#Talk to Stop and Shop Survey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leashybebes · 8 months ago

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i was yapping at @sazzynatural about my hurdle headcanon and then my hand slipped and now here we are, i guess!

tweaked a little and posted on ao3 [here]. thanks, y'all!

"Hey, Evan?"

"Yeah?" Buck calls, from where he's checking through his cupboards, making a shopping list. Tommy doesn't respond immediately and he turns back from where he's surveying the spice rack to look at him. "What's up?"

Tommy has that fond look on his face that, as far as Buck is concerned, might as well just be what his face looks like. The way that Tommy looks at him lights him up inside. He doesn't think anyone has ever looked at him that way, the way that he catches Tommy looking, so soft and endeared, like just looking at Buck makes him happy. It's -

"I love you."

Buck's heartbeat roars in his ears.

"Y-you - um. What? No, wait, I mean. I heard you. Tommy, that's - "

"Evan." He still looks fond, and that should be impossible, because Buck is screwing up, he has ring-side seats to this, is actively watching himself screw up, and Tommy's still looking at him like - like that. "Stop spiraling. You don't need to say it back, I just wanted you to - "

"No, no, it's not - uh - I, uh. I said I'd meet Maddie for coffee during her shift and if I don't leave now I'm gonna be late, so I, um. C-can we talk about this later? O-over dinner, maybe?"

Tommy's shoulders slump a little at that. "Uh. Sure. If you like."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that'd be great, I'll be back, don't uh - don't go anywhere, I won't be long, I just really - really need to get that coffee with Maddie, I can't be late but uh - that's - that's great, Tommy."

He sees Tommy's eyebrows go up, sees him mouth great, and then he's out the door.

Oh, shit.

***

The drive to dispatch goes in a blur, and he must look pretty freaked out because as soon as Maddie sees him, she quickly finishes her call and drags him into the breakroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I - I thought we could get coffee," Buck says lamely, and she gives him the big sister eyebrows. "Really," Buck says a bit frantically. "Can - can we have coffee?"

Maddie rolls her eyes, but she pours them both a coffee and hands him his, putting the table between them and leaning against it.

"I have fifteen minutes. Talk."

"Tommy said he loves me," Buck blurts.

"Buck, wow. That's amazing." Maddie's eyes widen at him over her coffee cup. "Wait. Not amazing?"

"I didn't - uh. I didn't say it back?" Buck says, and feels his heart sink.

"Wait, you didn't?" Maddie tilts her head, looks honestly baffled. Which - fair. Buck is a little obsessed. "Do you - not?"

Of course I do, Buck thinks. How could I not?

"I - I'm being intentional," Buck says, and it sounds hollow already. "I don't wanna rush it and I had like - a timeline."

"Did - did you tell him about the timeline?"

"N-not in so many words," Buck admits.

"Evan! Please tell me you didn't just run out on the poor guy," Maddie pleads, over the sound of the breakroom door opening again. Buck doesn't even care about a potential audience, he's so suddenly miserable at the way he left Tommy at the loft.

"I - I didn't run," he says although - it was probably a close thing. "I…I told him I had to get coffee with you and we'd talk about it later," he admits, his voice getting smaller with every word.

Maddie's face does the thing - the scrunched up pout like she's holding back on telling him that he's a damn moron. Buck scrubs his hands over his face.

"Is this Buck's hot pilot?" Josh asks from where he's pouring coffee.

Buck hears Maddie's mm-hm.

"He said he loves me," he says, still hiding behind his hands.

"Con…gratulations?" Josh says dubiously. "Or, how awful for you? I'm really not clear on the desired response here."

"He thinks it's too soon," Maddie says. "He had a timeline. Which he did not share."

"We were taking it slow!"

"I hate to break it to you, but the way that man looks at you is not slow," Josh says.

"He's not wrong," Maddie says, and Buck hangs his head. Because they're right. They're both right.

"Look, you know me. I stumble into things, I end up too serious too fast and it blows up in my face. I - I really didn't want it to blow up in my face. And then he just goes and - and looks at me like that, and says that, and I don't - guys, I think I really screwed up."

Maddie gives him a sympathetic look.

Josh gives him a deeply, deeply unsympathetic one. "Oh, I have totally dated a Tommy."

"I'm sorry, what?" Buck glares at Josh who looks supremely unimpressed.

"Calm down, ankles," he tuts, and Buck is absolutely going to kill Eddie. Or Chim. He's going to kill someone. How does everyone know about that? "I said I dated a Tommy, your man's virtue is safe."

"What does that mean, you dated a Tommy?"

"Look, not everyone knows when they're five like me, and not everyone goes from adorably clueless to out and proud as fast as you. Sometimes, and I know this might be a little revolutionary for you, Buck, but sometimes the queer experience? Fucking miserable for a really long time. So sometimes you just want to grab happiness where you can find it, as soon as you find it."

Buck thinks about the things he's learned about Tommy over the months they've been seeing each other, each one a little treasure to be hoarded, a part of the puzzle that makes up the man that he already can't imagine life without - the asshole father, the dead mom, the army, the closet, the loneliness - and he wants to slap himself.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, his heart sinking further at the message Tommy's sent.

Do you want me to cancel the reservation?

Buck turns his phone to show Maddie and Josh the message.

"What reservation?" Maddie asks

"Dinner," Buck says miserably. "Date night."

"Okay," Josh says. "Some of us are supposed to be working and don't have time for your little baby bi crisis. Evan Buckley, are you actually going to fumble that man? Before you answer, be aware that two thirds of the population of WeHo will get a hard-on the moment he's back on the market even if they won't know why."

"He's not going back on the market," Buck snaps. "I just - I just need to talk to him."

"There we go," Josh says, rolling his eyes and disappearing with his mug of coffee, and an idiot called back over his shoulder.

Maddie's a little kinder, hugging him quickly. "Tell him how you feel, Buck. Talk it out."

***

By the time Buck gets back to the loft, he has another message from Tommy.

Hey, I headed back to my place. Let me know if you want to talk, or if you want dinner. I'm sorry if that was too much. It doesn't have to change anything.

"Goddamnit," Buck grumbles, throwing the Jeep back into gear. The drive to Tommy's has never felt so long, and he sits outside for long enough that the neighbor across the street is just openly staring through the blinds. It's enough to propel him out of the car and up to the door.

It takes Tommy a minute to answer when Buck knocks and he looks - surprised to see him, honestly. Buck feels a horrible twist of guilt.

"Can I come in?"

"Evan. Of course. You want a coffee or something?"

"No," Buck says, trailing Tommy into the kitchen. "I - I did have one with Maddie, I'm kinda…vibrating out of my skin enough as it is."

"I'm sorry. That's not what I was aiming for."

"Y-you don't need to be - Tommy, I - "

"Hey, look, it's fine," Tommy says, and it looks like he really believes it. Like it really is completely fine that he told Buck he loves him and Buck's response was to buffer internally for a minute and then run out of his own damn apartment like his ass was on fire. Tommy taps his knuckles on the table between them in what Buck recognises as a nervous gesture. "I know that I'm not - I'm not the forever guy, and that's okay. I didn't say it to make you say it back. I said it because it's true and I wanted you to know."

"What are you talking about?"

"That I - " Tommy honestly looks a little puzzled. "What I said, this morning. It wasn't - there weren't any strings attached."

"You're not the forever guy? What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that - that I know I'm not exactly a…long-term prospect, and that's okay."

Okay? It's so far from okay. It's the worst thing Buck has ever heard.

"How are you not a long-term prospect? That's - that's the dumbest thing I ever heard, take that back."

"Evan. I used the L word and you couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's okay. You don't have to try to make me feel better. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Buck snaps, rounding the table to get closer to Tommy, catching hold of his wrist. "I'm not - look, I had a timeline, which, Maddie pointed out I didn't actually tell you about that, so that's my bad. But it was a timeline for me, to stop me going too fast and falling too hard and - and going full Buck. I didn't expect that you would - "

"Stomp all over this mysterious timeline?" Tommy asks, his eyebrows going up.

"And I'm now realizing how stupid that was. Did - did you mean it?"

"Evan. Of course I meant it." He glances down at where Buck is still squeezing his wrist, not quite holding his hand "I - honestly, I didn't think it would come as a surprise, I'm not exactly - "

"I love you."

Tommy blinks. "Evan - "

"Please believe me. Tommy. God, I screwed this up so bad, but - I do. I do love you. You are the forever guy. You're my forever guy. I promise. I just - I was just scared. But about me, not about you. Never about you. Tommy, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I - "

"Evan. Say it again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Buck lets himself sway forward, lets his forehead meet Tommy's shoulder. "Not the forever guy. You're a goddamn idiot is what you are."

"I'm your idiot," Tommy promises, and Buck laughs shakily.

They love each other. They love each other.

#911 fic #bucktommy #episode 6 spec #except not really i don't actually think this will be the thing #i think the thing will be something weirder than i can possibly imagine #but i do love the idea that tommy's visible from space hearteyes might cause a bit of consternation

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whosashan · 5 months ago

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Hi! I love your LADS fics <3 if u dont mind i would love to know how youthink each LI do domestic things like grocery shop w mc, thanks <3

FEELS LIKE HOME

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader

SYNOPSIS: Your life together, in its quiet, domestic rhythm.

A/N: Hi there, thank you for your request. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

Ever since moving in with Xavier, even the simplest errands had taken on an air of unpredictability. Grocery shopping was no exception.

Determined to finally stock the fridge, you clutched a neatly written shopping list as you walked into the store, intent on sticking to it. Xavier, on the other hand, had a more relaxed approach—one that involved significantly less planning and significantly more mischief.

It started small. A bag of chips appearing in the cart when you weren’t looking. Then a carton of ice cream. A six-pack of soda. You narrowed your eyes as you plucked out the offending items, holding one up in mild accusation.

"I didn’t make this list just for fun, you know."

Xavier merely smirked, his blue eyes filled with quiet amusement. "We need essentials."

"Essentials," you echoed, unimpressed, holding up a family-sized pack of cookies.

"Exactly." His voice was light, teasing, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your stomach flip—like he was enjoying this little back-and-forth just as much as he enjoyed sneaking things into the cart.

What started as minor offenses quickly spiraled into an all-out game. You tried to stay vigilant, but Xavier was faster, smoother, slipping snacks and treats into the cart with the precision of a seasoned thief. You had no choice but to fight back, slipping in a bar of chocolate when he turned to examine the pasta aisle.

"I saw that," he murmured, his voice low with amusement. His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smile as he plucked the chocolate from the cart and placed it back on the shelf.

You pouted in protest. "Oh, but your three bags of chips get to stay?"

"I work in subtlety," he replied smoothly, nudging the cart forward. "You, on the other hand, have all the stealth of a toddler hiding candy under a pillow."

You gasped in exaggerated offense, swiping the chocolate back and tossing it in with a triumphant smirk. "Then I suppose I’ll have to improve my technique."

By the time you reached the snack aisle, your little competition had escalated into a full-fledged debate over which brand of candy was superior. You stood your ground, arguing passionately, while Xavier, ever laid-back, leaned against the cart with his arms crossed, letting you talk—only to counter with a single, calm statement that completely dismantled your argument.

"You realize we could just get both, right?"

You huffed, grabbing both bags and tossing them into the cart. And somehow, as if by unspoken agreement, you both continued, plucking item after item from the shelves until nearly half the aisle sat stacked in your cart.

"You’re a bad influence," you muttered as you surveyed the damage.

Xavier merely tilted his head. "And yet, you’re the one who just grabbed another pack of cookies."

Before you could argue, he did something entirely typical of him—pushed the cart forward, only to grab your wrist and, with surprising ease, hoist you into the basket, careful not to cause any damage to your groceries or you.

You let out a small yelp, gripping the sides as he casually maneuvered the cart down the aisle. "Xavier!"

"What? You fit." He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable as always, but you caught the slight quirk at the corner of his lips. "Besides, this is efficient. You can’t take things out of the cart if you’re in it."

You wanted to argue, but between the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the warmth of his hand resting briefly on your knee to steady you, you found yourself grinning instead.

That was, until you locked eyes with an unimpressed store employee.

Xavier slowed the cart to a stop, gaze shifting to the employee, then back to you. The moment of tense silence stretched—before you both burst into laughter. You scrambled out of the cart as Xavier muttered something about "killing all the fun," and the two of you made a swift retreat to checkout before you got kicked out entirely.

By the time you stepped out into the cool evening air, arms laden with overstuffed grocery bags, Xavier glanced at you with that signature, unreadable expression of his. And then, with no warning, he took off running.

"Xavier—" You barely had time to react before instinct kicked in, and you were sprinting after him, the two of you racing down the quiet streets toward home, breathless with laughter.

Your carefully planned grocery trip had turned into something else entirely. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Unapologetically fun. But then again, that was life with Xavier.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayne

You stirred in bed, feeling the space beside you empty, the sheets cool where warmth should have been. Zayne had already left for work, but his scent still lingered—a mix of clean soap and the faintest trace of a scent that's just him. Instinctively, you reached for his pillow, pulling it close in half-conscious longing. That’s when you noticed it—a small sticky note resting beside it, the crisp handwriting unmistakably his.

"I made you breakfast. It's on the kitchen counter. Remember to take care of yourself. I love you."

The simple words sent warmth through your chest. Zayne wasn’t one for extravagant displays of affection, nor was he particularly expressive when it came to feelings. But it was in the little things—like these notes, like the way he always made sure you ate, like the way he remembered details most would overlook—that his love showed through.

You stretched and finally climbed out of bed, padding into the kitchen to find the breakfast he’d prepared. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the toast golden, and the coffee just the way you liked it. As expected, everything tasted incredible—sometimes you wondered if there was anything Zayne couldn’t do.

As you ate, your eyes landed on another note stuck to the fridge.

"Check the fridge."

Curious, you opened it and were immediately greeted by the sight of a neatly placed slice of your favorite cake, wrapped carefully in a container with a fork resting beside it. You couldn’t help but grin as you took it out, snapping a quick photo before sending him a message.

"Spoiling me, aren't you?" You attached a picture of yourself mid-bite, looking perhaps a little too pleased.

Zayne’s response was nearly immediate. "It is only natural for me to take care of my lover."

A simple statement, and yet, it sent warmth creeping up your neck. Even after all these years, he still had a way of making you blush without even trying.

The day carried on, and you went about your usual routine, tidying up a little before getting ready to step out for errands. As you slipped your coat on, your fingers brushed against something in the pocket. Frowning slightly, you reached in and pulled out yet another note.

"Remember to dress accordingly to the weather."

A soft laugh escaped you as you shook your head. He must have left this here last night, anticipating that you’d rush out without checking the forecast. Peeking out the window, you realized it was colder than expected—of course, Zayne had been right. You sighed, grabbing a scarf before stepping out, a smile still tugging at your lips.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and by the time you returned home, you were met with the familiar sight of Zayne’s neatly arranged shoes by the door, signaling his return. You found him in the living room, his tie slightly loosened, his posture still composed despite the long hours he’d likely endured.

"You’re home," you murmured, leaning against the doorframe.

His gaze lifted from the book he was reading, his expression as neutral as ever. "I am. Did you eat properly today?"

You smirked, walking over and settling beside him. "I did. Thanks to my very considerate boyfriend."

Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion softer than words, yet unmistakably there. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion of the day melt away in the quiet comfort of his presence.

A moment passed before he spoke again, his voice low, careful. "Did you like the cake?"

You tilted your head up to look at him, your smile turning teasing. "Are you fishing for compliments now?"

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to deny it, but instead, he simply sighed, shaking his head. "I am simply ensuring you were satisfied."

You chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. "It was perfect. Just like you."

For a moment, he said nothing—just exhaled, eyes closing briefly as if he was letting himself absorb your words. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he murmured:

"Good."

And that, with Zayne, meant more than a thousand words ever could.

Rafayel

Laundry day with Rafayel was never just laundry day.

It started simply enough—sorting through the mountain of clothes that had mysteriously accumulated over the week. You had just finished separating the whites from the colors when Rafayel waltzed into the room, barefoot, a loose button-up hanging off his shoulders in that effortless, disheveled way of his.

He took one look at the scene before him and let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like you had personally delivered a fatal wound.

"You started without me?" he whined, flopping dramatically onto the nearest pile of clothes. "Cutie, I thought we were in this together."

You snorted, tossing a sock at him. "You say that like you actually planned on helping."

"I was going to!" he defended, sitting up. "But now you've ruined my motivation. My artistic spirit is wounded." He pointedly rolled onto his stomach, chin resting on his hands, watching you with an exaggerated pout. "You should be making it up to me, not assaulting me with socks."

"You are literally lying on dirty laundry, Rafayel. That’s not exactly poetic."

He gasped again, as if personally offended by the very suggestion. "How dare you? Everything I do is poetic!"

Shaking your head, you grabbed a handful of warm clothes from the dryer and began folding. Rafayel, of course, made no move to help. Instead, he idly played with the hem of a shirt before suddenly holding it up with an exaggerated grin.

"Ah-ha! Finally, my masterpiece is complete!"

You blinked. "What?"

He slipped the shirt over his head with a flourish, the fabric way too tight for him. "You see, love, I have transcended fashion. This? This is avant-garde."

You stared at him, deadpan. "That’s my hoodie."

"Our hoodie," he corrected, sauntering over to steal another shirt from your pile and drape it over his shoulder like some kind of runway model. "Face it, darling, all your clothes look better on me."

"You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met."

"And yet," he purred, leaning in dangerously close, "you love me."

You sighed, but you didn’t argue. He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before finally—finally—deciding to be useful.

Sort of.

Because, of course, Rafayel didn’t fold clothes like a normal person. No, he dramatically shook out every single shirt, twirling them through the air before attempting what could only be described as the worst folding technique you had ever seen.

You groaned. "That’s not how you fold a shirt."

"Ah, but is there truly a right way to fold a shirt?" he mused, lifting one like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe. "What is folding, but the physical manifestation of conformity?"

You grabbed the shirt from his hands, folding it properly in two swift motions. "It’s this. This is folding."

He let out a scandalized gasp. "You just destroyed art."

"Rafayel."

"Fine, fine," he sighed, plopping down beside you. But then his gaze flickered with something mischievous.

Before you could react, he grabbed a sock from the pile and tossed it at you. You barely dodged before retaliating with a towel.

And just like that, the war began.

Socks flew. Shirts were used as shields. Rafayel dived behind the laundry basket, dramatically crying out, "You betray me, cutie!" when you landed a particularly good hit. Eventually, he tackled you onto the warm pile of unfolded clothes, pinning your wrists above your head with a victorious smirk.

"Yield," he murmured, voice dipping into something softer, something almost sincere.

You swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how close he was, of the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"...We still have laundry to finish," you muttered.

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming. "You’re so practical. Can’t we stay like this a little longer?"

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers curled slightly under his hold. "Five minutes."

Rafayel grinned. "Deal."

And if the laundry still wasn’t done hours later… well, that was just another beautiful tragedy in his book.

Sylus

The first time Sylus attempted to braid your hair, you thought you were about to lose a chunk of your scalp.

“Hold still,” he grumbled from behind you, fingers threading through your strands with the delicacy of a man who had definitely never done this before.

“I am holding still,” you shot back. “You’re just yanking like you’re tying up a hostage—ow!”

He exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Well, excuse me, princess,” he drawled, tugging a little harder just to be a menace. “Didn’t realize I was dealing with such delicate conditions.”

You huffed, swatting at his knee. “You volunteered for this, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that braiding hair wasn’t some arcane ritual requiring years of training.”

“You could’ve just let me do it myself.”

"And miss the chance to watch you suffer? Not a chance."

Despite his relentless teasing, though, he actually kept trying. You caught him watching tutorials on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking, muttering under his breath about over-under techniques and damn YouTube instructors talking too fast.

And after a few weeks of unsolicited (but secretly welcomed) practice, you found yourself sitting in front of the vanity, Sylus standing behind you, fingers surprisingly deft as they worked through your hair.

"Huh," he mused, his breath ghosting over the top of your head. "Not bad."

You blinked at your reflection, reaching up to touch the braid. It was clean, even, woven with precision—shockingly well-done.

"Sylus," you said slowly, turning to look at him. "You actually got good at this."

He smirked, arms crossing over his chest. "I can be gentle when needed, kitten."

You narrowed your eyes, pointing a finger at him. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, here you are, willingly letting me touch your hair," he shot back, smug.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. Sylus was like this—sharp words, endless sarcasm, always keeping his true intentions tucked away beneath layers of teasing. But you knew better. You knew the quiet effort he put into things like this, the way he never did anything half-heartedly—not when it came to you.

"Fine," you sighed dramatically, tilting your head in mock defeat. "Guess I’ll just have to keep you around as my personal hairstylist."

Sylus snorted, hands already reaching to undo the braid, just so he could redo it better. "Didn't expect anything less from you, princess."

And as much as he teased, as much as he grumbled, you had no doubt that this would become a new routine—because Sylus, for all his rough edges, was the kind of man who showed his love not through words, but through every little, unspoken action.

Even if it meant begrudgingly mastering the art of braiding, just to spoil you a little more.

Caleb

It started as a joke.

You had been curled up on the couch, flipping through old photos when you stumbled across one from years ago—an old, grainy snapshot of you and Caleb, tangled up in a mess of blankets and pillows, grinning like idiots in the dim glow of a flashlight.

A pillow fort.

You snorted, nudging Caleb’s arm with your foot where he sat beside you, one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch. “Remember this?”

Caleb glanced at the photo, and something flickered in his expression—fondness, amusement, something else you couldn’t quite name. Then, slowly, he smirked.

“Oh, Pipsqueak,” he drawled, tilting his head to look at you. “Are you saying you wanna build one now?”

You scoffed. “I never said that.”

“But you want to.”

“I do not—”

“You so do.”

And that was how, ten minutes later, you found yourself watching Caleb steal every blanket and pillow in the apartment with entirely too much enthusiasm.

He had always been bigger than you—towering over you even as kids—but now, with broad shoulders and an easy confidence to match, he looked even more ridiculous draping a fuzzy pink blanket over the top of the fort like it was some grand architectural achievement.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you muttered, watching as he wedged a chair into position for support.

Caleb flashed you a grin. “You say that now, but someone was always the first to throw a tantrum if our forts fell apart.”

Heat rushed to your face. “I was ten!”

“You were dramatic.” He reached over and ruffled your hair, and when you swatted at his hand, he caught your wrist with ease, tugging you closer just to be a menace.

“Still are, actually,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned in. “Kind of cute, though.”

You scowled, pushing at his chest. “Let go.”

Chuckling, he finally released you, settling down inside the finished fort with an exaggerated sigh. The fairy lights you had strung up inside cast everything in a soft golden glow, the air warm and filled with the scent of fabric softener and him.

After a moment, you crawled in after him, adjusting the pillows before flopping down beside him. “Alright, not bad,” you admitted.

“Not bad?” Caleb repeated, raising a brow. “This is my best work yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but the fondness in your chest was undeniable. The last time you’d done this, you’d been kids—sneaking flashlights under blankets, whispering secrets and bad jokes late into the night.

“…Feels kind of nice,” you murmured. “Like old times.”

Caleb’s expression shifted—softer now, something warm flickering behind his gaze. His arm curled around you without hesitation, pulling you into his side, his touch firm but easy.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice a little different now, a little rougher. “But this time, I don’t have to leave when morning comes.”

Your heart skipped.

Because he was right. Back then, your forts had always ended with him sneaking back to his room before sunrise. But now?

Now, he wasn’t going anywhere.

You swallowed, curling into him slightly, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. Caleb's hand settled at your waist, squeezing just enough to make you squirm, feeling ticklish.

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And, okay—maybe you didn’t. Especially not when he kissed the top of your head, his voice a little quieter when he added,

“…Love you, Pipsqueak.”

And in the glow of the fort, in the warmth of his arms, you smiled.

#love and deepspace #caleb x mc #lads xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #zayne x #lads zayne #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace headcanons #lads caleb #lads sylus #lads x reader #loveanddeepspace #lads fluff

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beholdthebangs · 23 days ago

Text

Taste

F!Reader x Sam x Sebastian

Warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, threesome, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, swallowing

Word count: 8.1k

Synopsis: Smut ~ Sam and Sebastian are best friends, and best friends lend a hand when it’s needed. They find themselves both thinking about the new farmer in town and wonder if you can fill in the missing spaces of their arrangement.

A/N: Had to finally give into my primal urge to write about Sam and Seb, plz enjoy and happy pride month!

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It had started on a weeknight late into autumn, all the leaves brown and wet from the chilly rain, sticking to Sam’s sneakers as he made his way up to the mountains where his best friend lived. The hood of his grey sweatshirt was pulled over his head, denim jacket holding the soft cotton tight to his torso and keeping him warm with the frigid winds that seemed to hit him straight in the face no matter which way he turned. The point of the season in which the weather made one final turn toward winter had always depressed Sam. It meant the end of warm weather; no more t-shirts, no more shorts or swim trunks, no more pretty girls in bikinis, no more skateboarding. All he had left to look forward to was the novel appeal of tucking himself under a soft throw blanket and watching horror movies in preparation for Spirit’s Eve, only a week away.

Sam had let himself into the carpenter shop and exchanged brief pleasantries with Sebastian’s mom before hurrying down the creaky steps to the basement. Sebastian sat at his computer like usual, looking up as Sam walked in. “Hey,” Sam sighed, plopping onto the couch and letting his head fall against the cushions as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Sebastian replied. He clicked his mouse a couple times, the whirring of fans in his computer coming to a stop as the dark-haired boy stood up and stretched. He settled onto his mattress, legs stretched out in front of him as he surveyed the blond. “You’re energetic today.”

“It’s freezing outside. I’m already over it.”

“It’s not that bad,” he’d insisted.

“Says you.” Sebastian had quirked a pierced eyebrow upward. “You have Abigail to keep you warm. I’m alone. So utterly alone.” Sam was being a bit dramatic. Yeah, the colder seasons were better when there was a significant other involved, but he wasn’t yearning for it. He was young, only eighteen. And honestly, a part of him had resented Sebastian when the couple had told him that they’d made things official. While Sebastian was a few months older, he was still eighteen, too, and their whole lives were opening up before them. Sam’s best friend being tied down to a girl he could date five years down the road if he really wanted to only held both boys back from experiencing everything adulthood had to offer.

“I don’t see Abigail here, do you?” She’d been busy performing unpaid labor at her dad’s shop all month, it being their busy season and all. Sebastian would still have her in his bed all winter long, so Sam didn’t feel too bad for him

“You know what I mean.”

“Get yourself a girl, then. You have to be interested in someone, right?”

“I don’t know. Haley’s been hanging around outside our houses and I’ve talked to her a lot, but I don’t know if she’s really my type.”

“You have a type?”

“I usually go for the girl next door,” Sam replied. He thought for a moment— Haley was quite literally the girl next door. He amended, “Metaphorically. Pretty, but in the way that she still gets embarrassed when I tell her she’s pretty.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Like who?”

“I don’t know… like Penny, I guess. She’s smart and funny and proper and innocent, and that’s all kind of a turn-on.”

“So go for it.”

“I’m not sure that’s really what I want. Commitment isn’t something I’m interested in right now. I just like the body warmth.”

“So why does it matter? Cuddle with Haley if she’ll let you.”

“I mean… there are other things I want, too.” Sebastian raised both brows, a smirk spread over his mouth. “I’m just, like, so horny. My hand is getting tired. I just need someone to help me out at this point.”

“Not sure any of the girls here are going to offer that service, sorry.”

Sam scratched at the back of his neck, staring down at his feet. “Not to pry or whatever, but… are you and Abi fucking all the time? I never hear you talk about that kind of thing.”

“We do stuff sometimes, but not that. She says she’s not ready.”

“And you don’t crave it?”

“Obviously I do,” Seb scoffed. “I guess I’m just better at jerking off than you are.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Porn’s a good start.”

“You think I don’t look at porn? It’s not working for me.”

Sebastian sighed. “Maybe you’re just one of those people who will never be satisfied unless someone’s doing the work for them.”

“How do I figure out if that’s my issue?”

“Test it, I guess.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. They’d already established that no one in this tiny-ass town would be open to a relationship free of exclusivity, and Sam would be holding out a while longer before he gave up his freedom just to quell his sex drive. Sebastian pushed himself off his bed, crossing the room to sit on the couch next to Sam.

“I know it sucks, dude, but that’s just part of living in a community like this. Lucky for you, you have the best friend ever.”

Sam didn’t see Sebastian’s hand reaching toward him in the moment, but he certainly noticed when his friend’s palm landed on the button of his denim jeans. The rough fabric pulled over his crotch as Seb wrestled the metallic button free, tugging the zipper down and sliding his hand underneath to grasp Sam’s length through his boxers. “What the fuck?” Sam asked, but it left his throat in a whisper, barely audible.

“I’m down to help you, dude, but you have to let me. Not trying to brag, but I’ve got a lot of experience jerking off. Way more than any girl here you could possibly ever trick into doing it.”

Sam had been so frozen in shock and indecision and Sebastian hadn’t stopped to ask for an answer. He continued running his fingers over Sam’s growing boner until the pressure was stretching his boxers to the point where the fabric was thinning with tension and a drop of precum had leaked into the fabric. Seb had looked up at him and he immediately lifted his hips, pushing his jeans and boxers down his legs and leaving them on the floor.

Sebastian made embarrassingly quick work of Sam’s erection. The long, slender fingers wrapped around his cock, the chipped black nail polish on his fingernails, his nonchalant demeanor as Sam felt like his insides were on fire— all of it piled on top of each other and spurred Sam on, closer to orgasm. “What about Abi?” the blond gasped, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut if the question presented a possibility that this might stop abruptly.

“Abigail knows I jerk off. This isn’t different, really. I’m jus’ doing it while I’m also being a really great friend. What’s the problem with that?”

“Nothin,” Sam groaned, his hips thrusting upward into Sebastian’s fist. “Fuck… Seb.”

“Am I better at it than you are?” he said with a laugh.

“Fuck yeah.” He was loosing his composure second by second, deep groans leaving his throat while his hand searched for something to hold onto, fingers eventually intertwining with Sebastian’s dark locks. Sam found himself face to face with his best friend, Sam a panting mess, pupils blown out and mouth open while Sebastian looked into his eyes like this was just another Monday afternoon. As the knot in his stomach was growing impossibly tight, Sam captured Sebastian’s lips in a sloppy kiss full of tongue, just for a second, pulling back when Seb’s hand shifted focus to his leaky tip, precum slicking up his pink head and leading the knot in his stomach to unwravel. Seb, having sensed it, had pulled Sam’s shirt up to his chest and continued to stroke wildly while aiming at Sam’s pale stomach peppered with light brown hairs. Sam had come all over himself, Sebastian continuing to stroke the full orgasm out of him until little dribbles of hot white cum slid down his shaft. He’d pulled back and leaned away, settling into the couch as Sam caught his breath.

“Let me know if that helps.”

It hadn’t. Not with quelling Sam’s sex drive, at least. He went home replaying the events over and over in his head, couldn’t look Sebastian in the eye for weeks, and it took even longer with Abigail. Finally, Sebastian had cornered him in his bedroom and interrogated him on his weird behavior. Sebastian had figured that maybe Sam regretted it, but the blond had bashfully admitted that he didn’t. He couldn’t figure out what he felt about the whole thing, but he knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about it and his cock would usually throb to the idea. Sebastian had consoled him, talked him through whatever pangs of guilt were plaguing him, and jerked him off again.

This arrangement lasted months. When Sebastian and Abigail finally called their relationship off, Sam noticed a shift in Sebastian. He’d ask Sam to hang out almost every night, not beating around the bush for too long before wrapping his hand around Sam’s length and not letting go until his palm was sticky with his friend’s cum. One night, after a full week of this little routine, Sam was walking home. He’d stopped on a dime, turning back to the mountains and heading back down to Sebastian’s room only to find him in bed, rubbing his cock with his hand still stained with Sam’s jizz.

“Whatcha doin’?” Sam asked, causing Sebastian to jump as he looked over at his friend. Sam didn’t wait for an answer, locking the door behind him and sitting next to Seb amongst his dark blankets. “Need help?” Sebastian had gone slack-jawed, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head so he could look at Sam as he jerked his cock. It was longer than Sam’s, but maybe not as girthy. The pulsing of blood underneath the pale skin was clear, his tip flushed bright pink as Sam stroked along it, pretending it was his own cock. In all honesty, it had been a while since he’d had to resort to masturbation, and he worried he’d been losing his touch. Sebastian reached down only a couple minutes later, though, tugging Sam closer to his dick by his messy blond strands of hair. Without warning, Sebastian’s length pulsed and shot a thick white rope over Sam’s face. He’d jumped back a bit and Sebastian only laughed as he continued to orgasm, Sam’s hand still stroking him so as to not ruin the experience.

Once the barrier was broken down, the boys became even closer. They’d find porn to look at together, jerk themselves off as they sat close on the couch, eventually reaching over to service their best friend. Sebastian had insisted Sam sleep in his bed when he spent the night, and they’d practically fall asleep doing the same thing, snuggled into one another as they did so. Sam had been horny since puberty, but being spurred on by Sebastian made him even worse. All he could think about half the time was his next orgasm, and whose hand it would be at. Usually the answer was Sebastian.

As he laid in the black-haired man’s bed, Sebastian busy trying to pull up a video on his phone as they lay together, both just wearing boxers, Sam huffed and tucked his head against the crook of Seb’s neck. “Hmm?” Seb asked absentmindedly.

“I’ve been thinking about that farmer lately.”

“What about her?”

“Fucking her, mostly,” Sam chuckled. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“I’m shocked.”

“You act like you haven’t seen her body.”

“I’ve seen it. I’ve thought about it.”

“You’ve thought about it with me?” Sam feigned surprise, shooting Sebastian his sad puppy dog expression.

“Yeah.” Seb pressed his palm to Sam’s face, pushing him away playfully, but Sam returned right back to his side. “If it’s bothering you, maybe you should invite her over.”

“Invite her over for what?” Sam asked with a skeptical eyebrow raise. Sebastian only gave him a pointed look. “‘Hey, Y/n, wanna come over and get spitroasted by my friend and I?”

“Maybe she’d say yes.”

“Maybe she’d slap me in the fucking face.”

“Well, are you into that?”

Sam groaned. Sebastian was no good at girl advice. The two of them were older now. Still in their early-twenties, but older than they were when they first started this little arrangement. Sam hadn’t wanted commitment back then, which had gotten him here in the first place, but he hadn’t stopped to reconsider the subject since. The thought of returning back to a boring old platonic relationship with his best friend was enough to turn him off it completely, leaving him again only with the choice of finding someone here who was okay with a hookup. You were newer to the town, fresh off a crazy life in the city. Maybe you were his best hope.

“I’m not gonna pitch the threesome… but I’ll invite her over to hang out,” Sam conceded.

The faint wet sounds of a couple making out started playing through Sebastian’s phone as he’d settled on a video for the two of them to watch. Finally satisfied, Sebastian’s hand snaked into Sam’s boxers to find his half-hard dick awaiting. “Sure, whatever makes you happy. Now grab my dick.” Sam had chuckled dryly, reaching across to trail his hand down Sebastian’s body and stroke him through the thin fabric of his boxers while Seb gave him a wet kiss before returning his attention to the video.

That conversation had brought them to tonight. You’ll be on your way any second and Sam can’t help but feel nervous as he paces around Sebastian’s room. He’d already tried to get Sam to relax to no avail. “What exactly did you say to her?”

Sam sighs. “I told her she looked great, and I asked if she’d come hang out so I could look at her more tonight.”

“Cheesy as fuck,” Seb scoffs.

“I was hoping that would be enough for her to get the hint without having to say it.”

“I feel like you just made me out to be the third wheel.”

Sebastian is sat on the wooden floor, back against his mattress. Sam sneaks his way onto the bed and lets either leg rest against his friend’s shoulders, fingers tangling into Seb’s hair to gently massage at his scalp. “‘Course not. Unless you’re into that.”

The creak of the boards comprising the staircase outside Sebastian’s door alert them to your arrival. You knock, opening the door slow and peaking in to see the two men staring expectantly, Sam with a big smile and Sebastian with an indifferent nod. You let yourself in, closing the door gently behind you and taking a spot on the couch. Sam practically skips over, squeezing in to your side. “Hi pretty girl.” He lays an arm over the couch behind you.

“Hey, guys,” you reply, a rosy blush spread over your cheeks as you look between Sam and Sebastian who is still settled on the floor next to his bed. “What are you up to?”

“Just waiting for you.” It was true, and Sam couldn’t be bothered to lie. “What do you wanna do?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, we could play something? Watch a movie, maybe? Whatever you guys usually do.”

Sam sneaks a look at Sebastian who’s smirking to himself while he fights back a laugh himself. “Movie works, yeah, Seb?”

He clears his throat. “Yep.” With that, he stands up and walks to the TV set up on a little stand against the wall, digging through the cases of movies stacked in the shelves underneath as he searches for whatever title he’s looking for.

“TV’s kinda far away, huh? Let’s sit on the bed,” Sam ushers, climbing back to his feet and holding out a hand to help you up. You hesitantly take it, allowing him to pull you to stand next to him and guide you over to the mattress covered in a fluffy black comforter. Sam takes the spot next to the pillows, moving them against the wall so you can all settle into them and get comfortable. He pats the spot next to him, in the middle of the bed, and you slowly climb up with a glance over your shoulder at Sebastian who’s throwing a DVD into the slot. He eventually takes a seat to the other side of you, closest to the TV, and starts the movie.

Sam had seen the film a few years ago, and while he didn’t remember much about it, he did recall that Sebastian had watched it alone with Abigail when they were dating. He’d said he was too preoccupied with Abi’s hand down his pants for the last half of the movie to remember how it had ended. It was some rated-R romance movie with a nudity warning. Sebastian had put it on not long after he saw it with Abi and they’d both missed the ending again as the content had seemingly struck Seb with the same inspiration, and Sam had cum all over the sheets the three of you sit on now, and the cleanup had lasted through the rest of the film. Whatever the fuck this movie was about seemed to turn people on, and Sam bit back a grin as he realized how overt Seb’s motive was, and how oblivious you were to it.

The first sex scene is only about half an hour in, and while the video doesn’t show much, it’s full of dirty talking and moans and Sam feels himself twitching below his jeans. Stealing a glance over, he notices that your hands are folded in your lap, fingers clenched together, teeth bit tight over your bottom lip, eyes wide. Sam laughs to himself and you snap your attention back to him, your first instinct to look embarrassed. You quickly correct to match him, letting out a little giggle as if amused by the situation at hand, nestled between two of your guy friends while you all watch a movie whose plot ultimately revolves around sex. You’re so cute when you pretend you’re not affected by it. Sam wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into him so your back rests over his side. Sebastian eventually moves over, taking the space you’d once occupied and closing the gap.

More plot goes by, and Sam begins to grow a little bored with the strife between the “couple.” Seb seemingly does too, yawning dramatically and leaning in more until his head rests on your side, face almost nuzzled into your stomach. Sam squeezes you and you look back, a half-hearted smile being sent his way. “You look so pretty,” Sam says quietly. You laugh and shake your head, turning away, but he uses his free hand to pull your chin back to look at him. “Really. I should’ve sat on the other side of the bed because I can’t focus on the movie when you’re right in front of me.”

“I can switch spots with you,” you offer with a laugh.

“No, thanks. Wouldn’t change it if I could. I just… I wanna kiss you.”

You look down at Seb, his chest rising and falling steadily as if he’s asleep, or nearly so. Looking back, you say, “I can’t, not with him. That’s… I don’t know, it seems weird.”

“He’s fine,” Sam insists, reaching further behind you to ruffle the man’s black hair. “Yeah, Seb?”

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles, voice gravely. His eyes remain closed.

“See? It’s all good.” You’re clearly hesitant, and Sam truthfully doesn’t blame you. But he needs to kiss you. For himself, for Sebastian, for the plan. “So… can I kiss you?”

A long pause. Finally, you nod, slow and careful like you’re still not sure but you can’t find any other answer. Sam doesn’t waste much more time, holding the side of your face and leaning forward until your plush lips meet his. Sam wants so badly to push forward, force his tongue into your mouth and really taste you, but he holds himself back. Instead, he pulls away after a few seconds with a gentle suck of your bottom lip. You look up at him through your lashes and his thumb strokes over your cheek. “Good girl,” he smiles before letting go and pulling you closer to his chest. The movement forces Sebastian to adjust and he wraps an arm loosely over your thighs as he does so. You don’t acknowledge it, turning your attention back to the TV as another steamy scene begins.

Sam takes advantage of it, letting his fingers rub soothing circles over your stomach. Slowly, as the scene progresses, he inches higher and higher until his palm is basically over your breast and you don’t even seem to notice. His thumb grazes over your clothed nipple and only now do you jump, startled. “Sam!” you whisper sharply.

“Sorry,” he responds as if it were a simple accident. He pulls his hand back but uses the other to push Sebastian off you. Sam gets you turned so your shoulder is against his chest now, knees bent as you sit sideways between Sam’s thighs. Sebastian shoots Sam a glare behind your back, groggily pulling himself back up to sit against the wall with right leg pressed against Sam’s left. Slowly, Sam leaves a gentle kiss to your temple, peppering them along the side of your face until you turn to look at him. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to argue, capturing your mouth in a kiss as innocent as the first.

He doesn’t pull away this time, though. Instead, he leans further into you when you try to sit back, and he knows the energy has shifted. His desperation and desire is seeping into his motions, hasty in keeping your mouth busy with his own. His tongue drags along your bottom lip and you part your mouth slightly, allowing Sam to jump on the opportunity to slide it through and explore your mouth. You taste good, your spit covering his tongue. His jaw opens while his palm falls to the side of your face again to hold you in place and tangle his tongue with yours. He can feel the subtle pull on the fabric of your shirt as Sebastian drags his nails up and down your back to comfort you. Sam wonders if you think he’s doing it, given your lack of reaction.

You press both your palms to Sam’s chest to pull away. “Sam, I really don’t want to make Sebastian feel weird.” You send the man an apologetic, bashful smile before turning your attention back to the blond.

“He’s okay with it, really. Maybe he feels a little left out, though.”

Your brows furrow and you look back at Sebastian in search of clarification, but the black-haired man greets your gaze with a more overt rub of your back and you finally put the pieces together. “Not my style to come onto you like Sam does, but I think you’re pretty, too.”

“Why don’t you kiss him?” Sam suggests, letting his grip on you go so you can turn yourself toward Sebastian instead of looking awkwardly over your shoulder at him.

“I don’t-” you begin, but Seb is already leaning closer, sure to keep eye contact with you until he’s only an inch from your face. You lean in just the slightest but it’s enough for Sebastian and he closes the distance, setting one long kiss to your lips as you’re practically frozen. He pulls away and smiles sheepishly. Sam smirks. Sebastian isn’t sheepish about much revolving these situations, and his act is clear as day to Sam.

“Good girl,” Sam affirms you again, ignoring the facade Sebastian is weaving for you. “Wanna kiss again?”

“Which one?” you ask, so quiet he can barely hear you over the grunts coming from the TV.

Sam shrugs. “You can pick.”

You move back toward Sam and his heart jumps, eagerly running his hands down your body to settle on your waist as you kneel in front of him and lean down. You let him close the distance and he does so immediately, excited that you’re not running away and excited at the knowledge that you picked him. He twists his fingers into your hair and holds you close, opening his mouth a little more with every kiss until his tongue has slipped past your lips again and tangles with your own. Wet licks and sucking fill his ears and he’s growing harder, wishing you would take a hand holding you up off his thigh and move it over just a few inches.

You sit back for air after a few minutes and Sam begrudgingly ushers you back to Sebastian. “Thank our host, ‘kay?” You do so without much hesitation and Sebastian follows Sam’s move, a bit slower than he had, taking his time in deepening the kiss. Watching the two of you doesn’t give Sam any break as he had hoped, only wanting more to grab his cock and stroke it to relieve some of the tension building up in his body. Instead, Sam sits up enough to tug his t-shirt over his head and throw it off the side of the mattress, palming himself while you’re occupied with Sebastian.

When you break away, you look to Sam expectantly as if intending to return to his lap. Instead, Sam tells Seb, “Take your shirt off.” You watch Sebastian carefully, taking a moment to study the torsos of both men in front of you. Sam’s got definition, but he knows he eats too much pizza to look as toned as he wants to. Sebastian on the other hand is skinny so the muscle he does have is way more prominent. Sam blames the cigarettes on the lack of appetite when he gets jealous of Seb’s effortless physique. “Looks like it’s your turn,” Sam finally says to you, eyeing your shirt. You don’t move, gnawing at your bottom lip as you look between the two. “Need help?”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly brush off, tugging at the bottom hem and dragging it past your stomach, past your breasts to show off a simple white bra with a touch of lace, and finally drop the fabric to the side.

“So pretty, huh, Seb?”

“So pretty,” he coos, tracing fingertips up your ribs.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of unfair, though? She still has a bra on. We’re naked above the waist.”

Sebastian nods, brazenly staring at the curve of your tits. “Yeah, that is kind of fucked up.”

“Bra, too, baby.” Sam can tell you want to object, but you do it anyway. Like something is driving you to push it further and you don’t want to pass up the opportunity. You reach behind your back to unhook the clasp before pulling both straps down your arms, keeping the cups pressed to your chest until you finally work up the courage to let them fall. Your face is flush with embarrassment, exposed to your two friends like this, but it only adds to Sam’s erection.

He stands, making way for you to lay down along the length of the mattress with a plush pillow propped under your head. Sam and Seb lay down on either side of you, Sam stealing a few kisses as Sebastian runs his hand over your stomach up to your breasts, playing with your skin and flicking over your nipple. Sam can hear when Sebastian’s tongue takes the place of his finger, not only by the warm wet suck over your chest, but also by the moan that falls deep from your throat and is muffled in Sam’s mouth. Sam takes his opportunity to play with your other nipple as he kisses you, until finally leaving a line down your neck as his mouth makes his way to join Seb. As the two men suck each nipple, they exchange smug grins, your head tilted back in pleasure. Sam grabs Sebastian’s cheek delicately, guiding him over your chest to meet him halfway in a kiss. A little gasp comes from above and Sam lets Seb go, instead following him over to your left nipple and letting his tongue gloss over it and mingle with Seb’s in the process. Fuck, there’s something about kissing his best friend, something usually isolated to when he’s on the brink of orgasm, with your tit in their mouths that had him humping into the bed, desperate for friction along the underside of his cock. Your inability to hide your surprise only adds a voyeristic desire to push it further.

Maybe Sebastian feels the same way. He props himself up next to you, giving you a sloppy kiss not unlike the work he’s done on your chest, pulling away and speaking quietly in your ear. You nod slowly, sitting up and staring at Sam. “Take your pants off, bud,” Seb orders with a smirk.

Sam doesn’t wait for you to interject, or for Seb to change his mind. He stands, pulling off his jeans and patterned boxers, letting them fall to the ground. His cock is fully erect as he settles between the gap you two have left on the bed. Sebastian has seen Sam’s cock so often that he’s no longer all that phased by it. You, understandably, are staring at it as you take it in. Sebastian beckons you to move in closer and you crawl hesitantly to Sam��s lap, hand wrapping around his length while your eyes are trained to his. Sam puts his palm to the back of your head to position you closer, kissing you before letting go and allowing you to settle in, face so close to his shaft. “Need help, babe?” Sam asks again as he watches you, unmoving as you shamelessly stare at his cock resting over his lower stomach. You glance up while he uses his thumb to tilt it toward your lips, smearing the formed bead of precum over the soft, delicate skin of your mouth. “Open.”

You follow his instructions, lips parting enough for him to slide the tip through. You instinctively wrap them around the ridge of his head, tongue swirling over his sensitive skin as you tease him and soak in the taste of salty precum continuing to bead at his tip. Sebastian sits up next to Sam, watching you intently, studying the way Sam reacts to your touch as your mouth sinks further down the length of his cock. Sam’s head rolls back as he lets you work him, the feel of something besides a hand wrapped around his dick so exciting and long overdue. He lazily looks to Sebastian, temple pressed against the wall behind him. “Feelin’ left out?”

Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t mind watchin’ for a minute.”

“Wishin’ your dick was getting sucked, too, or wishing you were down on your knees next to Y/n?”

“Is that an offer?” Sebastian winks. Sam gestures down toward you, shifting his focus back on your head bobbing up and down, eager eyes staring up to his for validation.

“Feels good, baby,” he reassures you, settling his fingers into your hair at the top of your head to guide you up and down, picking up speed and pushing himself a little deeper with each thrust. The bed shifts next to him as Sebastian climbs to the other side of Sam’s lap, cupping at his balls. It looks like it throws you off a little, the added hand, but you don’t stop. Not that you have much of an option as Sam continues to take more control from you. Only when he notices Sebastian leaning in closer does he pull you off to let you catch your breath and wipe the spit from your lips. Seb doesn’t waste his opportunity as Sam holds the base of his cock, quickly taking your place and dragging his tongue over the length of Sam’s drool-covered cock. The ball-shaped piercing embedded in the man’s tongue adds a sensation Sam had never thought too hard about, but it sends a shiver up his spine as the cool metal connects with his hot skin. He chuckles as he looks at you, your eyes wide as your spot is so quickly taken. “He’ll share, babe, don’t worry.”

“C’mere,” Sebastian grumbles to you, shifting further to the side to allow you enough room to copy the motions of his tongue on Sam’s dick. You hesitantly follow, tongues lapping over one another atop Sam’s cock, occasionally getting distracted as you exchange sloppy open-mouthed kisses which Sam has to redirect you away from with his fist tangling into both heads of hair. Even though he’s not being sucked and throated like earlier, something about watching his best friend and the girl he’s fantasized over make out with his cock at the same time is really doing it for him. He imagines what it would be like to cum right now, shoot thick white ropes over both your faces as you eventually leave his cock behind to lick the mess off one another. While the thought is addicting and nearly enough to get him close, he knows it’s far too early in the night for that.

“Now I feel left out,” Sam pouts to the two as Sebastian’s tongue flicks over his tip to collect precum, almost immediately shoving it in your mouth as you tangle into another brief makeout, tongues stroking along his head each time your jaws open to go in for another wet kiss.

Sebastian pulls back just an inch, watching as you lean in more to capture his lips again, instead blocked by Sam’s dick as your tongue catches against the side of it. Your eyes finally open. “Sam wants a kiss,” Seb says with a roll of his eyes. You giggle, licking along your bottom lip to take in the collection of fluids building up on it. As you linger there, silly smile and all, Seb finally looks up at Sam. “Think she wants to keep sucking your dick.”

“T’s fine, come here,” Sam mutters to Sebastian who sits back next to him. Sam sets his fingers on the side of Seb’s face, grazing along his jawline, turning his head. They share a knowing look before opening their mouths, tongues meeting just as their lips crash together. Sam can’t look at you, but he feels you eventually start to stroke him again, suck him off slow like you’re distracted. He reaches down to absentmindedly stroke the back of your head. “Can you handle two?” he asks you through gasps of air. One of your hands moves to Sebastian’s thigh, Sam’s cock too deep in your throat to answer around it. Seb doesn’t waste time, tugging his black jeans down his legs, boxers following closely behind. When he groans into Sam’s mouth, he can tell you’ve started stroking him off, pulling off Sam’s dick to divide your attention between both men with your hands.

“Let’s make it a little easier on her,” Sam suggests, pulling himself onto his knees and taking a loose hold on Seb’s hair to direct him to follow. Their cocks, Sam’s still wet with spit, slide against one another now as they lean into each other, hands grabbing into locks of hair as they make out. You look up at them, watching as you remain crouched on the bed, hand wrapping around their shafts as you stroke the two of them together. Sam and Seb had talked about grinding against one another like this, but Sam imagines he might be disappointed if they tried later on without the assistance of your soft, careful strokes around them. Especially disappointed without the delicate licks you spread over the sides of their dicks, fighting to get between them enough to taste the mix of precum forming for you.

“You gonna fuck her or ‘m I?” Sebastian asks as Sam nips at his bottom lip.

“Think we both are, yeah?” Sam replies, looking between their bodies at you, grabbing your chin to force your gaze up. You nod, eyes wide as you stare at the two from under your lashes.

“Who’s first?”

“Are you asking to go first?”

He hums as he thinks over the offer. “No, you go first. I’ll let Y/n suck my cock for a while.”

Sam shrugs, happy to take him up on the arrangement. He positions you to lay on the bed, Seb kneeling next to your head while Sam places himself between your thighs. Despite the neglect they put you through as you pleased them, you’re wet enough to coat Sam’s tip in arousal. He slides his length through your slick folds, sure to grind against your clit. You gasp out his name as you throw your head back, so eager to move your hips in time with his. “Dirty girl,” he grins approvingly, hands raking over your soft thighs while his fingers dig into the flesh. “Wanna take my cock so bad.”

“Fuck, yeah,” you whimper. Your hands reach down to grab him in an attempt to position him at your entrance. He chuckles, obliging you as he sneaks himself inside, inch by inch. The way your cunt grips the tip of his cock makes his eyes roll back in his head, all the more eager to slip the rest of himself in until he bottoms out. Sam grabs your legs, propping them up against his torso, knees bent around his shoulders as he leans in, effectively tightening you up even more. Now that you’ve adjusted to him, Sebastian is greedily nudging his cock to your lips to part them enough to slip in. You moan and mumble around his thick dick as Sam begins thrusting in and out while his hands roam freely over your body.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans, half to Sebastian and half to himself.

He attaches his thumb to your swollen nub, rubbing circles into it. His hips angle upward to hit that sweet spot inside you as he grinds himself into your sweet cunt. If he didn’t feel good enough from the physical sensations your body is providing him, watching you drool around Sebastian’s cock, slack-jawed, eyelids heavy, would surely suffice. Seb grunts, “Chill, dude. You’re distracting her.”

Sam leans in, moving your legs to his sides to hover over you as he continues to fuck you. He’s in the perfect spot to take over your responsibilities and let you feel good. Sam opens his mouth, Sebastian redirecting his leaky tip to the blond’s tongue without a second thought. Sam bobs his head in time with his hips, the thick head slipping toward his throat as Sebastian tangles his hand into Sam’s wild hair, holding him down at random to gag on his length. You moan underneath them, fingers scratching along Sam’s back. “You’re both so good at sucking my cock,” Seb praises, brushing his thumb over Sam’s cheek.

“Who looks cuter doin’ it?” Sam challenges, to which he receives an apologetic shrug. “Fair enough.”

You push yourself up just a little, enough to reach Sebastian again. He holds himself between you two, allowing you to share him like you and Seb had shared Sam earlier. He’s not sure whether he likes being on the receiving end or the giving end better. Sam can feel himself approaching the edge all too soon, not ready to sit out and let Seb have all the fun. Your pussy clenches around him as your body collapses back to lay flat on the bed, fingers twisted into the sheets as you moan their names, “Cum for us, baby. Wanna see how much you like it. Gotta make sure you’re having fun,” he mumbles in your ear, speeding up his pace and shooing Sebastian off so he can focus in on helping you reach your orgasm. As it comes, Sam fights himself to not join in, though he’s not sure how he finds the will with the way your cunt sucks him in and holds tight around him. “Good girl,” he coos when you begin to come down, chest heaving with the excitement.

“My turn?” Seb questions.

“He hasn’t cum yet,” you mutter between gaspy panting.

“If Sam was gonna let himself cum, he would’ve already filled you with it.” Fuck Sebastian, he thinks he’s learned everything about Sam just because he’s jerked him off for years. And yeah, he’s right, but he just can’t let Sam seem mysterious.

Sam slides out of you, immediately missing the warm pressure your cunt provides. He helps you sit up before Sebastian tilts you onto your hands and knees while he stands on the side of the bed and teases you with his cock, much like Sam had. He bets it must feel so much wetter now with your cum leaking down your thighs. Fuck, even in the dim lighting of Sebastian’s basement room, he can see it glistening across your skin. Sam makes himself comfortable sitting against the wall on the bed next to you, stroking himself as you keep your eyes locked on him, Seb slowly entering you from behind. He watches your expression twist with pleasure, jaw dropping open as he fits his cock in, eyebrows drawing in as you moan out for Seb. Of course he’d rather be fucking you, but watching you get fucked is so good that his cock is throbbing in his grasp, aching for you. He wants you to relax, though, focus on taking Seb and feeling the deep angle he’s achieving, nudging so close to your cervix. “Feel good, baby?” he asks, brushing hair from your face. You nod fervently.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Seb chimes in, letting his hand swat at your ass as his hipbones smack against the backs of your thighs. “Damn, I dunno how you didn’t cum in her, Sam.”

“Was fuckin’ hard,” he assures.

“Make your mouth useful and suck him off,” Sebastian demands of you. You start to tilt toward Sam, but he quickly interrupts.

“I’ll move for ya, don’t worry.” He shifts over enough to lay his thighs on either side of your elbows, your head naturally falling to his lap. You take it in, already pushing him close to orgasm as his dick eagerly accepts stimulation from a source besides his hand. Seb continues to pound into you, forcing you to dig your palms into the mattress to brace yourself as you focus on Sam. He pets your hair in an attempt to make up for Seb’s brashness. The way you suck him, the way your throat closes around the tip of his cock as you swallow and gasp around his length—Yoba, he’s addicted to the feeling of it. His fingers grab at the roots of your hair more aggressively than he intends but he’s too far gone to hold back. “Your mouth is fuckin’ amazing, babe. Doin’ so good takin’ my cock down your throat while you’re getting stuffed by Seb. So good at letting us use our slut.”

“Gonna cum down her throat?” Sebastian grunts from behind you.

Sam nods, gulping down a whimper as your tongue swirls around his tip. “Don’t move,” he tells you, grabbing the sides of your face to hold you just above his dick. “Open wide, sweetheart.” You listen so good, sticking your tongue out to graze along Sam’s head as he frantically strokes himself to you getting pounded in front of him. Sebastian aids him, gripping at your hair to keep your neck craned for the blond. “You’re so pretty when you’re waiting for my cum,” Sam coos between quick breaths, hips starting to buck as he feels himself approaching his release. “Lips all swollen from bein’ a good slut. Shoulda told me you were such a good toy and we coulda fucked you a long time ago. Ready t’ take my cum?” You nod as best you can, moaning with your mouth wide. Just before the first spurt of cum shoots from his red tip, he positions it to your mouth and watches as it hits the roof of it before puddling on your tongue. The process repeats as he lets rope after rope go, some of it overshooting your awaiting mouth to cover your cheek or run down your chin. You patiently wait for him to stroke himself dry, slapping his length on your lips and smirking down at you. You show off the full mouth of cum before closing and swallowing. Sam grabs your chin, thumb tugging at your bottom lip and you open to show off your emptied mouth, swallowing it down without complaint. “Such a good girl,” he gushes.

Sebastian pulls out as you’ve finished Sam off, sitting on the side of the bed and pulling you to sit on his lap, back facing him. You rock your hips on his cock and he takes a second to admire your ass before pulling your back flush to his chest. Sam gets back on his feet to stand in front of you and the two boys work together to pull your feet up, knees bent to your chest, heels pressed to Sebastian’s spread knees. Sam watches now, Seb’s hands tight around your waist, your thighs spread wide, Seb’s cock fucking into your little cunt. He can’t help himself from taking a knee there, placing his hands over Seb’s, and licking from the base of Seb’s dick all the way up to your clit in a solid line. He can taste precum even through your arousal and remnants of your cum from Sam’s turn with your pussy, and fuck, that has to be the best thing he’s ever tasted. He continues the motions, earning higher-pitched moans from both of you.

“Enjoying yourself, babe?” Sebastian mumbles in your ear, pairing it with tender, wet kisses to the side of your neck.

“Mm-hmmm,” you quickly answer, one hand snaking down your torso to fall into Sam’s hair, keeping him in place.

“Gonna cum on my cock? Cum all over Sam’s face while he helps us?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good girl. Cum all over us, princess.” Sam focuses his attacks to your clit in an attempt to push you over the edge, your sweet little gasps and moans urging him to keep going until your hips are bucking wildly against the men. Sam spreads his attention back to cover Seb, set on helping him cum inside you as your pussy spasms around his length. He pulls his hand back from your waist to replace it over Sam’s, giving it a tight squeeze as he twitches under Sam’s tongue. Seb stills after a moment and Sam nearly pulls away until he catches a taste of cum, opening his eyes to watch it slip out of you and down Sebastian’s cock. Sam does his best to clean it up, basking in the raw sexual taste of your cum mixed together as you two work to catch your breath.

Having come down, you shift in Seb’s lap and the motion allows his cock to pop out, followed by another much larger gush of cum spilling from your pussy that gathers along Seb’s sticky cock. Sam takes it in his mouth, stealing a few deep sucks over the length of it as cum continues to leak out of your used hole. Just before you climb off, Sam takes a few passes at it to help manage the obscene wetness between your thighs.

The three of you slowly separate, ending up collapsed on the bed with you in the middle. Sam reaches across you to pull Seb in, effectively forming a cuddle puddle as he pulls your head into the crook of his neck and strokes your hair. “You did so good,” he reassures. “Did y’ have fun?”

You nod into him. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting all of this to happen tonight.”

“Sorry, guess I should’ve warned you.”

“You wanna stay over?” Seb asks.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can walk,” you joke.

“Tha’s fine,” he mumbles, sitting up to pull the soft comforter from the end of the bed up and over the three of you. He returns to spoon you and Sam can feel his thumb running over your nipple absentmindedly as he nuzzles into you. Sam settles in, flipping the light of the lamp off next to him and turning on a quiet television show to lull him to sleep. “Since Sam won’t, I’ll warn you this time,” Seb mutters sleepily. “You won’t be getting a lot of sleep laying naked between us.”

“I don’t mind,” you giggle.

Sam presses a kiss to your lips, exchanging a glance over your shoulder with Seb. Maybe they’ve finally found a keeper.

Part 2

#sdv smut #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #x reader #sdv sam smut #sdv sebastian smut #stardew sam #stardew valley sam #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #stardew smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sam and sebastian

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savi0rr · 3 months ago

Text

Less Clothes Next Time .ᐟ

Dante x Fem! Reader

In which, maybe styling something that could end the world isn't very good for anyone, but it does look good on him!

a/n: can you guys tell that i'm clearly a fake fan and only watched the show..

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"Goodwill?" Dante asked, raising an eyebrow as he shot you a questioning glance. “Didn’t you get that money from last week?” You frowned, tilting your head to the side, a playful challenge in your eyes. “The money you were bragging about—the one that every demon hunter dreams of receiving; so much cash for such an amazing request?" A smile crept onto your face, teasing him.

Dante fell quiet, halting his brisk pace to rub his chin thoughtfully. “Look, babe, did you really have to call me out like that?” he grumbled, backpedaling to catch up with you. “There was a little setback!” he added, a sheepish grin creeping onto his face.

“Charming,” you huffed, rolling your eyes dramatically, a playful twinkle in your gaze.

“Careful, hon; I might give you another reason to roll your eyes at me,” he teased, his hand sliding down to your lower back, sending an involuntary shiver through you.

“Oh, stop it,” you murmured, trying to suppress a smile.

“First of all, I am not wearing that,” Dante declared, making a face as he watched you pick out a particularly worn-out black trench coat.

“Why not?” you retorted, glancing down at the price tag, which read ‘half off.’

“It gets really annoying having to clean your coat,” you replied with a grin. “And besides, it’s a steal!” you giggled, tossing the trench coat into the cart with an air of triumph.

“Is this your clever way to get me to take up more jobs?” Dante asked, eyeing the racks skeptically.

“If we had that money that you should have gotten, we wouldn’t be wandering around Goodwill,” you said, pulling a simple shirt from the wrack. “What size are you, anyway?” You rubbed your chin, pretending to ponder the question. Dante shot you a playful smirk.

“Extra, extra large,” he said with a wink, his voice low and teasing.

You paused, staring at him in mock disbelief, then playfully shoved the cart into him. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll be sleeping alone tonight!”

“This looks like it matches, right?” you asked, holding a striking dark red trench coat up to his necklace, the fabric catching the light. Dante glanced down, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

“Is something wrong with my style already?” he asked, surveying his outfit as if it had suddenly betrayed him.

“Of course not!” you exclaimed, laughing as you shoved the coat into the already overflowing cart with a satisfied smile. “It’s just that you remind me of those cartoon superheroes who only have one or two outfits per episode—they never change!”

Dante fell silent, his eyes widening in mock horror before he gasped dramatically. “I’m taking that to heart!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest as if you had just pricked his pride. “Maybe you’re the one who’s going to be sleeping alone tonight,” he retorted, glancing away with a huff.

He scanned the racks, pulling out a dress adorned with an outrageous, grandma-style pattern. “Maybe you need a change too!” he quipped, holding it up to your body with exaggerated flair. “For, you know… uh… your face! Yeah…” He added the dress to the cart, looking rather pleased with himself.

You laughed genuinely, shaking your head as you continued to dig through the clothing. “You honestly couldn’t think of anything better to say? I thought you loved my face!”

Dante remained quiet for a moment before nodding. “Okay, you’re right, but you still insulted me!” he shot back, leaning closer to you, a playful glint in his eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“No,” you sighed, leaning back in the chair outside the fitting rooms, an exaggerated expression of exhaustion on your face.

Dante groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in frustration. “Babe! It’s been ages since we started shopping, and we’ve only managed to go through two aisles!”

“Nothing matches your necklaces,” you countered, rising to your feet and walking toward him, your hands brushing against his shoulders as you did. “Maybe your old outfit suits you better,” you said with a cheeky smile.

Dante's eye twitched in mock annoyance. “You’re lucky I won’t send you to hell!” he grumbled, shutting the curtain to the fitting room with a decisive tug.

“Can you at least try on that fitted shirt?” you asked, giggling as a small smirk danced across your lips.

Dante didn’t immediately respond; instead, he opened the dressing room curtain and pulled you inside with a playful squeal.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“I really didn’t mean to get us banned from Goodwill,” he said, adjusting his pants with a sly smirk that suggested mischief. Your cheeks flushed a deep pink as you hurriedly fixed your clothes.

“I’m never going shopping with you ever again!” you declared, stumbling to your feet, your heart racing.

“I’m sorry, who wasted whose time?” Dante retorted, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a playful embrace.

“Whatever,” you replied, shaking your head.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

#x you #oneshot #x reader #silly #fluff #devilmaycry #dante x reader #dmc x reader #dmc x you #fluffy #dante dmc #dmc dante

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wandasdove · 11 months ago

Text

GROSS-ERY SHOPPING

Pairing(s): mommy!wandaxautistic!reader

Summary: in the grocery store, reader experiences sensory overload but doesn't communicate their distress to their mommy wanda. acting out and refusing to continue shopping, the reader's behaviour escalates until they push Wanda in a moment of panic. wanda, initially angry and confused, takes them to the car, where the reader finally explains their struggle. realising the reader's distress, wanda softens, offering comfort and understanding, and promises to be more attentive in the future. they drive home, with wanda ensuring the reader feels safe and supported.

Warnings: contains descriptions of a small sensory overload and emotional distress, which might be triggering to readers sensitive to themes of anxiety and panic. it also includes moments of verbal conflict, a physical confrontation where we push wanda and she is maddd, and elements of a dominant/submissive relationship

You feel the weight of the fluorescent lights bearing down on you, the cacophony of shoppers, and the overwhelming colours and smells of the grocery store making your head spin. Your breaths come shallow and fast as you try to keep it together, following Wanda through the aisles. She chats lightly, oblivious to the sensory overload that's threatening to swallow you whole.

“Hey, can you grab that for me?” Wanda asks, pointing at a box on a high shelf. Her voice sounds distant, muffled by the storm in your mind. You didn’t really hear her, and stare into the distance. “Y/N?”

You zone back in, hearing her tone and nod mutely, reaching up, but the sudden movement makes you dizzy. The box slips from your fingers, clattering to the floor. Wanda turns, her eyes narrowing slightly as she surveys the scene.

“Careful,” she admonishes, a hint of frustration creeping into her tone. “Are you paying attention at all?”

You nod again, more vigorously this time, hoping she'll let it go. But she doesn't. Instead, she steps closer, her presence amplifying your anxiety.

“You've been acting up all afternoon and I don't appreciate it,” Wanda says, her voice low and stern. “What’s gotten into you today?”

Her proximity is too much, her intense gaze too penetrating. The world seems to shrink around you, walls closing in. You can feel the panic rising, a tidal wave you can’t control. Desperate, you roughly push her away, needing space, needing air.

Wanda stumbles back, surprise and hurt flashing across her face. She regains her footing, her expression hardening into the one from the photo, a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“Seriously? You push me now?” she snaps, her voice trembling slightly. “I can't believe you're acting like this.”

Tears blur your vision as the sensory overload reaches its peak. You barely register Wanda's next words, your mind a whirlpool of chaos.

“I don't want to be here anymore,” you say, your voice coming out harsher than intended. “I hate this place, I never wanted to come here. I want to go home.”

Wanda’s eyes narrow further. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to in that tone? We're almost done. Just a few more items.”

“No!” you nearly shout, crossing your arms defiantly, and stomping your foot like a child. “I'm not getting anything else. Didn’t you hear me? This place is awful, and I want to leave right now!”

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. “Listen to me, young lady. You need to calm down and stop acting like a spoiled bratty children. Remember your place. We have things to get, and you're going to help me.”

The harshness in her tone feels like a slap, and you shrink back, feeling the sting of her words. But the overload is too much, and you can't stop yourself from lashing out.

“Why should I? You never listen to me! You don't care how I feel!” you spit back, the words burning on your tongue. You know it’s not true, but in the moment you’re so worked up and can’t stop your mouth.

Wanda's face tightens, her patience wearing thin. She steps closer, her voice dropping to a dangerously low whisper. “You are walking on very thin ice, sweetheart. You need to watch your tone.”

Her proximity is suffocating, her stern gaze too intense. The world seems to close in around you, the panic rising like a tidal wave. Without thinking, you shove her away again, desperate for space.

Wanda's eyes widen in shock as she stumbles back, hurt and confusion flashing across her face once again. She regains her footing, her expression hardening once more.

“Fine,” she snaps, her voice trembling with controlled anger. “We're leaving. But we are going to have a serious talk about this and don’t think you won’t get punished.”

You don't respond, tears streaming down your face as you follow her out of the store. The moment you sit down in the car, the world goes quiet, the storm in your head beginning to recede.

Wanda starts the car, her silence heavy and uncomfortable. She doesn't speak until you've driven a few blocks, her anger seeming to cool as she notices your rapid breathing and tear-streaked face.

“Hey,” she says softly, glancing at you. “What's really going on?”

You take a shuddering breath, the words finally coming out. “It was... too much. The lights, the noise... everything. I'm sorry.”

Her face softens immediately, the sternness melting away to reveal concern and guilt. “Oh, sweetheart, why didn’t you say something?” She pulls the car over, turning to face you fully. “I thought you were just being difficult. I didn't know you were struggling like that.”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of relief at her understanding. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I could handle it.”

Wanda reaches over, gently wiping a tear from your cheek. “You never bother me. Next time, tell me. Please. I don’t want you to suffer in silence.”

You nod, leaning into her touch, the tension slowly easing from your body. “I will. I promise.”

She smiles, pulling you into a tender hug. “Good. Now let's get you home and settled, okay? No more stores today.”

You close your eyes, feeling safe and understood in her arms. “Okay Mommy.”

#✧˚ · . dovewrites #✧˚ · . mommywanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #mommy k!nk #domme mommy #bd/sm mommy #wanda #wanda x autistic reader

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melancholicmoonlight · 2 months ago

Note

Broken down

Roleplay session with @beautyinafruitfulworld

It's a cloudy afternoon as Gimlet drives his motorcycle, with Tequila carefully clinging to him, down the eerily unoccupied road lined with dense forest. As they revel in the thrill of their ride, the loud songs of songbirds fill the air. They appreciate the solitude surrounding them, free from the worry of any passing vehicles. However, their enjoyment is short-lived; after Gimlet performs a wheelie, the engine of his modified Ariel W/NG 350 sputters and loses power.

Gimlet makes an emergency stop, letting out frustrated curses as he steps off and gives the motorcycle a firm kick that does nothing. Tequila gets off with a quiet curse and a heavy sigh before cautiously scanning for any signs of civilisation, eventually noticing a pleasant town half a mile away. With nowhere else to go, Gimlet hauls his motorcycle toward the town, while Tequila helps him along the way. After 17 minutes, they reach the entrance of the town, where a sign proudly displays its name: Eastkil. They immediately start looking for a mechanic, hoping there's one nearby.

While walking with the motorcycle in tow, Tequila surveys the town and notices a quaint florist's shop. He lets Gimlet know that he's going to make a little detour and suggests that he continue searching for a mechanic. Gimlet grunts in understanding, gives a small nod, and complies, continuing his search for an auto shop to have his Ariel W/NG 350 fixed. Tequila heads over to the florist's shop and steps inside, looking around with intrigue and wondering what flowers they have for sale.

He spies a small shop which has a worn out sign with some wrench over a tire on the roof. Out front in the garage is an older looking man with braids, Cassidy, showing who is probably a new hire how to use the lift. After a minute or two, he notices Gimlet and gives the other person a pat on the shoulder before making his way over. “That’s a nice lookin’ bike. The engine go out on you?”

——

Meanwhile, at the florist, there’s a small chalkboard sign in the window that says something about tulips and primrose buds being marked down. A bell softly rings as Tequila opens the door, and he’s immediately hit with the sweet scent of the various flowers and plants on display. On a nearby wall is some gardening supplies, and there are several bouquets in a fridge-type-thing on the other side.

Jamie, the tall, heavily scarred man watering the plants, looks up when Tequila comes in and offers him a smile. He set the watering can down and brushes his hand off, then pulls out his phone so he can talk to him. “Hello, do you need help finding anything?”

#rp #thread #ask #beautyinafruitfulworld #muse: Cassidy #muse: Jamie

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veebeeboo109 · 14 days ago

Text

A Tidy Timeline

[Read on AO3]

Continuation of Cleaning up the Timeline

[5k words - Poly!Lads x Reader: some fluff and sweetness, beach house shenanigans, Protective Caleb and Xavier, Sassy Rafayel]

[Part One]

Tags: Fluff, Love, Polyamory, Island life

A New Addition

During your last stay at the beach house, you hadn’t seen much more than the bedroom, the living room and the beach. Now, during this trip, you’re determined to explore. You have a few days left until you all have to head home, and you’re planning on making the most of it.

There’s a small town nearby, a decent drive away to keep your little bungalow isolated and private. The island is tiny and so shopping there is restricted to local goods and overpriced imported items brought in by boat.

Caleb looks out of place in his white tank top and aviator sunglasses. Like a streetwear model instead of a beachy tourist. He browses the stalls of the market street, admiring the trinkets made of shells and bundles of sea salt.

Xavier lingers at your side, having claimed your hand the moment you stepped out of the car and keeping it. His large sunhat partially shades you, and his pale blue flip flops tap tap tap with every step. He doesn’t seem very interested in the stall of coconut knick knacks you’ve stopped to look at, and instead seems to be surveying the street. His sharp eyes scan the nooks and crannies with more intensity than you think necessary.

“Pipsquaeak look!” Caleb calls from the next stall over, picking up a large jar of sea salt he’s just purchased. “The woman said she harvested it just yesterday, won’t this be great on those filets we got?”

Rafayel had offered Caleb a string of large mahi mahi as an apology for scaring him. He reiterated that he had no intention of drowning anyone– that was, unless Caleb was into that sort of thing.

You examine the large salt crystals for a moment, “Isn’t this like ten years worth of salt here?”

“With how much this family eats? Hardly.” Caleb replies with a warm laugh. He tucks the jar into his shoulder bag and turns, taking your free hand to lead you down the row.

Your heart blooms in warmth at the mention of family. Of course you’ve thought about what to call this web you’ve found yourself in. This group that you’ve forged and chosen. A polycule is the technical term, but it doesn’t sit right in you. It’s too cold, too clinical.

The effortless way Caleb says family slots like a missing piece inside you, and you realize that’s it. It’s a family.

Caleb leads you like the engine, while Xavier stays the caboose in this little choo-choo train you make. He stops in front of a fruit vendor, baskets overflowing with vibrant tropical fruits. Some you recognize, and some you don’t.

“Oh~” Caleb sing-songs as he plucks a large mango from the display and lifts it to test the ripeness with his thumb, “These would be good as a snack, yeah? They’re homegrown and organic.”

Silently, Xavier lets go of your hand, walking across the open street to a stall. You linger next to Caleb, examining fruit that he offers you before filling a bag with them.

You add a few other fruits to the bag, and giggle softly when Caleb eagerly talks about how he might prepare them. He’s more carefree right now than you ever remember him being.

“Sylus likes fruit salad, but nothing too sour.” You mention while Caleb pays. The brunette looks over his shoulder at you and then purses his lips as he thinks for a moment.

“He mentioned not like spicy things either.” Caleb says as he places one arm around your waist as you walk to the next stall. “Where’d Xavier go?”

Speak of the devil, your blond paramour reappears. Two straw hats in his hands. He lifts on and places it on the top of your head and then lifts the other onto Caleb. Xavier seems pleased with the look he’s put together, and nods, “The sun is strong here.”

You adjust the hat to sit better on your head and smile, “Now we match. So, if we get separated, I’ll just look for the sunhats in the crowd!”

So, you got separated. It’s not your fault. You know that much, and you stew in your smugness as you sip at a plastic bag filled with some brightly colored juice. The bendy straw is a whimsical spiral and the flavor is oddly tart yet perfectly sweet.

How you managed to get lost from arguably the clingiest of your lovers is a feat, truly. Xavier got enlisted in helping an elderly couple bring in boxes inside their store, and, of course, Caleb couldn’t be shown up. He handed you his bag and his juice and told you to wait there.

It’s not your fault that a shop across the street started shouting about a sale, and waving around necklaces sparkly enough to blind you. You had the bag, and therefore the money and wouldn’t they love it if you got them some matching necklaces to go with your matching hats?

Your perfectly pure intentions lead you to buying six necklaces made of sea glass and pearls— saving a few bucks by buying in bulk. That leads you a little further down the road, to a stall with some adorable little sculptures made from coconut shells. They had one of a mermaid, and you couldn’t not buy it.

By the time you returned to the spot you were supposed to wait, both Caleb and Xavier were gone. You stayed there for a few minutes, but quickly got bored and decided to search for them. Not the best idea, but this was hardly a dangerous place.

Now, nearly an hour later, you’re tired, hot, and want to go home. The bag on your shoulder is heavy and digging into you. You’ve taken refuge in a small alleyway between buildings, one of the few shady spots here at the market.

You watch as people walk by, fewer and fewer as time passes. Many stalls have closed for the midday heat, and have signs letting patrons know when they’ll reopen. You’re not worried, not yet.

It’s odd, being alone. You haven’t been alone in a long time, and it’s starting to build slowly inside you. Even when your boys aren’t home, Mephisto is. The crow’s absence is felt. Despite how often you complain, you like Mephie…and if he were here, at the very least you know Sylus isn’t far behind.

For a moment, you think you’re hearing things. A figment of your wandering imagination wishing for that avian nuisance following you around, because you hear a small coo. Almost a croak, and instinctively you look up. Searching the edges of the rooftops, the powerlines, and the canopies.

You scoff at yourself. Mephisto is back at home, in the care of Luke and Kieran and probably loving every minute of it. You’re being silly.

Except, you hear it again. And this time you’re not lost in thought and you realize it’s coming from behind you. Tossing the empty drink in the trash, you turn. Waiting to hear it again.

It’s quiet, and only audible because the crowd has dwindled down. There’s a stack of crates midway down the alley, next to a metal door. As you approach, you hear the sound again and realize you recognize it now that it’s close.

A cat. A kitten. It’s a tiny thing, with pointed ears and patches of white, brown and black. Its little, green eyes assess you sharply as you crouch down nearby, and it lets out a warning hiss.

It’s not a baby. Old enough to be away from its mother, but barely. You can tell it’s malnourished, the lines of its hips too sharp.

You click your tongue a few times, offering your hand gently, “Poor baby…” You coo, “ You hungry?”

The kitten draws back at first, mewing softly, and then slowly, tentatively creeps forward to sniff you. You can feel the soft puffs of air as it grows more confident sniffing you.

From your bag, you pull out a little trail mix packet. Who knows how long it’s been sitting at the bottom of the tote, and it’s hardly a good treat for a cat, but it’s something.

The little kitten watches you, eyes wide and eager as it hears the crinkle of the packaging. You hold out a little piece of almond, hopeful. They sniff it once, and then look up at you with an almost unimpressed look.

“Don’t give me that look,” You giggle, wiggling the nut closer, “It’s all I got right now, c’mon. If you let me pick you up, I’ll take you somewhere you can get a real feast.”

It’s silly to think the little kitten will understand you, and you realize that you may have underestimated their hunger. Because they nibble weakly at the almond, scraping it with their tiny, baby teeth.

You frown, heart panging in pity. Moving as slowly as you can, you reach out and pet the top of their head. They feel scratchy and coated in dirt, which almost twists the knife deeper.

It takes a few moments for the kitten to let you pick them up. You tuck them close to your chest, trying to make them feel secure because who knows if they’ve ever been held before?

You return to the street with more purpose, looking one way and then turning to look the other. With fewer people, it’s easier to see down the long length of the marketplace, and to your palpable relief you see Xavier’s large sun hat.

Your relief is short lived when you see the Lightblade in his hand, and he’s got this dangerous, predatory look in his eyes. Caleb is only a few feet away, stalking through the dispersing crowd, peering down alley ways and pausing at poor passerby’s to speak harshly to them.

Their harsh aura is dwindled by the hats on their head, but you figure they kept them so you would be able to find them easier.

“Caleb!” You shout happily, “Xavier!”

Struck simultaneously with a shock of lightning, their gazes snap to you. Caleb bolts towards you, running full tilt until he’s practically crashing into you.

“Careful!” You cry, holding out an elbow to prevent the massive man from hurting the little bundle in your arms.

“Where did you go!?” Caleb draws away from his momentary hug to grab your shoulders, leaning over to put his face level with yours. “Are you trying to kill me? You want me to have a heart attack and die, is that it?”

Xavier doesn’t let his Lightblade dissipate until he’s within reach. You hear his relieved sigh just as you feel his palm touch the side of your face, “Why didn’t you stay put? What happened?”

”Geez!” You hiss, scowling slightly, “I went to look at some stuff! I didn’t realize it was such a crime!”

Caleb huffed and let go of you, running his hands through his hair like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “We were worried sick! Pips, the last time you disappeared like that Ever had you! I thought Xavier was gonna’ commit mass homicide!”

“They all could be working for them.” Xavier’s voice was quiet, but cut through the air as he explained his motivation.

Your spark of irritation fades as you realize the horrible mistake you’ve made. “I’m sorry…I…I wasn’t thinking.”

Caleb reaches back out to you, pulling you into another embrace. He grabs you with his left hand first, squeezing you and then following it with his right. Surrounding you with the trunk of his arms.

He smells faintly of sweat, but that underlying musk that you’d recognize anywhere. It was the smell that would lull you back to sleep after nightmares– when you’d sneak out of your bed and climb into his. The smell on the collar of his jackets that he’d drape across you whenever you were cold.

There’s a part of you that still can’t believe he’s real. That he’s here.

A soft mew from your arms has Caleb pulling away, he looks down in confusion at you– like you were the one that meowed.

“Who’s this?” Xavier asks the minute the kitten lifts their head. The blond reaches out and gently scratches the top of the fluffy baby’s head.

“I found them in an alley.” You explain, shifting them slightly to show them better, and they even meow softly. “Poor baby is hungry and filthy. I thought– maybe - we could bring them home?”

Xavier’s face lights up, and bends down to examine the kitten closer. “Of course we can. Do you want me to carry them?”

“I can,” You reply, and then shift the bag, “If one of you can take the bag?”

Caleb reaches out with his right hand and easily takes it from you, sliding it onto his shoulder and then reaching out to adjust your hat a bit. “I’ll put a bell on you next time, pips. Now c’mon, let’s head back.”

“No!” Rafayel barks out the second you step inside. He lurches up from the couch and points at the cat in your arms accusingly, “No beasts allowed in the house!”

Caleb took your hats and your goods to put them away while Xavier headed upstairs.

The kitten stiffens slightly at Rafayel’s hollering, and you cradle it closer. “It’s just a baby, Rafayel.”

“You were at the market for a while,” Zayne comments as he walks over to greet you. A gentle hand on your back and then a kiss pressed to your temple, “I see why now.”

You laugh gently, “Well, I got lost for a little bit there, but I found this little guy. You wanna help me give them a bath?”

“Let me see them,” Zayne says, lifting his hands and taking the kitten. He holds them up, examining them from side to side, under their belly and along their tail. “They’re quite thin, and probably have fleas. Also, it’s a girl.”

“Aww!” You squeal, gently taking the kitten back and resisting the urge to nuzzle your face against hers with every fiber of your being. “A little girl! So cute!”

“This is mutiny!” Rafayel says from the other side of the room, standing behind one of the chairs and frowning at you. “We should hold a vote. I vote the monster leaves, who’s with me?”

“I think you’re on your own there,” Caleb responds as he reenters the room. “But we can vote if you want to.”

Xavier scurries back down the stairs holding a large fluffy towel, “I filled the tub with some warm water, and I found some of the scentless soap we can use.”

Your heart swells like an oversoaked sponge with how gently Xavier bundles up the kitten and holds her close to his chest. He wraps the towel around her and begins to rub away the worst of the dirt around her head and ears.

“That won’t remove the fleas, but it’s better than nothing.” Zayne says as he tilts his head to look at the softly mewing kitten.

“I’ll boil some chicken or something, or is fish better?” Caleb asks, coming to stand behind you.

“Hey! What’s with the welcome wagon?” Rafayel whined, coming out from behind the chair to stand a bit closer. “We haven’t voted yet.”

You give Rafayel a look, “I vote we keep her.”

“Hear, hear.” Caleb concurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair. “I’ll get started on something to eat for her.”

Xavier looked over to Rafayel with a challenging smirk, “I also vote we keep her.”

You follow the blond when he walks back towards the stairs, and you hear Rafayel’s scoff of disbelief. “That’s only half the vote, it’s still undecided.”

Zayne just shakes his head and heads to the kitchen to help. You’re not sure where Rafayel’s aversion to felines came from, as you can’t remember him having issues in the Sanctuary with the little cats that would roam about.

Over time, it feels like more and more memories are coming back. At night, you dream about the sanctuary, the smell of the wet stones and moss. The sound of the crackling fire. Some mornings, before you open your eyes, you’re not sure what world you’ll wake up in.

You want to bring it up to the others, and you will– you will– but not yet. You don’t know whether it’s simply missing that life from before, or something else. And, knowing your lovers, they’ll worry over it when it might be nothing at all.

Giving a kitten a bath is an equally frustrating and hilarious experience. You and Xavier take turns holding the poor kitten while the other runs a rag over its poor sodden fur. The water tints into a sandy taupe color and you have to empty it twice before you’re satisfied the kitten is clean.

You’ve got mementos for the experience. Tiny little scratches on your arms and hands as the kitten fought back. You can hardly blame her. Although the water was warm, it was likely the first real bath she’d ever had.

Xavier dries her off while you hold her, and he’s frowning firmly, “That was no way for a young lady to act. Hurting my bunny like that would get some others in big trouble.”

His words would be a threat if they weren’t said in such a cute tone. The kitten mewls in response, like she is saying she’s sorry as Xavier rubs her head with a dry towel. When he pulls it away, the kitten is fluffed up, almost a ball with all the fur standing up. Xavier makes small cooing sounds as he rubs behind the kitten’s ear.

“She was just scared, weren’t you baby?” You coo, lifting the now clean kitty to your cheek. “Poor little thing.”

Once she’s dry, you hold the little calico close to your chest and head back downstairs. The scent of cooking food meets your nose and you can tell she can smell it too because her head perks up, ears pointing upwards.

“What’s this?” Sylus says with a playful smirk, somehow silently coming up from behind you. “A kitten for the kitten?”

You grin lift the kitten up to Sylus’ eyeline, “Isn’t she cute? I found her in the market!”

“I heard,” He says, tilting his head to the side to size up the little girl in your hands. “I also heard that you gave our prince quite the scare.”

You huff softly and cradle the kitten once more, “Caleb’s such a snitch.”

“Not a snitch!” Caleb chimes in from the kitchen, finishing shredding up a bland chicken breast into tiny pieces. “I’m a loving, caring member of this family who prioritizes communication. I was practicing my communication skills by telling Sylus what a troublemaker you are.”

Sylus looks over his shoulder, a fond sort of amusement playing in his carmine eyes. The dynamic between the two tallest members of your love pack has been interesting to watch develop, to say the least. They both take up a large amount of space, both physically and in sheer presence. However, there’s something soft about them. Like two gentle giants that treat each other with tenderness instead of teeth.

“Look at her though!” You say defensively, pouting your lower lip, “If I hadn't wandered off, I never would have found her, and who knows how long she’s been all alone out there.”

“Appealing to pity will only work so far, sweetie.” Sylus lifts his hand, gently scratching the kitten under her chin. His eyes crinkle slightly, and you know he’s hooked.

Avoiding a punishment for now, you go to the kitchen and sit the calico down onto the counter, where her plate awaits. Caleb used one of the saucer from one of the teacups. A little floral dish with baby blue and orange flowers decorating the rim.

Caleb folds his arms on the edge of the counter and leans on them, watching intently as the kitten sniffs at his creation. Tiny bits of chicken and a little scoop of rice, with a tiny garnish of blueberries.

“So, I assume we are keeping her?” Zayne asks, coming to stand behind you and Caleb. Another addition to the calico’s eager audience.

“Of course, look at her.” You coo, leaning next to Caleb so your shoulders touch, “I would die for her.”

Caleb’s head snaps to look at you and he laughs a little nervously, “Let’s not get too carried away pipsqueak.”

“She’ll need to see a vet sooner rather than later.” Zayne says thoughtfully, “If she’s a stray then she hasn’t had any vaccinations, and we should get her microchipped too.”

You smile happily, buzzing with excitement. Ever the caretaker, Zayne has immediately jumped at opportunity, and rambles on about the new necessities you’ll all need for the newest addition.

“We can get her a little collar too.” Xavier adds as he walks to the other side of the counter. He places a small bowl of water slowly in front of the kitten, and smiles warmly when she diverts from her examination of the chicken to begin drinking eagerly.

“We should name her first,” You say, resisting the urge to reach out and pet her. “She’s a sweet girl. It didn’t take much convincing to get her to trust me.”

“We’re not naming it.” Rafayel huffs from the couch, slouched and pouting. He’s got his arms crossed, and he refuses to look at you or the cat. “Because we’re not keeping it.”

You stand up and go over to him. Despite his sour, frowning expression, he instinctively opens up for you. Letting you climb into his lap with open arms that wind around your waist. “Don’t worry Raf, we’re not replacing you.”

Rafayel scoffs against your neck, and leans in to nip at you. “Don’t be dumb. You could never replace me with something like that. They can’t be trusted. They’ll show you affection one minute and then turn around and try to kill you the next.”

You giggle at his grumbly response, “This one is just a baby. We can raise her to be nice, can’t we?”

Rafayel’s arms tighten around you, and he’s quiet for a moment. You can feel the heat of his breath as he exhales heavily against your throat. He mumbles, giving you a small kiss, “Don’t say it like that…it’s not a baby.”

The last few days of your trip are spent taking turns caring for your newest additions. It’s hilarious, all their different kitty-parenting styles. You found some cat food, litter, and some toys at one of the small stores on the island, and it’s enough to get you until the flight home.

Xavier talks a big game but he’s a complete pushover. He’ll scold the little calico for being too rough when they play and then, when she looks up at him with those large, green eyes, he’s the one that ends up apologizing and feeding her little treats.

His frequent naps make him a favorite for the kitten, and you’ve found her hidden under his chin, snoozing happily twice.

Zayne is a strict, no-nonsense cat parent. He sets up a veterinary visit for the day after you return home, and even performs his own little physical. You had to hold your breath to stop from keeling over as you watched Sylus hold the kitten up, exposing her belly so Zayne could press his stethoscope there.

The doctor doesn’t seek out the kitten very much, but you can see the eagerness in his eyes whenever she gets close. A sort of shimmery excitement whenever she gets close enough to pet. He’s never been good with animals before, and so the first time the kitten rubs against his leg and mews for attention Zayne is shocked.

Sylus likes playing with the kitten. His favorite is the stick with feathers dangling from the string. You swear, he could spend hours dragging it along the floor and snatching it away just as she pounces. At times, he laughs– completely enamoured with the kitten’s cuteness– and others, he’s very serious. He looks very determined as he dangles the toy just out of reach, like he’s teaching her how to hunt.

His broad shoulders make a perfect perch, and you worry that Mephisto will get jealous if he sees the kitten sitting so comfortably there. It’s quite a sight, and you’ve maxed your storage with how many pictures you’ve taken these past couple days.

Caleb is doting and attentive. Despite the kitten eating her kibble like a champ, he worries about her nutrition. The floral saucer has become her plate, and every meal time you see an extra pot on the stove– another chicken breast for the little girl, he says.

He’s a worry-wort too. That first night, when you all went to bed, the kitten decided it was the perfect opportunity to explore. You could feel Caleb’s anxiety from beside you. Every little noise, he would lift his head, “Is she okay? Do you think she’s lost? What if she’s not sleeping?”

After about the tenth time, Sylus grabbed Caleb’s head, pushed it back down to the pillow, and climbed out of bed. A few minutes passed, and Sylus returned, carrying the less-than-happy kitten.

Caleb tucked the kitten in the miniscule space between yours and his head, and finally settled. Petting her gently until she fell asleep. Despite your own exhaustion, you stayed awake to watch. The sleepy tenderness in his eyes is mesmerizing, like the slow, lazy spiral of a galaxy.

As for Rafayel, it’s like the kitten can tell he’s not sure about her. She doesn’t approach him, but she’s always in the same room. Lingering like a threat. You worry all she’s using the hunting lessons from Sylus to stalk the resident fishie.

So it’s surprising, when on your last day at the beach house, you come inside from an afternoon at the beach to find Rafayel napping on the couch, and the kitten curled up on his chest. He’s laying flat on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes and snoring ever so slightly.

The kitten must have jumped up after he fell asleep. She’s curled up tight into a ball, right on his diaphragm, and so with every inhale she lifts and every exhale she falls. Her little rounded ear twitches as you approach, and she lifts her head. Blinking up at you slowly, you give her a few pets and then head to the kitchen.

Sylus enters just after you. The bridge of his nose and the tops of his shoulders are rosy and red, having evaded Zayne and his dreaded sunscreen. “That didn’t take long.”

You chuckle as you drink from a water bottle, “She’s such a charmer isn’t she?”

Sylus hums softly, and places an arm around your waist. When you turn to look up at him, he’s wearing a rare expression. One that lifts his usually furrowed brow, and lightens the danger in his eyes. It’s open, warm, and so full of adoration that you can feel it in your chest like a physical touch.

“She takes after you, sweetie.” Sylus says, almost a whisper, and lifts your chin to kiss you. A brief press of the lips, meant to be chaste, but he’s a gluttonous man. A greedy fiend, and he can’t help himself but go back for more. One more taste. One more lingering touch.

Sylus is warmed by the sun, and tastes faintly of salt from the sea. You miss the days when his kisses held the flavor of smoke– bitter almost with the linger of oak and pine.

From the couch, you hear Rafayel stir. You lean against Sylus’ chest while you peek over. The sea god hums in his sleep and moves to roll over, and only realizes the kitten is there at the last second. He freezes, on hand on the little ball of fur. With little deliberation, he pulls the calico close like a stuffed animal and rolls onto his side facing the back of the couch.

You hear a soft meow of protest, but the kitten doesn’t fight his hold any more than that.

“Like I said,” Sylus whispers in your ear, “It’s the spitting image of you.”

Playfully, you smack his chest, and feel the sand sticking to him there. “Alright, that’s enough of that. Let’s go get cleaned up, I wanna’ make dinner tonight.”

Sylus’ smile could topple empires, and he obediently lets you take his hand and drag him towards the bedroom. “Of course, kitten.”

You feel a little bad for Caleb, because while the rest of you sleep off the rather exhausting holiday in the cabin, he’s piloting. The kitten refuses to sit anywhere besides Zayne’s lap for some reason, and he takes the job very seriously. He keeps one hand curled around her bottom, while the other rests protectively over her back. Oh, to be that little kitten, curled up in the doctor’s hands.

When you arrive home, you eagerly show the kitten around. Showing her all the different bedrooms, the places she can hide and play. You show her your bedroom and the massively oversized bed. You know Sylus has probably already ordered some ostentatious bed for her, but you doubt she’ll use it.

As if you couldn’t adore her more, she talks to you. Of course not words, but she’s a chatty little thing. Meowing and mewing like she’s responding to you. When you ask a question, she answers. A short little chirp here, or a longer more drawn out meow there.

The only issue is that no one can decide on a name for her, it seems. Xavier offered the name Andromeda, but Rafayel vetoed that– claiming it was far too fancy for a cat. The sea god countered with Tuna, which was met with a tepid response.

Zayne offers insane names like Metoprolol and Verapamil. It doesn’t surprise you, knowing the little squirrel named Clopidigrel. You assume those names are also heart related medications, and you seriously debate using one of them.

Caleb vehemently vetoes them though, arguing that it should be something simple. Something cute, like Melon or Snowflake. You agree that those names are cute, but they don’t really fit her. She’s not fully white, so no Snowflake.

You don’t mention the list of names you know Caleb has on his phone.

Sylus tries his best to convince the group to use the name Belia. It takes a moment for you to realize where it came from, but eventually Sylus mentions Mephisto and it clicks. Belia. Belial. Another prince of hell.

Holding the kitten, you look at her and she looks at you. You know it’s silly but you can really imagine her saying Can you believe this? The names they pick don’t fit her. You imagine calling her by them, and they just feel weird.

You make a comment as much, and she echoes your sentiment. Another little meow, and it clicks.

You know her name, she’s been telling you it the whole time. Two days later, your newest addition is sporting a sparkly pink collar with a little silver tag in the shape of a heart. On it is engraved the name you and your lovers could finally agree on, Echo.

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#love and deepspace #lads #lads x reader #lads sylus #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #poly love and deepspace #poly lads x reader #polyamory #lads fluff #lads fanfic

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samsblades · 6 months ago

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✶ . ၄၃ . to leave him with love — sam winchester part two of my boy only breaks his favorite toys

cw : gn!reader, angst, guilty sam, trials!sam, sort of a sicfic in a way, talk of death/dying/injury, food mentions/eating, closure but not necessarily a "happy" ending, post-cage sam memory fuckery, swearing, poorly edited, set in season 8 so spoilers, 8K words. requested !

summary : three years after sam told you to go, you run into him while stopping for gas in a town called lebanon, kansas. you stay the night with him.

you’ve stopped by for gas, that’s all. you’re hungry too, but the gas station’s store is tiny and has a very poor selection of snacks. it’s clear to you that you’d be better off at the nearest grocery store or diner. a quick survey of the area brings a shop across the road to your attention. it looks bigger than this place, and you’d really rather not have to go any farther or take any longer than necessary. you have a job interview in the morning, and you want to be well rested and well prepared. the plain looking mart will have to do.

you jog across the street; it’s a pretty quiet town and there are no cars. the shop is quiet too, and already better than the gas station store as you enter. there’s just the cashier at the front, and a glimpse of brown hair in the back corner. you pay neither any attention as you browse the second row for something that will satisfy your hunger until you get to your hotel. the sound of crinkling plastic as you debate what to eat seems extra loud amidst the hush of the store. there’s no words until you reach the register, just footsteps and the indication of gathered groceries in the other customer’s shopping basket.

neither you nor the cashier bother to make any conversation outside of the necessary exchanges to get you checked out and on your way. it’s a still day, with flat grey skies and autumn well on its way. some might call it gloomy, and they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, but you don’t mind it much. there’s nothing wrong with quiet, sometimes. that’s how it feels—the grey, the barren trees whose leaves had fallen early in the season, and the almost empty store—just quiet.

as you walk back towards the exit, the clatter of hard plastic on the ground is completely jarring, so much so that you physically startle, your head whipping around to the source of the noise. the single other customer’s basket has slipped from his hand to the loud tile. he looks unsteady, crouched to the ground and head bowed as hands that look like they should be strong skitter over the floor, collecting fallen grocery items. for a moment, you stare at those hands in a sort of wonder. they look so familiar, it makes your chest ache. they look like hands you’d once longed to hold, over and over again.

it takes eye contact with the man for you to realize they are indeed those hands. the thought that it could be him had certainly crossed your mind the instant you saw that exact shade of brown hair in the corner of the store. but it had crossed your mind so many times in the last three years that you never pay it any mind. it’s always a trick of the eye. a trick of the heart, maybe.

but there’s no mistaking those eyes. green sometimes, a dull grey in this lighting. some days, blue. other days like sunflowers. every day, an object of your love. he looks so tired, is the first thing you think, which feels sort of silly considering… well, considering everything.

before, you’d always thought that movies tend to drag on momentous seconds of stunned eye contact for far too long, but this moment feels like forever. three years ago feels like forever ago. and you remember it like you walked out of that motel room door just this morning. there’s so much hurt. you’ve moved on. you love him still, but not quite as much. that’s another thing that’s forever, no matter what. you loving him.

you whisper his name and your feet carry you to him like you have no choice in the matter. he looks frozen. he looks like a deer in headlights. if you had your way three years ago, or ever, he’d be your dear in headlights. then you remember he’s not yours, never was, and never will be. but frankly, you don’t care too much about that right now. you sink to your knees in front of him and put his almond butter and pre-sliced multigrain loaf of bread back into the basket. you push it away and sit back on your heels and just look at him. you don’t give a damn that the cashier is staring.

for a moment, you wonder if this is some cruel joke, if he’s not real. just a figment of your imagination, or perhaps another shifter who’s come to trick you and use that shamelessly unending love of yours to lure you to your final demise. you could test him with the little silver knife tucked into your boot, but you don’t think you will, and you don’t think it’s needed. his shocked face blurs for a moment as you grow teary eyed, but you blink until you can see him clearly again.

“you look like hell,” you whisper, your expression an odd mix of a sad smile, adoring eyes, and your worried brow. he flinches at your words and it almost makes you physically recoil too. you’ve clearly said something wrong. he seems sort of broken, and you honestly think it could kill you. “i like your hair like this,” you say instead of sorry. it’s not said as an apology, though. you mean it. maybe you sound stupid to him, but you don’t really mind anymore.

you’re looking at the man who broke your heart, and somehow all you want is to take him in your arms and ask him why he looks so sick.

“sorry,” you murmur as your soft smile fades and a sick-with-worry frown takes its place.

“don’t say sorry to me,” he shakes his head, breaking his silence. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he sounds so weary, and certainly very sorry too.

truthfully, sam doesn’t remember the details of the day you left. he remembers very few details from pretty much anything in his life that happened before the cage. but he remembers the feeling. he still feels it. the guilt, the love, the realization of how much he hurt you. the realization of how vastly and how long you loved him. even now, you look at him with love and he feels entirely undeserving of it.

“i know you are, sam,” you breathe out. it hurts to look at him, really. the anger lingers, but it’s had three years to mellow. goodness, you had always been content to love him quietly, just like today’s sleepy hush. it wasn’t until he loved you back that you couldn’t bear it, because he was intentionally denying you what he could finally give, should he choose to. for a few weeks, you were foolish enough to think that he might make all your dreams come true. then, you were foolish enough to think you could change his mind when he started to pull away. he did not choose to give you his love, but instead to tell you to go. nothing hurt more than him telling you to go, you think.

sam doesn’t know what to do. does he ask you back to the bunker? does he just apologize over and over again while standing by his car in the chilly parking lot? does he tell you he has trouble with his memory these days, ask if you remember what he said so he can know exactly how he hurt you and say sorry for it? and probably torture himself with it for years to come.

you stand, picking up his shopping basket. the contents don’t make much sense to you. it’s all the sort of thing you’d take home, not to some motel you’ll only be in for as little as a day or two. but you ignore that for now, holding out a hand to help him up. “c’mon. you look like you should be in bed with a hot bowl of soup.” those words don’t make him flinch, so you hope they’re okay.

he takes your hand and stands on unsteady legs. his touch is like fire, maybe. his hands are very warm, like they always have been. but you think they’re hotter with fever. there’s no way he isn’t running a temperature right now. of course, there’s that sort of heat, and then there’s the burning sting of skin to skin contact with him. your chest tightens and you could mistake the feeling for heartburn if you didn’t know it was a sheer physical reaction to touching him after all these years.

you want to scream at him, cry about how horridly he broke your heart. make him feel guilty about how lost you were for almost a whole year after. how angry you were, how depressed, how reckless and teary and lonely.

his shoulders look like they hold the weight of worlds, and you’re tired. your hand slips from his and you return to the cash register with his basket. the cashier who probably doesn’t get paid enough says nothing about the highly strange encounter they just witnessed. they just scan the items as sam follows you like a sad, sick puppy. he pays with a card you doubt is real. you carry his bags for him, and when he tries to take them from you, you shoot him a withering look that gets him to back down. right outside the door, one of his clumsy hands takes hold of the bags in your right hand and tugs them away with enough force that you just let it happen. you nearly roll your eyes.

you give a huff of breath. “you’re in no state to drive. i don’t even know how you made it here in the first place,” your eyes scan the little lot for the impala, but it’s not there. “let me drive you to where you’re staying.” you don’t actually say it as a request, and he doesn’t think he could deny you either way. so you wait for a singular car to pass before crossing the road again. he sees your car parked at the gas station and remembers it’s the same one you had before. he couldn’t recall the make and model until seeing it again.

to your surprise, sam doesn’t give you directions to the nearest motel. you pull into a driveway a bit aways from a large, nondescript building. you can easily guess that it mostly lays underground. he guides you inside, and you look out from the top of the stairs.

“what is this place?” you ask, almost in awe. already from here it looks like a hunter’s heaven. he gives you a slight smile as he leans against the railing.

“sort of a long story,” he says, sounding tired.

you remember his state and wave your hand to dismiss the thought. “you can tell me later,” you say absentmindedly. you weren’t really thinking much because you’re not so sure he’ll really get the chance; you won’t be here long. “you should sit down.”

he starts down the stairs. “we’ll put the groceries away first.” you shake your head at his usual stubbornness and follow him into a kitchen, watching as he puts the few bags of food away. there doesn’t seem to be a lot of other food, nor a clear system to where things go, but to you it seems that he and dean must’ve been staying here for at least some time now.

it’s strange. in all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him like this; so unmistakably and oddly domestic. it’s such a simple thing, to be putting groceries away in one’s own kitchen. you think you could cry. you’ve imagined this before—putting groceries away in a kitchen of your own, with him.

you’ve imagined a lot of things with him before, and it was never anything like where you really ended up. maybe that’s what hurts the most about this all; you never imagined that you wouldn’t have him around. that he wouldn’t have you around.

“where’s dean?” you ask.

“out on a case. he left yesterday,” sam answers simply. he’s probably bothered that dean made him stay back because he’s sick. at least, that’s just what you assume to have happened.

you just give him a nod. now that you’re here with him, you have no idea what to do with yourself. do you talk about what happened that day? you sort of said everything you needed to back then. of course, you’re not the same person anymore, but honestly, you’re just still hurt. the ache is duller now, but you used to think up whole futures with him. you used to think of him as a given, or at least his friendship. in your mind, there was never the risk of losing him like you did. he could’ve prevented that, and he didn’t. he thought he was protecting you. that’s part of the anger.

then you look at him, hands trembling a bit, bags under his eyes, and a weight so heavy and unbearable that you can practically feel it too, hanging over him. and you look at yourself; the same sort of jeans you’d wear on a hunt, but slightly less practical shoes and a shirt you actually like the way it looks on yourself. there’s still that knife tucked into your left boot, but it’s only there for worst case scenarios, not because you’re always in danger. you used it to peel a fruit once.

that day, you told him you wouldn’t leave hunting just so he wouldn’t worry. that you’d still be in danger, regardless if you’re around him or not, regardless of whether or not he loves you.

for a year, those things were true. you were so lost, so you threw yourself into hunting. you knew the signs of the apocalypse and ran straight towards them. even if it wasn’t to help sam—that’s what you told yourself—you still had a responsibility to try and protect the rest of the world. you have the foresight now to know that it was for sam, even then. you thought that if you could lift some of his burden, he’d come looking for you, and you’d shut him down so that you could break his heart back.

maybe tonight you’ll tell him you nearly died because of it. you nearly bled out on a cold, hard floor. but you made it out, stitched yourself back up, and told yourself, fuck this shit. before sam and dean, you were tied to hunting for other reasons. you had your own personal chip in the game, just like pretty much every other hunter out there. but by the time sam told you to go, you’d let go of those reasons, and you never realized such until that night you almost died. by then, it was just sam. he’s what kept you there, and you didn’t have him anymore, so it felt quite stupid to get yourself killed just to prove him wrong. he might not even ever have known. there’s a chance no one would have even found your body.

it really took you eleven and a half months and a near death experience to get you to start truly moving on. to start actually trying to move on. it was just so much easier to be ruined by his rejection. you deserved to act out, surely. the pain of it and the anger was more than you could handle at that time. and then you were just so tired. the exhaustion reached your bones, sunk in and dragged you down. you left hunting.

you’d wanted to prove him wrong so badly. you still believe wholeheartedly that this isn’t the way things should’ve gone, but maybe he was right, in a way. things are starting to look up for you these days. you’ve still got a lot of moving on to do, but you’ve started, at least.

you war between telling him you’re doing better now, that you got out, or telling him that you don’t care if you would’ve been beaten down and torn apart like he looks he has been because you would’ve been with him. you’d bear anything if it meant being with him. or you would have. it sort of hurts your heart because you don’t think that’s true anymore. and you suppose that’s a good thing,

but somehow there was something easier about loving him blindly and unceasingly to the point of willingness to bear through hell. you don’t know it, but if you had stayed, it would’ve been a hell of sorts for you. it was much more hellish for him, in a way you’ll never know, but your suffering would’ve been horrible in its own right.

“i got out,” you whisper. he looks up at you in surprise. you’re not looking at him. he sits across from you at the little kitchen table. then, you meet his gaze. “i was just stopping by for gas. the gas station here has shitty snacks. i’m on the way to a job interview a couple of hours away from here. at eleven, tomorrow morning.”

his face is one of unbridled hope and relief. he smiles a bit and reaches for your hands resting on the table. you have to look away from him when they make contact and he notices, pulling away.

“i’m so happy for you. i’m so glad,” he says softly. he almost said he’s proud, but he realizes it’s not his place to say so. “and i’m sorry. i know i hurt you.” but he still just sounds mostly relieved. it means everything to him that you got away from it all and he’s scared that just running into you will throw you off this path.

you inhale sharply, then let it out slowly. “you did. more than i’d ever been hurt before,” you admit. “it tore me apart, sam. i loved you so much.”

his face falls again. he wonders what he said to you. what made you leave. and there’s a bit of hope. loved, you’ve just said. if you don’t love him anymore, that must be a good thing, he thinks. you still speak to him softly.

“i still love you,” you confess. you look him in the eyes, “very much, and i always will, i think. but not so much anymore. i had to move on or i’d get myself killed. i almost did. that first year, i put myself in so much danger just to try and prove you wrong. but i didn’t want to die, i just wanted you to have me back. it was so hard to rip myself away from it all because it felt like i was proving you right.” you can’t help but tear up as you speak. you missed him so dearly and so violently. you sort of feel like making bad decisions and throwing your progress out the window and kissing him and sticking around. that wouldn’t be healthy at all, and you don’t think he’d let you. you’ve grown enough restraint to know you won’t really do that to yourself either.

“but it wouldn’t be fair to myself to come back to you after you told me i should go. i think it's the cruelest thing anyone’s ever said to me. when i think of your voice, the first thing i hear is how gently you used to talk to me. and then i hear your voice—it was so cold and even trying to be a bit harsh—saying ‘yes. you should go.’ and i still can’t understand how you could say that to me.” you have to pause to collect yourself, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

so he told you to go. that’s what he did, he told you to go. he feels wretched.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers again. “i– i shouldn’t have said that to you.” he doesn’t say that he regrets the way things have turned out. he most certainly regrets hurting you like that. he regrets that you nearly died because of it. he wonders if you were alone. he’s terrified by the thought.

but after you left, he jumped into the cage with lucifer. his soul was stuck there for over one hundred years. his body came back, and soulless, he never could have loved you right. he wouldn’t have cared about you, and it would have hurt you so horribly. he would’ve hurt you so horribly. and then he came back, but he couldn’t remember anything. his memories came back next and he fell apart, understandably so. but not even all his memories remained intact. he forgot a lot about his life before the cage, about you. and he wouldn’t be able to bear your love. touch is still difficult for him. he’d have nothing to give you, plagued by hallucinations of the devil and haunted by the cruelest of hands. and now, he’s dying and you probably just think he’s running a bad fever.

“you shouldn’t have,” you agree. you sound more tired than angry, to him. he wishes he could remember what your voice sounds like when you’re happy, when you’re sleepy and smiley at the same time, when you get excited. hearing your voice at all brings some of it back. the tired and the sad and upset and angry and resigned come back quicker, though.

you sigh. “i missed you.”

he missed you too, so he says, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s been so long,” you say. he nods, his pinky brushes against yours. you have no idea.

“so long. i missed you, too,” he risks saying, because he thinks from the way you’re looking at him that you want to hear him say it. your eyes look a little glossier, and you give a little sigh of relief. indeed, you did want to hear it.

there’s something in his voice when he echoes so long, as if it’s been a lifetime. it has been for him, but not you. he won’t tell you that, though. he’s decided to pretend like everything’s fine. that’s what he does all the time, but for a moment he had been considering telling you everything.

maybe so you can know the extent of horrors you would’ve had to endure. and maybe to tell someone who will be thoroughly and unfailingly empathetic and kind and sorry about it. you’d most certainly hug him, even if you’re still angry at him. but the key is that you’d be sorry about it and he doesn’t want you to be sorry about anything at all. and if you hug him and stroke his hair and tell him you’re sorry he had to go through that all, he’s not sure he can come back from that. he’ll need you and he can’t afford that. he wouldn’t do that to you.

and regardless of how foggy his memory is, he knows without a doubt that you’re too good for your own good. too sweet and feeling and he’s sure you’d feel guilty about not being there for him. he doesn’t want you to feel that way. so, he won’t say a thing. but he’d love to hear about everything from you, if you’re willing.

you cross your pinkies over his on the table, nothing else. “would you lay down in bed if i asked you to? i’m sure you haven’t been taking care of yourself. you look so sick, it’s a miracle you didn’t collapse in that grocery store.”

he doesn’t want to do that exactly, but he’ll do quite literally anything you ask him to. “aren’t you hungry?” he says. he remembers the snacks you bought, somehow even that you usually get hungry this time of day because of your eating habits. you must be extra hungry since you’ve been on the road.

you purse your lips like you wish he hadn’t evaded your question.

“yes, i’ll lay down. after you eat,” he relents.

“you should eat too. i’ll make us some sandwiches,” you say. that’s the deal, and he knows it. you’ll eat so long as he does it with you. that’s alright. he doesn’t have much of an appetite, but he likes the thought of eating something you make for him. he holds back a frown when your hands lift from his, even if the contact was so little before.

he rests his face in the palm of one of his hands, watching as you move through his kitchen, taking some of the groceries back out from where he put them away. to him, it looks like you're floating. you move slowly and softly and even though you bear the weight of seeing him again and having it all rush back to you after two years of trying to move on, your shoulders seem light. he watches you with so much love. now it’s his turn to imagine domesticity with you.

you can feel his gaze, but you don’t look at him.

the sandwiches are eaten in silence. he watches you still. it’s not uncomfortable though. it’s sort of nice to know he wants to just see you, in any way at all.

maybe today is a day for ignoring most everything. for giving into it, for taking what you want and suffering the consequences later. holding his hand might plague you for weeks. and holding him close? likely much longer than just that. but it would make you feel better right now. to have him just for tonight. to get him to sleep, to leave him with love rather than anything else. that, at least, would make you feel better for longer than just the passing of today’s sun and moon.

you dump your plates and any other used dishes in the sink. you plan to clean them before you leave. in the morning, hopefully. you’ll still make it to your interview if you leave early enough.

then, you stand, hold out your hand, and wait for him to take it. the size of your hand in comparison to his doesn’t really matter. the way he reaches up and curls your fingers into his makes you feel like his hand is swallowing yours up in the softest way it ever could. he stands when you give the gentlest of tugs and leads you to his room just like he knows you want. he doesn’t let go of your hand because you don’t let go of his.

it feels silly to him to waste time laying down in bed while your here. he’s not sure he’ll ever see you again. that makes him want to cry. so he sits on the edge of his bed and guides you down to sit with him.

you don’t protest physically. “i wanted you to lay down,” you murmur, your hand finally falling from his.

“i’ll lay down when i go to sleep for the night,” he shakes his head softly.

“you said you’d lay down after eating,” you frown.

“laying down right now feels like a waste,” he answers, honest for once.”i’d rather sit with you.” you think you’re having heart palpitations. you rub your palms over your clothed knees. you’re feeling a little sweaty.

“you look so different,” you tell him, “you know, besides looking sick. how’d you get to look so ill?” you ask but don’t wait for an answer. “i meant it when i said I liked your hair like this, by the way. it’s looks nice long.” his cheeks heat up a bit and you can see his blush when you glance at him. it’s subtle and soft, but more obvious because of his pale, poorly complexion.

“thank you. you look great, really,” he tells you, quite earnest as he says it too. he thinks you look amazing. twenty six year old sam would go crazy like a school boy if he saw you know. he thinks he was twenty six back then. present time sam—he’s not sure how old he’s to be considered, probably twenty nine or thirty to you—still feels like he’s going crazy too, just not in the good old fashioned crush type of way. just in the way that you’re stunning, even though you’re tired and bedraggled from what he can guess has been a long and dreary drive. just in the way that he already knows he doesn’t have you.

“thanks, sam.” you can hear and see how much he means it. you reach a hand up and rest it on his forehead. you could already feel his body heat radiating from just being seated at his side. “you’re burning,” you inform him, “i don’t get how you’re sitting up straight right now.” he just gives a soft sigh.

“there’s a bathroom across the hall?” you ask, recalling the glimpse you saw on the way here. he hums a yes and lets you leave. you come back with two cool washcloths. one for his head and the other for the back of his neck. you hand him the first and he looks at it with a small smile. then he stills, barely breathing as you place the other on the back of his neck, brushing his hair out of the way. your fingertips in his hair and the cold cause him to shiver.

“have you taken any tylenol or anything today?” you ask. he shakes his head.

“it’s no use,” he says, but he doesn’t explain why. you furrow your brow.

“that’s silly. what, you don’t believe in modern medicine anymore?” your voice is just soft, not even teasing.

he purses his lips. “i do. tylenol won’t help, though.”

“i suppose you won’t tell me why?”

“i’ll have a dose. there’s a bottle in the bathroom,” he relents in answer. no, he won’t tell you why, that means. if he won’t tell you, that probably means it’s something bad. he’s probably not just suffering from a simple flu. even an untreated flu can be very dangerous, but his sickness is probably something worse. but he wants to pretend, and you sort of do too.

“okay,” you whisper. “you sure it won’t help?”

“i’ve been sick a while now. it doesn’t help,” he admits. you’re sure he won’t say anything more, but it most certainly makes you quite concerned to hear that.

you’re afraid to ask. “will you be alright?” it’s very hard to forget that you still love him. impossible, like this. so close to him, feeling the heat of his feverish skin and hearing the sound of his voice.

he doesn’t answer for a long moment, unsure what to tell you. “everything will be alright,” he decides. he knows that’s not what you asked. but he’s resigned to his fate whatever it is, so to him, everything will be alright. in a way. sort of, maybe. hopefully for you, at the very least.

you’ll have to settle for that answer because it’s the best one he can give you. you grab his hand that rests on his knee, palm up and still loosely holding that damn cloth you gave him.

“okay. hold that to your head. you might feel a little better, even if it’s just for now,” you say, guiding his hand up until he holds the washcloth over his forehead like you asked. you gently pull out the strands of hair trapped under it, tucking the stray pieces neatly away.

now, he honestly feels a bit cold. you tug over a folded blanket from the foot of his bed and drape it over his shoulders, hoping to keep any chills away. then you flip the cool rag on his neck to the other side, the side first in contact with his skin already grown warm. you settle next to him and sigh a bit.

you observe his room and he observes you. it’s very barren, hardly lived in. it must be strange for him to have somewhere much more long term than a motel, you think.

your face is melancholy, he thinks.

“you’ve never actually said you love me,” you whisper. “or loved, or whatever. it’s okay if it’s loved. did you?”

“i do,” he breathes out. you nearly start crying, right then and there. your chest is tight and the breath you let out is shuddering. “i do love you, and i’m sorry.” he watches as you blink back tears. you nod a bit, feeling sort of pitiful. you don’t like the way you feel, but you’ve longed to hear it. you needed to hear it.

“no more saying sorry, please,” you request quietly. you’ve decided that he’s said it enough. not enough to make up for things, of course, but enough that you don’t want to hear it anymore.

he almost says sorry again, for saying sorry too much. “okay,” he agrees softly. you drop your head to his shoulder and he tenses. you nearly pull right away with an apology on your lips when you’re worried he’s uncomfortable with it, but his hand slips from underneath the blanket you gave him and wraps around your shoulders. you sit there for a long while, very quiet. eventually he dares to rest his head on yours.

his clammy warmth makes you sweat too, but you don’t care. you’re soaking it all up because you know you’ll never have it again. this will have to be enough.

you break the silence. “sam,” you sigh, sounding a bit defeated, very tired. “how did we get here?”

he sighs too. “you know how,” he sounds more defeated, more exhausted, more guilty. but he can’t say sorry again, because you asked him not to. you reach over and play with his free hand. he’d stopped holding the washcloth to his head a bit ago. your fingertip trails down each of his long fingers, drawing circles around his knuckles.

“you’ll miss me?” you ask, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of your calm.

he pulls you imperceptibly closer. you feel it. his heart aches and aches and aches. “i will,” he says, all sure and steady and reassuring, “very much. you’re the kind of person that’s very hard not to miss.” i’m sorry i’m not good enough for you, he thinks, since he can’t say it aloud.

“i’ll miss you too. i miss you every day,” you breathe out. he wishes you wouldn’t. he wishes you’d never have to ache for him at all, but you do. you have for so long, maybe it’s a part of you now. aching is certainly a part of him.

“please don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs, wondering if he’s allowed to ask that of you.

“i’ve been learning how,” you tell him. “some days i barely miss you at all. some days i even forget that i miss you until i’m reminded of you. which is often, unfortunately. i spent years coming up with ways to associate just about everything in the world with you. just because you were everything in my world.” you’re tired. your eyes fall closed. “not anymore, though.”

“well… someday i hope i’m something very small and manageable,” he whispers.

“i don’t,” you refute on instinct. you sigh and deflate. “i do. you’re just very tall.” he has to bite back a bark of surprised laughter. he grins instead, since you can’t see his face. he’s just glad you haven’t held back from saying something funny. you huff out a laugh, eyes drifting back open.

“i’m hungry,” you decide, “i’m going to make some dinner.”

you eat alone in the kitchen. once you were left to your own devices to cook, you realized you needed to breathe. you couldn’t do so very well around him. so, you selfishly eat first—it’s not really selfish at all, as sam still has no appetite and couldn’t ever blame you for doing so—and bring back a plate of food for him. he’s sitting at his desk pouring over a book, it’s small text likely giving him an awful headache. you set the plate down next to him and sit on his bed again. you watch as he manages to eat some of it, but he doesn’t finish the portion.

you seem content just watching him, so he pushes the plate aside with a very sincere thank you and a cut-off apology for not finishing it. he continues reading his book, just for a bit. he’s hunched over the old thing, shoulders somehow slumped and tense all at once. you stand quietly and softly, hesitantly slide your hands over his shoulders. he stiffens, then relaxes.

nimble fingers pull the blanket wrapped around him back a bit. “can i unbutton your shirt?” you whisper, only because you can see a grey undershirt peeking out from the flannel’s collar.

“don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t take care of me. you don’t have to keep doing that. it’s not fair.”

“i won’t if you really don’t want me to. but.. won’t you let me have this? just this once?” you ask, telling him that you want to.

“you don’t have to,” he says, softer. but you can, is the part left unsaid.

your hands slip down, undoing the buttons until it brings you too close to him to bear. he takes over for you, sensing your hesitation to move any closer once your breath hits his neck, unbuttoning the last three and shrugging the shirt off.

you start with simple, soothing rubs over his shoulders, trying to get him to actually relax. he finds that your roaming hands are easily bearable, welcome, even. he worried that he’d flinch or cringe away, especially as you opened up his shirt. but his hands fall into his lap and his chin begins to dip lower and lower. you watch in satisfaction and slowly work out the tension in his muscles. you think that, since you’re here, you need your time with him to be lovely and gentle. maybe you shouldn’t have the memory of what it might’ve been like to have him. maybe this will slow your moving on, slow your feet to a trudge.

the war in your chest tells you that you’re toeing the line between healing and harmful by being here, by indulging in what you feel was taken from you. but you know it never would’ve been this simple all the time. life is easier away from him, in some ways. away from the things that being with him brings along. so you’ll steal this now and bury it in your flesh and then walk out the door. this will be the last of him face to face, hopefully the worst of the torture.

oddly enough, you think you’ll survive it. you just are starting to wish that you could kiss the back of his neck as you brush the hair from it. you won’t. you won’t kiss him anywhere, not ever. except for the time you kissed him on the cheek the first time you’d seen him after he came back to hunting. you meant it as a friendly one, and that’s certainly how he took it back then.

you stand there massaging his shoulders until your legs grow tired and knees a bit bothered, then a little longer after that. tender hands lay still there, thumbs barely edging past his t-shirt to rest on his skin as you twist your head and take a peek at his face. his eyes are satisfyingly closed.

your thumbs give a gentle back and forth movement, pushing a little at the hem of his shirt. “to bed,” you whisper, patting his shoulder lightly. his eyes drift back open and he lets out a long breath. you step away, hand trailing down his arm as you head to the bed. his hand catches yours before it loses contact and he follows you without another word. he just lets you do as you like. he owes you that much, and more, for telling you to go.

when you pull back the covers, he climbs in and you follow after him. he opens his arms to you, despite being a bit surprised. he tucks you into his chest and his eyes sting with tears for a moment before he’s able to blink them away.

and then you talk and talk because you don’t want to hear whatever happened while you were gone. you’re sure that sort of thing would weigh you down much more than you deserve. so you tell him everything, to get it all off your chest. you still feel closer to him than anyone else you’ve met in these last few years. and it’s not as if you can tell the full truth to anybody in your new life. your voice is quiet and gentle and lulling, and even when his eyes close, he listens with rapt attention.

his fever makes him even warmer than he usually is, so you eventually have to escape from his hold. you don’t part, but you shift up and tuck his head into your chest instead. that way you’re not as smothered in his heat.

“...and you know, i forgave you a while ago. there was no use holding a grudge,” you murmur. his brow creases. he doesn’t feel as though he should be forgiven. “i am doing better. away from it all. you were sort of right. you were wrong, but right. i guess it doesn’t really matter who was right, though, because we can’t really change anything now.”

“you’re allowed to be mad about it,” he says. he’s still so glad that you feel like you’re doing better, though. so glad.

“i was. so angry. still am, sometimes. but being mad never really got me anywhere. it was just something i needed to feel until i could start moving on,” you explain. you’d already told him just ten minute about how angry you had been. about how it made you bitter and a plain old hot mess for some time. “think about it, sam,” you urge him, “isn’t it a good thing that i still love you? even if it hurts sometimes and even after i was so mad. isn’t it good that that’s what’s leftover? i’d rather love you than be angry at you, because– well, because i don’t like being angry. this feels better. it doesn’t hurt as much, and i’m learning how to live with it. anger isn’t quite so liveable. if it helps, it’s for me. i– everything used to be for you. but it’s not anymore.”

that does help, but he doesn’t know how to not feel sorry for everything. “i can hear you hurting,” he whispers. “i can hear it in your voice.”

“yeah,” you breathe back, “but it’s more like an ache, sam, and it’ll go away. it’ll go away, and it would make me feel better if you wouldn’t feel so sorry anymore. give yourself this much. to know that i’ll end up just fine and that i’ll always love you. you worry so much, so don’t worry about me. as a favor.”

there’s a long silence. for a moment, you think that your voice has finally put him to sleep.

“i’ll try,” he says, just for you.

you let a new silence fall. that will have to be enough, so you let him be. he falls asleep, and it’s easy to tell just how deeply he rests. with his sickness and constant bone-deep exhaustion, it’s completely unsurprising.

as for you, you stare at the darkened ceiling after switching off the bedside lamp and run your fingers through his hair, over and over again. you’ve always loved his hair, and you love the length, but you sort of miss when it was boyish.

you start to cry and even when your chest shudders with uneven, tear-filled breath, he doesn’t wake. you shake and sniffle and wet his pillow and his hair with your tears. he hardly stirs, which you’re infinitely glad for. you couldn’t bear to receive his comfort were he to wake.

you cry yourself to sleep, sweaty and snoring with your whole arm going numb from the position you’re in.

one would think sam would sleep long and heavy. but these days, while he’s not a light sleeper, he’s been a restless one. most nights he wakes in feverish discomfort every couple of hours. he supposes that your presence has kept him asleep for longer than usual tonight, but not until the morning.

he wakes to the dark and one of your still hands in his hair. the other has fallen limply onto the sheets. he shifts slowly and carefully so he can tilt his head up to look at your face. his eyes adjust to the darkness quickly. sam reaches up with a tired hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. he’s met with the slightest resistance. your tears haven’t fully dried, and he realizes that he’s wiping at teartracks. you might’ve even been crying in your sleep.

and since you can’t hear him, he whispers, “i’m sorry.” he wants to lay awake, feeling the rise and fall of your chest, hearing your little snores in tandem, and seeing you for as long as he can. but sleep drags him under once again, his hand falling from your cheek to rest on your neck.

you wake early, knowing exactly where you are before you open your eyes. the weight of sam’s body, halfway on top of yours, is hard to miss. the memory of his nearness is the sort that floods through you the second you can think of anything at all. you know what you have to do, but it hurts more now that the time has come. there’s no more pretending left to do, no more sand at the top of the hour glass. your time with him has run out for good.

you reach up and gently hold his hand that lays over your neck. you’ll make your interview in time if you lay here for just a few more minutes. then you slide out from under him, careful with his sleeping body, cupping the side of his head to be sure it gets to the pillow as gently as possible. he rolls onto his stomach, just how he always does when he’s not sharing the bed. you used to tease him for it, but he looks so soft and peaceful that it just makes you even more endeared with him.

it’s not very possible to resist from brushing a strand of his mussed hair away from his face. his cheek is squished against the pillow, lips slightly parted, and face still looking sickly. he looks weak in his sleep, vulnerable. his hulking frame seems small, his matured features worn tired with much more than age. he’s still young, really.

“oh, you really know how to just tear someone’s self restraint to shreds, don’t you?” you mumble, shaking your head at him. he doesn’t stir when you speak, just as you expected. you swoop down, not at all graceful, and press the softest of kisses to his cheek. since you’ve kissed him there before all those years ago, you tell yourself it’s alright. it’s nothing new. just that you’ve kissed his left cheek this time. the first, it was his right. how or why you remember that, you’ll ignore.

then you tuck him in properly and erase the room of all signs that you were ever there. you grab the plate of food you brought him last night, and steal one last glance of him before shutting the door quietly behind yourself. “bye, sam,” you whisper to the closed door. “be careful, please.”

you wash all the dishes from yesterday, put them right back where they were, and ensure the kitchen is exactly how it was when you entered for the first time. not really as a favor. you don’t clean anything else but the dishes, nor do you organize the mess that the fridge is.

the only traces of you that remain are the ache in the air, the missing slices of bread from the new loaf on the counter, and the folded flannel shirt that will greet him on his desk when he wakes. but you will be gone, once again and for the last time.

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 10 months ago

Note

Not really a request, at least not a super detailed one but, anything with Rosa Diaz x autistic reader would be amazing!!

Maybe R drops off some lunch or something for rosa and meets the rest of the squad or smth?

In general i am in love with your autistic!reader fics. Im currently in the process of being diagnosed with autism, and its just really rather comforting to see myself in a reader insert

-Ara

Hey, Ara! 🥰 So glad you enjoy the autistic!reader fics! They are some of my favorites to write. I was just diagnosed about a year ago, so it's still new-ish for me, but I also find a lot of comfort in the autistic reader inserts. Hope this is what you're looking for, and best of luck with your diagnosis process! Feel free to reach out if you need a fellow autistic pal to talk through stuff with! 💕 –illdowhatiwantthanks

A Little Lunch

Rosa Diaz x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, overstimulation (the autism kind), established relationship (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: People aren't your forte, but you told your girlfriend you'd have lunch with her at the precinct, and so you will. And it goes... surprisingly better than expected.

You took a few deep breaths outside the precinct door, sandwiches from Rosa’s favorite shop in hand. You’d never visited her at work before, never met her coworkers. People weren’t your strong suit. But Rosa had asked you. She didn’t ask you for much. She liked to keep her work life separate from her personal life, for the most part. And the fact that she wanted you to meet her squad? Well, you couldn’t let her down. You wouldn’t.

The overhead lights were bright, and the general office noise was overwhelming when you stepped inside. You lurked in a corner, trying to acclimate yourself, trying to survey the room and find Rosa and calm yourself down so you could have a nice, normal lunch with your girlfriend.

You jumped a bit as a woman in a rolling chair slid in front of you, hands pressed together over her waist.

“Is that my Panera?” she said, staring at the bag in your hands.

“Uh… no.”

The woman stared at you for a moment, and you shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze and felt the need to provide a reason for your presence.

“I’m, uh… I’m here to see Rosa. Diaz. She's a detective. Do you know where she is?”

The woman’s face lit up. “Ohhhh… interesting. Did she order Panera, too? Great minds.” She held out your hand for you to shake, so you did. “Gina Linetti,” she told you. “Dancer, secretary, genius.”

“Gina, stop tormenting my girlfriend!”

You’d know that voice anywhere. You visibly relaxed as Rosa walked into the squad room, placing a strong, protective hand at the small of your back.

Gina held up her hands, as if in defense. “Sorry, Rosa. I thought she was Panera.”

“She’s not Panera,” Rosa growled. “She’s my girlfriend, and we’re eating lunch, and you’re leaving us alone.”

Rosa took your hand and led you through the precinct, into a break room scattered with tables where, alone and away from prying eyes, she planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded and held up the bag of food. Rosa gestured toward the table and went to grab napkins and, for neither the first nor the last time, you were grateful that you often didn’t need words with Rosa. You were comfortable in one another’s silence and, for you, this was life-changing. Your words were one of the first things to go when you got overstimulated, but Rosa never seemed to mind. For this, and for many other reasons, you loved her.

But you’d barely started on your lunch before people started trickling into the break room: Jake, Amy, Charles. All ostensibly eating lunch, too, even if they’d already taken lunch, even if all they had was a bag of chips from the vending machine, as Jake did.

“So, Y/N,” Amy started. “How did you and Rosa meet?”

Rosa jumped in before you forced yourself to say anything. “Hey,” she spat at the group crowding the table next to yours. “When I told Y/N she could meet me for lunch, I meant me. Not me and half the squad. Scram, losers.”

You gave a little half wave as they slunk out of the room, smiling a little as Charles mouthed off to you behind Rosa’s back: “We’ll catch up later!”

“Sorry,” Rosa said a few minutes later. “I know they can be a bit much.”

You shook your head and squeezed her hand, able to find your voice again. “It’s okay. They seem nice.”

“If by nice, you mean fucking crazy, then yes.”

A knock on the doorframe. At first, Rosa seemed annoyed by the interruption, but when she saw that it was Captain Holt she looked almost… proud?

“Captain,” she said, rising from her seat and nodding at him. She gestured toward you. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Captain Holt.”

You moved to stand and shake his hand, but Holt stopped you. “Oh, no, please.” He sat down next to you, and Rosa seemed comfortable with him, so you decided that Captain Holt was someone you would like. “It’s lovely to meet you,” he said.

“You too,” you replied, trying not to let your voice shake too much. You tried to think of something to say, tried to think of a topic of conversation, but you were floundering. Your voice was hard for you on a regular day, even sometimes with people you loved, like Rosa. You just couldn’t manage to force anything out. You felt your cheeks growing red. You hoped you weren’t embarrassing Rosa.

You couldn’t have said all this to Rosa even if you’d wanted to, but Rosa always seemed to get it anyway.

“Y/N, Captain Holt and his husband are going to the symphony tonight. I told him that was one of your favorites, too.”

You lit up. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Rosa, you thought. You loved the symphony. She was right; it was one of your favorites. Despite Rosa’s general indifference toward classical music, she’d gotten you both season passes for your birthday. She didn’t love the music, but she loved the way your eyes shone when you listened, the way you perched on the edge of your seat like a child. She loved that when she held your hand during the performances, she could tell when you were particularly moved because you’d get goosebumps and the hair on your skin would stand up.

“Oh, it’s John William Weischselbraun tonight, right? Bach’s Oboe Sonata? That should be excellent!”

Holt looked about as excited as Rosa had ever seen him.

“You’re a fan of the oboe, are you?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, yes, sir.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I played oboe in my high school orchestra. It’s a severely underrated instrument.”

Rosa beamed at you as Holt reached out to shake your hand. “Diaz....” he said, shaking a finger at her. “She’s a keeper.”

“Yes, sir,” Rosa nodded.

He stared at her reproachfully. “I hope you take this fine lady to the symphony and not just to your rock concerts.”

“She does, sir,” you assured him. “We even have season passes.” And then you had what you thought was maybe one of your more brilliant ideas. “Maybe we could all go together, sometime? Me and Rosa and you and your husband?”

Rosa and Captain Holt stared at each other for a moment, and you were afraid you’d misread the situation terribly. You’d always thought that Rosa liked Captain Holt, at least from the way she talked about him. You thought they were friendly with one another. Maybe you’d been wrong.

You tried to backtrack. “Or maybe not,” you blurted. “Just a thought.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how quickly both Rosa and Captain Holt jumped to reassure you. So quickly that their voices overlapped.

“That’d be great, babe.”

“Now, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Gina rolled in front of the door to the break room. “Captain, you have a phone call,” she yelled out as her chair rolled by.

“Excuse me,” Holt said, standing. He stood, pressed his hand over yours and said, “Truly nice to meet you, Y/N. I look forward to our mutual date.”

When he’d gone, Rosa stared at you. She was smiling. Really smiling.

“What?” you asked, your face reddening.

She leaned forward and kissed you quickly, her hand gently grasping your chin.

“What was that for?”

She tucked your hair behind your ear. “You did really good today,” she whispered. “I know you were nervous. Thanks for lunch.”

You turned an even deeper shade of red. “Anytime. Or, well, sometimes.”

She smirked and kissed you one more time, pulling away quickly as Jake wolf-whistled from the doorway.

“Shut your mouth, Peralta, or I’ll shut it for you,” she growled.

It was always so funny to you to see Rosa with others. So rough, so intimidating. When she turned back to you, she was soft. She was always soft with you.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, as you stood to leave, perching on tiptoes to kiss her on the cheek. Your voice had slipped back inside of you for the time being, so you simply squeezed her hand back and let her walk you out of the precinct.

Rosa watched you go, swinging your arms a bit as you walked down the sidewalk, and her heart ached. She loved you so much. Your quiet voice, that was always a gift to hear. Your swinging, fidgety arms. The fact that you loved her so much, so purely. She only hoped she could show you just as much love in return.

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz x fem!reader #rosa diaz x autistic!reader #x autistic!reader #rosa diaz fanfic #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn 99 fanfic

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prythiansprincess · 11 months ago

Text

PROLOGUE

home | chapters | playlist

🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: cruel summer by taylor swift.

🤍 author’s note: this series has been a year in the making and i'm so glad to finally share it with you. as always, replies, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think.

Seventh Year, Great Hall

Pansy Parkinson leaned against the stone wall and surveyed the occupants of the Great Hall over the top of her champagne flute. Seven years she had sat in this very room, during the span of her formative years, holding court at the head of the Slytherin table with her friends. The Sacred Seven, they called themselves. Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo, Theo and Y/N.

Since the moment Pansy walked off the Hogwarts Express, she knew that she and her friends would run this school. From their infamous common room parties to their shopping sprees in Hogsmeade and late night skinny dipping at the Black Lake, there had never been a dull moment amongst her group of friends. Now they were all graduating.

It was truly the end of an era.

In a rare display of emotion, Pansy found herself smiling as she spotted her friends from across the room. Blaise chatting — or flirting, you could never really tell with Zabini — with Padma Patil. Mattheo and Enzo chucking grapes into each other’s mouths. Idiots, she thought fondly. Lastly, her gaze fell to Theo and Y/N sitting at the far end corner of the Great Hall, talking like they were the only people in the world.

Some things never changed.

For as long as Pansy had known them, those two gravitated towards each other like magnets. Theo and Y/N were a package deal. You could never have one without the other. Best friends since birth, they had known each other longer than anyone else in the group. During their time at Hogwarts, Pansy watched her closest friends pathetically teeter between will they or won’t they territory. She thought that tonight might finally be the night that they crossed that proverbial line, but it wasn’t looking promising thus far.

In the past thirty minutes alone, she counted at least six opportunities for either one of them to make a move.

Yet nothing happened.

Theo had that stupid lovestruck expression on his face as he listened to Y/N talk, chuckling softly as she picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on his lapel. For Salazar’s sake, anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that they were meant to be together.

Pansy exhaled a long suffering sigh. Those two smitten idiots would never get together unless she did something about it. She truly had to do everything around here, didn’t she?

“Don’t,” warned a familiar voice. Draco slipped in beside her, cradling his own drink as he pinned her with a serious gaze.

Pansy bristled slightly, causing the sharp edge of her sleek bob to graze her jaw. “I don’t know what you mean by that, Malfoy.”

Draco sighed. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize that look in your eyes. Whatever you’re planning, I want absolutely nothing to do with it. This has the makings of another Pansy Parkinson scheme.”

She raised a perfectly arched brow. “Need I remind you that you’re only with Granger thanks to one of my infamous schemes?”

As if summoned by their conversation, Hermione sidled up next to her boyfriend. “What’s this about Granger?”

Pansy grinned, looping her arm around the Gryffindor. “Granger is going to tell her meddlesome boyfriend to mind his own business, while I actively plot against my closest and dearest friends.”

Hermione only shook her head. Though she hadn’t known Pansy as long as the others, the girl had welcomed her into their friend group with open arms, often roping her into chaotic situations. She had learned the hard way that there was no stopping the force of nature that was Pansy Parkinson.

“You Slytherins and your schemes,” Hermione teased. “Why not just let this one play out, Pans? They might surprise you.”

Pansy scoffed. “Please. I’ve watched those two bumbling idiots pine over each other for seven years. They had their chance.” She took a long swig of champagne. “Now it’s my turn.”

If there was one thing that people should know about Pansy, it was that she always got what she wanted. Pansy Parkinson never failed and neither would this plan of hers.

Seven days. Seven friends. Seven steps. Throw in a stunning villa in the Italian countryside and it was the perfect recipe for a whirlwind romance.

Someone was going to fall in love this summer.

A Cheshire grin curved its way across Pansy’s lips. “Let the games begin.”

#summer theo is going to hit i promise you #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theo nott fluff #theo nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n

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soobinologisttt · 1 year ago

Text

eternal hearts - hwang intak

pairing ☆ intak x f. reader

warnings ☆ !zombie apocalypse au, !death of parents, !borderline depression, !weapons, !zombie encounter, !sick member, !many mentions of death, !nightmares, !smut, !dry humping, !unprotected sex, !dirty talk, !semi praise,

word count ☆ 5k

a/n: i think this is all! lmk if i missed something. im super proud of this!!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

alone.

afriad.

these are daily feelings. the dread of knowing that you'll go to sleep alone and wake up alone.

that you'll probably never feel safe again, no matter how long you might live.

it has been two months since the outbreak.

you were at home while your parents were out grocery shopping.

you were so sucked into your text show, you didn't even notice your phone ringing at first.

but you were pulled back into reality when you picked it up.

it was your mom calling. you answered quickly, assuming that she wants to know if you have something in the kitchen or if she should buy it.

you remember the chills you got as you heard the screams of people around your mother. they still give you nightly nightmares, often waking up in a panic and a pile of sweat.

"what is happening mom? are you okay?" you panic and stand up quickly, getting ready to put your shoes on.

"y/n, do not leave the house. lock the doors, cover them with something, mattress, dressers, anything heavy." you hear her get out in one breathe, a warning that would stick with you.

"mom? what is happening?" you sobbed, fearing the worst.

"just know, your dad and i love you. i love you so so much and you're one of the greatest things that happened to me. which is why you have to keep fighting. for me" her voice cracked as she started to sob with you.

"mommy, please, tell me what is happeni-" you could barely get the words out as you cry.

before she could answer, the phone went slient.

your worst fear had came true at this moment. you were alone.

this was the first time you felt utterly alone but it wasn't the last.

this is the feeling that is currently washing over you as survey the empty cabinets of the house that you are currently living in.

you had to get out of your childhood home. too many memories haunt that place. it only made you feel more alone than you already do.

so after everything calmed down, you packed up your stuff, tooth brush, first aid, water, clothes, towels, anything you might need to live, and stuffed it into the car parked in your garage. driving a few towns over, you found a house primarily close to a supermarket.

a two story house with an abundance of food.

although you tried your best to ration, it wasn't enough.

after about two month, you needed more food.

you dreaded the day you had to exit a house again but it was unavoidable.

and today was the day.

it's a sunny day with a cool breeze. like a nice summer day, one where one might go to the beach or maybe a park.

as much as you wish you could do that, you can't.

the zombies on the street would turn into into a bloodbath with you. having a picnic with you.

you can only imagine the way they would eat you. would they start with your heart or brains?

these thoughts help to clear all thoughts and hopes of sunshine and picnics out of your head.

you remind yourself that you need food, unless you want to go out a lame way and starve to death.

you finally stop staring into the empty cabinets like something will appear and make your way to the living room.

your weapons are on display on the coffee table facing the boarded up window.

you look over the assortment of weapons. a machete, a hand gun, bat with nails, and a crowbar.

never in a million years did you think you'd have to own a gun. swearing that you wouldn't dare touch a gun.

but things have changed and now you own.

you pick up the hand gun and holster it on your waist, making sure it's secure but easy to grab if needed.

you grab the black backpack that is only carrying a bottle of water and swing it onto your back.

you double check to make sure you didn't miss anything that you might need, then you swifty pick up the machete.

you open the door quietly to peek your head out. and when you see it's all clear, you make your way to your car. hoping to load it up.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you absolutly love your car. it was so silent, due to additions onto a car that make it quieter. you made sure to search it up before everything went offline. securing these parts in missions, working on your car in the garage at your old house.

it wasn't long until your car as silent as a mouse, starting up without a sound, stopping, and turning off without a sound. it was something that you were grateful to do.

you stop your car at the door of the supermarket. stick your head out the window to peek. once you saw it was all clear you exit the car, grabbing your machete from off the passenger seat

you silently enter the slight ajar sliding door. making sure to check your blind spots every second or so.

once you're in the store, you raise you cleaver up to keep your distance from anything that might pop up.

you quickly walk to the canned good isle and slide the bag off your back. you put your weapon down for one second to start packing away the food when you hear it.

it was too late, it was already so close to you. you slowly put down the bag before reaching over to the shelf to find the weapon you so desperately need right now. your eyes were kept on the undead body moving towards you.

you could only scold yourself for not looking around first. a rookie mistake that might cost you your life. in your head, you're beating yourself up. but outside, you are calm and confident. you won't let this take you out.

you observe the moving monster in front of you. it's clothes are all dirty and ripped. you can barely make out the color the shirt once was due to all the dirt and their jeans are shredded. to top that, it looks like it's decaying from he outside in. seeing their intestines draging along, makes you neary throw up.

you are still feeling around when you hit a can on the shelf. listening to it fall and roll, the zombie lunges at you.

the air in your lungs dissipates as you go into survival mood.

you turn your body to look for the weapon but instead you freeze. squeezing you eyes to brace for the bite that is coming. but it doesn't come. you grab the machete and turn around in one motion.

holding it to the stranger.

standing there is a boy and the zombie is on the ground. head a few feet away from its body.

approximately 5'11, with slighly bronze skin, brown eyes bright with life, chestnut brown hair, and a serious face.

his hands are both up in the air, as if he was surrending to police. sword still in one hand.

then in a low, husky voice, he speaks, "are you okay?"

he is quite literally ignoring the fact that you have a machete pointed at him.

"yes. who are you? is there more?" you rapidly spit out questions.

"yes, they're two here and three back at the house we sleeping in tonight.

"you aren't going to hurt me. i have weapons and i am not afraid to use them." you stand tall in an attempt to intimate him.

he smiles at you, "i wouldn't dream of it."

you were on the verge of responding when two boys walk into the isle.

they are laughing, "intak," one of the boys laughs out, nearly falling to the ground. meanwhile, the other one is holding back his laugh.

"they are idiots. we aren't gonna hurt you. we are just looking for a little food and medicine." intak tells you.

"yeah," the laughing one stops, "one of our youngest is sick. we can't lose him."

suddenly you remember the phone call. remembering and knowing the pain of losing someone.

you slowly put down your weapon.

"okay, well. let's make a deal. help me load this food into my car and i will help you find a drug store."

without hestation the boy that was holding back his laugh talks, "deal."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you and the three boys climb into your car around the time the sun began to set. it was still light outside but you know it's gonna get dark fast.

"you said you were living around here?" you ask intak, who is sitting in the passenger seat.

"yeah, just ahead." he points at the house you've been staying in.

"no, that's where i've been staying," you look at him.

"well that makes sense. we saw weapons on the table and got confused. we assumed it was empty sine there was no sign of human life." one of the boys in the back seat explain.

"did you not go upstairs? my stuff is everywhere." you ask back in a what the fuck attitude.

"no, we just laid our little brother down and left to get food." intak shyly smiles.

"well, it's almost night now. so you guys can stay. but you have to help me move the groceries into the house." you try to give a smile back, remembering that they were only there to help their little brother.

"we will get them all," a boy from the back seat tells you, "intak, you should walk in with her so the boys don't get scared." he continues.

as you pull into the driveway, intak nods and you turn off the car.

you both exit the car. you give your keys to one of the guys, making sure to tell them to lock up. adding the fact that it won't make a noise and not to be worried about drawing attention.

you both slowly shut the car doors, trying not to make a sound that would awake the few zombies that are lingering around.

you both walk in long strides quickly and make it inside, leaving the other two boys to get the food.

when you enter your eyes quickly make their way to three boys in your living room.

one is laying flat on his back on the couch. barely moving, one is sitting next to him on the floor, and the other is sleeping on the floor near them.

intak leans in, "the sick one is jongseob, the one watching him is theo, and the one sleeping is soul. we have been taking turns watching him. in fear that he might stop breathing when sleeping."

you can feel the pain in his voice.

"and the boys in the car?" you question as you never got their name.

"the giggly one is keeho and the semi-quiet one is jiung." he whispers to me.

it's like on que when keeho and jiung come crashing into the door with food hung in bag on thier arms.

"did you lock my car?" you ask as keeho hands you the keys.

"i did. where do you want these?" he pants.

"kitchen table." you nod towards the dining room.

they both nod at you before heading there.

you go to check the locks on the door, making sure to move the large dresser infront of it.

intak follows and help you.

"i do this every night. just makes me feel safe." you shrug.

"i get it. it's like us watching jongseob. it makes us feel better."

"yeah, what happened with him?" you ask as you both walk to the living room.

"we think he might of contracted some type of bug but since it was left untreated, he just got worse. we are looking for antibiotics or something."

"hmm, i can check the medicine cabinet and my first aid kit. i haven't been sick or hurt so i have no idea what is there."

he just gives you a little nod. obviously, trying not to get his hopes up.

"come on." you pull him upstairs, feeling just a little more safe with hm than the other boys.

maybe that's because he saved you or because how vulnerable he is being. you couldn't tell. but there is something there.

you lead him to the bathroom where the both of you start look for anything that might help.

you are on the ground looking in the first aid kits you've acquired over the months while intak is rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink.

"how long have you been alone?" intak asks not taking his eye off of the medicine he found.

"if i tell you, do you promise not to murder me or let them murder me?" you chuckle.

"we didn't plan on it, um by the way, i still don't know your name."

"y/n. and i've been alone since the start. my parents were out grocerying shopping when everything happened. my mom called to warn me and now i'm here. how about you, how long have you guys been together?"

"well as you can tell, we aren't biolgical brothers. we all grew up together and were at keeho's playing video games when it went down."

he gives a small smile, but you could see right through it.

"what about your parents?"

"we have no idea. no one contacted us. we just stayed together. that is one reason we can't lose jongseob. we are all we have." intak explans, while looking at label after label of medicine bottles.

you nod your head even though you know he can't see it.

you wanted to know what it felt like. to have someone during this time. people to lean on and cry with.

feeling the tears, you put your head down. still looking through the first aid kit even through you know the only thing in there that might help is tylenol.

"i found some!" intak opens the bottle to find five pills.

you look up quickly and then back down.

"well now we have five days to find a pharmacy or drug store." your voice came out wobbly.

intak quickly put the pills in the bottle and drops to his knees in front of you.

"y/n? did i say something?" he pulls you head up to look worriedly into your eyes.

"no, no, it's just been so long since i've been around people. and hearing your story made me wish I had people around me." you wipe your tears.

"i can't imagine what you've been through, y/n. you are so strong and do no need anyone. but i'm sure we would stay if you wanted us to." he gives you a small smile.

"thank you intak. let's go eat and give jongseob these meds." you push to get up at the same time as him. bumping him back against the counter behind you two.

you push back in a hurry, a shock of warmth spreading through you, "i am so sorry."

"don't worry about it y/n." the way your name rolls off his tongue turns you into a blushing mess as you turn and exit the bathroom.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

when you got downstairs, the smell of spaghetti filled your nostrils.

you immediately question intak, forgetting all about what just happened.

"you guys can cook food? like warm food?" you ask with wide eyes.

"yes, keeho invested in this portable stove thing. i don't know how it works but it's truly a blessing."

as soon as he stops talking you decide to run down the stairs and to the smell.

you couldn't even remember the last time you had a hot meal.

you run around the corner into the kitchen to see keeho and soul.

"soul, please stop making minecraft noises,"

"psh," you try not to laugh but let out a small chuckle.

"oh hi, umm, what's your name?" keeho smiles.

before you could respond intak does, "y/n. also we found antibiotics for five days. we need jongseob to eat and soon."

"i can speak for myself," you roll your eyes, "also is it almost done?" you look at the spaghetti like you haven't eaten in years.

it might be canned spaghetti but it is warm and that's all that matters.

"almost. are you super hunger? we made sure to get a couple of easy snacks." keeho goes full mom mode on you, pointing to the cabinet next to you.

"no, i just haven't had a warm meal in months." you smile.

"well you're in for a treat then."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

that night you ate toasted bread and spaghetti. you ate so fast that you nearly threw up. they all watched you in amazement. after you were done you sat there on the living room floor with the rest of the guys. they all learned your name and keeho feed jongseob. they gave him his first antibiotic and planning to taking turns to keep him hydrated.

it was late when you all decided to call it a night. they all had designated shifts to watch jongseob each night. tonight it was keeho's and jiung's. so the rest of us went upstairs.

soul, theo, and intak all walked to your room, seeing it to be the biggest. you didn't mind.

"uh, guys, that is my room but i don't mind sleeping in a different room so you can sleep with each other." you tell them.

"are you sure?" theo asks.

"yeah, i don't mind." you smile at him.

you all enter your room and you show them around. there wasn't much to show but you also decided to show them your stash of water and things.

you took a couple things and headed to the bedroom next door.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"mom." you cry out.

"mom?" you shout louder.

it's a black void that you are standing in. nothing for miles, and all you can do is call out. you want to see your mom again.

you spin and spin. still not seeing anything for miles. you run in a straight line for what feels like forever.

"mom! please mom! please come back." you fall to your knees, shaking and crying.

then you feel a slight shake.

you jump up in fear of your life.

"y/n?" intak says in the darkness of the room.

after realizing it's just him, you bawl. tears pouring out creating wet spots on your shirt.

that's when he pulls you into his arms. his strong arms holding you like you might slip away. like you might drown in your own tears.

"it's okay. i'm here. we are here." he whispers into your hair.

you latch onto him, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

intak strokes your hair until the tears stop. you feel your eyes ge heavy and slump against him. falling into a peaceful, nonfearful, sleep.

you don't notice that intak is still holding you until he tries to move.

laying you down softly, intak moves to get up. but instead, you grab his arm and do the unthinkable.

"will you please sleep in here with me?" you mumble, half asleep.

"are you sure? i dont want t-"

"please intak." you beg.

he complies and slips in besides you. rubbing your hair as you cuddle into him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it was the early morning when you woke up. the sun was barely up. you felt more refreshed than ever.

you turn to see intak sneaking out of bed.

"oh i'm sorry. i didn't want the boys to wake up and see me gone." he smiles sweetly.

"it's okay." you smile back, "um this might sound weird but you smell really good. can i perhaps have your t-shirt. it helped me sleep. i am hoping to get a few more hours." you blush and look down at the white blankets around you.

"all you have to do is ask, y/n." intak smirks before pulling his shirt off with one hand.

you felt something you haven't in a long time, butterflies. not pure horniness, but actual butterflies.

sure you were horny at times but nothing would compare to the feel intak just gave you.

he hands you the shirt and you quickly change out of your shirt into his.

not caring if he saw your body. pure emotions (and horniness) are coursing through your body.

"i would say goodnight," he chuckles, "but it's morning now."

you sit there in his shirt, waiting for his next words.

"so i will say, sweet dreams y/n." he comes over and kisses your forehead.

you lay down as he exits. he turns to look at you as you repeat his words back to him.

"sweet dreams intak." you yawn.

he shuts the door and pick up the pillow he was laying on, cudding it as you fall asleep.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it's been two weeks since you met the boys. and you can say that you already trust them with your whole heart.

you even let jiung and keeho take the car to find more medicine for jongseob. and after about a week and a half, jongseob began to look better. finally being able to sit up on his own and eat by himself.

they all still take turns looking after him despite his plee's that he is okay.

you have even started taking shifts. you take them with intak because being near him is the only way you can sleep.

he often sneaks into your room to help you sleep. cuddling you during the late hours of the night and sneaking back in the early morning.

besides that, you and intak have been getting super close. talking at all hours of the night and stealing sneaky glances (and touches) during the day.

he was a secret that you kept close to you. it was nice to finally have someone there for you. but also something that terrifies you.

because you knew, if you lost him, you would never be the same.

but all of those thoughts left your brain during one of the late night talks. where things strayed off into new territory.

"when was the last time you came y/n?" intak says, laying on his side, looking at you.

you stutter as you try to get out an answer.

in your brain you have two options.

you could lie to him and tell him that it has been awhile or you could tell the truth.

that you came all over your hand one morning after he left. smelling the pilliow he is currently laying on.

"come on y/n." he smirks, "i won't judge."

"umm, the other morning." you blush.

filling with embarrassment you turn to move.

you don't want him to see the red surfacing on your face.

beore you could move, he grabs ahold of you. with one arm, he pulls you close to him. you're face to face. and just as you thought he was going to kiss you, he pull you on top of him.

he is now laying on his back, looking up at you.

"woah, intak what are you doing?" you freak, it's been so long since you have had any action with a guy.

you don't know how to feel, but you do know that you don't want him to stop.

"you think i didn't hear those little moans? my name? you weren't exactly quiet."

you blush even harder and look up at the wall. wanting to look anywhere but the handsome boy under you.

"eyes down here y/n." he demands.

you comply and look down at him.

his eyes are hazy with lust and his dick throbbing under you.

you slowly grind over his hardening lenth. needing to get the release you all so need.

this causes intak to gasp in surprise.

you watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head when you start to speed up.

"fuck y/n. you're gonna drive me crazy." he looks up at you with dark eyes, causing you to shiver.

you use those words as fuel to keep going. rubbing your clothed cunt against hard shaft.

you feel the room become heavy as he reaches for the bottom of your shirt and helps you to pull it over your head.

he throws it off to the side, out of sight.

"holy shit, you're so pretty." he stares up at you, taking your left breast into his hand. rolling his index and thumb over your hardening bud.

you throw your head back at his touch. feeling the heat rush to your aching womanhood.

when he comes up and places his mouth on your nipple, you lose it.

pulling his face up, you kiss him feverishly.

teeth clashing as you forceful push your tongue into his mouth.

intak takes this time to move his hands to your hair, pulling lightly at the end.

the sounds of your mouth clashing and your tiny moans have you both wanting more.

but you're the one to break first, still grinding down onto him.

"fuck intak. can we please?" you beg.

"are you sure? i don't want you to regret this." intak looks at you with his big brown eyes. you know in that moment.

"i'm sure. I really like you intak. fuck i might even love you."

he flips you two. him staring down into your eyes.

"i think i might love you too y/n." he places sweet kisses onto your neck.

"please. please. fuck me." you whine.

"as you wish baby." he pulls down your pajama shorts and throws them across the room, next folllowing your panties.

you help him untie his pajama pants in a flash and pull off his boxers.

"well someone is needy." he chuckles before running his hand down to your wet heat, "damn y/n, you're so wet for me babe."

"intak, please." you can't take it anymore, reaching down to guide his dick into you.

"fuck," he slides in slowly as you wince at the feeling.

"you're so tight." he groans out as he slides deeper and deeper.

you claw at his back and wrap your legs around him, allowing him a different angle to go deeper.

"intak, intak, intak." you chant his name.

"shhh, we don't want to wake up the other guys." intak shushes you.

just then do you remember that through the thin wall are two guys you trust with your life. you don't want to wake them.

you give him slient nod as you bite your lip to keep the noises from falling out.

"i'm gonna speed up baby. can you be quiet?" intak leans down to whisper into your ear.

his husky voice causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

you nod as you bite down harder on your lip, drawing blood.

intak speeds up slowly before placing his hand on your mouth.

pounding into you at a speed that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and toes curling.

"you like that baby?" he spits.

you nod harshly.

"hmm, take it like the good girl you are." intak orders.

all you can do is moan into his hand as your body shakes with the pleasure he is giving you.

you never want it to stop.

when you feel the twitch of his cock, it sends you tumble over the edge.

sensing your orgasm, he removes his hand from your mouth to reach between you two, finding you clit in a hurry.

"intak, i'm coming. fuck. fuck." you mumble, coming out incoherent between the sounds of him fucking you into oblivion.

"come for me baby."

you come hard for the first in so long. nails dragging across his back, most likely leaving marks.

"mhm, you feel so good y/n," he takes a sharp breath in, "i'm getting so close."

he slows down a little bit. helping you to rideout your high. not wanting to overstimulate you.

you snap back into reality when intak questions you, "shit y/n," he growls, "i'm getting close. where do you want me to cum?"

you take a slight pause, formualting your thoughts while still being filled to the hilt.

"inside me please." you decide.

you didn't care if you get pregnant. you know he would be here throughout everything. you have your people and know they would help through everything.

"fuck y/n. you truly are perfect." he groans a he comes.

filling you to the brim as he spills his seed into you.

his cum overflows out of you and onto his cock.

he lets out a sexy moan before lightly collapsing on you.

"you're amazing y/n." he whispers.

"i'm so glad to have met you." you whisper back, eyes feeling heavy.

he notices your breath start to become shallow and pulls his softened lenth out of you.

the last thing you remember is the feeling of the soft cloth cleaning you off as you fall asleep.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

when you wake up, intak is still with you.

your eyes widen as you hear jiung through the door, "has anyone seen intak?"

you shot up and turn to the sleeping boy next to you.

you shake intak lightly and as he wakes up you lift a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet.

then, if things couldn't get worse, you hear a knock on your door.

"hey y/n, have you seen intak?" you hear keeho on the other side of the door.

you and intak look at each other with smiles on your faces. trying not to laugh you confess. it was a spilt decision but you know you want to be with intak. there is not point in hiding it.

"he's in here with me."

intak sits up with wide eyes as you tell keeho what you've been hiding.

he gives you a 'why would you say that' look before you hear keeho chuckle.

"i knew it!"

intak finally lets out the breath he has been holding since you told keeho the truth.

you let out a soft chuckle.

"well i made pancakes. they are downstairs when y'all are ready."

"okay thank you." intak calls back, presumably to let them know he is alive.

as keeho walks away you hear him tell someone, "i told you."

you let out a laugh which causes intak to laugh.

you lean in to him and give him a quick peck, before pulling back.

"let's get dressed and eat. i'm starving." you smile widely at him.

"let's go y/n."

and for the first time in a long time, you weren't alone.

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