#i hate how this turned out. don’t read it if you value your time

[piepiepiemag]

Blown Cover

Montague (Fortnite) x !(GN)Reader

Summary: you're a silly spy, on a silly mission, getting caught by some silly french dude.

Tags from AO3: No Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hostage Situations, Touch Starved Montague (Fortnite), Touched starved Reader, Codependency, Everyone in this fic has BPD, Whatever the opposite of a slow burn is, Proofread (but badly), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POC Friendly, Unhealthy Power Dynamics

The mission set out for you was by no means easy, but at least he instructions were simple enough. Enter the Grand Glacier Hotel. Get your hands on Montague’s relic. Return back to the agency.

You were sent out for a reason, your boss completely trusted that you could finish the job without a single problem, so the fact that you got caught while still on the first step of the plan was unbelievably embarrassing. You were by no means a rookie, but you definitely felt like one now.

This guy was too smart. All of his abilities way beyond yours. You practically lost the game the moment you decided to play it, and now there you were, captured in the vault below the hotel.

As you slowly came to, all you could see in the dimly lit room was the man in front of you, and the lustre of the artifact hanging from his neck. It was so close. If you could just reach out your hand and grab it, it would all be over.

But alas your hands were tightly bound behind your back. Same with your legs, making you sit in a somewhat uncomfortable position while leaning your back against the wall.

Your captor pulled out a chair from the far end of the room and brought it in front of you, sitting down in complete silence.

“Why did you come here?” - his voice was less intimidating than you expected it to be, it was almost soft, with a hint of a french accent. You just stared at him, wordless.

“What was the goal of your mission?” - he asked again, his face slowly contorting in frustration. You didn’t say anything. That’s what you were taught to do in a situation like this. Cooperation wasn’t your strong suit anyway. - “Did you come here for this?”

He motioned at the diamond relic but he was met with nothing once again.

Montague was getting increasingly fed up with your silence, pulling his pistol out of its holster and pointing it at your forehead. For a few seconds you still considered if answering would even be worth it, warranting him to dig the barrel of the gun deeper into your skin.

“Yes, for the artifact.” - you groaned, the sharp pain making it even harder to think. - “But I don’t know what it was for. I was never told.”

You lied without even a flinch of your face. You obviously knew what it was for. Even if your boss didn’t tell you, you could guess. It was an attempt to combat his curse. If it was as powerful as they said, then maybe the diamond relic would be able to help him control his golden touch.

You were willing to do anything in your power to help him. And look where that got you.

“Good job.” - he said as he withdrew his gun voice almost sultry. The sound of that made you feel kind of gross, but you had to consider if this could be your way out. Just maybe he would be low enough to fall for it.

“You know, i could do even better if you got these cuffs off of me..” - you batted your eyelashes as you whispered in a low tone, motioning at your hands behind your back.

He looked back at you, his face showing utter horror and disgust, like he was trying to say “How dare you even assume i would do something like that?” with just his eyes. He took a few seconds before regaining his composure.

“The Rules of War are a thing for a reason. Don’t even try.” - with that he got up from his chair and walked over to the desk at the far end of the room. Worth a try anyways.

He looked over all the things he had taken off of you. Guns, guns, more guns, your earpiece, phone, emergency med kit and various other items. Most of these have been taken apart while you were out cold, to see if they had any tracking devices inside of them. Unsurprisingly, a lot of them did. Montague left them on on purpose. He mused over them for a few more minutes before turning back towards you.

“Give your boss a call for me, will you?” - His voice sounded more threatening now, obviously not willing to take no for an answer. You didn’t even want to try. With your earpiece having been disassembled and laid out on his desk he had no choice but to grab your phone.

He grabbed it, then leisurely walked up to were you were sitting. He reached behind you in an attempt to activate the fingerprint lock but you stopped him.

“Won’t work. My fingers are fried” - you wiggled your hands for good measure as you sighed, recalling the pain of having your fingerprints permanently removed. The scars were ugly too but it is what it is. You were a spy after all. Things like that were necessary. Just a part of the job.

He thought about it only for a second before holding the phone in front of your face, activating the face id system. It unlocked without a hitch and he started scrolling through the contacts.

“Under M. He’s the only one.” - you said as he followed your instructions. He swiped his finger on the screen a few times before finally settling on the one he needed.

“Midass?” - He raised an eyebrow and you would have laughed if it wasn’t for your current predicament. You just nodded.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Agent?” - on the fourth beep he finally picked up, his voice echoing through the room.

“Midas-” - you gasped out instinctively, almost falling over as you struggled to get closer to the phone, like reaching it would save you. Never in your life would you have thought you'd be so happy to hear his voice. You quickly stopped in your tracks as you felt the cold barrel of his gun press against the back of your head, as if to signal “stay in your lane”.

“I have something dear to you. If you want it back, i’d suggest getting it yourself. Come alone and unarmed” - and with these simple instructions he hung up.

Shit. You should have know Montague didn’t want a ransom or anything superficial like that. Not only did you cause trouble for yourself but the agency and your boss too. You could only imagine the talk he would give you afterwards. Of course, you would have to return alive for that. And the chances of that were dropping lower and lower by the minute.

Would he even risk it to come and get you? Right now, you were as good as dead.

Montague glanced over the items on the desk again, eyes wandering to the rest of your gear on the floor, including your shoes. He turned his gaze towards you.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have been caught if you wore normal shoes.”

This fucking guy. Not only was this situation insanely humiliating, no, he also had to jab at the thing you’re the most sensitive about. Those platforms were an extension of you at this point. You had to beg Midas on three separate occasions to be able to wear them to missions, and now this pompous french fuck decided to roast them as well.

“Insecure I’m taller than you with them?” - a truly weak rebuttal left your mouth as you grumbled to yourself. He was already pretty tall, but you just couldn’t let this one go without saying anything back.

He let out something that almost resembled a genuine laugh, before turning on his heels and heading towards the door of the vault. Good riddance. His shoes looked even dumber than yours anyways.

“I’ll be back.” - with that he opened the door and two guards walked in, taking his place. He left to god knows where and now you were there with twice as many eyes on you. It would be stupid to try anything sneaky like this.

The guards were silent, not even chatting amongst themselves, and for a while you just sat around and watched them. They seemed even less willing to communicate than you, so not having anything better to do you slid down against the wall and closed your eyes. Whatever they used to knock you out with still lingered in your system, making you more tired than usual. Just a moment of rest won’t hurt.

The next morning you woke up to the loud creaking of the vault door, the reddish gold sunrise barely creeping into the dark room. In the doorway stood a figure that you could only barely make out, a tall man in a suit, and your heart almost skipped a beat.

Was he..?

Your hopes shattered just as quickly when he stepped closer.

It wasn’t Midas.

Without his long coat Montague’s silhouette looked eerily similar, but maybe it was just the weirdo rich guy aura they both exuded. Imposing, elegant in their every move. Heads up their own asses probably.

He was carrying something in his hand but you didn’t care to look at him any longer after that. You lowered your gaze to the floor as you turned your whole body to the side. The severity of your situation was quickly dawning on you.

It must have been at least 6 hours since the call was placed. If he hasn’t gotten here in that time there’s a chance he never will. Maybe you weren’t as important as you thought you were.

“Expected someone else?” - Montague asked in his usual prickly way but you tuned him out entirely. You tried to keep it together as best as you could but it was futile. Who cares about protocols at this point. You just wanted to cry.

“Hey..” - he approached again, tone much softer this time. He kneeled down in front of you, getting dust and grime all over his expensive pair of pants. You immediately tensed up as he reached out towards you, only for him to wipe the wayward tears, that you couldn’t hold back, off of your face. - “Maybe it’s a long way here.”

You shrugged out of his touch. The last person you wanted comforting from was the guy who got you into this mess to begin with.

At the same time, it wasn’t all bad. You couldn’t recall the last time someone touched you like this, trying to be comforting, without any malice or intent to hurt.

It was pathetic, but you almost craved more.

After a bit of silence, that probably felt longer than it was he spoke up again.

“I brought you breakfast.” - his words finally piqued your interest and you looked up at him. In his hand was a small plate packed with exquisite looking pastries and fruits. You also had access to expensive looking food at the agency but you never really had time to treat yourself to breakfasts there. Work always came first.

Up until this point you didn’t really consider just how hungry you were. He could have offered you moldy bread and you still would have taken it. Unless there was a catch.

“You’re going to poison me now or what?” - you scrunched up your nose at him, voice still a bit hoarse from crying. He didn’t seem too phased by it, at this point you just looked like a sad, wet kitten he found at the side of the road, trying to keep up a tough act.

“Would it make sense for me to poison you before your boss even gets here?” - he gave a knowing half smile before picking up one of the croissants from the plate and taking a bite. You studied his face, making note of every move as he chewed and swallowed his food. That was enough to convince you and you sat up, struggling a bit against your bonds.

He picked up the other pastry from the plate and reached it towards your mouth, unwilling to untie you just yet. You thought about it for a second before finally taking a bite.

It was really good. So soft and sweet, nothing like the ones you were used to before being hired by the agency. The days of eating cheap, cardboard flavoured croissants were long gone, yet you could still recall them like it was yesterday. This job and by proxy your boss really saved your life. You felt like no matter how much work you put in, it was never enough to repay him for it.

By the time you finished that thought your food was gone as well, and Montague reached for the bright red strawberries that were laid out in a flower like shape on the plate. You watched as his hands moved down so delicately, then up towards you. You caught his gaze, fixed right on you and your stomach churned a little.

Being hand fed like this already felt almost intimate, but the way he looked at you just made it so much more worse.

Seeing him from up close, you could really tell just how attractive he was, not like it was hard to tell beforehand. His mismatched eyes were captivating on their own, but his features made them even more striking. He was a very pretty man, and he knew it. If he told you he was a model you wouldn’t even question it. Not even the scars across his face could ruin this perfect image, they only enhanced it further.

You tried to shoo these thoughts away as you continued to eat, even as his fingers slightly brushed against your lips occasionally. Getting flustered over the man holding you captive would be the lowest point of your career. Even lower than getting caught upon entering the location of your mission.

“Was it good?” - he asked with a small smile on his face. It was probably easy to tell by the way you ravaged that croissant, like it was your last meal on this earth.

“Yes, Sir.” - you face immediately turned pale as you realised what you just said out loud. You coughed a little to clear your throat before your voice fully left you.- “No I mean- Sorry just- Force of habit.”

He found it amusing enough, laughing a little to himself. You must have looked real stupid there. Almost a freudian slip. You decided to change the topic immediately lest he decided to ask about it.

“Can I have a cigarette please?” - you mumbled in a tone much meeker than you usually would. He nodded, rummaging through his pocket before pulling out a small black box. Treasurer. Is this really what all the rich guys smoke? You shouldn’t have been surprised, but at least this one was familiar.

Montague leisurely reached into the box, pulling out a cigarette fully coated in black. It looked cool, you’ll give him that. He held it towards your mouth and you parted your lips just enough for it to fit. Then he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and flicked it a few times before it finally lit up, the golden flame taking over the once dark cigarette. This felt even weirder than being hand fed.

You inhaled slowly. A habit this nasty shouldn’t feel this good. But after what happened yesterday, this was exactly what you needed. You exhaled the smoke, trying not aim for his face since he was gracious enough to share it with you. He reached for it and took it out of your mouth to flick the end off. This continued on for a little before he spoke up.

“It must have been uncomfortable to sleep down here. I’m willing to lend you a room up in the hotel, if you wish so.” - his face was devoid of any malice but you didn’t trust it for a second. Why would he want to do that for his hostage? Out of the kindness of his heart? Most definitely not.

But he was right, the vault was cold and dark, despite its lavish looks. You were used to camping out in uncomfortable places from time to time, but the thought of sleeping in a normal, warm bed was just too enticing.

“What’s the catch?” - you asked bluntly, studying his face, waiting for the moment he slipped up. This sounded way too good to be true. Such an easy bait, something only an idiot would fall for.

“Must there always be one?” - he gave you a half smile but he quickly realised you weren’t buying his theatrics at all. You saw right through him, though it wasn’t that hard.

You took a long drag from your cigarette in place on an answer.

“I’ve looked through your records. You seem quite capable.” - he said, very matter of fact. You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with this, so you just stared at him, somewhat confused. - “I want you to join my team.”

He must have been out of his mind to even suggest that.

“You want to hire me even after I got caught by you?” - you huffed out a strained laugh, raising an eyebrow. This must be some sort of a sick joke on his end. A way to further humiliate you. And yet he seemed so strangely sincere about it.

“Oh, don’t take that to heart.” - he laughed, swiping his thumb over your cheek. So demeaning, but almost comforting in a way. - “You had no chance against me.”

What a punchable face he had.

“You must be real stupid if you think I’d betray my boss for you.” - you blurted out. You squinted your eyes, full of anger at the implication. The fact that he even thought about it for a second pissed you off, let alone presenting it to you as an option.

He took a firm hold of your chin as to not let you look away. He wanted all of your attention on him, and for you to know who’s still the one in control. You felt chills running down your spine.

“No no, who said betray? Take it more as.. cooperation between two parties. A truce if you will.” - that sly smirk on his face made you all the more frustrated. Just what did he even mean by that? A truce for what exactly? Your head was running wild with ideas, but either way, it was not like you really had a choice.

“So?” - his voice interjected into your racing thoughts, as you were trying to imagine every scenario and how they could play out based on your answer. None of the ones where you said “no” ended well.

“Fine, I’ll do what you want.” - you sighed in defeat, lowering your gaze as much as you could, while he still had a hold of you. - “Just don’t hurt anyone from the agency. Please.”

“Mhm, good. I can do that. That is, if they don’t attack first." - he stroked your cheek a few more times, almost sickeningly affectionately. Then his grip on your chin lessened and soon enough he let go of you entirely. It was good to know that you were both on the same page about the possible rescue efforts. If Midas was coming to get you he was definitely not coming alone, no matter what the conditions were. But it didn’t seem like he minded that. Maybe he was betting on that possibility.

Montague put out the remainder of the cigarette on the ground, smearing the ash across the expensive looking carpet. He would have to get that replaced.

He leaned in closer to you as he pulled out a small, shiny switchblade from his pocket and reached for your legs, cutting the rope around them with a few calculated motions. For a moment you though he was going to cut clean into you, but clearly this wasn’t his first rodeo. Either way he seemed a little too confident in his abilities.

He took his time untangling the rope from around your legs, making sure to take in the sight in the process. He reached for your shoes and promptly dropped them in front of you. The moment you managed to struggle yourself into them the world seemed just a bit brighter. Comfy, at last.

After he was done he stood up and dusted off his pants. Those needed to be replaced as well.

He reached out his arms towards you, taking a firm grip on your shoulders as he pulled you up from the ground. Your legs were still too shaky for you to stand, after being cramped in one position for so long, but he expected it, pulling you just a bit closer to himself for balance. Too close. You could practically smell the expensive cologne he was wearing, something with sandalwood and a touch of vanilla. You swallowed hard. If you let your mind wander just a bit too long you might have rested your head on his shoulder.

His right arm snaked around your waist to get a better hold on you, and for a second you almost thought it felt nice. That was until you felt something cold and metallic press against the other side of your body. A gun. Of course. Even if it was just for show, it still made you consider every step you took. You were still planning to use those organs he was aiming at.

The walk up to the first floor of the hotel was long and awkward. You didn’t exactly have the time to look around and take in the sights when you first got here, so you tried your best to memorise where everything was.

The hotel was beautiful and lavish, all the walls and pillars trimmed in gold and decorated in a way that just screamed rich. Some of it was definitely expensive just for the sake of it, but the end result was still impressive nonetheless.

A vacation here would have been nice. Guess that’s off the list now.

He finally stopped in front of a door that didn’t seem any different from the others at a first glance, pulling out his keys from his pocket and unlocking it.

The moment you stepped in you noticed just how suspicious it all was. Guns and weapons mounted on the wall, an expensive looking laptop and monitors sitting on the desk, the luxury clothing peeking out of the halfway open closet.

So there was another catch. This must be his room.

Your racing thoughts got even more hazy as he stopped in front of the king sized bed, motioning for you to take a seat. You reluctantly did so.

“It would be inappropriate to keep you tied up now that you’re a part of my team.” - he said, pulling out his switchblade and reaching towards you back for your hands. - “ I’ll take this off, if you promise to behave.”

“I’ll try to..” - you sighed, leaning forward a bit to give him better access. He cut through the rope in one swift motion, slicing through it like it was melting butter. Just how many times did he have to do this..

You pulled your hands into your lap, hissing in pain as you ran your fingers over the rope burn. You might have struggled too much for your own good back at the vault. It didn’t matter though, you were at least free now. In theory.

Montague’s gaze softened as he reached for your hands, cradling them in his own, something close to actual remorse flashing over his eyes for a second. You weren’t sure if you should buy it. You couldn’t tell if anything he ever said was truly genuine. A flurry of thoughts raced through your head.

You could kill him right now. He’s defenceless. Distracted. You could snap his neck any second. And yet you decided not to.

He sighed quietly, pulling your hands up to him before placing soft kisses all over your torn skin. His lips were so warm, it made you feel dizzy, unable to pull your hand back, and unable to want to as well. You stared at him, expression unchanging and mind blank, but unable to hide just how hot your face was getting. If this was his way of apologising, then he managed to do a good job.

After a few seconds he pulled away, turning towards the entrance and promptly locking the door.

“I’ll run you a bath if you want.” - he said, walking towards the bathroom door. He opened it, revealing a large room full of white and greenish furnishings, packed to the brim with bath and beauty products. - “Im sure it would feel nice to relax a bit. I can bring you clean clothes as well.”

You were still a bit too starstruck by his previous actions to react, staring at your bruised hands, mind replaying the image over and over again. It took you a moment before you finally managed to get your head straight and answer him.

“Will you be watching me or..?” - you raised an eyebrow, finally back to your suspicious self. Montague chuckled, visibly unsure about you being truly serious. The tides have turned.

“Of course not. You said you would behave, haven’t you?” - with that he walked into the bathroom, towards the white marble bathtub, opening the tap and watching the hot mist rise up from it. - “Besides, this room has no windows. I trust you won’t break down the wall while I’m not looking.”

He smirked, unaware of the fact that you have in fact done that on more than one occasion before. You didn’t have the explosives, nor the nerve to do it in such a cramped room though.

“Thank you..” - you muttered, unusually quiet. You got off the bed and walked towards the room, closing the door and twisting the lock quickly. You scanned the door with your eyes, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t see through any of the cracks.

Next you strolled around the room, checking for any possible places a camera could be hidden. All clear. Maybe he did do this out of the kindness of his heart for once. It never hurt to be cautious though..

You walked up to the bathtub and stripped of your dusty clothes, leaving them in a pile as you stepped into the water.

Many different brands of shampoos, conditioners and body washes lined the side of the tub, but the ones that caught your attention was the bath salts. You opened them one by one, smelling them and pondering on the best choice. Once you picked the winner you poured probably more than you should have into the tub, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere it brought.

You did the same for the rest of the products, deciding to waste as much time as you possibly could. It was nice to have some time for yourself for once, even if it had to come at a situation like this. With the conditioners applied, you sunk down into the tub, laying your head on the edge and closing your eyes. You kept wondering about how all of this had happened.

Why were you immediately suspicious to him upon entering the hotel? Your best guess was that he must have already had some info on you, but you couldn’t be for sure.

Montague was a frustrating enigma. On a first glance you wouldn’t have written him down as a master thief and manipulator, maybe just some rich pretty boy with a strange taste in jewellery. That just meant he was good at his job and even better at hiding his darker side.

Half the things he said he did so with that annoyingly charming smirk, like he knew he was playing everyone in the room and he just couldn’t help but let it slip sometimes. He was a true megalomaniac, but you were somewhat familiar with his kind by now.

His relic was even more of a mystery, it’s origin and full properties and powers all unknown. According to one witness he could turn his body parts into pure diamond with it. Some said his whole body can be transformed into it. You had to wonder if it he might harm himself while doing that. If the diamonds might stay lodged into his skin after. If it ever leaves a scar..

Your mind wandered, trying to imagine where his scars could be formed. Maybe across the arm he uses? Maybe on his chest, where it’s the closest to? Maybe through his legs, running down his thighs or-

You shot up from the water, snapping your eyes open, having had just about enough of those fantasies. You were certainly out of line now, the nagging thoughts in your head reminding you about how he also takes baths here, pushing images into your mind, not making your situation any better.

You washed your hair off and pulled the plug, letting the now colourful water flow down the drain. You reached for the towel that was previously placed by him on the sink. Relishing in its softness, you stepped in front of the mirror, beginning to dry your hair, using all the products laid out for it.

Once you were done with that you finally took a close look at the massive skincare collection standing in front of his mirror, which you have been eyeing the entire time.

It was a lot. By any standards. You carefully looked over and studied all of them before deciding on what to do.

You took them one by one and applied them, having the time of your life in the meantime. You were honestly kind of jealous of his collection. This time you didn’t exactly care about how they would affect your skin, you were hellbent on using up as many as you could. Have a little revenge. Make him think he’s safe when he’s reaching for his favourite lotion, only to find out that it’s empty.

Once you were done with your petty crime of passion you looked towards the door. Maybe he forgot about the clothes. If push comes to shove you could wear the same ones again.

“Can i have the clean clothes please?” - you raised your voice loud enough for him to hear. You heard faint ruffling from the other side before he got close enough for you to speak.

“Open the door and i’ll hand then in.” - you considered your options before twisting the lock. With the door slightly agape, you saw his hand peek in, holding onto a pair of greyish black clothes. The moment you took it from him his hand retracted and you shut the door again.

The clothes were plain but cute. Not exactly your style, but you still found them charming. You got dressed and looked at yourself in the mirror. This change in looks made you feel somewhat uncomfortable. It was like you were looking at a completely different person. Your old uniform and disguise filled you with a sense of belonging, like you were tied to the agency as long as you had it on. You didn’t want to think about it much so you headed for the door and stepped outside.

Montague was sitting at his desk, busy looking over the security camera footage displayed on his monitors, and what looked to be your files open on his laptop. That was not a flattering picture. It must have been taken close to when you joined the agency, based on the hair style you had.

You walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge, dangling your legs in the air absentmindedly. He seemed so occupied with skipping through the cameras that your weren’t even sure he noticed you coming back. You glanced around the room, looking for anything interesting you could occupy yourself with.

Your eyes landed on some magazines on the bedside table, the image on the cover already intriguing. It must have been an older picture, based on the fact that the Montague you saw on it was more younger looking, his face softer and his scar nowhere to be seen.

So he was a model.

You flipped it open, Montague quickly looking over his shoulder towards the noise. He took a long look at you before giving a half smile and turning back to his work. Reading through the pages seemed to be less rewarding than you imagined, most of it only talking about the fake persona he built up to the public.

His rags to riches story told in there was interesting, for sure, but knowing the real details made the false tale far less awe inspiring. He didn’t just climb the ladder of society like the papers said, he practically stole his way to the top. Unethical, but the truth was far more impressive to you.

You felt like you had it more easy compared to him, coming from a similar background but being taken under by someone who was already powerful, while Montague had became that powerful person by his own hands.

In the end, both of you had to do bad things to get to where you were now. Even then, you never once regretted joining the agency.

Lost in thought you stared at the picture in front of you, only seeing him get up and sit next to you from the corner of your eye. You closed the magazine and set it aside, looking up at him, having a question you wanted answered for a while now.

The air seemd to grow heavy as you two stared at each other, neither of you breaking the silence. You traced the scar on his eyebrow with your eyes, running over the jagged lines over and over again. You needed to focus.

“Why did you want me on your team?” - you finally managed to force out the question, eagerly waiting for his reaction. There was really no good reason for him to do that. You’ve shown yourself to be unreliable and a clutz by getting caught so early. He could have just asked for the agency to cooperate and give you back to them. No matter how many times you thought about it, there was no good reason.

“I like you.”

Oh.

His answer was curt, almost surprised that this wasn’t clear to you. It felt like a molotov has just been thrown into your brain, your frenzied thoughts getting even more incoherent by the second. Did he? Was that why he was so nice to you? That didn’t seem right and even if it was true what would that even change and how-

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction as you just sat there staring at him, face noticeably red. You sighed, nodding your head in understanding, unable and unwilling to say anything in case that would make things worse.

You knew how you felt, it was obvious, and if he was good enough at reading people then he probably did too.

“Why are you so devoted to your agency?” - he changed the subject, taking your question as a green light to dig into you and unearth your secrets. You didn’t really mind it.

“It’s hard to explain..” - you sighed, scooting up towards middle of the bed and sitting cross legged. He looked at you for a second as if to ask for permission and you nodded, letting him sit on the bed properly and a bit closer to you. - “My boss, Midas he’s.. he’s just done so much for me.”

“Like mutilating your fingers?” - Montague asked, raising an eyebrow. Your expression immediately changed, not expecting him to go there.

“Not that’s-“ - you gasped out, tone very defensive. You turned your palms towards you, looking over the scar tissue that was left behind, speaking more quietly now. - “You misunderstood, it was never his idea. I did it because i wanted to do a better job.. for him…”

He gave you a small nod, understanding but not fully satisfied with the answer. You continued.

“He helped me out of a bad living situation by offering me a job at the agency. I was able to achieve and learn so much thanks to him.” - you smiled a little to yourself as you recalled the memories. It hasn’t been that long since you were gone, but you missed your team so much. - “I’ve been trying to do my job perfectly but i felt like no matter how much i work put in i would never be able to repay him. And now i’m here, getting myself in trouble and giving him more work..”

“If he truly cares, he will come and rescue you, no matter what.” - Montague sighed, raising his arm towards you and gently stroking your cheek. The sudden closeness made you freeze up for a second. - “And if he doesn’t.. this isn’t the worst place for you to stay at.”

His words and actions were so comforting, you almost forgot this situation was partially his fault. You stopped blaming him for it a while ago, even if you couldn’t trust him fully you felt like you could at least relate to him, and that made you feel a bit better. Getting pulled out of your comfort zone like this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, now that you two were on better terms. It was hard to admit, but you enjoyed being around Montague.

You looked back at him but he didn’t say a word, he was staring at you intently, his eyes flickering across your features.

The tension was thick enough to cut at this point. You caught his glance again.

“What is it?” - you questioned with an almost dumbfounded tone, unable to imagine what was going though his head. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh.

Oh.

That strangely blunt question, his careful tone, his half smile, that stupidly charming face, all of it was too much. You just stared at him, face hot and mouth slightly agape.

It’s not like you weren’t thinking about it since the moment you laid eyes on him. Even if you knew it was selfish, careless and very very dumb, your body was telling you the complete opposite.

“I mean.. if you.. yeah..”- you turned your eyes away from him, onto your slightly shaking hands. God, you were acting so idiotic. Like a teenager upon being faced with their first crush. It was almost laughable.

He reached out a hand and lifted your chin up so you could look at him again. A sense of danger coursed through your entire body as he leaned in closer, so close that your faces were almost touching.

“Please say you want it, then.” - he said, leaning in closer to your neck, almost begging, voice low and hoarse. Your head was spinning, all rational thoughts leaving you behind with each shallow breath you took. You could feel his hot breath tickling against your skin.

“Please kiss me.”

He raised his head and you could see his smile widen as he closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours so softly that it almost hurt.

He closed his eyes as his arm trailed down to your neck, then your shoulder, his other hand tilting your chin up just enough to reach him.

You kept your eyes wide open, almost frozen in place for a second. You wanted this so badly, so why was every cell of your body suddenly screaming for you to stop?

He noticed your shock just as quickly, pulling away immediately upon sensing that something was wrong.

“You’re.. supposed to close your eyes, you know..” - he huffed out a laugh, trying to break through the awkward air that sprung up around you two. His eyes were looking you up and down, trying to understand what the problem was. This wasn’t the right situation to mess around in, for sure, but he thought you were both on the same page.

“…sorry.” - you finally spoke up, looking at everything in the room except him in the process. - “Im just.. a little nervous.”

That was an understatement. It’s been so long since you last felt the warm hands of another person on you like this, it was almost alarming now. You frequently began to associate that feeling with an attempt on your life, which wasn’t the most unusual in your field of work. The better you got at your job, the less people managed to reach you. Familiarity was only to be found in the cold, dead touch of those who stood in your path.

He nodded, thinking about your words, body language and everything else that could have been unsaid. He decided to pull his hands back and place them in his lap, almost as if he was waiting to be cuffed. He was surprisingly good at reading people.

“No need to worry, sweetheart.” - he smiled softly, leaning back a little as he sat. You groaned in annoyance, the nickname making you blush even more and sending swarms of butterflies to your stomach. - “You’re the one in control here.”

That seemed to have calmed your nerves a little. You took a deep breath as you got up, debating for a fraction of a second if you should sit on his lap but ultimately deciding against it. You still had a bit of your common sense left after all.

You sat down on your knees in front of him and reached your hand out, caressing his stubbled face in an amused way.

“You’re really pretty.” - you mumbled, almost too quiet for him to hear. His eyes crinkled as a genuine smile peeked through his facade. You wondered what he really was like under all these layers of lies, if he was truly trustworthy, or someone more despicable than you could ever imagine.

Only time would tell, and you decided to shove those thoughts away for now. You leaned in closer, your lips melting in a warm embrace.

Your left hand trailed behind his neck while your right found its way into his hair, playfully ruffling into it. He laughed into the kiss and your heart almost skipped a beat. This whole thing was honestly comedic but you didn’t care. You never realised how much you actually craved this. Just to have someone treat you like you were precious. Let it be a lie or not.

The world around you ceased to exist for a moment, just you and him, in this fucked up situation, breaking all the rules you set up for yourself.

You pulled away for air, both of your faces flushed, his pupils wide like he just sampled all the drugs money could buy. It was almost silly. You swiped your thumb over his face, whispering praises in your native tongue that he didn’t need to understand.

Amused, you wiped the small string of saliva from his chin.

“Mon Dieu..”- he groaned, mouth agape, almost unable to find his words. - “Please do that again.”

You smirked, leaning back to him. You teased him for a few seconds, grazing his lips with yours, not fully giving in, until he looked up at you. His eyes half lidded, but face screaming annoyed. You huffed out a laugh. He was so stupidly attractive, it was almost surreal. Of course you couldn’t help but want to play with him a little.

You smiled a little, amused by his reaction before finally kissing him again. You felt like you could stay like this forever.

Until a strange sound caught your attention. You weren’t exactly sure where to put it, at first it sounded like drilling, or rattling outside. You tried to ignore it and focus on him, but the more you listened the clearer it was.

Your heartbeat started to quicken.

It was a car.

The realisation crossed your mind and you shot up from the bed, leaving Montague confused until he finally caught the sound himself. He knew damn well what it was and what it meant.

He got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket, hurriedly putting it on, his shoes following after. He leaned over his desk to look at the cameras, but couldn’t find a thing on them.

You reached for your platforms and slid into them as quick as you could, watching from the corner of your eye as Montague stuffed something into his pocket, but paying it no mind.

You were barely able to think, completely forgetting about the weather and putting on something warm before walking towards the door. He opened it wordlessly and lead you down the stairs, towards the entrance of the hotel. Everything was eerily quiet in the hall, somewhat usual for the late evening.

You stepped out of the golden trimmed gate and the chilly air suddenly hit you. This kind of weather wasn’t exactly what you were used to. You tugged at the hem of your shirt in an attempt to cover yourself up a bit more, eventually groaning defeat, a small mist cloud forming from your breath. It reminded you of the time when you were only pretending to smoke as a child.

Lost in thought you vaguely focused your eyes on the horizon, almost jumping as you felt something touch your shoulders.

“You’re going to get cold like this.” - Montague sighed, wrapping his long coat around you. You grabbed the edges and pulled them even closer to yourself in an attempt escape the biting cold.

The coat smelled like him. You closed your eyes for a second, imaging his arms in place of the soft fabric.

This distraction wasn’t long lived though, as you noticed something glistening in the distance, the sound growing closer and closer by the second.

The source of the noise finally dipped into view over the horizon, it was the roaring engine of the pitch black sports car that you were oh so familiar with. As it got closer you noticed how more than half of it was glimmering gold in the sun’s light, almost blinding to the eye. It was shocking to say the least. You couldn’t see through the darkened windows but you had a pretty good idea of who could be driving it.

It took a sharp turn then came to a sudden halt in front of the stairway, drifting through the dirt and ripping up the layer of snow that sat on top of it. A man in a suit jumped out hastily, and you swallowed hard.

It was him.

It really was him.

He didn’t leave you behind.

One look at him sent shivers down your spine. His hair was a mess, falling on his face and in front of his eyes. His tie was halfway undone, his jacket, the cuffs of his sleeves, and his pants all speckled and tainted gold. And the look on his face…

You’ve seen him angry plenty of times before, but never like this. He looked terrifying. The knot in your stomach tightened as a he took a few quick steps forward, looking up at the top of the stairs where you two were standing.

“You..” - you could hear him groan through gritted teeth. In the flash of an eye he pulled out a golden pistol and aimed it at the man standing next to you. Your eyes widened.

“Wait!” - You could barely react as three shots rang out and you quickly snapped towards their target.

The bullets fell to the ground, clanking loudly as they rolled down the stairs.

Montague’s face screamed shock, even though he most likely expected this scenario. It all happened so quickly, almost too fast for him to react. His chest rose and fell under the heavy weight of the protective diamond barrier he created just in time. He laughed out as Midas lowered his gun.

“What a rude introduction..” - he was immediately back at his usual snarkiness and you had to wonder if he understood just how close to death he was right there. He was good at hiding it, but you could see the drops of sweat rolling down his cheek, and how his hands were shaking ever so slightly. That first shot landed a little too close for comfort.

Midas’ face hasn’t changed for a second, his tired eyes focusing only on Montague’s every move, watching him like a predator waiting for his prey. If you hadn’t stopped him, he most likely would have torn him apart by now. If there was one thing he despised, it was others taking what’s his.

Montague cleared his throat.

“Your agent has already agreed to my deal. I’ll let them go for now, in exchange for you lending me some help. Sounds fair, doesn’t it?” - he smirked, his words making your stomach churn. You did agree, yes, but it’s not like it was a fair deal, nor did you know the full extent of it. You wondered just how badly you might have messed up this time.

Still, you were glad he didn’t attack Midas right after he tried to shoot him point blank. Maybe your words actually reached some part of him. Maybe he understood how important he was to you.

“And what the catch?” - Midas asked immediately. Montague just scoffed, you two really did think alike. He raised a hand as if he was making the offer of a lifetime.

“They will stay as a part of my team, while your agency aids me in dethroning the gods. That is also your goal, yes?” - his tone turned serious, his face losing the fake smile just as quick.

So that’s what this was all for. You could barely believe it, he was crazy for sure, but going up against the gods still seemed too far fetched. Midas on the other hand didn’t seem shocked in the slightest. He looked intrigued as he took a few moments to think before answering.

“In that case, I agree to your deal.” - They were both out of their minds. You took a few deep breaths, taking all of the information in. You understood Midas’ reasons very well. He was kept locked up by them for so long after all, of course he would want to take his revenge. If that’s what he truly wanted, then you would throw your life on the line as well.

“Mhm, good.” - Montague smiled, content, as he nudged your back with the gun he was hiding behind himself. Some things never change. - “Go on.”

And just like that, you were free. Truly free this time.

Your thoughts finally cleared as the stress and worry of the situation slowly left your brain. All you could focus on now was the man standing at the bottom of the staircase.

You broke into a sprint, almost tripping at the speed you were running. You ran as if your life depended on it, like he would disappear if you didn’t reach him in time.

Tears pricked at you eyes as his face softened, and against your better judgement you practically jumped into his arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I thought you’d never come, I’m sorry, I’ll never make a mistake like this again!” - You sobbed against his chest, words held back for so long finally spilling out all at once, your tears staining the expensive material of his shirt. You held onto him so tight your muscles started to hurt, all signs of professionalism thrown out the window by now.

“Careful! I’m barely able to-“ - He quickly raised his hands to avoid touching you.

“I know. I’m sorry, Sir.” - You sniffed a little as you let go, trying to regain some of your composure. This would definitely not be allowed in the office. But he didn’t look like he minded it much, he just seemed glad that you were alive and unharmed.

In truth, all he wanted to do was to run his fingers through your hair and make sure you were truly okay. He knew better than to do that though, not in the state he was in. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“It’s okay now. I’m here.”

The plan was in motion. Everything worked out just as he had wanted it to. And yet Montague could not shake off the uneasy feeling he was having, digging his nails into his own skin so hard that it drew blood. It all went well, and yet he was still so worked up over you clutching onto that man, like he was your lifeline.

Several other people got out of the car by then, a lady in black, a girl with dark braids and a tall cat. You waved and ran up to them, crying even more than before.

He couldn’t fully hear what you were saying, but he could guess. A tearful reunion, a beautiful way to end things. It’s been a while since he last felt emotions this strong and overwhelming. He was overreacting, and he knew it, but he was still unable to get himself to think straight.

He had you in the palm of his hand, and he was not willing to let you go now. That soft gaze, those gentle touches, the taste of your lips, he wanted it all for himself.

Maybe an unforeseen accident, a terrible tragedy, a mistake that would cost his life or maybe…

He saw you turn around and look back at him, a soft smile on your face. You were smiling at him. A genuine, kind gesture. It made his heart flutter.

…maybe those won’t be necessary.

[badolmen]

I’m beginning to think my personal high standards for myself are the enemy…

[giannaln4]

Nursed By Love

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando got sick during the first race of the triple header and you made it your mission to take care of him.  (2.7k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, fluff, sick!lando, taking a shower together (not in a sexual way), use of Y/N

a/n: not gonna lie, this turned out shorter than i expected 😭 i wanted to write more and include the entire weekend but i literally couldn't come up with more, i’m sorry if it feels a little rushed but i hope you still like it!

check out the original request here! also, this is somewhat of a prequel to my fic Sick; it has a couple of references here and there but it can be read as a standalone.

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Lando woke up before you, something that was normal in your relationship given the strict agenda he had to follow almost on a daily basis. He checked his phone to see how much time left he had before having to get up, sighing when he realised his alarm would go off soon. 

He valued his sleep, like a lot, so he figured he wouldn't let those few minutes go to waste, so he pulled the covers again up to his neck, but he was feeling a little colder than usual, so he did what he usually does: he reached for you and pulled you into him, embracing you so lovingly.

This made you wake up, slowly opening your eyes to get used to the light. “Hey,” you whispered, not completely sure if he was awake.

"Sorry, baby,” he said with a sleepy voice as his nose nudged into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay. What time is it?”

“Almost time to go, actually.”

“Okay, let’s get going then.” You said, pulling away from his embrace, making him whine as he quickly reached for your arm.

“No, let’s stay in bed a little longer,” he looked at you with his sweet eyes as he tried to convince you to go back to him.

“I don’t want us to be late again.”

“We won’t. We still have a few minutes, I promise.”

With that, you cuddled him again, this time facing him. After all, how could you possibly say no to him? “Okay, but as soon as the alarm goes off, we are getting up.”

"Yes, ma’am,” he replied happily as he buried his face on your neck again, enjoying the way you were scratching his scalp. 

Truth is, he was feeling more tired than usual. Sure, he always hated having to wake up early, but something about the way he was feeling that day wasn’t right. You felt it too; his skin against your neck was hotter than it normally was.

“You okay?”

He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “I think I’m getting sick.”

You pulled away again, the back of your hand falling on his forehead. “Baby, you have a fever.” He just hummed in response as he tried to get you to go back to your previous position. “Lando, I’m being serious. You can’t just ignore it.”

“It’s not like I can call in sick.” 

“I know, but you can’t go around all day without at least taking something. What else are you feeling?” You asked, worried eyes looking back at him.

“I’m just cold… and tired.”

“Okay, I’ll run to get you something, and you start getting ready. Sounds good?” 

He immediately shook his head and, once again, tried to cuddle you. “You promised we’d stay here until the alarm went off.”

“I know, my love, but this is the first race of the triple header, and you need to be okay. You shouldn’t do it while being sick,” you said, rubbing his check softly. “I’ll meet you at the track, yeah?”

“No, please. Let’s just cuddle for a bit longer,” he insisted. 

You sighed, debating in your mind what you should do. On one hand, you knew he wouldn’t give up, and it really couldn’t hurt to just cuddle him for a little while; he really needed it after all, but on the other, he really needed to take something so he wouldn’t feel that way for the rest of the weekend—not only that, but the two other weekends he had ahead of him.

“It’s only media day. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” you finally gave in, “but I’m serious, you have to take something.”

“I will. I will get checked later today at the track. Don’t worry,” he reassured you. 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure of that.” You went back to your cuddly position as your hand caressed the back of his head.

“I know you will.”

The minutes went by too quickly to his liking, the alarm going off just moments later. To him, it felt like 5 seconds, not 5 minutes. He groaned when you started to get up, leaving the warmth and comfort of the hotel bed to start getting ready for the day.

“We had a deal, c’mon,” you said, offering him your hand. He took it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

“I wish we could stay here all day.” He stood in front of you and cupped your face as his thumbs caressed your cheeks.

“Aw, I know, my love, but the day will be over before you know it, and we can come back later to cuddle a little more, okay?”

He just nodded and made his way to the bathroom. You both started getting ready quickly, knowing the car that would take you to the track was probably already downstairs waiting for you.

Once you had everything you needed, he took your hand and gave it a little kiss, whispering a soft “Okay, time to go” before leaving the room.

You got to the track, and he immediately had to start doing things for the weekend that awaited him; you knew he wouldn’t get checked or take something unless you were on his hair about it, so you thought telling Jon would be a good idea.

It was hard to find a moment to go to the clinic due to their busy schedule, but you were able to finally drag him there.

You were standing close to him as he dangled his feet on the small bed, getting his throat checked by the doctor.

“It seems like you have a cough, nothing too serious,” the doctor said as she stepped away from him, writing something on the piece of paper attached to the wooden board where she was writing down his symptoms. “I will give you some medicine; take this right now, and then make sure you take it every 8 hours. Something for the fever too, in case you feel sick later, but only take one, and only if you get a fever. Also some painkillers; have you had any headaches?”

“A little bit, last night.”

“Any other thing you have been feeling?”

“I think that’s all.”

“Alright, that should be all then. Drink a lot of fluids and stay away from any alcohol or smoking. It’s not too bad, but if anything comes up, you know where to find me.”

Lando was just nodding, but you paid attention to everything she said, making a mental note of how to take care of him. 

Once they were done with all the paperwork, you left the clinic, Lando holding everything the doctor had prescribed. 

“I will hold on to those, thank you,” you said, taking all the medicine and putting it in your bag, safe and sound. You checked the time and set a reminder for 8 hours, so you didn’t forget about the cough medicine.

“Thank you, my love,” he said before kissing the top of your head.

You looked up at him with a smile, feeling sad that he got sick at the beginning of the triple header. You knew how demanding his job was and how demanding he was on himself, so it wouldn’t be a smooth recovery, so the least you could do was help him however you could.

“Lando, we have to get going. I think they are already waiting for us,” Jon said as he typed something on his phone.

The rest of the day was a little boring, which was expected considering Lando and Oscar had to spend all day talking to people or recording some videos and interviews, but you never left his side, just in case he needed something or started to feel sick again. Any time he was away from the people or cameras, you immediately ran up to him, your hand landing somewhere on his skin to make sure he didn’t have a fever.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still a little tired, and my throat is starting to bother me again. But other than that, all good.”

“Oh, is it too bad?”

“Not too bad; I guess all the talking isn’t really helping,” he chuckled, in hopes of not worrying you too much, but you couldn’t help it, and he knew that.

“I figured. You should drink some water,” you handed him the bottle you had been holding all day. He took it and drank the water that was left, thankful that you made sure to have it on you the whole time.  “Where are we going now?”

“We are staying here. We have a couple more things to do.” You nodded, holding his hand for just a moment since someone called his name from the other side of the room. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Okay.” You let go of his hand, watching as he joined Oscar and some other people on a big couch. They were talking about the next video they had to film, so since he was busy with his job, you figured you could step away for a moment.

You wandered around as you looked up what the best tea was to help with a sore throat. Once you settled on ginger, you looked everywhere for it, but it wasn’t as common as you hoped. You did manage to find some, finally, and you ran back to the McLaren hospitality so you could give it to him. Thankfully, when you found him, he was just scrolling on his phone, sitting away from everyone.

“Hey, I brought you some tea. This should help your sore throat.” He looked up from his phone to take the disposable cup you were holding. “It might not be as hot as it should be, but it should still do the trick,” you said nervously.

“What is it?” He asked, sniffing it.

“Ginger.”

“Ginger? Where did you find ginger tea?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you said as you sat on his lap.

“Thanks, darling,” he whispered before taking a sip, clearing his throat afterwards. 

“You should drink all of it.”

“It’s a little spicy. Do you want to try?” He said, offering you the cup.

“No, I don’t want your germs,” you joked, making him laugh. You laughed with him, enjoying the little glimpse of his dimple.

“I’m afraid you got those when we kissed.”

It wasn’t instant, but the tea definitely helped. The rest of the day went on quicker since all the major stuff got done in the morning, so before you knew it, you were already back at the hotel.

“Lando, take this.” You were taking out the bag of medicine you got from the doctor that morning, picking up the bottle that he was supposed to drink every 8 hours.

“What is it?”

“Your medicine, silly. It’s time.”

He made a disgusted face as he took it. “It tastes horrible.”

“I know, but you can’t skip it.” You stood there until he was done, an even more disgusted look adorning his face. “Are you feeling better than this morning?”

He nodded, giving you back the bottle since he knew you wanted to keep all his medicine together. “Will you take a shower with me?” He asked out of nowhere. You raised your eyebrows at his question, and he realized how it came across so immediately clarified. “Not for that reason.”

You couldn’t hold your laugh, but you quickly realised he just needed help. “Do you want me to help wash your hair?”

“Please.If you are okay with it.” 

You followed him to the bathroom, turning on the water and making sure it was warm and nice  while he discarded his clothes. He stepped in first, letting out a small moan when the warm water started to cover his body. He offered you his hand once you got naked, his strong arms wrapping around your body when you joined him.

You stayed like that for a moment, until you pulled away to gently massage his scalp. 

“This is nice,” he cooed, his eyes closing as he relaxed at the feeling.

“Mhmm, I’m glad, baby.”

“Are we going to sleep after this?” His eyes met yours as he awaited for your answer, smiling when you nodded. “Good, you promised some cuddles this morning.”

“I know, I haven’t forgotten.” It warmed your heart that he had been looking forward to it, but it broke it at the same time because, even though he always asked for it, you knew it was different this time. “Bent down a little for me,” you instructed as you reached for the shampoo and squeezed some on your hand. He did as you asked, leaving his head in perfect reach for you.

Your fingertips went back to massage his scalp gently as you made sure you covered all of it. He was humming at your touch, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the soothing sensation.

“Does your head hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted, “not too bad, though.” You looked at him with sad eyes, wishing you could take his pain away and take it yourself.

“Okay, I will give you something for that, and then we can go to bed, okay?” 

You continued helping him for the rest of the shower, and then he offered to help you the same way you did. You accepted, but it did take a little longer considering you had a lot more hair than he did, but he was happy to do it. When you were both done, you stepped back into the bathroom, handing him a towel and making him sit on the little stool in front of one of the mirrors.

With tired eyes, Lando met your gaze through the mirror, paying attention to your every move as you dried his hair. He loved the way your face scrunched when you were focused, sticking out your tongue from time to time. You were being so gentle with him that he almost felt like crying, but he held those emotions back, not wanting to worry you even more than you already were.

Once his hair was fully dried and you helped him with most of his nightly routine, you guided him to the bedroom and gave him a pill for his headache, letting him get under the covers afterwards. He dragged you with him, pulling you into a hug as soon as you got there.

“Can we do this every night?” He asked, his face burying in your neck as he usually does.

“Of course. Anything you want, my love. Are you comfortable?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face when he nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a moment of silence, his mind drifting off into a peaceful sleep as you massaged his muscles.

Lando fell asleep almost instantly, allowing you to go to sleep once you made sure he was fully knocked out for the night. 

A few hours went by, both of you enjoying each other’s warmth, until the sound of an alarm interrupted your sleep. You groaned as you reached for your phone to turn it off, but immediately sat up and grabbed his medicine.

Lando shuffled next to you, groaning too as he slightly opened his eyes to quickly scan the room. “It’s still dark outside, why do you have an alarm?” He asked, his voice sleepy and his eyes half closed as he looked at you.

“Sorry, love, it’s time for your medicine again.” 

He sat up and took the little spoon you were offering him, his sleepy state saving him from the terrible taste it had. Once he was done, he fell on his pillow again and pulled into him, going back to your previous position.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Even though the sleep was evident in his voice, you could still hear how truly thankful he was.

You placed your hands on each of his cheeks, causing his eyes to flutter shut in contentment. “Of course, what type of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?” A soft kiss was pressed to his forehead before he brought you closer to him, a little ‘I love you’ scaping his lips as he went back to sleep.

[ohdeerfully]

hello there!

was wondering if I could request Alastor and reader having a debate over whether radio or the newspaper is better than the other (reader was a journalist in 1930’s New York in their past life). Heated debate that ends with fluff.

thank you!❤️❤️

hi thanks for the request!! honestly it doesnt really end with fluff, more just alastor being confused and also confusing, and im super sorry for that :sob: but i hope u enjoy it anyway!!! kiss kiss

What Would the Papers Say

Alastor x Reader (not explicitly romantic)

TW: none! join my discord!

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Alastor stood in front of you, a tight smile and narrowed brows decorating his face as he stood ominously over you. You swallowed, hard, as you had to crane your neck significantly to look him in the eyes. He waited impatiently for your words, his smile inching to become larger and more sinister by the second.

You took a deep breath and steadied your gaze against his, staring into his maliciously red eyes.

“Why can’t you just admit your wrong,” You said snidely, “The newspaper reached so many more people. And gave more people jobs. And was just better in general, really.”

Alastor laughed at you with closed eyes, something he would tend to do in arguments. He liked to make the other person feel ridiculous. 

“How wrong that is!” He snapped back, eyes settling on you again. “My dear, the radio had much more value. Could your rolls of paper play music? Speak to people? All I see is a boring, colorless, dry wad of useless writing.”

You balled your fists in anger, restraining yourself from getting physical. You wouldn’t be able to land anything, anyway, so there was no point in trying. 

“That ‘useless writing’ was my life’s work, you dick!” You spat, heart clenching slightly at the thought of him considering something so important to you useless. “Some people don’t like to listen to an annoying asshole yap in their ear for forty minutes!”

Alastor waved his hand dismissively at your attempt at an insult, his smile never faltering in the slightest. If anything, it grew wider when he saw your growing frustration. “But more people like listening to the asshole’s stories than reading the drab paper, no? News travels so much faster verbally! Why else do you think the paper lost popularity after the radio was introduced?”

You lost any response you had, eyes falling to the floor in defeat. Your stomach churned with unease, hating that you were losing an argument to Alastor. Yeah, it was hard to win against him in the first place, but it still pissed you off.

“At least we had fun comics to read…” You muttered in a weak attempt at a retort, folding your arms.

Alastor only barked a laugh in response, stepping forward and grabbing your chin with his sharp claws to tilt your eyes back up to him. He wanted to see your eyes glimmer with defeat, it was something he loved to see when he beat somebody in an argument—especially over something they were so passionate about.

However, his smile weakened by a hair when he saw your eyes, slightly shining with held back tears. You still had a look of frustration and you were confidently staring right back at him, but for once… he didn’t really like the look of miserable defeat. Not on you. 

Alastor’s grip on your chin dropped so fast, as if you burned him, and his eyes darted away from yours. His brows were furrowed in what you perceived as confusion, but the expression vanished nearly as soon as you recognized it. 

“Agree to disagree, then,” He said finally, looking back down at you through slitted eyes. He turned with a dramatic flourish, briskly walking away. He turned his head slightly towards you as he spoke one last time, “though, the radio’s never been used for fire kindling.”

Alastor did not like the way you made him feel. He didn't like that your grief made his own emotions go haywire. He was going to find out what it was about you that made him feel... weak, was it? He wasn't sure, but he just needed to get out of there.

You cursed at him, though he paid your words no mind. You could tell by the way his ear flicked in your direction that he had at least heard your frustrations. You finally let your confident face fall, and with a pout you traveled towards the hotel lobby. You needed a drink.

“Bold to argue with Alastor like that,” Husk gruffly commented as you sat down, slumping your shoulders. His arms were folded over his chest, and you awkwardly rubbed your arm.

“You heard all that?”

“You aren’t exactly the quietest.”

You sighed, resting your head against your palm and drumming your free hand against the bartop. “That’s embarrassing,” You said simply, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t uncommon for racket in the hotel, but you typically held yourself to a higher standard than being the cause of said racket.

Even though you were upset about the argument, you couldn’t help but visualize that expression on his face when he looked at you earlier. What was that? Concern? Regret? Or were you just reading too much into it? And why did he leave the room so quickly?

You pondered over this as Husk slid a drink over towards you, the glass leaving a watery trail from building condensation. You gave him a small smile and silently sipped at it for a few minutes.

You tried to tell yourself you didn’t care one way or another what those emotions Alastor displayed were. He was a jerk. He put you down for what you were passionate about, and what you had dedicated your life too. What a dick. You didn’t care. Nope.

With a groan, you tilted your head back to finish the glass and nodded a thanks to Husk again before you made your way up the hotel stairs. Without realizing it, your legs seemed to take you to a particular floor and to a particular room that you would’ve rather avoided. You briefly wondered how strong that drink was that Husk gave you.

You held your fist up, paused for a few seconds, and then knocked. Why were you even here in the first place? You weren’t going to apologize. You opened the door yourself when you heard a faint ‘come in,’ slowly pushing it forwards and cracking it open just enough to peek your head through. Your eyes trailed around the room before you finally saw the demon in a bayou-like setting. 

Alastor was sitting leisurely on a metal chair, one leg thrown over the other as he sipped on a mug. His eyes were barely open as he relaxed, and you could only slightly tell that he was looking at you.

“It’s rather impolite to interrupt somebody’s alone time,” He quipped as you walked the rest of your body into the room. “Especially somebody you pestered and yelled at only an hour ago.”

You bit back an angry comment, and kept your breathing level. You shouldn’t let him get under your skin like this. You clenched your fists, but otherwise maintained a cool attitude. You walked towards the corner of the room, examining the scenery before you. You wondered if the forest was actually that big, or if the wall was just an extremely well illustrated illusion. It wouldn’t surprise you if Alastor was eccentric enough to manifest a whole bayou in his own room.

Alastor looked up at you from his seated position, though he still seemed incredibly tall even as he sat. He had a grin spread across his face, and his head tilted slightly at you.

“Need something?” He tried prompting a word out of you. You hadn’t said anything since coming in, and curiosity began gnawing at his thoughts. He was frustrated, truthfully, about the earlier experience he had with his own confused, jumbled thoughts.

You honestly didn’t know why you came to his room. You didn’t really know what to say. You weren’t going to apologize or grovel for forgiveness, and you knew he would never ever admit he was wrong, either.

“You know,” You started slowly, voice just above a mutter. “The newspaper and radio could’ve worked together… one doesn’t have to be better than the other.”

Both grin and eyes widened at your comment. A wave of Alastor’s hand materialized an identical chair across the table, and you sat yourself neatly—and, a bit awkwardly—when he gestured for you to join him.

“What a thought,” He replied, bringing the mug to his lips again. His comment didn’t really give you any insight to what he actually thought about your statement. Though, you should’ve guessed. He has a superiority complex so big he would never admit to anything being on an equal level to him.

Still, you smiled weakly at him. You watched as his gaze studied you, maybe a bit too intently, and you momentarily saw that strange expression shift across his features. Just as before, you barely had time to consider it before it vanished.

“Tell me,” Alastor said, leaning back into his chair. A mug manifested in front of you as he spoke, and with a smell you could tell it was your favorite tea. You wondered if he actually knew, or if it was just something he could do magically. “If you are so keen on the radio and paper working together…”

He paused dramatically, and you clenched your jaw in response. How aggravating his knack for showmanship could be.

“Would you care to make a deal?” There was a sinister look in his eyes as he said the words, his grin twisting up his face with his sharp teeth bared at you. You felt a prickling at your neck, a bit uncomfortable.

“I don’t really… want you to have my soul, dude,” You responded, fiddling your fingers around the rim of the mug in front of you. 

That sinister expression lightened, and he cheerfully waved a hand at you. “No, no, no,” He laughed, leaning forward and letting his elbows rest against the table. “No soul contract. Just… say, a mutually beneficial partnership. Radio Demon and Newspaper Demon. Interesting, right?”

“I… guess,” You replied slowly, considering it. Hey, if your soul wasn’t involved, what was the big deal? How much power could Alastor hold over you if he didn’t have your soul?

A lot, probably.

You shrugged. “Sure, deal.” 

Immediately after your response, a shining sheet of paper and an outdated quill appeared in front of you. You eyed Alastor warily as you took the sheet, reading over the terms of your deal. Honestly, it didn’t seem that bad. It only really iterated your loyalty to him, and in return he’d give you the same. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a weird attempt at courting you. Weird.

Your eyes moved back to Alastor, who was watching you intensely. He had that strange expression once again, and it was starting to frustrate you. Why did he keep looking at you like that? And what did it mean? The room was silent for a few moments, save for the flickering noise of the ever-present radio frequency that followed the demon in front of you.

You took the quill, signed, and after a dramatic flash of light the paper was gone and you saw Alastor sitting with his eyes closed in an overly pleased smile. He clapped his hands together for a moment, before settling his sharp gaze on you once again.

“Well, my dear,” He leaned his chin on top of his hands, which were clasped together. He had a dangerous glint in his eye. “Mind if I take you for lunch to celebrate our new partnership?”

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: major spoilers, angst, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon ignorance and inaccuracies, if you read the drabble you’ll know you originally just hosted Venom but this time I’m writing you as Spider-Venom

—

[Unedited]

The sun kissed the Western horizon as it slowly sunk beneath the surface. The gorgeous colors of the settling dusk bathing your New York in the luminous sheen of the golden glow that settles upon the city like a blanket.

You were just finishing up for the day, swinging from a tall skyscraper to tether a web to the very top of a clock tower. Pulling yourself up all the way to the top to perch on one of the very many gargoyle statues jutting out of the tower’s roof lip.

“Hungry.”

“That’s what the sandwiches are for bud.”

Venom settled inside when you tore the wrapping off the sandwich and took a big bite out of the end. Plenty of meat packed into the sandwich but also enough vegetables to sustain you too. Nutrients were vital in your symbiotic relationship with the alien and regardless of where they came from you both needed hundreds of them to keep yourselves alive and healthy.

“I hate the vegetables.”

“Well I like them. They taste better than people do.”

“You’ve never had another person before! You don’t let me eat people!”

“I’m not a cannibal.”

“Hmph.”

You rolled your eyes at the symbiote’s childish behavior, you’ve grown used to it but that didn’t mean you’d grown to like their attitude.

But you had grown to like them, ever since they had attached themself to you on your fourteenth birthday. The same day you very nearly took your own life.

Your life was far from perfect, as a matter of fact you can’t remember a time in your twenty long years of being alive that you’d actually been happy. Really, well and truly happy.

Your mother died when you were five and your father had abandoned you not too long after. About a year and half to be precise, and in his care and his care alone you’d learned that he was the furthest thing from what a proper father should be.

The first five years in which he parented you alongside your beloved mother he seemed guarded. Closed off, angry at the world and everyone surrounding him. And his own personal turmoil seemed to transcend into raising you— as he didn’t put an ounce of love or affection into bringing you up.

At the time, you hadn’t understood. What did you do wrong? Did you make him angry? Why wouldn’t he love you unconditionally? Your mother did.. was it so hard for him to treat you as his own? As if he loved you?

Apparently it was too hard for him, because he didn’t want to do it alone. And when your mother had died of cancer he had attempted to raise you in her honor but failed miserably and gave up within two years.

You were seven when you experienced your first heartbreak, in the years prior under his ‘care’ you had plenty share of devastation and let-downs from him. But none compared to this, no other feeling you had ever experienced before compared to this.

A searing ache in your chest born of self doubt, lack of self worth and value. Because you had believed it was entirely your fault that he was incapable of loving you fully and to the extent of his heart. And it festered in your years spent under different families, the issues regarding how you viewed yourself only darkening as you were let down over and over again.

Given up on— over and over again. And the ache continued to linger, growing in secret places— dark and hateful in your tired heart.

And slowly but surely it had given up on you too, shatter to pieces and cast to the wind to leave you broken and hurt. Vulnerable and fragile to the cold and bitter winds of this cruel and brutal life.

Eventually your mind followed suit, wishing for anything to escape this pain. Anything to leave it behind.

Your luck had a turn for the worst when you were bitten by a spider at twelve and gifted cursed with abilities and skills inhuman and otherworldly.

Enhanced senses, heightened sensitivities and awareness and phenomenal intelligence and strength.

Superhuman.

And for two years you lived with it, not utilizing the powers for any kind of purpose. The heightened healing property of your curse made it hard to give up on this life as you had so desperately wished to.

You tried and tried again— and each time you failed.

When you were fourteen is when you met Venom, you had tested buildings before but never the Golden Gate Brigde. And as you clambered over the rail to stand at the very edge of the bridge’s structure— it happened.

You remember the feel of their texture sliding across your skin, then the pressure you felt as they sunk beneath your skin to meld with your body—

“It wasn’t that bad. You’re overexaggerating.”

“I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my head.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Venom,” you scolded lightly. Not reprimanding in a way that spat disappointment over ownership. But in a way that spoke volumes of the relationship you shared with the alien. Equals.

“I hate it when you think about that bastard.”

“I know, I’m sorry.. my thoughts get away from me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He made his choice, you are what he made you. And you’re more than worth it. You deserve love just as everybody else.”

They went silent after that and you didn’t bother trying to get them to keep up the conversation. Just smiled softly at their nature— overprotective and fond.

Venom had saved your life when you were at your lowest, the abilities you gained from your spider bite coupled well with their own. And upon latching themself to you they had promised they would make you see the value in life. And you had.. in them.

They were what kept you alive, and you couldn’t be more grateful for them coming to your aid when you needed it the most.

“You’re sweet, you like to act like you’re big and bad but on the inside you’re just a big softie.”

“I regret everything I said.”

“Oh come on, I was thanking you for what you said.”

“Funny how you didn’t actually say the words ‘thank you’ at all.”

You just laughed as they grumbled in your head, but you were swift to straighten and turn serious when your senses tingled. Like a cold rippled shucking down your back to warn you of incoming danger or threats.

Venom growled lowly alongside the tingle and you jumped up, spinning around to face the danger that caused your senses to ripple. And a glowing orange portal suddenly erupted to life just a few feet in front of you. Sliding your mask back on you separated your feet and steadied yourself, prepared and strong in stance.

Your senses tingled again— sharper this time and you stood there on tense silence and a brief moment of absolute stillness. A moment later something was shooting from the portal, something turned out to be someone and you recognized the green suit and grinning goblin mask as Green Goblin tackled you off the building.

You freed yourself from his grasp and shot a web to the corner of the building to your left before pulling yourself free from his grip and onto the side of the skyscraper.

Your jaw ticked as a flicker of annoyance sparked to life in your chest. The very last thing you wanted to deal with after a long day was an anomaly. You were honestly tempted to just call up Peter B. Parker and have him come here and take care of this himself.

Or maybe he could convince the leader he follows to come do it, not that you know his name or anything f about him but from what Peter says apparently he’s pretty damn good at his job.

“Seriously another one? Our dimension can’t be that exciting can it?”

“Right there with ya buddy, why did he have to come here after we already finished up our day too?”

“Honestly, like— a little fucking class wouldn’t hurt.”

You chuckled at their remark before your senses tingling had you swinging away from the spot you occupied previously just as a gas bomb erupted against the brick.

An irritated sigh left your lips behind the fabric of your mask as you perched yourself on a lamp post, the Goblin’s eerie hysterical laughter echoing loud and prominent in the desolate streets surrounding you. Everyone having long since turned in for the night leaving the area free of any civilians which made your job —and in turn Venom’s— easier at least.

The fight that had begun two minutes after Goblin had tried to surprise you with his fucking chemical bombs wasn’t all you had thought it would be. This Goblin was a whole lot weaker than your Goblin, not only that but the guy kept glitching every few minutes.

And you and Venom capitalized on the very golden opportunities that event opened up to you every time it occurred.

And finally taking him down without any damage to the buildings or street was just the icing on the cake, the fact that the whole fight didn’t endanger any innocent people was a plus too.

Things only went to shit when you went back to that portal with Goblin slung over your shoulder and found two different spider variants walking out of it.

“Well what the fuck took them so damn long? Sure, sure no worries we’ll protect our own universe and keep others out too. No fucking problem on our end.”

Again, you found yourself chuckling humorously at Venom’s attitude. Their clear lack of patience and respect for those in charge of keeping the multiverse under control amusing you. Sure, you both liked Peter enough to admire what it was he and the guy he followed did.. along with the other spider variants he works with. But still.. if you’re going to make this your entire career and you’re going to dedicate yourself to the security of the multiverse— at least be good at it.

“Think this asshole got lost, poor wee lamb.” You quipped as you landed on the rooftop the other were standing on. You carelessly threw Goblin off your shoulder and he grunted as he hit the concrete on his back. The sound of pain coming from him almost humanizing him a bit, and you curled your lip derisively as he broke out into a mad grin seconds later.

Whilst you were distracted staring at Norman, Miguel withheld his sudden and intense urge to upheave all the contents in his stomach. His heard felt like lead as it plummeted to his toes, knots in his stomach winding themselves up tightly at the sound of your voice.

“[Y/Name]?”

You looked up when the man of the two variants spoke, and there was a flicker of recognition in your stomach at the voice. Recognition that swiftly turned to course and fiery hot rage that flowed through your blood like magma.

“How dare he?!”

The man pulled his mask off his face and there he was, your father, Miguel O’hara.

“How dare he return here?!”

You took an instinctive step back from him when he revealed his face. And you flinched internally when you saw it, he looked miserable.. eyes bloodshot and brows downturned to put a deep and painful scowl on his face.

He looked broken.. hurt.

And the twisted and vengeful feelings inside you felt good at the prospect of him hurting. You liked that look on his face.. because he more than deserved whatever put it there.

Miguel watched as you stepped back, you didn’t remove your mask as he did. Just stood there frozen as you stared at him. Then the eyes of your mask narrowed and he could abruptly feel the heat of your glare searing into his skin. Angry and painful.

“Parker— that fucking bastard, we’ll kill him.”

“We?” The woman spoke and you looked from your father to her. She had darker skin and a styled afro, her mask was more or less goggles on her face and Venom snickered inside your head at the mental insult you made.

You decided to ignore her question, the passive aggressive tone she took not inclining you to be cooperative with her at all.

“As far as we know Osborne was the only one who got into this universe,” you informed choosing to look back to Miguel to address him instead of the woman. “So gather him and go home.”

“[Y/Name] wait!—”

“Don’t. You’re just here for him right?” You queried gesturing to Norman when you referred to him. Then you were facing Miguel again. “Take him and get out. We’re finished here.” You weren’t granted the chance to see his reaction— immediately doing what you thought was best for you and getting out of the uncomfortable spot his return had put you in.

And you swung away as you ignored the calls of your name he roared into the night. You didn’t want anything to do with him, and there was nothing you owed to that bastard. Not a damn thing.

And as you swung away from that rooftop you felt angry at the fact that you could feel your guarded heart hurt in deep and stinging agony once again— because of him.

And you felt a twitch of disgust in yourself twist itself into a knot within your chest, born at the expense you felt you were dishonoring Venom by being hurt you saw your father again.

After all, it was them that had healed you six years ago when they had first bonded with you. And it was them and them alone that had healed that ache in your heart.

“Kid.”

“Please Venom, not now.”

They went silent after that, and you stayed quiet too as you swung through the city. You just wanted to be at home, safe and comfortable in the warmth of your own space. Just so you could calm the roaring of your blood and thunderous heart in the security and peace that your home brought you.

You knew that now that he knows you’re still alive he’ll come back, and you’re not sure how the next time will go.. this time you just wanted out. The way your heart had picked up and the way your blood quickened had made you just want to be isolated and safe.

You’re not so sure which feeling will take more presence next time— but you could promise this; the rage you had briefly felt, that died behind the feeling of ache and hurt but still lingered, was strong. If it took province over every other feeling next time you could promise it wouldn’t end well.

Not for Miguel.

Not for you.

And not for the multiverse.. the same multiverse he had been so keen on protecting—

The multiverse he had chosen over you.

—

a/n: I did this during a tattoo on my ribs— and the wipe down continues to be my least favorite part of adding tattoos to my body, cause how can I sit through a tattoo just fine then get weak on the wipe down? 🥲🤌🏽

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Words: ~900

A/N: So this is SPN fic number two. The idea of Dean being such a pie fiend that he would steal someone else's pie from the fridge and deny it afterwards, really amused me. I obviously didn't get the desire to kiss him out of my system after the first SPN fic I wrote so here's another one 😂 It's not smut but there is mild adult themes which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is as generic as I can make but I have referenced as female. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I value your feedback and comments 💖

Warnings: kissing, mild violence, bad language as standard. Dean is an asshole. Reader is a bit of an asshole too. They're probably made for each other.

*** Minors do not read or interact ***

Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His arrogance, his smug superiority, the way he always acts like he’s untouchable… his goddamn pretty mouth.  Ugh!  Asshole!

You didn’t always hate him – you had known him for years, one hunter to another – but, since you had been forced to stay with both he and Sam in the bunker these last couple of months, he had really grated on your nerves. 

After your hunt of a large nest of vampires had gone wrong, you had become the hunted.  Your home decimated, your family too precious to put at risk by you staying with them; you had needed help.

Sam had insisted, so you agreed to stay with them until your vamp problem could be solved.  Only the nest turned out to be much bigger and far wider spread than you had first thought, and it was taking time for even the infamous Winchester brothers to put an end to.

The light in the refrigerator is stark as you stare inside.  It’s gone.  You slam the door, raging internally.  Why can you not have anything to yourself in this goddamn place?

“DEAN!”  You shout angrily at the top of your lungs, knowing he can hear you from his room down the hall, even with his music playing.

He won’t respond to you.  He never does.  Why should he?  You’re just some girl he’s got to put up with for a while.  Some girl he made a pass at that first week you were here, but you shut him down and he’s been an asshole to you ever since.

You storm up to his door and bray your fist against the wood as hard as you can.  “I know you’re in there!  Get your ass out here now!”  You shout and hammer your fist against the door until you hear him moving inside.

The door clunks as he unlocks it, and it swings open to reveal him stood in the doorway in a navy blue robe and slippers.  The light from his lamp is dim but warm, his music a moderate volume for the late hour.  He looks irritated that you’ve disturbed him, that quizzical frown and pout are a dead giveaway.  Good.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”  He smirks at you.

“You!”  You push past him, and he doesn’t try to block you.

“What now?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument and it probably won’t be the last.  Whenever Sam isn’t around, Dean always does something to piss you off, like he’s trying to bait you.

“You ate my pie!  AGAIN!”

His expression is schooled into that self-righteous assuredness it always is when you confront him.  His hands go to his hips – which looks ridiculous because of the robe – and he shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”  He says with a frown, and it’s entirely plausible that you’ve made a mistake, except it’s just the two of you here and you didn’t eat the damn pie.  “I haven’t seen any damn pie.”

“Oh yeah?!”  You square up to him, looking up into his eyes, unblinking, unphased.

“Yeah!”  He doubles down, firmly meeting your stare, leaning closer as if you would be intimidated by that.

It’s a short distance you need to cover and he is unprepared.  You expect him to push you away but he flounders, arms flailing and uncoordinated when you grip the lapels of his robe and pull him towards you.

When your lips meet he puckers up and blinks in shock, but you don’t give him time to realise what’s happening.  You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight as you slip your tongue between his lips, plundering his mouth.

It takes a beat, but he responds by gripping your hips and holding you against him, moaning into your mouth as he opens up to you.  The heat of his response takes you by surprise, but it shouldn’t have, really.  He’d wanted this since the first few days you were here.  Wanted you.

You ravage his mouth, your hands in his hair, making it messy as you practically melt into his arms.  His tongue plays perfectly with yours, his lips soft and yielding.  Dean Winchester is an exceptional kisser.  This fact makes you hate him even more.

As you pull back, breathless, Dean grins at you.  He looks happy and care-free, like the cat that got the cream.  Your face, however, holds a scowl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?”  His expression changes to concern.

You lick your lips and it’s just as you thought, the sweet buttery goodness of pie crust and the pleasant tartness of sour cherry.  You slap him across the face – not hard but just enough to get his attention – and stride to the door leaving him confused.

“What the hell?!”  He rounds on you, his arousal tenting his robe.

“Don’t you dare eat my pie again.”

You leave your warning hanging in the air along with his frustration.  A smirk playing on your lips at the sight you had just left behind you; Dean Winchester with kiss-swollen lips and a hard-on for you.  It isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen but you still hate him, even if there’s now something else there along side it. 

[changbunnies]

All About You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: age gap, royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), pet names (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times– that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check– and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option.

He lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you– he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching the princess' description. And as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do.

He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself.

It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe.

But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you– there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power.

“Princess–” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage.

Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error– one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach.

You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour.

He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together.

“There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised.

He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before?

You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.”

Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.”

“Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death.

He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel– because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it?

You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter– you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats.

You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose– he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe.

You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning.

He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want. But you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him– you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion, no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs.

It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho thinks he would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?”

Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You– what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard; a man who is your fathers age at that. But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest.

“Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation.

“Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

And truly, Minho was the ideal man; at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you.

He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil; you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame.

You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly. You'd match one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin.

In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this– to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side.

“You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” He looks you over carefully following your question, grip on the armrests tightening.

Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs before Minho rises from his chair. He's is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need– all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin.

He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..”

He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips.

He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows.

Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip.

If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin. He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too.

His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing.

You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. “Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something.

You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your arousal. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect.

You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head.

“Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims.

“I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers.

It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women– women who knew what they were doing. But really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked– you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question.

Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet.

Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation.

“You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. “Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss.

His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling.

It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all. “M-Minho, I’m– 'm gonna–” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence.

He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.”

All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face and gushing around his fingers.

He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes.

You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head. You’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down.

He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit. “Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly.

“Feels good, I just– I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel about him even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess–” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious.

“Minho, I–” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop.

You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please–” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble.

But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you– not that you mind in the slightest. You’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you.

He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release.

He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust. A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours.

Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him. His arms wrap around you snuggly, and keep you upright against his chest. You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek.

He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks.

In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably?

He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be. You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least.

“Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same.

He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided– so if you make your future husband, your father, or even the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

[one-idea]

I had an idea for a story but no time to do anything with it so I offer to you:

The crew is facing some monarch with a devil fruit that forces absolute obedience from the people they hit with it. Zoro gets hit, but the command is "kneel and obey your king" and. Well. Zoro has only ever had one king, hasn't he?

It quickly turns out that Luffy and Zoro can read each other so well that Zoro starts responding to nonverbal orders, things Luffy wants but would never say, never command. Zoro might not even be mentally present, just responding automatically.

I love this!!! And I am honored that you chose me.

On this could be so sweet and at the same time utterly heartbreaking.

Because you know as soon as they find out what that guys devil fruit ability is Luffy hates him. Luffy values freedom above everything else. The idea that someone has the ability to strip someone of their freedom so completely and force them to obey every command has to enrage him.

Especially if the people under his control have no free will. Because you can play this ability a few ways

Complete and utter control. They don’t do anything without being told to do it.

They live their lives normally until an order is given (like Ella enchanted. She has to obey the order but she is conscious the whole time and able to express her displeased with certain orders)

Mix it they live a normal life until an order is given and then they kind zone out until the order is complete.

And depending on which style it is can lead to a lot of different outcomes. (You could even make it so that the ability differs depending on how many times he commands them, the power becoming more encompassing each time.)

Anyhow the Strawhats hear about this and Luffy goes in Guns a Blazing as always. Nami tries to stop him because “what happens if he orders one of us?”

Luffy is sure that defeating the guy will free everyone, it’s worked every other time. Besides they are all stronger willed enough to probably break free. Zoro agrees because he’d never take a weak man’s orders. Sanji is hesitant but agrees that they have to beat this guy and the other two have already left.

But they get there and Luffy and Zoro have fought their way to the top. The others following up behind them. They are facing down the Monarch who smirks because they’ve heard about the famous strawhats Captain and his loyal dog. “I wonder what you’ll do Strawhat, when your mutt no longer listens to you.” They then turn to Zoro and order “Roronoa Zoro kneel and obey your King.”

They’re smirking expecting Zoro to fall to his knees in front of them. And Zoro does fall to his knees but he’s facing Luffy. He’s not speaking (he can’t) and is awaiting his orders.

Luffy is shocked. The enemy is cackling because he thinks he’s got Zoro but Luffy yells. “Zoro get up.” And Zoro’s right back to his feet.

“Yes my king.”

The king is flabbergasted and Luffy is looking on with pride thinking Zoro shook off the command.

The monarch escapes durning some confusion which isn’t ideal but they’ll catch up.

It isn’t until later when Zoro is doing every little thing Luffy says with out complaint (“Zoro carry me.” He gets scooped up no question. “Zoro! Meat.” They’re heading to the kitchen) and it takes the crew a while to catch on because Zoro is always by Luffy and Zoro always does things for Luffy. But normally there is gruff complaining from him at the least.

It isn’t until later that they put it together that Zoro is under the devil fruit power. But the command “Kneel and obey your king” was a poor one to give Zoro because he already has a king. He is the first mate of the future pirate king. The monarch meant obey me but Zoro’s brain only processes King as Luffy. There is no other.

Luffy is horrified when he finds out. Zoro has been doing whatever he wanted all day. And he thought it was his first mate indulging him. In actuality he had stripped Zoro of his freedom. Zoro had been obeying not because he’s the best first mate ever but because he had no choice. And he hadn’t said anything!

Zoro figures it out right away. But he can’t say anything to Luffy. He knows his captain. If he knows he has complete control over Zoro he would hate it so much. He’d be overly careful around Zoro and probably stop talking to him to try and avoid giving him any commands. (He’s right that’s Luffy’s go to strategy once he finds out)

He trust Luffy completely. Luffy, while silly, rarely gives Zoro orders that he wouldn’t chose to obey anyways.

Until they find out. Maybe Zoro sees a threat and goes to chase after it and Luffy yells to wait. He means for Zoro to wait up, he wants to fight to. But Zoro freezes mid-step. And just like that all the pieces click together.

And the idea that they can read each other so well that Zoro is obeying non verbal commands is so cute but also heart wrenching because Luffy is trying to hard not to order Zoro around that he’s just not talking to him. But Zoro knows Luffy. And is so used to predicting and interpreting his wants and needs he’s doing things any ways.

He’s pulling Luffy into hugs when he needs comfort (a movement Zoro normally lets pass) he stands beside him when Luffy needs support.

And it’s causing Luffy to spiral because Zoro doesn’t want to do these things he’s making Zoro do them.

But Zoro absolutely wants to be with Luffy and comfort him and support him. Luffy could ask him to disembowel himself and he’d do it. Because the king was right he is Luffy’s loyal first mate (dog) and if he was going to be forced to obey anyone he’d pick Luffy because he trust him completely.

But to Luffy this is a violation of this trust. Any order he has to give that Zoro follows blindly is stressing him out because Zoro is going to hate him for taking his freedom.

Oh I love this idea so much!!! Thank you. I’ll have to think about this more.

[moon-river-me]

Hii

A recommendation would be that the reader flirts with Spencer and he is very blushing because of it. The team would have fun with it haha.

Have a nice day!! 💖

ok so this is my first fanfic so i would really appreciate feedback(good and bad).

Ties.

fem! BAUreader, awkward spencer reid, sfw. I imagined early seasons spencer but it is non specified.

551 words.

“Did you know that wearing a tie can reduce blood flow to the brain by 7.5 percent?” Ties. That was how this exceedingly embarrassing rant began, you did that thing you do were you randomly compliment spencer; he loves it and hates it at the same time. Which for someone like himself, a logical man who values concrete answers, does not appreciate. Spencer loves problem solving, he has always been an amazing problem solver, when there was an equation, there was an answer, when there was a question, there was an answer, but the random comments that never fail to tinge his cheeks a rose hue, Spencer Reid did not have an answer for that.

By now Spencer realized he has been spitting useless facts about ties for over 3 minutes, which resulted in his face turning an even brighter shade of red.

“Pretty boy, all she said was nice tie,” Derek’s belly laugh could certainly be heard through the entire bullpen. Great, and even bigger crowd for his humiliation.

You giggle, keeping your eyes directly on his, “no no I love your facts spence, as long as you don’t give me a statistic on coffee and its correlation to some unheard-of disease, I will happily listen to you talk.” You add a subtle wink when you finish talking. Spencer’s bashful expression morphed into one of shock.

“You do?” The pure confusion in his voice added to your melodic laugh.

“Of course Spence, it’s the best part of working here.” While light-hearted, he picked up on the truth behind your words, making a shy grin appear on his face. He pushed his glasses up before realising his hair had now fallen Infront of his eyes.

“Here let me,” and before he knew it, your hand was directly in front of his eyes, pushing his hair out of his view. Spencer couldn’t take his gaze away from you. You keep the silent staring contest between you going. You know you will win; you always do.

“Boy genius, you look like a tomato” Penelope states are she strolls past to Derek’s desk.

“Red? I- I am not red its just hot in here.” His voice goes up at least an octave, his hand automatically travels to his cheeks.

“Okay keep telling yourself that Dr Reid,” you whisper the last part so only he could hear. You hand goes and taps his shoulder, keeping it there for a second longer than what could be considered normal, before moving to your desk, which coincidently is directly opposite his.

“I wasn’t lying by the way. Your tie is really nice. Suits you.” You state nonchalantly, as if that sentence didn’t make Spencers stomach swirl and form knots.

“I like yours too! Wait no.” You were not wearing a tie. Great. His utter screw up made you throw your head back laughing, increasing greatly when you looked at his horrified face.

“Thank you, Spence.” Your laugh slowly morphing back into your staple giggle, “maybe I will wear one tomorrow, and then you can mean it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer felt like a puddle on the floor, but the look of admiration in your face made that feeling run for the hills.

“Don’t apologise, it was very cute. you are very cute” You promise him, nodding your head to accentuate your point.

oh. oh.

a/n

ok so sorry this is so bad but feedback would be very very great thanks!! I have some Aaron Hotchner x readers' coming up <3

I did NOT proof read lets pray this makes sense :)

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

A Pirates Life For Me

Pairings: father Killian Jones x child/teen!reader

Imagine: what it would be like to be Killian Jones child

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff, and Killian Jones being the best father ever, I guess there’s some spoilers for those who haven’t watched all seasons I guess, mention of when he died, NOT proofread yet

A/N back to writing ya’ll (hopefully), thought I’d start it of easy with some headcanons, so a few other will come out too but this is the first because recently I’ve been obsessing over Killian again along with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Hunter (from tbb)

Side note half of this got deleted and couldn’t really remember what I wrote so it’s definitely not as good as the first draft

First things first you were raised on the Jolly Roger, you would most probably grow up as a pirate, and when old enough you’d help him fighting against the other pirates that would attack you at times

I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to deal with wearing dark colored clothes, he doesn’t do light color therefore neither do you at least until you’re old enough to decide for yourself what clothes you want

You’d beg Killian to buy you the biggest hat ever as you read somewhere that pirates has hats, he never bought you that hat… he did steal a tiny hat that fit you perfectly though…

He was scared to death that he would be like his own father, but don’t worry he’s both like that he’s the best and he’d never leave you like that

Your initials are written beside the wheel (you know where he wrote with his hook for Bae/Neal)

Things you carved into the ship as a kid can still be seen in the most random places

He childproofed the ship, put child locks on nearly every cabinet not knowing if it was child appropriate things in them as the crew would put their things in random places, he did not find the thought of you finding a knife, sword, or gun and accidentally hurt yourself very comforting

Adopted child, biological child, doesn’t matter he loves you the same.

Depending on when you were born you might of watched The Dark One rip the heart out of your father’s lover

One of many traumatic events

Killian values you more than anything else, if he had to choose between revenge or you, he’d always choose you, he’d do anything for you even if it meant him dying

He still knows how to say no to things though

He made a mental list in his head on things he would teach you

1. How to sail

2. How to navigate with stars

3. Sword fighting

4. How to survive on Neverland (just in case Pan decided to kidnap you or something to mess with him)

5. How to escape from Neverland

6. What plants are poisonous or not

7. Do not make deals with the dark one

And then the list goes on and on, he would want to teach you everything he knows about everything really, he just doesn’t want you to make the same mistakes he did, or to end up being a villain as he wants you to get your happy ending

Somewhere along the road you got dragged into wanting to help your father get revenge, nearly succeeded in multiple occasions, but as it turns out villains don’t really get their revenge

You once made the crew find a hook and clothes similar to Killian’s and later on that day you’d run up to Killian, hand clutching a hook and act as if you were the captain of the ship, imitating your father (with a really bad “adult” voice). He would let out a wide smile, eyes twinkling and a soft gaze as he looked down at you trying to reach the wheel. He’d eventually pick you up and let you steer the destination as he helped you turn the wheel the other way than he had set the course too. This was also the first time he taught you how to sail. Or somewhat, it wasn’t like you took much of the information in as you soon got bored and went to watch over the railing at the crashing waves.

Btw I’m tired of fics where Captain Hooks child likes Peter Pan, why because a parents ideals usually sets with the child, meaning you’d probably hate Peter Pan and Rumplestiltskin as much as your father does

He would tell you stories of his older brother and how he was a hero and he wished you’d met him, you would eventually in hell though later as you went to rescue your father so that’s fine, turns out he wasn’t the hero your father made him out to be, but that’s fine you only need one hero and that’s your dad

He would also tell you stories of his adventures, it made for quite the long entertaining tales as he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead before continuing his story which he altered to be a bit more child friendly and a bit more dramatic

He lets you have some of his clothes when he’s going away for a long time because he knows you’ll miss him

He lets you wear his jackets/coats, you freezing he’s already put his jacket/coat over you, even if they’re too big for you , he loves how adorable you look in it as he’s reminded that you’re still just a child and he doesn’t want you to grow up

He’d try to teach you how to paint, might succeed might not still he loves the bonding time he’s good at painting in any universe you can’t tell me otherwise

He hates seeing you hurt

If you get hurt on a raid he’d made sure whoever hurt you would suffer, you want him kiss the injury better, he’d do so in a heartbeat even if it meant his reputation would falter slightly

He starts dating someone else (Emma) he’d make sure that person treated you right, if not he’d dump said person

If he founds out you like someone he wouldn’t be overprotective, he’d still be protective but he’d mostly be supportive. He’d tease you about it until it became annoying, he’d encourage you and give you advice (even if most of his advice failed)and if it failed he’d be there to comfort you through it all

You’d blame Emma for turning Killian into a dark one and you’d blame Emma for Killian’s death

When you rescued Killian from hell he promised you he’d never die again if not of old age and that he’d never take of his good luck ring ever again as you thought he jinxed it by giving it to Emma

You were glad for his sake when he married Emma just because you saw your father happy with someone else again and not just grieving and seeking revenge for his ex lover

He hugs surprisingly great, he’s like your human sized pirate teddy bear

He misses the times when you would come into his room late at night after a nightmare and crawl under the covers and cuddle close to him, not because you had a nightmare but because he liked that you knew you would always be safe with him

He would hate that you’d have nightmares after his death and you no matter what age you are in would sometimes go into his room to make sure he was still alive and maybe even sleep beside him, he’d wake up to you sprawled out over the whole bed clutching his side tightly as if you were afraid he’d disappear

Will make sure you get your happy ending

He’s just father material it’s as simple as that (just look at Nook, love Nook though but original Hook is the best)

[0xstarzx0]

Don’t write it it stinks of toxic love

synopsis: Nate never found someone to love, Rafe was never loved and Y/N was never taken serious Maybe their entry into college will change their lives.

Frat Rafe x Reader x Frat Nate.

[English is not my native language❗️❗️] TW: toxic, smut, sex, penetration, fingering, non-con, manipulation , insult, fight, humiliation, misogynistic attitude. [PART1]

______________________________________________

______________________________________________

NATE 

The summer vacation had not been easy for Nathaniel Jacobs. Between the divorce of his parents, Cassie who was just stalking his and his going to college, nothing was right.

Two weeks before homecoming, he decided to go to Chris Mckay’s, he was happy that Mckay was still talking to him about what happened between him and Cassie.

They were in Mckay’s room playing a fighting game. They were focused in their game when Nate was talking. "Dude?". Mckay turned his head to look at him. "Yeah?" he said.

"How’s college, I mean is there a lot of hot chicks?" Mckay and Nate laugh, Nate laugh to hide his anxiety.

Nate wanted to leave, college was one of the best ways. What Nate was afraid of was not being number one. He was afraid that he would not be THE best football player. That he is not indispensable to his team.

"Nah, man, college is where you can fuck whoever you want, it’s not like high school, people don’t give a shit about who’s fucking who, as long as it’s not cheating." Mckay said.

"How do you get respect?" Nate asks. Mckay seems to think long." I had sex with the cheerleading captain and the opposing college captain. Nate opens his eyes wide. "Two cheerleaders but not the same team or the same college?"

"You’re gaining huge popularity and a huge repsect. You’re teammates will trust you after that." Mckay laughed." So if I understand correctly, a good fuck with a cheerleader captain is the deal?" asks Nate. "Got it all figured out, man. But one advice, close the door of your room when you’re inside."

Mckay’s expression changes, it becomes empty and hard. Filled with hate and sadness. Nate nods, and as he was about to speak the door opens. Drawing the attention of Nate and the latter.

"Chris, your aunt is here, comes to help her carry her boxes." said his mother. "Is she already there?" asked Chris sighing." Yes, she’s already here, with her daughter, so be nice and come now." Demands her mother.

Chris gets up and Nate follows him, they go outside where, his head car is parked. Chris hugs his aunt and takes boxes, Nate only says hello and helps her carry her boxes.

Nate poses where he needs to, he goes back out when he crosses a small head out of the bathroom.

Nate looks at the girl and he feels something, he doesn’t move me and she doesn’t either. He looks at the girl.

She is small, her hair is black braided, long eyelashes that put her brown hazelnut eyes in values , black skin but which shone thanks to the passage of the sunset in the long corridor. Nate begins to detail her body, she has beautiful boobs, a slim waist and beautiful hips that enhance her legs.

She’s wearing a Brazil jersey with black shorts, a cyclist? He doesn’t know, but anyway, this girl makes him feel what no other girl has ever made him feel not even Maddy.

"Y/N" says Chris enthusiastically. Y/N looks at Nate looking away at Chris. "Did you miss me?" she asks trotting towards him.

Chris laughs and hugs her. Nate remains in his thoughts for a short time.

______________________________________________

Nate learned a lot about Y/N. She’s her age, she likes to read, write and fine art, she doesn’t have a boyfriend and something that makes Nate want to have her, in two weeks, they’ll share the same campus.

They go to the same college, she looks so pure and kind, Nate intends to make sure that she lives only by him.

Nate falls in love every time she talks to him and that’s a big problem for our football star.

Especially when Y/N won’t just attract his attention.

______________________________________ [PART 2]

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[sukunasbow]

childhood friends, daryl dixon.

summary: in which you reunite with your childhood friend, only for him to underestimate your value in the current state of the world.

warnings: fem!reader, surgeon!reader, typical twd violence, and not proof read atm.

notes: request from anon! i put a small twist on this request so i hope you enjoy! also i really need to start proof reading my work right away cause i feel like there might be tons of little embarrassing mistakes i haven’t noticed so let me know if that’s a common thing on all my ‘not yet proof read’ fics because if so i’m going to go back and fix them, ty bbies!

One thing Daryl Dixon still remembers about his life before the dead started walking, is his childhood best friend. The girl that he always went to when he was upset, the girl that always knew how to cheer him up, and that same girl that eventually moved away before the two of them started high school, leaving him heartbroken as her and her family drove off to go live in a small community far away from him, not looking back.

Whenever the memories of that girl cloud his mind, he feels pathetic, quickly reminding himself that she’s probably a walker now, having absolutely no memory of him or her own childhood.

However, the one possibility that sounded insane to him, happens to be the reality. That girl is you, who’s younger self hated her parents for ripping her away from everything and everyone she’s known since birth to move to Alexandria, but now is extremely grateful for them, as she has a safe place to stay in during the world going to shit.

“(Y/N).” A loud voice calls you from outside your house, causing you to walk downstairs and open the door. “Deanna, what’s up? It’s like three in the morning.” You sigh, leaning on the door frame, wearing fluffy slippers and a pair of shorts with a tank top. “We have a group that just arrived, some of them need medical attention and check ups.” The older lady explains, bring your attention to the group of people standing in the middle of the road with Aaron. “Alright, one second.” You nod, grabbing your jacket off of the coat rack and quickly putting it on, then following Deanna towards the group.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is (Y/N) (L/N), she’s our nurse and she’s going to do routine check ups on everyone.” The leader of your community explains to the new residents, causing everyone to turn to face you. “Um, I’m gonna check the children first.” You say, a warm smile on your face, hoping to relieve the tension between everyone. “(Y/N)?” Someone says, causing your eyes to follow their voice, being greeted by the sight of someone you recognize. “Daryl?” You gasp. His eyes are wide as you run up to him and hug him, “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! I didn’t even know if you were…” You don’t finish your sentence, assuming he knows what you were going to say. “Yeah, same.” He breathes out, warming up to the hug and wrapping his arms around you. “You know her?” Another man cuts in, causing you to pull away from Daryl. “She was my friend way back, before high school.” He explains to the other man, “Sorry, who are you?” You ask. “Rick, Rick Grimes.” The man, who you now know as Rick, hesitantly replies. “Oh, nice to meet you. These are your children, yes?” You glance at the young girl he’s holding and the older boy that’s next to him. “Yes.” He nods. “Okay, Do you mind if I take them to the infirmary and check for bites or injuries? It’s a typical procedure here.” You explain. He doesn’t respond. “You can of course come with us.” You add, hoping it convinced him, “Yeah, sure.” He agrees this time. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” You softly smile at Daryl before turning around, “Come with me, please.” You instruct Rick and his family. “(Y/N), let me know if there’s any issues.” Deanna stops you before you start walking, a concerned look in her eyes. You raise an eyebrow, slightly confused at her worried state, “Of course.” You continue walking.

“Okay, Daryl, your turn.” You walk out of the infirmary room, gesturing to the man that’s sitting on the porch of the building, waiting for the other member’s of his group do get done with their checkups. “Mk.” He gets up, following you back into the room, closing the door behind him. “So, just sit here.” You tap on the chair in the middle of the room, “I’m basically just asking you questions about how you feel and checking your temperature, things like that.” You say your usually ‘speech’, something you usually do in hopes of comforting new group members. “Alright.” He sits down, watching as you shuffle around the room, grabbing a pen and clipboard off of one of the counters. “First question, do you have any bites or scratches?” You ask him. “That’s a stupid question. That’s why these people got you askin’?” He scoffs. You bluntly stare at him, “It’s procedure.” The man shakes his head, “Naw.” You check the ‘no’ box on the paperwork. “Okay, common symptoms of being turned include a fever, so I’m going to check your temperature now.” You plsce your clipboard to the side, getting off of the small stool and walking towards a cabinet filled with medical equipment. “Ya even a real nurse?” Daryl asks. “I went to university, then graduated, then became a top surgeon, so yeah, I have most of the skills to help people.” You roll your eyes, turning around and sitting back down on the stool in front of him. “Ahh, big shot.” He hums as you check his temperature. “No fever, you’re hopefully, not infected.” You sarcastically smile. “Now, you and your friend Rick are coming on a supply run with me tomorrow morning, so go get some sleep.” You stand up and gesture for him to leave the infirmary. “Your coming on a supply run? I don’t think you should, it’s dangerous.” He gives you a weird look. “I think I can handle it.” You laugh his comment off. “Based off the rest of these people, y’all don’t stand a chance if these walks come down, not without my group.” He adds. “I can handle myself. Some of the other residents might not have as much skill as your group, but I assure you, I got just as much experience as you. I’ll be a great addition to the supply runs. Anyways, I usually do them, at least before you guys got here.” You glare at him, roughly closing the medical cabinet. He doesn’t say anything, worry and doubt in his mind as he leaves the room, shutting the door and leaving you alone to clean up.

“Morning.” You walk up to the two men that are standing just outside of the gate, talking to each other in low whispers.“Good morning.” Rick turns around when he hears your voice. You nod, not bothering to make any more conversation, considering your last conversation involved Daryl undermining your capability of navigating the state of the world outside of Alexandria. “Close the gates.” You yell back to the lady on watch, you think her name’s Rosita. “Got it.” She starts closing the gate as the three of you walk away from the safe haven, heading towards a nearby town.

“We need more baby food, for, uh, Judith.” You mumble, reading the list on the small crumpled paper you’re holding. “Daryl.” Rick’s panicked voice sends shivers down you spine, causing you to look up with a concerned look on your face, greeted by the sight of a small group of walkers inching closer to you and the two men. “Shit.” You huff. The three of you quickly get your knives ready, moving away from each other and towards the walkers. While Rick and Daryl deal with the rest of the dead, you deal with about five of your own. Plunging your knife into each of their skulls, you quickly kill all of them, leaving blood splatters all over your clothes. “Am I capable of going on supply runs, now?” You turn to face Daryl, opening your mouth to continue, but quickly running towards him when you notice a walker push him over and fall on top of his body. “Rick!” You call the other man’s name, who just finished dealing with another walker, to get his attention. He turns around and is quick to follow you towards the other man. However, you get there before him, standing over the Walker and jamming your knife into the back of it’s head. Letting out a tired sigh, you wipe some more blood off of your forehead, then shoving the body of the walker off of Daryl. “Thanks.” He manages to breathe out. “Mhm.” You nod. You know it’s stubborn to still be pissed about what he said to you when he almost got eaten alive, but considering you saved his life despite his lack of faith in your survival skills, it felt too ironic.

Walking up and down the aisles of the small and abandoned grocery store, Daryl follows you around like a small puppy. “Why are you following me around? Go follow Rick.” You shake your head, tossing another box of old pasta into your bag. “Rick’s in the other store, I wanted to shop in this store.” Daryl scratches the back of his neck, attempting to create an excuse to walk with you, or really, follow behind you. “Sure.” You roll your eyes. “Hold this.” You abruptly stop and pass your bag to Daryl, the man taking it from you and watching as you stand up on your toes to reach a different box of pasta that’s on the highest shelf. “Here.” You drop the pasta box down, Daryl managing to catch it with your bag. Standing back down, you take the bag back from him, before moving to walk down the next aisle. “I’m sorry, alright? I know you’re capable of handling yourself, I just hadn’t seen you in so long and all those other residents have barely even seen the outside world since moving to that place.” He huffs, grabbing your arm before you can continue to sulk around the store. “I haven’t seen you in, I don’t even know how long at this point, and one of the first real conversations we had, involved you making a snap judgement and regarding me as useless aside from being a nurse.” You look at him, your tone harsh. “I’m sorry, how many times I gotta say it?” Daryl scoffs. “I want you to admit that you were wrong.” You cross your arms, holding them up your chest, your mouth pressed into a firm line. “Fine.” He pauses, “I was wrong, you’re not useless, I never even meant to say that.” He continues. His voice is low like usual, but his facial expression tells a different story, a soft look in his eyes with a small but genuine smile forming. “You’re forgiven.” You hold yourself back from smiling, “I guess.” You shrug. “You’re more stubborn than me, huh?” He laughs. “Always been that way, remember when I didn’t talk to you for a full day because you took my ice cream?” You playfully bump his arm with your arm, “Oh, I remember.” He says.

Daryl never thought he’d see you again, but now that he’s standing right in front of you, the two of you laughing and making jokes, he can start to feel those certain butterflies he felt in his stomach from when he was younger. The butterflies that only showed up whenever he was near you.

[f4llingtoyou]

what a shame part II (min ho x reader)

“What if I told you I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months now?” 

read part I here!

wc: ~1.8k an: part 2 is finally here!! i don’t love how this turned out but i did have them kiss so. hope you all enjoy :)

Objectively, you know you’re overthinking this.

He had literally stated, out loud, that he was willing to kiss you. For Min Ho, that was basically a confession of undying love. You know that his interest tends to be fleeting, and you’d be stupid to not act on it when you’ve been presented with the opportunity. 

(It doesn’t help that you’ve been thinking about kissing him for as long as you can remember. It definitely doesn’t help that he’s strolling around his party looking like everything you’ve ever dreamed of.)

You’d like to think maybe he meant it genuinely - that his attraction isn’t just surface level. You’d like to think the flickering warmth that starts up in your stomach every time your eyes meet is a mutual experience. 

But instead of the elation you’d expected to feel at the idea of it all, something like dread settles in the slump of your shoulders.

After all, he’s a flirt. And as much as you’d like to think you’re special, part of you wonders how many girls he’s told that to tonight. You’d value yourself as more than a distraction even if you wonder if he could say the same. It’s all too easy to lose yourself in comparisons and you hate that you’re discrediting him in the process, especially when you’ve gotten to know him in a way that feels far more intimate than his public facade. 

If his intention was to leave you dazed and confused, he can certainly rest easy tonight. But you know you can’t - that you’ll be thinking about him for quite possibly the rest of your life.

You’ll be thinking about his lips on yours, his hands on your back, your back against a wall. 

Something inside you shifts.

Your inner monologue comes to a conclusion. Carpe diem, or whatever.

You down the rest of your drink (some sort of cherry concoction that leaves a saccharine afterthought lingering on your tongue) and leave your bar stool for the second time this evening. You’re embarrassed to admit you know exactly where he is, but you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of him. He’s seated next to Dae on one of the couches, the spread of his shoulders filling out his suit jacket a little too perfectly. 

You swallow down your nerves and tap him on the shoulder.

The way he turns and looks up at you has your knees going weak. You’re suddenly all too aware of Dae’s eyes on you.

You clear your throat. Your feelings for him lodge in your throat like an aftertaste that won’t go down easy.

“About… your offer,” you begin, and the way he raises his eyebrows has the rest of the sentence wilting on the tip of your tongue. It’s like your thoughts are turning to honey - thick and sweet and slow. It’s all-consuming, the way you lose yourself in him.

He smirks.

 “Oh? You changed your mind?” 

It’s moments like these where you think it’s more than unfair that he knows how attractive he is. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just… the best available option,” you protest, narrowing your eyes in a false display of confidence. You both know he’s more than the best option. 

“The best available option? There’s no need to lie to yourself like that,” he scoffs, but it’s lighthearted in a way you weren’t expecting. Your friendship has never crossed this line before, and it’s undeniable that you’ve been wondering how this is going to change it. You don’t think you’d mind if he broke your heart, not if you got to have him like this just for a night.

He gets up from the couch, patting a somewhat despondent Dae on the shoulder, and extends a hand to you. “Let’s get out of here, hm?”

You bite back a smile.

“Lead the way.”

And he does.

Of all the things you’re thinking right now, you’re definitely not thinking about the way he slides his fingers between yours like it’s an old habit. It’s absolutely the last thing on your mind. (You’re lying.)

He leads you through the crowds of people with effortless ease. The situation has something equivalent to adrenaline running through your veins. It has you bursting into unabashed laughter - the glittering lights, the music, the people, the way you’re being pulled into a dark hallway to kiss the guy you’re in love with.

Min Ho glances over his shoulder at the sound and you think you could live off the way he smiles for the rest of your life.

“Sorry,” you mouth over the noise between peals of laughter, even if you don’t know why you’re apologizing.

He huffs out a laugh of his own and cocks his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for, darling.”

And even though he says the it somewhat teasingly, the word has your chest erupting in fireworks. You don’t think you’d mind it at all if he called you that more often.

You’ve reached an alcove in one of the hallways, awash in warm buttery light spilling from delicate chandeliers. He tugs you into it with a grin like it’s second nature, and it almost feels like fate the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

Maybe you are special, if he pulled you all the way over here just to kiss you. Maybe you’re not just another face in the crowd.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you prompt, bracing yourself for the potential disappointment.

He smirks again. 

“What if I told you I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months now?”

Well. In that case.

Your reply comes out as a whisper. 

“So kiss me.”

And he does.

You know that kissing Min Ho will do nothing to help your repressed feelings - but the way he’s tilting his head to make the kiss deeper has your mind going deliciously blank. There’s nothing to overthink when he’s sliding his tongue across your lips like he’s tasting you for the first and last time.

You hope to god it’s not the last.

You test the waters ever so slightly by sinking your teeth gently into his bottom lip, and you’re rewarded with a drawn out groan, his hands tightening on your waist. It’s like electricity bleeding from where his fingers press into your skin, gasps spilling out of your mouth that he swallows down one after the other. You’re practically melting in his embrace as he pushes you gently until your back hits the wall with an audible thump.

Emboldened by his behavior, you thread one hand into the hair just above his neck and tug ever so slightly. 

“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, and he pulls back just enough that you can catch your breath.

“You sure this is your first kiss?” he mumbles, pressing his mouth to yours one more time before you can respond. Honestly, your head is miles above the clouds right now, but you pull yourself together enough to reply.

“Yeah. Pretty sure,” you whisper back, wincing at how out-of-breath you sound. But then your head is falling back against the wall when his mouth moves to that spot on your jawline just below your ear. 

The whine that tears from your throat when he detaches himself from your neck is far too audible for your liking, and you shut your eyes on instinct out of embarrassment.

It takes you by surprise when you feel his finger nudging your chin up toward him again, and when you open your eyes he’s grinning so brightly at you that you’re suddenly forgetting how to breathe.

“You’re so cute,” he mutters, before diving back in to kiss you again. It almost sounds like affection, and that realization has everything suddenly feeling off-kilter. You had grounded yourself on the idea that this was something Min Ho would just forget by the time the sun rose, and having him potentially care about you has your entire world shifting drastically. 

You’ve never been touched, let alone kissed, like this - like you mean something. 

It has you on the verge of confessing it all. 

He pulls back once more, briefly, and your eyes trail down the curve of his neck as he swallows. It’s easy to see why so many people are in love with him - you’re already addicted to the feeling of him devouring every breath you exhale. His grip on your waist has fire sparking in the pit of your stomach and you’re so close to falling apart in his arms that even his delicate touch feels bruising. (Although you think that if you were to peel back the layers of your outfit, you’d find his name tattooed in deep reds and purples like the marks he’s left on you neck right above your heart, where your feelings have been beating out of your chest.)

“You taste like cherries,” he murmurs. 

A self-conscious smile spreads slowly across your face. “Blame your mocktails.”

Laughter spills from him. The sound has an inexplicable warmth trickling through your chest. “I’d like to thank the bartender, actually. I could kiss you until the sun rises.”

“Please do,” you respond simply, and you’re not even ashamed to say it because he’s leaning back in before you can finish saying it.

This time his ferocity catches you by surprise and he uses it to his advantage, licking into your mouth without any hesitation. It’s absolutely dizzying, the way he occupies your every sense and every thought. The only word you can remember is his name, and when you breathe it out you’re met with a low groan in response. 

And then there’s a cacophony of shouts in the distance - he tilts his head back with a frustrated huff. There’s a particularly loud yell, something about shutting the music off, and you and Min Ho immediately meet each other’s eyes with mirrored expressions of concern.

You swallow. “Is that… Professor Lee?”

Min Ho curses.

“It’s okay. You should go,” you rush to tell him, leaving an unspoken question in the air about what this whole situation means for the two of you. You’d ask it out loud but the words stick in your chest and refuse to come out, so you duck your head instead. You’re still trying to regain your bearings like you hadn’t just been kissed senseless.

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing between you and the sounds of the party agitatedly.  “Yeah. I-” he pauses. 

Fuck it.

You gently squeeze his arm. “Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?”

He doesn’t give you any time to second guess yourself because he starts smiling so widely you’re sure it must hurt. His gaze is unbearably soft, so soft that a chill ghosts down your back. The things you’d give to have him like this every day - like he’s in love with you too.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

He pulls you back into him one more time, lips lingering on yours until he’s stolen all the breath from your lungs.

And then he’s slipping back into the party, leaving you giddy and absolutely breathless once more.

[theminecraftbee]

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

[cherrygukkie]

Late Night Encounters Pt. 3| jjk

Word count: 4,114+

A/N: Here is part 3 of Late Night Encounters. I hope you all enjoy reading! please don’t be afraid to give feedback. <3

••••

Questions raced throughout your mind.

How did Jungkook and Gaia know each other?

How was it possible that both of your enemies were friends?

Most importantly… What was their connection?

Her arrival was expected, but her and Jungkook being a pair was unexpected. Everyone knows that you and Gaia hate each other's guts, which is why you thought Jungkook was doing this for some twisted joke…

The history between you and her goes way back not from only being rivals...

Others would assume the opposite because she’s the captain of her team. A title like that is important and it means a lot.

A captain is someone who can guide others with responsibility and authority. They are filled with empathy, understanding and fairness while also valuing others opinions and treating everyone with respect.

Of course from your perspective, her character didn’t suit any of those things.

Her body stole the gap between you and Jungkook and ignored your existence as if you were invisible. As she turns around in front of you, her dark brown wavy hair dances in the air, nearly flying in your face.

You took a step back without a word. You knew it was most likely on purpose.

“Hey kook,” she says, pleased to see him. She wasted no time wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a warm hug. Jungkook, who reciprocates the gesture, returns the same affection that was given.

“Thank you for coming.” The hug lasts a minute until they finally separate, but her hand remains on his arm. “I do appreciate it. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” He seemed happy to see Gaia. His eyes lit up like a puppy once he spoke to her. “You know I’d show up for you.”

After Gaia shows her appreciation by sending Jungkook a pretty smile with batting lashes, she turns around to finally acknowledge your existence.

The eyes of both of you immediately met with a fiercely piercing gaze, refueling the same flames from the last time you locked eyes. After all, this was the first time you were face to face since last year at the tournament.

As the tension lingers on in the air, Gaia breaks it with her words. "Well, hello Y/N.” You couldn't help but notice the judgmental look on her face as her eyes scanned your figure from head to toe.

It reminded you of the same look you shared moments before the buzzer went off. Both teams were divided on each side of the net and you and Gaia were intensely staring into each other's souls, ready to rip each other apart.

“Gaia,” you replied, voice steady and even.

Jungkook’s eyes bounced from you to Gaia back and forth sensing the unspoken tension between you both. He felt it getting heated…

“I see you finally decided to step out of the shadows after a few years…” The grin on her face didn’t even reach her eyes.

Who does she think she is calling that cheap shot a win? Then dares to make it seem like you’ve been embarrassed to show your face?

But it’s fine, she wasn’t the only one with words to exchange. You've been waiting a long time to get this opportunity.

“I see that you're brave enough to face me alone now,” you hissed coldly, “I remember the last time we faced each other, you had to hide behind security.”

You both were referring to the night of the tournament. It was a clashes between your schools and things started to get rowdy, so security had to personally escort your team to the busses.

Gaia’s team came out right after you and let’s just say you weren’t too happy seeing them hold the trophy… and you went face to face with her and gave her a piece for your mind.

“You were angry that night and it caused you to act violently, I get it.” She stepped forward, getting into your personal space. “The truth hurts.”

“The truth?” You retorted sharply, "Everything in your entire life, including that trophy, has been handed to you on a silver platter."

It's not hard to believe that they flashed a stack of cash to keep their school’s reputation, The Most Undefeated School. And that’s exactly what they did, leaving your team no choice but to accept it and move on.

Gaia's eyes narrowed at your words, and she nodded in denial. "I worked hard for that trophy, Y/N. Don't try to diminish my accomplishments just because you can't handle losing."

Jungkook sighed, seeing that things were getting out of hand, and tried to step between you and Gaia. "Come on, guys, let's not ruin the night. Save the drama for later.”

All he wanted to do was steer the conversation towards a more positive direction, but the tension in the air was palpable and neither of you paid attention to Jungkook.

“The trophy is with me, in my possession, in my school's showcase and it’s never leaving.”

“Never leaving?” You question her confidence. “That’s cute.”

“No.” Her lips form into an O as she empathizes her words slowly. “So stop making excuses and accept the fact that your team got kicked to the bottom where they belong.”

You entered defense mode the second you inched closer, perfectly angling your face with hers. “Keep my team out of your mouth or you will get kicked to the bottom, Gaia.”

Her emerald green eyes bore into yours as her lips curled into a smirk with a slow deliberate movement. “Still the same feisty Y/N I see. You haven’t changed a bit…”

Snapping back you say, “And I don’t plan on it either.”

Jungkook steps forward, in an attempt to divide you apart, until Gaia prevents him from getting any closer with her hand.

Surprisingly, he obeys Gaia without hesitation and stands in place with zipped lips. “Y/N is still in her feelings about her loss. Her empty threats won’t change the fact that I have what she wants.”

“You won’t for long and that’s a promise, Gaia.” You make it known before Jungkook briefly interjects again. This time he takes action and grabs Gaia by the wrist.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He takes action, separating you both by pulling her away. “Now isn’t the time for this.”

You glance at him, realizing that he was more than right. There’s a time and place for this and it isn’t here and you weren’t going to let Gaia and her pointless taunts ruin your night.

As you close your eyes for a split second, you exhale putting yourself back at ease. You reminded yourself that you are here to support and represent your team not to have a catfight with Gaia.

Not now.

“I have better things to do, you know, like find a table for my team to sit.” After she shoots daggers at you, she looks over at Jungkook and smiles. “And I’ll see you around, okay?”

•the switch up is insane

He gives a subtle nod and she pats his shoulder before spinning on her heels leaving you and Jungkook alone.

Your arms remained over your chest as you waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade away.

When she’s gone, your hand instinctively reaches for his tie, gripping it tightly. You drag him along with a swift motion and lead him away from the loud crowd.

He attempted to speak while being dragged and his words tumbled out like a rush. Your grip tightens, intertwining with the silk and you yank his tie even harder.

“Shut up.” You were too determined to let Jungkook slip from your grip. He had his chance to speak and he has said enough. Now it’s your turn to talk and just like you wanted, he didn’t say another word.

The forcefulness of your action silences him and from then, he remained quiet until you found a secluded corner and led him there.

“Why?” Is all you ask before you release his tie, sending him stumbling backward from your vicious hold.

He doesn’t respond to your question, he just blinks and stares at you with bewildered eyes as if you lost your mind.

“Jungkook? Hello?” You waved your hand in his face, demanding an answer. “Why the hell are you here? Here with her?”

He scoffs, readjusting his tie that was ruined by the hands of you. “Why does it matter?” Jungkook’s tone grew defensive.

You roll your eyes in disbelief, “You are here with Gaia Watson, the same person who tarnished our school name all on her Instagram. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Who gives a shit? It happened a year ago. Get over it.” Jungkook stuffed his hands in his pocket, then looked in another direction to avoid your face.

You had to remind him. “She’s our rival, Jungkook. You should be ashamed showing up with her.”

"Gaia is your rival, not mine," he clarified, expressing the irritation in his tone. "Now can you not make this a big deal?”

Big deal? It’s a bit too late for that. You already formed your theories about their relationship and couldn’t help but ask.

“I see you clearly don’t care about our school’s reputation.” You use air quotes. “She isn’t your rival. She’s your girlfriend, my apologies.”

“Woah woah…” He instantly puts his hands up in denial. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Gaia and I are just good friends. We’ve been good friends for years.”

Your strained chuckle doesn’t reach your eyes. “Good friends.” Jungkook peeped your sarcasm.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

Quickly noticing your expression, Jungkook makes a muffled noise. It sounded like he was trying to hide a chuckle.

Your eyes shift to his, which were already on you. "Jealousy isn’t a good look on you beasty…”

The expressionless reaction you gave him was so surreal. You couldn't help but feel a little surprised by his foolish question. You weren’t sure what he was trying to imply, but you don't want to give him the pleasure of any reaction.

“What?" You humed confused and his lips began to morph into an amusing grin.

You tried to play it off as if you didn’t hear him, but in reality his words were crystal clear.

Jungkook gave you a knowing look. “Don’t get your balls in a twist. I’m not jealous, I could care less.”

“You could care less, yet you just tried to give me a lecture about it.” He teasingly shoots up his brows, “I’m not quite understanding.”

Jealousy was out of the frame. It was about how careless Jungkook is when it comes to representing our school.

“Yeah you don't quite understand a lot of things, Jungkook.” You roll your eyes. “I’m not jealous, it’s about our school’s image.”

Smirking, Jungkook shakes his head. “School’s image, huh? Whatever you say, beasty.” It was obvious that he could see right through your act. “It’s your job to care about our schools image, not mine”

•There he goes with that stupid nickname again!

“Y/N?” The sound of a clueless man caused both of you to turn your heads in her direction.

It was your best friend, Yoongi.

You smile. “Oh hey Yoongs.”

“Hi Y/N and Jungkook,” he greets you both with a surprised look.

“Hello, Yoongi.” Jungkook nods and returns the greeting.

An awkward moment of silence passes…

He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure if he invaded for a moment. “Did I interrupt something?” Yoongi asks suspiciously, pointing between the both of you with his finger.

“No, you didn’t,” you answer immediately, moving away from Jungkook. “But I’ve been looking for you.” Taking Yoongi’s arm, you led him away from Jungkook into the crowd of people.

He gives you a confused expression, but doesn’t say anything. He glances in the direction Jungkook was in, an eyebrow raised. “What was that all about?”

You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing.” You continue to lead him through the crowd.

Yoongi’s expression remains mostly blank as he listens to your reply. After a moment of silence he finally speaks again, “He was giving you a hard time wasn’t he? You want me to beat his ass?”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle my own.” You let out a small chuckle and Yoongi does along with you. “If anything I was giving him a hard time.”

His expression doesn’t change from his usual stoic self as he asks his question. “And why were you giving him a hard time?”

“Jungkook came here with Gaia,” you inform him, not pleased with the interaction between her earlier.”

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes widen as he hears you, clearly appalled by the information. “Do they have something going on?” He asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

“I don’t know, but he did mention that they were good friends.” You sigh as you think about it. Was it possible that he and Gaia were really that close?

He raises his eyebrows. “Mmm you don’t seem to be happy about them being friends.”

“Really yoongi?” You give him an icy glare.

It took him a minute to notice the stare you were giving him, he glanced at you confused. “Did I say something wrong..?”

•completely all the way fucking wrong

“I am not jealous of Gaia-”

He talks over you mid-sentence, “You’re prettier than her anyway. You have nothing to worry about as far as competition.”

“Again, I am not jealous. Can we just move on and enjoy the event? I don’t want to talk about Gaia any longer.”

Yoongi gives you a look, then rolls his eyes at your denial. He knew that you were stubborn and there was no point of pushing the conversation.

“Alright, no more,” he says with a chuckle.

“Good.” You grab your best friend's hand, then sigh. “The speeches and announcements are about to start soon, so let’s take our seats.”

He smiles, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your seats with your team. Both of you sat down and waited for the lady with the microphone to get everyone to settle down.

Things were getting serious and your coach was still nowhere to be found. She has never been late before, so this was completely out of character.

“Maybe she got caught in Traffic,” he suggested, trying to reassure you and make you feel better. Yoongi saw the worry in your eyes as you looked around for your coach.

You smile at your best friend when he pats your shoulder, giving you a comforting smile.

Mindy, seated on your other side, offered you a gentle smile before reaching over to grasp your hand, seeking comfort.

“You got this, don’t worry,” you mouthed, giving her reassuring nod. In return she smiles taking in your words.

It was officially time to announce the players that were scouted this season along with the captain speeches.

Everybody was seated at a table with their teams and additional guests. The lady on the microphone announced that it was time to reveal who was getting recruited this season.

The lady had certificates in her hand along with an envelope. When she began to open it, the crowd fell silent as intensity built.

She raises the envelope, her voice filled with anticipation, and announces, "The very first person who will be joining Team Legacy this season, bringing their exceptional skills and dedication to our team, is..."

The entire venue is filled with a tense silence, as all the teams eagerly await for the announcement. The atmosphere is thick with curiosity, as everyone is curious about the identity of the first new addition to Team Legacy this season.

With heads respectfully bowed, the girls sat around the table with their eyes closed and hands clasped tightly together. Everyone was fully aware of the importance of the moment for Mindy. Team Legacy was her dream team.

“….Mindy Bowie!” She finally announced, reading the name aloud from the envelope.

The entire venue explodes with applause as Mindy stands up, a stunned look on her face.

Everyone including you cheer her on, beaming with joy as she starts to make her way towards the stage. She seemed more uplifted than she was earlier when she spoke to you at the bar.

Mindy had that look of confidence she always carried in her face, the confidence you always admired. You clap along with the crowd with a proud smile on your face, knowing that she would absolutely kill it.

Sneaking a glance around the venue, you saw Jungkook sitting with Gaia and her team and he was surprisingly clapping for Mindy too.

His eyes landed on you as briefly made eye contact with each other, then you turned your focus back to the stage.

The lady on the microphone and the coach of team legacy greeted Mindy with a warm hug and a proud smile.

She takes the microphone and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down her overwhelmed excitement. “I can’t put into words how I feel right now, but I will say thank you. Thank you to my amazing team, my coach and my parents for believing in me and fighting for my dreams with me.” Mindy chuckles, still in shock of her dream coming true.

“And as for being recruited, I'm so honored to be joining Team Legacy, and I promise to bring my skills and dedication to the team. I can't wait to start this journey and contribute to the team's success.”

She smiles and holds up her certificate and the venue buzzes with excitement as they clap for her even louder this time.

Once Mindy and other girls finish with their speeches, the audience erupts into applause, cheers, whistles, celebrating the girls once again.

Yoongi can’t hide how much he admires Mindy too. ”I think she’s better at speeches than you. You should learn a thing or two from her.”

You instantly shook your head at the thought of you up there in front of all these people. “Oh me and my social anxiety could never…”

Many girls from other teams were successfully recruited into the teams they had hoped for. The room was filled with joyous celebrations as players hugged their loved ones, their faces beaming with excitement. Friends and family members cheered and took pictures, capturing the memorable moment.

🏐🥊

All the recruitments and speeches were finally done. Mindy was surrounded by the girls hugging her and clapping her on the back.

You finally got the chance to wrap her in a warm heartfelt hug and graduate her personally. “Congratulations. I am extremely proud of you, girl,” you whispered, your voice full of admiration.

Mindy pulls back slightly, her eyes glossy from the tears of joy forming. “Thank you… that really means a lot to me.”

“I’m impressed,” your coach says, amazed.

The unexpected sound of her voice leaves you all momentarily stunned. You turn around to see her standing there, a proud smile lighting up her face.

She chuckles, “Team Legacy? Not bad, senior.”

In an instant, everyone rushes over to her, and hugs her pleased to see her. She returns the love and affection, hugging everyone as much as she can.

“When did you get here?” Mindy asks, still processing the coach's appearance.

“I’ve been here since they started calling people on stage.” She squeezes her arms around all the girls. “I’m sorry for being late, but I couldn’t miss this important moment.”

The group hug separates and all eyes are on your coach as she continues to speak, “I would never ever miss something like this no matter what, okay? And I got stuck in damn traffic and my phone was dead-” Coach takes a moment to breathe and relieve the stressful process it was to get to the venue.

“Again, I apologize for my tardiness. But I am here now and ready to celebrate and congratulate our newest member of team legacy.” Coach nudges Mindy’s arm with a wink on her face.

“Congratulations babe.” She hugs Mindy personally, showing her love. “I am so proud of the player and woman you are becoming. You deserve it.” They both pull away.

“Thanks coach. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Mindy smiles gratefully.

Coach pats Mindy on the back, "No need to thank me, you put in all the hard work. I'm just here to guide you.

Mindy nods, "I know, but your support and encouragement made a huge difference. I'll always be grateful for that."

Coach smiles, "You're welcome. Now, you girls can carry on celebrating. I am going to celebrate with a drink from the bar.”

She walks a few steps ahead of you, her confident stride and broad smile evidence of her pride and happiness. "Mindy and Y/N come keep me company.” she calls out, gesturing for you to follow her.

With no hesitation, you and Mindy follow her towards the dimly lit luxurious bar. The three of you slide onto the plush read leather stools. Your senses are immediately awakened by the mingling scents of alcohol and polished wood.

She orders sparking water for you both and whiskey for her. Shortly, the drinks are placed in front of you and you grab yours.

“Cheers to a fantastic season!” She takes a sip, savoring the moment. Then, she turns her attention to you and Mindy, her expression growing more thoughtful.

“How do you girls feel about this season?” She asks, her eyes curious.

You speak up, “I think the season is going very well and it will continue to do so.”

Mindy nods in agreement, “I’m with Y/N on that. This season has been our very best because we’ve pushed ourselves harder than ever before.” She glances at you and smiles, “I know that you girls will be fine without me.”

Coach sighs, “And that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about with both of you.” She looks at you and Mindy, her expression serious. “Mindy, you just got recruited and that means you’ll be leaving soon. How do you feel about that?”

That was a pretty good question. Mindy was officially recruited to Team Legacy now and like your coach said that means she will be leaving and you'll no longer have her as a captain anymore.

Mindy shifts in her seat, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “I’m excited, of course. It’s a great opportunity. But… I’m also worried about leaving the team. It’s been my family for so long.”

Coach nods, her gaze steady. “I understand. It’s a big change for everyone. You’ve been an excellent captain, Mindy. Now it’s time for the next step.”

Mind tries to smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Thanks… and I know it’s time for the next step. I’m just trying to prepare myself for it.”

Then she turns to you. “And you? How do you feel about Mindy leaving? Think you can step up?”

The question catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. “Me? Step up as captain?” Mindy chuckles when you point to yourself.

You as captain? You wondered how things would be if you had that title. That would be a change, especially for you.

Coach nods and watches you intently as you blink, feeling the weight of her question. “Of course I think I can step up. I’m just shocked that you chose me out of all the girls.”

Her expression softens, a smile spreading across her face. “You’ve shown great leadership this season. I have no doubt you’ll make an excellent captain.”

“Also you had the second most votes for captain,” Mindy adds in before taking a sip of her drink.

You glance at Mindy, who grins at you over the rim of her cup. “Second most votes, huh?” you mutter, trying to wrap your head around the idea. “That’s not bad…”

“Not bad at all,” Coach replies with a wink. “Looks like the team believes in you.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small smile forming on your lips. “I guess they do.”

As you sip your sparkling water, your eyes wander to the back of the venue where Jungkook and Gaia are standing close together, deep in conversation. They’re laughing and leaning in, clearly enjoying each other’s company. The way Gaia lightly touches Jungkook’s arm and the way he smiles at her makes your stomach slightly twist.

You couldn’t tell if it was your hatred for both of them or something else…

You try to focus on the conversation at hand, but your attention keeps drifting back to them. You watch as they walk out, side by side, disappearing through the glass double door.

Jungkook had told you they were good friends, but seeing them together makes you wonder if there’s more to it.

To be Continued....

@coralmusicblaze @hobismoon @tumeperds @binniethegiant @xumyboo @babycandy111 @btspurplesky @bangtans-momma @snkyuv @busanbby-jjk @sublimewitchdreamer @seulrene @seokjingrande @junecat18 @babybella337

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.

Words: 3.4k

A/N: This is smutty part 3 of what's now looking like a longer series since I've settled on a cute, fluffy and smutty part 4. At this point I don't think I'll ever be sated in my need for this man but Im so not sorry about it 😂

I do hope you enjoy part 3. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2 check out the Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist. As always, I value your comments and feedback. Drop a dime and let me know what you think.

Warnings: Smut. Canon-typical action/adventure. Running for your lives. Bit of angst.

*** 18+ Minors Do Not Read or Interact ***

Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His stubbornness and stoic grace.  His tenacity and faith that, no matter what, you guys will get it done if you stick together.  The way his eyes pierce you down to your soul when he stares.  At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping that others will believe it too.  Truth is, you’re just as stubborn as he is, holding onto this façade when hatred is so far from what you feel.

Dean sits behind Baby’s wheel, having stormed away from the Gas’n’Sip in frustration.  His eyes follow your every move and your body language as you and Sam try to convince Cas, for the umpteenth time, to come with you.  Dean had taken it personally when Cas had refused, and after several attempts at reasoning, bargaining, and begging, Dean had given up, choosing to sit out any further attempts at persuasion.

You look over at the black Impala with its radiant chrome and glossy darkness.  The man inside looks away out to road not wanting the hurt, so plain on his face, to be seen.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say to Sam, touching his forearm gently as he continues to reason with the fallen Angel.

You feel compelled to at least try to comfort Dean.  Since you two had talked that night in the dingy room-only motel out in Crocker, you had maintained a stable yet strained connection.  You had still been pissed at him for using you and Sam as bait so you had sent him back to his room with another kiss and the promise of “when I’m ready”.  Since then, you two had never been alone for more than a few minutes; there was always Sam, or witnesses, or monsters.

Dean’s head snaps your way when you pull the door open, his face schooled into that smooth mask he wears when he’s hurt but unwilling to be vulnerable.  Cas’s decision has really hit him hard.

Sliding in the passenger side, you angle yourself towards him and reach to take one of his hands which is picking at the fingernails of his other.  Ordinarily, you wouldn’t risk such a gesture but with Sam a couple of hundred meters away and the height of the dash to obscure it, you’re not worried.

Dean allows the contact, his head hanging.  “Cas made his choice.”  His voice is low and gravelly with emotion.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind.”  You reason, trying not to throw fuel on the fire.

“He knows where I am if he does.”  He states, matter of fact.  “I’m not wasting another breath on him.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.”  Dean looks at you and squeezes your hand which is entwined with his, resting on his thigh.  “You and Sam.”

“I’m just some girl you want to fuck.”  You chuckle, and Deans lips quirk a subtle smirk briefly before he replies.

The words don’t come out, however.  Dean catches movement at the side of the Gas’N’Sip, and he drops your hand to turn over the engine, thrusting the heel of his other hand on Baby’s horn as he does so.

Sam and Cas look in your direction and then see the four figures walking quickly and with purpose, coming between them and the Impala.  Shit!  Angels.  Bartholomew’s minions, no doubt.  How have they found you again?

“Son of a bitch!”  Dean hisses, cranking the car into drive, kicking up stones in the gravel lot as the wheels spin, gaining traction to take you to Sam and Cas.

You fumble your seatbelt, sliding on the seat and right into Dean with a grunt as he swerves to avoid a blacked-out Escalade that grinds to a halt between you and your friends.

Sam and Cas are already on the move, running fast towards the gold Lincoln pimpmobile Cas had somehow acquired, Sam waving Dean off as they scramble into the car and peel out of the lot before the Angels could reach them.  You, however, are stuck.  With the Escalade and four fallen angels between you and the lot exit, Dean turns the wheel, locking it out and put his foot on the gas, spinning the car around with an horrific noise from the tyres.  At the back of the lot is a chainlink fence with a gate that leads to a dirt road which split in two, one branch heading to the highway, the other into scrubland that precedes a dense-looking woodland.  You can lose them in the trees.

Dean winces as he ploughs baby through the chainlink gate, lamenting the damage that is sure to be done, and turns the car towards the highway.

“We can lose them in the trees,” you cry, point to the woods.

“Baby doesn’t have the ground clearance for it,” Dean says roughly, manoeuvring the car through a side-on skid with the heel of his hand on the wheel and his other hand gripping the side of the seat to stop himself from sliding as the car spins.  Once straight, he slams his food on the gas and burns rubber onto the tarmac, heading in the opposite direction to Sam and Cas.

You know he’s right about the car.  The Escalade is 4x4 and sits high which gives it the advantage off road in the woods when the trail inevitably turns to a glorified hiking path.  You’re not even sure the highway is a much better option given that Baby is an older, classic car, but you know Dean keeps her in tip-top shape and she’s got a lot of power under her hood.  That being said, the Escalade could be seen in the rearview, weaving through traffic to catch up to you.

The shrill ring of your phone makes you jump as you try to focus on the road and on what’s behind.  You need to be a second set of eyes for Dean while he’s pushing Baby to create some distance from the Escalade.

“Hey, Sam!”  You sigh with relief, reading his name on your display, putting him on speaker.

“This is Castiel,” the former Angel’s flat tone carries from the phone.  “Sam is driving.  He said I’m too slow.”

You grin big.  That’s a classic Winchester brother thing to do.  From the corner of your eye you see Dean smirk.

“Just tell them we’re headed west and haven’t been followed.”  Sam sighed with mild frustration.

“Damn it’s good to hear your voice, Sammy!”  Dean spoke loudly in that extra deep tone he uses when he is running on adrenalin.  You know he left Cas out because he is still hurt, but you also know he’s glad Cas is safe too.

“We’re headed in the opposite direction,” you explain.  “The vehicle followed us and we’re trying to shake them but they’re keeping up.”

“Pretty soon we’ll run out of traffic, and on the open road we’ll never lose them.”  Dean frowns as he hunts in the rearview for your pursuers.

“Maybe you can head into the wilderness, hole up and set traps.”  Sam offers.  “We can turn around and try to catch up.”

“No!”  Dean snaps.  “You’re both safe.  I want you to stay that way.  Get someplace and lay low.  We’ll get this done and I’ll call you, ok?”

“Dean…”  Cas begins to speak but Dean is having none of it.

“I said No!  Okay?  For once, just do what I say.  We’ve got this.”

You hang up the phone without waiting for a response.  You can see how worked up Dean is, his brain running overtime as he tries to figure out a plan while he’s trying to evade Bartholomew’s lackies on a road full of other cars.

The satellite map on your phone shows a complex set of junctions several miles up ahead where this road meets and crosses with two interstates, branching off in multiple places to service a small city surrounded by a cluster of smaller towns.  It looks promising and Dean agrees.

The junction of the roads has raised on and off ramps that weave in and around the support structures of the main interstate, with frontage roads servicing the branches at intervals.  Traffic is heavy and Dean follows a newer model black Cady onto the interstate by one of the on-ramps, only to cut across the lanes harshly and slip onto a skewed off-ramp, hoping the Escalade will follow the newer Cady.  Slowing down at the end of the off-ramp, he turns to take the frontage road in the opposite direction, heading slowly up the on-ramp for the interstate carriage way going back in the direction from which you had come, so as not to rejoin too soon and be spotted on the other side.

You check all around as soon as you crest the on-ramp back onto the road, praying you don’t see the black government-style vehicle.  Dean doesn’t wait to find out, he puts his foot down and puts a few eighteen wheelers between you and whatever is behind you.

“I think we’re clear,” you say after about fifteen minutes of hypervigilance.

“Don’t jinx it, sweetheart.”  Dean keeps his eyes on the road, the wheel clasped in two white-knuckled fists.

Switching from the interstate to a smaller road and then to another road but still taking you away from where Sam and Cas had headed, Dean starts to relax.  He chances a look at you, to find you looking right back.  The tension in his neck and jaw haven’t melted away yet but he doesn’t have that hard look of focused fury that he usually does when in fight or flight mode.  He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but the glances between you become more frequent as though you’re both checking on each other to make sure the other is okay, needing to visually check each time.

A sign by the side of the road identifies the beautiful landscape to your left as Black Water Natural Forest, and with the sun beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, it seems a good place to wait out the sunset.  You point to the sign and Deans nods.  He doesn’t argue, knowing you need a place to park-up off road away from prying eyes to get your bearings and make a plan to meet up with your friends.

As the road gets narrower and the trees get more dense, Dean slows the car, casting furtive glances at you.  It’s making your skin burn, the way he looks at you now, with that hunger in his eyes.  You feel it too.  Weeks of tension built between you, and todays threat to your lives now culminating in a deep need for some kind of release.  You lick your lips, breathing shallow and quick as you try to regain your composure, but Dean isn’t doing much better.  You look at him fully and he all but moans when he sees the look in your eye.

A turn off presents itself that leads to a small muddy lot where hikers can park their cars when they venture out into the forest.  Dean brings Baby to a stop so hard your seatbelt catches you, then he yanks it into park and fumbles for the seal lever.  You unclip your belt as the front seat slides back fully and he reaches for you, helping you straddle his lap.

You waste no time, kissing him fervently as you unbutton your shirt while he tries to push it from your shoulders before it’s open.  Breaths are gasps released between kisses, tongues touching, tasting and tempting more passion, and you succumb to the frenzy of heat that’s born of your need to feel something other than fear.  Your need to feel him.

You’re both a mess of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses as clothes are shucked and skin exposed.  You try to stand, your legs either side of his as you unbutton your jeans and he unclasps his belt.

The loud sound of the Impala’s horn echoes out amongst the trees, startling birds so they take wing and both of you into stillness and silence.

Dean looks at you with panic but then grins and laughs, reaching to tug your jeans down your legs until they’re bunched up around your boots.

It’s awkward but you can still straddle him like this and, as you kneel back onto the black leather seat, he lifts his hips to grind himself impatiently against you.  The desperation in your eyes is matched by the eagerness in his.  He is rapt, eyes absorbing the sights and sounds of your body and of your pleasure as you grind yourself against him.  Your slicked pussy drenching his cock as you slide yourself along his length but deny him entry just when his tip catches at your entrance.

Dean fondles your breasts, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your skin until he reaches your hardening peaks.  His kisses become more suckling then, nibbling them and flicking them firmly with his tongue until you’re almost shaking above him.

“You ready for me?”  You ask, breathless.

“Sweetheart,” he treats you to his classic sultry smirk, “I’ve been ready for you since you moved in.”

You grin, knowing he’s been jonesing for you for that long.  Truth be told, you’d wanted him for longer but the hate you made yourself feel for him was an adequate distraction from it.

Biting your lip, you reach between you, taking his wet shaft in hand and positioning it at your entrance.  Your eyes meet as you begin to skink down on him, inching down in a shallow rocking motion with Dean stroking your hips and waist as you work at it.  He resists the urge to thrust up into you at first, allowing you to get accustomed to him.

When you bottom him out, he presses down on your hips firmly, lifting his just enough to give you a deep pleasurable pressure that has you groaning and your eyes rolling back.

You are tight despite being very wet, and the way you squeeze him has him twitching heavily against your walls.

“Fuck…”  he groans as you begin to move, leaning back slightly so he hits all the right spots inside you.

“I’m not going to last long,” you laugh breathily.

“No problem,” Dean says, his hands gripping your hips hard, helping you ride him a little faster now.  “We’ll get you for two.”

He doesn’t even have to reach down to stroke your clit, you come all by yourself, grinding on him with a sexy roll of your hips he knows should be good for you, your clit rubbing against his soft hair.  He can feel you spasming and clenching around him and it feels like heaven, even better than warm cherry pie hitting his taste buds.

“You feel freaking amazing.”  He growls, pulling you forward to suckle on the delicate skin of your neck.

“Right back at’cha,” you sigh against pleasure.

He rolls you to the side, and lays you on your back on the seat, still buried in you to the hilt.  Looking down at your heated face, your skin glowing from your orgasm, Dean thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, with a possible exception of Baby.  Okay, you’re the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.

Looking up at Dean, his brow creased in concentration, his eyes dark with lust, you don’t think you have ever been turned on by anyone as much as this man.  Damn, he’s hot!  Riding the adrenaline of the chase, you had been desperate for an outlet.  Now that is out of your mind, you lose yourself in the man between your thighs, you’re focused solely on the feeling of him buried deep, and the rising tide of pleasure.  The windows steam up as you grind and roll your bodies together, and you think you might combust from the heat of him.

When he meets and holds your gaze, your heart almost stops.  There you see more than just lust, more than just the passion between you.  It’s deep and hidden, secret almost, and it surfaces as affection that softens his eyes.  You reach up to stroke his face as his grinding hips keep their measured pace and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand, closing his eyes with a tender sigh.

His vulnerability in that moment lances electricity to your core and you spasm powerfully around him.  His eyes flash open and he sees you’re close again but he doesn’t grin cockily like he might have done earlier, instead he leans down to kiss you, leaning his forehead on yours as you grip the back of his neck and look into his gorgeous eyes.  With your other hand on his hip, sliding round to his ass you guide the speed and depth of his thrusts and you roll your hips to meet his.

As you guide him to slow down he thinks he’ll lose the pleasure he’s cultivated so far but he can now feel more of you and it’s more intense because it’s slow and prolonged.  He almost laughs at how it changes everything and he gasps with surprise when he starts to feel his orgasm coming.  He knows he needs to pull out but you hold him on place with your hands and your heels.

“Give me everything,” you moan as you feel him swell.  “I need to feel you, nice and deep.”

Dean groans with pleasure watching your eyes sparkle with heat for him.

“I want it,” you almost beg.  “Want you.”

He nods, biting his lip as bends to your desire.

Spurred on by your permission, Dean thrusts deeper until he bottoms out, moaning your name as he comes deep inside you.  Your walls contract as he fills you, your climax a deep rolling pleasure that courses your whole body.  Everything feels so right, he feels right.  The way you two fit, the way he makes you feel.  It’s like a low-key destiny you’re more than willing to succumb to.

Dean doesn’t just pull out and get off you once you’re both done, he flips you so your lay on his chest.  There he holds you and strokes you back and hips, your hair and your face until you lift your head to look at him.  Then he smirks cockily and you swat his chest.

“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” you chastise him.

“Hey, I keep my promises,” he says with that trademark smirk playing on his plush lips.  “Would’a give you more but we’re kinda on the run here, sweetheart.”

“You can owe me, how ‘bout that?”  You push yourself up and try to find your clothes.

He grins at the confirmation that this isn’t just a one-time deal.  “Hell yeah!  Sign me up.”

You clean up with wipes from your travel bag as Dean calls Sam.  You watch the relieved interaction from the front fender of Baby while Dean paces in the dirt a few meters away.  You apply some flavoured lip balm to your kiss bruised lips as he works out the logistics of meeting up and what to do about Bartholomew.

After the call, Dean beelines straight for you, sliding his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, kissing playfully.

“I take it we’ve got a few hours at least until we can meet Sam and Cas.”  You thread your fingers through his messy hair, trailing your fingernails over his scalp which he seems to really like.

“Several.”  He says against your delicate skin.

“Whatever are we gonna do to pass the time?”  You smile as you picture the pair of you fucking all over his car.

“I can think of a few things,” he surfaces with a hungry look, leaning back in to kiss you.

Your soft lips claim his once more as you melt into his arms, the kiss heated and full of need.  Dean kisses you with such force it steals your breath and makes your knees weak, and when he pulls back he looks at you thoughtfully.  Licking his lips and tasting you on them, he grins.

“Cherry,” his eyes go to your lips again, “I like it.”

Dean’s talented tongue makes you forget any quip you might have said, as he lifts you onto Baby’s hood and keeps his promise.