#I kind of wish I was asleep like two hours ago but this shit ain’t happening again so I’m making the most of it

[buyingaradspaceship]

awake at 4am watching the livestream of the over the garden wall soundtrack being performed !! hearing prelude was so special !! and elijah wood was there performing some of wirt’s poetry !! now it’s potatoes and molasses !!

[danielxricciardo]

Prompts

1. "Hi, my ex just walked in. Would you hold my hand please?"

2. "I didn't expect to see you here."

3. "Have you seen this dog?"

4. “That mouth of yours, does it ever stop making noise”

5. “Seven minutes in heaven is for virgin teenagers”

6. “Slam that door one more time and I’ll shove my foot straight up your cute ass”

7. “Jesus! Knock next time would you”

8. “You have money go and get yourself a hoodie that’s not mine”

9. "I hate roses, I thought you knew"

10. "Do you think I am an angel? Ha"

11. "I wanted to sleep but someone decided to die"

12. "I can kill you right now, what are you talking about?"

13. "Hi, I am lost, can you come after me?"

14. "When I first saw you I wanted to date your best friend"

15. "I am so funny and you are just jealous"

16. "If I have to choose... no"

17. "Stop breathing like that!"

18. "I just did my nails"

19. "I'm the best driver în the world"

20. "Will you marry me?" "No"

21. "I think I broke my arm" "So?"

22. "I think I love you" "Thanks"

23. "My arms are lonely, don't you think?"

24. "Apparently we are dating"

25. “Well it’s kind of hard to move when you’re sitting on my lap”

26. "Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?"

27. "If we elope, you think they'll kill us?"

28. "This is yours"

29. "You can’t just kiss me, laugh and then walk away."

30. "Are you using ass as a pillow?"

31." I find your lack of faith disturbing."

32. "And I took it personally"

33. "In here I am the boss"

34. "Oh, bite me!" "Where?"

35. "What will you do if we break up?"

36. "Where is my T-shit?"

37. "This is no time for sarcastic comments."  "There is always time for sarcastic comments."

38. "I’ll keep quiet, you won’t even know I’m here."

39. "The way you flirt is just awful"

40. "Don’t be fooled. I’m the epitome of mess."

41. " If you are on TV should I congratulate you?"

42. "And this, is why we can’t have nice things."

43. "That's what he said"

44. "I am scared of your boss"

45. "You should know, a lot of girls have a crush on me"

46. "Everyone is afraid of you"

47. "If I'm watching that movie one more time I'll lose my fucking mind!"

48. "I thought being on vacation will be stress free"

49. "My parents don't trust you"

50. "I don't think I should give my last name so easily"

51. “I really wish I could unsee that.”

52. “Who would’ve guessed we’d be sharing a room.”

53. “I feel like you have an unhealthy obsession with me.”

54. “Nah he’s fine, it’s the other one you really got to watch out for.”

55. “I have a suggestion.” “I’m not taking my clothes off so forget it.”

56. “You’re the genius, why don’t you tell me?”

57. “Have I ever told you your accent makes me swoon?” “Really?” “No.” He/she smiles. “ that’s why I’ve never told you.”

58. “I’m alive? How am I still alive?”

59. “You’re crazy! I love it!”

60. “Never have I ever is about to get a lot more interesting.”

61. “What did they do?” “Dude. They did the do.”

62. "You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!"

63. "Well this is awkward."

64. "Im too sober for this."

65. "Im pregnant." "Wall done, Virgin Mary!"

66. " I want to protect you."

67. "Kill that spider and maybe I'll forgive you"

68. "I have no one to go to the wedding"

69. "Don’t you dare touch _______!"

70. "I thought you were dead!"

71. "This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in."

72. "Take care of you, please"

73. "If your best friend single?"

74. "Just remember, if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English."

75. "Why does everyone assume we're a couple?"

76. "Im craving something sweet" "Are you pregnant or something?"

77. " What is the magic word?" "I'll kill you în your sleep"

78. "When I see you my knees get weak"

79. "Finally you're single. Can I take you on a date?"

80. " So, I guess you don’t do after hours?"

81. "I know what I'm doing, I've watched two whole seasons of Grey's Anatomy."

82. "I can't believe I'm stuck here with you right now."

83. "Okay, this did not go as I planned it in the shower."

84. "I'm not going to sit around and watch you destroy yourself."

85. "You were my best friend"

86. "You did what?"

87. "Can you just pretend to love me for a second!"

88. "You are enough"

89. "Take the shirt off"

90. "Your nickname is bitch"

91. "What do you want to watch?" "You"

92. "How could you ask me that?"

93. "Your mouth does this thing and I can't resist it"

94. "Are you allowed to drink?"

95. "I said Im done, leave me alone!"

96. "Don’t raise your fucking voice at me”

97. “Yeah, I remember the drill”

98. “Tell me again, slowly this time, why that dog is in my bed.”

99. “Gave you so much, but it wasn’t enough.”

100. “You and me, we were destined to fall apart.”

101. “No, you don’t know who you are until somebody breaks your heart.”

102. “I want to tell you everything. The words I never got to say the first time around.”

103. “It’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all.”

Song lyrics prompts

1. “It’s the little things about us, that I love so much.”

2. “Last night I told you I loved you // woke up blamed it on the vodka”

3. “It’s a better place since you came along”

4. “You make me love the things I hate  “

5. Just a paper sheet and half a cigarette are left in my hand

6. Your faith walks on broken glass

7. "And can you teach me how to dance real slow?"

8. "I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe"

9. "One night, you won't forget the rest of your life"

10. "We only said goodbye with words"

11. "I'll try to give you love until the day you drop"

12. "I like the pretty boys with the bow tie"

13. "Lets get drunk forget what we did"

14. Your kisses lift me higher

15. When you're ready we can share the wine

16. "And if you don't love me now you will never love me again"

17. "Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?"

18. "When there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove"

19. She's the kind of girl who only asks you over when its raining, just to make you lie there catching water dripping from the ceiling.

20. Now I understand, you're a human, and you got to lie, you're a man

21. The good and the bad times: we've been through them all.

22. Now I ain't educated but I sure ain't stupid

23. I grew up in the shoes they told me I could fill

24. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep

25. A lover would just complicate my plans

26. And in the morning, i’ll be with you, but it will be a different kind

27. My heart is yours, it’s you that i hold on to

28. And with one kiss, you inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years

29. I let go of my claim on you, it’s a free world

30. I’m in my bed, and you’re not here and there’s no one to blame, but the drink in my wandering hands

31. Cause you gave me peace and i wasted it, I’m here to admit that you were my medicine

32. Oh, dear diary, i met a boy, he made my doll heart light up with joy. Oh, dear diary, we fell apart, welcome to the life of electra heart

33. For you, I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind

34. Is it really me you're missing?

35. Remember that night?

36. How many times can I break till I shatter?

37. As long as I breathe, I’ll call you my home

38. "You wouldn't know love if it crushed your fucking chest."

39. "When we scream our lips don't make a sound."

40. "Please don't let me sink, wrap your arms around me and carry me home."

41. "This hasn't torn us apart so nothing ever will."

42. "A long time ago we believed that we were united."

43. "I miss the person that you were but I don't miss you."

44. "If home is where the heart is, why do I feel so fucking heartless?"

45. "I can't live, I can't breathe with or without you just go away."

46. "I'm not afraid to die, I'm afraid I'll survive and have to watch you suffer."

47. "I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away."

48. "I'm not like you I just fuck up."

49. "All because of you I believe in angels, not the kind with wings, no not the kind with halos. The kind that bring you home when home becomes a strange place."

50. "I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again."

51. “I wish people liked me more.”

52. “How could I ever love someone else?”

53. “I guess you’re getting everything you want.”

54. “She probably gives you butterflies.”

55. “I hope that you’re okay.”

56. “I defended you to all my friends.”

57. “I never cared about what they say, only care about me and you” 

58. “Either way i’m gonna lose, so i’m just gonna keep on loving you”

59. “You know i’m bad at communication, it’s the hardest thing for me to do”

60. “Iwas your lover, i was your friend, now I’m only just someone you call when it’s late enough to forget”

61. “It’s fucked up but it’s true that i love you like i do”

62. “Well we both had nights waking up in strangers beds but i don’t wanna, don't wanna, i don’t wanna give up yet”

63. “Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow.”

64. “I’m begging for you to take my hand.”

65. “I can’t make it go away by making you the villain.”

66. “He feels like home.”

67. “I’d be breaking all my rules to see you.”

68. “But I know you’re not scared of anything at all.”

69. “When can I come back?”

70. “I’m ready to owe you anything”

71. “I’ll always look best in your head”

72. “I know you know it’s wrong, but I’m ready”

73. “All I ever want is breaking me apart.”

74. “Let's talk sweetly like all our love is false.”

75. “You put a fire in my heart, painted blood on my stars, gave me faith.”

76. “I wanna meet your girlfriend, she sounds nice.”

77. “How is kissing me so wrong?“

78. “Can’t you see that I’m already yours?”

79. “I’ve been losing track of the romantic sh*t I’m tryna say but basically I love you"

80. “I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips, I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath”

81. “I apologize for all your tears, I wish I could be different but I’m still growing up into the one you can call your love” 

82. “I’m out of my head, of my heart, of my mind cause you can run but you can’t hide, I’m gonna make you mine”

83. "I never loved someone the way that I love you"

84. "It's the way that you know what I thought I knew, it's the beat that my heart skips when I'm with you"

85. "I hope she gettin' better sex, hope she ain't fakin' it like I did, babe"

86. “I know we’re young and people change and we may never feel the same”

87. “I can’t change the world, but maybe I’ll change your mind”

88. "You don't own me. Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay."

89. "Leave everything that is worth a single cent and just take me instead."

90. "And then I got you off your knees, put you right back on your feet, just so you can take advantage of me."

91. "Hey, I can't let you go with nobody. Cause I love you, baby."

92. "Tell me that it wasn't my fault and that I was enough for you."

93. "We were good at faking forever, I get it, whatever."

94. "Cause you had your chance and you blew it. Yeah, you ripped it up and you chewed it."

95. "Well, I'm too busy for your business. Go find a girl who wants to listen."

96. "Stop looking at me with those eyes, like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why."

97. "Oh, we could do whatever you want, but boy, don't go falling in love, you can't stay with me, all you'll ever have is one day with me"

98. "I pray the medication slow me down, but that shit doesn't work when you're around"

99. "Told her that I loved her once and now she'd kill for me"

100. "What the tell were we? Tell me we weren't just friends"

Who I write for

Formula 1

Daniel Ricciardo

Lewis Hamilton

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Esteban Ocon

Carlos Sainz

Lando Norris

Lance Stroll

Sebastian Vettel

Mick Schumacher

Pierre Gasly

George Russel

Football

Erling Haaland

Jadon Sancho

Giovanni Reyna

Jude Bellingham

Julian Brandt

Marco Reus

Roman Bürki

Emre Can

Mats Hummels

Leon Goretzka

Joshua Kimmich

Kai Havertz

Mason Mount

Christian Pulisici

Ben Chilwell

Gerard Pique 

João Félix

Ianis Hagi

Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain

Trent Alexander-Arnold

Virgil van Dijk

Jens Petter Hauge

Martin Ødegaard

Alexander Sørloth

[kimoralov3]

Love to Hate Me

Requested by: @NuclearPizza84

Word Count: 2314

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x mutant!black!fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting, fire, use of mutant abilities, Erik being an ass

(Y/N)'s POV

Picking up my book, I flipped through the pages. Yeah, I'll leave the science stuff to Charles.

"(Y/N), I would like to introduce you to my new friend Erik. He'll be staying with us while I build up the school. Erik, this is my younger sister (Y/N)." Charles said as he walked into the living room. I looked up, waving at Erik.

"Hello, nice to meet you." I got up and held my hand out for him to shake, but he just looked at it then looked back at me. Well that was rude. 

"(Y/N), do you know where Raven is?" Charles didn't seem to notice his new 'friend' being a dick. 

"Last time I checked she was in her room. She might be taking a nap right now though." I explained as I pointed in the direction of the bedrooms. Charles nodded and made his way down the hall, leaving me and Erik alone.

"So do you have any abilities?" Erik finally spoke up. So he does speak. Good to know.

"I can control and create fire. You?"

"Now why would I tell you that?"

"So I tell you mine but you're gonna bitch about me knowing yours? Seems totally fair." I sassed as I crossed my arms over my chest. Erik rolled his eyes, brushing past me and going in the same direction as Charles. Asshole.

----

6 months.

6 months of having to deal with that asshole named Erik Lehnsherr. Surprised I haven't 'accidently' killed him yet. Charles had gotten the school set up to open in the fall, so me, Raven, Hank, Alex, Seth, and him have been perfecting courses for any possible mutation our future students might have. Erik was supposed to be helping, but he spent most of the time complaining about the way things were playing out.

"I'm glad to see that all our hard work has paid off." Erik announced as he walked into one of the training rooms. This specific one was made to withstand high temperatures, so it was perfect for me and Alex to use for practice.

"Your work? You ain't done shit this whole process." I said as I took off my gloves. 

"Like you have? Every time I run into you you seem to just be standing at your desk." Erik scoffed. 

"I'm the one who's been hiring all the builders and chefs, Erik. I'm the one who's spent 20 hours a week contacting parents and trying to convince them that we can properly care for their child. And what have you been doing? Walking around and putting your unwanted opinions in the air. So don't come to me talking about how I'm the one who hasn't done any work." 

"Is everything alright here?" Charles asked as he walked in. 

"Your sister is being a bitch." Erik said calmly.

"I'm being a bitch? Real mature." I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to what I was doing before Erik interrupted me. As I was getting a mannequin from the storage room, I felt a pull on my bracelet. What the hell? I looked up to see Erik holding his hand out in the general direction of my arm. "So you're seriously gonna do this?"

"(Y/N), Erik, enough. Now is not the time." Charles warned. Before he could step in, Erik used his powers to push him out the room, locking the door. 

"That's better. Now, shall we begin?" Erik asked as he took off his jacket and threw it on the floor. I took off my bracelet, throwing it at him. 

"I'm not wasting my time with this, Erik. I have training to do."

"So you're backing out, just like that? That's a shame. I thought (Y/N) Xavier would have more courage than that." 

"You want to fight, Lehnsherr? Fine, let's fight." I huffed out as I summoned a fireball, purposefully missing him by an inch. He dodged it, although it wasn't going to hit him anyway. 

"There we go! Come on, don't hold back." Erik shouted as he slipped my bracelet back onto my arm, pulling me towards the wall. I focused all the heat in my body to my wrist, melting off the bracelet. That was one of my favorites. I made a trail of fire around the room, taking it up and down the walls and around the ceiling. The final curve made a circle around Erik, trapping him where he stood. 

"Is that good enough for you?" I asked as I dusted my hands on my pants. Erik tried to step closer to me, causing it to grow high enough to reach his waist. "Is this what you wanted? For you to be 6 steps away from catching fire? Because if so, all you had to do was ask."

"Oh don't be like that, (Y/N). You know this is all in good fun." Erik gasped out.

"Do I? Because the whole time that we've known each other, you've been an ass. I tried to properly introduce myself, you ignored me. I offered to show you around the grounds, you called me a silly girl and walked off. I even offered to help you train, but you just pushed past me. I have tried multiple times to get to know you, yet everytime you act like a dick. So no, Erik Lehnsherr, I don't know that this is all in good fun, because I don't know you at all!" I shouted. Each word I got closer, and each sentence I became more and more upset. The fire grew bigger, the circle around Erik closing more and more the angrier I got. Erik didn't speak, he just hung his head down in shame. Pathetic. "So now you have nothing to say?" 

"(Y/N), I didn't-" Erik was cut off by the sound of the doors swinging open, Charles and Raven standing there. I extinguished the fire, brushing past the two of them and running to my room.

----

Erik's POV

"Why can't you just get along? What's the point of the useless bickering and fighting? What has she done to deserve this kind of treatment?" Charles shouted as he paced back and forth in front of his desk. 

"Charles, you know I never meant for it to get as bad as it did just now. I thought that I was helping her." I explained as I watched him pace.

"I know that Erik, but you can't expect the woman you've treated like gum on the bottom of your shoe to know that. Why can't you just tell her the truth? (Y/N) is very understanding."

"It's not that simple, Charles. Especially after all this time. She hates me." 

"You'll never know until you try. At least start with an apology. While you're doing that, I'm going to go asses the damage in the training room. I wish you luck, my friend." Charles patted me on my shoulder, walking out of the room. 

This is not going to go well for me.

----

(Y/N)'s POV

"What's going on between you and Erik? I mean, I know the two of you have never gotten along that well, but it's never gotten to the point where the two of you use your abilities against each other." Raven asked as she sat on my bed, handing me a cup of tea.

"There's nothing going on between us, that's the problem. Ever since he's gotten here, he's done nothing but pick at me. I've tried to be nice to him, but he always shuts me down. It wouldn't be so annoying if he wasn't so fucking hot." I grumbled as I took a sip of tea. 

"What did you just say?" Raven asked as she looked at me in shock. 

"What?" I didn't say anything out of the ordinary.

"You just called Erik hot." Shit.

"What? No I didn't." I avoided her eyes, setting my tea on my dresser. Wow, that's very nice wood work. How have I just now noticed this?

"Yes you did! I definitely heard you say it." Raven said as she moved to stand in front of me. I sighed, rolling over so I was facing the window. "(Y/N), tell me the truth. Do you like Erik?"

"Maybe." I whispered. 

"Well why haven't you asked him out yet?"

"Did you not see what happened earlier today? Erik clearly hates me, and I don't think that that's ever going to change. So why even bother." I explained as I rolled onto my back. Raven laid next to me, putting my head on her chest and rubbing my back. 

"I don't think he hates you, (Y/N). I just think he doesn't know how to properly express his feelings. He's been through a lot, so it might take a lot to bring down those walls. Just give him time, I'm sure things will fall into place." 

"You sound like our brother." I mumbled as I closed my eyes. She giggled, patting me on my arm.

"Well, I am the one who has to sit there and listen to his stupid thesis, because somebody just so happens to be asleep whenever he needs opinions."

"Yeah, well you spend enough time listening to Charles and you'll learn how to avoid his 3 hour long thesis."

----

It's been 2 weeks since the incident, and Erik hasn't even attempted to make it look like he hasn't been avoiding me. I went back to helping make final preparations for the start of school, and Erik went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing. 

"(Y/N), Charles said that he wants to talk to you in his study." Alex said as he walked up to. 

"About what?"

"He didn't say, just said that it was urgent." He walked off, leaving me to make my way to Charles' study. Wonder what he wants now. I knocked on the door, pushing the door open slightly.

"Charles? What's up?" I asked as I stepped in. Charles wasn't at his desk, but there was someone sitting in front of the desk. Erik.

"He isn't here."

"Yeah, I can see that. Guess I'll come back later." I said softly as I moved to leave the office.

"(Y/N), wait." Erik called as he softly grabbed my hand. I looked at him, then down at our hands. We've never actually touched before. "I want to apologize for what happened a few weeks ago. And for how I've been treating you ever since we met. You've done nothing to deserve that."

"Apology accepted, I guess. Is there something else you need?" I asked as I looked him in the eyes. I think I just found my new favorite shade of blue. 

"Yes there is. I guess there is no time like the present." Erik said as he looked down at me.

"What are you talking about?" 

"Follow me." He said. He didn't give me much of a choice, he just grabbed my hand and pulled me somewhere more private. He walked towards the stairwell, taking me onto the roof. 

"What, are you gonna push me off the roof or something?" I joked as I looked over the ledge. It is a pretty far drop.

"Why would I ever do that?" Erik asked as he stepped closer to me. 

"I don't know, maybe because you hate my guts." I said nonchalantly. Something flashed across his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. 

"(Y/N), I would never do anything to hurt you." Erik whispered. 

"Really? Why have you been treating me the way you have then?" I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head to the side slightly. 

"Because I think I love you." He said softly. My heart skipped a beat, causing my breathing to slow a little.

"What?"

"I said I think I love you. And I think I fell for you the moment that I saw you. That's why I was such an ass; I wasn't sure how to properly show you how I felt. That's not an excuse for my actions, though. You don't have to accept my confession, but I just thought that I'd let you know. I'll leave you alone for now." 

Before Erik could walk away, I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down so we were eye to eye. I looked in his eyes, then to his lips, then back at his eyes. "If you're going to kiss me, go ahead and do it." I said softly I gave Erik a slight smile. He leaned down some more, our lips brushing. I pulled him down more, our lips finally meeting. I've been waiting for this moment for almost 7 months now.

"Sorry, I didn't realize that I was interrupting something." Charles' voice called from the entrance to the roof. Erik and I pulled apart, turning our attention towards Charles. 

"You're always messing something up, Charles. What was it you needed?" I asked, not stepping away from Erik.

"It's not important. Carry on you two." Charles said as he made his way back into the house. I turned to Erik and slapped his chest lightly.

"You didn't think to lock the door?"

"Well to be fair, most normal people don't go onto the roof when they're looking for someone." Erik explained as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

"We both know that Charles is far from normal. He probably used his telepathic abilities to find us." He said as he looked back at the stairwell door. I giggled, turning his head back to face me and giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

"Or he set this up to get you to confess your feelings." I said as I leaned my head against his chest. He seemed to mull over the thought for a second before letting out a scoff.

"That little shit."

[thiswasinevitableid]

64. I didn’t know my ex moved so you find me curled up on the floor in front of your apartment door

Ot4, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Duck didn’t mean to fall asleep in front of her cave. But there was no one home and the rock in front of it is just the right temperature to coax him down into a nap in the spring sunshine.

“Um, can I help you?”

His nose tells him the voice belongs to another dragonborn before he opens his eyes. It’s just not the one he’s hoping for. Instead of blue scales and muscle, he finds blue eyes staring down at him while black and white scales glint in the afternoon light.

“Uh, I, uh, do you know the dragon who lives here?” He didn’t think she’d move on that fast.

“I am the dragon who lives here.” The other male adjusts the satchels on his shoulders, one laden with food and the other with books, “I moved in a week ago.”

“Well...fuck.” Duck slides off the rock with a groan, “sorry, didn’t know the place changed hands. Didn’t mean to, uh, crash on your front porch.”

“It’s okay. I was hoping to meet more of our kind here.” He writes a glyph on the door and it opens, “do you want to come in? I got some nice wine from town and, um” he scratches at the stone, “no one to share it with.”

“Sure.” Duck follows him through the familiar front hall and into the kitchen. The furniture is different, all clean lines and polished wood, and there’s new art on the walls. He reads the spines on the stack of history books on the table while his host pours them each a glass of wine.

“Thanks” he takes the goblet, “I’m uh, I’m Duck by the way. It’s a nickname.”

“Joseph.” The other dragon sits across from him, “I take your...ex lived here?”

“Yeah” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “we end things a month ago but, uh, I was missin her and I, uh, I, I, fuck, nevermind.”

Joseph sniffs the air, “surprise heat?”

Duck nods, “I was kinda hopin for, uh, for a pity fuck or somethin. Fuck, that sounds pathetic.” He rests his head in his hands.

“There’s no shame in wanting intimacy.”

“Guess not. Uh, enough about me, how’d you end up here?” He prays Joseph takes the hint.

“I travel around studying humans, trying to bring a greater understanding of them to our kind. My hope is it’ll help keep the peace, since we’re less likely to fear or attack things we understand. Kepler might be the place I settle; the town is a great mixture of dragon and human cultures.”

“So you just...study everythin they do?”

“Right now I’m focusing on technology. Hence the, um, the scars.”

“Oh shit” the white zigzags and bursts that Duck assumed were simply markings are, in fact, scars, “what happened?”

“Mostly minor accidents, like you’d get cooking or gardening. This one” he gestures to the white on his cheek, “is embarrassing; I was so engrossed in my research I didn’t notice the experiment I was running was about to go haywire.”

“Ouch.” He hazards a joke, “hate to see what your hoard is like, probably, uh, shock me.”

Joseph smiles, “I don’t really have one, it’s a pain to move it every time.”

“Not even a little pile?” Duck raises a brow; there’s a magpie-ish quality to the other dragon that suggests there’s a collection hiding somewhere.

A faint dusting of gold on his cheeks, “I do have a, um, a small stack of books.”

“Can I see?”

“Of course. This way.” He leads them to the master bedroom. A wave of unwelcome nostalgia hits Duck as he enters, and he’s about to excuse himself back to the kitchen when a giggle climbs up his throat.

“A small stack, huh?”

Joseph settles on the cushions at the center of three towering bookcases, each crammed full, “I don’t have that many. I once met a wyvern who had whole hills of books. I like them like this so I can actually find things.”

“Hate to say it Joe, but this is an honest to gods hoard.” Duck kneels near him.

“Joe....huh, I like it when you call me that. Normally I hate it. And it’s a library, not a hoard.”

“If you say so. Uh huh, what’s this?” He crawls to where a pile of puzzles toys and games is hidden between the bookcases, “seems like the makings of another ho--oh hell yeah” he grabs a box, “Minotaurs Riddle, I fuckin love this game. Haven’t played it in years, lent mine to a trio of centaurs and never got it back.”

“Do you want to play a few rounds? I, um, I don’t have anything urgent tonight but if you have things to do-”

“Nah, got all my shit taken care of early in case...uh, well, you know.” Humiliation at his earlier desperation rears its head.

Joseph drags a low table over, “Then it sounds like we could both use a night off.”

Three hours and two bottles of wine later, they locked in a stalemate, Duck scanning his cards for a way to break it. He’s never had this intense an opponent before and it’s so fucking fun.

“I play the hero's spear BUT” he flips a card facedown, “on my own chariot, which opens up the way for my chimera to attack.”

Joe’s eyes flick between his hand and the board, pupils no more than slits as he concentrates. Then he sets his cards all facedown, “I don’t have a counter-move, so you win.” His grin is fairytale perfect, “that was great! And now I know your method of play so I can beat you next time.”

“You wish.” Duck doesn’t mean to growl as deeply as he does.

“It’s not a wish, it’s a promise.” Joe boxes up the game without ever taking his eyes off Duck.

“If you say so. But if you break it” he curls his tail around to stroke black scales, “think I oughta get a prize.”

Joe’s responding click-growl is unfamiliar, could be anything from agreement to “leave me the fuck alone.” He starts to retract his tail only for Joe to close his claws around it.

“I think you should get one for your win tonight, too. You did come here in a, um, a certain state.”

“Ain’t you the polite one.” Duck shoves the table aside and prowls across the pillows, “offerin that stylish tail up for meWHOAH, fuck.” He laughs as Joe, lightning quick, lunges forward and traps him on his back.

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you got here. Gods” he undoes the wrap at Duck’s waist with a hungry growl, “do you have any idea how hard it is to think strategically with all of this” he runs his palms up Duck’s chest, “on display. Once I’m done give your body the attention it deserves, then I’ll put my ass in the air for you.”

“You drive a hard bargain Joe, but I’ll take it.” He grins as the other dragon gropes his thighs.

“Good. Besides, this is a proven way of getting over heartbreak.”

“Think that theory might need a little more testin. So get down here and kiss me.”

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

“Interesting.” Joe taps the bottle with a claw as he studies the ship inside it, “you really don’t know how they do it?”

“No fuckin clue. I can build model ships outside bottles, but this? This is wild to me.”

“I wonder if we-” Joe raises his head, inhales, and breaks into a dazzling smile, “dinner’s here! You can come in Barclay, we’re in the sunroom.”

Footsteps on stone announce the cook, who Duck usually sees at Amnesty Lodge down in Kepler.

“Didn’t know y’all did delivery.”

Barclay sets a bag crammed with tins and bottles onto the table, “We don’t usually, but Joseph’s a special case.”

Duck spots the blush on his friend’s cheek, “Oh yeah?”

“He, uh, he lets me test new recipes on him?” Two pink patches bloom under Barclays' beard, “there’s a berry custard tart in there today.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Joe’s tail is subtly twitching, “do you want to stay a bit and eat?”

“I’d love to, but I gotta get back before the dinner rush.”

“Right, right, of course, oh, right, your tip” the dragon darts into his study, returns a moment later with a small purse of coins, “here you go, thank you so much it, I’ll be ready for our cooking lesson on Tuesday and, um, it’s always nice to see you.”

Barclay pockets the money, smiles softly, “you too, Joseph. Bye Duck, see you in town.”

Joe watches him go long after he’s out of sight. When he turns around with a sigh, Duck smirks.

“You got it bad, Joe.”

“I know.” He slumps down in a chair, “I think he feels the same way but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Coming out to a dragon’s lair and getting hit on, all while you’re at work? It would stress me out if I was human.”

“You pay him for those cooking lessons?”

“No. I, um, I guess I could ask him then but dragon/human relations are understudied outside of things like midnight weddings. I’m not even sure how something like sex would work, if it would work at all. The books I have on it are out of date and, honestly, most likely written by dragonborns who never had firsthand experience.”

Duck stands, circles the table to drape his arms over Joe’s shoulders and nose his neck, “You could still just ask. Learn what he likes instead of fussin over research.”

“You’re right. I’ll ask. Eventually. Maybe.”

He chuckles and nips a sensitive patch of scales, “It’s a start.”

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

Duck’s busy in the back garden when the chanting starts. It sounds enough like an angry mob that he draws the thicket of brambles across the door to be safe before heading for the second floor and the window to the front yard.

The crowd isn’t from Kepler, people there know he isn’t much for offerings or other forms of intervention into human affairs. He inherited his position from a true dragon who was once considered a forest and weather god. It took years for humans who came to understand that while he could help them identify what was killing their orchards or blighting their fields, he couldn’t summon rain or quash frosts.

Not only do the humans out front seem unaware of those facts, they’re constructing a convoluted, cobbled-together, ceremony. There are offerings of food, but the chants have something to do with slaking his deep hunger. Which is weird, because when you offer food to a dragon it’s meant as a gesture of kinship, not fear. The music doesn’t match either of those dynamics, the robes on the elders are white, which indicates surrender in war, and the incense they’re lighting is too heady; if he eats with it in the air, all he’ll taste is myrrh.

Wait, those are the bundles of incense humans used to burn during weddings. No one’s held a midnight wedding in decades. And holding one when it’s not yet sunset is really baffling. He’s about to write it off as yet more cultural miscommunication when two men drag a bound figure, all dressed in black, out from the crowd and drop it near the door.

“Fuck.” He tromps down the stairs, peers through the thicket for a closer look. The figure is a young man, dirtied silver hair tangled across his face and shattered red spectacles on his nose. His ankles and wrists are tied, and when he tries to scoot back from the cave entrance the crowd jeers. The man looks sluggishly between the crowd and the cave. Resigned, he crawls Duck’s way.

The dragon sets a hand on the thicket to will it away and tell everyone to get lost when he scents blood beneath the incense. Members of the crowd are getting agitated, suggesting they light a pyre to hurry the process along. That’s not even remotely how a midnight wedding works, and were Duck a certain other dragon he might tell them that. Instead, he makes a gap at the bottom of the thicket, grabs an enchanted rope from his work closet, and whips it through the opening. Two seconds later he has a cheering crowd outside his house and a petrified sacrifice inside it.

He kneels, undoing his rope and the bonds. The humans brown eyes lock onto his claws.

“Please. Please just make it quick.” His voice is raw, his pleas continuous, but he doesn’t pull back when Duck cups his chin and touches his forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burnin up. Your eyes a pretty glassy too, wonder if-”

“Drugged. To keep me from running or fighting. Not like they needed to. They, they did enough before that.” He hiccups and Duck smells exactly what plants they put into the mixture. They’re meant to make the human body more pliant. More receptive.

Fuckers.

“Okay” Duck keeps his voice soft, “here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna take you somewhere you can lie down and look you over. Once you’re patched up, you can rest.”

He nods as Duck scoops him into his arms, “Need my strength.”

“Yeah, but not for, uh, for what you think.” He nudges the light with his elbow, illuminating the rumpled green of his bed. When he sets the human down on it, he tucks his arms across his chest.

“Can you get your shirt off for me?”

The man reaches one skinny arm under his back, whaps it about, then shakes his head. Duck eases him upright, let’s him slump forward onto his shoulder why he undoes the eyehooks and buttons. The sight that awaits him is grim.

“Fuck, what’d they have against you?” He counts gashes from four different instruments intermingled with bruises in every color.

“Outsider. Came looking for work. Angered the wrong person.”

“They get you on your legs too?”

A weaks nod.

“I’m gonna have to slice the pants off; got a bad feelin I might re-open wounds if I try to pull ‘em free.” He runs a clawtip up the outside of one leg; the human grips him, afraid, though when he runs a thumb soothingly up a newly-bare spot, he sighs happily. Duck’s instinct is right; there are half-healed wounds now oozing blood thanks to the man being tossed about. He instructs the human to lay on his belly, fetches his bandages and disinfectant from the bathroom, and starts water for the tea that will clear the potion from his system.

When he starts on the wounds on his back the human whimpers, weakly clutching the blanket.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweet thing. Know it hurts, but you’ll feel better soon.” He runs the claws of his free hand through silver hair, undoing tangles as he goes. He is sweet; long legs and wiry arms, a face that’s odd but impossible to look away from. Duck wishes he were a worse dragon than he is; he could slip his threadbare underwear down and relieve the effects of the potion another way. Instead he patches and cleans, tips tea between parched lips, and finds one of his smaller robes to protect the skinny frame from falls oncoming chill. When he’s done, the young man is asleep. So he draws the blankets up and goes to sleep in the garden.

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

His body feels like it’s been through a wine press. No doubt a result of the dragon “marrying him.”

No, wait. He’d taken him to bed, run his claws tenderly through his hair, but then he’d tended his injuries and let him sleep unmolested. Indrid rubs his forehead, wishing his foresight hadn’t been so weakened by his weeks in jail; it would be nice to know if this is a sign the dragon is harmless or if he just prefers his food uninfected.

The bedroom door slides open and a scaly figure walks in, nose firmly in a book. It’s not the same dragon as yesterday; this one is sleek, with midnight scales and long, narrow horns. The one who tended him was bulkier, with scales like a forest viewed from above, dozens of greens and golds melding together. His horns were shorter, Indrid remembers because in his fevered state he wanted to rub them. They looked soothing to touch.

“Oh, good morning.” The dragon closes his book, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came in for some scale oil and I’ll be out of your hair.” He grabs a purple bottle from a shelf.

“Wait, please.” Indrid struggles to sit up, “can, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“We were sort of hoping you could enlighten us. From Duck’s description, your delivery was so garbled he couldn’t figure out what they wanted. Or, um, it was clear what they wanted done to you, but not why it should be or why they chose him.”

Indrid’s about to answer when a second voice drawls, “Joe, you better not be pesterin our guest with questions.”

The black dragon looks over his shoulder into the hall with a sly grin, “He asked me first.”

“Uh huh, a likely story.” The green dragon, Duck, steps into the room, pausing to kiss Joseph’s cheek. Oh gods, Indrid understands now; he wasn’t fucked or eaten yesterday because Duck was waiting to share him.

“Since you’re up we can--whoa, whoa what’s wrong?” Duck kneels by the bed as Indrid tries to scramble backwards.

Joseph sets his book and bottle down, “You still think you’re dinner, don’t you?”

“Wh-why shouldn’t I?” Indrid pulls the blanket up to shield himself.

“For starters, we don’t eat humans. And we sure as hells don’t fuck ‘em without them bein’ real eager. Even then, some of us stall.” Duck gives Joe a pointed look, “beyond that, someone dropped you here after torturin you. You need lookin after more than anything.”

“We should get these fixed too” Joseph picks up his shattered glasses, “I might have what we need in my workshop, or we could go into Kepler-”

“We’re near Kepler? Thank the gods.” Indrid slumps against the wall, “It was the last place I stopped before things went south. I should have just stayed there. Instead I got it into my head to keep travelling, find an enchanter to train under and got...well, you saw.”

Duck carefully sits on the bed, as far from Indrid as possible, “Yeah, I did. I promise, nothin like that’s ever gonna happen to you again.”

“And if you’re interested in learning magic, most dragons have some. I’d be happy to share what I know if you’re willing to assist in my research.”

“That means makin sure he don’t fall asleep too close to his experiments.”

Indrid has no idea what those experiments might be, but he decides he’s very willing to find out.

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

Voices echo from the back garden, so Barclay curves left instead of going to the front of Duck’s home. Joseph asked him to bring his next few meals here since he’s helping Duck with an “unexpected house guest.”

He’s anticipating another dragon, almost drops his cargo when he sees how wrong he is.

“Indrid?”

“Barclay! I, when Joseph mentioned we were getting dinner from town I hoped it was the Lodge but seeing you is better still.” The other man is in a thick sweater and is wearing one of Duck’s wraps as a makeshift skirt, “I’d get up to hug you but I’m a bit weak at the moment.”

“I got you.” He sets the bags down and leans in for an embrace.

“I’m glad you fellas know each other.”

Barclay remembers burying his fingers in fine, silver hair while Indrid kissed him and worked his clever fingers inside him, promising he’d make him feel wonderful. He did. Every time.

“Yeah.” He blushes, spots Joseph registering this information and--knowing him--storing it away for later.

He was already making frequent trips to see the dragons, but as weeks give way to months he finds that whenever he’s not working, his feet ache to wander up into the hills.

Tonight, he and Joseph made dinner for the four of them (Indrid’s taken up residence in Duck’s home, and the dragon seems deeply uninterested in making him move). The dragons are on dish duty, so he and Indrid wander back to the library where Joseph has lit a fire.

“You really ought to tell him how you feel.”

“Is it that obvious?” Barclay fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist.

“Very. Then again, I know what desire looks like on you.” Indrid bumps their shoulders together playfully.

“But he’s, uh, he’s got Duck. He wouldn’t want a human, no matter how much we like each other.”

Indrid wordlessly moves to the bookshelves, smile widening as he finds a tome bound in blue leather and brings it back to the rug, “I found this when I was fetching books for him the other day.”

“Holy fuck” Barclay stares at the drawings, faded and labeled with draconic runes but undeniably that of a dragonborn fucking the living hells out of a very happy knight.

“I believe it tells the story of a knight who agrees to take a fair maiden's place as an offering and ends up enjoying his new station in life. It’s clearly been read often, though the anatomy is off in places.” He indicates a drawing in which it’s obvious the human doesn’t have balls to go with his enormous cock.

Barclay wants to say something witty, but all he can think about is gripping Joseph’s horns while he twines his tongue around Barclay’s cock.

“Yes, it’s giving me ideas too.” In the firelight, Indrid’s uncovered, brown eyes are almost red.

“Yeah?” Barclay sets a hand on his knee, “I’m no dragon but, uh-”

Indrid leans in, kissing him gently, “While dragons have their appeal, you are what I want right now.”

Barclay lets himself be pulled to the ground and is suddenly very glad dinner required so many dishes.

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

“I didn’t realize you’d be taking notes while you did this.” Indrid smiles, amused, as Joseph scribbles something at the top of a fresh page. They’re heading down the hall in Duck’s home, Indrid having agreed to be the subject of a very exciting day of research.

“I’m not. Not, not that I’m uninterested but, um, since I need to be able to observe everything, Duck will be the one actually fucking you.”

Indrid stops dead, heart fluttering in his chest, “He...is he just doing this as a favor to you?”

Joseph smiles, shakes his head, and Indrid understands that he was reading all the times Duck looked him over with those green eyes correctly.

They reach the bedroom and step across the threshold wearing twin expressions of confusion; Duck forgoes nesting in favor of a bed, but the mattress, a dozen blankets, and every pillow in the house are now on the floor, the dragon busily arranging and rearranging them. Then he sniffs the air and turns, pinning Indrid to the spot with a toothy grin.

“Why the nest?” Joseph drags a chair across the floor and positions it between the pillows and the fireplace.

“Dunno, ever since you told me that today was the day, I’ve had the itch to build one. Gotta make sure you’re comfortable, sweet thing.” Duck holds out his hand and Indrid reaches for it.

“Not yet. Indrid, please undress so I can make some notes.”

“You’re killin me here Joe.” Duck growls as Indrid moves towards the chair, peeling off layers until he’s naked. Joseph scribbles some notes. Indrid would feel like a scientific specimen were it not for the way the pupils in those blue eyes dilate each time he looks at him.

“I just need some measurements.” He pulls a ruler from the pocket of the notebook and kneels down, gingerly taking Indrid’s cock in his palm.

“I, I should mention that is generally frowned upon when it’s just humans.” Indrid squirms as hot breath skates up the sensitive skin.

“Humans are touchy about size.” Duck adds, settling his claws on Indrid’s hips from behind. He’s good foot and a half taller than the human, which always makes Indrid feels safe in his embrace; those have been more frequent these last few weeks, Indrid using the cold weather as an excuse to cuddle with the living furnace whose home he shares.

“Hmmm, if they have less genital variation than dragons, I could see how size would become the point of competition.”

“Variation?”

“Dragons got all kinds of set-ups” Duck grinds against Indrid’s ass, “Joe and I happen to have the same kind, where we can lay in someone and get, uh, laid in if we want.”

“Laying?” Indrid squeaks, “I, I’m not opposed but I’m not prepared either.”

“Nah, won’t do none of that today.” Duck blows hot breath down the back of his neck, “if you want, we can try some other time. Can even let Joe take notes. And if he’s good” Duck rests his chin atop Indrid’s head and looks down, “I’ll even save some for him.”

Joseph’s head snaps up, eyes wide, and for an instant Indrid expects to be sandwiched between two dragons, which sounds deliciously warm. Then Joseph collects himself, “Yes. I’d, um, I’d like that. But for now, I need one more measurement” his tongue flicks the air near the head of Indrid’s cock, “may I?”

“Please. Ohhhhhhhyes” He moans as Joseph licks his shaft, “that’s lovely, so veryOHgods” he bucks his hips as Duck digs his claws into the meat of his thighs.

“That’s very helpful, Duck, he’s getting wonderfully hard.”

“I aim to please. Now hurry up before I start fuckin him here and fuck up your data.”

“Just a second..there, done. Duck, please kneel, Indrid do the same but keep facing me.”

“Yessir.” Duck pulls them both to the floor. Claws spread his ass open and the tip of one pokes the base of the plug he put in earlier, “heh, you let Joe help you with this?”

“N-no” Indrid cranes his neck back for a kiss.

“I didn’t want to overstep.” Joseph replies matter-of-factly.

Indrid runs his mouth along Duck’s jaw, “next time I’ll make him warm me up with his tongue before putting it in.”

A moan from the chair as Duck rumbles, “good thinkin, he’s fuckin incredible with his tongue. But you better let me watch.”

“Of course.”

Fabric shifts behind him and then Duck’s wrap falls to the floor. The plug joins it and then a solid, ridged cock is teasing his cheeks.

“You ready, sweet thing?”

“Yes.” Indrid pushes his ass back, whines when only the first half-inch is pushed in.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the whole thing. Just gotta go slow, don’t wanna hurt my mate.” Duck pauses, “huh, sorry, that just came out.”

“I don’t mind.” Indrid sets his hands on top of the dragon’s.

“Fascinating.” Joseph scribbles more notes.

“You like the idea of bein my mate?” The question is shy, Duck hiding his face in Indrid’s neck.

“So very much. You make me so happy, Duck, you take such good care of meEEEoh, oh I see.” He snickers as Duck thrusts shallowly and laps at his throat, “you like being a good mate, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah. Wanted to, to do this months ago, wanted, when they gave you to me I wanted to climb into bed with you, fuck you sweet and slow and tell you nothin was gonna hurt you now, that you were all mine, keep this cute little body safe under the covers. Under me.” He thrusts several inches at once and Indrid moans, bounces in his lap in search of more, Duck click-growling each time he pushes down.

“Please, please, I want it all, Duck, pleasepleaseAH, AHhnnnngods” he grabs Duck’s arms as they wrap around him, the dragon bottoming out with a groan.

“Holy shit.” Joseph stares at them, and Indrid follows his gaze down to his lower belly, where the outline of Duck’s cock is unmistakable.

“Oh I like that a great deal.” He whispers, biting his lip as the outline slowly moves.

“Me too. Fuck, fuckin love how small you are, you barely fit on my dick and you’re still beggin for it.”

“How could I not?” Indrid purrs, relaxing against Duck’s chest, “this is going to sound very silly, sweetheart, but please, please” he tips his head up to kiss Duck’s chin, “take me?”

A tender, deep purr, then “anythin’ you want, sugar.”

Indrid lets his mouth fall open, spilling moans across the floor as Duck fucks him with abandon. It’s so much, almost too much, but it’s all he wants, to be taken and cared for by the magnificent, loving creature behind him.

The stretch and drag of Duck inside him is so intense he barely registers his own orgasm, though he cums hard enough to splatter some on Joseph’s leg. Then he’s holding on and whimpering as Duck spills into him, hotter than a human and so plentiful it drips down his thighs before the dragon even pulls out.

“Got what you need?” Duck pants, still holding Indrid to him.

“Yes.” Joseph is purring, gaze drinking in the two of them.

“Good. C’mon, sweet thing, let’s do see how my nest holds up to me mating the fuck outta you.”

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

Duck said it was fine to use the glyph to come in without knocking, so that’s what Barclay does. He sets the cake he made in the kitchen, wanders down the hall in search of the others. They weren’t at Joseph’s, so odds are good they’re here. Muffled voices direct him towards the bedroom, but when he arrives his libido kicks all sensible thoughts from his mind.

There’s a giant mound of cushions on the floor, at the middle of which he can see Duck’s tail, the spines of his back and, occasionally, his head. Indrid’s feet and calves are just visible, so limp he’d worry he was asleep except for the little moans he knows quite well. And sitting by the fire, watching the scene with an obvious tent in his lap, is Joseph.

Two scales snouts snap up into the air. Duck notices him, whispers something to Indrid, who waves and then pulls the dragon back down. The same can not be said for Joseph, who is licking his lips like he’s just seen a gourmet meal.

Barclay smirks, moves to the chair but stays standing, stroking one horn as he does, “I’m not interrupting research, am I?”

“Um” Joseph’s cheeks go golden, “yes and no. I, I really was making notes at first but for the last hour it’s been, um, hard to focus.”

“Wonder why. Wait, holy fuck, they’ve been doing this for an hour?”

“One hour and twenty-four minutes.”

“Knew Indrid had stamina but that’s impressive. Uh” he trails a finger up Joseph’s leg, scales as smooth as he’d hoped, “how long have you been dealing with this?”

“Most of that time.” Joseph’s breath catches charmingly as Barclay straddles him.

“Babe” he kisses the warm column of his neck, stopping to pay special attention to each scar, “I know you’re dedicated to your work, but I’m pretty sure they’d let you join them.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

“My polite dragon” Barclay nuzzles his cheek, “you still deserve to be taken care of, you know that, right?”

Joseph nods, tips his head to the side so Barclay can nibble his throat while undoing his wrap. What he finds is spectacular; a pointed cock with circular ridges and, beneath it, a slit just begging for his tongue to tease it. But since he’s not done kissing him yet, he adjusts his balance so he can close one around the shaft and slide the fingers of the other into the slit.

The dragon makes a series of hurried clicks and growls, throwing his arms around him and kissing his face, “Barclay, you, you’re so wonderful, I never thought you’d want this, ohgoodgods.”

“I do, babe. I wanna know what my whip-smart, handsome dragon likes, wanna make you come apart” He squeezes lightly and Joseph growls.

“I did not wait this long to cum on you while you’re clothed.” Clawed hands grip his ass as Joseph stands and carries him to the nest on the floor, dropping him into it with uncharacteristic carelessness. Which he then remedies by methodically removing Barclays clothes and folding them into a pile.

“Mmmm, hello dearest.” Indrid turns his head to kiss him as Joseph rolls him to face the other two.

“Hey. Gotta say, you look really good like this.”

“Damn right he does.” Duck’s hips stutter and Indrid squirms happily, “heh, shoulda known Joe would pick that for you. He’s got a thing for thick thighs.”

“Huh? OH! Ohfuckyeah.” He moans as Joseph manhandles him to thrust his cock between his thighs. Teeth nip his neck as golden pre-cum streaks his skin. The scales of his cock rub wonderfully on the base of Barclays own, and soon he’s so hard he’s ready to promise Joseph anything he wants for the chance to cum.

Cool, human fingers encircle his shaft. Indrid grins, “I may not be able to move much, but Joseph seems to be more than capable of getting you to fuck my fist.”

Barclay dips his head forward with a groan to kiss his shoulder.

“You don’t gotta worry about movin’” Duck grunts, tongue darting out to Indrid’s cheek, “all you gotta do is lay here and take my cum like a good little mate whenever I say.”

“Yes, yes, oh goodness Duck please, take me, use meAHnnnnn” a whimper “so much.”

“Shhh, s’okay sweet thing, I’m almost done.”

Joseph purrs in his ear, “cum for me, big guy, cum for me while I coat your thighs and, gods, and Duck breeds your boyfriend into next week.”

“Fuuuuck.” Barclay spills helplessly into Indrid’s hand, holds tight to his shoulder and Joseph’s right arm as the dragon cums between his legs. There’s a muffled curse and an “eep” from beside him, then Duck rolls off Indrid and begins licking the humans cum from his stomach.

“I, I think you built a very sturdy nest.” Joseph curls his body around Barclay and drapes his tail over Indrid’s legs to brush Duck’s.

“Thanks, handsome.”

“I also think living with Indrid for months has made your mind assign him the position of partner, hence the nesting.”

“Makes sense.” Indrid murmurs.

“And--oh” Joseph sighs as Barclay kisses him.

“Promise you can share more theories later, babe. Right now, how about napping with your boyfriends?”

Joseph purrs deeper as they all cuddle closer, “I like the sound of that.”

[thevioletjones]

I’d love to see you tackle 5 or 44! Congrats on the Kudos!

Thank you! 5 was included previously, so just 44. 🙂 This one is explicit, FYI.

Prompt 5: “I still remember the way you taste.”

Cell Date

Getting smart about how he acted behind bars was really starting to pay off for Mickey. Not only was he staying out of trouble so that he’d have a chance of making early parole, he was also forging advantageous relationships, mostly with the guards and the old-timers that liked to do good deeds like helping other inmates get an education or decent legal representation.

Little things like that, plus abstaining from shanking for pay or cold-cocking bitches who got mouthy, were making this Mickey’s most pleasant and drama-free stint in prison since his unceremonious induction into juvie ten years previous.

Along with his cooperation and best behavior came some quality perks: first pick of audiobooks from the dude he helped in the library; extra jello, pudding, and french fries from that dude’s kitchen husband; extended yard and gym time when the guard he had people doing favors for on the outside was on duty; and the holy grail, his very own recently acquired smartphone, which he could keep with him in his cell whenever the right people were working, and otherwise stow with a friend when sweep checks were imminent. All he had to do to get safekeeping was provide phone privilege favors. Gave him an extra source of income too, when he sold video call time to inmates on the side.

Tonight, though, he was finally gonna have the damn cell to himself all night long. His bunkmate had just been released, no one else had been assigned to his bed yet, and the overnight guard was a friendly. That meant that at long last, he’d be able to have some kind of sexual escapade with his boyfriend for the first time since he’d gotten locked up nine months ago. As a bonus, they could maybe stay up shooting the shit too. But really, Mickey was horny as hell, and he imagined that Ian was too.

They had a kind of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy when it came to banging other people while they were apart, but as a rule, they weren’t allowed to do it more than once a month, or with the same guy twice, blowjobs included. That meant a lot of lonely masturbation sessions on both sides of the prison walls.

It was cruel that the only relief they could get from each other was by proxy of their own hands anyway, but at least now they’d be able to watch each other and egg each other on. It wasn’t the most ideal situation ever, but it was way better than having to stick to innocuous topics on the prison landlines that ran out at the ten minute mark.

This was going to be a treat.

He waited ’til 30 minutes past lights out just to be sure the coast was clear, counting down the minutes like a fucking schoolgirl waiting to make an illicit phone call after her parents fell asleep. As soon as the digital display hit 9:30, he was eagerly punching in the memorized number, smirking as he selected the video option.

He actually felt nervous as it rang, irrationally worried that Ian would be indisposed despite their agreed upon time and date. It took almost four whole rings before the display lit up, and a buffering vision of Ian appeared.

Mickey’s smile couldn’t help but mirror the cheerful redhead’s, and it only widened when he heard his deep, familiar voice.

“Hey, Mick.”

“Gallagher,” he replied softly and full of affection.

“I can barely see you,” Ian said with a chuckle. “That's not really fair.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot. Hang on.”

He’d managed to get his hands on a clip-on reading light through the library contraband network, so it would have to do. He dug it out from the hole in his thin-ass mattress pad and clipped it to the bar of the lower bunk, angling it toward his face and flipping it on. It wasn’t exactly super-bright, but it was good enough.

“Happy now? This is the best I could do on the after-hours lighting.”

“Yeah, I am. You look good.”

“Shut the fuck up. You look way better. Like a free man.”

Ian ran a hand through his hair, and Mickey wished it were his hand. “It is a nifty advantage, but it’d be a lot better if you were next to me.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m getting the rawer deal here.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Ian challenged with a raised brow.

Mickey licked his lips, humming. “Didn’t realize the purpose of this call was to get on my ass about gettin’ locked up. Thought we already did that fun routine.”

Ian sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss you.”

“I’m doin’ what I can, gingerbread. Might get lucky in the next few months. Been playin’ the game all nice like. No demerits on my scorecard.”

“I appreciate that. You know I’ll be waiting.”

“Mm.”

“So… what’s new?”

Mickey laughed. “You want me to recount the thrilling tales of the jailbird jerk-offs? How would that be interesting or entertaining?”

“I’m pretty sure you witness more random acts of weirdness than I do everyday. You want me to talk about my job and coworkers, or my niece and nephew? I’m sure you’re dying to know on all counts.”

“Yeah, you got me figured out, Gallagher. That’s exactly why I wanted this dimly lit video call with your pale ass.”

Ian snickered. “Is this the part where we jump straight to the sex?”

Mickey shrugged and scratched his balls. “I mean, if we were in person without that fuckin’ glass between us, we woulda already been bangin’ by now.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“So?”

“What?”

“Show me your dick.”

Ian snorted, and it was nice to see him laugh unrestrainedly. They usually didn’t do too much laughing during his visits.

“It’s not hard yet.”

“Well, what the fuck you waitin’ for? Shoulda started before I called.”

“God, Mick, you really know how to romance a guy on his first date in nearly a year.”

“If this is a date, you got a really low bar, man.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“‘Ey! Fuck you.”

Ian laughed again and it made Mickey smile wide. He was gonna get addicted to these phone interludes, he could tell.

“Which reminds me… I expect you to take me out a few times when you get sprung, Milkovich. Restaurants, clubs, movies, the works.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Exactly how many acts of penance are on your little atonement list?”

“As many as I want. You got a problem with that?”

“You know I didn’t get locked up on purpose, right? Cuz I think you maybe don’t know that.”

“I think that I want you to stop putting yourself in situations where one of the possible outcomes is getting locked up. Cuz then we’re forced to resort to one sad long-distance video wank every nine months, which kinda fuckin’ blows, and not in the good way.”

“First of all, as long as I don’t get this shit confiscated by one of the asshole guards, we can keep doin’ this pretty regularly. Secondly, we haven’t even gotten to the wank part yet, so don’t call it sad. Also, is sex all that matters to you?”

“Says the guy who just told me to shut up and get my dick out.”

“Like you said, it’s been a long time.”

“And I’ve already told you that I miss you and want you beside me. I thought you wanted your dick stroked, not your ego.”

“Good one,” said Mickey, reaching down to fondle himself. “So how we gonna do this?”

“The only way we can, I guess.”

“Fine. Do I get to ask you to start touching yourself now?”

Ian giggled. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get it over with.”

“What kind of attitude is that? Get the hell on board or this ain’t gonna work.”

“Calm down and get your cock hard, convict boy.”

Mickey didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers, rubbing and squeezing gently.

“You gonna give me somethin’ to look at or what?”

“Gimme a minute, fool. It’s not gonna be very pretty in its current state.”

They both went non-verbal for a while as their arms started working, the only sounds being stray gasps, rustling noises, and slick skin against skin.

“‘Kay,” urged Mickey, “lemme see it.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Fine, just flip the camera.”

Mickey pressed around and activated the rear camera with flash, licking his lips when the screen filled with Ian’s lower half, hand jerking his big dick in that perfect rhythm he remembered so well. It forced out a moan before he could catch himself.

“Mick,” Ian whispered, and he suddenly missed the feel of his boyfriend’s breath blowing hot against his skin as they fucked. And that just reminded him of the way he’d nip and lick at Mickey’s neck, or pinch his nipples at just the right time.

“Ian,” he groaned, his strokes getting faster and more deliberate now that he was fully hard. “Miss you.”

And that was definitely the lamest shit to say when you were supposed to be talking dirty for the purposes of video sex, but it’s what came out of his mouth on account of all the memories surfacing, coupled with the regret of not being able to put his hands on Ian or have Ian’s hands put on him.

Mickey had never wanted to suck a dick so badly in his entire life, simply because he was being denied the opportunity. He’d almost forgotten how delicious Ian’s cock really was. It could wreck him all night long, or Mickey could worship it a little on his hands and knees when the urge overcame him. He wanted it in him one way or the other. Keeping him away from it was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Wanna fuck you, Mick.” Ian was still using this soft, breathy voice that was making him crazy. “Wanna see your ass.”

Mickey’s hand faltered for a moment as he snickered. “How the fuck am I supposed to get you that camera angle right now, genius?”

“You really didn’t think this through enough first,” chided Ian.

“Suck my dick, Gallagher.”

“Mmm, I’d love to get my mouth on you right now. I still remember the way you taste.”

“Oh, shit.”

Mickey’s jerks got tighter with that fantasy egging him on, and silkier with the ease of the pre-cum oozing from his slit.

“You got something to stick up your ass?”

Mickey whined. “Fuckin’ wish. Don’t exactly got a dildo permit, and that’s the kinda contraband no one tries to smuggle or sell.”

“A finger or two will do, right?” asked Ian, pausing for a moment to squirt some lube into his hand.

“‘Ey! What the fuck? No fair! You want me to try and prop this thing somewhere so you can watch me finger myself without lube, and you’re gonna casually use some to jack off with right in front of me? Read the room, fuckhead.”

Ian chuckled. “Sorry, Mick. What happened to the mayo packets?”

Mickey grimaced, regretting ever having told Ian about sometimes using that condiment as lube when he wanted to spice up a solo sesh. “Shut the fuck up and just help me get a damn orgasm.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know! What am I, the video sex expert?”

“You’re not a sexpert?”

“Now is not the time for your lame jokes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve never done this before either, jackass. I already made my request and you’re ignoring it. You do that for me, I’ll do something for you.”

“Fine, but if I do this for you, I won’t be able to see shit while it’s happenin’, so you have to fuckin’ wait to blow your load, or I’ll never do this with you again.”

“So is that your request? To see me blow my load?”

“Bitch, do I need to explain how porn works to you? You know how at the end of the video, you get to see everybody come? Jizz flyin’ everywhere?”

“Oh, believe me, next time we’re actually together in bed, I will cover you in jizz from head to toe.”

“That’s a lofty goal. Could take a while.”

“I’m willing to put in the hours. Now… get to it.”

Mickey sighed and let his cock fall out of his grip, glancing around to try and figure out how he could set the camera up in a decent place to where it would actually get what Ian wanted in frame.

“You’re gonna have to tell me if I need to adjust it, but I don’t have a lot of options, so just tell me when it’s good enough. Don’t need to get all Scorcese with the precision.”

It took a couple of minutes to figure out something that worked, his erection flagging to half-mast as he concentrated on the task Ian had given him. He was pretty sure that Ian should be the one going out of his way to give Mickey a nice show, but he figured if he let Ian have one first, he could make requests for their next long-distance fuck date.

Once Ian said it was good, Mickey kneeled and sat on his haunches, body remaining upright. He could only imagine what his asshole looked like through that badly lit phone camera, but whatever. At least he didn’t have to look at it. Ian could go crazy for it if he wanted to, and apparently he was if the renewed moaning was any indication.

“Get it wet,” Ian directed.

Mickey licked his palm and gave his cock a few tugs to get it back into the game, then spit in his hand and did what he could to work it around his hole. He was crouched with the damn top bunk rubbing against his bent head, with no view other than stiff white sheets and his own thighs and dick.

Yes, Ian was going to owe him a nice fucking show for this crap.

“Well?” the cocky little prick demanded. “Play with it.”

“Hold your damn horses, I ain’t a cam boy,” retorted Mickey.

With a deep sigh, he emptied his mind of the discomfort of his position and the embarrassment of his actions, and just went for it, wetting his finger with his mouth, then shoving it in as far as he could get it on initial entry. It wasn’t very far, but he wiggled and shimmied it as he slid it in and out, until eventually it was in as far as it could go from the angle he was in. He could faintly hear Ian going to town on himself, and he once again longed to be the one doing it to him. Pressing his ass back onto Ian’s cock instead of his own measly finger. Getting Ian’s big hand around his own dick while he did it.

As it were, he had to use his left hand to get some action on his dick, and as soon as he got back into the swing of things on that score, he set about trying to hit his prostate with his right hand.

“Add another one,” rasped Ian.

“You’re gettin’ real mouthy, ain’t you,” Mickey complained, wetting his hand again before sliding in two fingers to the knuckles.

“Oh, sorry, am I supposed to just remain quiet during this phone sex?”

“Stop sassin' me while I try to hit the spot. Some of us don’t got long-ass E.T. fingers.”

Ian chortled. “Jesus, Mick. Can you not bring my favorite childhood movie into this? Plus, you don’t need to go that deep. Just flip your hand over and crook your fingers. You’ll find it.”

“You think you know my ass better than I do?”

“Probably.”

Mickey did as suggested, even though it was the weirdest combination of body angles. It didn’t do anything at first, then all of a sudden, “Oh.”

Both hands got fast and furious as he felt that familiar tingly throb building up inside. He let himself get lost in it for a few minutes, then came to just enough to realize that he wanted a visual of Ian to orgasm to. It’s what he'd been looking forward to all week.

All at once, he stopped, flipping onto his back and grabbing the phone. All he could see on screen now was the damn ceiling, which was annoying, but also hilarious, since it meant that Ian was probably holding the stupid phone a few inches from his stupid face.

“Why’d you stop?” asked Ian breathily.

“Cuz I wanna see you, numbnuts. As fascinating as your ceiling is, it'd be great if you got the main attraction back onscreen. Please and thank you.”

Ian tittered and angled the camera back down, pushing it past his sternum. “‘Kay, where’s yours?”

Mickey pointed his phone back toward his crotch, eyes extremely focused on Ian’s impossibly hard red dick and large pale hand, sighing when he touched himself again. He needed a finger or two back in his ass, though. He always came harder with something up his ass, and it reminded him more of Ian too.

But there was no way to film himself and still get a view of Ian, plus use both hands to get himself off. He had to choose one type of orgasm to have, and since he wasn’t entirely sure he could pop from anal only, he stuck with the jerking off.

Maybe Ian was right. He hadn’t thought this through enough. But he knew exactly what his daydreams would be scheming up until their next interlude.

“You gonna come all over yourself like I asked?” said Mickey.

“Just a sec,” Ian replied with a grunt.

Mickey’s hand synced up with Ian’s, flying up and down his length on the phone screen. “Wanna see it on your stomach and in your pubes.”

Ian’s moans and groans got louder and closer together, building Mickey’s excitement up to the edge.

And then of course his gay-ass boyfriend had to go and say some gay-ass shit like, “I love you!”

And then he was shooting jizz out the tip of his dick, letting it get everywhere.

And the effect was the same as a quality porno scene in that it made Mickey come too, eyes squinting shut as the sensations overwhelmed him. He wanted to throw the phone across the room, but he somehow managed to keep it resting against his chest and filming everything.

As soon as the last of it gushed out, he did let the phone drop next to him for a short time, and Ian must’ve been recovering too, because he didn’t hear any complaints. He reached for the toilet paper roll and wiped himself down as best he could, not bothering to put his shorts back on when he was done.

He flipped onto his stomach, picked up the phone and went back to the front camera, leaning it up against the wall as he burrowed a pillow under his chin.

“That was halfway decent, Gallagher.” He grinned in relaxed satisfaction.

Ian flipped his camera back too, lying on his side, and propping the phone up against what was probably the empty pillow next to him that Mickey should be on.

“You’ll get the real thing soon enough,” Ian replied with a sleepy smile.

“Fuckin’ hope so…” he trailed off in thought. “Sorry I can’t be there. It is my fault.”

“Nah, just forget about all that, okay? All we can do now is get through the time that’s left. But if you think I’m not gonna ride your ass the non-sexy way when you get out, you’re dead wrong. Not gonna let this shit happen again.”

“You want me workin’ some minimum wage bullshit legit job?”

“Yep. We know how to be poor, Mick. Tired of getting the shitty end of all the risk.”

“Your pillow talk could use some work, Red.”

“I know. Thanks for showing me your asshole earlier.”

Mickey laughed. “No sweat. Well, probly some sweat.”

Ian snorted and shook his head. “Shut up. I’m glad we get to do this. It’s nice being with you at bedtime.”

“Be nicer if it included your dick in my ass, but I guess it’s alright.”

“Want me to tell you about the boring shit now?”

“Might as well.”

“As long as you don’t fall asleep before you tell me you love me, bitch.”

Mickey frowned. “Normal people don’t shout that shit as they’re coming, you freak.”

“I don’t care when you say it, just fit it in.”

It wasn’t really something they could comfortably say to one another on their regular taped prison calls and visits. It was better for Mickey's orientation not to be common knowledge to the wrong people around the joint.

“I love you, you silly bastard, now tell me about your dumbass day.”

Ian smiled brightly. “Franny did the cutest shit…”

Mickey half-listened, content to be in the distant presence of Ian’s face, voice, and manner; imagining a day soon to come when they would be reunited for good in the great wide open.

[atc74]

Out of This World

Warnings: Cas dream walking Dean’s dreams...again, pining, mentions of group sex, Destiel, M/M, anal fingering, voyeurism, M/M sex, M/F sex...there is a lot of sex

Summary: Dean experiences something in a dream he never considered, not in real life anyway. Then an angel changed all that. 

Pairing: Destiel

Word Count: 1710

A/N: The fifth *and yes, final) installment of A Whole New World, in which there a lot, like an obscene amount of sex, of all kinds. Unbeta’d, all mistakes, and limb placement, are my own. 

After another two rounds and more orgasms in a single day than he can remember, Dean fell into the other bed. Sam, Y/N, and Cas were sprawled in the other bed, sleeping soundly. He replayed the conversation with Y/N over in his mind, wondering if Cas really felt that way about him. Dean always knew he was curious about men, but had never taken it further than porn,  fantasies, and his own self-exploration. But now, as he tried to fall asleep, his best friend, the angel, was all he could think about. 

He let his mind drift where it desired as sleep took over. The last image he saw was bright blue eyes in the darkness. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas appeared suddenly before him, startling Dean. He bolted upright, unsteady, and tumbled to the earth. He looked up, and the first thing Dean noticed was Cas’s eyes, bright and shining in the midday sun, mimicking the sky above them. He looked around, taking in their surroundings. Soft sand between his toes and waves crashing in the distance. 

“Where are we?” Dean asked, brushing the sand from his body as he stood and adjusting his sunglasses. 

“You tell me, Dean. We’re in your dream,” Cas smiled, his eyes squinting in the brightness. 

Looking for anything familiar, Dean turned, but the beach was vast, open, and empty, save Cas, himself, and his trusty green cooler. He bent down, flipped the lid open, and smiled. “Yahtzee!” Dean pulled two beers from inside, twisting the tops off and passing one to the angel. 

“I don’t know where we are, Cas. But this ain’t bad. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything but nightmares, I’ll take a deserted beach,” Dean smiled. 

Cas sipped the cold beer and admired the form of this human. They had just spent hours naked and taking turns fucking Y/N to the point of delirium, but seeing Dean relaxed and bronzed in the sun, wearing nothing but a pair of swim shorts, was possibly even more enticing. 

Two chairs materialized and they settled into them. “Ahhh.” Dean sighed, sinking further into the canvas, his eyes closed as he sipped from the beer. His thoughts rambled in his head, thinking about what he wanted to say to Cas if anything. 

“We’re friends, right, Dean?” Cas broke the silence and Dean’s train of thought with his gravelly baritone. 

“Best friends, Cas.” 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I know that.” Dean scoffed as if he wasn’t aware. There are things he’d told Cas that he had never even told his brother. 

“Okay.” Cas settled back in his chair as well, mirroring Dean. 

“Damn, is it hot out here!” Dean no sooner opened his mouth than a wide umbrella appeared above them, shading them from the scorching rays. “Ahhhh, that’s more like it.” 

“You know what else is hot?” Cas asked, sitting up and locking his eyes on Dean’s chest, smooth and glistening with a layer of sweat, scarred from years of hunting, but no less attractive to the angel. 

“What’s that, buddy?” Dean asked casually, as if this was really just a day at the beach, just a beer between friends. 

“The afternoon we spent with Y/N and your brother,” Cas answered openly as he tended to do. 

“Yeah, that was pretty spectacular,” Dean smiled fondly, looking over at the angel. 

“You were pretty spectacular, Dean. I learned and experienced many things today,” he contemplated. 

“I heard you got to experience both Y/N and Sammy, in her body, and your own. So tell me, what was your favorite part?” Dean looked expectantly at Cas. 

“I think my favorite part is the one thing I’ve yet to experience today, and that is you,” he admitted. 

“Me? What - what, uh, what exactly does that mean Cas?” Dean gulped, wishing and hoping for one thing, but also apprehensive of the same. 

“I noticed you bend at Sam’s command today, and I was wondering, well, hoping really, if you would do the same for me,” Cas elaborated. 

“Cas, you’re the only angel I’ll ever say yes to,” Dean answered truthfully, his gaze flicking between the angel’s mouth and lips. He leaned forward and closed his eyes as their lips grew nearer. 

~*~

Gasping, Dean bolted upright in the spare bed, still naked, fully erect, and no longer alone. 

“Good, you’re awake. It wouldn’t have felt right if you weren’t,” the deep voice next to him murmured. Cas’s hand cupped Dean’s jaw as he pressed his full lips to the hunter’s. 

Dean’s body was hyper-alert as he returned the kiss, moaning into the angel’s mouth. He didn’t know Cas could kiss like this, but it made his toes curl, and his cock twitch. Dean leaned into Cas, tilting his head and allowing the angel to deepen it, their tongues tangling as he let Cas explore his mouth. Breathing heavily through his nose, he wrapped his arms around the firm body next to him, pulling him in closer, their cocks grazing each other. 

“Cas,” Dean panted, breaking the kiss. “I’ve wanted this, you, for so long. I was just too scared to admit it, and what it might mean.” 

“Dean, I’ve been yours all along, I just needed you to be ready. You’re mine. It was cemented when I raised you from perdition,” Cas declared, placing his right hand on Dean’s left shoulder, just like he did so many years ago. 

“I’m yours, Cas,” Dean whispered. 

“I know.” Cas reached for the lube, squirting a large amount in his hand, and placed it between Dean’s cheeks. 

The coolness of the lubricant on his heated skin caused a hiss to escape his swollen lips but quickly turned into a moan as Cas spread the slickness over his hole, a finger slipping inside. “Oh fuck, Cas, shit.” Dean had never been with a man like this, but he knew how to pleasure himself. This was not like that. This was so much more than Dean could ever have anticipated. 

His body was humming and they had barely started. His cock, leaking precum, bobbed with every movement of Cas’ finger. Dean spread his legs even further, lifting his head, watching the angel open him up. Cas added a second finger and Dean’s vision blurred. 

“I’m going to take good care of you, Dean,” Cas whispered sweet nothings, licking the outer shell of his ear as he pumped two fingers into the hunter. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 

“You learn how to talk like that from Y/N and Sammy?” Dean gasped, Cas grazing his prostate. 

“I told you I learned many things today. Do you like it?” Cas asked, adding yet another finger. “Are you going to be good for me Dean?” 

“Yes, I love it, Cas. I’ll be good, so good for you,” Dean panted, his eyes slamming shut at the onslaught of pleasure the angel was bringing him. A warmth spread across his nipples, tingling. “Ohhhh, yes!” 

“Shh, Dean. We don’t want to wake Y/N and your brother,” the angel reminded him. “Or do you?”

“No, I’ll be quiet. Please, Cas. I need you to fuck me already.” 

“So needy for me already.” Cas withdrew his fingers and added more lube to his hand, slicking up his cock before lining up with Dean’s stretched out hole. “Keep your eyes on me, Dean. I want you to see everything.” 

Dean nodded, unable to speak as Cas breached his entrance. He fought to keep his eyes open, keeping contact with the cobalt orbs as they stared into his, Cas pushing further into his body until he was fully sheathed inside his heat. He had never experienced anything like this before. It was too much, yet not enough. No toy he owned, no matter how fat or long, could ever make him feel like this. Only his angel could make him feel this way. 

“Cas,” the name fell from Dean’s lips over and over, like a prayer. 

“Come for me, Dean.” 

Unable to hold back, unable to disobey, Dean’s body flooded with pleasure, his white seed coating his chest and stomach, as Cas continued to pound into the hunter. Each thrust causing the hunters cock to expel another load. “Fuck! Cas!” 

The primal scream erupted from Dean’s lips woke the occupants of the other bed. Y/N and Sam were now wide-eyed, watching Dean take everything Cas had to give him, alighting their own arousal. After what had already transpired in the room between the four of them earlier, neither hesitated as Sam moved her body where they had the best view, entering her from behind. 

Cas took his time and his movements were fluid as he thrust into the hunter, who responded willingly, his legs wrapped around the angel’s narrow hips. “Dean, I’m close. I want you to come with me.” 

“Yes, fuck! Cas, yes!” 

“Oh shit, baby, I’m gonna come.” Sam gasped, pumping faster into Y/N’s slick pussy. 

“Come now!” Cas commanded, a sly smile on his face, and the room erupted in screams of pleasure as each of it’s four occupants reached their climax as ordered. 

“Holy fuck, what the hell was that?” Dean groaned, melting bonelessly into the mattress. 

“I used my grace,” Cas explained, pulling Dean’s spent body closer to him. 

“On all of us?” Sam questioned.

“Yes, you did angel,” Y/N cooed from the other bed. 

“Fuck, that was awesome.” Sam concurred.

“We are so doing that again,” Dean yawned. 

“I would not be opposed,” Cas replied. 

“So, Dean, how was it?” Y/N grinned wickedly, watching her two best friends. 

“Out of this world. Like, probably the best sex I’ve ever had, Y/N. No offense,” Dean confessed. 

“None taken, baby. Now get some sleep.” Y/N yawned, rolling back into Sam’s side. 

“An out of this world experience? The best sex you’ve ever had, huh?” Cas asked smugly. 

“Yeah, Cas. It has definitely been a day of firsts,” Dean smiled sleepily, drifting off in the angel’s arms. 

“And many more. Rest well, Dean. You’re going to need it.” Cas pressed a kiss to the sleeping hunter’s lips. In his millennia, Cas had never felt so much. It truly was an out of this world feeling. 

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cover art by me, pic credits to @irensupernatural (via deviantart.com)

[kyber-kisses]

Southern Nights (4/4)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: it’s a little angsty, very slight canon divergence and spoilers for s12. its a bittersweet ending.

Summary: After a situation with the BMoL, Dean finds himself running towards the person he fears for the most besides his brother. But even when he finds her safe and alive, he can see that something isnt right.

A/n: final part is finally here, folks! I hope you all enjoy and pretty please tell me what you thought!

Part 1       Part 2        Part 3

You were a difficult person to keep at arms length to say the least. Because no matter how hard Dean tried, he gravitated back to you, just as you did him. You had fallen asleep hours ago, but the older Winchester drifted in and out of consciousness like the tide. At some point in the night you had found your way back to Dean, cuddling up close to him despite the still warm temperature. He should have rolled away, not given in to the temptation of you being so close, but he couldn't help it. In the darkness your cuddles were like a little touch of heaven. He wished he could extend the night just so he could stay close to you longer, safe in your embrace. Your arms wrapped around him brought a peace he had never known before. Sometimes Dean thinks its you that gives him hope for the future. That there is nothing to fear, and monsters no longer exist.

He eventually drifted off to sleep like so many times before. . .it doesn't last long though.

The neon numbers on your bedside clock read 4:23 AM when Dean suddenly felt a firm hand shake him awake, the hunter letting out a groan as he attempted to snuggle closer to you.

“Dean?”

Another groan.

“Dean.”

“What, Sam? It’s four thirty in the morning.” Dean grumbled, trying desperately to fall back asleep.

“I know we planned on leaving after breakfast but we gotta go now.”

That got Dean to pick his head off the pillow and wriggle his arm out from underneath you. “What?”

“Jody just called. She found Mom-“

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dean slowly sat up, checking to make sure you were still asleep. “So what? Can’t that wait a few hours?”

Sam let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She attacked Jody. Tried to kill her.”

“WHat?!”

“Shh! And yes. It might be some kind of mind control- I don’t know. But we gotta hit the road.”

“Shit. Shit okay, yeah.” Throwing back the covers, Dean was out of bed in   seconds, moving out of the room to throw his belongings back into his bag.

The two worked as silently as possible, trying not to wake you from your sleep. That type of early morning sneakiness where the sounds of everything else somehow felt amplified, like the floorboards creaking or the kitchen appliances whirring. They kept as little lights on as they could, even when beginning to load up the car.

It was only when he was grabbing the last bag and flicking off the lights,  did  Dean stop in front of the doorway to your bedroom. The moonlight slipping through the open window to illuminate your sleeping figure.

There was a whispered shout from Sam at the front door, urging him to keep moving.

“Dean-“

“Just-   just give me one second.” Dropping his bag back onto the couch, Dean  made his way back into the room. He knew you would be pissed beyond belief if he left without saying goodbye. It didn't help that he didn't even want to leave in the first place, but there were people that needed saving and monsters that needed killing. Leaving you was never easy.

Sinking down softly onto the edge of the bed, Dean gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Y/N, Y/N I need you to wake up for a second.”

It took a moment but eventually you let out a soft hum.

“Sammy and I got to go. Something happened at Jody's with mom and we can’t stick around.”

Groggy with sleep, you slowly blinked awake, propping yourself up on one elbow. “What?”

“I don’t know the specifics, but I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

“Do you need me to come with?”

“No. No you stay here. You deserve a break. Rest.”

“But Dean-“

Dean only shook his head, pushing away the loose hairs around your face. “I’m gonna call you as often as I can. I don’t know when Sam and I will be able to come back down here again-“

“That’s okay. Go save your mom.” You nodded, sitting up further. “I’ll be fine here.”

“That’s another thing. If those British bastards show up-“

“Dean, if they haven’t found me now- they ain’t finding me ever.”

The moonlight cast sharp shadows across the Winchesters face as he nodded, contemplating whether or not to say one last thing.

“I should- I should probably go.”

“Here-“ already throwing back the covers you began to get up. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No,no that’s okay.” He assured you, rising from the bed. “You go back to sleep.”

“Dean-“

“I’ll call you when we cross the border. I’ll talk to you soon.” Giving you one last kiss on the cheek, Dean rose left the room, leaving you with a bundle of emotions in your chest.

Before this you hadn’t talked or seen Dean and weeks. . . And now his sudden trip here had been cut short and you didn’t know how to feel. It sort of felt like you were being taunted with a piece of meat. Now he was leaving and you had no idea when the two of you would see each other again.

You sat in silence up until your heard the front door close shut lightly and then like a switch being flicked you threw off your covers and quickly bolted through the house. No. You weren’t gonna let him leave that easily. Not without a proper goodbye. Not when he had just helped you so much with your guilt about quitting hunting. He deserved better.

“Dean!” Throwing open the screen door you skidded to a stop on the front steps, both hunters turning in surprise as the door banged shut behind you. Dean had only begun opening the drivers door when he saw you and stopped.

“Y/N?“

screw the whole hunters shouldn't get close to people rule. This was your life and you were seizing control. Ignoring the fact that the sprinklers were currently running, you took quick steps down the stairs before rushing across the wet grass, your t-shirt and sleep shorts getting soaked almost instantly.

Deans eyes widened in sudden sunrise at what you were doing. Taking his hand off the car door he quickly moved forward to catch you as your feet slipped on the grass- at least he thought you were slipping. In reality you had launched yourself into his arms, legs winding around his torso as you hugged him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he wheezed, still slightly stumbling at the sheer force of your collision before letting his arms wrap around you.

“You don't get to get off the hook that easy.” you mumbled, a silence falling over the two of you momentarily as Dean shared a confused look with his brother from over the roof of the car. Sam only shrugged. the only sound being the soft putter and hiss of the sprinklers. Somewhere nearby a dog barked.

“what?”

“that was a lame ass goodbye you gave me.” You explained, pulling back just slightly to look down at him, wet hair sticking to your face. “Plus, I needed to say thank you.”

“For what?” Deans brow furrowed as he adjusted his secure grip on you.

“For understanding why I need to take a break. For not being upset.”

“I could never be upset at you. Plus, now I don't need to constantly worry about you getting yourself killed.” He sighed, setting you back down on your bare feet. Neither of you paid attention to the slam of the car door as Sam slid into his seat, clearly trying to give the two of you a moment alone.

“fair point.”

Dean smiled as he walked you back  towards the steps of the porch. His hand clutching yours. He only paused when your feet were securely on the steps, your faces level. Giving a look back to the car and the soft rumble of the engine filling the early morning air he took a deep breath, the streetlight at the end of the dirt driveway was already pointing him in the direction he was about to travel. He hated it whenever the two of you had to go separate ways, but that was how this life worked. “I gotta get going.”

“I know.”

Dean gave you one last look before nodding, his hand slipping from yours as he made his way back across the grass. The feeling of your eyes on him giving him slight shivers.

Just get in the car and drive, Dean.

Apparently his heart had another idea, because halfway to the running vehicle he shook his head, spun on his heel and marched back towards the porch, your own retreating figure halting to look back.

“alright, now what are you doi-”

Before you can even reach the last syllable, you find his lips interlocking with yours, calloused hands moving to your cheeks as he pulled you in closer to deepen it once he felt you kiss back with wet lips, clearly having yet to wipe the water from the sprinklers from your face. You drew your tongue over his teeth and swallowed his groan as you pressed closer together, no visible gap between you, even as your hands went to his face as well.

So long. You had wanted this for so long.

Somehow for the both of you it was both a goodbye and a reason to hold on. You felt yourself tremble. You suddenly felt like a coward in that moment. You didn't want him to leave. The sun would rise in a few hours and he would be long gone by then.

Dean pulled back slightly breathless, both sets of hands refusing to move the other persons face. Why did he have to go? Why couldn't his life be simple?

“I am so in love with you.” he breathed, taking in every inch of your face and committing it to memory. “So, so in love.”

You were stunned silent for a moment, a wave of fear rippling through the Winchester as he watched you. God. He should have kept his damn mouth shut and just walked away.

But then you smiled. It crept across your face slowly in a similar fashion as a rising sun- and then you were pulling his face in again and pressing another deep kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, you bastard.”

When you pulled back you were met with the purest set of puppy dog eyes you had ever seen, the hunter looking at you like he almost couldn't believe you existed. You raised an eyebrow.

“I don't know why you look so surprised, I thought the two of us were pretty obvious.” You joked, watching as a light laugh left his lips, the same look still glued to his face. Behind him the car honked, snapping him out of his daze.

“Right- I uh- I should get going.” he swallowed, taking a step back. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

You gave him one  last soft smile, hand going up to cradle his cheek like the   night  before. “I always am Mo Graigdh. Don’t worry about me.”

“You ever gonna tell me what that actually means or you gonna leave me   hanging in suspense until I’m on my death bed?” Dean smiled, looking at you with big jade irises.

“Would it kill you to learn a language or two?”

“Probably.”

A light laugh left your lips as his blunt response. The kind that made Dean feel like he had been wrapped in sunlight.

“Well, if it matters that much to you- there’s this fun thing called the internet. It might help.”

“Haha   funny.” Letting go of your hand, Dean pressed one final kiss to your   knuckles. “Anyways, go back to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Walking back across the grass towards the car Dean gave you a salute and a wink. “Always am.”

Leaving was never easy but the older Winchester kept his composure until he   was behind the wheel. As he put the vehicle in drive and headed off down the dirt driveway he gave one last look to the rear view mirror, seeing you still standing on the porch, illuminated by the porch light as you watched them go. Dean didn't know when he would see you again, but he hoped it was sooner rather than later.

The older Winchester maybe got five minutes of silence before Sam spoke up from his spot in the passengers seat.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember that conversation we had about a year back?”

Dean paused before peeling his eyes off the road to glance at his brother. “Sammy, you're gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at the road map in his lap. “You know, about ever wanting something more? With a hunter? Someone who understands the life?”

There was another pause as Dean focused his eyes back on the road before humming a soft response. To the east the clouds were beginning to ligthen, telling them the sun was beginning to rise and a new day was slowly rolling into motion.

“. . .is that Y/N?”

another pause.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

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[lupienne]

The Reality - Negan and Lucille

Hey guys, here’s a little Halloween fic of Negan and Lucille. I started it like two years ago and never felt motivated to finish it. So I finally sat down today on Halloween and wrote the end of it, and while I’m not really happy with it... whatever. Here it is anyway! I think it’s kind of bittersweet, but that’s just me. 

-

The Reality

Gourds were on porches, leaves on the ground, and the stores were filled with pumpkin-flavored everything. The crisp air was a slap to the lungs, in a good way.

I'd always loved Fall, and I'd always looked forward to Halloween. That night when reality wavered on the edge. When you could be dark or light, the opposite of yourself – when you could be anything for just a few hours.

I hadn't been a fan of the days passing by lately. Dread sat like a tumor in my stomach.

The reality was... that reality fucking sucked.

I watched my breath puff out white as I came home on Thursday. Maybe it wouldn't fucking rain this Halloween. We might get snow instead.

After dinner, I polished off a few apple cider donuts, then settled on the couch to watch TV with Lucille. She was quiet and sleepy-eyed as the clock ticked towards my bedtime. The holiday was days away, falling right splat on a Saturday.

“Tony said he found some fuckin' booze flavored like Candy Corn. I hope that's not all he's gonna have, because that's gross as fuck.” I yawned. “What do you think I should dress as? Fuck, I shouldn't have waited until the last minute.”

We always attended Tony Synder's party down the block. I wasn't really crazy about the guy, but I'm not gonna pass up free food or secretly laughing at the neighbor's costumes. (I always looked fucking amazing.) I liked to switch up my style, but Lucille usually dressed as a witch. And not some sloppy, warty green hag...but a hot fucking witch. Her slim figure in a black corset, her tits pushed up, her cascade of black curls falling over one eye. In years past, we'd come home from that party partly drunk and ripping each other's costumes off as we stumbled through the door. God damn. I was almost getting hard thinking of it.

Almost. The past few years, Lucille had me at arm's reach and I couldn't blame her. I was shit, I was an unfaithful piece of shit, but she-

That shit didn't matter anymore.

“He-Man,” she said with a chuckle. “I want to see you rocking that little leather harness.”

“Goddamn, that's right on the edge of indecent exposure. Isn't he practically naked?”

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

“I would make a hot blond.” I slid closer to her, and she nestled against my side. “You gonna be my Bewitching Beauty as always?”

She was quiet for so long I thought she'd fallen asleep.

“...think I'm gonna sit this one out.”

“But why?”

“I don't know. Just not up to it, I guess. But you go, have fun. Maybe you'll find a hot date.”

I swallowed hard. After everything....I couldn't laugh at those types of jokes.

“...Stop that shit. You're the only hot date I want. I don't wanna go alone. We don't have to stay long.”

“Look, Negan, they won't want me there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Tony adores you, which is why I ain't his biggest fan, cause I know he's always wanted to stick his dick in you-”

She let out a laugh that was more of a scoff. “Doubt he feels that way now. Nobody wants a dying woman at their party, making things awkward.”

I felt like I'd been punched in the goddamn balls. My stomach went to my throat and I roiled with sudden nausea. Eyes burning with acid. I fought it, I fought it motherfuckin' hard . My jaw clenched like I was in rigor mortis, my body shuddering.

“Don't...don't say fucking shit like that.”

She nudged my ribs. “God, calm down, Negan. What about this, huh? I don't have any hair.”

“It's Hallo-fucking-ween. Everyone is wearing a motherfuckin' wig right now. You'll fit right in.”

She leaned her head on my arm. “I'm tired. I'll think about it. Ok?”

That meant no. But it wasn't official yet, so I was gonna stop at the party store and buy that fucking He-Man getup and the best witch wig I could find. She'd change her mind right quick once she saw me in that loincloth.

As she went to bed, I stared out the window at the orange light of our Jack-o-lantern. The nausea had settled back into my bones. A constant undercurrent, moving through my veins like poisoned blood.

Too many tricks, life. Not enough treats.

---

Friday night. I stopped at the party store. The cashier rung up my purchases, then looked me over with a twinkle in her eye. I refused to be flattered – ok, I was kind of fucking flattered. The wig for Lucille was the most expensive they had. If you squinted, it looked nearly like her natural spill of curls.

At home, I put my hand on the package, and felt a rush of fucking darkness come over me. I had to fucking sit there, like so many nights, fighting the thoughts that stung like needles. If I let them keep stinging, the tears would come – the fucking breakdown would follow.

So I fought it. I shut it down. I fucking locked it up, because Lucille doesn't like it when I fall apart – and why should she? I'm the man. I'm supposed to be her rock. She hates it when I cry. I hate it when I cry.

So I fucking smiled when I walked in the door. I smelled Chinese food. Lucille was already piling mine onto a plate – the sweet n' sour chicken I love. All she ordered was a tub of Wonton soup. I frowned, but said nothing. At least she's eating.

She looked at the bag in my hand, and she too, said nothing. “Dinner's ready. And I rented some Halloween movies.”

We ate and watched Child's Play and Micheal Myers and a leprechaun who makes bad jokes. I didn't mention the costume or the party, but I knew I'd be going alone. I spend the last movie wondering how I'll excuse my wife's absence, and how the fuck I'm gonna endure the pity in their eyes. It fucking pissed me off. That they're putting her in the ground already. That she's putting herself there.

“Honey,” she rubbed my tense arm. “You ok?”

“Yeah, babe. Just...indigestion.”

And damn this woman, she got up to make me a cup of peppermint tea. I sat there numb, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do without her.

----

“By the POWER OF GRAYSCALE, behold my glorious sword! ...and by sword, I mean dick.” I adjusted He-Man's fake-fur loincloth. Played with it, flipped it around. I wore some black boxers under it, but I was still worried about...slippage. I looked so fucking ridiculous.

I slid on the blond bob wig, examining the hot mess in the mirror. “Haha, oh yeah! What a fine motherfucker. Jesus H Christ. I am a glutton for punishment. Ok, babe. I'm decent! Come check me out before I head over there!”

“It's Grayskull, not Grayscale. Get it right, Negan.”

The bedroom door swung open and my mouth dropped. My Lucille stood there, the black wig cascading over her shoulders. Her body, slimmer than ever, hugged by a slinky black dress and purple corset. Glitter dusted her chest and cheeks.

“Goddamn, woman.”

“I couldn't miss out on that Candy Corn booze.”

I smiled, but we both knew she wouldn't be drinking that. She'd be spending the night over the toilet. I had to banish that thought fuckin' quick. She already spends too many nights over the toilet.

“I'll taste test it for you first. Let you know exactly how fucking disgusting it is.”

-

We headed down the block, passing early Trick-or-Treaters. The rain had come after all, but merely presented as a pathetic drizzle. The mist in the air diffused the street lamps into yellow balls of light. I wish I'd brought my coat to drape over Lucille's bare shoulders. Spooky music played from our elderly neighbor's house and he waved at us. Lucille waved back.

Tony's yard had become a graveyard of cardboard tombstones and dry ice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy shiver.

“Want me to go back and grab a coat?”

“Don't be dumb. We're almost there.”

On the porch, Tony's tween kid sat in a lawn chair with a bowl of candy. No costume, how quaintly rebellious. She looked bored as fuck until we rolled up, and then she snickered openly. Dear fucking God. I hoped my loincloth was in place. My nipples were like fucking pebbles on either side of the plastic harness. I quickly banged on the door.

Tony opened it. “Negan! And Lucille! Very nice, very nice. Love the costume, although I'd never call you a witch. Or anything rhyming with it.”

We did an obligatory laugh. The tween rolled her eyes.

“You look cold, Negan. Better step inside. I got the lager ready to go.” Tony had the same damn smirk as his kid.

“Why did you pick this costume for me again?” I muttered. We passed through the entryway strung with a beaded curtain of bats and spiders. The living room was bathed in red light and Monster Mash blasted from the stereo. Tony's wife always went all-out with this shit. A skeleton sat in the armchair and fake cobwebs were every-fucking-where. I hoped the dry ice didn't affect Lucy's breathing.

Wifey Tanya came over, hugging Lucille and complimenting our costumes. I glanced down, wondering how they saw her. Did they know the shadowed eyes and gaunt cheeks weren't make-up? Did they notice the weight she'd lost?

I still saw beauty. The cut flower, vibrant and blooming –just don't think of the future, the withering-

Freeze that shit in time. I closed my ears to nothing but the soundtrack of screams and creaking doors, back-lit with the wailing of ghosts. Party guest voices blabbered over it all. We melted into the past. It was another party like the parties of years before. Slightly pathetic in that 'thirty-something's hanging out' kind of way. Laughing too loud. Secretly sizing each other up.

At least the lime green jello shots were good.

So yeah, it was just another lame party, and because of that, it wasn't. Because for a while...we were normal. Lucille laughed. I saw her smiling. Within her costume, she wasn't the Sick One. She was the mischievous witch, mingling with devils and cowboys and kitty cats.

Mrs Tillerman from school was there. She drank too much of that nasty Candy Corn atrocity. I caught her checking me out and I felt – for maybe the first time ever – ashamed. Other women looked at me too, making slightly-tipsy comments in my direction. I was glad Lucille was across the room, no doubt bored out of her mind listening to Ms Crouch talk about her fucking kids. And by kids, I mean her cats.

“Mmm, hello, He-Man. Nice sword. Remember that time after school?” Mrs Tillerman, winking and nudging.

“Sorry, He-Man has no fucking recollection of that.”

She'd sucked my dick once. Just once. That was really enough for me. I think I'd only allowed it because I could. Now, I saw what a fucking piece of trash I was. Hopefully, when she sobered up, she would too.

“You don't?” She took another swig from her solo cup and let out a burp. I quickly turned her in the direction of the bathroom. Just in time, because Lucille was drifting my way.

“Motherfuckin' crowd is getting drunk. There's probably going to be barf in the apple-bobbin' water. As if bobbing for apples isn't fucking gross enough.” I had to yell as The Addam's Family theme blasted from the speakers.

“Yeah.” She looked pale under the glitter.

“You had enough?”

I knew she had. We'd done it, we'd made our appearance, we'd given proof of life. I squeezed her hand, then found our host. I was tired, had papers to grade, been a great party...you know the bullshit, Tony.

-

We walked home silently. I wanted to ask how she was feeling. It was a lump in my throat. She'd probably just be annoyed. Say I was worrying too much. Say she was fine.

The warm glow of our porch washed over us. It sparkled the glitter on her cheeks, flushed pink from the cold. I wanted badly to kiss her. Instead, I fumbled in my He-Man boot for the house key.

Kids screamed and laughed on the street, swinging their bags of candy. It was just another Halloween in a long line of them, stretching out into our future. Maybe ten years from now, our kid would join the others.

Tomorrow, I wouldn't think like this. But tonight – fucking dammit, I was going to pretend we had years ahead of us.

I got the door open, got us in, shut it against the chill.

“Fuck. Don't know if that was worth going to. You have fun?”

The orange glow filtered in through the glass panel of our front door. Moonlight through the windows, silvering the interior. Everything was dark, but sharply edged with white. Lucille turned to face me. She discarded her witch's hat, the wig – no...her hair, looking real and soft and luscious, spilling onto her shoulders. She slowly drew one hand up my naked stomach and my skin shivered under the touch.

“He-Man,” she rasped. “I've put you under my spell.”

“Lucille...?”

“It's Lucianna. Maiden of the Night. And I've cast my spell upon you.”

I imagined she'd gotten that crap from those dumb novels she liked to read. The ones with guys who wished they were as hot as me on the cover. “Oh yeah? What spell is that?”

Her hand drifted under my loincloth. I let out a breath. Shit. I hadn't felt her touch me there for weeks.

“The spell of Lust. I'm irresistible to you.”

She didn't need a spell for that.

She rose to her tiptoes, her cold arms against my chest. “...Negan. Make love to me. “

“...but...Lucille...”

It's too strenuous for you. You'll be tired. I'm afraid I'll hurt you -

She didn't look tired. Her eyes were dark and wide, her skin sparkling. The chilled hands sliding under the plastic harness were strong and sure. Her lips hungrily pressed to my chin. “...Don't resist me, He-Man. Give me this night – a Halloween like we used to have.”

I fucking melted like the half-frozen rain under the burning Halloween moon. What could I do?

“By the power of Grayscale, I pull forth my sword, Lucianna!”

“That's Grayskull, He-man!” She laughed as I backed her to the couch, my hands fumbling at her corset. “Ooh, that's such a big sword you have. You sure you can lift that thing up?”

“Witch, I'm gonna impale you so fuckin' deep with my hard steel. You just fuckin' wait.”

“Oh, I'm waiting, but you still have your clothes on.”

Heh. Good thing He-Man was half-fucking-naked already. The witch was helpless to my brute strength as I lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

-

To be honest, there wasn't anything rough or hard about it. Even on devil's night, I had to maintain some sense of restraint. My hands gently stroked ribs under frail skin, planted kisses onto delicate shoulders and licked along a ridge of collarbone. Lucianna, my withering flower, her beauty stretched across bones.

Her hands, digging hard into my shoulders, her legs, wrapping me like squeezing pythons – well, they felt anything but weak.

After, we lay breathing and nestled together. The light outside came and went, broken up by drifting clouds. Lucille's sharpened features were softened. Her wig was still on and still looked real as fuck – money well spent. Her eyes, half-lidded, were tired, but tired in a good fucking way.

“Not a bad fucking Halloween, huh, Lucy?”

“Pretty damn good fucking Halloween,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, and I watched her, drowsing there in the dark. Her spell was slowly melting away; her magic could only veil the truth so long.

But for a few hours, reality shifted and wavered on the edge. She was alive, she was here, and we would spend our nights beside each other, just like this.

For just the brief span of our last Halloween night, I could have it. It was my reality.

And the reality was... that reality was fucking great.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Resistant Omega: Part 3

Pairings: Omega!Mickey Milkovich x Male Alpha!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, homophobia??? 

Word Count: 3,287

Part 1 / Part 2

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

“Well look-ie here, boys. It’s the Queen fucking fairy himself.” Terry Milkovich yelled as loud as he could not a second after you walked into the Alibi like you did every Friday night. “How you doin, fairy?”

“Leave it.” You growled as you headed over to the bar. You purposely ignored Mickey in the corner and pulled your wallet from your pocket.

“Usual, (Y/N)?” Kate asked as she started grabbing cups.

“You know it, baby girl.” She blushed, and looked away as you put a fifty on the bar.

“I still don’t know how you fucking do it, man.” Your friend, Sam said as he leaned on the bar next to you. “You have them wrapped around your fucking fingers.”

“No, not at all.” You teased with a glance over at him. “My cock, maybe.” He laughed and punched your arm as you blew a kiss at Kate and grabbed your glass. You grabbed your usual table in the far corner as Jax started to wrack the balls on the pool table.

“So I got word down the line.” Sam said softly as you grabbed a cue from the holder on the wall. “New box coming out of the North in the next five beats.”

“Where’s it coming out of?”

“New York.”

“What’s the haul?” You asked as you got chalk on your hand.

“There’s no manifest.” Jax muttered as he reached in front of you to grab a cue, too. “So there’s no guarantee….”

“Then we don’t fucking touch it.” You said flatly as you stepped around him and grabbed your beer. “We don’t fucking take runs we aren’t sure of. That’s how we get fucking caught, or how we end up with shit we can’t dump.”

“Dude… we are getting low…” Jax tried as you grabbed the cue ball and set it down on the table where you wanted it.

“Then we get low.” You growled as you looked up at him. You glanced down at the table and made your shot before standing up to look at him. “Do you think I don’t fucking plan for this shit, dumbass? Really? I’ve been thirty steps ahead of you for fucking years and you still haven’t fucking caught up. I have fucking pipe everywhere. We don’t need some manifest-less crap shot. Now far fucking be it from me to tell you what the fuck to do, Jax because I am not your Goddamn keeper. You wanna take the fucking run, go right on ahead. But shit coming outta New York with an unknown fucking manifest could mean Pfizer or it could be fucking Johnson and Johnson baby soap. So get me a fucking manifest or shut the fuck up about it. Sam, play.”

“What fucking pipe do you have?” Jax hissed as you pulled your cigarettes out of your pocket and habitually scanned the room for assholes and eavesdroppers alike.

“The kind that you don’t need to fucking worry about until I tell you you need to fucking worry about them.”

“You know, you really are a fucking asshole.”

“Yea, story of my fucking life.” You grumbled around your cigarette as you lined up for your next shot. “Much easier being a fucking asshole than tolerating the fucking bullshit in the fucking world.”

“Don’t get fucking married then.” He chuckled as he subtly sold some pills to one of the bar regulars, Kermit. “You have to be a fucking asshole and deal with the fucking bullshit.”

“That’s why you don’t get fuckin’ married.” You laughed as you walked around the table. “Problem fucking solved, bitch.”

“You hear that, Joey? The faggot thinks it can get married.” You glanced over and ducked Joey’s fist, but Terry’s caught you right in the middle of the stomach. Your beer glass shattered to the floor as you slammed into the wall behind you.

“Kev!” Kate screeched as you ducked Terry’s next punch while Sam tackled Joey to the floor to keep the fight even. Your claws almost literally came out as you slammed your fist into his face with the full intention of breaking every fucking bone in the man’s face not for your sake, but for Mickey’s. 

“Alright, alright. Get him up!” Kev yelled as Terry managed to get a solid hit to your jaw. 

“Fucking fag!” He shouted at you as Jax dragged you back away from the fight.

“Oh, it’s OK, Terry.” You taunted with a wide, bloody grin. “I know you fucking wish you could be sucking my cock tonight, mother fucker.”

“You sick fuck!” He shouted as he lunged toward you just as the first cop walked in. “Fucking faggot!” You laughed and held your hands up in surrender as a few more cops filed in to the bar. You were just about to put your hands behind your head when Mickey ran up and punched you hard in the face, easily breaking your nose.

“Mother fucker!”

“On the ground, Milkovich!”

“Good hit, boy!” Terry shouted as you were man handled on to your knees. You felt one of your friends slip a wad of cash into your sock, which you would absolutely need on the inside since this assault charge would land you at least a few months. You cracked your knuckles behind your back and glanced over at Jax.

“Get my fucking lawyer and keep your fucking phone on.” He nodded his head as you looked at the cop that had hand cuffed you. You purposely put the breaks on, since John was a beta that liked to dance on the wild side in your bed when his wife was at her sister’s, and glanced at Mickey’s back as he was carted out the door. “There’s a Franklin in my pocket to get Mickey into honor block, away from the others, and in my cell. It’s consensual. And he lawyers up with my lawyer without his fucking narrow-minded dickhead of a father finding out.” John looked down at you with a small nod and gave you a firm shove forward.

“Call it even with Shannon’s inhalers next month.” You nodded in agreement and got into the back of the cop car with a heavy sigh. 

“Fucking Milkovich.”

——

“I called bottom an hour ago.” Mickey said without even moving his arm away from his face.

“You’re gunna take whatever fucking bed I fuckin tell you to fucking take after you broke my Goddamn nose, bitch.” Your Omega shot up off the bed as you dropped your bed roll on the top bunk.

“I…”

“Scoot over. I’m fucking tired.”

“Alpha…”

“Scoot!” You barked as you grabbed your paper thin pillow and your pack of smokes. “Jesus Christ.” He scooted back against the wall as you dropped your pillow on top of his and handed him a lit cigarette. “Had to fucking gun for the fucking nose?”

“I fucking panicked, OK?” He snapped. You nodded your head and ashed on the floor as you laid down on the bed just as the lights in your cell went out since it was the middle of the night and the rest of the block was asleep.

“The fuck were you thinking, Mickey?” He shrugged and pulled your legs across his lap.

“Being without you.” He sighed. “That’s all I thought.” You exhaled forcefully and reached your hand down to find his hip.

“The fuck am I gunna do with you?” He shrugged in the darkness and stretched forward to ash on the ground as well.

“Well I can think of one thing you can do to me.” You made a loud buzzer sound and shook your head as you took one long, last drag before you called it a night.

“Your ass is fucking grounded until further notice.”

“What, because I fucking hit you?”

“Yep, and because I didn’t want the first time I actually spent the whole night with my Omega to be in a fucking jail cell.” You smirked and got up to put your cigarette butt in the toilet and to take off your stupid orange jumpsuit to get comfortable for bed. “So you can thank your Old Man for you not getting laid tonight.”

“I can’t fucking win.”

“You never will.” You huffed as you tossed his finished cigarette in the toilet and flushed them both. “Get used to it. Get your spot, ‘mega.”

“You sleep in my bed, you’re gunna out me…”

“I’m not gunna out you because just like every time I come to fucking jail, I will spend my days sitting in a fucking corner by the phones, doing puzzles, playing solitaire, and making sure my business doesn’t fucking collapse in the next couple months. And you can either be your adorable Alpha self far away from me so your image is protected or you can make a choice to be seen doing puzzles, playing cards, and working for me. I leave that up to you. But you jump on the faggot train in here and I will put you in your Goddamn place just like I would everyone else. And I’m gunning for your fucking nose first.”

“Yes, Alpha.” He chuckled as he pulled your arm around his chest and kissed your fingers. “Good night, (Y/N).” You smirked and kissed his shoulder.

“Good night, baby boy.”

——

“OK, get a fucking pen.” You growled to Jax the second he picked up the phone. “I got a lot to fucking get through in a short period of time.”

“Well good fucking morning to you, too.” He chuckled. “Sleep well?”

“Fuck off.” You growled as you leaned against the wall. “Alright, first and foremost, I need you to go to Gertie’s. Let Sandra know I’m going to be gone a while, but that won’t stop you from getting her meds.”

“What meds…”

“Don’t… fucking interrupt me.” You growled. “Just fucking tell her the shit will be delivered like usual. Then, go to my fucking house. Upstairs in my bedroom under the bedside table on the far side of the bed, is a cardboard box with suppressants in it. I need a month supply. Don’t! Ask fucking questions!” You barked when Jax tried to cut you off again. “Fuckin a! Get those, some blues, and like 2 grand in cash to the jail within the next two hours. Skids is running visitation today and he’ll get them to me. Now, the list of Gertie’s meds is on the bulletin board in the fucking laundry room hidden under the fucking menu for that Chinese place up the block. Just pay attention to the names and doses and match them up carefully. There’s a Spanish bus coming up the coast in about four days. Should spit out enough beans to keep everyone fucking grassy for a nice long while. I’ll set it up from in here.”

“Need a burner?”

“Got one. Just keep my books up and I’ll check in.”

“Need me to leave visitations open for anyone?” Your eyes darted over to where Mickey was watching the morning news on the only, shitty TV.

“No… fuck that. Ain’t no one need to see me in here. Just lock up my house on the way out and keep an eye on it and Gertie for me. I’m lookin’ at max three months which ain’t shit but an annoyance.”

“Yea, you got it.” He sighed. “I’m leaving the house now.”

“You somehow manage to burn my fucking business to the ground and I’ll cut your fucking throat out.”

“I know the fucking drill, asshole.” He laughed before he hung up the phone. You dropped the receiver on the holder and turned toward ‘the bubble’ where the guards all sat. You wordlessly told them that you’d have a delivery in a few hours, and grabbed your seat at your table to settle in for a long next few months. You grabbed one of your last cigarettes and sparked it up as you pulled the top off the box of a lighthouse puzzle that was probably missing pieces.

“Hey, bitch! What you got there?” Mickey asked in a cocky tone as he grabbed your cigarettes off the table. “Well, don’t mind if I fucking do.”

“You put that fucking cigarette in your fucking mouth and I’ll cut your fucking dick off.” You replied as you started to slowly separate the pieces.

“Oh, is that a fucking dare?” He asked as he sat down at the table beside you. You looked up at him to see that he was alone and used a puzzle piece to push your matches toward him.

“Fucking promise. I’m gunna need you to be a fucking runner for me in here. Got one of my guys bringing in some blues, and I surprisingly don’t have fuckers in H block right now to work for me. So you just got hired.”

“Wow… so I’m a bitch, now.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t announce it to the fucking universe if I were you.” You teased with a smile. “But I’m not paying you with dick for you to keep your back on my enemies. Turn the fuck around and do your goddamn job so I can jigsaw in peace.”

“Fuckin’ bossy.” He huffed as he got up and sat down across the metal table from you with his back to you. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

“Bark, bark.” You muttered under your breath as you matched two edge pieces.

“Fuck you.”

——

You were expecting a few weeks of incarceration, but on only day three, someone posted your bail.

“(Y/L/N)! You posted!” You actually froze in your spot with a puzzle piece in your fingers, as you ran through the list in your head on who would have thought wasting their money on you was a good idea.

“Fucking idiots.”

“Don’t…” Mickey practically whispered as you started cleaning up the puzzle pieces.

“I’ll post your bail the second I hit the streets.” You said under your breath. “You’ll be home in no time.” He barely nodded his head and held out his hand to pass you the rest of your pills and your money. “Just unload it and unload it fast.” You said as you took the cash. He hummed as you got barked at again to hurry up. You slid some cash into Mickey’s suppressants box, just in case, and grabbed your still untouched bed roll from your bunk. The process of you getting out took about half an hour, and your first phone call was going to be to Jax had Sandra not been waiting for you.

“Honey, what are you doing?” You asked as she came over and gave you a hug.

“Mom has been screaming for two days. Jax came in instead of you and she just lost her mind… I couldn’t even leave for work yesterday and she barely let me out of the house this morning until I swore I’d come back with you.”

“OK. OK.” You said with a nod as you kissed the top of her head and pulled out your wallet. “Look, I need you to do one more thing for me before I take you home. I need you to bail someone else out. I can’t, I’m a felon. Mikhailo Milkovich.”

“OK… Wait, what is the name?”

“I’ll write it down.” You chuckled as you handed her five hundred bucks. “Keep the rest for your troubles and to cover gas and my bail. And I’ll make sure he shows up for court.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She said as she took your note turned to head toward the bail bondsmen again. When she was out of earshot, you pulled out your phone and called Jax.

“How the fuck are you calling from your phone?” 

“Apparently, you scared the fuck out of Gertie, so Sandra had to come bail me out. Get a fucking pen.”

“What the fuck is with you and pens?”

“Because you’re a fucking scatterbrained mother fucker and you’d probably forget your own Goddamn name if you’re Omega wasn’t screaming it at all hours of the fucking day.”

“Fuck you.”

“I need you, Sam, and Daryl at my house in two hours. I need a satellite, and street maps of everything south of Chicago, east of Peoria to the state line, and North of Champaign. I’m also gunna need every available man and vehicle we can get our hands on this weekend and the cars ready. And a large fucking pie because jail food sucks dick.”

“Wait… are we going after the New York haul?”

“No. We’re going after a big pharma distribution truck I just heard about before another crew gets to it.”

“We’re what now?”

“Be at my fucking house.” You repeated before hanging up the phone at the same time Sandra walked out of the office. “Thank you, sweetheart. You OK to wait for a bit?”

“Absolutely.” She said with a smile as you pulled out your cigarettes and held the pack out to her. “John’s staying with mom today until I could get you home and I get another day off this week to breathe.”

“So what the hell happened?” You laughed as you followed her over to her car to wait. “Did she throw things?”

“I had to walk over what I assumed was a shattered glass vase and then had to spend an hour separating and reorganizing a med container that she threw at him but all in all, she was just doing a lot of screaming.”

“She’s always been a fucking pistol.” You laughed as you both leaned against the side of her car.

“So who’s this guy to you? Someone special if I’m bailing his ass.” You smirked and looked up at the jail with a small shake of your head.

“My Omega.” You glanced over at her as she pouted out her bottom lip.

“Awww!!!!”

“Stop.”

“But my big brother finally has an Omega!”

“Yea, but he’s not out yet and he’s a fucking mess so we’re not gunna bring it up until he’s ready, OK?” 

“Aww! You’re all protective, how cute!”

“Fuckin’ shit.” You chuckled as you bumped her shoulder with yours. She giggled and laid her head on your arm with a heavy sigh.

“Young love is a beautiful thing.” You nodded your head and put your arm around her shoulders as you fell into a comfortable silence to wait.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?” You looked over at the side door Mickey was walking out of almost an hour later and gestured to him dismissively. 

“That’s your first impression? Mickey, Sandra who is as close to a sister as I’ve ever had. She’s the reason we’re walking free so show some fucking respect. Get in, asshole. I got shit to do.” He rolled his eyes at you and got in the back seat as you took the keys from Sandra, and headed around the car to open her door. Once you got in, you adjusted your seat and the mirrors and looked back at Mickey. “Which house?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?”

“Bitch, she’s fucking family. She had you fucking made as someone close to me the moment I had her bail your ass outta fucking jail. So what fucking house? I got shit to do and the boys comin’ over…”

“Yours.” He said as he sat back in his seat and glanced at Sandra. She pouted out her bottom lip again and looked over at you as you headed home.

“Shut up.” You chuckled as you reached over and pushed her face away.

“You say a Goddamn word and I’ll fucking kill you!” Mickey threatened, causing you to growl at him as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror.

“‘mega, I will kick your fucking ass.”

Part 4

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part fifteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5200 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part fifteen: The sun rises and it’s time to bring the herd home, but not before Dean reconnects with an old friend. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Dean & Rocko scene: ‘Road To Perdition’ - The City Of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra. Final scene: ‘Ride’ - Hans Zimmer. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: It’s about damn time, ain’t it? Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Slow hoofbeats, little rocks and earth crunching underneath the thousand pound animal. Surprisingly light on its feet, never disturbing the quiet, as it scours the land for the last grass of the season. Calm breaths, taking in over a gallon of oxygen with each inhalation, followed by a soft purring sound when the air is pushed out through the nose. The cold of the night lingers and the air condensates. The first glint of the sun catches the moist clouds coming from its nostrils, turning the fierce creature into a dragon. Kind eyes, calm when it’s safe, but scanning the environment nevertheless, always on the lookout for predators. Pointy ears, flitting back and forth independently, picking up even the smallest whisper, like two little space antennas scanning the sky. 

     Dean watches the herd from a distance, with Y/N still sound asleep in his arms. He can tell she’s exhausted, because she didn’t stir once in the past three hours. The cowboy made sure she was fully covered with the unzipped sleeping bag, holding her close to keep her warm. She seems so comfortable, so trusting; it humbles him. Apparently she’s completely at ease being so close, her self-consciousness burned away by his never ending adoration. Of course he noticed the hesitation when they all went for a swim yesterday evening. She wanted to disappear, covering herself with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her expression shameful. And then there was the insecurity just hours ago, her mind clearly spiraling when he couldn’t give her the confirmation she so desperately seeks. Dean wonders what happened for her to lack confidence. If she has some douchebag ex-boyfriend maybe, who didn’t treat her right. 

     Staying awake wasn’t any trouble overnight, because he had plenty to think about. He’s not the guy to analyse his every thought, he'd rather stuff it all down and ignore them all together. But spending several hours under the Yucca tree, in an embrace with the one person that has his mind reeling, left him no option. So many questions, so much doubt. He wishes he had more answers, he wishes he could have a glance into the future in order to tell if he’s on the right path. If he can make it work with her, if he can step up to become the man she’s looking for. If she will stay with him, even after the internship, because the thought of her leaving brings back an anxiety that he used to experience when his family threatened to fall apart, which is exactly what happened, eventually. He came to one conclusion, though; he’s not going to let her go. 

     His gaze remains absently fixed on the horses, who have moved a few hundred yards closer. The oldest stallion of the herd had spotted the wranglers about an hour ago, but after careful observation decided that they weren’t a threat. It’s a beautiful sight, beams peeking over the mountain range, framing the horses’ silhouettes with gold. Small bugs twirl in the air like fireflies, surrounding the large animals. Dean squints and tips his head forward when the rising sun becomes brighter. The warmth is welcome; he hasn’t moved an inch over the past hours, not wanting to wake Y/N, causing the cold to settle in his bones. 

     A new dawn means they’ve got work to do and Dean is left no choice but to wake the heavy sleeper. The arrival of morning does the job for him, however; even with her eyes closed, the light seeps through. It triggers her to turn into him and hide her face in the crook between his shoulder and his chest. Y/N grunts, disagreeing with the time, and Dean sniggers. He’s not much of a morning person either, but his intern takes the cake.      “Mornin’, Yankee.”       She opens one eye and looks up, meeting an amused yet adoring smile.       “Morning…” Groggy, she rubs her face with the back of her hand. “Five more minutes?”      “You’ll miss the view,” Dean says, nodding at the horizon.

     His eyes reflect the scenery he’s beholding, the colors vibrant as the sun hits them just right, adding amber to the jade in his irises. It peaks her interest, and Y/N turns her head to face the new day. Only leaving a crack for the light to pass her long lashes, she takes in the mesmerizing scenery. On the edges of her vision, a darker shade of blue transitions into a lighter one, the tones changing from cold to warm as they enclose the sun. Cirrus clouds catch the first rays, curling across the sky like wisps of silk hair. From cobalt to pale turquoise, from apricot to saffron. The painter of this picture used every color on the spectrum. And smack in the middle, the sun rises. So bright, she seems to be aware that planets orbit around her. The Superstition Mountains stand proud and tall in the south, the peaks catching the early light, making the volcanic formations seem blood orange, as if lava is erupting from the earth once again. 

     The herd is only a couple of hundred yards away now, grazing calmly. They don’t seem to  be aware of the humans sitting on the top of the hill, almost as if Y/N is in a cinema, watching a gigantic movie screen. It would explain the idyllic Wild West decor, because such magic can only be created with CGI in a Hollywood studio. But they are here. Y/N can smell the air, sweet and earthy. She can hear the wind rustling small bushes and blowing gently through the canyons. She can feel Dean, the warmth radiating from his large form that has enveloped her.       “It’s breathtaking,” she says softly, leaning into him.      He places a soft kiss on her hair, and she smiles, content.       “Thanks for letting me sleep.”      He shrugs it off. “You needed it. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”      Y/N sits up and rolls her neck to loosen her muscles.       “It’s going to be intense, isn’t it?” she guesses, getting to her feet.      “I’d call it adventurous and exciting,” Dean chuckles, stretching his back now that he can move freely again. “Just like the old spaghetti westerns, y’know? Well… without the gun slinging and bounty hunts. It’ll be awesome, trust me.”

     Y/N sniggers, strolling around the Yucca tree to meet her horse. She finds it cute how the tough cowboy, who’s closing in on thirty, is beaming like a little kid. After ruffling Joplin’s mane, she takes a small case from one of the saddlebags, which holds her toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. She has found a new level of appreciation for these simple products of hygiene, given that she has been stripped from luxury and has to do with the absolute necessary. Especially since she’s not just kissing Dean in her dreams these days.

     Looking forward to the day on his doorstep, Dean pulls his radio phone from the front saddlebag, turning it on and twisting the knob to find the channel.      “Benny? Come in?”      He lets go of the PTT button, the device beeping once when he does, then it’s quiet for a moment. Mirroring Y/N’s actions, he one handedly fishes out his toothbrush as well, but when his friend doesn’t respond, he pushes the talk button again.      “You better get your lazy ass out of bed, Lafitte. Gotta bring the horses in.”      Dean clips the radio to his belt. He has brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and cleaned his face by the time the farrier replies.      “Good mornin’ to you too, Chief.”      Dean grins at the slightly cynical tone of the Southerner. He pushes the button again, moving the speaker closer to his mouth.       “We’re with the herd, on Black Top Mesa, close to Dutchman’s Trailhead. Ya’ll ready to move?”      “Sure am, just cooking up some breakfast to go. Do you want some or did you already eat out?”

     Y/N has never timed taking a sip of water worse, because it comes out through both her mouth and nose. Dean stares at her mortified before he snaps the walkie talkie to his mouth.      “She can hear ya, you jackass!” he returns, his voice higher than he anticipated.      “Oh, I bet she can.”      The head wrangler shuts his eyes and cringes, turning away from Y/N to hide his red face. His free hand goes for his belt loop first, then rubs the back of his neck, before wiping the sweat on the denim of his jeans. Shit, this is embarrassing.       “I - I - We… You know what? I don’t owe you an explanation,” he hisses into the radio phone.      “I’m just saying, brother, if you haven’t yet, it’s gonna take us at least forty five minutes to get to ya, so--”      “- Over and out, Benny!”

     Quickly, he turns the device off, breathes out, and scoffs. That son of a bitch. Dean isn’t sure how he’s going to make Benny pay just yet, but he will taste his wrath. He carefully glances over his shoulder to check on Y/N, who he finds with her hand clasped over her mouth, trying her very best to contain her giggles.      “You think that’s funny, huh?” he mutters, flustered.      She laughs warm and hearty, wiping tears from her eyes as she approaches the cowboy.      “You don’t need enemies with friends like him, that’s a given,” she chuckles.

     He glances at her, his mouth pulling into a smile. She can spot a hint of relief, now that he knows she’s taking it well, but blood still warms his cheeks, making his freckles invisible. It amazes her every single time how all that confidence washes away once he loses direction. Benny was just teasing him, Dean must be aware of that. Besides, it’s not like the green eyed wrangler to take things easy, as he said so himself, so it’s not strange his Southern friend figured he covered at least a couple of bases overnight. She can feel a blush add color to her face as well, when the thought crosses her mind. Honestly, she too silently hoped he would have gone ‘down that road’. 

     “Well, unfortunately he assumed wrong,” she addresses boldly, taking the collar of his stockman coat gently between her thumb and index finger, reeling him in. “But he was right about them taking at least forty five minutes to get here.”      Stunned eyes flick over her features, wondering if he’s imagining things or if she really just gained the confidence he’s lacking at this very moment. Once again she blows him off his feet with her newfound assertiveness, like she does every so often. Shit, she’s sexy when she takes the lead like that.       “He sure was,” he returns, his hands now moving to her waist.      “I know we agreed to take it easy,” she tilts her head slightly, folding her arms around his neck now. “So what should we do with all that time?”

     Dean smirks at her from under his hat, shaking his head amused without breaking eye contact. What a tease. He couldn’t resist her to save his own life. Her radiance is brighter than the rising sun behind her. The pull he’s experiencing, the level of attraction, it’s so strong; he knows he’s going to have a tough time sticking to his boundaries. He has to, though, he has to do right by her. But that doesn’t mean they can’t have a little fun along the way.      “I got a few ideas,” he implies.      Before Y/N knows it, the strong wrangler lifts her up, pulling a squeal from within her, followed by a fit of giggles. He adjusts his grip when she folds her legs around his middle, smothering her sly grin with a sweet kiss. The low chuckle that escapes his throat sounds both gentle and gruff, adding to the wholesome sensation that fills her chest.       By the Yucca tree, he lowers himself to the ground, still holding the cowgirl in his arms until she has found her balance and straddles his lap, a knee buried in the gravelly sand on either side of him. The intimate connection strengthens as they get lost in the moment, the laughs dying down, eyes falling shut. 

     Dean lets his fingers wander over the fabric of her clothes, tracing the lines of her neck, her spine, the curves of her hips. Feeling no pressure that this needs to lead somewhere right now calms him, because even though it’s proven to be difficult to keep their hands off each other, he knows she will give him the space he needs and, despite this little tease, she respects him more than he respects himself.       He makes a little mental note when she whimpers, as he continues to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of her mouth, down her throat and her collarbone. Dean might not go down on the beautiful cowgirl today, but he will remember the little touches that make her sigh and squirm. 

     Their agreement to take it slow, combined with Benny’s remark, sparked something new. Since their first kiss, she has been willing, eager for more, but now that what she wants is just out of reach, she finds it difficult to control herself. He can tell in the way she touches him, the audible breaths that reach his hearing when their mouths aren’t sealed together, the longing in her eyes when she opens them for a brief second. Dean never thought he would say it, but taking their time might have an advantage he hadn’t considered before. Teasing him, tempting her… it’s an interesting way to pass the time. Making each other wait might feel like a torturous game right now, but when the moment does arrive for them to take things to the next level, it’s going to be something else. And just like that, the bachelor who didn’t waste a second to get around with so many women, doesn’t mind waiting for the one.

     The two lay together for at least half an hour, making out like teenagers. Sweet touches, cute giggles, all smiles. If they could freeze time, they would. But when Dean glances north and notices the dust clouds coming from La Barge Canyon, they have to interrupt the intimacy; Benny and the others are on their way.

     Five minutes later, Dean shrugs off his long coat, now that the sun has cast out the crisp of the night. He folds it up tightly and stuffs it into one of his saddlebags. Y/N has already mounted Joplin, at home in the Tucker trail saddle. The mare didn’t entirely awaken from her slumber apparently, because for once in her life, she stands still and doesn’t bounce around impatiently like a bronc in the holding box at the rodeo. Her rider has her wrists crossed on the horn, the reins casually between her fingers, as she stares at the herd ahead.       “That’s the leader, isn’t it?” she says.

     Dean turns his head, looking at the dark bay horse, who stands between them and his congeners. The animal stares back, ears perked forward, one of them flicking back to the herd every now and them. The stallion observes him carefully, he doesn’t seem entirely sure how to deal with the presence of humans. He’s alert, ready to bolt and take his herd to safety, yet at the same time curious. Understandable, because these youngsters spent most of their life living as feral horses, only seeing men when they were moved from the reservation to the large winter pastures closer to the ranch, and back to the mountains when spring was around the corner.       “Yeah, seems like it,” Dean confirms, watching the beautiful creature.      He returns his gaze to the task at hand, tying the sleeping bag behind Ted’s saddle, but then realization hits him. Wait a minute, is that…? The wrangler turns to face the interested horse again, who is looking at him from about two hundred yards away, like he seems to recognize the cowboy as well.      Y/N glances from the wrangler to the horse and back. “Dean?”

     But he doesn’t respond, slowly stepping away from Ted, narrowing his eyes to see better. The horse’s mane grew long, his forelock covering his face, the black hair growing all the way down to his nose, but a hint of a blaze still visible through the curtain. Dark brown eyes take Dean in as the stallion waits, so still that one could mistake him for a statue, save the wind playing with his tail. The low vegetation hides the white markings on his legs, so the wrangler can’t tell for sure. It can’t be. He couldn’t have grown that big, he wouldn’t be the alpha, he reminds himself. But besides the horse’s size and rank within the herd, there’s nothing that indicates the animal, isn’t him. 

     Dean moves his hand to his mouth, pressing the tabs of his thumb and index finger together, creating a circle, before he places them on his lips. He inhales and whistles sharply. The sheer, high-pitched sound moves across the land, reaching ears miles away. The ears the whistle was meant for, pick up the unique sound too and instantly the caution and doubt in the horse’s stance is gone. He neighs back, loud and strong, confirming Dean’s suspicion.      “Well, I’ll be damned…” he breathes.      “You two know each other?” Y/N wonders.      Dean beams. “Yeah, we go way back.”

     He leaves Ted and Y/N on top of the hill, carefully making his way down the slope without spooking the feral horse. But the stallion doesn’t feel threatened anymore, now that he recognizes Dean. He jogs up to him, taking a few more steps before he halts. Friendly eyes take in the wrangler, his nostrils flaring when Dean tentivally reaches, picking up his scent. As a content smile spreads across Dean’s face, he lets his fingertips brush the horse’s nose, soft as velvet. He takes another step, gliding the palm of his hand up his jaw now, to his cheek and then down his neck, following the flow of the horse’s dark hair. The short summer coat has already partly been replaced, now that the cold of winter will arrive in a month or so.       Last time Dean saw him, he was barely two years old. A youngster, a boney juvenile, who was a tad small. Obviously the fellow needed more time. That’s why the wrangler gave his horse another year to grow. It worked out well, because look at him now.      “Hey, bud,” Dean says softly, ruffling the horse’s mane. “You got big.”

     From a distance, Y/N watches the reunion. She doesn’t know the whole story, but the connection between man and animal is unmistakably strong. They have a place in each other’s hearts and even though they have been apart for a while, that didn’t change. The leader of the herd, who one would expect to be dominant, accepts a human touch without hesitation. It’s an unusual response for a horse who has lived off the grid for years. 

     Warmth fills her chest, a smile on her lips, similar to the one Dean carries. It’s incredible to witness him around the animals that captivate them both. She has enjoyed his interactions many times before, watching him handle them on the ground, seeing him ride. Always kind, always respectful. He has a way with horses that is special. Her grandfather would have said he’s gifted. He also would have given her a thumbs up. Grandpa always offered wise words, often followed by silence, the quiet giving them even more strength. One of his sayings comes to mind: You can judge a man’s character by the way he treats his horses. Well then, if that’s a given, then Dean is definitely one of the kindest and most loving souls she has come across.

     The wrangler rubs the stallion’s shoulder, before he slowly turns around. He tries to beckon the beautiful dark horse with a simple shoulder movement, using only body language to invite the large animal to follow him. After a moment of hesitation, during which the stallion glances at his herd and back at his human, he follows. No rope, no pressure, no constraint, but free will. It’s hard to miss the pleased expression on Dean’s face when he looks up at the cowgirl, who still watches from Joplin’s back.      “I know country boys aren’t known for manners, but aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” she jokes.

     The stallion stops at the bottom of the small hill, aware that as the leader of his group, he still has a task to fulfill. He stands tall, checking on the herd, the autumn breeze catching his tangled mane, folding his tail around his hind legs. He looks almost mythical.      “His name is Rock N’ Roll.” Dean takes him in, proudly. “But he goes by Rock’o.”      “Is he yours?” she asks, curiously.      The wrangler nods. “I was there when he was born. He had a rough start in life. I bottle fed him the first couple of months.”      Amazed, she smiles at him. “No wonder you two are close.”             He returns her expression, taking a moment to absorb the image of both the woman who is conquering his heart, and his horse who already claimed it years ago.       “It’s gonna be much easier to bring in the herd with him on our side,” Dean says, moving to Ted’s left side, after which he puts his foot in the stirrup and swings the other over the saddle. “We have to handle it delicately, but he trusts me.”      “You think he will follow you?” Y/N assumes, keeping Joplin on the spot, who seems to have woken up from her nap, now that Dean mounted his horse as well.      “No, but he will keep the herd together. It's a misconception that the stallion leads the group. They are usually in the rear, driving up stragglers,” Dean explains.

     The head wrangler glances over his shoulder at the growing dust cloud, an indication that Benny and the rest of the crew are closing in. Within a minute, he spots the four riders and their pack horses coming over the hill. The mischievous grin on the Southerner’s face can be spotted from far away.      “Had a nice mornin’ ride, Chief?” he nags under his breath, once he has joined the two riders.      Dean shoots him a glare, his fiery green eyes demanding him to shut up without using actual words. Y/N heard the farrier, however, and no one is prepared for the comeback.      “Oh, we didn’t have time. Forty-five minutes isn’t nearly enough for what I had in mind,” she counters casually.

     Dean snorts, caught by surprise, while Benny cocks his head at the intern, staring at her bug-eyed. Y/N doesn’t give the the blue-eyed cowboy another second of her attention and leads her horse to Ted, her fingertips briefly touching Dean’s thigh as she passes him, before she rides down the hill, her head held high.      Amused, the head wrangler waits for his friend to catch the wide grin on his face, which he does once Benny snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head sniggering, his laugh rumbling deep and low in his chest.      “Brother, you are in way over your head,” he states. “She’s a pistol.”      Dean admittingly raises his brow, nodding in agreement while watching her ride off.      “She sure is.” 

     “Yah!”      In full gallop Y/N speeds up along the left flank of the herd, directing the horses back to a compact group every time they fan out. Benny and Macy are leading, Dean tailing, while Brad and Jon cover the right side. The head wrangler wasn’t lying when he said that it was going to be exciting, because she feels like she’s living a Wild West fantasy. 

     Joplin has her ears in her neck as she sprints away, cutting off two stallions who fan out. Her rider doesn’t even have to give a signal, the feisty dark mare knows exactly what to do. Even though she is smaller than the others, she stands her ground and didn’t think twice when one of the juvenile stallions took an interest in her. With a squeal and a firm kick she made clear not to mess with her, her zero-tolerance attitude keeping them at a safe distance. Y/N had a hunch Joplin was good at the job, otherwise Dean wouldn’t have chosen the strong minded horse for his intern, but she didn’t expect her partner to be this fierce. Unflagging, focussed, and fast as a bullet. It’s an absolute thrill to work with her.

     They pursued the herd into O’Grady Canyon, the higher cliffs on both sides helping the wranglers keep them together. They passed the rock formations of Tim’s Saddle and Dean and Y/N briefly exchanged a look and a smile as they crossed the small creek. Revisiting the place where they shared their first kiss only two days ago feels special, that night’s energy still in the air. So much has happened since, and yet their journey has only just begun. 

     After a quick drinking pause, they continued, before the herd could fall apart. Some of the animals are restless, while others follow a lot more calmly. Using horses instead of dirt bikes or even a helicopter is a lot less stressful for the feral animals, but being chased makes them nervous nonetheless. Rocko’s laid back attitude towards the humans keeps the panic in the herd contained to a minimum, though. 

     Thankfully, the weather is working in their favor for a change. A cool breeze is sweeping across the terrain and swishing through the canyons, keeping the temperature from rising to the heights it reached in the past couple of days. It’s a good thing the conditions are a lot more tolerable, because the riding is intense. The wind, together with the stampede, does kick up a lot of sand, engulfing the wranglers in clouds of earthy particles. Dean, being at the back of the herd, has pulled his neckerchief over his nose, keeping the dust from entering his lungs. 

     Halfway through the afternoon, the wranglers have managed to guide the group of horses safely down the slopes on the east banks of the Superstitions. A time consuming detour, but crossing the mountains without a herd is challenging enough, not to mention with over a dozen wild animals added to the clan. After descending the much smoother slopes for hours on end, the canyon functioning as a tunnel and relieving the pressure from the riders, the walls on either side fan out. Before them lays the valley, the small town of Gold Canyon in the far distance to the west, the sun edging towards it as the day begins to close in on the night. 

     “Yankee!”      It’s Dean who gets her attention, his voice rising above the sound of the stampede. Y/N turns in the saddle while she continues to follow the movement of her horse with her hips. Behind her, three young stallions have wandered away from the group in a matter of seconds. Joplin hasn’t noticed them yet, fixed on holding the flank ahead, but when her rider moves her hand to the left, she rolls away like a fighter jet. The little dark mare needs no encouragement and is at full speed within five strides, shooting across the terrain at a speed of forty miles an hour. Y/N has bent over Joplin’s neck, staying low in order to increase the aerodynamics. The fast rhythmic sound of hoofbeats tremor the ground, the wind rushes in her ears and drags tears from the corners of her eyes. The two cut off the youngsters, redirecting them back to the herd like they have been doing this together for years. Y/N’s partner in crime pushes her ears back and snaps her teeth, not so kindly advising the horses to hurry it up or else, triggering her rider to grin at her feisty character. Once the three join the others, the cowgirl lets out a cheer, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Dean was absolutely right, this is just like a spaghetti western. 

     They ride along the promontory of the mountains to their right, roughly following the Lost Goldmine trail. By the time the company passes a volcanic remnant called Turk’s Head, the sky begins to change, adding orange to the blues. A glance at her old watch tells her it’s 5.10 PM. Three days ago she kept feeling her back pocket for her phone whenever she needed to know the time, or felt the urge to check her messages, but not having her Iphone with her turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Who would want to stare at a screen and miss all the good stuff? 

     Ted’s strides are long and consistent, not a trace of fatigue noticeable with the bay gelding. From behind the group, Dean should have a good overview, if it wasn’t for the dust clouds obstructing his vision. The small particles cling to his skin, his lashes, the fabric of his clothes. He can still see the boys holding their ground well on the right, the steep slopes running up into the peaks of the Flatiron assisting them, working as a funnel. Benny and Macy are keeping a good pace; if they continue at this speed, they will be home before dinner. Y/N is doing outstanding on the other flank, forming a dream team with eager little Joplin. Thankfully, Dean has eyes up ahead, because the radio on his belt begins to crack.      “Two miles to go, Chief!”      Dean takes the radio phone and presses the PTT button before he answers.      “Let’s bring them home, brother.”

     With his thumb he twists the channel nob, switching to number four, before he calls in again. They should be within the perimeter now. “Bobby, do you read me?”      It’s quiet for a moment, but then the static breaks.      “Loud and clear, son.”      The head wrangler smiles, glad to be delivering good news after three days and nights filled with nerve wrecking moments. Treacherous terrain, suffocating heat. Drought, snakes, minor injuries.       “We’re comin’ in hot. Thirty minutes.”      “The gates are open. I’ll tell Ellen to put the casserole in the oven.”      Dean’s mouth begins to water when his aunt’s famous dish is mentioned. No disrespect to Benny, but after all that canned food, he can’t wait to sink his teeth into that delicious corn, beef, and onion stocked, stomach filling meal.      “In that case, I’ll make it twenty. Over.”      “We’re ready for ya. Over and out.”

     The head wrangler hooks the radio back on his belt and glances aside. Rocko is galloping about thirty yards to his left, ahead by a few nose lengths. Sweat shimmers on his neck and shoulders, his dark bay coat almost black now. With big, powerful strides he pushes forward like a steam train, yet agile, maneuvering past rocks, cacti, and bushes. Even untrained, he has grown into a strong horse. Dean can’t wait to work with him. To strengthen that bond even more, to teach him. Watching the stallion by his side and under Dean’s wing as it were, fills him with pride already. It’s at this moment that Dean realizes; this horse is going to be something else.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part sixteen here

[calif0rnia-lovers]

signs of falling.

Got my feelings runnin' on a loop This ain't what I'm really used to

Title: Step #1 - Breakfast.

Request: Billy Russo’s fling realizing he’s catching feelings after he said he wouldn’t.   

Pairing: Billy Russo x Black OC

Summary: Billy Russo is known to bend the rules a time or two, but not when it involves Naya Anderson. The two met two months before Billy's last deployment. Understanding they had a short time together Naya established two strict rules. Be gone before she wakes, and no falling in love. When chance allows the two to reconnect years later, Billy finds it difficult to adhere to those rules. I mean, when was the last time he cooked a woman breakfast?

A/N: I’m trying to write outside of reader fics. There’s some smut sprinkled in with the plot...in case you’re someone who likes to skip that type of stuff. Also, I wrote this at 3am after hearing Summer Walker’s ‘Come Thru’ for the first time. It gave me major Russo vibes, tell me I’m wrong. 

Words: 4,975

gif: @jokeperaltawrites​

“Does that normally work for you?”

The soft bump against his shoulder prompts Billy Russo’s gaze to revert to the woman across him.

Ankles crossed, palms flat against the railing, Maria Castle rests against the pool table in the center of the crowded bar. It’s a rainy Friday night, and nearly half of Frank’s platoon is gathered at the bar with their significant others. They are set to ship off in two months. The women have been trying to get the families to come together as much as possible before they are to leave.  

Billy, surprisingly, does not have a date. Perhaps that is why he’s having trouble kicking Frank’s ass in the current game of pool. He doesn’t have someone to impress. Or at least that’s what Billy’s been telling himself the entire night.

Maria knew different.

She has been watching her husband’s best friend the past hour and has discovered the source of Billy’s terrible focus.

Billy blinks as he replays Maria’s question in his mind.

She has a giant grin plastered across her face. It miraculously doubles in size as Billy’s brow furrows. He lifts the beer bottle in his hand to his lips before taking a sip.

“Does what usually work?”

Billy passes Maria his bottle before rolling shoulders. He walks around the pool table, scowling at an amused Frank. Leaning over the pool table, Billy releases a deep breath before lining up his cue stick.

“Undressing women with your eyes?” Maria teases the giggle which escapes her lips prompts Billy’s focus to drift back across the crowded bar.

“Shit.”

Watching the eight ball sink into the left pocket, Billy lets his head hang as Frank’s hand claps his shoulder.

“Sure you don’t wanna quit while you have the money, Bill?” Frank chuckles as Billy sits his cue on the table.

Reclaiming his beer, Billy takes a sip before motioning in Maria’s direction.

“That last play was bullshit.” He groans before fleshing out a bill for the next round of drinks. “I can’t concentrate on the game with Maria trying to analyze me.”

“Aw, come on, Billy,” Maria teasingly tousles the raven-haired man’s hair. “We both know that’s not why you can’t concentrate.”

Billy takes another sip from his drink, his eyes drifting across the bar to a woman.

Seated across from two of her friends, she accepts the tiny shot glass offered to her. He watches, something stirring inside of him, as she sucks against the lime before chasing it with the contents of the shot glass. Billy had been aware of the caramel-skinned beauty the moment she filed into the bar an hour ago. It was hard not to focus on her beauty. It didn't help that her dress hugged each of her curves perfectly, or that she bit her lip each time she attempted to suppress her laugh.

“I wasn’t...undressing her.” But even Billy can’t allow the statement to pass without a smile forming on his lips. He chuckles, his eyes rolling at the triumphant grin on Maria’s lips. “I was just...shit. How do you get anything pass this one, Frankie?”

“I don’t,” Frank chuckles, his lips leaving a loving kiss against his wife’s cheek.

Billy’s eyes instinctively trail back to the woman who has held his attention for most of the night. Maria was quite spot on, but at this point in the evening, Billy was far past undressing the mystery woman with his eyes. He was deep in the rabbit hole. He was ‘imagining how different her giggles would sound once he was inside of her’ type of deep.

“She is pretty,” Maria smiles. “But she doesn’t strike me as the type to fall into your bed just off a few longing glances from across the bar. You might actually have to talk to her. Put that Billy Russo charm to the test.”

Billy isn’t one to back down from a challenge. In fact, his best friends are surprised he hasn’t left them to go and speak to the oblivious woman already. He shakes his head before sipping his beer.

“No,” Billy smiles before placing his drink on the edge of the table. “It’s my turn to kick Frank’s ass at pool.”

Billy manages to win two rounds against Frank, just to soften the blows to his ego, before his patience gets the best of him.

That was the first night Billy had spent with Naya, but not the last.

Billy reminisced about Naya a lot during his tour to Afghanistan. More than he cared to admit, even to Frank.

He spoke to her a few times on the phone when he was first placed. As the unit got moved around they lost contact.

When he returned from his tour Billy busied himself with Anvil. In his free time, Billy found himself at his favorite watering hole. Most nights, he took home strangers who fell in love with his wartime persona, or his glamorous new lifestyle. But he never saw the girl he was searching for.

That didn’t stop him from wishing.

Two full years pass until Billy finally gets his wish.

He spots her before she does him.

She is seated in the corner. Fresh off of work, she is listening to a co-worker who is recounting an animated story to the table of women.

Billy finds himself taking note of changes in her features. The length of her dark curls, which now fell just past her shoulders. The addition of piercings to her ears and nose.

It’s when his eyes are trained on her that Naya feels the familiar warm heat, only elicited by his gaze, begin to spread from head to toe.

Billy watches the range of emotions pass over her features once her blue eyes meet his gaze.

The recognition and shock which melds into confusion.

At first, she doesn’t move. She blinks to ensure the man didn’t merely disappear upon second glance.

Billy lifts the beer in his hand, the familiar smile on his lips pulling Naya from her stool.

They surprise each other, her arms wrapping around his neck when they meet. His body initially staggers beneath her weight, his arm securing around her waist once he can steady their bodies.

“Hi.”

Her grip is tight around him, almost too tight. But Billy doesn’t make an attempt to move away. He squeezes her waist, his smile disappears against the softness of her hair. His body relaxes against hers. Her fingers drift into the soft strands of his hair as Billy’s face burrows against the warmth of her neck. The two remain where they are, neither wanting to be the one responsible for disrupting warmth of the other’s embrace.

“If I’d known this was the response I’d get, I’d told you I was back sooner,” he chuckles against her hair.

Naya moves to take a step back, but Billy’s hand instinctively finds hers keeping her close. His eyes lower to the contrast of her hand against his.

Her gaze studies his face. She cannot detect any physical damage, but she knows that most men don’t often bring back that kind of damage where Billy's returned from. Her fingers lift to his face, the scruff along his jaw tickling her palm. Billy’s eyes raise at her touch.

“You’re okay?”

His lips draw into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his dark eyes. Billy responds by lifting her left hand from his cheek, his lips pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“How long have you been back?”

The concern flooding her features causes Billy to hastily avert his gaze. “A while…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

A soft shrug rolls off his shoulders.

Billy knew she couldn’t understand. No matter how hard she wanted to. It wasn’t as though he was speaking to Maria. Naya has never been forced to receive a man altered from what he's seen at war. He wants to tell her that he's okay but not by her standards. That he's gotten a handle on the parts of him that tries to get out of control. He wants to tell her most nights he finds the need to hear her voice on the other end of his line. He wants to tell her he’d replayed every part of their months together when he was unable to fall asleep while away.

Instead of sharing what’s on his mind, Billy smiles.

“I’ve been uh...acclimating to civilian life.”

Her brow arches. "Permanent civilian life?"

"Yeah. I figured Afghanistan was my last trip around the merry go round. I’ve been busy with work. I started up a company when I got stateside. It’s a good way to keep my mind occupied.”

The soft smile on his lips grows as her eyes finish searching his face. He knows there are questions on her mind, but she doesn't ask them.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Billy.” She takes a step back, a smile on her face. Billy matches each of her steps as she drags him towards the bar. “Okay. Let me buy you a...welcome home drink.”

The moment her fingers leave him and she turns to find a seat, Billy's hands latch on her waist. His touch drifts over the curves of her hips. It burns through the fabric of her dress. The heat that spread across her skin brings a smile to her face. Billy gently tugs her body back into his.

Her hands move down to cover his, her eyes drifting shut as he let his chest press against her back. His arms wrap around her middle, his face ducking down to rest against the security of her shoulder. The scruff on his jaw brushes against her skin. He takes a deep breath, the scent of her perfume filling his lungs.

“I missed you, Naya.”

His lips press a series of soft kisses against her skin. The action pulls a giggle from her lips. Billy’s soft smirk caresses her collarbone. The warmth of his body encompasses hers. The feel of her fingers flexing against his forearms, nails pressing into his skin, encourages Billy’s lips to leave a few more kisses for good measure. He knew exactly how to get her to abandon all logic and how to get her to let him take her home. He knew which spots to kiss, where to let his hands wander, and Naya knew it. The breath she takes allows her to clear her mind.

“Easy, tiger. At least let me buy you a drink first.”

He rolls his neck, a groan of protest rumbling in Billy's chest as Naya escapes his touch to move towards the bar.

Remaining where he stands, Billy watches as she takes a seat at the bar. She leans forward grabbing the attention of the bartender.

Dragging a nearby stool from beneath the bar, Billy takes a seat alongside her. He pushes his empty beer bottle aside before, his gaze incapable of leaving her as she orders their drinks.

She settles against the bar, her focus on her fingers. Toying with the rings on her hand, she bites her lips as she tries her best to ignore the butterflies forming beneath his gaze.

His fingers brushing her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear, before drifting to the nape of her neck.

“How have you been, Naya?”

“Good.” The soft-touch of his thumb along the curve of her jaw locks her gaze with his. Her pulse raises as a familiar Billy Russo inspired electricity spreads down her body. “Work. Home. The usual.”

“No boyfriend?”

The light rolling of her eyes spreads a grin across Billy’s face.

“What?” He chuckles as the bartender steals Naya’s attention. She lifts the glass to her lips before taking a sip, her smile hidden against the rim. “A man needs to know his competition. God knows I have some.”

“I thought Billy Russo didn’t believe in competition,” she challenges. Sliding Billy’s glass towards him, she fails to suppress the smile on her lips. It grows as his playful gaze darkens, trailing down to her lips.

“I don’t.”

His statement is a matter of fact. His gaze is shameless. His chest is met with resistance as Billy leans over to kiss her. Naya’s palm presses against his chest, the playful glint in her eyes pulling a low chuckle from him.

"What are you doing, Mr. Russo?" A giggle escapes Naya’s lips as her chair shifts.

Ignoring her question, Billy doesn’t halt his action of dragging her stool closer until she’s between his legs. His right-hand finds her thigh as he uses his left to lift his drink to his lips. His touch gently caresses her skin before drifting to the curve of her knee.

With them both seated, they are perfectly eye level. He notes the change in her posture as his touch retraces its previous path. Up the hypersensitive warmth of her thigh, his touch teasingly drifting towards her inner thigh this time around.

His tongue passes over his lips as his gaze drops to the lip she bites.

“I’m gonna finish this drink,” He spoke his voice low. He let his hand drift along the warmth of her thigh. His smile morphed into a cocky grin once her legs instinctively part as his hand drifts towards the hem of her dress. His gaze follows his hand as it disappears beneath the fabric of her dress. “Then I’m gonna take you home, and I’m gonna do every fucking thing I’ve thought about doing to you the past two years.”

They fell into a routine over the next few months.

Billy would often call when he wanted to see her. Eventually, phone calls were unnecessary. Most nights, he’d merely show up. No explanation was needed, or able to be given, his fingers in her hair and lips against hers before the door could be shut.

He’d stay until her body was spent, and she was unable to fight off the sleep her body needed to recuperate. If he drifted off, he’d wake only to bury himself deep inside of her for a softer sexual encounter before slipping out to head home. He never stayed the night. He was always gone by the time Naya rose for work.

“I’m starting to think you’re fucking a ghost,” her roommate, Ariel teases, one morning.

“Hmm?” Naya looks up from the standard morning text from Billy, a half-eaten piece of toast hanging from her mouth.

“Either he’s a ghost, or a freaking ninja, the way he sneaks out of here.” Ariel presses. “I might have to set up a camera to see what he looks like. How long has it been? Nearly six months, and I’ve yet to see the miraculous sex god that has you howling at the moon four nights out of the week-”

“I do not howl,” Naya scoffs, the heat on her cheeks causing her to get up from the island. “And it has not been four nights…”

“You’re right,” Ariel smiles as she grabs her jacket. “This week, it’s been five.”

"It has not." Blinking, Naya takes another bite of her food before looking at her roommate. “Has it?”

“It has,” Ariel groans, her hand playfully resting over her heart. “I hate to admit it, but I’m beyond the point of being jealous of you. Clearly, he can’t get enough of you either.”

Rolling her eyes, Naya takes a step towards the door. “Shut up.”

It is mid-summer, the New York heat being impossibly unbearable. Even during the early hours of the morning, it seems impossible to escape. The air condition is on full blast. The ceiling fan whirling above Naya’s bed does little to help. When she had initially fallen asleep, she’d kicked the comforter to the floor settling for her top sheet and nothing else. A thin layer of sweat still adorns her skin.

Exhaustion weighs her body down.

Her eyes remain closed, her hand blindly swiping across the bed in search of the noise that has woken her up. She releases a groan of frustration as she continues swiping until she feels the coldness of the phone against her skin. Blindly, she taps at the screen but it won’t shut off. It’s not hers, it’s Billy.

“Billy.” Her voice comes out just above a whisper. Giving up her pursuit, of silencing the alarm, she rolls onto her back.

“Hmm?”

“Get your fucking phone.”

Billy’s chuckle drifts to her in the dark. Seated on the bottom of the bed, Billy combs his fingers through his disheveled hair before shifting on the bed. Retrieving his phone, he winces as the backlight hits his eyes. Hastily silencing the phone, he tosses it towards the ground where it comes to a silent thump against his previously discarded clothes.

4 am.

He’d set the alarm the night before prior to his arrival at Naya’s place. It was meant to go off in the confines of his bedroom, not hers.

He was supposed to leave after they’d had sex. He had a meeting he was supposed to prepare for after leaving her. A very important meeting surrounding his company. He had notes to review, a presentation to check for the hundredth time. But, per usual, Billy could never leave after just one taste of her.

One led to two, two led to the shower for a cleanup, which led to Billy struggling to control his wandering hands.

He’d awaken a few minutes prior to his alarm going off. The heat was responsible for his inability to sleep.

Billy knows he needs to leave. Partially because of Naya’s stipulation.

"Don’t be here when I wake up," she’d told him that first time they’d hooked up years before life and time diverged their paths.

He also needs to leave so that he can shower and change before heading in to work.

Billy ignores the voice in his head that tells him to get off the bed and to get dressed.

He finds himself sinking back into the mattress. Shifting his body, he climbs over her. He allows the brunt of his weight to rest against his palms as he ducks down to brush his lips against her collarbone. He smiles as the kiss paints a faint smile across her lips.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles, his words muffled against the dip of her collar bone.

“Then go.” Billy’s groan fills the air as Naya’s palm presses against his face. Blocking his kiss, she pushes against his face pulling a chuckling from him. “Let me sleep. It's too fucking hot for cuddling.”

His lips leave playful nips against the inside of her wrist, the soft kisses which pepper her arm pulling a tired giggle from Naya’s lips.

“I’m not trying to cuddle,” he mumbles against her neck.

The pressure that his lips apply to her neck pull her teeth down on her bottom lip. If it were later in the day, Naya would have had the energy to scold him for the light bruises he leaves against her neck. The marks are always hard to explain away when her friends know she doesn’t have a boyfriend. When he’s satisfied with the meticulously placed marks, Billy trails down to her chest. Naya relaxes beneath his touch, her body welcoming the sensations sparked by his mouth.

He takes his time, a specialty of Billy Russo.

He kisses against the soft skin, his teeth and tongue pulling goosebumps across every inch he touches. Down her stomach. To the curves of her hips. Against the warmth of her thighs until he’s lapping against the delicate skin of her folds. He knows she’s just as insatiable as he is. That’s why he saves his teasing nature for the early hours of the morning. He draws her to her orgasm with nothing more than the softness of his tongue and lips. He doesn’t let her reach it until her fingers are tugging tight against the strands of his hair, her others clinging to the sheets for some sense of stability. He lets it fade the moment her back arches off the mattress, his chuckle lost against her skin as she groans in frustration. He’ll repeat the process over and over again until her body is unable to come back and her legs are trembling on his shoulders.

He knows she’ll get him back for it later, but he doesn’t care. He knows the orgasm that ripples through her body is the kind that drifts into her mind throughout the day when they’re apart. Anytime the fabric of her stockings or skirt brushes against her thighs all she will be able to keep in her mind is the image of him between her thighs. He knows she wouldn't dare touch herself until she's safely back in her apartment, so she'll be stuck thinking about him the entire workday.

Billy lives for that.

He leaves sloppy kisses against her skin as he climbs up her trembling body. His lips find hers his fingers buried in her hair as his weight pressed against her.

The kiss was soft. His lips brush her nose, before returning to her lips. This time his tongue brushing the curve of her bottom lip granting him access to her mouth. A soft moan slips into her mouth as her hand travels down his stomach before taking him in her hand.

His teeth tug at her bottom lip as she begins to gently stroke him. The warmth of her hand causes his hips to shift forward in an attempt to align with hers.

“You’re not slick, Mr. Russo.” Letting her free hand press against his hip, Naya giggles as she halts Billy’s movements. “I don’t appreciate being teased this early in the morning.”

“Shit.” The breathless groan that escapes Billy’s lips, as she guides his dick teasingly between her folds, would have buckled her knees if she was standing.

He tries to shift his hips forward, but the hand against his hip teasingly increases the distance from where he needs to be. Billy releases a frustrated moan against her neck, his lips leaving heated kisses against her skin as she continues her actions, his only viable sign of submission. He allows her to tease him until his fingers have left imprints against the bend of her hip. Any cocky retort a clear thinking Billy Russo could have produced is reduced to nothing but a mixture of swears and breathless groans.

“Fuck-I’ll make it up to you,” he promises. His forehead rests against hers, his right hand drifting from her cheek down to her throat. The words linger in the air, drowned out by the sigh of relief that escapes his lips as she allows him to guide himself inside of her. His muscles flex beneath her hands as he stretches her in a way that pulls a moan from both of them.

“I hope this isn’t how you’re making it up to me,” she teases, her fingers tracing down his spine.

“Part of it,” he mumbles against her lips. “Might even throw in breakfast, if you’re lucky.”

Naya giggles, her body pulling his eyes shut as it clenches around him.

“Billy Russo cooking me breakfast?” Her giggles lost against his lips. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.”

When she woke, two hours later, Naya found herself alone in bed.

The sheets, where Billy had once lay, were ice cold against her palm. She showered, got dressed and was in the process of formulating the text to let Billy have it for leaving hickeys, that couldn't be hidden when she hears Ariel’s giggles.

Turning into the kitchen, Naya finds her roommate seated at the island, her head thrown back in laughter. The source of her laughter donned a boyish grin and Naya’s rose-covered apron.

Fully dressed, Billy stood in the center of the kitchen a spatula in hand. He wasn’t wearing the suit from the night before. Suit jacket draped over the back of the vacant stool, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. He certainly didn’t look a man who had just been ravished down the hall a few hours before. The kitchen rag draped over his shoulder, Billy listens as Ariel recounts a story from her and Naya’s college days.

Carefully transferring the bacon from the skillet, he turns to place it with the full spread adorning the counter when he notices Naya. The smiles that spread across his lips awakens butterflies in her stomach.

“Morning sleepy head.”

Naya steps further into the kitchen, her eyes taking in the food Ariel is happily shoveling down.

“You’re up early, Ariel,” she notes.

Ariel washes down her food with a hearty sip of coffee before smiling.

“I was wondering when I’d meet the man who sneaks out of our flat every morning. I decided to peak out when I heard him in here and found something much better. It’s not every morning you wake up to find a handsome stranger cooking a full course breakfast,” she says as Billy’s lips twitch into a smile

“I want to apologize for that,” Billy smiles as he refills her mug before passing it to her. “And for not properly introducing myself after all this time.”

“No, I understand, Naya has kept you pretty occupied,” Ariel smiles, hiding her smile in the mug when Naya shoots her a glare.

Naya rests against the counter. She watches as Billy fills a mug for her.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Keeping my promise.” Offering her the mug in his hands, Billy smiles as she meets his gaze. “Making breakfast, figured you might be hungry.”

“Breakfast…” she repeats the word softly as his hand finds her hip. He leaves a soft kiss against the warmth of her neck, the action briefly pulling her eyes shut. He steals a second kiss, this time against her lips. Her hand finds his chest as he allows his lips to linger against hers.

The urge to give him a kiss in return fades as he moves away to retrieve the carton of eggs from the fridge.

Naya’s brow furrows once she realizes half of the contents spread across the kitchen weren’t in her fridge the night before. A warmth washes over her body as Billy smiles his focus solely on her. His eyes travel over her, her teeth tugging against her bottom lip as he shamelessly admires her dress.

“So, Ms. Anderson.” Billy smiles. “How do you take ‘em?”

It’s not until he lifts the carton in his hands that Naya remembers to breathe.

“Scrambled. Hard.”

“Coming right up.”

After he’s finished cooking, Billy stays long enough to eat.

The morning conversation is mainly between him and Ariel. Naya is silent, apart from a number of giggles here and there. He finds himself stealing glances in her direction as she concentrates on eating. Her fingers toy with her hair, a soft smile finds his lips. He’d recognize her tells anywhere. He knew something was on her mind.

Finishing his last piece of bacon, Billy takes a final sip of his coffee. With a glance at his watch, he stands.

“I have to head out, but thank you for letting me stay.”

“Thank you for breakfast,” Ariel smiles before excusing herself. She turns once she reaches the hallway, waiting until Billy focuses on slipping on his jacket to throw a thumbs-up sign to Naya.

Billy glances over at Naya as she moves to rinse her plate in the kitchen sink.

Pausing alongside her, he adjusts the tie around his neck.

“Not up to your standards?” He teases, his playful nature not stopping his brain from studying her face. “It’s alright if it’s not. Go ahead lay it on me. A lifetime of criticism has left me with thick skin.”

“No,” Naya smiles as she dries her hands. “It was perfect.”

‘Okay. Well I know it wasn’t the sex…” He presses causing her smile to grow. “So what is it?’

“Hmm?”

“What’s got you biting on your lip like that?”

“I’m still wrapping my mind around you actually using my kitchen to cook.”

“If you’re lucky, it can be a new addition to our morning routine.”

His hands find her neck, tilting her head back granting him access to her lips.

The familiar electricity that took him over traveled across Billy’s body as she stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

The sound of his phone pulls them both down to earth.

“I have a meeting,” he sighs, his thumb lingering against her chin.

“Yeah.” Nodding, she smiles turning to gather her keys from the counter. Her heart struggles to calm down once she turns to find Billy hasn’t moved towards the door.

For a moment, it looks as though he’s going to say something. Instead of speaking, his eyes return to his watch before he takes a step towards the door.  

“Good luck today,” she smiles as he lets himself out.

She’s still standing where he’d last kissed her when Ariel peeks out.

Ariel steps out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. Resting against the doorway, she waits until the door has closed securely behind Billy to speak.

“So,” she smiles, the tone of her voice causing Naya’s eyes to roll. “That’s your mystery man, huh? Please tell me he has a brother.”

[ngeibheann]

Nobody Needs to Know

don’t ask why i’m doing this just [john mulaney voice] go! FETCH!

For the record, medicine isn't miracles. He's not really sure what it'll take for other people to get that through their thick skulls.

A re-write of The Oaths They Take, almost five years later.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880353

When shit goes south with a dullahan, Worth spends about two hours cleaning wounds, applying runes, and swearing at any little thing that moves. Hanna’s out for the night, medicated to a comfortable sleep on Worth’s insistence that he needs to be asleep unless he makes a break for it to go chasing after the monster again. He puts tall, dark, and dead in charge of making sure he stays asleep, but leaving the room gives him the perfect opportunity to start antagonizing a vampire the second he starts asking questions.

 It’s an awful goddamn pantomime they’ve got going on. Someone gets hurt, someone starts yelling, someone starts punching. It’s a social re-run, with the dialogue blurring together with past arguments. It’s remixed and retooled, and suddenly calling someone a cunt seems fresh and exciting. What’s less fresh would be the right hook to the jaw, knuckles scraping just barely against teeth.

 In their equal defenses, bickering about how much effort Worth had put into stabilizing Hanna probably was going to end with someone swinging. A lot of bloody rage for his apparent ineptitude as a medical professional, a lot of misplaced wish-upon-a-star bullshit about what medicine can do and how fast it works.

 “Medicine ain’t magic, an’ I’m not some fuckin fairy. You, maybe. Not me.”

 The comment is spat out with a tall leer and a bandaged hand running across his face, attention paid to a busted lip. The indignant look Conrad gives Worth isn’t anything new, but there’s a flash of what, regret? That maybe behind all of the bastard bravado there’s something that makes him feel some kind of guilt for hitting him? Shame isn’t tolerated in the clinic, usually.

 Worth crosses his arms over his chest when he realizes the silence is punctuated by that stare. “He’s gonna be out fer awhile. Y’can leave if yer gonna just stare at me like that.”

 Conrad blinks himself out of the daze, mirroring the crossed arms in a bout of defensiveness. “I expected you to punch me back.”

 He doesn’t expect the doctor to roll his eyes, a sigh like a heavy hiss before moving away from his position in their little stage at the center of the clinic, meandering back to a filing cabinet behind his desk. Conrad follows, if only out of morbid curiosity when he hears him mutter don’t feel like it as a response.

 “Wait, wait,” Conrad says, hand dropping onto the scuffed surface of Worth’s desk, only to immediately retract it when he comes into contact with some sort of slick substance that sticks to his hand for a moment. “You’re pissed.”

 Worth doesn’t dignify the analysis with a response, hissing and cursing at the filing cabinet when he rattles it loose on its bearings. It groans and screeches on the rails, metal screams against metal— the contents inside clattering with a glassy clatter and wet noise. It’s enough to cause some flinching on Conrad’s behalf, vampire senses be damned.

 When Worth turns around, he’s got a handle of tequila in hand and a neutral glare on his face. He sidles closer to Conrad, lean-sitting against the edge of the desk and unscrewing the cap of the bottle with deadened abandon. It’s unnatural, his silence stilted and the level of visible malice in him dropped to a complete standstill. It’d be pleasant if it didn’t manage to fill Conrad with curious dread.

 “Don’t tell me you grew a conscience after I decked you,” Conrad says, if only to goad Worth into acting more like himself and less like a haunted mannequin. “I might think you actually—“

 Worth cuffs him in the back of the head, his free hand delivering an open-palmed smack while he takes a belt from the amber bottle. It’s a sharp hit, enough to earn an ow, fuck in response. The look he gets is incredulous, offended, and yet somehow died back to a state of bewildered mystery.

 “Fuck yer conscience bullshit,” Worth finally bites out, bottle hanging loosely from the neck in his grasp. “Yeh wouldn’t be in here pissin’ an’ moanin’ about m’ bedside manner if yeh actually had an ounce a’ competence in your body. All of yeh, fuckin’ amazing.”

 “Oh, so Hanna being attacked by some weird horseman thing is my fault, now?” Conrad asks, and his fists curl at the nod he receives in return to the question.

 “All of yer faults. Stupid as sin, can’t keep that kid outta trouble, then yeh come in and have me patch Little Red Ridin’ Rune back up—“

 “Keeping him out of trouble is like keeping you out of a fucking liquor store, jackass.”

 The interruption earns another swat, only to be stopped mid-swing when Conrad swivels to grab his wrist with some degree of bruising force. Worth swears under his breath, sucks in air through his teeth, and takes another drink.

 Conrad glares back at him, bony wrist still in hand. “So were you always this much of a callous douche, or do you just need therapy and an AA meeting?”

 “What is this, a first date?”

 “Always a dick. Got it.”

 There’s a long pause before Worth thrusts the bottle of tequila in Conrad’s general direction, the tension in his shoulders dropping when he gives a protracted sigh. Conrad doesn’t take the offer, which then lets Worth remember that right, he is a vampire. No matter how much tequila is in his bloodstream, there’s no blood in booze.

 “Take a wild guess why I dropped out.” Worth says, an exhausted command. The bottle sits on the last remaining free space on the desk, atop a stack of messy papers. Conrad finally lets go of his wrist, only to cross his arms and close his eyes in an overblown act of thought.

 “My money’s on illiteracy or completely flunking out.” Conrad says, finger tapping against his arm. He opens his eyes to look back at Worth with a smug grin. “Am I right, or am I painfully right?”

 “I’ve got a BS in pre-med, dickhead,” Worth says, but there’s some degree of a smile on his face. It’s weird, Conrad admits to the existence of some positive expression on Worth as a bizzaro hex, but it’s more welcome than whatever hollow demon was possessing him moments ago.

 “You’re bluffing.”

 “I went t’ fuckin’ NYU. Grossman.”

 Conrad stares back at him, knowing full well the insinuation is that Worth did well, and at some point, had an obscene amount of money. Certainly passed an MCAT along the way, which is possibly the most un-Worth thing he could have ever guessed. But, by the venom in the way he says Grossman, Conrad knows it’s not a lie.

 “So, why’d you leave, then? Money run out?” Conrad asks, and Worth makes a point of looking back to the exam room, as if he could somehow see everything behind the wood of the door. His hands tent together before picking at the gauze on his arms.

 “Yeh ever think about how patient info sounds like bible verses?” Worth asks, which gets a blank stare if only for the insane revelation that Worth gives enough of a damn about the bible to draw that conclusion. “John, 19. Claire, 28. Steven, 14. Like that.”

 Conrad clears his throat to absolve him of any lingering ogling of the way Worth seems to quiet himself when he brings up the suggestion, fixated on his own arms. “Can’t say I have.”

 Worth looks up from his wrists, head slightly tilted. There’s exhaustion in his expression that his voice barely carries. “Y’think about it more when they die.”

 “You dropped out because—“

 “I didn’t have th’ balls t’ watch people mistake medicine fer miracles every night a’ my life? Or maybe it was watchin’ people die?” Worth answers with a question that’s not quite a question, pushing a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. He taps the pockets of his coat, quick to fumble through getting a cigarette and jamming the filter between his teeth.

 There’s a dead silence between them and the click of the lighter, and Conrad finally notices the flecks of red on the gauze covering Worth’s arms. He hadn’t been picking at his skin, but if blood was— jesus christ. Leave it to him, really. Walking around with someone else’s blood on him, despite an apparent attempt to have washed it off if his hands are any sure sign of concern. It’d be poetic if it weren’t so fucking morbid.

 Instead, Conrad opts to put a hand out. “Pass me one.”

 Worth gives him a side eye of insane proportions. “Since when d’ya smoke, princess?”

 Conrad rolls his eyes at the nickname, instead leaning over and taking a cigarette from the coat pocket himself. It’s a risky move, it’s a little too weirdo-intimate, but judging by the lack of protest, it’s probably fine. He mentions something about a metric fuckton of weed in college- art school bullshit and all that jazz. It’s enough of an answer to get Worth to give him a light at least, the two sitting on the table and taking silent drags.

 It was stressful, the bad shape Hanna had been in, and Conrad doesn’t exactly get Worth’s opinion on Hanna, but he knows he has to care somehow. In his own insult you on the operating table sort of way, but it’s still giving a shit. Seeing him visibly shaken feels cruel, almost. Any other day he’d be reveling in the way Worth’s been knocked off his hostile high-horse, but now it’d seem evil. A trespass of some kind.

 He doesn’t know when he started leaning against him, maybe an instinct to hunt for some extra bodily warmth in the chill of the clinic. It’s a bitter late November, and being undead doesn’t do Conrad any favors in the cold.

 He figures it can’t hurt to ask another question, that maybe Worth actually brought it up because he wants to talk about what the hell happened in New York. That maybe he’s moved on from being a petulant child and learned to use his words.

 “Why’d you tell me this?”

 The question is quiet and gets a huff in response, a slow drag hazing the air around them. Worth puts a free hand on Conrad’s shoulder, slowly slinking down his back to give a firm clap against his shoulder blade.

 “Cause,” He says slowly, staring at the front door of the clinic. “Nobody’s ever gonna believe ya if yeh squeal.”

 Of fucking course. Conrad can’t quite make out the tone, if he’s been bluffing the whole time or just pointing out that nobody in their right mind would ever believe he’d ever admit to that, especially to him.

 “Fucker.” Conrad says under a smoke-laiden exhale, opting for the response that gives Worth some plausible deniability to keep up the unshakeable asshole facade.

 “Bitch.” Worth mutters back, hand still idly moving against his back, personal space entirely forgotten in that moment.

 It’s going to be a long night.

[staticscreenwriting]

Until we say goodbye || one.

Warning! This multipart story takes place after the events of season 3. There’s huge spoilers already in the synopsis down below. I warned you.

Synopsis: (Y/N) Hargrove has to come to terms with the fact that her twin brother is dead and she had to watch him die, unable to do anything about it. There is something she can do for him now though and that’s keeping a promise. The promise to go back home to California. Together. In order to drive cross country and spread Billy’s ashes in a place where the Hargrove kids used to be happy, (Y/N) enlists the help of Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who decides that it’s time to break out from his parents expectations and be the person he always wanted to be.

This time on “Until we say goodbye”: Steve offers his help only he didn’t realise that meant going on a road trip with a girl he’s talked to like twice and a dead boy’s ashes. 

(caution: mention of death, emotional abuse, slight mention of physical abuse, mention of alcohol // if you need me to tag any other possible triggers let me know)

Part 1 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. Tried to edit out all mistakes it but it’s almost 1 in the mornig and I  am tired.]

And if we hit on troubled water

I'll be the one to keep you warm and safe

And we'll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day

Rain is pattering down on the roof of his car as Steve Harrington drives down the familiar roads of Hawkins Indiana. Days are getting shorter and nights are getting colder and the town seems to be stuck under an all consuming downpour for the last few weeks. 

Maybe, Steve thinks, it isn’t all that bad. The hot summer days of 1985 have left more people traumatized than anyone can really fathom. Maybe the rain can wash it all away. The summer and the bad memories and the hurt. 

As his car stops in front of the small house on Cherry Lane, he realizes that that is just wishful thinking and even with the summer gone, the trauma is gonna stay for a long time. There’s a car parked in front. Hardly a car anymore. It’s bent chrome and dented metal. And then there’s a girl sitting on the porch , cigarette dangling from her fingertips, watching the trashed car and the rain.

(Y/N) Hargrove has her twin brothers perpetual scowl. He wonders if it’s always been this prominent of if the events of July 4th only made it worse. 

She had been there, had to watch her twin brother die. Steve wasn’t there. Not inside at least and for that he is entirely grateful. He’s seen his fair share of unexplainable, horrible things over the last 3 years, seeing a person die right in front of him is not something he wants to add to the list. 

There’s no way for him to even imagine what (Y/N) is going through. What has happened to Barb is as close as he has ever gotten to death and though that left him unable to ever use his own pool again, he still feels a certain kind of disconnect to it. Like it is something that happened in another life. Like he is watching all of it through a tv screen.

Max had been unusually quiet for a while after the events of Starcourt. Talked very little, laughed very little. Though the times she accompanied Dustin on a trip to the video store recently, Steve could see her slowly getting better. 

(Y/N) though, by the looks of it there is no getting better happening there anytime soon..

Steve keeps watching her for a moment. He wonders if he ever actually talked to her before. More than a hey or a greeting at scoops. She’s in Nancy’s year, just like Billy was. Wherever he went, she did too. It was like they came two at the price of one. And perhaps that was just a twin thing. Or maybe it was a Hargrove thing. 

Steve’s sight falls back towards his passenger seat and the reason he’s here in the first place. It’s not to watch the sad girl, it’s to return her sister’s wallet.

Ever since Steve has started working at the video store, the party has invited themselves to use the back room as their own private movie theatre, watching whatever new releases would come into stores before it was even put onto the shelves. Keith doesn’t give a shit as long as they clean up after themselves and Steve and Robin, though they will never admit it out loud, do kind of enjoy spending time with the kids.

Max and Lucas had been around all day, trying to escape the rain and Dustin’s swooning over Suzie which got more and more insufferable for the teenagers recently. Steve had sat with them for a while until Max glanced towards the clock that hangs above the door and jumped up like she was hit by lightning, mumbling something about how she should’ve been home hours ago before rushing through the door and out the shop, quickly followed by her boyfriend. Her wallet left behind.

Grabbing Max’s stuff from the passenger seat, Steve gets out of the car and rushes towards the tiny house, rain pouring down on him and soaking his jacket before he can take cover under the porch roof.

(Y/N) looks up at him, seemingly just now noticing another person in her close proximity. 

“ Harrington ? “ 

He’s used to being called by his last name by one of the Hargrove twins, though it usually came out in a gruff voice laced with an underlying challenge. A silent trial on how far Steve’s boundaries could be pushed until he would snap. 

To say that Steve never really liked Billy would be an understatement, and yet whenever he looks at Max or (Y/N) he wishes that things would’ve turned out differently for the Hargrove boy.

When (Y/N) says his name, there’s no hatred in it, no disdain. All there is is confusion and sadness. All consuming, overwhelming sadness. 

“ Hi, I uh — Max left her wallet at the video store. “ 

“ Why are you hanging out with my sister ? “ she asks and raises her eyebrow in confusion. Steve can just make out how red and glassy her eyes are, how tired she looks.

“ I don’t. I mean she hangs out at my workplace. Not just her but like — her and the other kids. They watch movies. “ 

For a second she just watches him. She sizes him up like she’s not really sure what to expect, what to make of his words. Steve knows that the friendship he has with those kids is unusual but that doesn’t mean he feels ashamed of it. They fought intergalactical monsters together, you don’t just got your separate ways after that. These kids, these families, they are his extended families now and no time passing is gonna change anything about that. 

“ Alright. “ she just nods, taking a drag from the cigarette and slowly blowing the smoke into the air. “ Max ain’t home though. She went to Lucas’ place for dinner. Just came home to let us know she wasn’t dead and then left again. It’s really — it’s not a good time right now “. 

When she looks up at him, he once again notices just how tired she looks. Like she’s on that line between being asleep and being awake. Her looks, her movements, everything seems to be in slow motion, as if moving at a normal speed takes too much strength. A strength she can’t muster up. 

There’s dark shadows under her eyes and Steve isn’t sure but he thinks he can just about make up the fading hues of a bruise on her cheek. Bruises heal though, right ? It’s been months since the night at Starcourt, this fading bruise can’t be a product of those events. 

Then again, maybe it’s not a bruise at all maybe it’s just —

“ Harrington ? Have I lost you or something ? “ 

“ Oh uh — sorry. Can I leave her stuff with you ? “ 

“ Sure whatever, as long as you get outta here then. “ 

Steve doesn’t really understand the hostility. Sure they aren’t friends, never have been, but there’s no reason for her to be snappy and rude. 

As he’s about to hand the stuff to her, there’s a commotion coming from the house. A deep voice yelling expletives as if they were cheers on a football field.  There’s banging and shouting and the smashing of a glass object against the wall. 

To his right, the girl flinches with every noise coming from the house. She looks straight ahead at the rain seemingly focusing on the individual drops as they smash to the ground. But Steve notices her hand that doesn’t hold on to the cigarette stub. The hand that’s nervously fisting the fabric of her pants, holding onto it as if it’s a lifeline keeping her afloat. 

“ Are you alright ? “ he asks, about to lean down to her level when the door swings open with a fury and a box is forcefully slammed down on the porch beside her. 

“ I told you to figure out what to do with his shit weeks ago, why do these fucking boxes still take up our entire fucking house, huh ? I almost fucking fell because I ran into on. If you don’t move his shit I’ll throw it all in the trash. I swear to god, (Y/N). “ 

Through the patter of the rain cuts a voice that’s deep and loud and tinted in anger not unlike the one that always seemed to lace Billy’s words. Only these words leave the mouth of a grown adult and that makes the anger a million times more scary. It makes them more real. More palpable. 

The voice belongs to a tall, short haired man with piercing blue eyes. They look cold and void of any comfort or hospitality. His lips are pulled into an ugly snarl only accentuated by his thick mustache. He looks like a cross between some big burly military guy and a lumberjack, with his military boots and his dirty greyish green flannel shirt. 

As the cold eyes glance towards Steve, it feels as if a cold shiver runs down his spine. Those are not the eyes of a loving father. 

“ Who are you ? “ 

“ Steve Harrington, sir. “ 

“ Are we inviting friend now with no warning no nothing ? Huh, (Y/N) ? “ 

She doesn’t look up at what Steve assumes is her father, just keeps focusing on the rain and the cigarette in her hand.

“ He’s not my friend “ she mumbles with a voice so faint, so quiet, Steve almost doesn’t catch her words at all.

“ Oh no ? Well then that makes me wonder ever more what in the world he’s doing here. “ 

Though the man’s question pertain him, none of them are directed at Steve, they are all directed towards the girl sitting on the porch, curling in on herself further and further with every word spoken. 

“ Max lost her wallet, Harrington’s just bringing it around. “ 

He takes that as his cue to insert himself into the conversation.

“ That’s right. I thought I should bring it by she probably needs it so — here you go, “ he says and holds it out towards the man only for him to snatch it from his hands.

“ Well would you look at that, “ the man sneers and once again disregards Steve completely in order to focus on his clearly distressed daughter “ good honorable young men still exist. Now if only I could’ve raised one. “ 

It’s clearly a dig towards Billy. His son. His recently deceased son. Steve feels incredibly uncomfortable and extremely shocked as he listens to the man talk like that about the one person he was supposed to love unconditionally. 

He’s fairly sure that Mr. Hargrove doesn’t know the full story of what happened, hell how would anyone explain this to a person who wasn’t there ? But just the fact that Billy died, that his teenage son died, should be enough to make him feel remorseful, to make him not talk like this about Billy. 

“ Steve was just about to leave dad. Right, Steve ? “ (Y/N) says and for the first time since the man has stepped out on the porch, she takes her eyes off of the falling rain and glances towards Steve. It’s the first time she’s called him by his first name and in her voice there’s an underlying urgency only reinforced by the same desperation cleary mirrored in her eyes.

Every fiber of his body screams at him not to leave, to stick by her side in this moment of clear distress. Steve Harrington doesn’t think of himself as a hero by any means but there’s moments in his life where he knows what’s the right thing to do. This is one of them and the right thing is to stand his ground and not ignore the sad girl being emotionally broken down by her own father. But sometimes the right thing isn’t the easy thing. Sometimes the right thing is very scary and it asks for a lot of bravery, a lot of guts. Sometimes it’s fighting other people’s fights. 

And how is he supposed to do that when he can’t even fight his own ? 

“ Right, Steve ? “ she repeats, louder this time. Her eyes are pleading now. 

“ I uh — yeah. Sure. “ he stumbles over his words as his heart struggles with his decision.

Sometimes the right thing is too much to handle. Sometimes he’s not brave enough.

“ Have a good evening and — (Y/N) if you ever need something, let me know “.

As he said before, he’s not a hero. He’s just a boy. Just Steve Harrington. 

So he walks back towards his car, rain still pouring down on him. And as he sits down in his car and looks back towards the house, the girl is alone again and she’s still crying but now there’s a box of things next to her. A box of things that belong to just a boy who never got the chance to be a man.

                               Some 1950’s record is playing over his dad’s fancy record player as Steve sits at the dining table, pushing the food from one side of the plate to the other. It’s been a while since the last proper family dinner. Usually Steve just gets some food on the way home from work. It’s probably less healthy than a home cooked meal but it means that he doesn’t have to sit at the table with his mom in awkward silence until they’ve both gulped down their dinner and can go their separate ways. 

But today dad’s home from a business trip and whenever that happens, no matter how rare those occasions are, mom makes a big deal out of sitting them all down for a proper family dinner. 

Steve has hated them since he was a kid. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and it always ends up with a fight. Most of the time between him and his dad and that usually makes mom cry and drink yet another glass of red wine which then in return makes his dad angry and yell at his mother and thus begins a never ending circle of fights and accusations.

There so many secrets at this dinner table. They’re hidden in plain sight, clearly visible to all the people involved and yet no one dares to address them. Because addressing them would set of a metaphorical nuclear bomb ready to destroy everything and everyone.

“ So, Steve — “ his dad starts and washes down his mother’s dry meatloaf with a sip of white wine, no doubt some expensive french concoction. “ a video store, eh ? That’ interesting. “ 

It’s not. They both know this just well. It’s just his father's eloquent way of leading into yet another talk about how unreliable, irresponsible and viciously disappointing Steve is in his eyes.

It used to hurt back in the day, now Steve is so used to it he hardly pays it any more attention than he would to a music jingle on a tv commercial. You kinda know how it goes after the third time.

“ Mmh. Sure it is. “ 

“ Steve works there with a girl. Her name is Robin. She’s the Buckley’s little girl “.

“ Is that true ? Oh her father Collin always talks so highly of her. Very smart from what I hear. She sounds like quite the catch “.

Oh no. Even worse than his parents scolding him for his job or his supposedly bad decisions, is his parents trying to set him up with someone. They’ve been through this countless of times before. As soon as Steve had started to show interest in girls they had brought up all the single daughters of their friends in conversation, trying to seem casual. Only Steve doubts his parents even know what being casual means.

“ Yep, she’s nice. We’re friends “ 

He’s fairly sure that the emphasis on friends is not gonna stop his parents but it’s worth a try really.

“ Friends yeah yeah. That’s how it always starts, right John ? “ his mom says and throws a saccharine fake smile at his dad. 

It’s hard to imagine his parents ever being in love. Like really properly in love. What they have now, it’s very convenient to them both. Dad owns a business which means his paycheck ain’t all that bad and mom is charming and a good talker, she knows how to get on the good side of dad’s partners. But Steve wonders if they really ever loved each other like the people do in movies. Like he loved Nancy. The love that makes you crazy in the head and in the heart. 

He wonders if his parents had planned this. To live in a picture perfect one family home with dad hardly being around and mom spending most her time at the country club sipping wine and gossiping while their only son works at the local video store. 

Did they ever have bigger dreams than this ? To see the world together and go on adventures and do — things people do when they’re in love ? 

He doubts it. His dad is a very matter of fact guy. He’s pragmatic and stoic and probably the least romantic person he can think of. And mom she’s — used to it, he thinks. Used to the man she’s married, may it have been for love or convenience.

“ Robin and I are just friends mom, that’s all there’s ever gonna be. “ 

While those words stung the first time they really set it back in that dirty toilet cubicle, they don’t do that now. Now he’s just happy to have a friend that gets him and cherishes him for who he is. And the fact that she isn’t a literal kid is also a plus. 

“ Oh well, if only you hadn't blown your chance with the Wheeler girl. I’m sure that would’ve been a nice future. She was good for you, son. She probably would’ve set you straight. Go to college together. “

Steve is pretty sure his dad doesn’t remember Nancy’s name which is why he always goes back to referring to her as “the wheeler girl”. His dad knows Nancy’s parents and so that name he can remember but he’s never really paid much attention to what Steve has told him about Nancy. Whatever Steve was talking about never seemed to be important enough to fully listen. To show any kind of interest. 

“ I didn’t blow it, dad “.

“ Sure you didn’t. I mean it surely wasn’t because she has perspectives for the future and you — “ 

At his father’s words Steve just lazily rolls his eyes. All words on this topic have been spoken countless times before there’s no need to say them again. Over and over again.

“ Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man. I’m just concerned “

Yeah concerned that his perfect nuclear family won’t seem to perfect anymore to his friends and colleagues and all the fancy people in fancy suits and dresses who drink fancy wine from fancy glasses and pretend like there’s no problems in the world worse than their cancelled spa appointment. 

If only he could tell his parents about everything. About Barb and the Demodogs. About Starcourt. Maybe they’d go easier on him. Maybe then they would understand. 

But how could he? How can he make them believe this story that, had he not been there, he wouldn’t believe either.

He can’t. So he’ll just have to live with the trauma and let his father’s words bounce off of him.

“ So, “ his mom chirps up “ anyone want some dessert ? “ 

“ No, mom I — “ 

But Steve doesn’t get to finish his sentence as the ringing doorbell echoing through the house interrupts him. Taking the distraction for a blessing, Steve rushes towards the door calling a “I’ll get it” as he goes.

Sometimes, he thinks, God or whatever higher power there is, does answer your silent prayers. Even if all you’re praying for is a chance to get the fuck outta here.

As he swings open the door, he’s expecting one of the neighbours. Mrs. Connelly loses one of the 3 cats every other day and runs around the neighbourhood looking for it. Or maybe it’s Clarice Holden who loved to gossip with his mother.

But no, it’s neither of them.

Before him stands, ever present scowl on her face, (Y/N) Hargrove. Where earlier today there was urgency in her eyes, now they’re filled with uncertainty. Her arms are crossed and she’s nervously tapping her foot on the ground. 

“ Hi ? “ 

“ Harrington, I need your help “ she says, sounding out of breath. Her cheeks are flushed and her breath seems rugged. Did she run here ? 

“ Okay, with what exactly ? “ 

“ I need you to drive me to California. “

Steve’s first reaction is to laugh. A deep hard belly laugh. But as his eyes find her face again, he can see no sign of a joke. There’s an unshakable seriousness about her which tells him that this is not a joke. This is real.

“ I’m sorry, what ? “ 

“ Drive me to California so I can spread Billy’s ashes there “.

At those words he notices for the first time, the big duffel bag on the floor by her feet and the Star Wars thermos sticking out from it.

“ Please tell me that’s not him in there. “

“ You want me to lie ? “ 

“ You are insane. “ 

“ What, why ? “ 

“ You come to my house when we’ve talked about twice in the entire time you’ve been living here. You ask me to drive you to California, which if I may remind you is pretty much on the other side of the country. And above all else, you carry your brother’s ashes around in a Star Wars thermos mug ? “

“ He really liked that one when we were younger and also you told me to come to you when I needed something. And I really need help here .” 

Steve feels like he’s on a tv show. One that tries to prank the contestants in various ridiculous ways. With pranks so unbelievable you wonder how those people don’t notice they are being pranked. This can’t be real, right ? This is not something people ask you to do when you’ve only talked a few times. Right ? Right ? 

“ I was thinking more along the lines of a shoulder to cry on not — not this “ Steve exclaims nodding towards her bag and the thermos.

“ Well you didn’t clarify. “ 

“ Geez, I didn’t know I had to. Can’t your dad take you ? I mean, wouldn’t he want to be there? “ 

Her face falls and for a moment Steve hates himself for even asking this question. He’s seen her dad, experienced how lovely he is. What a dumb question. A guy who mocks his own dead son surely doesn’t want to drive cross country to spread his ashes.

“ I don’t want my dad to take me. Look Steve. I was there and I had to watch — I had to watch it happen. I couldn’t do anything then but I can do something now. I can bring him somewhere where maybe he won’t rest peacefully but he will rest in a place he used to be happy. Where we used to be the happiest we’ve ever been. I had to steal he ashes from that ugly golden urn that stands on the side table in the living room of a house he hated in a town he hated with people he couldn’t stand. I get the chance to leave after High School. I don’t want him to have to stay. I couldn’t save him then but I can save him now. “ (Y/N) explains and takes a big breath before continuing “ I have 52 dollars and 85 cents. I have a bunch of records to listen to on the road and I really — really need to do this. Please it’s all I can do. “ 

There’s tears building in her eyes threatening to fall any second. Her need to do this, to bring Billy home is all consuming and almost palpable in the air around her. But why would she ask Steve, why him ? He’s not a hero, he didn’t even particularly like Billy. Why him ?

“ Why do you want me to take you ? “ 

“ Because I don’t have a car, the Camaro is — well you know. But mostly and most importantly because you were the first person to care. “ 

And at that, he can’t say no. Maybe earlier wasn’t his moment to be brave and heroic, to do the right thing. Maybe this is.

He can hear his parents bickering from the dining room, can just make out his name and the word “ hopeless “.

Maybe they are right, really. Maybe he is a hopeless cause. College might never be in the cards for him and hey maybe he will end up 45 and still working at the video store but if so, he will do it on his own terms. 

He will be his own person. One that’s went through trials and tribulations and has experienced things that no person ever should. And he will be the person that decided that night to be a hero and take a sad girl across the country to bring her brother home and mend her broken heart, even if just a tiny little bit.

“ Okay look, load your stuff into my car and meet me at the gas station in about 15 minutes. I gotta pack some stuff and we’re gonna be on the road for a while so we will need to stock up on snacks. “ 

“ 15 minutes “ 

“ Gimme 15 and I’ll be there. “ 

“ You promise ? “ 

“ I promise. “ 

And Steve Harrington never breaks a promise. 

He watches (Y/N) load her stuff into his car then closes the front door and peaks into the hallway. His parents have resorted to the living room, lounging on the couch watching family feud or some shit like that. They’ll most likely start fighting about the show anytime soon and how much better they’d do if they were called on. Which usually annoys Steve to no end but now works perfectly for what he is about to do.

Rushing upstairs, Steve enters his parents room, pulls open the second drawer from the top of the old wooden wardrobe and pushes away all of his mother’s socks and tights until he reaches the very back of the drawer. He fumbles around for a moment until his hand grabs onto what he’s actually looking for. 

The egg shaped container has been hidden there for most of Steve’s life. Mom doesn’t know that he knows about it. Doesn’t know that at least one of the Harrington men is fully aware that the little egg is not used to store pantihose but money for “bad times”. 

Steve pulls it open and starts counting. 465 dollars. 

465 bucks his mom probably would’ve ended up using for yet another trip to the hairdresser or some fancy ass wine from somewhere in italy. 

Those 465 bucks were stored there for “bad times” and if this isn’t a bad time, Steve doesn’t know what is. It was never specified it has to be a bad time for the Harringtons.

Stuffing the bills into his wallet, Steve places the now empty egg back where it came from and quickly puts everything back as it has been before, moving on the his room. There’s a duffel bag under his bed that he pulls out and fills with clothes and other necessities. A glance at the clock tells him he’s got only 5 more minutes and he doesn’t want to let (Y/N) wait. 15 minutes. He promised. 

After dropping the duffel bag out the upper hallway window and onto the front yard, Steve runs back down and sticks his head through the open door to the living room.

“ Hey guys, funny story that was Robin, someone’s causing a scene at the video store and they refuse to leave. Keith sent her to get backup so, gotta go. “ 

“ Now ? “ his mom questions.

“ They called for YOU for backup ? “ his dad ask incredulously. 

If only he could tell his dad that he just recently won a fight against a trained russian guard, maybe then he’d be taken seriously in this goddamn household.

But he can’t tell him. Never.

So again he swallows his pride and calls out a “ I’ll be back “ to his parents before picking up his bag from the lawn and  getting into his car. He will be back, it’s not even a lie per say. He just doesn’t specify when he’ll be back.

Starting the car Steve throws one last look back towards his house. The place he’s grown up in. Where all he is ever going to be is a disappointment. 

Maybe it is time to leave it behind and be someone else. Someone better. Some kind of hero.

                              (Y/N) sits on the curb by the entrance to the gas station. A light drizzle has started up again and she’s watching the pink hues of the neon signs being reflected in the puddles slowly accumulating in the cracks on the asphalt. 

Her gaze wanders towards the thermos cup resting next to her. If this was any other person, any other situation, this would be quite comical. Wouldn’t it ? Ashes in a Star Wars mug. Only there’s nothing funny about this. There’s just sadness there and pain. 

She wonders if her dad has noticed by now, that she’s gone. Wonders if he’s seen the ugly urn smashed on the living room floor. She wonders if he’s noticed that all of Billy’s personal stuff is gone. She wonders if he even really cares.

Taking the thermos into her hands she closes her eyes and lets the words leave her lips. 

“ Hey B. I — I’m sorry I put you into this mug but it was the only thing I could find that was safe to take on a road trip and not spill half of you. I hope you’ll forgive me for that. And for asking Harrington to take me to San Diego. I know you don’t like him but I — he is the only one who seems to care. The only one who asked if I was alright. “ 

She takes a long breath, willing for the tears to stay at bay. Crying is all she seems to do lately.

“ I promised you we’d go back, didn’t I ? I just wish I could’ve been different. God I miss you so much, B. Why did it have to be you, huh ? “ 

Wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her, of Billy’s, denim jacket, she places the thermos back inside her bag. “ god I need to stop talking to inanimate objects. People are gonna think I’m going insane.. “ 

The headlights of a car suddenly illuminate the parking space before the vehicle comes to a screeching halt. A figure steps out, walks closer, closer. 

“ Steve ? “ 

“ Uh yeah ? “ 

“ You came ! “

“ Yeah, I promised I would “.

And for the first time in a long time, (Y/N) feels like hint of a smile tug on corners of her lips. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

16 for indruck or 33 for sternclay? Please and thank you love

I did 16 first, SFW. I’ll be doing 33 soon!

#16: we’re on the longest flight ever and I’m a bad flier to begin with but you’ve fallen asleep on my shoulder and are snoring SO LOUD

Indrid grips his armrest tighter, tries to focus on the game on his phone.  Maybe if he arranges his yard just right, he can get that rare, rainbow bird to come. 

The plane jolts again and he hisses, wishes the flight would be over, that his feet were on the ground, that if nothing else they would stop hitting so much turbulence so he could forget he’s stuck in a metal tube hurtling through the sky in the dark above the unfeeling earth. 

If only he could relax, maybe even sleep, something his seatmate is having no trouble with. The man greeted him politely when he slipped in next to him (at least they’re only two to a row, in case he has to get up), drawl pronounced and smile genuine. He fell asleep shortly after take off, and has stayed so for the last three hours of this fifteen hour journey. Indrid would be less inclined to hold this against him were he not snoring loudly every five seconds. It jars Indrid from whatever he’s concentrating on and then he’s right back to the whole sky->metal tube->surely going to die mindset.

More turbulence and he gasps, his nerves not helped by his seatmate tipping to the side and resting his head on his shoulder. While he’s certainly daydreamed about a cute bear falling asleep on him (is there a name for a short bear? Teddy bear? Oh god why is the plane making that noise?)

The next bump is bad and he jumps with a squeak. The man wakes up, jostled by his sudden movement. 

“Guhwha? Or, sorry man, didn’t mean to zonk out on you.” Up close and soft, the drawl is painfully charming. Indrid wishes he was calm enough to enjoy it. 

“It’s, it’s alright, I, I didn’t mean to Nahnnn!” Another bump and he grips his arm rests.

“Not a fan of flyin?’”

“Obviously” he manages through grit teeth.

The man shakes his head, blinking fully awake, “I, uh, got some more of those little melatonin things in my bag. You want one?”

“No, thank you.”

“You sure? Flight might be a lot more bearable if you were asleep for most of it.”

“I, I can’t. You will think I’m a lunatic if I tell you why.”

“Hey, I fell asleep on a random dude’s shoulder, everyone gets a little weird on planes.”

“I worry that if I fall asleep, I will not be ready to respond if something disastrous happens.”

The man stares at him a moment and he wishes he could hide under his meager blanket. 

“Yeah, I get that. Whoah, easy now.” He rests his hand on Indrid’s shoulder as a series of large bumps makes him shudder and curl in on himself, breathing rapidly. 

“I hate flaying. Hate it, hate it hate it.”

The man is rubbing his arm soothingly, “my sister ain’t a fan of it either. Somethin’ that helped her is thinkin about a plane in the air like a boat on the sea. Turbulence is just like goin’ over a wave; going’ over a wave don’t sink a boat.”

“But a wave going over a boat can. What if there are tidal waves in the sky? Or, not wave waves, but, but you know what I mean.”

“Strike me as about as likely as a great white shark in the sky.”

Indrid laughs, a tad hysterical, “goodness, imagine looking out that window and seeing a shark.”

“Feel like it’d be more confused than us. Ain’t no seals in the sky. That’d be kind cute though, seein’ ‘em sittin in trees like birds.”

Indrid’s knuckles are no longer white, and he can finally move his hands with enough control to pull his fidget cube from his pocket. 

“Is Brazil your last stop?” The man is no longer touching him, but he stays turned towards him, green eyes filled with polite curiosity. 

“Yes. I, ah, I am a photographer, I’m going down to document the reforestation efforts.”

“No shit! I’m goin’ down to help with them.” A crooked, excited grin, “I’m with the forest service, and we’re doin’ a kind of good neighbor program where some of our folks go down to do what we can to help with the recovery from the fires.”

“That is very impressive.” The cube combined with the conversation is soothing him. 

“Thanks. Know it’s silly, thinkin one fella can make a difference, but I wanna do what I can.”

“I do not think it’s silly. Do you specialize in anything?”

“Trees, mainly, other plants too. Spent the last three months crammin’ from books like this” he taps the botany book in his seatback pocket, “to make sure I don’t make too much of a fool of myself in a new ecosystem. You do much nature photography?”

“Yes. I specialize in nature and fashion, hence my being sent on this assignment. I, ah, do you follow National Geographic at all?”

“‘Course.”

“I won their photography award last year.”

“Shit, was that the hawk one?”

“Yes.” 

“Damn man, that photo was heavy stuff. I heard it helped convince a few places to introduce more protections for raptors.”

“I heard so as well. That made hiding in the blind and nearly getting shot by a disgruntled hunter worthwhile. That is why I love photography; I suppose it’s cliche, but a picture can indeed be worth a thousand words.”

“Guess that’s true….wait, fuck, did you say someone almost shot you?” 

Indrid summarizes his encounter with the hunter who insisted it was right to hunt, and how he had not argued that point, and that he was merely documenting what was happening in the forest that morning.

“Yeah, had a few run ins with hunters. Poachers too.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I had better days, that’s for damn sure. You ever come up against a bear when you’re out?”

“I was on assignment in Denali once and documented a mother Grizzly and her cubs. From the river, in a little boat. That let me keep my distance. You?”

“Few times, not super close. They get into campsites sometimes, usually when folks ain’t followin directions on storin food. Once had a family come back to find all their food had been eaten by a bear. Except the jar of honey.”

Indrid laughs, “clearly he wished to avoid playing to stereotype.”

A massive bump and Indrid whimpers in surprise. 

“C’mon, you got this, pretend you’re facin’ down the hunter.”

“I can reason with a hunter, I cannot reason with a plane.”

“Here” the man rifles through his bag, “I got some good BBC nature stuff downloaded. You wanna watch with me ? Might distract you.”

“Alright. Ah, thank you…?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.”

They make it through two episodes before a bad bit of turbulence has his hand shooting out to grab onto something. That something happens to be Duck’s hand. He’s about to pull away, apologize, when Duck simply twines their fingers together, occasionally brushing his thumb along Indrid’s hand whenever he squeezes down in fear.  

By the time the rest of the plane is waking for breakfast, Duck’s head is once again on Indrid’s shoulder as he shows him some photos from previous assignments that have yet to be published. They talk over their breakfast and well into lunch about their homes, about what they’re each looking forward to and dreading about being out in the field, and learn they’ll actually be working from the same base camp. When they practice their Portuguese on each other, Duck mispronounces something so egregious they both end up doubled over in their cramped seats with laughter. 

Sometime past hour twelve, Duck asks, “You got anyone back home who’s missin you?”

“No. I travel often for work, so do not have much time to devote to swimming about the dating pool. Yourself?”

“Got outta a relationship a few months ago, not really sure when I’ll get into another one.” 

By hour thirteen, Indrid’s eyelids are heavy, his head continually listing to one side as he nearly falls asleep. Duck lifts up the armrest between them, and Indrid nestles against his shoulder, too tired to marvel at how safe he feels in the arms of such a new acquaintance. 

When his eyes open again, he’s in Brazil. 

Duck deplanes with him, and they stumble through the airport, land legs not quite back online. Indrid waits for their bags while Duck retrieves coffee, teasingly calling Indrid “hummingbird” when he explains just how much sweetener needs to be in his.  They stay side by side near the baggage carousel for as long as they can, planning out their respective routes. The magazine has given him the choice to stay in Sao Paulo for a night before moving on to the rain forest, and for a moment he contemplates it. Duck, meanwhile, has returned from the bathroom where he changed into his outdoor wear. 

“I got a half hour before my ride gets here, then some more travelin until we hit camp. You stayin here tonight?”

It would be restful, a break from travel, a last evening in an urban area before leaving for the wild. And it’s not like he won’t see Duck again, they’ll have plenty of chances to talk while he’s on his assignment. 

“If it’s quite alright, I’d like to come with you.”

Duck gives him that smile again and Indrid feels like he could travel for another two days solid. And when their transport arrives, they step onto it hand in hand. 

[whorderofthepheonix]

Three’s Company: Chapter 3 || Erik Killmonger x Adonis Creed x Black!OC

A/N: Sorry this is so late!!!! I’m currently on vacation but here it is! I made it super long and filled you smut for you guys!!!! ENJOY!

Words: 5.1k (Long AF but you’ll love every word!)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (A LOTTTTTT)

Georgia’s POV

I woke up the next morning, wrapped in Erik’s arms. He slept so peacefully, his lips parted slightly and his chest rising and falling softly. I leaned in and kissed his lips. He stayed asleep so I kissed him again, deeply. I straddled him, not breaking our kiss and grinded on his naked body. A minute later, he was awake kissing me back and fully hard. He pushed himself into me and I moaned loudly. I rode him hard, feeling my orgasm nearing.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum!” I moaned.

Then my fucking phone started to ring.

“Mother fucker!” I shouted.

“Let it go to voicemail,” Erik whined. I reached over and looked at the caller ID.

“It’s my friend Madison. She never showed up last night. I should take this.”

“Well, I’m not stopping. You not bouta give me blue balls,” he laughed. “I’m gettin’ my nut.” I swiped answer and held the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Okay, first I’m sorry that I was so late to the bar but ya ass wasn’t even there when I arrived!” She whined.

“So you got to the bar?” I asked as Erik sat up with me still straddling his lap.

“Bitch, not only did I get there, I met this fine ass chocolate nigga who took me back to his hotel suite!” She moaned into the receiver. “This nigga blew my fucking back out! Holy shit! I snuck out of the hotel early this morning before he could wake up!” Erik reached down and rubbed my clit making me cry out. “Um… You good?”

“Yeah, I’m just– Fuck! Right there!”

“BITCH ARE YOU GETTING FUCKED RIGHT NOW?!” She laughed.

“Imma call you back!” I hissed throwing my phone on the floor. I pulled Erik’s dreads and rode him harder. “Fuck, Erik! Daddy, Yes!” I came hard and he followed seconds after me. His wet lips traced my neck and he looked me in the eyes.

“Good morning to you too,” he grinned.

We had a lazy Sunday. We ordered take out, closed all the blinds, and watched movies all day… Not to mention all the incredible sex we had. I was so fucking pissed that I had to get up for work on Monday. Erik and I walked out of my brownstone, Monday at 8 am. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“I don’t wanna go to work,” I frowned.

“Nah, none of that. You gotta go secure that bag, Princess,” he advised me.

“When can I see you again? You said you weren’t in town for long,” I reminded him.

“That’s true… I did say that. But who knows?”

“What changed?” A smile crept on my face.

“Maybe someone gave me a reason to stay,” he shrugged. I tiptoed and kissed him deeply.

“I’ll call you tonight?”

“You better.” He gave my ass a slap before hopping in his Uber. I got in my car and drove to work feeling like I was on clouds. I clocked in and sat at my desk, still grinning like an idiot when Madison rushed over, with a mischievous smile.

“Who’s Erik?” She winked. My eyes widened.

“What?” I asked.

“You never hung up the phone yesterday, and I heard y’all fucking!” She cackled. “Who is he?!”

“I’ve told you about Erik… You know? My childhood boyfriend? We were in foster care together, we lost our virginities to each other-”

“BITCH, YOU MEAN 50 SECOND ERIK?!” She laughed. I groaned, covering my face.

“I can assure you, he lasts a lot longer than 50 seconds now,” I winked. We both laughed as someone cleared their throat behind Madison. She moved out of the way and there stood Adonis, holding a stack of papers. I had completely forgotten about Donnie and our… Exploits. Our falling out hadn’t even crossed my mind after I reconnected with Erik.

“Can you make 5 copies of this for me, please?” He asked handing me the paper.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Madison excused herself. “We’ll talk later.” She walked away and I took the papers from Donnie and went over to the machine. He came around the desk to the copier.

“I’ve been texting and calling since yesterday morning,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Sorry. I was… busy,” I smirked, reminiscing about my weekend with Erik.

“Gigi, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” he pleaded. “I had a great time Friday-”

“Are you sure you should be talking to me here? Wouldn’t wanna risk you not getting that promotion.”

“Actually, I got the promotion…”

“Well, whoop-de-fucking-do!” I rolled my eyes. “Excuse the fact that I’m not jumping for joy-”

“But not before I told HR about us.” He added. I stopped making copies and looked at him.

“You… You what? You told HR about us?!” I hissed. “Without telling me?!”

“If I’m not mistaken, you got mad that I didn’t say anything, and now that I have, you’re still upset? That’s why I kept trying to call you. If you’d listen to any of the voicemails I left, you would’ve known.”

I took a deep breath.

“Look, Donnie,” I sighed. “I really wish you hadn’t because-” He pressed his lips to mine and I felt a warmness go through my legs, turning them to jelly. “I… Um. I-I-I don’t know if I feel the same way…”

“Well, maybe I can help you remember,” he whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine. I felt my panties dampen.

“I… um, maybe,” I stammered.

“I got my own office now. It’s across from the break room. So if you change ya mind, you can come by on your break… And I’ll show you exactly what this mouth can do,” he bit my earlobe lightly before getting his papers from the copier and retreating from my desk. I was actually sweating. Fuck fuck fuck! What do I do? My heart and vagina started arguing.

Vagina: Adonis went and told HR about you, plus you’ve liked him since FOREVER!

Heart: But Erik’s your one true love, Georgia!

Vagina: Erik isn’t here, now is he?

Heart: Fuck you slut. You’re gonna be the reason that I break again!

Vagina: Um, who tf was thinking about love? I’m tryna get ate so… Let’s go ride his face, G.

Brain: No! Jesus, Georgia! Stop thinking with your cooch and your heart and start thinking with your head! You shouldn’t have any more sexual contact with either of these guys until you figure out what to do! Do I make myself clear?!

Georgia: Okay, fine. Whatever.

*3 Hours later*

“Fuck, Donnie, I’m cumming!” I cried out. I was laid out flat on Adonis’ desk while he knelt on the floor, tongue deep in my pussy. “Yes! FUCK!” I came and he lapped up every drop. He stood up from the floor, unzipped his pants and thrusted into me.

“Shit, baby!” He hissed. “Less than 2 days and you had me craving ya fucking pussy!” He kept me flat on the desk but brought my legs up so that my calves rested on his shoulders as he pounded into me. My legs were already numb from my weekend with Erik and this was making whatever feeling I currently had faded away. “I’m cummin’!”

“Me too,” I managed to gasp. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me up to meet his lips. Once I came, he grunted and pulled out of me, jerking his dick hard. He let out a groan as he came on my thigh. I grabbed some memos off his desk and wiped off the cum that started to run down my leg. He pulled me close to him, kissing my nose.

“So, I’m forgiven?” He grinned.

“You’re on thin ice,” I corrected him, pulling my skirt back down.

“Oh, word? Thin ice?” He laughed. “What I gotta do to get back on your good side? Fuck you back here?” He asked grabbing my ass. My mind started drifting to the thought of him pounding my ass. He noticed the look on my face and raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?” I nodded slowly biting my lip. “Aight. You ain’t gotta tell me twice.” And I hiked my skirt back up and laid over his desk.

***

I ran over to Madison’s desk after Donnie and I were done… Again.

“I need to talk to you!” I pleaded. She put her hand over her mouth piece.

“I’m with a client, Georgia,” she informed me.

“I just had sex with Donnie in his new office! TWICE!” I hissed. Her eyes popped out her head.

“Mrs. Hernandez, I’m going to have to transfer you call to my associate Adam,” she spoke in her ‘Becky’ voice. She pressed a button. “ADAM! YOU HAVE A CALL!” She shouted to him before pulling me around her desk, and sitting me across from her. “First of all, WHAT?!” I nodded my head in shame, covering my face. “Bitch, what about Erik?”

“That’s why I’m freaking out!” I groaned. “I’ve liked Donnie for years! He’s kind, I met his mother, and he put his ass on the line by telling HR about us. On the other hand, I’ve been in love with Erik since I was 14! I thought that spark went out years ago, but it was like we were never apart, Madison! Teenage Georgia came out and fell in love with him all over again! I don’t know what to do! This is terrible!”

“Um… Bitch. This is like… The OPPOSITE of a problem!” Madison raised an eyebrow. “You have two FOINE ass niggas in ya back pocket and you’re stressing for what?? Who says you have to choose between them?” I looked up at her.

“What? You’re not serious! Tell me you’re not serious!”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack! It’s the 21st century, Gigi! Why do you need to pick one?” Was she seriously making me consider dating them both?… Yes she was.

“Will you sleepover tonight? We can call in sick tomorrow like we used to do!” I squealed.

“Why wait until tomorrow? Cough cough, bitch. I’m sick, now.”

***

We got off of work and headed straight to my house. We bought a bunch of junk food to stock up my refrigerator then turned on a scary movie and started pigging out when my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered without looking.

“So, I was sitting here, minding my own business and I started thinkin’ about ya pussy,” Erik said into the receiver. “And now I’m hard. So, Imma need you to slide through and come take care of this.”

“Hmm, is that all I am to you, Erik?” I smirked. “A sex toy?”

“More like sex bunny,” he laughed. “But nah Georgie, you know I got love for you, Princess. Listen, my cousins are havin’ a small get together and I want you here. I wanna show you off.”

“My friend, Madison is actually over so-”

“Bitch, don’t let me get in the way of you getting ya back blown out!” Madison hissed from next to me.

“Yeah, listen to her!” Erik chimed in. “But seriously, bring her. We got food and drinks. She’ll have a fun time.”

“Did he just say there’ll be drinks?” She whispered to me. I nodded. “The fuck we still doin’ here sober, Gigi?! Let’s be out!”

***

We got dressed and took an Uber to Erik’s hotel. I walked to the front desk.

“Excuse me,” I said to the concierge. “I’m looking for Erik Stevens’ suite. I believe he’s in the penthouse.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out guests’ information,” she said, not looking up from the computer.

“Well, he’s in the penthouse so if we can just go up-”

“I’m sorry, our penthouse is checked in by very important guests,” she taunted, finally looking up at me. “I doubt your friend is checked in at this hotel.”

“Listen, Becky,” Madison hissed stepping forward. “Unless you want my foot up ya ass, I suggest you stop with the indirects and start making sense.”

“Really? You’re gonna call me Becky?” The concierge snapped. “You people always want to play the race card! But if I called you Precious, it would be all over the news!”

“The fuck you just say?” Madison yelled.

I texted Erik immediately and let him know that we were downstairs and how disrespectful this bitch was. The elevator opened 2 minutes later and Erik got off, lookin like a whole ass meal. Concierge Cathy bit her lip and unbuttoned her top button. She stood up and flipped her hair. I stood up and kissed him deeply, making sure to keep eye contact with the concierge.

“You good, baby?” He asked holding my waist.

“I’m great,” I smiled.

“Mr. Stevens!” The Concierge interrupted. “I hope everything is well-”

“Uh, Yeah, Fine. Why aren’t you letting my guests upstairs?” He snapped. Her face dropped.

“I-I-I apologize sir!” She stuttered. “I didn’t know they were your guests.”

“Bullshit! We told you twice!” Madison scoffed.

“I’ll let it slide this time, but if you ever disrespect any of my guests again, I’ll have ya fuckin’ job. We clear?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m so sorry sir.”

“Wait,” Madison raised her eyebrows. “We just gonna ignored the fact that this bitch called me ‘Precious?’”

“She called you what?!” Erik screeched. He turned to the concierge who looked pale and sickly. “Nah. It’s clipped for you. Turn in ya uniform.”

“Mr. Stevens, please! I’m sorry-”

“You have 15 minutes to get off my cousin’s property,” Erik warned her. “Or imma throw ya ass out myself. Pack ya shit, bitch. Ya done!” She scrambled to the back in tears as I turned to Erik in shock.

“That was so sexy,” I whispered, kissing him hard.

“I just don’t tolerate disrespect,” he reassured me.

“Um, pause, rewind, play. Your cousin owns this hotel?” Madison asked.

“He and my friend do. You must be Madison. I’m Erik,” he extended his hand.

“Trust me, I know. I recognized your voice immediately from when I called Gigi on the phone while you were rearranging her guts,” Madison grinned. I slapped my palm to my forehead as Erik laughed.

“Let’s head upstairs. T’s waiting for me to come back.” Erik ushered us into the elevator. He swiped his key and hit the 30th floor button, taking us all the way to the top. Once the doors opened, Madison and I dropped our jaws.

“‘Small get together’ my ass,” I hissed to Erik as we got off the elevator. There were about 100 people in the penthouse, waiters with white gloves handed out drinks, there was a sushi/seafood bar in one corner, a hot food buffet in the other. “Erik… What is this?”

“My cousins are hosting a few diplomats for this charity event. I wanted you to be my date,” he explained.

“Are those crab legs over there?” Madison gasped. “Girl, you know where I’ll be if you need me.” And she ran over to the seafood bar. Erik snaked his arm around my waist and led me into the party. Terrence and Sam were talking to– I choked on my champagne and pulled Erik back.

“That’s Tony fucking Stark!” I gasped.

“Yeah, I kinda wanna punch that dude in the face,” Erik rolled his eyes. “He’s an asshole.”

“He’s a rich asshole!”I corrected. He leaned into my ear.

“T’s richer,” Erik informed me. We stood next to them and Erik cleared his throat.

“Mr. Stark, you remember my cousin, Erik,” Terrence said.

“Yes, of course. And who is your beautiful guest?” Tony asked.

“This is my girl, Georgia,” Erik introduced me. My body tingled at those words…. That we, of course, needed to discuss. Tony kissed my hand making Erik frown.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark,” I tried not to squeal.

“The pleasure is all mine, Georgia,” he winked. “You are gorgeous, I must say…” I blushed as Erik scowled. “If you ever find yourself in New York, please, give me a call.” Erik was now livid and opened his mouth to say something but Terrence stopped him.

“Erik!” He interjected. “Walk away.”

“But-”

“Hamb ‘umshiye!” He hissed. Erik clenched his teeth, put his hand in the small of my back and walked us away.

“I should’ve punched that nigga in his mouth,” he growled. “The fuck he think he is?! He ain’t shit without that fuckin’ suit. I’ll beat a nigga’s ass!” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“You called me your girl,” I grinned. “When did this happen?” He bent down to earshot.

“The moment you let me nut in ya pussy,” he whispered. “Now if I’m not mistaken, I invited you over so you could help me deal with an issue…” He pulled me closer to him, pressing his erection against my crotch. I moaned softly as he moved his hands to my ass and we moved to the music playing. “Lemme take you upstairs and pump you full of-”

“GEORGIA!” Madison’s loud ass screeched from behind us. Erik groaned and let go of me. Madison ran over to us and grabbed my arm. “He’s here! Holy fuck, he’s here!”

“Who? Who’s here?” I asked annoyed.

“The nigga from the club!” She gasped. “You know, the nigga who brought me back to his hotel, blew my spine out, and I left before he woke up? HIM! He’s here!” She pointed to the bar to where-

“Martin?!” Erik laughed. “Wait-! Shit! You’re the girl he was tellin us about?”

“Bitch, what do I do? I need to get up out of here! We need to go!” She whined.

“Go? Bitch, we just got here!” I protested. “I ain’t tell you to leave him, hoe! If you wanna go then go.”

“Bitch, fuck you-”

“Madison,” Martin’s voice said from behind us. We turned and looked. “And Georgia. What a nice surprise. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” I said politely. He looked at Madison.

“I think when I last saw you, you were sneaking out of my room, shoes in one hand, pants in the other,” he smirked.

“Look… I’m sorry about that,” she sighed. “It’s just… A long story.”

“Well… If you want, I have time,” he smiled and offered up his arm. She gave him a smile then they went off.

“Aww, they cute,” I grinned. “I ship them.”

“You what?” Erik asked.

“Um. Nothing. Now… You was sayin’ somethin’ bout pumpin’ me full of something…” I purred. He gripped my ass hard and bent down to kiss me on the lips. However, our moment was cut short by-

“Erik?” Sam walked up.

“On God, if one more person interrupts us-” Erik rolled his eyes.

“Sorry but I thought you might like to know that brother invited your ex,” she explained.

“He did what?!” Erik hissed.

“Yeah… He forgot that things ended badly between you two. I only say this because-”

“Erik!”

We both looked up to see a gorgeous woman and her date standing in front of us.

“O-M-G! I knew that was you!” She tiptoed and hugged him… For too long, might I add.

“Candace! Devin!” Erik raised his eyebrows. “Wow.. It’s been… A minute.”

“It has! I miss you so much!” She squealed. “We have to catch up soon, yeah? Let’s get brunch next Saturday! You look good…” I felt myself getting angry.

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat in an over dramatic way.

“Oh, shit. My bad. This is my girl, Georgia,” Erik introduced. The smile on Candace’s face faded a bit but she turned to me.

“Hi! I’m Candace!” She said. “Me and Erik go wayyyy back!”

“We go farther,” I smirked. Erik cleared his throat and looked at Devin.

“So, what’s been goin on wit you man?” Erik asked. Devin rolled his eyes and looked at Candace.

“Look, we just stopped by for a minute. We got other places to be, so…”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool. It was great seeing you guys-”

“Uh-huh,” Devin said, taking Candace’s arm and walking out the door. Erik groaned and led my up the spiral staircase to one of the rooms within the penthouse. He closed the door and locked it. I sat on the bed.

“Well… That was awkward,” he half laughed.

“Running into an ex is always awkward,” I stated. “She seemed happy to see you, though. Sayin you looked good, tryna make plans, flirting with you as if I wasn’t standing right there!”

“Who? Candy? Nah, she just-”

“Oh word? She’s Candy, now? Bet,” I folded my arms.

“Georgie, you got it all wrong… Candace isn’t my ex,” he sighed sitting down next to me. “Devin is.” My eyebrows could’ve gotten lost in my hairline by how high they jumped up.

“D-Devin… Is your ex?” I asked. “…So you’re-”

“Bisexual? Yeah, I am,” he nodded. “That’s not a problem, right?”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“Girls are weird about it after they find out,” he shrugged. “Thinkin’ I’m gay n shit. Like, damn! Y’all ain’t think I was gay when I was rearrangin’ ya guts! That’s why I stopped tellin’ people. Me and Devin broke up because he got insecure every time I talked to a girl just because his last nigga left him for some bitch. And he looked okay tonight until I introduced you as my girl… He also had an issue with me being bit…” He took a deep breath then looked over at me. “You sure you’re good? It don’t bother you or nothin’?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I shook my head. “…I actually think it’s kinda hot…” Erik raised an eyebrow. “Like… Really hot…” I slid my jacket off and straddled him.

“Yeah?” He panted, moving his hand to my waist.

“Yeah,” I bit his lower lip. “I don’t know why but thinkin’ about you with another man… Fuck… It makes me wet…” I led his hand up my dress to my panties. He pulled them aside and slid his finger along my slit, collecting my wetness on his finger.

“Shit…” He hissed.

“So I need you to hurry the fuck up and undress me because a bitch needs to be dicked down, now!”

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice!” He insisted, finding the zipper of my dress and yanking it down. I whispered in Erik’s ear that I wanted to be dirty whore fucked so I got fully naked and just unzipped the front of his pants. He turned me over, face down ass up on the bed, and immediately slammed into me. “Shit baby… This what you need?” I moaned in response and he pulled me up by my hair and grabbed my throat, hard. “Bitch, I asked you a fuckin’ question! This what you need?”

“Yes,” I moaned and he squeezed harder.

“Yes who?”

“Yes, daddy!” I croaked.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought!” He threw me back onto the bed and pounded me relentlessly. Tears were forming in my eyes from the immense pleasure he was giving me. I was cumming within seconds. As my legs shook uncontrollably from the violent orgasm ripping through me, I repeatedly slapped the sheets on the bed trying to let Erik know I needed a break.

“Erik- Daddy, fuck… I can’t! I can’t!” I shook my head, slapping the sheets faster. He slowed down.

“What? You tappin out already? Nah, what happened to allat mouth a few minutes ago?” He laughed. “Uh-uh, Princess, you gettin this dick. You betta take that shit!” And he started back with the hard, deep strokes. “Yeah, take that dick! You takin that dick so well!” Erik was so deep, I could feel him hitting my cervix! At this stage, I was drooling all over myself and clawing at the sheets.

“Daddy! Daddy I’m cumming again!” I cried as I came again, mere seconds from my first one.

“You wanted to be fucked like a dirty whore, right?” Then he bent down to my ear level and didn’t stop thrusting as he whispered, “I’ll show you exactly how I treat dirty fucking whores.” He pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. He gripped my neck with both hands and brought me down hard on his dick. “Open that fucking mouth!” He squeezed my cheeks together so that my mouth was ajar and spit in it. “Fucking swallow it.” I swallowed and stuck out my tongue to prove it was gone. Erik presses his forehead to mine and panted into my mouth. “I’m gonna cum… Fuck!” He grabbed me roughly by the throat and squeezed as he came inside of me. I loved the feeling of him filling me up. He kissed me all over my face before rolling off of me. He pulled me closer to him and nuzzled my ear. “I needa be honest with you, Georgia…” I looked up at him.

“What is it?” I asked. He caressed my face and stared into my eyes.

“My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he admitted. “As soon as I saw you in that bar on Saturday, I knew… I still love you.” My heart fluttered.

“I still love you too,” I whispered before kissing him. Our kissing got deeper until Erik pulled me on top of him.

“Shit, you got me hard again,” he moaned. “But we should probably get outta here. This is actually T’s room.”

Adonis’ POV

I grabbed the donuts from the back of my car and walked up the stairs to Georgia’s brownstone. I rang the doorbell and waited… And waited… And waited… I put the donuts down and pulled out my phone, dialing her number.

“Hello?” She answered sleepily.

“Hey, babygirl,” I smiled. “I got us some breakfast and I’ve been downstairs ringing ya bell for almost 10 minutes. Sleepin soundly without me?” Then she gasped.

“Actually I’m not home,” she explained. “Me and Madison went out last night and we ended up at her place instead.”

“Oh, I said disappointed. “Aight no problem. Can I see you later?” Before she could answer, I heard the muffled of another person’s voice… was she with another nigga?

“Um, can I let you know? I was planning on going up to Anaheim to see my aunt. It’s been a while since I talked to her…”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Great. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Aight. I miss y-” And the phone cut out…Great.

***

After leaving Georgia’s apartment and giving the box of donuts to some homeless people, I headed to the gym in the middle of Hollywood.

“Ayyy, wassup, D?” One of the locals greeted me as I walked in.

“What’s good?” I dabbed him up before walking to my usual area. I began my warmups when I noticed from the corner of my eye a guy I’ve never seen in the gym before, lifting weights in the corner. What made him stand out was the unusual scarring across his torso and back, ending at his wrists. His AirPods were in and he was in his own world, so I shook the thought out of my head and began my sets.

***

Drinking after working out is usually a bad idea but I had somehow convinced myself that if I went out later that night, it wouldn’t be an issue. I looked down at my phone to see if I had a response- nope. Nothing. Georgia hadn’t returned any of my texts or calls today. Could she still be mad about the work thing? I fucked her in the ass, what more could she want-

“Yo,” a voice said from beside me. I looked up to see the guy from the gym earlier sitting next to me. “You were at Monty’s earlier right? I saw you boxing. You’re good, man.”

“Respect,” I raised my beer bottle to him. “Yeah I saw you too. I’m Donnie.”

“Erik,” he shook my hand. “You drinking out ya sorrows or somethin?” I looked at the empty bottles in front of me.

“Nah… I mean. Fuck… it’s my girl- or I guess, a girl since we ain’t discuss our relationship status- she’s been dubbin me all day,” I shook my head.

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that… You should go to her crib and see what’s up.”

“That’s the thing, I did that this morning and she wasn’t even home! Then I heard voices of someone else in the background and… I don’t know… Shit. I like this girl so fucking much… I just hope I ain’t do nothing to fuck it up.”

“Look I’m the last person anyone should be taking advice from but if you like her to the point where ya drinking alone at a bar, you should let her know that. Girls love that type of shit. Makes them wet as hell. But you gotta mean it, or else it’s a lie, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t lie,” he told me. Everything was sinking in.

“You right… I’m gonna go over there and-”

“No you’re not,” he interrupted me. “First of all nigga, you’re drunk and I saw you drive here which means you’re not driving anywhere. Second, you said she wasn’t home. So you showing up to her crib drunk while she ain’t home is a recipe for fucking disaster.” I groaned and laid my head on the table.

That’s when my phone vibrated. I sat up and checked it immediately.

Gigi❤️: Hey sorry I’ve been dodging you.

Gigi❤️: Can you come over?

I jumped up from my stool.

“She texted me! She wants me to come over! Shitting fuck! I can’t drive! Wait I can call an Uber!” I sent Gigi a reply telling her I’d be there soon and called an Uber to her place. Erik was getting up to leave.

“Yeah my girl just asked me to slide through so imma bounce,” he said, putting on his jacket. “But yo, good luck.”

“Thanks, yo, lemme pay for your drink, man. On me.” I gave my card to the bartender and Erik nodded.

“Thanks man, I’ll catch you around.”

“Word.” Once I was in my Uber on my way to Georgia’s my nerves were out of control. No other girl has ever made me feel like this before… The car had barely stopped as we pulled up to her crib. Shitshitshitshitshit! You got this. Just tell her how you feel. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

“I’ll get it!” A male’s voice called out. What the fuck? The door was opening when I heard Georgia’s voice.

“No, E! I’ll…” She shouted as the door opened fully. “Get it…” Erik was standing in the doorway as Georgia cowarded behind him.

“What the fuck?” Me and Erik said together. Then we both looked at Georgia.

“This is why I wanted you guys to come over…” she whispered. “We all need to talk.”

~~~

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! 200+ Notes for Ch.4! xoxo

Taglist: Tag List: @killmongersgurl @killmongerdispussy @blackpinup22 @afroricanprincess94 @duhbar1975 @wanderlustkilam @sweetpeachjones @bartierbakarimobisson @beautifulqueenflaws @blackchunkyqueen @mypinkice @queentarsha @shyblackgurl @abxke @ceeverse @bigdaddythraxxx @karma328 @quietstorm-73 @amirra88 @tiava143@builtalongthewayside @itsjazziebaby @10lbsatatime  @aanairb  @theogbadbitch @terrablaze514 @determinednot2fall @yoyolovesbucky @girlsneedlovingfanfics @hidden-treasures21 @madbadsiren @alexundefined  (TAG LIST IS OPEN!)

[chris-sales-belly-ring]

Sale/Brianne/Porcello: We Ain’t No Everyday Lovers

To make a long story short, I started out writing a Sale/Porcello fic abut Rick visiting Chris after finding out he needs Tommy John surgery.

I somehow ended up writing about Chris, his wife, and Rick all being together.

I may or may not edit this and put it on AO3 at a later date.

Summary, warnings, etc. under the read more.

Summary: When she walked in earlier and she saw Chris practically sleeping in Rick’s arms, she knew. When they talked while fixing dinner together, Brianne knew in her heart how much Rick loved Chris. She rightfully assumed that her husband had mutual feelings. As her eyes meet Porcello’s, she’s pretty sure that she’s in love with him, too. 

Warnings: Polyamory. Talks of future pegging. (Everything else here includes sex acts that I don’t normally add tags for).

***

Even though they’re not teammates anymore, Rick is still his go-to person to talk baseball stuff with. He calls him to tell him about opting for surgery so that he doesn’t find out from the press. Chris could also use some encouragement from the best and kindest man that he knows. Porcello always knows the right thing to say when Sales has his rare self-deprecating moments. Chris admits that he’s a little scared that his arm won’t be the same post-surgery, but Rick assures him that he’ll be able to return to form.

Chris sighs. “But what if I’m not as good as before? It’s possible that I’m never that Chris Sale again.”

“You’re the best pitcher I’ve ever been around, Chris. If anyone can come back and be even better than they were before, it’s you. Your work ethic and your talent are unrivaled. I have all the faith in the world in you,” Rick tells him.

“I just feel like such a let down to everybody,” Chris says.

“You’re not letting anyone down. You’re an athlete who got injured, it happens every day. It was through no fault of your own. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Rick responds.

“You’re always my voice of reason,” Chris realizes.

“I’m still in Florida, you know. I never went home once spring training ended, so I’m only a few hours away from you . . . ”

***

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” Chris says as he hugs Rick.

“I know you’ve missed my pretty face,” Rick jokes.

“You come bearing gifts, too? You trying to get into my wife’s good graces by bringing wine?” Chris teases.

“I may or may not have bought organic just for her,” Rick replies.

“She’s dropping off the kids with my parents since it will be too chaotic having them around here after my surgery. She should be back soon,” Chris tells him.

***

After they start watching a documentary on Netflix, Chris eventually falls asleep with his head on Rick’s shoulder. He grabs a blanket to cover them both with and he idly runs his fingers through Sale’s hair. He assumes that Chris probably hasn’t slept well the last few days, so he’s glad that he’s finally allowing himself to rest. Rick smiles when Brianne makes it back home. She gives him a genuine smile back and she tells him that she’s glad to see him. She notices Chris sleeping and she mentions that she doesn’t think he has gotten more than a few hours the past few nights. 

“I roll over at 3 AM and he still looks wide awake. I caught him watching film at like 4 AM two nights ago. I’m so happy you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” Brianne says.

“He’s just stressed out and a little scared. He’ll be back to himself in no time,” Rick assures her.

***

Chris wakes up to the strong smell of Italian food cooking. His stomach growls and he realizes that he doesn’t remember the last time he ate. He stretches as he gets off the couch and walks into the kitchen. There’s music playing while Rick and Brianne are talking and chopping up vegetables together. It’s not news to him how well his wife and his best friend get along, but he can’t help smiling as he watches them interact. He asks them if there’s anything he can do to help, but they tell him they’re almost done. Chris decides to set the table and he takes out the corkscrew to open the wine with.

“Do you mind keeping an eye on the sauce while I go talk to Chris upstairs for a few minutes?” Brianne asks.

“Go ahead, I got it,” Rick replies.

***

“He loves you, you know,” Brianne points out.

“Yeah, I know. He’s great,” Chris agrees.

“I mean, he loves you like I do. I can tell by the way he talks about you,” Brianne clarifies.

Chris blushes. “Oh. Are you mad?”

“I would’ve kicked him out if I was mad. I just want to know how you feel about him. You can be honest with me, Chris,” Brianne says.

“I’ve never done anything with him. I would never do that to you,” Chris answers.

“Of course not. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. It’s just that I could understand if you love him back,” Brianne explains.

“I honestly try not to think about my feelings for him too much,” Chris admits.

“Whatever you feel is ok,” Brianne assures him.

***

“This wine is amazing,” Brianne compliments.

“I have like two more bottles for you in my car,” Rick tells her.

“Wow, thank you. That was really thoughtful of you,” Brianne comments.

“He buys you wine and he shows up empty handed for me,” Chris jokes.

“Is my presence not enough for you?” Rick quips.

They finish off the bottle of wine and they take their time eating their dinner. Chris can’t remember the last time he laughed and smiled so much. Rick offers to rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Brianne reminds him that he’s a guest and that he has already been kind enough by cooking for them. He explains that he’s used to cleaning up the kitchen and that it’s truly not much of a chore to him. Rick gathers their plates, wine glasses, and utensils before Brianne can stop him. She just laughs and shakes her head at his stubbornness.

“How do you ever win arguments with him?” Brianne wonders.

Chris laughs. “I don’t.”

***

Brianne kisses Rick on the cheek. “Please take care of him for me. You can give him whatever he wants.”

“Are you . . . ”

“Giving you the go ahead? Yeah. He needs you right now,” Brianne whispers directly into his ear.

***

As Rick rinses off the last dish, he feels Chris wraps his arms around him from behind. He slowly brushes his lips against the back of Porcello’s neck and it makes him shiver. The tension between them has always been so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Two noble men can finally allow themselves to feel without guilt or shame. When Rick turns around and their eyes meet, Chris immediately brings their lips together. The kiss is both soft and passionate. It’s full of want and need, there’s a hunger that Sale didn’t even really realize he felt.

“Are you sure you want this?” Rick whispers against his lips.

Chris nods. “Yes. I want you to fuck me.”

“Has anyone ever . . . ”

“No, you’ll be my first,” Chris tells him.

***

Rick puts his hand over Sale’s mouth. “Shh, your wife is upstairs.”

“I wish she were down here,” Chris moans.

“You want her to see you like this? All spread out and full of cock?” Rick asks.

Chris bites his lip. “She’s a dominant little thing, she might like it.”

***

“This is giving me all kinds of strap-on ideas,” Brianne says.

Rick smirks. “You hear that? Your pretty little wife wants to fuck you, too.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to make him moan like this. He’s being so good for you,” Brianne comments.

It’s almost too much having Rick and Brianne talk about him so explicitly. Porcello digs his nails into Sale’s thigh as he starts fucking him harder. Brianne sneaks her small hand in between Chris and Rick’s body and she wraps it around Chris’ dick. She strokes him with the same rhythm of Rick’s thrusts. Chris never imagined that being with his wife and his best friend could be like this. He hears them whisper some of the things they want to do to him “next time” and his orgasm catches him off guard. His entire body shivers as he covers Brianne’s fist with cum. Rick gingerly pulls out and he checks to make sure that Sale is ok.

“I’ve never been better,” Chris replies.

Brianne kisses Chris. “I had no idea that you and Rick would look so fucking hot together. You made me so wet.”

He looks down and there’s a damp spot on the crotch of her red panties. The only other thing she’s wearing is a tank top with no bra underneath it. Chris pulls her on top of him and he slowly slides down the straps to her top. When her breasts are free, he palms them in his huge hands before taking his time sucking on her nipples. The little moans that escape her mouth make Sale’s cock twitch. When she tries to stick her hand in her panties, Chris gently bats her hand away. He tells her that there’s no need to touch herself when she has two guys that want to please her.

“Rick showed me how good he is with his mouth earlier. Want to find out for yourself?” Chris asks.

“Yes, please!” Brianne begs.

Brianne can’t remember the last time that she was intimately touched by a man other than Chris. Rick slides in between her legs and he gives her a few teasing touches over her thong. He softly massages the inside of her thighs with his fingers before kissing those same spots. She places her hands behind Rick’s head as she continues begging for his mouth. He slips her panties to the side and he licks his lips. He briefly turns toward Chris to tell him how pretty his wife’s pussy is. He spreads her lips before he finally licks her clit. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as he continues eating her out. Rick doesn’t mind his face being messy and it feels like he doesn’t have to come up for air.

“Good, isn’t he?” Chris whispers.

“Good is an understatement. He’s gonna make me cum soon,” Brianne says between moans.

Chris looks impressed. “Shit. Already? You have to teach me how to get her off this quickly.”

Brianne’s so wet that Rick’s fingers slip out while he’s fucking her. Just a little while ago, he was using the very same fingers to prep Chris. Just like her husband, Brianne’s enjoying his big, talented hands. He strokes her g-spot at the same time he sucks on her clit and that’s all she needs. She calls out Rick’s name as she shudders on his fingers. He continues touching her g-spot and it makes he cum again. She gently pushes his hand away when the overstimulation gets to be too much for her. Chris kisses her softly and he strokes her hair as she comes down from her orgasm.

“I think I literally saw stars,” Brianne eventually says.

Chris laughs. “He had that effect on me, too.”

“Baby, look. Rick’s still hard. I think we should help him out with that,” Brianne mentions.

“What do you have in mind?” Chris wants to know.

“Let’s blow him, together,” Brianne suggests.

They crawl between Rick’s spread legs. Brianne wraps her hand around the base of Rick’s cock before she starts sucking on the tip. She tells Chris to take his time once it’s his turn since he hasn’t given a blow job since college. While Sale is slowly working on taking more, Brianne massages Rick’s balls. The shaky moan that Porcello makes is music to their ears. He has a death grip on the couch cushions as he does his best not to thrust into Chris’ mouth. Rick doesn’t want to make him choke, so he has to force himself to calm down a little bit. He tells Chris how good of a job that he’s doing as he runs his fingers through his hair.

Brianne caresses Sale’s cheek. “You’ve missed having a cock in your mouth, haven’t you?”

It’s a rhetorical question because they all know the answer, of course. Chris’ jaw is slightly sore, but he doesn’t slow down. After everything his two favorite people have done for him tonight, he wants to show them how much he appreciates it. He has loved the woman next to him since the moment he met her. He’s not sure when he fell for Rick, but it was effortless and it has been for a few years now. Brianne coaches Chris on his breathing and she gives him some direction. She slips one of the couch cushions underneath his knees to give him more support.

“Look at our boy. He’s a natural,” Brianne says with pride.

Brianne’s use of “our” doesn’t go unnoticed by either man. When she walked in earlier and she saw Chris practically sleeping in Rick’s arms, she knew. When they talked while fixing dinner together, Brianne knew in her heart how much Rick loved Chris. She rightfully assumed that her husband had mutual feelings. As her eyes meet Porcello’s, she’s pretty sure that she’s in love with him, too. Since Sale has everything under control now, she moves onto the couch next to Rick. She can taste herself on Rick’s tongue as she leans in to kiss him. He tucks a blonde tress behind her ear as their kiss deepens. Sale has the perfect view of them and he has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Are you close?” Brianne softly asks.

“Yes,” Rick answers.

“You might want to finish him off with your hands, babe,” Brianne advises.

Chris follows his wife’s advice. He uses both of his fists to jerk Rick off with. It doesn’t take long for him to cum. Before Sale can wipe his hands off, Brianne decides to lick his fingers clean. She doesn’t swallow before she kisses Chris. They both moan as their kiss gets sticky and messy. Rick watches them eagerly share his cum and it’s hotter than it has any right to be. They join him on the couch, Brianne on one side and Chris on the other. Porcello grabs the blanket that he and Chris used earlier to cover themselves up with. He wraps an arm around both of them and they all sigh in contentment.

“We’d probably be a lot more comfortable in our bed,” Brianne remarks.

“Yeah, but that’s too far,” Chris says.

Rick kisses him on the forehead. “I’ll carry you.”

***

“I don’t want you to leave us in the morning,” Brianne tells him.

“Who says I have to?” Rick responds.

Brianne nervously bites her lip. “I just thought you might not be interested in this being a thing with all three of us, you know?”

“I don’t want you to ever think that I’m trying to take Chris away from you. I love him, but I love you, too. You’re a package deal to me,” Rick explains.

Chris is asleep, so he’s completely oblivious to the conversation going on between his wife and his best friend. Before Brianne gets under the covers to snuggle Chris, she leans across him to kiss Rick good night. None of them really know the logistics of how things will work once baseball season resumes, but that’s a problem for another day. For now, they’ll fall asleep peacefully in the comfort of each other’s arms.