#just if he let himself be as intense about sam as he clearly wants to be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anthemofgvf · 6 months ago

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Teacher’s Pet: Sam Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

description: when college becomes more interesting from your history with your music professor, you decide to take him up on a private piano lesson to rekindle what once was.

word count: 6.6k+

trope: student reader x professor sam (college au!)

taglist for future fics

warnings after cut…

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warnings: large amount of plot, angst, smut (18+ minors dni!), voyeurism, soft dom! sam, fluff, teacher x adult reader, inappropriate relations, swearing, begging, fingering, oral (fem! and male receiving), handjob, overstimulation, praise kink, unprotected sex, minimal aftercare

a/n: this may not be everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s okay! would also like to reiterate that reader IS a legal adult. i figured that would be clear considering this is a college au but i just wanted to state it once before the story itself does. all actions are consensual, and i do not condone un-consensual acts. with that being said, enjoy;)

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Starting college at Michigan State University at the age of twenty-one, you walked onto campus with a sense of anticipation and determination that set yourself apart from your younger peers. Your journey to this point had been conventional, marked by years of playing piano at home purely for joy, and finding an intense passion for music itself. Now, as a music theory major, you were ready to immerse yourself in the academic study of music, eager to delve into the intricacies of composition, harmony, and the structures that underpin the art form you love. Your path to college might have been delayed, but your passion for music had only grown stronger with time, making your arrival at the university both a new beginning and a cumulation of years of dedication.

But you were gifted a surprise on your first day in your "Music Theory 101" class when you sat near the front - only a few rows back on the far left, and your professor walked in. The cool fall air of Michigan allowed for him to wear a navy blue long-sleeve and a multicolored-purple scarf, with grey plaid dress pants. He clearly was taller than most, but the boots that he paired with his outfit granted him a few extra inches.

You started to analyze the features of his face, seeing something so familiar in him that you couldn't quite pinpoint. His long, brunette hair that held a light wave with a well-kept mustache and goatee. Something about his eyes were the most recognizable to you with the way they scanned the room slowly, then focusing in on papers on his podium. And as soon as he began to speak and introduce himself to you and your peers, the memories came flooding back into your brain, and you had to hold yourself back from gasping. But you couldn't contain your eyes from widening.

"Hello everyone," he began, "welcome to 'Music Theory 101.'" He said with a smile. "I'm Professor Kiszka, and I'll be teaching this course. I've been teaching music theory for about three years now."

You knew who he was. He was Mr. Kiszka, or Sam, as back then you were able to call him that because he wasn't the hugest fan of being called 'Mr. Kiszka'. He was your student teacher your senior year of high school in your band class. He would help your teacher as if he were a teacher's aide, yet also helped teach the class and was a mentee to your teacher. You couldn't even believe your chances of having him as an actual teacher, let alone even seeing his face again. And God, how he has changed from the guy you once knew. But he'd always be 'Sam' to you, whether you'd call him by his first name or not. You preferred not to take your chances anyways.

You and he had created a small friendship, or better described as a mutualistic relationship, but it went nowhere beyond because being friends would cross the boundaries that the school board had put into place. But it was more than likely for the better, because you had a massive crush on him that accumulated over time with the semester. You were keen to his wit, his attention to detail - his talent in music. Not to mention he had a great sense of humor and was outgoing that paired perfectly with his great looks. You remembered being saddened that you were not going to see him again after your last class of the semester, and while although he gave you a hug and a smile, he had said to you,

"You'll see me again, y/n, I'm sure of it," with a wink.

And somehow, he had predicted the future.

After he gave the class a short introduction, which you surely had missed from reminiscing about the past, he had begun to read down the list of students for attendance. Your heart began to bang against your ribcage with anticipation, with wonderance of if he would even remember you. After all, you were just another student he saw in the school day.

"Y/n L/n?" He had called out, searching for you amongst the crowd.

You shot your eyes up, looking at him as you lightly raised your hand and said, "Here."

He smiled at you, the same smile he always wore. His eyes lightly squinted, and his face lit up with a knowing expression.

"You went to Frankenmuth High School, right?" He pointed his pen out to you with his teeth still on display.

"Yeah, yeah I did." You nodded.

You felt everyone's eyes on you - all 40 something students that filled the lecture hall. He remembered you, and you had forgotten how nervous you would get when his eyes lingered upon you for too long. Surely your face was flushed pink for the whole class to examine, but you were praying the lights were dim enough to hide your complexion.

"It's nice to see you again, y/n." He nodded towards you, closing his mouth to soften his smile and focus his attention back onto the list and calling out other names.

The entire class all you could do was watch his facial expressions, the way he walked and used his hands in conversation and lecture. The way his hair flew with his head whenever he changed directions, the way his voice articulated words. And, surely watching him give the class a demonstration on the piano was going to be the death of you. Time had made him more attractive, and his knowledge of you was somehow a worser fate than going unknown.

He put his whole body into his demonstration, leaning into the keys and throwing his head back every so often. His shoulders would raise in a rigid motion, then relaxing back down whilst his fingers danced along the white keys. You began to press your thighs tightly together and place your fist over your mouth as you watched him intently. You were unsure of how you were going to survive this class for a semester.

But after that first day, he had called you over to his podium. Although the conversation was light, asking you how you've been, wondering what you were going to college for exactly, you couldn't help but feel unprepared to talk to him. He always had a way with words, and anything that came out of his mouth was pure poetry. You just felt like you were blabbing nonsense to him. But he cared what you had to say. He laughed at your jokes, nodded along to show you he was listening. He had not changed one bit after all these years, other than time aging him only enough to present himself as more of a mature adult, but his striking personality stayed intact.

As the semester went on, and you stopping by Sam's desk every so often after class, assignments were assigned. One big project that was presented was to perform a cover on the piano that showcased your level of talent on the keys - 30 measures to be exact. A different assignment was given to those who were incapable of playing the piano, which was to compose a piece instead on an instrument of their choosing, but you took the route of playing on the instrument you enjoyed the most.

With this assignment, he had allowed students to make appointments with him during his office hours for free lessons and guidance on their piece. And as soon as he had announced this, you had booked an appointment.

And that's where you were headed right now: A one-on-one meeting with Professor Kiszka. To say you were nervous was an understatement. His attention was all yours, and there was no avoiding his gaze by sinking into your chair. The only thing that you had repeated in your head was that he was no stranger, and you knew how to hold a conversation with him. Act normal, you said to yourself, act normal.

You pushed open one of the large doors of the classroom that groaned and creaked as it allowed your entrance. Sam had his back to you from across the lecture hall, hunched over as he played a song that was unrecognizable to you on the piano. Whatever it was, it sounded beautiful.

The doors slammed shut behind you as you walked in, which caught Sam's attention. He whipped his head over his shoulder as his fingers relaxed from the keys, and he lifted his wrist up to examine his watch.

"Guess it is that time, huh?" He said out loud, although he was mainly speaking to himself. "Come on in, y/n."

"Forgot I was coming in, Professor Kiszka?" You said with a smirk.

"I'm always forgetting the time as it passes," he chuckled lightly, "surely you'll forgive me."

You walked over to him as he rose from the bench with a light smile, extending his arm towards the piano to motion for you to sit. He wore an ironed white button down, and worn-out jeans that have seen better days. Casual attire: a bit astray from what he normally wears.

You stopped in front of him. "I guess just this once I will." You said to him, then taking your seat on the bench and keeping your posture straightened.

"Alright, y/n," he shook his head with a smile, "what's your song of choice then? Can't pick anything you've played for me before."

You cocked your head to the side as you gave him a pondering look. "There's no way you remember anything I played three years ago."

He pressed his lips together and thought for a moment, then looking down to you with a smile.

"Maybe I do, or maybe I don't. Just seems like you're trying to stall on playing your piece for me." He said to you. "There's nothing to be nervous about, y/n."

You shook your head with a light sigh. "I'll have to test your memory another time then."

He nodded at you. "So, what piece of music did you choose?"

"I chose 'Rhapsody in Blue,' sir." You spoke to him. "I remember you performing it for the class after finals were over, and I've been in love with the piece ever since."

He seemed almost shocked that he had made such an impact on you, one that was still intact after all these years. He gave you an earnest, genuine smile as he placed his hand on his heart.

"It means a lot to me that I played an influential role in your musical journey. Did you learn it after I performed the piece?" He asked.

You nodded with a giggle. "Embarrassingly yes, yes I did." You refrained from eye contact as you felt your face becoming hot.

He raised a brow. "So, this is a piece you're familiar with?" You looked back to him with a singular nod. "Then what is your reasoning for spending time with me during my office hours, y/n? I never knew of you to not be confident in yourself."

You stuck your tongue into your cheek. "Just wanted to make sure that I was playing the piece up to par, and I so happen to enjoy our conversations. Figured we'd be able to catch up a bit during this meeting."

"Is that so, y/n?" He smirked at you. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as he looked down at you. It was almost as if there were words that lingered upon his tongue, yet he was unable to muster the courage to let them roll off smoothly. He had opened his mouth for a moment, then shut it with a grin. "Well, then how about we see how well you can perform this piece, huh? If there's enough time after, I don't see anything wrong with catching up a bit more." His grin was near seductive, although he was talking about a topic pure as white. Something about the way his eyes captivated yours that had your body telling you to either look away flustered, or to hold onto his eyes to match his intimidating gaze.

But rather than look at him any longer, you chose to take in a deep breath in preparation to perform for him. You straightened yourself up once more and saw him leave your sight from the corner of your eye.

"Just a bit too tense, y/n." He said softly to you, placing his hands onto your shoulders gently. "Relax for me."

As if that sentence alone didn't have you feeling even more tense, you closed your eyes and found it within yourself to relax, and to forget that it was Sam's doing for making your nerves skyrocket.

You began the piece, fluttering your eyes open and playing it as you learned it. Some of your mannerisms matched the way Sam played the piece - at least back then, just because you admired how beautiful he looked whilst performing. You were certain that if he hadn't become a teacher, he'd be on a stage performing in front of thousands.

You were lost in the music, lost in your motions and the way your fingers traveled alongst the keys in perfect harmony. So lost that you hadn't realized Sam's hands had left your shoulders, moving to stand near the front of the piano, watching you perform. All you could do was focus on playing as perfectly as you could for him, because if you were to look up and see his admiring stare, you would have forgotten the rest of the piece.

And so, you finished, watching your fingers dance along the last few keys and resting your hands onto your thighs, keeping your eyes down only for a moment before cautiously allowing yourself to look up and see his chin resting into his palm, wearing a large grin that he never seemed to wipe from his face.

"That was," he began to stride slowly towards you, "near perfection."

You followed his movements with your eyes. "Near?"

He sat next to you on the bench, holding onto your eyes. "You lost yourself a bit with the tempo, is all. I'm not shameful to a bit of artistic expression, but that would be for another project. But it's nothing that can't be fixed quickly."

"So, then it's a good thing that I made this appointment, hm? Without your expertise I wouldn't have known to slow down a bit." You said to him.

He huffed a laugh with an amused expression. "What's your game here? Sarcasm or flattery?"

You took a glance at his parted lips, locking eyes with him again. "Your guidance, Professor Kiszka."

He shook his head at you with a knowing look yet dismissing your counter remark and sliding closer to you.

"Well, for one, you should raise your arms a bit higher above the keys." He slid his hands under your forearms and raised them up slightly, being ever-so gentle with his touch. With how close he peered over your shoulder, you were certain if you were to turn to him, your nose would brush against his.

However, you wouldn't have been bothered by it if it were to occur. The opportunity presented itself when he had willingly brought himself even closer to you. Whether you would dare to do it was not on your mind right now, as you were tuning into the feeling of his coarse hands holding your forearms and making them weightless.

You could feel his exhaled breath just barely hit the side of your neck, and your body almost reacted with a shudder. Rather, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and suddenly you had become more aware of how many breaths you were taking in.

"And to help keep tempo," Sam slowly slid his hands off your arms, placing his hand lightly onto your thigh, "I'll tap on beat." He said as he began tapping onto your jeans lightly.

You dared to turn towards him and flick your eyes at his parted lips, locking onto his stare and feeling the inability to look away. You were certain the face you were displaying was one of desperation, of want.

But to him, it didn't appear that way. "Is this...okay?" He had said with a hint of worry. Maybe he didn't want to read into your facial expressions too much.

"Yes, yes it's okay." You gave him a reassured smile, along with a small nod, and tore yourself away from his gaze.

You began to play once more, trying to keep your mind on your fingers hitting the keys at the right pace rather than the fact that Sam's hand was on your thigh. The act was supposed to be innocent, a teacher merely helping his student perfect their piece, but to you, it was hard to feel anything pure towards your professor.

With the way his chin nearly rested onto your shoulder, to his steady breaths that matched yours as you played, to the low humming you could hear in your ear as your fingers danced along the piano. How did he expect you to focus when he was closer to you than ever before? When all you were thinking about was how easily it would be to kiss him, to give into him.

"What's on your mind, y/n?" He whispered to you.

You had continued playing, trying to keep up with the tempo he had set on your thigh.

"What do you mean?" You said without missing a beat.

"I can tell you're not focused. You're playing the piece properly, but your mind is somewhere else." He removed his hand from your thigh, which caused you to stop playing.

You turned to him. "I'm just a bit distracted, that's all. I'm sorry, Professor." You pressed your lips together, flicking your eyes down to avoid his gaze. A low sigh escaped his mouth as he watched gravity tilt your head down.

But then you felt his finger hook under your chin, lifting it up to meet his eyes. Every detail of his face was on display, and you couldn't focus your eyes on a single piece of his complexion - it was all something you wanted to remember so intricately.

"Am I distracting you?" He took a glance at your lips only for a discreet moment, then focusing in on your eyes and searched within them for an answer that you had yet to put out into the air.

"Maybe," you began, "what if I said that you were?"

Your bold statement had nearly taken him aback, with his hand removing itself from under your chin, and a light chuckle with the shake of his head as he composed himself. His hand ran to the back of his neck, then finding its resting place on the top of his thigh.

He leaned back slightly, the playful glint in his eyes dimming to something more contemplative. "Then I'd have to ask why," he murmured, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "Why do you find me distracting?" The air between you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unsaid possibilities, leaving you teetering on the edge of where his mind was at.

You took a hard swallow, tugging at the inside of your bottom lip and praying that you weren't about to make an embarrassing mistake.

Your heart raced as you decided to take the plunge. "Because" you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "I've never been able to keep myself composed long enough around you. And, now that we're alone, it's become increasingly hard to even think straight."

His eyes widened slightly, the seriousness of your confession hanging between you two like a fragile thread.

He moved closer, his warm breath just barely grazing the tip of your nose. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing," he said softly, his lips hovering just inches from yours, leaving you breathless and wondering if he was about to close the distance between you. "But you know what the rules are, right, y/n?"

"Do you plan on getting caught?" Your question hung in the air, heavy with implication. You felt a shiver run down your spine as the reality of the situation hit you. How the proximity had almost fizzled out in between you, the way Sam held your eyes in the most captivating way, taking only a millisecond to peak at your lips before returning to your gaze.

"Didn't know of you to be such a risk taker, y/n." He said to you with a steady voice.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your chest. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sam," you replied, your voice just as steady, matching his intensity.

His gaze flickered with curiosity and something deeper, something that made your pulse quicken more than it already was. "Sam?" He smirked. "As much as I like you calling me 'Professor,' I've missed hearing you say my name."

"I'll say it as many times as you want me to," you said softly, flicking your eyes to his lips before returning back to his gaze.

"Then start now," he murmured, his tone a blend of challenge and invitation. He inched closer, his breath mingling with yours, the space between you almost nonexistent now.

"Sam," you barely voiced.

"Again." He said as his lips were just barely brushing against yours. His hand gently traced the line of your jaw.

"Sam." You repeated for him.

He closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was a risk, practically whimpering into his mouth the second you got a taste whatever flavored ChapStick he wore.

His hand cupped your cheek, while his other hand rested on your thigh. You willingly fell into the touch, placing one of your hands onto his white button down, and the other beginning to tangle itself in his hair. You were merely breathless with the deepening of the kiss quickly becoming apparent, and now you were just desperate to run your hands under his shirt - to feel his warm skin under your touch.

Without unlocking your lips from his, you began to unbutton his shirt, and while he noticed, he allowed you to continue, pulling the shirt off of his shoulders and throwing it wherever it may land onto the ground.

His fingers crept under the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up to let every inch of your body feel that singular motion, and as soon as the tips of his fingers hit your bra, you were removing your mouth from his and finishing the job.

"You're eager." He teased at you, tugging at your bottom lip as he encapsulated your lips onto his again.

Instead of giving him a pitiful response into his mouth, you undid your bra with little struggle and threw it off of you whilst scooting yourself closer to your professor. His cold hands almost stung against your bare sides, yet soothed your heated skin as he ran them up slowly, finding your breasts and toying with them tenderly. A soft whine escaped out of your mouth, and in return, his mouth made its journey of running from your jawline, then to your neck, and to your collarbone.

Before you had even realized it, your hand was sliding down his chest, finding his bulge and cupping it. His groan vibrated against your neck, sucking lightly and digging his teeth into your neck as you threw your head back.

You had found yourself already breathless, squeezing your thighs together as your mind wondered to the inevitable. You lightly squeezed on Sam's bulge, hoping that he would mutter another sound for you to listen to.

But he removed himself from you with a heaving chest, unbuckling his belt as he stood up in front of you. While his eyes were first locked in at undoing the material holding up his pants, he then looked to you, pulling and shimmying off his jeans that were caught at his ankles. His briefs followed suit with his motion, and his cock sprung out in front of you.

Without hesitation, you had wrapped your hand around his length, keeping his eyes locked on yours as you pursed your lips and allowed spit to dribble from your mouth onto his cock. His mouth parted slightly, watching as your hand ran up and down him at an agonizingly slow pace. You gave him a small smile, one that had him caressing the side of your face and running his hand to the back of your head.

As he tousled with your hair, you pressed your lips softly onto his tip, then sliding him into your mouth. You watched as he threw his head back, groaning in a deep sigh and lightly tugging at the hair on the back of your head. You kept your hand pumping slowly at his base, while your head bobbed up and down his length.

The sensation of your soft, skilled mouth moving with rhythmic precision drew a deep moan from his lips. Your tongue danced expertly, exploring every inch, while your eyes remained fixed on his as he let his head fall back down towards you, drinking in every reaction. He was entranced with your motions and the way you effortlessly brought him such bliss.

His breathing had become unsteady, tugging at his bottom lip as he tugged your hair back which in return removed your mouth from him. You looked up to him eagerly, and in silence, he slowly fell to his knees at your mercy.

He looked beautiful bowed before you, unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans in a fluid motion, then dipping his thumbs under the denim, and wrapping his hands onto your sides that were hugged by the material. He slid them down slowly, and while doing so, you had lifted yourself up just enough to aid him in fully removing your jeans and panties. He had tossed them to the side, and once he looked back to you, your legs were pressed together.

You had found yourself shy with the vulnerability shared with him. Fully exposed to Sam, permanently imprinting this image of yourself in his brain that he would not dare to allow slip from his mind. His hands came to your knees as he noticed the sudden pink hue in your face.

"Open your legs for me, pretty girl." He said in a hoarse voice whilst he massaged your kneecaps. His demand was calm, and not one that meant to rush you. And you could feel the soothing, comforting energy that he was emulating in this moment that had you realizing he found you breathtaking - every single part of you.

So, you gave in willingly, looking at him with lustful eyes as you spread your legs apart slowly. His eyes were locked in onto your heat. Your bare form was being traced by his eyes, marveling at the curvatures of your body that seemed almost ethereal to him. He could not bring himself to speak a word, but rather sigh in reverence as his head inched closer and closer in between your thighs. It was if he was at your mercy, willing to give up anything and everything just to please you.

His lips pressed softly against the inners of your left thigh, and you had found yourself gasping lightly with a choked breath at the tender impact. Your hand relaxed at the back of his head as you massaged it, just as he did for you before, and a small grin curled onto his lips as he pressed more, soft kisses against your thighs, even sucking softly onto the skin. You were on the verge of begging for his mouth on you but resisted the urgency to see how Sam wanted to navigate himself around your body.

He raised his middle and ring finger to you, looking up at you submissively before uttering a soft, "open," to you. You quickly obeyed, parting your lips and letting him insert his fingers into your mouth, and resting them onto your tongue. You sucked slowly onto his fingers, swirling your tongue around his digits and allowing him to withdrawal them from your mouth.

And he kept his eyes locked on yours, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly inserted his two fingers inside of you. You gasped lightly, jolting forward with your back arched and your hands smashed onto the keys of the piano behind you as Sam curled his fingers. He broke from your eyes to see your hands clenched onto the keys and allowed a small smirk to curl onto his lips. He let that be his only reaction and continued to move his fingers.

You threw your head back as his other hand snaked up your body and lightly massaged your left breast. Your eyes were barely shut, mouth agape and allowing any sound bubbling in your throat out quietly. You had tugged onto the back of his head harshly as soon as you felt his tongue onto your clit, with your thighs squeezing tightly around his head and muffling your moans. As much as he wanted to push your legs apart to listen to every melodic sound that came from your mouth, he wasn't going take away from your bliss.

His tongue circled around your clit at a steady pace, with his fingers quickening to draw your moans out even more. You were tugging at your bottom lip as you rolled your hips into Sam's motions. You couldn't help but admire the view below you: your professor's eyes shut softly, seeming perfectly content in between your legs as he licked and sucked at your clit. He was already in tune with your body, knowing what made you feel good, and exactly what to do to send you over the edge.

You felt the knowing pressure in the pit of your stomach; a knot desperate to be unraveled by your orgasm. Your moans became strained - whiney.

"Sam, fuck, just like that." You slurred. Your hand had yet again found itself bracing against the keys of the piano, pressing a multitude of keys that didn't make the most beautiful melody, but the irony of that was it didn't matter what it sounded like. It mattered how it felt, which it perfectly conveyed.

You were arching your back away from the piano as your thighs trembled around Sam's head, calling out his name once more as your head fell forward and your breathing quickened. You alerted him of your orgasm, and all he did was continue his motions, calming them and seizing their existence after dragging out your high.

"You okay?" He looked up to you, removing his fingers slowly from your entrance and encapsulating them into his mouth to lick them clean.

You shuddered, and quickly swallowed and nodded at him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay." You laughed lightly.

He rose from his knees, standing before you still fully erect. You had forgotten how perfectly carved his abdomen was, how desirable him in his vulnerably, bare entirety was.

His fingers pressed from below your chin, lifting your eyes up to his own and holding a soft smile yet again.

"Are you okay to keep going?"

You smiled at him and his concern that just barely washed over his face.

"Yes, Sam." You nodded, reaching out for his face and him almost immediately complying.

He smashed his lips onto yours as you pulled yourself up from the bench. Your bodies melted into each other in a feverish rush, hands frantically exploring once more to remember the feeling of each other's skin. His hand had found the small of your back, guiding you to rotate to where you were now standing where he originally was.

His mouth kept on yours, slowly sitting down onto the bench and losing your lips with the action. You stood before him, watching his eyes fall to your thighs, where his hands began running slowly up and stopping at your waist.

He met your eyes again with his tongue darting out in between his lips. His touch was both tentative and possessive, as if memorizing every curve and contour. You could feel the heat radiating from his palms and igniting that fire once more.

He pulled you closer, his grip firm yet gentle, urging you to straddle his lap. As you settled into him, he had a hand on the base of his cock, dragging it alongst your sensitive folds that had you whimpering from the slight overstimulation. He looked to you once more to look for any sign of discomfort, but you placed your hands onto his shoulders, and lined yourself up with him.

You had sunk down onto him slowly and could not help breathing a relieved moan. He, on the other hand, released a guttural groan as you fully rested with him completely inside of you. His hands gripped onto your hips, breathing already unsteady, and beginning to guide you at a slow pace.

"Shit, y/n," he breathed, "you feel so perfect." He watched you grind your hips into him and continued. "You are so perfect."

You ran a hand from his shoulder and to his neck, finding his cheek and giving him a lustful smile. You were warm around his bare cock, tight and sucking him in perfectly. Your mind was dizzy with the thought of this all being a reality unfolding at this very moment; dizzy with the way he was making you feel.

You began to bounce at a steady pace, feeling his hips buck into you lightly to help alleviate some of the work on your end. He could tell you were tired. You were lazily chasing your next orgasm, although desperate for yours again and to help him find his, but your energy almost begged to deny it.

His left hand found a home onto the piano keys for leverage, lightly wincing at the sudden noise that filled the nearly silent room. You looked at him and smiled lightly, holding back your laughter at the noise.

"Doesn't sound too good." You teased.

He shook his head at you, furrowing his brows as he battled full euphoria taking over his being and disallowing a response from him. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as he tried to focus, the dissonant chord fading into the background of his awareness.

With a slow, deliberate movement, his thumb pressed into your hipbone, anchoring himself in the reality of your presence. The look in his eyes was a mix of passion and frustration, struggling to form words but failing as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed him.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you understood. His fingers flexed on the piano keys, creating a soft, accidental melody that echoed the unspoken rhythm of your connection. Even when he's not trying, he can make something beautiful out of a small mistake.

Yours and his's movements became quicker, both of you voicing your satisfaction with breathy moans, mixing swears and each other's names into the lustful air. Your hand ran to the back of his head, tousling with the damp hair and resting your forehead onto his. You both were a sweaty mess, which had you and him sticking to one another. It would be a battle to unravel yourself from him after this, but you warranted that.

He had a harsher grip onto your hip. His fingers dug into the plush skin while his thrusts became unsteady. He removed his hand from the piano and let you carry the pace on as his thumb circled onto your clit. You called out to him in a hushed moan, feeling your second orgasm creeping up quickly. Even though you warned him, he did not care. He wanted that.

"Cum for me again, y/n." He quickened his finger, pressing down onto your lower stomach. "Cum. For. Me." He repeated with gritted teeth.

Your eyebrows pulled together, locking your eyes with his as you reached your high almost immediately and pulled your head back from him with a hand pressed against his chest. You trembled against him and rode yourself through your high, with a high-pitched gasp shooting out from your mouth while you squeezed around him. And although your head was still fuzzy, you kept going for him.

He muttered your name in a warning, lifting you up from his lap just enough for him to pull out from you. You had sat yourself onto the middle portion of his thighs, far enough for him to finish himself off by painting his stomach and hand with his cum. You couldn't tear your eyes from him as he heaved and looked at the mess he had made, lightly chuckling to himself. You found his laughter and matched it, tucking your bottom lip behind your front teeth and smiling.

He reached for your lips once more, pressing a gentle, meaningful kiss onto your mouth as he cupped your cheek with his dry hand. And once your lips parted from his, you found the pattern of his breathing and controlled your own to emulate his.

He lifted his wrist to look at the time, and you in turn gave him a puzzled look whilst throwing your arms around his neck.

"Have another appointment today?" You said to him with slight disappointment. You had almost forgotten where you two were.

"I unfortunately do." He replied. "And I'd suggest we should clean ourselves up now and make it look like we did not just have sex on this fucking piano." He chuckled.

You quickly obeyed, standing up quickly and running over to his podium where he had a tissue box. You knew you were to return home and shower, but for now, this would suffice. Besides, you didn't know how much time you had before a student would walk in, so both of you focused on yourselves.

You had found your phone and quickly switched to the camera to make sure your hair wasn't too much of a mess, along with your makeup. Thankfully, it was a quick fix for anything out of place, and you took care of it while Sam finished buttoning up his shirt.

After you had placed your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you walked over to him.

"Do you do this with all of your students?" You questioned him with sarcasm.

He shook his head with a breathy chuckle. "Only the ones I like." He shrugged, catching onto your teasing.

You giggled at his response, choosing to leave the teasing behind in fear of the unknown amount of time you had left with him. "So, I'll see you tomorrow for class then?" You rocked on your heels.

"Well, I'd hope so," he smiled at you, sliding his hand onto your waist and pulling you closer. "Will I start seeing you outside of class, too?"

You felt a rush of warmth from his touch, a sense of comfort that had now been familiarized to you. "I think we can arrange that." You said in a playful manner as you placed the palms of your hands onto his chest.

His thumb traced small circles on your waist, his expression softening with a mixture of desire and affection. "Good," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours once more. "I look forward to it."

After you had parted from his lips again, you reluctantly pulled away from him and made your way to the doors of the lecture hall. You were hoping that whatever student was to come next wasn't outside already, because by the burning sensation that filled your cheeks, you could not hide that something had occurred beyond the lesson with him. With your professor.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

taglist:

@hollyco @ageofhearingloss @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @gold-mines-melting @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @joopsworld @gvfgal @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @haileygvf @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @indigofallingsky @sinarainbows @laneygvf @josh-iamyour-mama @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jjwasneverhere @mulberrimouse @starcatcher-jake @lallisonl @jordie-gvf @mindastreamofcolours @peaceloveunitygvf

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: oral sex, overstimulation, mild vibranium arm choking

The door crashed open as you fell through it, exhausted after a long day at work. You toed off your shoes as you called out your boyfriend's name in the apartment you shared. Glancing over at the clock on the oven as you traipsed through your home shedding your outer layers of clothing as you moved. Bucky wouldn't be home yet, he and Sam were out saving the world as usual. Normally you felt worried but today was different, today you just felt frustrated.

A soft whimper left your lips knowing that you would likely spend the evening alone and for some inexplicable reason, you'd spent the entire day feeling extremely aroused. All you could think of at work was your boyfriend’s smooth metallic fingers inside you and you’d arranged your day so that you’d be able to get home and spend your weekend riding the former Winter Soldier. It had been a simple thought, but for reasons unknown to you, the evils of the world seemed hellbent in ruining the simplicity of your needs. With a pout and a sigh, you sank into the deep cushions of your comfortable couch.

After a few moments of grumbling to yourself, you reached forward and grabbed the TV remote off the coffee table. If you couldn't have Bucky physically, you could at least watch him in a recent interview he had done. He had been mortified by the final outcome, but you thought he looked handsome and sounded very heroic. And you had been sure to save it to your favorites so you could watch it on demand when you wanted to hear his voice.

As you pressed play, Bucky’s voice floated into your ears, his formidable presence served only to increase your arousal. His vibranium arm glinted in the bright lights that surrounded him, the golden stripes making him glow. A slow smirk spread across your face, as you leaned back to watch him, doing your best to ignore the tingling between your legs which seemed to be growing in intensity.

You were so engrossed in admiring your boyfriend's handsome jawline and piercing blue eyes that you barely registered as your knees floated apart naturally and you bit your lip, your body felt like it was in a state of anticipation. The way Bucky was speaking to the interviewer made you smile, making direct eye contact, speaking clearly. He had come a long way since you first met him, a reclusive man who had been so haunted by his past that he had withdrawn himself from a true human connection.

That had changed after you became friends, your friendship had grown and blossomed into more, so much more than you'd expected. With Bucky, you shared a bond that you'd never experienced before, a closeness and trust, you felt that when he looked into your eyes he could see directly into your soul, your mind, he knew you like no one else had dared to know you. The flame that danced and burned within you matched his with a blazing intensity, it had given fuel to his dying embers, bringing back its warmth, its strength and his passion. A passion which he shared with you in so many ways… You had barely felt your hand drift down your body, softly skimming the swell of your breast, settling comfortably below the hem of your dress.

Bucky was exhausted, but he had promised you an evening of his company, whatever activity that may take the form of. He trudged up the stairs to your third floor apartment, having narrowly missed the lift. He suspected that Mrs Jenkins from the second floor had purposely ignored his pleas to hold the elevator, holding the 'close door' button with prejudice.

He couldn't wait to shed the weight of his leather clad clothing and feel the softness of your skin against his chest. He turned the key in the door and the muffled sounds of the television told him you were already home waiting for him. The key clicked in the lock and he let himself in quietly, dropping it in a small bowl by the door. He was about to call your name but caught a glimpse of your bare legs spread out on the sofa, feet taking purchase on the coffee table and the smallest of moans left your lips. If it hadn't been for this acute hearing, he would have missed it.

Slipping off his boots, he took a few silent steps further inside towards the living room and you. The vision of you, legs open, your sex hidden by the floral pattern of your dress and your hand beneath it. He smiled, watching as you touched yourself, your free hand working to release a breast from its lacy prison. Your eyes closed in bliss, wanton moans tumbling from your luscious lips.

“Oh Buck,” you sighed.

His smile couldn’t get any wider as he heard his name. He couldn’t resist you, taking a few more silent steps further into the living room. He hadn’t been called White Wolf for no reason, he was the perfect predator, moving in on his blissfully unsuspecting meal. The last thing he wanted to do was startle you. As he moved, Bucky glanced over at the television, half expecting to see a provocative movie or even an episode of Peaky Blinders. He had listened to you rave about how hot some of the scenes with Tommy Shelby were positively pornographic. Instead of either of these he made direct eye contact with his own face from the interview he had begrudgingly given a few weeks earlier. Bucky had never had any doubts about his prowess in sexual matters and rarely had any misgivings on his dashing looks, but this was an unexpected ego boost. His chest puffed out like a peacock as he stalked his way closer to you.

The next moan that leaves your lips has Bucky licking his, catching the bottom one between his teeth as he sat down on the table between your legs. So lost in the fantasy of your boyfriend, you are blissfully oblivious to your corporeal one now kneeling before you, lifting the hem of your skirt to watch your ministrations. It wasn’t until you felt the temperature difference between his warm flesh and the cool metal of vibranium on your thighs that you gasped and your eyes snapped open to see him grinning back at you.

“Why’d you stop, Doll?” Bucky asked innocently.

You’d frozen your movements, the flush on your face deepening from arousal to mortification at being caught.

“Hey,” he tried again, the sinful smirk never leaving his lips. “What’re you doing?” Bucky’s words were soft, non judgemental as his eyes dropped back to where your hand was still unmoving.

“I- I…” Your lust-addled mind couldn’t find a plausible explanation other than the obvious.

“Because to me it looks like you’re getting off watching me on TV. Ain’t that right, gorgeous?” His gaze found yours again in a questioning manner and despite the rhetorical nature of his words, his voice rose with an inquisitive tilt as he spoke to you.

“Maybe-”

He wrapped his metal digits around your wrist, guiding your hand up to his mouth so he could suck your juices off your fingers, humming appreciatively at how delicious you tasted in his mouth.

“I think this says a lot more than ‘maybe’. I think you’ve made a big mess here all on your own.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“No?” Bucky raised an inquisitorial eyebrow.

“I had him,” you pointed the remote in your hand at his frozen face on the screen.

“Well by all means, you keep watching and let me clean up this mess you’ve made,” he said, wetting his lips in anticipation.

And without further ado, before you’d even had the chance to press play, Bucky pushed his fingers against your thighs, prying apart your folds and pressed his tongue against your sex. He took a few laps at your clit before licking long slow sensual stripes from your puckered hole right back up to your clit. Bucky had you squirming in a matter of mere moments, kneading his fingers, his tongue tracing your seams, occasionally dipping inside you letting your essence coat it as your juices flooded from you. Sensually his metallic fingers made his way up your body, letting you guide him to your mouth where you sucked yourself off them as he mumbled and moaned against your sweet cunt, the vibrations of his voice pushing you closer and closer to a quick release.

The television long forgotten as the real Bucky’s dulcet tones took over your senses. He moved up and latched his mouth onto your clit, sucking it between his puffed up lips. One by one, Bucky slipped his fingers into you, stretching and opening you up.

“Oh yeah, right there, Bucky… just like that.”

You pushed your hips against his face, his fingers, desperately seeking your climax. There was something wildly exhilarating about seeing Bucky’s face on the screen, larger than life when the camera panned in for a close up, then looking down to see his head bobbing up and down. You had stopped sucking his fingers and his vibranium plated hand had found its place around your neck, pressing down as you writhed under his touch.

"I've been thinking about you all day, Buck. So horny, waiting for you."

Your words spurred him on. The faster Bucky worked his fingers in and out of your dripping core, the tighter you squeezed your thighs together, your feet left the coffee table as you draped your legs over his shoulders, calves pressed against his back while he thrust into you.

“Oh God, Bucky,” you whimpered, panting desperately waiting for your orgasm to take over your body and fill you with bliss.

You tugged his hair with one hand while clutching the arm he had wrapped around your neck. The more you bucked your hips, the tighter his grip on you became, the faster he moved his curled fingers, mouth sucking, faster and faster, until…

A fresh wave of your milky elixir flowed from your depths, euphoria spreading through your body as you threw your head back before shuddering and moaning through your orgasm. Not that this stopped him, he continued to lap up your release.

“Hmm, doll, I wish you could see this. See how beautiful and swollen your clit is. Your pussy all pretty and red and leaking, just for me. Who's this all for, doll?” he purred.

“All for you, Buck.”

"That's right, all mine." Bucky grinned, pushing his thumb inside you, collecting the remains of your essence, circling it over your throbbing nub. You trembled as waves of pleasure flowed through your frame. But he didn't stop there. Bucky carried on rubbing until you were squirming under the overstimulation of his touch.

"Still so sensitive for me, huh?" he said, proudly, as he treated every one of his flesh fingers to a feel of just how good you felt to him. "Look at you being so good for me, taking everything I give you."

His words sounded far away now, your pulse throbbing in your ears and the combination of pleasure and pain transported you away to a higher plane of existence. It was impossible to tell if it was his fingers that were pressed against you or his tongue, as he mumbled sweet words against your aching pussy. You twitched as his words tumbled into you, his kitten licks and gentle sucks had you screaming flagrantly.

"Buck, it's too much, I- I…"

You were positively dizzy, completely lost in the haze of your excessively stimulated senses. It was overwhelming but you couldn't quite bring yourself to tell him to stop, to use the safe word for when it was all too much.

"Make me come, Bucky. I need it. Now, Bucky, now! Please!" you begged him, begged him for relief.

"That's it, gorgeous. You can do it," he breathed against your clenching cunt before taking you into his mouth, sucking your clit between his teeth.

He sent you over the edge with one particularly rough draw, pressing his tongue against you as you were swept away, off over the edge into an abyss of exaltation.

Eventually Bucky's words came back into focus.

"That's it, doll. That's my gorgeous girl. I love how beautifully you come for me. So perfect." A delighted smile graced his proud face and it made you glow with happiness.

"Now sweet girl, you think you got one more in there for me?" he asked, his shiny black fingers already loosening the belt at his waist.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #kinktober

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cheynovak · 1 month ago

Text

Passion and Redemption

Dean Winchester x Y/N female character

Summary: Dean and Y/N are secretly hooking up. They both reclaim their virginity during a hunt. Dean get jealous and seize the moment to let Y/N know what she'd be missing if she left.

Set in season 9 ep 8 - see video

Warnings: talk of sex. nothing explicit

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. like/share/comments are appreciated.

The Impala's engine rumbled softly as it idled in front of the small church. Dean cut the engine and glanced at Y/N in the rearview mirror. She was sitting quietly in the backseat, her gaze fixed on the church entrance. Sam shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, clearly not looking forward to this virginity-restoring "purity" meeting. Dean wasn’t either—but for different reasons.

The last few hunts had been intense, and Y/N had proven herself invaluable. Quick, smart, and fearless in the face of monsters. But last night, Dean had seen something that messed with his head. He’d caught her chatting up a bartender, leaning in close, giving him that same smile she gave Dean when they were alone. He swore he saw her slip the guy a napkin, probably with her number on it.

His gut twisted with jealousy and anger. He and Y/N had been hooking up in secret for weeks, and while Dean wasn’t one for serious relationships, seeing her with someone else stung more than he wanted to admit. All morning, he'd been giving her the cold shoulder, keeping his distance. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

Sam’s voice broke the silence. “You guys ready for this?”

Dean snorted. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Sammy.

Y/N gave a quiet sigh from the backseat, her arms crossed. She followed the brothers into the church, where they were greeted by a circle of people—mostly women—waiting for the session to begin. Pamphlets were spread across a long table in the center, with a large cross mounted on the wall behind it. Dean found a seat, Sam beside him, and Y/N a few chairs away.

The leader clapped her hands, smiling brightly at the group. “Welcome, everyone! Today, we’re going to open up about why we’ve decided to give up sex. Whether it’s for spiritual reasons, emotional healing, or just a fresh start, we’re here to support one another.”

Dean rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who enjoyed sharing his feelings with a group of strangers.

One by one, the participants shared their stories. Some mentioned past heartbreak, others trauma, and a few spoke about wanting to strengthen their spiritual connection. When it came to Y/N’s turn, she sat up straighter, her voice cool and steady.

“All men are the same,” she said, eyes locking onto Dean’s with a sharpness that made him wince. “They take what they want, then toss you aside when they’re done.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. That one hit a little too close to home. She was talking about him. She had to be. But what the hell? It wasn’t like he’d thrown her aside… not yet, anyway. He wasn’t even sure what was going on between them. Either way, hearing her say that stung.

Then, it was Dean’s turn. He leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin creeping across his face. If she was going to throw shots at him, he might as well play it up.

“Well,” he started, his voice dropping into that familiar, low tone, "Sex has always felt, I don't know... good. You know, really... really good."

He couldn't look at her as he continued. "But eh, sometimes it just makes you feel bad. You know, you're drunk, take a girl home, you shack up."

"Then it's the whole morning thing you know. Hey that was fun." He looked at Y/N now, giving her a low blow. "And then it's hard to let her down, to tell her... adios."

He looked back at his hands. "Always the adios"

“when you get down to it, what's the big deal? Sure, there's the touching, the feeling all of each other... my hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body." He shifted in his seat, watching the women in the room lean in just a little closer. "The two of us moving together, pressing, pulling, grinding… and then you hit that sweet spot and everything just builds, builds and builds until it all just… "

*explosion noise*

He made a little hand gesture to go along with the sound, and a few of the women giggled, cheeks flushing pink. Dean wasn’t done yet, though.

“But, you know," he added with a casual shrug, "the whole thing’s just a little too… sticky.”

The room fell silent, the mood shifted from amused to confused. The way Dean casually tossed that last line out there, like he was commenting on something trivial, left everyone a bit off guard. Even Sam shot him a bewildered look.

Y/N’s lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowing. She was pissed, no doubt about it. Dean could practically feel the heat of her glare burning into him, but he couldn’t resist the smug satisfaction that came with knowing he was getting under her skin.

The leader, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation, gave a polite chuckle and moved on to the next person, but the tension between Dean and Y/N was palpable. Dean didn’t look at her directly, but he could feel her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

As the meeting wrapped up and everyone filed out, Dean lingered near the door, waiting for Sam and Y/N. When she passed him, she didn’t say a word, but her shoulder brushed against his in a way that was far from accidental.

Sam, oblivious as always, gave Dean a nod. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, watching Y/N’s retreating figure. “I’m coming.”

But as they left the church and headed back to the Impala, Dean knew he had a problem on his hands. Y/N was angry, and he wasn’t sure if it was just the jealousy talking or something deeper. Either way, they were going to have to deal with it—and when they did, there was no telling how things were going to play out.

Dean just hoped they didn't just crossed a line too far.

Y/N barely had time to settle into her motel room when she heard a knock on the door. She sighed, knowing exactly who it was. She debated ignoring it, but the knocking came again, more insistent this time. Reluctantly, she got up and opened the door, revealing Dean standing there, jaw tight and eyes full of irritation.

Before she could say anything, he brushed past her into the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Was that really necessary?” he snapped, turning to face her. “To hit me like that?”

Y/N blinked, completely caught off guard. “Hit you!?” she shot back, hands on her hips. “I didn’t hit you, Dean!”

“Yeah, well, that look you gave me might as well have been a right hook,” Dean growled, frustration seeping into his voice. “You could’ve jeopardized the whole damn hunt with that glare. Everyone in the room was ready to eat me alive!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, I could’ve jeopardized the hunt? Really, Dean? How about mister let me give all 20 women in the room an orgasm at once? Maybe that's why they where eating you alive! You overdid it, Dean! You didn’t sound the least bit sorry about premarital sex—you made it sound like a damn celebration”

Dean’s face hardened, his jaw tightening even more. “At least I didn’t stand up there and act like I’d been thrown aside like yesterday’s garbage while I’m handing out my number to every bartender I meet!”

Y/N’s expression shifted from angry to confused in an instant. “What?” She stared at him, searching his face for some clue as to what the hell he was talking about. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you last night,” Dean shot back, his voice dripping with accusation. “At the bar. With that bartender. You were all over him, and you slipped him a napkin with your number. Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

Y/N blinked again, her confusion growing. “Wait, that’s what this is about, why you act so weird around me?” She shook her head, almost laughing in disbelief. “Dean, I didn’t give him my number.”

Dean folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. “Right. I saw it. You handed him a napkin.”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, Dean, I handed him the napkin back. He wrote his number on it, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but then paused. The jealousy and anger that had been fueling him began to fizzle out as the realization hit. His arms dropped to his sides, and he looked away, feeling like an idiot. He’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, and now it was clear.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re serious?”

Y/N crossed her arms, still glaring at him. “Yeah, Dean. I’m serious. I wasn’t giving out my number. I was turning him down.”

Dean stood there, awkwardly shifting on his feet. The jealousy that had driven him all day now felt completely misplaced, and the frustration that had clouded his thoughts suddenly seemed ridiculous.

“You said you were… seeing someone?” Dean asked cautiously, his voice softer now, laced with hesitation.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment before she nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

Dean swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to backpedal after everything he’d accused her of. He felt a sudden swell of guilt for doubting her, but he wasn’t used to this—this vulnerability, this caring.

“I guess I…” He trailed off, his voice quieter. “I don’t know what I thought.”

Y/N’s glare softened, and she took a step closer. “You really thought I’d just… move on like that? After everything?”

Dean shook his head, his usual cockiness gone. “No. I just—when I saw you with him, I freaked. I’m not good at this, Y/N. I’m used to keeping things casual, but this… whatever this is with us, it’s different. And I guess I was scared I was the only one feeling it.”

Y/N looked up at him, her expression softening as the tension between them slowly ebbed away. “You’re an idiot, but I get it.”

Dean let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, finally letting his guard down. “Yeah, well… wouldn’t be the first time.”

They stood there for a moment, the anger and confusion dissipating. Y/N took another step closer, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked up at him, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally said, his voice low and genuine. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

Y/N nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “No, you shouldn’t have. But you’re an idiot, and I kinda expected it.”

Dean smirked, stepping closer until they were inches apart. “I guess I owe you for that one, huh?”

“Big time.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. Y/N smiled, "Next time, just tell me what’s going on before you go full jealous caveman, okay?” Y/N whispered.

Dean laughed softly, shaking her head. “Deal.”

They stood there, the air between them lighter now, though still charged with that familiar tension. Dean looked down at her, his eyes softening, and without thinking, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled, leaning into his touch, and for the first time all day, Dean felt the knot in his chest unwind.

Dean stood there, that familiar lopsided grin creeping across his face, the tension between them melting away, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I guess I have an idea how I can make it up to you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, playing along as her lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, you do?”

Dean stepped closer, his hands gently resting on her hips, pulling her toward him. “If I’m remembering right,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, “you told me once that you had a… less-than-stellar first time, right?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She knew exactly where this was going, and she couldn’t help but smile as she nodded, her voice soft. “Uh-huh. Why?”

Dean’s lips captured hers in a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Well, technically… we’re both virgins again, aren’t we?”

He kissed her again, more insistent this time, and Y/N could feel the heat between them intensify. The playful teasing had dissolved into something real, something they both wanted.

“Maybe I can right some wrongs,” Dean murmured against her lips, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. "What do you think, can I be your first Y/N?"

Y/N hummed softly, her hands threading through his hair as she kissed him back, letting the warmth spread through her. She could feel her heart racing, her body responding to every touch. As they broke apart for air, she giggled softly, pushing him toward the bed with a playful shove.

Dean let out a surprised laugh as he landed on the mattress, looking up at her with a mix of amusement and desire. “Finally,” she teased, crawling on top of him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “mister Winchester has a master plan.”

Dean grinned up at her, his hands sliding up her thighs, his voice rough with desire. “Yeah, and it’s one I don’t plan on messing up.”

Y/N leaned down, her lips hovering just above his as she whispered,

“You’d better not.”

Taglist:

@lmg14 @kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @libby99hb

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fandom #supernatural sam #supernatural dean #supernatural #superntural

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rauchendesgnu · 7 months ago

Text

"Would you like a seat?" Gerry asks over his shoulder as Sam follows him deeper into the apartment. "Only if it isn't a bother," Sam says despite the throbbing in his hip. "Oh, it's no problem at all. Let me just--" The young goth rushes ahead into some sort of studio, clearly expecting Sam to follow. Every spot in the room is either occupied with a painting, or painted on, or splattered, or filled with utensils, tools, and other stuff that is necessary for art. Gerry sweeps a pile of pencil sketches from a chair and offers it to Sam, who sits gratefully, eyes still wandering over the atelier in overwhelmed amazement. "I can make some tea?" Gerry offers. "Oh," Sam says with an awkward smile. "I'm more one for coffee." "Do you mind if I make one for myself, then?" "No, go ahead." The sounds of an electric kettle being filled and switched on reaches Sam, whose eyes fall onto the sketches. He leans a bit closer to get a better look. It's not very polite, to go snooping into the drawings of a potential friend, but he can't help himself. He's always been so damn curious. The first sketch shows a short, thin man with dark hair that is starting to go grey despite his young but tired face. His brown skin is covered in scars and his eyes are glowing. Sam blinks, and for a second he feels like the drawing blinks back at him. He quickly moves the sketch to the bottom of the stack and shakes his head. It's the sleep deprivation. He's not starting to see movement in traditional sketches. The next few sketches show the same man, over and over again, eyes blazing, mouth set in a thin line, exhaustion weighing down a face that could once have been called handsome. He's not the only one, though. There's a second man, tall and broad, with red hair and a dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. He's barely recognisable in the fog that surrounds him that gets thicker with every new sketch Sam discovers. The last one is that of a man who wouldn't have looked out of place in Pride and Prejudice (as written by Cassandra Austen), with a neatly pressed collar and a cravat, as well as jewellery in the form of eyes. His grey eyes are intense, piercing Sam through the page. Sam is about to put the sketches back when a piece of paper slips, and his heart stops. The woman on the paper is a detailed pencil drawing of Celia. It's almost scary how perfect that sketch catches her likeness. Surely Gerry would have needed more than one look at her to draw her so realistically? Sam fights the wave of jealousy that wants to overtake him. It's none of his business who Celia meets in her free time. There is only that one sketch of her, and as Sam finds the last page, he's a bit disappointed to discover that there is just two sentences scribbled in nearly illegible handwriting.

The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think.

They are underlined with so much force that the pencil nearly broke through the paper. In the kitchen, the kettle turns off, and Sam quickly places the pages back in order. "Gerry," he says when his host returns, mug of tea in hand, "who are these people you sketched?" Gerry glances over his shoulder, then shrugs. "Now that you say it...I have no idea. These are from a while ago. Why, did I accidentally draw someone you know?" He says it with a smile, like it's a joke between artists. Did I accidentally draw you? Sam's gaze drifts back over the man with the glowing eyes. "I don't know," he says softly. "I don't know."

#the magnus protocol #tmagp fanfic #sam khalid #gerry keay #gerry delano #disabled character #tmagp #tma episode 65: binary #tmagp chester #tmagp norris #martin blackwood #jonah magnus #jonathan sims #jmj error #my writing #ficlet #alternate history

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thatmexisaurusrex · 4 months ago

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sam and bucky have a tiny argument over the smallest thing (like truly not that significant in the long run) but they both give each other the silent treatment and don't know how to end it because it spiraled out of control and they thought about it too much, and it became a thing out of nothing. so now maybe sam is like yeah, this is stupid, but i can't just let it slide every single time. he needs to reach out first and acknowledge my feelings and i have to stand my ground since i already distanced myself. meanwhile bucky is convinced it's all his fault and they broke up forever. he knows the fight was stupid but in his brain he makes himself believe this will keep happening because of him and sam deserves better than someone who keeps getting it wrong. maybe he doesn't even reach out, simply empties his drawer in the middle of the night and tries to slip out of sam's life. 😶

Send Me a Headcanon or a Microfic Prompt

If this is why the divorce era happens, I'm going to cry. You can't be putting this down and making me pick it up 😭 Okay, I'm going to fix it. You're not asking me to, but I'm fixing it.

In the Middle of the Night

Sam heard it.

He heard the rummaging of someone in his room. And for a brief, tense moment, Sam wondered if someone had broken in. Someone was here to hurt his family and Sam couldn't - Sam wouldn't let that happen.

And Sam's body moved before he could process what exactly was happening. He was sitting on this man, his thighs pressed on the man's sides. Sam had the entire body of James Buchanan Barnes sprawled on the ground under him as he held Bucky's wrists.

The both of them.

Breathing.

Breathing each other's air.

And Sam wouldn't say this was usually how he would capture an intruder, but hey, maybe his body had known something he hadn't when he sprang into action.

There was an intensity in Bucky's eyes.

Which.

Wasn't a new thing.

There was always an intensity to those eyes; piercing Sam's well-crafted armor.

They both.

Relaxed a touch.

But there was still a tenseness there. Not because of danger, but because of an argument. A small, nothing argument that Sam couldn't let happen again.

Because it always happened. Over and over, Bucky seemed to not take Sam's thoughts into consideration. And while the argument itself was a nothing one, wasn't important, the underlining problem was a major issue.

"What are you doing sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?" asked Sam.

Which, if Sam had asked Bucky that a few weeks ago, it would have been playful; there would have been a smile on his face.

"I was gathering my things," Bucky said simply.

And.

Sam glanced at Bucky's hands - saw t-shirts; clothes scattered on the floor from their skirmish.

Sam.

Sam slumped, the fight knocked out of him like a gut punch.

"You're seriously leaving me?" whispered Sam into the quiet room.

Bucky furrowed his brow.

"You don't want that?" asked Bucky.

Sam laughed bitterly. Because that was still the problem, that was the entire fucking problem.

"I want you to ask me what I want, James," Sam spelled out clearly, "I don't want you to do things assuming what I want."

And.

And maybe Bucky finally understood. He relaxed under Sam. He brought his hands up to Sam's face and held it.

"What do you want?" asked Bucky softly.

"For you to apologize. For you to put your fucking clothes back in the drawer. For you to get back in bed with me instead of sleeping on the couch," said Sam honestly.

Bucky sat up. His forehead touched Sam's and - and Bucky leaned even closer.

"I'm sorry," he said tenderly between kisses, "I'll put the clothes back up. I'll get in bed with you."

Sam held Bucky's wrists even tighter.

"You better," grumbled Sam before he reluctantly got up.

Sam settled back into bed as he watched Bucky put his clothes away in his drawer; as Bucky joined him in bed, Bucky's arms wrapped around Sam.

And Sam.

Sam hadn't slept so well in weeks.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky microfic #more like #sambucky ficlet #angst with a happy ending #my fics #In the Middle of the Night #asks

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bubble-popping · 3 months ago

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day 10! more roleswap au :) this time c!dteam actually have good communication? crazy stuff

George followed the pacing netherborn with a bored gaze. Black hair was ablaze with tall flames, lighting up the entire ravine with its intensity. Even so far back, George could feel the heat, but he'd long grown accustomed to his friend's explosive outbursts.

"And he was totally clueless! He acted like he didn't just murder like ten people! Then he just-poof! Gone! What kind of coward does that?!"

"I think you're totally overthinking this, Sap-"

"And you!!" The panda hybrid abruptly spun around to point at him. "How are you so calm about this!? He just killed you!!"

"Me and several other people, yeah. That's kinda how firework rockets work."

"Aren't you mad? Aren't you pissed off?!"

"I mean, at first, yeah. I don't really care now though."

"WHAT?? How can you just let go of something like that?!"

George shrugged. "Look, Bad was being weird. He was pressuring Dream to do it, and Dream didn't even fire at me. Firework rockets are just that OP. And... Sapnap, c'mon. We know his past."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that-"

Heavy footsteps interrupted their argument, causing Sapnap's fire to cut out. They both looked up at the criss-crossing paths created to better traverse the two sides of the ravine. A familiar figure trudged down cobblestone steps and wooden bridges.

They watched as the hunched silhouette lumbered to the lowest level, cape and tail dragging along the ground. Green eyes seemed to glow in the torch light despite being half-lidded with exhaustion. "Hey, guys."

A tense silence followed.

Then, like a proper inferno, Sapnap blew up again. "THAT'S IT??? You kill George-you kill a bunch of people, actually, and that's all you can say!?"

Dream visibly flinched, grimacing. "I just, I wasn't sure what to say-"

"How about, oh I don't know, AN APOLOGY?"

"You're right." The ender hybrid nodded and glanced to the brunette before hesitantly approaching him. George watched him get closer, and tried not to let it show that the blood--his blood--staining his friend made him feel more put off than he expected. "George."

"Dream."

"I..." The taller tried, only to get promptly choked up. Tears started to build on his lashes, just when he thought he'd run out of those. He clenched his hands into fists, needing something to hold now more than ever. "I'm sorry. I didn't, you know I would never hurt you, or Sapnap, or Sam or-ya know, you guys are my friends and I-I love you guys, I just-" He had to stop again, throat closing as his tears started to run.

"Hey," a soft whisper came. Gentle hands slipped between his, and when he looked, George offered a warm smile. "It's okay, Dream. I forgive you."

"You-you do?"

The shorter nodded. "I could see something was off. You weren't yourself out there."

"Yeah, somethin'... something like that."

"This server tends to have that effect on people. Besides, I got more, ya know?" The Brit joked. Thankfully, it finally got Dream to smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, then looked to Sapnap who had his arms crossed and gaze downcast. Dream reluctantly pulled away from George to stand before the netherian. "Sapnap?"

"Why'd you do it?" Sapnap asked without looking up.

"I didn't want to. Bad was..." Dream sighed as he tried to find the words. "I dunno what he was trying to do, but he mentioned my past, Sap-"

"That's my dad you're talking about, ya know."

"I know. Your father, who exiled you from your own country, Sapnap." He didn't miss how Sapnap flinched, clearly wrestling with that knowledge himself.

"You promised you'd never hurt us, Dream. You said that life was behind you."

"And I felt terrible when I realized what I did. I killed George, I almost killed you, I... I felt like I'd betrayed you guys. That's not what I came here to do, and I'm sorry. I understand if you don't forgive me. Regardless, I'm going to do better. I'll be someone who protects you guys with my strength, not hurts you."

Finally, Sapnap looked up to meet Dream's gaze, and found only steely determination.

"I believe you, Dream. I know you can do good. I've seen it. And, honestly, some of it's my fault too. I should've stepped in sooner. I should've been there to back you up."

"What's done is done. Only thing we can do now is move forward."

"So, friends?" Sapnap held out his fist.

"Best friends." Dream grinned and bumped his own fist to Sapnap's.

"Great, now that we're all friends again, can you please take a bath, Dream?" George piped up from behind them, causing Dream to jolt and fluster with embarrassment.

"R-right. I'm gonna go do that."

#dreblr #dteam #dsmp fanfic #roleswap au #bubble writes #daily drabble

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imtryingbuck · 1 year ago

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It’s just Jenga

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: playing games with some of the team causes somebody to have a meltdown.

Word count: 544

Warnings: fluff.

Masterlist

The rain wouldn’t stop falling all day, and since none of you had any missions today you decided to play games minus Tony and Bruce, Tony was with Pepper and Morgan whilst Bruce had locked himself in his lab.

Monopoly was the first game you played but after nearly four hours playing it was decided that it’d be put away.

Now you guys are onto playing the second game as the rain continues to pour down.

Bucky, Steve, Nat and Wanda watch from the sidelines with bated breath as both yours and Sam’s hands slowly move around the pieces, all noticing the slight hesitation in your movements.

You look Sam dead in the eyes as the game continues to grow more intense.

“Babe stop looking at me like that it’s throwing me off” He practically whines.

“Like what bubba?”

“Like that…with them eyes”. He says gesturing with his right hand to your eyes.

“Yeah babe don’t look at him with them eyes” Nat mocks causing everyone to laugh.

“Guys! Stop I’m concentrating”. Sam whines once again.

“Yeah come on guy stop he’s concentrating” it’s now Steve’s turn to mock your poor boyfriend.

“Babe tell them!”

“Sam baby your not helping yourself right now, please pick one so I can have a go”

“Hold on hold on, okay”. Finally - five minutes later - he picks one.

You pick the next block slowly pulling it towards you, smiling triumphantly when you succeeded.

The game continues with Sam taking his sweet time on deciding which block he wants to pick, even going as far to stand up and move around the table, crouching down with his hands behind his back.

“Sam please just pick one! It took me and Steve five minutes to finish the game” Wanda says with a huff.

“Ay! This games like doing an operation, you can’t rush it Wanda!”

“It’s just Jenga” Bucky laughs.

“Just…Jenga…roboman?”

“Sam…”

“No no no babe. According to roboman here it’s just jenga. He clearly has no love nor respect for this game in question so I’ll just pick one - see I hope your happy now”

You all have to stifle your laughs at how serious he’s taking the game. The moment he sits back down he’s gesturing to you “it’s your tu-“

The remaining pieces come falling down.

The look of pure devastation is written all over his handsome face.

“I-I-what”

The whole room fills with laughter as Sam sits their mouth opening and closing, poor baby’s speechless.

“Babe?”

"I hope it was worth it?” He say’s accusingly to Bucky.

“What are you on about?”

“Making me loose the game! Was it worth it?”

“It’s only a game Sam.”

“Was it worth it”

Bucky sits further into his chair, arms crossed and smiled “yes Sam making you loose the game was worth it.”

“Ba-babe I-I-“

You had to roll your eyes at his dramatics “come on bubba let’s get you a drink”

Getting him up and out of his seat and moving him towards the kitchen, he clings on to you.

“Did you, I can’t-I can’t be friends with him anymore”

Later that night all you hear from beside you is Sam muttering ‘it’s just jenga’ over and over, huffing each time, in his sleep.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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cjsarchive · 2 months ago

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Can you write Sam comforting Mika when she's having a panic attack, please?

Yes I can, I hope you enjoy!

I’ll Always Be Here for You-Sam x Mika

Tw: Depictions of a panic attack

Mika stared down at her pile of textbooks and notebooks filled up with notes all over her bed. She sat in the midst of all of them, sighing. It was 11:34pm and she was rushing to complete all of her notes. Sam knew she needed to study, so he left her alone for the time being. Mika was used to pushing herself and working nonstop, even to the point of anxiety. She had made the decision to prioritize her mental health for a few days and try not to focus on her work. But it turns out, mental health days don’t actually benefit your mental health, or at least Mika thought so. She was now studying late trying to catch up on the work she didn’t do. She was stressed out and exhausted, trying to keep herself awake and working despite the headache she had trying to tell her to stop and go to bed

There was so much work to do and all she wanted to do was sleep, but she couldn’t sleep, her body wouldn’t let her. She had to get this work done. Mika sighed as her eyes started to water from the amount of stress she felt in that moment. She felt like she was wrong for not working, like her whole life was thrown off balance. ‘There’s so much I need to do. You have responsibilities, you have to get this degree.’ She told herself repeatedly. ‘Why did I take days off? That was so stupid of me.’ She thought to herself, ‘The world never stops, it nevers goes on hold for you.’ Suddenly, she felt a sudden surge in her chest, almost feeling like someone kicked her in the chest. She gripped her chest at the sudden pain. She began to shiver as she suddenly began to have difficulty breathing. Her heartbeat quickened, her hands felt cold, and her breathing fastened as she began to sweat. Her vision started to blur, not only from the tears, but also from the dizzying that quickly grew in her mind. She felt a sinking in her stomach and her stomach suddenly dropped, like she was falling rapidly and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Everything was whirling around in her head, she felt like she was rushing away from her bed, like she wasn’t in reality anymore. She couldn’t feel her body, she felt very lightheaded. Almost felt like her brain was trying to escape from her mind.

The bedroom door suddenly opened, and in walked Sam, yawning, “Hey, doofus, are you still studyi-“ he immediately froze when he saw Mika and sensed her extreme level of intensity in the aura around her body, “Woah! Are you okay?! What’s wrong?” He quickly rushed over and looked over her. She was sweating profusely as she gripped her chest, breathing heavily.

“I-I,” Mika tried to say, but her words kept escaping her. She felt outside of her mind, barely being able to make out that it was Sam standing there talking to her. Sam stood there panicked, he had no idea what to do. His mind felt empty as he tried to figure out what’s going on, and how to help her. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ He panicked to himself. She was clearly in distress, but she wasn’t speaking to him. He couldn’t think of anything but try to enthral her. His eyes glowed a golden color as he altered her mind to bring it to a calm and relaxed state. Mika felt her mind suddenly go blank. She then felt a warm, fuzzy feeling flow throughout her body. Her heartbeat softed and she felt herself slow as her mind slowly came back down to earth. She began to gain feeling in her body again and her dizziness calmed.

Sam moved aside her books on the bed before he sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her, leaning her head against his chest. “Sorry about enthralling you and stuff, I just had no idea what to do,” he said, sounding almost guilty. Mika took deep breaths and wrapped her arms around Sam. She listened to his heartbeat, “It’s okay, I’m just glad it’s over.” She sighed, settling in his chest. Sam simply held her, he rubbed gentle circles on her back, waiting for her to calm down for real as the help of his enthrallment slowly faded away.

After a while, he finally asked, “What happened?” He asked softly, hoping he wouldn’t trigger her again.

Mika sighed, “I’m so stressed. I have all this work I have to catch up on and…I panicked.” She said, putting it briefly.

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? It’ll be fine. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

Mika nodded, “Alright,” her mind finally drifted to a calm pace as he held her. Sam wanted to talk more about this, but he knew that what she needed right now was comfort, and he was more than happy to provide it. Mika didn’t know if it was his enthrallment, or simply Sam’s presence, but she completely relaxed in his arms. She nuzzled his chest as she got comfortable with him. “Thank you, Sam,” she said softly.

Sam left a kiss on her head as he continued to hold her close, not wanting to let her go, “I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

#seduce me the otome #seduce me otome #seducemeotome #seducemetheotome #smto #seduce me sam #seduce me sam x reader #aomaris #im terrible at naming this omg #hopefully this is alright!

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indigosabyss · 8 months ago

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Samkamiles Prompt: Checkup

"Sam, come on, what about mini golf?" Paul demanded, "Can't believe you're flaking out on us like this, man."

Sam laughed nervously, "Listen, guys, I really can't. Been feeling crappy all week, and just want to chill for a bit."

"Because mini golf is such an intense sport." Blake muttered under his breath.

Sam knew why he was feeling crappy. Two days ago, he'd taken a hit to the head by an asteroid. Yeah, the helmet fixed most of the damage, but there were only so many times that could be done before it was more of a simple surface-level fix.

He couldn't exactly tell these guys that, though. So he had to let himself be dragged out to mini golf, with his ears ringing and eyes dotted with spots that really had nothing to do with abandoned helmets this time.

"Sam?" A familiar voice suddenly called out from across the street, and for a moment, Sam was thrown, even though he didn't understand why.

Then he registered Miles walking towards him in plainclothes, side by side with a brown girl wearing blue-framed sunglasses and a Nova hoodie.

It was the red scarf that made it click for him that she was Ms. Marvel. Probably stupid, considering they had been friends for nearly a year now, but it was bound to happen, with her insistence on having a secret identity.

Now he was starting to remember why he was confused to hear Miles' voice here. They were in Carefree. States away from their home turf. Talking in plainclothes.

"Is everything okay?" He asked worriedly, reaching for his bag to silently ask if the helmet inside was needed.

M shook her head, "We should be asking you that, right? Heard you weren't doing well."

Sam made to nod his head, and the world started blurring and fizzling around him. Yup, that train had definitely left the station.

"Who're these guys, Sam?" Blake asked, looking between the two curiously.

"Uh..." He wasn't good at improv on a regular day, and now it felt like his brain was short-circuiting at the potential of his hero life and regular life colliding. Wait, brains ran on electric impulses, right? So a brain could actually short circuit-

"Miles. And this is Ma...ndy?" Miles looked helplessly at Marvel.

"We're from the tristate area." Marvel filled in, smiling just as nervously, "And since my school got shut down for emergency reconstruction this week, we thought to come visit!!"

"Aw, that's sweet." Paul was immediately won over, "Why didn't you tell us, Sam? We would've totally let you hang out with your other friends for the day."

"If you had ever mentioned these friends before." Blake eyed them both suspiciously.

"They're... from an online forum. That I don't really want to talk about. Because I think you guys wouldn't be interested." Sam replied, his head feeling stuffed with more cotton than usual.

Blake and Paule exchanged perturbed glances, but let the lie hold.

"Let's go to your home, huh, Sam?" Ms. Marvel turned to him expectanly, leaning in slightly as she mumbled to him, "You're clearly not recovered from the last concussion."

"Y-yeah." He agreed, the sun becoming overpowering to his eyes at this point.

The three walked away, shoulder to shoulder.

"So, Mandy?" Sam asked, giggling under his breath.

Marvel scoffed, "Really, Miles, you couldn't pick a less gora name?"

"You didn't prepare any aliases!" Miles threw his hands up.

"Is your school really shut down?" Sam asked worriedly, even though he knew for them, with Amadeus's machinery, the travel time meant nothing at all.

"Oh, that was real." Ms. Marvel admitted, "Fing Fang Room left a dragon-foot-shaped hole in the roof."

---

"No way these two just happened to be good enough friends to drop by unannounced." Blake crossed his arms, "So... which one of those two is he dating?"

"I mean, the girl, right?" Paul replied, "If he's even dating either at all."

"Are you kidding? He didn't even seem to recognize her. Clearly he isn't telling us anything about his life because he thinks we're homophobic!"

"You guys... are so close." Carrie commented, passing by them sipping on a drink, "Yet so far, it's further than even Nova can go in an hour."

"What does that mean?"

#kamala khan #sam alexander #miles morales #samkamiles #nova #spiderman #ms marvel #fanfiction #ibis ficlets

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innerchorus · 1 year ago

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Arslan Senki Chapter 124

I've cooled off a little bit after the intense experience that this chapter was, so here are a few thoughts! (I read the official simulpub on Kmanga, apologies that I haven't looked for the raw this time but it may be out there if you check.)

The chapter opens in the underground waterways and I am immediately relieved because this means that we did indeed backtrack a bit from last chapter, meaning that we are going to see the fighting there that reveals exactly how Andragoras reached Hilmes

Sam, when speaking of the existence of these tunnels, saying that if he'd known about them he wouldn't have 'helplessly surrendered the royal capital to the Lusitanian army'. Sam, please don't blame yourself! If the royal family chose to keep that knowledge to themselves, it's their fault, not yours. The fact that he's still blaming himself for this... That he thinks of himself as a failure in this respect... 😭

The Kishward-Sam fight was less nervewracking than the one the anime included in the battle for the Keep of Saint-Emmanuel, but only because I didn't know the outcome then. I think it's hard to get some of the nuances of this fight across in manga format but as usual Arakawa did a good job with it, and I want to discuss it a bit!

Sam's eyes here... He looks so sad, you just know he longed for that to have been him instead of leading the life he's living now

...and with that expression, the fight resumes. Kishward has already come to the conclusion that what Kubard said about Sam looking for death was true, and that's what we see when Sam next attacks, right after this line about envying Shapur and Garshasp. It's obvious that he's trying to force Kishward into a position where he has to kill him. He won't surrender, he won't switch sides, but he is willing to die like the warrior he no longer sees himself as.

If Kishward met him as he would someone he sees as a true enemy, he would have killed Sam then. He could have done so with his other sword while Sam is open after that strike. But he doesn't, because he doesn't want to kill his former comrade!

And Sam IS NOT WILLING TO KILL KISHWARD EITHER. If he had, Kishward would surely already be dead for what looks like seeking only to stand firm rather than land a fatal blow of his own, and that's why he only receives a broken sword and a shallow cut to the face. The... choreography (?) of the fight at this point is slightly different in the novels but I think the manga did a good job making a small change to show both of their attitudes more clearly.

(For the curious, in the novel Kishward's sword breaks on Sam's armour when Sam deliberately doesn't evade his slash, but as Kishward never intended for it to be a killing blow, it only cracks his armour. I'm not sure that would have come across from images alone so thumbs up to Arakawa for her modification.)

Sam still calling Andragoras 'Your Majesty' showing his inner conflict (Hilmes would hate it just as he did when Sam said 'His Highness Arslan' in his presence, but I find it understandable) but HE STILL DEFENDS HIS POSITION

and this is another small change from the novel but Arakawa's Sam is much more vehement here, much firmer in his conviction to not let Andragoras past and I love that because I can't deny it bothered me a bit in the novel scene where there's a lot of hesitance in his dialogue and he just says "Even though it's Your Majesty...' but here we get THIS:

And if that doesn't confirm that despite any inner conflict he feels, he will never betray Hilmes for Andragoras, I don't know what does. So I was thrilled to see this, honestly.

In the novel it feels as though it's Andragoras's imposing presence that oppresses Sam's will to resist him but that's not so here. I can only believe that Sam allows him through precisely because he wants to avoid the situation he mentioned earlier; 'more slaughter between kinsmen.' If Hilmes and Andragoras talk, will fighting between Parsians be averted? This must be his hope. I do wonder whether he ends up having his suspicions about precisely what Andragoras wanted to tell Hilmes, though... after all, he already knows part of it himself.

(I had some mixed feelings about this moment, so I did quite a lot of thinking about it before, but honestly, it makes sense for Sam's character and what we know is important to him. I'm just very, very glad Arakawa allowed him to face Andragoras down like that first. I do wonder how Hilmes would see things, though.)

Anyway Hilmes's expressions in the following scene wrecked me and just watching him sweat and tremble in position and be on the verge of vomiting was hard. Anyway, the sordid details come to light, and we know who the sorcerer who supplied Gotarzes with the prophecy that caused all of it was...

Some more images of Hilmes's (very beautiful) mother!

Gotarzes, though... The way he's drawn when he's grasping Osroes's wife shows how repulsive his decision was, and it's clear she doesn't want this, but she would have had no choice.

Hilmes tries so hard to believe that this is all a lie, but... you can tell that he can't. It's difficult to watch him go through this. And I can't believe we didn't even conclude this scene (unless Andragoras is just going to leave now in the manga; he didn't in the novels but we'll see, moving things around here could work but equally splitting it with the parallel conversation between Arslan and Tahamenay is a nice touch and I'm glad Arakawa is devoting the necessary time and attention to all of this).

You know... I'm exhausted lmao, someone else please post about the Team Arslan section that came after this.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #arslan senki spoilers #sam #kishward #andragoras #hilmes #osroes #gotarzes #hilmes's mother #(maybe i didn't tag her before but she deserves her own tag)#it's my birthday today and the unexpected Shapur glimpse was a perfect gift

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spnexploration · 2 years ago

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Pack chapter 13

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Madison

Series summary: Omega!Reader is thrown into a world she's not expecting when her mate turns out to be a hunter, and she's not used to Alpha & Omega Pack dynamics.

Chapter summary: Dean comes home

Chapter warnings: none

Word count: 1k

Series Masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 12 <- -> Part 14

Dean had been home a couple of days. Half an hour after taking his meds, his scent would sour and feel gross to be around, but it usually eased off after a few hours. It was annoying he had to do it 3 times a day! But at least he was home.

The ache in my chest never quite went away. I didn’t want to scare Dean though, so I didn’t tell him. He had plenty to be going on with.

It was strange, it ached differently when I was with Dean than when I was with Sam, and it ached more when I wasn’t with either. It was nothing like it had been, though, and I tried to just ignore it.

Sam caught me rubbing my sternum at breakfast one morning. “Is your chest still hurting?” he asked with concern.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I said, pushing past him with my plate. I didn’t want him to fuss, I was fine. I got on with my day and pushed it to the back of my mind.

---

The antibiotics finally finished, and Dean got sick of his sling. He reckoned he was fine, but I caught the occasional grimace on his face when he moved the wrong way or tried to lift something too heavy. Not that he would admit to it!

He wouldn’t tolerate anyone doing things for him, either. Madison saw he wanted peanut butter and went to open the jar for him, and if looks could kill she’d be withering on the floor. She passed it over and then smirked at me as he gritted his teeth through opening it, clearly in pain.

“I am not an invalid!” he hissed, but it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than us.

---

A low growl in my ear woke me. My eyes flew open, taking in Dean lying very close to me. His irises had gone red, he was in a rut! I could smell his arousal and his intense, rutting-Alpha scent. Normally I’d run as fast as I could from an Alpha in a rut, but this was my Alpha. This meant I was going to get claimed! A mark would only hold if it was delivered by a rutting Alpha to an Omega in heat.

“Omega,” Dean growled, voice incredibly low and husky.

But wait, I didn’t really feel like I was going into heat? I tried to do a body inventory. Nothing was aching, well, except the dull ache in my chest that still hadn’t gone away. I couldn’t feel extra slick between my legs. I even felt the tiniest bit cold.

I thought our cycles were meant to be synced by now. That was the whole thing about mates, wasn’t it? But maybe my heat would trigger now that I had smelled Dean’s rut?

Dean seemed to have realised the same thing, as his brow furrowed. “Are you feeling ok?” he asked.

“Um, fine? But umm, I don’t really feel like I’m going into heat?” I said tentatively. “I’m sorry, Alpha.”

“Hey, nothing to apologise for. Maybe I’m a bit too keen,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s get back to sleep and then in the morning your heat will have started. That is, assuming you want to stay with me?”

“Of course I want to stay with you!”

He grinned. He leaned down and brought his lips to mine, soft and sweet. Somehow, we’d never kissed before.

He pulled me on to his chest and gently stroked my hair. “Go back to sleep, Omega,” he murmured.

---

“Hey Dean,” I could hear Sam calling from the corridor, “we’re going to head off and give you guys some space, I can smell your rut-” Sam cut himself off as he rounded the corner to Dean’s room. I saw his eyes widen as he took in Dean – in full angry rutting-Alpha mode – pacing back and forward, and me sitting on the far corner of the bed, knees to my chest. He visibly sniffed the air.

“You’re not in-“ Sam started to say to me, but he was stopped by Dean rounding on him, an angry roar in his throat and his fists clenched.

There was barely a beat before Sam dropped to his knees and bared his neck at Dean in submission.

“MINE,” Dean growled at Sam.

“Yes, Alpha,” Sam said submissively. I’d never seen them act like this before. I trembled, newly afraid of Dean if this was how his Pack acted around him in his rut.

Dean seemed to take some deep breaths. He ran his hand down his face. Then he said, in a much quieter voice, “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do.”

Sam looked up at him, but remained on his knees, “How long since your rut started?”

“About 11pm. I woke Y/N at 2am but she wasn’t in heat, so I held her to go back to sleep. I literally held her against my scent gland for 5 hours. We’re mates, our cycles should have synced.”

“Ok. How are you going controlling your Alpha?”

Dean glared at him. “Surviving. Just.”

“Can I speak to Y/N now?”

Dean gritted his teeth and nodded his head. He resumed pacing.

“Hey,” Sam said kindly, looking at me. He was still kneeling on the floor, it was strange to look down to him. “How are you going? Are you ok?”

I nodded slightly, tears in my eyes. Dean hadn’t touched me, but I couldn’t help but feel broken. I was meant to be in heat, my Alpha was in his rut. Why hadn’t my heat started??

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Sam said quietly but earnestly. “I promise. And if he did try, which he won’t, I wouldn’t let him.” Dean growled quietly, but he seemed like he was trying not to.

“What- what happens now?” I asked.

Sam looked up at Dean, waiting to see if he would answer. He didn’t, so Sam turned back to me, “I think maybe you should both go and see a doctor. Just so we can check everything’s ok.”

Dean clenched his fists but nodded.

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#alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #protective!dean winchester #protective!sam winchester #alpha!sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn a/b/o #dean winchester hurt/comfort #sam winchester hurt/comfort

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leviathanlazarus · 9 months ago

Text

Smother the Flame in Your Heart - Part XVII

Read previous parts here or read on Ao3 // Playlist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Word Count: ~2400

Warnings: none, but this is another Jake chapter

---

“Sam hasn’t been home in four days.”

Jake sighed fiercely at Josh’s unnecessary statement. He ignored it, burying his nose in a new book, a book devoid of romance and vampires and blood. It was a book that he couldn’t get invested in. His twin kicked him from the other side of the couch; Jake huffed and tossed the book down into his lap with a coarse, “What?”

“I know you were hoping that conversation at Danny’s resolved everything,” Josh said, stretching his legs out, invading Jake’s space even more. “But clearly, that’s not the case. What are you going to do to fix it?”

“What is there to do?” came Jake’s despondent-sounding reply, but his heart wrenched as he spoke. “I should just leave both of them alone.”

Josh sighed and leaned forward, tucking his legs underneath himself. “That’s not a good solution. Sam is your brother and Danny is your friend and he’s a significant part of Sam’s life.”

Jake picked the book back up. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Talk to him. Talk to Sam. Be friends with Danny without crossing boundaries. You have to rebuild some trust there, Jakey.”

Jake knew his twin was right. He just didn’t have it in himself to explain why that couldn’t be done–he didn’t even trust himself to not cross those boundaries, to not further break trust with his brother and further damage his friendship with Danny. It felt entirely impossible so long as he felt such an intense pull into that innocently charming, silly, sexy vampire that Sam had found first, and with Sam having found Danny first, there was a bitterness that festered in Jake’s own heart. It wasn’t something he wanted to feel. He’d tear it out if he could. But he couldn’t, and he felt the only actual, tangible solution was to let the distance linger.

Instead of saying all or any of that, Jake just said, “I’ll try.”

Well, Jake concluded later on, when the spring sun was still bright despite the hour growing later and later, Sam still hadn’t come home, so he couldn’t try quite yet. So he headed out, at first just driving somewhat aimlessly with the window down and a cigarette in one hand while the other manned the wheel, music loud but still not drowning out his thoughts.

Two cigarettes and most of an album later, he ended up at a trailhead south of home–the gravel and dirt parking lot was empty and the trees shimmied outside with the languid breeze, calling him to actually step out, breathe the clear air, and get moving to try and quiet his thoughts. But when Jake actually began walking, sneakers crunching over that gravel and kicking up dry, dusty dirt before he was able to tread over soft, wispy grass, all of his thoughts only seemed to get louder.

He was a little mad at himself that he’d let his act fall to the wayside. Jake felt confident that he hadn’t been showing any feelings toward Danny, always just being supportive of him and Sam, no matter what he actually felt when he found himself alone with Danny. He’d never given himself inflated credit–even when Danny found him and let the two of them linger alone, Jake knew it wasn’t out of anything beyond normal, innocent friendship. Nevertheless, it was titillating each time it happened–Jake could be there with just Danny and for the fleeting minutes, it felt like what they had was still profound, even if it wasn’t entirely what Jake wanted.

The wide, flat trail walled in by long grass and wildflowers eventually narrowed, leaving Jake to walk down a thin dirt trail curving into the woods. The sunlight slanted and shimmered over leaves and branches, and he blinked at it and up into the sky, briefly wondering what Sam and Danny were up to. The guilt of pushing Sam away from his own home, from his own brothers, pained Jake’s heart–but then he thought more about what Sam and Danny were, in fact, up to and jealousy wound itself tightly around his heart instead, its rancor seeming to mirror the deeper, darker stretch of woods he found himself walking into.

The late spring–summer was just around the corner, Jake realized–may have been in full force with the blooming, bright flowers; creamy bloodroot and white trillium dotted the forest floor he walked across, along with tiny, golden buttercups and frequent patches of bold violets. Nonetheless he felt as though winter still kept an icy hold on him. Stepping carefully over thick, tangled roots that dared to trip him, Jake reflected on when he actually spent real time with Danny for the first time, during their Christmas party.

He’d been drunk, of course, and it had been apparent that Danny had been drunk as well. And when they’d encountered each other in the house, with Danny free of Sam and Jake free of Josh and anyone else, his heart had skipped quick and steady in his chest. It had been an opportunity, but Jake had been wise and kind enough to not take what he wanted then, not anything close. Back then, he hadn’t even been sure Danny was a vampire–there still wasn’t enough to point to that. Just that Danny was a bit of a recluse at times, as Jake was too–quiet, reserved, observant. But Danny had a fire beneath the surface that could compliment Sam’s own wildness. It was no wonder they were immediately attracted to one another.

But Jake had been immediately attracted to Danny too. How could he not be? The gentle, subdued and methodical parts of Danny bewitched Jake in how significantly they resonated with him, and the fire beneath the surface only drew him in further. The depth of Danny’s mystery was alluring in and of itself but, on the literal surface, physically, Danny was just plain alluring as a whole. Dark and handsome in his own wild way, with those piercing eyes and uniquely crafted face; tall and just the right amount of strong, all long-limbed, able to carry himself in a way Jake never could. Jake had never seen anyone who looked like Danny, never heard anyone who talked like him, laughed like him–Danny had been all on his own in the world until Sam, that lucky Sam, had found his way into his universe.

Another thing that really hurt, Jake thought as the path through the woods led back out into open sky and around a small pond where ducks idled and frogs croaked, is that he was sure that even if he’d gotten to Danny first, Danny would have ended up with Sam anyway. Danny just didn’t feel the same about him. He’d heard Sam use the word “soulmate” more than once in reference to Danny, a word Jake had pondered so many times in his life but never said about anyone else. He envied that alone, that experience, and now he was worried he was going to become too bitter to have that with anyone else.

Not that Jake could currently picture having that with anyone. He really couldn’t. All he could see was Danny, the person he wanted so desperately and could never have, and not being able to have him probably made the desperation worse. Would it really be any better even if, for some reason, Sam and Danny both agreed that Danny could indulge himself with Jake one time? Just to see what it’s really like? Or would that too make Jake’s feeling more visceral, more painful?

Right now, Jake concluded that that was a risk he was willing to take if ever he got the opportunity. But he knew that it would never come.

Just as he was lingering in front of the pond, considering sitting himself down atop one of those flat-topped rocks along the edge and watching the ducks and waiting for frogs, the image of Danny drawing Sam into his lap and bringing his mouth to his neck assaulted his mind. He scoffed out loud into the air and began walking again, faster now, horrified. He didn’t want to think about his brother with Danny; he didn’t want to think about anyone with Danny, but that image was there, and more kept coming as he passed by reeds and cattails, now sweating from the early evening sun and his own aggravation.

What was Danny actually like, intimately? Did he say sweet things? Did he caress lovingly or did he pull and push? Instead of beckoning gently, did he grab demandingly? Was he mindful of his sharp canines when he kissed or did he bite freely, playfully? Did all the fire beneath the surface, the animalistic side that every man and certainly every vampire had, break free when the lights were off and he was consuming another person?

Jake could only imagine, and he’d imagined hundreds of times since meeting Danny. Above all else, no matter how Danny and Sam both attempted to demean the vampire status, Jake couldn’t imagine being with Danny as even slightly ordinary.

Skirting the pond’s edge, occasionally glancing from the trail beneath his feet to the water to look for fish and frogs, the air felt warmer again as Jake’s journey led him west into the sun that was beginning to set. How long until this “crush” passed, until this fascination ended? Or would it be a long journey of its own making, one of emotional torment and the dissolution of brotherhood and friendship? He couldn’t handle that. Besides, Josh would never accept their group being irreparably damaged–if only Josh could break the spell himself somehow. If only anyone could, Jake thought, because he wasn’t sure how to do it himself and Danny couldn’t either if his mere existence created that spell.

When he returned home, Sam was actually there too. Jake found him in his bedroom, gathering more clothes to bring to Danny’s, and Jake leaned in the doorway, nervous energy bubbling up inside himself once more. Sam’s fury was no joke. He’d faced it many times over their lives together. Not that Jake was always a peach either, but age had mellowed him out to an extent, whereas Sam’s inner flames seemed forever ignited.

Risky as it was, Jake invited himself to sit down on Sam’s bed. “Sam. Can we talk?”

Sam turned to look at him, though Jake knew his presence had been noted moments before the acknowledgement. “About what?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be home. Like you can’t even be around me,” Jake said, actually vocalizing that thought that made the ache in his chest worse. “We’re brothers.”

“Jake,” Sam said, then sighed as he stuffed a pair of shorts into a duffel bag. “I didn’t even talk to Danny for almost a week. We’re just making up for lost time.”

Two things could be true at once, but all Jake said was, “Okay.” He watched Sam pack away a few more pieces of clothing in tense silence, then his brother suddenly slammed the open drawer of his dresser shut and whirled back around to stare Jake down.

“What did you think you were doing with him really, Jake?” Sam asked, his eyes furious, dangerous. “Keeping it all quiet so you could make a move on him? You’d really betray me like that?”

“No!” Jake quickly protested, raising his hands as if to ward off incoming blows, but Sam stayed where he was, which was somehow more threatening. “I never planned to do that. I never even seriously thought about making a move or anything–”

Sam’s jaw visibly tightened before he said, “But you did think about it.”

Jake felt like a child in grave trouble, not the older brother in this situation. “I couldn’t help it,” he said quietly, averting his eyes. “No one can help thinking about that, Sam.”

Sam scoffed so harshly that it sort of felt like a slap to Jake’s face. “Okay, well, talking about this only makes me more fucking mad at you, Jake. So why don’t we just stop?”

“We have to talk about it. We have to repair things–”

“No, we don’t have to! My anger had mostly fucked off until you brought it up just now,” Sam said, looking as though it was difficult for him to keep himself from actually wailing on Jake. “You think I want a reminder that you, my own brother, wants to fuck my boyfriend? That you kept a secret from me because you had some fucking agenda? I just wanna fucking forget about it.”

Jake swallowed, his throat dry and tight. “But you can’t just ignore me. You can’t ignore that Danny and I are friends either.”

Sam let out a mocking laugh. “Good luck with that.” He shoved Jake’s shoulder with one hand. “Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Jake wanted to fight back. But he felt he had no real right to and it would be futile anyway–Sam’s wrath was nothing to mess with and not easily challenged even in the most advantageous circumstances, and right now, Jake had no leg to stand on. So he did what he was told, skulking out of Sam’s room like a wounded animal.

Josh only approached him again after Sam was gone, the front door of the house slamming and announcing his departure. He met Jake out back, on the deck where so many words had been exchanged between Jake and Danny, and said, “He just needs some more time then. It’ll be alright, Jake.”

“He hates me,” Jake said, slumping back in the deck chair, not even getting high or smoking a cigarette or drinking. He’d just been looking up at the stars, thinking even more about Danny than his current familial crisis, which prompted him to add, “He has every right to hate me.”

---

Tagging:

@mackalah @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @milojames16 @brokebellsgvf @streamsofstardust

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

#greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny gvf #sam gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #gvf #gvf fanfiction #sanny #sam kiszka x danny wagner #danny wagner x sam kiszka #stfyh

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infinitethree · 2 months ago

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Lucid!! I haven't talked to you in a while!! How are you and San doing?

Lucid jumps a little at the sound of that question.

He's been deep in codework, trying to figure out the best way to program Innit’s body.

It’s a lot more intense than what he usually does, in all honesty. Not only is he having to alter the code of two extremely mistrusting admins, but he’s helping create a body from scratch.

Not just any body, of course– a body that suits Innit’s needs.

As shitty as it is to say, this has much higher stakes than usual. Fucking this up could very well lead to Daz and/or Innit being maimed or killed.

Codework always has risks, and he never wants to hurt anyone. He’s never liked altering mobs, let alone players.

Daz, though…Daz is someone he knows. He’s attached to him– not just because of his shiny false persona, though.

He’s a person who has shouldered the impossible, unenviable burdens of both newcomer orientation– a hell in its own right– and secretly being the first and last line of defense if something goes wrong.

There have been some talks with Day, and more with Lee. That’s not even counting what Daz, himself, has told him.

The scope of Daz’s efforts just on the surface are breathtaking. Adding the hidden ones, the ones that only a scant few people knew about until recently…

Lucid is sort of humbled and awed by him.

Maybe a little weird to say about someone who holds him in such contempt, but also, Lucid still feels queasy when he thinks about the wreckage of Daz’s code.

Saying that it’s miraculous that he’s still alive isn’t an understatement. It makes– a terrifying amount of sense that the program not only wasn’t meant for that, but that it wasn’t even remotely ready for human testing.

How the hell can he blame Daz for his lack of trust? From what little Lucid has learned about his original Dream, he was someone who may have had an even more intense desire to be fair than Lucid did…before he snapped when he was pushed too far.

Someone like that, someone who Daz clearly trusted, being the one to hurt him so profoundly…

That’s the big reason he marvels at Daz.

Lucid struggles to be around most Quackities and Sams, after all. He avoids them as much as possible, and most of them understand.

The fact that Daz puts himself in such close proximity to Lucid on a regular basis at all is kind of a miracle. His mistrust and anger are pretty understandable– even moreso than when they all thought that his original Dream was just a pure monster.

That kind of betrayal cuts deep. When you put every ounce of your faith in someone, only for them to plunge a knife into your back…it’s a special kind of hell.

It was bad enough when his friends distanced themselves from him. It had hurt like hell, but now he knows that they just didn't understand why everything went wrong.

Daz’s Dream, though? He understood exactly what he was doing. Soul erosion or not, he would have been acutely aware of the unspeakable trauma of not just failing to protect a claimed person, but being forced to kill them with your own hands.

Lucid being good now can’t possibly erase that, one, he’s fucked up before, and two, that there’s no way to know if or when he might snap again.

Even aside from that major reason to be impressed by him…well, he’s kind of enjoying being taught by Daz. It might come with a heaping side of snideness and sneering, but the way he thinks about code is fascinating.

Daz is smart. Daz is one of the vanishingly rare types of born admin with a spark. Daz is a pillar of Sanctuary, holding his hand down on the scales to stop the server Lucid calls his own from going into a tailspin.

So, yeah! He’s kind of frazzled, because he’s terrified of the consequences of fucking this up.

It would ruin him emotionally and socially, and potentially ruin the whole damn server.

“Tired,” he answers, squinting at the clock on the wall and realizing that it’s four in the morning.

…And also that Hope is pawing at his face.

He tells her, “Sorry, sweetie. I got caught up in coding.”

She meows with a distinctly reproachful tone, her tail lashing a few times.

“It’s an important project. I’m not making a habit of it– once this is done, things will go back to normal,” he assures her, scooping her into his arms as he gets to his feet.

His body aches from staying in place for so long, but it helps to move.

…Also that he’s got heated floors.

Sometimes, especially during winter storms, he could just about kiss Vio for that choice. He knows it must have been expensive, and yet the alien did it anyway.

Out of faith that he could do better, be better, if he was treated with humanity, dignity, and a little kindness.

Oh, and bullied into actually dealing with his issues. That too.

He coos to his self-appointed therapy cat, “You’re such a fuzzy little snowball, yes you are! My little guardian angel snowflake.”

He kisses her little nose, getting a few licks in return. Laughing, he whispers, “Don’t tell the others, but I’m gonna give you some treats.”

It isn’t until they get to the kitchen that he sets her down again. He’s long since given up on keeping any of them off the counters, but Hope gets a double pass. She only really hops up when she’s trying to get his attention or otherwise has a good reason.

Unlike the others, who just try to steal his food or get in the way.

As Lucid makes a sandwich– giving his special girl a few bits of it as payment for her services– he resumes his response.

“San is still reeling from everything, to be honest. I get the impression that you all knew already, but it’s…weird. Daz has always been a bright, cheerful person for us, so learning he’s– like that…it’s a lot to wrap our heads around.”

His server tells him something he can’t understand; a previous question, the day they learned about the Showrunner, then curiosity.

It takes a few increasingly frustrated cycles before Lucid remembers what had been asked on the day San is showing him.

He was told he's among the favorites of one of the Observers.

…The same Observer who also told them to be kind to Innit.

The same Observer who is currently checking in on him.

Huh. He’s…not entirely sure how to feel about that?

Good seems like his predominant gut feeling. Surely an entity who likes him and San wouldn't beg for mercy for someone who would destroy the server, like Daz has argued Innit wants.

He chews on his thumbnail a moment, then asks, “You…said I'm your third favorite, right? And you definitely like Innit, too. So…who's the other one in your top three?”

He blinks and then adds, “If that's fine to ask, I mean. I'm just curious if there's, uh, some kind of similarity there. Observers know a lot about us, but we know almost nothing about you.”

San ever-so-helpfully shows him the point of that meeting where Aster told them that Innit is friends with three of them.

He amends, “Well, aside from Innit. I'm sure you've told it plenty about yourselves. But I can’t really ask it that, y’know? Not just because it'd have to go through Daz–” and their relationship did not seem good, “--but also it's a bit weird to go behind the back of entities that can just…watch us.”

And torment them, if they so chose.

Lucid is aware of the occasional, cruel questions lobbied to some parties. Maybe not the details, but he does know they happen.

So pissing off the Observers and risking that sounds stupid as hell.

No; it’s better to play nice and not make waves. He'll be polite about this sort of thing, but unless he's told to back off he's still gonna ask.

Turnout is fair play, after all.

#chronotag #asked&answered #luciddreamer #sanctuarytheworld #Lucid isn't STUPID #he's just nice #and now that he's not dealing w/ soul erosion & has a shitload of guilt #he doesn't want to make people feel worse than they already do #so yeah obviously he has a ton of sorrow and awe for Daz! he's one of the people best suited to Understand the depths of that trauma!!#plenty of people are dicks to him (Day) and he understands it's not REALLY about him #they're just projecting y'know?#sure he would have preferred if the fake Daz was real (bc that guy went through way less violently fucked up stuff #& is way more well-adjusted)#but like!! he doesn't hate or even dislike the real Daz. he just feels sad about him. Impressed af sure! but just...really sad.

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britcision · 2 years ago

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Well for today’s WIP Wednesday I had me a dilemma… because chapter 5 is damn near finished, last scene, and I don’t want to give you the whole thing early!

So instead, you get the scene I’m working on, at the end of the chapter >) also, I think I finally fixed the tag lists, but if you have asked to be tagged and still aren’t please let me know

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy

——————-

Bumping into Tucker and Tim had been a fun coincidence, and Danny wasn’t about to miss the chance to catch up. Sure, they’d not been apart long, but a lot had happened.

First of all…

“What happened to your shoulder Tim?” Jason asked “innocently”, something just on this side of sincere worry in his eyes.

Tim made a face, rolling his shoulder and carefully cupping it.

“Oh, nothing. Just a bit of an overenthusiastic greeting by someone called Vlad,” he said nonchalantly, shooting Danny a sly smile. “He thought I was someone else.”

For just the briefest second, that hot flare of Obsession hit Jason again. Protect-mine-how dare he.

But Danny was used to those kinds of reactions; mostly from personal experience. If he even thought his friends were hurt in an attack, things got… intense.

He let his aura spread enough to stroke across Jason’s again, not moving closer while they were the center of attention. He felt the flash of surprise, and something… else?

Something softer, none of the alarm he’d felt when he’d filled the room. He stroked calm-safe-amused-he’s faking back anyway and watched Jason’t shoulders settle.

Felt a wash of embarrassed-amused-sorry more directed his way, and smiled to himself. Jason was getting good at this pretty fast.

Sam, Tuck, and Tim had kept the conversation going while they had their little halfa moment, chatting just a little louder than they should about Tim’s encounter.

Just so their neighbours could hear them without having to strain, of course.

That would be rude.

Slotting back into the conversation was easy, and honestly? Tim was also a pretty cool guy to hang out with. Danny was a little surprised by how much fun he was having.

It just went to show, the galas of nightmares could be pretty fun with friends.

There was definitely something about to start though, because people were beginning to move more pointedly towards the large doors opposite the stairs. The dining hall, if Danny remembered right.

Right. Dinner.

It was probably that which brought Damian, Dick, and Cass to join them. Dick launched easily into the story of their own encounter with Vlad and okay, being funny as fuck clearly ran in the family.

Damian was a little off though. Until he actually met Bruce, Danny couldn’t say for sure, but for now? Maybe the Waynes were just the unfunny ones.

That or something was bugging him, because he had a tight frown on his face. And… was… kinda staring at Danny.

Half an eye on the kid, Danny casually shifted away to the right. The glare followed, so yeah - gonna say that was for him.

It was kinda cute really. For all the kid wanted to play tough guy and pretend he didn’t care, he basically radiated a protective suspicion for Jason.

Danny had to admit he’d been weird enough when he thought anyone was threatening Jazz or his friends, so he couldn’t complain. Just felt weird to be on the other side of.

Just as they were approaching the wide open doors, the Mansons popped up again, absolutely beaming to see Sam surrounded by the full crop of Waynes.

“I’m so happy to see you all getting along, poor Samantha does get so lonely at these events sometimes,” Pamela trilled happily, patting her daughter on the shoulder.

Sam, Manson Party Smile in place, glanced at the hand like she was seriously considering biting it. Danny hid a grin of his own.

“We’re sorry to break up the party, but we should be getting our two off to our table,” Jeremy explained, giving Sam a beaming smile and pretending Danny didn’t exist.

Jason cut in immediately, bestowing a charming smile on both of them and offering Sam his hand. Which she gave a sidelong look to, then slowly took.

Pamela’s eyes all but whirred like camera lenses as she locked onto the gesture.

“Actually, I was just about to invite Sam to join me at our table? And Danny too of course,” Jason added as an afterthought, also not looking for Danny.

For the best, because he wasn’t sure he could hold in all the giggles. No chance of the Mansons noticing anyway, because they were on cloud nine.

“Oh, how wonderful! It would certainly give you some more time to get to know each other,” Pamela gushed, the hand on Sam’s shoulder giving her daughter a sudden little shove closer to Jason.

As if there was any chance she might have missed the super subtle parental semaphore all evening.

And Sam deserved an Oscar.

Glancing up to Jason, she let the Party Smile slip more into a real, shy one, quickly looking away like she didn’t want to be caught looking.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good,” she said quietly, her grip tightening just a little.

If Danny hadn’t known she’d never been shy in a relationship in her life he could have easily bought into this Bridgerton bullshit. As it was, he and Tuck exchanged grins, wishing for popcorn.

Jeremy took his wife by the arm before she could dissolve into delighted tittering, inclining his head to the group.

“I’m sure we’ll see you after dinner then. Have fun,” he told Sam, and for just a moment he sounded so sincerely proud that Sam’s grip tightened in Jason’s.

Then they were gone and she groaned melodramatically, dropping said hand and glaring at Tucker and Danny.

“Not a word,” she snapped, eyes narrowed. Both boys immediately raised their hands in abject surrender.

“Whatever would we even say?” Tuck asked innocently. Beside him Tim snickered.

“That your parents clearly read even more period romances than Jason?” He offered, and Sam’s eyes narrowed at him instead.

Then she huffed, folding her arms and dragging Jason’s hand into the crook of her elbow.

“Yeah, yeah. Get me to the table. At least I don’t have to listen to them gushing for an hour,” she grumbled, actual sadness flicking across her eyes.

Jason slipped his hand free and before she could protest, wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“C’mon, let me tell you about all the times Timmy’s fallen asleep at gala dinners,” he said innocently, shooting a wicked grin at his younger brother as he turned them away to keep walking.

Tim’s smile dropped immediately as they begun to walk, hurrying around so he could glare at Jason and walk backwards.

“Don’t you fucking dare Jason. I still have pictures of the Discowing incident,” he threatened, and unfortunately for him only made Jason grin broader.

“You did, until Babs owed me a favour,” he teased back and Tim’s eyes narrowed, hands jumping to his phone.

“Fuck off she did not, she wouldn’t,” he grumbled as he fell behind, Dick landing a companionable hand on the back of his neck to steer him along with them.

“Discowing incident?” Tucker asked, hurrying up on Jason’s other side.

Jason glanced back over his shoulder, smirking at Dick and Tim.

“Family game night. The loser has to suffer some humiliation, and when I lost they got me one of Nightwing’s old costumes to wear for photos. The one with the v-neck,” he added for explanation.

Coming up on Sam’s other side, his hand in the small of her back, Danny damn near tripped over his feet. He’d have fallen if Sam hadn’t caught him, a smug smirk now on her face.

At least she was feeling better.

Behind them, Dick rolled his eyes while Tucker went searching on his PDA.

“Hey, I still say that was a cool suit. More interesting than all the black spandex the rest of the bat brigade mainline,” he protested, making all three of his brothers scoff.

“Then why did he stop wearing it?” Steph asked, materialising from nowhere to toss an arm around Dick’s shoulders, just as Danny asked,

“Isn’t Nightwing’s current costume mostly black?”

Even Cass giggled, which Danny had already decided was an accomplishment. Dick gave a few half hearted defences while the others needled him, and Tucker made a triumphant noise and passed his PDA to Sam.

She angled it so Danny could see and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

“He fought crime in that?!” He exclaimed through his fingers, and Sam raised a pointed brow at him.

“Batman’s underwear are on the outside and this is the line?” She asked sarcastically, then turned and grinned up at Jason. “So when are you introducing me to my new best friend Babs?”

They’d reached a large oval table now… right in the front and center of the room. Right. Wayne table, Jason’s gala.

They were gonna have an audience.

Jason chuckled and grinned down at Sam, moving to pull out a chair for her just off center.

“Absolutely fucking never unless you swear to forget all you’ve heard,” he promised as the rest of his siblings minus Cass rushed around for the other side of the table.

Sam snorted a laugh, taking the seat and letting him tuck her in.

“Look at what I am fucking wearing. Give me the disco suit and I’ll wear that with pride,” she pointed out, gesturing to the mass of bows.

Dick won the race, by diving into the seat Tim had just pulled out and locking his legs underneath it. He leaned immediately across the table and grinned at Sam.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Steph dropped down to sit beside him.

“We could go later tonight?” She offered, and both laughed when Jason flicked a napkin at them, taking his own seat.

“You’re both the fucking worst, and Babs has shit on you too,” he reminded them, with no real effect.

Danny took a seat Sam’s other side, Tucker winding up beside Danny on the curve. That left Tim with a seat almost half opposite Tucker, on the other side of the round.

Further from the main action, but honestly, he took it with good grace. Better than Damian, who despite having the seat on Dick’s other side, near the middle of the table, was still sulking.

Maybe because he’d had to wait for a new chair to be brought? Cass had the other new chair, at Jason’s other side.

No one seemed worried that they’d left the table unbalanced, mostly down at one end.

A couple of attendants had already hurried over with three extra chairs, disappearing again for place settings as the Waynes passed cutlery around.

Danny figured this was what throwing the party (and having more money than your average country) did for you. People didn’t make a fuss when plans changed.

The hall was still pretty loud, people finding their seats and getting comfortable. Across the table Dick leaned forward, grinning broadly at Sam and Danny.

“So, we know about Sam and her folks. What about you, Danny? Do you have any family nearby?” He asked, ignoring a warning look from Jason.

Danny appreciated it, but he didn’t really mind. Odds on, he’d be getting to know Jason’s family better at some point. They seemed pretty close.

“Nah, my sister’s studying psychology in Star City and both parents are still in Illinois. We sort of spread out.” Not least so both he and Jazz could have some time away from home.

Time to pretend to be normal. And somewhere nobody knew the name Fenton.

Dick nodded cheerfully, but Danny didn’t miss how both Damian and Steph’s eyes had narrowed. They were gonna remember what he said for later.

Fun. Maybe he should be doing some interrogating back.

Dick had already moved on though, still with that charming smile.

“Can’t say I know much about that, the furthest I got from home was Bludhaven,” he said companionably, tugging Damian in for a hug. “Can’t let the little ones do without their biggest brother.”

Damian squirmed viciously, sputtering protests, and Steph laughed and pulled Dick into a headlock.

“Jason’s bigger,” she teased, and Danny couldn’t help glancing over from the corner of his eye.

Jason was a lot bigger. In just about every direction. To be fair, Jason was bigger than some cars.

Dick squirmed free with surprising flexibility, releasing Damian who huffed and corrected his outfit immediately. Danny figured it was as good a time as any to do some sleuthing back.

“Bludhaven, huh? What do you do there?”

“I’m a cop,” Dick answered with an easy shrug. “I guess I got in the habit of wrangling these little bastards.”

Sam snorted a laugh beside him and Danny hid a grin in his hands. He was probably gonna regret that.

“You grew up in Gotham and became a cop?” She asked, heavy with derision. Beside Danny Tucker snickered, leaning over to whisper to Tim.

“And you thought you had it bad before.” Which, yeah. ACAB was Sam’s other favourite mantra after Eat The Rich.

Dick shrugged again, not losing his cheerful grin yet and spread his hands.

“That’s kinda why I did it. There were always so many corrupt cops, I wanted there to be at least someone that people could count on,” he explained like it might save him.

Sam stifled most of the second laugh.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you said you became a cop, not a firefighter. Is he a snitch too?” She asked Steph, who looked like Christmas had either come a little late or extremely early.

“Not to Bruce, but he did threaten to arrest me for parking near a fire route,” she said with a wicked grin.

Decidedly pouting now, Dick threw both hands into the air.

“I was kidding! I didn’t actually arrest her!” He argued as the rest of the table booed. Even Damian.

“Just another corrupt cop,” Sam sighed, shaking her head. Dick opened and closed his mouth a few times, then frowned.

“Wait so I’m a snitch if I do arrest people and corrupt if I don’t? How am I supposed to win?” He complained, the pout still mostly playful.

Sam stared him dead in the eye, devoid of mercy.

“Not be a cop.”

Dick groaned dramatically and Steph laughed, reaching over to pinch his cheeks.

“Hey, we told you when you joined,” she pointed out cheerfully and Dick sighed.

“Well, yeah, but the system’s not gonna change if no one ever does anything, is it?”

Tucker and Danny exchanged looks. Grins. And were slightly surprised when Jason beat Sam to the punch.

“Corrupt systems don’t change from the inside, Dickie,” he said with a smirk. Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey, you can’t talk. He likes Red Hood,” he explained as an aside to the Amity Parkers as if it might help his case.

Jason spread his hands, grinning.

“Hey, I came from the Alley, I’m allowed to appreciate a guy cleaning it up. Which the cops never even tried,” he added smugly. Dick huffed.

“Red Hood killed people.”

“So do the police,” Sam pointed out with a smirk of her own and Dick deflated.

“Red Hood stopped,” Jason joined in, jumping on the moment of weakness. “I bet his bodycount is less than Bludhaven PD’s.”

Steph and Tim both snickered at that, although Danny wasn’t quite sure why. It seemed a little more innuendo ridden than just enjoying Dick’s suffering.

And Jason’s cheeks definitely pinked. But he ignored them. Yeah, Danny had some follow up questions for later.

From Jason’s other side, Cass signed something that Danny couldn’t quite catch from this angle, but Steph nodded quickly.

“Yeah, good point Cass. She wants to know what you guys think about vigilantes,” she explained, looking expectantly at Sam.

Who frowned for a moment, then shrugged.

“At least they’re getting something done. But someone needs to look into Batman hoarding children,” she said dryly, and most of the table snickered.

“I think most of them follow him,” Tim pointed out in an effort to be fair. Steph and Jason both made faces at him and he flipped them both off.

“But do you have a favourite of Gotham’s vigilantes?” asked Dick, leaping onto the subject change with both feet.

Danny cast a quick glance at Jason, but he looked about as entertained as the rest of the table. It must have been something they talked about a lot.

Or the rest of the Waynes were the rest of the bats. But Danny didn’t want to assume… unless it would be funny.

Without the key of Jason’s old Robin connection, Sam and Tucker probably wouldn’t get there.

Sam was pursing her lips, probably thinking about her options. She’d know more of them than him or Tucker, but Danny figured he knew most of the big players.

“Black Bat,” she finally decided, leaning back in her seat, “but Batwoman definitely fucks.”

This was met with general agreement, Danny frowning for a moment. He’d not had many bat sightings since moving to Gotham, but…

“She definitely says fuck,” he agreed with a snicker. Sam punched his shoulder.

“You can’t talk. Who’s your favourite, new town boy?”

Rubbing his arm and feigning great injury, Danny stuck his tongue out at her. Thought for a moment longer.

“Signal’s pretty great,” he decided, tipping his chair back for a moment to frown at the ceiling, “I passed by the mall after a rogue attack one time and he was teaching the kids to do flips.”

“After the rogue was in custody?” Steph asked, but she was still grinning. Danny shrugged.

“I dunno, I don’t talk to cops.”

Dick let out another wounded groan and Sam snickered, then leaned forward to look at Tucker.

“How about you?”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. Then he visibly drew in his courage and looked around the table expectantly.

“Have you guys heard of the Oracle?” He asked, voice heavy with anticipation. The surrounding Gothamites stilled, watching him expectantly.

Sam rolled her eyes.

“If you’re not wearing spandex are you even a vigilante?” She asked dryly. Tucker flipped her off.

“Hey, Oracle’s done more for this city than any of the bats! More for the whole world!”

“It’s a legend in the hacker community,” Danny “explained”, keeping an eye on Dick and Steph as the two opposite him. And less obviously hacker connected.

If they were the bats and Oracle existed, they’d know.

“They’re a master hacker that can break any system, any time, and gathers all the evidence to put people like Roman Sionis behind bars,” Tucker said, taking over the explanation.

With his usual dramatic aplomb, planting both hands flat on the table and leaning forward impressively, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“No one knows who they are or anything about them. You just find their tracks sometimes, especially when there’s a really big rogue attack or someone gets busted too soon.”

“Sounds kinda like a rumour,” Dick offered with a small shrug, glancing at Tim. “How about you, Tim? Have you heard of an Oracle?”

Tim hesitated for a moment, just long enough for Steph to snicker.

“Guess if there is one they don’t bother with Bludhaven PD,” she said smugly, dodging when Dick swung half heartedly at her. “Police brutality!”

Dick groaned whole heartedly as the others laughed, sinking back into his seat.

“But seriously, why doesn’t anyone like Nightwing?” He grumbled, arms folded as he pouted at his siblings. “He was on the scene before it was cool.”

‘Before he had to be cool,’ Cass signed, shuffling a little further around the curve of the oval so the rest of the table could see her.

Dick’s head snapped up when Steph and Sam laughed harder, pouting at his sister.

“Hey! Not fair when I’m not looking!”

‘Pay attention then,’ she signed back, her expression all sweet and studied innocence.

At the other end of the table Tucker decided to take a little pity on the guy.

“Nightwing’s okay. I liked that suit,” he said with a shrug and a grin. Dick straightened in his seat, grinning over at him.

“Finally, a man of distinction and taste!”

“Cops don’t get opinions,” Sam smirked, leaning forward to grin at Tucker, “so what’s your excuse?”

Tucker stuck his nose in the air, pointedly looking away from her.

“We’re not all goth, Sam. Some of us have heard of colours.”

“Spoiler wears purple,” Tim put in helpfully, pulling up a picture to show him. Tucker leaned in for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah that’s pretty cool too. Capes are in,” he added, shooting a meaningful look at Danny. Who rolled his eyes, both hands in the air.

“And when they come in for those of us not wearing identity obscuring masks, I’ll wear one,” he replied dryly. Tucker pshawed at him, waving a hand.

“You’re in Gotham, how weird would it be?” He asked off handedly. Danny sighed and then looked pointedly around the rest of the table.

“Weird?” Steph offered, shrugging.

“Pretty fuckin’ weird,” Jason agreed and Danny folded his arms and grinned at Tucker.

“I’m not breaking my win streak by letting some rogue mistake me for a bat. You wear a cape while you’re here,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

Whatever Tucker was about to say was lost when Dick sat up sharply, face bright with renewed enthusiasm.

“Wait, Danny, does that mean you haven’t been in a rogue attack before?” He asked eagerly, which was just a little too fucking weird.

Even weirder, the rest of the Gothamites looked equally excited. Even Damian managed a smug anticipation around his piercing stare.

Danny felt kind of like he was in a freak show display case.

“Uh… yeah? But I bet loads of people in Gotham haven’t and it’s only been a year…” his excuses were immediately batted away as Steph clasped her hands in front of her.

“Oh that means tonight is gonna be your first! That’s so exciting!” She squealed happily.

Danny and Tucker gave her weird looks, but to their surprise it was Sam who answered, sighing and leaning back in her seat.

“At least one rogue always attacks a gala,” she explained, waving a hand around them, “it’s all of Gotham’s wealthiest in one place. It’s why we don’t come here much,” she added, eyes narrowing in frustration.

Beside her Jason frowned down at her. Probably trying to work out the frustration.

“Because they don’t think it’s safe? One of the bats always deals with it,” he added when Tucker and Danny still looked confused.

Sam snorted and shook her head.

“Because they think I’ll start something during the attack,” she huffed, folding her arms and glaring at Tucker and Danny. Daring them to comment.

Tucker, unafraid of death with Danny between them, snickered.

“You’ll finish something during the attack,” he corrected, ignoring the sudden concerned looks from the Gothamites.

Sam’s eyes narrowed further but she let the comment stand. Steph leaned forward a little, looking nervous for the first time.

“It’s usually better not to get involved?” She offered, sounding almost apologetic. “The rogues can be pretty dangerous and you don’t want to call attention to yourself.”

“I doubt that would be an issue,” Damian snapped, eyes narrowed as he trained that glare on Sam instead of Danny.

She stared him down, then nodded sharply.

“He gets it. Anyway, you don’t have to worry, I got the lecture half a dozen times when we flew in. “No punching assholes, or any criminals”,” she mimicked her mom’s perky tones, heavily sarcastic air quotes stretched alongside.

Stifling a grin, Danny suddenly noticed something.

“Hey wait, I didn’t get the no punching speech?”

“Maybe they’re hoping you die in the rogue attack,” Tucker snickered, shooting Jason a sly grin.

——————

Whole thing is on AO3 under Danny Fenton: Dead and Loving It, link is in the first chapter under the tag!

#dp x dc #wip wednesday #danny fenton dead and loving it #finally sam get im #dead on main ship

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