#and he told me he didn't understand the remark

[equalperson]

I fucking hate being traumatized because why am I bawling the hardest I've bawled in god-knows-how-long because someone I didn't even like that much berated Me. gasping wailing trembling and snotting over this for several minutes.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Cas knows all the burdens Dean has to carry on his shoulders during his daily life. He sees that weight getting heavier and heavier and there is nothing he can do about it.

Sure, he tries to help. Sometimes he adds to that weight without wanting to, but he does the best he can to relieve Dean. That's why he accepted Crowley's deal to fight against Raphael. That's why he wanted to stay in Purgatory because he deserved it after he put this heavy weight that was his mistakes on Dean's shoulders. That's why he stole this grace and became an angel again, so that HE could solve the falling angels' issue, not Dean. That's why he tried to find Kelly Kline without Dean. That's why he never told Dean about the deal with the Empty.

That's why he never told Dean he loved him until it was the last option in order to save him from Billie. Because he wouldn't want to add his feelings for him to all the burdens he has to carry all the time on his shoulders.

He never wanted his love to be a weight on Dean.

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[pathologicalreid]

losing you | s.r.

in which you being in danger in the field elicits a response from Spencer that you're not used to - anger

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, jareau!reader, fear of abandonment, fighting word count: 1.67k a/n: i really didn't like this one at first but turns out now i really enjoy it lol. it's hard for me to dislike anything jareau!reader. anyways, setting this up to post while i chemically straighten my hair, i hope you enjoy!

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and casually leaning against the doorframe. A bored expression planted on his face as he watched you dump your dirty laundry out of your go-bag and begin to shove clean clothes inside.

You huffed, slamming a dresser drawer shut as you shoved socks into your otherwise empty duffle, “I’m going to stay with JJ tonight.” Avoiding his gaze, you proceeded to pack away your underwear—four pairs for an overnight trip.

Slowly, he meandered over to the bed, sitting on the ledge and watching you, “I think we should talk about this.” He told you, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“I agree,” you responded, checking your toiletry kit to ensure you had everything you needed to get through the next twenty-four hours—or more if the team got called off on a new case while you were with your sister.

Spencer frowned at your response, “You agree, but you’re still packing to leave.” He turned his head to follow you as you floated around the room, tossing miscellaneous clothes in your bag.

Nodding, you zipped your go-bag shut, buttoning an additional closure before turning back to face Spencer. “You’re angry with me, and I think we could have a more productive conversation with each other tomorrow after you sleep on it.”

“And I think we need to get our thoughts out now before it turns into a bigger issue. Internalizing emotions like you’re suggesting isn’t healthy,” Spencer challenged, following you as you walked to the front door, setting your bag on the console before searching around for the right pair of shoes. “And now you’re just walking out,” he griped, gesturing over to the shoe rack.

Your head snapped up at that remark, “Hey, I am not just ‘walking out.’” Your gaze narrowed at him as you nearly stumbled over your own feet.

The knot between his brows loosened at your expression, and for a moment, you weren’t in the midst of a disagreement. For a moment, the two of you were two kids who had been walked out on. “No,” Spencer said, his voice softer than it had just been, “You’re right. That was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you paused your efforts to leave the apartment and took a deep breath. “I made a split-second decision, and it ended up saving a little girl’s life. I don’t regret it, but I do regret the way it scared you.”

Spencer kept a firm distance from you, even if you reached out an arm, you wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You should have listened to Hotch; there’s no reason that you should’ve done… that.”

“You weren’t there, Spencer! If you had seen the way he was holding that gun to her temple… if you had heard the way she was crying out for her mom, then maybe you’d understand why I took her place,” you told him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “There had to have been another option, Y/N.”

Maybe there was, but part of your FBI training had been on making snap decisions, and this was just another example. “So, you think I should’ve let him keep that gun to the little girl’s head?”

“No,” Spencer answered, dragging out his vowel. “I just would have rather not seen a gun to my girlfriend’s head instead.”

You halted, eyes widening in alarm as you shifted to a newfound frustration, “Right,” you sniped, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His eyes flashed with recognition, and you knew that he was well aware of what you were referring to. Last month when he had his face off with Cat Adams, leading to her pointing a gun at his head while he proceeded to egg her on. You’d given him a mouthful the next day, and you weren’t afraid to do it again, “That was a completely different set of circumstances.”

Cocking your head to the side, your nostrils flared, “Was it?” You ask sardonically, “A serial killer pointing a loaded gun to your head sounds pretty fucking similar to me!”

“At least I stayed to talk to you about it instead of running away,” he snapped, both of you escalating in the ways you knew how. You raised your voice while he resorted to the cutting edge in his voice.

You held your hands out to your sides helplessly, “Do I need to put in for a transfer or something? Is this that big of an issue to you?” You could barely stomach the idea of leaving the BAU, but at this point, losing Spencer would be worse than joining a new department.

“No,” he answered instantly, “The problem here is that you don’t think before you act.”

You held up your hand, “I think before everything I do, and I’m sorry that my synapses don’t fire a million times a minute, and I can’t calculate the probability of every outcome beforehand, but I did the best I fucking could with the time I was given.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows curiously, “The best you could? A Glock to your temple was the best you could do?”

“Fuck you! Why don’t you have any trust in my abilities in the field? Why do you all of a sudden do you think I can’t do my job?” You demanded, chest rising and falling with anger as you glared across the room at him.

Spencer flinched at the accusation, the idea that he was just as bad as all of the people who assumed you only got your job because of your sister—the kind of people Spencer used to defend you from. “I didn’t… you’re perfectly capable—”

“But not good enough for the BAU? Not good enough to be a profiler, surely,” You interrupted him. “You know what I think, Spencer? I think you’re scared. I think seeing a gun to my head frightened you, and you’re taking it out on me because I’m the only vessel that you can snipe at and know they won’t leave you entirely.”

His posture changed then, leaning against the back of the couch as he absorbed your words, “You’re an incredible profiler, honey. The team is lucky to have you, you know that.”

Your shoulders slumped forward in response, “Then why the hostility? Why did you snap at me in front of everyone as soon as you found out the gun wasn’t loaded?” You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied his facial expressions for an answer. When you offered to take the little girl’s place, you were under the impression that the gun was loaded, and when the rest of the team caught up with you, they were under the same guise.

It wasn’t revealed that the chamber was empty until JJ made the shot that took out the UnSub, and Spencer had been all over you with worry one moment and wanted nothing to do with you the next.

“Did you feel like your worry wasn’t warranted?” You asked when he remained silent, “Like it was a waste of emotion when I wasn’t in any real danger?”

Spencer shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest self-consciously as you forced him to look at his behavior objectively, “You were always in danger, Y/N. The way he was watching you, the grip that he had on you…”

The UnSub gripped your hip so fiercely that he had almost taken you down with him when he was shot, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises marring your skin when you changed out of your work clothes. “I saved that little girl, Spence. That’s the deal, right? ‘I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.’” You quoted your oath to him, the same one he had taken, “At that moment, it was my duty to save that little girl. She went home to her parents today because of me.”

“You’re right,” he said, any evidence of malice washed from his tone. “You were incredible. You were fearless, and it scared the shit out of me,” he told you. “I—” he faltered, “I’m sorry,” he said, approaching you the way you would a wounded animal.

You shook your head when he held out his hands for you, leaving your arms stiffly at your sides and shaking your head, “No, Spence.”

Despite your protests, he pulled you into an embrace anyway; your body was resistant to him, the way his warm arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against his body. “Please don’t go,” he whispered. “Be mad at me, make me sleep on the couch, but please don’t leave,” he murmured.

Your cheek was pressed against his chest, the wool lapel of his suit jacket scratching against your skin as tears flooded your field of vision. As much as you wanted to resist, this was Spencer. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and taking a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you,” he told you.

Fear of loss. Spencer had been terrified to see a gun to your head, but the thought of having to watch you leave the apartment you shared in order to get away from him was petrifying. “I have to call my sister,” you told him, your voice muffled by his jacket.

One hand was on your waist, the other on the back of your head, fingers threaded into your hair, “Why?”

“To let her know I’m not coming,” you muttered. “She’ll worry, and it seems I’ve caused enough of that today,” you told him, appreciating the heat that emanated from Spencer as he looped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if that’s all he’d ever needed.

[eudaimaniacs]

cherry (old! logan howlett x female reader)

character/universe: logan howlett/wolverine (x-men/marvel)

word count: 1.7k words

warning/s: full-on smut (minors, dni). loss of virginity and age gap

notes: i have a headache from swimming yesterday but still managed to finish this in a day (so it's not proofread). i have tons of requirements to do so i may do an occasional small imagine once in a while. anyways, enjoy!

You started dating Logan six months ago, and when the conversation about sex came up, you shamefully admitted that you're still a virgin. You didn't want to look like a little girl to the older man since you knew that he had dated and slept with numerous women in the past. When you let out those three words of truth, you expected him to break up with you. However, Logan smirked and remarked how he hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time.

So, it was a matter of waiting for you to lose your virginity to Logan.

You went to your close friends for sex advice. They weren't experienced with the topic but teased that you're going to fuck an old, attractive man. With a few good luck, you readied yourself for the day Logan will take your virginity. You didn't bother searching online since watching porn made you cringe. Additionally, the boys you dated were either clueless or too eager only fuck you. Logan wasn't like them; he cared and didn't date you because you were innocent and pretty.

One night, when you stayed at Logan's house, you decided to lose your virginity finally. You wore a white lace-trimmed tank top with black pajama shorts. You used the cherry lipgloss you bought for this occasion to make the night extra special. Logan donned the wifebeater tank top you loved. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard made him extra sexy, or maybe it was the age gap.

You two cuddled on the queen-sized bed you cleaned before this night. The softness of the pillows and the blankets didn't lessen your anxiety. With you touching his chest and Logan snaking his hand around your waist, you waited for the opportunity to bring up the conversation about sex again.

"Logan, honey? I have something to ask you," you whispered as you scratched his chin.

The older man hummed in agreement as he waited for your question.

Finding the right words, you blurted out, "Are you ready to have sex with me tonight?" With wide eyes and a beating heart, you hoped Logan wouldn't notice your nervousness.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. Logan remarked, "I'm ready when you are, princess."

Your gaze softened as Logan agreed to have sex with you. However, it dawned on you that you didn't know how to start. Were you supposed to pleasure Logan first, or is he the one who should do it first? Should you take off your clothes when does it too? Who goes first? Who comes second? Your mind raced with the inexperience you didn't bother to fix.

"What's the matter, [Y/N]?" Logan noticed that you weren't taking action. You didn't want to admit you didn't know what to do. What if Logan wasn't attracted to your inexperience? What if he hated how awkward you are at initiating sex?

You took a deep breath before admitting to Logan, "I'm n-not too s-s-sure what to do, Logan. I tried to, you know, do my research about sex. S-so I'm sorry if I seem to be aw-"

Logan cut you off before finishing to tell him the truth. He sat up and rested on the headboard. The older man commanded you to take a seat on his lap. You quickly followed and rested your head on his chest. The beat of his heart assured you that Logan would be understanding about your anxiety about sex.

"It's okay, [Y/N]. You don't have to worry about having sex for the first time. I'm here to guide you. Remember when I told you how I hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time? I want your first time to be special, [Y/N]," Logan softly whispered as he caressed your back to relieve you.

You giggled and raised your head to kiss his neck gently. Logan chuckled at your sudden, playful attitude after assuring you everything would be okay. You pushed up your chest against his, and the older man seethed as he saw your breasts.

"Look at you now. You're now teasing me with your boobs. I thought you were nervous," Logan chuckled as he massaged your butt. You gave him a beck before replying, "Maybe you cast a spell on me, honey. I got a bit fired up with that sweet talk you did."

Logan lifted your chin and saw your glossy eyes accompanied by the cherry lipgloss. Your innocence, mixed with playfulness and the cute face and outfit you had, made Logan's heart race. He couldn't believe that you trusted him to be your first time. His rough, veiny hands caress your shoulder as he toys with the thin strap of your top. Your breath hitched up at the older man's soft and sensual action. You touched his chest to support yourself and felt your pussy wanting to be touched.

You slowly rubbed your clothed vagina on his black denim jeans as Logan went under your top to grope your breasts. You let out a shaky moan as you chased your high. Logan smirked as he saw your face contorting at the newfound pleasure.

"Let me do something, princess. Lay down for me," Logan grabbed your thighs, leading you to stop rubbing your pussy against his jeans. You were unsatisfied that he prevented you from chasing your climax. However, you were equally excited about what he would do next. You lay down on the bed as Logan told you and waited for his following action.

Logan kneeled at the end of the bed and asked, "May I take off your shorts, princess?" His rough hands caress the softness of your covered thighs. You slowly nodded, not wanting to keep Logan waiting for your response. He chuckled and reassured you that he would always be patient with you. You felt Logan sliding off your black pajama shorts, and you lifted your legs for him to take it off easier. The older man sucked his teeth as the sight of your lacy pink panties appeared.

Your heart was beating fast since you were one undergarment away from exposing your pussy. Logan pushed the fabric to the side and smelled your arousal. Sweet. He slowly circled your clit and licked your pussy to taste you. Logan moaned as he ate you; he wanted to do it fast as he had never tasted a virgin pussy before. However, knowing this was your first time, he took it slow. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of Logan's tongue pleasuring you. You grabbed the bedsheets and screamed his name.

As you felt your stomach twisting, Logan stopped and wiped his lips coated with your arousal. You curved your eyebrows in disappointment as Logan continued teasing you. You whined about how he should stop it and remarked that you wanted to orgasm badly. Logan grabbed the hem of your tank top, telling you to take them off. He fondled your breasts and kissed you.

Logan shushed you and whispered, "I'm only prepping you, princess. I'm now going to give you the real thing." He stood up and unbuckled his belt for his massive penis to escape. You gasped at the length of it. How is it going to fit you? You were both hungry and scared of the enormous cock staring at you.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. I'll take it slow, and you tell me if I need to take it out. Got it, princess?" Logan stared at your lust-filled eyes, waiting for your approval. You whispered a soft yes as you braced yourself for his length to push in. Logan grabbed your hips as he slowly entered inside of you. Your eyes suddenly opened at the foreign sensation penetrating you.

You let out a few tears but remained strong as you didn't want to embarrass yourself by tapping out. Logan saw it and whispered, "[Y/N], are you okay? Do I need to take it out?"

You shook your head and responded, "I'm okay, Lo. I need to adjust a bit to your length." Logan heartily chuckled as he rested his head beside your neck. You hugged his back and waited for the pain to subside. Taking a deep breath, you let out a small moan, signaling Logan to pick up the pace.

Logan started to thrust slowly and made sure that you weren't crying because of the pain. He lifted himself and pounded you. You grabbed his chest as you felt the shape of his dick molding your pussy. You screamed his name and told him how good it felt. Logan saw your bouncing tits and squeezed them.

"Lo-Logan, please kiss me. P-please, I need you to kiss me," you panted as you grasped the sheets. Logan leaned in to passionately kiss you. He tasted the sweetness of cherry lipgloss and let his tongue in. You scratch his back as you feel your high coming.

"I'm a-about to-fuck. I'm cumming, Logan!" You screamed as the older man quickened his pace to reach his high, too. You cried out pleasure as you felt his dick growing inside of you.

Logan hungrily kissed your neck and groaned at the sensation of your tightness. He went wild as he sensed his orgasm chasing him. You grabbed his hair to brace yourself from the immense pleasure coming.

"Let go, princess. Fuck, I'm close too. Come on, princess. Cum for me," Logan moaned as he quickly pounded for the two of you to release. You felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you as Logan did one effective thrust. You screamed out his name as your legs went numb at the pleasure.

Logan stayed inside of you as he released his cum inside of you. He pulled out to see the sheets stained with blood and your once-virgin pussy leaking with his cum. The older man kissed your forehead and grabbed a towel at your dresser to clean you up.

"How was it, princess? Was it good?" Logan asked as he gently wiped your thighs. You sat and rested your head on the board to look at him better.

You giggled and replied, "That was the best, Logan. I couldn't have asked for anything better." He softly grinned and leaned in to give you a soft, deep kiss. Logan savored the sweet taste of the cherry lipgloss. You hummed as he continued kissing you. And as the night became darker, the two of you slept soundly as the imprint of your gloss and virginity marked Logan and his warm cum filling you.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[its-not-nothing]

This is the kind of Eddie/Tommy interaction I would eat up. So imagine at the funeral, they were all together, and now Buck is talking to Hen for a bit and Tommy watches him from a distance. Eddie noticed how he had been acting around Buck all day and decides to finally say something.

"He really doesn't need this right now."

"Oh, you're talking to me again?" Tommy says with a dry tone.

Eddie chooses to ignore the remark. "Look, man... He's in a very vulnerable place. Maybe you should... back off a little. Just- leave him alone, okay?"

Tommy scoffs. "You're not the only one who gets to be there for him, you know?"

"What? You dumped him, Tommy. You broke his heart. I don't even know why you did it, honestly, or how you could even let someone like Buck go. And now you're trying to slide your way back in after he lost..." Eddie can't finish the sentence.

"Actually, I was already back in his life. We hooked up a few weeks ago, almost got back together."

Eddie feels his heart sink.

"I'm guessing he didn't tell you? That's not surprising. Seems like he would do anything to avoid facing..." He stops.

"Facing what?"

Tommy sighs. "The reason why I broke up with him in the first place. And why I was ready to get back together once he told me you were gone."

Eddie is now confused. "Huh?"

"God, Diaz. Don't tell me you're as oblivious as him?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Okay, I can't do this again. You know what? You won. Go be his knight in shining armor or something. I'm out."

Tommy walks away, and Eddie is left feeling stunned. What the hell was Tommy on about, and why did he sound jealous of him? He then shakes those thoughts, it's not important, and walks up to Buck, putting a hand on his shoulder. I'm here. I'll always be here, if you need me. Buck looks at him. They don't need words to communicate, Eddie can read everything his eyes are saying. Thank you. I need you. I love you. He gently squeezes Buck's shoulder. I love you. Eddie notices Buck's sad blue eyes slightly start to sparkle again. He gets a warm feeling in his chest. Doesn't matter what stupid Tommy thinks. No one can understand Buck like he does, no one can be there for him like he is, that's his job. Always has been. Always will be.

[lavilavs]

୨୧ ── Now I know you want me

Continuation of — I wish I knew you wanted me

› Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

› Scenario: A blind date? He can't let that happen! After realizing his mistake of letting his chance go by, he challenges fate itself to have you in his arms.

› Notes: English is not my first language. Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + I hope this lives up to the first part. This is mostly fluff and a happy ending. ^^ 4k words btw

Dick felt the whole world's weight from what he heard. Kory said what?

He's using his willpower to keep himself from dramatically falling on the floor. He knows he heard her correctly, he cleans his ears two times a week, for god's sake. Still, that crooked smile on his face didn't fade along with that twitch in his eyes.

Maybe Kory just used the word 'date' wrong. She might've mistaken it for 'date' as in the day of the month or year. He even googled the definition to show her. Denial makes you go to the limits of logic and into the spectrum of insanity, and right now, Dick Grayson can prove that.

He's thinking of every possible misunderstanding that they can make about the situation. Dick was a ticking time bomb of 'what ifs,' about to explode if not for his 5 stages of grief in front of an unimpressed Kory.

"Kory, should I kiss you again? Because you might be using some words wrong." There was sarcasm laced in his voice. His eyes were wide in disbelief.

He wanted to laugh in her face so badly. Tell her that he's willing to teach her to enhance her vocabulary, that maybe she's got some definitions mixed up.

"I told you, Dick. She said she has a blind date today." She repeats what she heard from you earlier that day. And the Tamaranean could swear she heard something shatter. Dick slumped on the floor with his hands covering his face. Regret bubbling in his chest.

He knows you were deeply affected by what transpired the other day. You weren't a workaholic like he was, so when he found out that you were barely inside the tower anymore due to your sudden eagerness to go on missions and stakeouts, he knew this was your way of releasing anger.

Who was he to stop you? After all, he was angry too. The chance slipped through his fingers. As a result, he barely saw you anymore. The tower felt emptier without you freeloading around when you didn't have anything to do.

He wouldn't say it out loud, but he appreciates the noise you bring to breakfast when you grumble about the food being distasteful when he cooks it when you're also the one hoarding it all. All those broken training dummies when he specifically told you not to overdo it, your witty and sarcastic remarks in team meetings, having you by his side during missions... Dick misses it all.

"And? What did you say to her?" He speaks through his hands, refusing to look at Kory. It was childish of him, but he can't help it, she should have tried to stop her from going out.

Dick can already picture Kory face palming at his behavior from the sound of her exasperated sigh alone. While she understands how Dick is feeling, he hasn't acted this irrational in a while. Kory knows him, she dated him. She knows how much this man can love. Dick can risk it all for it. The thought of him being such a man causes a mystery in her mind: if Dick Grayson is a risk taker, why didn't he take it with you?

Human feelings and the relationships here on earth were different from Tamaran, but Kory isn't oblivious or ignorant to their differences. Still, it wasn't her place to speak on it. Even if she knew you still had a place in his heart, Kory never showed resentment. She was only curious about how two people who are clearly in love with each other can't be together. What fear was holding you both back?

"I told her to enjoy her date," she states the obvious. "I wouldn't stop her from finding happiness. If you're against it, you should've taken the opportunity to confess the other day."

"It isn't as easy as you think it is." His tone turned lower with each word, knowing it was a weak reason.

"Maybe I don't, but look at you now—where exactly do you stand in her life to complain about her trying to love, Dick?"

Kory's right. He was basically nobody but a leader and a close friend to you, they had no right to intervene in your love life. That doesn't make it any better.

Dick's audacity knows no bounds if he thinks that you shouldn't just agree to dates, much less a blind one! He felt uneasy that you're going to meet someone you don't know and possibly... You'll find them much more appealing than him—your closest friend of 15 years.

He should take a breather first and then think about ways to sabotage her date—no, stop that, Dick! Don't even think about it.

His conscience tries to reason with him, but his love outweighs morality. By the time Kory realized that look on his face, Dick was already bolting out of the tower in his motorcycle. She yells after him, hoping that he'd stop and rethink the devious plans he concocted inside his brilliant mind. It was futile. A man in love knows no bounds.

This was wrong, and he knows it. The revs of his motorcycle drown out every message his conscience sends him. He only went faster with desperation as his fuel. Dick's grip on the handle tightens when he thinks that he's too late, perhaps you're already enjoying the presence of that person.

He prays desperately under his breath. Just this time, this one time—let Fate be his friend. He'll do everything to be heard this one time.

Dick swears that if fate can hear him right now, he'll stand by his words, and this will be his last opportunity to have you in his arms at the end of the day.

Only now that you're completely about to slip away from him is when he decides to move. He lives up to his name, he is a dick for doing so.

The words, "Why now?" are on the table, but he bargains that it was better than an "I loved you." at your wedding in the future with this blind date of yours. And he can't have that.

He was beginning to think that fate was only his enemy when he suddenly got a whiff of your perfume in the air. Dick maneuvered his bike to the side, his head whipping from side to side to catch a glimpse of your figure.

It was a distinct smell that sets you apart from the citizens here in this forsaken city. He knows since that scent was from him. You loved his gift so much that it became your signature scent. You were certain that the brand could name it after you as well, as if it was solely for you.

You emerged from that shop you once said was not to your taste with a big smile on your face as you talked with your date.

Dick remembers laughing at your face when you tried not to show your displeasure at the drink you just shoved down your throat. You were trying hard to show a smile instead because of the staff happily asking for a picture to promote their shop.

When they asked you to come again when you stood by their doors, he almost cracked again at your small forced smile—looking like a life sentence had befallen you.

Did they bring you here? Why didn't you say you didn't like it here? Did they even ask you? He was beginning to get agitated again just thinking about it. If they wanted to take you out on a date, they had to take you to the most extravagant places here. It didn't matter if they had only met you today, you deserved the best.

As you walked through the streets of Blüdhaven, Dick couldn't help but feel you were everything and your date was just there. Like a fully rendered drawing next to a sketch of some sort. It was obvious you were out of their league. Emphasis on 'their' since he, himself, is also included.

As said before, Dick put you on a pedestal that nobody could reach. Not even himself. It doesn't mean that he's in love with the idea he created of you—god, no. He's in love with everything about you, good and bad.

So, seeing you with someone who hasn't properly learned how to love you? It gives Dick an unpleasant feeling. They don't seem to be that bad, but for you to be with them? You're too special for that.

The audacity to even bring you on a date in his turf is just beyond him. Everyone knows Nightwing is the protector of Blüdhaven, and they still brought you here. There were other places—better ones that he'd think of to take you. Anywhere else but here.

Throughout the time he's spent with you, Dick knows you like the back of his hand. He's got you memorized down to the way you'd cover your mouth while you laugh if you found it boring like you're doing now. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, thinking that you've never faked your laugh with him before, so why bother staying with this annoying, boring piece of sh—okay, Dick, calm down.

You joke around with your date until you both enter a restaurant. Dick stands outside of the chosen restaurant this time after a few minutes had passed. Dick can't even mask the displeasure on his face. Is this another one of Fate's jokes, because why this one? This blind date of yours must be truly blind for picking the worst places to take you in.

You hated this one as well. You didn't like the customer service and the way they made your pasta soggy. Dick was practically pulling on his face from the irritation your date's decisions bring. He was more irritated that you didn't seem to mind. How can you sit there, across from your date, looking so pretty and happy as if you didn't tell Dick that you never wanted to go back here?

He interrupts the incoming waiter, "Table for one. I prefer that spot behind those two lovely couples over there." Dick didn't wait for them to respond. There was nobody using that table, and he has the liberty to choose where he sits. The server didn't even interfere with his demands—Dick's face was unpaintable with his overwhelming rage bubbling inside of him.

Dick uses the menu to hide his face, purposely sitting behind you to perfectly conceal himself. His ears perked up with every fake laugh you gave your acquaintance—he decided just now that they weren't even worthy to be called your date at this point. He dislikes how cheesy their jokes are. Those jokes are second-rate when it comes to his puns that you genuinely laugh at. He can't even count how many times he has rolled his eyes today.

The servers interrupted their fake stand-up comedy, coming in just in time to save Dick and you from hearing any more jokes. Dick's server had also arrived at his table at the same time. He stole a glance at where you pointed, realizing it's the same one you ordered last time you were here with him.

"I'll have this, thank you." He hands his menu over. Before they could leave his table, Dick stopped them. "Can you make them chewy but not soggy? That's what sh—I like." Smoothly covering his words up.

The waiter left just in time for Dick to listen in again. You guys weren't laughing anymore, you just intently listened to them. His face sours again. When you're with him, you're talkative. Contrary to the cold and mature vibe you show off on TV, you were completely different around him. How he loved hearing you talk and talk about things he doesn't know about. Dick always made sure to research it after.

"Have you dated before?" Their question takes you both aback. A nostalgic feeling from days ago is brought up again. Another simple yet difficult question was thrown your way.

Even if you had your back turned on Dick, he had a feeling you had the same look as you did back then. Lost and unsure, but you already have an answer inside. Just too scared to say it without sugarcoating it.

"No, I haven't." Dick hears a smile from your voice, doing its best to sound soft and unhurt. His heart twitching at your words. He feels sorry, but he can't place why.

"I'm surprised a woman like you hasn't dated before. Are the people around you blind or just outright cowards?" Dick mustered up a nasty side-eye to give your acquaintance. He was mad because he got hit by an imaginary arrow.

"I suppose it's both?" You laugh awkwardly. An image of Dick pops up in your mind again. He's been showing up in your thoughts nonstop ever since you went out on this blind date.

Meanwhile, the guy in question can't help but feel bad about himself for making you feel like you're unwanted. It wasn't that people were blind enough to not appreciate you but rather the latter. There was this air around you that made people assume that you were already promised to someone. He even argued with Wally once or several times because the poor boy also liked you.

"Well... have you ever loved anyone?" Now this was a question Dick was also curious about.

He stayed tense in his seat, anxiously waiting for your answer.

"I have, of course. But I'm just not the girl of his dreams." You spare another laugh, a sad-sounding one that the two people fawning over you in this room felt bad for hearing your answer.

"How so? Have you ever tried telling him your feelings?"

"I have. But before I got to, he—"

The server interrupts another crucial time that Dick can't stop a groan from escaping his lips. It naturally garnered attention, he hid himself by pretending to pick something up before you could even see him.

Am I going crazy, or did I just hear Dick? You shrug it off, no way he's here.

Dick returned to his seat when you looked away, his order already waiting on his table. The dry chuckle you let out caught his attention, then it went to the dish in front of you. It looked like the same soggy noodles they served last time.

He quickly raised his hand for assistance.

"I'm sorry, you must've switched my plates with that dear lady over there."

"Pardon? But this is—"

"Trust me on this one." Dick had no room for arguments, he carefully picked his plate up and handed it over to the server. He watched as he explained the switcheroo.

You look at the server in confusion. How could the plates be switched when it's the same dish? The server whispers at you to look at the man behind you. You were expecting a fifty-year-old man who had a thing for soggy pasta.

Long story short, it wasn't. You locked gazes with Dick Fucking Grayson. How long had he been here?

Dick curses under his breath. He did not see that coming. That server is such a snitch. For doing his job and looking after the safety of their customers. You were right, customer service does suck here.

Perhaps he was grateful for your personality that disliked scenes in public. Because deep down, he was scared shitless at what you would do if you weren't that kind of person. You knew better than to confront him now, as there was always a later.

"It's okay, I'll take this. Thank you." Having known who it is, it makes you less worried about being poisoned. You were about to dig in when you noticed the consistency of the noodles. From sight alone, you knew that it was cooked the way you liked it. When you compare it to the old dish, this was definitely better.

"Are you okay? Here, have some tissues." Your date hands over some tissues, worry laced in their face. Huh, you were crying without knowing it. And it's because of the same person again. This asshole just knows you to the bone. He understands and respects every part of you in his mind.

Why is Dick acting like this when you decide to go on a date to forget him? To remind yourself that there were more people out there. The only thing you've realized is that there are more people out there, but none of them will ever be him.

Your heart still wants Dick Grayson.

"I'm sorry. You're a great person, really. I can't do this to you when I love someone else." You try to sound fine. Although it was already too late, with the tears making you choke on your sobs. They let you go, understanding how you felt. With a smile from them, you gave them your gratitude.

"Here's my half. Thank you for taking me out today." And with that, you hurriedly exit out of the restaurant.

Dick saw you leave without looking back. This is it, you're running away again. He also put his payment on his own table and was about to exit the vicinity when he took the money you left on your own table with him.

"Don't let her pay. You troubled her enough." He rolls his eyes at your acquaintance before leaving entirely.

Dick calls out your name as soon as he is out of the restaurant. It gathered attention from passersby, but he couldn't care less.

He made a promise to the wind, to the sky, to the gods, to fate, that this will be his last chance to have you. If he lets you go now, he'll regret it forever. He also wants to know what you were about to say earlier. Agh—he has a lot of questions.

He gets on his motorcycle, driving as fast as he can to each block you may have gone to. Fuck—just where were you? Dick composes himself and looks at the radar on his bike. What nearby places could you have run off t—The pier! Yes! If you wanted to clear your head, the pier was one of the places you'd go to.

Thank God he had a motorcycle with him, he could already see your figure slipping through those wooden stairs to reach the secret spot you shared with him. It makes everything easier. He carefully threaded through the hollow woods, surprisingly still standing after all these years. It makes creaks, alerting you that he was here. Who else could know about this, anyways?

This spot had a clear view of the ocean and granted you both some solitude. It was the perfect place to talk.

"Why'd you leave your... date? They seemed lovely." You knew he was lying when he gritted his teeth to compliment them. Despite feeling down, you still had the energy to laugh and smile at Dick. Like you had a spare set of batteries made just for him.

"Some Dick was following me the whole time. That's why."

"You're lucky a Dick was following you, not a pussy like that date of yours." Dick cringed at his own joke, but the sound of your laughter eased him.

You both knew it wasn't the reason, though. That's why he's patiently waiting for you to speak again.

"I'm sure you heard it, Mr.Cleans-his-ear-a-lot. Don't ask me why." You roll your eyes at him, gaining a chuckle from him.

"Sooo... you love someone else. Great. Who are they?" He had no time to waste. Dick prepared himself for your answer. What he didn't expect was that your face turned even more displeased.

Dick really is a dick. He sounds like a friend. But it isn't what you want. With the way he worded it, he sounded unaffected that you love someone else that's not him. That realization hurts you all the more.

"How can you be this dense when you know me so well, Dick?" Your voice cracks as you question him, glaring at him through your tears. For once you don't make it look like you were this strong superhero that he can always rely on. You wanted him to look at you like a woman that cracks at love's painful conquests too.

"I even went on this stupid date just to move on"

"You did?" For me?

"I did." For you.

For once, Dick doesn't know what to answer you. He always had something reserved for you but not this time. He didn't anticipate this happening. It all dawns on him right at this moment.

"I tried telling you thirteen years ago but you left me alone with no answers. You just left me there—didn't even let me finish what I was saying. That time, I felt so unbearable that even you decided to leave when I told you I love you."

Dick feels his stomach churn in guilt. He had no idea. He was too scared to confront his own insecurities, so he ended up hurting you in the process. This whole time, for more than a decade, you could've been together if he just faced you like a man. But sadly, he was just a boy back then.

"I'm sorry—" Your name sounded like a plea for forgiveness. "I was too scared back then. I freaked out. The thought of you loving me back was nothing more than a dream for me back then." You felt his muscular body holding you close to him, so tight that you felt the thump of his heart in your ear.

"Even just seeing you near that idiot earlier made me frustrated at myself because why did I wait this long until someone had the chance to take you out on a date before me?" Your hair feels wet. 

"Just to think that someone you met today already did the things I've always wanted to do with you made me realize how much of a coward I still am when it comes to you." You look up at him. He is crying.

Your hands pull him down to your level, fingers working their way up to his face, cradling him like a precious jewel. His cheek felt hot against your palm despite the flowing tears dripping down from his eyes.

"I hated how they took you to those places you hate here in Blüdhaven. Did they even realize it? They didn't know you like I do, and yet... fuck. I'm so mad at myself." He snuggles up to your palm more, chasing the comfort it brings. "Tell me, do I deserve your love even when I'm like this?" A coward, insecure, and beyond fixation.

Dick looks into your glossy eyes. Its softness still remained after all that he said. You still looked at him the same, nothing has changed except that the warmth in your eyes was a flame that he could clearly see now. His insecurity has completely blinded him from seeing the good things.

You pull his head closer to plant a chaste kiss on his forehead. Your fingers thread his hair back, smiling down at him with tears streaming down your own face.

"You've always been deserving of it. How could you not?" You plant another kiss on the tip of his right eyebrow. "And they didn't pick it, I did." You laugh a little when you share the truth before pressing your lips on his other eyebrow.

"In the end, I still subconsciously picked you. I picked it because it reminded me of you, no matter how much I hate those fuck-ass 1-star businesses of theirs." More tears flow out of you as you kiss his nose.

"It didn't matter that the drinks tasted like shit or if the pasta was soggy. I still loved it because I was with you, Dick. You're capable of making me love things I thought I wouldn't." You kiss his tears away.

Memories flash on your mind as you speak—every single one had Dick in it.

"How can I not love you when you made me feel seen?"

You remember how he'd always include you in a conversation whenever he caught up with old friends in the street. Dick introduced you proudly to his friends.

He'd talk about how amazing you are instead of talking about how he's been. As much as you were flattered by it, you felt embarrassed that he shared about you more than his life.

"But you're a part of my life, aren't you?"

"How can I not love you when you've always heard me?"

The meeting was turning into a mess. It happened when you were just new to the team and Batman had already appointed you a big role in the next mission.

Seeing as you were new, it was difficult to communicate with the team, especially when it was such a crucial mission that made everyone clash with their beliefs.

But Dick was different, even when you weren't saying anything, he suddenly yelled.

"Wow! That's a great idea. What do you suppose on doing when—" And he just kept going and going until they all eventually listened to you.

"Think about everything, Dick. You make everything a reason for me to love you." The speechless look on his face had you leaning in, it felt right to.

"May I?" You ask for permission. It didn't take long for you to feel his lips against yours. Nothing in your life has felt right other than this.

You were both a tearful mess, but you couldn't care less. Fifteen years of waiting has come to this. It felt intense and gratifying to have you after years of yearning for one another. Dick kissed you passionately, stealing and giving air—back and forth.

He'll take whatever he had just for this kiss to be endless. A few minutes wouldn't be enough, this was basically half of his lifetime. Best believe that he's already thinking about spending the other half with you already.

Dick wouldn't have let go of you if he didn't feel your hands tapping his back. He broke the kiss with a pop, lips already swollen with the ferocity of your first kiss. You both desperately gasp for air, breathing heavily with love adorned in your eyes.

"Breathe enough?"

"Y—"

That one syllable was enough for him to smash his lips against yours again. Dick needed this—You needed this. He kissed you like he'll lose you again. He smiles when he feels you reciprocate the same energy back.

It was evident that this is what happens to two hopeless people when they realize it after fifteen long years, it burst like a dam, now they're drowning in each other. They'll even be thankful if they did.

Dick was thankful that fate didn't make a joke of them this time. Maybe it had enough of seeing both of you fighting hard against what was written in its notebook of destiny. He was content knowing you both broke free from his threads and had the liberty to write your own ending.

He's sitting here with you in his arms, just the two of you and the ocean. It's crazy to think that fifteen years ago, you both sat here making guesses about the future, goof around, eating the stolen food from the fridge. Those were all good times.

Talking until Bruce even sent out police forces to find the two of you. You didn't realize the moon had risen from its slumber because of how distracted you both were with each other. That's how enamored you've been, to the point where everything feels like a fantasy. It really was just you and him from the start.

Despite all of the misunderstandings and heartache, you're both finally here. A smile on each other's faces, sharing a look that you both shared the same thoughts.

I wish I knew you wanted me—sooner.

Extra scene!

You leave your secret place in the pier hand in hand. A big smile adorning your faces. Man, it felt good to have each other.

At the distance, Dick saw a familiar man. It was the server from that 1 star restaurant.

"Wassup, buddy. End of your shift already?"

"There he is, officer, it's this man right here."

Within a second, Dick was in handcuffs. You both stared at the waiter with wide eyes. You scramble around Dick and the officers escorting him. "What the hell? He didn't even do anything, let him go." You glared at the men in duty who flinched a little bit.

"Uhm, excuse me? He robbed you and you don't care?" The waiter sassily judges you. "He what?!" Your hands were immediately on his shoulders, shaking him to get more answers.

"He stole that money you left on the table and ran away." He looks at you deadpan.

"DICK, WHAT THE FUCK?"

"I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO 50/50 WITH THAT LOSER."

[very-merry-birthday]

And Take 'em Off in Private

Summary: During a drunken night the boys find out your secret- you used to do porn. But how Dean reacts surprises you.

Warnings: Smut!

~~~

You poured the whiskey into the glass, spilling more than you managed to get in, as Sam let out a loud laugh.

"I think-" he laughed again, "- I think you might be drunk Y/N."

You looked around at the three men in front of you. Sam had been laughing for almost three minutes straight, Cas looked like he was about to fall asleep, and Dean had checked out of the conversation long ago.

"I think we're all drunk!"

It wasn't often that you were all able to sit around, multiple drinks deep with nothing else on your minds. One of you always had something going on, somewhere else to be, someone else to see. So when earlier in the day you had realized you'd all be in one place with no where else to go, you'd jumped at the opportunity.

Which is how you found yourselves in the bunker library, none of you able to hold yourselves straight on the uncomfortable upright chairs. Sam and Cas sat opposite one another at the table, both of them trying to keep the conversation flowing, while you'd been making sure everyone's drinks were topped up. Dean had his feet up, listening and watching. His eyes spent most of the time distracted by you, watching your smile, the way you laughed, the way you rolled your eyes whenever Cas started on a drunken ramble. He tried to resist the twang of jealousy every time you reached out to grab Sam's arm for stability, knowing you were only doing it because he was sat next to you. He pictured what it would be like if he was sitting where his younger brother was, your head on his own shoulder instead.

He broke his thought as you looked over to him, a soft smile on your face, holding up the bottle to question whether he wanted more. He pushed his glass forward for you to fill it.

"What I don't get-" you broke eye contact, looking over at Cas, "is how you can get drunk? Don't your- angel powers- stop that?"

"I don't have any powers, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes again, "Fine! Abilities! The cool shit you can do!"

"My abilities don't stop me from feeling the effects of alcohol." While he was definitely less sober than normal, Cas was holding it together remarkably well.

"What can you do then?" You asked. Dean liked that about you, that you were always asking questions. Never to pry, but just because you were interested. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

"He can read your mind." Dean spoke up, wanting to rejoin the conversation.

"No shot you can actually read minds." You laughed, grabbing his hand from across the table and pulling it up to your temple, "What color am I thinking of?"

He gave a cautionary glance around the room, "Green. Dark green."

You looked over to Dean's eyes momentarily, then back to Cas, "That's crazy cool!"

Sam leaned forward, "That's boring dude, tell us all her secrets!"

Your mind flooded as Cas began to speak before anyone could stop him, "Y/N has been in several pornographic films-"

You lept up, your chair going flying behind you. Your head spun as you mind sobered, sweaty palms, prickles at the back of your neck. You looked back at the three men, three sets of eyes now firmly placed on you. Cas looked confused, Sam looked guilty and Dean- you didn't want to even try and understand what his expression meant.

"I didn't think he'd-" Sam began to speak and you lifted up a finger to stop him as the gears in your head continued to spin.

After seconds that felt like hours you began to talk. "Cas, that wasn't your fault- he shouldn't have told you to do that."

Cas nodded slowly, the situation finally dawning on him.

"Sam, apologise to him."

"I'm sorry man, I should have been more clear I was joking."

"Dean-"

He looked up at you, and eyebrow cocked in confusion.

"-actually all of you... If you even think about trying to find one of those videos..."

You trailed off, all of them understanding the threat without you even having to make it. With that you went back to your room, collapsing on the bed and letting embarrassment and drunkenness swallow you up as you fell asleep.

---

The next morning you were woken abruptly by Dean, barging into your room as he had a hundred times before. You shushed him before he even started talking, your head still spinning, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"We gotta-"

"Shhh!" You buried you head back down on the pillow, trying to block out all light.

He lowered his tone, gently speaking as he sat at the end of the bed. "We've got a case, day's drive or so, if we leave now we'll get there before midnight."

You wrapped the pillow around your head, trying to sink down lower as you mumbled a response, "Hungover- take one of the others."

"I would darlin', but they're even worse off than you. You leave with me now and I'll let you sleep the whole journey?"

---

And that's exactly what you'd done.

Hours rolled by as you slept in the passenger seat, your hangover slowly clearing as the road stretched on. You'd screwed up an old shirt as a pillow, the window down, letting the cool air hit you.

Dean watched you any chance he could get, his eyes flowing over you, allowing himself to stare in a way you'd never let him if you were awake. He looked away as you finally opened your eyes, blinking hard as you adjusted to the light.

"How much longer?" You murmured, taking note of the afternoon sun.

"Couple hours?" He replied, eyes firmly on the road.

You expected him to speak, to mention last night, but he didn't, the silence stretching on in the car. Eventually he riffled around in his cassettes, finding one he knew you wouldn't complain about, and pushing it in.

---

Even once you were in the motel, silence sat between you.

You relaxed back on the tiny bed, flicking through the TV channels as Dean sat on his own bed, cleaning his gun. Night had set in with barely ten words spoken between you all day, embarrassment hitting you whenever you remembered how you'd left last night.

"You okay?" Dean looked over at you, no longer able to deal with the stillness, "After yesterday I mean."

You swallowed hard, "Yeah, it's fine, I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"No, no, we didn't mean to freak you out, we should have come and spoken to you."

"Honestly, Dean, it's fine."

You both sat uncomfortable for a moment.

He clenched his jaw, "D' you wanna talk about it?"

"There's nothing else to say." You looked up at him, his forehead filled with questioning lines, "What do you want to know?"

And just like that, you'd broken the seal.

"I- You- Porn?"

You relaxed back onto the bed, sighing in exasperation, "Eloquent as always, Dean."

"I'm sorry- I don't know what I'm asking- did... did you enjoy it?"

You looked back over to him, a little surprised by his question, "Yeah, yeah I guess I did. I was young, I needed money, not everyone has a bunker to go back to-" you rolled your eyes, mock annoyance, "-but yeah, I enjoyed it."

"But you didn't tell us?"

"I can enjoy it and still not want you to know about it. Do you really think you wouldn't have treated me any different?"

"Course I wouldn't-"

"Yes you would."

You both paused, tension filling the air.

He stood up, walking over to your bed and laying next to you on it, both of you staring up at the ceiling. "What did you enjoy?"

You thought for a moment, "I looked fucking good."

You both let out a laugh, looking at each other, glad to have the tension broken, until Dean spoke again, "You look good now."

You were suddenly aware of how close your face was to his.

"Yeah but in those videos I looked hot- like really fucking hot."

He exhaled sharply, trying to keep his face set, "What did you do?"

"It was mainly just me, you know-"

He cocked an eyebrow, "-getting yourself off?"

You blushed, struggling to stay composed, "Yeah, getting myself off. There was a few videos with other guys- that's what made the most money."

"Did you enjoy them?"

"Yeah, they were always fun! But I enjoyed the ones with just me more. I could just relax, put on a show."

His lips were now dangerously close to yours, sharing each others breath, his eyes dark, "What kind of show?"

"I used to put on something hot, something I'd never wear in real life-"

"Yeah?"

"-Lace, leather, fishnets, silk.... And then I'd tease myself-"

"Hmm?" He inched closer to you.

"I'd play with my tits, my nipples-" all embarrassment had left you, his eyes only encouraging you on, "then my clit-"

"Yeah?"

"I'd push my fingers into myself, god the noises I'd make."

"Darlin'-" His breath was hot against you as he eyed up your lips.

"There's this one video, dressed all in red- people fucking loved that one... It was always between that one, where I used a vibrator, and one where I dressed all in black lace... That was just my fingers-"

"God that's-" His lips were only millimetres from yours, both your eyes beginning to shut.

"I always preferred the one in red..."

"I love the black lace." He leant forward, ready to kiss you.

You pulled back before he'd even realized what he said, confusion filling you, a pit in your stomach growing as you scrambled back off the bed, standing next to it, "What- what did you just say?"

"Look, I-"

"What the fuck did you just say, Dean?!"

"It's not what it sounds like I-"

"You couldn't even wait 24 fucking hours to look them up!" You felt sick, your embarrassment filling you once again, "I can't believe you!"

"I didn't-"

"The one thing I asked you not to do!"

"Seriously I-"

"Fuck you! I can't believe-"

"Can you just listen for one second?" He stood up in front of you, grabbing your shoulders to quiet you, "I found them six months ago."

You swallowed hard, not understanding what he was saying.

"I didn't find out last night, I've known for months."

"I- I don't-"

"I was looking a porn one night and- well I thought, damn that chick looks just like Y/N-"

You blinked hard.

"-And then I watched a couple, coz fuck I needed to see someone who looked like you- and I realized... it was you. I couldn't help myself-"

You tried to turn away but he stopped you.

"-You looked so fucking good, every video was hotter than the last... The things you'd do, the noises you'd make-"

"Dean I don't-"

"Jesus... I didn't want to tell you, I knew you'd be embarrassed- but I didn't think of you any different, sweetheart. I've always know how hot you are, but I've also known how fucking badass you are too."

You let out a small exhaled laugh, the situation finally sinking in. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry. I really am. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You eyed him up carefully, the room falling deathly quiet once again.

"Take off your clothes."

His cheeks flushed, "I don't think-"

"You've seen me naked, right? It's the only way to make it fair."

There was a pause between you, both of you watching each other, neither of you saying anything. You'd never seen Dean naked before. Of course you'd seen the odd part of him: his abdomen whenever he'd wipe his face with his shirt, his back whenever you'd have to get changed in the same motel. But never all of him.

And then in one swift motion he pulled his shirt off, revealing his upper half to you proudly with a smile. You took a moment to admire him, your eyes seeking out his body. You looked for the subtle tan lines on his arms, where the sun had beaten down on him; the small scars across his chest, a life of hunting; his strong, solid core. You didn't care he was watching you stare, both of you knew what this was, so you took your time.

You nodded slowly, a way of telling him you were impressed, and looked down to his jeans. He understood what you meant, slowly undoing his belt and pulling down the fly of his pants. You sucked in a breath in anticipation as he leant down to pull them off, kicking them off from around his ankles and standing back up straight to look at you, hands on his hips.

You teased your own eyes, starting at the bottom of his legs, taking him in slowly as you worked your way up. Strong calves, stronger thighs, his gorgeous bow legs. Then you finally allowed yourself to look at what you really wanted, biting your lip as you looked at his black boxers, the clear bulge almost taking your breath away. It was large, and seemed to only be hardening. Dean watched your expression carefully, a grin poking at the corner of his mouth.

You nodded again, looking back up at him to continue.

Doubt shot over his face momentarily at he looked at his own state and then back to you, fully clothed, "Sweetheart, I don't think that's fair."

"Did you see me in my underwear, or did you see me fully naked?"

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he remembered the videos, what you'd worn in them, what you hadn't. He knew he couldn't answer honestly and keep his dignity, "How about this? How about I take these off, and I get to ask you one more question?"

You pretended to weigh up the decision, knowing you'd do anything at this point to get his boxers off, "Yeah, yeah I think I can agree to that."

With that he leant down, pulling his boxers down his legs in one swift motion, before standing back up straight and showing himself to you proudly. Finally you could see his whole body, perfect in every way, his gorgeous cock standing semi-erect as he combed one hand through his hair, looking down at himself and back up at you.

You could barely get your words out, your eyes fixed firmly on his hardness, "W-What was your question?"

He walked up to you, so close you could reach out and touch him as you looked back up to his face, "There's this one video: this guy has you bent over a desk-"

You knew exactly the one he meant, nodding only slightly.

"-and he's going at you from behind and- god you look fucking good, your ass bouncing, taking him so well-"

You could barely think, your mind filling with his words.

"-and you're making these noises- Jesus you don't know how many times I watched that video- these noises that are so fucking hot I don't think I'll ever recover. You tell me, sweetheart, are those noises real?"

You looked back down at him, his cock now fully erect, his hand slowly wrapping around the base of it, stroking it only slightly, and then back up to his face, "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

He smiled for only a second before leaning forward, grabbing your face in his hands. He kissed you desperately, ferociously, his tongue instantly exploring you, his fingers reaching around to the back of your head, your neck, the bottom of your top, tugging at it to pull it off you. You broke apart for only a moment so you could remove your top, and then you were back on each other, hands, lips, tongues.

You let your hands flow over his chest, feeling his muscles as his own hands began working on the fly of your pants, needy to get you in the same unclothed state as him. You helped him pull them down and kicked them off your ankles, both of your bodies pressed against each other, his mouth finding it's way to your neck.

He stepped back to hungrily eye you over, his tongue darting out as he looked at your bra and panties, "You're wearing far too many clothes, darlin'."

You carefully unhooked your bra, sliding it off your arms and dropping it down next to you. Now it was his turn to stare, taking you in. You hooked your thumbs into your underwear, slowly dragging it down, giving him a show you knew he'd like. He sucked in a small breath, stunned by your body.

"Turn around, let me see that ass."

You did as he said, turning around, looking back at him over your shoulder. His eyes dropped, looking you up and down.

You watched him walk up behind you and turned away from him again, facing forward as you felt his naked body press against you, his hard cock firmly against your ass. He kissed your neck gently, sucking lightly at your skin as you leant into him, his finger tracing a line over your shoulders and down your back. Once his hand reached the middle he pushed you forward, guiding you to the end of the bed where you bent over.

He groaned as you got into a steady position for him, your ass sticking out, perfect and ready. He pushed his tip through your soaked folds, and you gripped the bedsheets infront of you, holding back a moan. His hand came down to grab your ass, another groan on his lips at the feeling of your pussy around his cockhead.

He pushed himself into you slowly, stretching you out as you finally let yourself moan. Your noises coaxed him on as he began to thrust into you, his hands wrapping around your hips to give him better control.

You moaned out loudly as he pounded into you, his cock hitting your g-spot, sending your body melting. You buried your face into the mattress, muffling your gasps as he continued to move, gripping your body tighter.

"Louder for me, darlin, let me hear you."

You did as he said, turning your head and letting out another loud moan. You felt your core tightening, desperate for release as he sped up his movements, slamming into you, pushing you to the brink.

You came, hard and fast, loudly gasping. Your hands gripped the sheets, and Dean felt as your pussy tightened around him, watching your back arch in pleasure. Your legs felt weak as he continued to push into you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

As soon as he felt your body relax slightly he pulled out, and you felt as he came on your back, letting out a loud groan, his fingers embedded into your skin.

Both of you stayed still for a moment, panting hard, the pleasure rolling through both of your bodies. You looked back up at him over your shoulder, making eye contact.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He looked down at your arched back, your ass in the air, his cum on your back. He walked away to grab a towel from the motel bathroom and then back to you, lazily running it down your back, giving your ass one last look before you rolled onto your back, allowing yourself to relax into the sheets.

He lay down next to you, both of you breathing hard, his fingers running down your body, sending sparks through you. You looked at him, his forehead creasing as he began to speak, "There's this other video where you're on top- I think I have a question about that one too..."

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ i want your drama, the touch of your hand

type: viktor x reader

summary: making up with viktor after a particulatly nasty fight

warning(s): suggestive/borderline nsfw content after the red line divider !!!

word count: 1320

a/n: literally had this thought occur to me while i was boxing at my job yesterday and bad romance came on shuffle on my phone, MAN... the original version but also think the moulin rouge "backstage romance" version MWAH

Hour two, still no talking. The atmosphere within the apartment was heavy with unspoken resentment and hurt. Both of you had woken up in particularly bad moods, and it seemed that being in each others' presence simply amplified that.

Every little thing he did 'wrong' was ticking you off, and everything you said that was slightly unpredicted or off in tone would set him off, and it finally boiled over during dinner.

"I don't like lemon zest. I thought you knew that," he commented. He twirled a strand of the linguini through the fork, pushing the food around on the plate. In that moment, he looked like a petulant, petty brat, and it took all your strength not to reach across the table and slap it out of his hand.

"Maybe speak up next time. Or better yet, you could cook for a change then, since you seem to always have a smart remark about it!"

Viktor set down his fork. The lines between his brows furrowed.

"Don't speak to me that way please," he said, meeting your gaze. "I understand you may be frustrated, but I was just stating my preference. Something I thought you would know, since we do live and spend much of our time together, do we not?"

Anything else he may have said after the first statement didn't matter. You were already in an angry mood, and very much did not appreciate being told how to act.

"Don't police my fucking tone, Viktor. I'll speak however I want to dammit!"

He said nothing, picked up his fork again, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. The wall was slowly rising between the two of you once more. Viktor didn't wait for you to finish your food. He took his dishes, stood up, and walked off, the sound of his cane tapping against the tiles echoing too loudly in the space. You did your own dishes that night, and he did his.

Now there was a warmth lacking, even as the mattress dipped and sighed with every toss and turn. You were doing your best to keep your back to the other. It hurt, but your prides were nearly as sharp as your minds.

One of you had to break. You didn't want it to be you.

The loud banging noise from your upstairs neighbor finally did something.

"Goddammit, that idiot dropped something again," you complained.

"Someone please ban him from buying anymore hideous garden statues. That balcony is straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare," Viktor agreed.

You snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

"Am I only useful when I'm entertaining you?" he asked softly.

"Shut up. You know that's not true," you finally turned to face him.

"Then..."

"Viktor, I swear."

"That denial implies you care for me. Please, show and not just tell me," he requested sweetly.

"Oh yeah? Show you how, exactly?"

"I'm cold. I miss your warmth. You are cruel when you take away my routinely expectations."

"Fine. Come here," you finally reached out, and clasped his hand in yours.

This wasn't going to completely fix all the underlying emotional distress you were both dealing with, and it certainly wasn't going to fully rid what had transpired. But it was a start, made all the more worth it when he closed the gap, arms already wrapping around you tightly.

"I hate it when we fight," he whispered.

"Me too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"I'm sorry too. I should not have nitpicked so much, and I should have realized policing your tone wasn't going to make things go well."

NSFW AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! MINORS DNI PLS !!!

Viktor gasped, the sound breathy as it fell from his beautiful lips, now slightly swollen from how much you'd kissed and nipped at them. Your hands were in his hair, and you delighted in his reactions with every sharp tug. His amber eyes were dark. They gazed up into yours, practically begging for more more more.

You were happy to indulge.

"Tilt your head back a bit more for me," you rasped in his ear, pushing him back against the pillows. He complied easily.

"Please...," he groaned.

You pressed another kiss to his pulse point. It was one of his more sensitive area, and wasn’t helped when you followed it up with more kisses on his beauty marks.

He sighed.

“You always kiss me like you’re discovering oxygen for the first time again.”

"Because you always take my breath away." You murmured in response. You knew he was going to tell you off for such a stupidly predictable statement, and he did. You shrugged and kept kissing him again and again, silencing any more protests he had with your choice of words.

He nipped at your lower lip, enjoying the small little hiss you let out. He loved that. It never grew old.

His lips left yours, reluctantly, but moved on to your flushed cheeks and down your jaw. Viktor’s hands began gently trailing down your body, tracing and touching and feeling, committing you to memory. Everything about you was perfect, and he was in awe of it all.

As if to translate his thoughts through touch, he squeezed your thighs. He especially had a thing for them, always had. It was like they were made for him to hold.

“You’re so touchy already, Viktor? Insatiable,” you teased.

"But you love it when I can’t keep my hands to myself. You can't lie to me about that,” he cooed in a soft, lilting tone. His fingers traced along your thighs again, digging into the soft flesh.

“Yeah, yeah. enjoy that smug look while you still can,” you grumbled, not denying his words.

You suddenly lunged at him, kissing a trail down his body, giggling to yourself at his surprised yelp.

"Hey!" he laughed breathlessly, his stomach doing somersaults as you kissed along his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt your lips press to his skin. He loved when you did this, especially when you would leave soft little marks on his hips.

And speaking of that. You were currently working away at his hips now, trying to hold back the urge to just sink your teeth into him.

He couldn't stop the soft sighs and moans that escaped him. Gods, the touch of your lips on his delicate skin was sending shivers throughout his body.

"You don't have to be ah… gentle all the time." he murmured breathlessly, his fingers now the ones tangled in your hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Just bite me already, coward," he demanded.

He liked when you were a bit more rough with him. In fact, he preferred it. You not treating him like he was fragile. It made him feel better than being treated like a priceless doll, hidden away behind locked glass.

“Fuck, finally.” With his permission explicitly given, you finally sink your teeth down into him.

He let out a sharp moan, his hips rolling up a bit automatically.

"Keep going, please." he whispered. “Keep proving to me you’ll keep me warm for the rest of our days.”

You looked up at him, so wonderfully vulnerable and so violently true. His emotions were etched onto every angle of his face. Viktor was never once to mince words when it came to acts of passion, and you were fully reminded of exactly why you adored him so.

“I will. You’re forgiven,” you smiled. “Consider this worship my apology to you, and your acceptance, yours to me.”

You slowly pushed his legs apart, practically aching with the reverence and love and affection you felt for him. You could feel his breath hitch as yours ghosted over his inner thighs.

If this was how you two were to make up after a fight, maybe you should engage in conflict more often, you mused to yourself. It was going to be a slow, feverish night.

[readychilledwine]

can we have rhysand with an emotional reader again? maybe meetings made her feel unsupported

A Heavy Burden

Summary - After a long day of tense negotiations, Rhysand finds his wife wondering if this all was worth it.

Warnings - mental health, implied misunderstanding and communication, implied Azriel was illiterate fan theory, slight misogynistic thing when you consider the places reader was dealing with

A/n - Slowly but surely, you all are about to see the mass amount of things I have queued from old and new requests. All almost 48 and counting of them 🫠 2025 goals include getting better at getting to what is sent to me faster, along with finding a better system for requests so I'm maybe only working with 5 at a time instead of pressuring myself to put out requests instantly.

✨️Rhysand Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

The clanging of your crown in the marbled floor was the first thing that caught Rhysand's attention. The second was you sitting on the balcony in your dress, in the middle of a cold night, just being still. Today had been, for a lack of better terms, a nightmare. 

Your proposal for remodeling the Illyrian camps had been met with conflict and comments regarding if you truly had power.

Your proposal for creating a shelter system for females and children in Hewn City was met with questions of your status and abilities.

Your family dinner at home hadn't even been safe from remarks from the Inner Circle that he knew had you questioning how they saw you.

He shouldn't have been surprised by you doing this by tossing the symbol of your power aside like it was nothing. Your ideas were frequently met with debate, tension, and sometimes, his advisors screaming like children at each other. As a test, you once had him present the idea you had for it. It had been met with excitment until the passing of the paprrs was signed and stamped by you.

You had a habit of smiling in the face of adversity. Taking a gentle approach instead of using the authority he had given you. You had become the kindness to his image of cruelty. A match many felt was odd but truly made by the Cauldron for balance. You shouldered it all well, but even you, his strong wife, had a breaking point. 

Rhys moved with near silence to you, lowering himself behind you and knowing it was serious this time when you didn't make a joke over his knees popping. “Talk to me,” he murmured as he pulled you to him, wings appearing to wrap around you as if they were a shield.

You only sighed, chin resting on your knees, “I feel insufficient. I feel like no one believes in me. I feel like I'm just here as a glorified placeholder.”

Rhysand hummed, kissing the skin of your bare shoulder, “What about today do you feel made you feel that way?”

“How everything I purposed for the two areas begging the most for change was met. Illyria acknowledges that the camps are rundown. I purpose a cycle of upgrades, funded by us, by the way, that would allow the camps to be safer, warmer, and have more resources. I am told I don't understand Illyrians and what the camps need despite my plans being based on the needs given to Cassian and I.”

You took a breath, eyes shutting to relax and fight tears before continuing. “When we then spend the second portion of our day in Hewn City. I am addressing the so-called concern for female and children resources. It is meant with your uncle screaming at a more forward moving male that I'm powerless. I have no clue what females need, which is odd since I am one. Then, lastly, my proposals do not matter.”

Rhys nodded, nose buried in your hair to calm himself at the memory of everything, “Then we come home and instead of being met with support-”

“Our family tells me I need to take my heart out of things and start acting like a ruthless High Lord and stop offering mercy. That that is the only way fae will ever actually respect me."

“Thus attacking your character when you were already in a fragile state and needing support instead of, well, we will call it constructive criticism, though, I know it did not feel that way.” His voice was soft in your ear, offering that comfort you had been seeking.  “And, y/n, your heart does not need to be taken out of the conversation. Your heart is why I pursued you. It's why we are married. Why I didn't care a mating bond had landed into place yet. Your heart chose me. It is precious to me. It belongs in the decisions we, as High Lord and Lady, make.”

Another soft kiss was placed on your shoulder. Then the nape of your neck, pressing in  as if he could make every nerve in your body calm down with just the strength of his love. “I will handle Azriel and Amren,” he assured you. “Though, I do suspect Azriel realized his comment came across much harsher than intended.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, “He's 538 years old. He's been with you all and consistently speaking and socializing for over 525 years. He shouldn't continue to be coddled for his childhood illiteracy and lack of social understanding, especially when we hold a barely 21 year old Feyre to higher standards.”

You felt his shift, the deep sigh as his forehead touched the back of your neck, “He doesn't mean to be harsh with you. Please consider what he does for a living, who he is normally dealing with.”

You nodded, “But he also needs to consider time and place then.”

“He knows, trust me.” You did chuckle at that, knowing your husband was more than likely being yelled at for access to you. His calloused hand moved into the dip of your dress, stopping once it rested over your heartbeat. “This is the most beautiful thing in my world. The most important thing.” He subconsciously synced his breathing to yours, only content once the two of you were in harmony. “I know a heart can be a heavy burden, darling. I know it seems easier to shut it out right now. I know it feels like you should become more cold. I know you're hurting.”

The tears began then. Your thumb moving to wipe them away, “I just feel wearing my heart on my sleeve is counterproductive to what the Court needs-”

“The court needs more of it, actually,” he immediately stopped you, knowing where this was going. “The court as a whole needs more care and heart, Y/n. Change begins when one person cares enough to push for it, and even the smallest stone will make ripples. You have inspired me to take better control of Illyria and Hewn City. You have inspired countless in Velaris to work to help the Court's lower income families. You have inspired my heart, my darling.”

He pulled you impossibly closer, “Be glad of your big heart, y/n. Pity those who don't feel anything at all." One last soft kiss touched the back of your neck. “Come bathe with me. Let's wash today away.”

The idea had your body already relaxing as he stood, knees popping again. “Old ass male.” And there it was. A sign of you. A sign you would be okay. A sign you would fight.

“Cruel little thing,” he purred back. “Mocking my war injuries.” He pulled you up before a tendril of darkness and starlight handed him your crown. “Put this back on. You dropped it.”

[whoskimii]

I WANNA T★UCH ON YOU . . .

★ fuckin' with him and playin' ft. choso ! ★

˖˚₊ warnings ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ nsfw, smut, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, mommy kink, subby choso, you pull on his hair, he's kinky overall :3

˖˚₊ wc ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 935. (kinda short, mb :3)

“hey...” you giggled as choso climbed on top of you, sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck. “what ?” he grumbled, his voice slightly muffled by your warm, tingly flesh.

“i'm still focusin' on the game, y'know.” you told him with a soft smile as you watched him tug on his pants. “focus on me instead.” he ordered grumpily, taking the controller from your hands to put it aside.

you smiled and slid your fingers in his soft, dark hair before gently tugging on his pigtails, which earned a whine from him. “don't do that... y'know i'm sensitive...” he tucked his head in your neck, embarrassed by the sound that just escaped his pouty lips.

“that's why i did that.” you said cheekily. you gently untied his hair, letting the full length of it fall down on his shoulders. “you should wear your hair down more often.” you remarked, planting a kiss on his cheek.

a tiny huff escaped his nose as he found himself in only his boxers. the thin fabric barely concealed the way his needy cock was beginning to churn up against his thigh.

“i need you...” he muttered as he left sloppy, lazy kisses on your shoulder. “i can tell.”

who were you to say no to your baby boy ?

with a heavy sigh, you lifted your hips and slid off your panties. you kicked them off your ankles and the mere sight of it made your lover perk up. “been too long since i touched you.” he remarked confidently. “it's only been two days, choso.” you giggled, shaking your head lightly as you feigned disappoinment.

his shoulders slumped. “isn't that a long while...?” he tilted his head, his bottom lip standing out in an adorable pout. the view caused you to coo at him. “aw, baby... if you think 's been too long, then i'll let you have it.” you kissed his forehead.

at your lovely words, he beamed happily.

before you could climb onto his lap, choso took off his boxers, freeing his painfully hard length. “it really wants you, y'know...” he stared at his leaky tip, already spurting droplets of precum just from the simple sight of his own dick.

you straddled him and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “you ready, honey ?” you gently whispered.

as a response, choso nodded vigorously, which caused a giggle to erupt from your pretty lips. “aw, good boy.” with that, you finally sank down on his hard length. his fingernails dug into the fat of your plushy hips before he let his forehead fall against your shoulder.

you bounced up and down and let choso guide your lazy movements.

he was in his own little world.

here he was, whimpering, jaw slack and eyes rolled back as the heavenly feeling of your warm, sloppy hole around him overwhelmed his poor body.

you took the occasion to sneak your hand behind him and grab the controller he had snatched away from you just a few minutes ago.

you continued riding him, although not really making an effort to speed up. “that's it, baby...” you praised quietly, pretending to focus on him when your eyes were actually settled onto the screen behind your lover.

sure, he was needy but you wanted to keep playing.

“mommy...” he babbled, a short trail of drool decorating the corner of his lips. “mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly. “that's me. 'm here, angel.”

you decided to finally look down at your pretty boy, appreciating the sight. “you gonna cum for mommy ? you gonna cum for mommy, sweetie ?” you gently whispered, repeating yourself almost as if he was too dumb to understand the first time.

in this situation, he was too dumb to understand both times.

at his lack of reaction, you tapped one of his cheeks with your hand. you didn't slap him, but the force of the contact was enough to make him twitch inside you.

what a dirty slut.

“ngh—!” he moaned at the contact and fluttered his hazy eyes open. he had a dazed, almost clueless expression. “huh...?” he swallowed thickly. “i said,” you whispered before tugging his hair backwards. “you gonna cum for mommy or nah ?”

he whined as you pulled on his hair, his hips subconsciously thrusting up into your cunnie to meet your movements. “mhm ! yes...!” he nodded vigorously, mewling pathetically as your meaty ass slapped against his thighs. “gonna come...” he allowed his lips to glide along your collarbones. “can i... can i come inside you ?pleasepleaseplease— wanna come in your pussy !” he babbled, on the verge of coming.

you cupped his cheeks. “oh, honey... of course you can. this pussy's yours.” he shivered at your words.

it only took him one, two, three, four thrusts to shoot his thick load inside your gummy walls. you sighed at the warm sensation, keeping him as deep as you could.

he moaned, his eyes rolling backwards as he choked on his own saliva. “mommy... so good...” he breathed.

you even had to keep your hand around his neck to make sure he was still breathing.

as he finally regained his senses, he clung onto you, burying his nose between your breasts. he lifted his head to look at you but— huh ? why were you looking behind him ?

he turned his head and whined softly as he noticed that you had been playing the entire time. “mommy...” he mumbled with a tinge of disappointment.

“oops. sorry, honey.” you offered him a sheepish, apologetic smile before planting a kiss on his forehead.

based on this ask.

[rockscanfly]

Noshir Dalal's (Charles Smith's VA and the man who largely shaped Charles into the singular character that he is, found here on tumblr @noshirdalal and on Cameo [in case you have your own questions you'd like answered]) beautiful response to my cameo prompt:

Q: You’ve mentioned before that Charles likes to read. What is his favorite book? Also, you’ve talked some about cowboy poetry and how you think it’s something Charles might have connected to. Can we get a favorite poem of his in his voice?

Besides the fact that this reading of "The Men That Don't Fit In" was just plain fantastic and moving as all get out, I really admire Noshir's choice of poem.

Similar to the poem’s author and his simultaneous celebration and castigation of the prototypical outlaw, Charles always came off to me as someone who loves his fellow gang members deeply but who didn't share their illusions about themselves or how they function within the larger context of the world around them.

Charles makes several remarks throughout the game ('Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?' 'All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?' 'The amount of hell we raised, we’re owed some back') that indicate a high level of self-awareness about what it is the gang ACTUALLY does and how they're perceived by the outside world. 

Arthur makes some gestures at this understanding throughout the game, but his moral musings are undercut by his inability to stand his ground against Dutch throughout the numerous acts of outright cruelty his found-father perpetuates in Chapters 4-6 (Arthur barks, but he never bites).

Arthur and John have their gripes and moans, but ultimately the two of them stick it out until the bloody end. Charles is the first person to really break free of the fate the gang is hurtling towards.

In a tragedy built on the back of it's main cast's inability to cope with a changing world, Charles is arguably the character who exerts the most agency. He makes the decision in Chapter 6--when the circumstances that once tied him to the gang have dramatically altered--to cut loose.

Because of this choice, he lives.

To me, at least, this poem--and Noshir's brilliant delivery--isn't about Charles himself. Or at least not just about himself.

Its him talking about the Van der Linde gang. Arthur and John, his second family. Wild, brilliant, bold, true, free--and gone. With nothing but graves to show for the lives they lived.

Charles isn't reciting a poem--he's reciting a eulogy.

Transcript:

Hey Rocks. Um, thank you for your patience with all of this. 

Yeah, so we know that Charles reads and I know that we’ve talked before about a scene that apparently didn’t make it into the game, where after Charles’ interaction with Micah—and you know, yeeting him across the camp—Arthur comes upon him reading a book. 

That uh, that scene affected me in a major way and I think it's probably the reason I portray Charles the way I do. 

A guy who can physically manhandle pretty much anyone at camp having the mental and emotional maturity and self-regulation—if you can’t tell I’m a new dad [laughs]—to find a way to deal with his anger that doesn’t involve acting out and breaking stuff? 

Told me a tremendous amount about Charles, especially because what I’d been introduced to was the idea that Charles was a really violent, really angry maniac. 

And I love the idea that he’s really into poetry. I like poetry a lot. Actually when I was working on that latest skin for Yone (spl?) for League of Legends, I learned from the writing team that cowboy poetry is, like, a thing. 

And so I decided to look some up. And I like to think that maybe that this is a poem that Charles would have had in that book he was reading. 

The poem is called “The Men That Don’t Fit In” by Robert W. Service. Fitting, I think, especially for Charles for a number of reasons. I hope you like it. 

[Noshir goes into Charles’ voice and recites below poem by Robert W. Service (British-born Canadian Poet, 1874-1958), published in his book Songs of the Yukon (1907)]

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in, A race that can’t stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and they rove the flood, And they climb the mountain’s crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don’t know how to rest. If they just went straight they might go far; They are strong and brave and true; But they’re always tired of the things that are, And they want the strange and new. They say: “Could I find my proper groove, What a deep mark I would make!” So they chop and change, and each fresh move Is only a fresh mistake. And each forgets, as he strips and runs With a brilliant, fitful pace, It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, Forgets that his prime is past, Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead, In the glare of the truth at last. He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance; He has just done things by half. Life’s been a jolly good joke on him, And now is the time to laugh. Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost; He was never meant to win; He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone; He’s a man who won’t fit in.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

Click here for Series Masterlist.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI) smut, virgin reader!, unrequited love, heavy angst, reader gets hurt, kinda friends with benefits, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, language

Word Count: 7216

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'WASTE' by Kxllswxtch

Dean's eyes narrowed as he treated your wounded hand; you smiled a little to yourself as he talked about how you sometimes behaved recklessly. If only he knew how much you cherished the moments when he protected you during a hunt.

You had been with him and Sam for a year now, and it was difficult to resist falling in love with him. You weren't sure when you fell in love with him, but you sensed it from the moment he smiled at you, or maybe in a random moment. Every time you glanced into his green eyes, you felt a sense of admiration. You had absolutely no complaints. 

He complained as he was working to treat your wound, “You must know, I will consider kicking you out of the team if you keep acting like that.”

It began to rain in your house's weak light. Your heart was filled with fright as he took care of your wound in your house, where you were alone, and it seemed so calm; you were afraid of losing that precious, fragile time with Dean, not of ghosts. You weren't afraid of ghosts. 

You asked naively, as if you had no idea what he was talking about, “Like what?” When he grabbed your hand too tightly unintentionally, and that sudden moment hurt you a bit, you attempted to draw it in toward yourself with a pained gasp. 

With a look of regret on his face, you looked at him with understanding. 

“When I tell you to get behind me, you must do what I say, or when I tell you to stop, you must stop.”

“Remember the previous case in point,” you sighed. “If I did what you told me, we'd both be dead.” You looked up to see how he was feeling. 

“It was only a single exception,” Dean immediately defended himself, rolling his eyes at you. 

“However, if I had listened to you, I would have been killed. You too,” you mutely remarked. You weren't attempting to put the blame on him. You were aware that he was guarding Sam and you constantly. You dropped your eyes to your eyes as he looked at you, feeling instantly overwhelmed and overpowered by his piercing stare. “I promise that when I go hunting, I'm not being careless. I truly listen to you, but you must have some degree of faith in me. Since I joined you and Sam months ago, I'm convinced he has more faith in me.”

You wanted Dean to think highly of you, someone whom he could always trust, just as you trusted him with your life. You wanted him to trust you, your strength, and your feelings. Even if you were quite successful, you felt that he still seemed to be unsure about you.

This time, instead of cracking one of his jokes to lighten the mood, he seemed to be deep in focus. When he appeared so confused and like he was in pain on the inside, you wondered what exactly he was thinking. Though you didn't think you could stop him from ruminating at that moment, you still wanted to help him if he was in pain, calm him down if he was feeling anxious, and comfort him if he was feeling uneasy. 

The sense of worthlessness was an emotion you wanted to stay away from. 

When he noticed that you weren't as happy as you had been minutes before, he stated in a dry voice, “I don't want you to get killed or hurt because of me. I do trust you, but you have to stop acting reckless and try to save me by endangering yourself.”

“I wasn't putting myself at risk. You're exaggerating,” you said as you continued to examine his hands while he continued to take care of your wounded hand. 

“You're very stubborn, aren't you?” In an attempt to soften the thick air, Dean smiled back weakly. 

You chuckled and tried to catch his gaze by raising your head as you drew nearer and moved on to where you were sitting. “But Sam thinks I'm the easiest one to get along with and easiest to persuade,” you said. 

Dean winked at you suspiciously and said, “Hey, I guess you were right about something.”

“About what?” 

“He's dumb when it comes to reading people, huh?” 

You muttered, “Asshole,” and gave him a little leg kick. It made him laugh, which made you joyful. 

Dean let go of your hand, gave you a long, odd smile, and checked his watch after making sure you were okay and being well taken care of. You could feel the joy leave your body when you realized he wasn't going to stay or anything. You had no idea how to get him to stay with you, at least for a day, at your home. Still, he was always on the move. It's fortunate that he didn't hear how quickly your heart was beating, how much you wanted his touch, and everything else.

You said in a hushed tone, as if you didn't give a damn whether he said ‘yes,’ but you cared like crazy. “You can spend the night in here if you wish.”

“I think I have other plans for tonight,” he remarked, flashing you his adorable grin and a wink. “We move so much throughout the day. The town must have missed me.”

You chuckled slightly and said, "By whom exactly, Mr. Loverman?” You noticed that the rain was falling more quickly through the glass. 

Dean gave you a haughty look and stated, “By ladies, of course,” which made you jealous, but you didn't want to show it to him and ruin your friendship.

Playing with the fabric of your sweatpants, you said, “Boys. They come and go.” You attempted to ignore the vivid images of Dean with other women that were playing out in your head. It was unavoidable, but you didn't want to get jealous and mess up everything. “New ones appear all the time. Don't be worried about the women who missed you.” 

He smiled and replied, “You're a smartass, aren't you?” You felt encouraged to continue since he didn't appear to be offended or anything.

“And you're overconfident in yourself. Have you yet to be rejected by someone? Not even once?” You said it inquisitively. 

“Just once,” Dean remarked humorously. It eluded you whether he was being serious or joking. At times, it was difficult to understand him.

You tried to chuckle as you remarked, “Must be fun.”  You sounded like you were going to choke though.

Dean spoke for a little while before attempting to get up and leave your home, but the electricity unexpectedly cut off, leaving you gasping in surprise. You backed away from him with a shy grin, not because you were afraid, just because you realized you had touched his knee. 

You said, “Ah, it doesn't look like the rain is going to stop soon,” and to your relief, he sat back on the seat. As it was pouring heavily, you expressed your gratitude to God and Michael for their generosity and compassion, which you felt had come once in a lifetime.

At least once, you prayed that night's rain would never cease so Dean wouldn't go. 

"Yeah," he said in a dry voice. It was your hope that he wouldn't feel stuck with you and let down. Dean was aware that although you weren't terrified of ghosts, you were fearful of being alone yourself in the dark. “Do you want me to light a candle?”

You timidly replied, “I guess I don't have any.”

“All right.”

“Are you still planning to leave or spend the night?” You tried not to seem enthusiastic as you asked, but with anticipation. You hoped that his ability to read your face in the dark would be poor.

“I suppose it's best if I stay with you. You're a lovely young girl who, in the end, is more terrified of the dark than ghosts. As a gentleman,” he murmured, moving to a more comfortable position on the coach. “It's my responsibility to protect and repay you tonight, don't I?”

You laughed as though he had made a joke, but in reality, you were only finding it difficult to hide your happiness at his answer that he would stay. The angels seemed to fill your heart with such incredible bliss. If it would force him to spend his time with you in that manner, you may put yourself at ongoing risk. You wished he understood how much you valued each and every word he said.

“How about you, though?” Dean asked out of the blue. Although his face was concealing himself in the darkness, you could tell by the tone of his words that he was perplexed. 

You asked, perplexed, not understanding what he was talking about, “What about me?”

“I haven't seen you with...someone in a long time since you joined us,” he said. You may argue that he spoke slowly in order to carefully select his words so as not to offend you or cause you distress. “Actually, I've never seen you with someone nor heard you talking about anyone.” 

You attempted to give him a confident smile, but all you managed to do was give him off an odd look. “Uhm,” you stammered out while attempting to think of anything to say without looking foolish. “Those hunts are challenging and exhausting.” You attempted to explain to him, “I'm not interested in seeing someone right now, and I can't find time for myself.” You were hoping he wouldn't dig too much.

You weren’t the best when it came to lying. 

As if he wasn't okay with your explanation, he grumbled, “We've been staying here for a month, and we are not even that busy.”

You wouldn't tell Dean that you were an inexperienced one in your mid-20s, as you knew he was very skilled with women. You just could not possibly make yourself look so foolish in front of him. You were unsure what he would think about you. Definitely, it was best to remain silent.

You said, “I'm just not interested and feel like I have no time for anyone,” trying not to sound like lying. Although it wasn't a total lie, how in the world could you admit that you were truly interested in someone, him, and that's the reason you weren't interested in anybody else?

You wanted he could read the words on your lips and your voice so you wouldn't have been trying so hard to explain things to him while hiding yourself away from him for so long.

Love was something that both wanted to be hidden and to be revealed. It was complicated and bizarre.

Dean finally responded, “You're right, actually,” after giving you a long stare. “You should avoid things that might distract the focus of your attention. Men might easily split your soft and lovely heart in half.”

You asked, irritated, “Why do you say that?” You always believed that since you avoided people so well, nobody would ever consider hurting you or anything like that.

As he moved a little closer to you, Dean smirked and remarked, “Like you say,” which made you tense. You couldn't see him well, but his smile was joyful. Before continuing, he arched an eyebrow and nibbled his bottom lip. “I'm ladies' man. I read women really well, and you're easy to see through.”

You said to him, “You really are a ladies' man. But I'd say you are illiterate.” 

Dean gave you a small chuckle and made the decision not to push you too far or make you feel more shy. And anyhow, he wouldn't allow you to talk about males, not right now. You did not require guidance since you did well on your own. “Hey, I see that you’re a little sharp today. After taking care of your wounded hand, I made the decision to spend the night with you and look how you treat me. You're being ungrateful.”

He made a false furious look at you, and you couldn't stop laughing. “You do realize, though, that I have once again saved your ass. I'm beginning to feel like you must repay me for acting as your guard. Like an angel.” You gave him a little smile and added, “That means something, right?”

Dean said, “It does,” with the same lighthearted tone as you, his eyes examining your face up close in the dark as your smile slowly faded from the corners of your lips.

You gasped in surprise and fright when an unexpected lightning strike struck with such force it seemed like the sky had been split in half. Dean laughed, seeing as how you really jumped on the coach. 

“I can't believe you're not afraid of ghosts, witches and all, but just some raindrops,” he stated in astonishment. Your pulse beat like crazy when you felt his breath close to you, but Dean probably assumed it was because you were frightened.

Both of your arms and legs touched, but you tried not to react. “I'm not afraid of rainy weather or something,” you replied. “It's normal to be jumpy when an unexpected noise like lightning appears.”

In an attempt to annoy you, Dean said in a persuasive voice, “It was just simple lightning. Many things might come as unexpected. You can't always get scared.”

You said, “Like what things?” as if in plea. 

You stared at his wonderfully shaped lips in the darkness as he spoke in a whisper. Your lips felt so dry that you wanted to lick them. Although you hoped he didn't notice, at that point you weren't really worried. Yes, you were a virgin with no prior experience, and you were very determined to keep your body and mind closed off to others, but things seemed different when you met Dean. It wasn't that you were old-fashioned-minded; you just wanted to be with someone you cared for, someone you loved. 

You were aware that the desire to be near him was more than simply passion; you wanted to touch his face, jaw, hair, and every other part of him. Your soul yearned to be near him desperately. 

Dean failed to notice when another lightning strike made you jump. It wasn't the finest moment for him to think clearly. There was always something enjoyable to do. Given that you've known each other for a while and that it must have been a while since you allowed someone to touch you, it seemed appropriate to blow off steam with each other. It was, after all, a difficult and somewhat tiresome a few hours earlier. 

Just when you thought you were going to pass out, Dean suddenly captured your lips and began to give you an urgent, intense kiss. Yes, you were somewhat inexperienced, but at least you've had a kiss. Quite some time ago, indeed. You made an effort to calm down, returned his kisses with your best effort, let your racing thoughts disappear into the darkness, and gave yourself over to that single perfect moment. 

You sucked Dean's lower lip, and your fingers stroked his jaw as his skillful tongue dominated yours. He must have been encouraged by your response because he moaned a bit as he shoved you back on the coach and pushed you to lie under him. He kept giving you firm kisses throughout.

His muscular neck was stroked by your hands as you drew him in between your knees. You shuddered as he put his body between your legs. It was the realization that your body was missing something that you were unable to identify. Your entire body exuded passion and desire. It hurt to need Dean so much. You had no idea how you had been able to contain yourself for so long.

You were longing to touch him all over.

Dean moved his lips to your throat, allowing you to take a deep breath. You were unable to contain a giggle as he violently sucked on your neck and throat. You realized you were sensitive there.

“Don't keep those lovely noises from me. Are we not the only ones alone in here?” While he boldly touched your skin beneath your shirt, Dean whispered. Though you urged yourself to relax down a little, you felt like your heart would burst at any minute.

It was possible that he might back off if you revealed to him that you were a virgin. It was certain that he would. You attempted to pretend that you had experience too and that it had simply been a long time because he was just interested in hook-ups, and that's what you were going to go through. It hurt to admit it, but maybe things would change.

You never would have imagined that you would feel that way about Dean, and you refused to miss the opportunity to be with him by telling him you weren't deflowered just yet. All you had to do was appear bold and avoid raising suspicion with your awkwardness.

Your cheeks flushed red, but at least the room was completely dark, keeping your almost scared gaze and timid finger movements hidden from him.

Your hands gently slipped inside his t-shirt, touching every muscle in so as to savor it. Your breath quivered with anticipation as your palm brushed every part of him. You could never let someone else touch you in the same manner that Dean did. 

Dean's eyes were on you, and as he nibbled your lower lip, you urged him to remove his shirt. You could see he was smiling a little bit when he pulled it off. That you were prepared to go one step beyond thrilled him. 

You must have pushed your injured hand a little bit hard when you gasped in little pain after both of your hands reached his back and you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles beneath your palms. 

“Hey, be careful and take your time there. Remember that all you are is a wounded gazelle under my mercy. You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” As he worked on your clothing, Dean said in amusement.

You moaned in surprise as one of his hands slipped into your shirt and gave you a strong grip on your nipple. “Maybe I am,” you murmured, almost laughing, but the noise you made turned into a moan. 

You made a little movement beneath him. It seemed as though your body needed something from you or him, but you were completely unaware of what was going on. All you knew was that you were desperate for Dean to do something. 

You gasped somewhat alarmed as your nipple hardened between his skilled fingertips. As he slid on top of you and played with your tits, you got excited more and more, assuming that he wanted this as much as you did. You thought for a moment that it was actually romantic considering it was all dark and raining like hell outside, like the whole heaven wanted you to be with him.

You nailed Dean's back with boldness, crushed your lips to his once more, kissing him with desire while trying your hardest not to show Dean how shy you were in fact. It relieved you to hear him groan a bit in your mouth. You moaned quietly into his lips as soon as his thumb started playing with your nipples once again. 

Dean moved quickly to help you remove your shirt by pulling back. You were shivering a little, but even though he was making your skin hot, you would have blamed the room's cool temperature if he had asked.

His lips made their way to your nipples, where he expertly sucked them with his tongue. Your back arched as his lips nibbled your breasts delicately, and you forgot about your envious thoughts about how many other women he had treated like this. This time, you were unable to stop your loud moan from filling the room. 

Dean gave both of your nipples little licks and a firm kiss after sucking your tits for many minutes, making them slippery with his spit, and making you cry out beneath his body. You didn't know how pleasurable it was to be with someone doing such things.You were aware that you were attempting to create friction by placing your leg on his hip. 

He whispered to your lips, “I bet you're fucking dripping there,” as his hands gently moved into your sweatpants. He was trying to see every expression on your face in the dark. His voice was rough as he asked, “Are you wet enough to take me?”

You managed to say something like “Hmm,” which is sufficient. “I think I am.” 

“We must be sure,” Dean remarked in a lighthearted manner. “Let's see.” 

Dean slid his fingers slowly inside your sweatpants. He was grinning a little over you when he heard your heartbeat. As you waited for what was going to happen, you gripped onto his shoulder.

His fingers touched your underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise as he gave you a soft touch. Every second, you felt like you were becoming wetter. You believed you might orgasm at any minute since your clit was so sensitive to him. You wanted more because of how ethereal and gentle his hands were. You needed to raise your hip to him and squeeze his bisceps in order to receive what your body craved. 

Satisfied, Dean moved your underwear aside as he watched you twitch under him in desperation. He rubbed your clit some more, then used two fingers to feel how wet you were. 

Dean kept pushing back on his groan. He said in surprise, “Fuck, I knew you'd be wet, but you are literally leaking there.” You had no idea whether or not it satisfied him. All you wanted to do was the right thing. Regardless of what it was. 

You lied when you said, “It's been very, very long,” since you had no idea what to say. The way he responded truly made you feel a little awkward. 

You felt better after sharing quick kisses on the lips with him. “Good,” was Dean's sharp reply. “How many times can I get you to come to me tonight? You deserve appropriate treatment in light of the effort you have been doing these last few months, you know. I must reward you.”

Encouraged, you had a blossoming sensation of bliss and anticipation in your chest. You wished that light would never return and that you and him would always be in the dark together in that very moment.

He touched you during hunts and other times to make jokes, but you didn't used to be physical like that. Watching him being intimate with other women except you was agonizing. But now you knew you could touch him whatever you pleased right now. Just like you imagined when you thought about him, you touched yourself. 

Dean palmed your moisture in his hand, causing you to both pant into each other's mouths. You felt a little uneasy as one of his fingers began to gently press into your entrance since you weren't sure if it would hurt that much or not. You just didn't tell him anything since you didn't want to spoil things. All you did was wait expectantly.

He said, “You're a tight one, aren't you?” as he kept his finger inside of you. You were glad Dean wasn't being swift with you. You withdrew your lips from biting and captured his, pushing him into doing what he needed or desired as well. 

Dean expected that you would be tight, but he didn't anticipate that level of tightness. He was taken aback by how tightly your walls clamped around his finger, and he couldn't help getting thrilled at the thought of feeling your cock around him. He was shivering with excitement coursing through his veins. 

You bit your lip hard in pain as he pressed his thick finger a little further. You didn't make any sound that might have stopped him. Dean would stop in an instant, you knew. 

He must have realized how uncomfortable you were, though, because he began to touch your clit more in an effort to prepare you to become accustomed to him and make you wet enough to take him. 

As he worked on your clit, he remarked, somewhat smirking, “It seems we need to get you ready for me; otherwise, it might be painful a bit for you.”

“I'm prepared. Really,” you said, lifting your hips in the course of action. “You can go on.”

Dean groaned a bit and pressed his finger inside again. He used extreme caution. You whimpered and attempted to make yourself quiet by stealing kisses from him to silence your whimpers. 

Dean withdrew his finger and then thrust it back, not allowing you to say something. His abrupt movement caused your lips to parted in pleasure and enthusiasm. Even though there was still some discomfort, it was soon overshadowed by pleasure and desire as he began to properly finger you. You grabbed onto his shoulders because your pussy hurt from yearning. You tried to put your groaning mouth into Dean's, but he wouldn't let you kiss him. 

You could not help but let a moan out in ecstasy as your back arched when he gently pushed another finger and began to fuck you with them. You made a valiant effort, but it was impossible to avoid coming so quickly and effortlessly.

Dean moaned, “Give it to me,” realizing that you were making it difficult to come. “Come to me now. You're almost there; I know that.”

As soon as your climax hit, Dean grabbed your lips and planted a passionate kiss on it as he touched your chin with one hand, allowing you to ride your pleasure in between moans. 

Your hips rose to get more pleasure as though you could, your back arched, and your walls clenched hard as you rode your climax. Dean's experienced tongue expertly dominated yours as he murmured into your lips. He withdrew to give you a bit of time, and while he did so, he studied your face in the darkness, as if he wanted to remember each and every shadow that passed across your skin in the flickering light. 

He was at a loss as to why he had never touched you before. For a while, at least, it felt pleasant enough to become sidetracked. 

Your cheeks became scarlet as your climax wore on, but you were itching to go one step more. For that, you were ready. For a long while, you had been ready to give Dean everything. 

If he asked, there was nothing you wouldn't give away. 

You planted a hesitant kiss on him to gauge his reaction before your shaky hands made contact with his legs and through his trousers. You could see more of his face as your eyes grew used to the gloom. Your hands became braver as you watched him smile, and boldness invaded your body and thoughts. The sexual experience shouldn't be difficult. Particularly with him.

Shortly after your hand briefly ran over his hardened cock through his trousers, your fingers somewhat slid into his boxer. You were taking your time to gauge his reaction. You were hoping he wouldn't say no, draw a line, or worse, end it up.

You yearned to offer him the same pleasure that he gave you.

In a weak but hopeful voice, you asked, “Can I touch you?”

With a charming chuckle, Dean added, “You can do whatever you like.” His voice carried expectation, which made you thrilled even more.

You reached out and stroked his erect cock, feeling that it was safe to go a step further and meet his gaze with yours. His sly smile vanished from his mouth as he stifled a moan and shifted on top of you, his hand still resting on your thighs and legs. 

He said, “It seems like you're cold,” as soon as you began to touch him. 

You retracted your icy hand in an ashamed attempt to mumble a “sorry,” but Dean reacted swiftly and put your hand back to his aching cock. 

He responded, “We'll get you warm,” and helped you put your hand around his cock to feel closer to him and to give you the confidence to continue. “Your hand feels so good around me.”

Driven by his words, you felt each vein on his cock and then circled your fingers around it to memorize him. You weren't familiar with his length or anything because you weren't an expert on male anatomy, but he was thick, so it was difficult to properly wrap your hands around him. You reasoned that it would be best to take some action to get him to come. 

You moved your hands and began to rub him, trying not to feel shy as you stared into his eyes. Your chest was rising with excitement, and your breathing was heavy. His gasping for air made you pleased and aroused; all you had to do was give him the same pleasure. 

Dean told you, “You're doing so good,” in between strokes. 

You inquired quietly, “Do you like it?”

“I really like it,” Dean said as he planted a kiss on your neck. He paused at your sweatpants and began to carefully lower them with his hands. 

Your hands were moving more quickly on him, and your heart was racing. He felt larger in your grip. He was nearly there. But Dean gently stopped you, pushing your hands aside and planting a kiss on your lips. You sensed that the big move was about to happen.

He saw you were becoming stiff as he assisted you in taking down your sweatpants and underwear, so he questioned you suspiciously, “Are you nervous?”

You lied once more while waiting for him to remove his clothing. “No, of course, not,” you said. When he removed his boxer, you could have practically felt the chills beneath you. You had everything you had on the floor. “It's just cold in here.”

“Trust me, you'll feel warm very soon,” said Dean confidently. His tone had hints of dedication. 

You shifted slightly beneath him to find a more comfortable position. Luckily, there was plenty of room in the coach. You put your hands on Dean's back, feeling his hardness on your stomach, and you waited for him to do something already. Though plainly aroused and moist, you were still a little anxious. You

didn't want to come seem as inexperienced, though. You wished for this to keep going. 

“I do trust you.” That was true at least. 

Dean believed you.

While you waited, he took his cock and gave himself two or three strokes. Witnessing him stroking himself got you even more aroused.

Dean positioned himself on your entrance, making you tense up a little, then brushed his hard cock on your clit after making sure you were both ready. But you were determined to see it through to the end. It was almost like a chance to win him over in a romantic way. Maybe.

He pressed the tip of his cock, and you laid your hands on his back and nailed him like crazy. He was able to slide inside you very easily because of how wet you were, yet it was still uncomfortable and painful.

You bit your lip to suppress your agonizing groans and not to make him stop, so as not to seem like a wounded animal or anything.

Dean groaned over you, “Fuck, you are really tight,” pausing just before pulling away. It was difficult for him to fit inside completely.

You whispered to him, embarrassed, “Sorry,” attempting to calm down and let him in.

“Just relax,” Dean said, taking another position. You nodded to him quickly. 

He again pushed his cock inside of you. This time, your pussy was around him tightly, drawing him within. He let out a sigh of delight at that. Your eyes welled up with tears as he withdrew and used a forceful motion to push himself forward. It was as though he was slicing you in two. Thankfully, he was unaware that a few tears had trickled down from your eyes onto the coach. However, you were unable to cease whimpering in pain. 

Dean sensed when you were ready and gave himself a single, full thrust. You nailed his belly and back and moaned in agony this time because of his harsh moment. 

You were no longer a virgin while you were lying beneath him. Even though the man you loved was unaware that you had given him something unique, you knew that no matter what happened, you would never regret it. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. He could not believe how tight you were. Your walls were drawing him in, constricting around him all the while. If he was less experienced, he would have come inside you as soon as he entered your pussy. 

“I am,” you urged him to continue, your voice quivering. “Just give me a moment, please.”

Dean gave you a kiss to help you relax. He saw that you were a bit anxious and that you needed to wet yourself a little more before you could handle him. He was sure sloppy kisses would be helpful.

Dean stepped back after a while and questioned, “Are you ready now?” You were clenching around him, and his patience was getting thin.

You nodded to him, and Dean retreated and pushed inside again without waiting another moment. The way he fucked you was rough and painful for you. You didn't complain though, even if it was hard to get used to his size and pace in such a short amount of time. He moved slowly at first, but as you got wetter beneath him, he accelerated his pace.

Dean moaned, “You're taking me so well,” while fucking you in a rough way. His delighted tone and praises made your heart sing. “I like how tight you are.”

You only said, "For you." His compliments caused the anguish to become joy, and this time you didn't suppress your moans. You had no idea that you would enjoy this so much. 

“Oh yeah?” he said, teasing as he whispered into your neck, picking up speed. “You sound so sweet. Do you like the way I fuck you? I should have fucked your lovely tight cunt sooner.”

Your face turned red the moment he spoke dirty words into your ear. They were about how much he liked fucking you everything else. The whole room was filled with sloppy and obscene sounds that made you blush with shyness. You were becoming even more excited at the sound of his heavy balls hitting your pussy. You began to tighten up around him. Although you were trying to hold back to extend the moment, you were getting close. 

“This won't take long,” he groaned, getting his fingers tense around your flesh. It was difficult for Dean to control himself. You were tightening around him, whimpering beneath him. “Come to me. Come now!”

When Dean moved around a little inside of you, he started to fuck you harder and find your sensitive spot. With a groan, “Take it. Come on,” he said, fucking you senseless. 

You reached your climax and clenched him with his name on your lips as your screams became louder and you were unable to contain yourself any longer. Dean proceeded to fuck you throughout your climax by lifting your hips and drawing his body to you in order to receive more pleasure. You believed you might come again right there since your pussy was throbbing so much. 

After Dean made sure you rode your orgasm, he let out a deep grumble, pulled out his cock in between your startled gasps, and began to stroke himself. You became excited by his stroking himself on top of you, even though you had just rode your climax. 

When Dean began to empty himself on your thigh and stomach, you jumped. You waited for him to empty himself as you saw him spill his hot white ropes all over your body. You glared in shock as you watched him riding his pleasure.

You were no longer a virgin there, under him. It had happened. You were aware that he was only a friend and that the situation was really a bit awkward. You waited for remorse to surface, thinking that nothing would change with him, but it didn't. You didn't feel any sign of regret. Giving something unique to a loved one, even if it held no significance for them, was never wrong. After all, love was generous, and it always needed to consume the untouched places of your body and spirit.

With a low grunt, Dean moved your bodies on the coach and, to your astonishment, embraced you. It was obvious that he was satisfied. Dean grabbed the blanket that was hanging from the coach's corner and laid it over your bodies. You trembled as the heat took the place of the cold. You simply drew nearer to him to enjoy the moment because you had no idea what to do. You pondered whether this would occur once again. 

Jokingly, you said, “What now?” Still, a lot of questions raced through your head.

Dean sighed and said, “It's pretty late and seems like the rain won't stop any soon, so let's sleep.” You remained silent regarding what had transpired. 

Saying, “Okay,” you leaned into his embrace and made an effort to keep as close to him as you could. The thrill you had just had began to gradually fade away, leaving you alone yourself with despair and sadness. 

Dean remarked, “By the way,” before he closed his eyes. “Let's not talk about this to Sam or someone else, alright?” Though gentle and soothing, his words were sharp and cut you through. 

You said, “Sure,” immediately away. “Of course not.” 

As though nothing had occurred and you weren't naked in each other's arms, you told each other good night. Although it was awkward, you made the choice. When you made the decision to go all the way with him, you knew that was what would happen. 

You got out of bed before Dean did, picked up your clothes from the floor, and headed to the bathroom for a long shower. Whatever is done is done. It was irreversible; you convinced yourself. Nothing was a regret for you. You were relieved that it only happened with Dean. It was the appropriate decision for you to keep the details from him. He wasn't made to feel oppressed by you or anything. This would ruin the friendship and also ruin you. 

Dean also woke up, and you two didn't chat much after that. You felt a little uncomfortable, but as soon as Dean returned to his lighthearted demeanor, you felt at ease and acted naturally. When you saw he didn't put distance between you, you felt relaxed. 

That's how three weeks went by. Everything was well. 

Following a disastrous hunt that left Sam with an arm injury, you enter their home and assist Sam in taking care of his arm. The hunt this time was challenging, and you were distracted. 

Sam was giving you and Dean one of his puppy looks. You felt terrible. 

With remorse, you murmured, “I'm sorry, Sam.” He injured his harm in order to protect you, yet he didn't blame you for anything. You have probably never met someone as kind as he was. 

He said, “It's okay,” and made an agonizing moan as you carefully cleansed his arm. 

Dean snapped, “It's not,” in a harsh voice. He was across the room, observing Sam and you. He had his fists crossed over his chest, obviously frustrated with the current state of things. After all, Sam was his brother. “There, you should have been careful. Sam could have hurt badly because of you.”

“I know,” you said, panicked. “You are right.”

“I don't think so,” Dean stated sharply, glancing at Sam's injured arm. “You've been distracted for a while. I attempted to ignore it and hide the mistakes you made, but today they could end up killing Sam.”

Your pulse raced, and you felt guilty as you proceeded to handle Sam's arm carefully. As he persisted in blaming you, you found it difficult to contain your emotions. 

“It won't happen again,” you stated in a tremulous tone while keeping your gaze on Sam's arm. 

“It's alright. Dean, please stop being so grumpy,” Sam eventually pleaded in an insistent voice.

“You shut up,” Dean said, gesturing to Sam as if he were a little child. In fact, you were aware that he remained a child in Dean's eyes.

As you began to wrap a white cloth around Sam's injured arm, he groaned and pressed his groan back. “You're being annoying right now,” he said.

“I'm going to be more annoying if you two keep acting like this, you know.”

You said, “I'm really sorry,” and you gave Dean and Sam sincere looks. “It really won't happen again.”

Dean nodded at you quickly and sighed. However, it was clear that he was frustrated with you. “He's all I have.”

“I know.”

You and Sam didn't say anything further about what had transpired. Thankfully, despite his curious and suspicious stare, he remained silent. To get better, you had to gather yourself. But it was challenging. You questioned whether being near Dean worked as a deterrent for him to stay away from you. 

A week went by, and Dean came home with a blonde woman by his side as you and Sam were spending the night in the house eating pies and watching a movie.

Jealousy took over you, but you smiled and greeted them instead of pulling a grouchy face and making a scene. Dean's hookups and lovers became routine to you. The things that had happened weeks ago weren't important, even if it was hard to admit. Not a word about it was spoken. 

Last several days, Dean had been annoyed, but when he kissed the blonde, he was a completely different person. Happier, more relaxed. Though your heart was pounding from pain and suffering, your gaze remained riveted on the TV. It was pathetic how much you wanted to be her. It was a hard swallow. 

When she, Dean, or Sam told you something, you smiled and engaged in conversation so as not to arouse suspicion. They eventually made their way to Dean's room, and this is when your eyes started to well up with tears. You were unable to stop it. You uttered a little sound as your heart gripped with so much agony and suffering. You had no idea why. It might all have been different, but it wasn't.

Sam saw your eyes become wetter in the light, and he gave you a dubious look, but none of you said anything. 

You longed to travel back in time as soon as you heard it began to rain outside. This time, you weren't fond of the rain or how it felt. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, please.  ^^

[fresalana]

you told me your new man don't make you nut that's a damn shame.

synopsis: showing caitlin what it feels like to feel.

warnings: referring to c*nnor, sex. idk how to write warnings.

type: long blurb?

a/n: new tag. first time writing smut. i hope y'all missed me, because i missed y'all.

you knew caitlin wasn't cumming the way she deserved to. c*nnor was definitely not making that happen. she was constantly working hard, giving but never receiving. you wanted to help your friend relax; you wanted to her show her what it was like to feel. you wanted her to understand that dick wasn't the only thing that could make a woman cum. not that she was getting any real dick, anyway.

caitlin's back arched involuntarily off of the bed, a whimper leaving her lips as her hands gripped the bedding tightly – she was going to rip holes in it if she continued gripping it any harder.

"i feel like i'm gonna die, please," caitlin whispered, the desperation in her voice evident as she looked down at you, pleading with you to do something.

"you're not gonna die." you replied, rolling your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. she had squirted at least eight times on the towel beneath her. your fingers were deep inside her pussy, massaging her g-spot, forcing her to cum again and again. your thumb was rubbing her aching clit.

she knew she wasn't going to die, but you were driving her so insane that it felt like she was. "i feel like i am," caitlin whined quietly, her body shaking slightly, her head falling back against a pillow.

you leaned down, kissing her aching clit. "again, you're not gonna die, cait" with your voice muffled against her wet pussy, you licked a stripe up her clit, causing her hips to chase after your mouth. your teasing and condescending remarks were driving caitlin insane – and it wasn't the good kind of insane.

"yes i am," caitlin whimpered, shaking her head. "please, oh my god," and even caitlin could admit that she was being totallydramatic.

"all you can say is please." you scoffed, pumping your fingers into and out of her pussy at a rapid, steady pace with a wet plap! the fact that you had so much power over caitlin was irritating, she'd never admit that. she would never tell you, but there was a certain level of irritation when she was so desperate for something only you could give her.

"mmm," caitlin whined in response, her back arching and hips bucking into your hand, her head falling back against the pillow. "i - i can't, please please-"

"can't what?"

caitlin had no idea what she was even capable of saying and doing at this point, the only thing she was thinking about was what you could do to her. she had completely lost control of her body and was completely at your mercy, and it was killing her.

"i can't take it, i - i really can't," caitlin's words were cut off bay a whine, her hands still gripping the bedding on the bed.

"you want me to stop?"

there were many things caitlin wanted to say and do – but she was too busy feeling the pleasure and overstimulation that you were giving her, which made it difficult to form sentences.

"no, no, keep going, don't stop – oh please -"

"you don't even know what you're saying." you sighed, massaging her g-spot faster.

"your boyfriend ever make you cum before? hm?" your words were, once again, incredibly annoying but arousing to caitlin, who really didn't want to think about c*nnor. being with you was nothing like the relationship she's in now.

"no, god, never," caitlin responded through a whimper, looking down at you. "never like this." your words were incredibly true, and they bothered caitlin; her boyfriend was nothing like you. with you she felt so much more comfortable, free to lay back and have north care for her without having to worry about anything.

"mhm. he probably didn't even fuck you. made you do alll the work. you don't have to do that here, baby. just lay here and "feel .." as you planted a gentle kiss on her stomach, you quickly moved your thumb in tight, fast circles over her clit.

"i love you," caitlin spoke quietly, her eyes shut tightly as she trembled, her back arching as she came again that night. safe to say she'd be coming back for more, and more, and more..

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[imaginestuffs]

Try Again- John Walker x FReader

Word count:7,995

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, possible OOC John.

(y/f/m)= your favorite movie

(y/f/d)= your favorite drink

Summary: Reader realizes she is in love with John after an almost kiss. But will John be able to accept the fact that he is in love with her too? Will she help him overcome his fear of starting over?

There was something strange going on between you and John. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint if it was good or bad, but it was something. 

When you first met him, he was the bane of your existence. Now, whenever you saw him, your heart seemed to stutter. Your face got warm, and your stomach filled with butterflies. 

It was 8:30 in the morning, and you had just shuffled into the kitchen to get yourself a much-needed cup of coffee. As soon as you rounded the corner, there he stood, ready for the day. His hair was still a bit damp and unruly, and you had the urge to reach up and run your hands through it. As you stared at him, you began to realize you wanted to do much more than run your hands through his hair. You wanted to wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face against his chest. You wanted him to kiss your forehead and say good morning with that voice of his. That low voice that still held the thickness of sleep. 

A small smile quirked at your lips at the thought. Coming out of your thoughts, you noticed him staring right back at you in confusion. A warmth spread across your face, and you quickly looked away from him. 

“Are you ok (y/n)?” his voice held slight concern. He placed his coffee cup on the counter and fully turned towards you. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m f-fine. Just a bit spacey today. Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” You got your words out as fast as possible.

The look on his face told you he didn’t believe you. You could tell he wanted to push, but decided against it. 

“Well, if you, uh, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.” It almost sounded like he was nervous about it. 

You gave him a soft grin and nodded. 

“Thanks, I’m here too. You always seem to know where to find me, so you know where I’ll be.” You teased him a bit, and he looked to the floor with a grin. 

“I just know you better than you think. It’s easy to figure you out.” He remarked, and you chuckled.

“Oh really? Then tell me what’s on my mind.” Your brow raised challengingly.

He shook his head and smiled before looking at you. His eyes seemed to search you, and you felt your heart speed up at the thought of him looking at you the way he did. You did your best to keep your guard up and make your expression as normal as possible. And by normal you mean neutral, not cold, but not too cocky. You kept your small smile and open demeanor. 

As John looked at you, his mind seemed to wander. Your sleepy eyes and wrinkled pajamas. The fuzzy socks on your feet are patterned with different dogs. The way your hands cradled the coffee cup in your hands. He couldn’t help but imagine your soft but greedy hands pulling him closer. Your cherry chapstick lingering on his lips for hours. Sweet sounds you'd make when he'd touch you.

John’s stomach flipped as he thought of all the things he unyieldingly longed to do. 

Realizing how long he had been ‘reading’ you, he snapped out of it. You smirked as he shook his head. 

“Figure me out yet?” Your voice carried a joking lilt. 

He stood in front of you now with a glimmer of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite understand. You could feel his warmth, he was that close to you. Your smirk faltered slightly at his proximity. The tension between you was nothing you had ever experienced before. It was unexpectedly charged. His hand gripped the counter behind you, and he seemed to lean in close. So close that your noses could brush. Your breath was stolen by the way he looked at you.

He looked at you like he wanted you, like you were the only thing in this world he wanted to call his. 

Your eyes softened as you looked into his. A few minutes ago, you never believed that you would be so close to him that you could see the color of his eyes change hues of blue in the light. 

John’s eyes flickered from yours to your lips. The lips he thought of kissing only moments ago.

His nose now softly nudged yours, your (e/c) eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel his breath fan across your lips. 

“John!” Ava called from around the corner. Your eyes flew open at her voice, he sighed as he stepped away from you.

“What?” he asked as the woman rounded the corner with an annoyed look on her face. 

Before she could speak, she noticed the tension in the room and glanced between the two of you. She saw the flustered look you tried to mask, and the way John seemed to breathe a bit harder. The look on Ava’s face was one of suspicion. You gave her a pleading look as if asking her not to mention it. She could see the look of anxiety in your eyes, and kept her mouth shut on the subject.

Ava turned to face John, “We’re assigned to a mission in Lima, we leave in 2 hours. Get ready and I’ll meet you by the landing pad,” she informed him. He nodded his head and strode out of the room as fast as he could. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Ava looked at you in concern. 

“Is everything ok?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flashed her a small smile and nodded. She looked at you with uncertainty. “You would tell me if something happened?” she asked.

“Of course, Ava, thanks for checking in, but I’m fine,” you told her with as much of a steady voice as you could muster.

“Good. We’ll be back soon. I’ll bring him back in one piece, alright,” she reassured you.

Your eyes widened; you should’ve realized that she could see right through you, she always could. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh. 

“Just be careful,” you said before pulling her into a hug. She hugged you back just as tightly.

As Ava left the kitchen, your head fell into your hands. You could barely comprehend what almost happened. Not letting yourself believe that what you felt from him could be true. Tricking yourself into thinking what you saw in his eyes wasn’t real.

Maybe half an hour had passed before you got ready for the day. Walking out of your room, you see John going down the hallway to meet Ava. 

You decide to take a chance to talk to him before he leaves, even if it’s only to say goodbye and be careful.

“John,” you tried to get his attention as he was walking away. His footsteps stopped, and he let you catch up with him. He kept his eyes on the ground as you walked beside him. 

“I um, I just wanted to say goodbye,” you said and glanced at him, seeing if he would spare a look. He didn’t look at you, so you tried one more time.

“John,” you said, trying to get his attention. But again, there was no answer.

You gently grabbed his arm, and he reluctantly looked at you. “What is it?” he sighed out.

“I just wanted to tell you to come back safe,” you said and smiled softly despite feeling a bit hurt. 

“We will,” he told you and walked away.

Standing there in the hall, you could feel your heart constrict; it was as if he didn’t care. It was like what had happened wasn’t real. Confusion clouded your mind, you didn’t understand what you had done. 

Bucky had found you sitting on the couch, doing your best to read the book you were trying to finish. Nothing was helping, and you were just rereading the same sentence over and over again.

The couch dipped as someone sat next to you. You didn’t have to see their face to know it was Bucky. Your shoulders slouched, and you let out a sigh, finally letting yourself relax. Feeling safe enough to show how tired you really were. 

“You ok, kid?” his voice was a low, comforting rumble. 

Chuckling, you looked over at him. 

“That’s the third time someone has asked me that today. And I guess my answer is no,” The look in your eyes was one he’d never seen before. Uncertainty. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he raised his hand to run through your hair. 

You could feel some stress leaving you. As you always did when he was around. 

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to hold everything back. You didn’t understand why you wanted to cry. Nothing had really happened between you and John, but it felt like something was there. Something that you couldn’t shake, something that made your heart too full.

You could feel the tears begin to drip down your cheeks. Opening your eyes, Bucky's gaze was soft and understanding. The book fell from your hand as you let yourself lean into your friend. 

He was more than a friend, he was family. Someone you trusted fully, and whom you could never seem to lie to. 

“I’m so confused.” Your voice strained as tears of frustration continued to fall. 

“What’s got you so confused, Sweetheart?” he let you curl into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

“Walker,” your voice was muffled by his shirt. You buried your head further against his chest as your cheeks heated up.

Bucky leaned down and placed his head on yours.

“What was that?” he asked.

You shifted so you could look up at him. “John,” you sighed.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t think you’re the first to be confused by him,” he told you jokingly. 

He got a small smile out of you, and you shook your head. 

“I’m- I’m just so frustrated. I can’t tell how he feels about me. I thought I knew for a moment, and then he wouldn’t give me anything. He barely even looked at me after I said goodbye today.” You confessed to Bucky. 

“You know I don’t like him, but I think it’s safe to say he’s not great at dealing with feelings like that.” He once again began to run his fingers through your hair. 

He saw the look on your face, a look of fear that you’d done something wrong. “Did something happen today (y/n)?” Bucky asked carefully, not wanting to hit a nerve or make you uncomfortable.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at him, desperation shone in your eyes. 

“He almost kissed me today. Only two hours before I told him goodbye, he leaned in to kiss me, and then he acted like he didn’t care. Like it never even happened. It was like I was a stranger.” Your voice was soft, unsure.

Bucky just listened as you spoke, doing his best to be a comfort. He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes. He hated seeing you like this; he hated knowing that you felt that way. That Walker made you feel that way. 

Tears began to gloss over your eyes once more as you sighed. You didn’t know you felt so deeply for him. Never realized that he meant so much to you, but he did, and now you can’t stop caring.

A cool hand touched your cheek, leaning into it, you sighed. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong…” He paused, thinking of what to say next. “I think he’s scared after everything that happened with Olivia. I think he’s scared to start over.” He did his best to explain the possibility of why he suddenly acted so cold.

Your heart sank at the thought of him feeling that way. You never thought about it like that, you didn’t think of him. How scared he must be to open up again, to fully trust someone and have them trust him. How scared he must be to fall in love again. 

Your shoulders dropped, a

nd you once again let yourself rest against Bucky’s chest. Bucky could tell what was going on in your mind. He let his head rest on yours and rubbed your arm. 

“It’ll be ok. He’ll be ok,” Bucky kissed your head, and just let you hold him for as long as you needed to. 

It had been four days since John and Ava had gone on their mission. Everyone noticed that you had become quiet. The only one who truly knew why was Bucky, and he wasn’t willing to share your reasoning with anyone. 

In your mind, you had decided the best idea was to give him space, to let him come to you if and when he was ready. The only thing that hurt you was that you didn’t know if he wanted what you did. John may never be ready, and if that were the case, you’d just have to understand that.

Your heart didn’t want to let go, but if it came down to it, then you’d have to. It was a feeling you had never experienced. Something you didn’t know how to handle well. You weren’t good at letting go, it had always been an issue for you. When you were young, your family moved from Oregon to New York. Leaving the first home you’d ever known, leaving the very first friends you’d ever made, was like ripping a piece of your soul away. 

When your childhood dog passed away, you kept their favorite toy, and you still have it now. The day your grandma passed away, your heart shattered. Refusing to believe she was gone, you still spoke to her years later. Even now, when you’re lost or alone, you’ll close your eyes and talk to her as if she’s right next to you. 

After your worst heartbreak, you didn’t think you'd find love again. Until you met John. 

Now you may have to let go before you get to hold him. 

There you sat next to Bob by the window where he always sits while reading. He saw the look on your face and asked you to sit with him, and so you did. You let yourself settle next to your friend in a comfortable silence. The only thing that could be heard was the rain outside and him mumbling the words he was reading under his breath. It was comforting to just sit with someone, not having to speak to understand that each of you just wants company.

After a while, you felt someone shaking your shoulder. A sleepy groan escaped you as you rubbed your eyes. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep. 

“(y/n),” your name was spoken so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Slowly, you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Bob smiling at you softly. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so I took you to your room. I hope you don’t mind.” His voice was so sweet, and you smiled back sleepily. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” you mumbled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. His cheeks went pink as he nodded. 

“Of course. I, um, I’ll leave so you can rest,” he spoke softly before squeezing your shoulder and making his exit. 

What you didn’t realize was that Ava and John had returned as he was taking you to your room. 

Bob passed by John as he carried you fast asleep in his arms.

Bob gave John a smile and a soft welcome back as he walked by him. John nodded back, but felt his heart pang at the sight.

Why was Bob holding you as you slept? Why was he taking you back to your room?

John was so confused. He could see how content you were; he saw the way your face was pressed against his chest as you slept.  

It’s only been four days, and Bob has moved in on you. John thought Bob liked Yelena, not you. Did you like Bob?

John walked down the hall to his room. As he did, he passed by your room, and the door was open just enough to see you kiss Bob on the cheek. His heart seemed to stop for a second at the sight. He didn’t understand.

He swore that there was something he had with you. Something that he didn’t know how to describe. Maybe something he was too scared to accept.

He didn’t want to accept the fact that he may be in love with you. 

But unbeknownst to him, you had accepted that same thing. You accepted the fact that you were in love with John.

 Waking up the next morning, you made your way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee when you were greeted with the same sight as four days before. John stood with messy morning hair and a bruise on his cheek. Concern filled your eyes as you took a step closer to him. 

“John,” your voice was soft as you got his attention. 

He looked up from his coffee to glance at you. He hummed in acknowledgment and took another sip. Something in your heart tugged, and you swore you felt a twinge of pain in your chest. Again, he paid you no mind.

“Are you ok? I’m glad you’re home,” you said, and moved to the cupboard to grab a mug. 

“If you’re asking about the bruise, it doesn’t hurt, just looks bad,” he said. 

The way he spoke gave you the hint that he didn’t want to talk. So you left the conversation there. As you looked for your favorite mug, you noticed it was on the top shelf and sighed. 

Reaching for it, you huffed in frustration, but before you were able to climb on the counter, someone reached from behind you to grab it for you.

You hoped with everything in you that when you turned around, it would be John, but when you did, John was still leaning on the island. A warm hand was placed on the small of your back, and you knew from how gentle the touch was that it could only be Bob. 

Once again, your heart tugged, and your eyes flashed with disappointment. Bob placed the mug beside you, and you smiled at him as he reached for his own mug. 

“Thanks, Bob,” you grinned softly at him. 

“No problem. Just didn’t want you to get hurt.” his voice was sweet, genuine. 

You squeeze his hand before pouring yourself a coffee. 

“John! You’re finally back!” Alexei exclaimed as he made his usual boisterous entrance. 

Everyone in the room winced at his volume. 

“How was mission, huh?!” his voice somehow louder than before.

“Just like any other one,” John answered plainly, and rubbed a hand down his face. As you glanced at him again, your eyes still held concern. He was tired and closed off. 

Alexei then turned his attention to you and smiled before pulling you into a big hug. 

“Ah (Y/N), it is so good to see you!” he said and smacked a big kiss on your crown. He let you go, and you gave him an awkward smile.

John looked between you and Alexei with confusion. “What do you mean? You see her every day.” John questioned.

Immediately, your gaze dropped to your feet. “She has been hiding in her room for days. I rarely see her during the day, almost like a raccoon. She comes out at night to eat and then hides in the day, you know,” Alexei explained, and you shook your head. 

“What the hell are you even talking about?” John asked with furrowed brows. 

“She is not usual self. She’s depressed.” Alexei decides to announce to the whole room. 

You placed your head in your hands and did your best to take a deep breath. The feeling of John’s stare was burning. Opening your eyes, you took one glance at him, and could see the confusion. 

No one said a word; all you could feel was them staring at you, expecting you to say something or explain yourself. 

You could feel tears well up in your eyes and placed your cup down before walking away. 

Yelena passed you by, before she could ask anything, you were already halfway down the hallway.

Yelena sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alexei! What did you do?” She marched into the kitchen. 

He held up his hands in defense. “I did nothing. All I say was (Y/N) has been depressed and hiding like raccoon,” he explained himself. Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. 

“Did something happen while we were gone?” John asked. 

“I’m not sure, I did see her talking with Bucky after you left. She seemed really upset.” Bob informed them all. 

John’s shoulders sagged, and he let his head fall back. He groaned in frustration, at what, or who? He wasn’t sure.

Before anyone could say anything else, he walked out of the room. He had an idea in his head of what made you so upset. But he refused to believe it. 

It couldn’t be him, it just couldn’t be. 

He didn’t know where he was going until he reached the balcony of the penthouse. He wasn’t sure why he was there, but he was finally able to take a deep breath. 

“What is going on?” he mumbled to himself. 

Had he hurt you the day he left? What had he done? 

Was it the almost kiss? Had he been too cold? He didn’t mean to be that way. All he wanted was to protect himself and you. Did his fear hurt you? 

John stood there watching the chaos of the city moving beneath him, it almost felt like the city’s restlessness was in his head. 

He couldn’t figure you out. 

You knew exactly where you were going as your feet took you right where you needed to be. 

Standing outside his room, you raised your fist to knock. After the first rap, you heard the lock click open. You shuffled your feet as he opened the door. Immediately, he looked at you, and your arms wrapped around him. 

“Hey, hey, Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Bucky asked and placed his hand on the back of your head to keep you close. 

The door closed behind you as he held you. You didn’t even know what to tell him. You didn’t know if you were sad or mad, or just embarrassed. 

He felt tears soak through his shirt and pulled you closer. He scooped you up and sat on the bed with you. 

He just let you get your tears out before he spoke again. “Did John say something to you?” He asked and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. 

The shake of your head told him otherwise, so he waited for you to speak, not wanting to overwhelm you with questions. 

“I’m just embarrassed.” You admitted to him. 

His brows furrowed. “Why would you be embarrassed?” Bucky asked. 

“I was in the kitchen with John and Bob this morning when Alexei walked in,” you paused, and Bucky sighed. He knew this couldn’t be good. 

“He told John that I had been hiding in my room, being depressed,” you told him. 

The look on Bucky’s face was one of pure annoyance. 

“Of course, he’d do something like that. What else did the idiot say?” He asked. 

“He also compared me to a raccoon; it was embarrassing. God, you should’ve seen the look on John’s face.” You went on. “It was terrible, I just had to get out of there. I know it’s stupid to cry, but I don’t handle these feelings well,” you told him. 

“It’s ok Sweetheart, Alexei is an asshole and we all know it. He just can’t keep his mouth shut about anything. I think it’s kind of like a sickness.” Bucky joked. 

You let out a chuckle and rested your head on his shoulder. 

A comfortable silence lay over the room like a blanket. Almost scared you spoke up again, “I don’t want John to think it’s his fault,” you revealed. 

Bucky kissed your head. “Sometimes things happen for a reason. I know that everyone says it, but it’s the truth. So don’t give up on him yet. It’ll work out some way, and if it doesn’t, I’ll be right here.”  His words were comfort enough for you.

“I love you, Bucky,” you said and closed your eyes.

 “Love you, too, Sweetheart.” 

The morning steeped into the evening like an old cup of tea. You sat in your room by the window, as you looked out at the skyline, you wondered how it was that you got here.

That thought came up in your mind more than you’d like to admit. Everyone asks themselves that, but for you, it felt different. The question was more of a ‘why me? ’.

At points in your life, you'd done some extraordinary things, you’d saved people's lives. You’d stood against this country and your friends to come to the defense of someone you believed in. 

You mourned for people who should never have been lost. You mourned for who you used to be. 

You had gone through more than anyone your age should have to in a lifetime, and you believed that was one of the reasons you belonged with the team. 

Your past had brought you to this moment in your life, and for that, you were grateful. You were grateful for the family you’ve found along the way, and you were grateful for him. 

John Walker was a man whom you never would have thought you’d fall in love with. He was sarcastic, cocky, and rude. Yet somehow he made your heart pound, your cheeks burn, and your smile stick to your lips for hours. 

Now, sitting on the floor just thinking about him made your head spin. After your talk with Bucky today, you have been trying to figure out a way to fix everything.

All you wanted was for John to be happy, and if that took you out of the picture, then so be it. If John decided he didn’t want you, you would just have to find a way to cope. 

Movie night was tonight, and after avoiding everyone for days, you decided not to give up. Just like Bucky told you. You were not going to give up on John. 

The hallways were dark as you made your way to the main room. You could hear the popcorn being made, and everyone chatting. Before setting foot in the room, you took a deep breath and did your best to calm yourself. 

You moved to enter the room when someone scooped you up from behind. You let out a shriek and grabbed the person’s shoulder. Everyone’s attention turned to you. 

“Well, here she is!” you heard Bucky’s voice next to your ear. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he chuckled. 

“(Y/N), we were looking for you!” Yelena said excitedly. Bucky placed you on your feet once more, and you shook your head with a laugh. 

“You know I wouldn’t miss movie night!” you exclaimed. You did your best to look unfazed by John ignoring you. 

Alexei almost opened his mouth, but closed it due to the looks he was being given by almost everyone in the room.  

“It is nice night for movie!” he decided to say instead. 

Letting out a soft laugh, you nodded. “I’m glad we’re all back together again.”

You glanced at John and were surprised to see him looking right back at you. A genuine smile stretched across your lips as he gave a small smile back. 

John had been worrying all day about this moment. He didn’t know if you were gonna buddy up with someone else after everything that had happened. Because usually on Movie nights, you always chose the seat next to his. If he were on the floor, you were right there next to him, despite how uncomfortable it would be. If he was on the couch, then so were you with a blanket and two beers in your hand. He knew you didn’t like beer very much. The only reason you got the other one ‘for yourself’ was because he always wanted another one. 

You would have a few sips of it, but he knew the (y/f/d) next to the beer was yours. 

John was prepared for you to cuddle up with Bob or maybe even Bucky. So he tried not to care when Bucky carried you into the room. 

He could feel your words were slightly aimed at him as you said you were glad everyone was together again. You were more so saying that you were glad he was home. John couldn’t help but look at you, and couldn’t seem to look away when you held his gaze. 

The smile on your face was one he had missed so much, he had missed everything about you. The way your eyes brightened when you looked at him, or the way your nose slightly crinkled when you laughed. 

He could see in you the moment he looked at you that you weren’t giving up. On what? He wasn’t quite sure, but it made something stir inside him. Just the small interaction you had in 15 seconds was easing his seemingly ceaseless doubts. 

Something changed in John as you looked at him. He seemed at ease, it was almost as if from one glance he really saw you. You felt as if he saw the determination that had laced tightly around your heart. The determination to love him. It was almost as if you had come to an agreement. An understanding to put aside the past few days and try again. 

“Whose turn to choose the movie?” You question and look around. 

“I. I will choose perfect movie!” Alexei volunteers himself, and everyone lets out a collective groan of protest. 

“Absolutely not.” Yelena pointed harshly at him. 

“What? Why not? I choose a good movie each time,” he pouted. 

“I think it’s your turn (Y/N),” John said. The whole team looked at him. Ava nodded her head. 

“Yeah. It is your turn! Go ahead and choose a movie.” Ava pushed the remote into your hand, and your brows furrowed. 

“Are you sure? It doesn’t feel like it is?” Your voice was uncertain.  

Bucky placed a hand on your back and nudged you toward the couch. “Choose, Sweetheart. It’s your turn.” He assured you. 

You smiled, nodding your head, and you plopped down on the couch. It wasn’t even a choice in your mind, it would always be (y/f/m). 

A smile crept its way onto your lips as you pulled up the movie. John immediately knew your pick from the second he said it was your turn to choose the movie. 

“I forgot my blanket!” you exclaimed, and were about to get up until it landed in your lap. You looked up and saw Bucky standing behind the couch with a smile. 

“Did you want anything to drink?” John spoke up from beside you. 

“I can get drinks for us. Did you want a beer?” You asked and again went to stand up, but he stopped you. 

“I’ll get them,” he said and smiled. 

He could tell you were nervous about him getting the drinks because you always got another drink for yourself. It was cute that you thought he didn’t notice. 

“Oh, I um… ok, thanks.” Your voice was nervous, and you cursed yourself for it. 

John walked into the kitchen, and Bucky stood there as if waiting for him. 

“She’s a great girl, John,” Bucky spoke up just enough so John could hear him. 

He looked over at Bucky, trying to hide the s

urprise in his eyes. He knew he was talking about you, and didn’t know what to say. 

“She deserves to be happy. And as much as I hate to say it, so do you. So don’t mess this up.” Bucky’s voice was softer than he’d heard it. Yet John could still hear the edge of a threat in his tone.

Before John could say a word, the older man exited the kitchen and went back to sit by you. 

John’s heart pounded. He could barely comprehend what Bucky had said. 

“John! Come on, we want to start the movie!” he was pulled from his stupor as he grabbed two beers and (y/f/d). He strode back into the room and took his spot. 

He placed your drink on the table in front of you, right next to the beer. And placed his beer in front of him. 

You looked at your drink, and your heart stopped. Your eyes peered up at the man sitting next to you. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks as he sent you a knowing grin.

The movie began to play, and as it kept rolling, you got closer to John. The space between you had become smaller and smaller. John looked over at you and couldn’t help but want to pull you closer. The way the screen light reflected in your eyes and the smile you had when watching your favorite scene. 

He felt you move closer to him as the movie played. Your hands fidgeting with the hem of your blanket, dying to reach out for him. To reach out and hold him closer than you ever have. 

You were practically right next to him now, and he decided to end both of your sufferings. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you into his side. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. He didn’t look at you as if it was something so casual to do. 

You could see the smile on his face, though. He could feel your stare, but didn’t chance a look. 

Seeing this as an opportunity to toss your blanket over him as well and tuck yourself against his chest, you did just that. That’s where you stayed for the rest of the movie. 

The credits rolled over the screen, but you didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to leave his side, you felt safe and warm. He could feel your reluctance and looked down at you. 

His eyes were warm, and his voice was thick from not using it for a while. 

“You ok?” he asked and ran a hand over your hair. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m just sleepy, that’s all.” It sounded like you were uncertain about what you were saying. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” John whispered as he looked at almost everyone around you who had fallen asleep. 

“Okay,” the disappointment in your voice hit him hard. 

He knew there was more that you wanted to say, and there was more that he wanted to say as well. 

He took your hand in his as he helped you up and off the couch. 

Quietly, you stepped around Alexei, who was somehow passed out on the floor by the TV. 

Before you exited the room, you placed your blanket across Bucky’s lap and placed a kiss on his head. 

The whole tower was dark, and the moonlight was sheathed by clouds as you walked through the halls. John’s hand was firm in yours as he guided you towards your room. Now that you were alone with him, the energy shifted again. 

It wasn’t anything bad or uncomfortable. It almost felt like the space between you was full. 

Full of so many words that were begging to be said and heard.

John came to a stop outside your door and sighed. 

He turned to look at you with an expression almost unreadable. 

“I guess this is goodnight then,” he spoke softly as if your team was in the same room as you still, all fast asleep. 

“I guess so,” your tone was disappointed, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. He could tell, and his heart ached. 

You stepped into your room and were about to shut the door when John placed a hand on it. 

“(Y/N), can we talk?” John’s words were shaky as he kept his gaze on his feet. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him. 

“Yeah, of course we can,” your voice was laced with nerves. 

Your hands began to shake as he stepped into your room and shut the door. What was going to happen? Was this it? Or was this the end before it even had the chance to begin? 

You both stood in silence for a few more seconds than was comfortable. Not knowing how to begin. 

“Did I do something wrong?” John’s voice was one of confusion.

You sighed. You knew this would be a question. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you told him.

He shook his head and dragged a palm down his face. 

“Then tell me why you’ve been acting so strange for four days.” his tone was gruff as he looked at you with questioning eyes. 

“It’s not your fault if that’s what you’re thinking.” You did your best to remain calm. John noticed the way your hands wrung together as you answered him. 

Now, in his mind, that meant he was the exact reason you cut yourself off from everyone. 

“I know I was cold before I left, okay? I’m sorry.” You could see he was getting frustrated. But he didn’t seem angry, he didn’t sound like he was gonna yell. He just looked tired. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. We all have bad times, not everyone gets to be happy and teeming with life all of the time.” You tried to give some kind of reassurance. 

“I was an asshole for just leaving like that.” he admited. Your stomach dropped, and your eyes narrowed. 

You couldn’t stand the fact that he was so harsh on himself. Sure, it wasn’t the nicest way to leave things after what had happened that morning. But not everyone deals with fear the same way. He tends to turn his head away and pretend it doesn’t exist. To be honest, he doesn’t do a great job at pretending, but he tries. 

“I understand, John.” The softness of your voice made him wince. You reached forward and gently, almost hesitantly, took his hand in yours. 

The feeling of your palm against his and the cool silver of your rings between his fingers caused a shiver to run through him. He didn’t want to look at you in fear he’d break, and so he kept his gaze focused on the floor. All he could see were your socked feet right in front of his, a reminder of how soft you were compared to him. He could easily lift you into his arms and never put you down. 

“What do you understand?” John’s shoulders relaxed as your thumb gently pressed circles over his pulse point. 

“That you’re scared,” you dared say it as his eyes finally came up to meet yours. He could see the nerves on your face. You didn’t want to upset him or make him feel less than because you could tell he was afraid to try again. 

The look in his eyes was something you had never seen. It wasn’t hurt or anger. It wasn’t confusion or frustration. It was almost as if he were completely bare. His eyes held a vulnerability you had never seen. His hand tightened in yours. You encouraged him to sit with you on your bed. 

The bed sank beneath his weight, and it almost felt like that weight was more than just muscle and bone. It was his fear, his struggle, his doubt. It was as if everything that he kept locked away to haunt him on a sunny day came out to play. You could see the way he seemed to bend to its will and weight. 

It broke your heart. You slid from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. He looked up at the sensation of someone’s hand on his knee. John’s eyes were weary as he looked at you. 

“John, it’s ok to be afraid. I think we all are on some level, and no one deserves to carry that weight alone.” Upon hearing your words, his heart sighed. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” his voice came out as a whisper. 

Your gaze softened, if possible, as you placed your palms on his face. 

“We can figure it out together if that’s what you want.” The suggestion caused his breath to hitch.

The man leaned into your touch, his stubble softly scratched at your palms, and you smiled. 

“Okay,” his confirmation was firm but quiet. It was as if he was saying, ‘I trust you’. 

He leaned forward and placed his forehead against yours. “Together,” you promised, nose nudging his softly. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there until his hand, calloused but gentle, gripped your chin. Your breath got caught in your throat as you felt him tip your head back. 

Looking up at him, your eyes sparkled. He looked at you again, as if you were the only thing in this world he wanted to call his. As if you were the only thing he has and ever will need. 

His thumb smoothed over your bottom lip, you could hear your heart beat against your ribs. You were so close to him, you were scared he might be able to hear it. The look in his eyes showed something so soft, his gaze wasn’t looking through you; he was looking at you.

Really looking, it was as though he wanted to memorize you. 

John’s hand was steady as he cradled your jaw. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch, and little did you know how that made him feel. 

There was a feeling he got in his chest, a warmth bloomed within him that felt just like you. 

He could finally breathe; there was no need to hide. Something in the way you so easily melted into his touch showed just how much you trusted him. 

With your eyes closed, you could feel the way he looked at you. You felt him shift, and soon enough, you were off the floor and in his arms. The shock was easily noticed in the small yelp you let out and how you instantly held onto him. The feeling of you clinging to him made his heart race, and his head swim.

With your legs on either side of him and that look in your eyes, he swore time stopped for a moment. It was easy to see what you wanted, and John still couldn’t believe that it was him. 

From his position, he gazed slightly upward at you. The smile on your face was all it took to confirm just how in love with you he was. And no matter how much that still scared him, it’s all he’s wanted since the day he met you. You couldn’t stand him then, and here you are looking at him like he was your world, like he was so much more than a broken man. 

The grip on your hips suddenly tightened as he tugged you closer. He felt your hand creep its way into his hair, gently tugging the strands. He saw the way your gaze flickered to his lips when his hand traced its way up your body to grip your neck, continuing to urge you closer.

The way you completely melted into him felt like the first ray of sun after the longest winter of his life. But what he didn’t expect was the way your lips would feel against his. 

The kiss wasn’t desperate or messy. It was everything that it needed to be, gentle, slow, a complete culmination of months and months of pining. 

You pulled away, both of you in awe of the moment you shared. 

John’s eyes searched your expression, to see nothing but wonderment. A certain charged anticipation rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t know what to say, so he let himself fall into everything that you were to him. 

Strength, peace, and absolute divinity. 

You sighed against his lips and ran your hands over his broad shoulders. The feeling of the man in front of you letting himself get lost in you was all that you had wanted. There in that moment, you got to experience what it felt like to be consumed by devotion, every sound, every sigh, every breath was captured by his lips. His large hand moved to cradle your jaw, tilting your head in a way that he could deepen the kiss. 

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you moaned softly into his mouth. A kiss was placed on your open mouth as his hand slid down to place a gentle grip on your throat. Not too harshly but with enough pressure to know you’ll feel his hold for days. Enough to make you greedy for his grip. Your head fell back as he left open-mouthed kisses across your warm skin. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, doing your best to keep him close. The feeling of his stubble scratching along your sensitive skin made you shudder. 

He placed a hand on the back of your head so he could bring his lips to yours one more time. 

John opened his eyes just to see you with yours still closed, your lips were kiss swollen. You looked like the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“You look so pretty like this,” his voice was raspy, and you could feel the words vibrate in his chest. 

Opening your eyes, you found he was already looking at you. You felt heat rush to your face at his words, and you turned your head away to avoid his gaze. Your nose nuzzled against his wrist, and you placed a tender kiss on his skin.

You heard him hum lowly at the feeling, and felt as he turned you back to face him. 

“Please don’t hide from me, sweet girl, not now.” his words made your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours if you want me,” you told him, and he grinned. 

“I’ve never wanted anyone more.” John pressed his forehead to yours.

----

The next day came, and as you were once again getting coffee. You were just hoping you might be able to finish and enjoy your coffee this time. 

Alexei and Bucky were the only ones in the kitchen when you entered, and you smiled sleepily at them both. They could tell that something had happened. You were different, they could see the love written all over your face. 

Bucky’s heart swelled as he took in how radiant you were, how happy you were. 

“Good night (y/n)?” Bucky asked with a small smirk. 

You looked at him and rolled your eyes playfully. You could tell he was teasing you. 

“Perfect, actually. Thanks for asking,” you retorted, and he chuckled. 

“Perfect. Wow, that’s big change. You look like you slept well for the first time in days!” Alexei cheered as boisterously as ever. 

“Well, thanks, I guess being a raccoon just wasn’t for me.” You said and shrugged.

Before anyone could say anything, John walked in, immediately kissing your head. 

“I like you exactly the way you are,” he whispered as his arms wrapped your waist. 

“What if I were actually a raccoon? Would you still love me?” you questioned him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he huffed out a laugh. 

“What about me?!” Alexei interjected. 

“Yes,”

“No”

You and John answered at the same time. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Everyone deserves to be loved, even raccoons,” you shrugged.