#everything sam won’t let himself be and it feels good.)

[quietwingsinthesky]

rip to the real guy that demon was possessing but lucifer killing that elementary school teacher with sam after revealing it was one of azazel’s gang that had been manipulating him his whole life WAS romance actually <3

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part ten) (end)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

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When you both get to your door, Rafe is kissing you like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You’re giggling between kisses as his big, warm hands cradle your jaw, your heart feeling weightless.

He can’t let go of you. This is such a new, addictive feeling. Liking a girl this much. Knowing she likes him back. Wanting to take on the responsibility of a relationship, something that used to repel him.

You both decide to spend the night in Rafe’s room. You text Liv that you’re home as you get ready for bed, the high from the drugs leaving your body and being replaced by a heavy fatigue.

When you walk into Rafe’s dorm, he recognizes the pajamas you were wearing the night you met. You watch his eyes travel down your body in a smirk before you turn off the lights.

“What?” you ask, hand on the light-switch, gazing at him as he sits up in his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers.

“I remember those,” he mumbles. “You yelled at me in those.”

“Yelled?” you scoff. “I didn’t yell.”

“You gave me so much attitude.” You roll your eyes with a smile, flipping the switch and plunging the room in darkness.

You feel your way to his bed, sinking on top of him, head digging into the crook of his neck.

“Only because you were so rude,” you respond. “Maybe you deserve attitude.”

“What else do I deserve?” Rafe asks, his hands dragging up your back, eyelids heavy. You chuckle and shift to lie on your side and rest your head on his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat.

You close your eyes, arm draped over him, cupping a hand around his hip, rubbing your thumb over his skin.

He has never been touched like this. Affection just for the sake of affection. It’s unlike anything else.

“You deserve anything you want,” you say sleepily. You mean it.

Rafe’s not sure if that’s true. But all he wants is you, endlessly and with no conditions. And he’ll do whatever it takes to deserve you.

He doesn’t know why he ever denied himself the pleasure of spending his first moments awake with you in his arms. Last time you woke up together, he was relieved you rushed out of his room. Now, he just might lose his mind if you leave.

You’re loosely tethered together, your leg over his, your cheek against his shoulder. His chin is resting on your head and he fights the impulse to hug you tighter, not wanting to wake you up.

You start to stir a few minutes later, burrowing against his shoulder, smelling the familiar, perfect aroma of his skin.

“Knew you liked cuddling,” you tease, voice thick with fatigue. Rafe’s chuckle is so innocent that it makes your cheeks warm. You’re in disbelief that last night happened.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Dunno,” he says with a grunt, shifting to grab his phone from his dresser. “I didn’t wanna check and wake you up.”

“Wow,” you coo. “You’re already doing a great job as a boyfriend.”

The word makes his heart leap.

“You remember last night, huh?” he asks. Truthfully, he was a bit worried you were too high to recall everything you said.

“Did you want me to forget?” you say.

“Not a fucking chance.” He unlocks his phone to check the time, but a text from an hour ago takes all his attention.

Sam: yo wtf happened? you trying to get kicked out??

You turn to get comfortable, the side you were lying on aching now, your back flush against his torso.

“The time?” you say tiredly. Rafe turns to spoon you, lips pressing against the back of your head.

He doesn’t know how to say it. He’s pissed off beyond belief at himself for how he acted last night. So he just shows you. He holds his phone in front of you and your eyes travel over the text.

You think back to how frantic Rafe was last night outside of the house after shoving Blake. You don’t know much about fraternities, but getting aggressive like he did against a brother last night seems like a big deal.

It’s his fault for losing his cool, but you can’t help but feel bad for him, knowing he was fuelled by jealousy and protectiveness and insecurity. Nonetheless, he couldn’t control his temper and the consequences might be rough.

“It’s fixable, right?” you say, hopefully. You heard Blake say he was done, but he can’t really be done, can he?

Rafe sighs and puts his phone away, then drapes a heavy arm over your waist.

“Doubt it,” he says bitterly. Your heart aches. At first, you thought frats were just an excuse to party, but you can see how much joy it brings Rafe to be part of something. And now it might be taken away.

“What if you talk to him?” you say. “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

“I’m not…” Rafe sighs. He’s never been great at talking things out.

“What?” you ask.

“I don’t know what I’d say,” he admits. And the thought of grovelling to Blake to not go to the president of the frat, if he hasn’t already, is humiliating.

“You’d say what you’re thinking,” you say simply. “You did it with me and look how nice that worked out.”

Rafe smiles, glad you can offer him some relief while he’s so flustered.

“Real nice,” he says lazily, his hand sliding down over your hip. His fingers slip under the elastic of your pajama bottoms, dropping to press over your panties.

“Hey,” you breathe. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” His voice reverberates through you as he runs two fingers up and down your middle, the pressure firm and sweet.

“Avoiding your feelings,” you say, breath hitching, “and trying to distract me.”

“Maybe I just wanna touch you,” he rasps, pushing your panties to the side and dipping a finger against your entrance. You tremble under the tender touch.

“I’m being serious,” you say.

“So am I.” His pulse quickens as he feels how warm and soft you are, trailing up to your clit and massaging you slowly.

“Rafe,” you try to assert yourself, but your body naturally tilts towards his touch.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Talk about it,” you say. “Tell me what you were thinking.” Your mind replays how angry he looked last night, how harsh and loud his tone was with a man he thought mistreated you.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, shifting to kiss and suck on your neck. “I was thinking that it killed me to imagine someone else doing this to you…” He’s slow with every circle he traces. “Making you feel like this.”

“Only you can make me feel like this,” you whisper. He exhales deeply. You know just how to wind him up.

“Yeah?” he says. You feel him growing against you. You bite your lip, realizing just how much he loves praise, surely taking every bit he can get with more appreciation that he can show. “No more pointers, huh?”

“None,” you say. “You know exactly what to do.”

Rafe loves that you’re so vocal now, partly because the compliments go straight to his head, but mostly because it means you’re not shy or ashamed about your own pleasure anymore.

He lowers his hand to tease your cunt again, feeling how much you’ve pooled for him.

“So wet for me,” he whispers, his cock starting to ache. “How’d I get you all to myself?”

You breathe through your smile, understanding now that all of Rafe’s words during sex before couldn’t have just been great dirty talk.

You had no idea he was yearning for you this badly. That his jealousy wasn’t only carnal like you told yourself it was.

“I want you inside me,” you say. Rafe groans against your skin, savoring the feeling of being so wanted. You’ve seen him at his worst and still desire all of him. He’s waiting to wake up from the dream that’s you.

You help him push down your bottoms, feeling him shuffle to pull himself out of his boxers. You hike up your leg and feel his hand at the back of your knee, holding you up.

When he pushes into you, your flesh like velvet, he feels complete like he always does with you.

Rafe’s rhythm is slow as he fucks you from behind, the tension in you coiling at a sweet, gentle pace.

“Right there,” you sigh as he hits deep with every thrust. “That’s so good.”

You pull his big hand up to your mouth, kissing the back of it softly. Rafe is on another planet. He thought fucking you was already perfect, but doing it with your hearts so open instead of just your bodies is mind-blowing.

“My sweet girl,” he groans. “You want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I’m yours.” Once your words hit his ears, he hugs you tighter, squeezing you with pure adoration as he rocks in and out of you slowly.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, lips wet against your shoulder. “I’m yours, too, baby.”

He fills you so nicely, moving like he has all the time in the world.

You’re both in raptures of delight as you cum, warm bodies pressed hard together, existing in a perfect moment made just for you two.

You fall back asleep and he dozes off behind you, dazed.

It’s almost noon when you stir awake again. Rafe is on his phone, scrolling quietly, waiting for you to wake up. You give him a smile as you pull yourself out of his bed and adjust your bottoms.

“Haven’t you heard of aftercare?” he teases, saying it in the same tone you did the night of the beach party. You laugh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles.

You pretend to sigh out of irritation, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

“There. A-plus?”

“Not even a pass,” Rafe replies.

“Next time,” you quip. “I’m gonna get ready and then let’s get some food? That’s something couples do, just so you know.”

He loves hearing refer to you two as a couple.

Not many places on-campus are open on Sundays, so after you both get dressed, Rafe drives you to a popular restaurant in town.

As you expected, it’s effortless with him. You both intertwine jokes into your flowing conversations, eyes locked on each other, cheeks hurting from how much you’re smiling.

Rafe didn’t know it could be this easy with someone. Neither did you.

He picks up the bill and holds your hand as you walk back to the car. He rushes to open the door for you, making you laugh in endearment.

“The boyfriend stuff comes naturally to you,” you say, lowering onto the passenger side seat. You don’t see him look shy very often, but when he lowers his eyes and smirks, you can tell the compliment means something to him.

When Rafe starts the car and passes you his phone to pick a song, you choose the first one he played in his room the night of the dorm party.

“Oh, you liked this one?” he teases once the first few notes float out of the speakers, thinking back to the way he had you moaning on his desk.

“I bet I knew it before you,” you reply.

“Couples have… like, songs, right?” Rafe asks awkwardly, putting his hand on your thigh.

“Aw, you want this to be our song?” you coo. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” he laughs.

You put his phone down, eyes trailing over his profile. He squeezes your thigh. For someone who was so against affection, Rafe seems to love it.

You wonder why he restricted himself from what he seems to have wanted for so long, but when you remember how afraid he seemed of fucking things up last night, you realize he has a bit of a self-sabotaging streak when it comes to expressing himself.

“Did you text Sam back?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply.

“Do you want to stop at the house to talk to Blake?”

Rafe just stares ahead, biting the inside of his cheek.

“The longer you wait, the weirder it’ll be,” you say gently. He swallows hard. He knows you’re right.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna say,” he admits after a moment.

“You regret what happened last night, right?”

“Yeah.” He’s still embarrassed that he snapped at Blake over something he didn’t even do.

“Start there,” you say. ”Apologize. Just be honest.”

Rafe drops you off at your dorm, feeling awkward as hell when he drives to the frat house and faces Blake. Thankfully, Blake hasn’t gone to the president with what happened.

Taking your advice, Rafe tells him the truth about how started losing his head when he started losing you. He’d rather die than have to be open with someone he’s been holding animosity over for so long, but Blake seems to appreciate it.

Thankfully, Blake agrees that he doesn’t need to be kicked out for a drunken push, especially since he came to apologize the next day. Rafe has you to thank for that.

“Gossip spreads fast but I’ll say it was a misunderstanding if anyone asks,” Blake says as he walks Rafe out of the house. “Don’t forget about the code of conduct, man.”

Even though Rafe knows he should be grateful he’s not being kicked out, he still has to stifle an eye roll.

“So, we good?” Rafe says.

“Yeah,” Blake says. “You’re volunteering this weekend, right?”

Rafe’s been dreading the fundraising carwash. He thought he could fly under the radar and get away from a day of labor in the sun, but he can’t really say no to anything with being a first-year pledge. Especially now that he just narrowly escaped being kicked out of the frat.

Rafe agrees to participate. And when he tells you about it, you’re much more thrilled about it than he is.

“So, you’re going to be all wet and soapy?” you say with a grin, sitting on your bed together after Rafe gets back from the house and tells you what happened.

“I can get like that now if you want,” he mumbles. You laugh, the memory of hooking up with him in the shower still fresh in your mind.

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught yesterday,�� you say. “You wanna almost get kicked out of here, too?”

Rafe smiles, leaning in to kiss you. When you pull apart, you look at him for a moment, eyes tracing down his handsome features.

“I’m really happy it worked out,” you say. It would have crushed you to watch him lose his spot in his frat, knowing how happy it makes him.

Rafe loses all concentration when he sees the sincerity in your eyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever known someone so sweet.

“That formal thing is coming up,” he says once he catches himself, looking down at your lips again.

“If you’re not going to be wet and soapy, I’m not interested,” you respond. Truthfully, you love the idea of seeing him in a suit.

“You’re annoying,” Rafe laughs, shuffling closer to kiss you again.

“You’re annoying,” you reply, your noses bumping. “It’s a Sadie Hawkins dance, right? Girls ask the guys?”

“Go with me,” he says, breath hot on your cheek.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” you laugh. “Girls ask-”

“I don’t care.”

“I was going to ask you.” Your faces remain inches away from each other, talking between kisses.

“Then do it if you really want to.”

“Do you want to go-”

“Yeah,” Rafe interrupts, kissing you again. You giggle against his lips.

That Saturday afternoon, you and Liv are sitting are in her car in front of the Sigma Chi house, the carwash in full swing.

You both laugh when you notice Sam whip a sponge at the side of the car in front of you. You finally find Rafe in the scattered crowd of shirtless boys, baseball hat on backwards, holding a big yellow sponge, wringing it over a bucket.

He looks good. You’ve seen his muscular, commanding body so many times by now, but it excites you every time.

You open your window all the way and catcall him. When Rafe’s gaze meets yours, he smiles. You always look so beautiful to him, your grin so bright.

He walks over to the car, hands on the frame, leaning low to meet your eyes.

“Need some help?” you tease. “You seem to be struggling.” Rafe gazes down your body, loving the idea of seeing you drenched in the short dress you’re wearing.

“No flirting on the clock, dude,” Sam shouts, approaching the car, bending to smile at Liv through her open window. “It’s only okay if I do it.”

In retaliation, Rafe holds your face in his wet hands, kissing you. The gesture earns a few suggestive shouts from his frat brothers.

“We’re supposed to be working, Rafe,” Sam jeers. Rafe flips him off.

“You might wanna roll up the window, baby,” Rafe says quietly to you. “You can hang out in front of the house after.”

You and Liv are in hysterics as the boys hose down and sponge Liv’s car, some of them pressing their bodies up against the windows.

After the show, Liv parks down the street and you two sit on the front steps of the frat house, talking and watching the action. You stare at Rafe the entire time, noticing how girls in cars smile and try to flirt with him.

About ten minutes later, Rafe approaches you, greeting you and Liv. You already caught her up on everything that happened between you and Rafe and she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“What’s up?” you say.

“Need a break.” He adjusts his hat, his wet skin glistening in the sunshine. Truthfully, he just wants to talk to you.

“Does pretending to clean cars make you tired?” you ask.

“Pretending?” Rafe scoffs. “I’m working my ass off.”

“I’m gonna go say hi to Sam,” Liv says with a smile, purposely giving you two privacy. Rafe takes her spot when she leaves, sitting next to you on the steps, his leg pressed up against yours.

“I saw you staring,” he says smugly, nudging your knee with his.

“How could I not?” you say. Rafe feels his cheeks flush with heat. He’s still getting used to the fact that you want him. Really want him.

You notice his eyes trail up your legs, and just to tease him, you drag your hands over your thighs, pinching the hemline of your dress.

“You like my dress?” you ask. You watch Rafe’s jaw tighten as he leans closer to you.

“You’re making me hard,” he mumbles. Your entire body goes hot, looking down at his lap, imagining how good he always feels inside of you.

“We should do something about it,” you say. Your own boldness doesn’t surprise you anymore. Thanks to Rafe, you’re no longer shy asking for what you want.

“Everybody’s outside,” he says, eyes darting to the empty house behind you. You excitedly take his hand.

Rafe leads you to the large, quiet rec room downstairs, and his hands are immediately all over you, sunkissed skin pressing against yours.

He settles on the loveseat, guiding you to straddle him, your dress up around your hips.

“You knew what you were doing wearing this,” he says gruffly, sliding his hands over your ass.

“What? It’s hot out,” you say.

“You gonna keep acting all shy and innocent?”

You perch up to feel his hard length over his shorts. You start to stroke over the fabric, gripping tight.

“Yeah, like that,” he praises. “My good girl. Tell me what you wanna do.”

“I wanna ride you,” you say.

“Fuck,” Rafe grunts with a lazy smile. He kisses you passionately, fingers burying into the flesh of your ass as you grind on him, growing wetter.

The feeling of his hard cock rubbing against you is overwhelming, making you ache for him. Your hands are fast and shaky as you sit up to peel your panties off, watching him pull his shorts down.

He holds himself at his base for you to easily sink onto him, lowering with a sharp inhale. He dips his head back, moaning quietly, eyes squeezing shut.

The brim of his hat pushes against the back of the couch, frustrating him. He pulls it off, and instead of tossing it away, he decides to put it on your head.

“Hold this for me,” he says with a smirk, cradling your cheek.

“You’re never getting it back.” You arch your back as you start to roll your hips, your hands on his shoulders. Your pussy squeezes him so nicely, walls tight around him.

“Damn,” he shudders, watching you, thinking about how cute you look with his hat on and your face relaxed in pleasure. “I’ll give you anything you fucking want.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “All I want is you.”

The words make his heart beat even faster.

“You have me,” Rafe promises breathily. “You have me, baby.”

Your lips meet again as you rock and bounce on him, tight around his girth, head spinning from how big he is and how deep he reaches.

Your hands squeeze his shoulders tightly as you reach your peak. You keep riding him through the overstimulation, taking the help from him as he grips your ass and controls the pace.

Rafe’s breaths quickly grow shallow, panting in your ear as he bucks into you, pulsing through his orgasm.

You sit like that, joined together and kissing for a few minutes, before you pull apart and share a smile.

Throughout the next week leading up to the Sadie Hawkins dance, Rafe texts you random questions, asking you to name your favorite flowers, your favorite sweets, your favorite meal, your favorite drink.

Once he seems to be out of questions, you text him: wow… you sure you havent been a boyfriend before?

The message makes him so proud that he screenshots it.

The night of the formal, Rafe knocks a few minutes before the time you agreed he’d pick you up. You slip into your heels, smooth down your dress and open the door.

You’re striking. There’s no other word for it. The fact that you’re his sends him on a bit of a mental spiral.

“Early,” you tease. “Someone’s eager.” You notice how nicely he fills out his suit, how pretty the bouquet in his hand is.

He can’t tease you back. He can’t say anything. You’re stunning.

“You look so handsome,” you beam. “Are those for me or are you gonna hold them all night?”

Rafe holds your favorite flowers out to you with an awestruck smile.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly.

“Baby, you…” Rafe shakes his head. “I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, putting down the flowers away and taking his hand as you leave your room.

As promised, Rafe won’t stop touching you all night. You’re seated at one of many draped tables amongst frat brothers and their dates.

Liv is across the table with Sam, taking pictures with him on a Polaroid. They both look just as happy as you assume you and Rafe look.

Rafe’s hand is on your knee under the table, rubbing in circles. You lean in closer to him, mouth by his ear.

“Remember when you had a tantrum about holding my hand?” you joke. “Now look at you.”

“I was an idiot,” he replies. He dips his hand to your inner thigh, trying to guide you to sit on his lap. You give in.

“This is supposed to be a classy event,” you laugh, draping an arm around him, looking around at the massive, ornate banquet hall.

“You guys are so cute that it’s gross,” Liv shouts over the music, holding out her camera. “Smile.”

You roll your eyes at her comment and put up your middle finger, realizing Rafe is doing the same at the moment she takes the photo.

“God, you two were made for each other,” she says, amused. Rafe watches you as you laugh, feeling fortunate that you seem to wholeheartedly agree with your friend.

He’s not one for slow dancing, or dancing at all, but when he later notices you looking out at the floor filled with couples swaying together, he tries to force away his discomfort.

“You want to go out there?” he says. You glance at him, melting under his sweet gaze, noticing just how tense he looks.

“We won’t dance if you don’t want to dance,” you say. While he’s working hard to be a good boyfriend, you want to work just as hard to be a good girlfriend and make sure he’s comfortable.

The way you say your words is enough for him to stand up and take your hand. He doesn’t feel awkward as soon as he’s looking down at you on the dance floor, following your lead and your pace.

When the song ends, you walk back towards the table and notice Blake a few feet away, holding a grinning girl.

You’re glad that he let Rafe stay in the frat even though he could have been kicked out for trying to fight one of his brothers. And you meant it when you said you think he deserves a great girl. He seems happy.

As you sit down, Rafe follows your gaze and when he sees you’re smiling at Blake, a burning, painful jealousy flares deep inside.

He steps away towards the bar, wishing they were serving alcohol. He feels the familiar sensation of his temper bubbling up and his muscles tightening.

It’s been a few minutes without Rafe and you look to the bar to see him standing there alone. Something feels off.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing his forearm when you approach him. Rafe looks down at you with irritation, shoulder squared away from you.

“Hey,” he says flatly.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. Rafe’s lips firm as he glances away, taking a sip of his soda.

Confusion and sadness fill you. You should have figured Rafe’s flaws, like his moodiness, wouldn’t simply go away after making things official, but the sensation he’s giving you is uncomfortable and hard to swallow.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he mutters.

“What?”

“You do,” he says with a sarcastic chuckle. “You obviously do.”

“What are you talking about?”

He finally meets your gaze. This is the Rafe you saw so many times over the past few weeks, pissed off and short-tempered. And he knows by now that you don’t tolerate it.

“Why’d you look at him like that?” he mutters.

“At who?”

“At-” Rafe tenses up even more, shooting daggers across the hall. “At Blake.”

“How did I look at him, hmm?” you say, crossing your arms. “Tell me.”

“You were smiling at him.”

“You wanna know why I was smiling?” you ask. Rafe’s mind resorts to assuming you’ll say you chose wrong and that you wish you were here with Blake instead.

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking about how glad I am that he didn’t try to get you kicked out since I know how happy being in a frat makes you,” you explain. “And because it’s nice that he looks happy with that girl. You think I’d smile at the sight of him with another girl if I liked him?”

Rafe steps back, jaw still clenched. For a moment, it feels like he’s still living in the days of agonizingly pining over to you, watching you with another guy.

“You think I don’t get jealous, too?” you say.

“What? When do you-”

“At the carwash. Girls were looking at you all day,” you admit.

“What?” he almost laughs, endeared beneath the pain. He can’t even imagine entertaining another girl.

“Sometimes jealousy comes up in a relationship, Rafe. But this isn’t how you handle it.”

You step away and head towards your seat, frustrated and disappointed.

Rafe finds it hard to come down from his anger, the cruel fear of inadequacy still stinging him. But eventually, he sits down next to you, placing your favorite drink on the table in front of you.

“My bad, okay?” he says, an edge to his tone. You look at him through apprehensive eyes, taking a sip from the cup he gave you.

“You don’t have anything to be jealous of,” you say softly, putting your hand on his under the table.

“I was…” He clears his throat, leaning closer. “I was… thinking that maybe you thought you made the wrong choice.”

The look of pure disbelief on your face calms his racing thoughts. You smile in shock, shaking your head in quick, short jerks.

“The wrong choice was not knocking on your door to tell you to shut up sooner,” you tell him. He looks down at his lap with a small smile.

“Rafe,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“I pick you, okay? Every time. You’re the right choice.”

Rafe’s chest loses its tension. Even in such a loud, crowded hall, you somehow quieted things down for him. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever feel worthy enough for you.

When you make it back to the dorm, you part to get ready for bed. You take the Polaroid Liv gave you out of your purse, smiling at the image of you sitting on Rafe’s lap in formal wear, both of you flipping the camera off with amused smirks.

You tack it onto your wall amongst your other photos. It sums up your playful relationship so well.

Rafe knocks at your door minutes later. At this point, you hardly ever sleep separately.

Within seconds, you’re in your bed, Rafe hovering over you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your face. Your desk lamp is on, offering both of you a dim, warm light to look at each other in.

You taste his toothpaste and smell his cologne as you kiss, feeling like you’re floating every time you’re under him.

Once he has your bra tossed over your chair, his hot mouth is on your chest, tongue playing with the peaks of your breasts.

You rake your fingers through his hair just the way he likes as he sucks languidly, squeezing gently.

“I love that only I get to do this to you,” Rafe rasps. He was staring at you in awe all night, feeling like he’s dreaming knowing you’re his.

“I don’t want anybody else,” you breathe, trembling in anticipation below him.

His eyes are glazed over when he dips his mouth between your legs, savoring your taste. You tremble as his tongue works over your clit, flattening and tracing shapes.

“How does this pussy get sweeter every time, hmm?” he praises. “You taste so fucking good.”

His hands are still on your tits while he eats you out slowly, burying his face in your middle. He’s sucking and licking at a perfect rate, your moans like music to his ears.

You need all of him now, unable to wait any longer.

“Fuck me,” you whimper. “Please.”

He loves it when you beg.

Rafe melts into you, sliding in and out of you with a hard, fast pressure, the sound of your skin slapping filling your small room. You wrap your legs around him, plastered together in delicious harmony.

Your gazes are locked the whole time and you appreciate every feature of his face, from his eyes to his lips.

He’s hard and rough and vigorous as he gets closer, your bed squeaking, his hand cupping your head, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

Your peak comes in shockwaves, uttering his name as you unravel beneath him. His orgasm weaves in with yours, his body tensing before he loosens completely, losing himself in you.

Rafe pulls out and stays hovering over you, propped up on his elbows, while the rest of his body covers you like a blanket. He gazes at you with adoring eyes, revelling in how you look when you’re so pleased.

He feels like an idiot for ever assuming he’d want something solely physical with you. That he wouldn’t want all of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” you laugh. “That was… nothing to be sorry for.”

“Before, when I said I was satisfied,” he says, guilt still eating away at him even though he said it weeks ago. “I lied. I’ll never get enough of you. It…”

“It what?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“It scares the shit out of me. How much I like you.”

The butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“Rafe,” you say with a sad smile, placing your hand on his cheek, your heart heavy. “I’m scared, too. But the whole point of this is trusting we won’t hurt each other.”

“What if I keep fucking up like I did tonight?” he mumbles. He’s terrified that he’ll be a victim to his own temper and insecurity forever, eventually driving you away.

“I’m not asking for perfection,” you say. “I’m just asking that you’re direct with me when something’s bothering you. And that you try to fix it when you do fuck up. Because I’m never going to blame you for having feelings. Ever.”

Rafe’s eyelids drop as he looks down at your lips, nodding, half-convinced. You take a deep breath, hoping your next words aren’t too raw.

“That one day, I… I heard you get yelled at… for crying,” you say. Embarrassment pricks his skin and Rafe drops his head, resting his cheek on your sternum, hearing your heartbeat. He can’t look at you.

Your fingers rake into his locks again, heart still aching from overhearing his father’s words.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I only brought it up to tell you that you don’t deserve that. It’s okay to feel things. I know you think it’s weak but it’s not. Has he always done that to you?”

He only nods.

“That’s…” You don’t have the words, disgusted and angry.

“Maybe he’s right. I should man up.”

“Man up? That’s what he tells you? God,” you mutter. “You are a man. That shit is so stupid. I’m so glad I yelled at him.”

Rafe remembers how jarred he was when he saw how pissed off you were, snapping at his father, a man you’ve never met before.

“Nobody’s ever done that for me.” He wanted to tell you this the day it happened, but his jealousy ruined things when you smiled at a text from Blake.

Something in you shatters thinking of Rafe as a young boy, being berated, nobody standing up for him. He must have felt so lonely.

“Well, I’ll keep doing it,” you promise, feeling protective as hell over him.

Rafe didn’t know what having a girlfriend meant. He never expected he’d feel so safe with someone.

“And I’ll fuck up, too, okay?” you say. “And I’ll just buy you more protein powder when I do. That’s like flowers for you, right?”

Rafe chuckles, squeezing your hip.

“You won’t fuck up.”

“I will,” you laugh. “I’m not perfect.”

“Yes, you are,” he mumbles. “Don’t say that shit ever again.”

“You’re kind of setting me up for failure, frat boy,” you joke. He lifts his head to look at you again, his heart racing. Then something catches his eye on your wall.

Rafe can’t find the words when he sees it. It’s the Polaroid of you and him from earlier tonight, flipping the camera off.

He remembers the first night he was in this room, looking at your photos, thinking how pretty you were. And now he’s part of this collection. Part of your life.

“What?” you say.

“The picture,” he says.

“I can make you a copy if you really want one,” you tease, still playing with his hair.

Life has never felt brighter for him. He does want a copy. He immediately imagines it sitting in his wallet, inside his phone case, on his dashboard. He’s already planning to take a photo of it and make an Instagram post with the lyrics of your song.

Rafe shifts to kiss you again, allowing the bliss and awe and fear and vulnerability to take over.

He started this wanting no strings attached. Now he’ll be tying you together for as long as you let him.

(the end) (alternate sad ending) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: writing “the end” is always more bitter than it is sweet 🥲 thank you to everyone who read and supported this series! if you had a “couple song” in mind, let me know what it was - i’m curious! i found “miss summer” by odie was my fav song to listen to when writing the fluff scenes hehe i think it covers how rafe feels perfectly. love you all 💋

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[jossamology]

josssam headcanons. (part one)

josh constantly teasing sam, but there's always that soft, protective look in his eyes. like, sure, he throws out all the sarcastic comments and light-hearted jabs, but it's just to mask the fact he's been falling for her for way longer than he'd ever want to admit. humor's his shield, but the way he watches her—yeah, that says everything.

late-night drives to nowhere, windows down, music low, and josh's mind is racing faster than the car. every time he thinks about telling her how he really feels, the words just get stuck in his throat. he wants to say something—anything—but he always stays quiet, convincing himself she deserves better than the chaos in his head. so, instead, he just drives, stealing glances at her when he thinks she’s not looking, and keeps it all locked away.

sam brings josh coffee without even asking, knowing exactly how he likes it—way too strong. but she always sneaks in a little extra sugar, just for him. she has no idea how much it means to him that she notices the little things.

sharing headphones on rainy days, josh savoring the quiet moments, stealing glances at her. she looks so fragile, and all he can think about is how broken he is—how he’s too much of a mess to risk pulling her into his chaos.

josh uses his dark humor to calm sam after a nightmare, his jokes a shield for the fear he hides—that getting too close might ruin the one good, pure thing in his life.

josh lights a cigarette, smirking as he offers it to sam, knowing she’ll refuse. it’s their little routine, one of the few things that keeps him grounded when he feels like his mind is on the verge of unraveling.

arguments that end in soft apologies—josh running a hand through sam’s hair, guilt eating at him, because he’s hiding his feelings to protect her from the darkness he can’t escape.

sam pretends to be bad at things just so josh can give her tips, but secretly, she’s better than him. every time she smiles, he fights the urge to let her in, convinced she deserves better than the mess he is.

josh finds himself looking at sam’s journal when she’s not around—not to invade her privacy, but because he wants to understand her world. he craves that connection, even though he’s sure he’s too broken to ever fit into it.

josh and sam calling each other before bed—their nightly ritual. josh always feels like he can vent to her about minor issues, big problems, and everything in between. her voice is soothing, and it helps him calm his mind, allowing him to sleep easier. he confides in her about things he can’t tell anyone else, knowing she won’t judge him and that she’ll listen with a patient ear. sam never rushes him, always letting him say whatever’s on his mind, making him feel like he doesn’t have to carry his burdens alone.

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

A continuation of Bad News First, Eddie. I am absolutely floored by the responses I received, and I will try my best to tag everyone who asked. I know it's not Eddie's part, but chronologically, Wayne's part felt right.

-

Of all the things Wayne’s been called, unobservant isn’t one of them. He’s lived in Hawkins his entire life. He knows who is who, what is what, and to keep his head down and believe there’s a cougar in the woods when he’s told.

So, when Nancy Wheeler shows up, asking questions, Wayne has answers. Is willing to give those answers because he remembers when little Will Byers went missing, and how Nancy and her friends had done more to try and find him than the entire police force of Hawkins. Nancy and her friends always seemed to be in the orbit of whatever terrible thing was happening in Hawkins these last few years.

So, foolishly, terribly, he doesn’t intervene. He thought they were like that Scooby Doo cartoon Eddie used to love; kids solving mysteries. If he’d known the true extent of the horror, he wouldn’t have let those kids go it alone. But he didn’t know then.

-

Still didn’t know the day he pretends to not know who Dustin Henderson is while swapping out Eddie’s missing poster. It’s easier than having to face someone who knows Eddie, someone who had been looking for him but failed to find him.

Until Dustin calls after him. Until Dustin speaks to him. Hands him Eddie’s necklace. Wayne can’t stand anymore, this breaks him. Dustin says he was with him, in the end. Calls Eddie a hero, said people would have loved him had they known him. It’s nothing Wayne doesn’t already know.

Eddie is his hero. He loves Eddie. And if he’d stepped in sooner, chased down these kids and asked just what the fuck was happening, maybe he could have changed the ending of this story.

-

Hawkins explodes into a hellscape days later and Wayne sets out to find Nancy Wheeler. If Eddie gave his life to protect these kids, then Wayne must strive to do no less.

Nancy’s got a good head on her shoulders, willing to accept any help offered. He can see how she’s survived this long. She gets in in touch with Hopper, who introduces him to Doctor Sam Owens and Lt Colonel Jack Sullivan.

-

He doesn’t think it’s fair that the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old girl.

-

It’s Dustin who tells him the whole story, the night before the end. Either Eleven will win tomorrow, or she won’t, but the outcome gets decided then.

“I’m s-so sorry, Mr. M-Munson. We just… just left him there!” Dustin breaks down crying and Wayne reaches out to him, an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. If Wayne sheds a few tears, too, well. Who can blame him?

“Doctor Owens, a word,” Wayne pulls the man aside after the kids have gone to bed. “Dustin said… my boy is just yards away from our trailer. He didn’t even get out of the park. I understand it’s an all hands on deck situation, but can anyone be spared? Can anyone bring my boy back? I’ll go myself if I have to.”

Doctor Owens, a genuinely kind man, Wayne can tell, has tears filling his eyes just at the request. “Mr. Munson, we will do everything in our power to bring your boy home.”

-

Doctor Owens pays for the headstone. Said it was the least he could do since his team failed. Wayne tries not to be bitter about it.

The graffiti starts up almost immediately. Wayne doesn’t understand why.

-

He thinks he’s caught someone in the act, grabs roughly at the perpetrator and yanks. The Harrington boy stumbles up and back, a little bit of fear in his eyes but no paint in hand. He’s holding a rag and small container of paint thinner. A quick look between Harrington and the grave, he can see the half-cleaned headstone.

He’s never spoken much with Harrington, but Dustin has nothing bad to say.

“You know my boy?” because he can’t bring himself to say ‘knew’ just yet.

Harrington looks just about as haunted as Wayne feels when he says, so quietly, “Not as well as I would have liked, sir.”

-

Wayne is observant, but even he can admit it takes longer than he thought to figure out Steve Harrington. That boy had put himself between those kids and danger again, and again, and again, and lived. Eddie did it once and… well, Wayne reckons Steve thinks it should have been him. He won’t say so out loud, but Wayne sees a lot of his younger self in Steve, knows him in much the same way he knows himself.

Steve lives with a guilt he shouldn’t; this was Eddie’s choice. His reckless, dangerous, courageous choice. And they’ve got to learn to live with it. Steve’s parents are absent, and Wayne’s nephew is gone. Without any conscious decision about it, they’ve adopted each other.

Steve wants to know everything about Eddie. Every little story Wayne can come up with. And he, well, he loves that someone wants to know. Wants to remember Eddie with him.

“Bad news. I regret not knowing him sooner,” Steve confesses to him one day as they scrub the headstone clean again.

“Good news. You know him now,” Wayne replies.

“Do I?”

Wayne can’t answer that. Not honestly one way or another. How well can you know someone from secondhand information? Steve spent a total of five days in his nephew’s company but he helps keep his memory alive. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Eddie Munson won’t be forgotten when I die. And that matters.”

-

He gets in an accident at the plant. He doesn’t remember what happened, not fully, but he knows that Steve never left his side. Demanded his come stay in his big empty house. Easier to move around in, with all the open space.

Wayne wasn’t really attached to his apartment anyway. If he was going to live the rest of his life in a home that had never known Eddie’s presence, it could at least be with someone who had known Eddie’s presence, however briefly.

-

Wayne wonders if he’s done the right thing sometimes. Indulging Steve’s need to know Eddie. At first, he thought it was fine, because learning about Eddie seemed to alleviate Steve’s guilt. But now.

He’s watching the boy fall in love with a ghost.

Helping it happen, even.

Robin and Steve aren’t nearly as quiet or subtle as they think, and Wayne’s observant. They seem to forget that Wayne’s just old, and not deaf and blind.

Or maybe, they’re comfortable enough that they don’t truly hide from him.

And it hurts his heart to think this (because he’s thinking it about his Eddie, wonderful, loving Eddie) but Steve deserves to love more than a ghost.

-

And then the kids graduate. Start to go to college. Steve acts fine, but he’s not. Wayne knows. It’s like he’s losing his purpose, but Wayne’s just as broken. Not strong enough to push Steve away. To make Steve go, too.

Honestly, he’s a little afraid that if he tried, then Steve would follow right after Eddie.

So, he doesn't. He decides he needs Steve, and perhaps even more so, Steve needs him.

-

Then, five years after Eddie’s death, the call happens. It’s about his piece of shit little brother, Wyatt. He’s gotta go, though. Because this is one last strand of Eddie. Eddie’s mother has been gone longer than Eddie, and fuck, Wyatt deserves to know. Wayne doesn’t claim to be a saint; if his brother wasn’t being released, he’d probably never tell him. He’d let him die in that prison believing his son is alive.

He doesn’t even know if Wyatt will care that Eddie’s gone. But he’s got to find out.

Steve drives him to the airport and no matter how many times Wayne says he’s coming back, Steve doesn’t seem to believe him.

-

But it’s not his shitty little brother waiting to greet him in Tennessee. It’s Eleven.

“Sorry for the lie, Mr. Munson,” she says. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I learned but Doctor Owens said that, this one time, we needed to be right before we could be honest.”

It’s Eddie. It’s Eddie Wyatt Munson, who looks at him shyly, almost as if afraid, from the apartment doorway Eleven takes him to. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

It’s five fucking years too late but he pulls Eddie in a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

-

Wayne learns.

They had found him, barely alive. It was better, they said, to take him away. Let the town cool down while Eddie healed, but he was catatonic for the better part of these last five years.

“Eddie woke up empty,” Eleven says softly, apropos nothing sitting next to Wayne as they watch Eddie discuss next steps with Owens. “He could be told to do things. Drink this. Eat that. His eyes never focused on anything. Doctor Owens called him a shell. I asked what that means. He said that Eddie’s body worked, but his mind did not because Eddie was not in his own mind anymore. But I knew he was in there. I had to get him back.” She reaches a hand out, waving in the general direction of Eddie’s head.

This surprises Wayne. “You brought him back?”

“Memory by memory,” Eleven says, picking at her pants leg. “Even the painful ones. Doctor Owens says every memory shapes who we are, even tough ones.”

Wayne looks at Eleven, a young woman of nineteen now, but remembers how scared and brave she’d been at fourteen.  “Words cannot express how thankful I am for you.”

“I did it for you. And maybe a little bit for me.”

Wayne makes a humming noise. Not truly questioning, but an acknowledgment of what she said. If she wants to share her reasons, he won’t stop her. He’s just not going to pry.

“I chose my friend. I chose Max.”

He knows. “You made the right choice.”

“I know. I am not guilty about it,” she frowns as she thinks about her words. “But Dustin is my friend, too, and I knew Eddie was his friend. But I cared more about Max. I had to do all I could to make it right. For you. For Dustin. For me.”

Wayne doesn’t have words, so he just pulls Eleven into a hug. It must convey all he needs because when she pulls back, she beams at him.

-

Wayne fills Eddie in on what has happened as best he can. It’s such a jarring difference, speaking to Eddie about Steve than it had been speaking to Steve about Eddie. Eddie just looks confused for most of it and doesn’t really ask followup questions, but Wayne understands. Eddie had known Steve for five days and he’s got time to really get to know Steve now. Steve thought all he’d ever have of Eddie is someone else’s memories.

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie breaths out, all wonder and awe and- Well, maybe Wayne isn’t as observant as he had always thought. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie stutters over his words, eyes wide and wild. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles and lies, as if he hadn’t just watched all the pieces slot together in this moment.

“So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington?” Eddie is blushing but he blows past Wayne’s question. “Will he… be okay with me being there?”

Steve’s been loving a ghost, is what Wayne thinks. Steve’s been in love with a ghost and this. This is a ghost story that can have a better ending. But he’s not going to make those declarations for Steve, so what he says is, “yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all.”

Eddie smiles to himself, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind.

If he hadn’t just figured it out two minutes ago, that would have been a dead giveaway that his boy might be a little bit in love with Steve.

-

He calls Steve. Tells him he’s coming home and bringing a guest. Steve says that’s fine, he’ll fix up Robin’s old room into a guest room.

-

“This isn’t the way to the Harrington house,” Eddie observes from the passenger seat of the rental car Doctor Owens had paid for, to get them from Indianapolis back to Hawkins.

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed.”

“The cemetery?”

Wayne shrugs, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once. Ah. See, there he is.” Wayne points and Eddie’s eyes follow.

Something akin to wonder passes over Eddie’s face and he all but falls out of the car before it’s even stopped.

Wayne thinks he’ll give them five or so minutes before following.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XVII)

Chapter 17: Looking for Help

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Chapter 18 will be the beginning of things really getting better!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1855

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Well…. That… is a lot.”

“You can phrase it like that, yeah…”

“So… you’ve finally told her you loved her. At least you don’t have that to weight on your chest anymore.”

“The fact that I was still rejected after that confession kind of balances out the relief, though.”

“Yeah… you’ve got a point…”

Andrew heaved a sigh, closed his eyes as he let himself fall back fully in his chair. He hadn’t slept after that conversation with you. Or well, ��conversation’ didn’t quite fit what had happened; it was rather a fight.

He had waited for an early but somewhat decent hour in the morning to call Sam, and ask if he could come buy. It was 8:13, and he was sipping on a black coffee, sitting at the table with him now. Daphne was taking a shower. Andrew had dropped by a bakery to get some pastries for breakfast, knowing he was depriving his friends from some well-deserved rest, but if Sam had already eaten, Andrew had not taken a single bite.

He nervously rubbed his palms, until the skin was painful and red, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“What are you going to do now?” Sam asked after a rather long silence.

But Andrew merely shrugged.

“What could I do? She doesn’t want me… All I can do is try to find a way to move on. Christ… how do you move on from that?”

“Getting awfully drunk sounds like a reasonable beginning,” Sam smiled.

“Well, perhaps, but not at 8 am,” Daphne chuckled, finally walking into the kitchen, her hair still wet from her shower.

She hugged Andrew tight.

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

“It’s alright.”

“I don’t have a clue what’s going on in her head…”

“Daphne… don’t. Please, don’t…”

She pulled away, got herself some coffee as well, before joining the two men around the wooden table.

“The way I see things… she’s freaking out. She’s freaking out and rejecting her feelings.”

“Daphne…”

“It makes no fucking sense!”

“It makes perfect sense. She doesn’t see me like that. It was just sex for her, and it wasn’t for me, and I was a damn fool. There’s nothing more to say about that.”

“There’s a lot more to say about that. The way she talked about it… she was just afraid…”

“Please…”

Andrew buried his face in his hands. He heard Sam gently shushing Daphne when she started speaking again.

“Come on, now! Tonight, we’re getting brilliantly drunk you and I!” Sam promised his friend.

“Good idea,” Andrew nodded.

A heavy silence followed.

“Andy… I know that this is not the time but… about the wedding…”

“Hmm?” Andrew finally looked up at his friends again.

“You… you’re still going to come, right?”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Of course, I’m coming. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because Y/N is my maid of honour,” Daphne let out in a breath.

“Oh… I hadn’t thought about that,” Andrew admitted.

But he quickly shook himself.

“Of course, I’ll come. I’m the best man! Don’t worry about that.”

“I… I understand that you won’t want to see her, and we can totally avoid the two of you being in the same room while we’re planning the wedding, but during the ceremony and everything…”

“Guys, don’t worry. I’m an adult, I can handle seeing my ex for a day.”

Andrew blinked and frowned.

“Technically, she’s not even my ex, we weren’t together, as she enjoyed reminding me last night…”

“You promise you’ll come, right?”

“Sam, of course, I’ll come. Don’t worry. It’s your wedding, you don’t have to worry about me and my stupid broken heart. I’ll be there, and I’ll just… behave politely towards Y/N. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyway, the wedding is in seven weeks, she’ll probably bring someone…”

The doorbell rang, and Daphne got up to answer the door, while Sam was patting Andrew’s shoulder.

He was attempting to guide the conversation back to something a little more joyful when the sound of someone crying reached the kitchen. The two men looked at each other with a frown.

“Daphne? You’re alright?” Sam called, standing in a hurry, Andrew following suit.

But it wasn’t Daphne who was crying. Sobbing, actually.

She was holding you in her arms. You were shaking with sobs, you seemed about to fall, and crumble to the ground…

Andrew felt tears rising to his eyes at the sight, but he quickly blinked them away. It was about the only movement he could summon though. He was too stunned to move another muscle, remaining frozen in his friends’ hallway.

His first reaction was to want to run to you, hold you in his arms until you would stop crying. Were you hurt? Why…? What was going on?

But then he heard your whisper…

“I’ve fucked up… Daphne, I’ve fucked up so bad… I’ve fucked up everything with Andy…”

To hear his name acted like a punch in the guts, knocking all the air out of his lungs. His brain started to properly function again, and puzzlement slowly replaced worry.

You were crying about last night?

“Andy…” Sam called as Andrew stormed through the hall to grab his coat and shoes.

You finally noticed that he was there, and remained frozen, staring at him with your puffy red eyes and cheeks stained with tears. He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t.

“Andy… Wait!”

But despite Sam’s protest, Andrew was out in the blink of an eye, hurrying out of the house and out of your life…

He didn’t stop before he had reached his car, hearing Sam run after him.

“Wait, Andy… I didn’t know she was going to drop by.”

“I know… I know… It’s alright.”

“Andrew…”

“I just… I can’t see her right now.”

“I understand. I just…”

“It’s alright, Sam. We’ll see each other tonight at the pub, okay?”

Sam reluctantly nodded, and Andrew hurried inside his car.

All he could do for now was trying to move on, move forward, always forward. He drove aimlessly around the countryside for a while, before finally going home.

Was he moving forward, or just running away?

On a scale from one to drunk, Andrew was hammered.

He reckoned that he hadn’t drunk that much since College… or no, scratch that. Since his first record. Yeah, he had had some nice party time during that period, a mix of testing his limits on the road and the buzzing excitement of a long list of first times.

Only, a few years had passed, and after that last whiskey, he wasn’t too sure if he could handle alcohol as well as he did back in the days…

Sam was laughing his arse off over something stupid, that Andrew had forgotten already, but he was giggling along anyway. The buzz of the liquor was making him dizzy, light-headed, with his cheeks on fire and his thoughts a mess.

God… it felt good to forget you for a moment.

The pub was full of life and laughter. A group had started drunkenly slurring through a few songs, but Andrew was hoping not to be recognized and asked to sing, he wasn’t in the mood. You were the only thing he could write about these days, singing reminded him of you…

It was fun, it was an easy and temporary fix to his heartbreak, but Andrew welcomed the momentary reprieve all the same.

That was until Sam became suddenly much paler than before, and pressed a hand over his mouth, choking on his laughter.

Andrew blinked, grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him as quickly as his wobbly legs could carry him to the bathroom.

Sam had barely knelt down in an empty stall that he was throwing up.

Andrew patted his back a couple of times, waited for his friend to calm down. He sat behind him, against the wall of the tiny bathroom. He didn’t care that the ground was dirty and highly unhygienic… for now he was pressing his temple against the cool tiling on the wall to counter the spinning of his head and the growing pain in his skull.

“You’re alright in there?” he called for Sam, looking at his friend still bent over the toilet.

Sam didn’t answer, merely threw up again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘not dead yet’,” Andrew answered in a fit of stupid giggles, and closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, he heard Sam shifting near him, and he forced his eyes open again, despite his exhaustion and the pain piercing his head.

“You’re okay?”

Sam finally crawled on all fours to join Andrew next to the row of sinks.

“Yeah, better,” he nodded, stumbling to his feet to wash his mouth. “Thanks, mate.”

Andrew merely gave him a thumbs up, before closing his eyes again.

Sam sat down next to his friend then, ignoring a newcomer who had just come in.

“Damn… I don’t think I’ve been this hammered since College,” Sam mumbled, while Andrew merely hummed in agreement. “Do you remember that party by the beach? Alex was fucking out of it, and then the cops arrived! We ran so fucking fast! I thought Alex was going to piss his pants, he was in pure panic!”

Andrew laughed at the memory.

“You tripped on a root and fell like a fucking child. Hands and knees all scrapped,” Andrew added, making Sam double-over with laughter.

“And you banged your head in at least five branches! I thought you’d get a concussion!”

“The red marks on my forehead the next day!”

The two men were laughing hysterically, sitting there on the ground, ignoring anyone else who would come in and throw them amused looks.

They remained there two more minutes without being disturbed. No one was coming in anymore. It seemed as though even the sound of conversations and music from the main room of the pub had quietened.

And there you were again, your picture against his closed eyelids. First the sight of you waking up by his side in the morning. Then the memory of your skin against his. Your voice. Your smile. You turning to look at him, and beaming with this grin of yours that was brighter than any star…

A tear rolled down his cheek and into his beard before he could notice.

“Christ… Sam… I love her so fucking much…”

He vaguely heard Sam shifting next to him, and he finally opened his eyes. A row of brown doors, on the opposite wall some sinks and some mirrors, and white cold tiling all over the walls. Urinals on the other side of the room.

Instead, he could see you lying in his bedsheets, your head thrown back against his pillow…

“I love her…”

That look of mischief in your eyes as you stole some fries from his plate…

“I’ve never loved anyone else the way I love her… so fucking much…”

Sam wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug while Andrew’s silent tears were turning into proper cries.

“It’s going to be okay, Andy… It’s gonna be alright.”

And Andrew knew it was just some stupid fucking lie…

[themorningsunshine]

Muffins

Pie - eyed over you - Chapter 3 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part 

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder, lots of fluff (gotta give the fluff before the angst for it to hurt more, yup I am evil), Steve and Sam being a menace 

Word count - around 6k 

a/n - So, after two delays, hell a lot of editing, and straight up changing the whole structure of this chapter and then combining it with another (hence the length), it’s finally here. Thank you so much to all of you for putting up with me. Please let me know what you guys think about this. Your kind words keep me going. 

You placed the muffins in a tray for display before making a note in your diary to buy more chocolate chips when you go to the market on the weekend. 

Running a bakery all on your own is a difficult job but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Even though you were not a morning person, the prospect of coming here and baking made it getting up from the bed every morning a tad bit easier. 

As you heard knocks on the door, you frowned before looking up, there was still some time left before it was time to open up the bakery. 

But when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside the door, looking like a complete misfit in his dark clothes and sunglasses and surprisingly, a baseball cap covering his forehead, a pathetic attempt at being discreet, you can't help the way your lips turn upward and your heart flutters. 

He was here just yesterday and yet it felt like you were seeing him after too long. 

Get yourself together. 

It's just a crush, it'll go away. 

You wiped your palms on your apron before walking towards the door to open it. 

You gave him a teasing smile before saying, "You're at the wrong place. Baseball convention is another mile from here." 

He rolled his eyes before stepping inside the bakery, bending a little, the door a little too short for him. "Hello to you too, sweets." 

You chuckled before walking towards the counter as he took his usual seat. Everything felt like a routine. Engraved in your soul as if it had always been there. 

"Gracing this bakery with your presence two days in a row. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Maybe I just missed my sweets." He shrugged as if it was obvious. 

"Continue this and you are going to get diabetic." You remarked with a smirk. 

"Not the sweets I was talking about, but okay." 

The smirk immediately left your lips as you could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest. He didn't mean it. He's just teasing. 

But no matter what you think, you can't help the way the red color crept up to your neck at his words. 

Okay, this crush is getting out of hand. 

"So, how's work?" You say in an attempt to change the topic. 

He tenses at your words. You had asked him what he did, and he had replied that he was a mechanic. It was becoming more difficult for him to lie to you. 

But maybe, he won't have to much longer. 

He was pretty sure Walker was on his way to screw things up. 

That son of a - 

"Earth to James!!" Your voice moving and your palm waving in front of his face brought him out of his thoughts. 

"I asked how was work." You said with a frown. James always got weirdly uncomfortable when you asked about work. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but you were no one to ask. 

"Oh, it's been fine. You know, the usual." 

"Yeah, yeah. Steve is a dorky idiot and Sam is an annoying prick. I know." You said imitating the words he had said to you not a long time ago. 

Bucky chuckles. Telling you about Steve and Sam was easier. Maybe sharing something about him which wasn't a lie, made him feel less guilty. 

He knew this was wrong. 

He was creating a web of lies that you will find out one day.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man and he would take whatever time he has got before the inevitable happened. 

Which wasn't going to be today. 

He wasn't going to let Walker ruin this.

He will just sit there, hiding half of his face with the baseball cap. It would be easy. It wasn't like Walker would expect to see him here anyways. 

He was just here to make sure that he didn't hurt you. 

The both of you striked a conversation just like usual and you immediately felt better. You knew it was going to be a great day. Had started off on the best possible note, atleast.

The clock striked eight before you knew it and you got up from your chair to flip the sign at the bakery. 

"Why don't you hire someone to help you?" James asks, sipping his coffee. 

"Why, you're looking for a job?" You teased him with raised eyebrows. "Job at the garage doesn't pay enough for your baseball conventions?" 

He rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna let this one go?" 

"I think… never." 

He chuckled before asking again, "But, seriously, sweets, why not get a helping hand?" 

" 'Cause I am selfish." When he narrowed his eyes, you continued. "I know this sounds weird, but I don't like it when anybody else cooks the food. It's just never good enough." 

"So, why not hire someone to deal with the customers?" 

"That's literally the best part of the job." You half exclaimed. "People telling you whether they liked the sweets or not is the best part, James. Almost as good as getting to eat all the leftovers." 

James chuckled before setting his coffee mug down. "There is no pleasing you." 

You shrugged before walking behind the counter to get everything ready for the morning rush you were sure was about to walk through the door any moment now. 

When a few people came in, some regular customers and some students hoping to get in some caffeine to start the day, you saw as James involuntarily tensed. 

Bucky watched the front door with focused eyes as minutes ticked by. He knew Walker will be here any minute now. 

And he was proven right as he saw John Walker opening the door of the bakery and walking in with a smug look on his face, shoving away whoever came in his path. 

Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him out of here, away from you and this warm place but he couldn't do that. There would be consequences, which he normally wouldn't give a second thought to, but the real nuisance would bring questions. 

He watched as you greet him with the same grin on your face that you used for all your customers, saying in a soft voice, "Hey, what can I get you?" And Bucky can swear Walker doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you.

"Why not start by paying off?" Walker said with a tone harsh and loud enough that a few customers turned to see what was happening. 

You frowned your eyes in confusion, "I am sorry." You were still speaking in a calm, soft voice, trying your best to get whoever this man was to calm down. You didn't want a commotion so early in the day. 

"Walker." He said as if it was enough of an introduction before continuing, "And I think you have an idea of where I am coming from. You owe us." 

James watched as realization dawned on your face and you stood straighter, your smile turning into a forwn. "I don't owe anyone anything."

He leaned towards you, keeping his arms crossed on the counter, speaking with a smirk, "Don't try to act smart, baby doll. Pay up and no one gets hurt." 

He watches as you cringe at the nickname  and almost take a small step back, discomfort clear on your face. 

Bucky almost gets up from his chair, his first instinct to slit off Walker's throat with the knife he had tucked in his jacket. He would make it less messy too, but painful. 

Control, he isn't going to hurt her. 

"I am not going to pay you a single cent, Walker. So, why don't you take your ass out of my bakery and leave me alone?" As you speak, your hand inches towards the knife that you keep below the counter for situations like these. Even though you hoped you'd never have to use it, it was better to be prepared than sorry. 

John clenches his fist as his eyes bore into your skull, "Don't make this difficult. You don't know who you are trying to mess up with. The people I work with wouldn't blink an eye before dumping your body in a dumpster. Just pay every month and we leave you alone." 

"I have said it before and I'll say it again, I am not going to pay you to let me live." It's as if something switches inside you. The slight fear or discomfort that could be seen in your features is completely gone now. 

Bucky watches as Walker growls in impatience before reaching for his jacket pocket. 

Nope, not happening

"Listen to me, you little bitch - " 

Walker is cut off immediately when a larger figure stands between him and the counter. 

James shields you from him, obstructing his view. 

"Leave her alone." The sound is almost a growl. And if Walker hadn't been too preoccupied he would have noticed how familiar that sounded. 

"And who the hell are you?" He spat. 

Bucky looks down at him and watches as all the color is drained out of his face when he recognises him. 

"S - si "

"Leave her alone and if you show up around here ever again, it will be you in the dumpster, cut into more pieces than you can count." 

Fear is obvious on Walker's face, as he completely forgets the weapon he was reaching for, trying to get his senses to work, confusion evident on his face.

Before he can ask any questions, Bucky takes a step towards him, with sheer coldness in his eyes as if he could slit Walker's throat right now and wouldn't blink. 

You watch as the man - who had introduced himself as Walker- saunters out of the bakery with quick steps. 

You frowned your eyes at whatever had happened here. 

You weren't going to pay the mob any money, you knew that. But you also knew that you couldn't have overpowered that man, especially if he had a weapon hidden under there somewhere. 

"You didn't have to do that, James." You said softly, in an attempt to get his attention away from the door he was boring holes in. 

He turned back and you watched as his expression turned into the soft one you were so familiar with. 

You walked from behind the counter towards where he was standing before explaining, "He works for the mob. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with them." 

Bucky's breath hitches at that. How could he explain to you that he wasn't just involved with the mob?

"It's okay, sweets. They won't hurt me." That was some truth. They were never going to hurt him, and before Walker could utter a single word to anyone about the events of the day, he would be fired. Bucky would make sure of that. 

"I know." You sighed, looking down at the floor as if contemplating something. It was silent for a moment before you looked up, "Thank you, James. It does mean a lot to me." You said with a soft, grateful smile on your face and your hand reached out to his. 

"Anytime, sweets." 

A moment passed before anyone of you dared to move. Your hand was now brushing his arm in slight touches. 

You broke the silence, "Come on, have some muffins. They are on me." You said before turning back and walking towards the counter. 

Bucky had to stand there for a moment because his skin had suddenly started to feel cold and empty. Like it wasn't enough without your touch, before walking back towards the counter and standing right in front of where you were taking out some muffins on a plate. 

"So, Ms Feisty, something against the mob?" He said, trying desperately for his voice to sound joking. 

You shrugged while passing the muffins to him and turning to pour some coffee for yourself. "I am not going to pay them money just because everybody else does. Why the hell do I pay taxes?" 

"But the way you were standing, you don't just want to rebel, sweets. You hate them." He said, an emotion in his voice you couldn't really place. He prayed that that wasn't the case, that he had read the situation wrong and maybe you didn't really hate the mob. 

"Hate is a strong word, James. I - despise them." You reply before looking up at him to meet his eyes, but he looks away, almost as if looking at you right now would physically hurt him. 

"I mean, they aren't really that bad, right? It's not like I know a lot about them but I have heard they protect the city." He tries.

"Uh-huh. They are not good people. You remember that day when we met? When it was raining and I had lost my way, and you were there - "

"I remember the day we met, sweets." He interrupts. Every part of that day was engraved in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah right. So, that day I was coming back from a friend's house. She has a daughter, Ellie, about 5 years old." 

He hums, nodding his head, not sure where you were going with this. 

"Both of them were switching houses. Leaving their home, that they had built, to live in a one bedroom apartment in the not so respected area of the town. You know why?" 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"Because her dad was killed." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from bubbling up to the surface. "A 5 year old lost her father, James. And why? Because of some stupid mob feud." 

"What was her dad's name?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

"Jake" 

Bucky's moments halted as images came back to his mind's forefront. He had killed that man himself. Shot three bullets straight into his chest. He had felt no remorse then. That man was a traitor. Had joined hands  with the enemy, knowing very well what the consequences could be. 

He had felt no remorse then because he hadn't given a moment of thought to the people he might be leaving behind. It made his work easier. Pretending that there were no consequences to whatever they did. 

But now he could see the consequences. In the form of rage in your eyes at the tale and the hurt he felt in his chest, thinking about the girl. He knew how that felt. Being alone, and helpless. 

"She didn't deserve that. None of them did. Nobody deserves to lose somebody they love, James. But it hits the worst when it's unforeseeable. When the people who did it are out there in the world, as if their hands aren't tainted with blood, living their life and you can do nothing about it."  You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. Thinking about your friend and Elliot always brought you to tears. You tried to help them as much as you could, but there was only so much you could do. 

Bucky looks into your eyes and sees tears in the corner of your eyes. He wants to hold your hand, to comfort you, to tell you that they are going to be fine. But how could he, when his were the hands that were tainted with blood, that had taken the life of that man without a second thought. 

So, he just sits there, listening to you talk about the lady and her kid, even though each of your words is like a sword stabbed through his chest. 

When he knows you are fine, he takes his leave, bidding you goodbye before walking out and calling Steve. 

"Steve, I need you to do something." 

"What's up, Buck? Everything okay?" Steve replied in a concerned voice. Even after everything, his concern for his best friend never faded. 

"I am sending you some details of a lady and her kid. Send me the contacts of the person who bought their house." 

"Give me half an hour. But who are these people?" 

"They are going to be our responsibility, Steve." 

He cuts the call and sends a quick text with all the details he might need. 

He can't help but turn back towards the bakery to have one last look. He has made up his mind. He was going to tell you the truth. 

he didn't care if it meant you would hate him. There were many people in the town who despised him, what's one more?

But when he turns back and his eyes land up on you, handing a cup of coffee to a middle aged lady, talking to her with a softness unique to you. 

As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn towards the window and as your eyes meet, your smile grows wider. A smile that's only reserved for him, he realizes. 

And he would have hated himself for how quickly his resolve fades away. 

But Bucky Barnes was not a good man. 

And maybe many people in this world did hate him, but he would be damned if you were one of them. 

He wanted this. The weekly bakery visits, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it all, even if it was all this was ever going to be. 

And it was about damn time he got what he wanted. 

Why should he apologize for the monster he has become when no one ever apologized for making him this way?

Maybe, one day you'll find out the truth and hate him more for lying to you, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon. He will make sure of that. 

So, he straightens his coat and walks away from the bakery, choosing to not pay any mind to the inevitable doom that could leave the both of you shattered. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

"James Buchanan Barnes" 

He turns back from what he is doing to find you, cross armed, shooting daggers at him. 

"How could you, James? It's like you're not even trying." 

He can't help the smile that finds its way to his lips at the way you look. Your christmas sweater that you had deemed "perfect" for the occasion and a scarf draped loosely on your neck, trying to look intimidating, just makes you look even cuter. 

You walk towards him and take the candy decoration from his hand, to place it exactly just an inch away from where he was going to, because it looked in your exact words, "more festive" 

Bucky just smiles at you as he watches you ramble more about Christmas decorations. 

When a week ago, he had heard you reminding Pietro that he had to come over to help you decorate, he had stepped in and offered his help. He was free that day anyways, he had told you. There was an international shipment that he had to sign off that day, but that could wait. 

When Pietro had shaken his hand and thanked him for 'saving him', he didn't understand, but now he did. You were extremely particular about how each and everything had to look for christmas and was not shy to tell the other person what a terrible job they were doing if it wasn't exactly the way you had wanted.

But if the cute pout on your face and the warmth that it caused in his chest was any indication, it was worth it. The cookies whose smell reached him even in the living room was just an added bonus. 

Right now, standing in the middle of your apartment, surrounded by incomplete decorations that signaled the arrival of a festival he wouldn't have cared the slightest about a year ago, being scolded by you for not hanging the canes correctly, he regretted nothing. 

3 hours and a lot of debates later, all of which you won, the house was finally decorated enough for the festival. 

"Here you go." You said, handing him a warm cup of coffee and placing a plate full of cookies on the table in front of him. It was your way of saying thank you. 

Bucky looks around your apartment. It's just above the bakery and much smaller than the mansion he lived in. But it felt different in a way he couldn't point out. 

A shelf filled to the brim with books standing in the corner, pictures adorning the walls, each telling a different story. Some soft music playing on the speaker, it was like a blanket of warmth stood over your house. A little messy, but beautiful nonetheless. 

His eyes then land on you, sitting across from him on the sofa, sipping your coffee with a warm, content look on your face, your scarf now lying on the table. 

As if you could feel his gaze, you turn back to look at him and your breath hitches in the throat at the way he is looking at you. 

It's as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink an eye. 

You can't get yourself to look away. So, you just raise your eyebrows, because you have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and if he didn't look away right now, you are not sure you will be able to survive longer. 

He just shrugs and turns towards his coffee, as if it was a natural occurrence. As if your whole world hadn't stopped spinning for a moment there. 

Bucky looks at you through the corner of his eyes and watches as red color creeps up to your neck and you try your hardest to not smile. 

He now recognises the feeling. 

Your apartment feels like home. 

And the next realization brings with itself questions and doubts he wasn't ready to answer. 

He wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩

He clenches his fist as he drags his feet towards the bakery. 

It was pretty late. He knew that. 

But he just had to be there. 

He liked his work more often than not. The impending guilt and the danger aside, the reason that had initially brought him to this world still stood. 

It made him feel something. The adrenaline of each task, the satisfaction of seeing everything that belonged to his enemies burning down till there was nothing but smoke.  

The mafia world had welcomed the darkness that he had inside of him and made him one of their own, for which he will be eternally grateful. 

But for some time now, it hasn't been enough. 

The darkness that had surrounded and consumed him for so many years now was suddenly not enough. 

Something inside him changed. 

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had thought twice before shooting that man today. The whispers inside him that asked him every time 'if there was any other way' had become louder now and even the noise of the bullets couldn't silence it. 

He knew what was happening. 

He was seeking the light.

And every single part of him knew that this could only end in disaster. In a fire that threatened to burn every single thing to the last piece. 

But that didn't stop him from taking the next step. Or the one after that. 

He was still walking to the one place that could silence away his thoughts and make it all go away. Like a moth attracted to a flame. 

Maybe this was selfish of him. Maybe he was tainting you with his darkness. 

He will think about that some other day. 

When the bakery comes into view, he realizes just how late it is. 

You would be about to close now. 

Maybe he could catch a glimpse before you retired for the night. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. But it had to do. 

As he reaches the bakery, he watches as the door slowly opens and a young boy steps out. 

He frowns before walking ahead, and his eyes almost widen with who he sees. 

"Peter, what are you doing here?" 

Peter looks up from the book he is currently holding and his eyes widen with fear at the figure who stands before him. 

"S - sir, I - I was just - " 

A voice from inside the bakery calls out to him. A voice Bucky recognizes all too well. 

"Peter, you forgot this." 

You step out of the bakery with a textbook in your hands as you hand it over to Peter. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. Too afraid about what was going to happen. 

You turn around and when your eyes land on James, your lips turn into a grin before you know it. 

"James, hi"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between the both of you. You have a glint in your eyes as if you couldn't be happier by anything else and the man he had feared with everything he had for the last couple of years, had a softness to his features that made Peter wonder if he was somehow swallowed into an alternate dimension. 

"Hey, sweets." Bucky says almost on instinct, before turning towards the boy who is still looking at the both of them as if he just saw a dolphin flying in the air. 

You probably notice it too, because you then point towards Peter before saying, "James, this is Peter, and Peter, this is James Barnes." 

"James?" Peter says almost on instinct, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Wait, you know him?" You ask, looking between the both of them now. 

Peter looks at Bucky and almost crumbles with fear by the warning glare he is shooting towards him. But there is something else there too. Something, he can swear he has never seen in the mob boss' eyes. 

There is fear in them. A tiny flicker of it. He fears the answer he is going to tell you. Whatever it was, it was too important for him. 

"No, no. I don't think we have met before." 

"Oh, okay." You say, confused as to what had just happened here. "All the best for the test and tell MJ I said hi," You give him an easy exit from a situation he was clearly uncomfortable in. 

You watch as a small blush spreads across his cheeks before he bids you goodbye and glancing at James once, takes his leave. 

"He is a nice kid." You break the silence after Peter walks away, out of earshot. "Pretty smart. I was helping him with his test tomorrow." 

Bucky looks back at you and shrugs in response. "Good for him." 

"By the way, it's closing time, James." You say with a teasing voice and he is relieved that you don't ask any further questions. 

"Come on, sweets. You could make an exception for your favorite customer." 

You roll your eyes before replying. "What about this? You help me clean up, and I get you something special I made today." 

"Help you clean up?" 

"Aww. The prince doesn't like to get his hands all dirty?" You smirk. 

"This special treat should better be worth it, sweets." He huffs before walking inside the bakery. 

You walk in behind him while giggling. 

__

"And that's it." 

You look at him with a smile and silently clap your hands together with an impressed look. 

If any of his men would see him right now, wearing an apron with a bunny on it, hands covered in flour, working in a bakery with soft music playing in the background, their eyes would pop out of their heads. But he couldn't care less. 

"Great job for a first timer, Barnes. You have earned yourself a serving of something special." 

Bucky smirked before replying, "Something special, you say?" He leans in and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes before turning towards the kitchen, hoping that it wasn't evident how flustered you were.

You take out something from a box and place it on a plate in front of him. 

Bucky looked at it closely with a frown. It was clearly made of chocolate and was shaped like a dome. He could swear he had never seen it in your bakery before. 

"Come on, give it a try. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago." 

He picks up one and after a moment of close inspection, takes a bite. 

As the taste of chocolate invades his senses, he moans and puts the whole into his mouth. 

You watch as his head falls back in delight. 

Once he is done, which is faster than he would have wanted, he says, "Sweets, that was the best damn thing I have ever had." 

You chuckle, "You say that every single time, James."

"And I mean it every single time." 

You just smile at him before putting another on the plate. 

As he devours that one quickly too, he inquires, "What is it called?" 

You smirk before replying, "James." 

"Yeah?" 

"James. That's what it is called." 

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to reply, "You named a sweet after me?"

"Well, technically, you were the inspiration for this." 

He frowns. "How so?" 

"Well, It's full of chocolate and exceptionally sweet. It's exterior is hard but its insides are so soft, they practically melt in your mouth." 

Bucky looks at you, baffled and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is suddenly shushed by you. 

"That's my favorite song." You whisper, as if not wanting to obstruct the soft melody. 

Bucky listens to the sound coming from your phone.

Wise men say

"Only fools rush in"

But I can't help

Falling in love with you

He looks back at you and at the way you have a soft smile on your face, your features highlighted by the soft glow of the kitchen light. 

You look at him and with a teasing smile puts your hand forward, indicating to him to take it. 

He looks between your outstretched hand and your face with a frown.

"Dance with me." Your voice is so soft, he just can't get himself to say no. But, who is kidding? He will set the whole world on fire and watch it burn with a smile on his face if you asked him to. 

He slowly places his hand in yours as the music continues. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help

Falling in love with you

The both of you stand in the middle of the kitchen, the moonlight sweeping its way through the windows. 

Everything is brightened in a warm glow but you know nothing will ever shine brighter than the way his ocean blue eyes do right now. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

One of his arms finds its way around your waist while the other holds yours. 

You place your free hand on his shoulder and he gently pulls you closer. 

The both of you stay like that for the rest of the song, swaying slowly to the music. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You don't know who  leans first but before you know it, the distance between the both of you starts decreasing. 

You hold your breath and your gaze move from his eyes to his lips. 

You would be lying if you said you had never thought of this before, of how his lips would feel against yours, how he would taste like. 

This man had occupied your thoughts since the day you had met all those months ago and you were pretty sure he had no idea of the effect he had on you. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

Just as the song is about to end and there's nothing but an inch of distance between the both of you, the door to the bakery was suddenly pushed open with a force and the sound of the bells invaded the comfortable silence that had covered the room in a blanket. 

The both of you took a sudden step away, and you needed a moment to calm your heart which felt like it was about to beat its way out of your chest, before looking up to see who it. was. 

You squinted as two men, one blonde and the other dark haired, stood at the door, looking comically too big, having no idea of what transcribed in the bakery before they had not-so-smoothly barged in. 

The blonde one speaks, breaking the silence, "I knew we'd find you here." 

You watch as he steps towards James, who looks at him with sheer annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, punk?" 

The other man looks at you and forms a smirk before stepping towards you. "So, this is where you always sneak off to? I guess I understand why." 

James huffs in annoyance and with a sten face stops him, "Shut up, Wilson." 

You look between the men who looked like they were in a staring contest when realization hit you. "Steve and Sam?" 

All the men look at you at the same time and you feel like a deer caught in headlights before you stand up straighter reminding yourself that no matter how intimidating the situation was, this was your bakery. 

"And you must be y/n l/n. It's great to finally meet you, Ms l/n" Steve says, smiling. 

"Please, just call me y/n." 

"Or we could call you beautiful." Sam replies before stepping forwards, stretching his hand to take yours for a shake. 

You let out a chuckle before shaking his hand. "Y/n is fine." 

"What are the both of you doing here?" Bucky speaks up, shooting daggers at Sam, his fists clenched. 

"There's an emergency. We need to go." Steve replies, a serious expression adorning his face. 

Sam interjects them "What's the hurry? I have heard so much about this bakery. We could eat something before leaving." 

Bucky spats at him, "This bakery has closed, Wilson. Time's up. Get your butt moving." 

Sam pouts and you chuckle at the antics of these grown men, "Why don't you come here some other day, Sam, I have something that I think you'll like." 

Sam looks at you, a childlike smile replacing his pout, "I like her already." 

Bucky steps forward towards Sam, pulling him away. "Don't listen to him, sweets." 

Steve and Sam turn their head towards him so fast. you are sure they will get a sprain later. Sam raises his brows with a smirk on his face, while Steve looks at him with a smile on his. 

James then quickly bids you goodbye before pulling the both of them outside the bakery. 

Once they reach the car Steve and Sam had driven in, they both look at him with amused grins. 

"Back off, the both of you. What's the emergency?" 

Steve's expression turns serious as he replies, "Our shipment from Iran has been stopped at Morocco and they are refusing to comply." 

Bucky narrows his eyes at the information. Who would dare to stop their shipment and risk getting on his bad books? "Who is it, Steve?"

"It's Alexander Pierce." 

Bucky lets out a breath before looking in the direction of the bakery once more  and then turning towards Steve and Sam. 

"Get in the car. We need to leave right now. This is going to be a long assignment."

Next part

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Compotation

Warnings: non/dubcon, coercion and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Compotation - a drinking or tippling together. (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

The world is awash with ripples. You feel heavy and light at once. The slosh in your stomach weighs you down as your head feels hollow.  

You focus on measuring out the shot of tequila. You splash a little as you dump it into the bigger glass and add grapefruit juice and a bit of fizzy water. You swallow a belch and slam down the can, spilling even more onto the counter. You’re too angry, and tipsy, to care about any of it. 

Knock, knock, knock. Fuckkkkk. It’s probably the neighbour come to whine about your music. It’s not even that loud. And it’s good music. Well, she can go rot with your boyfriend. Maybe even soon to be ex. 

You take your drink with you to the door. Your fuzzy pants brush together warmly as coolness spreads over your exposed midriff. It’s too bad Bucky didn’t stay long enough to appreciate your new pajamas. No, you told him to go. No, good... 

Maybe it’s him. He is so forgetful you wouldn’t put it past him to forget his own damn keys. You open the door, ready to bluster at neighbour and boyfriend alike. Your mouth hangs open as your met with a third unexpected option. 

“Sam,” you blub out like a fish. “Oh, hey. He’s not here.” 

“Oh,” he tilts his head, “figures. He’s not answering my texts. What’s going on? Party?” 

He looks at your drink and you scoff. You take a deep gulp of the alcohol laced juice. You should slow down but you won’t. You don’t do this. No, you behave. You do everything Bucky tells you and he can’t do just one thing. One. Thing. 

“Sure is,” you slur. “Party of one. I’ll tell him you stopped by when he drags himself home.” 

Before you can close the door, he puts his hand against it, his strength easily blocking your own. You blink at him. 

“What did he do?” He hums. 

You roll your eyes, “what do you care? You’re his friend.” 

“Oh, ouch. Kitten, I thought we were friends.” 

“Mm, well, I guess,” you shrug. 

“So, what are friends for, huh? Why don’t you tell me all about that deadbeat?” He smirks and smoothly edges his way inside. You don’t stop him. You could use the company. 

You back up and blow a raspberry as you play back the argument that turned into Bucky yelling and you just a staring blankly. Then he left. No apology. No nothing. Somehow, you became the guilty party. 

“He forgot our anniversary,” you grumble. “You know, just what he does. He can tell me what battle happened on what day, but he can’t remember our first date.” 

“He forgot? Jesus, now how could he forget a girl like you?” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about it,” you pause and slurp again. “You want a drink? You know, he can’t get drunk. He sucks down those beers for what? Because he likes the taste of piss?” You sneer. 

Sam snickers. 

“What?” You bluster. 

“Nothing, I just... I’ve never seen you angry.” 

“Yeah, well, I've been too accepting,” you spit. “So you wanna drink? Tequila and grapefruit. Or I have some peach juice.” 

You lick the moisture from your lips and sway on your feet. 

“Uh, sure, might as well,” he accepts. 

“Uno momento,” you hold up a finger and drain your glass. You let out a long aaah as you finish then stagger into the kitchen. Are you leaning or are the walls? 

You take out another glass. “Hey, grapefruit or--” you lower your voice as he enters the kitchen, “peach.” 

“Mm, peach sounds sweet,” he says as he unzips his jacket. He hangs it on the back of one the tall chairs along the island. You hate them. You told Bucky they’re too high. 

“Coming right up,” you declare. 

You pour the drinks with a bit more care than before. Yet, your hands are just as clumsy. When at last you present him with a glass, it’s dripping. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, his loss.” Sam says as he turns and waves you out ahead of him. “I mean, old man should be ecstatic to hang out with a girl like you. He don’t know what he’s got.” 

“No, he doesn’t,” you agree as you strut out into the front room. “You know, I didn’t even ask him to do anything. I set the date, I called the venue... he can’t even show up!” 

“Aw, baby,” Sam sits with you on the couch. He takes a small sip as you swig back a mouthful. “That’s not fair. You deserve better than that.” 

“I do,” you force yourself to put the cup down as you stomach stirs hotly. You wipe your sticky hands on your pajamas. He surprises you as his fingers wander over to touch the fuzzy fabric.  

“Soft,” he comments, “he’s really missing out.” 

“You like them? They’re new,” you look down at the crop top and pants. 

“Soft and cute. Like you, kitten,” he drawls and reaches to put his glass next to yours.  

Your head bobbles dizzily as you give a long blink. He continues to pet your pants, feeling the fluffiness. You can feel his touch beneath. It makes your skin hot. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks. 

You pout and shake your head. Your anger rolls into sadness, “no,” you sniffle as tears rise to the brims of your eyes, “no. Why doesn’t he care?” 

“Aw, honey,” he stretches his arm across your back and you fall against him, burying your face in his shoulder, “it’s okay. I got you.” 

“I tried so hard,” you snivel into his shirt as he rubs your back. His other hand cradles your head as he rocks and hushes you. “What am I gonna do? We signed a lease. We—we—I don’t think there’s any we--” 

His hand creeps down to your neck and he extends his thumb under your jaw. He nudges you up as he draws away. He slides his hand under your chin and you flick your lashes against your tears. Before your vision can clear, his lips are on yours. 

You push against his chest as you squeak in surprise. What is he doing? You tear your mouth away and gasp. 

“Sam!” You sputter. 

“Mm, he doesn’t deserve you, baby. Come on, let me show you what you need--” 

“What-- why--” you gulp. “No, I can’t.” 

“Kitten,” his hand falls down to your ass, “when’s the last time he even fucked you? I know you’re not all worked up just because a fight.” 

You blanch and push your lip out. How does he know? You shake your head. “No, that’s not...” 

“How long, baby?” He puts both hands on your hips and grips, kneading down to your thighs. 

“No--” 

“A month?” 

You look away as your eyes gloss over once more. 

“Longer?” 

You shiver and grab his hands. 

“Two... three...” 

You shake as you cling to him, “please, Sam--” 

“Six months? That’s it, right? Little longer?” 

“How--” you choke on your unintended confession. “No, Sam.” 

“I’m gonna treat you right, just relax,” he purrs. 

“I can’t. I love him,” you insist. 

“He doesn’t love you if he ain’t touching you,” he lurches your hips and easily puts you on your back. He shifts so that his knee is on the couch and drags the other up beside it. “Fuck, kitten, look at you,” he runs his hands up and down your thighs, “all dressed up for me, huh?” 

“Sammy, please--” 

“Mm, yes, keep calling me Sammy, baby,” his nails graze the fabric and he fingers curl around the elastic. 

You groan and press your hand to your forehead as your vision thrums. Your temples pound and your heart races in panic. You’re too drunk. 

He tugs and strips the pants past your ass. You whimper and throw your arm out. 

“Sammy... I... don’t feel good.” 

Your eyes roll back under your eyelids. You take deep breaths as you try to sober yourself. It only adds to the swirling sensation. Your legs raze with goosebumps as he frees your ankles from the elastic tails of the pajamas. You shiver and arch your back, exposed and weak. 

He growls as a rustle stirs the air and the fabric heaps noisily on the floor. He grabs your leg and bends it, leaning it against the back of the couch. He pulls your other over the edge as the couch jostles beneath him. You blink and see his blurry figure looming over you as he bends over your pelvis. 

You twitch and whine as he flutters his fingers along your folds. Your thighs tense. Your foot dangles just over the floor as your other sinks into the crack behind the cushion. Sam lowers himself as you retreat behind your eyelids. 

His breath fans over you as he hums and hovers over your pussy. He purrs and nuzzles the patch of hair. You moan and reach down blindly. He grabs your hand and shoves it back and slides his tongue between your lips. You gasp and spasm. 

He swipes his tongue again. You groan and your head falls to one side. You tilt your hips as he tends to you slowly, dragging up over your clit in long strokes before flicking back down. 

Shame speckles over you as you remember who he is. What he’s doing. This is Sam. This is Bucky’s best friend. Your friend. You're just friends. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you dig down into denial. This isn’t real. Your drunk. This is all just the twisted delusion of your alcohol-laden mind. It’s not Sam making you feel so delicious. It’s Bucky. It’s Bucky. It can’t be anyone else. 

He reaches up your stomach, tickling your bare skin, and slides his fingers beneath the bottom of your top. He fondles your chest as he laps at your hungrily. You moan and clasp onto his hand. It’s so good. So good it has to be Bucky. 

You roll your hips in time with his tongue. You reach down with your other hand to push his head down. You need the release. It’s been so long since you got more than the fleeting pleasure of your vibrator. The warmth, the eagerness, the need in his touch enthralls you. 

You murmur and mewl as your thighs tingle and your spine zing. You’re almost there. You feel the tension twisting tighter, tighter, tighter. You flex your feet as you tilt your hips frantically and cling to his head. 

Your orgasm spills over and you cry out, “oh, Bucky, Bucky....” 

He sucks on your clit as your climax crests and dissipates in a smattering of nerves. You huff and heave as you yawling turns to gibberish. His breath is damp as he pants against your leg before slowly raising himself. 

He grabs your jaw and sets your head straight. Sam’s voice cuts through your fantasy. Your eyes round as you stare up at his dire expression. He shoves down his jeans impatiently as he squeezes until your bones ache. 

He bends over, resting his hard dick against your cunt, and rocks against you. He smears his length along your wet folds, thrusting slowly, just enough to thrum but not enough to stoke anything more. You wriggle and whine. 

“Forget him, kitten,” he continues his deliberate thrusts, “you’ll be begging for me and only me soon enough.” 

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 6

Steve expected the crowd outside of the door. He expected the Alphas, four of them, intermingled with a small team of Betas for pheromone control. He didn’t expect the rise in aggression that spiked in him at the sight of them all, but he had enough self-control to shut it down as quick as it spiked.

They were there to protect Eddie, they weren’t there to hurt Eddie. They were there to protect him from Steve if need be, even at the risk of their own safety. They were doing their jobs.

“I’m okay.” He held up his hands in a bid to relax the crowd “I’m under control.”

“Very nearly weren’t, though, were you, Steve?” He also didn’t expect him. Although he should have. It wasn’t like Owens wasn’t around. It wasn’t like Owens wasn’t liable if things went sideways in the clinic, if one of his Alphas on staff assaulted someone. Sam Owens, Beta, good with the younger patients. Always had lollies in his coat pocket for the scared or nervous ones. “What’s everyone still doing here? Go on, off you go, crisis averted! Crowd disperse!” Looks were shared, before the small team dispersed back to their original stations, back to their actual jobs. “Steve, you come with me.”

“I can’t be away from him for long, I—”

“You won’t be, now come with me.” No room for argument, no matter how friendly the betas tone was, no matter how neutral he sounded. Owens was the boss. He was the one with all the degrees, the qualifications, the experience. Steve followed, he followed all the way down the main hallway and to the left, right to the end of that one, and through the door at the end, directors office, where he watched Owens take a seat behind his desk, only taking the one in front of it when it was offered. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Have a drink.” Owens stood and retrieved a soda can from a mini fridge he kept in his office, placing it on the desk for him before sitting back down. “You’re not in trouble Steve. It’s okay.”

“But I broke—”

“Nothing. You broke nothing. You kept yourself completely under control, and while yes it looked bad from the angle of the cameras, security were right in raising a response unit, you kept yourself in check, that shows an incredible amount of self-control, you broke nothing. You can relax.” It took him a moment, but he let the tension drain, it was okay, he wasn’t in trouble, he could have that drink, and everything would be fine. Owens even waited for him to finish his first swig of the refreshing liquid before he spoke again “What happened, from your perspective, Steve? Tell me everything from the moment you met him to… that.”

“In detail?”

“Condense it for me. Mr. Munson won’t be asleep forever, he’ll likely need you when he wakes so I don’t want to keep you here too long.” He could go back. He was allowed back. That last bit of tension draining away. It’d be okay.

“Right… uhm… well, I know him. We went to school together.”

“You’ve known a few Omegas who’ve been treated here, Mr. Emerson attends Hawkins Highschool as well, I’m sure you must have met him before, yet this wasn’t an issue in that assignment, what makes Mr. Munson different?”

“I don’t know, it’s like… it feels… right? Like—like I belong with him I—I don’t—I’ve never reacted like that to an Omega’s pre-heat scent before, it’s… I don’t know—” confusing, baffling, overwhelming, he wanted… god he wanted so badly but he didn’t know why.

“Like he’s yours?” It wasn’t an accusation, although a defensive alpha might have seen it as one, Steve kept his defences low. Sam Owens was not a threat. He’d already said Steve wasn’t in trouble.

“No… like… like I’m his” Owens nodded “like… like I was always supposed to be his” everything just clicking into place piece by piece, why he’d never been able to find the right person to settle down with, why his eyes had always been drawn to Eddie, sure he thought it was because Eddie just naturally drew the attention to himself, but—maybe it wasn’t that simple for him, maybe it wasn’t just Eddie’s ability to be the loudest person in a room that had Steve’s eyes drawn to him so often. “does that make sense?”

He'd just never gotten close enough to the Omega assume anything different.

“Unfortunately quite a bit. Yes.” Owens stood back up, and rounded his chair to the book case, where he perused for a moment before settling on a thin book bound in red leather, a notebook. “There’ve been a fair few cases of this kind of thing cropping up in clinics across the globe for as long as clinics like Nest have existed. Alphas and Omegas in close proximity during heats, it happens. Fanciful folk like to add romanticized labels to the whole thing, soulmates, fated mates, true mates. I’ve never been a fan of that terminology, they remove the essence of choice in it all. Of our own autonomy. When in reality, all it is, is that you both give off each other’s ideal scent, as in there's nothing in the subtle notes of it to put you off, and Eddie is just giving off a lot of his right now without anything to mask it.” That pre-heat scent doing its job too well. "The working term among the clinics is actually 'Scent Mates.'"

“…Excuse me?”

“We all have our individual scents, Steve, outside of things we can control like our cologne, perfume, the food and drink we’ve consumed, the fabric of the clothes we wear, we all give off our own individual unique scent underneath all of that. And we all have an ideal scent that makes us feel safe, comforted, that makes us feel all those good things we crave in life. We can settle in those scents, surrounded by them, they make us feel at home. Like we belong there.”

He belonged… like he belonged… he felt that. He felt so strongly that he belonged with Eddie, that everything was right with Eddie in his arms. “That’s—that’s what I felt like, like… I belonged there, like it was right… and when he asked me to—y’know, I barely managed to stop myself.” It felt right to be with him.

It felt wrong to pull away.

“Although I can't speak for him, or make any assumptions as to how he’ll feel after his heat because sometimes it is one sided when the dust settles, he must feel very drawn by your scent too, to be so comfortable around you, to be so responsive, especially so early in his heat, maybe yours might even be his ideal, making you both one of the many ‘scent mates’ who’ve found each other through these clinics. I wouldn’t blame him for being drawn to it though, who doesn’t enjoy a walk past a bakery in the morning?” It was meant as a joke, and maybe if he hadn’t said the first part Steve would have laughed… but he did say the first part.

“…He might not though?”

“It’s possible, just like physical attraction between primary genders, sometimes it’s one sided, with just the Omega’s heat temporarily pushing that attraction on their side to fulfil their instinct to be bred. But you and I both know, Omega’s don’t crave the touch of an Alpha during the first stage of their heat… his response to you is indicative of those going into the third stage, quite the advance given he’s been here only a day.” It wasn’t common.

Owens was right, Steve had tended to many Omega’s in his time at Nest, they all had variety, different behaviours, different traits, but the one thing that stayed the same was… heats progressed as they normally would.

Pre-heat, carb load, insatiable, then recovery.

Each stage had its own kind of behaviours exhibited. Omega’s didn’t want sex during pre-heat, they wanted to prepare, to build a nest, to get comfortable, to feel safe, and in the clinic... to get to know the alpha who'd be helping them.

Eddie just had to be different, didn’t he?

Owens was still talking “—sure, while we were already keeping him under close watch due to his history of violence, for safety reasons we’re going to have to be very careful with you as his assigned Alpha. Be honest with me, Steve… can you handle this?”

“I can handle it. I won’t hurt him.”

“I know you won’t, there's never been a recorded incident between scent mates that makes me think you would. Head to the cafeteria before you make your way back to him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate food when he wakes up.”

“…You’re really letting me stay with him?” With increased security, likely a door guard or two, but still.

“Would any other alpha be safe in there with him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly. Off you go.”

Part 8

[sweetcocopowder]

Day One: Doctor

Synopsis: Dean has a check up at the doctor's and by god is his doctor hot as hell

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: Dream sex. Prostate exam ;). Doctor au. Fingering. Anal Sex. Coming in pants. Top Castiel. Bottom Dean.

Notes: It's that time of the year again! I won't be posting every single day but expect a good few fics this month. It can range between 8 to 11. I'm still working on a few and life has been a real pain lately. So we'll see. Anyways, happy reading :)

The wait had felt like forever. The blinding light were starting to strain the hunter’s eyes and bring upon a harsh headache. The waiting room for the nurse’s office wasn’t full at all. It was only Dean and another older lady. No one has come out of the nurse’s office nor has anyone gone in. It’s testing Dean’s patience a little too much. It has his leg bouncing non-stop.

Finally, the nurse’s door opens and out steps a dark-haired man that catches Dean’s eye immediately. His broad shoulders hug the white nurse’s coat a little too well and his hooded eyes look downwards at the clipboard in hand.

He licks his full lips before calling out, “Dean Winchester?”

His gravelly voice stirs something in Dean that he immediately ushers away. Dean stands up a tad eagerly, raising a shy hand.

 “Yes. I’m-“ he clears his throat. “Here.”

The nurse looks to him with the bluest of blues. Dean swallows thickly. If he’s getting a check up from him, then he won’t complain here. The nurse gestures into the room for Dean and the hunter complies without a word. He looks down at the name tag on the nurse’s chest as he passes, needing to know the name of this man.

Mr. Novak. Not anything like Doctor Sexy but where is Dean to judge. He’s just here for a check up and then he’s out of here. Back to the bunker he goes. Sam had forced him here even though they don’t do check-ups. Never do. They just go about their merry way.

Dean sits himself up on the bed as Mr. Novak locks the door behind him. Doesn’t need anyone coming in here unexpectedly.

“So, we’re here just for a check up today?” Mr. Novak asks, Dean’s gut flipping again at how deep his voice is.

“Yeah, pretty much. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Dean admits with a shrug trying to act casual.

“Good, good,” Mr. Novak comments as he looks the hunter up and down, painfully slow.

Dean swallows thickly. He’ a nurse. It’s his job to do this type of thing. Maybe he can do it without having the bedroom eyes but that may be something Dean is looking into too much.

Mr. Novak grabs a tongue depressor and moves over to Dean. “Let’s begin with opening your mouth as wide as you can,” he states lowly.

And Dean does as he’s told. He opens his mouth as wide as he can and the depressor is placed on his tongue, pushing it down. It goes a bit further back into his throat than Dean expects and he almost gags. But he holds still, staring up at the ceiling as Mr. Novak inspects his mouth.

Once satisfied, the nurse pulls away with a hum. Dean clears his throat automatically, shmacking his tongue a few times as well. He stifles a cough, blinking away the tears that formed at the corner of his eyes.

“Your oral health is good. You’re gage reflex even better,” Mr. Novak comments with his back turned to Dean.

“Excuse me?” Dean asks.

Mr. Novak flashes a small torch his way. “And now for a general check over your eyes.”

The next few check overs go smoothly and nothing out of the ordinary. But the entire time, Dean can’t seem to keep his eyes off the nurse.

“With this next check-up,” Mr. Novak turns as he’s putting on a pair of blue gloves, “this may be a bit more personal. You don’t have to do it today, but it’s better to check everything than nothing at all.”

“Wait a minute,” Dean stutters out. “You don’t mean?”

“Every man should be checked at this once,” Mr Novak says as he leans back against his desk. “Even a man at your age, you never know.”

The hunter suddenly feels very enclosed in the room. He doesn’t know if he wants to go through the humility of having a hot doctor’s fingers up his ass.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can skip this.” Mr. Novak says, bringing Dean from his thoughts.

Dean can feel his ears burning. And all the nurse does is stare at him with hooded eyes. Dean swallows thickly. May as well go through with the check-up. The last thing he needs the other hunters- or Sam for starters is that he was killed by prostate cancer.

“No, no,” Dean stutters out, feeling his face go all the redder. “You’re right. I should get checked up.”

Mr. Novak nods with a smile that shouldn’t be as charming as it is. “I just need you to turn around with your pants around your knees and bent over the table. This will feel, foreign,” he drawls out on the last word with something in his tone.

Something that has Dean hopping off the bed and turning around quickly so that he doesn’t have to look at the damn nurse any longer. He just really hopes that he doesn’t notice that he’s semi-hard.

Quickly unbuckling his belt and slipping them halfway down his thighs, Dean tries to ignore the eyes on the back of his neck. He can feel Mr. Novak watching him and it makes him fumble a few times. This isn’t like that. It’s for medical purposes. He places his hands on the bed in front of him and tries his best not to think about it.

A large hand splays out on his lower back and Dean can’t help but flinch at the sudden touch. He stares at the poster in front of him about how the air ways work. What a lovely diagram.

“This will be cold,” Mr. Novak states, “Just relax.”

Dean steels himself, grinding his teeth down so that no ungodly noise slips through his lips. The finger is cold and well lubricated. Dean grunts, but doesn’t move an inch. Mr. Novak’s hand slips in deeper, searching for his prostate. His fingers curls inside of him, prodding in and out and you’d think a nurse would know where the damn thing is!

Then Mr. Novak finds it. And he starts kneading at it, checking to see if it’s healthy. Dean can’t help but groan through grinded teeth, his heart beating loudly in his chest. It feels too good.

“It’s a natural reaction, don’t worry,” Mr. Novak all but purrs out.

That doesn’t help Dean’s growing erection that he tries to hide in the bed. He breathes slowly in and out of his nose, letting his head dip down slightly between his shoulders.

Then a second finger slips in next to the first. Dean’s head shoots up and he’s back to staring wide eyed at the throat diagram. Two fingers now curl inside of him at his prostate, the cold lubricate now warm inside of him. He grips the sheets on the bed, drying to hold in the noises that want to make themselves known from within his throat. But it doesn’t help. He exhales shakily, a quiet whine escaping his mouth as Mr. Novak strokes his prostate.

“Are you uncomfortable with the check-up, Mr. Winchester?” The nurse asks, his gravel-like voice honey to Dean.

The hunter can only shake his head as he lets it dip between his shoulders again. He’s fine. He’s-

A gloved hand comes around the front of him and grabs at the base of his cock. Dean chokes back a gasp, biting his tongue for letting himself go.

“Like I said,” Mr. Novak begins. “It’s only natural. Let yourself go; you can crack a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth.”

Dean exhales shakily as Mr. Novak begins a slow, painful pace on his cock. All while he continues to prod at his prostate. It feels like electricity is being struck down Dean’s legs and he knows he won’t be able to keep his knees from buckling if Mr. Novak keeps this up. He tries to keep his jaw relaxed but it’s very hard when he knows that there’s people outside of this room. No wonder why he locked the door.

But it all ends so suddenly when both hands retreat from Dean’s body. He dares himself to look over his shoulder at the nurse.

“We’re not done yet,” Mr. Novak says as writes down something on the clipboard on his desk. “One more check-up and we’re done for today.” He looks to Dean with a raised brow, those blue eyes lingering far too long on his exposed ass. “Do you want to continue?”

Dean swallows before breathing out a shaky, “Yes.”

“Good,” Mr. Novak smiles. “For this, I need you to keep your hands on the bed. I need a proper examination on your prostate.”

The hunter can only nod as he looks back down at the bed. A large hand places itself in between his shoulder blades and pushes him down until he’s face down in the blue hospital sheets.

Mr. Novak’s two slicked fingers slip into Dean again, stroking and scissoring him open that has the hunter groaning and grunting. It doesn’t last long though to Dean’s dismay. But he’s quick to feel the head of Mr. Novak’s cock against the rim of his ass. By God he just wants the nurse to fuck him already. His mind is a fuzzy mess and be damned if he isn’t thinking right at the moment. His desire is plain and clear between his legs and all he wants is that sweet release by Mr. Novak’s skilled hands.

He tenses as Mr. Novak pushes in slowly. The hunter can’t help the moan that comes from his mouth, like some woman in those pornos he watches. The nurse massages the back of his head with his thumb as he bottoms out immediately. He’s big, bigger than Dean would have imagined. But the painful stretch is too good to let up.

“Relax,” Mr. Novak says again. “You’re being so good for me.”

Dean shivers at the gravelly words. The hunter tries his best to relax, but it’s very hard when he can feel every inch of the nurse inside of him. Mr. Novak pulls back ever so slightly before pushing in again, earning himself another groan from the man beneath him. He sets a slow, even pace that has Dean making breathy, eager noises with each thrust.

With each movement, Dean’s painfully hard dick is pushed into the bed beneath him. It’s just the right amount of friction, he can feel a wet spot forming from how much he’s leaking. He grinds his teeth again, supressing the noises weaving their ways through his pants.

“Now, now,” Mr. Novak tsk’s as the hand on the back of his head moves to hook two fingers into his mouth. They part his jaw open, fitting two fingers between his molars to keep his mouth open. He pulls up so that Dean is now standing with his back arched. He doesn’t let his hands leave the bed, holding himself up. “What did I say about grinding your teeth. You’ll crack a tooth and I’m not some dentist that can fix that for you,” he speaks lowly in Dean’s ear.

Mr. Novak quickens his pace with this new found angle, thrusting upwards into Dean with determination. Dean tries to form words but they all but turn into panty exhales of, “Ah- hah- ah.”

If it wasn’t for a strong hand on his hip, Dean would have fallen into a gooey puddle on the ground ages ago. He knows for a fact that he’ll have a bruise their tomorrow to remind him of everything. Mr. Novak continues his even, deep thrusts that hit Dean’s prostate every time. Drool dribbles down his chin but he can’t be bothered to care. He stares hazily at the ceiling, trying his best to grind his dick on the bed. But with this new found angle he brushes it faintly every now and again.

He might come untouched at this point. Everything is a bliss and he can feel his balls tightening and his body feels too hot in his clothes right now. A bliss that has him choking and moaning with everything the nurse gives him. He’s surprised if the people in the hall don’t know what’s going on in here with how loud Dean is being.

Mr. Novak shoves his fingers deeper into Dean’s mouth suddenly. The hunter gags slightly, but takes them all the same.

“I do wonder, Mr. Winchester,” the nurse purrs in his ear, “How deep I could truly go? Would you be able to fit me down your throat without gagging? I’d love to test it in our next appointment.”

Dean thinks about it all too well. The imagine of him on his knees in front of Mr. Novak, taking every inch of him down his throat. Letting the nurse see how much of himself he can fit inside of Dean. The thought of him coming down his throat as Dean struggles to breath has the hunter tipping over the edge.

His orgasm hits him like a brick wall, electricity shooting through every nerve. It knocks the air and all his senses out of him and he doesn’t hear how loud he is. His dick twitches as hot, thick ropes of cum splatter onto the bed in front of him, spoiling the sheets.

Mr. Novak’s fingers leave his mouth but he’s quick to push Dean into the bed and the sticky sheets. He thrusts harder and faster into Dean, riding him through the last parts of his orgasm. The nurse shutters a breath as his hips stutter, coming deep within Dean’s ass. The sensation of being fill sends a shiver down the hunter’s spine, feeling the nurse’s dick twitch and unload within him.

Dean doesn’t move from the bed as Mr. Novak pulls out, patting his ass gently. His legs shake and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to walk out of here without being hauled out in a wheelchair. Paralysis by ass fucking. What a way to go.

“Dean?”

The bed suddenly slips out from under him and he hits the cold tiled floor with a loud thud. He groans out in pain, his chin now throbbing.

“Dean.”

The room shakes and everything suddenly turns very, very dark. He strikes out, feeling as if he’s falling through the floor.

He grabs onto the gun under his pillow and points it to the nearest thing that moves.

Castiel stands in front of him with furrowed brows. The angel is standing in his room. Next to his bed. Why is he here? What’s going on? Is there an emergency?

“Wha?” Dean mumbles out, his tongue still filled with sleep.

“It’s only me,” Castiel says as he crosses the space between them. He grabs onto the barrel of the gun and lowers it.

Dean blinks, once, twice and thrice. He then becomes very aware of what is going on in his pants. They feel, awfully damp. He fumbles his blankets around his waist as to not make it all too noticeable.

“What are you doing here, Cas!?” Dean barks out.

The angel frowns at this.

No, fucking way was Dean just having a wet dream. No. No. No. Absolutely not. And especially not with Castiel looking like a hunk in a doctor’s uniform. No. No. No. Absolutely not. Oh dear lord.

“You were having a nightmare. This one was causing more of a reaction from you than the others,” the angel states monotonously.

Dean’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights. “You didn’t see the dream- I mean, nightmare… did you?”

He doesn’t know how red his face is but he feels as if he’s burning up. God, how does he tell the angel to get the fuck out in the nicest way possible.

“No. I haven’t done that since you asked me to stop,” Castiel answers.

Dean’s tense shoulders sag as a breath of air he didn’t realize he as holding is expelled. Thank God or whoever is up there.

“Do you want company or, do you want to talk about it?” The angel asks calmly.

Dean shakes his head viciously. “Nope. Not tonight, bud. Thank you, Cas. Not tonight,” the hunter fumbles out, repeating himself. “I’ll be fine tonight.”

Luckily, the angel doesn’t protest like he normally does. He nods and bids Dean farewell. As soon as the door closes behind Cas, Dean lays back down in his bed with enough anger that he bounces.

What in the fuck was that!? He enjoyed that a little too much and Jesus Christ he actually came in his pants. He just truly hopes that the angel didn’t go snooping around in his dreams. Because he doesn’t think he could face Cas after that. He needs to get out of here for a while. Take a long hot shower and then an even longer drive in Baby to clear his head. He runs a hand down his face with a loud groan.

Maybe it’ll get the image of Castiel in a doctor’s coat out of his head. But damn it will it be hard with how good the angel looked.

-

Like, reblog and comment ;)

[deadguywalkin]

nsfw hcs for seb/sam/alex both solo & together because i’m gay and still evil, just more evil this time

mdni with this post, cw nsfw, mostly mlm

i won’t be posting any more nsfw content beyond this, i just felt silly today

alex

top, versatile but mostly dom, doesn’t mind bottoming

HUGE size + praise kink. wants to be praised as he’s fucking into them, to be told that he’s the best. also just thinks it’s really hot when he’s a lot bigger than someone

gets pent up very often which just leads to him being very rough and aggressive, in contrast to his warm and loving personality

very handsy and grabby, can grip a little too hard and leave bruises accidentally because he doesn’t know how to balance controlling his strength while focusing on the other person and himself, and just generally everything going on at once.

too embarrassed to just outwardly say ‘i need you’ since guys still make him nervous. he only knows how to talk to them in a bro way. will get eventually get desperate and then end up texting because he can’t say it face to face

also wants his face to be held gently while he’s looking over them as he’s told that he’s doing a good job. just loves being the golden boy

needs lots and lots of tight cuddles after so he can be reassured he never did anything wrong

sam

the most versatile/switch man you’ll ever meet

‘hold on, i gotta get the right music’

usually very gentle and tender, gets insanely rough and messy when pent up

also really really enjoys being called a good boy while fucking into them 

bite bite bite bite. lots of biting. he just REALLY likes biting

pleasure top.. no words. he just wants to study their insides and see what makes them feel the best

really vocal. cracky and whiney voice

loves his mullet being pulled/tugged/gripped on

hints at wanting to fuck by grabbing at thighs, just being very handsy and giving them the look™ (fuck me eyes)

though he loves praise, he also heavily enjoys being threatened. throat grabbing and the likes

seb

mostly dombot, but also pretty versatile and switchy

he has a smoking addiction.. he also probably has a huge oral fixation.

pierced nipples. do NOT argue with me on this he so would

opposite of alex’s size kink, loves being smaller and overpowered. being carried, beaten in arm wrestling turns him on significantly 

has a thing for bruises. he definitely loves getting off of his knees to see them all red or the occasional bruises on his hips/wrists

doesn’t mind whatever kink/thing his partner has and honestly just doesn’t care as long as he’s getting fucked stupid

not vocal. low and deep groans, and the very very occasional quiet breathy ‘hmmh.. hah..’ >> sounding like he’s full on sobbing pipeline

loves torturing them. just loves it. ;; he quickly lets go the second he feels a slight twitch. ‘not yet. good boy..’ he says, with a little ruffle to the hair. 

also enjoys watching them cry from overstimulation. he’s pretty sadistic when it comes to stuff like this

doesn’t hint, he just outwardly says it. but if they aren’t dating yet he gets flirty and uses his narrow eyes with a relaxed voice

all 3/general

wear their bruises/hickeys/bite marks like medals of honor. don’t even try to cover them up.

seb loves being able to just turn his brain off while being with those himbos and just open up his mouth. he usually has to do all of the thinking around them, but now he gets to just shut them up

samalex would probably be lying if they said they didn’t love seb being trans a little more than they should.. save me boypussy, save me..

seb rides them into oblivion LMFAO

sambastian just. love being overpowered by alex. they need to be put in a headlock

alex having many many gay and questionable thoughts about emo/pierced boys

sebalex are batshit insane about vocal guys

sam+alex

surprisingly very warm, gentle, loving, but interchangeable with being batshit horny and just fucking each other. 

can’t keep their hands off of each other. really really touchy

a lot of ‘is this okay?’ ‘sorry..’

‘mmhf.. you’re doing.. so good, bro..’

they switch often

sam takes a while to figure out what alex likes (with alex insisting he can just do whatever he wants), but eventually does figure it out and adjusts to it

wrestling to see who gets to top. a lot of wrestling.

they’re giggly and soft together

seb+sam

a lot of oral, seb enjoys torturing him and sam enjoys giving him what he likes/wants

they baby each other. they’ve known each other all their lives, so they’re just really comfortable acting like/doing whatever together. 

seb convinces sam to let him just give him what sam wants sometimes, not for him to just people please 100% the time

get high >> have sex while listening to csh

very handsy aswell

seb+alex

teasing selfies. they’re competitive and like riling each other up

they often fight for who gets to dom

>> often ends up with alex getting to fuck him stupid or seb getting to ride him mindless

‘fuck, good boy.. you’re doing so.. good..’

they just love being really risky with it

fighting/arguing >> angry sex

based off of the hairgel joke LOL but alex probably would infact keep hair products at seb’s house

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A week or two after the Dubai Air protest Sam happens upon Jamie lounging listlessly on a bench in the otherwise deserted gym. He’s not doing any exercise, just sitting there and staring out into nothingness with a curiously vacant look on his face.

Sam hesitates, hovering in the doorway. He’s come for a little bit of extra weights before heading home, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be here this late, least of all Jamie. It’s been a long day and Sam’s not sure if he’s up for dealing with the (possibly) reformed bully right now. Even if they are edging towards friendly, and even if that’s no small thing given what’s come between them before, there’s still an undercurrent of charged uncertainty to their interactions, a stilted hesitancy to their cautious politeness and careful attempts at casual camaraderie.

Jamie hasn’t explicitly told Sam that he’s sorry for the things he’s put him through. Sam has decided that he will not let his decision to give Jamie another chance be contingent upon this. It’s very tiring, being angry and resentful of the other’s presence: so much easier to accept the taped up logo for the peace offering it was, and let that be Jamie’s apology.

(If it rankles, it only rankles a little.)

Reminding himself of his decision to let bygones be bygones, and that they won’t ever get anywhere if they don’t actually learn to talk, Sam steps into the gym. Asks as he would any other glum-looking team mate he’d unexpectedly happened upon, “Are you all right, Jamie?”

Holds himself ready, holds himself steady, if Jamie should bare his teeth and bite, now that there’s no one around to see it.

But Jamie only starts a little, like he hadn’t noticed Sam or he’s surprised to be voluntarily addressed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, man. Great, you know. It’s just… I’m a bit tired, I guess.“ He pauses, then his face suddenly collapses and he gives Sam the most plaintive of looks. “It’s just so fucking exhausting being nice all the time. I don’t know how you do it, mate.”

Ah. Sam tactfully doesn’t say that it’s usually no effort for him and that he doesn’t really understand how it could possible come that hard for anyone.

He also doesn’t point out that not actively being mean to people isn’t quite the same as being nice.

Because Jamie is trying, isn’t he, even if it’s painfully evident that he still needs to try, that it doesn’t come quite naturally.  

“Bit like when Spike had that chip in his head and had no choice but to team up with the good guys, isn’t it?” Colin had muttered a few days after their wayward striker had re-joined them, and yes, Sam had had to agree: it is a bit like that.

But there’s no chip in Jamie’s head (Sam is pretty sure). He’s here of his own free will, trying to be a good team mate and a better person because he wants to be. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?

Sam is pretty sure his dad would say it does. Sam wants to be the sort of person that lets it count.

And Jamie is looking genuinely dejected, in a way that has Sam feel a small surge of something that isn’t affection but isn’t too unlike it either. A little bit of pity mingling with amusement; enough that he’s moved to brave sitting down next to Jamie.

“Well, I have had more practise,” he says lightly. “I bet you will be really good at it if you give it a bit more time.”

“Yeah?” It’s offered casually, but there’s no disguising the faint hope in it. Sam can feel Jamie watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course,” he says, and then, feeling bold, “You are Jamie Tartt. Aren’t you good at everything?”

A pause, and Sam holds his breath, praying that Jamie will understand that he’s being teased rather than mocked—

Then Jamie snorts, a sound halfway to a chuckle. “Yeah, man,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Sam’s, very carefully. “I’ll be the fucking best at being nice. Swear down, I’ll be so good I make you look like Geezer Scrooge.”

“That, I’d like to see,” Sam says drily; says sincerely. Standing, he nods towards the weight bench. “Do you think you can be good enough not to let me be crushed to death while you spot me?”

For a moment, Jamie looks taken aback, and Sam braces himself for a snide retort to his presumption – but it doesn’t come. Instead Jaime’s face clears, and he gives a sharp nod.

“Course, mate,” he says, and rises to follow Sam.

[the-winter-spider]

The View Between Villages | Part Nine

Word Count: 2.1k

Parings: Bucky x reader, TASM!Peter x Reader

A/N: I will eventually make a masterpost lol this chatoer is kinda meh…

Masterlist

—-

The Jet

“Can this thing fly any faster?” Bucky’s voice was tense, almost frantic.

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to keep calm despite Bucky’s agitation. “It’s going as fast as it can”

“It’s not fast enough!” Bucky snapped, slamming his fist against the plane’s wall in frustration.

“And it won’t go any faster if you punch holes in it,” Sam shot back, trying to keep his voice steady, though he couldn’t help the edge of irritation that slipped through.

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, collapsing back into his seat. He dragged his hands over his face, his groan muffled by his palms. “I’m so stupid, Sam. So stupid.”

“Well, that I already knew,” Sam quipped, forcing a small laugh to lighten the mood. But when Bucky didn’t respond, he grew serious. “What happened, man? I’m in the dark here.”

Bucky stared blankly at the floor, lost in thought. “We went to this diner, the one that’s still around from before… the one they kept as a monument for Steve, it used to be our hangout spot, the three of us.” A faint, bittersweet smile crossed his lips as he remembered. “I didn’t go there planning to do what I did, Sam….you gotta know that. But when she looked at me, she had so much joy and love in her eyes. She was talking about one of the times we went there, and I just… panicked. I can’t be him anymore, the guy I was before. That’s not me…I couldn’t sit there and pretend, so I asked for space… she gave me the ring back. The one I proposed to her with before I got shipped out, and that’s that.”

“Wow,” Sam muttered, trying to process everything.

“I know I’m an idiot,” Bucky sighed, the weight of his actions pressing down on him.

Sam took a deep breath, piecing it together. “This all makes sense now… and yeah, you messed up. But Bucky, she knows you’re not the same as you were then—because she isn’t either. She knew when Steve, her, and I were trying to find you, that there was a good chance you wouldn’t even recognize her, or even yourself. But she still fought for you, because guess what, Bucky? People do love you. She and Steve loved you unconditionally. You’ve gotta fix this before it’s—what the hell?”

Sam’s words were cut off as both men’s eyes were drawn to the side of the plane, where a glowing, sparking gold circle appeared out of thin air. Through the portal stepped Doctor Strange, looking battle-worn and weary.

“We have a problem,” Strange announced, his voice grim.

—

1940s

The sky above you was a soft shade of twilight, stars just beginning to flicker to life, but the weight of the world was closing in. The future felt too fragile, too uncertain, and the warmth of Bucky’s embrace, though comforting, couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual, as if he, too, was trying to anchor himself to the present. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

You nodded, but the fear was still there, gnawing at you. “I just can’t stop thinking… What if everything changes? What if something happens that we can’t control?”

Bucky’s grip around you tightened, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. “Things might change, doll, but us? We don’t change. You’re my forever, remember?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both. “And what about the war?” you whispered, the question hanging heavy in the air. “What if it takes you away from me?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer right away. You felt him shift slightly, his fingers lacing with yours, holding on as if the force of his grip alone could stop the world from pulling him away. “I can’t pretend I’m not scared,” he admitted softly, “but I’m coming back to you. No matter what. I’ll find my way back.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “You promise?”

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “With everything I’ve got, doll... You and me, we’re forever.”

The chill in the air seemed sharper now, and you shivered, not just from the cold, but from the creeping sense that forever was a promise neither of you could keep. The world was shifting, and though you held on to each other tightly, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

“I just wish I could freeze time,” you whispered, tears threatening to fall again“Stay here like this, with you.”

Bucky smiled softly, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Me too…” He paused, his hand brushing through your hair. “But we’ve got this moment, and no matter what happens, no one can take this from us…No one will ever take you from me, your my forever darling”

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat soothe you, willing yourself to believe that he was right—that love alone could defy the odds, even with the looming shadow of war.

The stars above twinkled, indifferent to the fears swirling beneath them, and as the night deepened, you held on tighter to Bucky, praying with every part of you that this wouldn’t be the last night you’d ever feel his arms around you.

But that small voice in the back of your mind whispered again, reminding you that promises, no matter how heartfelt, couldn’t always stand against the tide of fate

—

The Switch

“Do I need to do anything?” Peter’s voice trembled with panic. The whole situation was too surreal to grasp—how could it be real? The fact that you were willing to leave your entire world behind for him was something he couldn’t wrap his mind around. But he knew better than to argue. You were a grown woman—a hundred-year-old with superpowers, no less—and he was more than ready to go wherever this ride took him.

“Just give me your hand, okay?”

Peter gave you the sweetest, most genuine smile “That, I can do.”

Your sweaty, trembling hand gripped tightly onto his. As you watched the eldest Peter completely disappear into the rift, you could hear Doctor Strange shouting at you, trying to hold you back. You felt something pulling, trying to keep you anchored to your reality, but the pull towards Peter was stronger, more intense, more powerful. As he began to be pulled back into his universe, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You focused on matching your cells with his, synchronizing your energy to merge with his reality, making it easier for you to follow him.

You concentrated on the connection you shared with Peter 3, using it as an anchor to tie you to his universe. You poured every ounce of hope, every fiber of your being, into making this work.

The energy around you intensified, the power almost overwhelming as you held on to Peter 3’s presence. Slowly, you felt the shift, the sensation of being drawn through the cracks of reality. The world around you began to blur, the familiar sights and sounds fading into the background as you were pulled into a new reality—one where you and Peter 3 might finally have a chance.

When the particles around you finally settled, the breeze that brushed against your skin felt different. You opened your eyes and met Peter’s warm brown gaze, so different from the blue you were used to.

“Holy shit, you’re actually here.” Peter took a step back, his hands on his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think it would work—not that I doubted you or anything, I just—” He gestured wildly, mimicking the sound of an explosion.

You giggled, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. “I didn’t think I could either. I just… I don’t even know.” You paused, spinning around to take in your surroundings. The sky was darker here, the sun setting in this universe while it was just rising in yours. “It feels different here.”

Peter nodded, his smile softening as he watched you. “Yeah, it does. But… it’s good, right?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cool evening air fill your lungs. “Yeah, it’s good. Really good.”

He stepped closer, his hand finding yours once more, his grip firm and reassuring. “So… what now?”

You looked up at him, the man you’d crossed realities to be with, and smiled. “Now… we figure this out together. One step at a time.”

Peter’s eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. “Together?”

“Together,” you confirmed, squeezing his hand

And as the stars began to twinkle in the sky of this new universe, you couldn’t help but feel that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

—

The Portal

“What do you mean a different universe?” Bucky was pacing, his confusion and frustration evident. He barely understood how to work his flip phone, but this? This was way out of his league.

“I mean exactly what it sounds like,” Strange replied, glancing between the two of them. “Y/N crossed over to another universe—the one where the other Spider-Man is from.”

“How the hell did she even do that?” Sam stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Bucky’s shoulder to stop his relentless pacing. “I thought her powers were limited to controlling the elements—y’know, wind, water, earth, the whole shebang.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky snapped, his voice tinged with anger. “You’re being real vague, Doc, and I’m not liking it!”

“It’s Doctor—” Strange corrected, but quickly moved on. “Her powers are complex. They evolve over time, They can become whatever she needs them to be. But being in another universe? That’s a whole different story. How do I put this lightly…”

“Don’t,” Sam interjected, his voice firm. “Just tell us straight.”

Strange nodded solemnly. “She could, no she will die. Slowly perish without even realizing it. What’s kept her alive all this time is tied to our universe. Without it, the death that should’ve claimed her 80 years ago might catch up to her.”

Sam shot a questioning look at Bucky before turning back to Strange. “How did you even know about her death? Steve said only Stark and he knew.”

“To become Sorcerer Supreme, certain timelines had to be reviewed—hers was one of them.”

“Why hers?” Sam pressed.

Strange’s expression was grave. “Because she has the potential to end our entire existence—or help save it. We can’t afford to lose her.”

He turned, creating another portal with a flick of his wrist. “You both need to come with me.”

“Can’t you wait until we land? We’re almost there,” Sam pointed out.

“No,” Strange’s voice was resolute. “This is vital. Now. And I’m not asking.”

Sam grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him through the portal. “You’ve been quiet—oddly quiet,” Sam observed as they entered the Sanctum.

“I just don’t understand how he could let her go,” Bucky muttered, bitterness seeping into his voice. “Did you even try to stop her?”

Strange turned to face them, his gaze steely. “I was busy saving the rest of the universe. Look, I get it—she’s your friend. But she’s more than that to this universe. It will collapse if we don’t get her back, so the less you waste time with this crap, the better.”

“How do we do that? How do we help?” Sam asked, stepping slightly in front of Bucky, ready to take action.

“We’re going to need more help,” Strange replied, eyeing them both seriously. “Give me about a minute.” He opened up another portal and was about to step through it when he turned back around. “And don’t touch anything.”

“This is crazy,” Sam sighed, sitting down on the stairs in the Sanctum. “Why would she just leave her universe for a guy she barely knows? It doesn’t sound like her.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky gritted his teeth, frustration boiling over. “I don’t know why I broke up with her. I don’t know why Steve left. I don’t know why she left! Everyone just leaves! Maybe you should go too, Sam—that’s all anyone does, isn’t it? Leave.”

“Buck, come on,” Sam started, his voice gentle, trying to reach him.

But Bucky scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. “What if they both fought so hard to save me, and then just left? She left willingly. Why should I go and save her, huh?”

Sam opened his mouth to respond when a voice, one they hadn’t heard in months, answered for him.

“Because you love her.”

Bucky froze, his eyes wide with shock. “Steve?”

And there he was—Steve Rogers, standing in the shadows, looking every bit as strong and resolute as Bucky remembered. The weight of the world seemed to lift off Bucky’s shoulders, if only for a moment, as he stared at the man who had been his friend for nearly a century.

[nathandrakeisabottom]

⋆ Nathan Drake: Domestic Headcanons ⋆

The long-awaited, completely unasked for companion piece to @durrtydawg's Sam domestic headcanons piece. Revel in my self-indulgent, self-absorbed, and grotesquely specific fantasies of getting to call Nathan Drake my house husband. A house husband who jumps off speeding trains with a handgun on the occasional Thursday.

Not only does our pretty boy Nathan Morgan need someone who grounds him— (though that can mean many things; Nate is anything but a one type man)

But for someone who he genuinely believes won’t judge him for who he is

With them, every morning is peaceful and slow 

Will come up from behind before breakfast with a slow grasp at their waist, a delicate kiss he doesn’t break for a good few seconds against his partner's cheek or neck (will literally sigh into it)

And he fucking loves if they do the same for him

Everything is slow and silence and sighs

(He’s rarely so fucking quiet, and he appreciates someone who he feels comfortable finally letting everything go for. His voice gets hoarse with how much he’s always screaming and snarking)

Will shudder more from morning intimacy than straight up sex; if he’s surprised by kisses up his back as he makes some (admittedly, pretty runny) eggs, he'll accidentally drop and shatter dishes like nobody’s business

Speaking of which, only ever gets the cheapest plates/cups because he’s always fucking breaking them (thrift store, preferably)

James Taylor, Norah Jones, Michael Buble, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and (oddly enough) Barbra Streisand for relaxing morning music 

And will white man boogie with a comically bit lip if they quietly, affectionately look at him for long enough 

Speaking of: despite his best efforts, as he starts to wake up, he’ll grow increasingly jokey and self-aware (but soft lil’ earnest boy always comes back eventually)

Will take all the trash and recycling out in one clean go, tucking shit between his bent elbows and under his chin; He’s not afraid of a challenge yes he can fucking do it by himself NO SHUT UP HE’S GOT IT

His partner hears the clang of soda cans falling on the pavement twelve seconds later

A Trader Joe’s BITCH

As much as he loves some sensory overload and a bajillion snack options, big supermarkets kinda overwhelm him

Also they’re always more expensive and this boy is a complainer (and if he can make his partner laugh while he’s dramatically whining, even better)

Literally the man who ACTIVELY LAUGHS at the names of products 

“A Blueberry WALKS Into A Bar? Do you get that? BAR? Oh, that’s goddamn hilarious.”

And then will laugh for a good minute in the aisle; fuck the old people side-eyeing him from the dairy section 

Overbuys groceries rather than underbuys; there’s a lot of food he doesn’t realize has gone bad until it’s actively going into his mouth

Expect to be investing in a good broom, because he constantly needs one

Will open a bag of frozen peas from the wrong side and all of a sudden he’s spilling the entire thing onto the hardwood floor

He just hangs his head with a long, forlorn sigh

God fucking dammit

And huffs before power-walking to the closet

But at least he’s used to it; he’s got a broom in every place he can hide one now 

LOVES to cook, but that doesn’t mean he’s good at it

Probably just likes the theatrics: catch him in double oven mitts and a dozen hand towels at the ready and a novelty apron that says “spooned with love”, “rubs his own meat”, “mister good-lookin’ is cookin’”, or “license to grill”

King of wearing an apron and nothing else without telling; loves surprises and loves giving them almost as much; and will absolutely play coy about it (“I’m just baking out here!! What are you screaming about?”) 

Relatedly, loves stealing his partner’s shirts without telling, especially if they’re too small

“Baby tees are for big, strong babies like me.” “But you’re gonna stretch mine out!” “Heh-heh. Nice.”

Is a fucking sucker for any sort of gender role switch, but also can’t help the flutter in his heart when he sees his partner doing his laundry 

It’s the intimacy of another person touching his clothes and wanting them to be soft for him; loves if they have to reach kinda high to hang them up in his closet, too

Fucking loves to make love to his partner— and yes he loves the phrase “make love”, leave him alone— or hell, do anything to them while the washer is going on heavy duty wash cycle 

Somehow related, but is a hippie at the best of times. Women got off using washing machines before there was anything else and it’s a part of history and now they are too and isn’t it beautiful we’re not all so different isn’t life and history beautiful

Loves smoking weed once there’s a lengthy enough break with his partner, coughs and needs water every time (“nah, I don’t need it” — starts hacking to fucking death)

Loves a local mall trip: J Crew, Abercrombie & Fitch, and REI are his go-tos; he always needs an excuse to go out

“Jeez, is this what the kids are wearing these days?” in any store that isn’t those three

Every time there’s a big ad of a hot guy in a canoe or a girl smiling so hard it looks like her teeth are gonna pop out, he loves to outlandishly mimic their expression to make his partner laugh

Touchy, clingy, whiney 🥺; uses a body pillow and weighted blankets when he has to spend the night by himself

Needs to be the small spoon (at minimum) once a week, otherwise he gets sad and grumpy but isn't quite sure why

“Let’s get some new furniture.” “What? We have Ikea right next door! I can just make it!”

Drills a hole too big or loses the most important screw and has to go buy new furniture anyway 

Adores above all else impromptu massages: whether it’s on the couch or in the bedroom when he’s on his belly watching TV; moans more shamelessly during those than he even does during sex

Those massages often turn into him begging his partner to ride him… or he just fucking falls asleep

By the way, will fall asleep in any position or location you could possibly think of; a habit from his childhood when he didn't have a bed to sleep in

Snores and drools, but not loud or wet enough to be too annoying

2 in 1 shampoo. One bar of soap.

Unless of course he’s all out or… curious about what delicious-smelling shit his partner has; maybe it’s like the reverse of when a dog pees on something to claim it. Something like that.  

Get. him. flowers. His favorites are daffodils.

Really into helping out in his community: soup kitchen, pet shelters, planting trees or veggie seeds for community gardens— and then will abruptly stop because he’s tired and doesn’t feel like doing it anymore 

Until the next summer when he sporadically goes — “You know what we should do?!”

King of late-night karaoke bars (especially if he gets wasted and busts into a weepy song that totally kills the mood)

On the same note, a big musical theatre lover. Wine and dine him!

Loves a dog, wants a dog, needs a dog

Never fucking trains or reprimands the dog but whatcha gonna do

Gets both super shy and vulnerable and horny when he's actively referred to as a “husband” ; loves a good big business partner/house husband roleplay (whether horny or just a joke)

Please, oh god please, do shortform improv with him every time he starts doing a bit

Living with Nathan isn’t always easy, or frankly cheap, but is so fucking gentle and so fucking happy, that you can no longer imagine a world where your life was anything but 🌼💙🗺️

If you hurt him, OP (and Sully) are out for BLOOD.

[moon-and2saturn]

Head First

j.m.k. x f.reader

part one

a/n: i had an idea for a little josh blurb inspired by this lizzie mcalpine song and i’ve decided to make it into a short series! friends to lovers josh is always my favorite, i hope you guys like it!! the next part will be current day...

summary: You and Josh grew up next door to each other, spending almost your entire life together. He was your closest friend, and that’s how it had always been. One summer, the two of you attend a music festival with your group of friends and a switch seems to flip for him that day, hurling you head first into a weekend of surprises. It feels as though everything has finally fallen into place, but young love is not always meant to last...

word count: 7.9k

warnings: this story contains smut! minors DNI!!! swearing, drinking, flirting, yearning, nicknames, sexually implicit language, heavy petting, kissing; SMUT: oral sex (f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, Y'ALL), praise kink if you squint i guess, dirty talk, soft dom! josh, fluff at the end! aftercare always!

JULY 2019

“Guys, seriously, come on. We were supposed to leave over half an hour ago!” you yell from the bottom of the stairs. You get no response, so you scoff, storm up the steep stairs to the hallway, and look around for movement. You see the bathroom door cracked open and walk over to push it open, revealing Josh still fixing his curly hair in the mirror.

You roll your eyes and clear your throat to get his attention, causing him to look over at you. “Oh, hey honey,” he says, giving you a sheepish smile. “Josh, it’s almost 8:30! If we don’t leave now, then we won’t have any time to get ready before we have to go down to the festival! You can fix your hair more when we get to the hotel, please,” you plead, making a praying motion with your hands, and giving him the biggest puppy eyes you can manage.

“Yes yes, I know, I’m sorry. I’ll help you round up the rest of them, okay?” he says, taking one last look in the mirror before turning the light off and heading down to the other end of the hallway. Josh breaks off first to enter his room and find his equally tardy twin, who’s still asleep. You giggle as you hear him yell at his brother to wake up, followed by a loud startled scream from Jake.

You enter Sam’s room to find him lying on his bed scrolling through his phone while Daniel is playing the guitar lightly. “Hello? What are you two doing? Come on, get up, let’s go!” you scold them, making Sam jump out of his seat. Danny chuckles to himself as he gets up to put his guitar back in its case.

They gather their packed bags and file out of the room, heading down the stairs. As you return to the hallway, you see Josh and his seemingly exhausted twin exiting the room. Jake descends the stairs with a groan as Josh follows closely behind him, shooting you a wink before he disappears.

Finally, you all finish packing the car and can finally get on the road. The five of you were heading to the Cosmic Sound Festival down in Detroit, something you and Josh planned months ago. The drive was just under 2 hours, so you were still able to get to the hotel in time to change and get ready before you had to be at the grounds for the first set at 12, or so you hoped. You feel grateful that this break in their tour allowed for you all to go to the festival together, as the time you spent together these days was few and far between.

“I call shotgun!” you shout, hurrying to open the door before one of the others beats you to it. “Hey, that’s not fair, Smalls! You always get shotgun!” Sam yells from behind you.

You roll your eyes and turn around to face him. “Yeah, because why would I ever want to be crammed in the back with you idiots? No, thanks. I’m good up here with Josh,” you reply, sticking your nose up at him and smiling proudly before getting into the car and closing the door. Josh shrugs and laughs lightly before getting into the driver’s side, with the rest of the boys following suit and getting into their seats.

Josh turns the car on and rolls the windows down to feel the cool summer breeze. “Ready, Saph?” he says, turning his head to look at you with a wide, crooked smile. His nickname for you never fails to make you smile. He had that effect on you, as he did with a lot of people. He first gave you the nickname in the fourth grade, after you’d learned about different types of gemstones in science class.

The two of you were walking out of the classroom to go to lunch as you turned to look at Josh. “I think rose quartz might be my favorite. They’re so pretty. Which one was your favorite?” you asked. He thought about it for a moment and said, “Sapphire. They’re so blue, and they’re valuable. Pretty, too.” You nodded and smiled at him, then turned your attention back to walking to the lunchroom.

“You’re like a sapphire, you know,” he continued. You looked back up at him with a questioning look. He pointed and said, “Your eyes, they’re the bluest I’ve ever seen. And pretty. Like a sapphire.” You blushed and looked away, not really knowing what to say. “I think I’ll call you Sapphire,” he said. You looked back up at him and smiled timidly. “Okay.”

The nickname has stuck ever since, though it’s almost always shortened. But it’s just his, and that’s what makes it special. Josh was your best friend in the whole world, as well as your longest friend. The Kiszkas were your next-door neighbors your entire life, and you all became friends practically right away. Being the same age as the twins, your mother would bring you over to their house at a very young age, so the three of you grew up together.

Watching Sam grow up and meeting Danny was something you always felt very thankful for. You had the best group of friends that you could ever ask for, who loved and cared for you like you were their own flesh and blood. You also got to watch as the music they made in their garage late on school nights became something much more.

You spent endless nights lying on the battered old couch in the Kiszkas’ garage as the four of them played together. Jake had always played guitar for as long as you could remember and Josh always loved singing, performing in the school musicals with you every year.

But near the end of high school, you watched as Jake’s dream became their collective dream and they started playing gigs around town and in other close cities. Before you knew it, they would make music that would reach thousands of people and tour places all around the world.

Admittedly, you fear for the day that the band gets even bigger than it is now, knowing that they’ll have to leave you. Your whole life was here in Michigan, and you knew that one day their journey would take them much further than here. You help your father run his business in Frankenmuth now, an old music store, where you sell instruments and sometimes teach lessons when he’s busy. You were needed here, and you knew that the guys wouldn’t be able to stay here forever.

For now, their home was still in Michigan, despite their time being taken up by near-constant touring and writing new music. They were just gone for several months on tour and will be returning to touring at the beginning of fall, so now is the chance to spend time with them.

Josh knew how much you missed them when they were away, so he tried to fill up your time this summer with as many activities as possible. He was always thoughtful in the way he planned things, wanting to get the most out of any experience.

“Ready,” you reply with a smile, plugging your phone in to connect to the aux. You press shuffle on your road trip playlist and Got To Get You Into My Life by the Beatles comes on first. “Ah, perfect!” Josh says, smiling as he starts to sing along and drives out of their driveway, down a long winding road toward Detroit. The five of you spend the whole car ride singing along to your favorite songs, with Jake usually vocalizing every single guitar solo.

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Day One

You finally get to the hotel around 10:30, giving you all enough time to get ready before driving to the festival grounds. You got two rooms next to each other, putting Danny and Sam together in one and you and the twins in the other. The room had a pullout couch, which Jake promised he’d stay on since he “barely gets any sleep these days anyway,” and you know that he’ll be out much later than you and Josh will be. He always manages to go off on his own at these types of things.

You throw your things onto one of the beds and then turn to Josh. “Just let me have the bathroom for like twenty minutes and then it’s all yours, okay Diana Ross?” you say, referencing his long, poofy head of hair that goes almost down to his shoulders. He chuckles and flops down on his bed, putting his hands behind his head. “Okay, okay! Whatever, I’ll take some much-needed beauty rest in the meantime,” he says, shutting his eyes as you turn toward your bed, grab your makeup bag and outfit for the day, and then head into the bathroom.

Knowing how hot it was outside this weekend, you decide to wear a pair of short overalls with a burnt orange sports bra underneath to match your Converse of the same color. You pull your hair half up, putting that half-section of hair into a messy bun and pulling out some front pieces to frame your face.

With your hair done and out of your face, you just apply a base of makeup and use setting spray so that you don’t sweat it off. You place your aviator sunglasses on the top of your head and then exit the bathroom. “All yours,” you say, going to sit on the edge of your bed and plug your phone in to charge until it’s time to leave.

With your back turned, you can’t see the way that Josh is looking at you. As always, you were oblivious to it. He gets up from the bed and grabs his clothes, and as he walks over to the bathroom he turns around to look back at you.

You’re just sitting there, scrolling away on your phone, but he stands there for a moment to admire you; the way your eyelashes curl upward, the way your long hair lays down your back, the way the bare skin of your torso peaks through in your overalls. He sighs to himself quietly, then turns around and goes into the bathroom.

Jake didn’t need to use the bathroom, he was already dressed and ready to go in a short-sleeved button-down shirt (half-unbuttoned), jeans, and light brown Chelsea boots. You couldn’t imagine how that would be comfortable for a festival, but Jake’s fashion always eluded you.

Next thing you know, Josh emerges from the bathroom, hair all “fixed.” He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt with a burnt orange bandana, accidentally matching you, and some khaki shorts and white sneakers. You look up at him and smile, and he says, “Okay! Let’s rock and roll!”

The three of you go next door to collect Sam and Danny, who are thankfully ready to go. Sam pulled his long hair into a low bun and threw on a loose long-sleeve button-down with the sleeves rolled up paired with shorts, contrasting Danny in his band tee and skinny jeans, who has also pulled his hair back.

You all head down to the car and drive over to the festival, planning to try and get there early to watch Tame Impala’s set at 4 PM- Jake’s idea of course. The 1975 will go on at the same stage at 8 PM, which is what you’re looking forward to more. The main event, however, will be Hozier tomorrow night, which is something you’re all anticipating. You’ll also go to see Tyler Childers tomorrow afternoon before Hozier’s set, at Josh’s request.

Jake, Sam, and Danny want to be close to the front for Tame Impala’s set, so they rush to the front to save a spot while you and Josh go to find the alcohol. You walk ahead of Josh, trying to weave in and out of the crowd to find the booth, holding his hand tightly behind you to stay together. As always, with your back turned you can’t see the pink hue that has graced his cheeks at the feeling of your hand tight in his.

Finally, you approach the table and get in line. As Josh meets you at your side, he squeezes your hand tightly before dropping it and combing his fingers through his hair. Your face softens as you look at him for a moment before turning to look around you. The line isn’t too terribly long, luckily, since you both desired to be far more intoxicated.

“God, it’s hot, huh?” you say, reaching behind you to pull your hair off of your neck and wipe off the sweat. Josh nods and wipes some droplets of sweat off of his forehead. “Yeah, it’s not ideal, is it? We’ll make do though, I’m sure. We always do,” he says with a smile, always the optimist. You reach the front of the line shortly and order two Bud Lights, three black cherry White Claws, and five bottles of water, and then turn to head back to the main stage. They gave you bags, thank god, since you wouldn’t possibly be able to carry all of those drinks back by yourselves.

“Still feeling hot?” Josh asks with a smirk as he walks next to you with the bag of water bottles in his hand. You nod and before you can react, he giggles as he takes one of the bottles out of the bag and shoves it into your bare side, causing you to scream from the cold touch. You shove him away from you and yell, “Josh! What the hell is wrong with you? That was so cold!”

He’s cracking up as he comes back close to you and snakes his arm around you, pulling you into him. “Sorry, Saph. You said you were hot! A gentleman is meant to help a lady in need, is he not?” You roll your eyes and then lean into him. “You’re such an idiot,” you scoff. “Your idiot,” he replies with a smile.

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You finally make it back to the guys, who have found a spot a few rows back from the barricade. You hand everyone their drinks and point to Danny and Sam with a stern finger. “You’re both lucky I bought these for you. Behave yourselves, if you get caught I don’t want to go down with you,” you say as they both laugh and take a sip of their drinks.

You all hang out and listen to the set of one of the smaller artists who’s playing on the stage now, just vibing to the music. It didn’t matter if any of you knew who it was or what they were playing, it was just fun to be there together. You smiled and danced by yourself to the songs, in your own world. Josh is to your right, the two of you are standing just behind the others as you’d gotten there later. He looks over at you with a content smile as he watches you enjoy yourself, appreciating how lucky he feels to be there in that moment.

You feel his eyes on you this time, however. You turn your head to look at him and a smile grows across your face as you lock eyes with him. “What?” you ask, turning to face him. “Nothing, darling. Just you,” he answers, looking down at you. “Just me? What about me?”

He reaches down to brush some hair out of your face. “All of you. I just feel very grateful to be here with you, Saph.” Your cheeks flush as you look up at him with a shy smile. There’s some conflict in his eyes and you can tell that he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

You reach up to wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a tight hug, breathing him in. You feel him sigh into your neck and put his arms around your waist as you squeeze him tightly and then pull away, his arms still around you. When you look up into his eyes at that moment, there’s a feeling there that you don’t recognize, a strong force pulling you toward him. You find yourself not wanting to let go, feeling this innate need to be close to him. It almost feels out of control. You’re not sure what triggered it or what you’re meant to do, but you plan to find out.

The set ends and people file out of the pit slowly. You have some time before the 1975’s set, and even though you don’t want to lose your spot, you need a break. Jake and Sam split off and say that they’re going to go to the Strokes set in an hour, so they head to another stage. Danny opts to stay for the 1975 set with you and Josh and says he’ll hold the spot if you and Josh take a break and go get food and water.

The two of you go to find a food truck to get something to eat, struggling to make your way through the crowd. As you approach the field where all the food trucks are, you look to your left and exclaim, “Oh my god, look! They have a big water sprinkler! C’mon Josh, let’s go let’s go!”

You grab his hand and pull him after you toward the sprinkler, where dozens of other people are cooling off in the cold water. You run under the water and turn around to face him, giggling and pulling him under with you. He smiles wide as the water hits his head, drenching his hair and causing it to lay long and flat on his shoulders. He shuts his eyes tight as it soaks him and his white shirt becomes completely damp, causing it to stick tight to his skin.

Your hair is wet and sticking to your cheeks and you know your overalls will be wet all night, considering jean materials never dry quickly, but you don’t care. The cool water feels so good on your skin after such a long day as you lean your head back and soak it all in.

You look over at Josh, smiling from ear to ear and you stop to admire how honestly beautiful he looks like this. He slicked his wet hair to lay down his back and you watch as little droplets of water drip onto his cheeks from his thick eyebrows. You can see hints of his abdominal muscles thanks to the tightness of his wet t-shirt and you’d be lying if you said that your eyes didn’t linger there.

You pull him into you, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your wet clothes are sticking tight to both of you- a slightly uncomfortable feeling but welcomed for the experience to cool down. “Your shirt is wet,” you state matter-of-factly, giggling as you pull back a bit to look at him. “Really? You’re kidding,” he laughs, reaching his hands down to swipe the wet hair off of your face.

You sigh and look up at him with a grin. “Hungry?” you ask. “Starved,” he says. He looks down at you for a moment, his eyes drift to your lips for a second and linger there before traveling up to meet your gaze, the look on his face much more serious than you were ever used to. You take a deep breath, the moment starting to feel a bit more intimate than you’d anticipated. “Let’s go get some walking tacos!” you say, leaving the sprinkler and heading toward the food trucks.

Josh sheds his shirt off as you walk, needed to squeeze the water out and let it dry in the sun for a bit. You’ve seen him shirtless your whole life, you should be used to it by now, but you have to admit that it felt different this time. You let yourself stare a bit too long at the way his wet chest shimmers in the light of the sun, realizing that you need to snap out of it and stop getting distracted.

You and Josh grab your walking tacos, saving one for Danny and grabbing a few more bottles of water, then start the trek back to the stage. You both decide to eat a bit as you walk, being so hungry that you can’t wait until you get back. As you walk, Josh drops a bit of ground beef onto his bare chest and you erupt into laughter.

“Here, let me get it,” you manage to get out through laughs. You both stop walking and you take a napkin out of the bag and then bring it to his chest. You wipe a bit from his chest and then notice a bit of sauce further down toward his belly button.

You reach down and wipe that as well, hearing his breath catch a bit at the feeling of your hand there. Your eyes shoot up to his face, which is now a light shade of pink. Your lips turn up slightly into a subtle smile and you say, “There. All better.” You take your hand away and watch him finally breathe out, then turn away and start walking again. Interesting.

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You reach Daniel back at your spot by the stage and hand him his food. “What happened to you guys? You’re soaking wet,” he asks. “We found a water sprinkler. Felt great,” you answer with a smile. He shrugs and starts eating his food and the three of you hang out until it’s time for the band to come on. Josh slips his shirt back on, which is now significantly less damp.

The 1975 comes on stage as the sun starts to go down, cooling the air down considerably. You’re having so much fun dancing around with your best friends and there’s truly nowhere else you’d rather be. You and Danny sing along to every song as Josh watches and dances along, not really knowing the songs but having fun, nonetheless.

The band closes out the set with your favorite song, Sex. You scream as the song starts and jump around with a wide smile on your face, taking Josh’s hand in yours. He jumps with you, watching you instead of the show as you jump around grinning ear to ear, singing along.

When they get to the third verse, however, Josh can’t take his eyes off of you. The way you’re dancing and singing to a song with these kinds of lyrics is doing something to him that he didn’t expect.

Now we're just outside of town,

And you're making your way down

And I'm not trying to stop you, love,

If we're gonna do anything, we might as well just fuck

You sing along to the song as you take his hands in yours and dance with him. His eyes are piercing through you as he studies you, but you don’t notice with all the excitement. As the chorus starts, he pulls you in and twirls you around, smiling down at you.

You sway with him as the chorus continues and the song ends, much closer than you’d expected to be with your chests touching. As the crowd erupts into applause, you find yourself getting lost in his eyes for a moment. He’s looking down at you, his breath a bit heavy from the dancing, trying to get a glimpse of what’s going on inside your mind.

Before you can say anything, Danny turns around to you guys and says “Well, time to go,” then starts heading toward the exit. You snap back into reality at that moment, releasing your hold on Josh and stepping back a bit, then following after Danny. Josh follows closely behind.

The three of you head back to the hotel after getting a text that Jake and Sam planned to go to a bar down the street from where you’re staying before returning. They say they’ll meet you at the hotel, so you leave without them. When you arrive, you split off from Daniel at his room and then you and Josh head into yours.

You go into the bathroom to put on a tank top and a pair of sweatshorts then wash your face and pull your hair back into a low ponytail. You open the bathroom door and see that Josh has already changed, having thrown on a pair of sweatpants and opting to go without a shirt. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, reading something on his phone, and looks up as he hears you come out.

He watches you as you walk toward your bed and sit down there across from him. He seems a bit deep in thought, his face not as lit up as usual. “Tired?” you ask, bringing your legs up onto the bed and leaning to your left arm onto the pillow. “Yeah, something like that,” he says, giving you a half smile. He goes to lie down but still faces your direction, and you do the same, just looking at him for a moment before finally speaking again.

“Hey, Josh?” you say, looking at him across the chasm between your beds.

“Yeah, Saph?” he answers.

“I miss you a lot when you’re gone.”

“I know, darling. We miss you too, always.”

“I mean just you. Not that I don’t miss the others too, but… You make everything better, Josh. Everything feels so much easier when you’re here,” you confess, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.

“Everything is easier with you there, too. It’s like you add air to my lungs. You walk into a room and it’s like a breath of fresh air,” he answers, smiling back at you.

Your face drops a little bit and you want to say more, but before you get the chance, you hear the door as Jake waltzes in, drunk off his ass. “Oh. You’re still up,” he slurs out, then flops down onto the bed he’s made on the couch.

Josh leans up to turn the lamp off and looks over at you. “Goodnight, honey,” he says, turning the switch. “Goodnight.”

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Day Two

The hotel alarm clock goes off at 9 AM, bright and early. You rub your eyes and sit up in your bed as you hear groans from the other side of the room. “Oi! Turn that shit off!” Jake hollers from the couch. You chuckle as you turn off the alarm and get up to start getting ready.

Josh is still sleeping peacefully, having not heard the alarm at all. He snores lightly as you walk over to his bed and bring your hand down to his head, brushing his hair back out of his face and then shaking his shoulder softly.

“Come on, honey. Time to get up,” you say as his eyes flutter open and land on you, causing him to give you a sleepy, toothless grin. “Morning, Saph,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he sits up in bed. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Long day ahead of us,” you reply, heading into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

You pull your hair back into a loose French braid down your back and then wash your face and apply some base makeup once again. You put on a small sky-blue cropped tank top and black biker shorts, then open the bathroom door and walk back into the room.

Considering you were spending the weekend with four men, you knew they wouldn’t be changing their outfits that much. Josh had subbed out his white t-shirt for a black one of the same kind, wearing similar-looking shorts. Jake wore a Guns n Roses t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a darker pair of jeans.

You sit down on the edge of your bed across from Josh and tie on your Converse. “I quite like how you styled your hair,” Josh says, looking over at you. “Beautiful.” You take your attention away from your shoes to look at him, trying to make sure you heard him right. He’s looking at you in such adoration, it’s hard for you to understand.

You smile shyly and blush a bit as your eyes lock with his before turning your attention back to your shoes. “Thank you, Josh…” you mumble, not sure how to react, especially with Jake in the room. His presence becomes especially apart when you hear him chuckle to himself behind you at his brother’s attempt at flattery. Josh scoffs and then stands up and walks toward the door. “Shall we?” he says, opening the door. The three of you file out and meet up with Sam and Danny and then go to the car once again.

When you arrive at the grounds, you all get drinks together and have a round or two before Tyler Childers’ set at 3 PM. You didn’t know much of his music, but Josh really liked him and you were tipsy enough not to worry about it too much. The five of you had a spot closer to the barricade this time since you’d gotten there early enough, so you had a great view of the stage.

Josh enjoyed the set, smiling and grooving to the music. The songs were folky and country, which made it quite easy to dance along and enjoy it. You watched Josh as he blissfully watched the show, unaware of how truly content he looked and how it made you feel. You couldn’t help but smile as you studied him, admiring how much kindness and beauty exuded from his soul.

You looked at how his curls looked as the summer breeze blew lightly. You watched how his eyes squinted as he smiled wider and sang along. You observed how his lips looked- full, pink, and warm. You admired his hands as they were wrapped around his torso, almost like he was hugging himself. You couldn’t look away even if you tried. He was an enigma.

There was a particular song at the end of the set that really sparked something in him, All Your’n. When it started, Josh took his gaze away from the performance to look at you with a grin. He wrapped his arm around you, his hand gripping your right shoulder softly as he leaned his head to the side on top of yours and sang along to the song.

So I'll love ya 'til my lungs give out

I ain't lying

I'm all your'n and you're all mine

You smile as you dance with him to his favorite song. Seeing him happy was all you needed in the world, and you’d do anything to be the one contributing to it. Your face flushes as you feel him place a soft kiss on the top of your head and then nestle his head on your shoulder, swaying as the song comes to an end. At that moment, there was nowhere you’d rather be. You knew you’d do anything to experience this feeling every day, for the rest of your life.

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The five of you went to the other side of the grounds to eat a quick dinner before returning to your spot by the stage. As you ate, your mind was clouded with only thoughts of Josh and how different things felt. Of course, you’ve always felt a deep connection with him, a bond that could never be broken. You loved him, but the context of that love felt different now.

You’re unsure if it was the recent distance due to their tour or just that the two of you were growing up but after today, your love for him has seemed to turn into adoration. Being with him felt like a piece of you had been returned to you, as though you were only truly whole when he was by your side. His presence felt like breathing fresh air into your lungs after being submerged under water. You understand now what it means, and you think he does too.

Soon, it’s time to get back for Hozier’s set, what you’d all been waiting for. All of the guys were a fan of his, but none of them were nearly as big of a fan as you were. Every song felt like it reflected your soul and your heart in a way that no other music does.

The set begins and you know every song, of course. He plays all of his hits, one of your favorites being Jackie and Wilson. As he sings the song, you’re dancing around and pull Josh in to dance with you. You take his hands in yours and sway with him, jumping around with the largest grin imaginable spread across your face. He’s smiling back down at you and laughing as he lets you maneuver him in whatever way you want to. He even twirls you around a few times, making you giggle.

The mood switches as Hozier begins to play Work Song, which is one that has always resonated with you. You keep Josh’s hand in yours as you watch and sing along. You feel him give your hand a tight squeeze, causing you to look up at him. He gives you a closed-lip smile as he looks down at you, his eyes lingering on your lips for a moment.

There’s nothing sweeter than my baby

I’d never want from the cherry tree

‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me

The other guys were standing in front of you and despite the crowd of people behind you, you suddenly felt alone there in that moment, eyes never straying from each other’s gaze. Your expression softens as you turn your body to face him and he wraps his arm around your waist and lowers his head to press his forehead to yours. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath as the song continues, swaying with him.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

You open your eyes and meet his, breathing heavily from the heat of the crowd as well as the tension. You start to overthink the entire situation but before you’re able to voice your thoughts, Josh finally brings his lips to yours. Your entire body relaxes in his arms as he pulls you closer to him. It feels as though he’s put the air back into your lungs, like you’ve been living your whole life without something that you know now that you could never live without.

You bring your hands up the back of his neck as you deepen the kiss. You grip his hair at the nape of his neck lightly, eliciting a quiet groan from Josh. He nips your bottom lip and you giggle as you finally pull away, his arms still holding you. It’s almost like the rest of the world disappeared in that moment, you heard the song playing on but you didn’t even notice.

The set ends and you quickly let go of each other before the others turn around to face you. Something you can’t hide, however, is the pink hue on both of your cheeks and swollen lips, which slightly gives you away.

“Ready to go? I could sleep for a day, it feels like,” Danny says, starting to head out toward the exit. You all start to walk out as Jake elbows his twin, chuckling and whispering, “Feeling okay there, brother? You’re looking a little… flushed.”

Josh rolls his eyes and walks a bit faster as he mutters, “Yes, Jake, I’m perfectly fine,” and takes your hand to drag you with him. You laugh as you follow closely behind him to the car and he drives the five of you back to the hotel for the night.

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You all arrive back at the hotel and as you get out of the car, Jake says, “You guys wanna go find somewhere to have a few pints?” Danny and Sam all answer in agreement, but Josh shakes his head. You look at him for a moment and meet his eyes. “Yeah, I think Josh and I might stay back, if that’s okay. It’s been a long couple of days,” you say, looking back at the guys with a shy smile.

Jake chuckles to himself. “Okay then, suit yourself. If you’re so tired, then I won’t come in late and wake you. I’ll stay with Sam and Daniel,” he answers with a wink to Josh. Damn these twins, you can’t get anything past them. Josh sighs and says okay before turning to head inside the hotel. You follow him up, beginning to feel a bit nervous.

Josh opens the door to your room and you both walk inside, closing the door behind you. When the door is finally shut, Josh turns around to face you. Before you can say anything, his lips find yours once again. You sigh into his mouth as he pushes you up against the door, his hands holding your waist tightly.

Your hands find their place around his neck as he deepens the kiss, his hands traveling from your waist to the swells of your ass. “Fuck,” you gasp under your breath, the feeling of his hands on you becoming almost too much to handle. That’s when he uses his grip to lift you and wrap your legs around his waist, bringing you over to your bed and laying you down.

He stands at the edge of the bed and removes his t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift movement. You take that moment to remove your own, sitting up on your elbows for a moment as you take it off and then pull your sports bra over your head.

Josh looks down to admire you for a moment before leaning over you, still standing but kneeling one leg slightly on the bed. He pulls you in for a kiss with one hand cupping your cheek as he reaches the other down to grasp your breast, kneading it softly with his fingers and groaning quietly into your mouth.

“Saph, you are so beautiful. Sculpted by God himself,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “Josh…” you start, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. “Shhh,” he whispers, bringing his finger to your lips. “We can discuss it later. Right now, I just need to feel you… gotta make sure that this isn’t some sort of dream.”

He leans back away from you to lower himself to the floor and then starts pulling down the waistband of your shorts. Leaning up on your elbows, you watch as he pulls your shorts down, agonizingly slow. He brings his hands down to pull them down over the curves of your ass when he notices that you’d opted to go without any underwear today. He kisses your inner thigh with a low moan and then looks up at you and says, “No panties? Dirty girl…”

He helps you out of your shorts the rest of the way then reaches up to grasp your ass cheeks, causing you to spread your legs for him. “So perfect,” he mutters, reaching one hand down to run his fingers through your folds. “Is this all for me, baby?” he asks, looking up at you with his eyes dark with lust.

“All for you, Josh. Only you,” you nod, sighing at the feeling of his fingers right where you’ve longed for them to be. “Lucky me…” he whispers before lowering his mouth down to your aching core. He licks into you like a man starved, lapping up the wetness at your folds before wrapping his lips tightly around your clit, making you whine and lean your head back.

He inserts one finger inside you, causing you to moan again, and then removes his mouth from you to speak. “Look at me, baby. Wanna see how angelic you look when I bring you over the edge.” You look down at him and he curls his finger inside of you before adding another one. He attaches his lips back onto you, sucking lightly as he curls his fingers inside of you, eliciting all kinds of lude noises from your mouth, which was exactly what he wanted.

“God, Josh. Fuck, I’m so close,” you whine, gripping the comforter of the bed tightly as you continue to look down at him. “Give it to me, angel. Want it so bad, do it,” he says against your clit with a groan, quickening his movements. You finally feel the band snap inside you and call out his name as he works you through it, taking his mouth off of you and slowing his fingers inside of you.

He kisses your inner thigh again before bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your release off of them. “Mmm, fuck. You taste like heaven, my love. I fear I might get addicted,” he says, standing up to remove his shorts along with his boxers, stepping out of them, and then leaning back down to kiss you. He licks into your mouth and holds the back of your head steadily as you bring your hand down to stroke him lightly.

He groans against you and ruts his hips into your hand and you quicken your pace and then lean up to push him off of you. “My turn,” you say with a smirk, pushing him down onto the bed to lay with his head on the pillow. He looks up at you as the corners of his mouth turn into a smile and you crawl up toward him, taking his hardened length into your hand.

You bend down and swirl the tip with your tongue, then take it into your mouth. You work your mouth down onto it slowly until your nose touches the happy trail on his lower abdomen. You’re met with a long groan from Josh as he leans his head back onto the headboard with one of his hands gripping your hair lightly.

You continue to bob your head along his length, occasionally stopping to gag on it for a few moments at the hilt, causing him to sputter out various expletives. Before it gets too far, he goes to pull your head off of him with a groan. “Baby, if you keep going like that, I’m not gonna make it long enough to feel what this divine pussy feels like wrapped around me.” You blush at his direct language, something you’re still not used to hearing from him.

“You want me, Josh? Wanna feel me?” you tease, crawling up to straddle him, feeling his dick flush against your soaked folds. You reach down and put your hands around his neck, gripping his hair as you lean closer to him. “I need it, Saph. Haven’t been able to think about anything else all night besides how good it would feel to be inside you,” he whispers, holding your hips so tightly that you know it would leave a bruise.

You don’t need to hear anything else before you bring a hand down to grip his length and lift your hips to lower yourself down onto him. He grips your sides tighter as you make your way slowly to the hilt, adjusting to the size. He leans his head back with a groan as you finally lift your hips up and then back down.

He leans up to capture your lips with his and moans into your mouth as you grind repeatedly down onto him. “God, baby. Feels so good. So perfect for me,” he mutters, gripping you tightly as he starts to thrust up into you quickly, causing you to whine and try to steady yourself on the bed.

It feels unlike any other man you’ve ever been with. Not only do you feel safe and loved by someone you trust the most, but it feels like everything has finally fallen into place. The two of you were destined and your intimacy now only proves it further. You were meant to be his.

Josh flips you over onto your back and re-enters you, bringing his hand up to hold the back of your neck and kiss you passionately. His tongue slips past your lips as his other hand grips your hip and he thrusts into you, repeatedly hitting the same spot that drives you wild. “That’s it, honey, that’s it,” he whispers, bringing his hand from your hip to rub circles around your clit as he lowers his mouth to attach to one of your hardened nipples.

You moan at the overstimulating feeling of his mouth on you combined with his quick movements on your clit and throw your head back against the headboard. “Fuck, Josh, don’t stop I’m-” you mumble as he removes his mouth from you to interrupt you. “I know, baby, I’m right there with you. Let me have it.”

That’s all you need to hear before reaching your second orgasm, and Josh is not far behind you. He brings his mouth to yours as he finally releases inside of you, slowing his thrusts as he fucks it back into you until he stills his movements entirely. He brings his hand to caress your cheek and looks down at you with a wide smile, his cheeks flushed and rosy.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back, baby,” he says, pulling out of you slowly and then padding off toward the bathroom. He returns with a wet washcloth and a small cup of water, setting it down on the side table and then sitting down at the edge of the bed next to you. He cleans you up delicately, almost pampering you, and then reaches up to move some of your hair from in front of your eyes.

“So beautiful. I’m still not sure how I got so lucky,” he says, smiling down at you. You sit up a bit and kiss his lips sweetly, then lean your forehead against his. “I love you, Josh.”

“I love you too, my Sapphire. More than words, and you know I’m not usually speechless… You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on your cheek.

You both slip on some comfier clothes to sleep in, just in case Jake decides to come back in the morning. He then turns the lamp off then climbs into your bed with you, laying on his side to face you. You turn to face him as well, looking into his eyes silently for a moment.

“I’m not sure what I’d do without you, Josh. You’re my world, more than you know,” you admit.

“I know, my love. You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be yours. Always,” he answers, bringing his hand down to stroke your hair affectionately. The two of you drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, where you were always meant to be.

Or so you thought. One can never predict where the road may take you… What seems to be love at one point can turn into nothing within a moment’s notice. Nothing lasts forever, despite all efforts to fight it. But love doesn’t always fade away entirely, does it?

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part two

[farenmaddox]

it's Cas!posting hours again

I’m doing a season 4 rewatch of Supernatural because I need to watch this angel fall again. And god, it’s so good. The Destiel of it all is literally from minute one and never lets up, for one thing. Like, the insane crazy eye contact and whispered conversations alone in the dark and the way Castiel constantly shows up in the aftermath of really terrible moments of Dean’s life, where the only role available to him is to listen to Dean spill emotions everywhere, and do his little angel best to provide some sort of comfort? Are you fucking kidding me?

I just finished watching s4e7 “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester” and need to talk about it for a minute. Thee Castiel just radiating BDE. Uriel’s the specialist, but Cas is the one who gets to decide whether Uriel goes to work and gets to reprimand and threaten him. I am. Okay.

Anyway, I’m just considering it all from Cas’s perspective. Like, what does he actually know about Dean Winchester? So little. They have spent max two hours in each other’s company at this point. He knows that Dean was feisty enough to stab him and yell at him, and he obviously thinks it’s kinda cute because he just lets him do it. Like a puppy that hasn’t learned not to bite yet. What else does he know? He knows Dean got very pissed about the rising of the witnesses, and the deaths of his fellow hunters. Understandable, maybe. Castiel is pissed about the loss of his own fellow soldiers. Makes sense.

Then there was s4e3, “In the Beginning,” and now Castiel knows that Dean loves his family and it hurt him to see what happened to his mother and why everything happened with Sam the way it did. And Castiel felt it. He felt that pain from Dean, and it wasn’t his place to stop any of this, he was just there to drive the car and make the cryptic threats. But he reached out and touched his shoulder, because Dean was in pain and Castiel couldn’t look at it without wanting to do something. That little touch is where the crack formed. 100%

Now it’s Halloween, and they need to destroy a whole town. Castiel last saw Dean about a month ago, and he’s been busy trying to stop the apocalypse. It’s difficult and his brothers are dying and he’s stressed. Now he’s here, and he has to destroy a town. And Castiel doesn’t want to, but it’s not up to him, it’s up to Dean. And Castiel doesn’t know this, because he can’t remember, but he’s been here before. He’s felt this doubt before, and they’ve drilled into his brain and pulled it out of him. He’s had all previous instances of hesitation stolen from him. So now, here, his doubts are new and frightening. And Dean Winchester gets to decide. This man whose significance he doesn’t fully know or understand. He knows he was commanded to pull him out of hell, he knows Dean feels loyalty to hunters and family, but he doesn’t know what Dean will do when it’s his life, his brother’s life, against the lives of random people he doesn’t know and would never see again anyway. Castiel will do whatever Dean says, but he knows he might be disappointed. That he might have to kill 1,214 people depending on who Dean really is.

Then Dean proves himself to be the man that Castiel was secretly hoping he was. He won’t let them destroy the town and he will put his own life on the line for it. Dean loves humanity, the way that Castiel is not allowed to remember that he does, too. Dean does what Castiel was longing to do and praying that Dean would do for him, and he makes the space where Castiel can profess those feelings safely.

Yeah, Cas falls. Of course he does. This episode makes me truly believe that he was going to anyway and Dean was just the catalyst for it this time. He’s fallen before, but this time, he gets to remember. Because Dean is the immovable object that meets the unstoppable force, because Dean is a fixed point in the universe. This time, when Cas falls in love with humanity, they can’t take it away from him because his love literally has plot armor.

[bcolfanfic]

craving some soft domesticity and romance....do you have any h/cs for the young vets Clegan when they first set up house? who's the cook? who likes to decorate? what's their sunday morning routine? do they bicker over what to watch? who's the little spoon? etc etc etc <3

sweet babies. this is the zillow house i decided they move into once they find somewhere in sheridan and move out of staying with gale’s sister immediately after getting home post-war.

they’re there when they first get josie/convert the upstairs into her room- and then once the adoption is finalized they move somewhere a little bigger.

but that’s all down the line. to your actual prompt,

- gale copes with being back in civilian life by throwing himself head first into it. always cooking, kinda goes full throttle house husband mode for a while while he’s looking for work. john isn’t making him fill that role, it just helps him feel like he has all his ducks in a row. gives him something to focus on.

- not that john is complaining either. he thinks gale is so damn sweet. and loves getting to see that domestic side of him that it wasn’t even really possible to see overseas.

- john has some stuff in boxes that he took from wisconsin when they stopped through there that it makes him feel Good to put around the house. books, photos of him and his sister when they were little, a bunch of throw pillows and blankets and ~homey~ things that his mama kinda unloaded on him to take back to their house.

- the only way you’d know either of them were in the military just by walking around their house is if you were looking close enough to see a challenge coin holder on the tv shelf. the coins stay out because they look nice, but everything else goes into a drawer or a box. it’s mostly john’s doing- but gale is 100% on board. out of sight out of mind (: right (: loud incorrect buzzer

- their neighbors are a very sweet older couple with horses and are always inviting them to church. with the stipulation that we won’t let anyone give you boys any trouble, but they still opt to not go together and just go individually with those neighbors every now and then. they’re good boys and know those folks mean well.

- but if it’s a morning when both of em stay home they just take the morning real slow. sleep in, half asleep wander around in their pajamas. before john’s doing Bad and can’t be left by himself gale will sometimes go out and pick up breakfast from a little local place a couple minutes away to bring back to the house. brings it back home instead of the two of them going out to eat so they can stay in their jammies and eat on the couch and pet each others hair and snuggle <3

- gale is biggg into documentaries but john’s opinion on docs is that there needs to be some good Reenactment scenes or he finds it hard to pay attention lmao (me too buddy). when he has tv control he likes binge watching older shows. gonna project for a minute and say that he likes cheers (: and gets Passionate about how sam and diane’s plot line ends even when he’s seen said plot line like seven times.

- gale is the lil spoon most of the time and once john starts struggling with his mental health more those roles kinda reverse. but before that gale lovesss curling his lanky self as small as is possible for him and feeling john press up against his back. lovesss the sensory input of that. makes him feel grounded and safe (: