#if i got the lore wrong no i didn’t that’s how it is now

[sonicattos]

mephiles and infinite. i just think they're evil bfs

they would def be in some sort of cahoots. take this comic:

this is how they meet

[shesin]

if it is meant to be, then it will be.

[radiaking]

Reading this review of fallout that essentially says they think it’s “just okay” but not great, seeming to attribute its success mainly due to being an adaptation of a beloved game. As someone who never played before watching and thought it was a great tv show (not just a great adaptation since I had no basis for comparison), obvs I disagree. And they really had no clear basis for why they think it’s not that great and more that they just don’t get the hype. Like they enjoyed it, they want more of it, etc. but interestingly they did say they hope it’s success makes them improve not approach s2 with a “if it aint broke don’t fix it” mindset, and that I can agree with. But tbh I think this speaks to a larger problem with tv at all and not just fallout….

[neo-shitty]

🦷.

[taintedcigs]

— cowboy hat rule.

pairing: cowboy!steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising, kinda degrading but not really, a lil argument, dom!steve, rivals to fcking, swearing, good old bj for our good boy stevie! reader has a nickname 'sunshine' bc i didn't wanna do y/n sorry:(

summary: helping out mr. harrington in his ranch was supposed to be fun, but steve harrington was an asshole. an absolute pain in your ass that teased you, and you gave him the same energy back, always. so when you unknowingly wear his cowboy hat, he decides to teach you what exactly the cowboy hat rule is. (wc: 5k+)

author's note: this is just horny babbling. i have no idea how cowboy lore works so if im wrong pls just close ur eyes i tried to research but i couldnt find shit just pls i just want cowboy steve dick. and ofc no proof-reading bc im lazy as hell. no dividers ugly aesthetic bc of tumblrs f ass not showing my shit in tags SIGH.

also PLSSS LIKE + REBLOG + COMMENT TO SUPPORT ME MWAH ILY

When you told Mr. Harrington you’d be more than happy to help around his Ranch during the summer, you didn’t expect Steve to become a problem, but you were wrong, so fucking wrong. 

A cocky cowboy who’s way too into partying and into his looks and his fluffy hair than you could ever imagine. That’s exactly how you’d describe Steve Harrington. Even though you so badly wanted to believe otherwise, wanted to disregard the rumors and the reputation that came with him. But, he made it so goddamn hard. 

All he fucking did was tease you, complain. Order you around and act like you didn’t know how to do shit. And, you didn’t, but he was supposed to be your guidance, teach you. But all he did was grumble and give you that goddamned smirk. 

Yet, you couldn’t fully hate him, there was a side of him he rarely showed you, one that cared, one that offered you rides—it was more of a mumble each night but you accepted nonetheless, one that ended up at your side whenever an asswipe bothered you at the bar, one that offered you a hand on your back when you were crying, he didn’t ask what happened, didn’t speak, just stood there, letting you spill out your guts. The two of you never spoke about these incidents, ever, because he acted like they didn’t exist, like he couldn’t bear the thought of being nice to you. 

You were so fascinated by him, even though you’d never admit it out loud. He was charismatic, outright funny, and had a heart of gold that you only peered one layer of. 

And fuck it, he was fine, annoyingly good-looking that he was a distraction to be around when you were supposed to be working, him with those sturdy denim jeans that cupped his ass perfectly, wide-brimmed cowboy hat with a creased crown, put perfectly on his head. Even though you’d much rather see his pretty hair falling on his face, run your hands through his smooth layers.

Usually, when it got as hot as it did today, he’d even take off that stupid shirt, feast your eyes with his glimmering chest, all hairy and glistening with sweat, broad shoulders as he ordered everyone around made you gulp. Like he is doing with you, right fucking now. 

“Sunshine, get back to work.” Heat travels to your cheeks quickly, and that stupid nickname rolls off his lips so bitterly, the one he always called you just because you were all nice and smiley—even when he was being an asshole to you, something that grinded his gears, you guessed it was a foreign concept to him, being nice. 

You were quick to shake off the hold he had on you, getting back on your feet as you stood your ground. “I am working! Just needed a second to breathe!” The lies rolled off your lips so simply that you wondered if he caught you staring. When he turned around to leave, you guessed he hadn’t. 

“Asshole.” The insult leaves you before you can register how close Steve still was to you. 

Turning head-spinningly fast. “What did ya say?” He spits, making you gulp physically. 

He looks out of the world stunning when he’s mad, maybe it’s a toxic trait of yours but, fuck, the way his chocolate hues turn unrecognizable, that slight quirk of his brows, and the way his muscles flex in pure anger made you rub your thighs together. 

Jesus Christ. He is getting into your head, and you hate that you think of him this way when he is so mean. 

“Nothing! I’m just saying it’s really hot out today,” you hum, the sun rays hitting your face not making it easier on the heat that flame your cheeks. 

He gives you a snort, all mocking once he takes a step closer, making you feel hotter if that is possible. “Well that’s what happens in the summer, darlin’”

Hand on the wall he tilts his head slightly, all with sass that has you rolling your eyes. “Or did you expect the weather to give Miss Sunshine some sorta special treatment?”

You roll your eyes, an act you always did that makes Steve’s jaw clench. “Oh, come on Steve! It’s really, really, hot, and the sun is all on my face!”

“Boo-hoo, princess,” he mocks, tipping his hat, almost as if to tease you further.

You scoff, getting closer to him. “Easy for you to just stand around in that big hat!” With a narrowed gaze, you cross your arms against your chest, like a brat, another trait that annoyed Steve even further.

Then, you beam again, and Steve knows no matter how much you hate it, Sunshine is absolutely the nickname you deserve, eyes glistening with happiness that it annoyingly even brings a glint to his pretty amber hues. His gaze unintentionally droops down to tour lips, so plushy and soft looking when it curls into that pretty smile that Steve wants to kiss you all over. 

“Oh! Do you mind if I?” You ask all giggly, pointing toward his wide-brimmed hat, hand teasingly standing above his head. 

He scoffs as if you had just asked him the most insulting question ever. “Not a chance,” he spits, now he crosses his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you with a dark glint in his eyes, one you couldn’t decide was full of annoyance or just pure desire. 

“Mhmmm… okay,” you hum, feigning innocence for a second, before snatching it off his head with another hearty giggle.

Oh, what he would do to hear that on a loop, admire the way your lips stretched into the prettiest grin, brows quirked.

“Sunshine!” He chides, much rougher than he intends to, but you don’t pay attention to him when you place the hat carefully on your head, smoothing your hair.

You shrug, looking up at him with those doe eyes that have him melting, everytime, without fail. “Admit it, looks better on me.” You shrug, expecting him to agree.

Instead, he just offers you a deep sigh of breath, eyes almost widening when he realises what you just did. “Do you even—”

He huffs, hiding the obvious pink shade thats starting to color his cheeks, you really had no idea the hold you had on him, did you? “God, you city girls have no idea about anything, huh?”

Your brows furrow. “What?” 

“Cowboy hat rule?” He asks with a tilt of his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

A teasing smile curves on your plushy lips as you push for more information. “What’s that?”

“Just give me the hat back,” he insists, attempting to mask the warmth that crept into his tone.

With a shake of your head, your defiance only grows, a glint of mischief dancing in your gaze. “Not until you tell me the rules.” 

“Sunshine,” he warns, voice so grumbly that heat travels all over your body quicker than the sun burning you. 

“Steve?” You hum with a flirty gaze, so teasing that Steve wants to fuck you right then and there, until he teaches you proper manners, until he shows you not to be a total fucking brat and not to roll your eyes at him, until he shows you that you’re his. 

But, of course, he settles on a low grumble of, “You’re annoying.”

“You used to be more creative with the insults, Harrington.” Another teasing remark, and Steve rolls his tongue inside of his mouth. 

With a smirk, he takes another step toward you, when your back hit the walls of the barn, only then you realise, he has you cornered. “You wanna know the cowboy hat rule, princess?” He asks all smugly.

Gaze meaner than he is, chest almost pressed against yours, voice so low that all you can do is slightly nod. 

Your breath gets hitched in your throat when his face is mere inches away from yours, hot breath fanning against your cheeks, skin heating on the impact, that brattiness you wear as a mask quick to slip off when he’s all demanding. “You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” His tone is almost a growl, pupils blown wide, making you gulp, physically.

“What?” You blink, unsure of what he’s actually asking. Excitement jumping around in your tummy. 

“You heard me. Wanna take me for a ride, Sunshine?” He is so goddamn close that you are sure he can hear the annoying tumble your heart does at the weight of what his words hold. 

It makes you pause, gaze sticking on his, sometimes slipping away to his soft lips, almost to signal him of something, but all you can do is try to hide the embarrassment that burns your cheeks. 

“Didn’t think so,” he scoffs, backing away just slightly. 

His cowboy hat is too big on your head, tipping low over your eyes, possibly hiding your nervousness as you mutter, “What if I do?”

With a smooth motion, he flips it off from your head, holding it with his palm, away from you. “Get back to work, Sunshine.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I, those horses ain’t gonna straddle their strap themselves, off. to. work,” he hisses, turning to leave.

You huff, heat still burning off your cheeks, more embarrassed than annoyed, yet you still don’t have it in yourself to let it go, you can’t let him have this. Win this.

Quick to snatch the hat back, “So the hat rule is, wear the cowboy hat, ride the cowboy, huh?” You mumble behind him, your voice failing you, yet you appear to be giggly, and Steve heaves a deep sigh of breath, before fully turning to you.

He halts a bit when he sees you once again, in his hat, tipped low, that stupidly addicting smirk gracing your slightly-open lips, hand on your hips, and all he wants to do is fuck you till you lose that attitude of yours. 

“Stop,” he warns, taking a step closer to you but with a shake of your head you back away, and he sighs, loud and annoyed. 

“Gimme that, sunshine!”

“Nuh-uh.” All teasing and bratty, and grating on Steve’s last nerve. You know this, yet you wanna keep pushing him, further and further, until he snaps, until he can’t take it anymore. You have no reason to do this, you’re supposed to hate him, think of him as an annoying asshole.

But the two of you are finally tethering on that line, the line between purely teasing each other out of spite, to teasing each other out of flirting, you know that, and you don’t wanna take a step back. “Prove it.”

You are all up in his face, and all he can do his roll his eyes, cheeks beetle red, frustration worn on his face. “Knock it off.”

You tut gently, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Not until you—” Your words are interrupted quickly when he snatches up the hat from your head in annoyance, making you gasp when he discarded it easily.

“Get back to work!” His voice raises, and it makes you take a deep breath.

Shit, did you fuck this up?

“What?” You question, entire body feeling dizzy. He takes a step closer.

“You heard me.”

Another step closer, his breaths come out in short gasps, frustration taking over him. “Get back to fuckin’ work, before I can’t stop myself.”

He is close. Too fucking close, and you can’t help the way your gaze droops down to his soft lips, slightly parted open, downturned from frustration. God, you realize how hot he is when he is angry, once again. “F—from what?”

He hesitates, before licking his lips. This is it. He wants, no, he desperately needs you. Needs to put you to your place. Teach you what happens to bratty girls like you. Show you what exactly the stupid rule is. “From fucking you in this goddamn barn.”

You release the breath you’ve been holding back, feeling small, so small under his gaze. Mouth hanging open, and all you want is him to pin you against the wall, have you screaming out his name. “From making sure I show you how the goddamn cowboy hat rule works.”

Your back is plastered against the wall, his hands are by your side, you are caged beneath him, chest rising in anticipation. “Is that what you want, honey, think you can handle all of that?” He’s so smug, and you don’t know what overtakes you when he’s all in control like this, you wanna obey him, make him happy, proud, so you bite back on your insults.

His smirk is dangerously alluring, and you’re under his spell. 

“Please,” you beg, heat finds your cheeks again, you hate the hold he has on you.

He barks out a chuckle, so mean, yet as equally hot. “Please, what? Speak up,” he spits, rolling his tongue inside of the roof of his mouth, lips wearing a smirk.

“Ruin me,” your voice is small, meek, yet it makes him groan. 

You’re such a good girl for him, and he wants nothing more than to ruin you. Fully. Completely. Ruin you for every other man. 

His head ducks down to your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss before leaning into your ear, his breath hot on your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Goddamit darlin’, you gonna be the death of me, huh?”

You don’t—you can’t answer, you’re speechless, rubbing your thighs together desperately, seeking some friction, a touch, anything. 

He levels with you again, dangerous gaze on your lips, fingertips brushing against your cheeks teasingly “You know what I always wanted to do, sunshine?” He coarses lowly. 

“W—what?” You ask with a gulp, lips twitching with need. 

He gives you another grin, that asshole. The pad of his thumb slowly caressing your lips now, making you shiver with hunger. “Always wanted to put you to your place, you and that damn smart mouth, always runnin’ it for no good reason. I’d give you a good reason for those pretty lips, huh? Use it the way I wanna use it, fill it the way I wanna feel it,” he grunts like he said the most normal thing, yet you’re already squirming, wanting to open your lips, take his fingers in your mouth and suck on them, show him how much of a good girl you can be for him.

He has you on such a hold already, and you can’t complain. For someone who seemed to be annoyed—hell, even hated him a few minutes ago, you feel crazy, batshit insane, all you want is him.  

His fingertips play with your lips all teasingly, pupils blown wide, the other hand caresses your hair so possessively that you melt into his touch. “You gonna be good for me sweet thing?”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. “Y—yes, sir.”

Sir. 

Godfuckingdammit. You don’t know the hold you have on him, do you?

He bites back on the moan that rumbles in his throat, instead settling on a, “Good girl.” Your puppy dog eyes glint at the praise, and he makes a mental note of it. . 

“Get on your knees f’me, darlin’,” he grumbles, and you’re quick to obey, not minding the uncomfortable feeling of the wooden floors scraping your knees, or the fact that anyone might’ve walked in, the door was locked, and there was probably no one around yet Mr. Harrington might’ve returned to the ranch at any moment. But he made you feel safe, somehow. 

You look up at him with those doe-eyes again, making him suck in a breath before he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them off his hips, boxers so tight around his hard cock that he grunts involuntarily.  

Your eyes go wide the second his erection springs free, almost hitting the tip of your nose, red, angry and leaking with pre-cum, he lets out a chuckle at your expression before grabbing the base of his cock. 

Same eyes, looking up at him all hungrily, Steve feels the way blood rushes quickly to his cock, making him harder if that's even possible, with a groan he runs the leaking tip across your lips. “Open up.”

Your hand replaces his quickly, and he runs his fingers through several strands of your hair, teaching you how exactly he wants you. 

You open your mouth wide, just like he likes it, tongue giving his slit kitten licks, moaning at the taste of his salty pre-cum, wrapping your plushy lips around his thick head, and sucking the life out of him, determined, and feigning innocence with the soft gaze you held. 

Head thrown back, heavy boots planted on the harsh ground, he lets out a low groan, stroking your hair all softly. “Look at you s’pretty like this for me.”

His hand wraps tighter around your hair, pushing you onto him, making sure you gag a little and that only spurs you on, making you whine around his cock, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Cat got your tongue, darlin’?” He chuckles all meanly. 

“God, do you have any idea how many times I wanted to shut up that bratty mouth like this?” He asks with grunts leaving his open mouth, hand working harshly around your head, mouth feeling like heaven the more you bob around his thick length, struggling to take all of him. 

“Those pretty lips are—mmpf, shit—better stuffed with my cock than being a spoiled lil’ city girl runnin’ her mouth, ain’t that right, baby?” You nod meekly, angelic eyes seeking for his validation before you flatten your tongue around the sensitive part of his tip, struggling to take all of him in your mouth. Earning guttural moans, eyes squeezed shut as he feels your soft lips wrapped around him again.

“Fuck, sweet thing.” You can feel his filthy grunts straight in your core, all low and lewd that you almost moan around him again, he puts one hand on the wall, helping himself to better move in and out of your throat. 

He knows if you keep this up, he’ll cum right and there, and fuck, he needs that. But he needs to be inside of you more. 

You keep up your stroking, now adjusting yourself properly to start licking and sucking on his balls. “Sunshine, you need to s—stop,” the words barely leave his lips, he so doesn’t want you to stop. But, he needs to cum inside of you. 

Yet, you don’t listen to him as your movement speeds up, determined to feel his load warming your throat, make him proud, and your mouth bobs harder around his length, making him growl at you harshly. “Sunshine,” he warns, pulling you by your hair. 

You’re quick to take a deep breath of air once he pulls you off, looking up at him with the perfect innocent eyes, your lips wearing the prettiest pout. “Was that not good for you, Stevie?” 

Stevie. That nickname makes his head spin faster, all he wants to do is fuck you against those stupid rustic walls, have you screaming out for him, the whole ranch filled with your filthy noises, no one was around anyway.

“You kiddin’, sweetheart?” He gives you a chuckle, wrapping his hands around your jaw, pulling you off the floor. 

“You were fuckin’ amazing,” he hums, leaning down to kiss you, tasing the salty semen on your tongue. 

His hands are quick to travel along to your waist, fingertips finding their way onto your panties rather quickly, earning a gasp out of you. “Need to be in here first, honey.”

You nod, so quickly that you can feel him grinning into the kiss, his hands are everywhere, yours are more or less the same, quick to get rid of his top, to feel his toned chest in your soft hands, your top is sprawled right next to his, revealing your pink and gold bra at him, breasts peeking out just enough to have him groan, big hands quick to get rid of them. 

He has you caged against the amber walls, back hitting the rough material, making you hiss. Your skin heats at the impact, it’s filthy, lewd, and so public, but none of you even care enough to break the kiss. He settles between your thighs, his pants drooped to his ankles, hands rubbing across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The sight of you so easily submitting to him, makes his cock grow harder than he thought was possible, looking so ethereal that Steve forgets all about everything else. “Sunshine,” he breathes, hands fiddling with the hem of your panties. 

“Mhmm,” is all you can muster, legs slightly open for him, and he almost feels possessive over you, it’s entirely stupid, but he looks so fucking alluring with those dark chestnut eyes, layered hair a mess, and cock weeping entirely with the thought of you. 

His thumb runs over the seam of your pussy, just a glimpse of how his fingers are going to ruin you, and you pulse and clench against him already. Wet. Drenched. And all ready to take him. “You’re soaked,” he groans.

Leaning further into your ear, “is that all for me, honey?” he rasps, desperate, needing your confirmation. 

Heat grows in your cheeks faster than a scorching day in July, and he grins, again, all cocky and proud. “Yes,” you admit meekly, and Steve’s quick to kiss your worries away. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growls, swirling your wetness up and around your slit, almost toying with you, having you desperately mewl for him. 

He can’t put his finger on it, what it is that draws him this much into you, but he’s hooked, so goddamn obsessed that he feels like an idiot, for being this much of an asshole, for acting like a grade school boy who’s pulling the pigtails of his crush. Like a stupid cliche. 

“Stevie.” That nickname, again. Godfuckingdammit, Steve thinks. You have him so wrapped around your finger, it’s like a prayer, and he’s sure you’re not aware of it. And it drives him even crazier. “Please.”

“Talk to me.” His voice is low, lips now nipping at your neck, suckling, giving you all the marks you need. 

“I need you,” you hum, eyes squeezed shut, desperate. His finger discard your panties and slide easily inside of you, your back is fully dipped into the well-worn walls with how good he feels, his thick fingers making their way in and out of your soppy cunt, whines leave your lips faster than you can comprehend. 

“Ruin me, Steve, fully, completely.” You don’t know how those words leave past your lush lips, but your thighs ache with need, cunt throbbing for him and him only. 

His eyes widen quickly, pure hunger quick to fill his veins, mouth hanging open, curses leaving his lips at how forward you are being. “Show me the cowboy hat rule, sir.” 

Steve all but groans, mouth harshly on yours again, chests pressed together and you can feel how hard he truly is, rock stiff, and aching to be inside of you. The sheer size of how he feels against your thighs almost makes your eyes bulge again. 

His fingers stop moving in and out of you, before you can whine, he spins you around so fast that you gasp loudly, hands immediately plastered on the wall, pleasure and excitement fills your tummy, but the fact that he’s seeing you all vulnerable like this is embarrassing enough that you try to close your legs. 

He’s quick to stop you with a grin, rough hands landing on the back of your thighs, spreading them open while tutting you. “Nuh-uh. Don’t get all shy now, princess. Spread them open f’me.” You spread them a little, cunt throbbing with how close his fingers are. 

He groans again once he fully gets a view of you like this, face down, ass up, your pussy slicked with your juices, at his mercy. “‘M gonna ruin you, honey, don’t you worry.” A dark chuckle barks out from his chest, sending chills down your spine, almost making you whine. 

Fuck. 

His hands are rough when he has you by your waist, bruising almost. Lining his cock in front of your slick core, he swipes the head of his reddened tip inside of you with one forceful thrust. Your plushy lips open slightly, stealing your breath away as you try to adjust to his size.

Shit, shit, shit, he feels even better than you fucking expected.

His cock splits you open, filling every goddamn inch of you. You don’t know how many times you thought this, but, shit, he’s as big as the gossip in this small town says he is. 

His thrusts are slow, grunts so loud and heavenly that it spurs you on more and more. His weight on you, the bruising hold. You feel him everywhere. On your back, hips, and fucking inside of you.

“F-fucking, fuck!” he growls, leaving nibbles all over your shoulder and back, even with the fact that this was Steve, and he was rough and filthy, it was wildly intimate, so wildly intimate that you could feel your heart pounding inside of your chest. 

“How are you this fuckin’ tight, s-sweetheart?” One of his hands travel up to your neck, roughly holding you down, hips slamming into you with such force that you cry out.

He watches the way his girthy cock disappears in and out of you, wetting himself with your juices, filling every inch of you. “Doin’ s’good for me, princess.” His praises are heavenly, making your chest swell with pride.

He moves inside of your soppy cunt with short thrusts. Completely bottomed out, thrusting against the same sensitive spot every time as his balls, heavy with cum grind against your clit, with each movement, making you cry out his name, babbles leaving your mouth. “Yeah, you like this don’t ya? Want me to ruin this slutty pussy, huh? Ruin it for every other men?”

You nod all dumbly, yet, it isn’t enough for him. He wants to hear you, have you scream it out. “Say it, sweet thing, fuckin’ say it,” he groans, coarse voice making tingles appear everywhere on your skin. 

“I-I love it, Stevie, want you to ruin me for everyone else, mmpf,” you moan all fucked out, eyes rolled all the way back to your head, hips desperately grinding against him for some more friction. 

He picks up his pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon.“F-fuck doll, won’t last if you keep runnin’ that dirty mouth.” 

But his words just encourage you to keep going, gasps coming out in short breaths as you manage to drive him crazier. “All yours, sir, all yours.” 

He grunts at that, one of his arms snaking around and under your hips to find a better angle, lifting you up so that he can fuck his cock deeper into you, make you feel how fucking big he really is. “That’s right, baby, it’s all fuckin’ mine.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks, entire body burning with it. The slick sounds of his hips driving into you, your moans, his low groans are all that fill the room. So fucking filthy, and you can feel yourself clenching around him. 

It’s all too much; his hands everywhere, the lewd noises he makes, how deep his girthy cock is bottomed out inside of you, making you feel every ridge. It’s fucking perfect, and you desperately need to cum. 

And of fucking course, Steve can feel your pussy gripping him, so tight that he knows he’s gonna cum right after you do. “Gonna cum f’me, huh? Such a good girl,” he praises, again, knowing the effect it has on you and all you can do is gasp and weakly nod. 

One of his thumbs quickly finds your clit, making your pussy throb around him in pure ecstasy, all the overstimulation enough to have you crying like a bitch in heat. “Give it to me, angel,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere on your skin.   

His movements pick up, padded thumb rubbing circles around your clit, the other hand landing on your nipples, twisting them while pumping into you, it’s all too much that it makes you sob and beg for him. 

“Cream my cock, let me ruin you completely, darlin’” It’s all the confirmation you need as your orgasm builds and washes through you, body exploding with pleasure, spreading through your skin as you scream out his name. 

Your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, and he fucking knows, he won’t last, not in the slightest. “S-shit, sweet thing, gonna make me cum with all those filthy noises.” 

“Want that, honey, hmm? Wanna be filled with my cum? Show everybody in this town who owns ya? Owns this tight lil’ cunt?” He feels it, that pure hunger for you over taking him, coarse voice, dark eyes, like a man possessed. His fingers dig further into your skin as he desperately chases his orgasm, enjoying the sloppy sounds your pussy makes as he drives into you.

“P-please, Stevie, n-need your cum,” you weakly hum. And it fucking breaks him. Hips losing all rhythm when he spills his warm load into you, twitching inside of you once he pumps you full of his cum. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sunshine,” he breathes, collapsing on your back, both of you trying to come down from the high. He slips free of you slowly, his cum dripping down your thighs, making him grin proudly. 

“S-steve,” you weakly murmur, collapsing in his arms. He holds you down, slight kisses left on your back, delicate in a way you have never seen him before. Yet, the two of you don’t mention it, “let me take you home,” he mutters, a gentle hold on you that makes you feel warm.

“N-no.”

“No?” Intrigued, his breath gets caught in his throat, the look you give him is so sultry that the blood rushes to his cock in an instant again. Fucking fuck, what have you done to him.

“We still haven’t followed the rules,” you purr sweetly, causing him to raise his brows in excitement, tempting him further and further. 

“The rule was wear the hat, ride the cowboy, wasn’t it?” You question with a slight grin, eyes lulled, still fucked out. 

Your fingertips gently grazed against his chest, hairy and slicked with sweat, his sudden dominance fading when you were so quick to switch from begging to cum underneath him to gaining that flirty, giddy personality again. Already leaving him a mess. “Y-yeah,” he murmured, watching you hungrily, his cock already weeping again. 

“Then, sit down and lemme take care of you, cowboy,” you ordered again, shuddering breaths leaving him in an instant.   

Now you were going to ruin him.

Fully.

Completely.

And Steve couldn’t be more infatuated. You were truly his demise.   

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ELEVEN

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of death, angst, lore!!!, a bit of realizing feelings masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

The mystery man was petrifying, what with his grimy smile and darkened eyes burning with a thousand fires that longed for fear and destruction. The mere sight of him had your body freezing, stopping you from walking with Ghost.

Ghost was quick to notice. He paused his steps, halfway turning to you. He took in the sight of you, stiff and paralyzed, before shifting his focus to the cause.

You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. You felt trapped. Under a spell. Even as the man was beginning to disappear into the bustle of people, the smile never vanishing from his face, you were captivated, yet in the most sickening way.

“Dove,” Ghost called out. His voice was rough, and perhaps a bit frantic. “Let’s go.”

Just as you were able to turn your attention back to Ghost, his hand snatched up your arm, pulling you along the curvy paths. His pace was hard to keep up with, and you stumbled for your footing several times, yet he didn’t seem to care.

He had hatred practically oozing out of him like poison. It fermented the air, souring your nose with a sickly pit forming in your stomach.

“Ghost,” you tried. “Ghost, who—goodness, will you slow down? Who was that?”

Ghost paid you no mind. He was blatantly ignoring you, but for what? That man with the wicked smile… did Ghost know him?

Dust kicked up at your feet as your sped walked along his side. His grip never faltered, only tightening every time a shopper passed by too close to you. The muscles in your arm throb, and you could feel the blood pumping.

“Ghost,” you pleaded. Ghost merely glanced at you from the corner of his eye before shaking his head and resuming focus on his mission.

You didn’t know where the two of you were going, or why he was so put-off, but it made sense once you began to approach the clearing where you and the crew split to do your individual purchases.

You were heading back to the ship. The sun wasn’t quite sitting along the horizon, so you weren’t even sure the others had returned.

Something twisted within you, like a knot tightening. That sickly feeling only grew the closer you got to the ship.

Something was terribly wrong. As always, you were left in the dark.

“Up,” Ghost ordered, hands cupped together and lowered to your level. You stared at him as if he’s grown two heads. He grew impatient rather quickly. “I said up, damn it, don’t you listen?”

The plank to walk up to the deck hadn’t been lowered, and that was all because Ghost hadn’t taken the time to do it. He seemed to deem it unnecessary, as now he was attempting to haul you up on to the deck himself.

Reluctantly, you placed a foot into his hands. He immediately grabbed hold, hoisting you with a firm grip on both your foot and calf. You clumsily clawed on to the upper deck of the ship, pulling yourself into standing position on wobbly knees.

Ghost was quick to join, not even breaking a sweat as he grasped the sides of the deck and joined you, only letting out an annoyed grunt as his form of struggle.

"Get into Price's quarters," he commanded, lightly giving a shove to your shoulder to beckon you to the Captain's doors.

His body was stiff, standing monstrous and frightening over you. The only other time you'd seem him so coiled up was when him and the others slaughtered your town, when he appeared from the shadows like the boogeyman and sucked up all the souls of the village.

When you looked into his eyes, they were as pitch black as the night. You could hardly see the whites in them from how much anger pooled over.

This wasn't the man who had slowly but surely made attempts to open up in his own way.

Opening up is an overreaction, but it was his way.

Slow and steady.

Now, he was back to his former shell, the one you feared meeting again since the very first day you met.

You were quick to scramble to Price's quarters, slamming the door behind you. The air was eerily quiet now that you were alone, and it prick your ears like an aggravating fly buzzing at your head.

Fear crept inside of you like an incoming storm.

To see Ghost so serious when the past few interactions, he's been rather pleasant was worrying. He didn't answer your questions, nor did he seem to want to acknowledge them.

You knew it had to do with the man you saw. All mighty and erotic, with the smile of a demon. It'd be something that would surely haunt you in your nightmares.

Something about him was odd. You couldn't pinpoint it. It wasn't only the creepiness he exuded, but rather the way he appeared. Out of thin air, like a ghost. And he spoke to you.

I'll be seeing you, dove.

Your blood ran cold as you played back his voice, over and over. Taunting. Mocking. Yet, hypnotizing.

What was a boisterous day with you leaving the ship and becoming apart of the people of normalcy was stripped from you once again.

The only thing that broke the deafening silence was the distinct sound of a bell, the piercing ringing traveling through the cracks in the wood and filling the air around you.

It was Ghost. And he was alerting the Captain that something truly was terribly wrong.

For a while, it was radio silence. Ghost remained outside, while you stayed locked into Price’s quarters, forced to remain trapped in your mind, sifting through what could possibly be happening.

You tried to connect dots. It was clear to you the man you saw wasn’t of the normal crowd. He was an oddity, something that stuck out yet wanted to be hidden.

Ghost knew him. His instinct reaction was to flee, bringing you in the mess. Sure, the man was unsettling, but what about him had Ghost of all people running?

Or perhaps he fled because he wanted to protect you. Even thinking of that scenario filled you with doubt, because it didn’t seem like a him thing to do, but you couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d drag you along the way he did. Frantic, and angry.

It didn’t matter how confusing the bigger picture was. Ghost had a well enough reaction for you to assume that whoever you saw was dangerous.

You wanted to rip your hair out from how little you knew. The Captain held you back from finding out, yet now, it felt important to know more than ever.

Damn him.

Damn this ship.

Damn being left in the dark.

It was unfair. You feared for your life. And worst of all, you feared for their lives as well.

You wondered if they felt the same. As ridiculous as the feeling was, in this time of terror and uncertainty, you wondered if things were to go down, if you were to fall trap into something you’re not supposed to, if they would care enough to pull you out themselves.

Stupid.

Just as you got too wrapped up in your own negativity, you heard voices outside the door. Familiar ones, and they sounded serious.

Between the cracks of the wood and the little soundproof the walls offered, you could faintly hear it.

“It was Graves. I swear it, Cap.”

Ghost. His voice was no longer littered with shock and panic. It was lower, laced with venomous anger.

Graves? You’d never heard that name before, and you could only assume it was the man you saw before. The name was rather fitting. Riddled with something ominous.

The door to the quarters barged open, slamming against the wall. In front stood the Captain, hand still firmly pressed to the door, eyes quickly darting around the room until they landed on you.

“Dove,” Price breathed.

He hurried up to you before you could give it a second thought. His hands grasped everywhere he could, pulling your arms straight out to inspect them, rough fingertips running along your skin. Then they moved to your neck, tilting your head side to side.

His eyebrows were knitted together with concern as well as concentration. But his eyes spoke for themselves. Enraged, just as Ghost. Burning embers broiling into a forest fire.

“Are ye okay, dove?” Soap asked. When you looked at him, he was standing cautiously behind the Captain, eyes flickering over your exposed skin as Price studied it.

“Yes?” you replied, unsure. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Price paused, glancing up at you. He seemed to realize something before dropping your arms, letting them fall back to your side.

“Price?” you asked. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“It’s nothin’,” he grunted, looking away. He stepped away from you, clearing his throat. “We heard the bell. Thought somethin’ happened—”

“No,” you cut him off firmly. You were growing tired of the games, tired of the tiptoeing. Even now, when they thought you were in danger, or even hurt, Price was actively trying to avoid telling you the truth. “There’s more. You’re lying to me again.”

“Dove—” Price attempted.

“Who is Graves?” you ordered. “I saw him. Earlier, in the town. He whispered to me. Who is he, Price?”

Soap and Gaz shared a look of concern before glancing over at Ghost. Ghost shifted uncomfortably, avoiding their gazes.

You hated this. You knew something was wrong, and all of it ended back to Ghost. It was him, wasn’t it? He was the one causing this distress without realizing. He was the one being distressed.

“You asked if I would trust you, and I agreed,” you continued, staring down the Captain. He was stiff, unsure of his next move. His eyes bore into you. “But you are toying with me and I will have it no longer. This is not trust. If you do not tell me what’s been going on, I will leave the ship and you will never see me again. None of you will stop me.”

Your words seemed to hurt the people you weren’t intending on hurting.

Soap’s eyes told you everything you needed to know, brimming over with surprise from your boldness and an aching sadness from your reality.

Gaz was glaring daggers into the back of the Captain’s head, more frustrated than upset.

“Just tell her, will you?” Gaz said coldly. “You’re playin’ hopscotch with her feelings. Both of you. She deserves to know.”

Your eyes flickered over to Ghost, who winced at the comment. He was just as fault for hiding the truth as Price was. All of them were. But at least Gaz was sticking up for you in the end of it.

“That’s Ghost’s decision,” Price grumbled, scowling.

“Bullshit,” Gaz retorted. “It stopped bein’ his decision when we became a crew. She’s apart of it now, whether any of us wanted that or not. For God’s sake, tell her.”

“And risk puttin’ her in danger? You want that?” Price hissed, anger bubbling more rapidly.

Gaz sneered at Price, matching his emotions. He stepped up to him, pressing an accusing finger into the Captain’s chest. “She saw him. He spoke to her. That’s enough to assume she already is.”

“Danger?” you asked. The two of them whipped their heads in your direction, realizing their mistake.

Your fear from before returned tenfold. Your life seemed like it was bound to an unbreakable contract of deception and betrayal.

“What did he tell ye, dove?” Soap asked, breaking the tense silence that filled the air. “Word for word.”

You wrung your hands together anxiously, picking at the skin around your nails. All men held a different form of expression in their eyes, yet they all held their breath all the same.

“He said he’d be seeing me,” you explained, a tight knot in your throat. “He didn’t exactly… tell me, I mean, I was with Ghost the whole time. It was more like a whisper. From afar.”

The looks on their faces had you wanting to coil back into your skin. It was looks of perplexity, of realization, of worry. You had nothing to be worried about, right?

“What the hell does he mean by that?” Ghost roared, the tension in the room thickening. He seemed visibly angry, even under his mask. His body language was surely enough to read. “What, he’s goin’ after her now?”

“What?” you breathed, hands becoming clammy. “Who?”

“Graves, damn it,” Ghost hissed, shoulders tightening. His voice was rough, spitting out pure venom. “The black blood? The mask? The skulls? All him, dove.”

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. Your head felt like it was going to explode. They were explaining, but not getting anywhere with it. None of it made sense.

“He’s Ghost’s old captain before he found Price,” Soap explained, a sadness to his tone. His expression was solemn as he looked at Ghost. “He has Ghost on a leash. Even now.”

“A leash,” Ghost laughed mockingly, sharp and bitter. “That fuckin’ traitor has me marked. That’s worse than a damn leash.”

Soap winced, appearing guilty for even mentioning it. Yet, Ghost was so occupied in his own misfortunes that he failed to notice.

You stared at Ghost while he spoke. The skull mask stood steady on his face, hiding how he truly felt beneath. His eyes were a world of hurt, giving you the only gateway into his mind.

You weren’t sure what marked had to do with him, but judging from old tales you’d heard as a kid, you knew it wasn’t good.

He was a target. Whoever Graves was, his old captain, he had a vendetta against Ghost. Now that the old can of worms was opened, part of you wanted to shut it back up.

This is what you asked for. You wanted open honesty. You just didn’t know that learning about the very men who changed your life for better and worse would hurt so dearly.

“Marked?” you asked. The skull ring on his finger glinted tauntingly at you. “What do you mean, marked? How does that explain anything?”

Ghost went silent, as did the men beside him.

Price, calmer now and looking much more defeated than anything, gave you a sad smile. “He has the marking for the curse of death, dove,” he said quietly. “We can only hope that you don’t, too.”

a/n: a bit shorter than i’d like, but i have some things going on. i hope you enjoyed regardless and as always i’d love to hear your theories!!!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Just Keep Breathing

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, Castiel & Winchester!reader, Rowena & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: You get sick from a mysterious illness, and you just can’t seem to get better.

“Finally!”

Dean’s voice was the first you heard as you stumbled into the bunker after an insanely long school day. You were somehow sweating and freezing at the same time, and it felt like you might collapse any second.

“Grab a book, there’s a ton of lore to go through,” Dean continued. “We’re looking for more info on witches, seems like there might be…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he looked up to see you all but slumping down the stairs. “Hey kid, you ok?”

“Mm-hmm,” you huffed in response as your backpack dropped to the floor—had you done that? You didn’t remember making the decision to take it off, it seemed to just fall off your slumped shoulders on its own.

“Ok, commere.” You blinked and there was Dean, his hand lifting to your forehead and his brow drawn in concern. “Jeez, you’re burning up.”

At Dean’s words, Sam looked up.

“She’s sick?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Dean removed his hand and lowered himself to one knee to look at your downturned, unfocused gaze. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You tried to focus on Dean’s eyes, but your gaze refused to settle.

“Yeah ok,” Dean sighed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You let Dean lead you to your room and tuck you into bed. He even helped you take your shoes off when your fingers fumbled with the laces.

“Did you eat today?” Dean asked as you settled in.

“I…” you wracked your befuddled brain. “I had lunch…but then I threw it up sometime after sixth period.”

“Ok.” Dean cringed. “You get some sleep, I’m gonna go make you food.”

“Nooo.”

Dean turned in surprise at your desperate whine.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed at his sleeve and tugged.

“Don’t go,” you sniffled. “I don’t want food, I just want you to stay.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean relented, figuring that once you were asleep he could make you something. “You better not get me sick,” he said, only half kidding, as he sat on your bed. When you reached out to him, he went to put his arms around you, but the second his hands touched you, you flinched away.

“That hurts!” You were starting to cry now as you backed away from your brother.

“What hurts?” Dean was baffled. “I barely even…” he trailed off as he pressed the back of his hand to your head again, ignoring the way you hissed and tried to flinch away from him. “Jeesh, it’s even worse now,” Dean mumbled. “Just lay back now, you gotta get some sleep, ok?”

“Don’t go,” you begged.

“I’m not going anywhere, just take it easy sweetheart,” Dean promised. “Get some rest.”

Dean waited until he was sure you were asleep before he went to talk to Sam.

“She asleep?” Sam asked, not even looking up from the lore book he was studying.

“Yeah…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Sam, something’s wrong.”

“Wrong? What, with Y/N?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it…she was getting hot so fast, and when I tried to touch her, it was like I burned her or something. I don’t know, I guess I can’t be sure, but something about her getting sick doesn’t feel…normal.”

“Ok.” Sam nodded. “Well, you call around at the school and see if there’s a bug going around. I’m gonna hit the lore a bit more.”

The boys didn’t speak as they got to work.

…

Sam was heading to the kitchen when he heard you calling for him. He detoured into your room, his heart constricting when he saw you—you were pale and sweaty, the sheets sticking to your skin. He couldn’t tell if your cheeks were glistening from tears or sweat—it was obvious you were in pain.

“Hey honey,” he greeted gently. “Did you need something?”

“Can you stay with me?” You pleaded. Sam didn’t hesitate, coming over to sit on your bed. You reached out to hold his hand, but when your fingers touched his you hissed and pulled away.

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, remembering what Dean had said.

“It hurts.” Now there was no mistaking the tears on your face for sweat—Sam had never seen you so upset and in pain. “It’s like-like my skin is on fire and-and I just want a hug but when anybody touches me it just—it just gets worse.” You were out of breath and choking on your words by the end, and it took every ounce of Sam’s will to ignore his big brother instinct and not pull you into his arms—the last thing he wanted was to hurt you worse.

“Stay right here, I’m coming right back,” Sam said as he stood. You didn’t say anything, you just watched curiously—and a little worried—as Sam left. Sure enough, he returned a minute later with a bowl full of water and a glove.

“Ok, I’m gonna try something, hold still,” Sam instructed.

You started to giggle when Sam pulled the glove on and plunged his hand in the bowl. He grinned at you, happy to hear you laughing again.

“Ok now, hold still,” Sam insisted. “This is serious.” But he was still grinning as he took his dripping, gloved hand and pressed it against your forehead. “How does that feel?”

You closed your eyes in contentment as the cool water hit your skin and the gentle cloth brushed against your forehead.

“Better,” you told Sam with a smile. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime,” Sam said.

The two of you stayed like that for most of the afternoon, with Sam comforting you and trying to cool you off with the wet glove. Sam was determined to do anything he could to make you feel better while Dean was trying to investigate the cause of your illness. He’d also been calling Cas all day, but he hadn’t gotten an answer.

Dean was just about to give up on the books and catch a few hours of sleep when he heard Sam calling for him. He followed the sound to your room, where he found his little siblings resting on your bed.

“Can you sing me a song?” You asked, shyly picking at your sheets.

“Uhm…” Dean swallowed, a little uncomfortable. “Sure sweetheart.”

Sam relented his spot next to you so that Dean could climb in. He started off just humming “Hey Jude,” and within minutes you were fast asleep.

“You were right, Dean,” Sam said when he was sure you were asleep. “I don’t know what it is but—but it’s bad.”

“Ok well we don’t need to panic,” Dean assured him, noticing Sam’s rising anxiety. “She’s been sick before, let’s just give it a little longer and see what happens. Maybe Cas’ll finally come around and set her straight.”

“I don’t remember,” Sam mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Her getting sick. I barely ever remember her being sick.”

“Dad always sent you to school whether she was sick or not. I usually stayed behind to take care of her.” A ghost of a smile passed across Dean’s lips. “Most of the time I had to convince dad that I’d caught whatever she had so that he’d let me stay with her. I never wanted to leave her when she was sick.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment before a thought occurred to him.

“I don’t ever remember you sick.”

At this, Dean shrugged.

“I usually just powered through it. I had a job to do, after all.”

Sam was about to comment on that when his eyes suddenly snapped to you.

“Dean, is…is she breathing?” Dean jumped up as Sam moved closer to you. “Dean she’s not breathing!”

Dean blocked Sam from getting in the way and grabbed hold of your shoulders.

“Hey…hey!”

You jolted awake when Deans shook you, taking a great gulp of air the moment you were awake.

“Hey…ok…” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, holding you in his arms until he heard you crying as you tried to pull away. “You ok?” He asked as he let you go.

“It still hurts,” you sniffled. “What…what happened?”

“You stopped breathing,” Sam said. “It…jeez kid, you scared us.”

Dean noticed that your breaths still sounded labored.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“It…it kinda hurts,” you muttered almost to yourself as you rubbed at your chest.

“Breathing?” Sam met Dean’s eyes—they were terrified.

Your only response was a tiny nod as you continued to take shallow breaths.

“I’m gonna try Cas again,” Dean said, standing from your bed.

“I’m…” Sam hesitated, as though he didn’t want to tell Dean what he was thinking. “I’m gonna call Rowena.”

“Rowena?” Dean demanded. “Why?”

“Because we don’t know what this is, Dean!” Sam insisted. “For all we know, she got cursed! We were looking into witch activity in the area. Maybe Rowena can help.”

Dean backed off.

“Fine. Call her.”

…

“I can’t heal her.”

“That’s because it’s a spell, you idiot.”

“I can’t be sure of that.”

“Well I can!”

“Ok, ok,” Dean interrupted Rowena and Cas’s argument. “This isn’t helping anything. Rowena, what can you do?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” Rowena sighed. “I can’t undo the spell.”

“Well can you at least tell us what the spell is?” Sam cut in before Dean had a chance to get angry.

“That’s easy enough. It seems to be some kind of…anti-body spell.”

“What does that mean?” Dean demanded.

“It means that her body is slowly starting to reject what it needs or wants the most. Basic needs like food, water, probably even sleep, will start to hurt her.”

“It hurt when I touched her skin,” Sam interrupted.

Rowena shrugged, and continued. “I suppose the need or desire for physical affection counts. It will get worse, though. Things that she can’t live without will be too painful for her to do. Eventually even breathing will be unbearable.”

“It already hurts to breathe.” Everyone had all but forgotten you were there until you made yourself known. Your voice came out in a terrified whisper, but everyone heard you clearly.

“We’re gonna fix it,” Dean asserted. “All we have to do is find the witch, right? Then kill her.”

“It might not be that simple,” Rowena sighed. “I mean, it could’ve been anyone. For all we know, they put a spell on Y/N to make her forget them.”

“Then what are we gonna do?!” Dean demanded.

“You and Cas try to find that witch,” Sam jumped in, trying to find a way to keep panic down. “We already have a head start, since we were pretty sure one was in the area anyway. You know where most of the strange activity was, start there. Rowena and I will stay here, try and see if there’s an undo spell.”

Dean didn’t hesitate to agree. If he wasn’t so preoccupied worrying over you, he would’ve been very proud of Sam, stepping up while he was panicking. Now that Dean had a direction, he was calmer—he was ready.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

…

“Please don’t leave me.”

Dean and Cas had already left, and Rowena and Sam were halfway out of your room when you tear-strained voice reached Sam. He turned to face you, and his resolve to hit the books in the library crumbled when he saw you, shaking in fear and taking shallow, painful breaths.

“Bring me some books to look through,” he muttered to Rowena before coming to sit on your bed.

It was silent in your room for a few deafening seconds, before your shattered gaze met Sam’s and you spoke, breaking his heart.

“I don’t wanna die, Sammy.”

“Hey,” Sam turned to face you, resisting once again the urge to pull you into his arms. “Me and Dean are never gonna let that happen. You know that, right?”

“It-it hurts to breathe,” you cried. “And it keeps getting worse. I don’t—I don’t know how long I can do it.”

“Hey, hey…” Sam was reaching for you when he remembered that that would only make you hurt worse. His hand froze in the air, halfway to your face. “I…” Sam‘s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Don’t…don’t say that, ok? You have to keep fighting, ok? We’re gonna find a way to fix this, but you just have to keep fighting.” Sam was so desperate to hug you that he pulled his sleeves over his hand to cover his skin and pulled you into his arms. You allowed it for several seconds, wanting so desperately to just sink into his arms. But you couldn’t.

“That…” you struggled to get the words out; you didn’t want to say them. “That hurts, too, Sammy.”

Sam flinched back like he’d been shot, looking down at you in utter defeat.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

The despair in the room was total.

…

“I’ve got it!”

Sam regretted his outburst when you jolted awake. Rowena had warned the both of you that sleeping might end up making you hurt more rather than feel better, but you had all but passed out from exhaustion and pain, and Sam didn’t have the heart to stop you. Even in sleep, your body and face twitched in pain periodically.

Now that you were awake, it was obvious that Rowena was right; it had made it worse.

“What—“ your breathing was labored as each breath pained you. “What happened?”

Rowena stepped into the room, having heard Sam’s declaration.

“I found the spell,” Sam insisted, holding the book up. Rowena approached him with a dubious frown. However, once she started to read the spell she slowly nodded.

“This might just do it,” she said.

“I’m gonna call Dean.”

…

Dean and Cas returned within an hour.

“Not a single lead,” Dean said, annoyed. “So this had better work.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sam sighed, looking at Rowena. She nodded.

“It’s a good thing that this bunker is well-stocked,” she said. “I believe we’re running out of time.”

Your gaze turned downwards when everyone glanced at you at Rowena’s words. Sure enough, your breaths had been getting shallower and shorter in your failed attempts to make them hurt less. You were also weak and pale from the lack of food and water you’d had over the past two days.

“Do it.” Dean was the first to look away from you as he spoke to Rowena.

Rowena handed you a cup filled with a mixture of herbs and things you didn’t want to know about. Your lip was quivering as you lifted the cup to your lips—you’d avoided food and water for a reason; if breathing was like a stab to the chest, how would swallowing down a potion feel?

Sam’s heart was breaking as he watched you struggle to swallow through the pain, and Dean couldn’t even look.

As soon as you had the potion down, Rowena started reading a Latin incantation from the book. Sam watched you carefully as Rowena finished it. He crossed his fingers behind his back, holding his breath as he hoped that your own would become less labored. Instead, your eyes widened in surprise as your breaths became even more panicked.

“What’s happening?” Dean demanded, his eyes flashing from you to Rowena. “What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t understand…” Rowena muttered, flipping through the book. “It should have…”

“Sam…De…” you whimpered.

Dean’s panicked eyes met Sam’s, then yours, before they went back to Rowena.

“Found it!” Rowena breathed relief, before her eyes once again clouded with worry. “Oh no.”

“What?” Sam and Dean demanded in unison.

“The-the counterspell…it takes an hour to work, and as it works through the curse, the curse…fights back.”

“What does that mean?” Dean’s breathing sounded almost as labored as yours as he struggled to keep down his fear as well as his anger.

“It means that it’ll get worse before it gets better. If we…if we had found this at the beginning, it would’ve worked easily, but…”

“But she might not survive an hour like this,” Cas finished for Rowena, realizing what she was saying before either brother.

“What can we do?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Rowena shook her head. “This spell was her only hope, so…so we just have to wait and see if she outlasts the curse now. It shouldn’t take any more than an hour.”

“Ok,” Dean said, coming to sit by you. “You can do this kiddo, ok? We’re gonna be right here, you’re gonna be fine.”

The seconds crawled by one eternity at a time. Every time Dean thought you couldn’t look more in pain, your face twisted again as you tried over and over to take a deep enough breath to satisfy your starving lungs. Once it reached fifteen minutes left, Dean noticed that every minute or so you stopped breathing completely.

“Hey, c’mon.” Dean resisted the urge to cup your face. “C’mon keep breathing, you can do it.”

Suddenly you were reaching your arms out to Dean, and he was backing away.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean said.

“Don’t…care,” You whimpered. “I…n-need y—“ you couldn’t seem to get out full words, but Dean didn’t need anything more.

“Ok, yeah.” You were in Dean’s arms in a second. “Ok, I’m here sweetheart. I’m here, you just gotta keep breathing. Keep breathing for me.”

You burrowed against your big brother despite the pain, trying all you could to keep breathing. The pain was so blindingly unbearable that you started to feel your vision blur and blacken. Sam was the first to notice you drooping in Dean’s arms, and he reached down and pulled your face away from Dean’s chest so he could look at you.

“Hey, you gotta stay awake honey,” Sam insisted.

“Don’t let her sleep!” Rowena commanded. “Her body will stop breathing automatically if she passes out.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean’s gentle taps to your face felt like full-on punches, but they did the trick. Your eyes fluttered open once more, and your hands gripped onto Dean even harder. Sam had joined Dean on your bed, his one arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind while Dean continued to hold you in his lap. Their touch was like fire on your skin, but never had a burn been so welcome.

“Keep breathing,” Dean was repeating over and over, and without that mantra you truly would have stopped ten minutes ago.

“Seven more minutes,” Cas announced.

You went to take another small breath, and you couldn’t keep the cry of pain in when it was the worst pain yet. It hit you so hard that you felt the darkness returning.

“No no no, hey,” Dean pleaded. “Breathe kiddo, you’ve gotta keep breathing.”

You’d barely even noticed that you stopped. It felt so good to stop. The pain of your unfilled lungs wasn’t nearly as horrible as the pain of breathing.

The relief was so great that you barely even felt when the blackness finally took over, and you slumped in Dean’s arms.

…

“No no no no…” Dean was shaking you over and over, but you were out cold. “Come on, breathe!”

“Six minutes,” Castiel said.

“She won’t last that long,” Sam breathed.

“It-it’s not an exact science,” Rowena cut in. “It might…maybe it will work a little faster.”

With nothing else to do, the four watched, barely breathing, as your body lay unnaturally still on your bed. Cas was watching his watch like a guard dog, counting the seconds until you would have brain damage…until you could die…

The great, gasping breath that escaped your lips as you sat up had all four onlookers nearly crying in relief. Sam and Dean had already been crying, but even the witch and the angel couldn’t hold in their emotions anymore as you began to breathe deeply again, tears of relief streaming down your own face.

Dean held you in his arms without fear, and you clung to him without pain. Sam’s arm was still around your shoulders—he hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re ok,” Dean breathed as you cried on his shirt, and no one was sure if he was reassuring you or himself. “You’re ok sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You refused to let go of your brothers, having spent two days unable to take comfort in them when you needed them most. The three of you stayed like that for so long that eventually Rowena left, but Cas stayed to watch over the Winchesters he had sworn to protect—to watch over the one he’d almost lost.

He watched silently as the three siblings fell asleep—you first, then Sam, then—once he was sure that his little brother and sister were ok—finally Dean.

He watched, knowing that they had almost lost everything today.

He watched, knowing that they would only be closer because of it.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[sunderingstars]

So how do you think Zayne, Xavier and Rafayel would react when their s/o has a boy best friend, purely platonic but makes other people have second thoughts about their relationship.

Hehehe have a good day, write this if your okay with this 🪐

boy best friend (l&ds x reader) ♡

what the stars reveal: 1.2k, no gender signifiers used for reader, established relationship, ✨jealousy✨ but with a healthy dose of respect partner juice, surprisingly well-adjusted xav, half-headcanon half-prose, slight allusions to lore if you squint

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ hello !! thank you for giving me an excuse to write jealous rafayel >:3 the love & deepspace brainrot is so real for me right now, hope you enjoy !

— zayne is really good at hiding it, but his tiny mannerisms bleed through enough to make it clear he’s worried. it’s not that he has an issue with you having guy best friends, it’s just that everyone else seems to assume you two are together despite zayne standing right there. 

Zayne just stares. Blinks. Stares. Blinks again. You have to nudge him as a reminder that he is, in fact, in public, and that introductions are usually reciprocated by both parties. As soon as you make contact, it’s like a switch flips.

He breezes through his name, occupation, and a firm handshake (not too loose, not too tight), making it look so effortless that you almost forget he’d frozen like a statue as soon as he laid eyes on your best friend. Almost.

He does his best to hide it, but it’s clear something’s wrong. The slight clip to his voice, the furrow of his brow, the hesitance in his eyes when he looks at you — they may be imperceptible to the untrained eye, but all the telltale signs are there. It’s only a matter of time before you get an answer out of him.

“I’m an adult. I don’t worry about those kinds of things,” he says when you voice your suspicion a few days later.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s true,” he continues when you shoot him a disbelieving look, shuffling the papers on his desk in an attempt to seem nonchalant, “I have absolutely no problem with him.”

You don’t say anything else, simply fix him with a deeper look and cross your arms. He doesn’t crack. It takes a whole five minutes of him pretending to go back to work before he sighs and makes a show of signing something.

“I may,” he says, setting the pen down gently, “Be slightly… somewhat…”

“Jealous?” you finish.

“No,” he says. “Annoyed.” Then, quickly, “Not at you. Or him. Just everyone else.”

You don’t quite understand. “Everyone else…?”

Now it’s Zayne’s turn to fix you with a look. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Notice what? you want to ask, but refrain since you don’t want Zayne thinking you’re more oblivious than you already are. You rack your brain for something, anything that you can remember from that day, until…

“Oh,” you say. You do remember getting quite a few stares even before you and your friend coincidentally ran into Zayne. At first, you thought it was because you were still in uniform, but you realize now that it may have been for a completely different reason.

Zayne doesn’t respond, just taps his fingers against the wood of his desk, a nervous tic.

“Those were people who got the wrong idea,” you continue. Then, when his mouth dips into a frown, you move to stand beside him. “I don’t mind hunting them down and telling them just how wrong they were.”

At this, his frown begins to lift. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I would, though.”

He looks at you clearly for the first time in a few days, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you say. You maneuver yourself between him and the desk, falling into a half-straddle. “I’d go to their house, knock on the door, and tell them exactly how Dr. Zayne and I make out every Friday eveni—”

You feel his hand brush against your mouth, closing it.

“Alright, alright,” he interrupts with a small smile, “I get it. I’m secure enough in our relationship not to worry.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “Just don’t miss any checkups.”

“I’ll be right on time, as always,” you say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And if anyone asks, i’ll tell them exactly who my boyfriend is.”

“Thank you.”

— xavier isn’t sure why you think he’d be annoyed, since your best friend seems nice enough. if anything, you’re the one that seems nervous, broaching the topic with him only to realize he hasn’t minded from the start.

Xavier looks a bit confused. His eyes shuffle between your face, his phone, and the twisting hands in your lap, a small, awkward smile beginning to spread on his face.

“Am I supposed to be… worried?” he asks.

“Are you?” you respond.

This prompts a light chuckle from your boyfriend. He shifts on the couch, turning until his arm rests on the back and his body is angled towards you. “Not really. What about you?”

You shrug. “Maybe a little.”

This seems to surprise Xavier, and you can’t blame him. You’re a bit surprised, too, given that most people’s roles would be flipped in this context.

Still, you can’t help it. Even though you’ve known your best friend for years — much longer than you’ve known Xavier — you don’t want your boyfriend to feel like he’s being overshadowed in his relationship with you. However, it currently seems like those worries are unfounded.

“Well, the way I see it…” Xavier leans in, brushing his lips against your temple, “… it���s wonderful you have so many people to share your life with.”

“You really think so?” you ask, just to make sure.

“Of course. Although…” He leans back, then, mid-afternoon light filtering through the window and washing his features soft gold. His eyes sharpen like sun rays piercing through a cloud. “… if he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

— rafayel is very loud and clear about his jealousy, and you can count on him to become clingy after you hang out with your best friend. ultimately, you know he doesn’t mind nearly as much as he says he does, so you’re happy to indulge his want for attention if it means you can comfort him when he’s insecure.

Rafayel, as he is wont to do, makes his feelings known immediately and with such startling clarity that at first you think he’s joking.

“You’re serious?” you finally ask, the corners of your mouth tipping upwards into a smile while his stay fixed, pouting.

“Of course I am,” he says. He glares at the empty air beside you head as if it wronged him in a past life. “I mean, it’s fine and all, I guess, but we haven’t seen each other in four days. You haven’t even taken me plushie hunting. And yet…”

“And yet…?”

He crosses his arms and mumbles. 

“Use your words, Raf.”

He sighs. “You were with him all day. People were staring.”

“And so you’re jealous,” you deadpan, “because my best friend helped me with a case.”

“Yes!” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I could’ve helped too! If you keep going around without me like that, you’ll… you’ll…” Something changes in his eyes, and he clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

You know your boyfriend well enough by this point to grasp what he’s hinting at. Putting your own frustration aside, you lean in, the soft fabric of Rafayel’s shirt brushing against your fingertips. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’m not going to forget you,” you say. Then, you find his arm, uncrossing it so you can take his pinky in yours. “Promise.”

Slowly, slightly, the tension in his shoulders begins to release. 

“Can we go plushie hunting?” he mumbles. Then, “Just the two of us?”

You smile. “Of course.”

🩵 bonus hc 🩵: i mentioned it in zayne’s part, but i like to think he drums his fingers against any available surface when he’s nervous or worried. between that, pushing up his glasses, and fiddling with his pen, you can read his mood based off of how much he messes with the objects in his vicinity.

(also also rafayel is so petty when he’s jealous, i know this one is basically canon but i just love it sm ♡)

© 2024, written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

An unplanned emergency while out with Bucky for the day left you between a posturing alpha who bared his teeth — a flash of a warning to any bypasser that dared venture too close — and the experience of your first heat with the mafia boss. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♕ Alpha!Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Omega!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♕ 2.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♕ Fluff, omegaverse, unspecified age gap ჻჻჻ SMUT: Car sex, public sex, gunplay, clitplay, thigh riding ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, daddy, alpha

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ♕ Well, let it be known that when I try something new, I never half-ass it. My first ever omegaverse fic, and my first gunplay. ♕ I have to yell and preach to the rooftops just how helpful @smutconnoisseur and Amber were on helping me with the lore and dynamics of this, thank you both so much. ♕ Welcome to Alpha and Bunny.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ♕ Quick Musical Doodles (Slowed) by JK Beats ♕ 7 rings by Ariana Grande

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ♕ @sgt-seabass

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ♕ @allcapsbingo 𝗚𝟯 — Older Alpha / Younger Omega — Masterlist ♕ @mcukinkbingo 𝗢𝟱 — Age Difference — Masterlist

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was a rare occurrence – a day out with your alpha, especially due to his extensively booked itinerary. Nonetheless, you were giddy with excitement as you walked next to him, holding his hand and swinging it in uncontainable glee; black ink contrasted like a shadow over the blank canvas of your own hand, untouched. 

Just how he liked it. 

“Where are you taking me today, honey?” Bucky asked, and the genuine interest in his tone made your heart soar. 

You hummed and skipped a little, and he looked at you, a fond smile teasing the corner of his lips. “I think–I think we’ll go…” Listing off the many shops you had planned on visiting, each one made Bucky’s smile grow wider. 

“You sure know what you want, Bunny, huh?” His tone was teasing, and you nodded. “Good girl.”

The stores passed in a blur – each more expensive than the last, but Bucky encouraged you, swiping his card only after he made sure you had got all of what you wanted. It had taken a long while to get used to the lifestyle, spending so frivolously after working back to back shifts just to make ends meet was a huge adjustment. 

You never thought you would have fallen for an older alpha, but Bucky had been a surprise, as you were to him. 

Bucky only took it in his stride. You were envious of his ability to adapt, but he never led you astray, not since you had found one another. His sense of control and dominance evident in his hardened stare and aged wisdom. 

As you ventured from store to store, holding Bucky’s hand and allowing your wrists to brush against each other, you noticed that passersby kept sending you furtive glances or cleared from your path, and it made you anxious. You thought back to that morning as you got ready – Bucky was at his dresser, putting on his watch and rings, when you felt feverish, a small surge of heat that prickled over your skin. 

Something didn’t feel right – not now, as you walked next to Bucky, and stepped closer to him.

“Bunny?” Bucky asked quietly, his hand releasing yours so he could place it on the small of your back. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

You blinked. “I- Um, nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Liar, your instincts screamed. Bucky only looked at you through his sunglasses, face void of expression. “Nothing is wrong, I promise.”

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly, and he guided you into the next store, his hand still on your back and presence looming. He was standing much closer as you browsed the shelves, and you glanced over your shoulder to ask him something when his nostrils flared. 

“What do you think of this–?” You held up the necklace that had caught your attention – the diamonds glittering in the bright lights overhead. Sweat started to bead over the back of your neck and you made a point to ask Bucky to stop for ice cream, or something cool after you left this boutique. 

Bucky smiled tensely, his nostrils still flared. “It’s beautiful, baby–just what my ‘mega needs, yeah?” 

The words, innocent and innocuous in their delivery, made you freeze. You blinked owlishly, unable to move as another surge of that feverish heat flooded you. 

He reached over and gently plucked it from your hands. There wasn’t a concerned glint in his eyes, rather, they had dilated and left a slim ring of blue where there would have been an ocean. “Let’s move on, Bunny, c’mon.”

“But–”

“Enough,” Bucky growled, the sound low in his throat. You whimpered and Bucky grabbed your hand, kissing your palm. “You feeling okay, baby?”

It was like he knew, but he was choosing to coax it out of you rather than demand it. The dynamic of an alpha and omega was certainly new to you – you had no idea whether he could sense the feverish prickle over your skin, or the way the boutique had suddenly turned into a sauna. 

“I- I don’t know,” you whispered. Bucky’s nostrils flared again. “Why do you keep scent-”

“We need to go.” The command was sudden and fierce, the growl of it low in your gut and you found yourself stepping closer to his body. His arms wrapped around you, and you realised he seemed to grow bigger, more brooding and volatile in his scent. 

The scent was strongest at his neck and you nuzzled closer, when it hit you. A blinding fever, scorching in its intensity, settled over you like a blanket and you whined. 

“Move.” Bucky pulled you along, leaving the necklace long abandoned as he stalked to the door. A clerk came rushing over and Bucky growled low in his throat, the sound made you tilt your head back to expose your throat, but he grasped the back of your neck and forced your head back down. “Easy, Bunny,” he murmured as the clerk neared. 

“Sir, is everything-” 

“Yes, thank you,” Bucky snapped, his hands still all over you as he forced you out of the store and into the street. Much quieter, he whispered to you softly, “Alpha’s here, Bunny, it’s alright.”

The people scattered away from the two of you and stared as you panted and whined quietly, still clinging to Bucky’s chest while he walked you to a car that’s tires squealed as it pulled up to the curb. “Get in,” Bucky ordered just as the back door swung open automatically. When had he called for it–?

You clumsily slipped onto the back seat, blissfully ignorant of the way Bucky growled and snapped at the remaining spectators while he threw your bags into the trunk, before he followed behind you. The door slammed with the force he exerted. “Back home. Now,” he barked, and the car peeled away – you couldn’t even see who the driver was. 

“Alpha,” you rasped, your hips twitched as you tried to sit still and stop squirming. “What–? I need-”

“Daddy knows, Bunny–breathe for me,” Bucky soothed, and you took a deep breath. “That’s it, good girl; doin’ so good for alpha. There’s a good girl.” You whined breathlessly and watched as Bucky shifted slightly, his back flush with the seat. “C’mere, pup. Come sit in daddy’s lap.”

You scrambled from beside Bucky to sit in his lap, your thighs on the outside of his – pressed slacks and tidiness forgotten as you mindlessly rubbed your clothed heat over them. Instinct was screaming at you to go faster, to beg for something, but you didn’t understand. “What’s happening?” you managed to gasp around a hiccuped sob.

“Oh, baby girl,” Bucky cooed. His right hand went to your hip to coax your rhythm, and his left rested over the back of your neck, almost cupping it. “You’re goin’ into heat, sweetheart. You’ve not had one with me yet, remember? Think for me, go on.”

Sifting through memories whilst amongst the desperation for something you didn’t understand wasn’t something you could do, and you whimpered, pawing and grabbing at his shoulders before forcing your head close to his neck; gulping at the air like a starved woman for his scent of woodsmoke, whiskey, and leather. 

Bucky’s hand tightened on the back of your neck and you exhaled, the pressure seeming to alleviate all control you had over your limbs. “Answer me, Bunny–think for me. Think for daddy, I know it’s hard.”

“Dun’ know, alpha,” you whispered, fisting his shirt in your hands. “It hurts, please-”

“What hurts, honey?” Bucky asked, the hand on your hip squeezing. “Tell alpha, baby.”

You gulped and rubbed your clothed cunt over his slacks faster and harder, desperate for friction. To your shock, his thighs felt wet and you pulled back to glance down, only to find the seat and thighs of his slacks soaked with- “That’s all you, Bunny. You that wet for daddy, huh? That pussy aching to be filled?”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed, and you moved your hips faster. “Alpha, please, I don’t know-”

“That’s alright, pup.” Bucky pulled you closer by the back of your neck, his lips dancing over the skin of your neck before he breathed heavily into your ear. “Get off on daddy’s thighs like a whore, then you can think–so fuckin’ desperate and it’s gorgeous, pet.”

Fire burned through your veins and you sobbed, chasing a high you’d never felt before. It was true, this was your first heat with an alpha, and while you had experienced a heat on your own, it was incomparable to the pleasure and pain of what was happening now. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, ‘mega, using me. Go faster, you can take it, honey,” Bucky purred, both hands on your hips now. His grip was tight and unrelenting in its pace as he helped you grind over his lap. “I want you to make a mess, pup.”

Your hands slipped from his shoulders to his chest, and your fingers brushed over the straps of his concealed shoulder holsters – a thrum of danger joined the throbbing in your cunt at the implication of those handguns used otherwise. “Daddy…” 

“You want me to fuck you with my gun, Bunny? That it?” Bucky prompted, a wolfish smirk showing his canines. “Force it into your pretty pussy like it’s my cock–make you take it?”

“Please!” Your hips moved faster as your climax began to crest, the pleasure blinding. 

“Oh, I will, pet. Daddy will make you take more than you can handle, that pretty pussy will be begging for more,” he promised, and you whimpered. “Now, alpha needs you to cum. Do you think you can do that, pup? Make daddy proud?”

Words failed you and you nodded fervently, desperate for the release. Suddenly, Bucky’s right hand left your hip and pulled out one of his twin handguns. “I think you can make alpha proud, Bunny.” 

The muzzle of the gun travelled from your collarbone down your chest, between your breasts. “This turns you on, doesn't it? Daddy usin’ his guns on you.” He clicked his tongue when you moaned. “You like the danger, pretty whore." He forced it through the waistband of your panties and the cold metal of the sights brushed against your slick lips. 

“Daddy, daddy, please–wanna cum,” you moaned, the last syllable ending with a whine. 

“I will make you cum, Bunny, don’t you worry ‘bout that. And you know what’ll happen when we get home?” The words startled you; you forgot you were in a moving vehicle, Bucky’s gun between your legs. “You’re gonna present for your alpha, and I’m gonna fuck and knot you. Would you like that?”

“Yesyesyes,” you chanted, shuddering. “‘M close!”

“So pretty, so sweet,” he mused, his hand squeezing the back of your neck with a hum. The grip sent you lax and you slumped a little in his hold. “This is only a taste for what I’m gonna do to you, shlyukha.” The gun pressed hard into your clit, and you shivered. “Cum for me, Bunny. Soak daddy.” 

Your back arched and you howled to the roof of the car, shaking violently through the waves of release that pulled you under. Through the dull roar of blood in your ears, you could hear Bucky’s soothing praises. 

“There’s a good lil’ ‘mega for me, good fuckin’ girl,” he whispered, tucking your face into his neck where his scent was even stronger than before. “So good for me, takin’ it so well, baby.”

Whining pitifully, you squirmed closer, your chest flush with his as you heaved for breath. “Alpha, alpha,” you murmured.

“I know, pup. I know, you did so good f’me,” he praised, his hand tight on your neck again. “When we get home, alpha’ll take care a’you, alright? Love on you–got everythin’ ready for this moment, sweetheart.”

You nodded weakly and squirmed in his lap again, wanting to become one with your alpha. “Wan’ more,” you tried, but Bucky hushed you. 

“You’ll get more, pup,” he promised as the car took a sharp turn. “We’re almost there, then daddy’ll give you his knot, yeah? You want that?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Wan’ that, alpha.” The heat haze settled heavily over you – it was like you had too much to drink and all of your thoughts were muddled and slow, centred on one thing, and one thing only: getting your alpha’s knot. “Alpha- Daddy, did I do good?” you slurred, burrowing closer.

“You were such a good girl for me, such a good pet,” Bucky whispered, and he kissed your sweaty temple. 

The affection made you purr quietly, and Bucky growled lowly in response, the deep rumble a soothing balm to the ache that had started between your thighs again. Not long now, you managed to think as you scented the air, the heavy scent of slick and sweat made your mouth water. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[yurinaa-world]

Can I request emanator of the hunt!reader x jing yuan, aventurine, and Sunday headcannons?

"𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝓃"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, & Sunday x Gender-neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with reader thats a emanator

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

Honestly I can’t tell the difference when it comes to different emanators so I just made it mostly blank on what kind of emanator (I'm not the lore player i pretend to be😞)

💫𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈"

How lucky he is, he’s just swooning over someone like yourself. That serious and competitive side that comes out of you while you play a fun game quite popular in Loufu, makes you look like a mythical creature while staring at the pieces with such thought.

He might just be blessed to gaze at you, he’ll even completely forget about the game. Watch him still beat since you’re still a beginner, but how about another round? (so he can stare at your face) 

Call him out while you’re at it, that’s just even better since he’s shameless

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You should be keeping your eyes on the board instead of gawking at my face,”

Sighing, seeing him not listen to your words, just having you smile while finally playing the next move with one of the pieces on the board. “It would be disappointing that you aren't giving me your all.”

Placing your piece down, playfully glaring at him while waiting for his move, he doesn’t take his eyes off you, without glancing at where he places his piece.

“I won’t disappoint you then,” he smiles, unaware that you’ve already been trapped by all his pieces. That confused and frustrated look on your face while you just looked through all your pieces, left you to a dead end. 

Scoffing when the realization hit, there wasn’t any place for your piece to move. “You’ve won it seems,” you sigh, while he looks at you with that adoring look. “Hmm? It seems I have. That look of losing makes you quite beautiful. Let’s play another round.”

“Another round for you to ogle at my face, why not.”

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

Now that’s something else, an emanator as his lover, he might’ve just hit the jackpot by catching your eye when you first met. You’re quite straightforward about everything as well, maybe a bit too much when you shocked him a little by asking him to be your lover first.

He’s got something to brag about, forget money, jewelry, and any amount of diamonds, those can’t compare to you in the slightest, you’re completely above those things. He’ll be your jewel that's outshined by your beauty.

As you believe his words are just complete nonsense. “I’ll be your jewel.” What nonsense you’ve ever heard, there’s no point in having him as a lover if he’s just a jewel, you want equal footing in a relationship.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tired now, are we?”

After quite a gambling spree, he’s gotten tired, sitting you both down in a booth in the corner—to get free time with you in a slightly secluded place— looking at all his earnings with slight amazement, quite the luck he has.

His hand goes around your waist to bring you closer. “Didn’t want you to be bored.” Putting his favourite gambling chip in your hand, as his small way of affection. “Can you read my mind now as well?” Taking the chip and playing around with it, whisking it through your fingertips with such ease

“I’m your jewel aren't I.”

“Disappointing you got something wrong.” Taking the chip, pressing it against the bottom of his lip. “It’s no fun if you’re just a jewel, I deserve more, a person who’s alive and sensitive instead.” Gently pressing the chip down to his lip, with that smile creeping up on your face—he loves it.

He can’t wait, his hands just move on their own, bring you in to give you a peck on the lips, or several “pecks” instead. 

“I want you to be bare and truthful with me.”

💫𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝒶𝓀 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

They always say to pretend to suck up and be polite to those who hold power over you, yet he doesn’t pretend, he has even given you his heart, to do all you please.

You took his breaths away in many ways, like when you declared to become his lover without a second of doubt, and with your beauty alone.

He dreams of taking your hand and dancing with you. If you would give him that glory?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Will you grace me with this dance?”

Extending his gloved hand for you to take. Give him the honour and glory to take his hand, and allow him to become your partner in this dance. When you did take his hand, he couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss on your knuckles,

“I will.”

He takes in the beauty of hands, an odd thing to think about yet he can’t help but admire and love every small thing about you, from your fingers and knuckles to any scar you might have. Without any hesitation, he pulls you in close, drawing you against him/

The brightly lit ballroom, the walls seemingly hand-sculpted from glass, and the soft sound of musical instruments playing, accompanied the two of you in the center of it all, truly a beautiful moment he’d been dreaming of having with you, yet even better.

 “A ballroom all for me?” 

“I believe you deserve something as beautiful as you, yet it still slacks stale compared to you.”

You see that little dumb smile on his face that he never realized he makes whenever he looks at you, you always find it cute. The whole dance he just rambles about his love for you.

“What a way you have with words,” you laugh, as the song comes to an end, you take your chance and put your hand on the back of his head to pull him down for a kiss, feeling your soft lips on his just made his sensitive wings flap and shake, it never goes unnoticed by you.

“Don’t get too excited, we haven’t even started.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[lucidlivi]

Fuck A Friendship

Warnings: Strong Language, Mature Theme (rough sex), Mentions of Alcohol

Requested: @suckitands33

Anything Jensen/Dean Tags: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester

this will switch point of views, it will be indicated with italics

Reader

“what the fuck is wrong with you Dean? I had that!” I seethed.

Once again Dean had got in the way.

“yeah okay, you’re lucky I was there to save your ass…again!” He huffed throwing his bag down.

“hate to break it to you Dean but acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger.”

I could see his eyes cloud over in rage.

“at least I’m not acting like an ungrateful bitch.” He jabbed.

“a bitch wow really? well then in that case I guess that means you’re not the only dog in the room.” I said rolling my eyes.

“maybe with all that eye rolling you’ll actually find a brain in that pretty little head of yours.” He smirked his words laced with anger.

“awe Dean I think you’re pretty too… pretty damn annoying.”

It was no secret Dean and I butted heads. I was sick of him treating me like a child. It was bad enough he treated Sam that way but now he was constantly looming over me too. I walked in to the study but of course he followed me. He always had to get the last word in any argument.

“how about we just skip right to the makeup sex.” Dean sneered.

“I’d rather set myself on fire.”

“oh please I know you think about me naked.” Dean said.

“why can’t you just drop things Dean?” I asked pulling a book out to research some lore.

I always calmed down faster when my mind was distracted.

“you didn’t deny it.” He smirked.

“please Dean feed your own ego, I’m busy”

“Oh come on just admit it, you want to have sex with me.”

“please, if anyone is having wet dreams it’s you about me.” I huffed flipping a page.

Dean smirked before ripping his shirt off.

“so then this doesn’t bother you at all?” He asked looking at me.

I huffed closing the book. I turned to Dean, he had a shit eating grin on his face that made me want to punch him.

I couldn’t deny though, his toned chest was gorgeous, especially the way it glistened with sweat after our rough hunt. My eyes traveled down to his abs, god they looked good too and… wait what am I saying?

“nope doesn’t bother me at all.” I said maybe a little too quickly.

“really cause it took you a minute.”

I quickly pulled my shirt over my head leaving me in just my bra. Dean looked shocked by my action.

“so this doesn’t bother you at all then?” I smirked.

I watched Dean’s pupils dilate as his eyes raked over my chest. He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to meet mine again.

“nope doesn’t bother me at all.” He spoke.

“so it wouldn’t bother you if I did this?”

I quickly grabbed the waistband of my pants sliding them down my legs painfully slow. Dean watched me with a lustful stare. I could see his jeans getting tighter around the crotch area. I didn’t know what had gotten in to me. I just wanted Dean to see I wasn’t this helpless child he had to look after.

Dean looked at me before taking his own pants down. We were now both stood in the study in just our under garments. There was a pause of silence as our eyes devoured each others body.

Dean crossed the room in two quick strides, crashing his lips to mine. I immediately kissed him back my hands going to his toned chest starting to explore. His hands made their way to my ass, picking me up and forcing me to wrap my legs around him.

He backed us up so my back was pressed up against the bookshelf. His lips left mine and traveled to my neck and down my collarbone. I could feel him throbbing against my leg. In one swift action Dean unclasped my bra letting it fall to the floor.

“Fuck.” He whispered mouth traveling further down to my uncovered breasts.

I let out a moan as Dean took one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. My hands ran across his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms.

“you want this?” Dean growled, his hands squeezing my ass.

Of course I thought about having sex with Dean. He was undeniably gorgeous, even after a hunt.

“Please Dean.”

His hands left my ass, pulling his boxers down. I gasped as his full length sprung out. I had seen Dean in his boxers once before but now he looked much bigger. Without warning he pulled my panties to the side slamming himself in to me. I choked back a loud moan as I stretched around him.

He started to thrust, pressing my back harder against the bookshelf. He brought his lips back to mine taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I whimpered as he bit down lightly, his thrusts getting more rough as he went.

“Fuck Dean.” I moaned.

I gripped the bookshelf trying to steady myself.

Dean growls thrusting harder. It was rough but tender at the same time.

“maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” He groans, thrusts becoming sloppy.

“not likely.” I pant.

Dean groaned as his legs started to shake. He was close, as was I.

“Dean I’m gonna.” I started but he cut me off.

“Fuck, let go for me sweetheart.” He groaned.

I came undone, his words mixed with the pleasure being too much to bare. As I clenched around him, it brought his release too. I could feel the bruising already forming as my back was slammed against the bookshelf repeatedly. Once we rode out our high, Dean gently placed me on my feet again.

I took me a second to get my footing, my legs feeling stiff.

“you’re fucking stubborn, you know that? He growled, cleaning himself off.

“and you’re an overprotective asshole so it kind of evens out.” I smirked.

I quickly grabbed my clothes throwing my shirt back on and pulling on my pants.

“I’m going to clean up .” I said walking out of the room.

“wait..” Dean said making me pause.

“this..” he pointed between me and him “we shouldn’t tell Sam.”

“there’s nothing to tell Dean, we fucked, that’s it.” I said walking out of the study.

Dean

I watched her walk away, quickly throwing on my clothes. I’ve had sex with a lot of women, but something about it this time felt different. I shook it off, hearing the door opening signifying Sam had made his way back to the bunker.

“why do you look all sweaty?” He asked giving me an awkward look.

“I uh was, I mean it was uh a rough hunt.”

What the fuck? Why was I fumbling over my words? I never do that?

“wow what happened to the bookshelf? Sam asked pushing past me.

The books from where I had her pushed up against the shelf were in complete disarray, falling out on to the floor.

“I was looking for something.” Her voice spoke up from the doorway.

“I’ll fix them.” She added walking over and picking a book off the floor.

“I’ll help.” I offered leaning down next to her.

I studied her face as she focused on putting some loose leaf pages back in a book.

Did she always have light freckles over her nose? Were her eyes always that color?

“Why are you staring at me?” She whisper yelled so Sam couldn’t hear.

I cleared my throat tearing my eyes away from her.

“I’m not.” I defended even though I totally was.

I picked up another book putting it in its place. I gulped as I stared at the bookshelf.

The sounds of her heavenly moans filled my head. I could still see her naked body pressed up against it. I could feel myself getting harder just thinking about it. I quickly walked out of the study not wanting to get caught by Sam.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Dean where are you going, I have more information about a case?” Sam asked annoyed.

“Uh I’m starving I’m getting us some dinner and then I’ll be back.” I said hurrying away from her.

I stopped by my room, trying to control my breathing. I ran in to my bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face.

“get it together Dean.” I said to my image in the mirror.

Normally when I had sex with a girl, it was forgotten after I came. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it now? I decided I needed to go for a drive, get some food and then maybe I’d be able to face her again.

Reader

“what’s his problem?” Sam asked as we watched Dean hurry out of the room.

I bit my lip shrugging my shoulders.

“did something happen on the hunt?” He asked scratching his head.

something definitely happened, but it wasn’t on the hunt.

“nope, hunt went perfect.” I lied as I finished arranging the books back to their original positions.

“I’m confused Dean said it was rough?”

Fuck.

“oh yeah, just a little, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

It was amazing how easily I could lie to Sam.

“well are you okay?” Sam asked placing a hand on my back.

I flinched at the contact, my back sore from being slammed against the bookshelf by Dean. I bit my lip as the memory replayed in my head. I never realized how strong Dean truly was.

“I’m great.” I said giving him a thumbs up.

He looked like he didn’t believe me but thankfully he didn’t push any farther. I sat in the study looking over a book. My eyes were reading the words but my mind was too preoccupied.

Why did Dean leave so quickly? Why did I care?

It was around an hour later before Dean came strolling back in, food for all of us in his hand. He swallowed hard as he came closer to me handing me some food. He turned away from me quickly, taking the farthest seat away from me.

Sam started to tell us the information but I wasn’t really listening. My eyes traveled to Dean. His hands gripped the arms of the chair he sat on.

God have his hands always looked that nice? I imagined them wrapping around my throat making me bite back a moan.

Why am I thinking of Dean in this way?

I felt my cheeks flush as I tried to focus on what Sam was saying. I glanced at Dean as he spoke, I noticed the way his adams apple bobbed up and down with his deep voice. I could feel the heat pool between my legs. I needed to get away from Dean, I needed a drink.

“Is that all?” I asked, noticing both men had stopped talking.

“uh yeah I’m finished if that’s what you mean.” Sam said slightly offended by my outburst.

“Sorry Sammy rough day, I’m going to the bar for a drink.” I said standing up.

“I’ll go with you.” Dean spoke.

“NO” I spoke too quickly.

“I mean uh maybe I’m trying to meet someone.” I said mentally facepalming.

Why did I say that?

I could see Dean’s eyebrows lower as he stared me down. I quickly walked out of the room, throwing on my leather jacket. I couldn’t control my thoughts around Dean, I had to get away from him. I walked to the local bar having a seat and ordering a straight shot.

Why was Dean suddenly controlling my thoughts?

“excuse me, this seat taken?”

I turned around to see a handsome stranger staring down at me. He wasn’t Dean but, maybe a distraction would be nice.

“it is now.” I said pulling it out for him.

Dean

“I mean uh, maybe I’m trying to meet someone.” she spoke.

Meet someone?

I couldn’t help but feel the anger boiling up to the surface. It wasn’t even twenty four hours ago that she was wrapped around me and now she wants to meet someone?

Wait why did I even care if she met someone else. She said it herself, we fucked and that’s it.

“okay what the hell is up with you two?” Sam asked as she left the room.

“nothing, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grumbled.

“you’re both being extra weird today, leaving in a haste, she’s flinching when I put my hand on her back..” he says but I cut him off.

“she flinched?” I asked in concern.

I knew I went rough, but I didn’t think I’d actually hurt her.

“did something happen to her?” Sam asked.

oh something definitely happened to her.

“nah, she’s tough.” I said standing up.

I don’t know why, but I needed to get to the bar. If she really was meeting someone, I had to make sure they weren’t some type of creature who was going to hurt her.

“come on Sammy, let’s go.” I said grabbing my jacket.

“where are we going?”

“to the bar.” I simply said.

“but she didn’t want you there.” He spoke crossing his arms across his chest and looking at me suspiciously.

“we’re going for you, you need to get laid, you’re way too uptight.” I said slapping a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged following me to baby. It was a quick drive to the bar. Once inside my eyes scanned the room for her. She sat at the far end of the bar, a man sitting beside her. I glared at him as she laughed at whatever bullshit joke he was telling. I could feel my blood boil as he placed a hand on her knee traveling up to her thigh.

“yeah we’re definitely here for me.” Sam joked.

I flicked my eyes to his but instead he was looking down at my hands. I didn’t notice but they were clenched into fists as I watched her flirt with him.

What am I feeling?

“it’s called jealousy.” Sam spoke beside me.

How did he read my mind?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I scowled ordering a beer.

I tried my best but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her at the end of the bar. I noticed she removed his hand from her leg instead holding it with her own. He leaned down whispering something in to her ear making her laugh again.

“what do you think he’s saying?” I asked looking over to where I thought Sam sat.

Sam was instead sat a few feet away from me, a cute brunette all over him.

“I’ll be damned Sammy.” I laughed watching her kiss over his neck.

I looked down at my beer chugging the rest of it down. I felt a hand slide across my shoulders, I flinched looking up to see a blonde in barely any clothing.

“what’s a handsome guy like you doing all by himself?” she asked, her fingers grazing my neck.

I pulled away gently.

“I guess I was waiting for someone like you.” I flirted.

This was the type of girl I usually picked up at the bar. She was more than willing to throw herself at me. She put her hands around my shoulders, wasting no time in kissing my jaw line.

I glanced back over to the end of the bar but I didn’t see her anymore. My eyes furiously looked around the room, finally catching a glimpse of (y/n) leading him out of the door by his hand. I quickly stood up causing the blonde to fall on the floor.

“what the hell is your problem.” she whined fixing her skirt.

“sorry I gotta go.” I said rushing out the door.

I didn’t want her to go home with him. She couldn’t.

I ran outside whipping my head around to see where she went. My heart sunk as she was nowhere in sight.

Fuck I was too late. She was gone.

“Fuck.” I growled running a hand through my hair.

“are you looking for me?”

Reader

I laughed at another joke he told. It wasn’t actually that funny but I didn’t want to bruise his ego. Too quickly his hand was placed on my knee traveling up to my thigh. I glanced up, my eyes catching sight of Sam first due to his height. Dean stood right beside him glaring in my direction.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

“did you hear me?”

James asked, or was his name Jake, I couldn’t remember now.

“sorry no I missed that.” I admitted.

James/Jake started to tell his story again but my eyes were on Dean who now took a seat at the bar. James/Jake’s hand was still rubbing my thigh making me slightly uncomfortable now. I grabbed it off, holding it in my own hand.

“so yeah I’m kind of a big deal now.” He whispered in my ear.

I laughed at him again. I didn’t know if it was an appropriate reaction to what he said but it usually worked for these types of situations. I glanced up at the other side of the bar, seeing a brunette ferociously attacking Sam’s neck with her lips. I laughed to myself. I noticed a blonde with minimal clothing making her way over to Dean. I felt the jealousy creeping up as she ran a hand across his shoulders.

“you’re not in to this are you?”

I flicked my eyes back to James/Jake. He was staring at me with a slight smile.

“i’m sorry Jake.” I said guessing on his name.

“it’s uh James.” He laughed.

“fuck right, sorry again.” I muttered.

“it’s that guy isn’t it?” James asked nodding his head towards Dean.

I didn’t know what it was about Dean though. It’s as if I was starting to see him in a whole new light.

“something about him yeah.” I replied biting my lip.

“I should go then, and you should talk to him.” James said offering me a smile.

I glanced back over seeing Dean giving his attention to the blonde girl all over him.

“I’ll walk you out.” I offered.

James smiled gratefully and walked with me out of the bar.

“uh I’m really sorry again.” I said dropping his hand finally.

“it’s okay, really. I hope you can sort out whatever it is.” he said offering me a small wave before getting in his car and driving off.

I sighed moving to lean against the side of the building. I sighed running a hand through my hair.

Why was I feeling this way?

Suddenly the door flew open, Dean came running out. He was furiously looking around, his eyes widening as he looked around the parking lot.

Was he looking for me?

“Fuck.” He growled running a hand through his hair.

“are you looking for me?” I hesitantly asked coming off the wall.

relief flooded Dean’s features as he spotted me.

“you didn’t go home with him?” he asked unsure if he was actually seeing me now.

“he’s not really my type, plus I don’t have sex twice with two different people in the same day.” I joked taking a step towards Dean.

“oh yeah, what about twice with the same person? Dean asked.

I could feel my cheeks heat up as he stood in front of me, cupping my cheek with his hand. He looked down at my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“It depends on the person.” I smirked.

“Me?”

“I think I could make an exception for you.”

At my consent Dean attached his lips to mine. I didn’t realize just how much I missed this sensation. Dean picked me up bridal style not breaking the kiss. He walked over to his car, depositing me in the back seat before climbing on top of me.

I reconnected our lips, tugging at his shirt. He pulled it over his head, dipping down to kiss my neck.

“Dean, wait.” I said pushing him off.

I could see the hurt flash in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I said biting my lip.

He gave me a confused look.

“I don’t know if I can have sex with you and still maintain a friendship afterwards.” I explained biting my lip.

“fuck a friendship.” Dean said.

It was my turn to give him a confused glance.

“I don’t want a friendship, I want so much more than that, I want to be the one you laugh at, I want to be the only guy who gets to touch you. I want so much more.” He confesses.

I felt my heart burst at his words. As a hunter, love and relationships weren’t a luxury we were afforded.

“if I’m being honest, it scares me to death and I tried to stop it, I tried my best, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” Dean added looking in my eyes.

He was saying everything I was thinking.

“fuck a friendship.” I said pulling him down for a kiss.

love and relationships were a luxury, but so was Dean, and this was one luxury I’d let myself afford.

Author Note:

Ooh I hope you liked it! I appreciate the request! Sorry it took me so long I wanted to make it perfect for you! If you have some crazy ideas send them my way! xoxo

[tinycozycomfort]

some quiet evenings

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: If he wasn’t so far away all the time, working and worrying and wracked with undeserving guilt, you’d disassemble him completely—down to the fucking marrow.

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, sub!mike, the tone? they're in love, underwear play, c*ck grinding, finger sucking, pet names (baby, honey, etc), the socks stay on, criminally gratuitous descriptions of how good-looking this man is

word count: 2k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: huge thank you to @cupofjoel for these amazing fics that were a direct contributor to me watching the movie (and then subsequently falling into a lore hole) and to @pascalisbaby for listening to me fumble my way through this!!

main masterlist

Mike is always tired when he gets home. 

Tired like the weight of his body is too much to bear, eyes wet and just-open like a seam that’s freshly split. He hangs at the end of his own rope, slumped on the line of his spine, damp across his brow as he sits and undresses at the corner of the bed. 

You don’t question him when he says it’s nothing, when he mumbles something about work being a lot of pressure and just needing to make it through the end of the week. For something so mundane—watching unwanted property—it seems off; still you kneel at his back to help him shrug off the lip of his vest and hoodie and creased t-shirt with nothing more than a sigh.

“Didn’t mean to put this on you. I know you work as much as I do—more, even,” his head lolls down towards his lap, fingers sweeping his face as he shrinks with guilt, “I just need to figure out some money for another babysitter so I can actually sleep and you can actually see me and—” 

“It’s okay. Don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell you before you believe me.” 

He works at the clasp of his pants before you can—another thing he feels the need to take responsibility for, right now—bending at the waist enough to pool them at his ankles, socked feet tapping the ground inside their halos. Nervous, like always, high-strung and erratic for reasons you can’t begin to pull out of him. 

“And everything with Abby, she just… I worry about her.” 

“She’s asleep down the hall. Got her to eat and everything. You need to worry about yourself, too, y’know.” You widen your thighs, straddling the base of his hips, left hand curling to cradle the strip of skin between his shoulder and neck. He’s warm there, too, tacky and tense when you tuck your pointer up against his jaw. “Look at me, Mike.” 

He refuses at first, pushing back against your guidance, reserve strong in the face of shame.

In return, you press harder into him, doubling down, dimpling the underside of his chin in an effort to halt his retreat.

“No,” he whispers, insistent. 

Something hot swirls in the core of your spine at his defiance, as small as it is loud, the corner of your lip tugging up in response. He can’t see you, hiding like this, but it’s like he can feel it, knocking a shoulder up to shield himself even more. 

He likes this game, you’ve realized—where you let him have his fit just to reel him back in, to prove to him he’s wrong. That special kind of attention to detail—the laborious care of taking the time to peel back his doubts to get to the tender meat of his heart, just to string up your favorite pieces of him as you go. Declarations is maybe the most correct way to put it; he likes to earn the kind of love he can hang on the fridge.

You lean in behind him, cheek brushing the hair at his temple, and his guise falters, body unfurling on instinct. What a sweet man he is, naked save for the rings of fabric on and at his feet, the thin veil of his boxers—the latter failing to hide his own interest. Opening for you like he needs to.

You drag your nose across his lobe, the flesh there raising in little welts, “You do know how much I worry about you, right? How much I want you to relax? Don’t you want that, too?” 

He swallows hard, wrist twisting in his lap—restraint, you think, or warning; Mike, ever-courteous, letting you know he’s reached his threshold, fizzing over the top. 

“What do you think I could do to make you feel better, honey?” You run the bend of your free hand along his inner thigh, chest flush to his back so you can reach the fold of his knee. 

Mike shudders, short puffs of air jutting out of his open mouth. The grip you have on his neck tilts, wrapping your thumb over the knob of his jaw, longer fingers spreading out so you can curve one between his lips. He licks at it, tongue soft where he sucks you in, skipping the gentle work-up to get to his favorite part—more tired than you thought, then.

“I don’t want to have to choose for you, but I will.” You rub the inside of his cheek like you can coax the words out, “C’mon.” 

“You could—I want, fuck. I want to be inside you.” 

The papery t-shirt clinging to your back stretches, looped material around your hips tacked down by the trickle of slick that seeps out at his words. You were ready for bed when he arrived,  more thankful than ever to have nothing else between you and his body, now that he’s ready for something else.

You drag your wandering hand across where he’s straining, hot and heavy, his only reaction a gentle tug of teeth on your knuckle, a too-deep inhale that inflates his chest. Mike’s hands sit limp where they’re glued to his thighs, waiting patiently for your next instruction, seeing if you’ve decided to grant him his request. 

It’s not until you wedge your hand free to toy at the waistband of his boxers that he sets into motion, raising off the sheets and letting you strip him of his last shred of modesty, just the slouched cuffs of his socks left clinging to him.

His cock is hard—angry—coming down on his stomach with a dull thud, a sticky pull of precome following in its wake. The muscle under his torso jumps at the impact like he forgot it was even there, too focused on what’s coming next, sold on the prospect of something better. 

You guide a leg down the slope of the bed, planting yourself on the floor by his side. He takes the hint, pushing himself higher up on the sheets and resting his weight on the flat of his elbows behind him, quick to obey.

You take your time climbing along him, bracketing him from the front this time so you can take in the full image of his want. He’s flushed across his cheeks, his neck—even the little reliefs in the skin under his eyes are touched by pink. Lips shining, hair clumped with wet at the root—he’s the kind of beautiful he doesn’t even know he’s capable of, sleepy and misty and shaky when you run your fingers against his jaw—still damp from his own mouth—marveling at the rounded edges that find their way in his angular face. 

If he wasn’t so far away all the time, working and worrying and wracked with undeserving guilt, you’d disassemble him completely—down to the fucking marrow. Clip him off at every joint just to piece him back together. 

“Pretty,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but you know he hears it when he preens, eyes fluttering and chest squeezing tight in a long exhale.

You loop a thumb through the center of your underwear, swinging it out to fit his cock in with you, settling into his lap more firmly so that the split of your cunt presses against him. He’s trapped there, between your heat and his belly, the whine that slips out of him involuntary but solid. 

When you start to move, working up a rhythm, he spits out something like fuck, fuck yes and you nod to feign understanding.

“Oh, is this what you meant? You wanted to be inside here?” You rock into his hips with purpose, the thick shape of him rubbing at your clit like it’s all he was made for, like being inside you wouldn’t even be an idea if he couldn’t take care of you in every other way first. 

“No.” 

“First yes, now no? You have to make your mind up, baby. You’re not giving me enough to work with, here.”

“Yes. This is–yes.” 

He starts to meet you halfway without thinking, grinding up into the cradle of your body in search of a better way to communicate than words. 

“So you don’t want to fuck me?” 

Mike whines at that, the breakout of red reaching the very edges of his face, bleeding down into his collarbones. He regains some sense of his own body, then, hands fumbling up until they slot above the crease of your thigh, rubbing firmly at your hip bones. Pleading.

You tuck your knees into his side to help him along, ribs stinging where your efforts begin to hurt, happy anyway to push him closer to the edge. A thick lick of heat rises in your chest, the seat of your pelvis, flaring white when you watch him fight for something to say.

“I do—I did, I just. This is perfect. You’re perfect.” He’s panting in between each word, pressing himself to you to punctuate his point, “I’m going to come just like this, if you’ll let me.” 

It’s not so spelled out, but he is asking for permission—as he always does—and it sounds like an apology more than anything else. For being selfish, you know he’ll say; for taking his pleasure exactly like you’d asked him to.

You swipe at the curls that are starting to twist at the base of his neck, both for leverage so you can match his pace and to point out another facet of him that falls perfectly into your liking, the glide easier with how much you’ve coated him in that same favor. 

The hand you’d hooked into him earlier finds his lips again, slipping in with no resistance, passing harshly against his molars and tongue. 

Mike is eager to glean as much fondness as he can off the skin, closing his mouth and sucking fervently. 

“Go ahead, then. Said you needed to relax, didn’t I? We’ve got all morning.”

Something flashes in his eyes that reads horribly like but what about work?, as if now would be the time to worry over your schedule—as if anything could be more important than the way his cock swells in anticipation despite the thought. 

You redirect the anxiety, not wanting his orgasm to fall flat after all the convincing it took to lead him here, “You have all morning to make it up to me.”

His grip around your middle tightens, suffocatingly so, brows drawing tight, tilting his head so he can take in more of your fingers to slide his tongue against the underside of your palm as he comes in warm threads of slip. 

He makes a mess of your chests and the already soaked-through film of your underwear, legs shaking under you as he breathes his way down. 

You release yourself from him with a pop, squeezing lightly at his cheek as he cracks a meek smile. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, freshly shy like he hadn’t been aware of what just occurred, so inside his mind he’d left his body, “I didn’t mean to not be able to, um—” 

“Fuck me?” 

He’s fully glowing by now, this time because of the weight of your accusation, loosening a little only when he sees you grinning back at him. You lean in, pecking at the corner of his mouth to not interrupt his irregular breaths, allowing him just a moment of error before appealing to the side of him that rids him of his nerves, “Get to it, then, if you’re so worried about it.”

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

I’m gonna write this down now so I can look like an absolute genius later (or look like a clown, but at least I said it with my full chest!)

❌ Spoilers for the FNAF Movie below! ❌

Ok, I might be huffing hopium here, but in my heart of hearts I STILL think Mike Schmidt is Mike Afton. If (or when) they make a sequel, there’s a way they can reveal this

So the most obvious thing from this movie is when Mike is in “Steve’s” office, and when “Steve” is reading Mike’s name out loud from his résumé, he stops mid-sentence. He looks at Mike for a weird amount of time, almost studying him, before completely changing the subject. There’s no way in hell “Steve” recognizes Mike from when he saw him as a kid when he kidnapped his brother Garrett 10+ ago, no chance. Also why would he go to Nebraska (unclear where the movie takes place, but let’s assume Utah because of the books) to kidnap a random kid and just drive off? Here’s what I think is going on…(also I’m gonna call him William from now on cuz we all know lol)

William fingered out that Mike is his son during that interview. My theory is that at some point, William was married and him and his wife have a son named Mike. And for one reason or another, they got divorced. This is when Mike was too young to really remember which is why he doesn’t recognize William during their meeting. Mike’s mom gains custody of Mike and remarries, she marries Mr. Schmidt. They have a child together, Garrett. Sometime after the divorce, William adopts a child, trying to cope after losing his only son. He adopts Vanessa.

William finds out about his ex-wife having another kid. He wants to cause her pain and suffering for leaving him. He follows the Schmidt’s and takes Garrett during the camping trip. Unable to handle the pain, Mike’s mom takes her own life, leaving Mike and his stepdad. Mr. Schmidt marries a little later to another woman, and she has a daughter named Abby. Sometime after this, both Mr. Schmidt and his new wife die, leaving Mike to care for Abby.

Vanessa owed William so much, he had adopted her while she had suffered in an orphanage for years. She would do anything he told her, even if it meant covering up his crimes. Years later, realizing what she was doing was wrong, she left her father and became a police officer, hoping to stop people like her father as she had failed to stop him.

Here’s another thing. Scott Cawthon knows that the fans are obsessed with the lore of FNAF. I think he knew he could make more movies, this isn’t going to be a one and done deal. Plus, he had his hand on this project every step of the way, he wouldn’t agree to anything that he didn’t want to happen in the story. Mike being William’s some is CRUCIAL to the story of FNAF (at least in the games). I think he’s trying to fake us out, you know how he loves to troll the fans!

Again, this is just a theory (A GAME THEORY lol), but I don’t think the idea of Mike being an Afton is dead just yet. Hoping and praying so I can look incredibly smart if or when the sequel drops 🙏🏻

[fangirl-dot-com]

Daniel Ricciardo - Y/n.JPG

Second to last one of this series! I have been so bless to be able to write these and have enjoyed every minute of it. Now, this one might be shorter, but it’s because the title goes hand in hand with the content. Daniel and reader both bond over a shared love of photography and Danny helps her out before the Australian GP. Lots of feel good things and comfort here. 

Some posts will be from future races and thing like that! It’s not so much spoilers for future chapters, but it might have a few key details (example – Lando’s first race win, Reader’s first race win [I already hinted at that in Reader-Lore], possible teammate swaps, other driver’s wins, soft launch? Hard launch?) – we will see hehehehe 

I'm trying something new! Please let me know if y'all like this set up better for Instagram posts!

Anyway! Enjoy! 

Like always: comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! 

You looked down at the rectangular item. Max had gotten you this as a Christmas present, but he forgot one key detail. You didn’t know how to use it. 

You had been carrying around the nice camera since Christmas, and rarely left anywhere without it. However, you knew nothing about how to take good pictures. You thought about leaving it in your apartment. That thought flew out the window once you found out how much Max had spent on the thing. A whopping 6 grand was apparently not a big deal as a Christmas present. Especially when Max had found out that you had never really celebrated the holiday properly. 

So, you carefully took it with you wherever you went. Most of the time, it stayed in your bag, not being used. 

What you didn’t realize was that a certain Aussie had accidentally taken your backpack, instead of his own. 

Daniel was currently looking down in the black backpack. The contents showed that he had definitely had taken the wrong one from the Red Bull garage. Curse Max for hurrying him. He just saw the familiar logo and went with it. 

He shrugged as he started to pull out different items, trying to find out whose backpack this was, so that he could return it. A few stuck out to him. Most were female products that he knew none of the drivers used. Well, maybe Lando would use Billie Eilish’s new perfume in travel size. But, one of the items at the bottom caught his eye.

He carefully lifted the familiar Lecia Q2 camera. It had been well protected by clothes that were strategically placed around it, as to deter things from bumping into it. 

Maybe this bag was Lando’s. 

A knock on his driver’s door took him out of his thought spiral of how he was supposed to approach Lando now knowing he used feminine perfume. There was definitely nothing wrong, but he knew how Lando got about situations that might be a bit embarrassing. 

He placed the camera in the middle of his desk so that if it did get knocked over, it wouldn’t fall off. He opened the door and was met with the sight of you, holding his backpack. 

“Hey kid,” he almost mumbled, still a bit in chock. Your face was flushed as you stared at the Aussie. It would have been better to take Lando or Oscar’s backpack, since you knew them a bit better. But no. You had to accidentally take Daniel Joseph Ricciardo’s backpack, the man who was everything to you growing up. 

“Hi,” you scratched you neck, a movement that you often did when nervous. “I think this might be yours. I apologize for taking it.” You all but shoved the backpack into his arms. Daniel’s arms flailed, trying to catch the bag. You looked as if a loud noise would spook you. 

Daniel shifted enough to show you your backpack that was lying on his chair. Your eyes lit up at the familiar bag. “I think we just got ours mixed up.” 

You nodded and stepped inside to grab your bag. You almost left after that, but your backpack felt lighter that it had been that morning. You had failed to see the camera sitting on the desk. You looked back up at Daniel before looking into the backpack that was void of you beloved camera. 

Tears welled quickly in your eyes. Daniel, who had been watching, was confused as to why you suddenly started to cry. 

“Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked, accent thick with concern. 

You unzipped the backpack a bit more to show him the empty bottom. “I think someone stole my camera. Max got it for me for Christmas, but I don’t know how to use it. I carry it everywhere and had it this morning, but now it’s gone and I don’t know what to do.” 

You were now on the verge of a breakdown. Daniel almost wanted to coo, before realizing that he was the source of your troubles. 

“Ah kid. It’s over on the table. I took it out to maybe see whose backpack it was. Thought it might have been Lando, but I don’t think he uses that kind of perfume.” 

You let out a light laugh at the idea of Lando Norris secretly using a bottle of the stuff. You wouldn’t put it past him. You looked around at Danny to see him holding the camera. It looked almost natural to see it in his hands. 

You sheepishly grinned, “I don’t know how to use it. So there aren’t any pictures on the SIM card.” 

Daniel looked over the camera, almost weighing the object and the thoughts in his head. He looked at you, face flushed and cheeks wet with leftover tears. You really looked like a kid. No wonder Max felt as though he needed to watch out for you. 

Daniel had spoken just a few words to you, but he’d do anything to make you smile. 

He raised the camera in his hands. “I can help you if you’d like? I don’t have plans for the rest of the day!” He shot you a big smile, which helped your own grow. 

You looked down shyly. “Only if you’re ok with it. I don’t have plans and Kelly is here so Max is a little occupied.” 

Don’t get it wrong, you loved it when Kelly could make it to the races to support Max. It was definitely better than his scary, angry dad who showed up too many times and reminded you too much of your own father. You wanted to shiver at the thought. 

Daniel let out a laugh, “Kid, I’m good to go! You wanna take my car? There’s a nice beach we can go to and practice.” 

You liked that idea. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a beach.” 

Daniel looked at you strangely. “But you live in Monaco? Basically an island.” 

You nodded, “Yeah, but I’m busy. And Arthur is normally with Charles on his yacht. Max is on his simulator most of the time, and when he isn’t, he’s at Kelly’s. Lando works on his Quadrant stuff a lot. I know they like to joke that I have no friends, but I legit have no friends outside of this.” 

Your hands gestured to the empty paddock where the two of you were walking. It was true. Friends would just let you down. You had enough family here. 

You continued, “And I like being alone. I’ve done it most of my life and it’d be a bit weird to not be alone sometimes.” You shrugged. 

Daniel was a bit silent before he spoke, “Well, everyone deserves to have good friends.” He smirked. “Good friends that take you to the beaches. So, I will be that friend for you.” 

The two of you stopped in front of his car. You flashed him a grin that, again like everyone says, rivaled the sun. 

You pulled yourself into the passenger seat of Danny’s car. He started it, and gave you full aux privileges. You took the opportunity to play some good country music. Daniel started to smile as the music played. 

The ride quickly passed by: the beach wasn’t very far away to begin with. 

The moment you stepped out of the car, the smell of salt water hit your nose. It was very therapeutic, along with the sounds of the waves. Daniel beckoned you to follow him down a path that had already been worn down by visitors. The sand stuck in between your toes, your feet feeling everything. 

You stepped in Daniel’s footsteps as you walked behind him. The sand was flat and a tad wet when the two of you finally stopped. You also had failed to noticed that Daniel had grabbed a towel and was placing it down near the waves. He sat down and patted the spot next to him. 

You gingerly squatted, trying not to fling sand everywhere. Once the two of you were settled, you just sat in silence, enjoying the noise from the wind and waves. 

You carefully brought the camera in between your bodies. 

You quietly spoke as to not interrupt the calming noises. “Can you help me take a picture of the ocean?” 

Daniel nodded with a fond look on his face. He quickly showed you what buttons to use and how to aim the lens. Handing it back to you, he watched as you squinted one eye to look through the view finder. The minute click of the camera let him know that you managed to take a photo. 

You handed the camera to him with a shy smile. Inwardly, you were looking for some type of praise from the man you admired throughout your childhood and teenage years. 

Daniel was surprised at the photo. To put it simply, it was amazing: much better than he might have been able to take it. 

“Well kid, you definitely have an eye for something like this. I mean, this picture is incredible.” 

Although you were looking for it, you flushed under his kind words. “Can you take a couple as well? I was thinking about making a photography account along with my main one.” You looked down at the sand. 

“Sure kid. Anything you want. You can join Lando and I’s JPG club if you want to,” he said half-mindedly, taking a couple of shots. 

What he didn’t notice was a look of excitement and content on your face. Maybe, this friendship would work out amazingly. 

You just continued to wonder to yourself. 

How many couples am I getting in replacement of my family? 

Christian and Gerri, Max and Kelly, Alex and Lily, Charles and Alex, now Daniel and Heidi?

You were set for life. 

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March 25, 2024

let's go to the beach, beach

tagged: daniel3.jpg

liked by landonorris, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 13,937 others

oscarpiastri you went to the beach, without ME?!

Y/n.jpg you weren't around, you snooze you lose

user1 BABE WAKE UP Y/N MADE A JPG ACCOUNT

y/n_updates yessss now we can see unposted photos of the grid

lando.jpg welcome to the club (I can teach you how to use the camera better than that muppet)

danielricciardo hey! this muppet is a fine teacher by the way y/n.jpg thanks lanno, but I think I got it from here :)

May 2, 2024

Logan didn't take me fishing, so I made a seashell crown instead!

liked by maxverstappen1, kellypiquet, and 15,836 others

kellypiquet P was wondering if you could make her one the next time we go to the beach when you and maxverstappen1 get home

y/n.jpg uh, of course! tell her I say hi and that I love her! maxverstappen1 can you make me one as well?

iamred_iamyellow so this is how I find out that max, Kelly, y/n, and p are legit a family family?

y/n.lover you are so behind

logansargeant I would have taken you fishing, but you said and I quote "does the bug spray come in any different smell?" NO IT DOESN'T

y/n.jpg calm down shawty, you're Americanness is showing arthur_leclerc he's not beating those American allegations smh logansargeant maybe it's because I AM AMERICAN!?

May 20, 2024

monaco has my heart and soul

tagged: charles_leclerc and arthur_leclerc

liked by alexalbon, arthur_leclerc, and 17,382 others

y/n_fan alright boo, I see what you did there

user2 what did she do? y/n_fan heart and soul = Charles and Arthur user3 maybe it's just that, hmmmm, she might live there? and her "adoptive family" also lives there? y/n_fan let me be delulu

maxverstappen1 w o w - love you too kid

charles_leclerc you can be first on the track, but the leclercs come first in everything else arthur_leclerc he did not mean that, sir

charles_leclerc je t'aime gosse also, maman wants to know when you're coming over for dinner again

y/n.jpg aw je t'aime charlie! tell her that I'll come over this weekend! landonorris can this invitation be open to other drivers as well?

July 1, 2024

I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and 25,283 others

y/n_updates uh, EXCUSE ME?!

box_box_express I have predicted things before, but I never would have thought about this

user3 does maxverstappen1 know about this?

maxverstappen1 now I do

taylorswift aww love this! two tickets headed your way for you and they <3

y/n.jpg thank you! he says thank you as well!

change-ur-f_car alright, cast your votes in, who do we think it is?

emotional-support_rivals I think its Lando! they seemed super close during the Monaco GP maxiel-lover is it bad I want to say Daniel? lastlapLando uh the age gap is TOO unsettling, plus I don't think max would like that very much y/n-lover2 I personally think that that is Arthur champagne-without-the_cham I think the delulu is really hitting hard

July 7, 2024

this muppet got his first win! (and before me, such a misogynist)

tagged: landonorris

liked by arthur_leclerc, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 30,283 others

emotional-support_rivals this is really giving - hard launch? especially after the last post

landonorris EXCUSE ME? ACCUSING ME OF MISOGYNY?? UNDER A POST FOR ME? BY YOU?!

y/n.jpg yes landonorris very well

lnfournation that's our muppet!

y/n-fans could this be y/n l/n's boyfriend?

y/n.jpg as IF he could pull me - especially when he's looking like crash from ice age (lando NORIZZ) landonorris HEY

August 20, 2024

Amster-DAMN

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by redbullracing, oscarpiastri, and 22,901 others

user1 love to see max wearing something other than an RB polo

max_max_super kelly or y/n probs packed his suitcase y/n.jpg we did :D

landonorris pls bring me back a stroopwaffle

danielricciardo and me too oscarpiastri me three

y/n_updates her captions never fail

maxverstappen1 that is not my good angle

y/n.jpg didn't know Sid the Sloth had one?? maxverstappen1 I will leave you christianhorner please do not

redbullracing best duo is BACK

September 1, 2024

AHSDHDAOWEYREO MONZA YOU WERE GOOD TO ME

liked by georgerussell66, redbullracing, and 59,283 others

y/n_updates and everybody liked that

landonorris she's still crying

y/n.jpg YOU CRIED TOO YOU CAN'T TALK

box_box_update our girl out there making history

suderiaferrari if there was anyone else to win here, we are honored that it was you

charles_leclerc YOU MADE HER START CRYING AGAIN

carlossainz55 proud of you chica

maxverstappen1 words cannot express how proud I am of you kleintje landonorris keep at it bug, you're doing what you were born to do fernandoalo_oficial felicidades nina! kellypiquet can't wait to have you home honey! you drove amazingly charles_leclerc maman says that she is so proud of you and I'm so proud of you gosse danielricciardo welcome to the group of Monza winners darl' y/n-addict the amount of nicknames that she has is melting my heart

christianhorner proud to have you as one of my drivers kid

October 17, 2024

you know what they say?

tagged: danielricciardo

liked by arthur_leclerc, ollibearman, and 45,204 others

maxverstappen1 kid take this down

y/n.jpg that's not very girl boss of you to say Maxie

georgerussell66 yeehaw

y/n-lover5 this is very suspicious

user6 if you think that beanpole russell george is her bf, you must truly be gone maxiel-lover I think this is just fueling Daniel being her boyfriend y/n_updates alright grandma, let's get you back to bed

November 23, 2023

always bet on red and navy

liked by redbullracing, lewishamilton, tomholland and 49,294 others

user2 TOM HOLLAND IN THE LIKES

box_box_updates chiillllll, y/n he and zendaya got close when they had to shadow Red Bull for Tom's upcoming F1 movie

christianhorner can't believe it's been a year since you've been with us - you're going on to do great things kids

y/n-lover what do you mean it's been a WHOLE YEAR since y/n was introduced as a driver for the 2024 lineup

maxverstappen1 kid you're diving me out a job

y/n.jpg keep up old man, the children are taking over landonorris amen to that oscarpiastri the trio are now all race winners

redbullracing what she said - after party on us

y/n.jpg please do not go over the cost cap AGAIN

change-ur-f_car I'm still patiently waiting to know who her boyfriend is

user7 that overtake on the last lap was mega, glad for her second win

December 13, 2024

isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

tagged: arthur_leclerc

y/n-lover2 I CALLED IT AND NO ONE LISTENED AHAHAHA

y/n_updates I was NOT ready for this to be on my page first thing this morning

emotional_support-rivals I just want to know if Max or Charles knew

maxverstappen1 oh we knew charles_leclerc how do you think they got away with it for so long??

taylorswift my favorite birthday present

max_max_super she knew what she was doing by hard launching with a Taylor Swift lyric on Taylor Swift's birthday

olliebearman parents

y/n.jpg son arthur_leclerc SON?

landonorris you're telling me I had to find out through INSTAGRAM

logansargeant I did as well oscarpiastri you're both blind if you didn't know y/n.jpg YOU KNEW?

y/nxarthur this is the best day of my life

AN: Guys this was so much fun to write!!! I hope you like it cause it took me forever! I love you all! Last chapter and Christmas chapter out soon!

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog @treehouse-mouse @leptitlu

[bitchface24-7]

Imagine this… Dean visits Sam at Stanford behind Johns back

(fuck you john 👊😒)

When Sam got kicked out with a busted lip, a pre-packed duffle bag, and tears in his eyes, he didn’t expect Dean to follow him. He didn’t expect Dean to offer to drive him to the nearest bus-stop to get to Stanford in one piece. He didn’t expect the overwhelming hug Dean gave him before he left (No chick-flick moments, Sammy! He remembers Dean saying all the time. Dean’s a bit of a hypocrite)

He doesn’t expect to see tears watering his big brothers vision before he leaves. He doesn’t expect Dean to still be at the bus-stop as the bus rolls away; leaning against baby and waving demurely. Sam didn’t expect most things that night. But above all else;

Sam didn’t expect to find a slip of paper sneakily shoved into his hoodie pocket, it’s a phone number he doesn’t recognize.

It’s for a burner phone Dad has no idea existed.

——————

Life at Stanford is everything Sam ever dreamed of! It’s relaxing, calming, interesting… boring.

Don’t get Sam wrong, he loves it here! He loves the atmosphere, how everyone here wants to be here. He loves the library, his classes (he doesn’t get some of his pre-requisites though. Why is he taking an art course as a pre-law student? Whatever…) and the friends he’s made here.

Brady his roommate is a bit of a slob, prefers parties over studying, and is a bit of a mischief maker. But he makes it up to Sam, he’s a surprisingly good cook. Jess became his best friend on the second day of classes. She’s the best. She’s funny, witty, outgoing, and really pretty. She’s got green eyes, freckles, and this beautiful smile (no she doesn’t look like anyone Sam knows. Shut up.)

There’s a few others but Sam isn’t as close with them. All in all, it’s been pretty good here. But, he’s still bored. He never thought he’d say this, but he misses the adrenaline of the hunts. He misses researching into unknown lore and going undercover (relatively unsuccessfully) with his brother. He misses the bickering, the inside-jokes, the snarkiness, and garbage eating habits. He misses Dean.

He’s been calling Dean quite a bit on the hidden burner number he gave him all those months ago. It’s a good substitute; but not enough. He misses Dean’s smile, his laugh, his presence, his smell. It’s especially gotten bad knowing Dad fucked off to do his own hunts, leaving Dean to fend for himself. Sam doesn’t like knowing that Dean is hunting solo, he’s not there to help if something happens.

So imagine Sam’s surprise when there’s a knock on his dorm room door. Not just any knock; it’s a secret one. One made up in the dead of night almost a decade ago now so Sam knows it’s safe. He knows who’s knocking.

It’s Dean.

Sam bolts up off his twin bed and rushes to the door. It’s a good thing Brady isn’t here; Sam’s not in the mood to explain himself. Sam whips the door open and feels the air escape his lungs in a swift blow. It’s Dean. He’s here. It’s Dean.

Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. De—

Before his brother even has a chance to greet him, Sam throws himself into Deans arms, hunching himself so he’s smaller than usual, and shoving his face into Deans neck; rejuvenating himself on his brothers scent. It’s a mixture of leather, oil, old spice deodorant, and something distinctly Dean that has Sam sighing in content.

Dean just chuckles, which sends a shiver down Sam’s spine, “Miss me that much?” Sam can hear the smirk in Dean’s tone. Sam rolls his eyes, “Jerk.”

Instantaneously Dean replies with a small, “Bitch.” Sam drags Dean into the inside of his dorm room, thank god it’s relatively clean. Sam might’ve just offed himself if it was a pigsty when Dean came to surprise visit him.

“What’re you doing here?” Sam asks, awe and reverence clear in his tone. Dean must’ve not heard that since he grimaced a bit, anxiously fidgeting with the amulet Sam gave him all those Christmas’ ago, “What? I can’t see my baby brother?”

Sam rolls his eyes and shoots Dean bitch face number 46, “Y’know what I mean Dean. Is there a hunt of some kind or…” the implication sits heavily in the air. Did you come just to see me?

Deans jaw clenches before responding, “I just wanted to see you. Catch up a bit.” Sam can’t help but beam a broad grin towards his older brother, he can feel his dimples popping. Dean’s cheeks flushed the tiniest bit as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Well…” Sam starts, his voice cracking a bit in his flustered state. Dean quirks an eyebrow, a smug smirk growing on his pretty pink lips. Before he can tease Sam, Sam quickly continues his sentence, “I can show you around the campus. If you’d like…”

Deans smirk turns into a smile at the suggestion, “Wanna show me off to all your college buddies? Damn Sammy, didn’t know you were the possessive type.” Sam clenches his jaw and can almost physically feel his eyes darken at the suggestion, “Well… we are cut from the same cloth Dean.”

Dean just stares a bit at Sam before briefly licking his lips and looking away, “Alright! Take me on a tour Sasquatch.” Sam rolls his eyes and drags Dean out of his room. He’s gonna take him on the best goddamn tour this school has ever seen!

——————

Deans missed Sam. He’s missed all his snooty looks and snarky one liners. He’s missed his smile and his laugh. He’s missed his whiny tone whenever Dean embarrasses him (forever his little brother) so seeing Sam now is like whiplash of the severest degree.

Sam grew up. Sam got hot.

Dean knows he shouldn’t be thinking about his 18 year old brother that way. It’s wrong. It’s filthy. Sam probably knows about Deans fucked up thoughts and that’s why he left. But… Sam was ecstatic to see Dean. Running up and hugging him like he was 8 years old again.

Sam may act like a kid; but he sure as shit doesn’t look like one. He’s tall, taller than Dean now. He’s filled out. No longer tall like a pole and as thin as one too; no Sammy’s packed on quite a bit of muscle. His face has lost any baby-fat that was once on it. All high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, pretty nose, plump pink lips, and fox-like eyes. Dean feels like a creep checking out his brother but… fuck Sammy’s gorgeous.

He’s the best goddamn view in this whole campus.

Dean is barely paying attention to what Sam is saying, he feels a bit bad. It’s almost like he’s in Charlie Brown. He doesn’t hear any of the words Sam is saying, he’s just appreciating Sam and his prettiness.

It’s isn’t until Sam mentions the cafeteria does he get Deans full attention.

“Cafeteria?” Dean questions, a small sparkle in his eye. He drove about 3 hours to get here, he’s fucking starving. Sammy laughs boisterously, swinging an arm around to land on Deans shoulders as he tucks him close to his side. It’s shouldn’t get Dean hot under the collar. It does.

“Yup. All the goodies, like a smaller version of the food courts you see at the mall. There’s some food options, multiple coffee options, It’s pretty sweet. It’s all sponsored by the university. And since I got in on a full-ride scholarship; it’s essentially all free. For me at least.”

Dean feels like he’s drooling. Thank god for Sammy and his massive brain! Before Dean can even question where this glorious cafeteria is, Sam’s dragging him. Deans been allowing Sam to do that a lot recently, huh?

They eventually get to the cafeteria and get all their food. Dean obviously gets a burger loaded with all the good stuff, fries, and a massive fountain drink. Sam gets a salad, a coffee, and reluctantly adds a small thing of fries and grilled chicken to his order; Dean’s nagging of “real food” finally won.

Sam just gives the cashier at the kiosk his student ID badge, she scans it, and they’re free to sit in the cafeteria. Dean almost feels famous.

Dean was expecting to pig out with his brother. He wasn’t expecting to pig out with Sam’s friends.

——————

Sam almost chokes on a mouthful of salad when he sees Brady and Jess casually walking over to where Sam and Dean are sitting to eat with them. Before he can say anything, Jess breaks the silence for them.

“Hey, I’m Jess! This is Brady. Who’re you?” She sweetly asks Dean. Dean just raises he eyebrows and swallows a bite of his burger. “I’m Dean. I came to visit Sammy.”

“Sammy?” Brady questions, a small laugh in his tone, “Sam nearly ripped my face off when I called him that once.” Jess nudges Brady in the ribs and he bends over slightly in pain.

Dean purses his lips and smugly looks over to Sam who’s flushed as red as a strawberry. He’s picking at his salad now and mutters, “Only Dean can call me that.” Jess giggles and ushers Brady to sit down, they sit a bit away from the two pretty men to ensure there’s enough room on the table for all their stuff.

“So Dean,” Jess starts before taking a sip of her iced coffee, “How long have you known Sam?”

Dean just quirks an eyebrow at her. Did Sam not tell them about him? Fine. If he’s embarrassed by Dean, Dean’s gonna embarrass Sam right back! Dean looks over to Sam who looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here.

“His whole life. I’ve known him since he was a baby and I was four. I’ve been by his side for every milestone.”

Jess beams a grin at the two of them and lightly claps her hands together, “That’s so sweet! You got any baby pics of Sam?” Dean smirks at her mischievous grin as Sam groans and slides down his seat, hands covering his face. Brady just laughs and continues to eat.

“Sorry sweetheart, they’re in my other jacket.” Dean jokes as he eats a fry. Jess over-dramatically sighs, “Damn it. Maybe next time?” She jokes. Dean just smiles and nods his head once. Dean likes Jess.

Sam shoots both of them bitch face number 5 before continuing to eat. Every once in a while Jess and Brady shoot each other a look; as if silently communicating. Dean doesn’t really care that much, he’s with Sam. That’s all that matters.

——————

Jess has never, in the year her and Sam have been at Stanford, seen this look on Sam’s face before. He’s all doe-eyed and blushy towards the handsome man that introduced himself as Dean. She’s never seen such a star-struck expression on her friend before. It’s nauseatingly cute.

Sam’s got phenomenal taste.

Jess just continues to watch the two of them as she wonders to herself, “How long have these two been dating?”

Judging by the shared looks, inside jokes, dopey expressions, and an unmeasurable amount of love thrown by the two of them. Jess wouldn’t be surprised if they’re childhood sweethearts.

It’s only when Dean loudly laughs at a joke Sam said do the pieces click together.

“Hold on. You’re phone guy!” Jess exclaims excitedly. Dean just looks over to Jess, Brady stops eating, and Sam looks like he wants to kill himself.

“Phone guy?” Dean gruffly questions, looking over to Sam for some clarification but just gets met with a horrified face.

Jess continues on, ignoring Sam’s pleading look, “You’re the guy Sam spends hours talking on the phone with. You’ve got a personalized ringtone and everything so he never misses one of your calls. It’s kinda cute actually.”

Dean just smiles and says, “Is that so?” Sam really looks like he wants to throw himself off a cliff.

Before anymore teasing can occur, Sam picks up both his and Deans garbage, tossing it out as quickly as he can before dragging Dean away from his two friends with a burning face.

All he can hear is Jess’ and Brady’s laughter as he scampers away with his brother. “It was nice meeting you Dean!” Jess yells, a broad grin on her pretty face as she waves the two men goodbye. “You too Jess!” Dean yells back just as loudly.

Sam is going to kill himself.

——————

Brady looks at Jess and says one sentence, “They’re totally fucking.”

Without missing a beat, Jess replies “ Oh a million percent. I recommend you don’t go back to your dorm for the next few hours.”

Brady sighs and continues to eat, “Definitely.”

——————

Back at Sam’s dorm is a cacophony of laughter from Dean and pleading from Sam.

“Dean please shut up. It’s not that funny!” Sam whines. Dean just laughs even harder, “Phone guy? Are you kidding me?! This is the best day ever!”

Sam eventually gets fed up at the laughter and tackles his brother to his twin sized bed. Wrestling him to get him to shut up. Although Dean is shorter than Sam now, he’s still stronger; eventually pinning Sam down beneath him.

The two just pant heavily as the tension grows thicker and thicker as the seconds pass on. Eventually, Dean breaks the silence.

“Why haven’t you mentioned me to any of your friends?” Sam gulps at the dark look Dean throws his way. What does he even say in response to that?

Because they’ll know how much of a freak I am?

I love you too much for it to just be considered brotherly.

I’m scared.

Sam just gapes like a fish for a few seconds before demurely looking off to the side, his eyes filled with tears, “You’ll think I’m a freak.”

At that proclamation, Dean rears back a bit and immediately tries to get that solemn expression off his baby brothers face, “No I wouldn’t.” At Sam’s shake of his head, Dean firmly repeats his statement, “I wouldn’t.”

Sam bites his lip, debating if he should tell the truth. Dean always knows when Sam lies so… what’s the point? Time to ruin the best thing Sam’s ever had in his life.

“I love you.” Sam quietly stated. The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

“I love you too?” Dean says. Of course he loves him. It’s Sammy.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brothers obliviousness and shoots him a look, “No Dean. I love you.”

Deans eyebrows furrow before his eyes widen and his mouth drops open a bit. He can’t mean. No. No way. No way does his Sammy love him the same way Dean does. Sammy is pure. He’s perfect. He isn’t fucked up like Dean is.

As Dean sits in Sam’s lap in astonishment, Sam feels his eyes water. This was a mistake, he shouldn’t have said anything. As Sam moves to push Dean off, he gets the surprise of a lifetime.

Dean kisses him.

Full on gives Sam one of the most passionate kisses he’s ever experienced.

When the two eventually pull away from one another, they connect foreheads and pant together. Sam looks desperately at Dean. Don’t get my hopes up. Not here. Not now.

Dean eventually fulfills every wish and dream Sam’s had since he was 14 years old. He says the damming words back.

“I love you too.” Before kissing Sam again.

Sam didn’t expect much of anything when his Dad kicked him out and he went to Stanford. He especially didn’t expect this.

But Sam couldn’t be happier.