#he is biting his lip and STARING at dennis in the last one

[season1mac]

season1mac makes season 1 mac gifsets 1/8

s1ep1: the gang gets racist

[honestlydarkprincess]

welcome to the club

buck & hen || rated: g || wc: 908 || read on ao3

Buck rang the doorbell to Hen’s house and took a deep breath. He was nervous but since coming out to Maddie and Bobby, he wasn’t as anxious as he might have been. He was ready, he was going to tell Hen today.

Hen opened the door with a look of surprise. “Buck?”

“Hey, Hen, uh, can I come in?” Buck asked, biting his lip as he played with his hands.

“Yeah, of course,” Hen said, shaking off the surprise and stepping to the side, gesturing for him to come in. “If this is you wanting to get day drunk again I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a rain check, I have to pick up Denny in two hours.”

“No,” Buck laughed, proud that his voice was only a little bit shaky. “That’s not it at all.”

“Okay, then what brings you to my door?” Hen asked, taking a seat at the table and nodding for Buck to do to the same.

Buck swallowed, taking a seat and folding his hands on top of the table. “I came to tell you something. It’s something I only recently figured out and I’m telling you guys one by one which feels like the right move but also it’s been terrifying as fuck. So far I’ve only told Maddie and Bobby and that’s because Maddie’s my older sister and Bobby asked me about it, y’know?” He rambled, unable to stop now that he had started. “And I know it would be ridiculous to think that you would think differently of me because,” Buck gestured vaguely. “but I don’t know, you’re like a sister to me and this is really scary and—”

“Okay, okay, slow down there, Buck,” Hen interrupted, putting a calming hand on his. Buck let out a shuddering breath. “Now, I think I know where you’re going with this, but take a deep breath and continue.”

Buck followed her instructions, letting her steady presence anchor him. He felt his heart slow down and he closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling. “I’m— I think— well, actually, I know—“ He cut himself off, huffing when the words refused to tumble out. “I’m bisexual.” He said finally, forcing the words from his lips.

He stared at his hands as he waited for her answer.

“I was wondering when you were going to figure it out.”

Buck’s head shot up and he stared at Hen in shock. “You knew?”

Hen shrugged slightly. “I’ve always had a feeling but I was never one hundred percent sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

Hen laughed quietly. “Buck, I can’t tell you how to feel or how to identify. Sure, I had my suspicions but they were always just that.”

“Yeah, but I might have figured it out earlier if you had told me,” Buck grumbled, pouting slightly.

Hen gave him an amused look. “This was always something you were going to have to figure out on your own, Buckaroo. And now that you have, I can say welcome to the club.”

Buck smiled widely, his cheeks hurting. “Y-Yeah, I guess I am part of the club.”

“Now,” Hen gave him a mock serious look. “Who is it?”

“What do you mean?” Buck asked even though his cheeks flushed. He had a feeling he knew what she was asking.

“Who made you realize it?”

“Uh,” Buck briefly considered lying and claiming it just came to him but if he was being honest with people he might as well go all the way. “It was Tommy. He kissed me.”

“Work Tommy? Tommy Kinard?” Hen asked, surprised. The surprise only lasted a few seconds before she said, “Yeah, you know what, that makes sense.”

Buck laughed, his cheeks bright pink. “Yeah, he, uh. He’s something else.”

“Well, thanks for telling me, Buck. I know that it’s not an easy thing to do,” She reached over and squeezed his hand again. “I’m very proud of you.”

“People keep saying that,” Buck said, ducking his head to hide the tears that sprang up in his eyes. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do, Buck. Being open and honest about yourself is terrifying, even when it’s people you know who will support you,” Hen said gently. “So yeah, I’m proud of you and you should be proud of yourself.”

Buck felt his throat go tight as he got choked up. “Thanks, Hen,” He whispered. “That means a lot.”

“Anytime, Buckaroo. Anytime.”

And when Buck got to work the next time they had a shift together, Hen came up to him, hiding something behind her back. “I have a present for you.” She handed him a little bag and after giving her a curious look, Buck looked inside.

In the bag was a rolled up bisexual pride flag, a pin, and a fridge magnet. Immediately Buck felt like he couldn’t breathe, emotion choking him up. “Hen…”

She shrugged. “It’s not much but I know how much it meant to me when I got my first flag, so I hoped that I could be the one to give it to you.”

Buck tugged her into a bear hug, his throat too tight to get the words out, so he hoped that she felt just how grateful he was through their hug. God, he loved his family. Hen hugged back just as tightly and Buck knew that she had gotten the message loud and clear.

[winniethewife]

You knew I wanted just to hold you (Cecil Dennis x reader)

Warnings: Drug use, Weed, making out,

A/n: Requested by @summonthesoups Hope you love it! Takes place in the same universe as “Drunk on Christmas”

Words:639

She stood on the Porch, leaning on the railing, a joint in her hand. It was five in the morning and after hours of tossing and turning she had given up on the night. She took a drag of the joint between her fingers and breaths deeply, closing her eyes as she inhales, letting the smoke fill her lungs, a comforting feeling. As she exhales she opens her eyes, she is face to face with her Fiancé Cecil. He looks half asleep and groggy, a slight pout on his face. She lazily offers him the joint and he reaches for it, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He takes a drag as he moves to lean next to her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, his soft warm eyes on hers as he takes another drag.

“No. Fucking insomnia.” She takes the joint back from him and takes another long drag. He tilts his head and looks at her like a sweet confused puppy.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? You didn’t have to be alone.” His voice whiny and slightly sad, like a kid who wasn’t invited to a birthday party.

“Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean you have to lose sleep too.” She smiles softly at him. Cecil’s response is to wrap his arms around her and pull her in closer nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck and he makes a soft whimpering sound.

“Still, I don’t like waking up without you. I get Lonely.” He softly whines. She smiles at him. Cecil was so touchy and needy it was one of the things she loved about him. She hardly ever gets touch-starved with him around. She takes another drag of her Joint before holding it out for Cecil to take the last couple drags. He obliges gladly before tossing the filter out. They both wander back inside, Cecil practically dragging her to the bed. He pulls her under the covers, wrapping himself around her, his nose pressed to her neck his hot breath on her shoulder as he keeps her close. As the weed starts to take effect she lets out a soft giggle, Cecil chuckles, and soon they are a puddle of giggles and laughs, arms and legs tangled together, foreheads pressed together as they stare into each other’s eyes.

“You’re eyes…they’re so pretty, Like, whoa.” He mumbles as he brushes her hair out of her face.

“Yeah? You think?” She chuckles, running her fingers along the stubble on his chin and along his neck.

“Yeah, I think…I think you’re pretty, like…so pretty” he continues, his eyes flutter open and closed, like he was struggling to stay awake, the combination of being tangled up cozy and the marijuana making it hard to keep conscious. She was finally also starting to feel the pull of sleep. She presses her lips to his skin, his forehead, the tip of his nose, finally landing on his lips. He snorts in laughter as he kisses her back, he takes her top lip in-between his teeth and pulls gently, teasing. She laughs.

“What are you doing?” She giggles

“Kissing you! What do you think I’m doing?”

“Being a goofball, that’s what I think you’re doing” She says with a laugh. He looks at her in mock offence.

“Well! Excuse me for being affectionate with my fiancée!” he playfully huffed.

“I’m so sorry honey, how can I convince you to forgive me?” She played along, looking at her with a sweet facial expression. He smiles at her, pulling her close and sloppily kisses her on the jaw.

“I think… I know… how you can… convince me.” He says between kisses, his hands dragging his hands along her body holding her closer and closer. “I want to hold you Babe…please.” He bites at her neck softly she shutters.

“Of course Cecil…I’m yours.”

~

Masterlist

[dxncingxnmyown]

"I can scarcely remember what peace is like. Or how to enjoy it." She's gone from the front of Russia's war with the Ottoman Empire, to the grounds of France's restoration, and into the political turmoil in Versailles. Jacqueline cannot remember the last mark of peace. It's fitting, then, that the topic switches to family. Isn't that what people did, when there was no war? Find a life, make a family? "You'd make a great father." Jacqueline recognizes, with a certain nod. "And we will have a family of our own. One day." And though most would feel a rush, she hangs onto his words, and releases any pressure that comes her way.

She bites her inner cheek, staring up at Dennis a spark of affection in her eyes. Being called his love is akin to those early days, being called his wife. It felt uncomfortable at first, but oddly reassuring. "You know that I had no reason to expect your loyalty, right? I know I was not the most enthusiastic of brides. And there were other women..." More willing lovers, far more traditional Princesses with sweet smiles. She sighs, pressing both hands against his chest. "I thank you, still. And I... I wish for this marriage to be more than what it is." Her jaw slacks, disbelieving her own words. She'd fought this affection for so long, only to fall into it headfirst.

"Then perhaps I'll do it more often - within reason." She answers wickedly, exhaling softly as her lips press against his. She emits a low murmur, as he pulls her closer into his chest. Jacqueline meets his deepened kiss with her own, as her fingers reach for the back of his head, running through the head of curls. In the breath between kisses, she gently uses her teeth to tug at his lower lip, eyes bright with mischief at the sight of the King of France against her. "We should stop." She musters between their locked lips. "The servants." Would be here any minute, but it's lost in the kiss.

”I certainly hope so. And let us hope that this will be the last bit of drama in a while. I believe we all could do with some peace.” A sigh escaped his lips, he knew he could, after everything that went down lately, he hoped that he could start focusing more on internal affairs than international ones. “You’re not wrong there, they definitely are after two years of marriage. But I don’t want you to worry about that, we have time, I’m in no rush.” As much as he wanted a family of his own, he also knew to respect Jacqueline and what she wanted for now. And he understood if she wasn’t ready for a child just yet.

“I’m glad you know that.” It was something that Dennis always made sure she knew. He would never force her to do anything she didn’t want to or make her uncomfortable. Dennis had told her that even before they got married. A smirk spread across his lips at her words. “Well my love, you are the only woman who I want to bring her desires forefront. It is good to know that I have that effect on you though.”

“I would never lecture you. I mean, I did want to execute the people responsible for this only a few moments ago, I cannot judge you for using harsher ways to assure some alliances.” Dennis let his hands rest on her waist as she moved closer to him. “I mean, I don’t know about threatening me, but threatening others? Definitely attractive.” He smiled into the kiss, glad that she had been the one to initiate it this time. Although, he deepened the kiss slightly, pulling her body closer to his.

[abbatoirablaze]

His Sunshine, Chapter 8

Word Count:  1.7k

Warnings:  angst, implied smut

“For the millionth time, Denny, I’m telling you, that I do not have sierra eight,”  Lloyd seethed, glaring at his best friend.   The two men could practically hear his teeth gnashing against each other as he thought about whether or not his best friend would lie to him, “Denny, come on.  You gotta believe me, buddy…”

Carmichael sighed. 

The two of them had quite the history.  He, Lloyd, and Suzanne.  The there of them had all met in Harvard; Lloyd while playing football on a scholarship with Denny, and Suzanne, the feisty cheerleader.  The three of them always had a shared goal in mind of working for the CIA, which only led to a strong, intense bond, especially between Lloyd and Denny.

“You better not be lying to me, Lloyd…”

“I’m not, Den.”

“Lloyd.”

It was a warning tone.  Even he knew that Denny didn’t entirely trust him. 

“Alright, fine,” he growled, crossing my arms over his chest as he stared at my college best friend, “you want to know the truth, here’s everything…here’s all of it, laid flat out on the table, because I’m looking for her too!”

Denny’s brow raised in curiosity, “you’re what?”

“She’s my soulmate, Denny,” he said simply, shooting a glare to Suzanne, who was already glaring at him.  Her own jaw tensed, and Denny frowned, catching it, “I met her before she was in the program…before her mark showed up.  I-“

“He broke up our marriage to go chasing after some teenager,” Suzanne groaned, her voice laced with disgust, “what was she again, “thirteen?”

“You knew about her?” Denny asked in an amused tone as his own attention shifted from Lloyd to her, “and you didn’t try to kill her?”

“Bite me, Suzanne,” Lloyd growled, shooting his ex-wife yet another look. Then he looked back to Denny, “she was a kid, yeah…barely sixteen, bu-“

“So, you know how to squeeze her.  You know how to push her buttons.”

“He wishes,” Suzanne scoffed, “he’s only really been close enough to touch her once…isn’t that right, Lloyd?”

“Twice,” he corrected angrily, “Prague, not too far after Gentry hid her away from me.”

Suzanne bit back her surprise, “you-“

“And I’ve been close a few times,” he growled, “the airport being the last time.  She ran away from me…”

“She ran away from you?” Denny asked quickly, his eyes lighting up, “she never took her exfil, Lloyd.  She abandoned the program.”

“She was never supposed to be in the program,” he grunted, crossing his arms, “her father was.  He traded his place for her own.  Fucking Fitzroy bought it so quick…fucker ate it up.  A kid that the agency could shape into whatever the fuck they wanted.  Bu-“

“She’s a sierra, Lloyd.  We need to control her.”

“SHE’S FUCKING INNOCENT,” Lloyd growled, standing up from his chair.  His hands slammed down on the table, hard.  He stared between Denny and Suzanne, “Six drugged her after I saw her in an airport…he sent me a video of him raping her…she didn’t miss her exfil.  Her fucking handler turned her into a god damned red herring.”

Denny’s jaw tensed yet again.  He looked between his best friend and his colleague, “she’s an enemy as of now, Lloyd…”

“Yeah…well so am I…but I’m fucking useful…right?”

Denny nodded, “if I ask you to bring her in…would you do it?”

“Open checkbook…no questions…”

“I can do that.”

“Carmichael, are you se-“

“Not your deal, Suzanne,” Denny growled, glaring at the woman, “stand down.”

“You’re going to give him an open checkbook to hunt her down, to-“

“Suzanne…you don’t need to be privy to the conversation,” Carmichael said suddenly, realizing that she may hinder his plans, “you should leave…”

“Denny…”

“Suzanne.”

Her jaw twitched and she quickly turned away, storming out of the room.  Lloyd grunted, a chuckle escaping his lips, “fucking frigid bitch.”

“What I’m going to tell you stays off the record, Lloyd.”

Lloyd smiled, arms uncrossing from his chest.  He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, “yes?”

“What you’re saying lines up with a tap we had on one of our agents phones,” he answered quickly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table, “the girl…your soulmate…she claimed that after she ran from you, sierra eight drugged her and raped her.  The other day I found her in the evidence room…she destroyed the computer.”

“She wouldn’t run from me…she didn’t want to…I could see it in her eyes, Denny…”

“I can give you an open checkbook, but not for long…I can also provide a few extra teams to ensure that she is located…we’ve got ears everywhere…they lost her somewhere in the middle of the country a few weeks ago…”

“I’m not going to bring her in if I find her, Denny.”

“You have to if I give you the green light to go after her.”  

“No one touches a hair on her head,” Lloyd said quickly, “I stay with her at all times.”

“Prove yourself useful in getting her back here and we’ll discuss it.”

“No Denny…that’s non-negotiable…”

My heart raced as I looked around the room.  It’d been a few weeks since the procedure, and I’d made my way to yet another town, but there was something that had stuck in the back of my mind since then; something I couldn’t escape. 

I felt like I’d betrayed Lloyd. 

Every time I closed my eyes, I was like I could picture the hurt that was across his features when he’d seen me on camera.  I could see the overjoyed expression he wore in the airport and the moment it turned into one of rejection when I turned to run away from him. 

I felt my hand inching up my wrist and to my forearm, until I was dangerously close to my soulmate mark. 

But the anxiety won, and I didn’t touch it.  My heart both ached and raced for the sensation of feeling him.  However, instead of touching my mark, I threw my arm away from myself. 

‘He’s going to kill me for what I did.’ 

“You know…some people wouldn’t want to know for fear that it’s someone bad.  Some women and men even get rejected by their soulmates when they meet.  Did you know that?” 

My heart ached at the thought. 

If he didn’t kill me, he would surely reject me.  Who would want a soulmate that was so sullied? 

I wasn’t a virgin. 

I had been molded into this weird killing machine. 

I wasn’t the soft, delicate creature he’d first met. 

I sighed to myself as I opened the door to yet another safehouse that I’d been staying in the past few days.  It wasn’t anything special and was hidden away in the heart of the city.  It was something similar to the former UK’s leader, Ms. Cahill’s place.  It was right in the middle of everything and nothing. 

Setting my grocery bags down, my hand absentmindedly went to my stomach. 

‘Why couldn’t it have been his?’

‘Why did I run from him in the first place?’

“Sunshine…”

I whipped around so fast that in turning my arm hit the bag, knocking my produce to the floor.  My heart caught in my throat as I saw who it was.  Tears instantly came to my eyes, and my bottom lip warbled, “Lloyd?”

Sitting down on the shabby couch was none other than my soulmate; Lloyd.  My heart raced at the sight of him momentarily, and I fought the urge to run to him, to find comfort in his arms.  He stood up and straightened out his shirt.  The smallest of smirks played onto his face, and I could feel the cocky air of his attitude from the other side of the room, “you look surprised to see me, Sunshine…”

“I-I-you aren’t-“

“I came to find you, sweetheart,” he said softly, his jaw twitching as he looked around the room, “I must admit, I thought you would choose to hide somewhere a little more off the grid.”

“That’s what the last place was.  The agency was starting to tear through the ones off grid like they were tissue.  My last safehouse was blown,” I said quickly, my own gaze shooting around the room, “I-“

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” he offered, taking a step forward, “it’s just us…it’s just you and me.  You don’t need to be on high alert.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

I wished I didn’t ask the question as soon as it passed my lips.  His expression betrayed him.  It was a look of deep hurt that met even his eyes.  He gave me a sad look as he stepped towards me once again.  The floorboards creaked beneath him, and his frown only deepened when I instinctively jumped, “I would never hurt you, sunshine…”

“But-I-I’m not what you wanted.  I’m not-I’m not the girl you first met anymore, Lloyd…”

I could practically feel his heart lurching in his chest as he closed the distance between the two of us.  He was quick to reach up and cup my face in his hands, “Sunshine…you are everything I’ve always wanted…”

“I’m not...not-“

“I don’t care,” he whispered bracing his forehead against my own, “I’m not mad at you for that…for what he did to you…he took advantage of you, cupcake…”

“Lloyd…”

“The agency poisoned you against me.  He poisoned you against me,” he sighed, his calloused thumb gently stroking my cheek, “but that’s over with…now that Carmichael has Fitzroy pushed out-“

“Carmichael?” I asked nervously, cutting him off.  I took a step back and he frowned as I put more distance between the two of us, “Carmichael wants me dead…h-him and Suzanne.  They’re both looking to ki-”

“I worked it out,” he said quickly, rushing me, “they won’t bug you ever again, sweetheart…I promise.  They won’t be bugging us…”

“Lloyd…”

“Let me love you the way I promised you the day that we met,” he begged softly, capturing me in his grasp once more, “let me love my soulmate, sunshine…you’re still in there.  I know you are.  You just had to bury that part of you to survive…because that’s what you are.  My girl’s a survivor, through and through.”

I melted, my heart thumping heavily in my chest.  I felt a warmth running over me as his hand touched my mark.  My breath caught in my throat and he smiled. My own hand grazed over his, and he shivered. 

“I love you, Sunshine,” he said sweetly, “let me be soft with you…let me show you how I want to treat my soulmate.  Let me fill that promise I made to you, Sunshine.  Please.”

I nodded, leaning forward until our lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

Chapter 9

Tag list:  @lohnes16, @buckysteveloki-me, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @valhalla-kristin, @danielle143, @noseyrosey1597, @marve2014, @littlemoistcarrot, @minaxcarter, @ohtobehappy, @ebonynextdoor, @dforever15, @bambamwolf87, @bigcreatorwombatdreamer, @multifandom-world8, @gh0stgirl33, @mrspaigeomega, @grimistangel

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Dennis

Notes: No one asked for this. was inspired this thread. LOL. Also Chris Evans Debuts Trailer for New Movie DENNIS

Summary: A broken pathetic shell of a man with nothing to live for.

Warning: 18+ only please, forced fingering, non con, rape, Dark themes

Dark Dennis Baker x Reader

💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

6:00 A.M.

Dennis hated waking up. Though he was married whenever he arose and reached over to his wife's side of the bed it was always cold. It didn't used to be this way. Not too long ago he would wake to find her snuggling into him, but now it was as if he was a single man all over again.

Scrubbing his hands over his face as he sat on the edge of the bed he wondered where his wife was this time. At some point after he was laid off she started changing. Working out more, staying out more, sleeping over at her sisters for reasons she never made clear to him.

Walking over to the closet Dennis retrieved his uniform, laying it on top of the bed, neatly. The gawd awful pink retail shirt, unflattering khaki pants, with the leather belt and penny loafers made him internally groan at the sight each morning.

As the steam dissipated from the shower Dennis mindlessly stared at his own reflection. Dread poured over him the closer it got time for him to leave for work. This job was a far cry from his former one as Head of IT. A major data breach ruined his career in the tech field. Despite his best efforts to prevent the cyber attack his warnings went unheeded, sighting unnecessary cost for the infrastructure. And when the inevitable happened his neck was brought to the chopping block.

With that blemish on his record it was hard to get another job of similar note with this infraction hanging over his head. Now reduced to technical expert at Betsy's Computer store. A glorified titled for a retail worker that pushed more PS5's than actual technical support.

With the drop in title so did the salary. The mortgage, car note and other bills began piling up on top of each other. Credit cards were starting to hit their own limit, all contributing to his physical and mental decline.

💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

7:00 A.M.

As he began dressing he heard a faint sound coming from down stairs. Tucking in his shirt as he left the bedroom he heard the rare sound of his wife, Sarah. She was talking cheerfully to someone he hoped would be her sister. When he entered the archway his heart sank as she quieted herself, her mood fully changed before slipping her cell into her pocket.

Quickly she picked up a dish that contained scraps of some healthy meal that she only made for herself. Rinsing it off at the sink as Dennis approached her from behind.

Leaning over Dennis tried to kiss her cheek, but swiftly Sarah pulled away. “Ugh!”

"What's wrong?" He knew, but he had to hear it.

"You have a bad penis?" she answered before leaving him alone in the kitchen as he bottled up the hurt as he always did. Tucking away the insult and then burying it deep.

Dennis's erectile dysfunction was just the cherry on his shit cake. He had seen several doctors. All prescribed this or that, but nothing worked. The lack of intimacy helped to further wreck havoc on his marriage.

💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

8:00 A.M.

The entrance to the gaudy pink building dinged as the automatic doors opened.

"Morning Dennis" you smiled as he walked through the opened doors. He scrunched his face as if he didn't recognize you. You had only run into him once or twice since you started last week, so you weren't surprised he didn't remember.

"How did you..?" He looked a mix of tired and confused as he stood between the doorway.

Your head tilted and gave him a look, before tapping the name plate on your chest. Dennis followed your finger, your badge sat perched on your left breast. You shifted on your feet as his eyes lingered on your nameplate longer than you would've liked.

"Hadn't had your coffee yet I see" you joked. Quickly Dennis shifted his eyes away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Yeah" Dennis chuckled dryly.

"Well, there is a fresh pot in the back last time I checked and  a few donuts. I think Richard brought some in. If you hurry you might be able to snatch one up." You brushed off his awkwardness.

Maybe he isn't a morning person.

You could see Dennis on the verge of reply, but your attention diverted to the customer walking to your open lane. "How was your shopping today? Do you have a Betsy card?" You read off your script as they laid their items down. In the corner of your eye you watched him linger a bit, before continuing on toward the back to clock in.

💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

3:00 P.M.

Dennis grumbled with hands on hips as he looked at the disarray of the printer cartage wall. He had organized and reorganized the entire aisle at least five times today. He had only been gone five minutes only to return to chaos.

Quickly taking inventory with his clipboard he made notes of what he needed before storming off to the storage room. Through his irritation he found it hard to stay mad as thoughts of you clouded his head while he walked.

The tiny interaction from earlier in the day had haunted him. Trying in vein Dennis tried his hardest to focus on anything else, but the more he fought it the more you seemed to just pop up. He found his eyes locking with yours in-between various interactions with customers as you cut through his section to get to the break room. Each time you fluttered your fingers and smiled at him, leaving him flustered, returning the smile more stiff and awkward than the time before.

Opening the door to the storage room Dennis's heart skipped a beat when he found you bent over examining a shelf. You hadn't noticed him yet, too focused on the numbers on the paper you held in search of an item.

Swallowing thickly Dennis gingerly closed the door quietly in an effort not to spook you. His cock twitched slightly the longer he stood against the door. When you moaned in frustration after you placed an item back on the shelf a heat rippled through his face forcing him to bite back a groan of his own.

Staying quiet, he released the knob and started to move closer to you. Each step Dennis felt his heart beat through his ears as your hips swayed before him.  

The narrow aisle forced Dennis to squeeze past you to reach his desired destination. Sucking in his bottom lip hungrily he pushed his hips forward as he slid behind, the slight graze made you jump up and yelp in surprise.

"Oh gosh Dennis you scared me!" You giggled slightly embarrassed. You placed a hand over your chest and the other on his shoulder.

"Sorry" looking sincerely at you as he held his hands up innocently. "Just trying to reach the ink." Hoping to take the focus away from his bottom half. The light graze was enough to awaken that piece of him that he had long sense gave up on.

"It's OK. It's super tight back here. Kind of hard not to knock into someone." You brushed of your shock and turn back to your task. With your back to him again adjusted himself awkwardly.

"Hey, wait!" Your call froze him in his tracks.

Dennis's back tensed and a panic shot through his core as he heard your steps approach. His work pants had become uncomfortably tighter all thanks to you.

Slyly he pressed his clip board over his buckle when you rounded his side. Internally Dennis prayed that you wouldn't notice the throbbing erection below his belt.

"Can you help me I can’t find this." You were still focused on the paper you held, pushing it in his line of sight as you waited for him to respond. You were so close that your perfume tickled his nose and he wondered if you tasted just as sweet as you smelled.

Dennis's lips deepened into a frown when Richard, the floor manager, called your name from the now open storage door.  

"We need you back on registers. Let me handle that for now." Richard demanded.  

"Oh OK" turning away from him you handed the papers to Richard as he approached. "Thanks anyway Dennis" you patted Dennis's back before walking off. The sudden lack of touch sent an ache to his heart as he watched you disappear through the door.

💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

5:30 P.M.

The rain came down hard. You hadn't check the weather, when you left your apartment earlier in the day the sky was clear. Without an umbrella you made a mad dash to your car on the far end of the lot. Panting wildly, by the time your reached the car you were soaked through and through.

Slipping in you shrieked when the white flash crashed too close to your car. Fumbling with your keys before sticking them in the ignition you quickly found disappointment. The engine wouldn't turn over. It took several clicks of the turning key, before you stared baffled at the wheel. You had never had issues with your car before, so you were at a loss as to what could be the cause.

A bashing came loud on your side that caused you to scream in fright. Your heart beat rapidly, but when you looked over you found Dennis standing outside your door holding his umbrella.

"You OK?" He queried as you manually rolled your window down.

"It won't start. I think its the battery?" You weren't sure, but it sounded plausible.

"I would give you a jump, but it's a little dangerous. I can give you a ride though." He shouted over the heavy rain.

"Oh gosh, are you sure?"

"Yeah, come on."

Unbuckling your seat Dennis held the door open for you as you got out. You stuck close to his side, huddling under his umbrella as he led you to his car.

Opening the passenger door you thanked Dennis then slipped inside. He closed the door than jogged over to the driver's side, you giggled at his awkward stride and wondered if there was any part of him that wasn't weird. 

💻🌧🍔 💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

Through his peripheral Dennis watched you. Your perfume seemed to waft through his tiny Toyota and he hoped that it would sink into the upholstery.

"It's over there, just turn right on the corner" you directed him. He nodded at your direction. Suddenly sad that the ride was coming to an end sooner than he would've liked.

"You can slow down here. Mine is the one in the middle."

Dennis slowed to park as you gathered your things and readied to disembark. "Um uh I know this is weird, but do you think I can.. use your restroom?" It came out bumbled and he internally kicked himself for that.

"Oh gosh yes of course." You touched his arm as you spoke, the patch of skin sending jolts all throughout.

Dennis exited the car first as you waited patiently for him to shelter you from the rain.

You thank him again as you both jogged to your front door. With your keys at the ready you unlocked the door and allowed him in after you. "First door on your right" you point down the hall as you slipped out of your work shoes.

💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

8:00 P.M.

Dennis didn't move.

"So how is married life?" You nervously inquired, noticing the gold band on his finger.

He didn't answer and the look on his face started to fill you with concern.

He is just an awkward guy. Don't over think it.

"Um would you like something to drink" you made a move to walk toward the kitchen, but Dennis blocked your advance. Stepping a foot back you started to panic. "So h-how do you like working at.."

Before you could finish Dennis sandwiched you between the door.  Fruitlessly you tried to wiggle free as his hands began to roam your sides. Pushing at his chest he stood unmoved by your efforts as he leaned in close to your cheek, peppering you with kisses along your neck.

"Please Dennis.." You trembled out. Dennis wedged between your legs, the feel of his hard cock had you hiccuping as you pleaded with him to stop.

The muscles in your arm burned as you push, your hands flailing and slipping off his wet clothes. He inhaled you, humming with delight as his stubble burned against your neck.

Tears coated your eyes as he began feverishly unbuckling your belt. Your nails clawed into his flesh to no effect, tossing your hands away effortlessly as he continued to maneuver your pants down past your hips.

It was if the mild mannered retail clerk had become a completely different person and you couldn't understand why.

"I see the way you look at me" he growled into your ear. 

"I was just being nice. Please Dennis!"

"So nice for me baby" he kissed your cheek as you turned your face away from him. Through the kerfuffle you hadn't realized you both had moved away from the door. Your side hit the arm of the living room's couch and you found yourself tumbling over with Dennis landing on top of you.

Dennis snatched one of your wrist when you tried to slap him. Threading his fingers with yours like a lover, slowly moving it above your head. Your other hand tried to force him to fall over to the floor, but he refused to budge.

His other arm disappeared between your bodies, the further it sunk down your stomach tensed. You were useless against his determination. There was no out from under him.

Dennis swallowed your sobs, when his hand came dangerously close to your clit. Hot beads of tears streamed your face when  he grazed your mound. The tickle of his finger tips meticulously played with your folds, in an attempt to move away his fingers parted your lips. Sucking and kissing on your neck, you felt a fire begin to pool at his hand.

"You don't want to do this please" you sniffed, but he was too far gone. A long moan fell from your lips when his fingers finally plunged into you.

Dennis's digits curled and pumped, the friction feeding an unwanted need in your core. When you tried to protest again he devoured your mouth greedily.

"I'm gonna fill you up...Have you stuffed full of my cum." Dennis moaned over your mouth.

Your toes started to curl as your heat grew. You wanted him to stop, but a need weakened your resolve.

"That's it baby, I feel you want me too." 

"Fuck" you panted out as you struggled to fight against him and yourself. Your juices coated him thoroughly, you bit back shame as he praised you for it. Mindlessly you gripped his shoulder  as your mounded tightened around him. Panting wildly you came on his fingers.

"That's it baby." He praised, slipping his fingers free which caused you to whimper shamefully. Your legs felt like jelly as you laid on the couch. Dennis hadn't moved, only lifting his hips to  unfastened his belt.

"No! No no please" you whined, pushing backwards on the couch cushion. Dennis snaked an arm behind your back, locking you in place as you pulled at his work shirt to get him off you.

The head of his cock swirled around your juices, pressing hard against your folds to blindly find your opening. "So wet just for me baby."

No matter which way your hips move the determined man found your slick folds. Wedged between your legs Dennis shuttered with delight as he pressed into you. His slow pressure stretched you as you continued to sob.

"So tight for me" he hummed. You hissed the deeper he sunk into you. Breathing heavily through the tightness while his hips rolled into you. The cheap couch groaned at the increase of activity. Dennis palmed your ass, gripping too tight as he fucked you into the couch.

His desperate kisses all over you felt like trails of fire. Your legs began to wrap and tighten around him as he thrusted relentlessly. 

"Dennis.." You panted out as your need took over.

"Do you want to come for me?" he sounded as needy as you did.

"I haven't come in so long... Do you think you can handle it baby?" He taunted.

"Please" you say weakly.

"That's it I knew you needed me"

"Please Dennis." You begged as you dissolved into pleasure.

You were his new life he was sure of it. His cure and he was never letting you go.

💻🌧🍔 💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️💻🌧🍔💍🚘☔️

[fruitydiaz-archived]

from the prompt - "i think you look beautiful" for @lesbiandiaz

let's not talk about how long ago you sent me this <3

Buck asked for this. Not consciously, but he did ask for this. He has no one to blame but himself, really.

He’s sitting cross-legged in Hen and Karen’s backyard, nose itching with spring allergies, with Nia, innocently oblivious, spreading sparkly eyeshadow and lipgloss all over his face in the name of beauty.

(He had walked outside and found her chasing Harry around with a lip gloss wand, demanding that someone let her make them beautiful. And Buck, well, he couldn’t resist that face, could he?)

Meanwhile, Denny, Harry, and Chris, all significantly less innocently oblivious, are weaving leaves and twigs into his curls.

May, who was supposed to be watching over them, is no help from where she’s sitting stretched out on one of the lawn chairs, fingers tapping away at her screen, looking up occasionally, snorting, and shouting out words of encouragement to the kids.

“We’re making Buck pretty!” Nia giggles and all three boys nod their heads in agreement.

“And I so appreciate this generous makeover from you, Nia,” Buck says as she takes a brush and swipes some blush down the side of his face. He’s watched enough random makeup tutorials on YouTube to know that that is not his color, but he’s not going to tell her that. “Because you are a true artist. The rest of you I’m not so sure about.”

He reaches a hand behind him and digs his fingers into Harry’s side, tickling him.

“Hey,” Harry shouts, batting his hand away and jumping back a foot. “We’re just trying to help.”

“Yeah, Buck, we’re just helping Nia out,” Denny adds on, shooting a grin at Harry.

“We’re professional hairdressers, Buck,” Christopher says, trying to keep his voice level and serious, but he can’t really keep back his laughter.

“Oh are you, really? Remind me—when did you three go to cosmetology school again?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Harry says, dropping a handful of leaves over Buck’s head. Nia chastises him as some of the leaves drop over the front of his face, and he at least has the conscience to look a little guilty about it.

“I help my dad with his haircuts sometimes,” Christopher points out. Buck smiles.

“Well someone has to. Your dad’s too cheap to get them done professionally.”

“One time he used the clippers by himself and ended up with a bald spot on the back of his head. Abuela said he wasn’t allowed to do his hair unsupervised after that.”

Buck snickers, glancing over his shoulder at Christopher.

“I bet he looked real funny like that. You take any pictures?” Christopher’s eyes light up and he nods, dropping his voice down to a whisper.

“Yeah! But they’re on Pepa’s phone. I can ask her to share them with you.”

“That’s my boy,” Buck whispers back, holding his hand out for a fist bump.

“Oh, that can’t be good,” Eddie’s voice cuts through the yard. All five heads snap up and look in his direction before Christopher utters a tiny uh oh and all the kids scramble to different parts of the yard, Denny pulling Nia along by her hand.

Buck twists around, staring at the space around him.

“What, you're all just gonna leave me here like this? Traitors,” He shouts after them. He reaches a hand up and attempts to shake out some of the leaves, wincing as his hair gets caught on several twigs.

“Kids,” Eddie starts, crossing the grass towards Buck. “Can’t trust ‘em.”

Buck grins sheepishly at him. “You’re telling me. This bunch is sneaky, too. They pull you in with their cute charm and then you can’t get free.”

Eddie reaches a hand out towards him and Buck eyes it appreciatively before grasping it and hauling himself up.

“Yeah, kids are like that,” Eddie says, a little distracted, his eyes dancing around Buck’s face and hair. He presses his lips together, valiantly holding in his laughter, and starts helping dismantle the bird’s nest the boys made of Buck’s head.

“Thanks,” Buck says quietly, eyes dropping to the ground and watching as sticks and leaves fall down onto the grass. “They really did a number on me, huh?”

Eddie laughs, brushing some debris off Buck’s shoulder. “You haven’t seen your face yet.”

Buck’s eyes shoot up to meet his and Eddie freezes before stepping back and grinning. He pulls his phone out from his back pocket and tells Buck to smile, which earns him a scowl, and snaps a picture, turning the phone around for Buck to see.

“Please delete that immediately.”

“No,” Eddie pulls his phone away before Buck can grab it, sliding it back into his pocket. “I don’t think I will.”

“Well—just so you know, your son just promised to share some pictures of that time you shaved a bald spot into the back of your head, so.”

“Hey man, I’m just helping you out.”

“Funny, that’s what the kids said when they were turning me into some kind of forest monster.”

“And what kind of father would I be if I deleted the proof of all of their hard work?”

“I hate you,” Buck frowns—which just makes Eddie want to laugh harder. He bites his lip.

“Okay, okay. I think I have some wet wipes on me.” Buck watches as Eddie slips his hands into his jacket pockets, pats his chest pocket, pats along his legs, then finally pulls a packet of wet wipes out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“You carry wet wipes with you everywhere you go or did you just set me up for this?” Eddie gives him a look.

“We’re at a kid's party, Buck. And I have a kid. These are a staple for all parents everywhere.” Eddie pulls a wipe out and studies Buck’s face, not even really sure where to begin. The longer he stares, the more pitifully Buck stares back at him. Eddie blinks and decides to start with the eyes.

He steps closer to Buck, holding his jaw lightly with his fingers and whispering for him to close his eyes. There’s a moment of prolonged eye contact before Buck finally obliges, and Eddie starts gently sweeping the wipe over his eyelid.

“Plus,” He adds quietly. “I’ve got a best friend who somehow always manages to find himself caught up in all kinds of messes.”

“Aw, you carry those around just for me, Eds?”

There’s a pause, just for a moment, and Eddie swears he can hear his heart beating. He swallows.

“Just for you.”

Neither of them says anything for a minute and Eddie concentrates on making sure Buck’s eyes are clear of all glitter and makeup. He startles a little when Buck chuckles and Eddie feels the warmth of his breath.

He braces himself for whatever Buck’s about to say and then—

“Did you not like my makeover?” Buck and Eddie glance down, surprised to see Nia staring back up at them, standing to the left of Eddie.

“Uh,” Eddie says helpfully.

When did all four kids surround them? Eddie looks back up at Buck expectantly. Buck blinks back at him.

“I did,” He licks his lips. “But we’ve got to get ready for dinner now. So Eddie was just helping me clean up. My...face.”

“Did you tell him he looked beautiful?” Nia asks, this time staring right at Eddie, who blinks back at her.

“...I’m sorry?”

“When I used to do Mama Hen’s makeup she wasn’t allowed to take it off until Mama Karen told her she looked beautiful.”

Eddie stares at her, hand still hovering in the air by Buck’s face. Christopher tugs at his shirt from his other side.

“I think she wants you to tell Buck he looks beautiful, dad.”

Eddie turns slowly to look at him. “Thank you, Christopher.”

Christopher has the nerve to laugh at him.

Eddie straightens up and looks at Buck who stares back at him blankly, offering no assistance. He notices May setting her phone down out of the corner of his eye, a sly smile spreading on her face.

He definitely stepped into some sort of trap, walking outside. He’s sure of it.

“Um,” He says, dropping his hand to his side. Buck ducks his head a little, fluttering his eyelashes at Eddie. Eddie’s gonna kill him.

“You got something you want to say to me, Diaz?” Eddie shakes his head, letting himself laugh at the absurdity of the situation, Buck still with makeup smeared over half of his face, a bunch of kids surrounding them, watching them expectantly.

“Yeah, Buck. I think you look beautiful.”

The kids all burst into cheers and Eddie watches in amazement as Buck’s cheeks turn a shade of pink he’s pretty sure he’s never seen before.

May stands up from her chair.

“Alright let’s all get inside to wash up before dinner, okay?” She ignores everyone’s protests and ushers them back towards the house, sending a wink in Eddie’s direction before shutting the patio door.

Eddie lets his eyes linger on the door, daring anyone else to come out and catch them in another trap.

No one comes.

He turns back to Buck and they both just stare at each other before laughing softly. Eddie looks down at the wipes in his hand, almost forgotten. He steps back towards Buck and starts removing what’s left of the makeup.

“So...beautiful, huh?” Buck says eventually. Eddie focuses on the movement of the wipe against Buck’s face.

“Well, maybe not like this,” He says honestly. Buck huffs out a laugh.

“That’s good. I was worried I was gonna have to get done up like this all the time just for you to notice me.”

Eddie swallows, wiping the last stray swipe of glitter gloss from Buck’s face. He lets his fingers linger against his skin.

“I always notice you, Buck.”

Buck doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches Eddie ball up the used wipes in his hand before slipping the pack back into his pocket.

“Really?” He says eventually, looking back up and holding Eddie’s gaze. Eddie hesitates.

He wants to play it off—say something about how of course everyone notices Buck, he demands attention all the time. He’s loud and bold and sometimes obnoxious—but Eddie knows that not everyone notices Buck the way he does.

It’s different. It’s not something that he can’t help—it's natural, instinctual. He’s drawn to Buck at all times, always. He doesn’t think there’s a way he could ever stop noticing Buck. He’s in everything Eddie does.

He notices Buck in the new alarm clock that sits on his nightstand—the one that’s supposed to wake him up gradually like the sun—the one Buck had insisted on buying for him because he thinks Eddie’s sleep schedule is shit and this clock’s supposed to be better. He never tells him that it actually does work for him—but he imagines the way the dark circles under his eyes have started to fade probably tell him all he needs to know.

He notices Buck in the oat milk that sits in the back of his fridge, in the extra protein bars in his pantry, in the box of baking supplies up high on the tallest shelf (maybe Eddie can cook—but he never bakes.)

He notices him in the extra clothes that end up in his laundry basket every once in a while—leftover from nights when Buck passes out on their couch. Notices him in the LAFD hoodie hanging on the hook by his front door (the one that’s just a little too big to be his own,) in the spare key to Buck’s apartment that’s been on his ring of keys for years now.

He’s in the way Eddie makes his morning coffee, the playlist he listens to on the way to work, the movies and TV shows in his Netflix queue, in the new phrases and mannerisms that Christopher picks up—ones that always hit Eddie right in his gut.

Of course Eddie always notices him. He could never miss the way Buck’s smile lights up a room or the way his laugh loosens up every tense muscle in Eddie’s body.

Sometimes, like if he’s had too much to drink, Eddie starts to think of Buck as a lighthouse. A really tall, really sturdy lighthouse. And through whatever—rain, fog, sleet, hail—Eddie’s always able to find his light.

Sober Eddie thinks that’s corny. But the thought always comes back to him—a truth he can’t shake.

“Yeah, Buck,” He says quietly. “Really.”

[celtics534]

Distraction

A little belated birthday gift for the one and only @velvethopewrites! I hope you like this little flirty hinny ;)

Read on: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry hadn’t been expecting it. He had just staring off into space, his mind not at all focused on the open herbology book propped in front of him. Instead, his mind had focused on creating a lovely scenario where he and his girlfriend were flying together. His hands tightly holding her hips as his mouth warmed her neck...

So when the smooth cloth landed on his head and his vision became distorted by nearly clear fabric, he wasn’t able to contain his surprise. A hand came over his mouth, stifling his cry as warm lips pressed near his right ear. 

“So much for constant vigilance, huh, Potter?” 

He twisted in his chair to see a smirking Ginny. She was pressed right against his back, her head bowed as she moved in for another kiss, this time to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked. She was supposed to be in the library until dinner, or at least according to Hermione’s strict OWL’s schedule.  

“Well now, is that any way to speak to your girlfriend?” Ginny shook her head in disappointment though the glint in her eyes took away any bite from her words. “Together only a few weeks and the romance has already died, huh? I mean, if you don’t want me here I can just —”

Harry cut her off with a quick and hard kiss. He rose from his chair, not allowing his lips to leave her skin as he moved to embrace her. In complete honesty, Harry was shocked by his own prowess. Normally when he tried to make any sort of smooth move it blew up in his face, but not this time, if Ginny’s elated sigh was anything to go on. 

He trailed his lips along her jaw as he made his way to that spot on her neck that always made her gasp in the best way. His hands moved down her sides to rest on her hips, thumbs caressing a small spot where her shirt rode up to expose bare skin. When her hands threaded through his hair, tugging him closer, Harry lost any ability to think of anything past her. 

The fact that they were in the middle of the common room, that if anyone walked too close to the table they’d bump into two invisible people, was lost to Harry. All that mattered was the way Ginny’s petite form pressed into his. Before he knew what was happening, Harry’s back was against the nearby wall and Ginny’s lips were at his neck. Harry couldn’t contain a groan as she nipped at a vein throbbing in his neck. 

“Shhh,” Ginny murmured into his skin, as she soothed the mark she no doubt left. “Quiet, dear.” 

Easy for her to say as she drove him completely mad. He bit his tongue to hold back another groan as her lips trailed a hot line of kisses back up towards his jaw. His head fell back against the wall in pleasure as she teased a spot just under his chin.

“Hey, Demelza.” Harry heard Ron’s voice as if he spoke from the opposite end of a long tunnel. “You seen Harry?”

Both Ginny and Harry froze; any movement would alert Ron of their location. Ginny’s mouth was still pressed against his skin as they stood motionless, both breathing heavily as they heard Demelza direct Ron in the direction of their apparently deserted table. 

Harry looked down at Ginny, her annoyed expression becoming more like molton flame as they locked gazes. She rose to her toes, bringing her lips right next to his ear. “If you keep quiet, we can slip out and I’ll find us a place where this cloak won’t be necessary to keep things private.” 

When she nipped at his earlobe, Harry nearly moaned loudly. How could she make him forget the rest of the world? Literally, her brother was mere meters from them, but when she was touching him like this... When he was with her all that seemed to matter was her… holding her hand, listening to her stories and desires, and of course the feeling of her lips on his… or like at that moment how they felt trailing down his jawline. 

“Gin.” Harry’s whisper was rough like sandpaper. “You need to stop.”

Ginny paused her ministrations for just a moment, at least long enough to ask, “Do you really want me to stop?” Her smirk was all too knowing and if Harry was honest, way too hot.

“Want and need are very different,” Harry muttered, and Ginny stifled a giggle by pressing her face to his neck. Taking a momentary hiatus from her assault on his sense, Harry placed his arms around her waist and started guiding them across the common room. 

It was dicey work, dodging their fellow Gryffindors who had taken refuge from the late afternoon rain in the common room. Harry and Ginny had to work in sync in order to keep their progress silent. If the situation weren’t so tense, Harry might have focused more on how well Ginny’s fit form pressed perfectly against him; it was probably better that he couldn’t focus on that. They sidestepped multiple people, retreating backward once to avoid bumping into Dennis Creevey and maneuvering themselves against a back wall to bypass Ron. Harry didn’t breathe until they reached the portrait hole (which luckily had just opened to let in a few first years). 

Once out of the common room, they sped down the corridor, not taking the cloak off until they reached a short hall on the sixth floor. Harry ripped the invisibility cloak off, mussing both their heads. 

“That was close.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, hoping to make it a little better. “Imagine if Ron had caught us.”

Ginny rolled her eyes as she tamed her own messy locks. “It would do the prat some good to be dished some of his own medicine, after the way he thrashed around with Lav-Lav.”

Harry only just managed to contain a snort. “And you think the best revenge is watching his sister and best mate snog?”

She winked at him. “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

This time there was no containing his amusement. His laughter rang out loud in the silent corridor. “Maybe next time we’ll test your theory.”

Ginny smirked at him. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

Harry shook his head, a wide smile spreading from ear to ear. Merlin, he couldn’t get over how much he enjoyed being with her. The desire to touch her nearly became overwhelming. The only hold-up was the cloak bunched in his left hand. He started to fold it when a sudden thought occurred to him.   

“Hey, how did you even get this?” He held up the now pocket-sized cloth before tucking it into his back pocket. “I keep it on me at all times.”

Ginny gave him a sly look, her fingers lacing with his as she started to pull him back down the corridor. “Yeah and that wasn’t the only thing on you earlier while we had lunch by the lake.” 

Harry felt his face heat as the memories of their lunch came to the forethought of his mind. Eating had been the last of their priority. He cleared his throat. “Oh.”

Her cheeky grin widened. “Oh yeah. Turns out you’re an easy target for pickpockets.” 

“Only when distracted by a certain red-head,” Harry defended. 

Ginny moved so she was in front of him, walking backward down the hall. Her teasing smirk made his heart pound rapidly against his ribs. “Are you saying I’m a distraction, Potter?”

“Oh for sure,” Harry admonished, his face pulled into a serious expression. 

Ginny’s jaw dropped in fake horror. “How dare you. I think really you’re the distraction, because how am I supposed to focus on my OWL when you’re there looking oh so snoggable and —”

Before Ginny could win, Harry took charge, pulling them to a stop in front of a small supply closet. He tugged open the door and dragged Ginny behind him into the tiny space. The moment the door shut behind them, Harry had her back against the wall and silenced her cheek with his lips. 

“No cloak necessary in here,” Harry murmured as his fingers moved up into her long hair, threading through it. 

“As promised.” Ginny nuzzled his jaw. Her fake irritation was completely gone as she smiled against his skin. “How about I let you distract me for a while while we make the most of our spacious privacy, yeah?” 

Harry nipped at the pulse point in her neck. “I’ll try to be the best distraction you’ve ever had.” 

[hexensalbei]

bad enough for you

find it on ao3

“Itʼs a good look on you.”

Itʼs Friday, lazy evening after a long, very tiring shift; theyʼre at Eddieʼs house sprawled on the couch, watching some movie played on TV. Itʼs nothing new, really. Lately, it has become kind of a tradition—because Buckʼs here almost everyday. Eddieʼs not complaining; in fact, heʼs the one who invites him to his house with a simple you coming with me? Buck agrees excitedly and they usually end up on the couch with Christopher, watching TV or playing games 

—and his excitement to spend time with Buck is priceless to see.

This evening was no exception. The only thing thatʼs different is that Christopher is already asleep in his bed and theyʼre alone in the living room. Buck stepped out of the shower like ten minutes ago and he smells like Eddieʼs favourite body wash. His hair is quite disheveled and still a little wet which made them more curly than usual. Thereʼs a nice stubble on his cheeks because Buck hasnʼt shaved for two days and Eddie wonders how this stubble would feel between his thighs. His cheeks are burning at the thought. He tries to think about something else, something other than his best friend in different positions in various states of undress. Itʼs hard, though. Not like his dick when he wakes up in the morning, covered in sweat and frustrated because of the dream heʼs had but still. Itʼs hard because Buckʼs sitting next to him and the dim lights of the lamp standing in the corner make his skin glow. Heʼs in his sweatpants and Eddieʼs old shirt (he has his own in Eddieʼs house but he just likes that particular shirt) that is a little too tight for him but it doesnʼt bother either of them. It does wonders for the blonde because it highlights his broad chest, his biceps and now itʼs a little rolled out and exposes Buckʼs skin.

“What?” Buck asks sleepily and opens his eyes. Eddie realises he said those words out loud.

“Uh... I said itʼs a good look on you. Yʼknow, the curls and the stubble.” He replies sheepishly. He didnʼt want to lie and besides, itʼs completely normal to appreciate your friendʼs good look, right?

Buck runs his hand over his hair nervously but then smiles shyly.

“Thanks.”

Itʼs only one word but itʼs filled with so much joy, Eddieʼs glad he shared his thoughts with Buck.

Eddie wants to kiss him.

 Days later, Buck shows up at the station and Eddie almost drops his phone when he sees him. His friend is already in his workʼs clothes (this navy t-shirt really brings out Buckʼs eyes) but he looks different. His hair is extremely fluffy and very curly. He also has a nice scruff—a little more visible than the other night—and it suits him. And when he notices the Texan is staring at him, he winks.

“Eddie, youʼre drooling.” Chim laughs and he pretends heʼs wiping off the drool from Eddieʼs chin. 

He should be embarrassed, horrified that Chim caught him checking Buck out. The thing is, heʼs not. He doesnʼt care if the rest of 118 noticed that too. Heʼs too happy, too giddy because apparently Buck likes this. 

“Funny thatʼs coming out from your mouth.” Eddie teases. “Youʼre the one whoʼs drooling over another Buckley.” 

“Hate to break it to you, Howie, but Eddieʼs right.” Buck laughs and goes to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“If youʼre looking for coffee, itʼs already waiting for you on the counter, red firefighter mug.” Eddie informs him. 

“How domestic.” Chim mutters, rolling his eyes. Diaz pretends he didnʼt hear it but the tips of his ears turn red. Buck takes a sip and groans with pleasure because the coffee is exactly how he likes it. His friend knows him too well. 

“Youʼre the best, Eds.” He says and sits right next to Eddie. Theyʼre so close their shoulders and legs are touching even though thereʼs still a lot of space on the couch. 

“I know.” Eddie mutters. He enjoys their closeness, maybe even a little bit too much. He can smell Buck’s—wait, is that his favourite body wash? It definitely is. And from the smirk on Buck’s lips, it seems like his best friend knows what he’s thinking about.

He feels the heat is slowly taking over his whole body and suddenly, he’s more aware that he sits with Buck like they’re glued together. And they are in a way. It has always been like that. Personal space? Never heard of it. He just didn’t pay too much attention to it at first but over the years he discovered that Buck’s closeness, touch and smile have a huge effect on him. Sometimes it’s still hard to admit it and he tries to deny it but his traitorous body has a different opinion.

Jesus, he desperately needs to regain control over his own mind and not picture Buck sprawled on his couch again. Fire station is not the best place to fantasise about his best friend. 

“Earth do Diiiiiiiaz!” Chim waves his hands right before Eddie’s face and Eddie immediately snaps out of his thoughts.

“You were saying?” He asks and takes another sip of his coffee.

“Actually it was me.” Hen answers; there’s a very knowing, smug smile dancing on her lips and Eddie suspects this woman really can read his mind. “I was asking if you’re free this Saturday, Denny wants to meet with Christopher and I thought it’s an amazing idea. They haven’t seen each other for a while.” 

“Oh, it is a good idea. And we have nothing planned so we can definitely meet.” Eddie states and then turns to face his best friend. “Buck, you’re free too, right?”

Chim looks at him incredulously. 

“What do you need him for?”

“Buck is Christopher and Denny’s favourite and they haven’t seen him in a while too so I figured they would be happy to see him.” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly.

“Wasn’t Buck like literally yesterday at your house? Because I swear I heard you inviting him over. And I definitely saw you two getting in Eddie’s car. Just like everyday.” Chim inquires, looking suspiciously at Eddie.

“Do you keep notes on how often I go to Eddie’s house?” Buck asks, clearly amused. 

“No, but it’s hard not to notice that you basically live together. Albert claims he rarely sees you anymore. He told me that last time you didn’t even sleep in your own bed because he checked it and you didn’t come back!”

“I should’ve known that Albert would be just as nosy as you.” Buck mutters, shooting a very murderous glance at Chim.

“You and Hen have never heard of a sleepover? Never had one?” Eddie asks with a dose of sarcasm in his voice.

“Ha ha, very funny, Edmundo. We have sleepovers... Just not every night like you and Buck. Those kinds of sleepovers I have with Maddie.” Chim responses with a smirk. 

“Oh, you donʼt want to know what we do during these sleepovers.” Buck blurts out. Both Chim and Hen freeze like they didnʼt expect this kind of response. Eddie stifles a laugh because they look hilarious with almost identical expressions on their faces. Heʼs glad Buck found a witty response to shut them up because this conversation was getting more ridiculous. And it was getting harder for him not to think about inappropriate things again.

“I think we broke them.” He gathers.

“Finally.”

Buck’s grinning at him, obviously very proud of himself. He’s usually the main topic of Chim and Hen’s jokes so when the tables turned, it must have been a nice feeling.

Eddie feels the urge to kiss him again and he has to physically restrain himself from doing it. 

This is getting more ridiculous too. He needs to keep it together. Somehow. He has to. 

“Whatʼs with the weird faces?” He hears Bobbyʼs voice who just came up the stairs and looks at his coworkers with curiosity. 

“Oh, Hen and Chim just had a taste of their own medicine.” Eddie explains and points at Buck. 

“Part of me wants to ask. The other part says knowing would be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine. So I wonʼt ask for details.” Bobby says carefully. 

 The whole shift is a nightmare. Oh, they donʼt have too many awful, difficult calls. Itʼs just a nightmare because Eddie is quite distracted.

“Wise choice, Bobby, wise choice.” Chim mutters and just shakes his head.

Itʼs all Buckʼs fault because Eddie canʼt keep his eyes off him (which is not that uncommon). Hen only rolls her eyes when she notices that he stares at his best friend again. Chim just pretends not to see this even though heʼs clearly curious and he opens his mouth from time to time as if he wants to ask but he decides not to. 

It seems like Buck knows about Eddieʼs inner conflict and he does things  to torture him.

 He definitely loses his control when theyʼre back at the station and they change their clothes. 

All of the touches, looks and smiles are nothing out of ordinary—they share it on a daily basis—but it still feels a little bit different. More intimate, more private. Itʼs just the way Buckʼs lips curl in a smile when he catches him staring and he subtly changes his position to be more seen, like he wants Eddie to have a full view. Itʼs the way Buck shoots him a quick look whenever their arms brush. Itʼs the way Buck bites his lip while looking directly at him. These are all small things, almost a details but Eddie pays attention to every one of it.

Eddie can’t help himself but glance at his best friend when he unbuttons his uniform. He’s seen him shirtless countless of times already but it’s not like he will be complaining about it.

“See something you like?” Buck asks teasingly, noticing that Eddie stares at him.  Again.

“Oh, for the love of—” Chim mutters under his breath and he definitely looks like he’s about to hit his head against the lockers but Hen pulls him away and whispers something in his ear. Then, they quickly make their way out of the changing room and Eddie’s all alone with Buck. 

This is definitely not helping with his internal crisis. He doesnʼt trust himself and he feels like heʼs just one step away from dragging Buckley to a more private place where they could release the tension that has been building up between them for years.

Hell, he could easily just come closer, push him against the lockers and—

“Cap says you two can clean up the fire truck before dinner.” Donnellyʼs voice snaps him out of his thoughts quite harshly and he feels like he was just caught red-handed. He nods at his coworker and turns his head to see Buck.

“We should be quick, I heard Bobbyʼs doing carbonara today.” He says, trying to sound as normal as he can. He hopes that his friend wonʼt notice the blush on his cheeks thatʼs definitely here. 

“Will you just kiss me or youʼre only gonna keep staring at me?” He asks, his voice teasing and amused.

“Please, when were we not quick?” Buck asks with a smile. “Letʼs just get to work.”

 Cleaning up the fire truck goes quite smoothly. Buckʼs right; they are a very good team and they always work very well, no matter if itʼs a rescue or doing more mundane things. They work in silence, solely focused on finishing the cleaning soon. Eddie really tries to keep his mind off Buck and things he wants to do with him but he fails. He glances at him discreetly—or at least he thinks itʼs discreet but after a while, Buck stops working, leans against the car and turns to face him. Thereʼs a very mischievous smile on his lips and a spark in his eyes. 

“I—” Eddie wets his lips and looks at Buck. The question catches him off guard and for a while he does nothing. Buck just waits patiently, still smiling like he knows Eddie wonʼt back out.

And Eddie doesnʼt. 

He takes a step closer until Buck is pinned against the fire truck completely and crashes their lips together. Itʼs definitely better than all of his fantasies. Buck tastes like cinnamon gum and his lips are incredibly soft, softer than heʼd ever imagined. He can feel Buckʼs hands on his belt, tugging him closer. Eddie gasps when Buck rolls his hips and they can both feel how turned on they are.

“Jesus, Buck.” He says, voice all hoarse when they break apart to catch a breath. Buck doesnʼt give him time to think because he already starts to kiss his neck. His stubble scratches a little but itʼs not a bad feeling. In fact, he even enjoys it and closes his eyes, letting Buck do whatever he wants to.

“You know, I kept thinking...” He tries to say but itʼs very hard to focus and not to moan loudly when Buck moves with his kisses near his earlobe. “I really wanted to know how your stubble would feel.”

His best friend stops and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, really? Good thing I didnʼt shave then.” He grins and thereʼs something in the tone of his voice that Eddie picks up immediately.

“You planned this, didnʼt you? You were fucking with me today on purpose?” He asks with disbelief. 

“Hey, the fucking part is still ahead of us.” Buck corrects him, still grinning. “But yes, I was flirting with you and I did keep the look because I figured youʼre really into it. I just wanted to push you a little and convince myself that I didnʼt make up all of this.” He says, pointing out their swollen lips, flushed cheeks and their bodies tangled up together. 

“You know how hard it was for me to keep my hands off you and not to drag you to the nearest bathroom or closet and do all the things I had in my mind just because you were all cute and flirty? Youʼre a menace, Buckley, you know that?” Eddie says. He still cannot quite believe that he was just making out with his best friend, that it wasnʼt just a dream. But he wants to repeat it, though.

“You and I both know you like it anyway. Just FYI, you can drag me whenever you want and do whatever you want, Iʼm very much interested.” 

“Good.” Eddie comes closer again and before he kisses him again, he adds. “Because Iʼll definitely do it.”

They kiss again for God knows how long; itʼs like once theyʼve done it, they just canʼt stop. Eddie feels like heʼs a teenager again, all giddy and excited and definitely horny but he doesnʼt mind it. Kissing Buck definitely lands on top of the list of his favourite things to do and he suspects he will add a few more very soon. Heʼd do it even now but he still remembers—somehow—that theyʼre at work and they need to wait just a little longer. He does not remember that theyʼre not alone in the station, though, and Chimʼs voice definitely surprises him.

“Guys, where are you? If you donʼt hurry up—Oh my god.”

Chim sounds almost horrified and both Buck and Eddie look in his direction. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes widened when he realised what he walked into.

“Sorry, Chim, weʼll be done in a minute.” Eddie promises. He doesnʼt even care that Chim caught them kissing and neither does Buck.

“I really wanted you two to finally resolve this sexual tension but I definitely didnʼt want to witness that.” Chim scowls. “Now I need something to erase this image from my mind.”

“Consider it a repay for all your never-ending teasing.” Buck says smugly. “Just be glad it was only kissing.”

“Ew, Buckley. Next time Iʼll send Hen, I canʼt be the only one traumatised by the two of you.”

“Youʼre suspiciously sure there will be a next time.” Eddie notices. 

“Weʼve seen you dancing around each other for three years, three years of pent up sexual tension doesnʼt disappear suddenly after one making out session. I doubt youʼll be able to keep hands off each other for a long time. Do what you want to but please, give man a warning first.”

“I think we can do that.”

[butwhyduh]

Jumping

Tim drake x reader

This is during the time that Dick has to fake his own death. I’m also ignoring most of canon tbh. Mentions suicide ideals.

You worried about Tim. I mean, you always had since you met him in a coffee shop and they gave him your order instead of his and all he did was ask for a shot of espresso to go with it. But tonight you were terribly concerned because Tim was so sad that he was dull. His shiny black hair hang limp and his bright blue eyes looked dull and blood shot.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. It was only 2 week before that his brother Dick had died. He hadn’t touched his computer all day but instead sat staring at various places around his apartment. You forced him to eat a very late meal and he took all of 3 bite from his food.

You washed up and went back in the living room for him to be gone.

“Tim? Tim?” You asked. You noticed the window to the fire escape was open. You walked over and shivered at the cold breeze.

He was standing on the edge of the roof and you froze. Your first thought was ‘is he going to jump?’ Your heart pounded as you gently called him and it scared you even more when he didn’t respond.

“Tim? Timothy? Tim, what are you doing?” You said with fear creeping in your voice. There was no way that you could climb the stairs up a level to stop him if he jumped right now. He looked down at you disoriented.

“What?”

“Please step back. You’re- you’re scaring me. Tim, please,” you said and he took a step back but looked bewildered. You quickly climbed the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a daze. You pulled him into a hug and farther from the edge. Your body was shaking and he confusingly pat your back reassuringly.

“Don’t scare me like that,” you chided him before mentally kicking yourself. If he was that bad, he needed support not anger. He really didn’t seem to get it.

“What are you talking about? What’s got you so scared?” He finally said clearly.

“I thought- I thought you were going to jump,” you said burying your head in crook of his neck. Your fingers gripped the back of his shirt tightly and you listened to his heartbeat. You might never let go of him.

“Oh shit. I wasn’t- no. I just needed to think,” he said rubbing your hair gently. “Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried. It’s a lot to lose your brother. Maybe you should talk to someone,” you said gently. He looked at you guiltily.

“I’ve been a little too lost in it, hu? Sorry. It’s just that.... I never expected this to happen. He always seemed invincible. He’d jump off the roof with no hooks or nets and swing on light poles before landing on the ground and wouldn’t hurt a thing. He’d take on metas and come out unscathed. That was just Dick, you know?” Tim said after a minute. “Nobody knew how he did it.”

Tim pulled you both to sit on a lawn chair on the roof. Your fingers played with the back of his hair and you couldn’t stop looking at him because you had never been so worried to lose Tim before. He flinched at the sight of how you looked at him. You were genuinely terrified earlier.

“I wouldn’t jump. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you,” Tim said and it scared you that you weren’t sure if he meant that he’d never do it or not where you’d possibly see. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

You let yourself believe that and you leaned into him, pressing your ear against his chest. His heartbeat calmed you and you listened to it as he rubbed your back. He stared out at the sky and Tim didn’t know how long you were both out there before he noticed that you had fallen asleep. He smiled a little.

Then his next thought was the logistics of getting you down to your bed without waking you. The fire escape wasn’t exactly built for carrying people through. Soft goosebumps were on your arms in the cold and Tim carefully picked you up and miraculously made it back into your apartment. After a few hair raising seconds where he almost smacked your head and feet on a door frame, he managed to get you in bed.

You hands had a death grip on his shirt and Tim was pulled into bed. It wasn’t the worst idea to get some sleep. And he certainly felt that he owed you some peace of mind after he scared you so bad. When was the last time he fell asleep? He laid back and you clung to him tightly.

The next morning you woke up warm. Far too warm. And arm was thrown over your face that you wiggled out from under and another held your back. You stretched your fingers that felt like they had been gripping something all night. The sun was out and Tim was still in bed. You put the pieces from the night before together and looked up at his face.

There was no scowl or wrinkle in his brow. He looked peaceful. His lips had a slight pout in sleep. His face had a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and his hair had fallen over his eyes. You gently brushed it back to get a better look at his beautiful face. You held the back of his head as light as you could while staring at him. You almost never got this view and you just watched him sleep for a few minutes.

“Isn’t it rude to stare,” he said after a while. You jumped a little and laughed.

“Did I wake you?” You asked.

“No. I think I actually got a full night sleep,” Tim said and he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Yeah, we should probably get breakfast,” you said moving to get up. Tim wrapped his arms around you tighter and squished you to his chest. You squeaked.

“Not yet. A few more minutes,” he mumbled almost back asleep. You chuckled and booped his nose. Tim’s eyes flew open. “What was that?”

“Waking you up,” you said and he gave you a fake glare before his arms slowly moved. Then Tim attacked your sides with a tickle. You shrieked and jumped back before he stopped. He smiled at you almost ruefully before gently kissing you chastely. His smile fell when he pulled back.

“I’ve got to go to Bludhaven today. Take care of some of his stuff that he’d want to keep,” Tim said and you frowned.

“Do you need me to go?” You were still worried about him.

“No, Jason is going. Don’t worry about me, okay,” Tim said seriously. “I need to get up because he’ll be here in 30 minutes? Maybe?”

The knock on the door said that his timing was a little off. Tim got up to go answer it. Jason stood there and he frowned as he looked Tim over.

“That’s your clothes from yesterday.”

“I’ve got to change,” Tim said, letting him in. You came out of the room with a sweater over your clothes and smiled at Jason who nodded his head at you. Tim went in the bedroom to change.

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible. Jason looked at you confused. You hadn’t really interacted much before. “Watch out for him. He’s not okay. Alright?”

Jadon just nodded. “Anything I should know?”

“No. Not really. He scared me last night,” you admitted as you put on a pot of coffee. Jason gave you a look that clearly read ‘do I need to kick his ass?’

“What did he do?”

“He just stood on the roof edge. I thought- I thought he was going to jump,” you whispered and Jason’s face dropped. Tim hadn’t exactly had the most self preservation in his history.

“Shit, seriously?” He said with a sigh. You nodded.

“But he just seemed confused when I found him. I’m worried. Just watch out for him, okay?” You said.

“What are you two talking about?” Tim said walking in the room, throwing on a tie.

“Really? A full suit?” Jason said rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, one of us needs to look like a functional adult in case someone stops by. I can’t exactly wear sweats everywhere as WE’s CEO,” Tim said. You straightened the tie and collar.

“... and then there is you,” Tim said looking at Jason after you were done. “You look like you tattoo out of the back parking lot of a Denny’s.”

“Maybe I do,” he said dryly with a little curl to his lip. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Tim nodded and gave you a kiss and Jason groaned by the door. He gave the ‘come on’ hand gesture. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know when I’m going to be back. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Half ways down the highway, with Tim as a captive audience, Jason starts to talk.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Cut the shit. For real,” Jason said, violently passing a slow car on the highway in his truck. Tim grips the dash and is sure he’s going to die.

“I’m fine. Why do you think I’m lying?” Tim said through gritted teeth. Jason keeps driving roughly.

“Well, your girlfriend thought you were going to kill yourself last night and that isn’t exactly the first thought I’d have if I saw you on the roof. So either she’s being dramatic or you’re acting really off. Which is it, Timbo?” Jason said. Tim never missed Dick more. Jason had the subtly of a butter knife to the gut.

“I might be a little sadder, sure. I mean, my brother died,” Tim said. “Can you drive without trying to kill us?”

“I’m driving fine. Go on,” Jason said, crossing 3 lanes. The squeals of car horns behind them tell Tim he isn’t the only one that doesn’t like his driving.

“I’m gonna die in this car,” Tim muttered. Jason glared at him. “Watch the road! Okay. Fine. I feel numb. Okay? Like I don’t feel happy or sad about anything. And I’m fucking guilty because I should be over the moon because I just moved in with my girlfriend and then...”

“Then your brother died. It’s normal to feel like shit Tim. But to be numb.... you ever think you’re depressed?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. I have anxiety,” Tim answered.

“You can have both. Is it this exit or the next?” Jason asked two second before the ramp comes up.

“This!” Tim yelped and Jason turned them off to a side road going at least 70 mph. Tim held the dash and considered praying despite being an atheist. Jason finally slowed down enough to not look like he’s driving a getaway car.

“I think you should see a therapist. I can give you mine’s number,” Jason said and Tim quickly turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

“I was tortured, beat to death, and had to dig myself out of my own coffin. Does that seem mentally okay in anyway?”

“I mean, no. But I don’t know,” Tim said with a shrug. He just hadn’t thought about it.

“Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that she’s used to Gotham’s brand of bullshit and will help you. Okay?” Jason said driving into a parking lot and skidding into a space. “If you scare your girl like that again, I’ll knock you out.”

“Yeah. I won’t scare her again. It was an accident. And I’ll talk to your therapist,” Tim agreed. Jason nodded.

“Let’s go do something I’ve been dreading all week. Clean out golden boy’s apartment,” he said with a grimace. And they did. Anything of value was personally taken by the pair. Anything of Nightwing or Robin. Any Flying Grayson stuff. Anything that his brothers had gotten him. A moving service was moving the rest to a storage unit later that day.

Jason sat on the concrete steps outside the apartment and tossed Tim a beer. Tim barely caught it before sitting down himself. Jason pulled out his own.

“Jason, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to not drink that before we leave. Can we have this moment at the manor after we survive the drive home?” Tim asked and Jason sighed.

“Sure kid. Dickhead wouldn’t have liked me getting you drunk anyways. Let’s get this stuff back,” Jason said and they both went to the truck.

After dropping off the stuff and talking to Alfred, Tim and Jason were back in the truck. The beers were mercifully forgotten. Jason passed him a paper with a name and number.

“My therapist. You better call them. If not for you, for your girlfriend. You can just talk and shit,” he said not looking off the road. Jason knew better than to think that this kind of thing could be done for someone else. But he also knew it probably only took a tiny push for Tim to get help.

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few hours later Tim sat on his bed with his phone in hand. Yeah, he needed to call them.

[renhaswritersblock]

Kinktober Day 1: Facesitting||Anonymous Sex - Johnson

Word Count: 2174

Warnings: Oral, overstimulation, faded sex, slight angst

A/N: Hello! So, I kinda got a bit carried away with this one *looks at the word count* hehe. But I hope you enjoy reading this fic. Was a bit hesitant at first while writing this smut, but with a few readings from a couple of friends, I continued writing! It's sort of unfinished, a work in progress. The rest of the kinktober day's will probably be short, not sure yet. I have a few exams this week and work is being a cunt, so the writing will be delayed for a short while, sorry. Also, I refer to Johnson in this fic as "The Man" cause of the anonymous sex part. Anyways, again, hope you enjoy reading! Let me know what you think. I do accept feedback/criticism, just don't abuse that power. And I hope ya'll are having a wonderful day. -Ren

~~~

“So, do you mind telling me where the hell we’re going, Frankie?” the strawberry-blonde glanced over at her friend sitting beside her, gripping anxiously at the steering wheel.

Frankie had her head leaned halfway against the open window of the moving car. Feeling the cool summer-night breeze hit her face while her hand traces circles on her wooden thigh. A small yet noticeable grin leisurely forms on the brunette’s face, thinking about tonight’s plans. She had been looking forward to this night for some time, finally be able to get away from the Bang-a-Rang - a place she once called home but is now a prison - and go wherever the river takes her.

“Hello? Earth to Frankie.” Frankie opened her eyes, turning her head swiftly towards the calling of her name. “Are you going to answer my question? Or do I have to turn the damn car around and drive back?”

Frankie pressed her lips together, letting out an exasperate sigh. “You worry too much, V,” she finally replied in a soft, choleric voice.

“No shit,” V retorted, “I rather not have Aunt Rosemary or Dennis be on my fucking ass if you’re doing something that could get us in trouble. Or worse, killed.” She glanced once more at Frankie with a furrowed brow. The brunette rolled her eyes with a snarl, glaring back out the window, head resting in hand. The pale broad’s narrowed eyes dropped into a pitiful look, sighing as she turned her attention back on the road. “Look, hon. I’m trying to be there for you more and back you up, but you can’t just leave me in the dark. You know what happened last time, fuck, it scared the living shit out of me.” Frankie’s eyes darted down at her wrist, seeing the visible dark-faded bruises wrapped around her like a cuff. Her face scrunched mournfully at the memory, remembering how painfully tight those bastards tied the chains. “I don’t want you to die, Frankie,” V finished, becoming teary-eyed.

The strawberry-blonde jumped at the gentle touch of something weighing on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw the olive-skin hand belonging to Frankie, giving a light squeeze for reassurance. “Didn’t know you cared this much about me, V. Thanks,” Frankie gave a half sympathetic smile, V returning a similar smile. “But you should save that melancholic shit-talking for your butch when it gets close to war,” She quipped, making V scowl and slap Frankie’s hand off her shoulder.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Frankie couldn’t help but tilt her head back and release a cackle as V continued staring angrily at the road.

“I’m just fucking with you, puta. You know I love you.” The brunette adjusted herself in her seat, now sitting up straight. “Anyways, a little birdie sent me a note to meet them at this motel in town,” Frankie pulled out a wrinkled note from the pocket of her shorts, handing it to V, “Mira. Thought I could -you know- check it out.” V quickly snatched the piece of paper, silently reading it while keeping an eye on the road.

In town only for tonight. Meet me at the Woodland Motel at 8 pm sharp, don’t be late. See you there.

Ps. bring the thing XO

“The thing?” V quirked up a brow, turning to Frankie with a puzzled expression. All the brunette could do was shrug at her response, fixing her spaghetti strap. V scoffed as she shook her head in disbelief, “Do you even know who you’re meeting? It could be some crazy lunatic who’ll bash your brains out or make you end up in a tub full of ice with a missing organ!” Frankie reached to grab the note out of her friend’s hand as she was waving it around in the air. “Honestly, Frankie. Do you not see the red flags here?”

“Nope.” The brunette answered with a popping sound on the p, “Plus, I know him. Known him for a pretty long time. And besides-” she bends down, tracing her fingers on the smooth wood of her prosthesis. Finding the split crack, she gently pulled at it to reveal a hollowed compartment and a revolver nestled inside. “-if I ever am in danger. I always have this.” She took the gun out of its chamber, swaying it in the air.

---

Lighting another cigarette, the man watched from his car as the brunette struts out of the front office towards the parked convertible, bending down to lean against the car’s open window of the driver’s side.

The last time he saw her, her shaggy hair was long and vibrant, reaching down to her backside, her bangs acting as curtains to shield away her flaws, as she called it. Now her hair was short - below the ears and sleek, it reminded him of Betty Boop.

It was unclear what she was saying to her friend, but not even a minute passed when the convertible came to life and started to drive off, leaving the girl wiggly waving goodbye. Once the car was out of sight, she twirled in the direction of her room.

He couldn’t help but stare longingly at her ass. How her shorts hugged tightly around the brunette, revealing more of her curves and backside. Even her tight-fitted tank top that displayed her womanly busty’s made the man’s cock twitch as they bounced merrily.

When she entered the motel room, the man waited a couple more minutes, taking one good draw of his cigarette puffing out a cloud of smoke before exiting the vehicle. Throwing the cig on the ground, he swaggers across the street, taking out a spare room key from the pocket of his blazer, and approached quietly to the door to room 6.

---

Frankie let out a faint moan, feeling a wave of pleasure overtake her as she played frantically with her clit. Her face growing red hot, firmly cupping one of her breasts, whimpering lowly when she twisted the nipple to feel the burning friction and pressed down on a particular spot of her clit that made her see stars.

After she stepped inside the room, the brunette did not waste time quickly disposing of all her clothes and hopped daintily on top of the bed, not even bothering to turn on the light. She wanted to start slowly, gradually roaming her hands around her body and steadily rubbing her slit on the outer layer of her boxers, but the brunette was impatient. Hungry for the pleasure that would push her over the edge. Intimacy she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Now, sprawled out on the bed, Frankie writhed in frustration, her free hand clenching the pillow below her head as she concentrated on the small squelching sounds of her pussy from teasing her bud. Eyes shut tight, biting back her cries of bliss. She could feel it rising, the knot in her stomach tightening, aching to be released. Yet Frankie refused to, not wanting to climax so soon. Not without him.

She wondered where he was. Wishing -fuck- begging for him to show up and claim her, ruin her, make her a mess. Turning her head toward the nightstand, she saw the red numbers illuminate from the digital clock reading 8:22 pm. Maybe he was running late. The river always kept him busy and distracted, slowly drifting him away from her, leaving her to sink further into the watery depths of the current to drown. Maybe she was set up, that this was another one of the pin-up’s sick jokes to get back at her. Frankie’s chest ached tightly at the many dejecting thoughts consuming her, stopping and removing her hand out of her boxers. He’s not showing up, Frankie thought, tears beginning to cloud her vision.

Suddenly, a pair of hands swiftly grabbed her by the leg and thigh, pulling the brunette down at the edge of the bed. Frankie released a startled squeal, opening her eyes widely to see the dark outline of a man hovering above, two dimly lit orbs longingly staring at her. She gazed back up at the man with a slack-jaw, blushing. Wondering how long had he been here, watching her touch herself soundlessly. Her breath hitched, jolting when she felt the cold but comforting touch of the man, delicately tracing her slender frame. Sending her body trembling every time the tip of his fingers draw near a sensitive bit. He moves down to her breasts, burying his face between them, giving small pecks and soft bites of reassurance that left the brunette flush, turning her head to the side biting her fist to hold back the moans. Noticing this, the man then latched his mouth onto one of her nipples. Frankie hissed and jerked at the pleasurable shock as he sank his teeth into her, granting a loud moan to escape from her lips. She could sense the man looking up, smirking smugly. He repeated his action one more time, greedily wanting to hear her whines and soundless beggings.

Hooking a finger on the waistband of her boyshorts, he steadily tugged the fabric down, opening her legs to fully exposing her wetness. The brunette’s breathed heavily as the man left a trail of tender kisses, going down between her legs. Before he could press his lips against her heat, his hand brushed her thigh accidentally, making the girl flinch and back away out of instinct. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow, questioning what he did to make her panic and flee so slightly. Then it hit him. His eyes darted back at her leg and at the wooden prosthesis still strapped onto her mid-thigh, realizing the mistake he made. He looked back up to her, kissing her other leg apologetically, signaling that he wasn’t going to do anything she was thinking of again. Frankie mumbled an ok before moving hesitantly closer, carefully leaning back and opening her legs once more.

Immediately, he sinks his face into her cunt, dragging his tongue up and down her slit to savor her juice. Frankie whined and stirred, arching her back at the feeling of him vigorously eating her out. As his mouth focused on engorging her clit, he worked two fingers into her hole, perfectly sliding inside her.

The brunette choked out a moan at the intrusion, grabbing ahold of the bedsheets as he slowly dragged his fingers out and quickly shoved them back in, setting a rough pace that hit her g-spot with every thrust. Her hips began to move to meet his fingers and tongue as he proceeded to fuck her, picking up his pace and going knuckles deep. She felt pressure build in the pit of her stomach, increasing by the second. With a brisk roll of his tongue over her clit, Frankie arched her back and spasmed into a powerful orgasm.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Frankie’s eyes rolled back as her body shook violently, huffing out of breath at the sensation.

When the brunette came down from her high, she thought that was the end of it. Only for the man to grab both her hips and pulled Frankie closer to his face, continuing to burrow his tongue into her, repeatedly hitting her sweet spot. Frankie tensed up at the feeling of being stimulated again, bracing for another climax that was closing in. She reached down to try and pull his head away from her. To no avail, the man moving it away by extending his hand out to hers, fingers intertwined. No matter how many times she squirmed away from the man’s face, he would always go forward and proceed to work on her cunt, digging his nails into her skin. Then the brunette made an attempt to roll over to detach his lips from her folds, but it only flipped him over to his back, pulling her to sit on his face.

“S-stop. I-It’s too -fuck- It’s too much,” The brunette arose, gripping at the man’s hands as support, as well as to pry them open, “Fu-Fuck, I’m gonna- AH!” She cried out, snapping her head back as another orgasm came crashing shockwaves of ecstasy into her. The man emitted a mm, parting his lips away from her snatch to breathe. Frankie took it as an opportunity to free herself from him, wearily getting off and slumping next to the man on her back, also catching her breath.

Not even a minute had passed when she heard the metal clang of a belt and looked down to see the silhouette of the man seated upwards. He began to remove his pants, tugging them down to his knees, and turned to face the brunette.

“Just give me a minute.” She responded with a raspy voice, lifting herself gradually. Frankie perched at the side of the bed, unclasping the leather strap of her prosthesis. Removing her leg, she leaned it against the wall and crawled back to the middle, spreading out to present herself to the man. With a slight close-lipped smile, she purred, “Ready when you are, cariño.”

[overlord6746]

Legs hanging over the edge of the cliff, he stares into the moonless, star lit sky. The gentle wind rustles his hair. He wants this. So why is it so hard? He turns his gaze down to the small town below him. Only the street lights are on. Everyone’s asleep. He leans forward slightly, ready to finally let go-

“Dawa!” He whips around. The tears in her eyes are evident, even in the darkness of the forest around them. “What the fuck!?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and opens his mouth to speak, “Am-”

She cuts him off, “No. Get your ass back home. Now.” Fists balled at their sides, and shaking with rage. Her tears are falling heavy now. Dawa scrambles to his feet, his own tears beginning to cascade down his cheeks. A pang of guilt hits him like a truck seeing her so upset.

She storms towards him, snatches his hand from his side, and begins basically dragging him behind her in silence.

He wipes his tears and takes this moment to observe her. Her usually neat, curly red hair has been tied into a messy bun, and the hoodie she had thrown on was backwards. Armani is a very pretty person, even when upset.

“Ami I..” He pauses their walking and takes a breath. “Ami I’m sorry. You weren't supposed to know until later!”

She drops his hand, turns to face him and barks, “You really thought I wouldn’t notice!? You thought I’d be okay with you just- galavanting to your death!?” She bites out the last word. Taken aback at her harsh tone, Dawa falls back onto the grassy ground below them.

Armani stops and actually looks at him for the first time in the last twelve hours. His green eyes are filled with tears, and his bottom lip is trembling. Actually, his whole body is shaking. That's when they realize she scared him. She’d never yelled at him like that before. Hell, she even scared herself.

She takes a deep breath and lowers herself into a crouch, and inches forward to him. She reaches a tentative hand out, and he gently takes it in his own. She cups his face and whispers, “I‘m sorry hunny. I just love you a lot, and you scared me.”

“I-It was justified. I’m sorry too..” He sniffles.

She pulls Dawa into a tight hug, and he nuzzles his face into her shoulder.

---

The rays of light filter through the scattered clouds causing a soft glow to envelope the small town. Light glints off the windows of nearby buildings, getting into his eyes. Dawa turns in his chair at the dining room table instead opting to watch his partner. She’s humming a tune he doesn’t recognize while swaying her hips, flowing around the kitchen in a waltz-like pattern.

Dawa softly counts along with her steps, deciding to join in, “1,2,3.. 1,2,3.. 1,2,3.. 1,2,3..” He stands and paddes up to the kitchen entryway, still counting, “1,2,3.. 1,2,3..”

He steps through the doorway right as Armani turns his direction, and slips one hand into hers, and the other around her waist. She tilts her head up at him looking slightly bewildered at the intrusion. Though, she smiles and giggles, continuing their dance past the kitchen counters.

He then recognizes the song she was humming. The song is called “Photographs” and it was playing the night of their first date. Dawa had taken her out to Denny's after asking her to be his valentine. The song had been playing over the speakers in the restaurant, serenading the couples. Once they finished dinner, they and several of the other couples had stood up to slow-dance.

The loss of warmth and loud beep of a timer snap Dawa out of his thoughts. He looks around for his partner and spots her tending to her now finished coffee. He never liked coffee. It's too bitter on his tongue, and smells even worse. Personally, he likes Monster energy. Armani on the other hand, loves it. She always mixes it with one cup of vanilla creamer, and one cup of milk.

///

I'm trying to get back into writing, so please give any constructive criticism

[98shawns]

trusting you; trusting me. (t.c.)

dating in the workplace may be tough, but your new hopeless romantic of an assistant makes it worthwhile. 

(coworker au, boss x assistant au)

chapters: one, two

words: 2500

warnings: mentions of nsfw (none in this chapter unfortunately, but def in the next !!)

a/n: long time no post !! i wrote this such a long time ago and it’s collecting dust so i might as well post without worrying too much about how it will do, right? lol, hopefully i can get to writing more !!

Keeping a poker face is easy until the new employee transferring into your department was the guy you’d just spent the night with.

You keep your expression contained as you make a beeline towards your office. This wasn’t the plan. The plan was for you to let off some steam with some good looking guy at the bar and then leave without a trace the morning after. He was nice. Style, charisma, and a boyish charm all wrapped in one handsome package. Just your type. 

And you believe that you’d caught his fancy as well. He slipped his number written down on a napkin that sat wedged into your car’s sun blocker. (You’ve been pondering on whether or not you should shoot him a message all morning).

But as much as you enjoyed his company, he wasn’t supposed to be following you around.

‘I’m going crazy,’ You’re quick to frantically grab the file placed on your desk earlier this morning. Surely enough, Timothée Chalamet would be starting as your new assistant.

/////

“Fancy seeing you here,” is how Timothée greets you when you let him into your office. You bite your cheek as you frown at his words.

“Stop addressing me so casually. I’m your superior.” You lean back in your chair and offer Timothée a seat in front of your desk. His lips press into a straight line as he responds with a curt nod before eventually sitting down in front of you.

The atmosphere was heavy but you find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon seeing the uneasiness in Timothée’s expression. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting an early reunion either.

“Let me get straight to the point,” you start, leaning forward and clasping your hands together as you rest your elbows on your desk. You see Timothée’s body visibly tense up.

“We’ll be spending a lot of time together from here on out. In regards to what happened last night, we can’t let it affect our practice here. While we’re in this building, we’re coworkers first. Got it?” Timothée nods in a silent agreement, and you try your best to not drown in how uncomfortable you had to make the situation for the both of you. It was protocol for situations like these, but you hated the thought of being professional to the man who sweet-talked you for the duration of all of last night. 

“That’s all. I know it’s a lot for your first day, but try your best. Most of our coworkers are all great people so hopefully they can help you adjust. If you need anything, just ask.” You end the conversation with a send-off you once read in a self-help book about excelling in management. It was just a standard between a manager and a worker; hopefully a standard the both of you will be able to upkeep.

You eventually stand up and extend your hand to give your new assistant a handshake. He stands with you and clasps your hand firmly.

‘He has a good handshake…’ You think about how odd it was that you held this very hand last night. It was cold and fragile yet still big and protective when he held you. He had long fingers and surprisingly soft skin; his hands were noticeably beautiful. You told him so as you dozed off in the wee hours of the morning.

Your touch lingers a few seconds longer than it should before you let go.

“Thank you.” Timothée breathes a sigh of relief as he bids you farewell and you let yourself fall back into your chair after he closed the door behind him.

/////

You were always the last to leave, especially on a weekend. Even a few years ago when you were stationed at the cubicle in the back of the office, one row of fluorescent lights would stay illuminating your space.

You were a hard worker with big plans. Everyone in your relatively new branch was around your age so you were well liked, admired, respected, or at least acknowledged by your coworkers by the time you eventually got promoted to a managerial position. The youngest manager in the company. You deserved it, and you would make sure that you’d aim higher. Nothing would come between you and your performance.

Well, maybe nothing but the new assistant you accidentally slept with a week ago.

“Can I talk to you?” You jump at the sound of Timothée’s voice. He looked up at you as he sat on the couch outside your office with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and his briefcase resting beside him. Your hands grasp the door frame as you check the clock on your office wall. He’d been waiting for the last two hours for you to come out.

“Of course! You could have just knocked at 5:00–“

“It... isn’t about work.”

By the time you turned back to him he’d stood up. He fidgeted with his hands, putting them halfway into his pockets before eventually folding them in front of his body. You think of all the possibilities that would play out if you said yes and you consider telling him to wait until Monday when you’d see each other at work again. In a professional setting. You knew along the lines of what he was about to ask, and now wasn’t the time to get caught up in your emotions. Not when you’d only been promoted two years ago. 

But for some reason, something pulls at your heartstrings as you observe Timothée’s demeanour. He seemed so… innocent as he tried his best to be patient while he waited for a response.

You sigh and step outside your office, closing the door behind you. You stood still for a moment before caving.

“Have you eaten yet?”

When his face lights up, you realize that your new assistant may have you wrapped around his little finger. 

/////

You don’t know why you chose to come to Denny’s to have this conversation with Timothée, but it somehow felt right. Eating mediocre breakfast foods drowned in maple syrup helped to mask the fact that the two of you being together like this was, well, wrong.

“Are you adjusting well?” You break the silence. Well, silence other than the sounds of forks and knives clanking against each other. Timothée swallows a ball of nervousness down with his chocolate chip pancakes and nods.

“You’re right, everyone at our branch is really nice.” He smiles politely and it makes you feel uncomfortable. He seemed so free spirited when you first met him, but that was when you were just a person at a bar. Not his boss.

“That’s good.” You smile back. It’s not like you weren’t guilty either; he wasn’t just a charming boy approaching you with a cheesy one liner anymore. He was your employee.The two of you sit in each other’s silence for a moment longer.

“Thanks again,” He starts. Your eyes avert to his. 

“For what?”

“You’re not treating me any differently even though it must have been hard to stay professional for a whole week. You even let me keep my job.” 

“You thought I was going to fire you?” You ask, somewhat in disbelief. The more you think about it, firing him would make sense if you were heartless. He nods casually. “I was 100% positive when you called me into your office Monday morning.”

You try not to express your concern towards Timothée’s confession. It wasn’t your fault you accidentally slept with your new assistant but it obviously wasn’t his either. As long as you stayed professional during work hours, what was the problem? It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to redirect your calls or organize your schedule. The last thing you’d want was for him to feel uncomfortable towards you; he was your employee after all.

Yeah… your employee.

You wonder if that’s why you take the extra liberty of comforting him, and before you know it words of consolation becomes friendly conversation. It’s alright if you spend the next two or three hours chatting about nothing and everything at the same time … you weren’t at work, after all. There was no need to be so stiff around each other.

“We should get going,” You check the time: 11:30 p.m. You should have wrapped this up hours ago. You don’t notice Timothée’s smidgen of a smile as he watches you gather your belongings. He eventually stands up to grab your trench coat off the coat hanger beside your booth. You scoff as he holds it up for you, eventually helping you slip into it before he shrugs on his own jacket. 

“Together?” The monotonous waitress, who’d been taking care of you since you entered, punched a few buttons on the cash register. You noticed that she’d let her hair down and put on a sweater as you walk up to the counter to pay for your meal. She must be getting ready to go home as well.

“Actually–“

“Yes, please.” Timothée cuts you off by giving his card to the waitress, effectively stopping you from rummaging through your purse.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, watching Timothée’s face as he punches his card combination into the machine. He only smiles when he hears the beep of an approved transaction, and thanks the waitress before finally turning towards you.

“You paid last time.” He shrugs. You feel your heart flutter as he reminded you of the weekend you spent with him.

‘Oh no,’ You think, following him out into the parking lot and back to your car. This wasn’t going to lead to where you thought it was going to, would it…? He joined you for dinner, he listened to your mindless conversation, he helped you with your jacket, he paid for your food…

Well, it was fun while it lasted.

“Timothée,” As the two of you walked out onto the parking lot, he’d just opened the car door when you called his name. He stares up at you with a grin, his hand still resting on top of the car door. You swallow your nervousness. “what did you really want to talk about?”

The subtlety of Timothée’s faltering grin is hard to catch. He was well aware of it too, how tonight didn’t feel like a simple get together between two professionals… actually, it felt quite the opposite. Almost like a date. 

“I like you.” He says, completely serious. You bite your cheek. “A lot.”

“We’re coworkers.”

“Can we not be more than just coworkers?”

You frown at his question. Maybe it was because he was young, but Timothée’s aggressiveness and passion makes your heart squeeze in your chest. You wanted to ask that question too, why couldn’t you be anything more?

“I’ve only known you for a week. I see you every weekday because I’m your boss. It’d be too much for us,” You start, finally stepping into your car and slamming the door shut. Timothée follows, and you keep on chewing at your cheek. You shouldn’t be so defensive; you had to stay professional. “at least not while we’re so young.”

“But we’ve got our whole life ahead of us, shouldn’t we at least try? We’re at the age where we can’t just waste our chances while they’re running out.” You let out a scoff at his words as you start the car, but you don’t say anything in response. You didn’t want him to know that his words resonated deeper within you that they should have. 

You start the drive to his house in silence, and Timothée sighs as he lets his back collide with the seat of your car in frustration. Your relationship as coworkers was not coming to a very good start, but you suppose that it had to start somewhere. Plus if he was looking for a relationship with someone, there were plenty of great looking people at the office. He’d get over it and so would you.

“We’re here.” You say, pulling in the parking lot next to Timothée’s apartment building. Timothée turns to you one last time, and with a sigh, unbuckles his seatbelt.

“Thank you for the ride.” You nod and keep your eyes glued to your steering wheel, waiting for him to leave. You don’t see his gaze avert to your eyes, then to your lips. Timothée opens his mouth but says nothing, only pressing his lips together as he opens your car door to step out onto the pavement beneath you.

You feel yourself sigh in relief when he shuts the door. Don’t look back, you tell yourself. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself if you did. Instead you fiddle with your sun blocker to distract yourself.

Thoughts of Timothée swirled through your mind, especially what he had said before you drove him home. Don’t waste chances while they run out.

You let out a halfhearted scoff. You could only wish to think like that. To be impulsive and take chances as they arise but you can’t. Sure you were jealous, but you’ve got too much on the line… too much to risk.

You lower your sun blocker and notice a forgotten napkin slip out and onto your lap. Timothée’s number from last week. You frown.

You were just a coward.

Fuck it. 

“Timothée, wait!” You call, practically jumping out of your car before running towards your assistant. You get as far as the front entrance before you see that he’d already gone inside and stepped into the elevator.

He only notices you behind the glass doors when he turns and looks up, just as the elevator doors begin to close.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, just after he stops the elevator from closing with his arm and runs towards you. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside, panting from your run over.

“I have to tell you something,” Timothée nods expectedly, and you rub the back of your neck.

“I really don’t think it’ll work out.” You start, watching the hopefulness in Timothée’s eyes die out. Just a bit. 

“I barely know you– I liked you from when we slept together but that’s it. I was wondering where we were going to go afterwards as well, but when I saw you at the office last week, I thought I had my answer.” You step closer to him.

“But now I’m wondering… I really don’t know anymore. Maybe this isn’t going anywhere– I can’t be so sure. But when I’m looking back at the past seventy years, what’s the first week, really?” Timothée’s lips part as you look into his eyes, and you feel a warmth rising up to your cheeks. “Wanna go out?”

The corners of Timothée’s lips immediately upturn at the sound of your words, and his hand shoots up to his mouth to cover his smile. Though, you end up seeing it anyways as it travels to his eyes.

“If you’ll have me.”

[generallybarzy]

hey there, stranger. ii

SERIES MASTERLIST. one,

summary: after months of failed dates, this handsome mat guy seems like the one you’re gonna keep around for a while

an: i accidentally deleted the first edited draft i made asdwgf this was supposed to be up a while ago. Anyway, this is going to be the softest, lightest series ever. Just something to help me

word count: 1.8k

"(Y/N)?"

"Hey there, stranger."

As soon as the words left your lips, his own were parting in a little laugh, humored by your little phrase. "Hey there." He held out a hand, a big hand, for you to shake. It was soft and warm and pretty much swallowed up yours, but you didn't mind. You couldn't help but worry that maybe your hand was a bit clammy from the nerves, but if it was, it either didn't bother him or he didn't let it show. "I'm Mat." Then, as if suddenly confused as to why he was shaking your hand, his eyebrows furrowed up. "Uh, is this too weirdly formal? Would a hug be better?"

This time you were the one laughing. "The handshake is fine for now. We don't really know each other. Not yet, anyway, Mat."

"Right, okay." He smiled sheepishly and slid down into the booth seat across from you, glancing down at the drink you had already ordered. “Am I late?”

“No, no, you’re on time!” You were the embarrassed one now, worried you had already made a bad impression on your date. “Sorry, I guess it was rude to order without you.”

“No, it’s fine.” He played with his hands, you figured it was a nervous tick, and it was kinda cute. But he must have noticed your eyes glance down to his hands, because he flattened them awkwardly against the table. “Sounds tasty.” He had been too nervous to meet your eyes and instead busied himself with reading the label that was stuck on your cup. Before you could respond, a waitress appeared to take this new customer’s order. You watched the polite smile on Mat’s face when he spoke. Watching the way someone talks to waiters and workers is a good test of how nice someone is, and Mat was passing with flying colors. And when she left after Mat’s sweet little “thank you!”, you couldn’t help but smile.

"Sorry.” You apologized again. This guy seemed so much different from your exes. He was sweet, respectful, and funny, from what you could tell by the last few minutes. You were practically praying that your date would last longer than just today. “I kinda forget the ‘date etiquette’. It's been a while since I've done this."

"Really? You’re having dating trouble?" You nodded, and Mat shook his head in response as if shocked, an amused smile on his face. “Someone like you? No way.” Your face heated up at that, but you brushed it off as playful flirting and pushed your limits a little bit to try and flirt back.

"Yeah. I mean, not like you’d understand what bad dates are, as handsome as you are.”

“Oh, handsome?”

“Yeah, handsome.” You watched his cheeks go a soft shade of pink, and he bit back a grin, trying to seem cool. “You probably get so many dates, and I haven’t had a date go right since I moved here.” He had been shaking his head through your statement, ready to jump in and tell you how wrong you were about his love life, but his eyebrows quirked up at the end of your sentence.

“Oh?” Mat raised his eyebrows “You’re new to New York?”

“Well, I don’t know how new I am anymore. I moved in last September for college. I’m studying over in Manhattan.”

“Ooh, so she’s smart too!” Your cheeks went hot at the smile he was giving you- wide and gleaming and admiring.

“I’m in my second year, yeah.”

“What are you studying?” You honestly weren’t used to all the attention he was giving you. As sad as it was, none of your past dates ever asked about you or complimented you on furthering your education. Not that you needed their compliments or approval, but it would’ve been nice if they at least seemed interested, and Mat did.

He prompted you to talk, listened intently as you ranted about your education and your time with the Seidenbergs and fantasized about your dream career, about all the classes you were taking this year. He listened, and smiled and commented and asked questions. He cared. You didn’t even realize how you’d been rambling, but he just made you feel so comfortable. Comfortable enough to open up more about yourself than you’d ever done before on a first date. You stopped for a breath and saw him, leaning forward on the table on his elbows with a stupid little amused smile as you talked on and on and on. He was interested in you. “Oh my god, I’ve been talking about myself for so long, I don’t even know what you do for a living!”

“Hmm, Rebecca really didn’t tell you anything about me, huh?”

“I guess she didn't…” You pondered for a moment at how stupid you were, opening up and feeling so comfortable around this guy without even knowing anything about him. “How do you even know her, anyway? Now I’m curious about you. What do you do?”

He seemed to hesitate for a bit, biting his lip in thought. “I play hockey.”

He had a modest smile on his face as if it meant nothing, as if it wasn’t a huge accomplishment, but your eyes widened. Of course Rebecca would set you up with a hockey player. “Like, professionally?”

“Yeah. The Islanders. The Seidenbergs let me stay with them when I first moved here to play, so that’s how I know them. I lived in their basement my first year.”

“What?” You let your head fall on the table dramatically, suddenly embarrassed that you knew so little about him and had practically been spewing about your life to him. “Oh my god, now I feel really stupid.”

Mat let out another laugh, this time loud and boisterous but beautiful. “Why?”

“I feel like I should know who you are. I’m at the Seid’s pretty much every weekend, you play with Dennis, I can’t believe I don’t know you. I’m sure they’ve mentioned you before.”

“I’m sure they have,” Mat laughed, considering the fact that he had lived with them for his rookie year, of course they would’ve mentioned him. “But I don’t mind it, actually.” He smiled, softer, more serious than before, taking a sip of his drink. “I like that you don’t know me as a player. So I know you’re really into me. Like, me me.” His statement made your heart ache a little. Maybe this was a tiny glimpse into his past love life. Maybe he’d been hurt by someone who claimed to love him but was only there for the clout. But that wasn’t your place to ask. “Do you know anything about hockey?”

“I’ve seen a few games, it looks really cool, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Well,” he leaned back in the seat in a flirty way, giving you a cute little side grin and shrugging. “I guess you’re gonna have to learn.”

The night continued just as amazing as it had begun. You fell into more and more conversation, everything seemed to come so naturally for one and, for the first date in a long, long time, you actually dreaded having to leave. You haven’t felt this way since dates in highschool, before moving to New York, and even then there was something missing that you found with Mat tonight. You felt something tonight that you hadn’t felt on another date in a long time. And as you crowded into the back of an uber with him to head back to your dorm, you knew, feeling his presence so close next to you, that you wanted him around for a while. As long as you could have him.

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Yeah?” Mat grinned down at you in the dark, his smile genuine and warm and shining, as if he was maybe even more excited than you about this.

“Yeah, and you’re also pretty handsome, Mat.”

He laughed loudly at that, and you knew that was a noise you could get used to. “Like me enough to hang out again?”

In a quick act of confidence, you reached your hand over and curled it against his, palm to palm, and squeezed reassuringly as you nodded. “Enough to hang out again.” The smile on his face grew.

“Ooh, alright!’ He cheered quietly to himself and made you giggle. “It’ll be a more fun setting next time, I promise.”

You sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, your hand cradled in his own and resting on his thigh, both high on the ecstasy of finally having at least someone, no matter how new, to try things out with, to hold, to smile with, to grow into love with. High on how great the date went, how compatible you were with each other. On how finally, after months of bad dates, you may have found someone perfect for you. And you both had stupid, silly smiles on your face as you exchanged glances in the back seat, giggling over nothing and fantasizing about how great your next date would be. Your next date… As the uber pulled up to your dorm apartment building, you fiddled with the sleeve of your sweater again.

“So, now that I got you here all safe, I- I guess I’ll head back to my place, alright?”

“You want me to pitch in to pay for the Uber? I know going from Brooklyn to Manhattan and back could get pricey.”

“No, no not at all. It’s on me.”

You pulled out your university ID, ready to head inside, but not ready to leave this moment in the car with him. “Mat,” You tried your best to refocus him after a few shared moments of quiet, happy staring and grinning between the two of you. He looked so happy to be able to spend more time with you, but in all his glee he was forgetting something, something crucial, something there was no way you were leaving without. “Can we exchange numbers?”

“Oh, shit, yeah!” He laughed almost nervously as he scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you to let you put in your digits as the uber came to a stop.

You didn’t want to leave. You would’ve stayed longer, would’ve sat with him and laid your head against his shoulder and gazed mindlessly out the window at all the skyscrapers passing by. You would’ve taken a moment to stroke his face and kiss his cheek, but you pulled away and dropped Mat’s hand with one last smile. The uber had to leave.

“Bye, Mat.”

He waved at you again after shutting the door, and you stood and watched the uber leave before turning to enter the residency building.

Only minutes after you set foot in your dorm room a few stories up and flopped down in bed to clutch a pillow to your burning cheeks, you received a text. When the screen lit up, you were immediately greeted by a name that would soon become familiar, that would soon become your haven, and your face lifted in a little smile.

[stusbunker]

AGA: Word to the Wise

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Denny AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean/Jo

Other characters: Sam, Bobby, Cas, Mick, Ash, Jo

Word Count: 3000 (whoa)

A/N: Sam gets on Dean’s nerves and Dean ends up taking a late night detour. Big talks ahead.

Special thanks to my beta @cracksinthewalls​ who puts up with my whiny ass. Also grateful for @there-must-be-a-lock​‘s insight.

The bowling league was in lean attendance due to a surprise snowstorm, but that didn’t keep Singers’ Slingers from mopping the floor with their competition. Dean ended on a spare in the last game, putting him just over his average for the night. State bowling wasn’t until spring, but if they kept up their momentum Dean was sure they could place well. And a weekend away would be a welcome break from his usual exhaustion. 

Dean still owed Mick a rematch from last year’s trip. Mick drank him under the table and Dean didn’t want to lose two years running, he had a reputation to uphold afterall. Bartending had cut into his training time, among other things.

Ash was the first one to bow out for the night, knowing his side towing business would be busy with vehicles in ditches for however long the storm lasted. Cas bummed a ride with Mick, since his car had never done well in this weather and he was still dragging his feet on upgrading. Dean knew he had been hinting at shopping around, but Dean wasn’t going to push the topic and get dragged into helping or finagling with the salesman for the guy. Cas could figure it out on his own, and Dean was finally in a place where he felt comfortable letting him. Huh.

Sam had been quiet all night, but Dean hadn’t mentioned it, attributing the sour mood to post-break up blues. They bought Bobby his weekly drink, “team dues” as he called it and settled in along the bar. 

Dean kept the conversation going, trying to keep the mood light, but Bobby was too tired to ham it up and Sam was not amused by his brother’s antics. Once Bobby polished off his last beer and headed home to Ellen, Dean was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, you know what, I’ll reel it in, don’t want to interrupt your sulking,” Dean muttered after another joke fell flat. Sam winced at Dean’s jab, which Dean instantly regretted. Though it did seem to shake Sam out of his funk, if minutely.

“So, tell me about Benny,” Sam brought up with elephantine grace.

Dean stared at Sam like he proclaimed he was quitting the law firm and joining the circus, coulrophobia and all. 

Sam huffed. “What?”

“Nice segue there, counselor,” Dean grumbled. “What about him? Hmm, you want a new bowling bag? Because that was already on my list for you for Christmas.”

“Dude, you don’t have to do that. I mean, that’d be great, but no, I was kind of wondering what your deal was? Like do you hang out a lot?” Sam started fishing.

“Yeah, totally, everynight,” Dean deadpanned. “I mean I only work two jobs when I’m not moving your sorry ass back into Mom and Dad’s.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, waiting to figure out where he was going with this line of questioning and just shot in the dark. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is this, like, a Cas thing?” Sam choked out, unable to put it any more delicately. 

Dean burned with shame as his hackles raised in defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam cocked his head and pursed his lips, unamused and unimpressed. “You know what I mean, man. Don’t make me spell it out.”

Dean wouldn’t budge, he dropped his beer with a thud. “Well, you’re gonna have to, because I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dude!” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck is your problem? You got something to say, just say it, Sam.” Dean fumed, daring him with a murderous glare. Sam inhaled pregnantly, face still inching towards bitch mode. Sam eyed the bartender who was trying not to listen and the late game bowlers who suddenly decided they could catch up lane side instead.

What Dean didn’t realize was that he needed Sam to say it. He yearned for it, for his truth to be spoken, and known without him having to say it himself.

“Look, I know this isn’t something we talk about. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Alright? In the beginning with Cas, it was like you were obsessed, man. And since he just always seemed to need something from you. I just want to make sure you’re not getting used, I guess,” Sam unraveled the heart of his concern without saying too much, which Dean was not expecting, at all.

Dumbfounded, Dean retreated, annoyance trumping any chance at relief. 

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” Dean spat. Petulantly, he took a sip from his beer, the cold glass solid in his hand, giving him something to clutch or even throw, if it came down to it.

“I didn’t say---,” Sam broke off. “Fine! You know what? You’re on your own. Just remember that I should have listened to you about Ruby and now I’m paying the price for my own stubbornness.”

Sam stood and reached for his money clip, tossing an extra five on the bar for the dramatics. He gave Dean one last chance to come clean, to own up to what they weren’t saying. Dean stared straight ahead, eyes unfocusing on the liquor labels behind the bar as if Sam had already left. So he did, just as he came: pissed and questioning his brother’s motives.

    Dean didn’t go home after that. Instead he absently followed a plow down the main road until he happened upon a familiar turn off. Which he took slow and steady until it ended in a T. The little brick ranch at the end of the lane held a lot of memories. And it was more inviting than ever with its Christmas card perfection in the falling snow. Dean put the Impala in park and let the radio play, wishing he had a joint just for the sake of something to do. 

He wasn’t there ten minutes before his phone rang, which he answered without processing the caller ID.

“You gonna come in or you just gonna sit out there feeling sorry for yourself?” Jo’s voice sliced across the line.

“Didn’t know if you were still up,” Dean bullshitted.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Backdoor’s open,” her unimpressed reply. She hung up before Dean could make up an excuse to leave. He slouched out of the car and trudged down the long country driveway. As soon as he had stomped the snow off his boots, Jo welcomed him in with a firm hug and an appraising glint in her eye.

“Thanks, it’s a real mess out there,” Dean explained.

Jo just shook her head at him. “How’d ya bowl?”

“619 series, finished strong in the last few frames,” Dean answered. “Were you at your folks?”

“Nah, just know it’s Wednesday night, which means the boys were at the alley,” Jo smirked as she reached atop her fridge for the good stuff. 

She held up the whiskey in offering and Dean nodded, bending out of his coat. He slipped it over the back of a chair and settled in at the vintage kitchen table. She poured him a glass and watched as he inhaled the first round like he had been outside for hours and needed to fight off a much deeper chill.

“Well alright,” Jo resigned herself to playing shrink and poured Dean another drink. “So, what’s got you stuck in your head, hm?”

Dean weighed his head from side to side as he let the whiskey roll over his tongue. He never got far into a pouting session when Jo was around, but he also didn’t know which chamber of his heart he could stand to prop open for her inspection tonight.

“How’ve you been, Jo? You still schooling those truckers on taking care of their own rigs?” Dean sidestepped with ease.

“You know it,” Jo confirmed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t have to put another asshole in his place. Pays good, though.”

Jo had followed in Bobby’s footsteps and became a mechanic, but two Singers were already one too many for the shop and salvage yard. So she took her skills out to the interstate and made a name for herself as the only female diesel technician in four counties. Dean used to hate it when she would fix something faster than him, but it had been more than a decade since her skills had made him feel inferior. Dean knew Jo’d be his boss someday, but he wasn’t too worried about those far off futures; Bobby wouldn’t retire unless Ellen made him or killed him first.

“How’s Rufus holding up?” Jo teased, knowing her dad’s old friend was getting worse for the wear, much like John had.

“Stubborn, and as glib as ever. Good thing your dad rehired him, because he’s a bit too mouthy for most customers,” Dean admitted.

    Jo hummed with nostalgia. “I gotta swing by and bug you guys sometime, but it just keeps getting busier.”

    Dean sighed. “I hear that. What’s it been? Labor day? No. I haven’t even seen you since the Fourth. Christ!”

“Yeah, well, you’ll see me next week for Thanksgiving, don’t get too sentimental about it now,” Jo quipped. She took a short sip off the bottle as Dean swirled the last of his second helping.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean staggered the words, like he wasn’t sure if their meanings and sounds fit together.

Jo sighed dramatically, “Finally, the truth is revealed! What’s up? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No.” Dean had to bite back his guffaw. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, then why the sad face? Not pulling a Ruby on ya, I hope?” Jo tested the waters.

“No, it’s--uh--- it’s been good. Really good. I just, kind of need to make up my mind if I’m in it for the long haul. Ya know?” Dean clarified, relaxing with each little confession. 

“Uh-oh it’s getting serious,” Jo mock whispered.

Dean rolled his shoulders. “No, well, it could be. I don’t know.”

Jo giggled. “I can’t believe you! You’re fucking twitterpated, aren’t you?!”

“Jo, if you start making Thumper jokes, I’m shutting up right now,” Dean warned with a pointed finger. “Care to top me off while you’re at it?”

“Okay, okay, gosh.” Jo rolled her eyes dramatically as she poured him another drink before pointedly putting it back on the fridge. “But you’re in deep. You’re all blushy about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go big. It just means they’re willing to put up with me until I say the word,” Dean tried to downplay his feelings and Benny’s confession.

“So do it! Bust out the grand gestures already,” Jo encouraged.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not built for commitment, you know that!”

“Except you kinda are! You’ve changed, Dean,” Jo insisted, head hung to pour her honesty from her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not that reckless boy that I knew. You’ve always been a good guy, but now?---- Maybe it’s been since Sam came home, I don’t know. But somewhere along the way you grew up.---- It’s okay to let yourself want something more, you know.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his neck, breaking the eye contact. She always could do this to him, just like her mother, see straight through his every defense. “I always thought it’d be you, you know?”

Jo smiled without teeth. “Firsts can do that to people. But, we’re not those kids anymore, Dean. So, if you’re asking for my permission or seeking my approval---?”

Dean dropped his head to his hands, thick fingers poorly hiding him from Jo. “It’s a guy, Jo. I’m--- I don’t know--- Bi? I guess?”

“Dean?” Jo waited until he stopped being sheepish and looked at her, even if it was only out of the corner of one eye. “You’ve been head over heels for Cas for years. If you dare tell me this is about him, so help me, I will throw you out right now.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh ruefully at that and toss back what was left of his whiskey. “You saw that, huh?”

She didn’t answer, waiting for him to work through it on his own.

“It’s not Cas.” Dean smacked his lips and held up his glass for a refill. Jo stood and brought the bottle back to the table. Dean poured himself three fingers worth and pondered the sloshing liquid before he continued. “Your mom know?”

Jo licked her lips, cocked her head, and sighed.

Dean closed his eyes and asked, “Bobby? Fuck!--- my mom?!”

“No one has ever said it out loud, Dean. I don’t know who knows, honestly. But we’re family, that doesn’t change.” Jo grasped his wrist firmly, he held her hand to his and then she slapped her other one on top. Time stopped long enough for Dean to accept that his secret was finally out, but also that it was safe.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you, of all people.” Dean thumbed her knuckles, staring into eyes he knew as well as his own.

“Really? Who else would you be talking to about it? Sam? Ash, maybe?” Jo giggled. “I’m honored, actually. It means you stopped hating me.”

Dean pulled his hands away and took another drink. “I never hated you.” 

“Okay, well, maybe it means you stopped hating yourself,” Jo corrected.

Dean’s brows crooked incredulously.

“Too much?” Jo asked apologetically.

Dean shook his head and sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

“Now you’re the one being rude,” Jo muttered before taking a solid drink off the bottle this time.

Dean let himself relax, let the whiskey and conversation work into his muscles and set his worries aside. They talked like the old days and about the old days. Those in between years after high school and before anyone was ready to face responsibility. When half their friends went to college, they had just kept on working. After another hour, Jo leaned back in her chair and started scrutinizing him once again.

“You know how I know you’re happy with what’s his name?” Jo teased.

“Beh--- I didn’t tell you, fuck! Benny, his name is Benny. Goddamnit Joanna Beth,” Dean cursed through a chuckle; more details dragged out of him than he had planned on.

Jo cocked her head and considered the name.“Benny, right. You wanna know how I know?” Jo pushed.

“Fine, how?” Dean held up his hand, beckoning for her to hit him with her response.

“Because this is about the time of night you start giving me the lazy once over. But not tonight,” Jo proclaimed, chin out condescendingly. She had him, every few years they’d find themselves back in each other’s beds, for a night or a weekend and then they’d move on. He always thought of her as his home, his starting point. But maybe they weren’t the same thing at all.

“You still look good, Jo,” Dean replied, trying to save face.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean. Besides, I know!” Jo snarked, straightening her spine and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dean couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and it spilled out over a toothy grin, making Jo almost choke on her drink. God, Dean felt like anything was possible. That life was good. 

After the hysterics had calmed down, Dean exhaled. “Thanks, Jo. I needed this.”

“You sure did, nobody else was gonna hand you your ass so kindly,” Jo agreed, standing and taking the bottle and Dean’s glass with her to the counter that held the sink. He whined comically, but knew her timing was right. She leaned back and smirked.

Dean grew quiet and Jo waited to see if it was exhaustion, the alcohol or something else. She didn’t have long to prepare.

“How’m I gonna tell my dad?” Dean asked, the pain and panic pulling at his face until she saw the telltale tears well up.

“Fuck ‘im. I mean it, if your dad can’t get his head out of his ass to see how happy you are, he isn’t worth your time,” Jo said adamantly.

Dean let his thoughts roll to the side of his head and licked his lips, biting against the tremor. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and inhaled wet and ragged. Jo slipped to his side and ran her hand through his hair, letting his face fall against her chest as he breathed through the onslaught. Dean couldn’t help but think how motherly the affection felt.

She pulled back to look him over at arms’ length. 

“So what now? You want the couch? Or should I call you a ride? I’m sure Sam owes you one,” Jo asked, as no nonsense as ever.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean dismissed her concern, rubbing up his face to wipe off his nose.

“Well, you ain't driving.” Jo held up his keys. Dean blanched, feeling his pockets for them, fruitlessly. He stood to snatch them, but she had already skipped across the kitchen, too far to catch. “Nuh-uh, no way I’m letting you risk your baby. Or your thick skull in this weather.”

 Dean put his hands on his hips, and blinked through the dizziness. He realized he hadn’t stood in a few hours. “Sam.”

“What’s that?” Jo prodded mischievously, ear leaning in as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Very funny. Call Sam, will ya?” Dean rolled his eyes as she scrolled through her contacts, murmuring the names under her breath. His keys were raised in victory, as if he couldn’t reach them above her head. He could have snagged them in an instant, if he wanted to.

 While Jo woke Sam, Dean checked his own phone. Ignoring some texts from his mom and Cas, he selected the conversation with Benny. There were no new messages since that morning. Dean hesitated before relocking his screen.

“Sam’ll be here in twenty. You want something to eat? I’ve got chips.” Jo offered, opening the cupboard.

Tagging: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​ @atc74​​

Series Masterlist

SPN Masterlist

Tell me what you thought?

Part 10: Spit it Out

[cajunquandary]

A Beacon to Beasts

A Beacon to Beasts

AO3 Link (in the works, check back later)

Summary: While Dean is in Purgatory, he comes across some interesting monsters who help him through.

Created for @spndarkbingo​

Square Filled: Fornication

Rating: R (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Benny

Warnings: Dark Fic. Canon level violence, SMUT (p in v, biting, anal, oral, dp, unprotected sex *dont be silly wrap the willy,* all the smut, also I might be developing a praise!kink here??), angst, traumatic memories. If you squint: suicide, Destiel, Denny

Word Count: 7600

A/N: Originally published in early 2017, this is a total rewrite with the tremendous help of @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ and @wonder-cole​. You talented bitches. I love you.

Lightning spider-webbed across the sky, for a brief moment illuminating every shadow across Purgatory. The forest practically hissed in the unwelcome brightness as the trees whispered amongst themselves. A crack of thunder caused a quake larger than you’d felt in the god forsaken land ever before. It cracked the sound barrier, bent the hellscape reality at all of its slithering edges, and sent a shockwave so powerful it nearly tore apart every cell in your body. With an eerie silence, darkness fell again, and as your eyes adjusted, you could see that the beast attacking you was fleeing the other direction from whence it’d come—no, not fleeing. It was chasing the impact. 

Something pulled in your chest like a red-hot meat hook, something that sent sparks of electricity straight into your brain and signaling an overwhelming raw need. You were familiar with such will-crushing lust. Your fangs were proof. But this… this was stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. It nearly drove you mad. You could feel your mind slipping, until you took a step forward, then another, and another. The more you walked towards the source of the prior disturbance, the more sated you felt. The more whole. 

It took weeks of fighting others like you and endless backtracking to find the source—a vampire and another beast. It was a bit like a human, but no humans could be in Purgatory. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. 

Your body shuddered at the proximity of the delicious flesh. The warmth. You were merely a moth, drawn to a flame of your own destruction. Your head swam and you reached towards the man, but another fang sped from the shadows opposite you first. This was just enough of a distraction to pull you back from the brink. 

You crouched behind a half-rotten tree, only one eye peeking from behind your cover. The human barely had time to react before the fiend had him forced into the well-trodden packed earth. His fall was hard. Your mouth watered as his pulse quickened and echoed through your soul. 

The vampire accompanying the human sent the attacker’s head flying so closely that spattered monster blood landed on your hand. The foul stench drove you deeper into the safety of the trunk. You didn’t want to be next. 

In this land, the best way to survive was to stay hidden, quiet, so you decided to follow them for the first few weeks, being careful to keep to the shadows. The thirst for the human ebbed and swelled unpredictably. At times, it was all you could do to resist the pulse exposed on his neck, especially when the man slept. 

For days you tried to figure out what the other one was, who he was, but damn, was he a monster magnet. You’d been in pretty thick shit before, but never like this. Your cover was nearly blown a few times a day, but you were thankful the two were too busy fighting their own to notice you.

“Damn, man. You’re humanity is gon get us kilt.” The vampire wiped the rancid blood from his blade on the latest dead monster’s shirt.

“Yeah well, as soon as we find Cas, we’re getting the hell out of hell.” A human in Purgatory? How? No wonder there had been such a disturbance. He must have been pulled here by a great force--one that very nearly ripped the entire existence apart. 

“Hey brother, I’m startin to think the angel don’t wanna be found. Dean, think about it. Every time we get close, he disappears again.”

“Benny—don’t.” The human stormed away from the vampire. What was going on? A human and an angel? Things must be getting really messy up top.

The vampire, Benny, turned suddenly in your direction, and you closed your eyes, hoping the thick layer of leaves and thorny bushes camouflaged you well enough. It must have, because he merely shrugged and walked after Dean.

This night was the quietest it had been since The Event. It had been hours since the last monster attack and you were almost as exhausted as they looked. It wasn’t long before the men settled down into the dust and a pile of dry brush and began to lightly snore. Usually one stood guard as the other slept, but on this occasion, both must have been too far gone to care. 

You crept slowly forward, focused completely on the human. He was so beautiful. The creases of his forehead were reduced to fine lines as he slumbered, slow, tender breath fluttering across weary-pale swollen lips, freckles and mud mixed on his cheeks, hair tousled and bloodied, yet still so soft and shiny. His lashes twitched as he dreamed. You were only a few feet away now, beginning to feel lost in the warmth radiating from him, drunk in the light from his soul.

A sharp pain through your side interrupted your trance and you collapsed into a prickly shrub. Between gulps of agony, you could just make out that you were pinned to the ground with a rough makeshift javelin, reminiscent of a butterfly pinned to a shadow box as you’d owned as a human. You screamed in pain, and if you weren’t already twice dead, you’d worry about losing too much blood.

A pair of boots came into your view. “I smelled you days ago. I know you’ve been followin’ us. Why haven’t you attacked? You workin for someone?”

You looked from under your brows, straining to see if Dean was still where he had been, but found nothing. All you could do was gasp shallowly against the burning splinters. It had been years since anyone had gotten the jump on you like this. The bit of human that was left within you prayed that this was a bad dream, that you would wake in a moment in the gently swaying safety of the treetops.

The javelin was ripped from your aching side, and you screamed again as your organs smacked back together in the loss of pressure. The vampire threw you against the nearest tree. Through the pain that overwhelmed your ability to flee, you watched in utter captivation as the human secured you with heavy, rusted chains.

The latter bent close to your face, piercing green eyes a stark contrast to the caked mud and blood spattered across pale cheeks. “Now look, you piece of shit. I’m gonna waste you like I’ve wasted every damn thing in this place. But first, you’re gonna tell me where the angel is, and why you’ve been following us. If I like your answer, I’ll make it quick. If not… well, I don’t normally like the answers.” He smirked, tilting his head just slightly as if he was considering just how he was going to end you. 

You gulped hard knowing the human meant business. You’d seen him firsthand, the violence, the rage. All this man left behind him were wide trails of blood.

You were shaking now, feverish and confused. When had your fangs come out? You retracted them in an attempt to look less intimidating and more cooperative. Between gritted teeth and a gradual tunneling of vision, you managed to respond. “I’ve been tracking you since you arrived. There was this storm, and I’ve felt a pull towards you the whole time. I-I don’t work for anyone, I swear.” His gnarly blade pressed into the soft flesh of your throat now and panic was rising  and threatening to close off your throat if the blade didn’t do it first. “I didn’t even know about the angel until earlier today when I overheard you.”

“Well. I don’t think I like your answer.” Dean sliced deeply into your arm, which produced a guttural scream from deep within your core. The blade itself didn’t hurt that bad, but whatever was on it sure did. Benny walked away, knowing what was coming. Benny was a monster—Dean was worse.

“P-please I don’t know, I just know the light—your soul is like a candle in this endless darkness. I’ve been here for so, so long and you feel like home, like safety. I crave your closeness and I don’t know the details of why, but I couldn’t hurt you.”

Benny looked over his shoulder as Dean paused. Something struck a chord. Benny walked back over and pulled Dean slightly off to the side, almost out of earshot.

“Brother, I think she’s tellin’ the truth. We should give this one a chance to talk.”

“Why? She doesn’t know anything about Cas. She’s just another monster in my way.”

“And so was I. We were both human once. Let’s hear her out. She hasn’t even fought back.”

The fatigue and injuries caught up with you. Focusing on the thick red-black ooze streaming from your wounds, sleep was finding you swiftly with your head falling forward, blood-soaked hair in your eyes and chest pulled tight against the restraints.

Dean lifted your chin with the end of his blade, remnants of your internals still glistening on the edge. Your eyes followed the length of his arm to his face where he held you in an unwavering gaze. Those eyes were greener than anything in this world—more than the trees you hid in, the brush around you, or the sparse grass beneath your feet. 

You seized your breath and relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into those eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting. Your mortal soul had been tired in life, grown wearier after you were turned, another century had passed before you’d been sent here after a hunter took you out. The memory flashed by: how you sat there on your knees, glad to be facing the barrel of the gun after so long that you didn’t even fight. Had you known you’d end up here, you may have fought more to stay topside. But now, you faced oblivion, or so you hoped. This would finally be the end of the suffering, the fighting.

Dean must have read the all-too-familiar look of defeat and acceptance in your face. He lowered the knife, letting your head fall forward again, and caught you in his arms as the chains broke and clattered to the dust.

He leaned you against the base of the tree. You weakly gazed upward through hooded eyes, wanting to see past the leaves to the empty sky, but couldn’t. It was all grisly branches for a hundred feet up.

“Why were you creeping up on me?” Dean pulled your attention back to them.

Battling the unconsciousness that nipped unwaveringly at the corners of your mind, you whispered, “The ache in my chest… the closer I get to you, the easier it is to handle. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just needed to be... closer.”

“And is this better?” He motioned to the foot’s distance between you.

“Yeah,” You half-smiled through gritted teeth, the pain from your side still throbbing. It wouldn’t kill you. Nothing in Purgatory killed a monster except another monster—usually by beheading. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and left you exposed and vulnerable like a wounded animal.

He pursed his lips and shared a look with Benny, who shrugged. “I’ll stay up and watch, Dean. You get more rest before it starts again. And I’ll watch you, specifically.” The other vampire motioned at you, an intensity behind his blue eyes you could identify with. This human was meant to be protected, no matter the personal cost.

Dean was soon asleep again, his back turned to you.

The earth supporting your broken form was anything but forgiving. But still, you weren’t going to waste time whimpering to yourself now that you were a part of the misfit group. “Benny, where are you from? How long have you been here?” You wondered aloud.

He eyed you suspiciously, pausing before he answered. “I ran with a crew out of Louisiana, but we sailed all over the Americas. Been here a long time.”

You adjusted your position with a grunt. Benny’s hand was already on his weapon. “Calm down, sailor, just tryin to get comfortable... I’m from Shreveport. Been here a long time, too. Only did about two centuries up top, though.”

“Well, I’ve got a few on you then, sister. Shreveport was nice. Rolled through there a few times.” The vampire chuckled at the memory.

Even still, your body had different plans for the evening, and if anything else was said afterwards, you wouldn’t remember. Rest was in the cards that evening, even if your mind protested. Between stretches of sweet nothing, nightmarish memories flashed by in haphazard, non-chronological snippets. 

There you stood, on the bridge above deep, twisting waters. Though the wind whipped your hair wildly, you could feel nothing. Not since the day you were bit.

Then you were in the shed on your grandfather’s land, centuries before, when you were young but still so old. Had you ever had a chance? And there were fires and anthills, guns and chains. 

Before that one could go where you knew it would, you shot awake. Benny raised a concerned brow in your direction, but you couldn’t face him. Not after that. Within moments, sleep took you once again. 

The butterfly pinned in the box. Such a stark contrast was that orange and red and blue against the green felt and the glint of silver pins. You would chuckle at the sight if you could. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the glass. 

Then you were on your knees. You didn’t even fight. This? This was the day you died… the second time. By the hands of an inexperienced young hunter who was too focused on fighting with his dad to even notice you there. I mean, he practically tripped over you. The boy looked tall for his age, hazel eyes partially obscured by choppy bangs and mouth pressed into a thin line. He hesitated too long. You’d cocked your head to the side, wondering if he even had it in him to off you, and you almost felt sorry for the kid. Especially when his dad saw. The old black-haired ass berated him, belittled him. Compared him to his older brother. A disgrace, he’d said. Nothing like him, nothing like Mary. When the boy could look you in the eyes, you gave a slight nod as if to say, “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Those bright hazel eyes morphed into the moon cast over a monster wasteland. 

By morning’s light, you felt better, somewhat healed, but mostly sore. You and Benny spoke all the while, learned your ins and outs, and caught up on the situation with Dean, the toothy leviathans, the apocalypse (again), the dick angels, and everything else Dean had filled him in on weeks ago. If you weren’t in Purgatory yourself, you never would’ve believed all this. I mean, angels? C’mon. 

Sure enough, Benny was right. Beasts continued to attack in waves. There were a few close calls, and not one would speak of the whereabouts of the angel Castiel, though a few tried to save themselves by spouting lies. Dean would see right through them. It only ever took one question. “What color are the angel’s eyes?” A few had gotten lucky and guessed blue, but Dean didn’t even accept that answer. You asked once, what answer he was hoping for. He only shook his head in response. 

There were times, though, when he would describe Cas to you in the quiet of night, and it was like listening to a lost lover. Dean gave in after some months and described the angel’s eyes as full of grace, blue, but slightly glowing. And not just any blue, no. The bluest blue you could ever imagine. The purest blue. He spoke longingly about things they’d done, things he wanted to do, wanted to say. Needed to say. You would close your eyes and drift off to him mumbling stories of Cas, the fondness softening his voice.

It was dark again and the almost empty end of a particularly difficult day. You’d all sustained serious injuries from the violent fray that only seemed to become more dense as of late. You and Benny would heal quickly, but Dean wouldn’t… and you worried for him, lingering protectively close.

The weary hunter screamed in time with the monster as he thrust his knife through its eye, his voice echoing long after the lifeless body crumpled in front of him. In a rage, he threw his weapon down, stalking over to a nearby tree. He punched, kicked and threw himself against the bark until he was nearly bloodied beyond recognition. Benny could only look down, powerless to help his friend. Unable to watch any longer, you forced yourself between Dean and the tree. His eyes were closed until his bruised fists struck soft skin stretched over bone, the unexpected change in texture catching him off guard. You winced against it but grabbed his jacket in both hands, balling your own fists into it to hold him firmly in place. Jerking him forward until you were nose to nose, breath and blood mixing, you growled, “We will find him, Dean. But not if you kill yourself first.”

“Y-you sound like him,” His voice cracked and his head fell to your shoulder. You could feel his tears, hot on your frozen skin. This world was so cold and it never ceased to amaze you how he kept his warmth. You held him tightly, even as his knees buckled and swayed. By the state of those green eyes, you could see resignation and defeat creeping up on him. 

You shared a look with Benny, and he knew, too. “I’ll keep watch. You make him rest, cher.” You’d come to learn that Benny preferred to keep watch from all the years he’d had to watch his own backside here. You’d survived in hiding, while he’d made a name for himself—a killer, like Dean (not that either of them ever wanted to be.) You had to give it to him, though. After all, you’d tried to fight off everything in the beginning, but it was too tiring, like living was. So instead, you learned to thrive in shadows and whispers, moving like a ghost through whispers of the trees.

You were grateful for the moment alone with the warm beacon of a man, though. If the electricity across your skin anytime you touched the human indicated anything, it was a confirmation of your heart’s longing. You kept him pulled flush against your chest, his heartbeat so strong that it reverberated through your body. You focused on the feeling. How many centuries had it been since you felt your own beating? Dean’s was so strong it could surely support you both, you thought.

With a groan, Dean pulled the two of you down into a horizontal heap. You couldn’t make out the details of his face in the dark abyss of night, but his heart rate had shifted notably, along with his breathing. His anguish was palpable and you couldn’t help but to take some of it on as your own. He exuded it, it leaked from every pore. 

Supple lips brushed against yours, and you closed your eyes, slowly guiding one hand to his back above you and the other through his hair. It was as soft and silky as you’d hoped it was. You pulled just slightly, allowing your nails to gently spread and retract in circular motions. Dean clenched, the softest sounds carrying on the thick night air. Smiling at the reaction, you carded through the messy spikes and repeated the measure for several moments before Dean crashed into you, with his sudden need matching yours. Every kiss grew deeper, longer, and your tongues began to wrestle gently but urgently between locked lips. He grabbed at you hungrily with a certain ease, unable to hold back anymore, with palms stroking openly up and down your torso, until they slipped below your core.

You both pushed and pulled, wallowed and rolled, careful of injuries but powerless to pull away, fighting to get closer. You helped him slip from his leather jacket, and he groaned into your mouth with a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure. The sound made you shiver, and you hastily removed yourselves from worn and tattered pants, breaking only for a moment. 

“Shh, Dean,” you whispered next to his ear. He nodded, understanding that even in this embrace, you were exposed and hunted. But with skin on skin, it was difficult to keep logic and sanity at the forefront of your mind. 

Dean slowed his pace and shifted until you were straddling him. With a touch so light it tickled, he let his hands trace every angle of your body, until he felt the latest wound and drew back suddenly. 

“It’s okay,”  you breathed into his gaping mouth. 

“No, I-- I’m sorry.” His voice was feeble, desperate. 

Taking his hand in yours, you placed it back where it’d been. It was a small gesture, but the effect it had on Dean was profound. With both hands now, he clutched your sides so tightly, it sent swells of something delicious straight to your center, before rippling out to every nerve ending exposed to the cool air, and then some. 

Just as you began to give in, a rustle from only several feet away snapped you back to reality. You shot up upon bare feet, weapon already in your hand as you scanned the malevolent shadows for the source, listening and feeling for any shift in the air. Dean lay frozen by your feet, head still spinning in weakness and lust.

In a swift turn on the balls of your feet, you faced the intruder, ready for war. 

“It’s just me, cher. I heard something and wanted to make sure you two were okay.” As Benny took in the situation, he laughed softly. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be over there…”

With an annoyed frown, you allowed your stance to go slack. “Thanks.”

Dean touched your leg, leaning in to kiss it lightly before planting a little nibble at your ankle. You slipped back down next to him, gasping when he quickly found your neck and nipped along your clavicle to the sweet spot in the hollow of your neck.

He was shaking slightly under the strain, but lifted himself atop you. To help keep him steady, you placed your hands on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his torso. With a grateful kiss, he traced his tongue across your bottom lips as he lined himself at your entrance. 

His tip sank into your soaked folds and his resulting keen made you tremble beneath him, itching for more. “Dean, p-please…”

“What do you want?”

You rotated your hips against his, fighting to make him move. “Please, fuck… Dean I need you. Need more.”

Your begging tore his resolve to shreds and he sunk into you, stretching and filling you like nothing ever before. Your back arched at the sensations as they nearly overwhelmed you, drowning out the hell around you and leaving only Dean. Your heavy breathing barely registered as you whined his name. A shallow shriek betrayed you. Dean placed a calloused hand over your mouth, and it only drove you more mad. 

As he bottomed out and began short but powerful thrusts, tears gathered at the edges of your eyes. Everytime, he hit that sweet spot. Everytime, you whimpered into his hand and dug your fingers into his flesh tighter. Everytime, he moaned in response. 

It wasn’t long before those slow, drawn out jolts coiled you so tight you could barely contain yourself. Dean could sense the change as you began to rub against him, allowing the friction to take you over the edge. Right as you fell off into a fierce and roiling sea of ecstasy, Dean replaced his hand over your mouth with his own, swallowing your choppy breaths as you twitched and spasmed beneath him. 

Still lost in the swell, you felt the hunter release and fall, spent, onto your chest. You managed to wrap your arms around him and held him steadfastly, not ready to let go. It was incredible to watch Dean unravel and relax for the first time. In fact, it’d just become your favorite drug. 

Unknown to the broken lovers, a pair of “gorilla-wolves” attempted to interrupt throughout the steamy romp in the leaves, but Benny quickly took care of them. The nasty things wouldn’t have gotten as close as they had, but the vampire had been distracted by the sinfully delicious sounds coming from the far side of the tree. He’d tried to ignore it at first but found his mind wandering. It’d been ages since he’d felt the touch of another being, and the want rose up in him, a fire in his stomach.

You panted next to Dean when he rolled to the side, your injuries far from mind in the lasting rapture from being one with the human. His breathing was still ragged, but slowing. The wound on the back of his shoulder had reopened. Begrudgingly , he let you patch it again. Once dressed, you fell back to the sorry bed of leaves. Dean nuzzled into your side and let out a pained sigh as sleep found him. You could’ve sworn you heard the faintest “Don’t let me die here…” fall from his lips. Your grip on him tightened. You’d get him out if it killed you. But first, you had to find that elusive angel.

It was another month of the same routine. Days and nights ran together. The closer you got to the angel, the denser the swarm of monsters was. Even Benny seemed to be on his last leg. You offered to keep watch this time. At first Benny protested, but you shut him down.

“It’s broad daylight out here. I can see them coming from far enough off, I can give you plenty of time to wake up and fight if I can’t handle it. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t feel like protesting too much, and finally nodded, sad blue eyes locking on yours in a silent promise of trust in comradery.

A few hours passed, and you stood to stretch. A twig snapped behind you, and you twirled quickly, your knife to Benny’s throat. His hands raised. “Sorry cher, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nearly lost your fool head. Why aren’t you resting?” You dropped your arms and stood next to the vampire, staring out through the forest again, scanning. Listening.

“I rested enough.”

“Right, that’s why you have to use that tree to support yourself.” His lips pressed into a hard smile, electric eyes dropping to the ground. When he looked back up, something in them had changed. He reached towards you, hesitant, and brushed the wavy mess of hair from your face behind your ear, hand gently gliding across your jaw until his thumb rested on your lip.

You closed your eyes and shuddered under the vampire’s touch. It was more familiar than Dean’s. You leaned into it, following as it guided you into his embrace. He was larger than Dean and still smelled of the swamp and sea. The scent was intoxicating, dragging all of your attention to Benny. 

He pulled back for a moment and cradled your face in the large, thick hands of a sailor. “You okay with this? Don’t want you to feel pressured, darlin’.”

“Mm not pressured,” you smiled up into those spirited sharp blue eyes. You lost yourself in them, completely ensnared. You could see past them, to cerulean glittering waters, could feel the lapping of them against your old boat, hear the seagulls and crows chattering as they glided on heatwaves, taste the salt on your tongue. 

You stretched up on your tiptoes, craning to taste the salt on his lips, feel the waves in the way his tongue twists. Benny must have felt the same, as he met your parted lips in a feverish kiss, maneuvering you effortlessly between himself and the tree for support until he was rutting into you.

The touch was bittersweet and starved, driving both of you as you stripped away layers. Benny pressed into you until the bark bit into your back and arms. You knocked the hat from atop his head to get closer, to guide him in, and he responded by taking the thin flesh of your neck into his mouth. Fangs drug thin scratch lines over your chest and shoulders, followed by sucking kisses. Benny grunted as he settled next to your ear, the growing bulge in his remaining trousers becoming almost painful in the restriction. 

Sensing this, you moved to loosen the last piece of his clothing until it slumped to his ankles, all the while raw, needy noises spilled from your mouth. If only you’d found each other topside, things would have been better. You wouldn’t have let that young, long-haired hunter boy and his grumpy father kill you.

In one smooth move, Benny hooked his fingers into your jeans and slid them off, until you were completely free of them. With lust in your eyes, you found his full lips once more. You bit and sucked at his bottom lip until he was throbbing against you and whispering your name in short breaths in desperation. 

With a slight adjustment in position, he grabbed your ribcage and lifted you just enough to line himself at your entrance. Hungrily, you raised your knees and rested them on his sides. You dug your nails into his shoulders in anticipation, but he didn’t keep you waiting long. With a final shift of his angle, Benny slid into you unrestrained.

His pace was unforgiving. He was rougher, more desperate, yet somehow more controlled than Dean. Pain was something you both knew too well, and found pleasure in at this moment. Neither of you had to hold back in fear of hurting the other. 

Benny muttered a long string of praises as he placed his cheek on yours and relished in the fragmented breaths and mewls leaking from your gaping mouth.

Between the friction to your front and the sharp ache in your back, the intense set of his pace brought unwanted tears to the corners of your eyes. Before you knew it, he had you biting back a scream as you came in his arms, your back digging into the tree as he held you through it. You sank your teeth into his neck, drawing blood and pushing back the sharper set as they threatened to emerge. He snarled into your ear and released, standing for a moment, relishing in your closeness.

For a time, you just remained in that position as he softened inside you, foreheads resting fondly on each other.

Dean stirred, grumbling as he woke. With a silently shared promise to continue the embrace another day, the two of you straightened yourselves back out and rounded the tree to greet the sleep-starved human.

Over the next two weeks, the three of you grew much closer. Sometimes in between attacks, you took solace in each other. Most times it was talk, but when words were too difficult and your bodies needed to feel something… else, something primal and good and pure, they would pass you between them, never straying too far.

Benny's eyes would always drift and land upon Deans. It intoxicated him, pulled at his heart in ways that tore him apart. Deep green eyes, full of hope and goodness and humanity… something fragile yet unbreakable, much like what he once saw in Andrea’s. Just like Andrea’s. As much as he tried to put her memory to rest, Dean’s gaze would always take his breath, whether they were fighting or fucking, and the feelings that washed over Benny were wild and raw.

You ventured off to scout ahead one day, leaving Benny to help Dean walk after a surprise run in with a gorilla wolf didn’t fare so well. Those things sure liked Dean. Could you blame them? As you cleared the spaces ahead, you reminisced on the first time it happened. 

It’d started innocently enough, some kissing and tender touches traded between you and Dean. You craved comfort, and his touch never disappointed. The fading daylight illuminated something… different, something new in his eyes. There was a spark of acceptance? Resignation? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but for some reason the usually tightly wound hunter was relaxed. His movements were delicate and slow, a stark contrast to the usual quickie on the run. 

You nearly lost your balance when he stripped your pants away and traced deliberate sucking kisses down to your sweet spot. You’d had to catch yourself from falling over at the heady sensations, threading your hands into his hair and holding on for dear life (or death.) Within moments, Benny swooped in to support you from behind, snaking a strong arm around your stomach as Dean began to lick and hum and stroke you in ways you’d never felt. Your blood burned like fire, causing every inch of your skin to become more sensitive. 

Benny brushed the hair from your shoulder with his free hand, then took a fistful of it and guided your head back. With a contented sigh, he took your exposed neck into his mouth and you twitched violently between the shivers running down and the heat rising up. The contrast of Dean’s soft lips to the burn of his stubble mirrored that of the rough, blood soaked fabric of Benny’s jacket against the smooth of your skin… and it drove you mad. Your vision swelled with every wave and the sounds of the cursed world around you faded as if cotton had been shoved in your ears. 

Your legs gave way and you fell into Dean’s lap as he chuckled, watching you come undone. The orgasm hit you somewhere along the way down, untouched but wound so tightly that you couldn’t hold out another moment.

While you writhed against him, Dean held you securely to his chest with arms that crushed into your ribs and pinned your arms to your sides. Your head finally came to rest upon his shoulder, and as your senses eased back into focus, you realized that you were completely laid down upon his bare chest. Still buzzing from the high, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck and laid a small peck. Dean’s resulting smile stretched wide, and you could feel it there without even needing to see it. 

“You okay, baby?” Dean gently stroked your back up and down with one hand, and moved to tangle strong fingers in your hair to hold the base of your head tenderly with the other. 

When you found your voice, you muttered a small, “yeah, thank you.”

Benny kneeled beside you and lowered his face until your foreheads met, the three of you so impossibly close. “You up for some more, sugar?”

You smiled wryly and closed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m all yours.”

Though your limbs were but heavy gelatin, you managed to lift out of your shirt as the men undressed. Pulling Dean’s discarded coat over you like a blanket, you rested against a fallen tree and admired them. Dean was more slender, but faster and stronger. The way his muscles rippled and creased beneath pale, freckled skin reminded you of a swimmer--all lean and mean. He was graceful in every movement, like a dancer. Benny was a little more solid, built like a tank. Maybe he wasn’t as fast, but there was no going through him. You’d seen beasts hit him straight on with full power, and the vampire had barely flinched. Those fists could break anything, but his face was always… soft. Kind. Dean’s was hardened, but you couldn’t blame him. And yes, there were moments, like this, where the lines of his face smoothed, and some color returned to his cheeks. 

How you’d ever found Heaven in this Hell, you’d never come to understand. But you were ever grateful. Hopeful for a future with them topside, however it may go. 

Dean’s outstretched hand pulled you from your daydream. You took it, letting the jacket go as he helped you stand. As you stood, he continued to pull you forward until you were flush with him. He pressed a firm kiss to your scalp and rubbed his palms up and down your body. His cock twitched against your belly, and you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing just a little tighter at the new flood of arousal. 

Benny snaked his arms around you from behind, until his hands rested on your neck, not gripping, but just *there.* The weight of them naturally guided your head to fall back against his chest. He growled into your ear, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So good for us, cher.”

Your mouth fell agape and released a strangled moan as Dean kissed along your exposed neck and mumbled a steady stream of “You’re such a good girl for us, such a good fighter, a great companion.” 

With every word, a new fire raged through your veins. Your face burned hot. Dean’s hands wandered south, caressing every inch passionately. One hand found its home grasping your thigh right under your ass, and the other came to rest in your dripping folds. You bucked against the touch and right into Benny’s length resting between your cheeks. 

You whimpered, needing more, needing release. “D-Dean please, fuck. I need you. I want you inside me, please--unnghh.”

Dean teased your entrance for a moment more before the wrecked look on your face and the subtle, high pitched sounds spilling from you completely enraptured him. Benny nodded, moving his hands to steady your sides as you squirmed uncontrollably. With a swift movement, you were raised up with both of Dean’s hands cupping and spreading your ass until he lined up at your folds and let you sink down much too slowly. 

Pathetic cries filled the air as you struggled to maintain control, the stretch of him almost too much to handle and not nearly enough all at once. You shook and grabbed at anything you could hold with a flutter in your chest that threatened to make you implode. And yet, the intense feelings only grew. Benny planted himself and anchored with a strong arm outstretched and clutching to Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean bit his lip fiercely and let out a pained groan at the other man’s unyielding hold on him. His cock twitched again as he bottomed out deep inside you. The depth burned and ached, and with it your eyes came to focus on Dean’s. 

The emerald green was more prominent now, outlined by the hot blush beneath a spray of freckles. His brows were drawn tightly and jaw slack, full, pink lips parted in bliss. His breathing was erratic, and with every intake of cool evening air, Dean trembled. 

You mewled and whined, shifted against them, desperate for friction. The slightest broken smile graced the hunter’s face and he nodded, knowing but not yet ready. 

Tears already began to gather as you fought the urge to physically fight the men into submission, to finally scratch that itch. Benny didn’t leave you waiting much longer though, before he was slipping and pushing into place in your ass. The deliberate burn of him spreading you open opposite Dean left you thrashing between them. 

Dean took a deep breath in as a reminder for you to do the same. If it weren’t for him grounding you and helping you through, the black void would’ve already sucked you in as another victim. You did your best to relax and bore down, allowing Benny to fill your other hole completely to his base. 

The vampire grimaced through his own keening, the tightness of you nearly sending him over the edge right there and then. You stilled between them, already on the verge of destruction as the three of you adjusted to the new feelings washing over you in waves. 

Dean’s lips found yours, open and wanting. Taking his tongue hungrily into your mouth, you sucked and fell absolutely limp as he sucked your lower lip between his. The scent of him was utterly intoxicating, and you were ready once more. 

Benny began to move in tandem with Dean. With every movement of the both of them against your thin membrane, a wailing cry seeped between your clenched teeth. Benny was now clutching both of Dean’s shoulders so tightly that were white bloodless patches beneath each of his fingertips. This made Dean buck harder until the hunter’s eyes shut tightly and left his head bobbing backwards in lust. 

The symphony of your cries was lost beneath those of the two men, who shuddered and swayed. The sweet, sinful music flooded your mind and sent you reeling over the edge once more, clenching and swearing and falling against Benny’s outstretched arm. 

Dean’s thrusts faltered as his stuttered, “I’m.. I’m about to--”

“Just let go, brother,” Benny encouraged. 

It was the only confirmation Dean needed before his load spilled into you, sending renewed longing to your stomach as he pulsed inside you. “Fuck Dean,.. You feel so good,” you managed.

Benny came seconds later, and you relished in the full warmth of them. 

You smiled to yourself as the familiar electricity flooded your veins and leaked to your core. It may have been the first time, but every time since had only been… better. Impossibly, incredibly better. 

Upon your return, you noticed that Dean had found new strength.

“We’re closer than ever to Cas, he’s three days away by the river. We’re almost done! We can go home!” Dean was grinning widely, a spark finally back in his tired eyes.

You smiled, scooping him into a rough embrace. If Dean was happy, you were happy. Benny joined you in the bear hug. You were so ready to be topside again, and now, it was so close you could just taste it.

Your second chance.

With a start, Benny hollered and let go, leaving Dean tense and alert in your arms. Then, he threw you to the side as a beast attacked. Its whole face morphed into a shark-tooth ringed mouth, and you grimaced.

Leviathan. You must’ve been really close to that angel.

You drew your weapon as one engaged you, swung and lopped its head off easily after years of practice, until something glinting and sharp emerged where it should not have been.

You looked down, the blade bloodied and protruding through your chest, through your lungs. Unable to draw a breath, you fell to your knees.

“No!” Both Benny and Dean were yelling, voices echoing through the hostile forest. Black ooze covered them from the slain monsters. You looked up as your assailant withdrew the sizable knife from your back and placed it against your neck. It was another vampire. You looked back to the boys.

“You killed our sister, so now we’re gonna kill yours,” the voice behind you teased in a sing-songy tone. More boots shuffled into your line of view.

Benny looked absolutely broken as he charged, extra teeth bared sharply in defiance. Dean bounded to you, holding your gaze with those emerald green eyes as he expertly dodged the advances of his adversaries.

Once again, your breath was seized and you relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into the comforting depths of that hunter’s eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting…This would finally be the end of the suffering. To oblivion. The warmth from Dean’s soul flooded over you as he got closer, but it was too late.

Your head rolled from your body. 

Dean decimated the group of vampires in record time, the rage fully restored and urging his body forward against all odds. Once again, the hunter had become more vicious than any monster in the land. In two days, he would limp to the river and find his angel.

You, however, woke on the other side of Purgatory. Oblivion was not something that would ever come for you. There would never be a release. Despair, overcoming any hope you ever had, creeped its dark tendrils through your entire being and swiped your feet from underneath you. So that’s what happens to monsters who die in monster heaven… they get respawned and zapped to another part. Great. You were stuck in hell, too far away now to reach them in time. One day you would find a way out. You had to. But first, you would have to find the strength. Strength you may never have again. You curled into a ball, mind silent as you gave into the feeling, a single, small tear streaking a thin line from your eye into the dust. 

You were alone. Again. 

Your second chance gone along with the human and his friends.

 This was my second attempt at writing smut and maybe I got carried away??

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles​ @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch​ @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog​ @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0​ @impala-dreamer​ @arryn-nyxx​ @idk-life01 @attorneyl​ @deathtonormalcy56​ @xwing-baby​ @wonder-cole​ @itsangelpie-supports​ @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog​@icecream-and-gadreel

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling​ @abbessolute @emptywithout​

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278​ @will-winchester