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juletheghoul · 23 days

Text

Grown

AN: I am sort of going through a writing bender? A manic episode? I don't know, I just know that if I don't get it down I will lose my mind. I have been wanting to write an age-gap fic for Joel (aside from LMF) for a while but I couldn't really find the format or the idea that I could sink my teeth into. There are SO MANY good ones out there, I even had a whole other thing started but it got too intense, and making it sexual wouldn't have been true to that version of Joel, so here is what I came up with. (I kept Tess out of this story) Big thank you to @foli-vora for letting me exorcise this demon, and to @frannyzooey for putting up with my endless messages and voice notes through discord, love y'all! (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine)

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker) (Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), fingering, cream pie, one lonely little lick of his cock👅, come play sort of? dirty talk, age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, talk of sex work, some of it traumatic (no details, no violence)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

He was a risk, calculated but definitely worth it up close. He fidgeted, flexing and unflexing his hands as you moved around the tiny studio apartment. Your home, and ‘office’. You’d searched long and hard, and paid a hefty price for the soft lamps, the newish linens for your bed, the homey touches.

He shifted his weight as you put the quilt down, separating the outside world from the privacy of your sheets. Easier to clean up after too.

“Boots off, please.” You gesture to the place by the door, and he nodded with a frown.

“Sorry.” He groaned as he brought his foot up and for a moment you saw his age, through the pleasant features.

“No problem, how do you want me?” You stand at the foot of the bed, naked under the well-worn, but cherished robe and for a moment he gawps. You don’t laugh, men don’t like it when you laugh. “On my back?”

“Wait- how old are you again?” He pads over, tall and broad, obscuring the light source when he walks past it.

“Old enough.” You smile, “come, why don’t you sit here with me?” You hold out your hand to him, and after a tense glance, he takes it and sits where you gesture. His grip is firm, but soft, years of hard work rooted in the calluses that meet your significantly softer palm. It isn’t a turn off though, he’s a man, men work hard. The real ones do, or did anyway.

“How long do I have? S’there anyone else…?” He trails off, his voice cutting off and you smile, placating.

“You have as long as you need, tonight's all yours.” You sit beside him, and put your hand tentatively on his arm, channeling every single ounce of calm you have and pouring it into him. He’s warm and alive beside you, heat radiating off him under the soft pass of your thumb against the skin peeking out under the denim sleeve, you let the soft light, the light patter of rain outside your window work on him. He surveys the area, learning the layout of your space and you don’t interfere, you follow his gaze and try to see it all from his point of view.

It's small, but comfortable. It’s exceedingly clean, you’d spent hours and hours making sure, back breaking hours on your hands and knees scrubbing and washing and it had paid off, no matter how sore you’d been after. There’s a little table, with two chairs, a big lumpy chair near the window, where you spent most of your time not working curled up with one of your precious books. He noticed the tiny chest of drawers, the top of it clear except for a half-full glass of water. He saw the baseball bat leaning against the wall tucked just behind it.

“Can I get a little closer?” You scoot a little, pressing your thigh to his, turning to hold his restless arm between your breasts, your fingers intertwining with his while he got accustomed to your own warmth. Those big, callused, hard-working hands wrapped up in yours. Invitingly warm.

Some people needed a little push, sometimes they were nervous on how to start and they needed someone to get them out of their heads. Some wanted to talk, to sprawl out naked with you and get all of their thoughts out.

Loneliness is the main malady you alleviate.

Some didn’t want to talk at all, some just wanted you to open your legs and take, and that was okay too. Everyone had their thing.

“This okay?” You put your linked palms on the little bit of skin poking out through the gap in your robe, your skin surrounding both sides of his hand.

“Yeah, s’okay.” He watches the robe slip open, and his other hand joins the fray, pulling it apart to see more of your thigh. He licks his lip as more of you is revealed and you artfully let the shoulder slip, drawing his eye up to your cleavage. He pats his leg, and you get a genuine thrill, sliding over and up onto his lap. He needed no further guidance after that, now that he had permission, his body was taking over.

His eyes were dark, focused, tracking the line of your throat when you swallowed thickly. He watched the way your breath hitched when he slid his hand up your inner thigh and found you bare underneath, his fingers slipping through the silky hair at your mound, his fingers parting your lips softly to find your slick folds. He lets out a shuddering breath at the same time you do, when his finger slips over your clit.

“I’m too old for you, pretty.” He watches his hand between your legs, using it to spread your thighs enough to see your pussy dripping for him.

“You don’t feel too old.” You hold onto his neck, giving him more access and your stomach drops to feel him hardening under the swell of your ass. You pull his hand from between your legs, and dip his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around them before pressing them back against your achy clit. He pulls a genuine moan of pleasure at the extra slip when he swirls around your clit nice and slow. Tortuous, and talented.

“So fuckin’ soft,” He glides his fingers down, circling your entrance but his eyes are focused on your mouth now, “bet you’re tight as a fist, aren’t you baby?” He slides two thick fingers inside and you clutch at him, more turned on by him than you’ve ever been doing this line of work.

It’s a stretch, but he works them in, pressing against your upper wall, looking for something and when he finds it you whimper in his arms.

“Do you kiss?” You barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, his fingers curling inside you, and he puts more pressure on the button he’s found and you moan, lost and mindlessly enjoying the fullness.

He presses devastatingly soft, tender kisses to your throat, completely at odds with the wet sounds of his exploration between your legs.

“Baby, can we kiss?” He repeats it, this time with his fingers still, but stuffed deep. You press your mouth to his, humid and hot and he tastes like the good alcohol you have stashed in your cupboard. He groans and his fingers scissor inside you, squelching between your legs with every lazy pump. He traps your bottom lip between his, alternating a teasing bite to the plump of it, with deep licks into your mouth. You’ve never been kissed like this.

“You just gonna use your fingers?” He pulls away to skim his nose down your neck, bunching the top of the robe in the splayed hand at your back to pull it down from where it hangs on your shoulder. His mouth engulfs your nipple when it falls and any thoughts that he may be too old for you seem to slip his mind because he doubles down, moaning obscenely into your skin as you leak onto his lap.

“No, just wanna open you up, I wanna make sure this little pussy can take me.” Arousal and excitement pools in your belly.

“What a gentleman.” You laugh, half crazed with lust for this man who just might be old enough to be your father. He smiles, drunk on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his spit still shining on your breast. He has a dimple, so boyish in contrast to the grey in his beard and in his hair you can’t help but love it, it suits him.

“Spread your legs a little more for me darlin’,” one hand is heavy on your hip, holding you so you can drop one leg and open up a little more, “I wanna see you come,” he speeds up, his thumb now doing tight little circles against your clit and you moan, unabashedly, “look how wet she is,” he stares between your legs “I just wanna see her come.” He hooks his fingers again and the pressure is almost too much. It only takes a few moments, his fingers pet, pet, pet and then you clench, the pleasure going off in your belly like a bomb, radiating out through your breasts, into your hips, all the way down to your fingers and toes.

A universe contained within your body, borne of his hand.

“Fuck.” Your legs close over his hand, and he slows down but doesn’t stop, a softer, slower stroke while you catch your breath. “Let's get you outta these clothes.” you start undoing the buttons to his shirt, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the smattering of freckles littered along his skin. He pulls his fingers out from between your legs, shiny and dripping in you and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the tang of you.

Undressing him is like opening a gift. His arms are strong, his biceps flexing when he all but lifts you up to stand, pulling your robe off and away from you like it’s on fire. His midsection is soft, but you can feel the strength underneath when you undo his jeans, tensing in excitement the closer you get to the considerable bulge in them. You curl your fingers around both his jeans, and his boxers, impatient to get him naked. You crouch as you pull them down, mouth watering at the size of him, hard and bobbing in front of you. The muscles in his thighs are firm, his skin so warm and you can’t help but lick a stripe up the underside of his cock on the way back up.

He lets out a sound like he's been punched in the gut and you take it in like sustenance.

“Don’t–I’ll come too fast if you put it in your mouth.”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, just as he reaches down to grab and spread the cheeks of your ass, stomach full of butterflies at the feeling of him hard and leaking against your belly.

“But I wanna swallow it, I wanna feel it in my throat.” You pout and he lets out a shuddering breath, “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth?” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping through the unruly, grey strands at the back of his neck.

“Not now baby, I’m barely goin' to last as it is.” He turns you, pressing you to lay in the middle of your quilt and he’s quick to follow, fitting himself between your legs, leaning on one arm beside your skull and when he grabs his cock and gives it a few strokes, you almost can’t watch him. It’s too erotic, it looks so big in his hand, too big to fit but you know it will, he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers as he feeds himself inside you slowly, an inch, before pulling it out, then a little more, until he’s fucking you a little deeper each time.

There wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs, he took up every fucking drop. You’d been with other men, you’d been with women, all of them taking their pleasure from your body and most of them giving pleasure in return, this was something else. This was almost scary, the way the vision of him above you made your brain buzz and your nipples hard, made your cunt leak all over him.

He moves up onto his knees, those big hands pull your legs up and apart, pressing the backs of your thighs into your chest, practically folding you in half to slide his cock deeper still.

He snapped his hips hard, pulling a sound you’d never made out of your mouth, again, and again, until it was a continuous babble. He watches the way his cock disappears inside the tight clutch of your cunt with every dirty roll of his hips. He sinks a little further down, and adjusts his stroke, until just the tip of it stays inside of every heavy push forward.

This isn’t some desperate, lonely old guy looking to get his dick wet, this is a grown man, fucking you like a grown man does and you feel like a grown woman taking it.

“Joel, baby that’s so fucking good-“ you press your hands to his chest where he leans against you. He’s focused, eyes glazed over, sweat dripping down his nose in his efforts. He shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his pace stuttering slightly and you know he’s not gonna last.

“I wanna see her come with me inside,” he whines, and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing so you reach down and swirl your fingers around your clit while he watches, “that’s it baby, that’s it, fuck, I’m close-“ he somehow spreads you wider, the wet suck of your pussy is louder, more obscene, more erotic.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“ the orgasm strangles the words in your throat, pulsing him out but he pushes back in and you feel it all the way in your toes.

“Fuuuuuckkk—“ he pulls out and pumps himself furiously against your mound, covering the soft patch of hair in spurt after milky spurt. It’s a lot, some has splashed onto your hip, your belly, you feel it slipping down to where you clench, empty and gaping without him filling you.

It’s quiet for a moment after, while your blood cools, and he milks himself dry, pumping a few more times despite the over-sensitivity.

“You got anything for me to clean you up with?” He rubs at the indents he left on the back of your thighs before unfolding you.

“There’s a little pile of rags in that first drawer behind you.” You point to the tiny chest of drawers, and he groans when he moves up and off of you. Now that he’s emptied his balls, the signs of his age rear their heads. He groans, wincing as he bends forward to carefully wipe everything away with gentle hands.

It’s nice to see him walk around naked, welcome, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, if he came back that was.

“That was-“ he scratches at the back of his neck, passing the cloth over your belly, “that was really good.”

“I’ll say, it was better than good.” You stretch out and luxuriate like a cat in warm patch of sun, seriously debating offering him time to recover so he could fuck you again. He quirks his lip, the ghost of a smile, the confidence dulled to shy, awkward fumbling. He tosses the rag into the little basket you point to, and he begins the process of getting dressed. You get up when he’s almost done, your thighs, and what’s between already sore and pick up your robe. He’s putting his neat little stack of ration cards on the table when you finish tying it up.

“Thanks.” He pulls his boots on, opening your door before turning back to find you right on his heels.

“Anytime.” You smile at him, hoping it won’t be a one-time thing. He moves to step outside but you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking something for your own. He kisses you back when you press your mouth to his, it's softer, his tongue sweet when it tangles with yours and you smile into the kiss when he reaches down, and grabs your ass.

“Bye, Pretty.”

“Bye Joel.”

You hadn't fallen into the work, so much as slowly slid into it. The first time had been almost a dare, a challenge to yourself, a proposition made by someone and maybe your own foolish, naive need to prove that you weren’t some stupid baby. A man, an older man that had shared cleaning duty with you had come right out with it, saw you bending over to pick something off the floor and told you that he’d pay every ration card he had for a taste of that ass, as he so eloquently put it.

At first you’d been shocked, he seemed like a perfectly bland, run of the mill survivor making his way in the QZ, but he’d been serious. You’d asked him to clarify, to repeat his words, and he had. He’d shaken his hands of the dirt and dust of the job, produced a tiny stack of much needed ration cards from a hidden pocket and held them out for you like a cold glass of water in the desert. Something inside you had recoiled, he wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn’t exactly the object of your late night fantasies. Another part though, a hidden little sliver of something jumped at the chance to have some power, some semblance of control and so without much thought to consequence, you’d taken him up on it.

An uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, he was grunting behind you, stroking himself furiously to paint the cheeks of your ass in his come.

Once it was done, the little part of you that had welcomed the challenge was curiously absent, and the part that had recoiled was bigger, swelling like some awful, infected limb. But you had rations enough to stop working for a few days, and that took some of the repulsion away.

It was a while before you did it again. It was a while before you saw the man again, maybe part of you, that ever-present bit of self-preservation urged you to avoid him but he eventually found you again. This time you turned him down, and he hadn’t pressed, but he’d told others. Other men who seemed to sniff you out, some of them older, and less diplomatic and those you told to fuck off. Some of the younger ones though, closer to your age looking for the experience, some of them you took in, with the strict promise to never tell anyone unless they wanted to never see you again. Those experiences were better, less traumatic.

After that it seemed like things came together, you had a steady string of people who took you seriously and paid up front.

The first woman had been a girl of around your age, she’d heard from a friend of a friend, carefully and strategically keeping the source to herself. You’d never really given it much thought but once you did it seemed only natural, women got lonely too, and there was nothing about her that you didn’t understand. So you accepted her, took her rations and gave her as much of yourself as you gave the men.

It’d taken time to establish yourself, to find the regular people you let into the circle, it was all much easier now. With the exception of Joel, you hadn’t taken on someone new in a while, but he made you glad you did.

His hands always shake before it starts.

It’s a light tremble, a couple of fingers in his left hand and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s an injury, or a sign of nerves. He’s hard of hearing in one ear too, his right. You hadn't picked up on it at first but once you do, it makes sense. He tilts his head to the right a tiny bit, turning his good ear towards your mouth. It doesn’t bother you.

He was older than the rest, that did bother him, but never enough to stop visiting. He dragged it out sometimes, made himself wait, avoided you, but whether it took him a week or a month, he came back.

“Hi Joel.” You smiled to see him standing at the threshold, fingers twitching by his side, his hair a mess, a small bundle in his grip.

“Hi.” He doesn’t smile back, he’d waited too long, the frown practically tattooed on. He puts the bundle down on the dresser after kicking off his boots, and doesn’t mention it.

It’s dark outside, later than you usually let anyone come see you but for him you make exceptions. His hands keep rubbing at his thighs, his eyes darting around, you let him settle for a moment, get his bearings before jumping into anything, it’s a dance and you both have your steps.

“How do you want me?” You finally break the silence once he sits on the quilt. He looks up at you, but doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fall to your cleavage, then down to your waist where the robe is cinched, then further still to your hips. You move closer, until you stand between his spread thighs.

“Hm? Wanna fuck me on my back? Or should I get on my hands and knees?” You thread your fingers through his hair, slicking it back as best you can, he shudders at your words and at the feeling of your hands on him, putting up his usual show of shame at being here with you, at being older. “Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock?” His hands land on your hips, his face pressing against your sternum, robe parting enough for him to press his lips to the valley between your breasts.

“You’re too fuckin’ soft, way too fuckin’ pretty to be lettin’ me touch you.” He always does this, has to make it known that you shouldn’t let him do this, that he shouldn’t want you like this. It never stops him, he opens the robe and pushes it off to fall on the floor regardless of his words and moans into the skin of your breast where he nuzzles like a cat.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw.” His mouth laves at one pert nipple, then the other, leaving them hard and shiny when he trails his kisses down to your belly.

All day you’ve thought about him here, getting to have him to yourself, opening you up and molding you to fit him like a glove, making you see stars like he always does. And all day you’ve felt that slow simmer of arousal, that steady ache to bloom and gape for him, both soft and obscene. The constant excitement of anticipation. His mouth on your nipples only served to turn it up to an inferno, turning you to liquid for him.

“But I like when you touch me.” You scratch at his scalp, pressing his face into your skin, “I like it when you fuck me, you make it so good, much better than anyone else.” You flatter him, but you don’t lie to him. You’ve learned to be impartial to your experiences, sex is work. As fun as it can be with some of them, it’s all a means to an end, you need to eat and so you do what you have to do. You are also realistic about him, he is not your boyfriend, he’s not your partner, he barely gives you a second glance on the street but in here, he’s your favourite. He fits you better than anyone and anything, and as much as you hate to admit it, you need him as much as he needs you.

He takes in the words, believes them and relishes them.

“How do you want me, Joel?” You pull his face up, bending down to kiss him before he can answer and his desperation comes through. His tongue is insistent, his kiss almost violent.

“I want you here-“ he pats the bed, before getting up to take his clothes off. You help him, both of you working efficiently until he’s as naked as you are. His cock is already hard, the tip of him pearly with his own want despite any and all notions of impropriety.

His body always betrays him.

He gets you on your back, but he doesn’t lay on top of you, rather beside you. He doesn’t let you turn to face him, he wants it like this, his body curling around yours to be able to see it spread out for him without himself in the way.

“Open up for me, s’good, just like that.” He takes the thigh closest to him and drapes it over his hip, positioning himself to enter you from underneath. He lifts his head, showcasing his core strength to watch as he brings his cock to the open mouth of your cunt, sliding in without so much as a warning. You feel exposed, spread open and bare under his eye and it only heightens the experience, cracking something open inside of you.

His hips push and pull slowly, lazily at first despite how fucking hard he is but doesn’t last. The sight in front of you there, breasts bouncing with every snap, is too much for him. With one hand free, he strums and plucks at your nipples, opening up the dam between your thighs to ruin the quilt underneath.

His other hand isn’t idle though, it slips down, grabbing onto the plush of your ass, holding you in place hard enough to bruise.

“That feel good?” He watches you leak all over him, and knows it does but he wants to hear it anyway.

“Yes- Yes Joel–” You moan, turning to watch his face.

“This little cunt goin' to come for me? I wanna see her come, I wanna feel her choke my dick.” He surges forward, swallowing the moan from the source before speeding up. His cock strokes, strokes, strokes and you feel the warmth blooming in your core, spreading like a wildfire through your hips, the release so close you can almost taste it, you whine and he shushes you, his voice soft despite how depraved you feel with his cock kissing something sacred inside of you.

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and sweat builds in your hairline and at the back of your neck, collects and slips where your skin and his meet.

“I know baby, I know, I can feel her, she wants to come doesn’t she?” His lips press against your cheek, his words warm against your skin. His lips are so soft, so plush as he pants into your face, goosebumps cover your body. You nod against him, mouth open in a silent scream when he adjusts his angle slightly.

He’s no longer able to form complete sentences, his words are reduced to a repeated chant of yeah baby, yeah baby, right there, right there huh? Barely formed questions for the answer you know he already knows and then his fingers are in your mouth, stretching out your lips, holding your mouth open in a filthy, yet pale imitation of what his cock is doing.

You drool, and you don’t care but it’s what he wants, he takes it from your mouth and slides it over your clit and it’s like he’s pressed the nuclear codes in your body.

You want to curl into yourself, but you can’t, his grip tightens, painfully, holding you to take and take and take his cock until he bursts inside you like a ripe berry. His groan is almost more obscene than the act, his groin pressed up against you tight, pressing himself deeper than ever to paint your cervix in his come.

“Fuck–” He presses the word to your cheek, sliding his sweat soaked face down your neck, to your shoulder. He pulls out after a moment, and you feel him leak out of you. He moves to hover over you, pulling one nipple into his mouth to taste before the blood has cooled, and then the other. He isn;t done yet though, he kneels between your spread legs, inspecting the mess he’s made of your pussy, a self satisfied look on his face.

“Gonna dream about this, while I’m gone.” He lifts your legs, pressing them up and open and slips two fingers deep inside to push his come back in and as you moan at the act, you cannot help but wonder where that worried, too-old Joel is right now.

“Prettiest little cunt.” He says it to himself, rubbing his mess into the sensitive walls of your sex like a balm.

He licks his fingers after, tasting the combined flavours of both of you. Your heart almost can’t take it.

Once he’s dressed, and you have gained enough strength to get up and put your robe on he’s almost back to his shy self.

“I have the rations here, but I brought somethin’ else.” He gestures to the little bundle he’d left on your dresser, “I found it, thought you might like it.” He opens it, and it’s a can of peaches.

“Oh!” You’re genuinely taken aback.

“You ain’t allergic right?” He frowns, and you smile, something soft spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the sex you just had.

“No, I’m not allergic. Thank you Joel, I am really excited for this.” You ignore the soreness between your legs and close the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in thanks.

“Well alright then.” He frowns again, and it’s not shyness you see on his face now, it’s awkwardness, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to be soft, but is trying his hardest.

“Bye Pretty.” He lingers at the door, devouring you with his eyes and even though he was still dripping out of you, you felt naked and exposed, open and spread out for his gaze.

“Bye Joel, don’t wait too long to come see me again okay?” You press yourself against him, the soft lines of you tucked tight against the hard angles of him. He gifts you with a rare smile but doesn’t respond, save for a toe curling kiss at your threshold before he’s gone.

Hours later, when your body is truly sore and spent, you lay in bed with a book, eating the peaches he brought, and wonder idly what he’ll bring next time.

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mellowswriting · 7 months

Note

How about slow, sweaty, make up sex with Din Djarin! Thank you!

a real apology

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || ~ 900

summary || sweet, slow makeup sex

content || SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, din is whipped, fluff, no use of Y/N, unbeta'd (all mistakes are my own, and probably thanks to the tequila tbh)

a/n || I got progressively more drunk as I wrote this, so... enjoy!

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You have no idea how long Din has had you like this - pinned beneath the heft of his body, your thighs shaking as his fingers and tongue coax yet another orgasm from you. He moans against you as he feels it hit. Your back arches, your nails dig into his scalp, and you cry his name so sweetly he damn near finishes right then and there. It feels like you’re floating, your body and soul detached under his talented touch. He doesn’t stop until you push his head away. Even then, he just occupies his mouth by trailing wet, sloppy kisses along your thigh. Goosebumps follow the brush of his stubble.

Those dark eyes stare up at you, his pupils dilated as he takes in the vision you make beneath him. He can’t get enough of you. It’s been too long - damn near a week without those soft words and sweet touches he has grown so addicted to. It was stupid, a silly argument about a bounty of all things. Din knew almost immediately that he was in the wrong. Pride caught the apology he owed you between his teeth.

None of that matters, now. Not when he’s searing his repentance into your body with every touch.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He asks before he presses a kiss to your navel. You hum a contemplative sound as he works his way up your body. The air is thick with the scent of sex, something he’s missed more than he realized. Your skin shimmers with sweat and Din just can’t stop himself. The flat of his tongue drags up your sternum. He just can’t get enough of your taste, even as you squirm beneath him.

“I think you’re getting there.” You finally sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pulling his body flush against yours. The closeness settles that restless, agitated animal that has paced in his chest all week. Din leans closer, his arms bracketing your head, and he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet despite the way his cock throbs against your thigh. Your warmth soaks into him, bare skin against bare skin. As your hands cup his face, only one thought runs through his head.

The only place in the universe he truly belongs to is in your arms.

“Mmm…” You hum against his lips. “Definitely getting there.”

Din can’t help but chuckle at that cheeky stubbornness he’s come to love. He drags his lips across your throat, reveling in the way your sass melts into a heady sigh. Your hands skirt down the planes of his back and settle on his ass with a playful squeeze.

“C’mon, Djarin.” There’s an edge of demand in your tone, a little desperation. “Show me how sorry you really are.”

That’s all it takes for him to sink into you with one devastating roll of his hips. All words slip away at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. Din presses you into the soft mattress, pinned beneath his full weight as if to keep you there forever. As if you would ever dream of going anywhere. The pace he sets is slow, a steady rock of his hips that leaves you wrecked beneath him. Your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

“I’ve got you,” The whisper is soaked in affection and longing, a promise he always intends to keep. Din presses his forehead against yours, his dark eyes wide as he greedily consumes the sight of you. So pliant and vulnerable, consumed by the feeling only he can pull from you.

Your eyes flutter and roll as he arches his hips just so, dragging against that sensitive spot until you shake. The angle lets him grind against your clit. He doesn’t let up, far too insatiable for the feeling of you falling apart under his touch. You’re so sensitive, so responsive to everything he gives you. Every sweet sound he pulls from you only makes him want more. It drives him fucking wild.

“Don’t stop,” Your whispered plea slithers down his spine and pools in his belly, pure warmth and need searing into his very DNA. He has to bury his face in your neck. The way you look, all strung out and cockdrunk, threatens to end this far too soon. Your fingers dig into his hair as he works you closer to another devastating orgasm. “Oh, fuck -”

A broken growl rips from his chest as you fall apart for him. He swears this is the closest he’ll ever get to nirvana in this damned life - the sound of you crying out his name, the wet gush of your cunt wetting his thighs, the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. He follows after you only a beat after. His teeth dig into your shoulder as he buries himself to the hilt, stuffing you full of his cock as he spills inside you.

The air fills with the sound of heavy breathing as you both come down, your bodies still entwined with one another. An atmosphere of peace settles around you like a thick, warm blanket. The way he melts into you only adds to that feeling. It’s impossible to tell just how long the two of you stay like this - so wrapped up in each other that you can’t tell who begins where. Neither of you wants to break that peace. His lips find that sweet spot over your pulse.

“I am sorry, cyare.” Din murmurs between short, sweet kisses. “Truly.”

“I know.” You whisper. Your fingers drag through his messy mop of curls, scratching his scalp until he turns into a purring beast above you. “I forgive you.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader smut

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thebiggerbear · 9 months

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"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Dean Winchester Prompt Response

Summary: When Sam calls to tell you that Dean is gone, you can't accept it. Not until you visit the offline Bunker and see for yourself. ...But is he really gone?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Huntress!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. I had this idea for a scene in my head that took place during 15x20 with the reader and Sam & then from there it just kind of wrote itself, including the semi-twist. Hope it's okay.

There is a song mentioned in here ("Is This Love" by Whitesnake) which is a sort of homage/dedication/thank you. I read this Dean x Reader fic a long time ago (I can't remember the name of the fic or the author right now, I'm sorry!) but they used the song for some Dean/Reader time in the Impala and I had never heard the song before so I checked it out. I have become obsessed with it. It's so perfect, not only for Dean but in general as an 80s love rock ballad. So thank you to that author whoever you are!

This is meant to take place between mid-15x20 and Dean's foray in The Winchesters (pre-series).

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: angst; mentions of character death; mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 12k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Tom version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version

You sat on the corner of the bed in your motel room, numb, your phone next to you, having been forgotten long ago.

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. You refused to believe it. How was Dean just gone? On a simple hunt? How?

Sam had called you to give you the news. You could hear the breaks in his voice as he relayed what happened, sounding as if he had been crying just a few minutes before. Vampires. Who were mute. A gang of them run by a vampire named Jenny they had faced off with years ago. On a hunt with John. She had gotten away and they thought she was gone for good. Apparently not.

You were frozen, in shock, unable to process what he was telling you.

“Y/N?”

“I… I need to see him,” you whispered.

Sam was quiet for a moment before he forced out, “I gave him a hunter’s funeral.”

You shut your eyes in pain. “What?” You could feel your throat tightening as well as your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I had to. I couldn’t…” You heard him take a breath. “I couldn’t make the long drive with… I just couldn’t.” You could hear those breaks again and you should have been hurting for him, that not only did he have to watch his brother die but he’d had to burn him alone. But right then you got angry and you couldn’t help snapping at him.

“Why would you burn his body, Sam? You know we need his body to bring him back!”

“Y/N, he didn’t want to be brought back.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yeah, I do. He told me right before he died. As long as I was going to be okay,” Another break. “He was done.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and regret immediately consumed you. You knew Sam was telling you the truth. Dean making sure Sam would be okay as he was dying clinched it for you. Sam had always been his main concern. You started mentally berating yourself then. If only you hadn’t let fear stop you, you could have given him something to live for, to fight for. He would have let Sam call for help, call Jack, something. He would have made sure he somehow made it home, just like he always did. But you didn’t and now, he was gone. Truly and irrevocably gone.

Another tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. “I have to go, Sam.”

“Y/N, I—”

You ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. You weren’t trying to be heartless. Sam was obviously struggling and you should be there for him. That’s what Dean would want, you knew that. The two of you being there for each other, helping one another, you looking after his little brother while he looked out for you. But you just…couldn’t.

Why hadn’t you called Dean? After everything that went down with Chuck and Jack? Why hadn’t you reached out? You owed him that at the very least. So why hadn’t you?

You knew the answer to that. You were scared and like a coward, you’d told yourself it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have changed anything. But a part of you knew it would and that scared you just as much.

You thought back to the last time you’d seen him, right after he and Sam went to try to get Amara on board against Chuck. He was still reeling with the news that Cas had told him before he’d left, that Jack was going to sacrifice himself to kill Chuck. He cared about Jack, more than he let on, even though the kid had accidentally killed Mary. Jack was family to him and he was having a serious moment of doubt. If Jack’s plan would work; if he should let it happen; if he should tell Sam; if Chuck hadn’t been right, he would win in the end. He was so beyond tired of that: Chuck winning. He didn’t want to sacrifice Jack but if they could be free of Chuck and have a chance…

He was torn up about it and he’d called you, asked you where you were, then begged you to come to the Bunker when he found out you were only an hour or so away. You hadn’t wanted to, you could hear the desperation in his voice and you knew all too well what would happen if you went. You were still hurting and you didn’t know if you could survive that.

You didn’t bother telling him that the reason you were an hour outside of town was because you’d temporarily settled there, not sure where to go or what to do. Sure, you took on hunts here and there, but ultimately you were lost. Ever since Dean broke things off with you because he couldn’t tell what was real anymore versus what had been Chuck all along. The breakup had hurt, of course, but that caused pain in you that you weren’t really sure you would ever come back from. Him thinking everything between you might not be real? After you’d given him everything you could because you deeply loved him? In your heart, you knew it was real, but when you had said this to him, he’d simply responded with “I don’t” in his typical detached way he adopted whenever he had made up his mind that he had to do something for the greater good, no matter how hard it might be. You thought he had already broken your heart, but it shattered right then in your chest.

Since it was Dean, though, and he never begged, you went. And sure enough, what you worried would happen, happened. One minute, you’d been wiping the rare tears he let fall around you, and the next minute, he was kissing you and gently pushing you back onto his bed. You could feel the desperation in his movements, his touches, the way his lips trailed over your skin. Shockingly, he took his time with you, and it only hit you halfway through that this was his real goodbye. It wasn’t guaranteed that Billie’s plan would work but he hoped it would. And if it did, then that meant he and Sam would finally be free and they could hang it up if they wanted to, do something else with their lives and move on. And that possible future didn’t include you.

You’d silently cried then, holding onto Dean as he moved and moaned into your ear. When he pulled back to kiss you, your cheeks were free of any tear tracks and you kissed him back. You wondered how on earth he couldn’t feel that this was very real between you as you moved your hips to meet his in a tender rhythm as he held you in his lap, his green eyes staring into yours as he held you close. Sex was sex but this right here, this right in between you right then that he refused to put a name to, it was beyond real. You knew he could feel it just as much as you could…so why was he still hellbent on throwing it (and you) away?

A little while later, you had laid there, with his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, his body still entangled with yours, staring up at the ceiling as you both were still trying to catch your breath. Your heart spoke for you before you could stop it. “I love you,” you whispered, meaning it with every fiber of your being.

It shocked the hell out of you and made something warm and fluttery happen inside your chest when he sleepily murmured to your skin, “Love y’too. Don’go.” You ended up chalking it up to him being in a post-sex sleep daze though, not knowing what he was really saying or even really having heard you correctly. That or he only meant for the night because the very next morning, things went back to how they were.

Dean seemed surprised when he woke up to find you next to him, scrolling through the news feed on your phone for any new cases. You’d given him a warm smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased.

Instead of smiling back, though, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey.” You could see that familiar detached expression settle on his features and you knew he was regretting the night before. He had been drinking by the time you got there, sure, but he hadn’t been inebriated. He was incredibly lucid by the time he made a move on you so try as he might, this couldn’t be chalked up to a drunken mistake.

You could literally feel that wall going back up and you gave one last ditch effort to keep him from shutting you back out, even laying a hand over his. “Dean, don’t—”

He pulled away from you and got out of bed, quickly slipping on his Scooby Doo boxers and jeans that he grabbed from the floor. You might have smiled seeing the familiar underwear that you hated but secretly loved if you weren’t hurting so much. “I’m hungry. You hungry?” He asked, slipping a black t-shirt over his head. “I’ll go see if Sam’s cooking anything up. I need a serious cup of coffee. You just…” He glanced back at you, seeing you holding the sheet tightly to your chest as you watched him, compulsively swallowing when he saw your eyes glistening. “You, uh, just come out when you’re ready.” He then made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and never looking back.

You sat back against the headboard, dissolving into a fit of tears and quiet sobs. You knew you should have never come. Once you were able to breathe without fresh tears welling up, you got yourself cleaned up and redressed. You splashed some water on your face and you took a deep breath before leaving the room. You were near the bunker stairs when Sam called out to you.

“Hey! Y/N!”

He was coming over to you, a big smile on his face. He was pleased to see you.

“Hey,” you greeted back just as warmly, forcing a smile.

He gave you a quick hug and you could see Jack a little ways behind him, giving you a smile and wave. “I didn’t know you were here. We were just about to have breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, I…”

You were saved from having to make an excuse when Dean appeared next to Jack, his expression severe and cold all at the same time. “She’s got a hunt she’s heading out for. Possible vamp nest in Duluth. Right, Y/N?”

Just when you thought he couldn’t hurt you even more, there he went proving you wrong. “Right,” you agreed quietly. You turned a wan smile onto Sam. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Duluth?” Sam glanced from his brother to you. “Maybe we can give you a hand on this one.”

“We can’t,” Dean stated firmly. He gave his brother a look and Sam’s brows furrowed before realization played upon his features and his jaw tightened. He turned apologetic hazel eyes onto you. “Donna’s up that way. If she needs a hand, she can call her,” Dean added.

You felt sick to your stomach. Obviously, you weren’t heading to Duluth or anywhere near Minnesota but the way he dismissed you so casually…the pain was overwhelming. The smile you kept on Sam turned into more of a grimace. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I’m good. Like your brother said, I can call Donna if I need anything. Don’t worry. Thanks, though.” You squeezed his arm and then turned to make your way up the stairs.

“Best of luck,” Dean gruffed out. You turned to see pure ice staring back at you.

You pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart right there, from demanding why Dean had obviously only called you for sex and a pick-me-up when there plenty of women in Lebanon that could do that for him, from begging him to wake up and see you were right in front of him and that what you had was very much real before it was too late. Instead, you continued climbing the stairs.

“Keep us updated and give us a call if you need anything,” Sam called after you.

“Will do,” you forced out.

“Good luck,” Jack offered.

When you reached the top, you glanced once more at Dean. His expression hadn’t changed one bit. The green gaze staring back at you was cold, hard. You let out a huff and shook your head, turning to open the door and close it behind you. That had been the very last time you saw him.

After that, you went back to the motel you had been renting a room in, packed up, and headed across state lines. You ignored Dean’s calls but took Sam’s.

Apparently, at some point, you had vanished when Chuck disappeared everyone. You had no idea until Donna filled you in. That explained the several missed calls from both Sam and Dean and the voicemails they left. Both had sounded desperate, especially Dean.

“Please, Y/N. I know you’re pissed at me and I get it but please call me back. Or call Sam. I don’t care. Just as long as we know you’re still with us and that you’re okay.” His tone sounded rough around the edges but considering the context Sam gave you when you did call him (there was no way you were calling Dean, especially not now), you realized they were just desperate to get in touch with anyone, having lost Cas and being the only three forms of life left on the planet.

Dean was right, you were angry. Angry that he’d used you that night, angry that he’d broken your heart in the first place. He had pursued you before you got together, not the other way around. By the time you let your guard down enough to let him in and things kicked off between you, he was deep in. Or so he’d said. By the time he ended things, you were deep in yourself. Now…now you were in even deeper thanks to him, so deep you were pretty sure Dean would haunt you the rest of your life no matter how you tried to shut him out of your heart.

Another tear rolled down your cheek. Though, you’d never meant the word haunt literally.

You wiped your face with your sleeve and let out an aggravated breath before getting to your feet. You grabbed your coat, your emergency bag, your hunting bag, and the car keys from the table near the door. You locked up and got into the car you only used for hunts and grocery trips now, starting it and backing out of the driveway.

It’s not that you doubted what Sam had told you or Sam himself, but you needed to see things for yourself. You turned the car in the direction that would lead you to Kansas.

You opened the door to the Bunker, seeing nothing but darkness greeting you, the clanking of the door being the only sound to echo in the large chamber. That was strange. They never shut it down when they left for hunts. You hit the lights and hearing a loud thrumming sound, you watched as they came back on, one by one. You had your own key since you were also a Legacy. You’d never been more thankful for that fact when you arrived to find the Bunker locked down, no Sam in sight.

You shut the door behind you and dropped your bags near the table. You bit your lip to keep your eyes from welling up when you noticed an unfinished chess game on the table, most likely one that Dean and Cas had been engaged in, but now neither of them would be back to complete it. Instead, you focused on the matter at hand. You pulled your gun out and an angel blade, slipping the latter into your coat pocket in case you needed it. In the other pocket, you slipped a flask of holy water and a small piece of iron bar you could wield if need be. In your gun sat silver bullets; you couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Especially if the word was out to the world of the supernatural that Dean Winchester was gone and only Sam was left now, alone.

You slowly made your way down the stairs, listening intently for any other noises you might hear. All that you could make out besides your footsteps was the low hum of electricity that was commonplace for the old bunker. You cleared the library, the hallways, the kitchen, the shower room, the infirmary, the Dean Cave where you’d been forced to watch The Lost Boys and slasher films more times than you cared to count (you had dug your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying when you saw the DVD cover of Tombstone left near the TV), every single room in the place until you came to the one that made a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it back down and forced yourself to focus, raising your gun that much higher. You opened the door and hit the lights, scanning every which way. The room was clear.

You lowered your gun and made your way inside, the lump in your throat back again. Your eyes roamed over the hastily made bed; the empty dog bowls on the floor (which made your brows furrow in confusion slightly); the messy desk; the empty beer bottles on the table; the headphones on the nightstand; the shotguns on the wall; the books scattered about; the load of laundry sitting off to the right in a corner. Memories washed over you and your eyes began to sting as tears welled up.

You’d walked into the room to find Dean jamming out on his bed, listening to music through the headphones he’d insisted on buying on your last trip. You huffed out a laugh and dropped the laundry basket of folded clothes onto the bed, garnering his attention.

He opened his eyes and glanced up to find you smiling at him.

“What are you listening to?”

He held one of the phones away from his ear and you could hear some serious strumming of heavy metal guitar coming out of it. “Huh?”

“I said, what are you listening to?” You asked a little louder.

“What?” He nearly yelled.

You picked up the top item from your pile, his Scooby Doo underthings, and playfully tossed it at him. It landed squarely on his chest and he immediately jumped up as if it had burned him, his cheeks turning redder by the second as he threw the headphones onto the bed.

“You did my laundry?” He asked in horror.

Amazing. You two had explored every single inch of each other time and time again, been sort of rooming together for the past month, but he was embarrassed that you washed his dirty underwear?

You shrugged and began to place his folded clothes on the bed. “I had room in the washer so I figured I’d grab yours, too. You’re welcome.”

“You washed our clothes together?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

You gasped and gave him a mock look of horror. “Oh no, not together.” You tossed a pair of jeans over at him and he caught it in time. “I used detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, and everything,” you teased. “But putting it away is where I draw the line, pal. That’s on you.” You pointed to the neat pile sitting on the bed before moving over to the door to head to the room you kept your things in down the hall.

Arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping your trek, and Dean murmured into your ear, “You washed my clothes for me?”

“And folded, too,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget that.”

“Mmm, what else can I get you to do for me?” He grabbed the basket from you and placed it down before gripping your hips and moving in to kiss your neck.

“Hey, I’m not your maid. I had room in the washer, that was it. Don’t get used to this,” you laughed before digging your teeth into your lip when you felt his tongue on a particular part of your skin.

“What if I want to get used to this?” He moved up to your jaw line.

“I’d say you’re SOL. Unless…”

“Unless?” He hummed near your lips.

“Unless you finally let me tidy up this room a little.”

His head shot up, frowning down at you. “What? Why, what’s wrong with how it is now?”

“Well,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Some of these papers on the desk need organizing, the books can be put in a stack on the table over there, these empty beer bottles can be thrown out, the shotguns you have near the bed can be put away…”

“There’s nothing wrong with anything you just mentioned,” he grumbled.

“Oh, really? So the other night when you were doing that thing—”

“That thing you really like,” he interrupted, smirking cockily at you.

You had to keep from rolling your eyes and smirking yourself. “When I moved, I knocked into the shotgun and it fell. It almost went off. You remember that?”

“Nothing happened or went off, well, except you.” His smirk got even bigger. “You remember that?”

This time you gently swatted at his shoulder. “Dean.”

He heard the warning in your no-nonsense tone and laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “Alright,” he whispered to your lips. “I’ll put the shotguns up out of the way. But everything else stays.”

You huffed out an exasperated breath. One of these days when he wasn’t looking, you swore you’d do as exactly as you’d suggested. Clear out the empty bottles and stack the books at the very least.

“Hey, it’s all about compromise, right? Speaking of that,” He turned you around in his arms and you were once again facing the laundry basket he’d left on the floor. “Find a space and keep some of ‘em in here.”

A pleasant shock ran through you. “Are you sure?” You whispered.

He slowly turned you back around and gently cupped your chin. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sure. You’re practically sleeping in here every night, anyway. I’d rather you not have to put back on the same clothes from the night before or walk naked down to your room. Then again, naked…”

You glared up at him, making him chuckle and brush his lips against yours. “I just didn’t want to crowd you,” you admitted after a moment. “It’s your space. If I’m in here too much, I can—”

“I want you here.” You gazed into his green eyes, unsure, but all you saw staring back at you was softness with a glint of earnestness. He was telling you the truth; he really wanted you to stay.

“Okay,” you agreed with a shy smile.

He beamed at you and then picked you up, making you gasp loudly and wrap your legs around his waist. “Not that you’re gonna be needing them right now.”

You shook your head and kissed him as he walked you both towards the bed. When he had you on it, you could hear the music coming from the forgotten headphones. “Is that…Whitesnake?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Uh huh. One sec.” He reached over, quickly clicked something on his phone, and the music suddenly changed. You smiled when a familiar song started up.

“Really?”

“What? It’s our song.”

You framed his face with your hands, looking up at him affectionately. “Dean Winchester, secretly sentimental and sensitive guy extraordinaire,” you teased him.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I’m not any of that crap. It’s the first song we made good use of Baby’s backseat to, that’s all. Now that you’re staying in here, we gotta celebrate.”

Romantic. You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Like I said, sentimental.” You pulled him down to you and kissed him sweetly. Needless to say, he had been right; you hadn’t needed your clothes for a little while.

You took in a ragged breath, your fingers gently touching over the papers on his desk. While you hated the empty beer bottles and you didn’t want to end up possibly shot with a salt round during a passionate moment of sex, you really hadn’t minded how he had things. You knew this was the first home he and Sam ever really had. He could keep things messy or disorganized if he wanted to; he had more than earned the right. It might sound silly to someone else but he deserved to experience living in a home, mess and all, like everyone did at some point in their lives. Not only did he not have a place to do that since he’d been four years old, he’d never felt comfortably settled in anywhere ever to be able to do it. You remembered him and Sam telling you how long it had taken Dean to settle into this room, to think of the Bunker as not just theirs but home. You’d kick the crap out of anyone who tried to take that away from him, and you would be the last person to try to do it yourself. You still thanked him when he hung the shotguns up on the wall; you were beyond grateful. That time, he was the one who went off and quite happily.

A sob nearly tore its way out of your chest when you saw his handwriting on one of the papers. Your fingertips traced each letter. How could he really be gone?

You ran your fingers over an open file, wondering what he had been looking at, when you heard the clicking of nails on the floor behind you. You spun, lifting your gun, to find Sam standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes as a dog appeared beside him. That must have been what you’d heard. You lowered the gun and let out a relieved breath. “What are you doing here?”

You winced internally at your question. He had every right to be here, this was his home. You were the intruder.

“The monitoring system we set up… I was alerted that someone was in the Bunker. I locked it down and I know only he and I had the keys, so I didn’t know if…” You watched as he compulsively swallowed.

You turned back to the desk. “I get that. Where were you, by the way? Why did you lock it down?” He didn’t answer for a moment when you glanced over your shoulder at him, seeing his gaze glued to the ground. “Sam?”

His eyes flicked up to yours and he swallowed again. “I was on my way to Austin. For a case. But then…” He gestured towards you. “I turned around and headed back to see.” You noticed he didn’t mention why he had locked the Bunker down but then again, he didn’t really need to. Who else would be coming here now that Dean, Cas, and Jack were gone? Mary was gone as well as most of the other hunters you’d worked with over the past couple of years. Apocalypse World Bobby was still up in Minnesota somewhere. Apocalypse World Charlie and Stevie had moved East, choosing to retire after what happened with Chuck temporarily disappearing everyone. Garth and Bess still lived in their home with their family. Jody and the girls had their own operation up in Sioux Falls with Donna lending a hand every now and then. And you…well, you never told Sam where you were.

You gave him a slow nod and dropped your eyes back down to the desk, running your fingers over the pages of an open lore book Dean had been reading. It was probably ridiculous but you thought maybe you could somehow still feel him here (though you did not want him to be a ghost), that perhaps by touch or sight or smell even that you could somehow connect to what his last days had been like. You wondered if he somehow knew deep down or if he hadn’t seen it coming. Even though he had always told you that he didn’t see a good ending for himself down the road, that he was forever bound to this life, you knew he also secretly fantasized about his life going in a different direction, one he’d included you in once upon a time. You then wondered if there was a girl somewhere who was either waiting for a phone call she would never get or was crying her eyes out because Sam had given her the news like he had you. It hurt to think that maybe he had found someone that he envisioned another future with instead of you, with someone he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Chuck hadn’t inserted into his life as a manipulation or a story device. Someone that he didn’t question what he had with them, if it was real. Though at the same time, you hoped he found a little piece of happiness. You still loved him enough to want that for him.

You briefly closed your eyes in pain when you remembered that last night you spent with him, telling him you loved him. You truly meant it and even though he hurt you again and again, you still did. You forced the thought away and instead chose to focus on the open book in front of you. “What was he working on?” You choked out, quietly clearing your throat once you heard how rough your voice sounded.

You turned the page, seeing mentions of witches and vampires, when you realized Sam never answered you. You glanced back at him, arching your brows in question.

Sam’s eyes were wide and laser focused on your body, his mouth hanging open. Shit.

You should’ve known that despite the dark clothing you were wearing, the long black coat you were sporting, turning away from him, that you wouldn’t be able to hide your secret much longer. Truthfully, it wasn’t even something you’d thought about when you set out for the bunker. Had Sam been here when you arrived, he probably would have seen it then.

You turned towards the younger Winchester and Sam’s eyes flickered up to you. “Are you…?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam closed his mouth and swallowed, glancing back and forth between you and your protruding belly. You read the clear question in his eyes that he was burning to ask.

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

Except the few times he’d been close to death, you’d never seen Sam look so pale.

You and Sam sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, Miracle (as you’d come to find out was the dog’s name) laid at your feet, his head on his paws.

“How?” Sam finally asked you.

You snorted in amusement. “You know how.”

“No, I mean… Why didn’t you tell Dean? Did you tell Dean? Because he didn’t tell me and I don’t think that’s something he wouldn’t have told me.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and sadness wrap around you once more. “No. I didn’t tell him,” you whispered. It was now the biggest regret of your life, right before the second biggest one of you walking out of the bunker the morning you’d last seen him and not fighting harder to get him to let you back in.

“Were you ever going to?”

Your eyes snapped to Sam at the judgment clear as day in his tone and they narrowed. “No, I wasn’t. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing more to do with me or anything related to me. So, no, Sam, I wasn’t,” you snapped.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his lap.

You turned your gaze forward again, taking a breath to tamp down the familiar anger and resentment that you’d worked so hard to try to let go of. After a moment, you rubbed at your forehead. “Yes,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I think so…”

Sam stayed quiet and let you sort through your thoughts which you were grateful for. You’d been caught completely off guard by the pregnancy yourself. When you found out, you thought back to how you unwisely didn’t take your usual precautions and since you and Dean had broken up long before that, you hadn’t been too concerned with maintaining your birth control.

You’d thought over your options. Bringing a kid into the hunting lifestyle was the worst thing you could do to it. Dean and Sam were living proof. Their mom herself had known it which was why she tried to get out when she married their dad. Not to mention, it would make you vulnerable in your line of work and the kid would always be in danger, always have a target on its back. Plus, you were pretty sure that even if you told Dean, he’d be less than thrilled. He always told you he didn’t want kids, for the very reasons you were now facing. And did you really want to bring a kid into the world that Chuck was about to end, only to have a father who was dismissive of it, or even hated it? You didn’t think Dean would be capable, he’d been great with Jack and Ben after all, but this was different. This kid would have his blood, his genes, would look like him somewhat. Sure, he had that in Emma once and that had torn him up, but this would also be different. This was for the long haul. And that’s only if he even wanted to be in this kid’s life. Which he might opt not to. How could you do that to your child? So you considered choosing to end the pregnancy, which would have been a true mercy given everything stacked against it before it would be born, but eventually you decided otherwise.

You’d heard the baby’s heartbeat on a checkup while you were still mulling it over, and that was it. Dean wanted to know if what you had was real or not? Here it was, its little heart thumping away deep within your body. After that visit, you’d decided the hell with it. You were someone who believed everything happened for a reason, well before things with Chuck went bad though you still operated on this age-old belief most of the time. You were having a kid, one who would be half of you and half of Dean, the love of your life for all intents and purposes. Though it had hurt when he dismissed you that morning, perhaps this had been the reason why he called you out of the blue, wanting you to come to him, and why you went despite knowing what would most likely happen and how much pain it would cause you.

So you made a decision to start pulling out of hunting. Donna rented her family cabin in Hibbing to you. Bobby hadn’t been back since Mary died so it was sitting empty and unused. You hid the pregnancy as best you could but ultimately, once the first trimester was over and you had popped, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Donna found out though she never knew who the father was. She didn’t pry which you appreciated. When she called you to warn you that Billie was making people disappear left and right, a familiar fear clawed at your chest. Not only fear for your child but also the fear of what if Dean found out about it. That was the only thing that kept you from offering to come down to Kansas to help.

“We’re going into some place warded to protect us. You should do the same. I can send you pictures of the sigils they’re using.”

“Okay, thanks. Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out. You just stay safe in the cabin. You and…well, you know.”

You appreciated her staying discreet when you heard Sam’s voice in the background. “I will. Thanks, D.”

“You betcha. Talk soon.”

You hung up and Donna did indeed send you the pictures. You did your best with what you had but it didn’t matter in the end. The last thing you remembered was painting a sigil on the window and then everything went black. The next thing you knew, you were back at the window, your finger extended towards the glass, the half-finished sigil staring back at you. You noticed the sun was in a different position in the sky than it had been and you immediately grabbed your cell phone. Two days had passed. How?

It hit you then what happened and you dropped the phone with a cry, immediately grabbing at your stomach. You ran for the machine Jody had shipped to you after Donna told her. At the time you’d been annoyed, but right now, you couldn’t be happier at the sheriff knowing about your pregnancy once your baby’s heartbeat echoed throughout the bedroom. You let out a huge sigh of relief, rubbing your belly affectionately. “We had quite a scare there, didn’t we, kiddo?”

It dawned on you then that while you had vanished, you were back, baby and all. Did that mean everyone else was back, too? You went back downstairs for your cell phone and immediately called Donna. Yep, everyone was back, they had all disappeared, and it wasn’t Billie but Chuck who had done it. You asked after Dean and Sam and that was when she told you about Cas and then Jack. You knew both brothers would be devastated, especially Dean, and you considered breaking your radio silence to call him. However, you chickened out at the last second and called Sam instead to check in.

It’s not that a part of you didn’t want to tell Dean he was going to be a father, it was that you were scared of what would happen when you did. Originally, you had feared that he would turn his back on you completely, more importantly on his kid, but now you were worried that maybe it would be the exact opposite. While you would be happy for him to be actively involved in your child’s life as its dad, you also knew Dean. He would try to resume things between you, make it work for the kid’s sake. Just look at how long he tried to make it work with Lisa for Ben’s sake. Not that he didn’t love her and he ended up leaving to protect them, but even Lisa knew his heart wasn’t in it. While that had been for different reasons involving hunting and Sam’s reappearance in his life, he still tried to make it work. But as he’d told you, the family thing didn’t work for him, and besides he already had a family with Sam, Cas, and Jack. You hadn’t missed how he didn’t include you in that group; you supposed you should’ve known then.

You didn’t want him to fake wanting to be with you just to give your kid some semblance of a family life that Dean himself hadn’t really had. You didn’t know if you could take him forcing himself to kiss you goodnight before turning his back on you every single night. Or forcing a smile when he’d come home after a long day and you were the first thing he saw when he stepped inside. It was a ridiculous fear to have, you knew that, and you should be stronger than this — you were stronger than this. Not to mention, you knew you were being selfish and not at all fair to your baby or Dean. But the images kept replaying over and over in your mind, making you flinch, and you told yourself you’d tell him the next day. The next day turned into next week, then the next month. Before you knew it, you were in your third trimester and you were getting a call from his younger brother to inform you of his untimely death.

Maybe that’s really why you raced down here from Hibbing. Maybe that’s why you wanted to see for yourself that he was gone. Not only to confirm that the man who had your heart was gone for good, but also so you could tell him, hoping he might hear it wherever he now was. Or maybe by some act of mercy Jack could relay it to him, wherever Jack was. It was cowardly, you were a coward, and you hated yourself for it. You knew you should have told Dean months ago, after you found out that he and Sam had beaten Chuck, Jack was in charge of the universe now, and the world was not coming to an end anytime soon. Regardless, you couldn’t turn back the clock.

A tear escaped that you quickly wiped away, not caring if Sam saw or not. “You know, when you first told me about Dean, I considered a demon deal.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “No! That’s not what he would want! No!”

You held out a placating hand. “I know. I’m not going to do that.” He seemed to deflate slightly in relief. “I can’t, anyway.” You motioned to your bulging stomach. “I couldn’t do that to my kid. Only be around for 10 years and then poof, I’m gone? Even if it had Dean, if Dean wanted it that is, it’s still terrible to do that to a kid.” You winced slightly when you realized you were saying this to Sam Winchester of all people.

“Dean would’ve wanted it,” he assured you quietly.

You grimaced and dropped your gaze down to the dog who was staring up at you. “Maybe.” You reached down to pet his head.

Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would’ve.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over his words, when you murmured, “Is there any way to get him back?”

Sam let you go and his hazel eyes began to shimmer. “No,” he choked out. “I, uh, checked with Jack and he said it was his time. So…no.”

“What?” You snapped, getting to your feet. “After everything you’ve done for that kid? He just—”

Sam got to his feet, tenderly cradling your shoulders. “I know. I didn’t want to hear it either but…Jack’s right.” Your jaw dropped, ready to let some f-bombs fly (which you usually tried to avoid since the baby could now hear you), when Sam’s hands moved up to your face, trying to get you to listen. “He was ready to go. Jack confirmed it. Dean’s in Heaven and he’s at peace.”

Tears were on the edge of falling when you heard that. “He’s in Heaven?”

Sam nodded, a tear making its way down his cheek. “Yeah. He is.”

If Dean was in Heaven…well, then that was some consolation at least. Just when he thought he’d never make it there thanks to his being a demon for a short stint, being killed by a Hell Hound, and everything that had occurred over the years — even some of the things he’d done. But that also meant he was gone, for good this time. It was confirmed; he wasn’t coming back. It hit you like a freight train and it punched a huge hole in your chest. You felt as if you were falling, falling, and would never stop. Dean was…gone. “Then he’s…”

“He’s gone,” Sam confirmed. “He’s not coming back.”

Your knees buckled and you nearly fell, Sam thankfully having caught you. You heard a wailing sound but you had no idea where it was coming from until you felt it ripping its way out of your body. Sam gingerly picked you up in his arms and moved you onto the bed. You were violently sobbing and you barely noticed Sam holding you, gently rocking you back and forth, his own tears falling into your hair. Miracle had jumped up and laid next to you, whining quietly and trying to shove his head under your hands, rubbing his body carefully against your belly.

There was no way. No way that this was real. This had to be a nightmare. But when you heard Sam sniffle above you, choking out, “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, it’s going to be okay,” you knew that it wasn’t. Memories of Dean’s face, his laugh, his smiles, his touch, his scent, the way he looked at you when you’d both been happy together, his kisses, the way he felt like home in a way that no other person or place ever could, the way he made you feel safe — all of it smashed over you like a tidal wave and it didn’t let up. Dean Winchester, the man you’d loved with all of your heart, the man whose child you now carried inside of you, was gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back.

Dean had just pulled the Impala over at a beautiful spot, where you could see nature’s beauty for miles. He rested back against Baby and marveled at it all. There was even a double rainbow that showed up and Dean chuckled, knowing that had to be Jack’s doing considering there hadn’t been any rain. Then he wondered if it did rain at all. How did things like that work up here anyhow?

He was still enjoying the view when Jack popped in next to him.

“There he is.” Dean grinned and went to give him a hug before he thought better of it. “Am I still allowed to…you know?”

Jack smiled. “Of course. I like hugs.”

Dean laughed and embraced him tightly. “Thanks, kid. For everything you did up here, I mean. Bobby told me.” He pulled back, clapping his shoulder in thanks. “So, where’s Cas?”

“He’ll be along shortly but first, I need to show you something.”

Dean’s brows furrowed but he shrugged. “Okay.”

Jack placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and next thing Dean knew, he was back in his old room at the Bunker. “Whoa,” he whispered, thinking Jack and Cas had built the Bunker just for him. He would be able to wait for Sam here, in his home. He hoped the TV in the Dean Cave worked and that he still had access to his music. Baby’s radio had worked so he had high hopes. He was about to thank Jack when his eyes suddenly caught sight of someone in his bed. Well, two someones.

He glanced towards Jack who gave him a subtle nod, silently encouraging him to get closer. Dean shot him a confused look but did move closer. When he caught sight of you, his heart dropped into his stomach. Even being dead, he felt the same exact thing he felt the last time he had seen you. You were the one who got away, or more appropriately, the one he pushed away.

Sure, he’d been confused when he found out everything in his life was a lie when Chuck revealed himself to be a giant dick, but he did love you. He had such trouble reconciling the two: what he knew to be true and what his mind was telling him. No other romantic relationship had worked out for him, all two of them prior to you, and now he knew why. Chuck liked him better on his own, being the guy with no strings attached and rolling through town to save the girl, kill the monsters, get thanked, and move on his way. The only other person Chuck liked having in the Impala regularly was Sam. You, well, you he hadn’t seen coming and after the Big Bad Chuck reveal, he had to wonder why.

He had never meant to hurt you, though he couldn’t seem to stop from doing it. If things weren’t real between you all of this time, he didn’t want to keep pretending like they were. That wasn’t fair to either of you and he certainly didn’t want to continue stringing you along when his heart was no longer in it like it used to be. So he let you go, as painful as it was and as wrong as it felt, he did the right thing by you. Then that night he’d called you out of the blue, he’d been torn up about Cas’ revelations about Jack’s actual role in Billie’s plan, how badly he wanted Chuck gone, and how while he didn’t want to sacrifice the kid, he wanted his and Sam’s freedom more. Without thinking, he’d picked up the phone and dialed you. He shocked himself when he asked you to come over after hearing you weren’t that far away, and you shocked him even more when you agreed.

Dean hadn’t planned for you two to be intimate, but once you were there, right in front of him, it hit him hard how much he missed you, missed what you had together. So he made a move and you let him. He’d put everything he had, everything he felt but couldn’t tell you, into this stolen moment in time between you. And then the next morning, he thought it had all been a dream until he turned his head and saw you laying there, hair adorably disheveled, sheet covering you, doing something on your phone. It briefly reminded him of the many mornings he’d woken to find you in this exact same position, already up after a wild night, searching for cases. He wanted to bask in the comfort and familiarity for a moment longer, but when you turned and smiled at him, greeting him like you always had, he started kicking himself internally. He didn’t want you to think that this meant things would change when he knew they wouldn’t. He was being unfair to you and it wasn’t right. He’d been a selfish bastard and now he had to go into dick mode which would hurt you again. And sure enough, he knew he did when he saw your face fall as he easily dismissed you, not once but twice. He winced at the memory; he certainly didn’t blame you for not taking his calls or returning his voicemails after that.

The truth was that while he had initially been confused about his feelings for you and their validity, he knew he cared deeply about you and the most important thing was keeping you safe. He didn’t want you involved in the Chuck showdown, which is why he rudely dismissed you that morning, making up an excuse of a case in Duluth, something he knew you’d go along with. After watching you leave, as the door closed behind you, his heart fell into his stomach and he felt about three inches tall. He hated hurting you, hated pushing you away, but he knew it was for the best. You needed to be safe; not a target for Chuck.

After Chuck had been defeated and Jack took over, Dean realized in those months that he’d been a grade A idiot when it came to you. Sure, he’d been a cold dick, but he also had been a complete dumbass. He still loved you and he missed the hell out of you. What you had together had been something special that he stupidly threw away. There were quite a few nights after quite a few drinks, he’d picked up his phone and hovered over your number but he never actually called it. How could he even think of asking you to forgive him and give him another chance? After everything he’d said and done? He truly was a selfish bastard.

When he didn’t call, he then switched over to all of the photos and videos he had taken of you and both of you together. As he heard your laughter, saw both of your smiles, watched how you looked at him and the affection you’d shown him, he continued drowning his sorrows. He wanted so much to talk to you, to apologize and explain, and ask if he could come see you, but he never let himself ask. He didn’t deserve it; he knew that.

Now, here you were, asleep on his bed, Miracle curled up next to you. Staring down at you, he wondered how the hell he had ever let you go. And now, he’d never get to hold you again, feel your touch, or even share a conversation with you ever again. Even though Dean was at peace with his fate, regret languished within his chest the more he studied your face. He reached out to brush some hair back over your face but sadness overwhelmed him when he realized he couldn’t even do that small simple touch. Not anymore.

Dean’s eyes narrowed when he noticed an arm curled around you, almost protectively, pinning you to another body. His gaze traveled up that arm to find his younger brother, asleep right behind you. That surprised him but he quickly put two and two together. You must have gone to the Bunker when Sam called you to tell you the news and here you were, in Dean’s room, asleep on his bed with his dog. And while he didn’t begrudge you or his little brother some comfort you both might need, he didn’t like the look of that embrace or that Sam’s face was buried into the back of your neck.

Dean glanced back down at the arm, seeing Miracle staring right up at him. He couldn’t help but smile at the canine who had been his companion for months before he died. “Hey, boy,” he whispered, not sure if he would be heard or not but not wanting to startle you if he was. “How are you?”

Miracle didn’t seem to react at first, not until he got up and moved closer, wagging his tail. Dean went to try to pet the dog, hoping he could at least touch the animal, but he never got that far. His eyes zeroed in on just what Miracle’s body had been blocking.

His wide eyes flicked up to you, to Sam, back to you, and back to your fairly large and round stomach. The hell with being heard and possibly scaring you two. He glanced back to find Jack watching him. “What the hell is going on here, Jack?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“I’m aware of that,” he growled. “But what—”

Just then, Cas popped in next to Jack. When the angel saw Dean, he offered a soft smile. Dean felt himself relax slightly and a part of him wanted to go hug the angel but another part of him was nervous to. Plus, he really wanted to know what the hell was going on. He shifted his eyes towards Jack, his jaw tightening. “What the hell are you showing me?”

Cas glanced towards the bed, realization lighting his features, before he turned to Jack as well.

��The present,” Jack simply answered.

Dean cursed under his breath, not caring that both Cas and Jack could hear him. “The present of what? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like some time has passed.” He gestured towards your stomach. He tried not to be angry with you or Sammy, he really did, but dammit, his brother knew how he felt about you! Him dying didn’t change that! Besides, Sam had something going with Eileen last he knew, whatever happened to that?

“What you’re seeing is a few days after your death.”

Surprise ran through Dean at that revelation. So, this wasn’t some screwed up future scene he was witnessing? His eyes roamed over you, coming to rest once again on your stomach. You were very pregnant, looking as if you might be ready to pop any day now, he wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear; there was no way the baby was Sam’s. Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret from him that long and he just didn’t see you or Sam going behind his back like that while he was alive. You were pissed at him, maybe even hated him, but you would never do that to him. Nor would Sam. The only answer was that you had found someone else and you were starting a family with them. Now he understood your radio silence even more. You might currently be sad at the news of his death, awash in memories in his room to where you’d fallen asleep on his bed and Sam had to comfort you, but you had truly moved on. That burned him even more. While he was happy if you were happy, knowing you’d found someone who wouldn’t break your heart and would treat you better than he ever could, a part of him was saddened by this knowledge. He knew you were too good for him, that you deserved better, but to see it confirmed in such a way, well, it was heartbreaking.

“So if she’s… Then she’s…” He couldn’t even put it into words; it hurt too much.

Jack clasped Dean’s shoulder. “The child is yours, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t alive anymore but if he had been, his heart would have stopped. He turned to Jack, shocked. “What?”

“You’re going to be a father,” Jack supplied, letting him go.

“But…how?” Dean’s gaze fell on you once more.

Cas suddenly appeared on his other side. “You don’t remember how you conceived the child?”

“What? No, I just…”

“Dean,” Jack called.

When he turned to look at the new God, the latter held up a glowing finger to him that almost reminded him of that movie E.T. “What are you gonna do with that? Check my temperature?” Speaking of E.T., hadn’t that been one of the last movies picked for movie night before the Chuck showdown?

Jack smiled and touched the finger to his forehead. Within seconds, Dean was reliving every single moment between you two:

…When you’d met.

…When he decided he’d liked you while you decided you didn’t like him too much.

…His constant flirting and trying to win you over.

…Your begrudging friendship that then grew into something more.

…Your relationship.

…Your breakup.

…All of the times you’d been in pain because of him.

…That last night.

…The next morning.

Then the memories shifted to yours from after that morning:

…You finding out about the pregnancy a couple of months later.

…Your hemming and hawing over calling him to tell him.

…Your fears.

…When you’d vanished with everyone else.

…Your panic upon your reappearance.

…The time you spent getting ready to retire from hunting and set up a normal life in Hibbing while preparing for the baby.

…The call from Sam with the news of his death.

…Your regret at not telling him about his child and your drive down here.

…Your conversation with Sam.

…Your collapsing in grief at finally realizing that he was gone and not coming back.

All of it that led to the scene he was witnessing now. He felt everything you felt, heard every thought, saw every tear, every smile.

By the time Jack pulled away, Dean’s eyes were wet. He wasn’t sure how he was able to produce tears as a dead man but he did. Not only did he feel how deeply he’d hurt you, but he also felt just how deeply you loved him. He already knew he’d been an idiot when it came to you, but he really had no clue before this just how incredibly stupid he’d been. It had always been real between you. That hadn’t been Chuck. Not by a long shot.

Dean discreetly wiped his eyes. “Send me back.” His tone was firm and he wasn’t really asking.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but your time on Earth is up.”

Dean turned a menacing glare onto Jack. New God or not, he didn’t care. “She’s having my kid and she needs me. They both need me. Sam, too. After everything I’ve done for this world, you owe me.” Jack stared him down, unbothered by the taller man’s attempt to make demands. “Now I appreciate the Fixer Upper: Heaven Edition, I really do, but I should be with them. I deserve a shot at this and you know it.”

Jack mused on that for a moment before staring up at Dean sadly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

Dean scoffed. “Then why bother showing me any of this? Why bother telling me that it’s my kid she’s about to have? What’s the point, dammit?”

“You were afraid that you had left nothing behind of value, except Sam and your beloved car. Afraid that your life hadn’t amounted to anything in the end. No matter how many people you saved, no matter how many connections you made, no matter what good you did. ” Jack gestured towards you. “It did amount to something. You are leaving behind something, something important. A legacy,” Jack gestured to your stomach. “A family,” he waved his hand over you and Sam.

Dean’s jaw clenched and he ignored the stinging in the corner of his eyes. “So this was just to show me what I can never have. The girl, the kid, the life…that’s just aces,” he muttered.

“No, Dean,” Cas spoke up. “What Jack is trying to explain is—”

“--your life amounted to more than you thought it had,” Jack finished.

Dean watched as Miracle went back and curled up against your belly once more, his head on his paws as he watched the scene in front of him. The corner of Dean’s lips tipped up into a smile. It was almost as if the dog knew it was his kid in there. And he was determined to protect it in Dean’s absence. His smile faded though when he thought of how he wouldn’t be able to see his kid, at all. He’d had enough of this. “That’s great. Appreciate the pep talk, fellas. Now, if you could send me back so I can actually raise my legacy and take care of my family, that’d be much appreciated.”

Jack and Cas exchanged a glance. Dean knew he wasn’t winning this one but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying. “It’s not your time yet,” Jack answered cryptically.

Dean’s head snapped in his direction. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that now your time is in Heaven, not Earth. And it’s best if you return to it.” Before Jack could snap his fingers, Dean held up a hand.

“Whoa, wait! That’s it? You’re not even gonna let me stick around to see what I’m gonna have?”

Jack smiled once more. “You’re going to have a son. A strong, healthy son.”

Dean reeled from that information. “A son?” He choked out.

Jack gave him a happy nod and held his fingers up again.

“Wait, wait! I’m serious, Jack. Why can’t I stick around?”

“You know what happens to ghosts, Dean. Besides, you’ve already been admitted to Heaven.”

“But you can do something about that, right? Like bring me back?” When Jack didn’t respond, Dean became desperate. “At least let me check in on them every now and then or something! You’re telling me you can’t even do that? You’re freaking God!”

Jack’s smile faded. “You’re not an angel, Dean.”

“No,” Cas interrupted. “But I am.” Cas stretched out his wings that were a lot brighter than Dean remembered. If he wasn’t dead, he was pretty sure he would at they very least be blinded from the brightness right about now. “I can take him back when he’s ready and I can escort him on any future visits.”

Dean was shocked but also beyond grateful at Cas’ offer. While they hadn’t spoken yet about how things were left between them before The Empty took away the angel, he couldn’t imagine it would be easy for Cas to watch as he pined over someone else, as he watched his kid grow, but Dean was grateful all the same.

Jack appeared to think this over before meeting Cas’ intent gaze. “You will make sure to bring him back each time.” At Cas’ nod, Jack gave him a knowing yet affectionate smile. “I expect you to keep to the rules during these visits.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed.

Jack then glanced over at Dean. “If you’re worried about her and your child, you don’t need to be. Sam is going to watch over them.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped in your direction, his eyes shifting to Sam’s arm around you.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded.

“It means that your family is going to be safe. They’re going to stick together. Sam is going to help Y/N raise your son. He won’t allow any harm to come to them.”

His jaw tightened, thinking it should be his arm over you, him behind you, him helping you raise your kid, you two together. He should be the one to take his son fishing, teach him about girls when he got older, show him how to keep Baby going, be the father his old man had the potential to be but minus a few things. He’d do whatever it took to keep the kid out of hunting, to give him a shot at a full happy life. He’d give up hunting himself in order to make it happen. And you…if you’d take him back, he’d never leave your side. Hell, he’d marry you if you let him. After Jack had caught him up to speed on everything you went through, everything you had felt and were feeling, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you, letting you know every single day just how much he loved you, if only you’d let him. If only Jack would allow him to come back. It felt beyond wrong that he wasn’t there and Sam was stepping into his place. Sam shouldn’t have to; he should be able to go and build his own family with Eileen or whoever, get married, have a couple of kids, buy a house, get out of hunting and go back to school — do whatever he wanted with his life. Not this.

“Dean.”

His eyes slowly lifted to Jack’s, who was a lot closer now than he had been before. He laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s as it should be. After you died, Sam was lost. She’s going to need help when the child is born.” He stared at Dean meaningfully. “They all need this.”

Dean’s gaze briefly roamed over the three of you on the bed before landing on Jack again. He thought back to his cryptic words from before. “Will I ever meet my kid? Get to see her again? Outside of Heaven?”

Jack’s expression didn’t change nor did he say anything but he squeezed his shoulder. That was the only response Dean was going to get apparently.

Dean huffed a snort and shook his head.

“I told you, Dean. There would be no more meddling with the world from on high. I will not repeat Chuck’s mistakes. Everything is as it should be.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze. No, everything wasn’t as it should be. He made up his mind then to talk to Bobby when he got back. There had to be something he could do to get back to Earth, to get back to you and Sam and the baby…to get back to you all. If he couldn’t convince Jack to send him back, he’d find some other way.

Jack released him as Cas came to stand next to Dean. “I’ll see you back in Heaven.” He then looked at Cas. “Not too long.”

Cas gave him a nod and like that, Jack disappeared, leaving the angel and the hunter alone. Dean wasn’t thinking about how that might have set them up to talk about Cas’ last words to him before dying; right now, his focus was on you.

“Cas, please…can I touch her?”

“Dean…”

“Please,” he begged. “Just one last time. I’m not gonna get to be with her or raise my kid. I just want to touch her one last time. Please, Cas.”

Cas thought it over and then moved closer to the bed, leaning down to place two fingers against your forehead. Dean’s brows furrowed when he noticed a golden glow appear from the touch. “Whoa, whoa, Cas. What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you what you asked for. Y/N’s a light sleeper, like all of you hunters. If she wakes up, she could think she’s being attacked by a ghost or some other entity. I doubt you want that.” He pulled away and gave Dean a look.

“No,” Dean quietly agreed. Cas moved away to make room to let him in. Dean gingerly sat on the bed, about to touch you when he glanced up at the angel, unsure. Cas gave him a nod and Dean turned to gently run the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He felt your warm and soft skin this time when he came into contact with you and he let out a small breath of relief, sadness filling his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Had I known, I would’ve…” He supposed it didn’t really matter what he would’ve done. “I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have had to go through all this alone. I should be there with you now, ready to help you take care of the kid. I…” He tenderly moved your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to become a target for Chuck. And I never should’ve…” He could feel a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t surprised that his voice was a bit gruffer when he next spoke. “I knew what we had was real. I know I questioned it for a second there but I always knew. That’s why it was so important to me that you were safe. But it doesn’t make what I did and said okay. And I’m sorry for that.” He ran his fingers lightly over your lips, wishing he could kiss you one last time, feeling you kissing him back. “I love you,” he whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek that he hastily wiped away. He stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly with his thumb. “And I always will.”

Not really wanting to pull away from you but knowing he was on a time clock, he reluctantly moved his fingers away from your face and laid his hand on your belly. He couldn’t feel anything except the taut skin underneath his fingertips, but it was enough to make him smile. “Being that you’re my kid, you’re probably going to give your mom a run for her money. Try not to make her too crazy, huh?” He let out a watery sounding laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there but your Uncle Sammy is going to make sure you and your mom are taken care of. Okay? He’s going to show you how to toss a ball around, help you with your homework, all that stuff. Just do me a favor, though. Don’t let him feed you kale the whole time and don’t let him get you into his true crime podcasts. The guy is a classic nerd, don’t let him turn you into one, too.” His smile slowly faded. “Saying all that, he’s one of the best guys I've ever known and I know he’ll be good to you, be good to your mom. So cut him some slack when you get older, alright?” He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles. “Take care of your mom for me. I’ll be watching over both of you. I hope I get to meet you someday.” Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your stomach before sitting up and coming face to face with Miracle. The dog quietly whined and Dean gave him one last good head scratch. “You look out for them, okay buddy?” The dog whined again and Dean patted him.

“Dean,” Cas gently called.

Dean nodded and slowly got to his feet. His eyes shifted to Sam who was sound asleep, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks for taking care of them, Sammy,” he whispered. He didn’t vocalize that it was only temporary, that he was hell bent and determined to find a way to get back. His eyes then landed on you and he reached out to you one last time, trailing a fingertip along the dried tear tracks on your cheek. “Cas, can we just stay until they wake up?”

“Dean, Jack said—”

“I know what Jack said,” Dean snapped, glancing back at the angel whose parted lips pressed into a thin line. Dean immediately felt sorry for snapping at him; it wasn’t Cas’ fault and he wasn’t angry with him. He softened his tone. “I just want to be here when she wakes up. That’s all.” Cas seemed to be wrestling with his request. “Please, Cas,” he begged. “I just want to see her like this, awake.” He was slightly embarrassed at admitting that to his best friend but he wasn’t sure when he’d be allowed to visit again (and what he might be able to figure out to get himself back or how long it would take), and he had the strongest urge to see you up and about, walking around, pregnant with his kid. Not to mention he wanted to hear your voice one last time. “Please,” he whispered in a broken plea.

Cas stared at him for a moment before giving him a nod. “But after she wakes, we go back.”

“Thank you, Cas.” He meant it. While he highly doubted Cas would get into any real trouble on his behalf, he knew how difficult it must be for the angel to unwillingly push against Jack’s rules. Dean turned back to you, carefully sitting down next to you, caressing your face. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured. He also made you a silent promise: he would do whatever it took to get back to you. His eyes briefly roamed to your stomach. To get back to both of you. Fate and the universe and all that crap be damned.

A/N: Please don't hate me.

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alwaysonthemend · 1 year

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Falling, fallen | JTK

Author's Note: Hey guys! I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. I have a full time job and I’m in school so sometimes I get a little behind. I hope the length of this one makes up for the wait. The next thing I post will be the next chapter of Light My Love. Thank you to all of you who have reached out about that fic and I’m so sorry it's taking so long. As usual, this is unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes.

Summary: You’re the best damn manager that Greta Van Fleet has ever had. You’re always on top of things, you never miss a beat, and shows run smoother than they ever have before. In fact, everything would be perfect if one of the band members hadn't decided to hate you for no reason. Jacob Kiszka despises you. And no matter how hard you try to be nice to him, he’s always just dismissive and rude. After countless little instances of Jake being an asshole to you, you decide that it might be time for a career change. Little do you know, your choice might lead to some unforeseen consequences.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, arguing, swearing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving) oral (f. receiving) 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 10573

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Being Greta Van Fleet’s manager is both the worst job you’d ever had and the best one. On the one hand, the boys are the most chaotic and hard to manage group of people you’d ever met. They were perpetually late to everything – becoming so frequent it was almost as if they were trying to not be on time. They rarely listen when someone else tries to tell them anything, preferring instead to always do things their way (no matter how many times it backfires on them). And each member was so incredibly particular about how they liked things – and were similar to frustrated little kids when things don’t work out. To put it simply: they’re exhausting.

But at the same time, they were all some of the kindest people you’ve ever met. They took you in; Josh immediately doing his damn best to make you feel included, Danny always there to give you comforting words of encouragement, and Sammy always making you laugh when you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed. They’re practically saints; and despite being so hard-headed, they do their best to not make your job more difficult than it already is. Just last week Josh had comforted you for almost an hour after you had accidentally overbooked a weekend of interviewers, scheduling two within the same time slot. He’d reminded you that being human meant making mistakes and that it’s totally okay to make them. And he’d also made sure to mention that you’re damn good at your job and one little mistake didn’t change that. You’d been able to fix the overbooking pretty easily and you both had laughed at your panic after the fact.

In fact, every single person you’d interact with that is a part of the Greta Van Fleet team treats you like you’re family – well, everyone except one. Jake. Jacob Kiszka had avoided you like the plague after your very first meeting. He’d walked into the conference room clad in a black shirt unbuttoned down to his stomach and a pair of white slacks with silver necklaces falling to rest on his tanned chest.. Dark sunglasses were covering his eyes (despite not needing them inside). He’d walked in with an air of complete and utter control, and you’d immediately bristled as he took a seat. After the introductions had been made and all the paperwork and business discussed, you’d approached him to try and introduce yourself personally. You’d managed to meet all of the other members right off the bat and you wanted to extend the same to him – despite how uncomfortable he made you feel.

“Hi!” You’d stuck your hand out to him. “I’m y/n. I’m really looking forward to working with you!” You had plastered your most welcoming smile you could muster as you waited for his response. He looked you up and down before taking your hand in his. His fingers had been warm and you could feel the callouses on them as he shook your hand.

“I know. They introduced you earlier. And you know who I am.” His words held no malice in them, nor anger or frustration. The only emotion he’d met you with was the absence of any at all. Indifference, complete and utter indifference. He dropped your hand and left the room without another word, and without so much as a glance back in your direction. You’d just stood there, jaw hanging open as you watched his retreating form.

“Sorry about him.” Josh had said, coming to stand beside you. “He isn’t the best at meeting new people or small talk.”

“No kidding.” You huffed, eyes still trained on the door he’d just left.

“Give him time.” Josh squeezed your shoulder and gave you a smile. “He’ll come around.”

But he hadn’t. In fact, it seemed that Jake’s dislike for you only intensified as time went on – despite your best efforts to become at least slightly friendly with him. It seemed like the closer you got with the other bandmates, the colder he grew towards you. It frustrated you beyond measure. Everyone liked you. You pride yourself on being able to find common ground with just about anyone, and you ‘d be lying if you said that you weren’t damn good at getting people to like you – no matter who they are. But Jake remained untouchable. He was the only one that you knew practically nothing about.

It didn’t take long after that first meeting for you to become very close with Josh. It was almost unbelievable to you that they’re twins. They’re so completely unalike. Sure, their mannerisms were strikingly similar and their facial expressions were one and the same – but beyond appearances, their personalities were like night and day.

“Josh?” You had asked, about a month into working with them.

“What’s up, y/n?” He’d replied cheerfully, glancing up from his notebook to look at you.

“Why does Jake hate me?” You asked, dramatically falling into the chair across from him. “No matter what I do, he won’t give me anything. Not even his damn facial expression will change. I don’t get it.” You closed your eyes and laid your head back in defeat.

Josh chuckled at your theatrics.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just…” He trailed off, lightly tapping his chin with his forefinger. “I actually have no fucking clue.”

You groaned and rose from your place across from him and took a seat on the arm of Josh’s chair.

“I hate it. Everyone likes me.”

“Look, y/n. Jake is just… Jake. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

You paused for a minute, watching as Josh absentmindedly doodled.

“I’m gonna make him like me if it’s the last thing I do.” You declared suddenly, filled with a new sense of determination.

“Oh, God. Here we go.” Josh sighed, placing his pencil down. “Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because everyone likes me. And I’ll be damned if I let Jacob Kiszka be the one to ruin my track record.”

Josh just shook his head at you.

Step one of your plan was to go out of your way to be nice to Jake, even when he would inevitably try to dismiss you. You’d seen him interact with his brothers and Danny and so you knew that he could be sweet. You just had to figure out why he wouldn’t act like that around you.

Your first opportunity arose one morning about a week after your conversation with Josh. You had awoken early – far earlier than you alarm, and so you had some time to yourself before you had to start rounding up the boys from their separate hotel rooms. You’d gone down to the lobby to treat yourself to a quiet breakfast, away from the craziness that promised to fill the rest of your day. The boys had a show tonight and you had to deal with hotel checkout since they were flying out that very same night to a different city. You entered the breakfast area to see Jake sitting alone in the far corner, nursing a cup of coffee. He glanced up at you as you entered and you waved happily at him before making your way over to his table.

“Morning, Jake!” You said as cheerily. “Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

He glanced at you over his sunglasses, assessing your smiling face as you waited for his response.

“If you’d like.” He said simply, looking back down at his phone. You frowned at his lack of interest but brushed it off and took a seat.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, giving him the most genuine smile you could.

“Yes.” He answered, short and curt. You waited for him to say more – he didn’t.

“Are you excited for the show tonight? I know I am.”

He sighed and looked up from his phone again at you. He looked annoyed, but you tried to not let your disappointed show on your face at his clear disinterest in talking to you.

“Mm hm.”

The table fell into awkward silence. You couldn’t think of anything else to add. As you sat there, racking your brains for something else to say to try and get a conversation going, Jake rose from his seat abruptly.

“I’m going back to my room.”

“Oh!” You said, taken aback. “Okay. I’ll see later!” But he was already walking away, again refusing to spare you even a passing glance backwards.

“Fuck.” You said to yourself, grimacing. That hadn’t worked at all.

You kept trying as the weeks went by, trying everything you could think of to get him to stop acting like he hated you. You tried bringing him coffee to his hotel room, ordering his favorite foods for meetings, you’d tried asking him about his guitar, or what his favorite city to visit was. You had tried everything and were quickly running out of ideas. Everything you did was met with stony indifference and clipped responses.

Things didn’t start to escalate until after you approached him after a show one night to congratulate him on a wonderful performance.

“You did awesome out there, Jake! Like always!” You said as he walked into the greenroom, sweaty and chest heaving with the exertion of the night. Your eyes couldn’t help but to stare as a drop of sweat rolled down his throat and dripped down onto his chest.

“Thanks.” He started to walk away but you called out to him.

“Wait!”

He turned to you sharply at your raised voice. You hadn’t meant to call out that loudly but you weren’t backing down now.

“Why are you such an asshole to me?” You asked, sudden confidence flowing through you. You watched as his nostrils flared and he opened his mouth to say something before suddenly closing it again. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, y/n.” He said, voice calm and cold.

“Bull shit.”

“Goodnight, y/n.” He said, turning his back to you and walking away. You stood there for a long moment, rage flowing through you.

“So,” Josh said loudly, startling you from your anger fueled reverie. “Operation Make Jake Not Hate You doesn’t seem to be going very well, huh?” He looked smug. He too was sweaty from the show and you could feel the warmth of him radiating from his skin in waves.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Joshua. I fucking give up.” You threw your hands up angrily in defeat. “If he’s so determined to hate me so much for no fucking reason, fine! I hate him too!”

And with that, you stormed off, blood pressure only rising more as you heard Josh laughing loudly at you as you stomped away.

True to your word, Operation Make Jake Like You turned into you just trying to ignore him back. You still managed to maintain professionalism, managing his needs and making sure things were done correctly for him – but other than that, you tried to remain friendly with him without pushing for anything more. Instead, you took to hanging out with the other guys in between shows and during the day. And you started spending more and more time with Josh. The two of you had a lot in common, sharing many of the same favorite songs and artists and you both loved to laugh. Josh was so easy to be around and he quickly became your closest friend amongst the boys. You spent lots of time together when your schedules allowed for it, and your little obsession with Jake finally stopped consuming your every thought. He still gave you a cold shoulder, but you tried to stop letting it bother you. It still stung, everytime he dismissed you, but you grew used to it.

Life moved on and your job quickly became a whole lot smoother than it had been at the start. You knew the ins and outs of handling the boys and it took a lot to throw you off now. Things were running smoothly and efficiently – better than they ever had before with other management. Danny had told you as such one night, as you all had been relaxing at a small little downtown bar. You all had a free night and everyone wanted to take advantage of it.

“I’ve gotta say y/n, I think you’re the best manager we’ve ever had.” Danny said, catching the attention of everyone else.

“I absolutely, wholeheartedly agree, Danny.” Josh said, giving you a grin.

“A toast?” Sammy asked, raising his glass to the middle of the table.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Josh confirmed as he and Danny raised their glasses as well.

“To the best damn manager we’ve ever had!” Josh yelled and the three of them clinked their glasses with yours.

You laughed and blushed, touched by their kindness.

“Isn’t that right, Jake?” Josh asked, turning towards his twin who had remained completely silent.

“Oh yes. The best.” He said, his usual indifference melting away into plain bitchiness.

Danny, Sam, and Josh stared at him, all taken aback by the sarcasm dripping from his words.

“You know, if you have such a problem with me, why don’t you just come out and say it to my face, Jacob.” You said darkly, venom lacing your own words.

“Hey, look guys. Why don’t we just-”

“Shut up, Sam.” Jake said, slamming his glass down. “Maybe I do have a fucking problem with you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the fucking problem, then?” You spat, rising from your seat to glare at him.

“Y/n…” Josh hedged, sensing the impending blow out that had been months in the making.

“Tell me what the problem is, Jake? I have been nothing but nice to you since the day we met. What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so much?”

Jake rose from his seat too, slamming his palms down on the table. Your raised voices were drawing looks from everyone else at the bar.

“My problem, y/n,” He said, and he spat your name out like it tasted terrible, “is that you’re fucking annoying. You won’t leave me the fuck alone. I’m so sorry that I don’t fall for your obnoxious need to always try and be fucking sunshine and rainbows all the god damned time. You can’t stand that I just don’t like you.” He said the last part slowly and cruelly, eyes blazing from across the table.

“And I’m sorry that you’re so fucking miserable that you can’t stand it when the people around you aren’t!” You shouted, and Danny rose from his seat to put a placating hand on your shoulder. You jerked out of his grip angrily. “You are such a dick, Jake! All I’ve ever tried to be with you is nice. But you dismiss me like I’m a child! I’m sick of it!”

“Alright, enough!” Josh shouted, rising from his own seat. “Both of you, that’s enough!”

Embarrassment over your outburst flooded you suddenly, making your cheeks grow warm. Jake seemed to also have the decency to at least look embarrassed himself.

“I’m going to my room.” Jake said, voice cold and very clearly still angry. “Don’t fucking wait up.” And with that, he stormed away.

You collapsed back into your seat and put your head in your hands, a headache slowly beginning to form behind your eyes.

“Hey,” Danny said, placing his hand back on your shoulder, “just ignore him, y/n. He’s not worth it.”

“I just don’t get what I did to make him hate me!” You cried, hating the way your eyes were filling with tears.

“You didn’t do anything. He’s just Jake.” Josh said softly, before taking a sip of his drink to calm his nerves. He hated seeing the two of you fight: his twin and his best friend. He hated it so much.

“He’s just an asshole, nothing else to it. He likes being grumpy. I honestly think he gets off on it sometimes.” Sam said, and his statement made you laugh quietly despite yourself.

“Thanks, guys.” You said, taking a large gulp of your bourbon.

The conversation moved on and you allowed yourself to forget your argument with Jake, doing your very best to shove your hurt down into the deepest recesses of your brain. You weren’t going to let him ruin your night any more than he already had.

Once you all had finished eating and goodbyes were said, you slowly trudged your way to your hotel room, wishing suddenly that you were back home in your own bed. You loved traveling all around with them, but the night's events were making you yearn to be home. You got ready for bed as quickly as you could, hoping to try and get some good sleep since the boys would be performing tomorrow – show days are always exhaustingly chaotic.

But no matter how long you lay there, sleep continued to evade you. Your thoughts were swirling with Jake’s words, and you couldn’t get his angry face out of your head. Him calling you annoying had hurt – more than you would ever admit out loud. Normally, you’d usually be able to ignore someone else’s jabs at you; but for some reason, Jake’s dislike of you made your chest ache. Well… you knew why it bothered you so much – and you hated yourself for it.

Despite the months of clipped words and cold glares, you’d unfortunately found yourself with a crush. More than a crush, if you were being completely honest with yourself. He was attractive of course, but you had also watched him interact with everyone else enough to see that he was actually a really nice guy. He was sweet and thoughtful, always going out of his way to make sure others felt comfortable. He was always humble, no matter how many sold out arenas he played in – and he would still blush when fans came up to him in public. You had fallen for the version of Jake that he never let you get to experience. And that’s what hurt you the most: the fact that he wasn’t really an asshole – he just truly didn’t like you. You were embarrassed for not realizing it sooner. All these months you had spent trying to get to know him and talk to him, you’d just been making yourself look like a fool. An annoying fool, apparently. You vowed to yourself, laying there that night, that you’d do your very best to stay out of his way. No more attempts at conversations, no more smiles or waves when he entered the room. Hell, you’d even try to start sitting out the aftershow outings with the boys. You’d continue being the best damn manager they’d had, but you’d keep your distance.

The following day was filled with rushing around as you made sure everything was ready for the show. You were at the arena all day, checking with sound and the tech people, so it had been easy to keep your distance. By the time the show started, you were exhausted but proud with how smoothly things had gone. You watched them play from off the side of the stage, tucked into the shadows. Josh’s vocals were incredible – as always, and he’d sent you several smiles and winks as the show progressed. Sam and Danny were flawless, of course. They were the backbone of the band and they never failed to deliver. Jake was utterly transfixing on stage. It was hard to look away from him as he played, but you did your best to put your focus elsewhere.

Everything was going great until the third to last song of the set when you noticed Jake frantically gesturing to one of the backstage workers. You squint your eyes to try and see what was wrong. He was gesturing wildly in a manner that’s so reminiscent of Josh that you almost smile. The rest of the boys are sending concerned glances back at him. He’s not playing the guitar. Sam starts a bass solo to try and cover for Jake, but you can tell that they’re growing more concerned. Finally, another tech person runs over to the back corner of the stage where Jake is with another one of his guitars in hand, He quickly swaps it out before running back to his place on stage. Sam finishes his solo – met with thousands of screams from the audience, and you think that it’s safe to assume that few of them noticed whatever just happened. The tech guy walks past you swiftly and you see the cause of Jake’s anger: a string had snapped on his number one guitar – on stage no less. You turned your eyes back to Jake to see him playing again, and this time you could see the anger oozing from him. His playing had turned downright nasty as he vented his frustration out through his music. You looked away, unable to watch his sinful movements.

The rest of the show went great, and they closed it out to the screams of their fans as they walked off stage to go change. There was no doubt in your mind that they’d be going to a bar – Jake would probably insist. You went about finishing up all you had to for the night, and you made sure to go and find the worker who had brought Jake his other guitar so you could thank him for his swiftness. He’d given you a huge smile, shocked that you’d sought him out.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Danny call, just as you were beginning to gather up your things to leave. He had changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and a sleeveless band tee. “We're gonna go out for drinks. Coming with?”

You shook your head and gave him a sad smile.

“Not tonight, Danny. I’m going to head back to my room.”

“Why? You always come with us.” He gave you a pout, and you wanted so badly to cave and go with them. But no. You’d made a promise to yourself.

“Jake had a bad night tonight, Danny. I could practically see how mad he was up there. He deserves to go unwind. Me being there isn’t going to help that.”

Danny sighed.

“Y/n… come on.”

“It’s true!” You insisted, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “He hates me. He thinks I’m annoying. And I have been annoying. I’ve been trying to force him to like me without thinking about how it must have been making him feel. My job is to make your lives easy, not to make them more difficult.”

“I really don’t think you make his life more difficult, y/n. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Danny said, and the sympathy in his voice made you want to cry. You could feel your eyes welling with tears for the second night in a row.

“Thank you, Danny. But I’ve made my decision… And I think it’s the right one.” You sniffed and swiped a hand under your eyes in an attempt to hide your tears from him. “You guys have fun.”

You walked away quickly, leaving Danny to watch you go with sad eyes.

The next few shows went about the same (though thankfully without any guitar mishaps for Jake). The boys would go out to celebrate, and you would politely decline to go with them. You’d asked Danny to keep your earlier conversation to himself, and he’d begrudgingly agreed to do so.

“You can’t just shut yourself away because you think his opinion about you is the end all be all.” He’d said, eyes once again filled with sorrow for you.

“It’s okay, Danny. Really. I was becoming too unprofessional with you guys, anyway.”

“That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”

“Can we please just drop it.”

And Danny did. The tour continued on, and you slowly distanced yourself from the boys. You kept things running smoothly from afar, and you did your best to stay away – no matter how much you missed them.

Josh had grown increasingly more concerned for you, begging you to tell him what had changed. You’d just shake your head, telling him that you were just too tired or had work you needed to catch up on. It only took him a month to call your bluff though.

“This is all about Jake, isn’t it?”

The two of you were sitting in your hotel room after he’d insisted he follow you up to “catch up.” You’d allowed it, as you’d been missing hanging out with him terribly.

“What’s about Jake?” You asked, trying to keep your voice as innocent as possible.

He rolled his eyes.

“You suddenly avoiding hanging out with all of us. It’s because of what Jake said that night, right?”

You sighed. There was no way you could lie to him. He knew you too well and you were tired of putting on a brave face. You let your shoulders slump and your face fall.

“I just wish I knew what I did wrong.” You said quietly, voice wavering as you fought back tears. You were so tired of crying over Jake Kiszka.

“Hey, hey.” Josh walked quickly over to sit next to you on the bed. “Y/n, come on. Don’t cry.”

Your face crumpled as the hurt that you’d been hiding for weeks finally bubbled to the surface, spilling over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” You said through your tears, feeling stupid for crying like this to him. He was your best friend, sure. But he was still your boss at the end of the day. This was so unprofessional of you.

“Don’t apologize, okay?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you buried your face in his chest. He was warm and smelled good, and all you could think about was how much you wished you’d fallen for him instead of Jake. “Why are you letting him get to you so much, sweetheart? Normally, you’d kick someone’s ass for talking to you like he did.”

You just shook your head, shame filling you as you thought about your stupid feelings.

“It’s just different with him, Josh. I can’t help it.” You took a steadying breath, trying to get yourself back under control. You sat up from him and ran a hand through your hair. It was silent for a long moment.

“Oh.” Josh said, a sudden sadness coming over his face. “Damn it, Jake.” He sighed, pinning you with sad, sympathetic eyes.

“What?” You asked, confusion written clearly across your face.

“All that time you spent obsessing over trying to get him to open up to you, the way you made it your mission to become his friend… I can’t believe I didn’t realize before.”

Your heart was pounding with dread. There’s no way he’d just figured it out, right? There’s no way you’d been that obvious.

“What are you talking about?”

He was looking at you like you were a tragedy. You hated it.

“You like him, don’t you? Like, as in more than a friend?”

You turned away, face burning with shame. Josh reached out and turned your head back to face him. A fresh wave of tears leaked from your eyes.

“I can’t help it. I tried to make it stop. But I just can’t help it.” You cried, and a loud sob worked its way through your chest. You were shaking.

“We can’t help who we fall for.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry, y/n. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“There’s nothing to say, Josh.” You muttered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’ve been thinking,” you hedged, suddenly afraid to tell him what you’d been planning for after the tour, “after this last leg of the tour, I’ll probably ask my boss to have someone else transferred to you guys to take my place. I don’t think me staying is a good idea.”

“Y/n, no!” Josh exclaimed, and the sudden rise in volume made you startle slightly. “The rest of us love you! You’re our friend!” he cried, gripping your shoulders tightly. “And you really are the best manager we’ve had. Things have been going so amazing since you joined us!”

“Josh, I’m sorry but I just can’t do this. Jake’s unhappy, I’m unhappy. It’s best if I leave.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, then?” He asked, voice falling quiet again.

“I have.”

“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind.” It’s not a question. He knows there isn’t.

“No. There’s not. I’m sorry.”

He sighed, and for a moment you’re afraid that he’s angry with you. But then he reaches over and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I understand, y/n. It’s okay.”

You could sob at the feeling of relief that washes over you.

“But you have to stay in contact with the rest of us. You have to.” He said, pulling away from you and pinning you with a serious look. “Promise me.”

You giggled.

“I promise.”

Time seemed to fly by as the end of the tour drew nearer, and before you knew it, there was only one show left. Emotions were high in the greenroom backstage as they all prepared to go out one last time, and there was a lingering sadness in the air as you had let Danny and Sam know that you wouldn’t be coming back for the next tour. They’d both been crestfallen at your choice, but hadn’t pushed you to give a reason why. Deep down, you were pretty sure that they already knew.

“Good luck guys. You’re gonna kill it, like always.”

“Thanks, y/n.” Sam said, wrapping his long arms around you tightly. You gave him a squeeze before letting go.

“It’s all for you tonight, y/n! Thank you for everything.” Danny said, also coming up to give you a hug. You smiled and buried your face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

“Thank you, Danny.” You said quietly as he pulled away.

Josh came up next. He stared at you for a long moment, a sad smiling gracing his lips. He finally hugged you too.

“You deserve to be happy.” He whispered in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Thank you.” You said, “For everything.” He gave you a grin.

“Well, boys,” He said, turning to the guys, “We ready?” They all nodded in excitement and you watched them go with a proud smile. Your smile quickly dropped though as you realized that Jake was still standing there. You looked at him, confusion and trepidation clear on your face.

“Good luck, Jake.” You said quietly, dropping your eyes to look at your feet. You couldn't bear to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said, taking a step towards you.

“Two minutes!” You heard someone call. You didn’t say anything as you waited for him to finish.

“Could we… talk? After the show tonight?” He asked, and his voice was the softest you’d ever heard it directed to you.

“Um. Sure?”

He nodded his head curtly.

“Good. Perfect.” He walked towards where the rest of his bandmates had gone, stopping momentarily to look back at you. “Thanks.”

It felt like your entire nervous system was on fire. Jake’s words had been so unlike him – soft, unsure. You felt like your head was in a washing machine, spinning around in all directions with no end in sight. You knew he probably felt guilty. Despite not liking you, you know that he’s a nice enough person to feel bad for being the reason that you’re leaving – any decent person would. And you know that Jake is far more than just decent. You just wish that things had been different.

You stayed in the green room, doing your best to distract yourself with your phone. You scrolled through every social media feed you had and still time seemed to drag on. You got up and wandered around aimlessly, cleaning things that weren’t your job to clean and tidying things that weren’t untidy to begin with. You tried humming to yourself and singing songs, but your stomach was in complete knots. By the time the show was finished, you were already exhausted.

It wasn’t long before Jake entered, and you rose from where you had collapsed onto the sofa.

“Hi.” You said, taking him in. He was sweaty – his usually soft hair was damp and messy. He’d changed from his stage outfit into a pair of dark jeans and a cream colored button down (with his signature look of only having two buttons actually done up). His silver coin necklaces rested against his tan chest.

“Hey.” His voice had that softness to it still – completely unlike the Jake that you had come to know. “Can we go somewhere? To talk? Preferably somewhere where the others won’t barge in on us.”

“There’s a work room down the hall that no one’s using. I ate lunch there earlier.”

He nodded, turning towards the door. You followed swiftly, your purse clutched tightly in your hand. You passed the other guys as you made your way towards the spare room and your cheeks flamed as you and Jake walked by them. You ignored their questioning eyes as they watched you and Jake, no doubt shocked to see the two of you walking together. Your eyes met Josh’s briefly as you left, and your cheeks flamed an even darker shade of crimson as he gave you a knowing smirk.

You pointed towards the door of the spare room and Jake nodded, walking up to it and pushing it open. Sure enough, it was completely empty. The sign on the door said “Staff Only,” and you had only stumbled across it because you had wanted to eat somewhere where the others couldn’t bother you. You had needed some time to just exist by yourself, and the spacious room had been perfect.

Now, standing there with Jake, it felt suffocating. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. His presence was overwhelming. You could smell him from where you stood – a blend of his natural musk and a hint of vanilla. You wanted to cry.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to talk to me…” Jake finally hedged, breaking the silence that has descended over the two of you.

You scoffed.

“Yeah. I’m shocked, honestly.” Your words came out sharp and you winced slightly. You weren’t trying to start another fight with him. But he’d hurt you. Badly.

“Yeah.” He sighed and looked down at his feet. “The guys said that you aren’t coming back for next tour.”

“I’m not. I don’t really feel all that welcome here anymore.” You bit out, and Jake was the one to wince this time. The anger from that night at the bar was suddenly coming back, and you wanted so badly to slap the shit out of him. “I’m sure you were happy to hear the news.”

Jake looked away.

“Not really.”

“You don’t have to lie. I know you fucking hate me.” You huffed and took a seat on the sofa that was shoved into the corner.

“I don’t hate you.” He sounded defeated, and there was a small, mean little part of you that was delighted to hear that tone from him. Like he was finally feeling how he had made you feel for all that time.

“Could have fooled me.”

He sighed again, and suddenly he looked so much older than he had a moment ago. His shoulders were slumped and you almost wanted to reach out and comfort him. But you didn’t. You crossed your arms and stared at him expectantly.

He seemed to sense that you weren’t going to say anything else.

“Can I sit?” He gestured at the empty spot next to you.

“Sure.”

He took a seat. You could feel the warmth radiating off him. It was silent for a long moment. You, unwilling to say anything else and Jake unable to find the words.

“Well?” You asked, pinning him with an impatient glare. “I’m here. If there’s actually a point to this conversation please say it so I can leave.” You know you’re being unfair. He’s clearly working up to trying to apologize but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve spent so long letting him make you feel like you’re less than, and for once you finally have the upper hand.

“I’m sorry.”

That stops your thoughts in their tracks. You’d expected him to beat around the bush, to give an excuse, to say you’re overreacting. A straight up, no nonsense apology had been the last thing you were expecting.

“What?” You couldn’t help but to ask, incredulity evident in your tone.

“I’m sorry for being such a dick.” You stare at him – searching for any traces of a lie. You find none. There’s only a sad truthfulness reflected in his brown eyes. “You haven’t done anything to deserve how I’ve treated you. I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse.”

You let his words sit heavy between the two of you for a moment. You’re at a loss. He doesn’t have an excuse, and you have no idea what to say back to him.

“Thank you.” You finally breathe out, voice quiet and unsure.

“You don’t have to leave.” He says, voice equally reserved in the odd tension. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that’s the best choice. You’re a good manager. It’ll be hard for us to find a good enough replacement.” He looks down at his hands. He’s fiddling with them, picking at the skin of his thumbs the way he often does when he’s lost in thought. You’d watched him do it on numerous occasions.

“I don’t really know what to say to you, Jake. You really hurt me. I…” You stop yourself, unwilling to let him see how deeply his words and actions had cut you; unwilling to show him how weak he had made you.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me anything. But I do want to ask you to stay.”

Rage fills you suddenly, so sudden and sharp that your vision seems blurry as your blood pressure rises at his words.

“How fucking dare you.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you think about all that he’s done. “I tried so hard to be nice to you. I wanted your approval so fucking badly. I let you make a fool out of me. How fucking dare you to ask me to stay now?” Your voice got louder and louder as you spoke, and Jake’s eyes widened at your sudden change in demeanor. “Fuck you, Jake Kiskza. That’s all I have to say.” You rose suddenly with the intent to get the hell out of there when he too rose to his feet.

“That’s not fucking fair, y/n!” He yelled, hands clenched at his sides. “I’m trying to apologize, here. You don’t have to throw it right back in my fucking face!”

“Hurts doesn’t it. Trying to be nice, only for the person to throw it back in your face?”

Jake rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here. Jesus Christ.” You cry, turning back towards the door.

“Yeah. Go cry to Josh, like you always do.”

His words feel like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on you.

“What?” You ask lowly, turning back around to look at him. He’s got his shoulders pushed back, defiance glittering in his eyes.

“I said, go cry to Josh. Just like you always do.”

“What in the ever living fuck,” you growl, stepping back towards him so that your chests are flush, “is that supposed to mean.”

He looks down at you and you can practically see the anger radiating off him.

“It means that I’m tired of watching you following him around like a kicked puppy. He’s not interested by the way, in case you were wondering.” A smug smirk paints its way across his lips and you want so badly to slap it off him again.

“What on Earth makes you think I want anything like that with Josh?”

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes, “I’m not fucking blind. You want him – you’re always hanging out with him, hugging him, touching him. It’s pathetic.”

“And so what if I do want him?” You ask, blood practically boiling. “Why do you fucking care what I do with someone else?”

“I don’t. I don’t give a flying fuck what you do, y/n!” He shouts. The two of you stare at each other, both of your chests heaving as you practically square the other up. His face is twisted in anger – but there’s something else there, hidden in his eyes. It’s not anger.

Holy shit.

“Are you fucking jealous?” Your voice is high and shaky, and you watch as his eyebrows shoot to his hairline at your question.

“Are you insane? I’m not jealous. Jesus, what the fuck?”

There’s a defensiveness in his tone now, and he’s suddenly looking anywhere on your face but your eyes.

“You are. You’re jealous. Jealous because you think I want Josh.” You don’t pose it a question because you know. You can see it all over his face. He’s been jealous this whole time. Sure, maybe your first meeting had just been a result of his poor small talk skills… but everything else? Pure jealousy.

“Fuck you.” He spits, but he knows he’s been caught.

“You are a fucking idiot, Jake. Holy shit. I don’t want Josh, dumbass! I wanted you!”

His jaw drops and he stares. There’s a part of you that’s embarrassed for admitting it out loud, but the panic that flashes across his face is worth it.

“What?”

“You heard me. I never wanted Josh, Jacob. I wanted you. But you were so much of a dick that I gave up.”

“Wanted?” His voice is suddenly small, empty of the anger that had filled it just moments before.

“I don’t know.” You answer, and it’s the truth. After everything, you’re not sure the two of you could ever form a normal friendship – let alone anything more.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, before sitting heavily back down on the sofa. You sit back down next to him, the fight drained from you at your confession. Neither of you know what to say.

“I thought you and Josh slept with each other… or were going to. This whole time.”

You don’t say anything. There’s nothing left to say, really.

“I wish you had just asked. Instead of assuming.”

“Me too.” He turns to you, and his eyes look so sad it makes your chest ache. You don’t want to look at him when he looks like that.

“Would you still?”

You look at him confused.

“Want me?” He clarifies. “If things were different.”

You take a moment to answer. At this point, there’s nothing left to lose.

“I think I’ll always want you, Jake. No matter how much I try not to.”

“Can we…” He stops, takes a breath. You can practically see the gears turning as he tries to work out what to say. "Can we try?"

You stare at him, afraid you're reading into his words wrong.

"Try what?"

"Try again?" His words are small, quiet. He's not looking at you anymore and you suddenly wish you hadn't been so angry with him. "We can go slow. Like we're starting over."

You ponder his words for a long moment. There's so many thoughts running through your mind and you can barely grab hold of any of them.

“I don’t know, Jake. You really hurt me.”

He hung his head, his dark hair framing his face. Even now, you can’t help but to admire him.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He says, before finally bringing his eyes to yours. There are tears there, and your heart aches at the sight. “I was jealous. I really thought you were interested in Josh.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me? Instead of assuming and then treating me so horribly?”

“Because… because I can’t compete with someone like Josh, anyway. Didn’t think there was a point.” He shifts where he’s seated next to you and turns his eyes down to the floor. You don’t say anything, afraid to scare him back behind his walls. “We may be twins, but he’s got all the charm.”

“Jake,” you say quietly, “look at me.”

He does, slowly turning his brown eyes to you.

“This isn’t a competition. I only ever wanted you.” You tell him, and he can see that there’s no lie in your words. “And even if it was a competition, I still would have chosen you, Jake.”

“So I’m just a fucking idiot, then.” He says, and this time the anger in his voice is directed at himself.

You giggle.

“A little bit, ya. But I still want you, Jake. Despite trying so hard not to.”

“Let me show you I can be different. Please. Let me make it up to you.” He pleads, but you already know that you’d have let him do anything he wanted. Despite everything, you’d still fallen for him. And now here you are, with the chance to finally have him after months of thinking it was impossible.

“Okay.” You breathe out. “Okay, Jake.”

Faster than you can blink, his lips are on yours – soft and warm. You gasp, and Jake takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between your lips. His hands grip your shoulders tightly – like if he lets go you’ll run away. You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks as you kiss him back. The kiss is desperate, needy. All those months of want finally spilling over into this moment. You whimper quietly into his mouth and he pulls away. His eyes are blown wide with need and there’s an almost feral look to his face – his eyes are practically devouring you.

“I’m not making love to you for the first time on a shitty break room couch.” He says breathlessly and you quirk your eyebrow at his choice of words. He flushes but you let it slide, instead rising to your feet.

“Hotel?” You extend your hand to him and he laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to pull him to his feet.

“Yep. Yeah. Just quickly.” He shifts on his feet and you laugh as you realize that he’s painfully hard and trying to figure out how to walk normally.

Hands still clasped together, the two of you practically sprint towards the back exit of the venue. It’s mostly empty now, with everyone else having cleared out as soon as possible after the show ended. The two of you make it all the way to the back foyer without anyone seeing you.

But in your haste to get out, you almost don’t see Sam and Danny standing there gawking as they watch you drag Jake towards the door.

You stop short upon seeing them, causing Jake to bump into you from behind. You both look like deer caught in headlights or like little kids who have just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Um.” You say eloquently and Jake snickers from behind you.

“Alright, you boys ready to g-” Josh turns a corner, and stops in his tracks too. You watch as his eyes sweep from yours and Jake’s flushed faces to your hands that are still interlocked.

“Howdy, guys,” Jake finally pipes up from behind you. “Fancy seeing you all here.”

They all nod to the two of you, and each of their faces are filled with complete shock. You’re so embarrassed you wish the floor would swallow you whole.

“We’re um… heading out.” Jake says and you want to facepalm at his lack of imagination in coming up with some sort of excuse.

“And I’m sure it’s totally not what it looks like, right?” Josh asks with a shit eating grin and a raised eyebrow.

“What exactly does it look like, Joshua?” Jake snaps, eyes blazing at his twin.

“Oh nothing.” He shrugs, lifting his hands up in defense. “Right?” He turns to look at Danny and Sam who are still standing there with their mouths open.

It’s Danny that manages to fix his face first.

“Oh, yeah. Doesn’t look like anything to me.” He says with a smile, and you can practically see the teasing that he’s going to give you after this.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look like you’re going to have sex at all.” Sam says, the little brother shittiness finally coming out.

“Oh fuck off, all of you. We’re leaving.” You start to walk again, yanking Jake’s hand so he follows you.

“You guys have fun not fucking each other!” Josh calls as you and Jake step out onto the street. Jake just shoots him the bird the two of you take off, giggling like kids.

The hotel you’re staying at isn’t far, just over a block away from the venue. But it feels like it takes ten years for you to make it to the lobby, and Jake doesn’t once let go of your hand.

The walk to the elevator is silent, and your mind is working a mile a minute. Your heart is racing and you feel like you’re in a dream. Out of the corner of your eye, Jake stares resolutely ahead, watching as the little screen above the elevator doors counts each floor.

Finally, they open on your floor and you pull Jake towards your room.

“Hold on… key card.” You say, extracting your hand from Jake’s to reach into your purse. You swipe the key card and open the door, hesitating only a moment before stepping over the threshold. The reality of what you came here for sets in suddenly, and you stand frozen in the middle of the room as you watch Jake shut the door behind him.

“You okay?” He asks, walking towards where you’re standing, stopping just close enough that if you wanted, you could reach out and touch him.

“I don’t know.” Your admission is quiet, spoken to the floor and not really to him. You don’t know how to feel.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, his own voice soft. “We don’t… we don’t have to do anything, y/n. I wasn’t expecting,” he waves his hands between the two of you vaguely, “this. Like at all.”

“Me neither. I don’t- I don’t know how to feel, Jake.”

He sighs and wrings his hands together. You stare at them, remembering that you now know what they feel like in your hand. Calloused, rough – but still gentle somehow.

“I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I?” Jake asks. You don’t answer.

“I never meant for things to get as far as they did.” He continues, walking over to sit heavily onto your bed. “I was jealous and I acted like an asshole to you.”

“Yeah, you did. But I was annoying, too. I should have just left you alone.” You say softly. “I shouldn’t have tried so hard.”

Jake shakes his head at you slowly, his soft hair – finally dry, swishes across his shoulders.

“You weren’t annoying. You were just being nice. You have nothing to apologize for. Come sit?”

You comply, sitting down next to him – making sure to leave some space between the two of you.

“You know, I heard you talking to Danny that night after my guitar string snapped.”

You turn to him sharply, brain racing trying to remember if you had said anything embarrassing.

“You stayed in that night because I’d had a bad night and you thought you would make it worse…”

You nod.

“You were so angry. I didn’t want to cause another fight.”

“I did get angrier, though. I was angry at myself for making you think that I hated you. But I didn’t know how to fix it.” He looks away and you take the opportunity to watch him. There was only one lamp on, and it cast shadows across his jaw. “Let me fix it. Please.”

You sit there for a long moment and just think. You let yourself feel the hurt and the anger. You think about every rude word or dismissive glare. You think about that night at the bar when you screamed at each other. You think of earlier in that break room. You think about all of it before finally turning to him.

“There’s nothing to fix, Jake. I forgive you.”

His eyes widen comically at you and his jaw drops open.

“What?”

“I forgive you.” You say simply, shrugging your shoulders. “I fell for you a long time ago, Jake. And those feelings aren’t going to go away – believe me, I’ve tried.”

He huffs a laugh.

“But I’m tired of this animosity between us.” You continue, pinning his gaze under your own. “I just want to be with you. No more arguing, no trying to make up for what’s already happened. Let’s just… be.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He admits, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Yes, you do. So let’s let it go.”

“Okay.”

You squeeze his hand in yours. He squeezes back.

“Now would you please kiss me already.”

Finally, a real smile spreads across Jake’s lips and his eyes sparkle at you.

“Of course.”

His lips crash into yours for the second time and it’s even better than the first. There’s no uncertainty now. It’s just you and him. You lean back, grasping his shoulders to follow you down. He pulls away slightly as your weight settles and he smiles.

“Eager?”

You don’t glorify his question with a response – instead sealing your lips over his again. He groans into your mouth as you hook your legs around his waist, bringing your core flush against his hardening cock.

Jake sits up and you scoot further into the middle of the bed, sitting up for a moment to rid yourself of your shirt. Jake does the same, unbuttoning his top with shaky fingers and tossing it to the floor. He taps your hips, signaling for you to lift them up. He slides your pants off you and you kick them off. Jake follows suit, leaving the two of you in nothing but your undergarments.

Jake looks down at you and you watch as his eyes rake over your form, pupils blown wide.

“Look at you.” He whispers and your core pulses at the sound of his voice – husky and low, laced with desire.

He’s a sight to behold all on his own and you allow yourself to stare – taking in every bit of skin that you’re finally getting to see.

“Look at you.” You say and he smiles down at you, eyes growing softer for a moment.

“Don’t do that.” You whisper, grasping his shoulders to pull him down to you. His face is inches above your own and you can feel his heavy breaths against your face. “Don’t feel guilty. Just be here. With me.”

He nods and attaches his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your throat. He sucks and licks as he goes, causing the wetness in your panties to grow even more. You slide your palms up his strong back, feeling the muscles ripple underneath your fingertips. His cock is hard where you can feel it against you, and you press your hips up into him slowly. He moans loudly against the hollow of your throat.

“Fuck, y/n.”

He reaches beneath you and unhooks your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out for him to admire. He bites your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth and you whine, lacing your fingers in his hair and tugging.

“Jake.” You moan, rolling your hips up to meet his – desperate for any bit of friction. Jake senses your need and dips his fingers into your panties and slides his finger between your folds, relishing in the wetness that’s gathered there.

“So wet for me, pretty girl.” He says, before bringing his finger to his lips to suck your juices off his fingers. “Tastes so fucking sweet.”

“Stop teasing me, Jake.” You whine, pawing at his cock where it tents his boxers. You slip your fingers beneath the waistband and pull them down and Jake lifts his hips so you can slide them all the way off. Jake yanks your panties down as well and you hiss as the cold air of the hotel room hits your hot center. Your pussy throbs and you press your thighs together.

“Don’t.” Jake says, and he presses your knees back apart. He gives you one last devilish grin before diving into your folds, lapping at the wetness and circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” You cry as you throw your head back in pleasure. He swirls your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before attaching his lips to suckle at it mercilessly. You moan loudly, and you’d probably feel sorry for whoever was in the room next to yours if you weren’t so focused on the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“You taste so good, angel. Can’t believe I let my own jealousy keep me from tasting you sooner.”

You whine as he pushes one finger inside of you, curling it inside of you in the most delicious way. The coil in your belly begins to tighten, and you know it won’t be long before it snaps.

“Fuck, right there. Jesus.” You moan as he adds another finger and Jake chuckles. The vibration against your clit makes you jump, so he presses his forearm across your hips – effectively keeping you in place. “Jake I’m gonna cum.” You warn and he only picks up the pace of his fingers, fucking into you relentlessly as he continues lapping at your clit.

“Give it to me, sweet girl.” He says against your core and that’s all it takes. Your orgasm rips through you and you whine his name as he laps up your release. He pulls his fingers from you and licks them, groaning as he tastes you.

“Fuck, y/n. You look divine, all spread out for me like this.”

“Only for you.” You say, still trying to get your breathing under control. You sit up and stare at him. His cock is rock hard and weeping, standing at full attention. Your mouth waters at the sight of him.

“Lemme taste you, Jake.” You say as you reach your hand towards his length. He grabs your wrist in his hand, stopping you.

“As much as I’d love for you to, I’m not gonna last if you do that. Next time.” He promises, releasing your wrist. “But tonight I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.” He glances around suddenly, eyes searching for something.

“What?” You ask, rising to lean on your elbows.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms around here, do you?”

“I’m clean. And I’m on birth control.”

He pins you with a heated stare.

“Are you sure?”

“Very. Want you to fill me up, Jake.”

He groans at your words and brings his hand up to pump his cock. His chest is flushed and sweat is gathering at his temples.

“Fucking hell. Okay.”

You spread your legs and Jake glides the head of his cock through your folds, gathering the wetness before slowly sliding into you. You both moan at the feeling of him sinking into your pussy. He bottoms out and pauses, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of him.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight." He growls, brows pinched together as he tries to hold back from moving.

“Do it, Jakey. Give it to me. Move.” You whine, pushing your hips into his. He complies, pulling out of you almost completely before slamming back into you. He sets a hard pace – the force of each thrust pushing you upwards, making your tits bounce as he rails into you. His eyes are transfixed on them as they bounce up and down, and you rake your nails down his back. You wrap your legs around him and press your heels into his ass, drawing him in closer.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans.

“God, Jake. Right there.” You cry, clenching your eyes closed. “Harder! Fuck!”

Jake grabs your calf tightly with his right hand, throwing it over his shoulder. He then plants his forearms on either side of you, caging you in with his body. The new angle allows him to hit even deeper, the tip of his cock hitting that special place inside of you with each thrust. You wail as he pistons his hips into yours and little breathy moans fall from his plump lips. His eyes screw shut and his hair is damp as he fucks you better than anyone ever has. You clench around him and he groans loudly, sweat dripping down his chest as he opens his eyes to watch your face as the pleasure takes you over.

“You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.” He says, thrusts growing more desperate as his own release quickly begins to approach. He slides one hand between the two of you, circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Jacob!” You scream, as your second climax washes over you, sending white hot pleasure coursing throughout your entire body. It seems to keep going forever, and your legs shake and your body twitches as he keeps fucking you through it.

“Fuck, say that again.” He says through clenched teeth, thrusts growing erratic and sloppy.

“Jacob.” You say, and this time it comes out as a needy whine.

“Fuck, fuck. Shit!” He growls as his mouth drops open. His own orgasm finally arrives and you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he paints your walls with his release. He thrusts into you deeply once, twice, three more times before collapsing onto you.

“Jesus.” You say, closing your eyes as you fight to get your heart rate back down to a reasonable pace.

“Yeah.” He pulls his cock from you and your pussy clenches at the loss of him. “Hold on.” He reaches down towards the foot of the bed where his boxers lay. He cleans you both up before throwing them down onto the floor. He reaches across to the nightstand and flicks the light off.

He collapses onto his back and you roll onto your side to face him. The two of you stare at each other in the dark.

“Do you believe me now when I say all is forgiven?” You ask him, smiling as you take in his fucked out expression.

“Yeah, I guess.” He says, smiling back at you. “I’m still gonna keep telling you though – I’m so fucking sorry.”

You reach up and cup his face between your palms, bringing him close to you so you can press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“And I’ll keep telling you that it’s okay.” You say against his plush lips. “I’ll always choose you.”

He searches your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you.”

He pulls you in tight to his chest, and you can feel his steady heartbeat as you nuzzle into his skin. You toss one leg over him, pulling him even tighter against you.

“Does this mean you’ll come back for the next tour?” He asks, face buried in your hair.

You giggle.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

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

Taglist:

@sacredthethreadgvf

#dee's writing #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic

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dimplesandfierceeyes · 9 months

Note

Hello!! If u r still taking bad buddy prompts. How about bet era drunk Pran.

Hi Anons!

This was not completed as fast as I hoped it would be but I hope you both see this and enjoy it! This is very much unbeta'd so sorry for in advance for any mistakes or awkward phrasings!

You're A Goner (for me)

Pran never called, he always texted, so when Pat’s phone started ringing at 1am and the caller ID showed Khrab, A Friend he was understandably confused and a little concerned. He answered cautiously, wondering if he was going to hear the muted static of a butt dial, but instead Pran’s voice came immediately through the speaker.

“Where are you?”

“At home,” Pat replied slowly, still confused though now slightly worried he’d forgotten something. “Where are you?”

“Drunk,” Pran declared with aplomb. Pat snorted in surprise, a grin starting to spread over his features. “Come pick me up.”

“Drunk isn’t a place,” Pat pointed out, still grinning. “Where are you?”

“Ou'side Wai’s place, I walked him home but I don’t wanna walk back t' mine. ’M tired.” The last two words were said with a sigh. Pat laughed again.

“So you called your friend to come get you, huh?”

“Isn’ that wha' a friend would do?” Even drunk, Pran had that same pleased competitive tone in his voice at the insinuation of the bet. “I think a friend would come pick me up in his new car an’ take me to his place and then-...oops.” Pran’s voice went up at the end, light and delicate.

“What did you do?” Pat asked fondly, thoroughly entertained.

“Fell down th’ kerb,” Pran told him happily.

“Are you walking? I thought you were waiting for me to pick you up?”

“Oh, yeah...” Pat could practically hear the frown in his voice.

He chuckled. “Stay where you are, you drunkard, I’ll come and get you.”

“‘M not a drunkard,” Pran protested sulkily.

“Sure you’re not.”

Pat stayed on the phone for the whole drive, partly to make sure Pran didn’t go wandering off before he got there, but mostly because a drunk Pran was one of the best things Pat had come across in his entire life. When he arrived, Pran was sitting on the steps of the apartment block, tilted back on his hands with his phone on the step beside him.

Pat came to a stop and wound down the window.

"Go 'way, 'm waiting for someone." Pran declared, squinting irritably at the car.

"Yeah, me, dumbass," Pat replied fondly. "Get in before Wai sees me parked here."

"Did you change your car?" Pran asked suspiciously, still squinting, though he did at least start pushing himself up to standing. It was a laborious process for him.

"No, it's the same car; you're just too drunk to see straight." Pat chuckled.

"Am not." Pran was finally upright and began walking surprisingly well towards the car.

"Your phone, Pran."

"Huh?"

"You left your phone." Pat held in the urge to laugh, a grin wide and broad on his face as he watched Pran turn back in surprise.

"Oh!" Pran exclaimed, the vowel elongated and wondrous. "Lemme get it."

"That's the idea, yeah," Pat chuckled again.

Pran finally made it to the car a few minutes later, flinging open the door with enough gusto to make Pat wince before climbing inside. He grinned as plonked down in the seat.

"Hi."

"Hi," Pat replied, grinning back.

"You actually came t' pick me up," Pran crowed. "You're soooo…" he paused, a frown on his face as he thought of the word. "Whipped!"

Laughter burst out of Pat, incredulous and surprised.

Pran looked delighted with himself, trying to squeeze his phone into his pocket and failed. Pat took it off him and put it in one of the holes between them.

"Hey!"

"Just put your seatbelt on, drunkard."

"'M not a drunkard." Pran repeated but he did start pulling the seatbelt over.

It was all going well right up until he reached the buckle and couldn't get it aimed right to fit it in. Pat watched him struggle for a moment, amused, before taking over himself.

"See!" Pran sat back, looking satisfied. "You're a-a thing, the thing… simp."

Pat laughed again. "Friends can help drunk friends with seatbelts."

Pran pouted, brow furrowing as he apparently realised his point had been beaten. “‘M not drunk,” he muttered instead.

Pat smiled indulgently at him before leaning forward to poke one sulky dimple. Pran ducked backwards, squawking in outrage. Pat ignored the outburst, twisting back to face the front so he could check his mirrors before signalling to pull out. He dropped his hand down to the handbrake but was surprised by Pran’s hand suddenly smacking into his own. Looking down, he realised Pran was trying to intertwine their fingers.

“Pran, I can’t hold your hand—I’m driving,” he pointed out with laughter bubbling up in his voice.

“I’m not trying to hold your hand!” Pran immediately protested, hand pulling back. “I was just… just… trying to steady myself. I was dizzy.” The words were over-earnest and over-annoyed like he was covering up his embarrassment.

Pat caught the hand he’d jerked away and guided it to his wrist. Pran stubbornly didn’t move so Pat encircled the hand around his wrist himself.

“Okay, you steady yourself, then.” He smiled and patted the hand gently before letting go.

“Maybe I don’t wanna steady myself now,” Pran grumbled, but he did not actually remove his hand.

He was really too cute like this. Pat couldn’t wait for Pran’s bright red embarrassment in the morning; he was going to enjoy himself so much.

#I had more planned for this but alas I just don't seem to have the time or mental space for writing at the moment #still #a little clingy drunk bet era pran is better than no clingy drunk bet era pran #right?#bad buddy #bad buddy fanfic #kayla writes #patpran

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msmarvelouswinchester · 10 months

Text

If We Love Again

Summary: Whatever problems we had back then don’t exist anymore. It’s why we have this second chance, and we can’t throw it away. -Michelle Maddow

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

WC: 1942

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Post-canon where DEAN IS ALIVE, kinda sappy, body-shaming (not by the boys), hugs and kisses

Square Filled: Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong ( @taylorswiftbingo )

A/N: Alright. Alright. Hello you people! Jfc, how long has it been? A lot of things happened (personal matters and fandom problems too) so I took a break. Kind of gave up writing for a bit. Then two boys - Alex and Henry (RWRB fandom, I'm looking at you) got me back to writing! And of course I had to write for my baby, Dean Winchester!

And I've also lost my taglist. So sorry for not tagging anyone in this.

Completely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“What’re you doing here?” The usual routine of the bunker had been thrown off-kilter when Y/N had appeared, looking…frazzled. Maybe a tad smile but her eyes shone with unshed tears. And she was drenched to the bones and panting like she had run a mile to get to the bunker. The man welcomed her inside, saying, “Come in first, you are fucking wet.”

The words slipped and the man’s eyes widened, expecting a snobbish remark from her about the word and its placement in the sentence but soon enough, he frowned because Y/N didn't comment on the…apparent opportunity of turning the entire conversation inappropriate. Like she always did. But today, she wordlessly accepted the man’s gratuitous welcome and headed inside the old establishment.

Once at the end of the stairs, she said, rather whispered, “Hey Dean. Can you do me a favour? I need a hug.” If Dean didn't know what heaven looked like, he would have guessed he had ascended to heaven at Y/N’s request.

Dean, who had sprinted down the steps, looked at her and nodded, opening his arms. Y/N stepped into the hug and wrapped her arms around his torso, hands finding the nape of his neck. Dean’s hands had also instantly found their shelter around her body. They stayed in the position for a while. Y/N inhaled deeply quite a few times. The unforgettable scent of cinnamon and gunpowder hitting her and she let the tears fall as she let her guard down for the first time that night and Dean’s hold around her tightened. The sobs that left her, wrecked his heart. Each wail was like a dagger to his chest. He hated seeing her sad. He rested his chin on the top of her head, the familiar smell of her shampoo gave him whiplash as the memories of…everything queued up inside his head. But he still didn't know what had prompted her to show up at her place. “Y/N, sweetheart, can you look at me? I need you to look at me,” Dean murmured, “please.”

His voice washed over her and the sobbing turned into sniffles. She sniffled against the now wet, snot-covered spot on Dean’s tshirt before her red-rimmed, puffy eyes found his worried green ones. “‘M sorry,” she whimpered.

“Hey, shh, what're you sorry for? For ruining my shirt? Oh, I'll just bribe Sammy to do the laundry,” Dean grinned but the worry never left his eyes.

“I just—Dean, I'm sorry for…s-showing up tonight unannounced…I shouldn't have…what was I even thinkin’? Dean, I’ll—uh…see myself out.” Y/N said, and fidgeted in Dean’s grip but he was reluctant to let go. Not when she had just shown up a few minutes ago and broke down in his arms.

Dean said, “Stop, Y/N. Stop. It's alright. That's what best friends are for.” Nope, not letting you go this time.

“But…” Did you forget the part where we dated and broke up and vowed to never see each other again because it would break our hearts even more?

“No buts,” Dean said, as if he could read the thoughts in her head, “Whatever happened…happened. You were my best friend and you still are. If you need me, in a heartbeat, I'll be there for you. Do you understand that?” He glanced up, Jack if this is your doin’ because I pretty much dreamed about second chances last night then thanks, buddy.

Y/N nodded.

“Now let's go sit down. I'm gonna go find Sam and let him know you're here. And then we can go and kick some asses.” Dean gently guided her to his room in the bunker and sat her down on his bed, asking if she needed anything to drink, water or beer or anything to eat, knowing all they had was pie and a greasy two-days old burger in the freezer. They really needed to stock up their fridge more now they have started to live normal lives.

Y/N, though just asked for water.

Dean winked and said he would be back in a minute. And he was, with Sam in tow who had scooped her up in a giant hug. Oh, she had missed them.

“Hi, Sam. You look…different.” Y/N giggled at Sam in his formal clothes instead of the layers of plaid she was used to seeing on him. She had heard that the Winchesters had retired from hunting but seeing them bask in their post-retirement glory was astonishing.

“Yeah, had a makeover sorta, got myself a job and everything—”

“And a girlfriend,” Dean wiggled his brows and his brother blushed furiously. In between the conversation, Dean had handed Y/N a glass of water and sat down beside her on the bed.

She sipped on the water and hummed thoughtfully, “Who would have thought? Our little Sammy, all grown up!”

And for the first since her alarmingly sudden visit to the bunker, Y/N smiled.

“Oh shut up. Enough about me. Dean said something to me about kicking someone's asses. Do we have to bring out our hunting gear?” Y/N’s eyes widened at the question.

“No! Jesus, no guns. And no violence.” She warned the Winchesters.

“Can’t promise on the violence part, sweetheart!” Dean smirked. “So what happened?”

“Honestly. I think I'm good. It was a moment of…sadness but I'm oka—”

Dean cut her off, saying, “Y/N you were wailing. That was not nothing. Come on, tell us, we swear we'll be good.”

Y/N hesitated and Sam decided to put her out of her misery, “Whatever Dean says, if you don't feel comfortable in telling us. Don't tell.”

“Oh…” Dean sighed, “Yeah, I…I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You seriously don't have to tell us, if you're not up for it.”

“It's just not that,” she swallowed hard. It should be easy to tell them, right? They were her best friends. She took a deep breath and said, “The guy, I am…or rather was dating—” She felt Dean tense up beside her and Sam side-eyed his brother but she continued “-well, he was an asshole. A dickhead. A fucking son of a bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “That's quite a description.”

“Yeah. So I applied for this job in NYC and well…I got it—” her heart soared in her chest as she watched the brothers’ faces split into a huge grin “-but this moron of my ex-boyfriend decided to throw my insecurities to my face because he didn't want me to go to NYC.”

Now looking back, Y/N didn't know why she was sad. She was angry. No, she was pissed because how dare a pathetic little man order her around about whether or not she should work in New York. “He was worried that I wasn't too pretty for the NYC girls, that I was too soft to survive in a big city like New York—”

This time Dean chuckled. Because Y/N wasn't soft, she was a hunter. Born into a hunter family only to give it all up because she wanted a quieter life. But she knew how to fight, how to wield a gun. And she was pretty. Too pretty and even after four years of breaking up, Dean’s heart still skipped a beat when she called his name, looked at his face and he was still enamoured by her very existence.

“So I told him that I would leave his sorry ass,” Y/N’s lips trembled, “and he said it was going to be the best thing because I wasn't worth enough for him to fight for because I…I am ‘too much’ and I…I don't put an effort into being the woman a man wants, no…needs. And in that moment, I got so sad, I needed to see you. Because I missed you guys so much. I missed this where no one judged me or at least didn't use to until…well, I…yeah. So, this is how I showed up here.”

“You're always welcome here, Y/N. And I'm sorry, things haven't been…good for a few years but don't think for a second we will judge you or not let you back into our lives,” Dean’s hands had snaked back around her waist, pulling her closer while she continued, “Well, he was kinda right. Don't you think? I talk too much. Sometimes I go on a ramble. I don't watch my diet—”

“That son of a bitch body-shamed you?” Dean was seething.

“Yeah. And he said, I was too much of a work to stay with. I have always been told that I'm too much of a work but it still hurts—”

Dean said, “Well the guy is an idiot. You aren't too much of a work, sweetheart.”

Y/N, this ain't gonna work. You want me. I want you but you don't want this hunting life while THIS hunting is my life. This relationship is going to be so much of a work and with Cain on the loose, I don't think I can put that much effort in this. Y/N gave Dean a soft smile, “I don't want to bring up old memories but you also said that, pretty much four years back.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Dean?”

“W-I? I was under the influence of the mark, Y/N and you knew it. I pushed away so many people. Letting you go was my biggest mistake. And I regret it because I still fucking love yo—” Dean’s mouth snapped shut.

And for the second time, Sam exclaimed, “What the hell, Dean?”

“Yo–love…what?” Y/N whispered.

Dean turned towards his brother, “Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Sam quickly stepped out of the room.

“Y/N. Letting you go was my biggest mistake and never calling you up was my biggest regret. I should have called because I still need you. And now I have this life. You know I start a new job next week? It's a construction but yeah. And it got me thinkin’ about you. Yeah. I was thinking how I fucked us over and never got to tell you the truth. I never got over us, you. I…I never wanted you to go—”

“I remember very clearly you throwing me out of the bunker and telling me never to contact you again. You know what, showing up tonight was my bigges—”

“Son of a bitch, I can't believe I'm fucking doin’ this,” Dean murmured.

“Wha–” The rest of the question turned into a squeak and Dean’s lips crashed into her. And then the thoughts crashed into him. Fuck.

Dean immediately jumped back from her. “I'm so sor—”

“If you dare to say sorry for this, I am telling Sammy to shoot you in your dick, asshole,” Y/N panted, “Fucking come, kiss me, you moron!”

“You sure? You just had a breakup and…”

Y/N looked at Dean, “I know. But Dean, I had kept loving you all along and maybe by some, heaven’s grace—”

“Jack’s grace.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“God. Well, new God. Jack had been living with us…its a long story for another time.”

“Yeah so, by Jack’s grace, maybe it's my second chance at being with you. Loving you.” Dean’s breath hitched at her words, “Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong.”

So he walked up to her, and pulled her into a loving kiss. It was soft, eager and…just like old times.

They separated but their foreheads touched as they panted for air. “Second chance?” Dean asked

Y/N nodded, “Second chance.”

He smiled, “This time I'll leave no stones unturned to make this work. Because Y/N, sweetheart, you are worth everything.”

Oh boy, I'm kinda rusty XD

Let me know your thoughts! Comments are highly appreciated!

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #sam winchester

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desiccatedwithering · 1 year

Text

WIP: bat!Eddie

Happy International Bat Appreciation Day! Figured I might as well use @batboysxprompts's Bat to the Bone event as an excuse to post a 1k snippet of my post-s4 bat!Eddie WIP (unbeta'd so ignore any mistakes) 🦇

“Ok,” Steve says, dragging the word out, hands raised to show that he’s unarmed. “How did you get into my house? And where did you come from? Did you, like, escape from a zoo? Should I be calling animal control?”

Eddie lets out an annoyed screech, and Steve jumps.

“...You don’t have rabies, do you?” he asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

Eddie grumbles and shakes his head, giving Steve a look that hopefully comes across as offended.

Steve drags his hand through his hair and mutters, “I’m going insane. There’s no way a bat just shook its head in response to my question. Maybe this is a hallucination. Weird fucking Vecna vision, though…”

Ok. Steve clearly isn’t going to guess the truth on his own. (Which is fair, honestly, because even after getting a crash course in the craziness of the past few years, Eddie doubts that he’d believe that a bat that randomly showed up in his house could actually be a person. It’s still extremely inconvenient, though.)

He wracks his brain, trying to think of some way to communicate with Steve when he can’t actually talk to him, and— Oh. He’s kind of an idiot, isn’t he?

He starts squeaking. Short short shot, long long long, short short short. Pause. Repeat.

Steve squints up at him. “Am I actually going insane, or are you squeaking at me in morse code?”

Eddie nods so furiously his whole body bobs up and down with it, letting out a high, fast chitter. Yes yes yes yes yes!

“Do SOS again,” Steve orders, still staring.

Eddie does.

Steve literally falls to the floor. He doesn’t seem to even notice, just sits sprawled on the carpet, eyes fixed unblinking on Eddie. “Holy shit. Ok. Uh, I don’t know any other morse code, so uh, gonna have to stick with yes or no questions for now.”

Thank fuck, since Eddie hadn’t really considered what might’ve happened if Steve had learned morse code or picked up a guide in… however long Eddie was out of commission for.

“Starting off with a stupid question: You can understand everything I say, right?”

There’s a brief pause where they both stare at each other expectantly.

Hey, big boy, you gonna tell me what I should do for yes and no? He gives Steve a pointed look then squeaks another SOS.

Steve blushes and smiles sheepishly. “Shit, yeah, sorry about that. Um. One squeak for ‘yes,’ two for ‘no,’ three for ‘I don’t know,’ and four for ‘Too complicated for a yes or no.’ Sound good?”

Eddie squeaks once. Honestly, that’s surprisingly thorough.

Steve lets out a sudden, hysterical burst of laughter, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is my life. This is crazy,” he breathes. Then he looks up at Eddie again and says, louder, “I have it on good authority that I always ask dumb questions, so don’t judge me too much. Are you a normal bat that somehow gained the ability to understand English?”

No.

“Are you… from around here?”

Yes, Eddie squeaks. Then, corrects, No. Then, shaking his head in frustration, It’s too complicated for a yes or no.

“Huh,” Steve says, squinting again. “So that sounded like yes and no?”

Yes.

“Alright… Were you born around here?”

Yes.

“But you’re not from here.”

That’s not a question, but Eddie still squeaks that it’s too complicated.

Steve adjusts so he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, drumming his fingers against his knees. “Fuck, do we have to switch to charades or something? I don’t—”

Yes! Eddie squeaks because oh Steve is a genius. Eddie’s literally a bat right now. He was made for this.

He leaps off the chandelier—falls, really, since he’d just been awkwardly holding on with his thumbs, wings wrapped around it—and takes to the air. Sure, he’s never done this before, but hopefully it’s as instinctual as flying was. He makes a wide arc, aiming for the chandelier again. At the last second, he tucks in one wing. The shift in his center of gravity makes his stomach swoop for a moment, before his feet hit the metal and latch on. Then he’s staring at Steve’s baffled face upside down. He spreads his wings wide, shaking them a little in a sort of Ta da! gesture.

Yes, he squeaks again, for good measure, wrapping his wings around himself in a very bizarre self-hug.

He’s got bat ears now, so he doesn’t have any trouble picking up Steve’s mumbled, “Yes to charades…” His head snaps up, eyes wide. He points at Eddie. “You flipped upside down after agreeing to charades.”

Yes.

“You know about the Upside Down?”

Yes!

“Just to make sure we’re on the same page: like, the Upside Down, which is what we call an alternate dimension filled with monsters.”

Eddie’s not sure if his eye roll gets across or if it’s the exasperated tone of his answering Yes, but Steve also rolls his eyes in response.

“Jeez, sorry for trying to get clarification from the enormous bat that appeared in my house and started communicating with me in morse code.”

Eddie’s ears droop in a hopefully apologetic looking expression, and he lets out a low chitter.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it’s probably frustrating that you’re talking to me rather than someone smarter.” Before Eddie can even think of a way to push back on that, Steve’s moving on: “Ok, so you were born here, but you’re from the Upside Down? Is that what you were trying to say before?”

Yes! Eddie squeaks, hoping that if it seems enthusiastic enough, Steve will realize that he’s doing an incredible job with this. Someone else probably would have called animal control, or wouldn’t be able to figure out Eddie’s mixed messages and ask the right follow up questions.

“Now, when you say you were born here, is that, like, here as in Hawkins or this planet or—? Shit, sorry. Were you born around Hawkins?”

Yes.

“Did you… live in Hawkins before being in the Upside Down?”

Yes.

“Have you always been a bat?”

No.

“Were you a person?”

Oh, Eddie could kiss him. He barely stops himself from dropping from the chandelier to curl up in Steve’s lap, and that’s only because he thinks Steve might have some trauma-based unpleasant reactions to a bat shaped creature suddenly diving at him.

Yes.

Steve takes a deep breath, voice wavering just a bit as he asks, “Did I know you when you were a person?”

Yes!

This whole time, Steve’s been curling into himself more and more, knees tucked to his chest, arm wrapped around his shins, hands clutching his sleeves with white knuckles. He’s balled up smaller than Eddie’s ever seen him. Looking terrified in a way he didn’t when facing down actual monsters and the literal end of the world. He looks like Eddie’s next answer has the potential to shatter him completely.

“…Eddie?” he whispers.

Yes! Eddie squeaks, loud enough that Steve jumps. He wants to repeat it, wants to say it over and over because honestly he never really imagined that someone would figure it out, let alone with a single conversation—but that’d be confusing, so he settles for a high pitched trill to convey his excitement.

#Bat2theBonesteddie #BatBoysPrompts #steddie #steddie wip #stranger things #bat!eddie #wip: bat!eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my wips #my writing #my fic #my post

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

Note

CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE! You deserve all the love and praise, your writing is wonderful. 💜💜💜

I would like to humbly request my sweet babygirl Javi G. I noticed hair pulling wasn't on the list but I'm sure we can agree that his gorgeous curls are RIPE for yanking.

I was also thinking of how sweet, pliant, and submissive he might be, and what a good, good boy he would be when I sat on his face. 😈

Kthanksloveyoubye

PATTI MY DARLING. FIRST OF ALL, I am sorry it took me so long to get to this one - the smut sensation requests went feral and so did my motivation for them, BUT WE ARE BACK, so please consider this a late birthday gift from me to you - I hope you love it 🫶🏼

Pairing | Javi G x F!Reader

Word Count | 727

Warnings | Explicit. 18+, Minors DNI. Sub!Javi, Dom!Reader, edging, teasing, hair pulling, oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, creampie. Unbeta'd so mistakes all my own.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration (now bleeding into my 2K celebration) - if you want to read previous requests, you can do that here .

You didn’t think there was a more beautiful sight that the one before you right now. Javi, splayed out on his bed, completely naked, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. You can physically see his cock throbbing where it’s resting on his belly, pre-come smearing onto his skin from the amount you’ve teased him already tonight.

The balcony doors are wide open, a cool breeze blowing through the net curtains, the sound of the ocean crashing against the beach below. The only sound sweeter than that is him begging you, begging you to finally make him come after bringing him to the edge and denying him more times that you can count.

“Please, mi amor,” He whines as you move up his body, kissing up his chest until you’re straddled over his hips, pussy just out of reach as he bucks up into you, “Enough teasing.”

You drag your soaked folds across the length of him, a sadistic giggle leaving your lips as he groans at the contact, wanting nothing more than for you to sink down onto him and fuck him.

“I’ll give you what you want,” You breathe against his lips, before you clamber further up his body, “But first, you’ve got to earn it, sweet boy.”

Your hips straddle his face, your hand carding through the luscious locks of his hair as his hands come to grip the globes of your ass, guiding you down to his mouth. Your head tips back in pleasure as you feel his tongue trail from your clit, down to your weeping hole, where he drinks your slick from you, before trailing the tip of his tongue right back up to your clit, where he uses the tip of his tongue to flick across the swollen bud.

You keep your hands in his hair, tugging at his brown curls as you start to grind your face back down onto his mouth, moving your hips with his tongue as it swirls around your clit, building you up until you’re a writhing mess above him.

“Come on, sweet boy,” You moan, a particularly hard tug of his curls in your hand making him groan directly into your pussy, “Suck on me,” You demand, “Make me come, and I’ll return the favour.”

He does exactly as you ask, like the obedient man he is, latching his lips around your clit and sucking, the pressure almost folding you, until he adds his tongue back into the equation and you really are folding. You grip the headboard in front of you as you come on his face, hips shaking as your thighs squeeze around his face. You drag yourself from his face, awkwardly moving back down his body until your cunt is sinking down onto his cock. He lets out a strangled moan at finally getting what he wanted.

You give him a moment to adjust, leaning down to kiss his lips. You taste yourself on his mouth, a heady mixture that melds with the champagne you’d drunk over dinner. You make sure that your tongue gathers every inch of your taste from his mouth as you start rocking your hips, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out of your drenched cunt.

“Mi amor,” He groans out, hands resting on your hips to guide your movements, “I won’t last.”

“That’s okay, baby,” You coo, running your hands gently through the curls you were just tugging at moments before, “You can come whenever you want.”

It’s almost as if it was only permission he needed, like he was holding off, waiting for you to let him do it, because it takes all of three thrusts into you for him to come – those thick, white ropes of his spend coating your walls as his strangled cries of your name fill the room. When you’re sure he has nothing left to give to you, you let his cock slip from inside you, falling onto the bed next to him as he rolls onto his side, lips pressing into your neck as his hands trail down your body.

You smirk as his fingers slide between your folds, gathering the mixture of your slick and his cum on his fingers, dragging it up to circle over your clit, begging you to let him make you feel good. He always was one who wanted to please, after all.

#javi gutierrez #Javi G #the unbearable weight of massive talent #Javi Gutierrez fic #Javi Gutierrez fanfic #Javi Gutierrez fanfiction #Javi g smut #Javi gutierrez smut #Javi g x you #Javi g x reader #Javier f x female reader #Javi g x f!reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x female reader #Javi gutierrez x f!reader

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cookiesupplier · 4 months

Text

Catch You When You Fall - Part Two

pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo & ofc (Catherine)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, angst, murder, mystery, smut, mentions of speciesism, mentions of violence, trauma... (to be added.)

summary: A new soul has arrived in the Afterlife. While she appears to adjust just like anyone else might in the new environment of the world of life after death, despite the ordeal she experienced with her death. The question is has she really, and can Nicholas help her without crossing lines that he knows he shouldn't?

Authors Note: Sooo took me an extra day.. and its extra unbeta'd.. sorry for any mistakes.. my read through of my draft was super rushedddd sorry.. hopefully its not too bad!

To find the others in the Hell AU Universe: Combined Hell-Verse Masterlist

tags: @missduffsblog @tearfallpixie @spicywhenspeaking @sorrowsofsilence @wild-child-7747

@lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens @valiantroeagleangel @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses

@embracethereaper42 @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny @dominuslunae @xxkittenkissesxx

If you would like to be added to this tag list please see THIS FORM

Over the next few days, Cat got the ‘Hell’ tour from Bryce. He showed her around the community, took her to her new home. It was a little apartment on the ground floor, with a balcony that led out to a small green area out front. Bryce had even told her she could plant something there if she wanted to. It was the first time in her life that she had the option of her own garden to tend to, and she absolutely loved the idea. Before, she’d always lived in different types of rental spaces, and they always, without fail, had different levels of landlord rules. It made sense of course, she was only renting and didn’t own the space, she couldn’t do anything she wanted with it. Basically, it amounted to her not being able to plant anything, even if there was a strip of space that would be perfect for it, now she had hopes of starting a little garden of her own. She just had to decide on what flowers she was going to plant in it, what she was going to do with it, she knew she wanted to include some irises of some kind, they are her mother’s favourite. Once she had them planted, she looked forward to seeing them every morning, she hoped it would be a long time until she saw her mother here. As it was, she was almost wished the flowers were already planted as she got ready to leave, but they weren’t, not yet.

Pulling on her coat as she passed by the balcony of the front hall of her apartment and let herself out the door. She was on her way to her first day of work, well, her first official day of work. Cat had met her boss yesterday. Ishtar had been wonderful when they spoke the day before at the vegetarian café that Cat was going to be working at. It was still quite new apparently, it had only opened up a few weeks ago, so everything was still just starting up, but it already seemed popular. While Cat wasn’t vegetarian herself, she loved to bake and try new things. The moment that Ishtar had heard this, she’d lit up like the Christmas tree in the middle of Times Square, and Cat couldn’t help but smile. She had a feeling they were going to get along just fine, despite the fact that she was almost sure that it was Bryce that had seemed wary when he told her about this job.

When they started talking about what jobs she might want to do, Bryce had brought her a list of different possible options for her. Most of them were menial jobs she would have never touched when she was alive, bartender? Not that she had anything against working at a bar, or clubbing, but she didn’t know how to make those kinds of drinks for the life of her! She’d studied as an English major and had worked at a publishing house while she was alive. Sure, she had drank a few cocktails, but she didn’t know heads or tails about how to make them. Books, now those were something that she had always been passionate about. Being here, in the Afterlife, her entire world turned upside down, it was a perfect time to make a change, to take a chance on something she loved. So that was what had drawn her to the café, despite Bryce’s attempts in talking her into working in the library instead. She knew he was just trying to guide her to what she knew, she couldn’t blame him for that.

She had visited the library with him when he had taken her there, hoping to change her mind, she was sure, not that he said as much. Cat had gone to the library, and come back with a decent stack of books that were currently sitting on her night stand, and she was happily enjoying reading. The Afterlife had a very enjoyable assortment of literature, and unlike in the living world, she didn’t have to spend every cent of her pay check on books constantly. Who needed heaven, she was quite happy right here in so-called hell right now, thank you.

Now, when it came to Bryce’s real problem with her working at the café, and she could tell he had a problem with it, even if he didn’t come right out and say it. The amount of times he asked if she was sure, if she was absolutely certain she wanted to work there, it was a giveaway. There was also the fact that he kept assuring her that if she changed her mind at any time, even after she started working there, she could always come to him, and he would work out another position for her. He was absolutely determined for some reason that she not work there, and it was mind-boggling as to why.

Cat wasn’t sure which he seemed to have more trouble with, the fact that she didn’t immediately agree to his idea in the first place, or that she had chosen that specific café in question. At first, she had thought it was because she had decided on anything but his idea, he seemed like a man that was used to everyone just going along with the ideas that he had. Bryce was very easy going, the surfer vibe he had going on, he used it well, it worked for him, and seemed to make agreeing with him just seamless with most things. However, then, when she selected the café, and really insisted that was what she wanted to do, he switched gears and started assuring her that she didn’t have to decide right then and there. She could take her time. Take a few weeks, a few months if she needed to.

That was when he let her know that humans didn’t even need to work in hell, that technically, only demons did. Well, that was news to her. Up until that moment, he had seemed to be encouraging her to work, impressing upon her that she should. In fact, it had made her feel like if she didn’t, that she would be penalised in some way. Maybe she might not have ended up being punished in one of those torture realms, but something might happen to her. For all she knew, she would have gotten assigned a job if she didn’t choose one, and one that was disgusting.. Or worse, forcibly reincarnated as a bug, a cockroach, or worse, a spider. So hearing that she didn’t have to work at all, oh, Bryce was very obviously manipulating her, and she didn’t like it.

That had been when she decided that the café was definitely where she wanted to work, and there was nothing he could say that would talk her out of it now. She started this morning, and Cat was on her way to work, bright and early. While she loved to bake, she wasn’t actually going to be working there as one of the bakers, or dealing with any of the main food preparations that she knew of yet. Ishtar had told her yesterday that she was set to learn the ropes today, and that a lot of her work at the end of one day, was setting up for the next. It made everything go a lot smoother the next morning if she had everything prepared the day before. That was really smart, and she loved that idea, already the woman sounded amazing, she couldn’t wait to get to know her more.

As she approached the outside of the café, she went along the side where the staff door was, knocking lightly, and a moment later the door opened to the smiling face of her boss, Ishtar. When she’d first met her, it had been remarkable to meet the bright bubbly face of the demoness, but a welcoming one.

“Hey, Cat, come on in.”

Unlike Bryce, Ishtar, didn’t seem to jump right to the endearments to sweeten her up, she didn’t need to. She was perfectly nice enough on her own. Of course, meeting demons like her, made it all the clearer what Bryce had meant when he said that some demons don’t shift into a human form. While she had a humanoid form, two arms, two legs, and hypothetically ten fingers and ten toes by the looks of it, she was pure demon, with her gorgeous purple tones to her appearance. She adorned with tattoos still like other demons, hers were simple flowering vines over her skin, and stunning horns curled from her beautiful hair that was braided around them today.

Slipping into the back area of the café where they made all the food and drinks for the sitting area out front where they served the customers, at least the ones that didn’t take their food to go.

“Alright, Cat, so I’m going to get you started just taking orders behind the counter for now. Don’t worry, it's not going to be permanent, I hope to teach you how to do all the different jobs through the café. From waitressing, working register, making drinks, even baking for the display case, cooking out back.”

That really excited her to hear, that she wasn’t going to be shoehorned into one job here. If felt nice to know that she was going to have options and means to vary in time.

“Admittedly, sometimes I bake a lot a home and bring them in, it cuts down some of my extreme early morning commutes, and my boyfriend thanks me for that. His version of waking up early involves very different activities than baking.”

Cat felt her face flush warm, the kind of activities that she would attribute to early mornings and boyfriends, well, they didn’t involve baking either. Even if the thought of being in the kitchen of the morning brought about the idea of her boyfriend surprising her while she wore nothing but one of his shirts that she slept in. A boyfriend she had never got around to getting, she’d been far too much of a home body, always with her head in the books. The closest she came, and even before the end of the second day, he’d basically told her she was boring. That she needed to get her head out of the clouds, that there was more to life than fantasy. That being obsessed with dragons, magic, and elves, and all those things that go bump in the night was pathetic. Personally, she just thought he was pathetic, he would sit there playing his video games, and shoot up people, military type games. He had his obsession, so the fact he thought he could call her out for what she enjoyed, was ironic in the face of it. Unfortunately, at the time, she had spiralled and got so depressed at the rejection, but eventually she got over him and moved on focusing on school instead.

“So if I might want to experiment in the future, baking, or other café style dish ideas, provided it's vegetarian, you might be interested?”

Cat was curious about trying different things. She wanted to try and see what happened with cooking instead of just her delving into the world of words and books like she had when she was alive. Maybe, also maybe, she was trying to give herself a little something for a distraction. A distraction from this dark feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t even really fathom right about now.

“Oh, I would most definitely be interested. I can’t promise we will always serve what you come up with, but I’d love to see what you do make, I always like trying new things.”

Of course, Cat had no idea just yet what she might like to make, what would go well with what they made here. They had different treats and delights in the display case yesterday when she had come by to talk to Ishtar. Ishtar hadn’t called it an interview, nor the first time she had been by the café to meet with her and find out if she would be will to hire her in the first place. Instead, yesterday just seemed to be a check in to make sure everything was okay and that both she was still interested in working there, and Ishtar was still partial to having her at the café. With them both still on board, here she was, bright and early and ready to go.

“Can I ask, is the vegetarian element of the café, is that a preference of yours, or is that something you found lacking in the general cuisine choices?”

Cat couldn’t help but ask, it was a curious thing, she had found that a lot while she was alive. If enough people wanted something, then customs would adjust to embrace it. However, there were places that would buck so heavily against this it would tear a community apart, and it was so painful to see. She didn’t want to insult Ishtar by assuming anything about what she liked, or didn’t like.

“It’s a personal choice, I suppose it's half culture, half upbringing. When I was reborn this lifetime, I spent a lot of time with my mother, and she is vegetarian. However, as I got older and travelled more, I found I just didn’t have the same taste for meat others do. I can and have eaten it on occasion, it isn’t a health issue.. Much to my boyfriend’s thankfulness. Though.. Thinking of poor little animals, skewered for food, always does make me miserable.”

Nodding, that was fair, and it showed she had a bigger heart than some people.

“I find it interesting there are still such diverse ways of life here.”

“Exactly, demons are just as diverse as humans, unfortunately it can also get just as ugly.. But let's not get into that. Now, let's get you set up at the register.”

Ishtar hooked her arm with hers with a bright smile and guided her up front to the counter so she could help her get set up before they opened.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#nicholas ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo x ofc #original female character #original character #demons #bad omens #fanficition #bad omens fanfic #hell au #hell verse #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #bad omens fic #nick ruffilo #nick ruffilo fic #fic: catch you when you fall

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mega-aulover · 1 year

Text

Tease

This is for the wonderful @gremlinddrawss who drew a wonderful Everlark This DRAWING Named the TEASE

thank you for your wonderful art...Rated T - unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine-

Katniss and Peeta’s first time was a few weeks ago, but since then they had been dancing around the other about doing it again. It wasn’t good. It was awkward, but the promise of more was there. The tension was thick between them. They exchanged shy glances. Anytime they brushed each other, Katniss would get goosebumps all over. Yesterday evening, Katniss felt flushed due to Peeta’s heated stare as she ate his flaky aromatic bread. Afterward, she’d poured water over her face to cool herself down. Cold showers were becoming the norm.

Katniss couldn’t take it anymore and she prepared.

Sunday morning Katniss couldn’t wait to spend the day with Peeta. He normally didn’t bake or paint on Sundays. It was their day to lounge about and do nothing. Katniss took a deep breath, as she dressed. It was chilly outside, and she wished for it to be warmer so that she could wear one of the pretty dresses that Cinna had designed. Instead, she wore a sweater her mother had knitted for her, on top of a crisp white shirt and comfortable pants.

She bounded down the stairs to find Peeta drinking his tea at the breakfast table. He had cooked a hearty breakfast of thick fluffy pancakes, and mounds of bacon and eggs. Typically Katniss would've devoured the food, but today she had a different breakfast in mind. She had a game in mind, something pleasurable.

“Morning,” Peeta said as he took a sip of his tea.

“Where are you ticklish,” Katniss blurted, she felt the way heat flooded her cheeks.

Peeta spat out his tea. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately grabbing a towel to dry himself off.

The situation made her want to laugh. A small giggle escaped her lips and it was followed by an unfeminine chortle.

Peeta began laughing.

“What was that about,” he asked when the mirth died down.

Katniss took a deep breath, “I want to…” Her cheeks burned, and even her hands looked flushed. “You know… upstairs.”

“Really?”

Katniss took his hand and gently tugged him forward as a way of answering his question. Peeta followed behind obediently. When they were both kneeling on the bed, Katniss noticed he shared her goofy grin.

“You first,” Katniss said biting her lip, glancing up at Peeta from beneath her lashes.

Peeta nodded and reached out and tugged off her sweater.

Katniss jovially raised her arms. Her head got wedged in the sweater, and he laughed when it finally came off. She began snorting like a pig and couldn’t help herself.

“That was graceful!” Peeta began laughing.

Couldn’t help but feel giddy and laughed a full belly laugh, as she said, “Capitol worthy!”

“You would make Effie proud with that level of etiquette,” Peeta said his blue eyes shining.

Katniss loved the fact that she could be her authentic self with Peeta. There was no pretension, no expectations, he loved her unconditionally. Her heart bee-bopped in her chest, as she leaned forward to take his sweater off. “You next.”

His muscular torso appeared slowly. Katniss was taking it slow, enjoying the show.

“Kanmifff,” Peeta said from behind his sweater.

Katniss suddenly became nervous and pulled his sweater off, dragging his head down. She could hear his laughter at her jerky movements. He then snorted loudly.

This caused her to smile uncontrollably. “I think you missed some of those classes on etiquette.”

“I think you ripped my ears off,” Peeta said.

Katniss leaned forward and gently placed her hands on his face, giving him a teasing smile, gently cupped his face. “Real,” she whispered, as she gave him a kiss on each ear. Then she whispered, “Catch me if you can baker boy.” Katniss popped off the bed and ran.

Peeta sat there momentarily stunned, as she opened their bedroom door Katniss could hear him laugh-shout, “TEASE!”

She laughed as she ran out, anticipating the chase, this was one of the good games to play.

#I've been loving your drawings for weeks. Thank you for sharing your art #big fan #mega-aulover writes #drabble #Everlark #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark #after the last chapter but not before the epilouge #T's rated #fan fiction

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jungkookienoona · 2 years

Text

Finishing Touch

Recommended Song: Good to Me by Seventeen

|Masterlist|

Summary:

As your elder brother's apprentice, he sometimes sent you on errands for him. This time you didn't mind so much when you met the handsome blacksmith who mantained the tools of your trade.

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Blacksmith!Jungkook X Carpenter!FemReader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, heavy handed flirting, blacksmithing/carpentry jargon, I JUST LOVE CRAFTS OKAY, Namjoon is the older brother who wants whats best for you, reader has buff arms but its not really mentioned, Jungkook and reader are both a little weird, crackish?, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, reader knows what she wants, face sitting, oral(m&f),multiple orgasms, 1 spank. Jungkook is a biter. Multiple positions. let me know if there's any I missed.

Word Count: 6k

So this in unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes. I'll also be adding the poem I wrote that somewhat inspired this at the end.

Some days you cursed the day you asked Namjoon to be his apprentice. He was a capable carpenter and an attentive brother, but he was the biggest klutz you had ever seen! Which meant you were often sent on errands by him as he nursed his latest injury. You loved him dearly, you just wished he was more careful. What had you on your most recent one for him was a twisted ankle he had received after slipping on some wood shavings.

Namjoon had his tools handcrafted by a surprisingly local blacksmith who you had yet to meet. And apparently after a horrendously bad attempt at maintaining said tools, his blacksmith had forbade him from even trying and demanded that anytime upkeep was needed, Namjoon was to take his tools to this blacksmith where he would be discounted the cost. The benefits of being a regular you guessed.

So with a box of blunt chisels in grasp, you shifted them to rest on your hip so you could open the door to the blacksmith. A system bell twinkled above you to mark your arrival. The interior wasn’t quite what you had imagined it would be. When you thought of blacksmiths, what honestly came to mind was that they all looked like they did in mediaeval fantasy films. Cramped, hot and full of hazards. But much like how Namjoon’s shop is fairly modernised, so is this one.

The entrance was a crisp white and sectioned off from the main workshop. There was a standing desk that looked to be bare save a lone laptop and a card reader. Behind the desk to the side was a code locked door, seemingly soundproof. Next to the door, thus directly behind the desk, was a large window, also soundproof as you did not hear the sound of the forge fire that was in clear sight. Through the window you saw the workshop itself, spaciously layed out as to minimise trips and accidents. Different tools safely stored away in carefully organised shelves. Grindstones and sanding belts lined in a row for sharpening. A power hammer tucked away in a corner. The forge was central on the back wall with the anvil not too far away. There was a work table pressed up against the wall opposite to the grindstones, where you saw the smith, setting something down before heading to the door.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you saw the smith for the first time, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to be so handsome. Shoulder-length hair was tied away with some loose strands framing his face, some soot smeared across his cheek highlighting a small scar. It made you want to get the rag out of your pocket to clean him up a bit. Big doe eyes met yours and you were captured in them like the small galaxy of lights they reflected. He wore a fitted grey long-sleeve shirt, its sleeves rolled up, a pair of cargo pants and a tool belt. You had to stop yourself from staring at the tattoo sleeve that consumed his arm.

The smith cleared his throat, snapping you out of your daze, “What can I do for ya?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.

“Oh! Uh, my brother- Namjoon- needed some things sharpened but had a bit of a… mishap,” you felt a blush colour your cheeks.

“Ah~ So you’re Namjoon’s little sis. He talks about you a lot whenever he stops by.” He took the box from you and surprised you a little when he grasped one of your hands to inspect, “looks like he wasn’t lying, you’ve been putting the work in, these calluses are impressive.”

You gently pulled your hand away, blurting out against your will, “are you like this with every girl you meet?”

“Only the pretty and talented ones,” he said with a wink, “do you want to come on through as I sort these out? Shouldn’t take too long.”

You nodded dumbly, reeling from his apparent flirtatiousness.

He gave you a lopsided smile before turning, punching in the code and opening the door. He gestured with his head for you to go in first. It was warm in the workshop, almost sweltering.

“How can you wear a long-sleeve here? It feels like I’m about to melt and I’m in a t-shirt.”

He shrugged, “You get used to it I guess. I’ve been working around the forge since I started apprenticing under my father at thirteen. Also stops my arms from getting burnt when sparks fly.”

That made sense. He headed over to the grindstones, set the box down and got to work. You noticed the stonewheel he was using was different from the others. It was situated in a wooden basin of water, wetting it as it spun. It was also most hypnotising, watching him pick up a chisel, make sure the angle is perfect before putting it to the grind. Once satisfied he would get a leather strip and give the chisel a few swipes against it.

"This is called 'Stropping', it polishes the edge and makes sure there's no imperfections in it that aren't visible without a microscope or something."

He set the chisel on a nearby table and picked up the next one.

"This doesn't look so hard, how did Namjoon fuck up so bad that you'd need to do this for him?"

"He would lose and chip his edge in his sharpening attempts. But I don't mind doing this much for him as a favour if he helps me out with a few projects from time to time."

You raised a brow in interest, "Such as?"

"Carving axe handles, knife hilts, spear shafts, things like that. Especially if it's a custom order that stipulates some sort of cosmetic aspect to those. Though he's come out to fix my bed a few times."

"Your bed? Is it old?"

Jungkook chortled, "No… let's say it's well loved." Your cheeks coloured, immediately catching on to what he meant. "Sometimes it was some of the supporting struts the mattress sits on, once it was a leg. Namjoon was an angel for fixing that in such short notice. Though I haven't had to call him out in a while."

"Ah, you've taken pity on it."

"Not quite, just been too busy for a relationship recently."

You deflated a little at that, not that you were interested. It was just a shame such a handsome man was off the market.

"What about you? Anyone in the picture?"

You huffed, "Nope. Namjoon hasn't approved of anyone who's shown even a hint of interest in me. And his fucking vibe checks always turn out correct. Last guy was a potter and Namjoon felt there was something off, so he catfished him, turned out the dude had a wife and kids."

Jungkook stopped what he was doing and turned to you with wide eyes, jaw slack, "No fucking way."

"Yep, sometimes it's suffocating to have such a protective older brother. But in that situation I was thankful."

"He does talk like the sun shines out your ass. He once said, and I quote, 'I will not let the hardships of this world sully her'. That was when we went out for drinks and he started complaining about a… dancer?... that wanted to be fuck buddies with you."

You put your head in your hands, "That guy was spewing some bullshit about how having sex regularly would limber him up and make him a better dancer."

"And according to Namjoon you almost fell for it."

"It made sense at the time!" You cried in embarrassed betrayal.

"You sound just a little frustrated," he said with a bunny toothed grin.

"No shit. All the guys I meet just want my body."

"To be honest, you do have a banging bod but I get that it's annoying for people to be so shallow. I've had similar issues. But do you know what helps me manage the stress of being single?" He paused to give you time to respond but you just shrugged. "My work. Hitting red hot things with a hammer is great for working through things."

"I'd imagine splitting wood with a froe is a similar sensation."

Jungkook tilted his head in confusion, "Excuse me, I'm not entirely acquainted with the processes of carpentry. How is a froe used? The blade doesn't face out like an axe but is on the top so…?"

"You put the blade against the wood and hit it with a mallet, once the wood starts cracking you can use the handle as a lever to pull the wood apart. It's quite effective and is good for getting the wood to the width you need with little shaving."

"Ah yes, so you too get to hammer things." He nodded sagely and got back to work. "Here's an idea, I feel you need a man in your life that isn't a family member, someone to measure potential suitors against. How about once a week we take turns going to each other's workshops. You show me some carpentry tools and techniques, I show you how to maintain the tools of your trade. And we chat, you can get to know me because I already feel like I know you thanks to Namjoon."

You shook your head, "You know Namjoon's ideal me. So that's a rather rose tinted view."

Jungkook shot you a mischievous smirk, "You saying there's a bad girl side to you Namjoon doesn’t know?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny anything. That's for you to find out."

"I look forward to it."

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

A week later and Jungkook was knocking on your workshop door, Namjoon was taking the day off and so the shop was technically closed. He was in a tank top due to the warmer weather you had been experiencing, which showed off more of his arms and that gorgeous tattoo sleeve of his. Loose fitting sweats clung to his thighs like their existence depended on it and his hair was half up in a bun. His doe eyes were framed by a pair of glasses that suited him far too well. You found yourself biting your bottom lip as you appraised him. He waved hello and chuckled as you noticeably broke out of your trance.

"I know they're cool," he said gesturing to his sleeve, "maybe someday I'll talk you through them."

You shook your head, "Sorry, just wasn't expecting to see so much of you so soon."

"That's what she said." Childish. "But in all seriousness, it's hot as balls out there and I feel like I'm less likely to get a serious burn here than at the forge. So I thought I'd let the boys breathe a bit."

"You'll have to be extra mindful of splinters then," you half joked. You had gotten some rather nasty ones in your early days before you had gotten yourself some woodworking sleeves.

You noticed his gaze was going past you to something in the corner and turned to look.

"Is that a wizard? Is Namjoon carving a wooden wizard statue?"

You cleared your throat awkwardly, "Not Namjoon, I am. It's my first proper solo project and it's taken me a good few months just to get a decent base design done. I'll be etching finer details into it soon hopefully."

"Can I ask why a wizard?"

"Wizards are cool. Not like the Harry Potter ones, I mean the types you find in D&D or painted on to the side of a hippy van from the 70s. Ones that ponder the orb."

Jungkook contemplated it before nodding, "I get where you're coming from, but personally I'm more of a fan of warriors and stuff. In fact one of my personal projects has a crusades motif."

"You what?"

He grinned, "It's a long sword I call 'The Inquisitor'. One of my favourites if I do say so myself. One of three in a collection called ‘The Hero’."

“Might want to be careful about who you’re calling a hero there. I don’t know many people who look at crusaders fondly.”

“Yeah I know. Organised religion is flawed but its imagery slaps.” That earned a laugh from you. “So what are you teaching me today?”

You gestured to an overturned incomplete table that was on the floor, “we’re attaching the last two legs with tongue and groove joints and pegs. Namjoon doesn’t like to use wood glue, saying it's ‘a shortcut for quantity over quality’. Which I do actually agree with. Also helps to keep the old methods alive. The grooves have already been cut into where the legs will be going. You'll be helping me with the tongues.”

Jungkook muttered something that you couldn't make out. You got to work, showing him how the width, length and depth of the groove would be transposed onto what would be the tongue. How you triple checked the measurements before committing to them with a saw. You got the table leg into position.

"Right, can you grab that mallet and hammer this into the groove for me. I'll keep it steady."

Jungkook grabbed the mallet, eyebrows knitting as he concentrated on hitting his intended target and not you. With his arms exposed, you saw how his muscles rippled and flexed with each heavy swing. He let out the occasional grunt of effort which you tried not to focus too much on, especially when you noticed his tongue peek out to wet his lower lip. And then he was finished and grinning down at you.

"What now?"

"Now it's your turn. We just have one more leg to attach before we can put the pegs through."

He nodded and immediately got to work copying what he had watched you do.

"So what made you think you were too busy for a relationship? You clearly have time on your hands if you're here with me."

Jungkook briefly glanced at you then refocused on what he was doing, "My ex. She told me I clearly had two loves in my life, her and my work. Said she hated being runner up in my heart as I was so committed to my craft-"

"I'm sorry but that's bullshit. She broke up with you cause you're passionate about creating things? Because you're carrying on your family business?"

"When you put it that way, yeah."

"That is actual assholery on her part. A life without passion isn't a life at all. If someone had said something like that to me, I would have broken up with them."

"It's nice to hear that at least one person doesn't mind."

"If you don't mind me asking, how long ago was this break up?"

"Two years-"

"TWO WHOLE ASS YEARS?! You, a walking wet dream,” you waved your hand up and down, gesturing to him and his outfit, “have been willingly single for the last two years because of what your ex said."

His cheeks coloured. He set down the pencil and ruler and picked up the saw you had been using. He did two pulls then got to work sawing off the excess.

"Well it gave me time to focus on myself and what I wanted. Made some pretty baller things. And to be honest, it's been pretty hard to think about dating anyone when Namjoon has been talking my ear off about you and singing your praises before I had even met you yet."

Wait a minute… that sounded like Namjoon had been trying to set you up. You knew something was fishy about his ankle injury! It was all part of his plan! You facepalmed at your brother's antics.

"Jesus Joon. I'm so sorry about my brother, if I had known I would have stopped him."

"Hey now, I'm glad to finally put a face to the name. And as I said before, I'd like for you to get to know me. Then we see where it goes from there be it friends or something else, that is if you're interested. Which you seem to be otherwise you would have called me a walking wet dream. To be honest I like the forwardness." He winked at you. “Right, that’s this one all done, are you hammering this time?”

“Sure. As in the hammering.”

Jungkook knelt down and lined the leg up with its groove. Mallet in hand, you tried not to think about how, if the table leg wasn’t there, he would be at the perfect height to- You hit the leg before you could continue that line of thought. You were so focused, you hadn’t realised Jungkook was watching you much the same way you had done to him earlier. A few more good wacks and it was well and truly wedged in. You wiped the sweat from your brow.

“You got some impressive arms, do you go to the gym?”

You shook your head, “Nah, just comes with the job. All this manual labour requires some muscle. Can you help me flip this table?”

Jungkook moved to the other side of the table, lifting on your count and the table was now standing on its legs for the first time. You instructed him to try and hold it steady as you bored holes into the sides that went right through the centre on the joints.

“Since I did the drilling, how about you peg?” You said, handing him four perfectly sized pegs (you had made them earlier and chosen the corresponding drill bit with the right circumference).

“Is carpentry normally full of innuendo?”

“Depends on the carpenter.” You gave him a cheeky grin, “what you’re gonna want to do is hammer the pegs as far in as they’ll go, saw off the excess and finally, sand them.”

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

Next it was your turn to learn from him. You were back in his studio, waiting in his reception area for him to arrive. You spotted him through the window into his workshop, coming out of a door you hadn’t noticed last time. From what you could see, his hair was down, tucked away behind his ear. He was in a plain black oversized t-shirt and brown cargo pants. He walked over to some shelves and picked a few bits and bobs you couldn’t see and set them over by the grindstones. He turned and smiled when he saw you waiting. He jogged over to the door and unlocked it from the inside for you.

“Hey there, fancy seeing you here,” He said, still smiling. You were starting to melt for his cute grins.

“Oh you know, I got invited by some guy. I’m beginning to think the ‘learning each other's trades’ was all just an elaborate ploy to create flirting opportunities.”

He shrugged, “Well that remains to be seen. Come on in, I’ve got everything set up for you.”

“Since you’re not in a long-sleeve, we’re not doing anything that involves heat,” you appraised, walking by him.

“You got that right. I’m not the type to throw someone in the deep end.”

He led you over to the grindstones where you saw what he had set down. It was a set of chisels. They looked new.

“What’s all this?”

“Today you’ll be learning how to sharpen these chisels, which I made myself by the way, and if I’m satisfied that you’ll be able to take care of them they’ll be all yours.”

You turned to him wide-eyed, “You’re fucking with me right.”

There was that smile again, “Nope. I figured it would do you some good not having to use Namjoon’s, give you some independence from him.”

You squealed and hugged him on impulse then sheepishly let go of him, clearing your throat, “I mean thank you.”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, “No problem. It’s just my way of saying thanks for that… pep talk? Last week. And you know, they’re not as time consuming to make as a sword or something. Right, anyway let’s get started. You’ll be using the whetstone.” He pointed at the wheel you had seen him using before.

“Why not the others?”

“Cause we don’t want you losing your temper.”

“I’m not that easily annoyed.” You pouted.

He chuckled, “No not like that. If you try to sharpen something that's already been tempered, which by the way is a heat treatment to harden the steel and alleviate internal stresses, on a dry grind you’ll reheat the metal and lose the temper. So we use a whetstone because it keeps the metal cool. That’s also where the phrase lose your temper comes from.”

You had been nodding along as he spoke, “I see.”

You picked up one of the chisels and inspected it. It was quite beautiful, a perfectly carved wooden handle (you’d have to ask him about his wood choice later) and the steel had a marble effect which your fingers traced over.

“It’s Damascus steel. A blend of iron carbide and ferrite folded into a steel billet. Not to be confused with real damascus steel because that technique was lost due to cultural suppression.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort for someone you’ve only known for like three weeks.”

“Yeah I know, but as I’ve said, thanks to Namjoon I already feel like I know you. And so far you haven’t done anything that goes against what I’ve come to know… God that sounded creepy.”

“No no, I get you. It’s like when my mum used to talk about her church friends and when I was introduced to them, I already knew what they liked and disliked so it was easier to talk to them.”

“Yeah, you’re the church friend here. Except I don’t mind it when you try to flirt with me. Anyway, shall we? I might need to put my hands on you depending on how well you do, are you okay with that?”

You shrugged, “I’m down with that. I doubt you’d use it as an excuse to grab my tits or something.”

Jungkook blinked at you a few times and shook his head, “Okay first, get the wheel turning, there’s a pedal on the floor which controls it.” You put your foot on it and got the wheel going. “Now what you’d want to do is with one hand on the handle and the other at the base of the steel, you want to angle it so the blade is going to meet the stone correctly.” You went to do as he said. “Ah wait.”

His chest met your back as his arms encircled you, hands guiding on yours to adjust the chisel to the correct angle. You then brought the chisel to the stone and the sound wasn’t all pleasant, neither were the small vibrations in your hands, but his heat was distracting you from it.

“That’s it, just like that. I’ll let you do the next one yourself. I’d say it's time to strop and test it.” He laid out some leather on the table next to the other chisels. You turned, stopping the wheel, and did as you had seen him do last time. “You’re picking this up quickly. You must have inherited all the steadiness that Namjoon didn’t get.”

You were about to question how you’d test it when he started rolling up a pant leg. His legs weren’t all that hairy but there were some noticeable strips missing. He then beckoned you to give him the chisel. You watched in bewilderment as he ran the chisel down a small patch, shearing off the hair there. He beamed at you.

“Cuts like a dream. That’s a pretty good job you’ve done there.”

“Can I ask why you just did that?”

He straightened up and put the chisel to the side.

“Quickest way to test, and as long as they’re washed properly afterwards, there's no harm… other than when I’ve nicked myself.”

“Maybe this is why your ex left you. Not because of your work but because you test the sharpness of blades on yourself-”

“That makes it sound like I self-harm. I do not. I shave. A very clear difference.”

“What I was trying to say is that it's ridiculously weird.”

He pouted this time, “Have I lost all appeal to you now then.”

It was only then you were reminded of how close he was to you. You gulped.

“I uh, I wouldn’t say that. Everyone has their quirks. Like me, I chew on stick-width bits of wood when I’m bored in the workshop.”

Jungkook laughed, properly laughed, a sound you wanted to hear again. “You called me weird and you’re out there literally chewing on wood like a beaver? Talk about double standards. At least my ‘quirk’ tests the quality. What are you doing? Testing the wood density?”

You blushed, “Look sometimes my mouth wants something to do. So what?”

He chuckled, pushed his hair back and got impossibly closer, his eyes darkening, “I had wanted to take this slow, maybe have a few more back and forths, but what am I to do when you tell me something like that.” He cupped your face, thumbing your lower lip, “what am I to think other than I can give it something to do for you.” His eyes flicked between your and your lips, “Can I?”

Jesus fucking christ, you had melted on the spot and all you could do was nod dumbly. The rest of the chisels were forgotten as he crowded your space, lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate dance. His hands fell to your waist as you grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer still. But you stumbled backwards, knocking the whetstone and breaking the kiss.

“Whoops, perhaps my workshop isn’t the place for this. Come on.” Jungkook took your hand and led you through the door you noticed earlier. “Welcome to my home-”

You pushed Jungkook up against the door, lips locking with his in a fever. Not missing a beat, his hands grasped your hips and pulled you into him. He licked at the seam of your lips, asking for permission which you eagerly gave with a moan. His hips rolled into yours and you lightly bit his bottom lip making him groan.

“Wanna take this upstairs?”

“Lead the way.”

Jungkook took you by the hand again and led you through his home, up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. You didn’t have much time to take in your surroundings before he was mouthing and sucking at your neck, thoroughly distracting you. You pressed back into him and felt how hard he had gotten against your ass.

His hands trailed to your stomach, slipping below your top, “Mind if I?”

“Jungkook, I appreciate the constant checking in but please hurry the fuck up.”

He huffed in amusement. He grasped your top and pulled it up over your head. You hadn’t expected things to turn out as they had done so you were in a sports bra. Again he muttered something you couldn’t quite hear. You took off your bra before you helped him to remove his own shirt and felt yourself grow wetter when you could see his whole chest unobstructed. Those pecs looked very squeezable. You licked your lips, you’d get that opportunity soon you silently vowed.

“Get on the bed,” you ordered.

He raised a brow, “And why should I?”

You raised onto your toes so that you could reach his ear, “I believe you said you’d give my mouth something to do.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, he was more than eager to situate himself on the edge of the bed. He was in the midst of unzipping his pants when you settled on your knees between his spread legs. “Let me.”

You grasped the edge of his pants and boxers, pulling them both down in one as Jungkook lifted his hips off the bed to aid you. You salivated when his cock sprung up and slapped his stomach. You weren’t patient enough to tease him, opting instead to lick him from base to tip, taking his tip between your lips and easing him further in.

“Shit! Jesus christ!” His fingers tangled into your hair, stopping you from continuing as he tried to hold himself back. “Fuck Y/N warn me before you do something like that. Last thing I want is to be a quick shot.”

You released him, “I don’t mind that. Come whenever you want.” With that you sank back down on him, taking him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged.

Jungkook’s head kicked back with a guttural groan. His hips raised, pushing him deeper still and you gagged again.

“S-sorry, I wanna- can I move? Hum if I can move.”

You hummed. Jungkook used his hold on you to keep you still as he thrust into your eager lips. Your eyes welled with tears each time he made you gag but you paid it no mind. Your fingers made their way into your pants and underwear, you began to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. God, you were so wet already. You moaned around him as the heat in you started to build.

“Y/n” he moaned, “I’m gonna, fuck. Boutta cum. If you don’t want me cumming in your mouth- shit- you better stop now.”

You hummed again and stayed put. Jungkook came with a grunt, eyes shut in bliss as you swallowed around him. You only pulled away when you felt him begin to go soft. You held his cock as you licked the remnants of his cum off it, Jungkook whined.

“S-Stop, post nut sensitivity.”

You stopped immediately and sat back, “What would you like to do now?”

Jungkook’s eyes trailed down you, landing on how you still had a hand in your pants though it had stopped its ministrations at this point. “I would like to repay the favour and then after that, hopefully, fuck.”

You giggled, “I’m down for that.”

You stood and were about to pull your pants down when Jungkook stopped you. Copying what you had done earlier, pulling them down for you but while also showering the newly exposed skin to open mouth kisses. You stumbled a bit since you were still stood up.

“Wait a second, let me sit-”

Jungkook led on the floor and beckoned for you to sit on his face with that damned smile of his, “I have your seat right here, come on.”

Oh you couldn’t say no to such an offer. You lowered yourself until your pussy was just above his mouth, not wanting to crush him. But Jungkook wasn’t having that, he palmed at your ass and pulled you down onto him properly. And much like you had done to him just moments before, Jungkook wasted no time in devouring you. He licked from your pussy to your clit and nipped at it, making you jolt. He eased his tongue into you, making you both moan. You rolled your hips as he kept going, your clit brushing against his nose. You gasped when he switched to sucking on your clit, instead pushing two fingers into you. Oh fuck. You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples for extra stimulation. Jungkook curled his fingers, rubbing against the spot that made your toes curl and a wanton cry leave you. You could feel his smirk as he made it his mission to hit that spot with deadly accuracy. That heat that had been building earlier reignited into a blaze, quickly building in intensity.

“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, alternating between sucking and rubbing your clit. It didn’t take much more for the heat to reach its peak and spill over. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you came but he didn’t stop. You sighed as he helped you to ride out your high. You dismounted him when you had your fill and watched as Jungkook slipped his tattooed fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. You moaned. Jungkook got up and pulled you into a searing kiss, you could taste yourself on his lips and he could probably taste himself on yours. His erect cock pressed against your stomach.

Jungkook broke away, “How does my bad girl want it? Doggy? Cowgirl? Anyway, it's fine by me.”

“Doggy.”

Jungkook gave your ass a light slap, “Then get on that bed, babe.”

You scrambled onto the bed, making sure to teasingly shake your hips as you did so. Jungkook growled lowly and was quick to follow you. A hand ran down your back, over your slightly reddened cheek. Two fingers brushed against your entrance torturously, dancing around actually entering you. You noticed as well as felt him lean over you to reach into a drawer. He pulled out a foil packet. He opened it and expertly rolled the condom down his length.

He lined himself up and eased himself into you, giving you a chance to adjust before he pulled out to just the tip and plunged back into you. You swear to god he hit your cervix right then and there. You keened at the delicious sensation, back arching. Jungkook pressed against you, littering your shoulder with marks as he sent spears of pleasure through you with each merciless thrust, his pace brutal. You tried to hold back your moans, knowing you’d be near screaming if your didn’t. To be honest, you felt like you could cream his cock just like this there was just one thing missing.

“Don’t hold back. I wanna hear you crying because of my dick. Come on. Cry for me Y/N.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, you were sobbing with each thrust as his tip continually kissed your cervix. He pushed you further into the mattress and anchored your hips into place, holding you still so he could abuse your pussy as he wished. Your fingers grasped at his sheets as all you could do was take it. You weren’t used to being passive when fucking but shit what else could you do? Your ability to think was melting away with each deadly snap of his hips. And then he was stopping and you cried in outrage but he soon had you on your back and his cock in you again.

“Sorry, I just had to see your face. Oh look at you.” He wiped your tear streaked face.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulders and abruptly continued his onslaught. With the way he was bearing down on you, you wouldn't have been surprised if your back was out of commission afterwards. In fact you think you heard a snap that wasn't from skin meeting skin. God you were so close. One of his hands snaked down to rub your clit in figures of eight. You were clenching around him, cumming just moments after. Your voice ripped from you at the intensity, leaving you gasping.

"Fuck you're so tight!" He groaned, brows knitting together as he concentrated on reaching his own climax.

In your pleasure-addled state, your impulse control vanished. Your hands reached up and groped at his chest, squeezing them like you had wanted from the get go. Your fingers expertly toyed with his nipples, his hips stuttered as he let out a strained whine.

"It's okay, you can cum. Want you to cum."

Jungkook let your leg fall so that he could bury his face into the crook of your neck, biting down as he finally released. He stayed like that for a moment, allowing himself a chance to regain his breath before rolling off you and discarding the used condom in a nearby waste bin.

"You are definitely not a good girl. I think I broke a slat in my bed again."

"I think you threw my back out so the slat will have to wait. Can't have my brother fix a bed I've been fucking on."

Jungkook laughed, "That's fine by me. Hey, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"We totally went about this in the wrong order. But yes, I'd love to have dinner with you."

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

Namjoon was taking a break, an americano cupped in his hands, when you gingerly entered the workshop the following day.

“So how are things with Jungkook? Any interest there?”

“Well, he needs a new slat for his bed.”

Namjoon looked disappointed, “Aw I’m sorry. I thought he would be into you. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”

“Oh no, he’s very into me, that’s why I’m fixing the bed.”

A few seconds passed until realisation hit him and he dropped his mug. Scandalised, he shouted, “Y/N!”

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

Thank you so much for reading this very niche fic! I'm tagging posts relevant to this fic with "Finishing Touch" for any asks I get sent, and comments I reply to or possible follow ons are some people have already shown an interest in. Here is an example of the chisels Jungkook made:

And here is the poem:

My Dear Blacksmith

Engrave your design into me; etch your story. Grind, carve, chip and scratch away. Pass your judgement with your tools. In one hand, heat and torment, temptation and punishment. In the other, honour and warmth, loyalty and redemption. Give me depth. Temper me in flames and harden my edges in oil, unbreakable when mastered. You inlay me with precious gold and dazzling jewels to highlight the beauty in your work. Oak and guard, balance and poise just like those who came before. For I am but your sword, an extension of your will. When the time comes, I shall miss you, my dear blacksmith. And as the years will pass us by, you shall wither and age as I dull and rust. But your story shall forever be in my steel.

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

This work of fiction is copyright © JungkookieNoona and protected under UK and international law. All rights reserved. Any unauthorised broadcasting, copying or reposting will constitute an infringement of copyright.

#jungkook #boop #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #BTS jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #bangtan #bangtan scenario #bangtan smut #finishing touch

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sanjuwrites · 9 months

Text

with love, i glow

SURPRISE BITCH! (i could not help myself i am so sorry)

for the lovely @theghostofashton for the @tarlos-santa 2023 Secret Santa exchange

merry christmas neha <3 my fandom experience gained so much depth and enjoyment since you slid into my DMs this summer, and every day i'm more and more grateful for it. here's to you and the chaos we're gonna stir in this fandom with our fics next year.

also this is wildly unbeta'd so excuse any mistakes, thank you!

for the prompt: they spend the holidays with carlos's family, and carlos has a moment of quiet reflection on the love and gratitude he feels for his life

“Seriously, TK, it’s two days at the ranch, why do you have the entire loft packed into a suitcase? Ana is going to mock the shit out of you if we show up with more than a single suitcase.” TK rolls his eyes, “Carlos, it’s like you want me to be underprepared, we’re going to be there for Christmas! You refuse to tell me the vibe for Christmas morning and Christmas dinner, so I need options. So either tell me the vibe or resign yourself to a massive suitcase.” Carlos flops back onto the bed, “For the eighth time, baby, there is no ‘vibe,’ it’s pajamas for Christmas morning and something nice for dinner on Christmas.” “Baby, there’s a difference between pajamas on Christmas morning and Christmas pajamas. Am I expected to be in Christmas-themed nightwear or are my flannel pants and a t-shirt fine? And by something nice do you mean, church attire or just a nice pair of jeans and one of my colorful button-ups? Do you see the holes in your plan?” TK paces in front of their shared closet, trying to figure out what to wear.”

Read more on Ao3!

#tarlossanta23 #sanjuwrites #tarlos #911 lonestar #neha 🩷

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thebiggerbear · 4 months

Text

Close Enough

Summary: When you'd met the Shaws at the morgue the day before, you thought that had been the end of it and you wouldn't need to see one Shaw brother in particular again. Little did you know that Colter was about to once again ask for your help and not only would you be forced to see Russell again but things were about to change drastically for the both of you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x Female!FBI Special Agent!Reader

A/N: Sequel to So Close. I wanted to follow up and reveal what happened between Russell and the reader in the past but as I was writing it, this idea popped into my head in addition to that and I just had to see where it went. This was the end result lol. Hope it's okay.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I still have not seen Tracker (besides 1x12) because I just haven't had the time for a proper binge yet so if I got some things wrong about Colter and his experience in the show, I apologize.

A little disclaimer: I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Basically, I made shit up.

Songs I listened to while writing: Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye; Easy Loving by Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty; Sweet Dreams by Patsy Cline; Sounds of Someday by Radio Company

Warnings: sanctioned assassination; death; gun violence; graphic description of killing; violence/blood mention; mention of dead bodies; arson; implied sex; a trace amount of smut(ish?); language

Word Count: 16K+

Russell Taglist: @deangirl96 (I hope you don't mind me tagging you in this one; this is going to lead into the series that I mentioned on "So Close"); @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

This work was recc'ed by @winchestergirl2 here.

Your phone started to buzz and you glanced at the screen, rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh before picking up. That wasn’t the normal reaction you would have to seeing Colter’s name pop up on your phone but ever since that mess back at the morgue yesterday, you had been hoping he wouldn’t contact you again. At least not until his brother went back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of. But now it looked like that had been a fool’s hope, on both counts.

“You what?” You hissed.

“We’re about to head to this home in the Blue Ridge Mountains and go in to get Doug,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry, an incredible amount of stupid just sounded in my ear. Can you repeat that?”

“Reenie got me the location and it’s solid intel.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I thought we should get law enforcement involved, alright? But there’s a…valid reason why Russ doesn’t want to call them that I can’t get into right now.”

“Whoops, more stupid. One more time?”

Colter groaned into the phone. “Come on, Y/N.”

“I’m serious, Colter. What the hell are either of you think—wait, scratch that. What the hell are you thinking? Going into a dangerous location like that without any backup? If Carlos Solano found your missing man in a safehouse, do you think he won’t be armed to the teeth? That he won’t have guards patrolling the compound that you’re walking right into? That he won’t see something like this coming? You guys are walking right into a shitstorm.” Christ, you loved the guy like a long-lost brother that you sometimes kept in touch with but if he were in front of you right now, you would’ve delivered one good smack to the back of his head to get him thinking straight. Colter may know his way around a gun, but he wasn’t someone who had formal training or combat experience like Russell did. He didn’t even have your training and you wouldn’t be going in there kamikaze-style like they were.

“That’s why I’m calling you and asking you to meet us there. I’m not exactly calling in law enforcement but we’ll have one more person to watch our backs and help us search for Doug. And who better than a special agent with the FBI?”

You sat back in your chair, shaking your head but thinking it over. This was beyond stupid and you shouldn’t be encouraging it. Russell’s involvement in this idiot plan didn’t surprise you; Colter’s did. He knew better. But you also knew that if he thought he had a chance to get the missing guy back home safely, he was going to take it, no matter the personal risk. If you didn’t go like he asked and anything happened to him or Russell, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Please?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, your decision made. “Send me the location and I’ll leave now to meet you.”

“Thank you.” You could hear the genuine gratitude in his tone. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“You better,” you nearly growled before disconnecting the call. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to tell you but for his sake, you hoped it wasn’t anything close to what you were thinking. But why else would Russell not want to call law enforcement for help in rescuing his friend who had been taken hostage by a foreign criminal? God, you hoped you were wrong.

You let out another loud sigh and before you could stand, your phone started ringing again. When you glanced at the screen, instead of a name, you saw “Blocked”. Not good.

You swiped green, holding it to your ear. “Y/L/N.”

“We have a problem,” said the voice on the other end, one you knew all too well, and it didn't sound happy. Shit.

You watched as Colter’s truck pulled up alongside your car. Colter got out and noticed you leaning against your trunk, arms crossed and a scowl in place. Russell came around from the other side.

“Either of you boys see two suicidal idiots around here? Oh, wait.”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” He slid a glare over to his brother.

“You’re lucky he did,” you snapped. “And since I’m here,” You got to your feet and turned to open your trunk, revealing a smorgasbord of gear and weapons. “We’re going to be doing this my way.” You held out a bulletproof vest to Colter first and he immediately started to strap it on. You held one out to Russell but he shook his head and didn’t take it. You glanced over to find he had already put his own on while you’d been grabbing one for his brother.

“Okay, look,” Russell started, his eyes scanning your makeshift armory and setting your teeth on edge. “This isn’t some FBI raid of some drug gang. This guy, Carlos Solano, he’s the real deal. He’s as dangerous as they come.”

You could feel your irritation turning into anger at the suggestion that you didn’t know how serious this was, and from him of all people. “And what am I? Some part-time mall security guard? A receptionist at the Academy? I’ve dealt with cartels before and they’re as dangerous as they come, too. So take that mansplaining and shove it right up where the sun doesn't shine.”

Russell took a step closer and laid a hand on your shoulder, his eyes burning into you. “Be pissed at me all you want but I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But you’re okay with your brother getting hurt?” You briefly glanced in Colter’s direction. The younger man was watching you two carefully as he adjusted his vest one last time, wisely choosing to stay out of this one.

Russell’s jaw clenched and he dropped his hand. “I’ve got him.”

You snorted and grabbed a gun, loading it quickly. “And I’ve got both of you. Now, we’ve got a bit of a hike so let’s cut the chit chat and get this over with, shall we?” You motioned for Colter to turn around and you inserted an extra handgun into the back of his belt. “We stick together as a unit. You hear me? No wandering off alone.”

Colter faced you again. “Yes, Mom,” he teased.

You swatted at his shoulder before checking the fit of his vest, nodding in approval.

“I have done this before, you know.”

You knew that already. You’d been there with him a couple of times for such instances. “Good for you,” you quipped. “But for kicks, how about you just humor me?”

He rolled his eyes and you smirked, turning to slam the trunk shut. You glanced up to find Russell watching you, his jaw still tight but his eyes containing a familiar light that you hadn’t seen in a while. “You good?”

“Yep.” And just like that, the light hollowed out, replaced by something far colder yet familiar, but not because you’d seen it in his gaze. You’d seen it often enough in your own when looking into the mirror.

Pushing that thought away and shifting focus, you began to lead the way into the trees. “Alright, let’s do this and get Doug home in time for breakfast.” Colter flanked you on your right while Russell came up on your left.

“Let’s rock and roll,” he agreed.

It hadn’t been as bad as you’d been expecting, even after you’d received the intel Colter had referred to on the phone. One guard and three henchmen. You were annoyed and almost insulted that they had presented so little a challenge considering Carlos Solano was supposed to be this big bad criminal. But when you glanced over and saw Colter looking over Russell’s bloody jacket sleeve, you regretted the thought and gratitude immediately filled you that things hadn’t been worse. Russell had taken a bullet to the arm and thankfully, it had passed right through.

Before you could shoot the bastard that shot him, Colter and Russell were on it. You watched in awe as the brothers moved as a single unit, almost as if they hadn’t been strained or missed a beat over the years. You supposed you should be happy that they were working together rather than still arguing over shit from a lifetime ago that had torn their family apart. For Colter’s sake at least.

Just then, you heard what sounded like a small plane outside. You hurried to a window and glanced outside, seeing a rapidly descending charter plane aiming for the tiny landing strip in the back of the property. Right on time.

You let the curtain fall and looked back at the guys. “Time to go.”

Doug’s face was ashen while Colter and Russell exchanged glances. Immediately, Russell picked up his gun and got ready to leave the room.

You rushed to stop him. “There will be none of that!”

“You guys get Doug back to the truck. I’ll handle this.”

You practically jogged around him, planting yourself in his path. “Not happening.”

He glared down at you. “Y/N, I need to close this up. Move.”

You scowled right back. “You’ve been shot.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I have to finish this.”

You refused to budge. “You are not finishing anything. You’re getting the hell out of here, that’s what you’re doing.”

“Y/N—”

“Guys, not the time,” Colter interceded. “He’s getting off that plane any second now, so what’s the plan?”

“She’s right, man,” Doug added, making both of your gazes snap over at him. “We really need to go.”

Voices suddenly sounded outside and you all glanced towards the window.

“Shit,” you muttered, quickly checking the chamber on your gun. As you were about to head out of the room, a hand grasped gently under your chin and forced your eyes to meet Russell’s. You could see the pleading there but also a stone-cold resignation. “Go with Colter and Doug,” he urged, giving you a brief but strained smile. “I need you to go.” You felt the rough skin of his thumb on your cheek as he moved it tenderly back and forth.

You knew what he was really telling you, what he planned to do, but hell if you weren’t more infuriated with him. You were so sick of the self-sacrificial bullshit. Hadn’t it cost you enough? Cost you both?

You pulled away from him, giving him a glare. “I don’t think you understand,” you said in a tone so cold you were pretty sure you could give the winds in Antarctica a run for their money. “I’m taking Solano in and I am not leaving until I have my suspect alive and in custody.” Russell looked pissed but you couldn’t care less. Better than him being dead in the next two minutes.

You turned to face Colter and Doug so they also got the message. “This case is under Federal jurisdiction now.” Colter glanced between you and his brother who you turned back to face. “I’m bringing him in. Got it?”

Russell went to say something but didn’t get the chance. The sounds of gunfire erupted right outside the room and you all had to duck for cover.

You secured your handcuffs around Carlos Solano’s wrists that had been forced behind his back once you shoved him into the chair in the room, purposely tightening the metal bracelets past the point of comfort. The man reacted, cursing you out as you smirked up at him.

Getting to your feet, you focused on the Shaws and Doug. Russell watched you with a glare while Colter waited for you to speak. Doug looked downright terrified. They had helped you to take down Solano’s men who had flown with him — all three of them. Russell aimed for Solano but at the last second, you got in his way and tackled the criminal to the ground. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy with you. Oh well. The feeling was mutual.

Colter placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, so how are we getting him back to the truck? Are we just going to drag him through the woods and hope we don’t come across anybody else he might have coming here? How are we going to work this?”

You slipped your gun back into your holster. “He doesn’t have anyone else coming here and the plan is that you three are going to head back to the truck and get out of here. I’m going to wait for a pickup,” You gestured towards the window with your thumb where the landing strip could be seen. “They’re nearby, waiting for my call, and they won’t take long to get here.” You shook your phone in your hand, indicating you were going to be using it.

Russell glanced around, as if expecting Agents to start popping up out of the woodworks at any second, before his eyes settled back on you. “So you called this in after all?”

You shrugged. “You were going into a fully armed compound to rescue a hostage, a two-man team against a crime lord on the FBI’s Most Wanted list? Yeah, of course, I did.”

He shook his head, chuckling and muttering a curse under his breath. “Of course you did,” he echoed, shooting a look over at his brother.

Colter’s gaze flickered back to you. “We’ll wait with you until they get here.”

You offered up a small smile. “I appreciate it but not necessary. I’ve got this until they get here and I do the handover.”

“But—”

“Look, you should get Doug out of here.” You inclined your head in the direction of the man who was staring dazedly at the floor. “You need to get him checked out and your brother should get his arm looked at.”

“I’m fine,” Russell interjected.

You ignored him. “I’ll be alright, Colter. Believe it or not, you tend to get experience with this kind of thing once or twice before becoming a Special Agent.” You meant it as a light-hearted reassurance but you could tell that both Shaw brothers were going to be a hard sell. At least Colter’s reasoning was up front and above board.

“I’m sure but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone. Not with him.” Colter gestured towards Solano who spit in his direction.

“I won’t be for long. But you guys need to get out of here. The Bureau can’t know you were involved in this.” You shot him a meaningful look. “For multiple reasons.”

The younger man looked as if he was going to protest again when you held up a hand. “Colter. You may not like it but you need to do as I’m telling you. If the Bureau finds any of you here…” You could tell that he didn’t care so much about himself but you let your eyes briefly flick in Russell’s direction, who was busy glaring at the man you had bound to the chair. You saw Colter’s expression immediately change and you knew you had succeeded in convincing him to vacate the area as soon as possible.

He nodded his head in assent. “Okay.” He laid a hand on Doug’s shoulder, prompting the man to look up at him, and urged him to start moving to the door.

“Okay? What do you mean okay?” Russell huffed.

Colter held up a hand. “Russell—”

“No.” Russell turned a glare on you. “Not okay. He’s a loose end that needs tying up. He knows who we are now, he came after Doug, and the FBI isn’t going to do shit with him.” You narrowed your eyes in a glare but he continued. “That’s not an insult. It’s the truth and you know it. They’re going to what? Get him to talk, to roll over on someone else he has connections to who’s higher up their food chain, and he gets off scot free? No, not happening on my watch.”

He took a step forward and so did you, in front of Solano. You drew your gun but held it loosely across your waist, your finger on the trigger, ready and waiting should you need it. Russell stopped cold, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the weapon in your hand. Colter and Doug were frozen, watching the scene unfold.

“I told you,” you said in the most deadly serious tone you could muster. “I’m taking him in, alive. If you have a problem with that, well…” You flipped the safety on the gun off. “You’ll have to go through me. And I promise you, my aim is a hell of a lot more accurate at close range than it’s ever been.”

Russell didn’t blink, he just kept scowling at you.

“Russ?” Colter called.

“Don’t make me kill you in front of him, Russell,” you murmured so only the two of you would hear. You were serious as a heart attack. No matter how you had felt about him once upon a time, this was important enough for you to make good on your threat if you needed to.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would and it will be justified by the higher ups as protection of a high-valued target before your body goes cold.” You hated saying the words but it was nothing but the truth that you spoke. You hoped he heard the message underneath your words: walk away, this isn’t worth dying over. “And he’ll be further traumatized,” you inclined your head in Colter’s direction. “Losing his brother right in front of him, just like he lost his dad.” You knew that was a severely low blow but he also needed to hear you.

As expected, Russell’s jaw clenched and you saw a twitch in the good arm he had, the one that was holding his gun. “Don’t be stupid and do that to him,” you warned. “Walk away.”

That cold look was back in his eyes again. You mentally prepared yourself for what was about to go down. You had hoped he wouldn’t force your hand but then again, Russell Shaw had always been the epitome of stubborn, usually to his own detriment…and yours.

“Russell?” Colter tried again.

“Russ, come on, man. Let it be for now,” Doug added in, trying to help. “And let’s regroup.”

This time, Russell appeared to hear them both, his gaze breaking from yours momentarily, flickering over Solano behind you, who was laughing and smirking in the former’s direction, clearly enjoying the standoff over him.

Russell’s eyes met yours again but this time, there was nothing familiar about the green you used to stare into when he’d sway with you on the dance floor to a slow song playing overhead or when you’d both wear matching sated grins and laugh, a pleasant exhaustion overtaking you as he pulled you into his arms in a motel bed. It was almost like staring into a dark void and you couldn’t help but wonder how often that void showed up during war or if the war created it — the old chicken or the egg question. Either way, you knew you’d succeeded in convincing him to leave, but you’d also have to watch yourself. There was no warmth left in those jade-colored orbs when they focused on you. You’d done your work well; you’d crossed a line that you could never go back from.

“Alright,” he capitulated, loud enough that the two men near the doorway heard him. He relaxed his arm and slipped his gun into a pocket in his vest. His face lightened a little and a strained smile worked its way across his face. He glanced back at his brother. “She’s right. We should get Doug out of here.” He turned back to face you, his smile fading. “She’s got this.” He then glanced in Solano’s direction, smirking right back. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, giving him a finger gun and winking, before his expression became stone once more and he walked away, glaring at you as he did.

You lifted your chin, not reacting in the slightest, until Solano shouted out, “You’ll be seeing me? No, puta, I’ll be seeing you. You’ll never see it coming, you hear me? You’ll never see it co—” You spun a few degrees and pistol-whipped him, causing the jackass to cry out in pain before you turned back to face Doug and the two most important men in your life. “Get going,” you growled out, lifting your phone with your other hand as a subtle threat.

Colter gave you a nod, the concern still there in his dark brown gaze as he led Doug out the door. Russell’s eyes never left you, even when he walked out the door a moment later, following his little brother’s lead. You never looked away even when he was past the threshold.

You ignored Solano’s yelling threats and kept your eyes on the spot you had last seen the Shaws disappear through a few minutes longer than needed, tense and ready in case Russell decided to double back. Though you highly doubted he’d come at you from the same angle. A part of you was making sure you stayed prepared in case there was an ambush, yes, but another part of you knew your gaze was lingering on the spot because you knew things had now drastically changed between you and Russell forever. He would never forgive your threats and you would never forgive yourself for having to make them. Though that remorse was more related to Colter than his brother. Regardless, when it came to the Shaws now, you were fucked. Not even Dory would want to hear from you, not that she had all that much before, but now it was definitely a no go. And that saddened you tremendously.

Hearing more of Solano’s threats, you recentered your focus on the task at hand and prepared to wait, giving him one more pistol whip for good measure, before you settled in and kept both eyes and ears open for any possible ambush that might come your way before you could finish up here.

You leaned against the workstation next to the chair, waiting, gun still in hand and your eyes focused on it. You had waited a certain amount of time to allow the boys to get out of the area.

“The soldado was right, you know. They’re not going to hold me,” Solano bragged.

You briefly closed your eyes in annoyance. He had been talking ever since you were left alone with him. He had offered you money to let him go, offered you riches and power that you knew for a fact he had no business offering. He even had the nerve to propose making you one of his new lieutenants, citing your fighting skills and gun handling that he’d briefly witnessed. He knew you would be able to protect him because you had from the asesinos who had killed his brother. He then changed tactics, threatening you, your loved ones, the men who just left…now, he was boasting about how he would walk free and whatever charges were thrown at him wouldn’t stick. You just wished he would shut the hell up already. Needless to say, it had been a long twenty minutes. You now understood why his brother had been the businessman and he was only the muscle willing to do the dirty work. His bargaining skills were for shit, not that it mattered in the scheme of things. No deals were being made today.

“I offer them a little bit of money and they’ll just make the case go away. Just like that.”

You checked your watch. Twenty two minutes now. That was good enough. You slowly got to your feet and moved past him to look out the window. You had purposely moved his chair out of the sight of the glass, in case Russell got any ideas.

“That’s how it works here in America. Everybody knows that. If the criminals have money and power, they don’t stay in jail.”

You ignored him, glancing around to see if there was any movement outside. You didn’t see any.

“They won’t keep me locked up. They weren’t able to in my home country. What makes you think they’ll be able to here? Where corruption is ripe and anyone can be bought? And then I’ll be coming for you and for your friends. You will wish for death long before I am through with you.”

You made your way to another window, lifting the curtain and looking around. Still nothing.

“There’s no point in bringing me to jail. It will never hold me.”

You lowered the curtain and squared your shoulders, turning to face his direction. You focused on him, staring right into his eyes. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Solano seemed pleasantly surprised for a moment, thinking you were finally stupid enough to take one of his offers, before his eyes narrowed with realization. “No, wait—”

You quickly lifted your gun and squeezed off a round. His head snapped back from the force and the space behind him was spattered with red among other things. One glance confirmed your aim had been accurate; he was dead. Right through the eye. What you’d said to Russell earlier hadn’t been an exaggeration; you were much more accurate at close range than you’d ever been.

You slipped a pair of gloves on that you pulled from your pants pocket and immediately started unzipping the small compartments on the side of your vest where you usually kept extra ammo in a raid, pulling out small white bottles that weren’t sporting any labels. You began to squirt the liquid from inside them all around the room, dousing Solano’s body with a healthy amount.

You continued into the house, having quite a few bottles of lighter fluid to empty out in specific areas that would help achieve your goal. Arson wasn’t your preferred route but it did get rid of pesky little things like hair and DNA, and what it didn’t, it contaminated which would make it harder for not only law enforcement but the justice system to work with. Though you weren’t too worried about either looking at this particular house fire too closely.

You didn’t bother collecting any bullet casings, knowing that your gun and the ones you’d given Colter to use would be untraceable even if they somehow managed to get a hold of any of the weapons (which they wouldn’t). And Russell’s gun…you figured he had that handled. The only thing you did collect were your handcuffs.

You also didn’t bother staging anything for the scene. There was already enough evidence that pointed to the theory that Solano’s own men had turned on him and a gunfight ensued, resulting in the multiple dead bodies. While an arson specialist would most likely be able to tell that an accelerant had been used, there was no way for them to confirm just who had been present for this battle and who had gotten away. Satellite imagery would be shoddy at best due to the foliage cover (and eventual smoke) but still, you planned to set the fire and make your getaway out the back, crossing over the landing strip so if they went back to look for any heat signatures after the fire started, it would be one person leaving the scene alive, the person they would assume had started the blaze. There were no nearby neighbors to immediately call first responders but that didn’t mean smoke wouldn’t be seen from the sky from miles away or that a fiery orange blaze in the distance wouldn’t be noticed by residents of another vacation home or cars traveling the backroads in the area. Since you planned to go into the deep woods and take the long roundabout route back to your car, you weren’t too worried about your path being followed.

Once you had completed all of your tasks, you used the fireplace to help, moving the grate out of the way, starting a fire, and then knocking a fiery log onto the wooden flooring. You used a lighter to set flammable materials that you could find to add to the flames. Only when the room was nearly engulfed did you finally slip a beanie from your pocket, cover your head fully, and make your way out of the house. Once at the landing strip, you ducked under the plane, making sure you couldn’t be seen from above.

You watched as the flames consumed the house. Once the smoke was sufficient, flames were ragings out of the windows, and the sound of breaking glass could be heard, you knew it was time for you to vacate the vicinity before the sirens started up. It was fortunate that most people were asleep at this hour but the sun was due to come up not too long from now and you had a long trek ahead of you, so you needed to get moving.

You kept your head down and made your way into the woods surrounding the property line.

The sun was breaching the horizon and quickly warming the sky by the time you made it back to your car. You were relieved that Colter’s truck was gone and you needed to quickly make tracks as well. Sirens had started up an hour ago and you needed to get the hell out of Dodge before the cops were all over these roads. You tossed your weapons and vest into the trunk and got in the car. You slipped your beanie off your head, tossing it onto the seat next to you, and started the engine.

Just as you had expected, cops were everywhere but thankfully, you had timed it just right and gotten out before they could block all of the mountain roads. Once you were back in town a few hours later and a certain distance away, you pulled a phone out of your glove compartment you kept there for emergencies and turned it on. You pressed a button and it immediately dialed the number programmed — the only number you had saved on this device.

It rang once before the same voice from yesterday picked up. “Is it done?”

“We’re clear,” you confirmed. “It’s been handled.”

“Shaw?”

Your jaw clenched. You knew that despite how you and Russell had left things earlier, you would do whatever it took to keep him breathing. “He’s a soldier. He follows orders.”

“He wasn’t so willing to follow orders in this situation.”

“You know what they’re taught. Leave no man behind. He got his man so he’ll be fine. Things can go back to how they were. He’s not going to be an issue and he’s clean, just like you wanted.”

And then you were asked the one question you didn’t want to hear. “And the brother? What’s your assessment?”

The knuckles of your free hand gripped your steering wheel so tightly that you could see how white your skin turned from the pressure. “Non-issue. He has no interest in you.”

“He seemed interested yesterday.”

You forced yourself to remain calm and nonchalant. “He’s paid to be nosy when someone goes missing so he can get them found. He found who he was looking for, he was able to keep the promise to the guy’s wife — it’s over for him. The case is closed, it’s as simple as that for him. He’s no threat.”

You waited to hear a response, holding your breath and your hand gripping the wheel even tighter, your body tensed. This would be what decided your fate. Either you would be allowed to go on as before or you’d be going on a mission up against one of the top private security contractor firms in the world which wouldn’t end well for you. But you’d take out whoever you could with you before you were killed.

Another moment passed before the voice replied, “Understood.”

Your body relaxed slightly and your shoulders sunk in relief. Colter was safe. Russell was safe…for now. And you didn’t have to go all Rambo Kamikaze on anyone. Win-win all around.

“I’ll let the higher ups know the situation has been contained. Good work. We’ll be in touch.”

Without waiting for a response from you, the call disconnected. You quickly shut the phone off and tossed it back into its original spot. You let out a deep breath and the exhaustion from the past twelve hours immediately overtook your body. Deciding that returning to your place was not an option for you right now, you headed to another part of town, parked your car on the street some blocks away to the nearest motel, and using a baseball cap to cover your hair along with sunglasses, you hoofed it and then booked a room, paying cash and using a fake name. Once you set up everything you needed to in your quarters, you slipped onto the mattress and got some much needed rest, keeping your gun under your pillow within reach should you need it.

You pulled up to Colter’s trailer, watching as he stepped outside to greet you. You put your car in park, took a deep breath, and got out. You offered Colter a small smile. “Hey.”

He returned it. “Hey.”

You had been surprised when Colter called you a few days later to let you know he was still in town for a bit and invited you to drop by for a beer. Not surprised that he was still around (you already knew that) but surprised that he even wanted to speak to you. Perhaps Russell hadn’t told him what you’d threatened back in the mountains.

You took the beer he offered to you and followed him over to the firepit, taking a seat on one of the coolers. He sat nearby and held up his bottle in a toast. You mirrored him and then you both took a sip. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as the carbonated beverage slid down your throat. You enjoyed the taste and checked the label. “Mmm, home brew…not bad. You got something you want to tell me? Planning on opening some sort of brewery outfit anytime soon?” You were teasing but if Colter really was thinking of doing something else — anything else — instead of his current job, you’d fully support it.

“Not me.” Disappointment flared in your chest, your hope dashed. “Russ was actually the one who made it. I had some left over from the other night.”

The beer suddenly began to sour in your stomach. Well, you supposed it was good that Russell was starting to think of the future, the most important part of that being that there would be one. It still burned a bit, though.

You decided to change the subject so you wouldn’t have to think about that right then. “So, your guy is back home safe?”

Colter nodded. “Dropped him off myself.” Something else you already knew but you had to keep up appearances.

You nodded, biting your lip and staring into the flames. “And your brother?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Colter’s jaw tense for a moment. “Gone.” Though you had an idea that was the case, Colter’s confirmation still stung, like someone poking a finger into an old wound after ripping the scar tissue away. But what else had you expected? This was Russell Shaw you two were talking about after all.

You snorted and shook your head, taking another swig of beer. “Of course he is.”

He turned to look at you. “You know, you never told me what happened between you two.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not worth going into, trust me.”

Thankfully, Colter left it alone and he rolled with it when you brought up a different topic instead.

“So, how much longer are you here for?”

“Teddi and Velma are working on that right now actually. Hopefully, something pops up soon.” He took another sip of beer, turning to gaze at the flames as well.

“It will.” Fortunately for him and sadly for others, someone would always go missing.

“How about you? Are they sending you somewhere for a new case or are they going to let you stay local for a bit? If it’s the latter, maybe you could get a dog for that place of yours?”

You smirked and ran your thumb down the smooth glass of the brown bottle in your hand. Colter kept teasing you about the residence you maintained nearby considering you were never really there most of the time. He’d then extoll the virtues of living on the open road, not having roots put down anywhere that would grow into expectations, and the unrestrained thrill of it all. The first time you’d had that conversation, you knew then that the desire to keep moving and stay unburdened must be a male Shaw thing. Dory seemed happy where she had settled and you — you wanted a home base. Some place you could come back to where you were still able to connect to yourself again, no matter how lost at sea you might be at times, no matter how much you felt as if every single piece of you was floating away on the wind until only a monster was left standing there, staring back at you in the rearview mirror of your car.

“Right now, I have a few things I need to close up,” you lied. “Then I’ll probably get sent out in the field again to work some cases.” You hated lying to him but you had no choice. His safety came first. As much as you had hated Russell for a time, you could now appreciate the difficult position he was in. Though, he had chosen to be put there, and now, so had you.

You watched Colter nod, accepting your answer. “I still think a German Shepherd would be a great choice for you,” he teased. “You know, a big dog, trainable, would make a good guard dog. You could take it with you, chase suspects down together...”

“Oh yeah, I could see it now,” you played along. “I’d have to sneak him into hotel rooms, make sure he doesn’t take a shit on the rug… Then we’d go on the job and I could introduce him to everyone, ‘I’m Special Agent Y/L/N but you can call me Turner and this is my partner Hooch.’”

Colter winced. “No, no. You have to give him a name that will strike fear into the hearts of the criminals you track down. Like General or Commando or Killer. Killer! Now that’s a good name. That will make anyone think twice about running from a dog with that name.”

This time, you were the one who winced though you hid it well. Instead, you forced out a laugh. “I am not getting a huge dog named Killer and bringing him to work with me.”

He grinned. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to have seen the look on your face when the dog would sit in the front seat.”

“There would be no front seat sitting. Back seat only.”

“Like a criminal who he just helped you to arrest? That’s cold, even for you.”

“I am so glad that you have this imaginary dog of mine’s back.”

He snickered and took a drink, looking back at the flames. Your smile slowly faded as you did the same. You both sat there, drinking in a companionable silence for a bit.

Eventually, your eyes flickered over towards him. “I need you to promise me something.”

His brows drew together questioningly when he met your gaze.

“Horizon…” You noticed him tense slightly at the mention. “No more.” When you saw the confusion in his expression, you elaborated. “No more digging, no more Reenie asking her contacts about them, no more mention of them period. You got the guy you were looking for. Now, put it to bed and forget that you ever knew they existed.”

His confusion increased. “I did put it to bed the second I dropped Doug off at his door and saw him hug his wife.”

You gave him a look. “Col, I need you to promise me,” you softly entreated.

His brows arched slightly at the use of the nickname; you didn’t use it often and if you were, then he knew you meant business. He also knew what you were telling him without explicitly saying it; Horizon was dangerous and they were better left alone. It would be better for him to get a case of sudden amnesia about anything related to the organization.

He watched you for a moment before giving you a nod. “As long as nobody else goes missing like Doug did and as long as Russ is okay, they’re forgotten.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get from him and you leaned forward slightly. “And if anything happens to Russ, I’ll be right there with you, knocking on their front door,” you promised. And you would be; no question about it.

The corner of his lips tipped up in the beginning of a smile and after a moment, you couldn’t help but return it.

The coffee shop you were in was decently quiet considering it was around 8:55 in the morning and most people were making their last minute dashes for caffeine before the working day began. You sat near the window, facing the entrance so you could keep an eye on who came in and out. You had ordered your usual, a soy vanilla latte, and you carefully sipped at the hot liquid. You scanned your phone for the day’s headlines, looking for any updates on the mysterious house fire that started in the mountains a few nights ago.

You knew you wouldn’t find any and sure enough, you didn’t. Someone was working overtime to squash the case from up above, just like you knew they would. You also knew that some local law enforcement officials didn’t buy the criminals-turning-on-their-boss theory and they actually thought the scene looked like a professional hit. Exactly what you figured would happen when accelerants had been found to be used at the scene. As much as you were sure the cops were looking to sink their teeth into something exciting to happen in those parts in however long, the bottom line was the case would get dropped and no one was going to care what happened to a violent criminal like Carlos Solano. The FBI would actually be relieved to remove one more name from their list, one more file from their desks. One more dangerous bad guy removed from the world that threatened American citizens as well as national security. No one was going to miss the murderous bastard.

You powered down your screen and placed your phone on the table, turning to glance out the window. That was when you saw him. Well, the reflection of him.

You watched as he walked towards you, still dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and old boots, wearing another t-shirt with a different musician on it while sporting an open button-up over it, and donning that old military style jacket. His eyes were intent on you and you had to wonder how he had gotten in without you seeing him. The answer was in the reflection of someone walking past him to get to the bathrooms in the rear of the cafe. There was no exit located near there, you knew that because this was a local spot of yours, so how did he… Shit.

Even though you watched him in the glass and he watched you back, you didn’t give anything away to alert him that you knew he was there. You started calculating in your head how many people stood in between you and the front door (your only exit at this point), how much force you would have to use to catch him off guard and knock him to the ground so you could make your escape, and how fast you would have to run to your car. You even had a moment to debate drawing your gun and your badge, and making a scene to get yourself out of this mess. But all of that proved to be for naught when he came to a stop near you and announced his presence by asking, “This seat taken?”

You slowly turned to face him, arching an inquisitive brow, but you eventually shook your head. His lips twitched into the beginning of a smirk and he took the seat across from you. His eyes were a lot lighter than they were the other day as they took you in. “Looking good, Y/N. Like always.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He shrugged and reached for your coffee, taking the lid off. You hated it when he did this, the whole sharing coffee thing; now you would need to order another one…well, depending on how this impromptu meeting went. “What, I can’t tell my girl that she looks good?” He took a sip and made a face. “How do you still drink this crap? It tastes like foam mixed with shit.”

“And free garbage coffee from the lobby of the latest scuzzy motel you’re staying in doesn’t?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. They have real nice machines now and it tastes the way coffee should. Not like this bullshit.”

You watched as he grabbed a spoon, added some sugar, and began stirring the crap out of what had once been your perfect latte. You thought over what he’d said before. “I’m not your girl, Russell.” His eyes met yours. “I haven’t been for some time now.”

He finished stirring and removed the spoon, lifting the glass to take a sip. “You’ll always be my girl.”

You snorted and lifted a finger in the air to signal to the barista that you wanted another coffee. The kid gave you a nod and turned to make it. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re hooking up with cheerleaders-turned-dental-hygienists in hot tubs?”

Russell pressed his lips together and looked appropriately chastised, not even bothering to deny it. “Colter told you. I should’ve known he would mention it. You two were always close like that.”

You didn’t confirm or deny that. There was no point in mentioning that Colter hadn’t been the one to tell you, not intentionally anyway. Instead, you leaned forward in your chair. “What do you want, Russell?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” You snapped. You had been on edge, thinking he was here to either kill you or threaten you. Then him hitting on you and making that asinine and incredibly presumptuous statement bothered you more than you cared to admit. Not to mention he pissed you off when he took the latte you’d decided to treat yourself with after a few difficult days (without even asking you might add), knowing how that had irked you anytime he did it when you were dating. It was like the man was begging you to put a foot in his ass.

Russell glanced around briefly before removing something from inside his jacket. It was a folded up newspaper and he slapped it down in front of you. A picture of a burnt out structure stared back up at you with the headline reading above it “House Fire Claims 8 Lives, Sheriff Confirms Arson”. Your eyes met his and in that moment, you knew that he knew.

You refused to give it away just like that, though. If he wanted the truth, he’d have to work for it. He wasn’t getting anything for free, not from you, not anymore. You gave him a smirk. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve finally learned to read, Russ? I’m impressed, really.”

Instead of being insulted, his eyes widened slightly. “You called me Russ.”

You sat back in your chair, pushing the newspaper away from you and prying eyes, waiting for the barista making his way over to you to deliver your coffee. “Slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.” You smiled at the young kid in thanks when he placed the drink down in front of you and promptly slid your glass out of Russell’s reach. He saw it and immediately worked to smother a smile as the kid walked away.

“So, you got any more interesting tricks I should know about?”

Without any preamble, Russell said, “Solano’s dead,” the exact second you took a sip of your new coffee. If he was expecting any reaction to the news, he was in for disappointment when you didn’t give it.

“Yes, I heard. Quite unfortunate.”

“They’re all dead actually. Even that guard we subdued in the beginning.”

You remembered; you’d been the one to kill him after all. Once Russell and Colter got to their feet after knocking the guard out and started moving towards the house, you quietly pulled a knife and slipped the blade into the side of the man’s head. You’d cut his zip ties, removed them and the gag, and then caught up to the guys — all within seconds. You had made sure to move the guard’s body inside later, right before you’d started the fire, trying your best to get rid of any drag marks you’d left on the ground. You were there to clean up the mess, not leave witnesses, even if they had never seen any of you coming.

You nodded. “I know, I heard that, too. Is there a point here somewhere or can I get back to the nice morning I was having before you showed up to steal my coffee?”

Russell was the one to lean forward this time, lowering his voice even further. “You said you were calling in the FBI for a pickup. Who did you really call?”

You could tell he was trying to give you an out, an opportunity to explain that it wasn’t what he was thinking, and maybe you should have lied your ass off…but you no longer wanted to. You knew Russell; he wasn’t going to let this go until he had an answer that he deemed to be the truth. And while you could give him a distorted version of that truth that didn’t land at your feet, a petty part of you wanted him to know.

“Y/N?” He pressed. “Who did you call?”

You sat back in your chair, considering him for a moment before you spoke. “No one.”

Russell dropped his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Fuck, I was afraid of that.” He glanced up at you, his eyes full of a sadness you hadn’t seen in some time. You knew he wouldn’t be happy if he ever found out the truth, but not to this extent. “I told you to walk away and let me handle it.” His voice was softer, not as gruff as before. You realized then that you’d accomplished what that vindictive side of you had wanted all along, ever since the day he walked away; you’d hurt him and caused him pain. Pain that you could see clear as day lining his face right now. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. And quite frankly, that pain caught you off guard. After all of this time, this is what it took for him to feel even a sliver of what you’d felt back in the day when he’d left you bleeding, your heart torn from your chest and sitting in pieces on the floor he’d just casually walked over to get to the door?

Not really sure what to make of this development or the emotions it caused to rise up within you, you went into pure professional mode and forged ahead. “The three of you didn’t need to be involved.” You could see the pain getting worse and it made you uncomfortable, something prodding at your chest and itching at your skin that you really didn’t care for. “Besides, last I checked, I don’t take orders from you, Shaw.” You threw his last name in there as a last resort to put even more distance there between you.

His eyes flicked from the newspaper to you. “Who do you take orders from then? Something tells me this wasn’t FBI-sanctioned.”

You surreptitiously glanced around you before leaning in, lowering your voice.“You know, going to your handler’s house during her kid’s birthday party was a pretty bad idea. Ann really didn’t like that.” You watched as Russell’s eyes widened slightly before his face fell, a dreaded realization filling his expression. He had never mentioned her name to you before and he knew Colter hadn’t mentioned her to you either when giving you the rundown of what they knew before meeting up in the mountains. You sat back, tensed and ready for whatever came next.

His jaw clenched. “How long?” He ground out.

“Long enough.”

You kept your gaze trained on his and you did your best to read him, trying to assess what he might do, now that the pain was all but absent since your revelation. Would he tell you to watch your back and leave? Would he tell you to stay away from Colter for good? It was hard to gauge from the way he was staring at you right then. You could see anger bubbling underneath but you also caught something coming to the surface that strangely looked like remorse. Considering you hadn’t seen that emotion on him too often, it was tough to be sure in your identification of it. And then something flickered in his eyes right then, something so fast you almost didn’t catch it, but you did. Fear that quickly dissolved into determination. You braced yourself for whatever he would say or do; this was it. This would determine your next steps.

Instead, he surprised you once more. He snatched the newspaper up and slipped it back into his jacket, before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “I’m getting you out of here. Now. Let’s go.”

Stunned, you wordlessly got to your feet but then it hit you, you were about to go somewhere alone with him. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself but he had still been Special Ops once upon a time and he killed people for a living…just like you.

“Russell, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he growled. “I’m getting you as far from here as I can. I’ve got a buddy who has a cabin in upstate New York. It’s got months-long supplies, power and running water, and a small armory. You’ll be safe there until this whole thing blows over.”

You yanked your hand out of his and grabbed your phone and jacket. “I’m plenty safe here. I have no reason to run, so I’m staying. You want to leave? Go right ahead. We both know it’s what you’re best at.” The sadness was back but you looked away from it. Yes, that had been another low blow but it was also well-deserved. You moved past him, refusing to look over your shoulder even once. There was no way he’d do anything out in the open; he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially now.

You slipped into your car, not surprised in the least when Russell got in on the other side before you could even think about locking the doors.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What’s it look like?” He clicked his seatbelt. “I’m staying with you until you agree to my plan to get you someplace safe or you explain how the hell this even happened.” He pulled out the newspaper, holding it up for a moment before tossing it to the floor. You could see the determined set to his jaw and you knew he meant it.

“Russell,” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I do not have time for this.” You blew out a quiet breath and turned to face him. “Now I suggest you get out of my car or—”

“You’ll shoot me?” He shot you a look. Yeah, he was still pissed about the threats you’d made a few nights ago. You supposed you couldn’t blame him but you did what you had to do to get him and his brother out of there. You had regrets but they were slim. “We both know you won’t.”

That infuriated you and had you seething. “You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t. Just like I know that no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate me, you really don’t.”

You scoffed out a laugh in disbelief. “Wow, you really are incredibly delusi—”

“I also know you would never do that to my brother.” Your glare in his direction intensified. “You’ve always been protective of him. Just like me.” A glimmer of a fond smile worked its way onto his bearded face.

Your jaw clenched and you looked away from him, back towards the coffee shop you had just stormed out of, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. It was true; you’d always looked out for Colter in some way ever since you’d gotten to know him through Russell.

While the relationship between the brothers had been strained for years, it didn’t mean that there hadn’t been a couple of times where Dory hadn’t attempted to get them into a room together to try to fix what had been broken. In one such instance, Russell had brought you along, after shocking you by asking you two nights before to accompany him. The man had spent over a decade in the military, worked Special Ops, and there wasn’t much he was afraid of, if at all. But when you were wrapping leftovers to throw into the fridge and he’d laid a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him, you’d never seen Russell Shaw look so worried, vulnerable, and damn near terrified in all of the time you’d known him. You’d even felt it when he’d enfolded you into his arms and whispered into your ear that he was due to meet up with his family in the next two days, asking you to come with him. How could you say no to that? You knew of the family’s tragic history and the simmering tensions that still existed between the Shaws who were still alive; Russell had told you everything, even about how his mom had hung him out to dry (though he made excuses for her which made you grind your teeth). And for him to ask you to go, to meet his family, you knew then just how important this was for him. So you went, squeezed his hand in silent support whenever he appeared to need it, and did your best to provide distraction whenever things got a little too tense or heated. Dory didn’t care for you too much; you got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t happy Russell had brought an interloper to a family-only discussion. But Colter…Colter you got along with from the start.

Colter seemed happier to talk to you than his brother and you could tell that bothered Russell tremendously. He had told you once how much he missed his siblings at times, especially his little brother, and he would never stop hoping to patch things up with them one day. Sure enough, he tried to interject into the conversation a few times with you helping as much as you could, but each time Colter shut him down. It was blatantly obvious that the younger man wanted nothing to do with him and there was definitely some resentment still floating around after years of estrangement. Needless to say, things hadn’t ended well at that dinner and you weren’t surprised that Russell drank a little heavier that night. Nor were you surprised when he grasped at you in the hotel room and pulled you to him, his lips claiming yours as he began unbuttoning your shirt and moving you towards the bed. You knew he was hurting and you let him take solace in you as you whispered loving assurances in his ear.

After that, Colter surprised you by calling you a couple of months down the road, apologetically asking for your help on a case he had picked up. Though he didn’t know you well, he was in a rough spot and needed a helping hand, particularly a Federal one. You saw the opportunity for what it had been, an opening of a possible door between him and Russell, so you took it. You helped Colter as much as you could without risking being read the riot act by your superior, and you two got to know each other better as you worked together. It happened a few more times and you had even called Colter in to assist on a case of your own that you had snagged. You had gone for beers afterwards each time and you’d tried your best to talk to him, to convince him to give Russell a chance. He hadn’t been interested, was resistant to it even, but he liked you and he was starting to trust you a little more each time. He’d even reluctantly admitted once that he was glad his brother had you, immediately following up with “He better be treating you right, though.” You had simply smiled and assured him that Russell very much was.

You didn’t mention the odd absences a few times a month (sometimes with little to no warning), the radio silence during these stints, and the avoidance of any penetrating questions upon his return — all of it that had become conditional to your relationship by that point. And Russell certainly wasn’t happy at all to find out you’d been working with Colter once you told him. You both had arguments before like any common couple but nothing like this. You had never seen him so angry and he’d laughed when you told him he had no need to be jealous if that was what he was worried about, you loved him and you were trying to make things better for the both of them, to pave the way for him to be able to make peace with his brother.

“You just don’t get it.”

He had shaken his head and glared over at you before he walked out of the room, away from you. From then on, Russell became even more secretive, distant, and cold as ice. Gone was the easy affection, heart to heart talks, and playful banter between you. Gone were the tender touches, gentle kisses, and passionate sex. The love of your life turned into a stranger right before your very eyes. It hadn’t been too long after that when he’d left for good, leaving your heart shattered on your hardwood floor. As time passed, you were surprised he hadn’t just packed up and left in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, without a single word to you and completely ghosting you, since he had been intent on leaving you in his past. It might have been kinder actually compared to the things he’d said to you as a final goodbye before walking away for good.

So whenever you had dared to think back on it over the last few years, you’d always figured the fight over Colter had contributed in some way to the rapid unraveling of your relationship. Well, that fight and…other things.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Russell urged, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Come on, Y/N, you owe me that at least.”

You turned the most menacing glare on him that was possible for you to give someone. “I don’t owe you shit,” you bit out. How dare he say that? To you of all people?

His jaw tightened and after a moment, he agreed with a soft nod. “Fair enough.”

You broke away from his intent gaze a minute later, your decision made as you turned the car on. “You know what? If this will get you out of my life for good this time, then fine. Let’s talk. And don’t be so sure I won’t shoot you afterwards should you continue to piss me off. You’re right, I do care about Colter,” You scowled over at him. “But not that deeply.”

Russell matched your scowl but wisely kept quiet as you backed your car out of your parking spot. You felt an immediate surge of guilt for having said that about his younger brother. You did care about Colter, more than you would ever admit to anyone, even your ex. There was nothing remotely romantic between you two; there never had been and there never would be. But Russell had been right; you were protective of him. Not only because he was a good man but he also reminded you of someone you had lost long ago. You would bend over backwards to keep him safe (as safe as you could given his chosen career), even if it meant putting yourself in harm’s way. He had truly become like a brother to you.

But you had also meant what you said just now. If Russell continued to irritate you, there was no way he was leaving this time without you putting a bullet in him. Right in his ass before the door could hit it when he turned his back on you for the last time. That or a good old fashioned ass kicking in the form of your right hook. After everything he’d done, he deserved nothing less.

You pulled up to a local motel that you had booked a room at the last few days, in case you needed to close up shop and haul ass out of town quickly. It wasn’t the same establishment you had gone to the morning of the fire and you still had your place thirty minutes away, but you had learned it was always best to prepare for any eventuality. Especially after a job needing to be done so close to home. You had seen what happened with Doug; who was to say Horizon wouldn’t leave you out to dry, too, should the heat from the fire get a little too close?

You got out and headed over to the door, unlocking it and stepping inside, not looking back to see if Russell was following you. Neither of you had spoken on the ride over (which was probably for the best) and you didn’t glance at him once. Instead, you had done your damndest to tamp down the fury you felt racing through your veins as more and more memories played out in your mind. Now that Russell had a vague idea of the truth of what you had been doing all of this time, everything you had ever wanted to say to him seemed to be trying to rush to the surface as well as all of the pain you had endured.

You slipped your suit jacket off and tossed it onto the bedspread. You heard the door shut behind you and you spun around, seeing Russell’s eyes scanning the room, stopping on the bed, and then lifting to you. You scoffed and unbuttoned the sleeves of your blouse, rolling them up to your forearms. “Not happening so don’t even think about it,” you hissed.

“Wasn’t going there.”

You didn’t believe him. “Right.” You took a seat at the table and impatiently gestured to the seat across from you. “Well?”

He sat down and without missing a beat, dove right in. “How the hell did this even happen, Y/N?”

“Really? That’s what you’re starting out with?”

Russell shot you a look.

You let out an aggravated sigh and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs and getting comfortable. “I was recruited, not too long after you left.”

His jaw dropped. “They approached you?”

Nodding, your jaw tightened thinking back to that time. It wasn’t a memory you liked revisiting. You were at your lowest, Russell having just walked out like the four and a half years you’d spent together hadn’t meant a damn thing to him. He had been it for you. You had put everything you had into the relationship, which proved to be a difficult balancing act sometimes between your career at the Bureau and Russell’s job that he wouldn’t tell you too much about. You both had overcome so much together…all for him to tell you that he simply didn’t love you anymore, give you a shitty apology, and walk right out the door years later. Like you had simply been an amusing distraction, nothing more. Like you had merely been a stopping point in his journey and now he was bored and moving on. The breakup would’ve hurt regardless but the cold detached manner he’d spoken to you with caused more pain than you would have ever been willing to admit. It was a good thing you had already become a Special Agent by then, not stuck to any one location or field office, given how often you were hungover for some weeks there. You had attempted to track him down (which hadn’t been easy) to try to talk to him, to make him see reason; you didn’t believe that he had stopped loving you just like that. But when you had finally located him, he had been holed up in a dingy motel, similar to this one, but he wasn’t alone. That had hurt beyond words and it had taken everything for you not to say anything, not to let him see you, and turn back around, heading home with your tail between your legs and your head hanging in heartbroken defeat.

None of it made sense to you. How had your life changed so drastically in a single day? Perhaps you had never really known Russell Shaw. Perhaps you only saw what he wanted you to see. But when you replayed the last few weeks of your relationship, even the fight over Colter, something still wasn’t jiving. So you buried yourself in work during the day and as deep into the bottle as you could during the late nights. Until they showed up.

“And you said yes?” He asked in disbelief.

Your eyes flicked to Russell, narrowing. “Why not? You did.”

He pressed his lips together. You had him there and he knew it. “That was different.”

“How?” You snapped. “Exactly how is that different, Russell?”

“I joined them long before you and I met.” Yeah, you knew that now. You knew everything he hadn’t told you the time you’d been together, minus the actual details of the off the books missions he went on. You now knew why Doug had never told Tracy anything either. Not only were they not allowed to, but It was safer that way.

“Well, bully for you, Shaw. You’ve got a few years on me at being a black ops agent and you’ve racked up a few more bodies than I have. Told way more lies, too. Congrats. Do we get you a cake or…?”

He leaned forward, covering your hand with his. “Stop. Just…talk to me,” he pleaded gently.

You hated it when he did that because you hated that it still affected you on some deep level. You rolled your eyes and moved your hand from underneath his, placing it in your lap. “They approached me about six months out from when you left.”

“Who approached you?”

Yeah, you weren’t giving him that. If you did, you knew he’d be on their doorstep in a second and that you couldn’t have. Not after you had just cleaned up the Solano mess and smoothed things over. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” You knew that, could see it in his expression, but too bad. You both were in it now, had signed NDA’s, and details like that were meant to stay confidential anyway.

“Someone did and that’s all you're getting.” You gave him a meaningful look. “Regardless, they offered me a job and I took it.”

You watched as Russell’s features tightened. “And the FBI thing?”

“Still active, though I’m now kept more as an ear to the ground, providing information and cleanup when need be.” You noticed a slight wince cross across his face. “They’re the ones I answer to and they’ve chosen to keep me there for the time being. I’m more effective in that setup.” Those words from your handler still burned you but over time, you had been able to adapt and utilize their refusal to fully bring you in to your advantage.

“And Solano and his men? Were they cleanup?”

You didn’t break away from his penetrating gaze and gave it to him straight. “You and Doug made quite a mess of things. So, yes, I was called in to clean it up.” He briefly closed his eyes in the same pain you had seen earlier, though you couldn’t fathom why. It had been nearly three years since he’d last professed to give a shit about you. Why would this even affect him? “Horizon wanted you kept clean and Doug was on his own. Then you idiotically showed up at Ann’s residence, not only tipping them off to the fact that you were sniffing around where you shouldn’t have been but then you allowed Colter to threaten them. You had to know that was going to ruffle quite a few feathers and put a target on your backs.”

His jaw clenched again and that dark void was back in his gaze. His fingers twitched near his phone and you knew he was itching to call his brother to check on him. “And they sent you to clean that up, too?”

You slowly shook your head. “No.” If they had, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Most likely, you’d be dead while Colter and Russell would hopefully be on the run or have gone into hiding. “Only to assess what threats you both posed to the organization.”

“And what was your assessment?” He watched you carefully. In this moment, you weren’t former lovers. You were two people with lethal skills and training, willing to do whatever it took to keep your loved ones safe, even from each other.

You never broke away from his gaze, watching him back just as carefully. “What do you think?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, looking pensive and most likely turning your words over in his mind. You weren’t going to say it but knowing that gnawing feeling of constantly worrying about someone you cared deeply about, you wanted to make sure you both were on the same page of this topic. “And, Russell, if they had sent me for that, I never would.” His gaze immediately met yours. “Ever,” you promised.

His eyes roamed over your face, most likely assessing if you were bullshitting him or telling the truth. Obviously having decided on the latter, after a minute or so, he gave you a nod. “How do you know they accepted your assessment, though? There’s no way they don’t know about you and Colter, you and me…”

This time, your jaw was the one clenching. Yeah, you were made aware of that fact when you had been approached for recruitment. That was how they knew about you, your career as a Federal agent, and how you had been involved with Russell once upon a time. When you found out more about Horizon from the inside, it didn’t surprise you one bit how deeply they dove into the background of their candidates or the amount of information they gathered on them. You’d even helped put together a few files yourself, without fully knowing what unit the candidates were being considered for of course. They kept a close watch on their assets and that was putting it lightly.

So when you got involved with Russell, completely oblivious to what you were really getting into, Horizon had already scoped you out as well as Colter, Dory, their mother, Bobby, Reenie, Teddi, Velma — everyone. Even Colter’s on-again/off-again, Billie, and the mysterious circumstances of the death of the boys’ father. They knew it all. Horizon didn’t like surprises and you supposed you couldn’t blame them considering their line of work, but it also meant that you and everyone you cared about needed to be extra careful.

It was one of the many reasons you couldn’t completely forgive Russell, though you now understood why he’d walked out when he did. Things had unraveled so badly between you that you’d started quietly digging into Horizon, not trusting what Russell had told you prior. Back then, you thought you’d find only what Russell had claimed: private security, perhaps a couple of Special Ops situations where an American hostage was retrieved in another country, or worse: he was lying to you and having an affair. Now, you knew he had told you the truth — a very scrubbed, limited version of the truth that omitted most of what he really did for the outfit. You remembered what he’d told you about a week and a half before he left.

“You need to stop digging.”

You looked upon him with confusion. One minute, you had been having a very tense and silent dinner where you could only hear forks scraping against the plates every so often, and the next, Russell was glaring over at you, speaking cryptically. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You need to stop looking into Horizon and leave it alone. I mean it, Y/N. Let it be.” His eyes bored into you with warning before he got up from the table and took his plate into the kitchen, leaving you to finish your meal alone.

Normally, you wouldn’t have listened, determined to get to the bottom of Russell’s mysterious employer, but considering how your relationship was hanging by a thread at that point, you did. Despite the warning bells going off in your head, you did as exactly as he said: you let it be.

You suddenly remembered Russell’s question to you. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

Russell affected a slow nod, thinking it over. “And Colter?”

“I told them he’s no threat,” you murmured. “I talked to him, told him to forget they exist. He agreed as long as you were safe.”

For the first time since this conversation started, you could see Russell start to relax a bit, relief saturating his features. Even a small smile started to light up the tension in his face. While you could understand the feeling, share it even, something about it had you on your feet, walking over to the small refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water from the six pack you had tossed in there when you booked the room. You held one up in an offer but Russell shook his head.

“I’m good.”

You shrugged, unsurprised, and twisted off the cap, taking a drink. It made sense that he was still being cautious. Before you knew it, though, he was standing in front of you, that pleading yet determined look in his eyes again.

“I want to get you out.”

You snorted. “There is no getting out, Russell. Not for me, anyway. Not until they’re done with me.”

He took a step closer and gently took the water bottle from you, placing it on the counter, and grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “There’s always an exit strategy,” he murmured. “I never wanted this for you, Y/N. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. That’s why I left.”

Yeah, you knew that now, too. “I know that now. Why you wouldn’t tell me certain things about your job, but, Jesus, Russell. Did you really think they didn’t already know about me and who I was to you? Colter even? Dory? Your mom?”

He let out a deep sigh and hung his head, letting your chin go. “I know. I… It was a good fit for me at the time, the money was good — that’s why I hooked Doug up with them. But seeing how they hung him out to dry at the first opportunity and now you,” He tenderly ran his thumb along your cheek. “I’m seriously starting to rethink that decision.”

You pulled away from him. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t unring that bell.” You made your way back over to the bed and yanked your duffel bag from underneath it. You unzipped it and began rooting through it to make sure you had everything you needed for a quick getaway. You didn’t think you needed to go anywhere but now this location was blown for you since you had made the decision to let Russell know about it. You had already triple checked your stash when you left it here upon check-in but you needed something to focus on instead of the clear regret in Russell’s face. “And as for me, I made my decision.” You pulled out a gun from a secret compartment, checked the clip to make sure it was full, and slipped it back inside. “I’m good with it. I’ve used it fully to my advantage and I make good money, more than I was ever going to make at the Bureau, even if they fast-tracked me to Deputy Director. Solano was on our Most Wanted List for twenty six days and I took him out in one. Had he possibly gone free, there’s no telling what he would have done, who he would have hurt besides Doug.” You knew exactly what he would have done and who he would have hurt; he’d told you in explicit detail. You didn’t go into it but Russell wasn’t stupid (not when it came to things like this anyway). He most likely knew as well. He’d wanted to close up Solano as a loose end himself after all. “That kind of cleanup I can more than live with.”

Russell carefully approached, his eyes on the second gun you had pulled out and were checking. “I get that and I more than appreciate what you did with Solano. For Doug, for Colter and me.” Once you slipped the weapon back into its pocket, he laid a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look over at him. “You can’t tell me, though, that this is what you want for your endgame. Not really.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have an endgame, Russell. Maybe I did once but you took that the second you walked out the door, acting like everything we’d gone through meant nothing to you, like I meant nothing to you.”

There was that remorse again and you despised it. “I’m sorry, I…handled that badly,” he admitted.

“Handled it badly?” You laughed in disbelief. You shirked his hand off of you and moved to the night table, yanking the drawer open to rip out the bible sitting in there. You opened it to the area you had cut out to hold emergency cash and cards, just like Russell had taught you once upon a time. “You told me I’d been nothing to you but a fling for the past four years, that you might have loved me once but you didn’t anymore. That I was…how did you put it? A fun distraction.” You slammed the bible shut and tossed it back into the drawer before closing it. You hurried back over to the bag, throwing the funds inside another secret compartment, more than done with this conversation.

“You’re right, I fucked up. I only said those things to—”

“Cut the cord, yeah, I know. Still doesn’t make it right,” you muttered, roughly zipping the duffel back up.

“I wanted you to be safe. You were digging into them, even after I told you not to! And worse, you were pulling Colter into it!”

That quickly got your attention and you spun on your heel, jabbing a finger in the air at him. “Don’t you fucking dare lay Colter at my feet. Especially after what you just pulled last week. It wasn’t me hauling him into Doug’s case! Not to mention, way before you met me, the minute you took that job, you put everyone you knew on their radar and you know it! So don’t you fucking dare. I have been doing everything I can to make sure Colter is safe and doesn’t pull their attention, poring over every case he takes in the background to ensure they’re not involved or have any vested interests that are. Hell, I even just used a contact of mine to float a case over to Teddi and Velma to get him out of town and far away from here to continue keeping him safe. Me, Russell! Me! And what did you do to keep him safe? You blow back into town and not only put him even more on their radar, you deliver him right to their goddamn doorstep! So don’t you dare even try to put that on me,” you finished in a snarl.

Shame lurked at the corners of his eyes and you scoffed in disgust, whirling around to grab your jacket from the bed before picking up the duffel bag and slinging the handle over your shoulder. “So glad we had this talk,” you sniped. “Now go have fun with the cheerleading dental hygienist or Reenie,” You could see more shame looking back at you. Unlike the hot tub conquest, Colter had actually told you about that one. You could tell how much it was bothering him and you knew he wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise, knowing it wasn’t something you really wanted to hear. “Or that bartender you holed up with three weeks after you walked out on me,” Now you could see surprise; you could care less. “Or whoever you want. But me? I’m done. Have a nice life, Russell Shaw, and try not to get killed before you get out to start your little brewery operation. Oh, and try to manage not to get your brother or me killed in the process, yeah? Thanks ever so much. See ya.”

You were walking towards the door when you were grabbed and whipped around. Before you could react, Russell was on you, his mouth covering yours and his hands gripping your face. “I love you,” he breathed against your lips after breaking away to let you catch your breath. “I’m sorry I said what I did back then but it wasn’t the truth. It took everything I had to walk away but as long as you were safe, that was all that mattered to me. I fucked up and I am sorry. I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not ever.”

He wiped at your cheeks and you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying. Shit. Well, that was embarrassing. Even more embarrassing was how much you wanted to believe him. You knew he was telling the truth about why he walked away, how he wanted to keep you safe, but it obviously hadn’t been as difficult for him to move on as it had been for you. “No, you don’t,” you choked out. “If that were true, you would have never walked out that door.” Your voice wobbled on those last few words and you hated it, hated how vulnerable you were being to him right now.

You wiped at your own cheeks and turned around, ignoring the pleading you saw once again in his eyes.

“Y/N, please,” he ground out.

You kept moving towards the door. As you laid your hand on the door handle to turn it, you were whipped around one more time and he was kissing you yet again, your back pressed up against the wood. Except this time, you finally threw in the towel and gave in to what your damaged heart had been wanting all of this time. You buried your fingers in his hair and kissed him back just as passionately, not caring that more tears rolled down your cheeks as you did. He yanked the duffel bag from you and let it fall into a heap on the floor before lifting you up and turning to carry you over to the bed. You knew this was going to hurt like hell later but you refused to put a stop to it. You’d find a way to numb the pain when it ripped you open a second time, just like you always had.

The only thought running through your mind as he laid you down and ripped your blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere, was that you had been right. You knew the bastard had been lying earlier when you’d caught him looking between you and the bed. But right then as he lifted away from you to quickly shed his top layers and then dove back down to kiss you again and melt into you, your fingers greedily relearning every inch of his bare skin, you couldn’t care less.

You reached your hand over, tenderly running a finger along the edges of the bandage on Russell’s arm. “Does it hurt?” You murmured.

“A little.” He turned his head to smile down at you. “More than worth it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his chuckle at you gently pushing his head away, and turned onto your back. Russell embraced you with his other arm, pulling you into him. You rested your ear against his bare chest, hearing his steady heartbeat and settling your gaze on the ceiling above you. He pressed a kiss to your head, letting his lips linger against your hair, as his thumb rubbed your shoulder back and forth.

After a few minutes of content silence between you, you put voice to the question resounding in your mind. “How did we get here, Russell?”

“Well, you drove us over and then we—”

You softly swatted his chest, making him laugh and hearing the sound reverberate underneath your ear. “You know what I mean.”

“I wish I knew the best way to answer that, “ he whispered to you. You could hear the genuine regret in his tone and it made you start thinking about when you both would have to leave this motel room, and go back to the separate lives you had been living. Memories of lazy mornings like this back when you had been together, of you listening to his voice in your ear and knowing you were safe and loved, replayed in your mind on a loop. You would never admit it to him but you missed this, missed him. Nothing had felt right in the last couple of years like this moment here did. If anything, all of that time felt like some weird drug-induced nightmare, and you had just woken up to find Russell here next to you, nothing having changed. But that wasn’t true; everything had changed.

Not wanting to think about that just yet, you picked up the hand that had been caressing your shoulder and studied the skin of his wrist. “This is new.” You trailed your finger along the design of the tattoo sitting there. “What prompted you to get this one?”

“That’s something Doug and I got one night when we met up with another one of the guys from our unit when he was in town. Tommy Laird. Good man.”

“A crown?”

Russell shrugged underneath you. “Tommy picked the design.”

“‘We three kings’, huh?”

You heard him chuckle. “Never thought of it like that but sure.”

“Is he also a part of Horizon?”

You felt him tense underneath you at the mention of the dark and deadly elephant in the room. “No. He, uh, he lives with his wife and three kids in North Carolina. They have a house in Cary and he went back to the family business when he got home.”

You nodded and pulled his wrist to you, placing your lips on his skin and tenderly kissing the middle of the design before letting him go. He hugged you closer to him and placed a kiss to your ear in turn, letting out what sounded like a contented sigh.

A moment later, he murmured. “I want to help get you out.”

You nearly rolled your eyes again. You wanted to ask him why he was dead set on thinking that you even wanted out. Perhaps the you he had known would want a way out, want something more out of life than money and secrets and cleanups, but you had changed a lot in the last three years. But you knew if you posed that question, it would shatter the cocoon you currently found yourselves in and you weren’t ready for that to end just yet. So instead, you reminded him of another angle of the truth. “That’s not possible. Not the way you’re thinking. You know that.”

“Anything’s possible.” You nearly smiled at his response; there was the stubborn streak that sometimes infuriated you and sometimes endeared you to him, like right now. But you needed to make sure you maintained a reality check for the both of you. You knew what he was really thinking.

“Even if it was, we can’t.”

His head lifted and he frowned down at you. “Why not?”

“This isn’t some Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit. We don’t get a happy ending,” you finished sadly, thinking back to the life you once shared together as you cupped his cheek and rubbed it gently with your thumb. “Not together. It’s too dangerous.” You left it at that but you knew that he was more than aware of what you meant.

His frown intensified at your words and he covered your hand with his, turning to place a kiss into your palm. “We’ll work it out.”

“Russ,” you sighed.

He gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking into your eyes. “We’ll work it out,” he softly repeated, that glint of determination back in his gaze.

You decided once more that you wouldn’t bother launching into the many reasons it actually wouldn’t work out and you would refrain from popping that bubble he had just wrapped you both in. That moment would come later. But for now, you continued to keep silent.

When he noticed you weren’t going to say anything, a mischievous smile began to form on that handsome face you loved. “You know, I don’t really have anything planned for today. How about you?”

Other than some paperwork you had to go over later, your day was pretty much free, too. Even if it hadn’t been, you knew that look and after this morning, despite still having some unresolved anger with him, despite things that still needed to be said between you, you would have freed up your schedule immediately. “I don’t think I’ll be missed for a while,” you teased.

He leaned in to kiss you, whispering to your lips, “Oh, you were missed. Very much fucking missed.” The impishness you had heard a moment before was now absent but he never gave you a chance to respond. Instead, he kissed you deeply and began moving to cover your body with his once again. He maneuvered himself in between your thighs, your legs automatically coming up to gently cradle his hips. “Your arm,” you broke away to warn him.

“Don’t care.” He lowered down to keep kissing you and surprisingly (or unsurprisingly perhaps), all was right in the world right then. You didn’t allow yourself to get swept away by it or by the fantasy of something that would never be. Sadly, the time for you and Russell to be together had come and gone. You’d had your chance and you both had blown it, with him starting you out of the gate. This right here, this was all that was left — like embers of a dying fire. You would always love him, you knew that (truthfully, you had always known it), but this was all you would ever have. Once you both walked out that door, you would be walking in separate directions, taking different paths in your lives, no matter what Russell would say.

But for right now, you allowed yourself to live in the moment, to enjoy it as he groaned into your mouth when your hand helped guide him to where you both wanted him to be. You held onto him as he began a slow movement within you, knowing you would need to take over again very soon when his left arm began to tremble. But until then you kept him close to you, drank deeply of him, and reveled in what the two of you had always managed to create together, content to keep Horizon and the rest of the world on the other side of the motel room door, if only for a moment longer.

A/N: I know I left some things open and unresolved. I wanted to do that to let this be a gateway to the continuing story in the short series coming titled "Closer". Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the series.

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