#jaws 19 is sending me

[caelivir]

between me and you, our little secret | suna rintarou

synopsis. rintarou can't keep hiding the fact that he is madly in love with you.

pairing. suna rintarou x fem!reader | wc. 1.3k | genres. secret & established relationship, fluff, down bad and jealous rinnie | warnings. suggestive in the beginning (i got carried away...)

notes. something came over me last night. the entire idea of this made me foam at the mouth. tbh this isn't supposed to be like a fic fic so that's why it's a mess 😭. title definitely did not come from a one direction lyric 👍.

either way hope you enjoy. and happy 300 (+19) followers. love yall.

you and rintarou both agree to be in a secret relationship. your reasoning being that you want to be able to have moments to yourselves without having to deal with the hassle of gossiping peers for now. (or in other words: not having to deal with an interrogation from the miyas).

it's full of sneaking around and hiding away from the prying eyes of your classmates. it's getting texts from him during lunch to meet him at the unused classroom on the third floor after school ends. you'd be waiting patiently, sitting atop one of desks there until he's finally able to slip his way in.

it's you being barely able to get a 'hi' in before rin's crashing his lips onto yours. his forcefulness causes your mouth to fall agape, and he doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue on yours. his hands stroke your thighs before they settle onto one of his favorite parts of your body—your waist. (the reality being he can't choose a singular one. he adores everything about you). your arms drape themselves over his shoulders as the kiss deepens. your mouths move together in perfect harmony, sending waves of heat down to your stomach and ramping up the speed of your heartbeat.

it's seductively messy and hot that you can't help the mewl that escapes your throat. rintarou bites your bottom lip in response before trailing sloppy, open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. it doesn't last long because he craves the feeling of your lips against his so rin guides his head back up to get another taste of you. he devours you entirely until your lungs are begging for a breath of air.

it's you having to remind rin that he's going to be late to practice if he doesn't leave now, and he'll whine and groan complaints to you until your insistence forces him to comply, but he doesn't leave immediately, not without stealing another kiss from you.

a secret romance with suna rintarou means being able to have restrain in public or group settings. that's a lie. neither of you are very good at it because your fingers constantly graze each other when you walk side by side when you're with the twins. and if you're feeling brave, you'll wrap your hand around his index and middle fingers for a brief, fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the both of you long for more.

at group dinners, in the chance that rintarou is able to find a way to sit next to you, he'll sneak his hand onto your thigh or hand, tracing anything and everything onto your skin, all while making fun of atsumu from across the table. polygons. misshaped lines. animals. the characters of his name. the characters of yours. hearts. i love you's.

or in class, suna always has his eye on you no matter what you're doing. there's a constant feeling that someone's staring at you, and every single time, it's him. you turn back and give him a beaming grin that makes his heart melt.

one night, when you and rin are cuddling in your bed, you sleepily tell him that you're ready to launch your relationship. you say that he doesn't need to feel pressured by you. you'll wait for him to be ready too, no matter how long it may take.

it's in that moment he's reminded how special, precious, and considerate you are. he decides right there that if you're ready, then he is too. the only problem is how exactly do you launch a relationship? where does he even begin?

he's stuck on it for weeks, and he swears that the longer it takes him, the more he gets tested. because where did that loser from class 3 come from? he's dropped by every single day to talk to you and for a very obvious reason. suna can see the damn hearts swimming in the guy's eyes.

the longer he watches these interactions, the more it pisses him off. what gave him the right to breathe near you? it takes everything in your boyfriend to not approach the guy and tell him to fuck off. you'd probably get upset if he did that so rintarou forces himself to let his jealousy simmer.

it only gets worse after a particularly grueling match. he was worn down. all rin wanted to have see you, have lunch with the team, and go home.

you always come to games to support him and the twins. it's a routine at this point. you'd meet up with them once they got changed and congratulate everyone on their win. atsumu would then beg you to eat with them, and you'd insist that it's fine. rintarou sees right through you. you're always going to agree because it gives you an excuse to be around each other without anyone questioning it.

however, what isn't part of the routine is seeing his opponent flirt with you. it's so obvious that you're not comfortable, and the bastard can't seem to take a hint. the final thread of rin's patience snaps. his jealousy boils over.

he drops his bag and is fuming when he approaches the scene before him. your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend because you have never seen him this angry before. he doesn't bother saying anything to the bastard before him. instead, suna wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in to capture your lips in a searing kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

atsumu's gasp is so painfully loud and dramatic that it probably could have been heard around the world, and rintarou continues kissing you regardless. the only reason he stops is because he still feels the presence of his opponent that had the audacity to even try hitting on you.

"you're still here?" suna scorns, raising an eyebrow as he looks the guy up and down.

"what the hell are you-"

"kissing my girlfriend. am i not allowed to kiss my girlfriend anymore?" rin challenges with a tilt of his head.

the guy snaps his gaze to you. "what? you never said you had-"

"i did." you clarify with a dead glare. "i said it multiple times, and you didn't care to listen, asshat."

the guy bites his tongue, red in the face with embarrassment or rage or maybe both, and hustles away. when he's gone, rintarou finally calms down. he looks at you, feeling guilt rise in his stomach.

"sorry." your boyfriend apologizes. "i didn't mean for us to go public like that. i just-"

you laugh. "don't worry about it, love. i was getting fed up too. besides," your lips pull into a teasing smirk. "it was kinda hot. you should get jealous more often."

suna frowns slightly. "i'd rather not."

"tsumu, ya owe me twenty." osamu says apathetically. this effectively snaps you and rin back to the audience you completely forgot you had. every single one of them is gaping at their middle blocker.

"like hell i do!" atsumu protests.

you blink at osamu, jaw falling open slightly. "you made a bet?"

"and?" osamu shoots back as if putting money on your friend's relationship isn't a bizarre thing to do. your boyfriend opts out of saying anything else, and you have to stifle a laugh.

"hey! don't think yer gettin' out of this! ya have some explaining to do!" the blonde twin points an accusing finger at the both of you.

"sure atsumu. sure." rin dismisses the setter as he's finally, finally, able to interlock his fingers with yours for all eyes to see. you squeeze rin's hand as a warm feeling spreads throughout your body. a smile blooms on your pretty face.

never again will suna rintarou ever hide you from the world. he loves you with his entire being, and he'll spend the rest of his life making sure everyone knows it.

[kitorin]

g.satoru - 1:19 am

"i can't believe you kissed him—"

it's the dead of night when gojo satoru's fuming, acting as a means of prevention to your long awaited (and well deserved) sleep.

you pull your shared blanket, covering the entirety of yourself. "shut up. not now."

satoru rips the blanket off you. "yes, now. don't try to run away from the consequences to your actions."

an effort to pull back the blanket becomes futile, as you decide not to bother. "you're overreacting."

"why him, why not me? majority of his face is forehead and he's built like a rugby ball. he doesn't even look like a man" he inhales sharply. "what about this face isn't perfect?" satoru gestures to it, hair still slightly damp from the late shower and blindfold nowhere to be seen. "this is basically cheating. why would you do this to me? shall i get rid of my bangs so i have a bigger forehead?"

"satoru, he's just a plushie." you pull the white softness of the cinnamoroll plush to your chest, fingers stroking it's fluff.

"lucky bastard..." a curse or two accompanies his words, as he wraps himself in the blanket, as far away from you as possible. "should've been me."

"satoru—"

"i bet my hair's softer."

"why don't you come here and prove that to me then?"

the blanket unfolds to reveal a pouting gojo satoru. "you even called it a he."

cinnamoroll settles on your bed's head rest, somehow balancing with his 'majority forehead face'. satoru shuffles closer to you, closing the distance between you two.

you shrug. "he's my son. my baby."

"i'm your baby."

"he's baby in the sense of an actual, cute baby. you're baby in the sense of an immature grown ass man."

he responds with an eye roll. "wow. okay. plushie's more important than me i see."

another shrug from you, biting down on your lip to swallow a snicker (it wasn't successful).

"love it's just a plushie—"

"i tried to tell you that initially." satoru faces you to pout, but it has no effect on this little squabble of yours, maybe only a giggle or two from you. "he's so cute, c'mon.

without much effort, satoru picks cinnamoroll up, staring, no, glaring at the poor dog. "you can't find someone cute after they stole your lover."

"he's my son. that would make him your son." the observation makes him stick his tongue out. "all i did was kiss him."

"me related to him? no thank you." satoru continues to inspect the plushie from the sky blue, plastic eyes to the swirly tail on its bottom. "i hate him."

"you look the same. white hair, blue eyes."

satoru scoffs, very pretentiously. "that shade of blue is so dull. mine's bright and shiny. therefore prettier."

you lean in closer, not to whisper to him but to the plush. "i guess you'll be fine with having satoru's good night kiss?"

his jaw drops—literally, betrayal scrawled on his features. "you wouldn't."

"learn to get along with our son then."

satoru huffs indignantly, but brings the plushie to his chest, hugging it tightly. "well he's nice to cuddle. and his big head doesn't look so bad anymore."

finally, you reclaim the blanket stolen from you. "we both know you love him as much as i do."

"ew, as if." but he knows very well you're correct.

[he ended up forgetting the goodnight kiss he was fuming about]

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins , @pokkomi , @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[greengoblinswifey]

Entangled

pairing— nicholas alexander chavez x bimbo!nanny!reader

summary— after his wife’s jealousy and argument, nicholas sends her away to continue his escapades with you in peace

warnings— age gap(reader is 19, nicholas is aged up to be 40), infidelity, ass slapping, hair pulling, choking, begging, slight degradation, possessiveness, jealousy, praise kink, fingering, cunnilingus, oral(m), voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, aftercare.

The house had been a bit tense since the Golden Globes. Victoria had seen everything—the pictures, the speech, the way the camera had panned to you at the exact moment he thanked a certain woman. She had confronted him about it, voice angry behind the bedroom door while you sat in the play room, braiding Madison’s hair and biting back a smile.

“She’s the nanny, Nicholas,” Victoria seethed. “Not your date. Do you know how humiliating that was? People sending me pictures, asking who she is, why I wasn’t with you—”

“The cameramen do that sometimes, V,” he interrupted. “It’s not that deep.”

“It is that deep when your wife isn’t there but she is,” she snapped.

You caught Madison’s curious glance in the mirror and gave her a reassuring smile, as if this argument wasn’t cracking you up. As usual, Victoria stormed out, too furious to even look in your direction.

Nicholas didn’t stop her.

By evening, you had put the kids down for a nap, and the house was quiet—except for the soft hum of Nicholas’ voice coming from his office. You hesitated for only a moment before pushing the large door open.

He briefly looked up when you stepped into his office. He was leaning back in his chair, one hand resting against his temple as he scrolled through scripts on his laptop. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and the top buttons were undone, revealing a bit of his muscular chest to make you stare for a second too long.

“Kids down?” he asked, glancing at you briefly.

“Fast asleep,” you nodded, walking closer.

He hummed in approval, still focused on his screen. That was fine—you weren’t here to talk.

As you reached his desk, you spotted a pen lying on the floor near his chair. Perfect. You let it slip from your fingers, watching as it rolled under the desk.

“Oopsie,” you murmured, dropping to your knees.

He didn’t react at first, too absorbed in whatever work he was pretending to do. But the second he felt your hands sliding up his thighs, his muscles tensed. His jaw clenched.

“Y/N,” he warned.

You just smiled, fingers grazing over his belt. “Hm? Keep working,” you whispered.

His breath hitched as you made quick work of undoing his belt, your touch slow as you felt him harden. He exhaled sharply, shifting slightly in his seat as your hands moved with practiced ease. You took him out of his pants, and he sprang free, hard and veiny before you. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests, his other hand lowering to tangle into your hair when your mouth made contact with his thick cock.

And then—a knock at the door.

You froze.

Nicholas cleared his throat quickly, his grip tightening in your hair, but not to pull you away. No, he wasn’t stopping you. He just needed you quiet.

“Come in,” he said, voice perfectly even.

The door creaked open, and Victoria stepped inside.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she sighed. “I just—I don’t know. I needed to cool off.”

“I know,” Nicholas exhaled slowly, his cock stiff beneath your hands as you took him deeper and deeper into your throat.

She lingered for a second before stepping closer, her arms crossed. “And for the record, I’m not jealous of Y/N. Just because she’s young and—”

“Victoria,” his voice was strained, cutting her off before she could finish.

“What?” she frowned.

He was getting close. You could feel it in the way his fingers twitched against your scalp, the way his cock throbbed in your mouth as you glided your tongue across his long shaft and caressed his balls.

“I think you should take a day at the beach house,” he said quickly. “Relax. Clear your head.”

She hesitated, studying him. “Y-you’re sending me away?”

“You know it helps you,” he reasoned. “And I have shit to do.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. I’ll go in a few.”

She turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her. The second she was gone, Nicholas’ entire body shuddered, his head tipping back against the chair. A low, breathy moan slipped past his lips as he came in your mouth, his fingers tightening in your hair for just a moment before going slack.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he muttered.

You giggled, wiping the corner of your mouth as you crawled out from under the desk.

“Your bad girl.”

Victoria left for the beach house in the morning, just as Nicholas had suggested. She didn’t say much before she left, just a tense nod and a quick hug for the kids. You had expected her to throw you a glare on her way out, but she barely spared you a glance. Maybe she was finally learning to pick her battles.

With her gone, the house felt quieter. Lighter. By bedtime, you had the kids settled into their routine. Madison clung to you as you read her a bedtime story, her tiny fingers curling around yours as her eyelids drooped. Alexander, on the other hand, was more resistant to sleep.

“Stay,” he mumbled as you tucked him in.

“Only until you fall asleep, okay?” you sighed, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead.

He gave a tired nod, already snuggling into your side. You lay beside him, running your fingers through his hair gently until his breathing evened out.

Once you were sure he was asleep, you carefully slipped out of bed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before making your way out of the room.

You didn’t expect to find Nicholas waiting for you.

He was standing at the end of the hall, watching you with a look that made your core throb. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up again, and his hands rested loosely in his pockets. He didn’t say a word, just tilted his head slightly—an invitation.

Your feet moved before your mind caught up. He walked ahead of you, leading the way down the hall. Not to your room. Not to his office. Not to any of the other rooms. To his bedroom.

The one he shared with his wife.

You hesitated for only a second before stepping inside like you owned the place. The door shut with a quiet click, and suddenly, it was just the two of you.

His eyes flickered over you, dark with something you recognized all too well. “You’ve been looking so fucking beautiful all day,” he murmured.

You smirked. “And?”

Instead of answering, he reached out, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing against your ass.

“You know exactly what,” he muttered.

His hands skimmed higher, slow, like he had all the time in the world. You shivered, tilting your chin up as his mouth brushed over yours, hovering so close but didn’t quite close the distance.

“This bed,” you whispered, glancing past him at the neatly made sheets.

He hummed, his lips brushing against your neck. “Mine tonight,” he murmured. “Ours tonight.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you let him pull you onto the bed, onto the same sheets where, just like the night he took your virginity, you weren’t just the nanny sneaking around the house.

You were his. And he was going to make sure you knew it.

He kissed you deeply as his hands traced down your sides, fingers pressing lightly against your hips before sliding beneath the fabric of your skirt.

“You drive me insane, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

“Do I?” you smiled, breathless.

“That stunt you pulled earlier,” he continued. “Under the desk. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep a straight face while you choked on my dick?”

You let out a soft laugh, but it quickly faded into a gasp as two fingers thrusted into your wet heat.

“I could barely focus on what she was saying,” he admitted, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down to your throat. “All I could think about was you.”

His thumb focused on your clit, moving in slow, teasing circles, and his fingers curled inside your pussy. Every thrust was meant to build you up, to unravel you piece by piece.

“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dark as he watched your jaw fall agape. “So beautiful.”

You shivered at the praise, gripping onto his shoulders as the coil in your abdomen began to tighten.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he continued, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You like it when I tell you that, don’t you?”

You nodded, barely able to find words. He chuckled. “Then cum on my fingers,” he whispered. “Let me see how much of a good girl you are.”

His words, the way his fingers moved with such precision, the way he knew your body like the back of his hand. It all sent you over the edge and your fingers dug into his muscular biceps as you shuddered, your orgasm ripping through you.

His lips captured yours again, swallowing the soft sounds you made as he guided you through every second of it, his fingers squelching in your pussy.

When the high finally melted away, leaving you breathless beneath him, he brushed his thumb over your cheek, his gaze softer now.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured.

He kissed his way down your body, his gaze locked with yours as you panted, savoring every inch of you. His hands ran over your body, removing the rest of your clothes and leaving you naked.

“You’re so fucking stunning,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses right below your navel piercing.

His lips finally pressed against your clit, kissing and sucking and you shivered at the heat of his breath. He was completely focused on you, on every little reaction you gave him. The praise kept coming, whispered between each long lick that left your pussy quivering.

“So sweet,” he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs just a little tighter. “Nothing, no one could ever compare.”

You felt the pleasure spread through you at his words, a rush of something intoxicating. Your fingers curled into the sheets as the feeling of his tongue lapping at your juices overwhelmed you, your body trembling beneath him.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” he praised. “So beautiful like this, such a pretty pussy.”

The pleasure built, pushing you toward the edge all over again. But it was his next words that completely undid you.

“She never tastes this good.”

A soft, helpless moan escaped you, your body giving in entirely to the overwhelming of his mouth engulfing your clit. He groaned in response, clearly pleased with how easily you unraveled for him.

“That’s my princess,” he murmured, pressing slow, soothing kisses to your pussy as you came down. “So fucking naughty.”

And as he kissed his way back up your body, claiming your lips in a slow, heated kiss, you realized the night was far from over.

Nicholas stood over you, shedding his clothes and stroking his hard cock. You squirmed, hips bucking slightly, wanting him closer.

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. “Say please fuck me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the bead of pre cum that had collected at the tip.

“Say it,” he instructed.

You gasped, eyes meeting his with a desperate longing. “Please fuck me,” you breathed, the words tumbling out of your mouth, eager for his touch.

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Good girl,” he praised. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of anticipation wash over you as he moved behind you. You lowered yourself onto your stomach, arching your back, your heart pounding in your chest, your body trembling with need.

His hands rested on your lower back, gently caressing the tattooed skin, as he whispered praises, his breath warm against your ear. “You're so fucking sexy like this. Every little thing about you drives me wild.”

Slowly, he dragged his cock along your folds, collecting your wetness as it squelched. He slapped your ass making you giggle but it quickly turned into a strangled gasp as he pushed into you. His cock took your breath away, stretching you out in a way you had desperately been needing.

He moaned, giving you a minute to adjust before sinking deeper into you. “So fucking tight for me, sweetheart.”

You shivered at his words, your pussy reacting to his every touch as you fluttered around him. His fingers tangled in your hair, using it as an anchor as he thrusted, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure through you. “Taking this dick so well,” he continued, his voice shaky.

He fucked you with long, deep strokes, each one tipping you over the edge and slamming against your g spot. He left only the tip in before sending every inch of him into your cervix making you cry out into the sheets.

“Too hard baby? That’s too bad, you asked me to fuck you, sweetie. Now you have to take it,” he cooed.

He wrapped his hand around your neck, bringing you to arch off him and titling your head to the side to capture your lips in a needy kiss. You kissed him back with equal desperation, reaching around to grab his hair and run your fingers through it. You still couldn’t believe you had the married man you had needed so bad.

“Rub that clit for me, sweetheart. Need you to cum on this dick,” he whispered into your ear.

He squeezed your neck firm but gentle as you rubbed your clit, your pussy clamping around him.

“That’s it, baby. God, I need you to cum right fucking now,” he said, voice trembling.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pulling his lips into the back of your neck as your whole body shuddered. Your pussy gushed around his cock, soaking him and the sheets below.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised. “I’m so proud of you, but I’m not done with my pussy get.”

He swiftly positioned you so you were on top of him, his awaiting cock hard and throbbing. “I need you to ride this cock like you own it because sweetheart, you do. Fucking ride your cock.”

His words sent a rush of something through you. You were playing a dangerous game, but he was in charge and you knew—you’d win over her. The way he said it, so confident, so certain, made you even wetter. There was something primal in the way his words reached you.

Immediately, you lowered yourself onto his cock, placing your hands on his firm, muscular chest. You both moaned, his cock stretching you and practically splitting you in half as you sucked him in, inch by inch.

“You’re so tight baby, so wet,” he moaned, voice low and gravelly.

At his words, you lifted yourself and fell back down, his cock immediately kissing your cervix. Your nails dug into his chest and you began bouncing at a steady pace that made you feel him in your guts.

“So so big,” you cried out.

His hands went to your ass, grabbing it and guiding you as it clapped against him with each bounce. You could feel every vein, every throb and it had your mind empty. No thoughts, just his cock sliding inside you.

His jaw fell agape, his gaze moving from your pussy swallowing his cock to your tits bouncing wildly in his face. “Riding my cock so fucking well baby.”

He leaned forward, lips wrapped around your nipples and biting gently as you rode him like your life depended on it. As soon as you began circling your hips, grinding, finding a rhythm and circling again, you knew you had him.

“Oh my fucking God,” he moaned, fingers gripping the sheets. “Where the fuck did you learn that, I- I’m gonna cum.”

You moved your hips in a circle as you bounced, your precise movements having his toes curling and his fingers tangled in the sheets. “So fucking hot baby. You’re going to fucking kill me.”

The sight of him unraveling at your mercy beneath you and the feeling of his cock ripping you apart was enough to send you over the edge and your nails dug into his firm pecs as you squirted on his raw cock. You shuddered above him, but you kept bouncing and following your orgasm, you felt ropes of his warm, sticky cum filling you up.

He wrapped his big arms around you, finally regaining control and holding you in place as he thrusted inside you, making sure your tight pussy milked him of every last drop of his cum.

Nicholas gently pulled you down and you rested your head against his chest, your breath still coming in soft, steady breaths. He didn’t pull out, just held you close, his hand gently caressing your back.

“That was amazing, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re so hot, so perfect. Every moment with you feels so right.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you responded, your voice equally soft, “You were incredible, too. It felt so good.”

He kissed you, slow, his lips tasting yours, savoring the connection. You began to shift slightly, trying to get off him to grab the covers.

But before you could fully pull away, Nicholas’ arms tightened around you, pulling you back to his warm body. He nuzzled your neck, a gentle sigh escaping his lips. “No, baby. Me and my girl are staying like this all night,” he said, his voice calm. “I’m not letting go of you just yet.”

The words sent a warmth through you, a sense of belonging that made your heart swell. You liked the sound of that. The idea of staying wrapped in his arms, feeling safe, wanted, and cherished, was more comforting than anything else.

“Mmkay,” you whispered, letting yourself relax again in his embrace, enjoying the quiet comfort of just being with him.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @emluvsuxo @hopefully-saturn @iamsebastiansstan @jennieonline @girldisrupted @nicholaschavezslut69

[ultram0th]

December 25: Antoine Vaillant

00 │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25

Bodybuilder Antoine Vaillant’s phone lit up with a text: Merry Christmas! 

Antoine fidgeted relentlessly at his desk, hissing under his breath as he typed up an email that he needed to send to a sponsor. His impressive gym-built biceps would jostle against the obscenely large pectorals that were attached his muscular chest every so often as he struggled to type on his keyboard, making the top-heavy hunk shudder. His trimmed beard did little to cover up the blush that was taking over his face. Speaking of which, the prickles from his jaw scrapping up against the tops of the hairy muscle mounds sent sparks of pleasure throughout him even more, rendering him nearly incapable of typing a single sentence. The dark hairs that covered his pecs only intensified the hypersensitivity, and the sensation of his button-down rubbing up against his hard, nubby nipples should have been enough to have him blow a load in his pants on the spot.

However, despite the near overwhelming pleasure the older bodybuilder was feeling at his desk, his rock hard seven inches refused to give him any release. Instead it throbbed as it was placed tightly against his muscled thighs.

The bodybuilder frowned as he looked in the mirror that was in his office. He took great care of himself and his body. As a professional bodybuilder, Antoine knew the ins and outs of the gym, and it clearly showed. At 6’0’’ and approximately 250 pounds of meaty muscle, he was a beast of a man. Plus, during his offseason, he’d allow all of that bulging muscle to be covered in manly hair. He’d loved to saunter around, clad in tight pants and form-fitting button-downs that allowed him to display his alpha status. He completely ruled the gym and the little office he’d worked in to take care of his social media accounts. Everyone knew that he was stud— a total man’s man.

However, instead of the alpha male he was used to seeing, Antoine hated the image reflected back at him. He still retained his hard-earned muscles and his handsome looks, but all of that took a backseat to the enormous pecs he possessed thanks to a certain Christmas wish.

The bodybuilder looked as if he were smuggling two basketballs underneath his shirt that was several times larger than his usual ones, but was still strained to bursting. He’d been unable to button up the top three buttons, allowing the deep hairy top cleavage of his muscletits to be on full display. His erect, nubby nipples poked against the fabric, looking like a pair of thumbs. His pecs were so huge that they ballooned outwards at the sides as well, completely engulfing his thick neck and making it appear as if his head was resting directly atop the muscle mounds. His giant pectorals completely ruined his manly and proportional physique, causing him to come off as some freakshow who has beachball-sized pec implants.

But even more embarrassing for the stud was how sensitive they now were. It felt as if all of his body’s erogenous zones had traveled throughout Antoine’s body to center in solely on his pecs, with the epicenters being his nubby nipples. Sensations as simple as his shirt rubbing up the hairy mounds felt as good as masturbation, and Antoine’s cock always rocketed to life whenever his massive arms accidentally brushed up against his muscletits (which was often).

But that wasn’t the worst part…

“Mr. Vaillant?” a light voice called as Erik, a college intern helping to manage his socials, poked his youthful face into the bodybuilder’s office. “Your sponsor wanted me to remind you that you need to make a post of the new protein powder.”

Ever since what had happened, Antoine couldn’t help but admire some of the other men in the gym. He hated how jittery he’d get whenever he’d see another man’s pecs (which were obviously much smaller than his) pressing against their shirt or when he’d spot the large bulge in a guy’s pants. 

As he looked at Erik, he couldn’t help but admire the green tint to the young man’s eyes or how full his lips looked. The guy must’ve been an athlete in school, because his trimmed frame had some toned muscles that were still pretty sizable, albeit nowhere near as huge as the champion bodybuilder’s.

Antoine’s blush deepened when he saw the twenty-one year old guy’s green eyes try their best to avoid his huge pecs. “Tell them I’ll do it tomorrow,” he grunted, waving the skinny guy away with a buff arm. “And it’s 1930. Go home.”

Erik nodded, not-so-subtilely taking one last look at the older man’s muscletits before turning around. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “Have a nice weekend.” He left and closed the door behind him.

Antoine just huffed and slammed himself away from his desk, desperate for release. As he walked to the parking garage, Antoine tried to ignore the sight of his reflection in the car windows that showed his altered posture that had to account for the heavy muscle mounds. He walked with his back arched with shoved his pecs out into the open, as if advertising them for more to stare at. Even worse was that there was a slight bounce to them with every step the stud took, making his nipples rub up his shirt over and over again, his knees going weak.

The muscle hunk hopped in his truck and barely had time to close the door behind him before his frantic fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, desperate to give his sensitive chest some much-needed relief. Antoine practically tore his shirt away from his hairy torso, his inflated pecs heaving as he sighed deep breaths of relief, his larger nipples still burning with desperate want.

“This is getting real fuckin’ old,” Antoine groaned aloud as he struggled to catch his breath, his hard cock twitching wildly in his pants. Despite how irritated he was, he was also so incredibly horny, his sensitive pecs sometimes clouding over his frustration.

The top-heavy DILF took a moment to adjust his seat in his truck, having a little difficulty with his inflated pecs pressing against the horn on the steering wheel a few times. Antoine still wasn’t used to driving with his arms fighting to reach the wheel with his enlarged chest constantly getting in the way. He would have figured that after a few days, he’d be semi-accustomed to it, but he still gasped and whimpered loudly whenever his biceps would graze a nubby nipple whenever he turned the wheel. The rumbling from the powerful engine sent rippling vibrations throughout the truck, constantly making his pecs jiggle the slightest bit, which was shockingly enough to send little darts of pleasure throughout the stud. He had began to unwisely drive without his seatbelt, risking the ticket because whenever he wore it, the strap slipped deep into his cleavage and made him howl like a slut.

Doing his best to ignore the feeling his hypersensitive pecs brought him, Antoine drove straight home. Every so often when he’d be at a red light, the stud would grope his massive chest for a while, moaning loudly like a slut as he played with his tits. He’d be so caught up in the euphoric sensations that emanated from his sensitive muscletits, that he’d only be knocked out of it whenever the car behind him would honk because the light had turned green.

The embarrassed stud sped the rest of the way home, practically sprinting inside once he arrived.

Inside, Antoine barely fared any better. His massive pecs kept jiggling with every movement he made, and they kept getting in the way as he tried to cook himself dinner. No matter what he did, Antoine was helpless to do anything besides stimulate his sensitive chest, which led to him ceasing all of his nightly chores in order to just feel himself up.

As he gripped handfuls of his tits and gave them a squeeze, Antoine couldn’t hold back the low moans that bellowed out of his muscled frame. His face was bright red with humiliation, but the embarrassment he felt paled in comparison to the intense surges of pleasure that his muscletits brought him. His nipples were almost worse— every time he brushed up against them, his knees buckled and his cock throbbed even harder.

As he played with his chest, Antoine couldn’t help but think back to how this had all started. He’d been asked by some random Santa Claus out on the street what he’d wanted for Christmas. The bodybuilder had playfully replied with, “A big set of tits.”

Then the rest was history. 

The morning after the interaction, Antoine had been horrified to wake up and discover that his pecs had magically been inflated to nearly four times their normal size.

Antoine’s masturbation session was interrupted when he heard a knock at the door, making the top-heavy bodybuilder groan with annoyance. “What?” he barked out impatiently, his nubby nipples burning with want as soon as he let go out of his muscletits.

“Mr. Vaillant! It’s me, Erik!” the small voice of his tiny assistant called out from the other side of the front door. “You forgot to take the product home with you for your posts!”

Antoine sighed but opened up the door nonetheless. Like clockwork, as soon as he stared at the younger stud in his doorway, he could feel his cock twitch a little more and his nipples continued to burn with want.

Erik, in turn, couldn’t help but not-so-subtly stare at his boss’s inflated chest, the bulge in the front of his khakis starting to harden. His cock lengthened down his leg and he hungrily licked his lips at the sight of Antoine’s huge, hairy muscletits that were out in the open.

Despite having his warped pecs out for the younger guy to gawk at, Antoine couldn’t deny the surge of lust that he felt. “Fuck it,” he grunted as he grabbed Erik’s hand and yanked him inside. 

Antoine dropped to his knees and fished Erik’s uncut seven inch cock out of his pants. The bodybuilder leaned forward and thrusted his inflated chest out more, sliding his assistant’s cock deep into the cleavage of his pecs.

“OOhhhhh!” Antoine moaned loudly as a slut as the younger man pecfucked him. The bodybuilder grabbed the back of Erik’s toned butt and kept him in place as he thrusted himself up against his cock, driving it deeper into his pec cleavage. 

Nothing he’d ever done compared to the intense sensations that Antoine was feeling from his chest now. No sex he’d ever had with a woman nor playing with his own pecs was even close to the same. Sure he was embarrassed over his actions and over having his perfect musculature warped into a top-heavy caricature, but Antoine couldn’t bring himself to truly mind in the moment.

If walking around with ultra-sensitive muscletits that were way too big and cumbersome for his bodybuilder physique meant that he could get pecfucked by cute guys, then he was game.

His moans grew into pleasured cries as Erik reached down and began to thumb the bodybuilder’s nubby nipples.

Erik tensed up and came, blowing his load all over Antoine’s heavy tits, coating them in his spunk. Antoine’s forgotten cock had already blown its own load and was already hard and ready for a second round.

“Holy shit,” Erik panted as he leaned down and gave one of Antoine’s big muscletits a playful squeeze. “Merry Christmas, Antoine.”

Antoine shuddered at the feeling of his chest being squeezed, and all he could do was respond with a bellowing moan.

[daisymbin]

[19:02] - kim mingyu

check out my masterlist! // gyu's list

you were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book in your lap that you’d been trying to read for the past hour. trying, because mingyu wouldn’t stop touching you. his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. at first, you ignored it, but then his fingers started creeping higher, and his lips brushed against the curve of your knee.

"gyu," you warned, tugging his hand away. "i’m trying to read."

"you’ve been ‘trying’ for a while now," he teased, his voice soft and playful. he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your thigh again, this time pressing a kiss just above your knee. "i think you need a break."

you rolled your eyes, swatting at him. "what i need is for you to let me focus."

"focus on me," he murmured, his hand finding your thigh again, squeezing gently before dragging his thumb across your skin. "don't you want to spend time with your boyfriend?"

you bit back a smile, trying to glare at him, but he looked so smug, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "mingyu," you said, this time with more exasperation, shoving his hand off again.

he didn’t listen. instead, he leaned in, his lips trailing higher, the scruff of his jaw brushing against your skin and sending a shiver up your spine. "you’re not stopping me," he pointed out, his voice dropping lower.

"i’m pushing you off," you argued, though your hands were resting on his shoulders now, not actually doing much to stop him.

he smirked, glancing up at you from beneath his lashes. "yeah, but i’m not hearing you say ‘no.’"

your breath hitched at his words, and before you could respond, he was moving. his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you firmly as he tugged you forward, guiding you to straddle his lap.

"gyu!" you gasped, trying to pull away, but his hold was firm, his hands keeping you in place.

"what?" he asked, his voice full of feigned innocence, though the sly grin on his face gave him away. "if you’re not saying no, then…"

he didn’t finish his sentence. instead, he leaned up, capturing your lips in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. it was slow at first, delicate, his hands pressing into your hips to keep you close. but when you didn’t push him away, he deepened it, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up for him.

your fingers curled into his shirt, your earlier protests forgotten as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

"see?" he murmured against your lips, his voice low and smug. "i told you, you needed a break."

[megalony]

Find Them

This is a Buddie x reader imagine, based on a request I got a while ago and finally got around to finishing. Sorry it took me so long, I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Buddie Masterlist

Summary: While Eddie and Evan are at work, (Y/n) takes their daughters to the park. But things get complicated when the girls are found on their own, and no one can find (Y/n). Or their baby.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where's my baby?"

A grin worked its way onto Evan's face as he leaned over the end of the bed and cooed down at the nine month old wriggling around. He dropped the blanket he had been holding over Winnie and set it down on the side of the bed. Grinning wider when she kicked her legs up and gurgled with a bright smile that matched his own.

He moved his hands to her sides and tried to tickle her but as he quietly cooed "Baby," at her, he looked to the left.

A bare foot slipped out of the covers and dragged up and down his arm, sending shivers running beneath his skin. He looked up from Winnie to see Eddie groggily lift his head from the pillow with a tired smirk playing on his lips.

"Right here." Eddie mumbled, his voice thick was sleep and groggy but the dark undertone to his voice sent Evan's knees buckling.

He gave Eddie's ankle a light squeeze before Eddie dropped his foot back down.

Eddie slowly pushed up from the pillow and dragged a hand across his face, opening his eyes properly and drawing his fingertips down his jaw that was littered with stubble. His hand moved up to drag through his hair which had gone askew and tangled all across his forehead and had become stuck up in all directions, much like it did every other night.

A lazy smile drew across his lips when he looked at his partner and their youngest. He watched as Evan gently lifted Winnie up and settled her on his bare chest, letting her drool and babble into his shoulder while he moved to sit down in the middle of the bed.

He leaned back into Eddie's legs and looked over at him when Eddie sat up straighter and shuffled across to be closer to them both.

Reaching across, Eddie draped his arm around the back of Evan's shoulders and tucked his face into his neck. He loved the way Evan shivered when he felt Eddie's stubble scratch against the crook of his neck. Whereas Eddie could feel Evan's freshly shaved jaw nuzzle against his temple and the top of his head.

"You know we're both on shift today, right?" Evan muttered softly while he pressed a tender kiss against the top of Eddie's messy curls.

"Hm." He knew, he just didn't want to get up yet. Eddie wanted to stay right here were they were, tucked up together. Going into work meant having to leave the warmth and comfort of their bed. It meant leaving (Y/n) and Chris and their girls.

The only bright side was that Eddie would have Evan with him. They were professional when they were on shift, but just being in each other's company was calming enough. It meant Eddie could wrap an arm around his partner or kiss his temple or joke with him and make the day pass quicker.

And Eddie was quite the fan of pushing Evan into a quiet corner and stealing a kiss to get him all flustered. He enjoyed the quiet whines Evan would let out when Eddie left him high and dry and wound up when they had to go back to being professional on shift.

Eddie leaned back on his left hand that planted down into the mattress and his head tilted to one side as he watched Evan. He felt his heart adding in a few extra beats when Evan slowly leaned back until he was laid out in the middle of the bed with his head on Eddie's lap. And he lifted Winnie up in the air, cooeing and making 'wow' faces at her while he swayed her from side to side like she was a plane.

"Pretty baby," Eddie murmured, dragging his right hand through Evan's curls while he leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to Winnie's cheek.

"Did you call us?" (Y/n) spoke quietly as she padded back into the bedroom, Lottie in her arms and Daisy rushing ahead of her.

"Daddy." Daisy scrambled up onto the bed and held her arms out until Eddie obliged. He happily reached across and lifted her up onto his lap so she could stand up on his thighs and lean against his abdomen. Her face tucked into the crook of his neck and her arms curled around his upper neck while he kissed her head and started to sway them from side to side. Still with Evan's head on his lap near his knees and Winnie sat up on Evan's chest, gurgling away.

(Y/n) sat down on the side of the bed near Eddie's lap and eased Lottie down next to her. Immediately, the three year old flopped onto her tummy and laid her head on Evan's shoulder until he turned her way. And when she puckered her lips, Evan started to chuckle and leaned over to kiss her.

"Morning Lottie-cake."

"Park today?"

Her eyes fell closed as she shuffled closer, pressing her mouth and nose against Evan's shoulder while she curled up into his arm. A small whine passed her lips when she looked across and saw Evan was holding Winnie up on his chest. Lottie tended to get jealous.

He leaned over to kiss Lottie's temple, but when she reached her hand out and tried to give Winnie a shove, Evan quickly grabbed her hand.

"Don't do that, that's not nice." Lottie shivered under his gaze and the deep tone to his voice that made her hide away against his shoulder to avoid his gaze.

"Mummy will take you, me and daddy have to work today." Eddie reached his hand down to brush against Lottie's hair while he juggled Daisy higher on his chest. The twins weren't a fan of when they had to go to work, they hated it unless the pair of them were going to nursery but even then, they felt like they were being abandoned.

It was one of the reasons Evan didn't like taking the twins to nursery, they knew how to tug on his heartstrings when they cried and begged him to take them back home.

Lottie let out a small whine and wriggled closer to Evan, if that were possible, while Daisy lifted her head from Eddie's shoulder to look up at him with her puppy dog eyes she definitely copied from Evan.

"No."

Eddie quirked a brow while he cuddled Daisy closer to his chest so he could unhook his legs from the covers and stand up. He stretched, hitching Daisy higher up before he leaned down and wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s front. He pressed a longing kiss to her temple and let her lean back into him while her hands moved up to hold his arm.

"We gotta go work with grandad, baby girl." Evan kissed her cheek but when she tried to wriggle on his chest, he gently nudged her back so he could sit up. Keeping Winnie sat up on his lap while Lottie curled herself around his arm.

"Come on, let's go get dressed." Leaning over the bed, Eddie let go of (Y/n) and scooped Lottie up in his free arm, holding both toddlers into his chest so he could go get them ready. He could see they'd already had breakfast, it was all down their pyjamas. He would gladly get them dressed before he got a shower and got ready to leave.

"Will you take them out to the park?" Evan murmured softly as he tucked his face into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, biting down to feel the way she shivered against him.

His lips curved against her neck as he felt Winnie batting her hand on his chest like she was trying to tell him that she wanted some attention too. His free hand reached out to cup the side of (Y/n)'s neck and he lifted his head, angling her chin up in his direction to steal a kiss.

"Yeah, we'll go to the park. You're dropping Chris at school today aren't you?" (Y/n) reached her hands out to gently ease their youngest into her arms and she let Evan steal another kiss before she backed up.

The twins weren't in nursery full time yet and they weren't at nursery today, whereas Chris would be at school. Since Eddie and Evan weren't on an extremely early shift, they usually dropped Chris off on their way to work. And that mostly meant the three of them would head out a bit earlier and get breakfast on the way.

"Yeah, he's coming with us."

(Y/n) leaned back when Evan towered over her and his cold hands travelled down to cup her waist and reel her in. He kissed the top of Winnie's head before he dove down to capture (Y/n)'s lips again and all but groaned into her mouth.

She straightened her back and pressed her feet into the carpet to stop Evan from trying to steer her back towards the bed. She knew what he was doing. She juggled Winnie a bit higher on her chest which caused the nine-month old to giggle and bat her hand against Evan's chest. She was always vying for the boy's attentions.

"We have to get ready." She mumbled into his mouth before Evan finally pulled back with a coy grin that got disfigured when he kissed Winnie's cheek.

"Suppose so," Evan sighed playfully before he swiped his clothes from the chest of drawers and headed out the bedroom with (Y/n) in tow behind him.

The boys would be at work, Chris would be at school and (Y/n) would take the girls out to entertain them at the park.

They would all have a busy day ahead of them.

A grin spread across (Y/n)'s lips when she looked across at the twins. Her eyes followed them as they trotted towards the small slide and started to climb up the steps.

Sometimes when she looked at the girls, it felt like she had double vision. They were the spitting image of each other. The only way to tell the difference between the twins if people didn't know them was the tiny mole on Daisy's left cheek beneath her eye.

Eddie had gotten them both dressed this morning and (Y/n) always knew when the boys had gotten the girls dressed. They dressed them in matching clothes.

Today, both girls were dressed in cream dresses with little strawberries dotted all over them and matching white tights which would soon turn black after a while at the park. And they had on their bright yellow coats with duckling hoods. (Y/n) studied the dresses, pretty sure that those were the ones Eddie's parents had gotten the girls for their birthday.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) leaned over and nuzzled a kiss to Winnie's cheek, bouncing the little girl on her lap.

She was a bit too young to be at the park, but Winnie was occupied looking around and taking in the sights. The fresh air would do her some good and send her to sleep later.

"Mummy!"

(Y/n) cuddled Winnie into her chest and pushed up from the bench to head over to the girls.

"Go on then." She held her hand out and took Daisy's hand as she pushed down the slide and she pulled on her hand a bit to stop her from sliding right off the end of the side at the bottom.

She did the same for Lottie and stood patiently at the slide while both girls took numerous turns going down the slide.

It was always better when all the boys joined them. Chris would take the twins on the big slide and go down with them. They would all go on the swings and Eddie and Evan would chase the girls around the park and go on the roundabout with them. (Y/n) had hundreds of videos on her phone of when they all came out to the park.

Being here with just the four of them felt rather lonesome and quiet compared to what they were used to.

Their house was always rowdy and full of life, considering there were seven of them living there.

When Lottie reached for (Y/n)'s hand and went down the slide, she tugged on (Y/n)'s hand and gingerly pointed up to her head.

"What, sweetie?"

"Itches."

Pursing her lips, (Y/n) nodded and let go of her hand so she could move over to the pram. She leaned over and gently set Winnie in the pram, wrapping the blanket around her so she could try and settle and maybe have another nap while (Y/n) tended to the girls.

She moved the pram towards the bench and sat down, patting her knee so Lottie could trot over to her and clamber up onto her knee. While Daisy went to stand beneath the slide instead where there were a few beads to play with and move along curling wires.

(Y/n) smiled and tilted Lottie's head forward so she could look at the various braids and waited for Lottie to point to the one that was itching.

"Who did your hair this morning?" She murmured softly while she tried to carefully wiggle her fingers into the braid and loosen the strands. Both twins had rather thin but curly hair which took after both Eddie and Evan. They loved to have their hair braided, and both men had learned lots of hair tricks and skills over the past three years.

Especially now they had Winnie and the boys were outnumbered with girls, they wanted to be able to do each daughter's hair and make them look beautiful whether they were going to nursery or school or out to a family function.

"Papi, he said it's pretty."

"It is pretty, baby, but I think papi's getting a bit too good at this." She might have guessed it was Eddie. He was getting skilled at braids and he had done them just a bit too tight which was making Lottie scratch and try to itch them to loosen the tension.

After a minute of pulling at each strand of hair and slowly loosening each braid, (Y/n) kissed the back of her head and leaned over her shoulder.

"How's that?"

"Thank you." Lottie nodded and reached up to touch her hair to reassure herself that her mum hadn't taken out the braids. She had been ecstatic this morning when Eddie did her hair and showed her in the living room mirror. She didn't want them to be taken out and she didn't want Eddie to come home tonight and ask what happened to her pretty braids.

He called her his pretty baby this morning and Lottie wanted the exact same reaction when he came home.

"When they home?" Daisy got off the slide and looked up at (Y/n) with her big doe eyes that she had learned from Chris.

Both twins looked around the park before they pointed to the roundabout and (Y/n) nodded, slowly trailing after them with the pram, pleased to see Winnie was starting to nod off.

"They'll be home after tea, before you go to bed." (Y/n) cringed at the sudden thought that maybe the boys might have to stay late if an accident took longer to control. (Y/n) knew what it was like, her dad was Captain of the station house, she knew how hard it was to control situations. And she knew that if they had delays evacuating people or getting people out of tough situations, time could spill over.

They couldn't exactly leave people trapped in cars or burning buildings because their shifts were over. They had to deliver people to hospital and clear out homes and fires.

If the boys got held up one of them would text (Y/n), especially because all the kids liked the boys to tuck them in or at least say goodnight to them.

(Y/n) leaned her arms on the pram and watched the girls scurry onto the roundabout. Once they were both seated on the rainbow bench, (Y/n) clicked the brakes on the pram so it was beside her and leaned over to spin the roundabout.

She started out slowly before gaining momentum when the roundabout finally seemed to grease up and work without too much effort.

This was when (Y/n) wished the boys were here, this was their skill set, not (Y/n)'s.

"Need a hand?"

(Y/n) jumped at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice that sounded a lot closer than she expected. She had been so engrossed with the girls that she hadn't looked around for a while to see if anyone else was here. They had luckily been the only ones in the park when they arrived and that was how they all liked it.

She looked to the left to see a rather tall, lanky man stood very close by. He had a leather jacket with his shoulders hunched up and his hands tucked deeply into his pockets. His smile was nervous and a little unsettling and and there was a certain eagerness about him that made (Y/n) wary.

"Oh, no, no thank you we're fine." She tried her best to sound polite, it wouldn't do her any favours to offend anyone when she was out on her own with the kids.

She glanced her eyes around the park but her hands tightened around the roundabout frame and she glanced back to the twins when she noticed something strange.

There were no other kids.

Had he wandered into the park as a short cut? Was he just taking a walk on his own and thought he would offer (Y/n) some help as she was on her own? If so that was a little strange. Or perhaps he had a child with him but they had wandered onto the green to run about. If so he was a very relaxed person to let his child wander and not keep an eye on them.

When he quietly murmured "Twins?" and pointed to the girls, (Y/n) nodded with a tight-lipped smile.

"They're very sweet."

"Thank you." (Y/n) took another look around, but she still couldn't see any children anywhere.

Why was he talking to them if he didn't have any kids? Did he really want to strike up a conversation with a mother who was busy tending to three children? (Y/n) was a cautious person by nature, but she felt a very odd vibe in this situation and she didn't like it.

Maybe she could ring one of the boys and talk to them to get this man to back off. He might step away if (Y/n) started talking to one of her partners. It might frighten him off to learn (Y/n) wasn't a single parent and if she tried to imply that one of the boys was coming down to the park to meet them, the man would definitely back off.

"Oh, she's such a pretty baby." He removed one hand from his pocket to point into the pram that he leaned over to get a better view of Winnie who was nuzzled into her blanket, now fast asleep.

"Girls, are you ready?"

"How old?" The man continued to strike up conversation, seemingly oblivious to the fact that (Y/n) was trying to get out of this situation.

(Y/n) reached her hand out for the twins and latched her other hand around the pram, slowly reeling it closer to make sure Winnie stayed beside her. But she could of screamed when both girls trotted off the roundabout and make a beeline for the swings, completely bypassing (Y/n).

"How old?" He repeated the question and leant closer towards (Y/n) while his grin changed from something strange to something sinister. And when he clamped one hand down on the pram, (Y/n) shuddered and tried to step back and pull Winnie closer.

He was beginning to frighten her.

***

Athena's hands braced on the belt around her waist and she took a deep breath as she nudged her car door shut and proceeded onto the path.

These were the kind of calls that always gained her attention and made her apprehensive.

Trying to find a suspect.

When the suspect was someone who was on edge and seemed to have flipped from 'normal' to 'unhinged' Athena was always apprehensive. It was never clear what the person was up to or what lengths they would go to in order to get what they want or get their point across.

The man they were after had had his wife walk out on him with his daughter and he hadn't been able to see them since.

Someone had spotted the man in the park after he had tried and failed to kidnap a lady this morning.

"Let's take it slow." She looked across at her partner before the pair of them advanced across the grass towards the park.

If they found the suspect they didn't want to spook him into taking a hostage or having to chase him. There would be families and young children around here, they had to be cautious and think about this before they ran ahead.

But the closer they got to the park, the more uneasy Athena felt. She couldn't see a man anywhere, not even a father with his children at the park. She could see two children on the swing sets and a woman stood to one side, but she couldn't see their suspect anywhere.

They still had to ask around, just in case anyone had seen him or knew which direction he had gone.

Athena opened the gate to the park and stepped onto the soft tarmac, but when she looked across to the woman, her heart sank to her chest.

Oh no.

Her eyes cast to the children on the swings, but she didn't recognise them and there was no one else here. Athena knew the two young children stood with that woman; those were her grandkids.

And that was not her daughter.

A light sparkled in the young woman's eyes when she looked up and realised a uniformed officer was here. She hadn't had time to call the police yet, someone must have known something was wrong, or this was very good timing.

"Oh, Officer, I found these two-"

"Nanny!" Both twins chorused in union and when they turned to face Athena, her heart dropped down to the pit of her abdomen.

They were crying. Tears flushed their faces, their eyes were puffy and wide and their lips were trembling. Both of them were shaking as they trotted over in her direction, shaking arms open wide to seek comfort from their nana. It wasn't usual for the twins to see Athena in her uniform, they were only used to seeing their parents and Bobby in any sort of uniform. Every time they saw Athena she was off shift.

Athena crouched down and opened her arms, bracing herself when the girls barrelled into her chest, one tucked under each arm. She felt them start to wail into her chest in a mixture of relief and panic combined and it made her sigh.

She tightly bound them closer and pressed dozens of kisses to their hair, but when she looked up, she realised the young woman was looking rather put-out and confused. And her partner was stood to one side, fingers tapping against his belt out of nervousness because he had no idea what was happening.

They were here to find a suspect and seemed to have walked into a strange situation instead.

"It's okay, these are my grand-babies." She looked between her partner and the stranger who seemed to have come to the twin's aid before she looked back down at the girls who started to tug on her uniform to get her attention.

"Where's mummy gone?" Daisy brushed her nose on her sleeve before she leaned in closer and pressed her face into Athena's neck.

"Ooh, babies it's okay. I'll find mummy." Athena could feel her heart hammering against her chest and she held her breath to try and regulate her system.

Where was her daughter? (Y/n) was one of the best mums out there. She was dedicated to all four kids and she loved them more than anything. (Y/n) wouldn't leave the twins here on their own with no supervision, she wouldn't take more than five steps away from them at any time if they were out on their own.

Something must have happened. And where was Winnie? Was the youngest girl with (Y/n), or was she somewhere else?

Athena took a look around the park, but there was no pram here and there were no cars in the car park so (Y/n) hadn't simply popped to the car to tend to Winnie or take a call or grab something.

"What happened?" Athena looked over at the young woman while she continued to hold the twins and sway them from side to side. They were frightened and Athena wasn't letting them go, not for a second. She would hold them until they felt better and they weren't leaving her sights until one of their parents was here.

"I- I don't know. I came here with my kids, and these two were crying, no one else was around. I was about to call you." She would of made a phone call to the police if Athena hadn't of turned up when she did.

All the woman had been trying to do was bring her children to the park but when she came in, the twins were sobbing on a bench. No adult in sight. Both crying for their mum who wasn't here, and they kept talking about their sister but there was no other child here.

"Take her statement."

Athena pointed her partner towards their new witness before she stood to her feet and took each twin's hand in hers. She gently ushered them over towards the bench and sat down with Daisy on her left and Lottie sat on her right. They both cosied up into her sides, wiping their eyes as they continued to wail and whimper.

"Okay, who was your mummy talking to? Did she know anyone here or walk over to anybody?" Something drastically wrong had happened and it was killing Athena to remain composed when all she wanted to do was break down in tears.

Her daughter was missing, potentially hurt, one of her granddaughters was seemingly missing. And she knew that both Eddie and Evan would be at work with her husband right now. Oh, the phone call she was going to have to make to the three of them was going to cause a lot of chaos.

"The man, he s- he was watching Winnie."

A cold slither of dread crawled down Athena's spine and her jaw clenched. The man. Their suspect. He had been spotted near this park, walking this way, on his own. He had talked to (Y/n). It couldn't be a coincidence, it had to be their suspect who had talked to her. He had taken her. He had (Y/n) and Winnie.

Athena carded her fingers through Daisy's hair and leaned down to kiss the top of Lottie's head before she hushed them and stood up. She took two steps away and turned so she was facing them, still fully within the twins sight but just far enough that they wouldn't hear or understand what she was going to say into the radio.

"Dispatch, I need a red alert out on our suspect. We think he's kidnapped a young woman and her nine-month old baby. I need a team out canvassing the streets for them. Now."

They had to find them. They had to find (Y/n) and Winnie before something bad happened to them.

***

"Doesn't look too bad." Chimney leaned back and tilted his head down to assess the car he and Evan were aiming towards. A crash had happened just up the road and this car had crashed into another car, unable to stop in time.

It didn't look like much damage had been done and the car didn't have a dent on any of the doors. The driver wasn't going to be crushed, it would be easy to get them out and assessed and see what minimal damage they had.

"Sir, LAFD. Can we take a look at you?" Chimney tilted his helmet back and crouched down at the driver's door to peer through the window.

"I- I'm fine. I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Sir, you could be concussed. Step out the car and we will assess you, make sure you're alright." Chimney smiled, doing his best to sound calm and not like he was giving an order.

The man might be hurt, he had a rather bad gash on his temple and it could lead to a concussion. In the very least he needed an assessment before they let him carry on driving. They would all be liable if he drove off and had another crash because of concussion.

"Really, I'm fine." He did his best to turn the ignition key, but when Chimney leaned in and turned the engine off, the man all but whimpered.

He looked extremely panicked.

Evan's brows furrowed and he twisted to look over at Eddie who was helping another driver climb out of her car. He took a step back and folded his arms over his chest when he watched Chimney open the door. He was doing the silent treatment; trying to see if silently coaxing the man to get out would make him cooperate with them.

He had been in a crash, why wouldn't he want to be assessed? No one was blaming him for this or going to tell him off. He hadn't done anything wrong, he hadn't caused the crash.

"Chim, I need a hand."

When Bobby's voice sounded out through the air, Chimney pointed to the path to give the man an idea of where to be so he would be out the way and somewhere safe before he headed over to his Captain.

Evan watched the man climb out the car. He seemed to be shaking a tiny bit, but he was steady on his feet and he wasn't crying out in pain or stumbling around or suffering from a severe injury.

Backing up, Evan rounded the front of the car and walked towards his boyfriend. He could help Eddie get that woman from her car and get her on the path to be assessed and checked out. It would be better than arguing with this driver who didn't want to be checked out just yet.

Evan was halfway towards Eddie when he heard a car door opening and he just happened to glance over his shoulder.

Oh. The man had a baby. Why the Hell did he want to leave the scene if he had a child involved in a collision?

If Evan had just been involved in a traffic accident he would be demanding someone check on Winnie or the twins or Chris if they had been in the car with him. He wouldn't try and drive off her play it off and say he was fine. His kids were his world and their health and wellbeing was more important than anything else in the world.

"Sir, sir over here. I can get someone to take a look at your baby." Evan waved his hand out towards the man to beckon him this way.

Hen and Chimney were in this direction, even Eddie was here. One of them would be able to take a look and give the man's baby a once-over to ensure they were okay. Evan could hear the baby whimpering and he could see them wriggling around. They might be shaken up or even sick or concussed.

A frown etched onto his face and his jaw set tight when the man tried to ignore him. Did he not care about his child? What on Earth was he doing? Where was he trying to go?

"Sir, hey mister, please-"

"We're perfectly alright, j-just leave us alone."

Shoulders slumping, Evan took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists when the man twisted to face him and finally paused. But he was still aiming towards the corner of the junction. He was trying to walk away and take his child home, or presumably somewhere safe. That wasn't a good idea.

"You really should let us…" Whatever he had planned to say faded into the wind when Evan looked in the carrier.

His feet moved before he comprehended what he was doing and he took three steps closer, which in turn made the stranger step back, but it didn't stop him. Evan noticed.

Each of Evan's kids were his everything, he had their pictures in his wallet, all four of them were on his lock screen while Eddie and (Y/n) were his home screen. He knew what all of his children looked like, he could spot them from up to twenty feet away and he knew the sound of their voices and their cries and what they felt like in his arms.

That was his baby girl.

Why did this man have Winnie in his arms?

Evan couldn't help but lean to the right and he peered into the car the man had climbed out of, but it was vacant. No (Y/n). No Daisy. No Lottie. Where were the rest of the girls? Who was this man? Why did he have one of Evan's daughters when (Y/n) was nowhere in sight?

"What are you doing with my daughter?"

The deep, guttural tone to Evan's voice made the man pale until he was practically see-through. Evan could feel his arms tensing as his body began to shake and vibrate and his jaw clenched until his teeth were grinding together and his ears began to ring.

That was Winnie. Evan and Eddie's baby girl was whimpering and wriggling in that carrier that wasn't hers and she looked red in the face like she had been crying for a long time. She was frightened.

"What?" Confusion flooded the man's face but when he held the carrier tighter to his chest, it made Evan growl.

"Eddie!"

He waved his hand behind him but he wouldn't take his eyes off their daughter. Not for a second. He didn't want to blink in case this crazed man tried to make a break with his daughter. He had clearly taken Winnie from (Y/n) and he was starting to panic and sweat now he had been caught. Evan wasn't letting him get away.

When the man started to back away and look around like he was searching what options he had, Evan pushed forward.

"Why the fuck are you walking off with my baby?"

That deep voice made something twinge in Eddie's stomach and he stepped away from the woman he had been tending to so he could advance towards his boyfriend.

What was he talking about? Who was here?

Eddie leaned around Evan as he approached, a frown set deep into his face when he looked at the man who was backing away with a carrier in his arms.

"Buck, wh-"

"He's got Winnie!"

As soon as the man set off into a run, Evan sprinted with him alongside Eddie whose boots clashed against the concrete pavement to spurr him on faster. He hadn't seen the child in the carrier but he trusted Evan completely. If his boyfriend said their youngest girl was in that man's arms then Eddie believed him and he would chase that man until they got their girl back.

Millions of questions rattled through Eddie's brain as his elbows cut through the air and the pen light in his hand dropped to the ground, long forgotten. He easily caught up with Evan and pushed to go faster, getting closer and closer to the man who was audibly gasping and making some sort of strange sounds like he was truly panicking. So he should be.

Eddie's teeth gritted together, his upper lip curling into a vicious snarl as he stretched his arms out, a mere foot away from whoever had his child.

The man twisted to look over his shoulder, clearly trying to see if he was being pursued or not. And when he realised he was about to get tackled, he shrieked.

"No!"

"Eddie-"

Evan's feet skidded against the pavement and his hands waved in the air, one moving to tangle in his hair as his breath caught in his lungs and his eyes all but popped out of their sockets.

The man launched the carrier.

He actually threw it to try and get away faster. He would endanger the child he had stolen to try and save himself and escape being caught.

Evan's heart jumped into his throat and he choked when he watched Eddie lunge. He'd never seen Eddie move so quickly before, he looked like an Olympic diver aiming for the pool as he twisted and grabbed the baby carrier before it hit the ground.

A horrible grunt left Eddie's lips and he coughed when the carrier bashed into his chest and his back violently hit the floor. His boots shuddered against the ground and his head slammed back and vibrated in his helmet which thankfully saved him from a horrid concussion.

He had her. The carrier was in his arms, it hadn't tumbled or hit the ground and Winnie hadn't fallen out.

Her shrieks hit Eddie's ears and made his heart shudder. It was her. That sound was like music to Eddie's ears; he knew each different tone and pitch in all the kid's voices. Eddie knew that was his baby shrieking before he opened his eyes and looked up to check on her.

He heard Evan calling his name and he managed to uncurl one hand from the carrier to wave his hand to the side.

He was okay; Evan needed to go and catch that lunatic.

"Eddie? What's going on- Winnie?" Bobby's frantic voice filled the air as he crouched down beside Eddie and carefully took the carrier from him so Eddie could sit up.

He coughed and grunted, pressing one hand to his chest to gain back his breath before he twisted and shakily unbuckled Winnie. He reached out and scooped her up, cradling his youngest to his chest like he was trying to stuff her into his heart and keep her safe.

"Shh, shh. Oh baby, I've got you." He whispered against the top of her head while he cradled the back of her neck and started to rock her up and down against his chest. Her tiny hands curled into fists and bashed into his chest as loud wails and gasping cries tumbled past her lips that were wet and sticking to Eddie's shirt from her desperation.

Eddie shivered and twisted to look behind him when Evan's shrill voice cut through the air.

"Oi! You ain't getting away from me!"

He cringed when he watched Evan leap through the air and grab the man, successfully landing right on top of him as they both clattered to the floor. From Eddie's angle, it looked like his boyfriend had used the man as a crash mat and it clearly didn't jolt Evan's system at all. Because he reeled up to his feet and dragged the man up with him who was now coughing and spluttering for breath.

"Where are the twins… where's (Y/n)?" Bobby pressed his hand to Eddie's back and looked down at his youngest grandchild. She looked shell shocked and she was clearly distraught, but she didn't look harmed.

That still didn't tell them where (Y/n) was or the twins and it didn't tell them why this stranger had one of the girls with him.

"I don't know." The panic in Eddie's eyes was evident and it only crippled Bobby who felt like he couldn't breathe.

Where was his daughter?

Eddie grimaced but nodded at Bobby when the Captain gripped his elbow and helped him up to his feet, Winnie still tightly held in his arms. They both moved to stand near the wall on the pavement and Eddie pressed his lips to the top of Winnie's head, cradling her close to his chest as he started to bounce her up and down to try and calm her hectic wails.

None of them knew that man. If Eddie and Evan didn't know him then they knew there was no way (Y/n) would leave their daughter with him. He had taken her which meant he had done something to (Y/n).

A guttural "Get up!" spat past Evan's lips as he dragged the man towards the wall when he tried to slump down to his knees. He was waiting here until they could find (Y/n) and get the police. But Evan's head snapped to look over his shoulder when a loud siren caught his attention.

The police. Right on time.

All of them practically sighed and felt relief shaking down to their knees when they watched Athena climb out the car. Just the officer they needed to see at this moment in time.

"That's the man." The determination in Athena's voice was ground-shaking and Evan gave the man a little shove to get him in her direction. He didn't want to be stood near this creep any longer. He wanted this man as far away from them all as possible.

So Athena had been looking for this man. They must know what he had been doing and why he had Winnie then if they were searching for him.

As soon as Athena had him in handcuffs, her partner pulled him to one side so Athena could talk to her family.

"Is (Y/n) okay?" Eddie tried to take a look around and he narrowed his eyes as he peered towards the police car. (Y/n) wasn't there. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest the longer they waited for an answer. Where was their girlfriend? Was she alright? Why on Earth had this man tried to take Winnie?

Eddie's arms instinctively tightened around his baby girl as one hundred and one questions raced through his mind. But he could feel his breaths running away without him when he looked back at Athena. She looked puzzled.

"He took (Y/n) and Winnie from the park-"

"What about the girls?"

Athena gave Evan a pointed look that told him to try and be patient, she was about to explain that.

"He left the twins at the park. I've got the girls now, they're safe and sound with me… but (Y/n) should have been with him." Athena motioned towards the police car where the twins were safely sat in the back, huddled together.

Physically, the pair of them were fine, they weren't hurt or harmed in any way except for emotionally. They were frightened and scared, they had been left and probably thought (Y/n) had abandoned them at the park. It was lucky Athena had turned up when she did before the girls tried to wander off in search of their mum. Anything could of happened to them if they tried to leave on their own. They had the good sense to stay put and wait for someone to come and get them.

But Athena had been hoping to find her daughter when they found their suspect. Logically (Y/n) should be here somewhere. She should be with him, he had left with her. He must have.

"We've got Winnie… no one else was in the car."

"Where the Hell is she?" Bobby deadlocked his hands behind his head and tried not to start hyperventilating.

(Y/n) was his only child; she was the only family he had left and she meant the entire world to him. He couldn't have anything happen to her. He couldn't have her missing or in danger like this. The one and only time she had been in danger was during the apartment fire and Bobby vowed never to let her get into any sort of danger or trouble again after that.

"Has anyone checked the trunk?" Athena pressed her lips into a thin line as she looked between the three of them.

It was a possibility; it was slim, but it was possible.

Bobby shuddered when Eddie suddenly turned to face him and passed Winnie over without a word. He gently scooped Winnie up and let her burrow into his jacket while his lips attached to the top of her head to try and calm them both down. He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to hold his breath as he hurried after his team.

Eddie and Evan set off into a sprint, running around the corner and aiming for the car that had been abandoned on the side of the street.

When they reached the car, Eddie slammed one hand down on the boot and tried to prize it open. He shook his held and held out his hand as 'keys' spat past his lips. The moment Evan ripped the keys from the ignition and placed them in Eddie's trembling hand, he started to pray.

(Y/n) had to be in here. More importantly, she had to be alright.

Eddie wasn't willing to open this boot and find (Y/n) in any state other than alive. He couldn't lose another significant other. He couldn't lose (Y/n) in this way, and neither could Evan or the kids. They had four kids back at home, the boys couldn't raise them without her. He wasn't sure they would step foot in their home if they knew (Y/n) wouldn't be walking back through that door again.

Evan choked and doubled forward when his eyes set on their girlfriend. She was here. She had been carelessly hidden away in the trunk like an old blanket that had been long forgotten.

That maniac had been after Winnie. He cared about getting Winnie out of the car and absconding with her. He stuffed (Y/n) in the trunk; he couldn't care less what happened to her, she was merely a bystander in his game.

"We've got her!"

"(Y/n)? (Y/n)… baby." Eddie's hands trembled as he cupped (Y/n)'s face and tilted her head up in his direction.

His fingers pressed down on her neck and he stuttered through a gasp when he felt her pulse thumping against his fingers. She was alive. She was breathing and her pulse was strong.

"Help me get her up."

Evan wordlessly nodded and reached into the boot. He hated the way (Y/n) had been crumpled up like he had bundled her in here in a hurry. Her knees were bent awkwardly and were pressed into her stomach, one arm was strewn across her chest and the other was bent in an odd position behind her head. When she woke up she was going to feel awfully uncomfortably and in agony from lying like this.

He held onto her waist and gently lifted her legs out of the boot while Eddie cradled her upper half and lifted her up. They got her sitting on the edge of the boot and Eddie cradled the back of her neck as he tried rubbing his fist up and down her sternum to bring her back around.

The small groan she let out delighted them to see her starting to gain consciousness again. But Evan reached forward and grabbed her arms while Eddie looped his arm around her waist and fisted her hair in his grip when she doubled forward.

They both grimaced as she doubled over and threw up onto the road. Strangled sounds left her lips as she heaved more than she managed to breathe and Eddie had to forcefully pat his hand on her back to try and stimulate her lungs again and get her breathing.

"Alright, okay baby, breathe for me."

When (Y/n) flagged forward and seemed like she was about to collapse, Eddie bound his arm tighter around her waist while Evan carefully reeled her back and leaned behind her to prop her up. He let her head fall back on his shoulder while Eddie pulled up her eyelid to check her pupils when her eyes started to flutter.

"Mi amor, you with me?" his thumb swiped across her cheek as (Y/n)'s head rolled on Evan's shoulder and her face pressed into his neck.

"W-W… girls-" She coughed and spluttered, her voice barely more than a whisper as her eyes closed again. She barely had the energy to keep them open, all she wanted to do was sleep.

But where were her girls? Where were her babies?

"We've got the girls, they're all safe, baby. You're all safe now." Evan pressed his lips to the top of her head, trying his best to refrain from looping his arms tightly around her and pinning her into his chest. He wanted to confine her into his ribcage and keep her safe next to his heart, but he was afraid of holding her too tightly and hurting her.

His heart gave out an extra two beats when (Y/n) whimpered and her hands weakly batted around to clutch at her waist as she flagged more into Evan's chest. Leaning on him to hold herself up so she didn't topple forwards onto the road or slip backwards into the trunk again.

"Let me see, amor."

Eddie carefully pulled her hands away from the lower left side of her chest and he gently peeled her shirt up until it was bunched beneath her bra so he could see what the problem was. He sucked in a deep breath and looked up, locking eyes with Evan when they both noticed the blood.

His fingertips prodded at the wound that was about two inches in length, but Eddie couldn't tell how deep it was. She'd been stabbed.

And when the pair of them turned and peered back into the trunk, Eddie's lips curled into a grimace and Evan tried not to gag. There was a puddle of blood soaking into the base carpet in the trunk. He'd hurt her to subdue her and then left her to bleed out in the car.

What if they hadn't found her quickly? What if that lunatic drove out of LA with (Y/n) stuffed in there. She could of bled to death or suffocated or thrown up and choked. Anything could have happened to her if this crash hadn't happened and led to them finding her and Winnie.

They could of lost two of their girls and have resorted to searching the entire city to find their other two little girls.

"We need an ambulance over here!"

"S'okay, you're gonna be okay baby." Evan murmured into her hair when she leaned into him and whimpered again. At least it wasn't a large wound and it didn't look to be too deep. Evan knew Eddie would of been more panicked if the wound was deep enough to puncture an organ or a major artery.

As soon as a gurney was in front of them, Evan swiftly hopped off the trunk and turned around. He slid one arm beneath (Y/n)'s legs and the other around her back, lifting her up bridal style to lay her on the gurney. The movement jostled her stomach and she choked on her next breath before her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Bobby's arms trembled as he twisted to the left and held his granddaughter down to his wife. He couldn't concentrate with Winnie in his arms, she was calming him down but he wasn't able to think.

As soon as she was out of his arms, he pushed forward and grabbed Evan's shoulder, leaning over him to see the state his daughter was in.

"You two get in the ambulance with her, Hen drive them to the hospital. I'll meet you there."

"And the girls can come home with me," Athena chipped in while her hand moved to cradle the back of Winnie's head and she pressed a tender kiss to her temple. She would end her shift and take the girls home and then in an hour she would go and collect Chris from school. They would work out the childcare arrangement so Athena could make it down to the hospital as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, as long as Bobby and the boys went down with (Y/n), she would be looked after and she wouldn't be alone.

When they got her in the ambulance, both Eddie and Evan took one of her hands each and plonked down into seats opposite each other with their partner laid between them.

They would make sure she would be okay.

[gyllenhaalstories]

COUNT IT DOWN — JAKE GYLLENHAAL

summary: jake grunts. jake grunts a lot. jake grunts very loudly. do i need to say more?

warnings: smut (semi public sex, quickie, fingering, penetration, orgasm control, creampie). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2920

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i can't get the sound of jake's grunts out of my head (not that i want to anyway) 🥵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"9, 10, 11, 12..."

You sighed. They had been counting to twenty so many times over, they probably hit the million mark by now.

"13, 14, 15, 16..."

You busied yourself around the gazebo, alternating between taking photos of the cloudy sky and videos of the gentle breeze that made the branches of the pretty flower bushes surrounding the area dance.

"Harder!"

The camera, following your movement, focused on Jake rather than the white flowers.

"17, 18, 19... 20!"

"Fuck!" Another grunt.

Jake's trainers and fitness team showered him in praise for sustaining yet another repetition of literal gut punches.

But all you could hear was the noises he just made.

Your man glanced over at you and waved, soft giggles completed the picture. He was gesturing something. For someone who spoke so much with his hands, he was not that good at it.

You figured he meant he was almost done. Or so you hoped.

The punches started all over again, but the sound of the gloves hitting Jake's skin and the redness that bloomed over his abs indicated they were going all in for this last set.

You approached the gazebo, attention focusing on the noises that Jake was making and how he scrunched his nose with each punch.

With each grunt too. Was it a subterfuge to distract himself from the pain, to trick his mind and body to take hit after hit?

Your jaw dropped, although only Jake noticed, while you watched them. It was mesmerizing. No, actually, it was hypnotizing.

The ceiling fans could not rotate fast enough to dry the layer of sweat that was all over Jake's body. He contracted his abs with all his might, hands behind his head and torso exposed to receive more torture. The masochistic exercise was sending his brain into overdrive.

You murmured a faint "You're gonna hurt yourself" that got blatantly ignored by everyone in the room. You clutched on your phone harder, as if you were receiving a part of all that pain too. The fingernails of your free hand dug crescent shapes into your palm.

"One more." His opponent was back at it with the assault on Jake's abs. Everybody in the room chanted the last series of numbers until the training was finally over. In between each digit, there was a loud grunt. In between each hit, the veins of Jake's pelvis bulged while pumping all the blood that made his skin a dark share of red.

Everybody but you retreated to one of the many entrances of the gazebo, getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, you leaned on the column for much needed balance.

"That was fantastic!" Jake laughed. His laughter was the only one that sounded genuine. The other guys chuckled, worried, at his appearance. They pointed out how he was "red as shit". To which Jake answered that "We want the movie to be good, you know."

You were concerned, still, but more so turned on by the scene.

The endorphins were hitting Jake hard. You could tell he was worked up in more ways than one. The euphoric giggles and cocky smile, the way he hopped and jogged around the gazebo to keep his body in this momentum. He was not hearing a word that his team was telling him, something about setting up his ice bath, as they exited the area in a cacophony of squeaky shoe noises. The only thing Jake acknowledged was your presence.

You let him walk to you close enough to pull you by the hand so he could kiss your lips.

"I knew it. I knew you wanted to watch." He smirked. "I gave one hell of a good show, didn't I?" He took your phone out of your hand and set it on the bench from where he grabbed a towel to wipe his forehead with. "Don't tell me that's not true, it's written all over your pretty face."

You rolled your eyes, not even trying to stand up for yourself. "So, you're done now?"

Jake shrugged with a not-so innocent grin on his blushing face. "Kinda."

"What do you mean, kinda?" You sighed, annoyed. "If I hear you guys count up to twenty again today, I swear..."

"Ooh, I'm scared." He giggled again. He calmed down and squinted, looking at you through his long lashes. "No counting up."

Your satisfaction with his answer was short lived.

"But we'll count it down."

You watched him while he draped the towel down on the black mats. "Remember when I bet that you wanted to join me today? I was right." He took a step closer to you. "I'm feeling all the good luck running through my veins right now, so I wanna make another bet."

You looked at him with a confused arched brow. Your eyes studied his body. From the messy wet hair, down to the curve of his pecs, and even further down to his swollen abs; your eyes were met with the bulge in his shorts.

"I bet you that I can make you cum," he brought your attention back to his face. "With twenty thrusts."

"Here?" He nodded. His team was not far away, you could hear them dump bags of ice in the converted trash container that was used for temperature shocks. You rolled your eyes. Laughing while taking in so much pain was insane, but not having a care in the world about getting caught was even more insane. "Nah."

"Come on! I know you want to." He repeated the next words in a lower, quieter voice. "I know you want me to fuck you." He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. "Twenty thrusts, that's all I'm asking." Jake loved to work his magic, he knew all too well that this same magic worked every time. Well, almost. "You gonna give it to me? Gonna let me fuck your pretty pussy? Gonna let me show you who you belong to?" The hand that was on your cheek started to travel down your body, following the shape of your stomach until it slid under the hem of your clothes.

You gasped when you felt his warm hand cup your pussy underneath your panties.

He grunted when his fingers dipped ever so slightly in your wetness. "Yeah, you do. You want it so fucking bad." He pushed his middle finger between your folds and teased your clit. "You were getting so worked up from watching me that you had to go play in the flowers like a busy little bee. You couldn't keep your eyes off me for long, huh?"

You cut his monologue short with a passionate kiss. Your tongue invaded his mouth but quickly lost the battle for dominance.

The way you moaned against Jake's lips gave him the unspoken permission pull down your pants after you both kicked off your shoes. He broke the kiss to help you lay down on the towel and remove his shorts too. "I take it as you accept my bet?"

You both laughed while you gently slapped his chest. "Just fuck me already."

"Attagirl." You did not need to say it twice. Jake spread your legs open and positioned himself between them, kneeling and taking deep breaths while he took in the sight of you offering your body to him.

"We gotta be quiet." You reminded him about the risks of getting caught. What a waste of words.

Jake used your wet pussy to jerk off and lube his cock. He looked at you and how you squirmed under him. You were so wet for him, he glided over your folds and clit easily. "Oh yeah, looks like you care so much about being quiet." He didn't give you time to protest, he guided his cock and pressed it against your entrance. "I don't give a fuck if they hear. And judging by how wet you are..." He pushed, slowly, until his tip was inside of your clenching walls. "You want them to hear us too."

You moved on him, helping Jake get all the way inside you. He was surprised, but through a nod you both agreed that the first thrust did not count.

Jake puts his hands on your stomach, keeping you immobile and at his mercy. "Count down for me, baby."

And you did just that, or so you tried. Jake's first five thrusts were slow and deep, he let you get adjusted to his size while he praised you over and over again about how good you felt wrapped around him. He was rock hard, all the stamina built up from his training made it near impossible to hold himself back and stick to his stupid bet.

"Please, harder!"

Jake grunted in response. He obliged, happily. Selfishly, too. He scrunched his nose and bared his teeth with each thrust.

When you called out the number fifteen with a loud and long moan, he switched things up.

He lifted your legs so you could use his body to lean them on. In this position, you were slightly lifted upwards. He pulled almost all the way out and pushed all the way back in your pussy. The angle made your entire body flinch. He waited for you to say the next number out loud, but his patience ran out fast. "We're not even halfway done and you've gone dumb already? That's my good girl."

With the next ten thrusts, Jake successfully fucked the shyness out of you. You counted down from 15 to 5 loud enough to please him and most certainly loud enough to be heard. He was reaching so deep inside of you, that a few of those numbers failed to come out of your mouth. Instead, your incoherent "Ah, ah, ah" drove Jake even crazier and that made him want to keep hitting that sweet spot.

Now, there were five thrusts left. You could tell that Jake was dangerously close to the edge by the way he grunted louder and without any restraint. He was lost in the moment, without a care for the world that surrounded him. All that mattered to him was making you feel good.

"Fuck!" You cried out when his thumb brushed over your untouched clit. "That wasn't part of the," you panted, he rubbed your clit faster. "Of the rules."

"Do I look like I care?" He breathed out. "Look at me."

You batted your cock drunk eyes at him and took in the view. He looked so good, all sweaty and needy from this different, and much more entertaining, form of exercise.

"That's it, forget about it. You don't need to think." He pulled out, leaving just his leaky tip inside your hole. He watched your chest rise and fall with anticipation for the next thrust that followed quickly after.

"5... 4..." You counted along.

"3," Jake counted down with you. His thumb rubbed your clit at the perfect pace and intensity. Your pussy clenched so tight around him that he knew the last couple of thrusts would make it almost impossible not to cum too quickly. You were both so close. "Just like that, baby. You're taking me so fucking good."

"2." Your face twisted into a blissful expression. Nothing else mattered other than your imminent release. You rested your hands on Jake's arms, kind of trying to keep him close but also kind of trying to push him away so you could process the way your body felt in this very moment.

Jake stilled inside of you. The way your walls clenched and relaxed around his cock felt heavenly. He pulled out completely and sat back. He grunted when he caught the view of your pussy, juices leaking down on the towel from your stretched out hole. You looked so tempting, so delicious. If only he had more time, he would devour you like there was no tomorrow. If only. "Ready, baby?"

You nodded, hands reaching in his direction to try and bring him back where you needed him the most, which was balls deep inside of you.

"Yeah, you are." He leaned forward to kiss you, a distraction from the touch of his fingers on your sensitive clit. He needed you closer, impossibly closer, so that he could feel you explode all around him.

You arched your back. He swallowed your moans. Your legs tried to wrap around his waist, you were trying anything to get him to make you see stars.

"I regret this stupid bet." He scoffed. He looked down at his slick covered cock, it was red and veiny like the rest of his abdomen. It throbbed between your bodies. He could not wait any longer. He used his free hand to line himself with your entrance for the last time. He took a deep breath and exhaled when he pushed his cock inside of you.

Inch by inch, you felt all of his length until he bottomed out. With his thumb rubbing your clit, it all felt so intense. You let out your loudest moans yet when you started to cum on his command.

Jake tried to talk you through it, telling you that you were his "perfect cockslut" and that "your pussy was made to take my cum". He slurred his words more than anything.

His voice echoed in your empty mind, so did the sound of his grunts when your clenching walls brought him to his orgasm.

He fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch your reaction to being filled with his load. Jake moaned your name when your pussy relaxed around him. It finally let him move, not that he wanted to.

Your legs fell down on the floor and you laid there, giggling to yourself. Jake lost no time to join you, laughing along while he kissed your lips.

You put one hand on his cheek and the other one on the back of his head, not caring for his sweaty hair. You pulled him closer for another kiss. You wanted this moment to last forever, and, well, you desperately wanted a second round.

"Oh shit." Jake cursed when he was called out for his ice bath again. "Just in time." He pointed out the odd timing, right when you guys finished. The was no way this was a coincidence.

Your eyes widened at the realization. There was no way this was a coincidence. They heard you. They heard it all.

"Coming!" Jake yelled out then exploded in a fit of giggles while he stood up and put his gym shorts back on.

"You're unbelievable." You, finally, laughed along with him while trying to hold your body up on your wobbly knees.

Jake looked down at you and scrunched his nose again. "You look so fucking good down there."

"I know." You agreed.

Jake winked at you, then he told you how you were the unbelievable one. He adjusted himself in his boxers, apprehending the temperature shock that awaited him, but you pushed his hands out of the way.

You licked over his puffy, red abs in a long stripe. You tasted his salty sweat on your tongue while you kept going for as far as you could.

You earned a loud grunt and helping hands to pull you back up on your feet. "You're not shy now, huh?" He smiled from ear to ear while he watched you dress up too. Jake promised himself that he was not going to let this be the only time you licked his sweat like that. You could not get away with doing something so hot.

You caught him staring so you stole a quick kiss from his lips as to not take an even longer and more suspicious amount of time before sending Jake back to his fitness team.

"Don't worry, baby." He tried to reassure you, which worked for a split second. "Everybody already heard you while you were cumming. I'm sure they won't mind if we take a little more time." Jake held your jaw in his hand and planted a long kiss on your lips, making sure you did not wiggle away from him just yet. He called the shots, or so he liked to think, and only pulled away when his named was called out again.

You shooed him away, laughing along.

"Go back to the house and wait for me there, yeah?" He started to jog away from you and exited the gazebo. "I'll need something to warm me up afterwards." He turned around to wink at you and he disappeared from your sight. You could still hear his mischievous giggling while you collected your senses, until the noise was replaced with the group of men loudly discussing the amount of ice to put in the makeshift bath.

You picked up the towel from the floor, hiding the evidence that the drops of his cum left behind, and you grabbed your phone from where Jake left it. You squinted when you noticed how it was propped up against a boxing glove, aimed in the direction where Jake fucked you. You gasped audibly when you discovered that your phone was recording the scene the entire time. You held your phone tightly in your hand and walked out of the gazebo, heart racing and heat radiating from your core.

Jake was right: he would need something warm to help him recover from the ice bath. And with this little video of yours... You knew exactly how to keep his favourite set of holes ready.

[amirasainz]

Oh, I'm sorry, but my ideas for Leclerc's stepsister are in my head and there are so many of them, I don't have the nerve to send them all, but... I just want her to be very different from baby Sainz, she was very independent, hardly accepted help, was a little (and sometimes a lot) shy, defiant, but at the same time for the Leclair brothers she was a princess, and their parents wanted to enjoy the fact that everything was fine

With love from CH 💜

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl ♥️

No Part 2!

Independent, but Loved

It was a typical sunny afternoon in Monaco, and the house was alive with the sound of chatter and laughter. Yn was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her manicured nails clicking against her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media feed. The comments on her latest post were already piling up.

@queenYnislife: “She fixed her car and still looks better than me. HOW??”

@monaco_royalty: “Yn, the real princess of Monaco. Bow down, everyone.”

She smirked at the comments and tapped her nails thoughtfully against her chin. "You know," she said, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "I should start a DIY YouTube channel. 'Fixing Cars with Yn.' I'd show everyone how to slay while being a mechanic."

From across the living room, Arthur groaned. "Yn, you didn't fix the car."

She raised an eyebrow at her 19-year-old stepbrother, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Excuse me, mechanic Arthur. I literally fixed it myself. My nails were covered in grease for days!"

Lorenzo, the oldest at 25, laughed as he walked into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. "Oh, princesa, you really think that car is still the same one?"

Yn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur leaned forward, unable to suppress his grin. "We got you a new car."

Her jaw dropped. "No, you didn't!"

"Yes, we did," Lorenzo confirmed with a shrug, his grin widening. "Do you honestly think you ‘fixed’ a blown engine with a wrench and some nail polish remover?"

Charles, who had just walked in after a training session, leaned against the doorway with an amused look. "To be fair, you were very convincing with your grease-smudged selfies."

Yn stared at her brothers, utterly scandalized. "Wait a second. You mean all my TikToks about ‘fixing’ the car were based on a lie?"

Arthur snorted. "Pretty much, yeah."

"You guys distracted me?" Yn accused, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Charles.

Charles threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Guilty. But it was Lorenzo's idea!"

Lorenzo chuckled, clearly unbothered. "You deserved a better car, princesa. That old one wasn’t safe anymore."

Yn crossed her arms and pouted, her glossy lips forming a perfect little scowl. "You could have told me instead of treating me like a clueless baby."

"You're not clueless," Arthur said quickly, his tone softening. "We just wanted to make sure you were safe. You know we only do these things because we care about you, right?"

Her pout melted into a small smile. "Fine. But I'm still mad that you lied to me."

"We'll make it up to you," Charles promised. "How about dinner on me tonight? Wherever you want."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

Yn grinned, her previous annoyance already forgotten. "Okay, but you’re paying for dessert too."

"Deal," Charles said, ruffling her hair.

---

That evening, as they all sat around a table at Yn’s favorite restaurant, their parents, Pascal and João, joined in on the fun. Pascal raised his glass, a proud smile on his face. "To my incredible children. I love seeing how well you all take care of each other."

"Even if it means pulling off elaborate car heists," Yn teased, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

João, always the peacemaker, smiled warmly at her. "They just want to make sure you're happy and safe, filha."

"I know," Yn said, her voice softening. "And I love you guys for it. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for messing with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Great, here we go."

Yn smirked, leaning back in her chair like the queen she was. "Just wait until I prank you back. The internet will love it."

Lorenzo groaned. "Please, no more viral chaos."

"You should know by now," Yn said with a wink, "I am chaos."

Charles sighed dramatically. "And we wouldn’t have it any other way."

As the evening went on, the teasing and laughter continued. Yn, their sarcastic and fiercely independent little sister, was their princess. And while she might never let them forget their sneaky car replacement, the love and bond between them was unshakeable.

They were, after all, family.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 18

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (dont be silly), mentions of drinking

It was hours that I was tossing and turning in my bed, trying to succumb to a nap but failing. I roll onto my side and grab my phone, staring at my screen as my fingers hover over the keyboard. My body feels heavy with exhaustion, but my mind refuses to slow down. All I can think about is Matt, his voice, the way he looked at me on our walk, the warmth of his hand in mine, the conversations we had.

I sigh, rubbing my eyes before glancing at the time. It’s nearly 9pm, but I know he’s still here. It’s just the two of us in the villa right now, the rest of them out for the night. The thought lingers in my mind, making my heart pick up slightly.

I hesitate for a second before finally typing out a message.

Me: You awake?

The message sends, and I stare at the screen, waiting. I tell myself if he doesn’t answer in a minute, I’ll roll over and force myself to sleep.

But my phone buzzes almost immediately.

Matt: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

I bite my lip. My fingers twitch over the keyboard before I type out my next message.

Me: Wanna keep me company?

There’s a pause. Then..

Matt: Absolutely.

My stomach flips. I quickly smooth out my blanket, suddenly feeling nervous now that I’ve actually done it. I sit up, tucking my legs under me as I turn on my bedside lamp. My heart racing just a little faster when I hear the soft patter of footsteps down the hall.

My door opens slowly, and Matt steps inside, his hair slightly messy, his Fresh Love hoodie hanging loosely over his frame. His eyes meet mine in the dim light of my bedside lamp, and and I instantly feel the tension between us.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he murmurs.

I shake my head. “Too much on my mind.”

He nods like he understands, then closes the door behind him. “Yeah” he says, his voice quieter now. “Me too.”

Matt crosses the room and hesitates for a second, then sits down at the edge of my bed next to me.

"Hope you don’t mind" he says, his voice softer now that we’re alone.

I shake my head, pulling my blanket over my lap. "Not at all."

For a moment, we sit in comfortable silence. The villa is eerily quiet without the others here, just the sound of crickets outside. I lean back against my pillows, hugging one to my chest as I glance over at Matt.

“So” he says eventually, shifting to get more comfortable. “What was keeping you up?”

I exhale a quiet laugh. "You, mostly."

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Oh yeah?"

I roll my eyes, nudging his knee lightly with my foot. "Not in that way. My mind's just been running in circles. About earlier, about this trip.. about everything, really."

He nods, leaning back against the headboard beside me. His shoulder brushes mine, and it sends a small shiver through me.

"Yeah I get that.." he says, tilting his head back slightly. "My brain hasn’t shut up all night."

I turn to look at him. "About what?"

He pauses, his jaw tightening slightly, like he’s debating how much to say. Then he exhales. "Just.. things. Life. Us." He glances at me briefly before looking away again. "I meant what I said last night, you know."

I swallow. "About what?"

"About why I acted the way I did" he says, his voice quieter now. "I just- I've never been good at this.. At knowing what to do when I actually care about someone."

His words settle into my chest, warm and heavy. Yet, I don’t know what to say to that, so I look down at my hands. After a second, I feel his fingers graze against mine, barely there, like he’s testing the waters. I don’t pull away.

For a while, we just sit there. There’s something intimate about it, the talking, just existing together in the quiet. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.

I shift slightly, turning to face Matt more directly. His shoulder is still brushing mine, a constant, quiet warmth between us. I have questions I want answers to, and I feel like now is a perfect opportunity to get them.

"When did you realize you had feelings for me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Matt's fingers twitch where they rest on the blanket, his eyes flickering away for a moment before settling back on mine. "Since I met you" he admits. "Two years ago."

That makes me pause. My brow lifts slightly, processing his words. Two years? My mind spins back to all the times he was distant and cold. The back and forth, the mixed signals. And yet, all this time..

"Two years?" I repeat, needing to hear it again.

He nods once, his lips pressing together like he’s bracing for my reaction.

I tilt my head slightly, studying him. "And how exactly did you deal with pushing those feelings down for that long?"

Matt lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not well, apparently."

I scoff lightly, nudging him with my knee. "Clearly."

He sighs, shaking his head. "I don’t know. I told myself it was nothing. That it would go away. But then I’d see you with Nick or Chris, and how well you all got on.. I don't know, I’d get in my own head about it. I convinced myself there wasn’t space for me in your life like that, like I had an expectation to meet.."

I frown slightly, my heart slightly breaking at the thought. "Matt.."

He shrugs, offering me a small, almost sheepish smile. "It was easier to keep my distance than admit the feelings  I had. Or worse..get my hopes up."

His honesty knocks the air from my lungs. I stare at him, really taking in the weight of what he’s saying.

"That must’ve been exhausting" I say after a brief moment of silence.

Matt huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You have no idea."

I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to imagine what it must have been like for him. Watching, wanting, but never allowing himself to take that step.

"You didn’t have to do that.." I murmur. "Push it all down."

Matt looks at me hard. His blue eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them, the usual guardedness nowhere to be found.

"Yeah" he says, voice low. "I know that now."

I smirk, tilting my head as I look at him. "So, it must’ve been absolute hell on earth for you when I moved in then, huh?"

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You have no idea."

I shift slightly, pulling my knees up to my chest as I look at him. "You know.. when I moved in, that’s when you really started blowing hot and cold with me." I pause, searching his face. "It was confusing because you only ever been cold with me. Then it completely switched. One minute, you’d be normal, even nice, and then the next, you’d act like I barely existed."

Matt sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "I know.. I'm sorry"

I shake my head. "I started catching feelings for you, but you-" I exhale sharply. "You could be so mean sometimes. It messed with my head."

Matt looks genuinely guilty, his jaw tightening. "I never meant to be.. I was an idiot."

I raise a teasing eyebrow. "Couldn’t have been that bad living with me, though. You were still capable of bringing that girl over."

His face falters for a second, and I can tell I caught him off guard. He shifts slightly, rubbing a hand over his jaw like he’s trying to figure out the best way to respond.

"That wasn’t-" He stops, exhales sharply, then looks at me. "That was me being stupid."

I fold my arms, leaning back against the pillows. "Oh? Do tell."

Matt groans, throwing his head back against the headboard. "You’re really gonna make me spell it out, aren’t you?"

I grin, shrugging. "You brought it on yourself."

He lets out a dramatic sigh, then looks at me, a little more serious now. "I thought if I forced myself to be around someone else, it would help. That maybe if I tried to move on, I could get you out of my system." He pauses, eyes flickering over my face. "It didn’t work."

Something in my chest tightens at his words, at the honesty in them. My teasing smirk softens slightly.

"So, what? You just gave up on the idea of us entirely?" I ask, my voice quieter now.

Matt shakes his head. "No" he says simply. "I just told myself you’d never see me that way."

I open my mouth, about to respond, but nothing comes out at first. Because what do you say to that? To someone who’s spent two years thinking they never had a chance with you?

Matt exhales, his fingers nervously picking at the hem of his hoodie. “Look, I know I messed up a lot with you. And I get why you’d think.. after everything, that I didn’t care.” He pauses, then glances at me. “But I haven’t been with anyone since that night in the house.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. Not since then.”

I tilt my head, trying to process that. “Why?”

Matt lets out a breathy laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Because everything with us was already so up and down, Y/n. Hot and cold, like you said. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

I laughed lightly. “And yet, you still managed to.” I say teasingly.

“I know” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. “Trust me, I know.”

I watch him, my mind running back to all the moments I had questioned him, doubted what I felt, wondered if I was just some game to him. And yet, here he was, admitting that even in all the chaos, he had been just as stuck as I was.

The room is quiet, the only sound is our soft breaths. I watch Matt, his eyes fixed on mine, the weight of his words still settling between us.

“You really had me thinking you were heartless sometimes” I murmur softly.

He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “I never was. Not when it came to you.”

The tension between us is electric. The air thickens, and I feel my pulse quicken as Matt’s gaze drops briefly to my lips before flickering back to my eyes. I know that look. I’ve seen it before, but this time, it’s different.

Neither of us speaks. We don’t need to.

Then, almost instinctively, as if drawn together by some invisible force, we move at the same time. His hand finds my jaw, his thumb grazing my cheek as he leans in. My breath catches, my heart stuttering in anticipation.

And then, his lips are on mine.

The kiss is slow at first, like we’re both trying to savor the moment, to commit it to memory. But then something snaps, maybe it’s the tension that’s been building for months, maybe it’s the years of unspoken feelings, and suddenly, we’re pulling each other closer.

Matt deepens the kiss, his other hand sliding to my waist as I press against him, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. There’s a hunger in the way he kisses me, like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s afraid to let go.

I don’t want to let go either.

His grip tightens, and I can feel his heart hammering against mine, matching my own erratic rhythm. We’re completely lost in each other.

I climbed onto his lap, straddling him as our lips continued to move together, the heat between us growing. Matt’s hands found their way to my back, holding me close as if he didn’t want to let go. The sensation of finally being so close to him, of feeling his heartbeat against mine, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

We pulled apart slightly and I looked into Matt's eyes, seeing the same mix of vulnerability and fear that mirrored my own feelings.

“Are you okay with this?” I asked, wanting to make sure that this was the right time.

"This feels right." He whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

I nodded with a soft smile. "It does."

Matt drags me into him again for another kiss and flips me over, now laying with my back against the mattress. His hands move to my hips, hooking his fingers around my fabric shorts before sliding them down.

“Fuck you’re not real” Matt says looking at me in awe. I blush at his words, and he comes back down for another kiss, his hands tracing up and down my body. I grab onto the sides of his hoodie and pull it over his head, wanting us to be as close together as possible.

I stared up at him with innocent eyes as he began to pull down his short and boxers in one go.

My face says it all when I see his dick.

“What?” Matt laughs.

“Nothing.. I.. didn’t say a word.” I say stunned, trying to play it off.

“You didn't have to use your words, your face said it all” He laughs while diving into my neck to lace it with kisses.

That is the biggest dick I’ve seen in my life. 

I get wetter as I replay the image of it in my head while he kisses me.

And I need it now.

“Please fuck me Matt, I need you now.” I whisper in his ear.

“Are you sure?” Matt whispered back.

I nodded as I spread my legs apart. Matt stood off the bed, while grabbing under my legs and dragging me toward the edge of the bed. He lined himself up with my entrance and looked up at me, our eyes meeting each other. Matt held that look as he pushed into me. My back arched as I broke our eye contact, opening my mouth from the feeling of Matt in me. 

“Oh my god” I cried.

He leaned over and gave me a smug smile before kissing me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I could barely kiss him back as I couldn’t stop myself from moaning. 

Matt thrusted into me slowly, allowing me to get used to his size. 

“Fuck your dick is s-so big in me Matt” I whimper as his hips knock back and forth into me, slowly picking up pace as time goes on.

“You’re so wet holy shit” Matt mutters as he continues to fuck me, his hands now holding on to mine.

“Y-you feel soo goood Matt” I whimpered, my body buckling with the multiple sensations I was feeling. “I dont know if I’m gonna last longer Matt oh my god”

I feel his right hand break loose from mine, as he moves his touch to my clit, I feel my core start to clench as he swirls his thumb in circles on my sensitive bud.

“Fuck Y/n you’re so pretty” Matt groans, shaking his head slightly like he can’t believe what he’s seeing right now. 

“Oh my god Matt I’m gonna cum! Faster please!” I whimper, clenching around his dick, Matt picks up his pace as I climax, my body shaking underneath him. 

“Shiiiit” Matt groans as he pulls out, stroking his dick so he can finish. Upon instinct, I sit up, and shift towards Matt, taking his dick in my mouth allowing him to finish there.

Matt gives me a curious look, almost to say he didn’t know I had that side to me.

“What? It saves the mess” I laugh to myself.

“That was really sexy” He says, still staring me down.

I plant a kiss on his lips before grabbing my shorts off the ground and taking myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I come back into my room, Matt is fully clothed again, dozing off in my bed but forces himself awake when he hears me return, pulling back the covers for me to get under.

I let out a small laugh, still slightly breathless from sex, as I climb into bed with him. I cuddle up to him, feeling extremely comfortable in the moment. “I really enjoyed that” Matt says softly. 

“So did I, I like being close to you” I respond, wanting to have a nice moment, but instead my stomach betrays me with a soft grumble. I groan, leaning my head against Matt’s shoulder.

“Oh someones hungry!” Matt laughs.

"Yeah honestly I kinda am.." I admit, my voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie.

Matt chuckles, the sound low and warm. "We could go down to the strip, there's this place that sells pizza slices. Best late night food, trust me."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. The idea of being out just the two of us, getting food in the middle of the night, feels.. fun. 

"Alright, let’s go" I say, pushing myself off the bed. "But if this pizza isn’t amazing, I’m holding it against you forever."

Matt stands up, putting his hoodie back on. "I like those odds" he grins. "Come on, let’s go get you fed."

We leave the villa and make our way onto the strip, the neon signs flickering against the dark sky. It’s late, but the place is only coming alive with music spills from bars, groups of people weaving through the sidewalks, and the scent of food lingering in the air.

Matt walks beside me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, while I hug my arms around myself, still feeling the ghost of emotions from earlier. My heart is still racing, my lips still tingling.

The pizza place is tucked between a surf shop and a tattoo parlor, with a glowing red sign that simply says PIZZA. The scent of fresh dough and melted cheese pulls us in, and Matt heads straight to the counter like he’s been here a hundred times.

"Two pepperoni slices" he tells the guy behind the counter, then looks at me.

I shake my head, smiling.

Within minutes, we have our slices in hand, the cheese perfectly stringy and the crust crispy. We take a seat at one of the outdoor tables, the sounds of music from bars around us. I take a bite and groan.

"Okay, fine. This is amazing."

Matt smirks, watching me. "Told you."

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the food and the atmosphere. Every so often, I catch Matt sneaking glances at me, like he’s still trying to process everything between us. I feel it too, what just happened between us has changed everything.

But right now, it’s just us, sharing pizza at midnight. And for once, that’s enough.

Matt leans back in his chair, finishing off the last bite of his pizza before wiping his hands on a napkin. He looks over at me, eyes flickering with something playful.

"You know" he starts, tilting his head toward the strip, "there's a place a couple doors down that does pretty good cocktails. We could grab one before heading back?"

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh? Are you trying to get me drunk, Matthew?"

He scoffs, shaking his head with a laugh. "Please. If I wanted to get you drunk, I’d have suggested shots."

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. The night feels easy, like we’re existing in our own little world.

"Alright" I say, standing up and brushing the crumbs off my lap. "One drink."

Matt grins as he stands, tossing our napkins into the bin before leading me down the strip. The bar he was talking about is a small, open air place with string lights draped across the ceiling and a music blasting. A few people sit at the bar, laughing and sipping colorful drinks.

We slide onto two stools at the bar, and Matt waves over the bartender. "Two Mai Tais."

I glance at him, amused. "You decided for me?"

He shrugs. "You’ll like it. Trust me."

When the drinks arrive, they’re vibrant orange with a hint of red at the bottom, with pineapple slices and tiny umbrellas as decoration. I take a sip and hum in appreciation. "Okay, not bad."

Matt watches me, his fingers lazily stirring his straw through the drink. "Told you" he murmurs.

One drink might turn into two. And I don’t think I’d mind.

Just as I take another sip of my drink, I hear the unmistakable sound of voices calling out.

"No way! Look who it is!"

I freeze mid sip, my eyes widening as I recognize the voices immediately. Matt hears it too, his body tensing beside me as we slowly turn toward the sound.

a/n : i sacrificed my after work nap so i could finish this part and post it lol

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 18 - You Can Start to Make It Better

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Return of the swaggy Monster of the Week cases.

Chapter Title from Hey Jude by The Beatles

Word Count: 17.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You go home, and try to get back into a rhythm. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 17 - Chapter 19

Read on A03!

You have rules.

If you’re going to love Dean, you have to have rules.

To keep yourself sane, and to keep Dean safe.

To ensure that your priority can be making sure Dean stays alive. You can never, ever fail him again, because now that you have him, it will take a biblical tragedy to make you lose him again.

So you have rules.

The first rule comes before the drive home. You stay the night in Texas, but neither of you really sleep. For Dean, it’s so the stiches can set, and for you, it’s so you can feel Dean’s arms around you and hear his heartbeat near your ear, his hand splayed gently over your stomach to monitor the stitches. Then, before the dawn has even fully broken the sky, you go.

Together.

Dean asked you not to run, so now you means you and Dean, together.

He goes to pick you up some non-bloodstained clothing—you’d slept in his shirt, and you’d both silently agreed not to talk about it—as you get the coffee, and when you start to change he takes a tall, rigid stance facing the door. It’s almost adorable, how he’s fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket and glowering at the walls. Like he’s somehow trying to preserve your modesty.

“We’re taking my car.” Dean mutters, and you freeze with one leg in the sweatpants.

“Dean, I’m not just leaving the Firebird.“

“Yeah, you are.”

“You gave me that car-“

“I’ll send Sammy back for it.” He snaps. “He’ll bus down and drive it back up, and you’ll stay with me.”

You roll your eyes, standing up straight as you finish with the sweats. “You never let Sam drive Baby, why is my car different-“

“Because.” Dean grunts, shooting you a glare as you shuffle over to his side. “I am not letting you drive back to Sioux Falls by yourself after you just got fucking shot, Princess. We’re leaving the Firebird.”

“You can be really dramatic, Deano, you know that?”

His lips twitch slightly. “It’s not dramatic to make sure you don’t bleed out somewhere in Oklahoma, Princess.”

“See, you sound dramatic-“

“And you’re not driving yourself home. Give it up.”

You pout up at him, putting on your best, innocent, sweet expression. “But my car, De. Please-“

“I don’t give a shit about your car.” He grumbles, and that breaks you in a second.

You could see the clench of his jaw and fists, hear the resolve in his voice, and this wasn’t a fight you were going to win. If Dean is valuing you over the car, you’d lost before the conversation even started.

It wasn’t like you really cared either way. If it were up to you, you’d climb onto Dean’s body and never be peeled away from him again.

“What about your car?” You hum, just to selfishly press a little further, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“If that’s what it’s gonna take to get your ass back home, we’ll take the freakin’ Firebird instead. But,” he narrows his eyes at you. “I’m driving, and you’re resting, and that’s it.”

You stare at him, and it creeps right up to the edge of your tongue. You love him. So much. Desperately and eternally, because he cares. More than anyone. All the time. You’ve seen him almost shoot people for looking at the Impala wrong, he’s willing to leave it in fucking Texas for you, and you can see how serious he is in his Gold—solid and burning in his body—and you love him-

“Dean, you don’t need to-“

“I do.” He grumbles, starting to herd you out the door. “I’ll carry you home on fucking foot, if I have to. You’re more important-“

“Than a car?!” 

Dean shoots you a glare, you offer him a soft, teasing smile, and he sighs. “And you’ve got the nerve to call me dramatic.”

“Bold words from the man who just said he’d carry me home on foot.” You hum, and Dean finally grins.

Wide and pretty and unrestrained, staring at you in the breaching light of the morning that’s somehow less golden than he is, and here. Alive.

Not yours, but with you. 

And you love him. 

“I missed you, Princess.” He mutters, and it’s a good thing you’re already half-pressed into his side. Otherwise, you would’ve fallen over.

“I missed you too,” you whisper, and Dean’s grin is beautiful, and there’s the first rule.

This can’t be about you. He’s too pretty and magnetic and Golden, and you love him, but if you’re going to keep loving him it can’t be about you.

“We can take Baby.” You mumble. “I- That was nice, though.”

“No problem.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, and you could swear there was a slight redness to his cheeks before he looked away. “I, uh- Yeah. C’mon.”

Dean half carries you to the car, because he’s an amazing idiot who really seems to think that if he takes his hand off your body for a second, you’ll vanish into thin air.

You understand the sentiment. It’s the same reason that, when you stop for gas after a few hours and he tells you to stay in the car, you shake your head and start to open the door.

“What are you-“

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, I told you to stay-“

“You’re not the boss of me.” You mutter, twisting to glare at him when his arm crosses your chest, pinning you to the seat. “I want a shitty gas station donut, Winchester. Let me go.”

He doesn’t move. “I’ll get you one, sweetheart, just stay-“

“Listen to me.” You snap, leaning forward with a scowl. “If you don’t let me out, I am going to break out, stab you, and sit on you while I eat my donut.”

Dean’s eyes widen slightly, and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “Bossy, Princess.”

“Dean Winchester-“

“Chill out,” he drawls your name, his arm moving back and leaving an almost whining depression where he’d been touching you before. “I’m not looking to get stabbed today, you can get your own freakin’ donut.”

You smile at him in triumph, Dean snorts and shakes his head, and you really don’t give a fuck about the donut. You care about Dean, guiding you inside with a hand on your lower back, muttering low jokes in your ear as you wait in the shockingly long line, and grinning at you like there’s nobody else in the world.

Dean plays his music too loud in the car on the drive back, trying to get you to sing along and pouting whenever you refuse.

“You know, this isn’t very nice,” he grumbles after the fifth attempt. “I just came back from the dead, Princess, the least you could do is sing for me.”

You shoot him glare, the Silver whining in your body at the reminder. “The I was dead card isn’t going to work on me, Deano. I don’t think it’s funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” He shrugs. “C’mon. I think I’m making it work.”

“You’re not.” You mutter, wrapping your arms around your stomach, and Dean drops it like that.

You don’t know if he gets it. The toll his death took on you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to ensure he never knows—that’s just another burden you don’t want him to carry—but there are things you can’t keep him from seeing. 

How you get quiet whenever he mentions it, because the numb feeling of nothing, Dean’s gone so there’s nothing, washes back over your body. The fact that you know you don’t look healthy, because even with the Silver humming once more in your body, you still have bruises from malnutrition and rashes on your wrists from where Ketch tied you up. There’s a gaunt quality to your skin that wasn’t there when he last saw you, and you might not be trying to force the Silver down anymore, but the habit of picking your skin raw is too deeply ingrained to go away.

You have gotten better at the healing, over the past four months. But the weakness from being held captive hasn’t faded away, and it means that you’re too tired to do most anything but rest, and talk to Dean.

You can always talk to Dean. 

He’s keeping his voice softer than usual. Almost gentle, as your eyelids start to droop, and his word fade in and out of your head.

“I’m gonna pull over.” He mutters after another few hours. “Check your stitches.”

You hum, and don’t bother to do anything but wait for Dean to park the car and move so he’s kneeling on the grass before you, then let him maneuver your body, so your stomach is under the flashlight in his mouth.

All your effort goes into trying not to moan, when his fingers brush over your skin. Warm and broad and calloused, so careful when they touch you, like you’re something that could possibly be broken.

You don’t care if the Sky sees this. If it hates it, or doesn’t care because Dean’s keeping you safe and alive. 

You’re for Dean. Nothing and no one else. He’s the one who sits you up carefully and presses a kiss to your brow, before making you drink water and settling you upright once more. Dean is the only person in the universe who, when he scoots back into the driver’s seat and slings his arm around your shoulders, you’d ever even consider leaning into.

Sleep comes easy and peaceful, on Dean’s shoulder, the music humming softly in the background and the Silver flowing softly through the world as Dean drives you home.

It’s twilight, when he wakes you up. Everything is cast in deep shades of blue, and the shadows have grown a little longer in the night, but there’s no pain or fear in your body at all.

It’s all still technicolor. 

Dean’s still here.

And you’re curled right into his side, and you can hear his heartbeat, and everything is okay.

“You wanna go right to bed?” He mutters in your ear, and you blink up at him as sleep lingers over your brain.

“Huh?”

Dean huffs a soft laugh, looking at you with an odd gentleness you don’t understand, but are going to cling to for the rest of your life.

“De, I-“ You cut yourself off with a yawn, burrowing yourself a little further into his side because he’s warm and alive and you’re too tired to stop yourself. “What’s happening?”

“We’re back at Bobby’s, Princess.” Dean watches you carefully, his voice still so strongly low and soft. “And Sammy told me they’d wait up, if you wanted, but if you wanna go to bed, we can sleep in your room, or the room I’ve been using. If you, uh, if you want me in the bed, obviously. We can separate and I can take the couch if you want my room-“

You shake your head, moving your hand to press over Dean’s mouth. 

He blinks at you, and you only stare at him through a slight daze.

“Slow down, Deano, you’re talking so fast.” Your voice sounds whiny to your own ears, but Dean doesn’t really look like he cares, and you’re so tired. “‘M tired, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Dean grabs your hand and slowly lowers it down, his eyes dancing with a soft light. “You’re tired, sweetheart?”

You nod, dropping your head to his shoulder, and he lets out a low chuckle that rolls through your body. 

“Alright, you’re doing bed then.”

You frown against his body. “What’s doing bed mean.”

“Means you’re acting like you’re freakin’ drunk, ba- Princess.” Dean starts to shift you around until you might be in his lap—the world is all blurry color and Dean, so you can’t really tell—and sighs in your ear. “So Sam and Bobby will just have to wait till morning.”

“Sam and Bobby. Where are-” Your words die as you lean back, and Dean’s face is right there. A breath from yours, and pretty, and there’s so much life in his eyes—all beautiful and so focused on you—that you almost burst into tears.

“Wait, shit-“ Dean grabs your face with one hand, the other keeping you steady by your waist, and that’s enough. Your eyes start to sting, and a weak noise leaves your chest as the Silver pours out into the world.

You’re the easy wind outside the car, the gentle comfort of the Impala—warm and filled with love from Dean’s care—and the soft hope of a lightbulb outside, covered in moths and flickering but still holding out to draw something else into its light. 

You’re not Dean, but you’re curled right against him, and when your eyes flick down to your hands they’re covered in gold, and Dean-

“Fuck, Princess, don’t cry- It’s- I didn’t mean to- Oof-“

You tackle your body fully into his, somehow finding force without movement, and Dean’s arms wrap tight around you in half a second as you sob.

“You died.” Your hands fist against his shirt, and there’s too much dizzy, sleepy fog over your brain for you to do anything else but sob and hold onto Dean. “You- you were gone, and you died, and I couldn’t- I tried but I couldn’t- And you- You were in Hell, and I didn’t-“

You cut yourself off with another strangled sound, and Dean’s hand starts to stroke through your hair.

“I know. But I’m good now.” he mutters in your ear, and it’s soothing. Like a lullaby that’s a little more. A promise. “I know, Princess I do, but you’re okay. We’re gonna get you to bed, sweetheart, you’re real tired and it’s- It’s okay.”

Dean pries you off his chest as you continue to sniffle, his thumb presses to the bridge of your nose, and it’s like a spell. 

The Silver eases back into your body, and you’re out. 

When you wake up, sunlight is filtering through the room. Your room.

You’re back in your own room.

It hasn’t really changed. Bobby seems to have cleaned up all your notes from the floor, and the sheets are fresh and changed, but everything else is as you left it, save for a slight coat of dust.

And Dean.

The last time you’d slept in this room, Dean had been at your side, but he’s not here now.

The only thing that keeps the Silver from bursting out of your body and ripping through the world to find him is the Gold. Bright and strong and covering your whole room, imprinted on the mattress and all across your clothing, a soft lining of it on the door knob and over the carpet. 

Dean is alive. The Spiderweb is soft and iridescent in your body, so he’s still alive, and he’d been here because only Dean is Golden like that.

It wasn’t just a cruel nightmare or trick of your mind, that he’d come to get you, and-

Oh, fuck.

You’re not tired now, but god, you had been when you got home, and you’d fallen apart from nothing at all. Fragile and uncontrolled and sobbing into Dean’s arms when he was the one who fucking died.

And he’d held you, but you’d been far too close. If he hadn’t somehow eased you to sleep, you probably mumbled that you loved him, in your exhaustion. And he had so many other things to worry about, all far more important than you. Dean shouldn’t be responsible for soothing you whenever you lose your fucking mind-

But he had. Because he was amazing, and Dean, and has always had you  when you lost your fucking mind.

You love him.

Second rule.

You can’t overindulge yourself.

If Dean volunteers to care for you, you’ll take it because you’ll never have enough will to not. But you can never ask for more, when he already gives so much. If you ask for more and he gives it, that won’t be love. It will be selfishness, and greed, and the monster in you hoarding him like the gold he is because you love him, and nothing should ever touch him again. 

Instead you’ll be his beast. Snarling and marching in front of him and taking whatever scraps he throws to you. If Dean asks to keep sleeping in your bed, there’s no world where you say no. If he wants to carry you around and stitches up your wounds and hug you in his lap, you’ll keep pressing your face to his shoulder and drowning yourself in his Gold until he either shoves you away, or you start to infect him and you have to put yourself down.

Castiel said you’d already infected him. That you’d embedded yourself in him.

He’d seemed fine. There were all those new parts of the Gold, and the way that the rivers of Silver were glowing and secured through his body, but if that was what Castiel had been talking about, Dean didn’t seem to be fighting it or rejecting it from his soul. 

That could be part of the no overindulging. What you’d planted in Dean seems to have grown roots, and there was no taking that back, but it ends there. With the only exception of saving his life, the Silver will never touch him again. Especially with how little control over it you still have.

When you see Castiel again, you’ll have to ask him what he knows about souls. He’s the first other not-person you’ve met who ca see them. 

As your brain starts to fully kick back into its normal gear—devoid of weeks without sleep and months of being plagued by Dean’s voice on the wind—it hits you that you really need to talk to Castiel again. He’s a fucking angel. Angels are real, and one had saved Dean, and all the Hell dreams were real too, which has to mean something, but you don’t know what, and Castiel hadn’t seemed to know what either, but he was an angel, so he has to know something-

One thing at a time. 

Too much is happening, and you’ll get through it—you always do—but you still had to go one thing at a time.

And you’re home.

You shuffle out of the bedroom on silent feet, and you can hear them before you can see them.

“I still don’t know why I have to go to Texas.” Sam’s voice mutters from the kitchen. “You’re the one who made her leave her car there-“

“She’d been bleeding out, Sammy, I wasn’t gonna just let her fucking drive-“

“But-“

“Sam.” Bobby’s voice grunts, and you can hear the exhaustion in it. You can’t really tell if the gnawing feeling in your gut is guilt of relief. “I’m with Dean on this one.”

“Thank you, Bobby-“

“Not cause you made the right call, ya’ idjit.” Bobby snaps, and you can very easily picture Dean’s dejected puppy look. “If you’d used your fuckin’ brain, you wouldn’t have taken off the moment Cas found her, and one of us coulda driven it back behind you.”

“But, uh, I still did the right thing with the stitches and driving-“

“Stop fishin’ for compliments. You’re lucky I don’t shoot you for only callin’ us two hours before you got back.”

“I was busy,” Dean mutters, Sam snorts, and you finally turn into the kitchen. 

Dean sees you first, but Bobby’s close behind, and once they’re both staring at you, Sam follows their gaze with wide eyes.

“Hi.” You mumble, keeping one hand on the doorframe to steady yourself. “I- uh- sorry.”

It’s all you can think of to say.

And it turns out it’s all you need, because the words hang in the air for a fraction of a second before Bobby’s marching across the room and you’re pulled into a long firm hug.

You hug him back without a thought, and his grip tightens. You can almost feel all of Bobby’s anger and stress and relief pressing into your body, and you’ve been a really shitty daughter but he’s still hugging you, and there’s no urge to let go.

It’s the same way he’d hug you when you were a kid. When you’d make the house go haywire, then curl into a corner and cry for hours. The hug that meant, even though you’d made a huge mess for him to clean up, Bobby was just glad you hadn’t killed yourself in the process. 

And you hadn’t.

But when Bobby speaks, his voice is still gruff.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ do that to me again, kiddo.” He mutters, low enough for only you to hear, and he knows you don’t need to hear the rest of the lecture. About how you damn near killed him, and he doesn’t need to lose you and Dean, so next time you should just come home. You can feel it all in his hug, and that’s enough.

“I won’t.” You whisper, squeezing him a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bobby pulls back, scanning over you with a tight frown. “You gonna tell us what had you off the face of the damn earth and needin’ stitches?”

You nod, rubbing your wrists as you speak. “I will later.” You lean around Bobby to see Sam still gaping at you from his chair. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam pushes out of his chair without another word, and Bobby barely side-steps him before you’re in another death-gripping hug, Sam almost crushing you into his body.

“Did you get bigger?” You mutter into his chest, and Sam snorts.

“I’ve had a weird seven months.” 

“Ah.” You lean back, and Sam stares down at you, but doesn’t let go. “Same.”

He swallows, and something flashes over his face that you don’t understand. “I, um- I’m sorry I didn’t look for you. Dean was gone, and I knew you’d take it worse than anyone, and you were kind of all I had left of him, so I really should’ve tried harder-“

“Sam.” You offer him a soft smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t make myself an easy person to find.”

He nods, taking a slow step back, and Dean clears his throat.

“Can I have a hug too, Princess?”

You give him a flat look. “I’ve hugged you three times already.”

“Yeah, but I also drove you home, I think that’s earning me another one-“

“I’m not running a hug-based economy, Winchester, they’re fucking free-“

Dean almost crashes into you, and you hadn’t realized how different Dean hugging you really was until you felt them all back-to-back. 

Sam and Bobby had been firm, and almost strangling, but they hadn’t been trying to move you into their body. They hadn’t rested their chin on the top of your head, or moved your face to press into their necks, and you hadn’t tilted your head to try and hear their heartbeats. 

Sam and Bobby had stepped back, after the socially allotted amount of time.

Even after Sam lets out a very loud cough, Dean still squeezes you one last time, and keeps his hand between your shoulder blades as he moves away.

That wasn’t overindulging. Dean had hugged you, and you’d only responded to the pace he’d set. You’d sunken a little further down, down, down into Dean because he’d given you to chance, and you’d curled your fingers at the nape of his neck because the situation called for it.

Still, you have to set another two rules.

Third, you can’t let it show on your face, where Sam and Bobby and anyone else who knows where to look can see. When Dean keeps talking—and he’s right next you, and you love him, and he’s so pretty—you can’t just stare at him with a stupid smile and soft, adoring eyes. It has to be business as usual, no matter what, where you love Dean and it’s kept locked in the Spiderweb.

Fourth, you can’t let it affect work. At all. You have to fucking pay attention as they fill you in on the seals, heaven and Lilith, some guy named Chuck wrote those books, and a girl named Anna who’s now a missing angel.

“Oh, wait, get this.” Sam leans forward, his eyes wide on yours. “Where’s the Blade and your book, there’s-“

You cut Sam off with a long sigh. “I lost them.” 

“You- How?”

“Hunters.” You mutter, twisting the skin on your finger, and Dean’s eyes narrow.

“You got a clue where they are, Princess?”

“Yes.”

Dean opens his mouth to push it, but Sam cuts him off before he gets the chance.

“Well, alright, Dean says you can write in the language too-“

You frown. “What language?”

“Cas and Uriel called it Enochian.” Dean mutters, running his hand over his face. “Angel language.”

“Angel what?”

“You heard him, kiddo.” Bobby shrugs at you, and you must still be clouded with sleep, because there’s no fucking way-

“I speak angel?”

“Yeah, but,” Sam sighs, frowning at the air. “We don’t know why, so if you’ve got something-“

You shake your head. “I’m not an angel, Sam, if that’s where you’re-“

“It’s not. Anna was a secret angel, and that was worked out in a month.” Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s gotten really long, but—and he’ll never get to hear this—it suits him. “It’s just better than nothing, right? Did you find anything new on, you know…”

You huff a soft laugh as Sam trails off. “Yeah, I know. And sort of. It’s- I was sort of visiting a bunch of witches-“

Dean pushed off the counter with wide eyes. “You were what-“

“Calm down, Deano.” You give him a firm look, and he scowls, but shuts his mouth. “None of them hurt me. They all treated me like I was some sort of royalty. It was really fucking weird.”

Dean frowns, opening his mouth to say something that’s likely going to be adorable and unhelpful, but Bobby beats him to the punch.

“They give you anythin’ to go off of? If they were treatin’ you like that, they had to know somethin’-“

You shake your head with a long sigh. “They didn’t have a fucking clue either. One older one, like really old, said the name for what I was is lost, but-“ Your eyes widen. “Fuck.”

“What-“

You shake your head, and Sam cuts himself off as you stare ahead into nothing and rub your wrists, letting your brain turn over the chance. It’s lining up, and it’s less than a gamble and more of a risk, but there’s no fucking way it’s that easy-

Dean says your name in a low, careful voice. “What are you thinking?”

“You remember how I thought the soulweapons were solemn oath weapons? And you told me that solemn oath means soul?” You run your thumb against your palm, and Dean nods. “I thought that was just, you know, whoever wrote it being weird or something. But if it really is a different language-“

“It is.” Sam mumbles, and you sigh. 

“Okay, but that means I’ve been translating in my head for some fucking reason, and what if I’ve been mistranslating other words like that?”

Sam frowns. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve been makin’ them literal.” Bobby grunts, giving you a small smile and nod, and you stand a little taller. “You thinkin’ of another word you need worked out?”

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Are you guys still kind of fighting with Castiel, or is he going to take a, uh, prayer?”

“He’ll take it if we say we’ve got something interesting. He’s nosy.” Dean starts to guide you to the table. “He’s kinda like a cat. Comes and goes. You’ll like him.”

You give Dean a sweet smile, biting down the words that you already met him, and he did seem a little like a cat. It’s not a lie. It’s an omission.

And that’s bad within itself, but at least until you see Castiel again—and he gets real fucking specific about what the angels have been waiting for means—you’ll have to keep omitting. 

Even if Dean pulls out a chair and helps you into your seat, and the Silver twists because there’s still some muss in his hair from sleep, and he’s still touching you, and you love him.

“I can walk myself, you know.” You raise your brows at him, and he shrugs, dropping in the seat between you and Sam.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”

“We both know you won’t-“

“Sammy, can we have some paper?” Sam passes Dean a sheet from his notebook, and it’s slid in front of you with a pen.

You blink at Dean, and he sighs, grabbing the pen and moving it into your hands.

“Write down what you want Cas to look at.” He mutters, tapping the paper. “So when we call him, we’ve got something to show him.”

“Oh.” You whisper, glancing down to the paper. “Right. Smart.”

You could swear Dean sits a little taller, his face breaking out in an even wider grin, and the rest of breakfast slides by fast. You do some loose, more pointless catchup about the past months—Sam found some new books he can show you, Bobby’s being a butthead and won’t tell you if he’s been dating, and Dean won’t stop reminding Sam that he needs to get moving to Texas soon—and for long, beautiful seconds, it’s hard to remember that you were gone at all.

But there’s evidence. Proof only you can see that you’ve change. That you’ve all changed.

Dean’s soul is still Golden, even if parts of it are to clearly new and molten from being mended, and Bobby’s soul is still green—although a little more worn, which is going to keep eating at your stomach—but Sam is…

Different. 

There’s more red, even when you give him a quick glance. It’s like blood seeping over his softer tissue and bone, and there’s certainly far less blue to his purple than before. It looks a little like an infection. It’s raw and malignant the same way the Darkness was, and the Silver doesn’t like it. It’s still setting off and keening to spread out over you in an almost chemical reaction. To burst and bubble and flow until all the red is gone, because it’s wrong.

You can’t really think of a good way to mention that to Sam. You’ve never told someone that their soul looks infected before. 

A problem for a later.

Because right now, as you finish up with the word—it takes longer than you’d like, but you’ve never tried to write in Enochian, and it takes an odd amount of effort to separate it in your brain—and you take the time to look at their souls fully, you see it.

Bobby’s soul is firm and pact, like the soil of the ground. Unwavering and firm, but not cold like stone. 

But Sam and Dean aren’t anything you’ve ever seen.

You’d noticed it, when Dean found you, but you’d been tired and chalked it up to exhaustion. Yet you’ve slept, and you’re looking with the intent of seeing, and they’re not anything.

Or they’re everything.

You can’t really tell.

But whatever they’re made of, it’s the same. It’s all light and shadow, shifting and turning like a star inside of them, and almost pure looking. Like it’s raw, but still made from something old. 

You can’t stare. If you stare, they’ll ask questions that you don’t have an answer for. Whatever it is, they’ve been made of it their whole lives, so it’s not another change.

And the changes all fit themselves—except for Sam’s, you’re a little worried about him—but they also still fit each other. You can see that too. How Sam’s soul is running with wisps of Bobby’s green, deeper coatings of gold that look a little like stitches over the redness, and a thin layer of silver that’s flowing through and off of him without leaving any scratches. The marks of silver are on Bobby as well, although a little brighter and further into the muscle of his soul, and then Dean-

Embedded.

You’re embedded in Dean. The rivers of silver as refracting with rainbow and have been almost buried in the Gold, and that’s what Castiel meant.

You don’t get to ask him about it when he arrives.

The introduction is quick. Dean says your name, Castiel—Cas is quicker, and suits him a little better—gives you a short nod, and you both stare at each other for a long second as Dean keeps talking. 

“We just need you to take a look at it.” He taps the paper, and Cas’ eyes flick away from yours, down to the paper.

“That is it?”

You nod, glancing down to the words. Word. When you’ve focused on writing it in Enochian, it’s obviously one word, no matter how it keeps shifting off the paper into four. “I, uh, I might have been giving it a literal translation, because nobody ever actually taught me what I was writing. I didn’t even know I was writing in a different language.”

“Enochian is… very old and complex.” Cas mutters, moving to frown down at the paper. “I do recognize this word, but I’m afraid I don’t know what it means.”

Dean frowns. “How can you not know what it means, it’s your freakin’ magic language-“

“Do you know every word in the English dictionary, Dean?” Cas gives him a bored, pointed look, and you have to cover your mouth to hide your giggle.

“No.” He grumbles, shooting you a glare. “And you’re supposed to be on my side, Princess.“

“I am.” You shrug. “But that was funny.”

Dean rolls his eyes, and Cas keeps staring down at the paper.

"There are some things I will have to check before I give you an answer." Cas turns to look at you, his words slow and cautious. "But I warn you, what I find may not be what you wish to hear."

"As long as it's something." You mutter, leaning back in your chair. "I really don't give a fuck what."

It's a few more minutes where Cas lingers in the kitchen, talking about some new seal Lilith is trying to break, and telling you that—wherever he has to look for the direct translation of your word—it may take him a few weeks to do it undetected.

"Won't the angels want us to figure it out?" Sam asks, frowning down at your paper. "I mean, you told Dean that not even you guys really know-"

"None of my siblings within my rank know." Cas corrects, shaking his head. "It is not information that has been deemed necessary. Our only orders are to keep out of it.”

"Then what's got you suddenly all in on helping her?" Dean raises his brows, and Cas shrugs.

"I am... curious. My brothers and sisters are dying, and if this is what I think it may be-“ Cas sighs. “I am willing to bend things. For this alone. And as long as we are careful, and the seal is dealt with-"

"Your big bosses won't be all pissed.” Dean finishes, running a hand over his face. "I dunno, Cas, that douchebag at Chuck's didn't seem too flexible about things."

"Aw." You give Dean a soft, teasing smile before Cas has to respond. "You're worried about him getting in trouble."

Dean scowls. "Yeah, because they'll freakin' smite him or something, Princess. Then maybe try to get you too-"

"They cannot smite her.” Cas shrugs. “They’ve been very clear about that. It would not be effective.” 

You swallow, but Dean relaxes. That opens up a million more questions, but Dean lets out a slow breath and presses his knee further into yours, and you almost say it again. 

And you know that there has to be a last rule. 

It’s most important of all. 

You can never say it aloud. 

It won’t bring Dean anything but more danger. More grief. Everything is only growing more and more complicated, and telling Dean you love him will only be cruel to you both. Telling someone else will force them to keep your secret, and that’s selfish. 

It will have to live in your head. Where only you can hear. Not even the mirror can know, because the Sky might be listening, and you never want it to touch Dean. 

You love him. 

You’re going to have to find a way to tell yourself that in more silence, because it’s not helpful to repeat. You’re aware. It’s a given. You love Dean.

And you don’t know how you convince him to go without you for the seal case. It’s a lot of promises of phone calls and check-ins, plus the fact that Ruby’s going to be there, and Sam is—rightfully—under the impression that you’ll kill the moment you see her.

“She left me at the gas station. She’s the reason I didn’t get to Dean on time.” You hiss to Sam—Dean, Cas, and Bobby wrapping up in the kitchen—and he sighs.

“She got kicked out of her vessel by Lilith.” He mutters your name, and you scoff. 

You don’t believe him. 

More accurately, you don’t believe what Ruby’s told him. 

But it’s still the right call to sit out the seal case. The angels are still hunting you. Cas is likely risking a fair amount by looking into the Enochian, and it’s better not to draw attention while things are still so fragile. You lie low at Bobby’s for a few days while Sam gets the Firebird, and you keep to your rules. Dean sleeps in your bed, but you only hold him when he holds you first. He hovers at your side like your stitches may rip open if you breathe wrong, and you keep your glances at him measured and controlled, your flush under complete control.

When Jo calls you with a case—bunch of deaths at an opera house, sounding like a lich—you agree to it in a second.

It doesn’t matter how the Silver howls at the idea of leaving Dean’s side. It can’t affect work, and you miss Jo, so even as Dean glowers at you when you hang up, you’re going to go on that hunt.

“I can’t just sit here, De.” You mutter before he can even open his mouth. “Cas said it could take a week, and if the angels are looking for me I shouldn’t be doing the seals-“

“You safer here.” He cuts you off with a grunt. “There are wards, and Bobby can watch you-“

“I don’t need watching. And you don’t get to fucking bench me-“

“I’m not- Son of a bitch.” Dean lets out a long breath, leaning forward and holding your gaze. “Just come with us. I really don’t give a shit if you kill Ruby, I’m all for it, but you just got back-“

“Dean.” You sigh, keeping your tone soft. “I’m not leaving. You and Sam will work the seal, and I’ll be with Jo the whole time.”

“But-“

“She asked me to help. I’m going to. And,” you give him a pointed look. “You can’t stop me. You can either go with Sam, or come on this case with me, but you’re not keeping me here.”

“Bossy.” Dean mutters, and you’ve won.

You want to lean forward and kiss him—at least on the cheek as a thanks—but that would be overindulging. 

Sam’s back by that night, and when the morning comes, you split up once more.

“Call me if it goes south.” Dean mutters your name as you stand in front of the Impala, Sam already in the passenger’s seat.

“It won’t. I know what I’m doing, Winchester-“

“Yeah, I know, just-“ He sighs. “You heading out to New York?”

“Boston.” You correct. “Citizen’s Opera House. We’ll be fine, and you guys can join us if you finish first.”

Dean gives a tight nod and, right before he turns to climb into the Impala, he whips around and pulls you right back into a crushing hug.

You hug him back without a thought, and it’s not breaking a rule. He hugged you. 

“Come with us.” He mutters in your ear. “Fuck the angels and Ruby, it’s safer together-“

“Not for this, De.” You force yourself to peel back, giving him a soft, sad smile. “And I’ll be with Jo. She’ll have a gun.”

Dean’s mouth twitches slightly. You’ll take it.

He presses a kiss to your brow before he takes off, and you really are a monster. A dragon. Taking every bit of Gold Dean gives you and only craving more. You can’t let it show on your face, but he’s driving away, and you want him to turn around. 

He looks back. You see him glancing in the rearview mirror, and it’s all you can do to keep the Silver in your body as he vanishes down the road.

He’ll be fine. Sam won’t let him get hurt, won’t let him be taken away from you, even if Ruby’s there. And you did miss Jo—grinning at you from the motel sidewalk as you pull into the parking lot—but this might have been a mistake.

Because more than anyone, you want to tell Jo. 

The biggest point of the case—at least to you—is to mimic some normalcy. Sam and Dean are trying to stop Lilith from something to do with flowers blooming at night, and if you can’t be with them, you can’t just do nothing. And lich are easy—up until the very end—so most of the case can just be you and Jo talking, like nothing in the world is wrong at all.

“It’s like a scavenger hunt.” You tell her over breakfast, flipping through the evidence she’s already found. “It’ll have a bunch of artifacts it’s tethered its lifeforce to, and once we burn all of those, we find the lich and burn it.”

Jo frowns. “Will it be easy to tell? If it’s a magic corpse?”

“It can illusion itself.” You shrug. “But it’ll just be an illusion, so-“ You pause, glancing down at Jo’s eggs. “I’ll tell you later.”

She grimaces. “It’s gonna be real freakin’ gross, isn’t it.”

“I think it’ll be better if I don’t answer that.”

“Great.” Jo sighs, poking at her plate with her fork. “Ya know, I didn’t think Dean was gonna just let you go off alone.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say nothin’-“

“Yeah, but I know where you’re going with it.”

“What?” Jo gives you a mockingly innocent smile. “That you two should save us all and start suckin’ face- Shit!”

You laugh as she barely manages to doge one of your apple slices, aim right at her head. 

“Fuckin’- I just did my hair-“

“Well I warned you.” You stick out your tongue, a wide grin still splitting your face. “I told you to shut up, and you didn’t.”

“You just don’t want to hear the truth-“

“Because it’s not the truth.”

“God, you’re fuckin’ stupid for the smartest person I know.”

You scowl. “Hey-“

Jo cuts you off with raised brows. “How many times Dean called you, since you guys split up?”

You flush, and do the smart and mature thing.

Ignore her.

But it still scratches at your tongue. You want to tell Jo. To lean forward and whisper that you love Dean, like it’s not something complicated. Like you’re just two girls in your twenties, eating greasy diner food and gossiping about crushes and other pointless, normal things.

You’re not, though. The very next thing you do is grab your knife and a set of matches, then get in the car to go kill a magic corpse. 

The first day really is just a scavenger hunt.

“This place is freakin’ fancy,” Jo mutters in your ear, adjusting the black cap on her head, and you hum in agreement.

“Just act like you belong.” You whisper, scanning over the lobby. “We’re new staff. I’m in hair and makeup, you do sound.”

“I don’t know how to do sound-“

“You don’t have to know.” You shrug. “We just need as much backstage access as we can get.”

“Right. Smart.”

You shoot her a grin. “I know.”

Jo scoffs. “Shut up. How are we gonna know what’s one of those life-objects?”

“The normal effort is a lot of cutting your hand and seeing if the object eats your blood-“

“Eats your blood-“

“But.” You raise your brows, and Jo sighs. 

“You’ve got something else, don’t you.”

“Nope.” You give her a wide grin. “You’ve got me. And the life force is just a faded and split form of their souls. So…”

You spread your arms, and Jo just stares at you. “So what?”

“I can see souls, Jo.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” She gives you a grimacing smile. “I kinda forgot. Lot been happenin’ this year.”

“Yeah. That’s fair.” You let out a long sigh, rubbing your palm as you scan around the lobby. “Ready?”

Jo nods, and for such a fancy place, it’s shockingly easy to lie your way into a fake job. 

“I didn’t know we had new people.” The small, pretty girl—sitting at the front desk with a bow in her hair—smiles between you and Jo, and you’ve never seen someone’s teeth be so white. “They never tell me anything, though, so don’t worry about it.”

“They didn’t tell us much either,” you give her an innocent nervous smile, glancing back to Jo over your shoulder. “Do you know where we’re supposed to go?”

The girl waves her hand. “Just walk into the stage. If someone yells at you, tell them to actually tell Lacy things instead of just expecting her to deal.” She pauses. “I’m Lacy, by the way.”

“I guessed that.” You glance to the doors. “Just walk inside?”

“Yeah, um, wait-“ Lacy slides two badges across the desk. “Take these, and uh, be careful. We’ve been having a lot of accidents.”

You blink like you have no clue what she’s talking about, passing Jo one of the badges. “Accidents?”

“There’s been a lot of crew deaths, right?” Jo jumps in with a perfect, fake-worried expression. “Is it gonna be affectin’ the jobs?”

She’s gotten really good at this.

You’re proud.

Lacy shakes her head. “No, bosses say it’s business as usual. Just really bad luck.”

Bad luck doesn’t usually end up making corpses look like they��ve been dead five years. 

Lacy doesn’t need to worry about that.

“Jesus fuckin’ Mary.” Jo’s eyes widen as you step into the house, the stage large and shining ahead of you, rows of red velvet seats around you. “Can we actually just work here? For real?”

You snort. “After we kill the undead wizard, sure.” 

“Right.” She gives you a teasing look. “You think Dean would wanna work mechanics, so you can stay together-“

“I’m going to push you off the balcony.” You say in a flat tone, marching up towards the stage, and Jo laughs before running after you.

“That’s fuckin’ rude!”

“I’m not listening!” You call over your shoulder, not bothering to hide your smile, and push yourself up onto the stage. “There’s nothing in here, by the way.”

“What’d you-“

“No souls.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Jo climbs up to your side, frowning around the house. “You know, I can play a mean triangle. Maybe they’d take me. Or- Dean told me you can sing, we can run away with the circus-“

“This is the literal opposite of a circus.” You mutter, turning to scan over the stage. “And Dean’s never heard me sing.”

You’re walking before Jo can push it further, because every single mention of Dean is going to make you want to tell her, and you can’t let this distract you from the job.

Lich cases really are easy, when you know what you’re doing. The first thing you find is a delicate, old hand mirror in a dressing room—crawling and twisting with faded gray tendrils—and Jo throws it against the wall before you can stop her.

“That do it?”

You poke one of the shards with your foot, and let out a long sigh. “Yeah. Somehow it did.”

“Awesome.” Jo grins at you, turning around the room with her gun in hand. “Now we fight?”

“There are going to be like, two or three more you know.”

“Three?” Jo gapes at you, and you snort. 

“Yep. Nothing else in here, though.” You start back towards the door, poking your head out the hall to check for other staff. “Jo?”

She sighs from behind you. “No more smashin’?”

You give her an apologetic look. “It’s kind of loud. And we can’t draw attention, or people will split us up.”

“But it’s fun, and it works-“

“You sound like Dean.”

“From you, I’m takin’ that as a compliment.”

You flush again, but you walked into that one.

You’re walking into most of these. The day passes quickly, and you manage to destroy another two artifacts—a comb and a fountain pen—before the building closes. There are no deaths when you leave for the night, but you really wish a stakeout was a plausible option, because most of the night is filled with Jo teasing about Dean.

Most of the whole next day is filled with teasing about Dean. You find a fancy gun with lifeforce, and Jo says you should give it to Dean. It doesn’t help that you would, if it didn’t need to be destroyed to kill the lich. It’s the exact type of gun Dean would like.

It wears off around the afternoon, though. Every single sweep of a room, you find another artifact, and it’s starting to drive you and Jo up the wall.

“You said three,” she grumbles as you drag another mirror into what you’ve deemed the destruction room. “This is more than three.”

You shrug, stepping back so Jo can smash, because she was right. It does work. “Yeah, well, this asshole must be strong.”

“How are we even gonna know when we’re done?”

“I’ll be able to see it, because all its lifeforce will be back inside its body.”

“So I don’t have to do the gross thing?”

You shake your head. “Once the objects are destroyed, you can’t do the gross thing.”

She frowns at you. “Which was?”

“Touching it.” You sigh, wiping your hands on your pants. “You’ll be able to. You know. Feel the deadness, right now.”

Jo wrinkles her nose. “But after?”

“It’ll make you the deadness.”

“Oh.” Jo blinks. “Fun.”

You hum, and move on to the next sweep. 

It doesn’t take all the artifacts being destroyed to work out who the lich is, though. Jo works it out herself by day three.

“Who even wears a monocle anymore.” You mutter, chucking this one at the wall yourself, and Jo tilts her head.

“I’ve seen an old guy doin’ it. The one who waves his hands, while the orchestra’s rehearsin’.”

You frown. “The conductor?”

“Yeah, him.” She pauses, staring into the air for a long second before speaking with slow, careful words. “That was his dressin’ room. And I ain’t seen that monocle on his face before. You don’t think-“

“If you think.” You shrug. “I’m on board. Be careful of the conductor.”

Jo grins, and you’re really proud of her. She’s got this whole case under control, to the point that she barely even needs you at all. She figures out that—as you keep looking everywhere, finding less and less with each sweep—it’s likely that there’s an instrument you won’t be able to get until the orchestras rehearsing again, and that you’ll have to be ready to fight the moment it goes down.

The lich hasn’t been killing since you showed up, though. It’s probably worked out that you’re not just new staff. Figuring out that it’s the conductor puts you back on even ground.

Jo figuring out that it’s the conductor.

You hadn’t even looked at the name on the dressing room, because Dean had texted you, and you’d gotten distracted.

You let yourself off the hook for that one, though. It wasn’t your love for Dean messing with your focus. It was the fact that he’d been blowing up your phone with how he was gonna fucking shoot Ruby in the face.

“I think you should.” You tell him over the phone that night, and he laughs through the speaker.

“I’m this freakin’ close, Princess. I’m serious. She’s a fucking bitch-“

“Do you want me to tell you not to?” You grin into the night air, leaning against the outside of the diner. “Because that would be lying, De, and lying is a sin-“

He snorts. “You were just telling me about how you spent the whole day committing property damage-“

“Which is a crime. Not a sin.”

“So you’re a criminal?”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Nah, I wanna hear you admit it-“

“You’re gonna be waiting a long fucking time, Winchester.”

“Alright. I got patience.” You can hear his smile over the phone, and your fingers are still painted in his Gold. It’s going to drive you insane. “Oh, and text me the address of the motel you’re staying at. Me and Sammy are wrapping this up.”

You sigh, ignoring how the Silver start to riot at the very idea of Dean, here, holding you all day and through the night, and why did you suggest splitting up in the first place, you haven’t slept well all week, and all you do is dream of him anyway-

“Dean, you don’t have to-“

“I know. But I’m gonna. And if you don’t text me, I’ll make Sammy do his computer magic to track you down.”

You sigh. You know he’s not lying, and that makes all of this harder. “You’re being dramatic again.”

Dean pauses, muttering something you can’t make out, but raising his voice before you can ask what. “C’mon. Do it for Jo, least she’ll be happy to see me-“”

“I’ll be happy to see you, De.” You cut him off with a frown at the air. “But the seal was all the way in Kentucky-“

“And I love driving.”

“I know, but-“

“Please,” Dean mutters, and that’s it.

He wants to. It’s not indulging if he wants to.

“Sam and Dean are coming to help.” You tell Jo as you slide back into the booth, and her grin is shit-eating.

“Aw, he wants to see you,” she hums when you hang up, and you flip her off without a word.

It’s not effective. 

“You guys are so cute, runnin’ around after each other, and callin’ every night-“

“I got shot.” You mutter, tracing your fingers over your stomach. You haven’t tried to fully heal it with the Silver. At this point, it would be pointless anyway. “He calls to make sure I’m not dead.”

“Cause he loves-“

“Jo.” You shoot her a glare over the table, and she scoffs.

“Why don’t you think he loves you?”

“I don’t want to talk about this-“

“I do! He at least wants you!” She sighs, leaning forward and holding your gaze. “You’re supposed to be smart, you know. Whenever people ask me about you, they ask you know the smart girl that-“

Jo cuts herself off with a sudden, strange expression, and you narrow your eyes. “That what.”

“I don’t remember.” She mumbles lamely.

“Joanna-“

“You don’t wanna hear it.”

“Well now I have to-“

“That Dean Winchester’s obsessed with!” She blurts, giving you an apologetic expression, and the whole world stops for a second. 

Obsessed with. And you’re embedded in him. And he’d apologized, on his knees, and put you to bed and let you crawl all over him and had never wanted you to leave-

“You were kinda all he talked about, before you got back.” Jo sighs. “I’m kinda shocked you ain’t together, after all that. I mean, everyone’s seen it, and if they ain’t seen it, they’ve heard about how you damn near died tryin’ to save him, and how he’s always smilin’ more when you’re at the roadhouse with him.”

“Jo.” You whisper, and the Spiderweb feels like it’s crashing down, down, down all while building and pulsing with light. “Please don’t. I- Everything is so complicated, and I-“

You can’t say it aloud.

And Jo only gives you a soft smile, reaching across the table and holding your hand. She’s such a pretty, soft blue, when you look over at her. Smooth and gentle like water, but still running and turning faster than any other soul you’ve ever seen. 

“I know.” She mutters, and you feel a little like a child. “I just need you to know, cause, God, I ain’t gonna be able to handle another year of y’all starin’ at each other like lost puppies. You’re happier together, and he drove to freakin’ Texas for you, then begged you to come home.”

You sigh. “I shouldn’t have told you about that-“

“But ya did. And if a guy did that for me, I’d marry him.”

“I-“

“I’m not sayin’ you marry him now. I’m just saying thinkin’ he don’t at least want you is insane. But,” she leans back, shrugging and giving you a small smile. “We can talk about somethin’ else now. How’d you get shot, anyway?”

You pause, giving Jo a careful look. She’s really just moved on that fast, her brows raised as she takes a bite of her burger, and you let out a long sigh. “You can’t tell Dean.”

“Ooo, it’s a secret-“

“It’s not a secret, I just don’t want him to-“

“Worry?”

You flush, glaring down at your plate. “Shut up.”

“I’m teasin’.” Jo says your name, giving you a firm look. “When have I ever told one of your secrets?”

That’s a fair point. She hasn’t. And the Spiderweb is still raw in your body as the world grows more and more vibrant, so maybe your judgement is clouded, but maybe it’s just Jo. And you sort of trust her more than anyone in the world. 

And you tell her everything. Studying witchcraft, and trying to look for ways to bring back Dean. How ever has been Silver since he died but it’s all still so painful and hard to control, and Ketch and Davis chasing you then holding you captive. The books—you need to ask them how that panned out, actually—and Enochian and the months on the road.

You leave out the Spiderweb and the Sky and Cas’ visit, for the same reason you won’t tell Dean you love him. That’s not their problems. You won’t make things more complicated than they already are.

But you do mention seeing Dean in Hell, mostly because you have to tell someone.

“Like- In Hell?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “And I, uh- I don’t think it was a dream thing. It was really realistic, and I saw-“

“You still don’t want him to know about this, right?”

You frown at her. “Yeah, wh-“

“Cause I can see Dean right now.”

Jo nods over your shoulder, you twist in your booth, and she right.

Dean’s standing at the door, his hands in his pockets as he scans over the diner, and when his eyes land on yours, a wide, bright grin splits his whole face.

You love him.

You’re going to fucking kill him. 

“We’ll finish later,” Jo whispers, and you give her a small nod right as Dean stops at your table. 

He’s so fucking pretty, grinning at you as he drops into at your side without a word, forcing you to scoot back so he doesn’t end up half on your lap, and looping his arm around the back of the booth like this is the most casual thing in the world. 

“What are two girls like you doing in a place like this, huh?”

“Dean.” You keep your voice firm, forcing yourself to ignore how he’s pressed his thigh right to yours without a thought. “You’re supposed to be in Kentucky.”

“Sammy’s got it. Rather be here anyway.” He shrugs like as if it’s nothing, already eyeing your fries because he’s a perfect idiot. “You ladies doin’ like a girls night or something?”

“We’re huntin’.” Jo says, crossing her arms and raising her chin, and you slide your plate over to Dean without a word.

He winks at you before he takes one.

You’re going to explode.

“I heard, kid. You know, extra hands never hurt-“

You snort. “Dean. What do you want.”

“Why do I have to want something.” His eyes flick right to yours, and he’s Golden, and you swallow. “Can’t I just be here-“

“What about Kentucky?” Jo pipes in, and Dean sighs.

“I already said Sam’s got it. What are we hunting?”

“We’re not hunting anything-“

“Lich.” 

You shoot Jo a glare, and she just shrugs. 

“We get to smash things,” she tells Dean, and he raises his brows.

“I can smash things, Princess.”

“Yeah, I know you can, De. Jo, if it’s just the instrument-“

“Then the lich is going to reveal itself.” She gives you a pointed look. “And the more people we have for that, the better.”

“Awesome.” Dean takes another fry, settling somehow further into the booth. Into you. “I’ll tell Sammy to call Bobby when he’s done, and we can gank this lich thingy.”

“Cool. But,” Jo shoots you a grin, and you’re going to kill her. “It’s funny you mentioned it, Dean, but we do have a girl’s night. You agree not to be a big whinin’ bitch about it, you can stay in our motel room.”

Dean pauses, glances over to you in a silent question, and death isn’t a firm enough fate for Jo. You’re going to leave her in a room with Bobby after you ask him about historical figures he thinks were secretly hunters or monsters.

You shouldn’t have trained her so well. It’s coming back to bite you in the fucking ass.

There’s nothing you can do but give Dean a small smile and nod—because he’s asking permission, but you split open the world if it meant not having to go another night without him on the other side of the bed—and mouth I hate you at Jo across the table. 

She only laughs, and you’re not going to kill her.

The rest of the night is going to kill you first.

Because you can’t stop seeing it, now that Jo has said something. Dean doesn’t ever just press into people like this, or offer anyone else fries with raised brows. And he fucking pouts when you say no, then grins when you roll your eyes and snatch the fry from his hand. Whenever Jo’s talking he’s listening, but you can’t stop staring at him from the corner of your eyes, and he glances over at you so often. And he helps you out of the booth, and pays the bill—you’ve never seen him volunteer to pay a bill, not unless he was trying to make a dramatic point—and walks you to your car like you don’t have a fucking knife in your jacket.

The jacket that’s always been yours, but he held onto when he didn’t even know if he’d see you again. And the knife he gave you, because he was worried about you.

His hand stays on your lower back with every step.

This isn’t good. 

Not when you can really never say it aloud.

Dean trails you back to the motel in the Impala, and while Jo had been exaggerating about girl’s night, you do have… rituals. 

There aren’t a lot of other girl hunters. And you love the men you’ve surrounded yourself with, but the one most secure in his masculinity is Rufus, and it’s still not pseudo-sleepover-secure. 

Because that’s a better description for this. Neither you nor Jo got real, stupid, fun sleepovers growing up, so it’s become a habit whenever you have a hunt together. A stupid game, or more stupid series of truth or dare—Dean is a banned truth topic for you, and get the most people to leave the bar is a banned dare topic for Jo after the fire incident—with snacks and a movie and-

“I am not doing a fuckin’ face mask.” Dean snaps at you, and you raise your brows as Jo snickers.

“You said you wouldn’t be a little bitch, Winchester.”

“I said whining bitch-“

“You’re still being a bitch.”

Dean scowls, eyeing the plastic in your hand like it’s a bomb set to go off. “What’s it even going to help with, my skin is fine-“

“Yeah, but it’s not-“ You glance down, having already forgotten which mask you chose. “Poreless.”

“I- I fuckin’ need my pores-“

“It’ll make you pretty, Dean.” Jo calls from her bed, and he flips her off. 

You sigh. “Not helpful, Jo.”

“Sorry, mom.”

Dean snorts, and you whack his arm.

“Whose side are you on, Winchester?”

He shrugs. “Whichever side gets me out of that mask, Princess.” 

“What if I say please?”

“Uh,” Dean sighs. “Maybe.”

“What if I say please,” you pout at him slightly, making your smile impossibly sweet. “And I promise not to stab you when you try to check my stitches later?”

“I wasn’t gonna-“ Dean cuts himself off at your pointed look, running a hand over his face. “Fine. But I get to actually check them, too.”

“Deal.” You lock your pinky with his quickly, shoving the mask into his hands before he can take it back. “Go wash your face.”

Dean doesn’t move. He only stares at you, and Spiderweb might as well be made of the Sun in your body, and your pinkies are still locked. His skin is rough, and warm, and feels right against yours, and he can’t look at you like that, or you’ll-

Jo coughs, and you pull yourself back together. 

“C’mon.” You fold your fingers fully through Dean’s and pull him after you into the motel bathroom. 

You sit on the sink for a better, and it’s a good excuse to touch him, as you smooth out the lines of the mask on his face. Taking more time than you need, with more careful fingers than necessary, because you just want to touch him a little longer. 

“Be honest.” He mutters as you move around his eyes, continuing after you hum an agreement. “I look stupid.”

“That’s not a question, De-“

“So I do look stupid-“

“You look very handsome.” You let your fingers trail down to his cheeks. “Stoic. Debonair and heroesque-“

“Alright, alright. I get it.”

“Everyone looks stupid in a face mask.” You mumble, pressing the sheet onto his brow. “You’re still working it pretty well.”

Dean gives you an odd look. “You’ll look good.”

It’s a good thing you didn’t bother with the full overhead light. Dean doesn’t need to see how your flush is spreading down your neck. “Thanks.”

He just shrugs, and the silence stretches on without tension as you try to focus on the mask, you’re touching him because of the mask, not to trace his sharp jawline and slightly crooked nose-

“Dad would kill me if he saw me now.” Dean chuckles suddenly, and your hands still on his face. 

“Because you’re with me?”

Dean shakes his head. “One of the reasons, yeah. Mostly cause I let Sammy talk me into ditching him for a girl.”

You frown at him. “Sam told you to go?”

“Apparently I was driving him insane.” Dean mutters. “He said he had it, and I should, uh, just freaking go to her.”

“Her?”

“You.”

You swallow, and he’s so close. You’re brushing over his lips as you keep holding his face, and the liquid of his mask is sticky, but you don’t really care. 

“Is my face supposed to be tingling?” He mutters, and pulls a soft giggle from your throat.

“Yep. That means it’s working.”

Dean frowns, but lets you keep touching him. And he does look handsome with the mask. It’s insane, and unfair, and even when you finish up, he doesn’t move away.

Neither of you are trying to move away.

And things are always complicated. They’ve always been complicated, but when he’s gotten the chance, Dean’s always stayed, and you can’t tell him that, but you have to tell him something-

“I’m really glad you’re alive.” You whisper, and he beams at you.

Full and happy and so fucking Dean—handsome and Golden and not yours, but still making the Spiderweb catch light and throw it around your body until you’re a little dizzy—and nothing about this is easy, but it still feels it. Dean is here, so pain is somehow foreign. 

You’re suddenly a little afraid of what you’d do to keep him safe, and away from the Sky, out of the angel’s reach.

“Yeah. I- I’m glad you’re alive, too.” He blinks, frowning into the air. “I mean- I’m glad we’re both alive. Uh, together.”

You smile at him, and in the low light of the bathroom, it’s a little like he has a halo.

You still don’t know what his soul is made of. You don’t really care. 

It’s still Dean all the same.

“All the way down.” You take a careful step back, but you’re cruel to yourself, so you let your hand fall back into his. 

It’s his gravity.

You’re never going to be able to pull away.

And if you could, you’d never able to bring yourself to try.

Because he grins, and says it back with a squeeze of your hand. 

“All the way down.”

And you know. It doesn’t matter what Cas comes back saying you are, or what heaven or hell wants from you. You know what you are. 

Dean’s.

You’ll be damnation or salvation or a whore or a monster for him. You’ll be wrathful god if that’s what it comes to. But you’ll be his.

All the way down.

——————

She’d fallen asleep on Dean’s chest. 

At some point during the movie She started to lean into him, and Dean could never be strong enough to push Her away. When Her eyes had started to flutter shut and Her face had angled in his body, he’d pulled her a little closer. When she’d let out a small, soft sigh, he’d been certain that the world could crumble and collapse around them, but he would just stay right fucking here.

Jo had been giving Dean smug, pointed looks when Her arms had wrapped around his stomach. And when he’d carefully moved his hand to brush a little hair from Her face, he’d kept his words to Jo low.

He didn’t want to wake Her up. Not when She was sleeping this well.

“Don’t say a freakin’ word.”

Jo had let out a soft laugh, her gaze never moving from the chick flick on the TV. “I ain’t said nothin’.”

“If you tell Bobby, he’ll-“

“Like Bobby don’t already know.” Jo had scoffed. “He’s old, not blind and stupid.”

Dean had swallowed—Bobby couldn’t know, nobody really knew—but kept going. “Fine, but if you tell Sam about anything tonight-“

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep all the girly stuff you did to myself.” 

“Okay-“

“But I am gonna tell him about this.” 

Jo had waved a loose hand to Her and Dean—their bodies now fully curled together, Her breathing even and steady, one of Dean’s hand stroking carefully through Her hair—and Dean’s jaw had clenched.

The only thing that has kept him from yelling at Jo was Her. She’d stirred slightly as he tensed, and he couldn’t disturb Her. 

And, selfishly, he couldn’t ruin this for himself.

This was the part of being Her shadow that he’d always wanted, but never dared to ask for. The part that was softer, and bloodless, and gave Her even more. Where he got to hold Her and touch her like no one else, and She was safe as long as Dean was at her side. The part that could maybe lead to his hands on bare, soft skin, to Dean being allowed to kiss a little more than Her brow when he could get away with it. 

He didn’t know how to earn that. Hell, he hadn’t even earned this. He could never fucking earn it. She’d told him that She was what they hunted, but that was fucking insane because nobody in their right mind could want to hurt Her. It would take more than a monster to grab something rare and beautiful and destroy it, rather than orbit around it and follow it all the way to the edge of the earth, then down. Dean was the one who’d barely become better than a demon, but the very last fucking thing separating him from the black-eyed sons of bitches was that he still had things to defend. 

No matter how Sammy was driving him insane with the Ruby bullshit, Dean still defended him because that was what he did. Sam was still a kid, and he was smart as shit but he could never handle all the blood and guts the same way Dean was crafted for them. It was the same way She fit so well into Dean, but She could never been made for the mud and darkness. Dean was Her shadow to keep as much of that from Her hands as he could. 

She’d chosen to be here, with Dean. To come home and forgive him for things She shouldn’t ever have to know about, and the angels could forget all their fucking plans, because if She told Dean she wanted Lilith to open the seals and to let the world burn, he’d let it fall apart without a single fucking question.

And She wouldn’t do that. She was made of too many good things, and full of too much light to want the world to be ash. It wouldn’t be any place for Her, so Dean wouldn’t let it happen. 

This was the place for Her.

At Dean’s side, where he could watch over Her and silently crave more until She decided he’d earned it. Because it would never matter what Dean had done until She said it was too far, then the last piece of him that Alistair hadn’t carved into would become the very ash he was trying to save Her from.

“You call her Princess, don’t you.” Alistair sneered, and Dean didn’t respond, only staring at the different weapons before him. “Answer me, boy.”

He hadn’t. It was one of the last lines Dean had for himself. He’d rip himself and a million other souls apart, but he’d never let Alistair touch on the fucking idea of Her or Sammy. It was his last apology to them. The last way he had to protect them, when—if they saw him now—he’d beg them to drive Ruby’s knife right into his ribs to save themselves.

His silence always ended with a little extra torment. Dean could live—or die—with that. It was what he deserved.

“I’ve warned ya.” Alistair hissed Her name in his ear after. “She’d got a special spot on my rack, when I drag her down here. I might not be supposed to hurt her, but I ain’t ever cared ‘bout the rules before. Nothing gonna fuckin’ stop me anyway.”

Dean had tensed, and Alistair had laughed in his ear.

“You think you’re gonna save her? That she’d want you to save her? Be your Princess’s shining white knight and sweep her away into the sunset? Here’s a new lesson for you, Dean. Nothin’ can save her, and if I’m bein’ honest, she might be better off down here, with me. I’m not man of god, and maybe,” Alistair’s breath had been hot over Dean’s face as he’d been yanked up by his hair. “That’s exactly what she fuckin’ needs. Maybe she’ll beg me to hurt her. I’ve heard what a little masochist that one is.”

Dean jolted awake in a cold sweat, the sound of Alistair’s laughter still echoing around his skull. It was just another nightmare. She was still right at his side. His hand was touching the bare skin of Her arm, and when he dared to draw small circles with his thumb, She hummed and let out a soft sound Dean would like to hear for the rest of his life. 

Cas needed to hurry up on that translation. The sooner they had better idea of what She was, the sooner Dean could handle those certain nightmares better. 

They’d never go away.

But at least he’d be able to wake up, look at Her, and know nothing would touch Her. That Lilith couldn’t grab Her and use her against them, and the angels might not want Her around, but they could never hurt Her, and She was—as long as he used all the sharper and bloodied parts of himself right—safe at Dean’s side. 

Or across the room from him, or in his car, or holding his hand and pulling him into the fanciest fucking building he’d ever seen. Wherever he could see Her, and orbit around Her. 

Maybe crash down to his knees before Her, because that had worked real well in his favor last time, and there was really no other proper response to Her when she looked like that.

She really was a fucking Princess. This dress was worse than the one last year. Silk, falling over Her body like it was made for Her—most of the world was—and showing Dean too much for him to properly, but still not enough to satiate him, because was a greedy son of a bitch.

He didn’t have a goddamn clue where She’d gotten such fancy outfits on such a short notice, but he knew his tie wasn’t strangling at his throat because She’d carefully adjusted it before they left the motel. Standing only a long breath away, every bit of Her blinding and beautiful as she chewed at Her lower lip, going over the plan one last time.

“There might be multiple instruments.” She’d said, glancing over her shoulder to Jo, who was working on balancing  in her heels. “Once I find what they are, we have to move fast. Smash them, burn them, whatever you need to do. Then the conductor will be in raw form, and if I can see him, I’ll give you the all clear to burn him. Dean, we have to take separate cars-“

Dean had scowled. “No-“

“We’re about to burn a man alive at a public event.” She’d said with a flat voice. “Once we finish, we have to book it. And I am not making Sam take the bus again. Finally,” Her fingers had stilled on Dean’s chest, Her voice dropping to a soft, firm tone. “Don’t let it touch you. It’ll turn you into a puppet corpse.”

Jo had gaped at Her. “A what-“

“Puppet corpse.” She’d sighed. “It’ll kill you then use your body like a puppet.”

“Oh. Gross.”

Dean had cleared his throat. “Can we go back to the car thing-“

“No.” She’d turned on Her heels, tangled Her hand in Dean’s, and pulled him out the door.

And Alistair hadn’t been wrong that Dean wasn’t a white knight, but he was still Her’s. She was brilliant, and as long as it wasn’t putting Her in direct danger, Dean would do whatever the hell She asked. If She needed an army, he’d been a million fucking soldiers. If She needed a guard, he’d turn into a shield.

If She needed him to stand off to the side of a stage while a lady sang in loud, high sounds and She frowned the orchestra, he’d do that. 

He was even allowed to keep his hand on Her lower back. 

“De.” She whispered, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, and he glanced down to see Her attention fully fixed on the area below them. “It’s the harp.”

Dean followed Her gaze to the instrument. “You sure?”

She nodded, and Jo’s voice crackled in their ears. “Is there only one?”

“Yeah.” She whispered, scanning slowly over the area once more. “But- Shit, there are so many people here, Dean we’ve gotta-“

Dean nodded. “Jo, you’re in the sound booth thing, right?”

“Uh huh. I think I’m actually gettin’ the hang of this, too.” Jo hummed Her name. “Turns out I can do sound. You want me to steal more earpieces before we go?”

A small smile tugged at Her lips, and She gave Dean an amused look as she spoke. “We’ve already stolen three, and we’re about to totally ruin their performance. I think that’s enough.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jo paused. “Were you tryin’ to talk to me, Dean?”

She giggled, eyes dancing with amusement, and Dean couldn’t really be that annoyed if this was making Her so happy. “Yeah, I’m thinking you can cut all the sound to the audience, we can run out, get it done in the confusion, then get out.”

“That’s good,” She muttered with a nod, and Dean stood a little taller. “Maybe- Jo, can you just amplify the speakers? If you get them loud enough it’ll start a feedback loop, and we’ll get a good-“

“Cover?” Jo finished Her sentence, and Dean could hear the grin in the girl’s voice. “On it. You want a countdown?”

“One second.” She turned to Dean with a firm, determined look. “Go for the harp. I’ll take care of the conductor.”

There was no fucking way Dean was letting Her do the more dangerous thing. That was supposed to be what he was here for-

“And before you argue, if it’s not the conductor, I’ll be able to see who it is. You won’t.”

Son of a bitch, that was a good point. And She had that shining, fluttering look in Her eyes as Dean just glared at Her, the one where she knew She’d already won. “Princess-“

“Please, De.” 

God fucking damnit. “Fine.”

She gave him a wide, sweet smile, and raised Her hand to her ear. “Ready, Jo. Turn it up.”

“Alright.” Jo hummed, and Dean’s fingers started to curl onto the bare skin of Her back. “Three.”

Dean didn’t like this. Something was tight in his gut, and She’d hunted these things before and been just fine alone—with Dean or Jo there to help Her—but this felt wrong-

“Two-“

He muttered Her name, and She gave him a smile, and it was only making him feel sick because something was off about this-

“Go.”

A loud, screeching noise echoed through the theatre, people started shouting as it pierced into their skulls, and Dean had to force himself not to grab Her and hold her to his chest until it all just passed. 

None of this would pass unless he did his job.

Smash the harp. All Dean had to do was smash the fucking harp. Break it into pieces so She could burn this lich asshole.

Dean could break something. He really was good at breaking things, and breaking something for Her might be the easiest job he’d ever had.

He ran into the pit, shoving his way through the orchestra and ignoring people shouts of protest. His ears felt like they were going to fucking bleed, but he’d felt worse, so Dean pushed through it. 

The harp was heavier than Dean had thought it would be, when he reached it.

It still broke easy.

Dean threw his whole body against it, the instrument fell to the floor, and when the first piece of wood snapped off, all hell broke loose. 

People were screaming and running around—that had been a given, the rich idiots probably thought they were under attack—but over all of it, Dean could hear Her, shouting his name.

He turned right in time to see the conductor running right towards him, hands outstretched, and fuck-

Dean dodged as She screamed, and started to fumble in his pockets for his lighter, where was his fucking lighter, he was tripping over abandoned trumpets and seats as the conductor continued to swing at him, and where the fuck was his lighter-

There was another scream of his name, and Dean looked up to see the conductor only fucking inches away, and that couldn’t be good, but right before slightly shriveled hands closed around Dean’s face, the man stumbled back and screeched.

Loud, and echoing through the theater, his whole body writhing, seeming to flicker and wither and-

“Son of a bitch.” Dean muttered as the lich’s illusion fully faded, his body a sticky, browned and boned corpse. “You’re one ugly asshole.”

The lich only screeched again, and as it fell to its knees, Dean looked up to find Her standing on the edge of the stage.

Dean had only seen Her use her thing once, when Lilith had attacked them. And that had only been a primal, feral scream ripping through Her body as Lilith released him with a cruel laugh.

This was different. 

There was no proper way to describe it, but She didn’t look like a human. Or a monster. Or a demon, or angel, or witch.

She looked like Her, turned up to a goddamn million. Everything closer to Her body was more colorful. Her hair was impossibly shinier, and Her skin seemed to be glowing, and Her eyes were fucking bright. 

Her pupils weren’t black anymore. They were silver. 

Dean had never seen anything more terrifyingly beautiful in his life. And when the lich turned to slime at their feet—sinking back into the floor and vanishing like there had never been anything at all—whatever had been amplifying Her seemed to collect back into Her body, her eyes focused right on Dean’s.

He almost fell to his knees again. This was the siren or goddess he’d been silently worshipping since he met Her. This was the royal, ethereal woman he wanted to serve for the rest of with worthless life. And it was just Her, but it was all of Her, and Dean wanted fucking all of Her-

He didn’t see it until it was too late. 

The woman behind Her. 

Not a woman. The illusion of a small young woman—white-teethed with a bow in her hair—vanished the moment the lich grabbed Her around the wrist.

There were two. 

There were fucking two, and Dean wasn’t goddamn fast enough.

The only reason he could hear his roar over the blood in his ears was because it echoed around the theater. And She wasn’t even fucking fighting the thing, She’d gone slack and pale, and Dean was sprinting over the abandoned instruments to get to Her, yanking his gun from his jacket and aiming it right at the ugly bitch’s fucking face.

The shots didn’t kill it, but the lich released Her and stumbled back, falling right on the floor as Jo sprinted out from the backstage.

Jo’s lighter dropped, and the lich died with a scream.

But the fire didn’t slow or die. It only spread across the stage, and Dean was going to have to add arson to his rap sheet again, but he really didn’t fucking care.

All that mattered was Her, pallid and backed into the wall, rubbing at her wrists like she’d been branded.

Dean wasn’t sure if the whole corpse puppet thing was contagious.

That was another thing he really didn’t fucking care about.

“Hey,” Dean muttered Her name as he grabbed her face between his hands, forcing Her slightly glazed eyes onto his. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay-“

“It touched me.” She cut him off with a whisper, and Dean’s grip tightened. “Dean, it touched me-“

“I know.” He grunted. “I know, Princess, but it’s- we’ll fix it.”

She shook Her head, still scratching at Her wrists and Dean did the only thing he could think of. He stroked his thumb down the bridge of Her nose until her breathing was relaxed, and she’d slumped forward into his arms.

“Dean?” Jo called from behind them. “I- uh, we should go before the building burns down.”

Dean nodded an acknowledgment, but She wouldn’t be able to run. She was too pale, shaking in his arms and starting to draw blood with Her nails- 

He knocked Her hand away, She made a whining noise, and this was not allowed to be it. He was not fucking losing Her like this, he’d call another fucking demon deal or trap a million fucking angels until they performed a miracle, or-

Cas. He needed to call Cas. 

But first, he had to get Her out before the building killed all three of them. 

Dean pressed a quick kiss to Her brow, and hauled Her up bridal-style into his arms, and the moment Jo was at his side he was moving. Out the back into the cold air of an alley, down the streets until they were at the Impala and the Firebird. 

“Here’s the plan.” He grunted, raising up to face a pale-faced Jo on the sidewalk. “You’re taking her car. Drive for forty minutes west, then stop at the first motel you see. Call Sam on the drive, tell him what happened.”

Jo nodded, catching Her keys with shaking hands. “What about- Dean, I’m- We thought there was one-“

“Jo.” He snapped. “Just fucking go.”

“Is she gonna be okay-“

“Yes. Go.”

Dean’s short, firm words got Jo to move, but he didn’t have a fucking clue if She was going to be okay. She wasn’t turning into a corpse, but She was still colorless and silent, and Dean was praying to Cas the whole fucking ride but they didn’t have a goddamn timeline on this, it might already be over-

It couldn’t be over. Dean had only just gotten Her back, and he’d meant it.

He wasn’t losing Her.

She’d know how to fix this. She knew everything, and She was a genius, so if Dean could get Her to speak, he’d do whatever she said needed to be done to fix this.

Jo met them right where she was supposed to, and Dean gave short orders for her to just keep fucking praying to Cas until he showed up. 

“C’mon.” He muttered Her name, moving her to the edge of the bed and kneeling down, keeping his thumb running down her nose and scanning over Her slack face. “I need you to talk to me, I don’t have a fucking clue how to do this, Princess, I- I fucking need you, c’mon-“

Something was wrapping around Dean’s lungs. He wouldn’t fucking lose Her. Not like this. It was all his head could loop around because fuck, this would kill Jo, and he’d never be able to look at Bobby again, and he would’ve gotten Her back for barely a week just to prove Alistair right.

She was better anywhere without Dean. He’d do anything for Her, but anything wasn’t enough, and She’d survived all those months without him, but the moment he’d gotten back he’d killed Her, he’d fucking broken the one that had always seemed permanent, and he was a vile piece of shit from lower than the mud, and Dad should’ve killed him. Instead of threatening and hurting Her, Dad should’ve pressed a barrel to Dean’s head and shot him. It would’ve saved everyone a whole lot of grief if Dad had gotten some fucking clarity and killed Dean instead, or just let him die in that goddamn hospital-

“Dean.” She whispered, blinding eyes finally focusing on his. “You need to go.”

He stared at Her. “What.”

“Before it hits. I- I can’t feel it, but once it kicks in-“

“You’re going to be fine.” He snapped. This wasn’t a conversation he was going to have, because it wouldn’t matter when She was fine, and they were driving back to Bobby’s like nothing had happened at all. “Cas is coming, and I’ll grab whatever we need to slow this down-“

“There’s no slowing it down.” She gave him a small smile, and Dean’s heart might be trying to claw its way out of his throat. “It’ll be better to burn me. So nothing finds my body.”

“Shut up.” He grunted, his hands tightening on Her thighs. She wasn’t moving away, and maybe if he held tight enough, that would keep Her together. “We’ll fix this, there’s always a way to fix this-“

“Not here, De. I- I’m-“ She started to rub Her wrists, letting out a slow breath. “I could do it myself, but I can’t even feel it, I’d have to feel it to know what to fix-“

“Then maybe you’re fine-“

“I don’t want to risk it.” She mumbled. “Please go.”

“No.”

“Dean-“

“I’m staying right fucking here.” He hissed, rising up on his knees to look Her in the eyes. “And that’s it. You try to kick me out and I’ll come right back in, Princess, I did not spend so goddamn long waiting for you only to lose you-“

“You can’t lose me.” She whispered. “You’ve never been able to lose me. I-“ 

She swallowed, Her eyes starting to go glossy, and Dean wouldn’t let the sting in his own take over. There was nothing to mourn about, because She was going to be fine-

“I’m here.” She pressed Her hand to his chest, and he wasn’t breathing. “All the way down.”

Dean stared at Her. 

He didn’t have enough words for Her beauty. He never had. He’d never been good at words, or saying the right thing, or knowing when to stop or how to keep something. And he’d let the world use him and beat him however it wanted—crawl right back onto Alistair’s rack or pick up only torture instrument until he was a demon—if he got to break that last pattern. Dean could replace words with actions, replace saying the right thing with doing the right thing, and replace knowing when to stop with going until his soul gave out. 

He couldn’t replace Her. Keeping Her was the only option, if She’d have him.

But losing Her to something other than Her own will was simply not on the goddamn table.

Dean had prayed before. Since the angels had showed up, he’d been praying to Cas a lot. 

But he’d never prayed to God. 

And it was all he could do now. This wouldn’t be it. Nothing holy or good owed Dean any favors, but the fucking universe owed Her. It couldn’t let Her go, because She was too good for all of it, and Dean needed Her.

She was the universe. She was bigger and brighter than God, and wherever the hell that asshole was—if he was even real at all—he better be fucking listening because Dean needed Her, and maybe She was God and he just needed to pray and worship Her instead.

The thought moved through Dean’s whole body. He needed to tend to Her. That was what he could see. What he could know. What he’d always known. 

He rose slowly, never breaking Her gaze. Giving Her time to move away as he inched closer, cupping one hand on Her face and bracing the other on the mattress, stopping where if he spoke, Dean’s lips would brush Her’s.

There was no mistaking what he was daring to attempt. No way for Her to miss it, and be caught off guard. A long, strained moment where Dean gave Her the chance to shove him away and curse his name back to Hell, and at least then he’d know. That he’d always be in Her orbit, but to Her, Dean was just another thing, trying to sit in Her light. 

But She wasn’t moving. Her eyes were wide on his, yet She wasn’t looking away. Her fingers were curled on his shirt, and Her breath was heavy from her nostrils.

He licked his lips because he couldn’t fucking help himself, and She flushed, Her breath hitching, and Her mouth falling slightly open.

There it was.

Dean crashed down, and kissed Her.

And he’d never been good with words.

But this didn’t need any.

It was all movement and feeling. Her lips fit even better against Dean’s than he’d ever been able to imagine, and every single bit of desperation he threw into Her, she threw right fucking back. Dean bit at Her lower lip and She moaned, right down his fucking throat as She opened further for him, but when Dean got to press his tongue into Her mouth and have more, She pulled it between Her teeth and swallowed Dean’s groan with the best sound he’d ever fucking heard escaping from her throat. 

She tasted like coffee and sugar and that fucking fruit, Dean could taste the fruit and he was going to get addicted, but there were worse fucking vices to have. At least this one had Her wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging at his shirt to get him closer, She wanted Dean closer and he’d have to be fucking insane to deny Her.

When he pushed deeper, moving Her down to lie flat on Her back and never fucking breaking the kiss, She let him. She let Dean have fucking all of it. He got to overtake Her quickly, and She was responding to all his silents pleas for more and shivering under his touch when he grabbed Her waist and trailed his fingers down, down, down, to the bare skin of Her thighs-

“Dean.” She gasped against him, arching slightly off the mattress, and if God didn’t take his prayer, Dean would put all his torture skills to some good fucking use until the son of a bitch promised to never let anything hurt Her again. 

Until then he’d keep Her caged safely between the mattress and his body, devouring every single sound he was learning so fast to pull from Her body with only his mouth. They were all somehow better than last, and Dean had never felt this fucking high from just a kiss-

A foreign noise breached through Dean’s skull, and he sat up in half a second, pulling Her with him and burying Her tight into his chest. Anything that wasn’t Her or Dean was a fucking threat and-

It was Jo. When Dean twisted around with a deadly glower it was just Jo, and maybe he’d gotten a little too intense about that. 

But She was still in danger. The lich had still touched Her.

“Dean." She shoved at his chest, Her words muffled in his body, and he loosened his grip until She could twist against him.

But She stayed against him. Small victories.

“How, uh-“ She swallowed, and Dean glanced down to see Her rubbing at her wrists. “How long have you been there?”

“Few minutes.” Jo mumbled, staring at the floor, and Dean realized the girl’s whole face was red. “I’m sorry, I just- I didn’t stop it cause I was happy for you, but then I realized it was just gonna keep goin’, and, uh, sorry-“

“Jo.” Dean muttered. “What-“

“Cas is here.” Jo gave Dean a nervous look. “I prayed to him.” 

Dean sat a little taller. She would be fine. “Tell him to get his angel-ass in here and fix her-“

“There is nothing to fix.” Cas was very suddenly in the room, and Jo squeaked in surprise.

“Fuckin’ Christ-“

“My apologies.” Cas said with a small, grimacing frown. “You told me to wait until I was summoned, and Dean did just say to get my ass in here. My ass can’t be here without the rest of me, so-“

“Cas.” Dean gave him a flat look. “Focus. What’d you mean there’s nothing to fix-“

Cas said Her name slowly. “She is in perfect health.”

She frowned. “But the lich-“

“You are not in danger of any lich infection.” Cas shrugged. “It is not possible for your kind to succumb to any sort of preternatural disease, curse, or weapon. At most you will have felt a little sick, but it will have already passed.”

“My-“ She cut Herself off, setting up tall and straight, and Dean caught it. 

What Cas had implied. .

“My kind?” She whispered, Her eyes wide. “Did you- You figured out what I am?”

Cas sighed, and nodded. “I cannot offer a full explanation- The word you gave me is ancient. Uncommon. I would not call it taboo, but it is mostly lost with purpose.”

Dean frowned. “You mean on purpose?”

“No, Dean. With purpose. It has been deemed better for mortals to know as little as possible. Even we are not fully able to comprehend it.”

“Cas.” She muttered, rubbing Her thumb over her palm. “Please just say it.”

Cas let out a long breath. “You are the Magdalene.” He said Her name, watching her carefully as he continued. “They are the oldest and rarest breed of witch, although witch is a… crude term. You are made of the magic witches learn to harness.”

She swallowed, Her voice impossibly soft. “I- I’m a Magdalene.”

“No. You are the Magdalene.”

“Cas.” Dean grunted. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Cas sighed, still not moving from his place beside a wide-eyed Jo. “There is nothing in heaven’s record or knowledge about where Magdalene’s come from. They simply… are. Impossibly rare, and powerful. Dangerous. There is maybe one born every five hundred years, with the rare exception of two existing at once around the end of what your historians call the Common Era.” Cas said Her name again, and Dean was a little worried She wasn’t breathing. “You are the most powerful one recorded.”

“Oh.” She mumbled. “Cool. I- Doesn’t that probably mean whatever, um, Magdalene comes after me will be more powerful?”

Cas shook his head. “Heaven has monitored Magdalene’s since Lilith-“

Dean went rigid. “Lilith? What the hell does that bitch have to do with-“

“She’s a Magdalene, isn’t she.” Her words were still soft, Her attention still trained on Cas. “She said she was like me. That I was her descendent.”

Cas gave Her a grimacing, apologetic nod. “It is a biological trait, yes. There are complexities to it I do not think you’ll care to understand, but before Lilith was a demon, she was the first Magdalene. She had daughters, and they had daughters, and-“

“It led to me.” She muttered, and Cas nodded.

“The birth of a Magdalene has always heralded danger. Change. Lilith brought on demons, Avva, a goat-keeper in Sumar, brought on writing and calendars, and a consort in ancient China name Fu Hau introduced witchcraft to non-natural born-“

Dean sighed. “Man, we’re not here for a history lesson-“

“I am getting to my point, Dean.” Cas’ voice remained flat, his attention returning to Her. “The most powerful Magdalene’s before you were Cleopatra VII Thea Philopato, who brought about the Roman Empire, and Mary-“

“Magdalene.” She finished, Her eyes widening. “Is it- If it’s that old, how can it be named after her?”

“It isn’t.” Cas shrugged. “Magdala was the home of Lilith, as a human. It is simply what you would call coincidence.”

“Cas.” Dean grunted. “The point.”

Cas sighed. “Mary brought on the invention of the human religion, Christianity, which has been… impactful. Both her soul, and that of Cleopatra’s, had a sliver of the Magdalene power.”

Jo frowned, her voice small as she jumped in. “A sliver? How much is in a sliver?”

“My best estimate would be 2.159%.” Cas said. “Although I do not think Dean would want a math lesson on top of my history.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and She let out a soft laugh, even as Her nails started to dig into Dean’s skin.

Better than it being Her own.

“Cas?” She said carefully, and they were already looking at each other like there was a silent conversation Dean and Jo weren’t allowed to be a part of. 

Cas said Her name, bowing his head slightly, and She swallowed.

“How much of my soul is… Magdalene.”

“Half.” Cas muttered, giving Her an apologetic look, and She was going to draw blood. “And from what I have found, that should not be possible.”

“Oh.” She was almost fully curling into Dean’s body. He chanced one arm snaking around Her side, and She held it there.

Small, horrible victories. 

“It is likely why you were able to walk into Hell.” Cas said, looking only at Her, and Dean froze.

“What’d you mean, walk into Hell.” He hissed, looking between Her and Cas. “You’ve never been to Hell, Princess, and nobody just walks in-“

“I- I know, De, just-“ She shot Cas a glare. “You have horrible timing.”

Cas frowned. “I will- is that something to improve?”

“Yes. We’ll talk about it later.” She sighed, giving Dean a careful, soft expression that made something in him balk.

She couldn’t have walked into Hell. Something would’ve grabbed Her, Alistair would’ve known and seen Her and hurt Her, and Dean felt like a million fucking bricks were being pressed down onto his chest. 

“I sort of,” She took a deep, long breath, and whatever it was, Dean kind of didn’t want to hear it. “Could see you, sometimes. In Hell.”

“See me.” He grunted, and She nodded. “When.”

“Every night.” She whispered. “I was- I saw Cas saving you. That’s how he knows.”

She wasn’t lying. 

And there wasn’t a place low enough for Dean in the universe. She’d seen everything. And he’d be able to just beat himself and ignore the bruises if it hands only been his torture, but She’d seen parts of what he’d done. The souls he’d ripped and broken, and there had to be something worse than Hell, for things like Dean. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, and She wasn’t pulling away. 

Dean didn’t know why She wasn’t pulling away. This was the reason. More than an out, a neon sign begging Her to take the exit door, yet She was still here.

He’d never understand Her. She wasn’t caving under any of this, just looking back to Cas and staying pressed to Dean, and She knew, She’s known, how has She known and not fucking left-

“What now?” She asked, and Dean had to focus.

It wasn’t about him, now. If he was going to keep doing the shadow thing right, it was about Her.

“You will need to be careful.” Cas said slowly. “There is more, that I was not able to access, and once it is known that you have reunited with the Winchester’s, precautions may be taken.”

“What-“

“I am not able to say, but mostly because I do not know. I have already lingered too long. Jo. Dean,” Cas gave them both nods, then said Her name with the same movement. “We will talk later.”

She blinked, something flashing over Her face that Dean didn’t understand, and Cas vanished. 

None of them spoke. There was nothing to say. Too much had changed from the morning, and it was all so fucking complicated, and God, Dean really fucking hated that word.

But She was still in Dean’s arms. A hand over his on Her stomach, that fucking fruit smell invading his sense as She leaned slightly further into his body. Into Dean.

So as long as he could manage, Dean wasn’t going to let Her go.

End Note: The emotional whiplash Dean just went through... someone get him like a blanket or something. (Also 300k words to kiss. They're insane)

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Seventeen (19)

Day: Friday, April 26th / 27th* Time: 7:05 PM EST

"You two could at least say hello," Wymack says, somewhat aggrieved. "There's no point," Kevin says. "All they are is a distraction." "It's called a support network. Look it up." "Thea is watching from South tonight," Kevin says, looking to the elevated VIP box. It is too far away and too high up for Neil to make out any faces, but there is a small crowd gathered at the windowed walls already. Knowing the Court is here to watch them play sends a chill through Neil's veins. Kevin drags his stare back to Wymack's face and says, "and my father comes to all of my games. That is enough." On Wymack's other side, Abby's gaze softens. Wymack's jaw works for a moment before he can say in an even tone, "Your mother would be proud of you." "Not just of me," Kevin says in a rare bout of humanity.

Art used with permission by Kevinkevinson. Thank you @kevinkevinson!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 20

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

A/N: omg i'm sorry i know i said i'd post on monday but work is busy and i'm getting ready for a month long trip so i didn't have time to write and post but yeee here we are

When Rafe opens the front door to see his teary eyed girlfriend, he’s hit with a torrent of emotions. Worry and anger battle, but the first thing he does is wrap an arm around Isla’s waist and pull her in for a hug. He knew it; he had an awful feeling that shit might hit the fan between Isla and her sister by the end of their shift, and the sight of Isla’s red rimmed eyes and pink nose proves him right. 

Rafe holds her close, her head against his chest and his free hand at the back of her head. “Are you okay?” he asks, the first and only important question to ask. He holds her close, inhaling her familiar and sweet lavender scent as he feels her arms wind around his waist, sliding under his unzipped hoodie. When he hears her sniffle, Rafe’s grip on her tightens, his jaw clenching in time with his chest. Rafe presses his lips to her temple and when he feels her shudder slightly, his pulse quickens. “Baby, please, talk to me.”

“I’m fucking tired,” she mumbles against him. “Can we—” Isla takes a breath and pulls back a bit, her arms still around him as she looks up. There’s a heaviness in Rafe’s chest when he sees the glassiness of her eyes as she sniffles, the hurt in her eyes that twists his stomach to the point of nausea. Alarm bells ring in Rafe’s head, demanding that he takes care of this—of her. To put an end to what and who is hurting her to the point of making her cry more than once. “Can we get in bed first? Please?”

The way her eyes are begging him, Rafe has no choice but to agree. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling her further into the house and locking the door behind her. Sarah’s not home, and neither are his parents, while Wheezie is up in her room. So Rafe takes Isla’s hand in his and leads her up the stairs to his room, shutting the door behind them. “Let me get you some clothes.”

Opening the dresser drawers, he grabs a worn shirt and shorts, and Isla quietly takes them and heads to the bathroom. Rafe sits on the edge of the bed as she uses the bathroom and changes, running his fingers through his hair as nervousness and worry makes his heart pump. He almost prefers the anger to these feelings though, overall, he just wants to make her feel better.

Rafe presses his teeth together, recalling the dirty scowls Kiara had been sending his way when he had gone to The Wreck for lunch. Frankly, Rafe doesn’t care about it; it would be nice if his girlfriend’s sister and friends accepted him, but at the end of the day, he only wants it so things are easier for Isla, so that she isn’t stressed out about worrying over her sister’s and friends’ feelings.

He knows it’s only been a day since they all found out, that it would likely take them time to accept this relationship, but he wishes they would hurry the fuck up. He wishes they would stop making Isla cry before he does something he might end up regretting—solely because it might upset Isla. 

In an ideal world, they all would get along; or, at the very least, Rafe and Isla’s friends would be able to tolerate each other because all that mattered was Isla’s happiness. Why is it so hard for her own friends to see that?

Rafe hears the bathroom door open and shut, looking over his shoulder to see Isla wearing his shirt, which hangs like a dress off of her, hiding the shorts she wears underneath as she places her folded clothes on his desk chair. There’s a dryness in Rafe’s throat as he sees the soft features of her crestfallen expression, full lips downturned and gaze lowered as she crawls onto the bed. Rafe gets up and walks over to the otherside, watching as Isla slides under the covers and he lifts the comforter on his side to get in as well.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna eat something?” he asks, voice gentle as though she’s a fawn he doesn’t want to frighten away.

He watches as Isla turns to her side, facing him, hugging the blanket as she lifts her gaze to look up at him where he sits with his back against the pillows. She looks so small, nibbling on her bottom lip as she shakes her head. “No, I’m not hungry,” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth lifting in a brief half smile.

Rafe nods, not wanting to push her. He turns to sit sideways, facing her, and reaches out to push tendrils of her hair away from her face. He sees the hurt swimming in her eyes and it makes his jaw clench. “You wanna talk about it?”

Isla sniffs, her gaze lifting to meet his. She’s quiet for a moment and Rafe waits patiently—anxiously—and she lets out a breath. “She called me desperate.” The air stills in Rafe’s lungs at the sound of Isla’s slightly hoarse voice, the words she just spoke. “Kiara. They all think I’m making a mistake, that they know you better than I do. They think you’re using me, that I’m just falling for an act you’re putting up. They kept bringing up the past, and I reminded them they’re not all innocent in it, either, and that people can change.” Her gaze remains fixed on his while Rafe feels his chest growing tighter and tighter. “They have no idea what they’re talking about. They’re just. . . Too angry right now to actually hear what I’m saying. It’s all so fucked—” She lets out a dry laugh and he sees a tear leak out of the corner of her eye, falling onto the pillow beneath her. “And talking to them right now is pointless. Not when they’re too stubborn to acknowledge they might be wrong, or that they’re being assholes.”

Rafe’s head spins, processing Isla’s words. Her sister called her desperate? He hates that Isla has faced them by herself, without him by her side to be the pillar of support he wants to be for her. A part of him—a stupid, naíve part of him—had hoped that this wouldn’t be too big of a deal for Isla’s friends, and he knew it before and knows it now how ridiculous that hope was, even if it wasn’t hope for him but for his girl. The pang vibrates pain through chest when he sees the sadness that has settled on her features; he saw it yesterday, and seeing it again today makes him even more desperate to make this right. Even if he’s clueless as to how.

He’s not sure how talking to any of them will go—especially considering how pissed he is with how they have been treating Isla, he may end up saying or doing something he’d regret. The idea of having to prove himself to Isla’s friends irks him, but not more than how much he likes her and wants to be with her. He’ll do anything to prove to her friends that he adores her and wants this relationship to work. But whether they believe him or not is up in the air.

“They’re not being fair to you,” Rafe finds himself saying, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I doubt anything I say will hold any weight with them, but I can try—”

“I know you want to help,” Isla cuts in, sitting up and making the blanket fall around her lap as she faces him, the light of the lamp glinting against her nose ring. “But I told you, they’re too stubborn right now, and angry about it all. It’s all too fresh right now, you know? I doubt talking to them is going to help, whether it’s me or you. And I’m—” She lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping as she looks at him a bit guiltily. “I’m half afraid if you talk to them, it might not end well for anyone. I don’t want them attacking you or you saying something that might, like, trigger them.” 

He scoffs slightly, though he begrudgingly agrees with her. Whether it’s her friends or him, someone out of any of them could say anything that could make things worse for Isla, and Rafe would much rather not contribute to that. She knows her friends, so he trusts her in what to do, but. . .

“I just feel helpless, you know?” he admits, reaching out and absently playing with her name necklace, noting the way her expression softens. “I want to make this better for you. I hate that you’re hurting and I. . . I hate that it’s because of our relationship.”

“I don’t blame our relationship,” Isla says with a shake of her head, frowning as her gaze searches his. “And I hope you don’t, either. It’s because I hurt my friends—”

“By being with me,” Rafe counters with an arch of his eyebrow, even if his brain is yelling at him to shut up. Is he trying to give her a reason to leave him? To make her realize things with her friends and sister will go back to normal if she left him? What the fuck?

“But they’re hurting me too by not listening to me,” Isla returns firmly, unwavering. “Rafe—” She sighs, taking his hand that was playing with her necklace in both of hers, holding their joined hands to her chest. He can faintly feel her heart thumping under his hand, her touch warm and soft. “I told you, this is all still new for them. It’s a reality they didn’t see coming and I really think they just need some time to accept it. I mean—” Isla exhales heavily. “It’d be great if they stopped being jerks, but I still want to just give them time, you know? And I hope during that time, they’ll see how happy you make me and realize they were wrong.” 

A small, hopeful smile appears on her face as she says those words, and even as Rafe admires the sight of it and the dimples that make an appearance, he sees the hurt that still lingers in her gaze; a sadness that has been there since yesterday. “Just gotta wade through all of the shit.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his throat working in worry. “I hate that you’re having to deal with this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Isla assures him in a softened tone that makes his heart ache. Her smile returns, dimples and all, as she raises their joined hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. His skin sears where her lips touch it. “I know I’ve been crying like a baby—” She cracks a smile when he shoots her a disapproving look because he doesn’t fault her at all for crying “But I do think it’ll work out in the end. Just gotta—”

“Wade through all of the shit?” Rafe repeats, mirth dancing in his eyes and a downturned smile on his lips. He doesn’t like it, this struggle she’s having with her friends, but the least he can do is be here for her. “Alright, you got it.”

Isla smiles before nodding towards the pillows. “Bed time?”

He returns the smile, dipping his chin in a nod. Whatever she needs. “Bed time.”

*****

Opening his eyes when he wakes in the morning, Rafe is in no hurry to get out of bed. He’s got a whole morning routine to work out, take a shower, have breakfast before heading off to work, but this morning he’s ready to postpone all of it in preference to remaining in bed next to his sleeping girlfriend.

He lays on his right side, watching Isla, who lays on her left side. Her body rises and falls gently with the steady breaths she takes, tendrils of dark wavy hair resting against the curve of her cheek as she sleeps. Face bare of any makeup, Rafe admires the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, more prominent now that it’s the summer time and she spends a lot of time out in the sun. Those full lips are barely parted, her dark hair splayed against the pillow. Beautiful, as always. To the point where just looking at Isla summons a sweet ache in Rafe’s chest.

Lucky. He’s so damn lucky to have her. . . And he hates that it’s causing her pain because of her friends. His own friends have been giving him shit for dating her, but they’ve shut up quickly after Rafe made it clear he wasn’t going to put up with any of that shit—and he was not going to let it slide if any of them made Isla feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. She’s already getting enough of that from her friends, it won’t be happening from his side, too.

Rafe lets out a sigh before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Isla’s head, reveling in her lavender scent, before he carefully gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb her. Running his fingers through his hair, he quickly uses the bathroom before exiting his bedroom. The house is quiet, which means his family is either still asleep or not at home and has already started the day.

As Rafe walks down the stairs, he looks out the window and notes his dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. Walking to the kitchen, he pulls out his phone and texts his old man.

To: Dad

I don’t have any meetings today, but do you need me for anything important?

Rafe begins pulling out ingredients to make breakfast when his dad responds.

From: Dad

No, nothing I can’t handle. Why? Playing hooky?

To: Dad

I wanted to spend the day with Isla. She’s going through a hard time. 

From: Dad

Of course, kiddo. Take care of your girl.

Rafe smiles briefly at his dad’s message before putting his phone on the counter and getting to work, grateful to be a part of the family business so he doesn’t have to answer to anyone other than his dad. Until Rafe takes over, but that won’t be for another couple of years. He’s perfectly fine in putting off that weight of responsibility.

So now, he works on cooking breakfast, relieved that they have all of the ingredients for him to make some omelets. Pulling out some tomatoes, onions, and green peppers, Rafe begins to chop them up. The coffee is brewing and he’s got slices of bread in the toaster, ready to toast, as he pours the cheesy and vegetable omelet mixture onto the pan. The aroma hits him as it cooks, the sizzle of the eggs distracting him from the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen.

“That smells delicious,” Isla muses from behind him, bringing a smile to Rafe’s face when he feels her arms slide around his waist as she comes to stand at his side. His free arm hooks around her shoulders, his other hand holding the spatula, and Rafe presses a kiss to the top of her head, her dark hair in waves down her shoulders. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” Isla answers softly, her voice still sleepy as she cuddles into him. Rafe smiles, holding her close as he cooks their breakfast. “Your bed is stupidly comfortable.”

Rafe chortles quietly as he flips an omelet. “You can stay here whenever you want, baby,” he murmurs, meaning every word as he feels Isla relax against him. He hates seeing her upset, feels an intense combination of anger and concern whenever he sees the tears in her eyes. It goes against his nature to not confront Isla’s friends and sister for how they’ve made her feel. They made her cry and he’s supposed to just sit back and let it happen?

He knows Isla said he shouldn’t interfere out of fear that it could make things worse and he respects it because those are her friends. It’s already complicated, and he doesn’t want to fuck things up more. Keeping his mouth shut, though, is difficult because all he wants to do is take care of Isla, in every way possible. If he can’t tell her friends to lay the fuck off, the least he can do is just be here for her. And being right next to her is his favorite place to be.

“Want some help?” Isla asks, her gaze looking around, and Rafe can tell she wants to do something to keep herself occupied.

“Yeah. You wanna get our coffee?” he asks, nodding towards the Keurig.

Isla hums in affirmation. He feels her rise up on her toes, though, before her lips press to his cheek, and Rafe smiles at the sweet kiss as she moves to make their coffee. “When are you going to work?” she asks.

“I’m not,” Rafe answers. When she throws him a quizzical—yet hopeful—look, he chuckles. “Took the day off because I wanted to spend it with you.” When Isla’s lips part in surprise, Rafe pauses before sucking a breath through his teeth, realizing he may have gotten ahead of himself. “But I should’ve checked if you had plans today already.”

She lets out a laugh, the sound lightening his chest as she gives a shake of her head. “No other plans,” she says, the Keurig now on as she walks back over to him. “You have something in mind?” 

Rafe plates one of the omelets and pushes down the lever of the toaster. “How ’bout a beach day?” he asks, nodding towards the window that shows clear blue skies. “It’s the perfect beach day, I think.”

Isla’s gaze flicks towards the window before a smile grows on her face. Dimples and all. Rafe’s heart pounds. “Yeah, that sounds fun,” she agrees with a gentle nod. “I’m gonna need to head home to grab my bathing suit and—you mind if I surf?”

Rafe snorts out a laugh as he plates the second omelet. “Why would I mind?” Shooting her a smirk, he adds, “You’re not getting me on a board, though.”

She mirrors his smirk, shrugging a shoulder. “We’ll see.”

When breakfast is ready, Rafe sets the small round table by the glass wall looking into the backyard. Isla laughs when, after she sits, Rafe grips the bottom of her chair and drags her towards him so she’s as close as she can be. The morning sunlight bathes into the room as Isla pulls her hair up in a bun, a few wavy tendrils escaping and framing her heart shaped face. She’s glowing, even if her eyes are a little red rimmed—but she’s smiling, and he doesn’t want that to disappear.

“This is so good,” she mumbles after swallowing the first bite of egg and toast, widening her eyes at Rafe from where she sits on his left. As she reaches for her mug, she adds, “Gonna need you to make me breakfast, like, every day.”

Rafe grins, arching an eyebrow. “You won’t hear any arguments from me,” he answers. 

“Been holding out on me,” she mumbles, shooting him a feigned glare as she eats. “We should have you work at the Wreck. That’d really set Kie off.”

Rafe scoffs, leaning back in the chair as he grabs his own mug. “She might kill us,” he points out.

Isla scoffs after swallowing her bite. “I’d like to see her try.” Sigh, she leans back as well, right leg crossing over her knee as she shakes her head and looks at him. “I don’t wanna think about what happened yesterday, okay? I just—we move forward. Whatever the hell’s gonna happen, is gonna happen. I’m fine.”

When Rafe meets her gaze pointedly, not wanting her to lie to him, she huffs. “I will be fine,” she corrects begrudgingly. Putting her mug down, she reaches towards him and rests her hand at the back of her head. He leans his head back slightly, more into her touch as he feels her fingers in his heart, the sensation one he loves feelings as much as she loves doing it. “Thank you for breakfast.”

His hand rests on her knee. “Literally any time.”

“Is your family home?” she asks as they return to eating.

“Dad and Rose are at work,” he answers, his gaze sliding in the direction of the stairs. “Wheezie’s probably asleep and Sarah. . .” He trails off with a confused stretch of her name. “She’s either also asleep or spent the night at John B’s. I can’t keep track anymore.”

Isla hums in acknowledgement, gaze dropping to her plate as she goes to take another bite. But Rafe catches the melancholy look that darkens her eyes, and Rafe wants to desperately get rid of that look. “So! Shower after breakfast and then the beach?”

Isla nods, looking at him with a gentle smile. “Sounds good.”

They finish up breakfast and Isla helps Rafe clear the table even though he tries to gently bump her hip out of the way, but she only shoots him an easy smile as she helps him load the dishwasher. It doesn’t take long for them to head back to his room without running into either of his sisters, and as Rafe opens his closet door, he glances at Isla over his shoulder.

“You wanna shower first?”

She looks at him, gaze flickering up from her phone. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Or we can shower together,” she suggests, cheeks prettily pink.

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

Five minutes later, they’re under the hot spray of his shower, massaging shampoo into their hair and Rafe can’t help but smirk at the fact that Isla is going to smell like him afterwards. “Ugh, this feels so good,” Isla moans in satisfaction when she stands under the spray, washing the shampoo out with her head tilted back and eyes closed—and utterly oblivious to Rafe’s hungry gaze.

His breathing shallows out as he watches rivulets of water trail down the swells of her breasts, a delicious handful as his mouth waters with the need to get those pert nipples in his mouth, just a few shades darker than the smooth brown of her flawless skin. Before he can even think about it, Rafe’s hands are reaching forward until they’re resting on the swell of her hips, prompting Isla’s eyes to open to meet his immediately.

The green of her eyes always takes his breath away, reminding him of the deep green of tree leaves when spring and summer meet. His new favorite color, he admires, as he pulls her close until their fronts are pressed together, feeling the perfect mounds of her breasts against his torso as she looks up at him with arched eyebrows as she pushes her dark hair until it’s slicked back.

“Can I help you?” she inquires playfully as he admires the way droplets of water caught on her eyelashes. A smile dances on the edge of her mouth, showing off those dimples he’s obsessed with.

“Just admirin’,” Rafe answers, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hips as the water surrounds them both. 

Isla’s grin widens, effectively deepening her dimples. It makes him weak in the damn knees. “Maybe you should be showering instead.”

Rafe scoffs out a laugh, tilting his head. “Isn’t that why you asked me to shower with you?” he muses with a slow growing grin, looking down at her. He raises his hands, cupping her cheeks, her face heart shaped and perfectly sized to fit in the palms of his hands as he wipes droplets of water away from the apples of her cheeks, though new drops replace them. He is sure his heart does a somersault in his chest when she squints her eyes with that grin she gives him. “Pretty sure it wasn’t for just showering.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now, huh?” Isla asks, her own arms winding around him and Rafe’s grin widens impossibly when he feels her familiar touch cup his ass as she pushes herself closer into him. When Rafe hums his affirmative, Isla laughs and he watches as she goes on the tips of her toes and tilts her chin up to him. 

“Yeah, baby, I can read your mind,” Rafe murmurs before kissing her, using his grasp on her cheeks, his pinkies under her jaw, to tilt her head back up. Rafe groans appreciatively when her lips open under his almost immediately, always loving how responsive she is as his hands bury in the thick of her wet hair, feeling her fingers run up and down his back as Rafe turns her until her back is against the wall.

Isla’s back arches, her nails digging into his back as she gasps, “Oh, my God, that’s cold.” She laughs, the pretty sound echoing off the tiles of the shower as her arm hooks around his neck and Rafe keeps kissing her smiling lips.

“Want me to turn?” he asks, thinking of her comfort even as he nips at her lower lip.

“Nuh-uh,” she murmurs with a shake of her head, returning the kiss eagerly. “Just want you.”

Well, he’s never one to deny her anything, shooting her a smirk as he lowers down to his knees, trailing kisses down her body as he does. His gaze never leaves Isla’s face, her cheeks flushed and lips kiss swollen as her chest moves quickly with the way her breathing grows shallow with every kiss he places across the planes of her stomach and her hip bones as his fingers brush and down the backs of her thighs. 

The hot shower spray hits his back and shoulders as he kisses up the inside of her thighs before he licks up her center. He earns an instant reaction from her in the way she cries out and her hand finds home at the back of his head, fingers sliding through the short wet strands of his hair as Rafe licks into her. She tugs, he groans, and her body shudders as his tongue flicks her clit and when Rafe flickers up, he sees her tilting her head back and her free hand pressed to her mouth to silence the sounds escaping.

And Rafe won’t have that.

“What’re you doing?” he asks lowly, looking up at her but not fully pulling away, teasingly using his tongue to trace her lips from where he remains kneeling. “Let me hear you.”

Isla shakes her head, skin flushed, and Rafe knows it’s from both the hot shower and from him licking and sucking at her. Through her fingers, she gasps out, “Your sisters—”

“They can’t hear shit from here,” Rafe says, his words coming out as a low growl. When he sucks her clit into his mouth, Isla lets out a sharp cry, the sound just as loud as he wants, and he grunts in satisfaction. “That’s it, baby.”

He feasts on her as if he didn’t just have breakfast, spreading her open with his fingers and diving his tongue in as deeply as he can, drunk on the taste of her as he feels her tremble under his touch. He’s obsessed, honestly, with how her body reacts to him; every ragged breath and desperate moan and quiver of her muscles all the while her fingers tighten in his hair.

“God—oh, God, yes,” she moans, her hips moving with him, grinding her pussy against his mouth “Just—I’m so close—”

Another suck of her clit and she falls apart with a sharp cry and Rafe groans as the sweet, familiar taste of her hits his tongue, taking everything she’s giving him and letting her ride her climax on his tongue. She grows limp but Rafe’s hold on her his tight as he rises to his full height, and although Isla is catching her breath, she doesn’t hesitate in surging up and kissing him. 

Their tongues meet and Isla moans softly as she no doubt tastes him on her tongue and it sends a rush of hot blood straight to his cock, making him realize just how painfully hard he is. “Fuck,” he hisses when Isla’s hand wraps around his cock.

“Need you inside of me,” she says into their kiss—if it can be classified as that, with just their lips sliding against one another, breathing together. “Now, Rafe.”

His lips quirk up in a breathless sort of a smirk, his pulse electric when she gives a slow, teasing pump of his cock. “Love it when you get bossy,” he murmurs as his hands slide to her hips, then lower to her thighs.

“I prefer to call it knowing what I like,” she laughs gently as he grips the back of her thighs. “Now?” she asks knowingly.

Rafe nips at her bottom lip. “Now.”

She jumps up carefully, Rafe’s grip secure on her thighs as she wraps her legs around him, her arms around his neck and lips finding his again under the spray of water. Isla’s hand, wrapped around his cock, guides him towards her entrance, and all Rafe can think is that he wouldn’t mind adding this to his morning routine.

--

taglist: @jenniesbuttercup-blog @combatbabys-world @talkfastromance4 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @invisiblexcth @freshsturniolo346 @theafournier97 @danismyth04 @fl0werlver @perfectprettypisces @pameluuu @melsbels-zip @gabrielaperez11 @katieeeeb @cenzie811148

[latenightdaydreams]

https://twitter.com/jorgez86/status/1786091450238926874?t=qpE0itH41pxOOlJjXdrfNg&s=19

Can you write about Konig who can't stop touching his girlfriend's boobies?

I know I'm sending a lot of requests at the same time but I had to hold myself back to not text you because I know request closed for a reason. Please don't feel obligated or overwhelmed, I just send it and it's okay if you ignore my request, because you're a just human being!❤️❤️❤️

That woman is blessed with the sorest of all backs😮‍💨 Never feel bad for sending them! 🥰🥰

Just a Few Hours (fem)

MDNI 🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, groping, dirty talk

1.1k word count

💒

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Big breast was never a requirement for dating. Sure, König loved watching porn with big breasts, but he’s found all breast sizes have their perks. Plus, he can’t exactly be picky. Tall, awkward, and not exactly handsome; he had trouble pulling anyone.

When home from deployment, König tried to find some sort of peace. He would go to the local park early in the morning before it became crowded with kids and cheerful people. It was one of the few moments in his life where things felt okay. The chaos could just stop.

Little did he know you, this big breasted goddess, also felt the same way about early mornings in the park. From the corner of his eye he saw you approaching, the slight jiggle from your breasts noticeable to him. Turning his neck to see you head on, his jaw literally dropped. Underneath your loose-fitting band t, your breast bounced so perfectly.

“Hallo.” The words fell out of his mouth before he even realized it.

You looked over to see the most beautiful icy blue eyes gazing up at you as he sat on the floor by a tree.

“Hi.” You smiled so sweetly his way.

One impulsive hello sparked a full two-year relationship. König genuinely fell in love with who you are as a person, your breasts just being a massive perk imaginable. No matter the situation, König can’t keep his hands to himself.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind, but today is your friend’s wedding. König drives the both of you as he sulks about the time he has to spend away from you. One hand on the steering wheel, the other cupping your breast.

“Schatz, I’m going to go crazy being without you for a whole day.” This middle finger lightly flicks over your nipple through the fabric of your evening dress. The dress required you to not wear a bra. König, of course, didn’t mind; but now he would be a fool the whole time.

“König, I’m literally going to be right next to you the whole time.”

“Ja, but I can’t touch you.” He glances over at his hand on your breast, softly jiggling it.

“You’re too much König.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Can you blame me? You’re perfect.” He reaches his hand behind the fabric and pulls out the breast he’s been playing with. “Other one too.” He demands you to take it out.

“König, you’re driving. Someone could see.”

“I’ll drive safe…plus the windows are tinted. Come on.” He doesn’t take no for an answer, so you oblige and take out your other breast.

“Mein Gott…” Every time seeing your breasts is like the first time again.

He moves his hands over and squeezes both of your breasts before his fingers play with your nipples. He gives attention to both of them equally. You let him continue until you got close to the venue, pushing his hand away to slip your breasts back into your shirt.

“Liebling,” Köing sounds so pathetic as if you took a toy away from a whining dog.

“Stop, act normal.”

“Act normal? I always act normal.” He mumbles under his breath as he pulls into the parking lot and searches for a spot.

Once the car is parked, he unbuckles his seat belt and turns his head to you. He watches your breasts move as you take off your own seat belt. Your eyes meet his and you can see that he is just paying attention to them.

“König, my door?”

“Oh!” He gets out of the car quickly and rushes over to the other side to open the door for you. He playfully bows, “My lady…”

You laugh and step out of the car. He holds his hand out for you to grab. You both walk forward to the wedding venue. The whole wedding was hell. König was not only forced to meet new people, but he was also expected to keep his hands to himself. As the couple exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife, everyone around began to cheer.

He watches you stand, and takes the lead. You all cheer as the couple leaves the room. König leans over and whispers in your ear, “Maybe we can have a quicky before they start the reception?”

“No.” You whisper back quickly.

König rolls his eyes and just keeps clapping. Once the bride and groom leave, slowly the rows of people begin to file out of the door. With everyone clearly not minding the both of you, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back to him. Slowly his hand crept up to grasp your breasts. His fingers pinching your nipple before you swat his hand away.

He looks down at you before inching back up towards your breast, squeezing hard so you can’t move him so easily. You try to suppress your laugh by nudging him with your elbow.

“Stop!” You hiss playfully.

“Liebling, I can’t stop.” He chuckles under his breath, squeezing once more before letting go so you can exit the venue.

Walking outside, on your way to the reception König keeps his arm over your shoulder. His eyes watching your breasts bounce out the corner of his eye.

“You know, weddings are a celebration of love. I don’t see why I can’t just carry you into the bathroom and show you how much I love you.” His fingers dance in small circles just above your cleavage.

“Their love, not ours.”

“I still don’t see the issue.” His voice laced with desire as he looks around to make sure no one was looking. He slowly slips his hand into your dress and cups your breast in his hand again.

“König!”

He quickly withdraws his hand due to your tone. “Sorry…” a small smirk forms on his lips, he loves it when you get like this.

“You really can’t keep your hands to yourself for one second?” You stop talking and look up at him.

“Wha-…” König tries to hide his smirk. “I can.”

“You’re so annoying.” You huff as you turn to continue walking.

“And you’re so sexy.” He pulls you back to him. “Stop being grumpy. You never have an issue.”

“We are never at a formal occasion, König.”

He lets out a deep sigh before leaning down to kiss your lips. “Fine, I’m sorry for not listening. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Thank you…” You smile up at him, tapping your lips for another kiss.

Happily, he brings his lips back to meet yours. His muscular arms wrap around your body and grip you against his body. Feeling your breasts press against him.

“When we get home, I want you to suffocate me with your breasts.” He whispers in your ear.

“How about, I let you fuck them. Only if you’re a good boy.” You match his energy.

König’s eyes light up as they open wide, a goofy look of excitement crosses his face. “I’ll be the best boy for you.”

[prettypinkporkchop]

Hi, can I request a Seth one where his 18-19 and his imprint is 18-19. And the have sex for the first time. And it all lovey and cuddly and sweet. Anything else you can add or determine. Anyway love your writing have an amazing week!!

Howls

Description: Seth is a virgin! You both have had a good and steady relationship for 6 months. For his 19th birthday, you decide to try it.

Seth keeps his hands on the steering wheel. Even though his party was amazing, he's feeling upset. The packs keep making fun of him for being a virgin.

"Baby, don't let it get to you. Unlike them, you waited for the perfect one." You put your hand on his knee.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow. "Waited?" He glances over at you.

You blush, realizing what you just said. "I meant like.."

"I did wait. I have you, now. Nobody else will take this place, but you."

---

It was a quick mission to get naked and in bed. Seth is hovering over you. You have your arms wrapped around his body. He's kissing your lips softly. His lips move down your jaw and to your neck. You sigh in pleasure.

"Baby, I'm so wet." You whimper.

"Guide me." He mumbles against your skin.

You gently grab his hard and big shaft in your hand. You rub it against your wet slit. He grumbles against your neck and softly bites. You gasp and put it to your entrance.

"Push." You whisper.

He slowly pushes inside of you. He's so big and stretches you out. You whimper and moan, digging your nails into his back.

He hisses and throws his head back. "Fuck.. you feel so perfect." He whispers.

"Keep moving, baby." You pull him down to you, holding him against your body.

"I love you." He kisses your cheek, moving in and out.

You're a moaning mess and wrap your legs around him. "God, I love you so much, Seth." You moan.

He begins to move quicker and moves his hands down to grab your thighs. He squeezes softly and bites your lip, pulling back.

His dick is hitting every spot inside of you that he needs to. But you want more.

"Baby.." You grab his hand and guide it to your clit. "Circles..." your hand moves his fingers.

He nods his head and moves the way you told him to. It sends pleasure all over your body. You arch your back and nearly yell. He kisses your forehead and moves faster. It's a quick pace at this point but not too fast.

"God! Fuck!" You begin to tremble. You clench around him.

He howls loudly, not like his wolf form, but it's as if it's coming out of him. A loud moan that fills the entire room. He finishes inside of you. You feel it warming you up inside. You let go, too.

You breathe heavily, your chest moving up and down. Seth plops next to you and pulls you on his chest.

"Did I do okay?" He asks.

"That was such an amazing first time, baby. You're a natural." You kiss his jaw.

He smiles and stares up at the ceiling. "Is this a new routine?"

You giggle at him. "Yes."

[yrsdf]

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

dom!mike x babysitter/virgin!reader

warning! age gap (m 25 , r 19)

also in my stories he's 6'0 not 5'5 ;-)

NOT PROOFREAD

you'll thank me later

you knew by heart that mike was not to be messed with when he had one of those shifts, the shifts that had him coming home with the struggle of the keys outside the door, which had only frustrated him even more which then proceeded with the slam of the door behind him as he'd enter the house and the deep sigh he would let out as he stood there for a minute, usually he would be silent and you'd know the usual, you knew on the nights he was mad that you had to stay quiet just out of respect (and to avoid his glare), he would pay you in cash and you'd leave, but tonight was different.

It was one of his bad nights at the pizzeria , really... bad night, you had stayed over to watch abby as you usually did and tonight she had gone over to her bestfriends house for a birthday party/sleepover, it was pouring rain out you could hear the rain as it poured down onto the house, you sat on the couch warmed by a blanket and distracted by some stupid QVC that only came on at the late night hours, you were fascinated on the crazy prices on the rings the man was showcasing on the television.

"twelve thousand for a ring...that's a bit absurd."

you mumbled lowley at yourself, followed by a awkward giggle you for some reason needed to let out, maybe so you didn't feel so alone in the house, time went by and your pocked made a low "bzzzzz" noise followed by the feeling of its vibration in your pocket, you took the phone out and flipped it open reading the message mike had sent you

(I'll be home late, feel free to stay the night .)

you send back a simplistic thanks in response, mike didn't like you driving in the rain which you always thought was sweet of him, some nights you'll stay until morning just so you wouldn't have the dangers of tackling a wet road, and idiotic drivers, although his couch was definitely old, and hard to sleep on you took the offer, thankful for the gesture.

You stood up stretching, arching your back and twisting which rewarded you with a satisfying back pop which you definitely needed, and you waltzed down the hallway and into the bathroom so you could take a shower, just as you would every night either at his place or yours. Usually you had a bag with you in case you would stay at mikes but just like any irresponsible mistake you seem to make, leaving important things at home was your most famous mistake. but you shrugged your mistake off and walked into mikes room, you snagged a folded shirt from his open drawer that he probably left open in his tired rush to work.

you finished showering and stepped out, using a towel to dry yourself off and slipped the shorts you already had on previously, and then slipped his shirt on you looked at yourself in the mirror and noticed the size of his shirt on you, you never really noticed the difference between you too, you wrapped your hair back up in the towel and left the bathroom, the steam from the hot shower followed behind you and you bumped into mike by accident, you must not have heard him come home and you looked up at him, he was definitely pissed, his gaze burning down at you, you felt small with the way he was looking down at you, as you slowly shut the bathroom door behind you his eyes were wandering, he noticed the size of his shirt on you, and how it hid your curves. your eyes met his again, you noticed he was giving you a look something primal something hungry in a sense and you tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

"Are you alright mikey?"

he took no time to respond, he had a hand on the side of your face and the other on the curve of your side. he guided you to the door your back pressing against it, he took advantage of this position, using the hand on your jaw he lifted your chin kissing you neck softly at first, you let out soft whimpers, he abruptly bit your neck, his fangs piercing you slightly causing you to jolt slightly, he licked where he bit to soothe it and continued on littering you neck in soft kisses, occasionally leaving hickies where he wanted them.

he lowered himself onto his knees and his dilated brown eyes connected with yours before he put his focus to your shorts, he took his time removing the clothing from your lower half, but he kept the shirt on you, he lowered your panties and let them fall to your feet where your shorts were, his kissed your knee first, moving his way up and attached his lips to the innards of your thigh, you let out a soft moan as you squirmed, his mouth sucking a harshly dark hickey onto your inner thigh, he detached his lips and looked back up at you

"i'm gonna take good care of you, i promise"

he said this followed with his signature grin, he attacked his lips to your clit, tongue moving in figure eights onto it, his hands gripping harshly into the back of your thighs to prevent you from moving, he soaked up all your juices, soaking himself in your scent, and taste. you squirmed and squealed, your moaning loud and uncontrolled... god were you happy abby wasn't home, your hands gripped his hair, you were grinding against his mouth and he knew you were growing close, he could tell by the way you were thrashing and mumbling unknown words, you gripped his hair roughly as you finished his tongue helped you through your high and he detached himself from you he looked up wiping his mouth.

"god...you taste amazing, can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

his hands now lifted you up and over his shoulder, he worked his way into the kitchen and sat you on the island. you watched as he got his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open grabbing a condom from it, he sat the wallet on the counter beside you and he unbuckled his pants. his eyes now back on yours as he stepped between your opened legs.

"oh look at you... such a mess because of me, right pretty girl?"

you nodded in response as he let his pants fall to his ankles, he worked his boxers down and his size was definitely surprising. he noticed your mouth opened slightly and took this opportunity placing his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, he worked his condom onto his shaft. the grip of his thumb in your mouth, and finger on your chin dragged your attention up to him, he was aware of you being a virgin.

"hey, hey.. eyes on me bunny, keep them right on me alright.?"

again you nodded, letting out a whimper as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, eventually sinking half of himself into you, satisfied by the gasp you let out as he entered you, he shoved the rest in as far as possible as he waited for you to be comfortable with him continuing.

"more...please"

you slurred out due to the thumb in your mouth, which he moved both hands placing one on the counter top beside you and the other wrapping around your underarms, which would brace you for his pace, he thrusted in you at a unbearable speed your moans loud and pornagraphic, your head fell back as you grew close already, his cock hitting your gspot in the perfect way which caused your second orgasm to drown you, your legs shook against his hips and your body jolted and trembled as he kept his pace steady giving you no time to adjust, you were dumb fucked, your body only upright because of the arm he had around you, you were drooling, eyes rolling back followed by your head struggling to stay upright, his teeth sunk into your neck as he grew close, you could hardly moan, silently letting out whimpers with your mouth hung wide open, his pace relentless and unbroken as the sound of skin smacking filled the once silent house, you were close to a third orgasm as he neared his first, his teeth dug into your shoulder drawing blood as the two of you came in sync, he let out a low growl against your skin as your body trembled and shook, his pace slowed as he removed his teeth from your shoulder, but he looked at you, noticing that you were asleep. he placed a soft kiss upon your cheek.

(plz comment ur thoughs)

[daisymbin]

13+19 suggestive minghao😴

oh yes yes!!!!

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suggestive prompt #13: "don't act like you don't know what you're doing to me." +

suggestive prompt #19: "you're going to be the death of me, I swear."

the smirk on your face gives you away before minghao even shuts the front door. you slip off your shoes and head toward the living room, acting as if you didn’t just spend the entire day testing the limits of his composure. he follows behind, his gaze fixed on you like a hawk.

“what’s gotten into you today?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge of curiosity.

you turn to face him, feigning innocence. “what do you mean?”

minghao raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. “don’t play dumb.”

“i’m not,” you reply with a shrug, casually tossing your bag onto the couch.

he scoffs, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. “oh, really? so you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you decided to kiss me like that in the middle of the café?”

your lips curl into a playful smile. “i was just being affectionate.”

“affectionate?” he repeats, his tone dripping with disbelief. “you practically pinned me against the counter.”

“you’re exaggerating,” you say, biting back a laugh.

his eyes narrow. “and at lunch? the way you were touching me? brushing your hand against my thigh every time you reached for your drink? you weren’t trying to anything?”

“it was an accident,” you say with a dramatic sigh, looking anywhere but at him.

he steps closer, now standing right in front of you. “an accident?”

you glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the way his gaze darkens. “yeah.”

“don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl.

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your composure, tilting your head. “what am i doing to you, hao?”

he lets out a short laugh, one hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. the movement is gentle, but there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your pulse quicken.

his thumb brushing against your jaw as his fingers tilt your chin up. “you’ve been teasing me all day.”

“have i?” you ask, your voice softer now, almost breathless.

his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes. “you know you have.”

before you can respond, his lips are on yours, urgent and demanding. his hands cup your face, holding you in place as he kisses you like he’s been waiting all day to do this; which, to be fair, he has.

you respond just as eagerly, your hands gripping his shirt as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building between you all day finally snaps, and the kiss deepens, leaving you both breathless.

his lips move to your jaw, then down to your neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. your fingers tangle in his hair, and he lets out a soft groan that sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’re going to be the death of me, i swear,” he mutters against your skin, his voice husky and full of frustration—but also something deeper, something more vulnerable.

you smile, your fingers gently tugging at his hair to bring his face back to yours. “& thats how i want it to be,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes softening even as his lips curl into a smirk. “maybe i do too,” he admits, his voice teasing but filled with affection.

you laugh, leaning up to kiss him again, and this time, it’s slower, sweeter. the fire is still there, but it’s tempered by the undeniable warmth that always lingers between you.

when you finally pull away, both of you breathing heavily, minghao rests his forehead against yours. “you’re lucky i’m obsessed with you,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“oh, i know,” you reply, grinning.

he shakes his head, but the fondness in his expression is unmistakable.