood in the dark street with his heart bleeding out 'til it was empty. From the night Sam died, and Dean knelt in the dirt with him and understood how it felt to die, too, and yet still be forced to stand up and keep living, and to have his whole body reject it, everything in him knowing: no.

Sam crouches down by him, and nudges Dean out of the way, so he can clean his own brush. "I didn't get it, I don't think," Sam says, when Dean hasn't responded. He riffles his fingers through the bristles, blue blooming up so that Dean can't see his skin. "Not for… Man, I don't know. It might've been when I thought we were going to lose you to Amara. Maybe earlier." He draws his brush out of the water and squeezes the wet out, and Dean watches his hands, like he does so much of the time. Capable and square-palmed and long-fingered. Blue paint stuck under his fingernails. He rests his brush on the side of their paint tray and his hands lace loosely between his knees, where he's still right there, inches from Dean. "Wish it hadn't took me so long."

Dean looks at him. Sam's looking back, not really smiling but with his face soft. He stands up, after a few seconds, and from Dean's crouching vantage Sam looks impossibly tall. "C'mon," he says, easy. "Let's finish this up. I want to watch you fail at fishing at some point today."

Later—

*

There's no real time, and therefore it's no particular day. Days have passed and yet the days are still gold, and beautiful. Sam goes for a run, and comes back, and they have breakfast, and they shower, and it rains briefly midday and so Sam reads in the armchair while Dean watches a movie—Godfather II, and he tells Sam he's a barbarian for reading through it, but Sam calmly ignores him like he always does—and then the rain stops, and Dean thinks, maybe a drive, and so they go for a drive, with the late afternoon sun pouring down. They park, in front of the house, and Dean gets out, and he's thinking about dinner—Sam's turn to cook, but Dean wants steak and Sam's never actually gotten the hang of steak—and Sam says, "Hey," and so Dean turns, and there with the driver door still open on the car, Sam steps up close to him, and takes Dean's face in his hands.

Dean's heart thuds slow, in the base of his throat. Sam's been this close before but he hasn't had quite that look in his eye. He stands still, waiting, and Sam's mouth twitches into a quick smile, like he's had some funny thought that he'll share with Dean, later—and Sam leans down, and when their mouths press together it's...

Sam pulls back, after not long enough. "Is that okay?" he says.

Really asking. Dean's holding Sam's forearms, his lips warm. "You're supposed to be the smart one," he says, and his voice comes out raw. "You figure it out."

His eyes are closed. Sam laughs, softly, and Dean takes a breath, and then there's Sam's mouth, again, soft but insistent, just the right amount of pressure. Sam's very good at this. Who knew. Dean's hand slides to Sam's chest and he parts his lips, and Sam takes the invitation as it's given, licking just barely inside. They're both unshaven but the scratch of Sam's chin feels good. Sam's nose brushes his. Dean pulls back, and tilts so their foreheads are touching, and there's an infinite universe of time around them and he could just stay—here. Right here, with Sam's breath mingling with his, and Sam's hand on his face.

Once they've started, though, Sam doesn't seem to feel the need to stop. "Bed?" he says, quiet, and Dean nods, and then—Sam's room, with the sun coming in the window and the thick blue blanket soft under Dean's hand. Sam sits beside him and leans in and they kiss—again—for ages, Dean's arm around Sam's neck and no sound but their lips meeting and parting, and the breeze soughing against the house.

Sam's—happy. That's the only thing Dean can think, over and over, his heart thrilling for it. "Is it weird?" Dean says, at one point, and Sam touches his cheek with two fingers, and drags them soft along Dean's stubble to his jaw, to his chin, and shakes his head and then laughs and says, "Yeah, but who cares about weird," and Dean says, fervently, "Not me," and Sam laughs again and presses him down to the bed and kisses him, again, and again.

Clothes go away, slowly. Boots, and jackets, and Dean pushes Sam a little upright and unbuttons his shirt, careful, while Sam watches his face. "Do you know what you want?" Dean says, not pushing either way. When the shirt's open he spreads his hands on Sam's chest—god, even through the undershirt, it's—but Sam's shaking his head, and Dean tries to focus, even if focus seems a billion miles from here. "And you never…"

But no, because Sam told him. Sam lays his palm on Dean's stomach, warm. "What did you want?" Sam says. Gentle almost. "The first time you—when you thought about it. What did you picture?"

"Who says I pictured anything?" Dean says, and Sam just smiles at him, and, yeah, okay. So Sam knows him better than anyone. So what.

Naked, Sam is… It's not like Dean never saw it before, but he never let himself look, like he's looking now. Never with the sense of right, that he feels now. Sam's looking right back, which somehow comes a surprise. Dean lets Sam tug off his jeans, his boxers, and he's left on his back on the bed, and Sam stands there and his eyes go all over—from Dean's chest to his dick to his feet, for some reason—and Dean feels himself flushing, but it's more because—

"I didn't think it'd be like this," Sam says, and yeah. Yeah, that's it. Sam's flushed, too, a little red come into the hollows of his cheeks. His dick's half-hard, swinging heavy against his thigh, and Dean wants it. Wants Sam. It should be complicated but it isn't. He spreads his legs, and Sam kneels on the bed and then fits himself there, so Dean's thighs can slide against Sam's, and there's the warm glance of his belly, and his chest against Dean's, and how his nose brushes Dean's cheek and how his hair falls forward, and the dense familiar physicality of him. How he's Dean's brother and how he's—everything, everything else that ever mattered.

They rub together, kissing. Sam's fingers find his nipple and play with it, slow and insistent. Sam's hard, thick, pressing into the crease of Dean's thigh, and Dean nudges under Sam's jaw, kisses his throat, drags his thumb down between Sam's pecs. "Do you want to," he says, against Sam's skin, and Sam's hand cups over the back of his head and he doesn't have to say anything for Dean to know.

There's lube, in Sam's bedside table. Dean laughs, while Sam blinks surprise at it. This perfect house. He pulls Sam in close again, and he doesn't think it'll take much—hell, they might not even have to bother—but he wants it, like this is a first time they might have had, some perfect day that never existed on earth. He drizzles the lube over Sam's fingers and Sam knows what to do, reaching below, and Dean spreads his legs wide and sinks into the pillow, into how it feels. "Do you like it?" Sam says, curious and a little pleased, and Dean hooks his arm around Sam's neck and drags him down for a kiss so Sam won't ask such dumb friggin questions. The slow drag and stretch of Sam's knuckles inside—and he's not going far enough or deep enough, because he's done this to women maybe but never to a guy, but it feels good, anyway.

They don't move from that position. Dean reaches down and tugs at Sam's wrist, and gets a slick dragging hand on his hip, instead. Sam kisses his cheekbone, shifts his weight, and the press inside—ah—thick, and just that first bright sting that makes it count for something, but it doesn't hurt beyond that, and it's just the slow parting drag of Sam, inside him, until he's as far as he can go and stops with his hips pressed right up close. Dean holds him there, feeling. Sam's breath against his cheek, and his weight held tense on one elbow, and their chests rising and falling together. Dean's dick presses against Sam's belly but it doesn't feel important, right now—it's more that they're—finally, they're—

"Please say I can move," Sam says, breathless, and Dean gasps in and then laughs, dizzy, says, "Jesus, you've been waiting on me? Get the lead out, come on—go—"

It lasts—

For the time it takes Dean to curl his hips up and feel how Sam jolts, hard inside. For the time it takes Sam to lift up higher, getting enough space between them that he can see Dean's face, and for him to fit his hand around Dean's jaw and press his thumb against Dean's lower lip and look him in the eyes, startled, like even after everything he's learned something new. For the time it takes Dean to wrap his thighs around Sam's waist and arch, and for Sam to bury his head down into the curve of Dean's throat, and for Dean to hold Sam's shoulders, and for it to be…

Perfect, Dean thinks, after.

They're on their sides. Dean's leg is still caught around Sam's hip. Their heads are on the same pillow and Dean's got his hand on Sam's chest, and Sam keeps tracing some nonsense shape into the skin over Dean's ribs, and the sun's still out, and the breeze is still gentle, and it feels in a way like no time has passed, at all. Like this is still their first day in heaven. That first moment, when Sam appeared on the bridge, and Dean's heart thumped into place, like it was beating again, at last.

Sam's hand settles flat on Dean's side. Dean looks up from Sam's chest, and Sam's waiting there, to meet his eyes. A smile, small. "Good job, tiger," Dean says, and Sam's smile goes deeper, and Dean rolls his eyes, and tugs Sam's chest hair in retaliation. Sam mimes pain but all he does is pull Dean an inch closer, and sigh.

"Do you think we could've made it work?" he says, eventually. Dean hmms, asking. "Before, I mean. When we were alive. It feels like…" He shakes his head, a small movement against the pillow. "I don't know. Like we wasted time."

"Maybe," Dean says. He shifts, stretching out his legs, and lifts up on one elbow. Sam tips his head back to keep looking at Dean's face. Dean looks back, unhurried. The straight line of his eyebrows, and his tip-tilted eyes. His mouth, relaxed in contentment, and the slope of his nose, and that mole that Dean feels the weirdest fondness for. He touches it, and Sam blinks, and Dean smiles at him. "It worked out, though. Don't you think?"

Sam's mouth tips, a dimple peeking up in his cheek. He looks as glad as Dean's ever seen him. "Yeah," he says, finding Dean's hand. Their fingers tangle together, caught warm against Sam's chest. "Yeah, it worked out okay."

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 6

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) — suggestive content awaits in this part.

Word count: 2344

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what now?” you asked when you answered the front door the following morning, your gaze travelling to the two horses tied up near the house. You laughed nervously and shook your head. “No, no. Just because we had a friendly excursion together yesterday doesn’t mean I’m quite ready for this.”

“It’s not that scary, I promise.”

“Tell that to someone who wanted to ride a pony as a kid. I didn’t. I was an inside only and play with dolls, type of girl.”

“You don’t need to have a love affair with ponies as a child to learn how to ride now. Stop giving me excuses and get out here, would you?!”

Heaving in a deep breath, you eyed the creatures warily before reaching for the keys to the front door. Jaehyun waved you off. “You don’t need to lock up.”

“Someone could easily walk onto this property.”

“Walk?” Jaehyun mused, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine. Drive up the road and find it. Call it a habit, if you will,” you told him as you slotted the key into the door and locked it. You smiled over at him. “I’ll feel more at ease knowing it’s locked up. And I have a pocket for them, so don’t worry.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Miss City.”

“Back to that?”

“Well, you’re about to learn how to ride from a cowboy. It seems fitting,” Jaehyun replied, and you grinned. “Come on. Old Roger here is half-blind and safe as houses.”

“I don’t think blind and safe work together like that,” you murmured, following him over to the brown horse. You gave him another look. “And who names a horse Roger?!”

“You’re so talkative when you’re nervous.”

“Just hurry up before I back out entirely,” you confessed, and Jaehyun let the stirrups down from laying over the seat of the western saddle.

He then pointed to something sticking off the front of it. “That’s what we call the horn. Take a hold of that and stick your foot in the stirrup there.”

You reached up for the horn and then attempted to get your foot into the stirrup. Not quite making it, you turned to look at Jaehyun. “Oh dear, I’m not able to do this. Well, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Not so fast,” he said as his arms slipped around your waist and pulled you back to his side. You glanced up at him, and Jaehyun blinked a couple of times before grinning lopsidedly. “So eager to get away from me, huh?”

“So eager to hold me,” you pointed out, and his hands dropped to his sides momentarily before guiding your hand up to the horn again.

“This time, hold the horn, and I’ll give you a leg up,” he offered, moving effectively to cup your foot and pushed up. Without realising it, you threw your leg over the opposite side of the saddle and sat down. Jaehyun laughed at your stupor. “Look at you. We’ll make a rider out of you in no time.”

You smiled proudly down at him, and Jaehyun patted Roger before handing you the reins. He sorted your fingers around them before stepping away. “Wait!”

“What?”

“You can’t just put me up on a horse and then walk away from me. Shouldn’t you lead me around first or something? Take care of me!”

Jaehyun chuckled. “Thought you weren’t a pony ride type of girl?”

“Not funny! He might walk off with me! What do I do then?!”

Jaehyun evaluated the snoozing animal you sat aboard and then swiftly mounted his own stead. He looked over at you. “Oh no, what are you going to do now, Y/N? He’s going to start walking as soon as Blaze here does.”

“That’s not funny!” you exclaimed, gripping the horn of the saddle when Jaehyun clucked at his horse, and it walked off. Roger stepped off in time as the other horse, and your eyes bulged out of your head.

Jaehyun glanced back at you. “Relax. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Trust in me.”

Jaehyun’s words resonated with you, and you took in a deep breath and tried to relax. Roger fell in step with Blaze, and you glanced over at Jaehyun nervously.

“Do I just hold the horn?”

“If you want to. Roger won’t do anything Blaze doesn’t. But try to relax your grip at least. Those reins lead to a bit in his mouth. You don’t want to tug too hard on that.”

You unclenched your hands immediately, barely holding onto the reins. You decided to keep one hand on the horn though, just in case. Jaehyun nodded. “There you go, now you’re riding.”

“I’m riding,” you repeated, looking forward along the track you were on. For fifteen minutes or so, you just enjoyed the feeling. It was freeing, even if you had been frightened at first, to be up on a horse with all this land around you. The morning sun wasn’t too hot, yet it felt nice upon your back. You could see yourself growing accustomed to this view. From the back of a horse, everything seemed more magical with the way the light hit it.

And then Jaehyun had to go and ruin your peace. “We’ll try a jog now.”

“A what? No, thank you, walking is fine.”

“I want to show you a place, but it’ll take us all day if we amble up there,” Jaehyun persisted. “Just hold onto the horn, okay?”

“Jaehyun, I-!”

He asked Blaze up a gait, and like clockwork, Roger followed along. You squealed with the change, trying to balance yourself with the fast and bumpier speed. Glaring at Jaehyun, you gripped the horn tightly, focusing on keeping in the seat of the saddle. The longer you jogged, the easier it became, but you were still grateful when both horses slowed back to a walk.

“You’re a jerk!” you exclaimed as Jaehyun laughed at you.

“That I am, but you survived, didn’t you?”

“Wherever we’re going better be worth it!” you told him adamantly and recklessly leaned over and shunted him.

Whilst Jaehyun was okay, you forgot for a second that you were on top of a horse. Unlike him, you hadn’t ever ridden before, and your balance wasn’t as secure. You gripped onto his t-shirt in hopes to find leverage.

Jaehyun leaned in towards you. “Trying to touch me, are we?”

“Don’t! I was just--” Jaehyun helped you back upright, and you shakily drew in another breath.

He grinned. “Hold onto that horn unless you plan on riding double with me, won’t you?”

“So this is it?” you asked when the horses came to a halt, and Jaehyun nodded. “It’s another field, Jaehyun.”

“We can’t use this field for grazing our herd on. It’s too far away from the house to travel to daily and becomes a waste of time when we already have enough to do. It’s hard as rocks during summer and bogs with mud in winter.”

“Sounds cursed.”

Jaehyun glanced at you. “It’s also the closest field we have to the mountain ranges.”

“Huh, so it is.” You surveyed the area, deciphering where you were on the internal map inside your mind. You gasped. “This was the spot I was trying to find access to!”

“Only way in currently is upon horseback,” he mentioned cautiously, readjusting his hat on his head. “My Dad would kill me if he found us out here right now.”

“You’re helping me. Why?”

“You seem genuine,” he answered honestly, gauging your reaction intently. “You’re not here to make big bucks for the company and rob the small people in the process. After yesterday, and with how many came up to us at the market to say hi, I can tell you care about Blayne already.”

“Well, its early days but I do want what’s best for everyone.”

“If we sold this land and then our neighbours gave over the adjacent property, we could build a road and put in more housing, in the very least.”

“You don’t want the resort, do you?”

“Would you? Who needs one when we have enough activities to fill the day?”

You smiled. “My first goal would be housing too. Blayne needs more workers. Workers tend to bring their family along with them. We’d need to change the town model a little to accommodate all of this.”

“The farmers here won’t accept strangers to work their lands. When Avery left, it was really hard for me to manage the herd we have. Caleb is helpful, but he’s slow from a limp to his leg. Dad wants to increase production over the next two years. It’s a joke if he thinks the four of us can manage both our property and my Uncle’s.”

“They’ll need to swallow their pride and let workers in then. I can help with that. I’m sure if we band together, we can help those living here first.”

“Things like these take more than months to execute, Y/N,” Jaehyun mentioned, turning Blaze back towards where you had travelled from. “You talk as if you will be here to change it all. It was just an idea to show you the land.”

“I’m deeply appreciative. Believe me. And whilst things might take time out here, I’m from the city. Rome might not have been built in a day, but we have construction workers by the hundreds. Progress can happen quickly.”

Jaehyun nodded softly right when the morning sun disappeared. He stared up at the skies just as you did, squinting when a raindrop fell upon your cheek. He laughed. “Looks like the weather is showing us how quickly it can change too. Ready to jog again?”

“As long as you don’t bring up this loping you talked of earlier, I’m ready!”

It took thirty minutes of trotting, and by the time you arrived back at your home, you were both soaked through. Jaehyun dismounted first before coming over to your side and gesturing to get down. You landed at his side and laughed, both of you bringing the horses into the barn and out of the weather. Jaehyun took off their gear and popped them in the two end stalls, gesturing for you to go over to the house.

“You’re going to catch a chill if you don’t get out of those clothes,” he mentioned, and you placed your hands on your hips.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes now.”

“Easy on there, Y/N. I’m being a gentleman right now,” he commented with a bite to his lips thereafter, and you shook your head with continued laughter, stepping up onto the veranda and reaching into your pocket for the keys.

Smile fading, you dug your hand in deeper. Your search came up empty. “Jaehyun.”

“Mm?”

“I’ve lost the keys,” you announced, and Jaehyun eyes widened.

“You did?”

“Yeah, they must have fallen out as we rode,” you surmised, slapping your forehead in despair. “Oh! Maybe they fell out when I dismounted before.”

You went to dash back out into the rain that was now coming down sideways, but Jaehyun stopped you, grabbing your arm and shaking his head. “Don’t go back out there.”

“We’ll both get sick if we stay out here like this, though!”

“I know a way in.”

Taking your hand properly, Jaehyun led you around the veranda to a window on the side. He let go of you then, his palms pressing against the wooden window frame. It dislodged from its shut position, and Jaehyun pushed it up into the top window, offering enough space for you both to clamber through it. He awkwardly managed to do so first, holding it open for you to follow suit.

You stumbled when you landed, and he caught you, his hands taking purchase on your hips. You grinned up at him. “How did you know to do that?”

“I was once a teenager,” he pointed out, and you laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you were a goodie two shoes.”

“What did you have here to sneak out to?”

His smile faded as he took in your close proximity. “Not you.”

The temperature in the room grew hotter the longer you stared back at one another. You were acutely aware of where your hands rested on his chest, and where his were on your hips. Slowly, you slipped them up and hooked them around his neck, eliciting flames of hunger to rise within his eyes.

“I’m here now, though.”

“You’ve only been here for a few weeks. Are you going to be here today and gone tomorrow?”

You shook your head. “I have no plans on leaving anytime soon.”

That was enough for Jaehyun to capture your lips in a fevered kiss, his body pressing into yours. You gripped onto his shoulders, and he hoisted you up, your legs curling around his waist as you continued to release all the tension that had built between you. You gasped for air, and his tongue dove in to meet yours, both blindly moving around the study towards the door.

Pulling away breathlessly, Jaehyun stared at you again. “I didn’t think we’d be doing this so soon.”

“Feels like we’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for longer than three weeks.”

“We should stop. If we keep going on like this, something’s bound to happen.”

“Like a shower and then you taking me to bed?” you offered demurely, the man holding you breathing out a curse. You smirked. “You could stop if you want to slow things down, Cowboy.”

“I hold the fastest score at barrel racing in these regions I’ll have you know.”

You giggled with delight as Jaehyun started to ascend upstairs. “I hope that’s not the same speed that you go at during other things, Jaehyun.”

Kissing you passionately again, Jaehyun didn’t answer with words when he placed you down on your feet once you reached your first destination, simply tugging his t-shirt over his head before kicking the bathroom door shut behind you both.

_________________

Part 7

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[lardguz]

Panic in the Pantry

So I've been really into Ze//ro Esca//pe lately, and I noticed there was like, no weight gain writing for the series, probably because the games themselves are pretty serious most of the time. But I'm gay and a loser so I wrote a thing of Si//gma trying to solve the Pantry escape room by eating everything in sight!

A tall, muscular young man stood in a hallway in front of a door flanked by two other people: another tall young guy who was much thinner and lankier than the first one and was wearing a ridiculous circus ringleader getup, and a short, skinny girl with white hair. The three of them stared at the door in front of them, which had the word “Pantry” being projected from the front of it somehow. The three of them were just one third of the people in this facility as far as they knew, and they were being forced to play something called “The Nonary Game Ambidex Edition” by someone called Zero. The tall muscular man named Sigma and the other half of his bracelet pair, the small girl named Phi, had teamed up with the blonde man in the top hat named Dio, and opened one of the chromatic doors to proceed to the next round of the game. This had led them to the hallway they were currently in, facing the door to what was apparently going to be a pantry.

Sigma turned to his two teammates and motioned towards the door. “So, this place has a pantry. You think that means there were people living here before this game started?”

Phi rolled her eyes and responded in complete deadpan. “No, I think they were just expecting us to be here for a while, Sigma. Of course people were living here. Who else would have built this place?”

“I dunno, they have an AI rabbit in the main computer, who’s to say if this place isn’t run by robots or something?” Sigma retorted. He crossed his muscular arms and glared down at the white-haired girl, who was staring right back at him, unflinching. Dio placed a hand on each of their shoulders and spoke in his usual slow, condescending voice. “All right, all right, settle down you two. We don’t have time for lover’s quarrels right now, remember? We gotta find the key cards for the Ambidex Gate. So let’s get a move on, okay?” Sigma and Phi grumbled in reluctant agreement, and Sigma moved to open the door.

What greeted the trio was a room filled with walls and walls of drawers, each one meticulously labeled with which foods it contained within. The three of them immediately set about examining each drawer. “This is… a lot of food,” Phi whispered as she checked another drawer. “Why did they stockpile so much of it, do you think?”

“Probably so they could keep building this fucked-up murder game without having to make constant trips to the grocery store or something.” Dio responded, pulling out a container of spaghetti from the drawer he was checking. He looked at it with a hint of disgust on his face. “Urgh, it’s all prepackaged food though. The kinda shit that’s loaded with preservatives and stuff to make it last forever. This shit is so unhealthy. Whoever built this place must be a total fatass after living off this for God knows how long.”

Sigma paused as he opened a drawer of udon stir fry bowls. “Wait. Maybe this food isn’t for Zero.”

Phi looked up at him, raising one eyebrow inquisitively. “What do you mean, Sigma?”

He grabbed one of the bowls of udon and ripped open the packaging. Sigma grabbed a noodle with his bare hand and dropped it into his waiting mouth, and spoke as he chewed. “Well, if th’scape room’sh a pantry, maybe th’ puzzle’sh gotta involve thish food!” He swallowed and continued explaining himself. “I mean, why else would one of the escape rooms be a pantry? We probably have to eat a certain amount of the food here to unlock the door or something!” The dark haired man reached his hand into the udon bowl again and grabbed more noodles to eat as Dio and Phi stared at him incredulously.

Phi sighed heavily and went back to searching the room herself, but Dio was laughing too hard to continue doing much of anything. “Hahahaha, holy shit, Sigma, you’re a damn genius! You got this whole game all figured out, huh?” The blonde man’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Sigma didn’t care. He was convinced he was right, and so he kept eating his udon stoically. When he finished the first bowl, he reached into the drawer and grabbed another, and another, until he’d cleared it out entirely. When Sigma straightened up to open the next drawer, he felt his middle wobble slightly, and he looked down. His stomach stuck out just a little bit, a nice coating of soft fat just beginning to form over his formerly toned abs. Shaking his head, Sigma opened the drawer anyways, reasoning with himself that if this was the solution to the puzzle, he could sacrifice his muscles for now. Plus there was probably a weight loss antidote as a reward in the safe! He grabbed the packages of curry from the drawer he opened and kept eating, trying his best to ignore his gradually growing waistline.

After an hour in the pantry, Phi and Dio had turned up no hints to solving the puzzle themselves. Sigma also hadn’t encountered any hints, but what he had done was clear out six whole drawers of provisions, and it showed. His outfit, once baggy and poorly fitting, now clung to his new chubby body, accentuating every roll and fold. His blue button-up shirt rode up on his torso, no longer able to be tucked into his matching pants whatsoever. The buttons were beginning to strain against his growing gut, and the short sleeves dug into his fat upper arms. The waistband of his pants was clearly straining as well, his belly and hips oozing over the top of it to form a plush muffin top. His thickening thighs and calves caused the fabric of his pants to look like an overstuffed piping bag, and his ass, which had already been pretty round and desirable before, was starting to feel like it would burst out of his painfully tight pants at any moment.

Sigma had to sit down for a moment to rest, all this ravenous eating tiring out the young man immensely. He sat with his belly in his lap, rubbing it slowly to try and ease off some of the discomfort from his ever-tightening clothes, when suddenly he felt a hard slap on his fat ass from behind. He yelped in surprise and whipped around to see Dio grinning mischievously.

“Now, now, Sigma, c’mon! We don’t have time for you to be resting on your fat ass!” The blonde man chuckled as he tipped the rim of his top hat towards the pantry drawers. “After all, you said so yourself! The solution is probably related to aaaaaall that food! So you gotta get back to eating as fast as possible, so all of us can get the hell outta here!”

“But, my clothes—” Sigma tried to whine, but he was cut off, this time by a disgruntled Phi. “Ah ah ah, no. Shut up, Sigma. You committed to this stupid plan, and we’re gonna make sure you see it through to the end whether you like it or not.” The girl prodded him in the side with a slim finger, which sunk a couple inches into his flab. “Understand?”

Sigma sighed heavily and hoisted himself back up, almost falling over from his sudden shifting weight. After catching himself with one of the drawers, he opened it and began clearing it of its contents. After another few drawers of food were emptied into his stomach, Sigma heard a snapping noise and felt cool air on his gut suddenly. The release of the building pressure of his lower gut straining against the bottommost button of his shirt was enough for him to realize said button had finally come flying off, which meant the rest were probably soon to follow. The sweet release of his painfully tight cloth prison within sight now, Sigma sped up his consumption considerably, shoveling down packaged pizzas and burgers with ease. Two more buttons went soaring off as he feasted, and his massive gut surged forth like a tidal wave of lard. It flopped over the waistband of his pants and reached almost down to his thighs, his crotch still visible for now. The remaining three buttons at the top of his shirt held strong, but his shirt was being stretched across his chest much further than it was meant to, looking more like an oversized bikini top than a button-up. His chest had fattened up considerably, transforming his huge pecs into even more huge breasts, larger than even Alice’s. With the shirt holding them in place for now, like a bra, they didn’t sag to the sides of his growing gut yet. The seams of the short sleeves were starting to creak and groan from how tight there were against his flabby bingo wings, little diamonds of his arm fat starting to ooze through in small rips. His thighs were starting to do the same to his overburdened pants, seams popping every time he moved his legs even slightly. When he bent down to open a drawer that was closer to the floor, a loud ripping sound came from behind Sigma, and Dio started cackling mockingly. Sigma realized with a cold start that the seat of his pants must have been ripped by his growing ass. His chubby cheeks flushing pink, Sigma’s round face, now accompanied by a full double chin, was hot with embarrassment. He looked down at the drawer he had just opened, filled with packaged cupcakes, and wondered if this was even worth the embarrassment at this point.

Before he could make a decision, though, Phi appeared in front of him and leaned down to grab a package of the cupcakes. She tore it open and popped one into Sigma’s unsuspecting mouth, stifling an exclamation of surprise. She held the package out to him as he chewed on the pastry. “You’re not giving up on your plan already, are you, Sigma. What if this really is the solution? You’re so far into solving it already, may as well see it through to the end, right?” She gave Sigma a reassuring smile, and he immediately felt at ease again despite Dio’s laughing still ringing in his ears. Sigma took the package of cupcakes from Phi and smiled, his chubby cheeks causing his eyes to squint. “Thanks, Phi. It’s nice to know at least one of you believes in me.” She mumbled a response that Sigma didn’t catch, but he was already shoving the rest of the cupcakes in his fat face, so it didn’t matter to him.

Another half an hour had passed, and Dio and Phi had decided to make themselves busy with helping Sigma with his plan instead of exploring the rest of the room. The college student was having some issues reaching the lower drawers now, and walking was getting to be a little bit of a problem too, so they were helping bring him more of the provisions for him to eat. The obese man currently stood with one open drawer at chest level, shoveling the food from it directly into his mouth. His double chin had grown into a triple chin, and his neck was slowly being replaced by rolls of soft fat instead. His chubby chipmunk cheeks had begun drooping, looking more like the jowls of an oversized dog instead. The sleeves of his shirt had ripped open a few minutes ago, setting his wobbling arm fat free. His jiggly biceps slapped against his chest every time he lifted more food up to his mouth. His shirt’s one remaining button strained against his growing moobs, massive tears beginning to form in the fabric stretching across his squishy breasts. His stomach rolls had folded over themselves, forming a three tiered flabby apron that went down to his thighs. The button on his pants had burst off a while ago, and his pants seams were all but gone, just a few threads managing to keep his overfed thighs and beanbag sized ass cheeks from bursting out of them entirely. After finishing the drawer directly in front of his face, Sigma turned his bulk towards the pile of food Phi and Dio had gathered for him, and began waddling towards it. He had to spread his legs uncomfortably far apart to keep his thighs from rubbing together, and even then they still did. He also couldn’t bend his legs anymore, his knees buried under rolls of fat from his jiggly thighs. His oversized ass cheeks, each roughly the size of a couch cushion, drooped down about the same distance as his massive gut, and had lost all semblance of shape and tone, now just two squarish blobs of pure lard. The lowest roll of his apron of a stomach slapped against his thighs with every slow, deliberate step forward, sending his entire body wobbling with each one. It took him three minutes to walk ten feet across the room, and the already massive young man was wheezing for breath by the time he stopped. After catching his breath, Sigma grabbed a package of spaghetti and meatballs off the top of the pile, tore it open, and poured it directly into his fat mouth. Then he did the same for a pizza, a meatloaf, a plate of fish and chips, any and everything in the pile was unceremoniously devoured. The last button of his shirt ripped off its overburdened thread and went flying, narrowly missing Dio’s head. The button pinging off the wall seemed to be the signal the rest of Sigma’s clothing had been waiting for, as every remaining seam burst one after another, sending his massive body surging forth.

Dio turned to Phi as Sigma continued stuffing his face without pause, a look of disgust plastered on his face. “He’s still going! The guy is buck-ass-naked in front of us with only his little boxers on, fat as a whale, and still keeps eating!” The blonde tssked loudly as Sigma began shoving crepes into his mouth. “What’re we gonna do about this lardass?”

Phi cocked her head to one side, thinking. “Well, he’s clearly not going to stop til either all the food is gone, or he can’t reach it anymore, and I kinda want to see how far he ends up taking his stupid idea.” She looked straight at Dio, a smug smirk plastered on her face. “Let’s just help Sigma finish his little job and then we can figure out the room ourselves, without his whining.”

Dio chuckled and gave Phi a conspiratorial wink. “Say no more, little miss. That is fuckin’ devious. I like your style!” He sauntered over to the massive food pile he and Phi had made and began handing dishes directly to Sigma’s greedy hands, his fat sausage fingers immediately grasping anything placed near them and emptying it into his mouth. Sigma’s arms were now so fat that his wrists were starting to sink into his own arm fat, and his pillow-sized arm rolls were constantly squished between his multiple layers of love handles and his massive breasts, thus forcing them to rest at an angle at all times, and making it steadily harder for him to reach his face with his food-filled hands. His face looked like it was slowly being absorbed into his fat body, chubby neck rolls and multiple chins surrounding his drooping jowls which were starting to block his vision somewhat. His chins and neck rolls blended together, flowing down his front like a river of flab, nestled between the valley that was his moobs. Shreds of his blue shirt still clung to his breasts, some stuck underneath the pillow-sized bags of fat which sagged horribly to the sides of his gut now that they were free from their cloth prison. His plush side rolls and back fat were fully on display now, showing clearly how his arms were never going to be able to rest at his sides ever again, and that even if he were to try and lay down, he wouldn’t be able to get flatter than a sitting position with all his multitudes of back rolls propping him up and pooling around his body. The topmost layer of his stomach was wide enough to be used as a bed for a medium sized dog, and was too heavy for anyone to lift even on its own. The middle layer folded over on top of where Sigma’s belly button once was, creating a cavity underneath that was probably almost a foot deep now. The middle and bottom rolls of his enormous stomach were pure lard, soft and jiggly, and very, very heavy. The bottom of the lowest roll reached past his knees now, dangling just a foot off the ground. His legs were as thick as tree trunks now, every inch of his adipose-stuffed thighs and calves touching no matter how far apart he spread his legs. Even his toes were fat now, though they could barely be seen with the mass of flab that was his lower calves slowly starting to engulf his ankles. His misshapen, flabby rear end was almost touching the floor as well, each overstuffed bean bag chair of an ass cheek protruding well over a few feet from his morbidly obese body. His boxers hadn’t been destroyed by their mass yet, but the overburdened underwear looked more like the world’s skimpiest thong, with Sigma’s boulder-sized butt cheeks swallowing the stretched fabric of the garment between their bulbous forms. Phi perched herself on top of one of his massive moobs and started dumping food from the pile directly into Sigma’s waiting mouth, his heavy fat-swaddled arms too tired to lift anything more himself. Dio, being much taller than Phi, merely had to lean against Sigma’s increasingly more squishy side to place more food into his pile of chins, which doubled his rate of consumption considerably. Dio and Phi shared a conspiratorial wink. This was the final stretch of Sigma’s stupid plan!

One more hour passed in the pantry before Phi shoved the last prepacked pie into Sigma’s greedy mouth. She sighed in relief and hopped down off the man’s oversized chest, and stepped back to take in the enormity of her bracelet pair mate. Somehow, despite his incredible size and weight, Sigma was still standing on his own two feet. Whether he could still walk remained to be seen, and Phi didn’t have her hopes up very high for that. The young man was ridiculously obese, probably pushing close to half a ton weight-wise now. A loud belch erupted from Sigma’s mouth, his face a bloated parody of what it used to be mere hours ago. His neck rolls pushed his jowls up around his face, making it look like he was sinking and using a life preserver to keep only his fat face afloat. His arms were so swollen they were barely recognizable, the only hint to their existence as arms being the sausage-shaped fingers poking out from the ends. His massively saggy moobs slumped to either side of his stomach, wobbling with every wheezing breath the mountain of a man took. His love handles bunched up underneath the flab-filled bingo wings of his arms, multiple side rolls forming above his hips that were wide enough to fill an entire sofa by himself. His overstuffed gut now reached the floor, the lowest roll pressing firmly into it even when standing upright. His legs looked like a bursting overfilled sausage casing, his thighs' dimpled fat pressing each other so far apart it was utterly insane that he hadn’t fallen over on his fat ass yet. Especially when you considered Sigma’s ass was so stuffed and loaded with squishy fat that it, too, now almost touched the floor even when he was just standing, and his boxers looked like a few pieces of string stretched across the wide expanse of his cheeks. His feet couldn’t be seen behind his wobbling apron of a stomach, but if they weren’t obscured by that mass of pure flab, they would still not be visible; the fat from his calves had collapsed over top of his ankles, hiding his feet entirely. Overall, Sigma had grown to nearly four times his size in just a few hours of clearing out the entire pantry.

Sigma gazed blearily past his enormous chest and stomach at his teammates, letting out another loud burp. He spoke in a voice that sounded unfamiliar to him, the amount of fat coating his vocal chords causing him to sound huskier, with a deeper voice, and his jowls and chins affecting his speech somewhat. “Did… haah… th’ dooh ohpen? Haah… shohl…ve… th’ puzzshle?” he wheezed. Phi groaned. “Of course you didn’t, you moron! We told you that stuffing yourself wasn’t going to be the solution!”

Dio chuckled and clapped a hand to Sigma’s flabby lovehandle. “Yeah, but we knew you’d never shut up if we didn’t let you try it, so we decided to just let you do your thing, and now here we are!” The blonde man pinched the soft side rolls, forcibly wobbling them back and forth, causing a cacophony of Sigma’s rolls and flaps to slap into each other loudly. The man moaned in discomfort, but Dio continued his torment, delighting in watching the helpless Sigma jiggling all over.

Raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the shockwaves rippling all over his half-ton of flab, Sigma spoke in a husky whine. “Sho then… haah… whuh ah we… haah… gunna do to… haah… eshcape?” Phi patted the lowest roll of his stomach sympathetically before speaking. “Well, Dio and I are gonna figure out how to actually escape this room now. Together. Without you, Sigma.”

The blubbery man burped again before speaking. “But… haah… whuh am I… haah… how do I… haah… help you guysh… haah… sholve it?” He looked upset, like he’d failed both Phi and Dio with his stupid plan by becoming useless to them both. Phi turned her back to him, ignoring his question entirely. Dio stopped jiggling Sigma’s soft side rolls and followed the short woman to see how he could help. Sigma was left standing in the middle of the pantry, the weight of his failure pressing down on his conscience just about as much as the weight of his fat was pressing down on his body. He’d never eaten so much in his life, not even when he was partying constantly in his freshman year of college. How did he think this was a smart idea? He was so stupid! No wonder Phi and Dio let him do this to himself just to get him out of their way. Just before Sigma’s self-pity party was going to get too sad, Phi shouted from across the room. “Hah! Got it! Told you I could handle it, Dio!” She strutted triumphantly back across the pantry towards Sigma’s weighty form, Dio following at a distance, grumbling. “Well, I figured you’d be fine, but I also thought maybe you could use a man’s help. A smart man. Not like big ol’ land whale over there.”

Phi stood in front of Sigma’s stationary form, waving up at his bloated face. “Hey, Sigma! I got the key to get out of here from the safe. There’s some other stuff too but none of it’s of much use to us right now.” The near-immobile man breathed a sigh of relief. At least one of them had managed to solve the escape room. “Thash grea’, Phi!” he said aloud, still surprised at how different his voice was now, “Sho are we leaving now?” He tried to look down at the girl directly in front of him, but couldn’t see her past his enormous gut, moobs, and chins. Phi must have realized this, as suddenly she was jumping in the air and landed directly on his flabby chest, standing in front of his face. She looked him up and down before speaking. “Sigma, do you think you can still walk?”

Sigma wiggled his toes experimentally, nodding decisively as he felt he could still move his feet at least. “I c’n proba’ly walk, yeah. Migh' take me shome time though. Shorry.” Phi patted his jowls reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Sigma. I’ll make sure Dio doesn’t leave without us. Just take your time, okay?” The agile young woman hopped back down, running ahead to keep Dio busy, leaving Sigma to begin his most arduous task of his life: walking a few hundred feet across a room and getting through the door. Slowly he began moving his right leg, the fat coating it shifting past his left leg and slapping against the bottom of his drooping stomach. He moved his left leg forward slowly, essentially walking in a very slow, heavy, exaggerated waddle. His gut touched the floor and the front of his legs the entire way, slapping into his gelatinous thighs every waddling step, sending its entire expanse of rolls wobbling like a pendulum. His shapeless ass cheeks balloon out behind him, jiggling like jello every time he moved even a little. Sigma’s fat face felt like it was on fire, his cheeks bright red and sweaty from the effort of moving around a thousand pounds of fatty flesh across a room. His breath was coming in rasps, mouth agape and panting, his multiple chins wobbling as his chest heaved from the exertion. After something like ten minutes of waddling his fat ass towards the door to escape the pantry, Sigma finally stopped to catch his breath. Taking big wheezing gulps of air, his massive breasts shaking from any slight movement of his chest, Sigma spent another five minutes just preparing to leave the door. Finally, his breathing about as stable as it could be with his lungs being crushed under a half ton of body fat at all times, the enormously overfed man began taking small, waddling steps towards the door. Three.. his thigh slapped loudly against his lowest gut roll. Two… he grasped the door frame with his pudgy sausage fingers. One… he slowly inched his wide body through the door, until suddenly, he stopped. Why am I not moving anymore? He thought to himself, before trying to pull himself forward again. Still nothing. What the fuck was stopping him? He couldn’t turn around to look because his neck was so encased in fat that he couldn’t rotate his head at all, but Sigma didn’t really have to look to guess that the cold metal digging into his soft hips was the door frame, and that his ass was too wide to fit through the door. Well, fuck. That’s not good. Sigma swore internally, before calling out for help. “Hey, Phi… haah… Dio? Haah… haah… there'sh a… haaaaaaah… pro’lem! Pleashe… haah… haah… help?” After a few seconds, Phi returned from further down the hall, Dio not far behind, both taking stock of the situation in front of them. Sigma was fully wedged in the doorway, his massive gut and chest hanging in front of him slightly as his hips, thighs, and couch-sized ass were clearly jammed in the other side of the door. Dio sighed. “All right, big guy. We’re gonna need to get extra help for this. Hold tight.” Sigma whined as the left, calling after their retreating forms, “Guysh, don’… haah… leave me… haaah… behind… haah… buh pleashe… bring… haah… haah… bring… shnacksh… hungry…” Phi stared at Dio incredulously as they ran to find the others. “He just asked for snacks. After all that, he’s still hungry. Unbelievable. Maybe he really will end up the size of a whale before this is all over.”