#just if he let himself be as intense about sam as he clearly wants to be

[dyed-red]

I think of that “slightly more unhinged Dean” s1 au at least once a week, I need you to know that. Dean’s eyes dilating when Sam asks if Dean would want to be there when Sam is with someone, it not being clear if Sam is also unhinged or is just humoring his brother but still has no issue with his brother being so unhinged, Sarah definitely noticing it’s super weird, whatever Sam’s Stanford friends must think about this because they probably noticed that Sam’s brother was really really weird and intense about him and he had some kind of issue with them despite having never met them before and Sam clearly not having any issue with them so it’s not Dean disliking them because his brother does, John being worried by how the brothers are so either John only just noticed what they’re becoming or the catalyst was Dean getting Sam back and that makes me think of that post about how getting Sam back from the Cage was the absolute worst thing for Dean because he faced living without Sam once and can never do that again, Dean not listening to John when his relationship with Sam comes up, Sam of course follows Dean’s lead rather than John and it’s like that scene when Dean insists John is possessed and Sam automatically sides with his brother despite there not being any solid evidence, Meg adding fuel to the fire when she’s around the brothers, Azazel having been informed about what Sam and Dean were becoming and this being part of why Sam’s the favorite, this also reminded me of how Dean has a hit placed on him by demons in s5, it really struck me that it looked like this was done simply to weaken Sam, what with Gabriel having once told Sam that the bad guys knew Dean was Sam’s weakness and the demon in Swap Meat being so focused on getting Lucifer in his vessel upon realizing Sam is not Sam at the moment, Azazel taunting John about how desperately Sam needs Dean vs not needing John as much, etc. Climbing the walls over this

anon i really do love your brain when my own manages to process all the words you write <3

[thevoidstaredback]

I have been madly inspired by this post, but I don't have time to write it. Instead, you get a prompt!

Tim and Danny are twins, just as in the inspo prompt. Except, instead of being from the DC Universe, they're both from the Danny Phantom Universe.

The timelines both continue as normal up until just after Dick becomes Robin (DC) and the Portal Accident (DP).

Instead of Sam and Tucker (or maybe you want them there? Idk. In my head, they aren't here) who're with Danny when the portal opens, it's Tim. They'd decided to try and help their parents as best they could (because this is a family of geniuses, guys!). Tim was working outside in the lab while Danny went in to see if anything's wrong in there, the accident happens as canon.

Now that the portal's open, Danny goes out as Phantom while Tim works as his support. (Neither tell Jazz or anyone because they're both allergic to help) Some way or another, Tim gets lost in the Ghost Zone and ends up in the DC Universe, wandering the streets of Gotham.

Jack and Janet Drake had decided to follow Brucie Wayne's lead and adopt a not well-to-do kid. They stumble upon Tim and basically kidnap him. He goes along with it because he doesn't know how long he'll be stuck here and he needs to blend in.

We all know the jokes of Tim being forever 17? Well, being exposed to the portal and the GZ as intensely as he was slows down his aging (unlike Danny whose aging completely stops) Tim doesn't leave Drake Manor much, nor is anyone much around to notice anything, so it's not like it matters. He doesn't actually notice at first!

Then, Tim sees Batman and Robin. At first, it was just glimpses of them, but then he got obsessed. He bought a camera using the Drakes money and set about his quest. He follows the vigilantes, learns from them from a distance, because this is what his brother does! This is what he was helping his brother do!

Eventually, Robin quits, leaving Batman and Batgirl. Dick Grayson leaves Gotham just after that. Then, Bruce Wayne adopts Jason Todd and Robin is back on the scene. Tim pieces it together pretty quick after that

Meanwhile, Danny's a mess. His twin brother is missing somewhere in the Realms, probably scared out of his mind and he can't find anyone who'll help him look! On top of that, Vlad's getting on his nerves more than usual, pushing further and further past the line he'd drawn in the sand.

Then, the Nasty Burger explodes. No one dies, thank God, but Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and his parents are all in the hospital.

Scared out of his damn mind that he'll become Dan, he retreats to the Realms. He flies and flies, grief skewing both his sense of direction and his will to care, and he ends up somewhere dark. It feels different from the rest of the Realms he's explored. Everywhere else, he could feel Clockwork and the Observants Watching, but not here.

Danny, needing to rest and calm himself down, lands in Gotham. Right in the middle of a Scarecrow attack. He's doused with Fear Gas.

Batman and Nightwing have been fighting again, and the new guy, Red Hood, isn't helping matters. Robin, in an effort to just get away for a bit, goes off on his own during patrol. That's when Scarecrow attacks.

Danny, more human than ghost at the moment, sees flames engulfing the building next to him, his friends and family all in there. And right in the middle of everything is his twin brother. He tries to get to them, to Tim, but someone's holding him back.

Tim sees his brother. He'd run to where Scarecrow just left, letting Batman and Nightwing handle Rogue, to check on any civilians that might've gotten caught, and he only sees one. At first he thought that he'd inhaled some of the Fear Gas, but he can think clearly and there aren't any other symptoms.

"Danny?" Tim asks, voice quiet, not daring to hope this is real. He'd almost given hope about ever getting home. He doesn't get an answer, but he can see the symptoms of Fear Gas settling over Danny, so he restrains him before he can hurt himself.

Danny passes out as soon as Tim gets him the antidote, and now Tim is left to explain why he's brought a civilian back to Drake Manor and why the civilian looks like him

[xoxoavenger]

What Is This Feeling?

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Dean are certainly feeling something for each other, they just can't exactly put their finger on it. In the meantime, they'll rip each others throats out and annoy Castiel and Sam.

word count: 3003

warnings: a small mention of alcoholism, intense enemies to lovers, based on 'What Is This Feeling' from Wicked, you may think this is isn't Christmas themed but there is a grinch reference thrown around a couple times (I couldn't help myself)

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Dean had never felt this way about anyone before.

It was surprising, because he had been in a lot of relationships with a lot of women. But something about this woman made his head reel in a dangerous way. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, at least not until he talked to Sam.

"I swear, ever since the moment I saw her I've felt this way." He tells Sam as they drink beer in the library.

"Hm," Sam says, still looking at his book. He clearly is not too interested in what Dean has to say, which causes him to be a little upset.

"I'm being serious! I don't understand it." He knows he's whining, but he wishes there was a way for him to know what this feeling was. It's been driving him crazy for months on end. 

"Are you sure it's not love?" Sam asks as he looks over, and Dean makes a face.

"Definitely not love. More like," It's on the tip of his tongue, and his mouth turns down as he figures out what makes him dizzy about her.

Y/N and Castiel are having the same conversation in her room, just down the hall, at the same time.

"He makes my heart race. I've never felt anything like it. I can literally feel the blood leaving my face just talking about this." She tells him, swirling her wine in her glass. Cas frowns.

"It sounds like you're in love." He says in that stupid low voice, and she wants to hit him at just the word.

"Absolutely not. It feels more intense. Like," She narrows her eyes, because she knows exactly what the feeling is.

"Loathing."

~

After the two of them figure it out, their relationship somehow gets worse. Sam and Castiel can only sit on the couch of the hotel room, each holding a beer. The only thing that would make it picture perfect is if they were eating popcorn. Sam would get up and pop it if he didn't know that Dean would deck him for even thinking about standing and interrupting their argument.

"How could you let it go?" Y/N yells from her side of the room. Sam and Cas swing their eyes over to Dean as if this were a baseball game.

"Let it go?" Dean repeats, barely able to stop himself from sputtering. "What, did you want it to kill you? Or maybe I should have shot you and hoped the bullet went all the way through?" He yells, because the stupid werewolf had been able to run after they'd been track it the past couple days. Everyone knew the likelihood of them being able to find and track it again, especially so soon.

"I'm sorry, is your aim that bad that you couldn't shot it without shooting me?" She knows, deep down, that the werewolf was wrapped around her, that it would have been hard to get a clean shot with then way he was holding her like a shield. Cas had been able to swing and slice a chunk of the werewolf's arm with his angel blade, and the werewolf had made it's escape while Y/N fell to the ground and Dean had gone to her side instead of shooting at it, like Sam had been.

"Seriously? You know that thing was wrapped around you like a freaking slinky. Do you have a death wish?" He shoots, and she turns, putting her fingers to her forehead in annoyance. "Why are you turned around now?" He asks, and she explodes.

"Your face is annoying me!" She says it far too loud, and Sam and Cas exchange a look of surprise before looking to Dean. This has officially gone from arguing about the hunt to personal attacks.

"Ugh!" Dean groans, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. "I need alcohol just to deal with your voice." He says, and she turns back around, steam practically coming out of her ears.

"Are you angry because they didn't have a new jacket at army surplus? Too bad the old one has a knife shaped whole in it. Although, that probably made it look better." She's going after whatever she can think of, and she knows this isn't going to stop any time soon.

"Alright," Sam stand, putting his hands up. It's gone on a little too long, and he's sure any minute now they're going to get a call from the front desk because neighbors started complaining about the noise. "Let's just say you two hate each other and call it a day, yeah?" He suggests, and Y/N shakes her head.

"It's so much more than hate." She's staring daggers at Dean, who is chugging his beer.

"Finally something we can agree upon." He says as he pulls the bottle away and wipes his mouth, and she just rolls her eyes.

"He makes my skin fucking crawl, Sam. I can't stand him." She says, as if Dean isn't in the room at all.

"What about him makes you so angry?" Sam asks, and she doesn't even need to look at him to answer.

"Everything. All of it." She says, and Sam takes a deep breath.

"Okay," Sam is trying to keep his cool, but he kind of wants to laugh. This entire situation is childish, and he can't believe the two haven't figured their shit out yet. "Y/N and Cas, you share a room tonight."

"I couldn't handle her being in here anyway." Dean says, finishing the beer and throwing it in the trash before immediately grabbing a new one.

"Is it wrong to call him an alcoholic?" Y/N asks as Cas grabs her arm and starts to walk her to the door. "Because personally, I think it's just saying the truth, but I know some people,"

"Please stop," Cas begs quietly, opening the door. Dean has fire in his eyes, and she's lucky her back is turned when Dean starts to stalk toward her. Sam has to grab him and pull him back as Cas pulls her out the door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?" Sam asks finally as the door shuts and he lets go of his brother.

"Me?" Dean asks incredulously. "She's the one who started it!" He argues, and Sam just shakes his head.

"Y/N is a nice person. She gets along great with everyone else, and she always makes friends with people on cases. She even somehow has demons that like her more than you do. So yes, I think you're the problem." Sam tells his brother, and Dean just gets even angrier.

"She hates me too! There's not much I can do here, anyway." He argues, grabbing his stuff and walking to the bathroom.

"Maybe she wouldn't hate you if you weren't such a dick to her." Sam says, because he knows his brother can be a little rough around the edges, but Dean usually isn't this rude or upset with someone. There has to be a reason why they loathe each other, and Sam doesn't think it has anything to do with loathing.

~

"So, why do you hate him?" Cas asks Y/N as they pack up the next morning. The angel had let her off the hook the night before, but he needed answers now.

"Well, ever since the beginning, there's just been something about him. And I usually get along with everyone. But he doesn't make it easy, exactly." She says. She doesn't like talking about it, because she doesn't have a good reason for the feelings that bubble up every time she sees Dean.

"It sounds like you don't hate him." Cas tells her simply, and she just blinks.

"You're right, Cas. I loathe him. Entirely." She frowns, zipping up her bag. Cas doesn't know what to do about this. He just wants Y/N and Dean to get along, because he's getting so tired of them fighting so much. It's every time they see each other, every time they're together. It doesn't even matter if they're on a case, or who's watching.

A point proven when a couple hours later, on the way back to the bunker, they stop at a diner and a fight ensues.

"Just because you're the one who lost the werewolf doesn't mean you have to take it out on us by making us stop at the shitiest place." She tells him after they'd ordered. True, this diner didn't exactly live up to any standards, but she was overreacting slightly because of her feelings.

"I'm sorry you're just so entitled that you have to have a five star meal, but we don't exactly have the funds for that. Maybe, if you put in a bit more of your own work, rather than just joining all of our hunts, we'd have more money for better food." Dean goes off, voice raising. Instead of sending him a glare to quiet the argument like she normally does in public spaces, she doubles down.

"We have plenty of money, you asshat! You just need the greasiest burger you can get your hands on, because it reminds you of life on the road with your dad." She shoots back, and some people near them have started to stare. She doesn't have it in her to care anymore, and can only barely stop herself from telling Dean that their cards are fake and so is their money.

"Seriously? You think you can read me? Well, you're not a closed book!" Dean yells, far too loud for the small diner. "You're only with us because you're lonely and terrifies you. You've lost everyone you've ever cared about, which keeps you from caring too much now even when you're nice to everyone. And if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here." The words are barely out of his mouth before Y/N launches across the table, legs underneath her on the chair and arms out to choke him. One hand grabs his head and she's able to push it to the table once, hard, before Dean gets his bearings and puts his hands on her wrists.

"You think you're so smart, Winchester? You're a boy who grew up too fast and never had a childhood. Your whole adulthood has been you acting childish, because around your dad you were never allowed to. I get you had a bad life, but you think you're the only fucking one?" She grumbles into his face, fingers still twisted in his hair. He scowls, because she hit the nail on the head.

"I don't give a shit about what you think happened. I know a lot of people who were dealt a shittier hand than me. But at least I'm trying to make the world a better place. You act like you owe everyone you meet something, as if you're the reason their life ended up the way it did. News flash, the world doesn't revolve around you!" He yells in her face. She moves to get up onto the table to get better grip and maybe even choke him with her thighs.

"Okay!" Castiel grabs her leg as she tries to move, pulling her back. She's still got a grip on Dean's hair, so she pulls him too.

"Ow!" He yells as she grabs her fingers and unwinds them from his head. Y/N ends up on her back in the booth, Castiel holding her legs.

"It's time." Cas says as he looks at Sam.

"Time for what?" Y/N asks, getting up on her elbows and trying to kick her legs out of Cas' grip. He just holds on tighter, then nods at Sam before sliding out of the booth, his hands still gripping her ankles.

"Let go of me!" Dean yells, definitely causing a scene. And then, Cas gets up and pulls Y/N's legs with him, holding them over his head so she doesn't hit anything. Curse his stupid fucking angel strength.

"Cas!" She shrieks, grabbing her shirt to keep it from falling and revealing her stomach and bra to the entire diner, all of which were watching now.

"Which way to your bathrooms?" Cas asks calmly, as if he's not carrying a full grown woman upside down. The server points to the side, and Cas and Sam drag Y/N and Dean into the bathroom. Y/N's laid down on her back, confused out of her mind, and Dean is yelling at Sam as the younger Winchester pushes him into the small one-hole bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean yells. Y/N turns on her stomach, and Dean turns toward the door just in time to see it slam closed.

"Fuck," She mutters, getting up and moving to the door. She tries to open it, but the handle won't even budge. "They're holding the door closed." She tells Dean, who instantly moves to where she had been to try and open it.

"Let us out!" Dean screams when it becomes clear that he won't be able to open it either.

"Nope!" Sam yells out, sounding far too excited. It makes Y/N even more mad than she is right now.

"You two need to work it out. And until you do, you aren't leaving that bathroom." Cas says through the door. Y/N wants to pull her hair out.

"Ugh!" Y/N screams, taking in the bathroom. It's old and a little dirty, and she hates the smell.

"You have no room to complain. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here." He tells her, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms.

"Me?" She asks incredulously. She cannot believe the gall of this man. "You've got to be kidding."

"You started the whole fight!" He throws his arms out, and she thinks her eyes may pop out of her head. She takes a deep breath, because she wants to get out of this bathroom before she's forced to pee in front of Dean.

"Why did you let the werewolf get away?" She asks quietly. It's the softest tone she's ever used with him. He sighs, unable to look at her.

"How many times do we have to go over this? I didn't let it get away. Sorry your hunting standards are so high, but it's not like you were helping either." The way he says it, the tone so crisp and the words practiced, she knows he's lying.

"I'm not trying to make fun of you." She tells him, grabbing some paper towels and wiping off the water on the counter. "I just know you're lying, and I want to know why." She tells him, throwing the towels away before sitting on the counter.

"How would you know if I'm lying?" He asks defensively, and she rolls her eyes as she tries to tamp down her own snarky response.

"Dean," She groans, taking a deep breath. "I know that we aren't exactly close. But we aren't going to get out of this bathroom until we tell the truth, and I'm actually kinda hungry." She says, and she sees his exterior crack a little bit. He breathes out a long sigh, then looks from the ground to the wall.

"I did let the werewolf get away. You were right. I could have helped Sam go after it. I probably would have been able to shoot it." He admits, and it honestly surprises her. She didn't think he would tell her, at least not until they had been in there for an hour. She was about to push when he starts talking again. "I just saw you fall to the ground, and your eyes rolled back into your head, and I thought that you were more hurt somehow. I just needed to make sure that you were alright, and finding the werewolf was the furthest thing from my mind." It's silent in the bathroom, and Y/N is sure that Cas and Sam are listening. Dean looks at her, and they lock eyes for a few long moments.

"Why would you care?" She asks quietly, but it still echoes in the tiled room. Dean clenches his fists, rolling his eyes and walking towards her.

"I don't actually hate you." He says, standing far too close to her.

"Loathe entirely?" She asks with a small smile, heart racing. She's not sure why, exactly, but she can feel her face heating as well.

"No," He chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think it may start with an L." He walks even closer, his hands going to each side of her hips. She can smell his body spray, the smell of him that hangs around the bunker and usually infuriates her.

She realizes that maybe now she isn't infuriated with him. She's infatuated.

"I think I feel it too." She tells him, voice low as her gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

"I'm sure you do." He says with a smirk.

"Alright." She chuckles, throwing her head back in fake annoyance. He grabs the back of her head however, and pulls her into a searing kiss. All their emotions, all the heart racing and dizziness and blushing has all lead up to this kiss, where their lips move in tandem and their teeth clack as they both open their mouths. Y/N's pushed against the mirror by Dean, one of his hands slamming against it. She moans as her body arches into his, and her groans into her mouth as he puts one hand behind her back, pushing her impossibly closer.

"Do you think they're physically fighting?" Cas asks from outside the door. Both him and Sam have their ears pressed the door, however Sam is slowly starting to lean back.

"They're physically doing something." He replies, frowning. Cas jerks back, letting go of the door handle as he realizes what Sam is insinuating. 

"I'm not sure if this is going to be better than them fighting." The angel says, and the two go back to their table, where food is waiting for them.

"Worse." Sam says, trying not to imagine all of the shit that's about to go down in the bunker. "Definitely worse." 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @king-of-milf-lovers @lyarr24

[sethsclearwater]

Hi, could you write something about shy and cute Seth being in heat for the first time, and he's really hot and dizzy and in pain, and the reader is there to help him by masturbating him or something.

"okay, you're okay," you started, quickly stepping over to your imprinter to help him lay down on your shared bed. he let out a heavy sigh, tightening his grip on your hand and looking up at you nervously which had you frowning, not happy with how uncomfortable he was.

you pressed the back of your free hand to his forehead, also sighing when you felt just how warm he was, "can you get a fever? you feel really warm," you murmured, sighing when seth shook his head, clearly not having any more of a clue than you did on what was currently happening.

"'m sorry pretty girl," seth said softly and you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at his apology. seth also cracked a small smile at your laugh, seeming to be feeling a bit better with you closer to him.

"'s not your fault," you reassured just as a lightbulb went off in your head. you'd suddenly remembered emily and kim telling you about the boys' ruts and how sick sam and jared had gotten the first time they had theirs.

"it's not your rut is it? i didn't think you'd have that so soon," you asked softly, watching seth's expression change from one of worry to confusion to realization when he seemed to come to the same conclusion as you.

seth let out a soft sigh, squeezing your hand, "i think you're right," he murmured, "it's fine though i can just stay in here for a few days until it's over," he added and you frowned again as you realized that he meant he was going to try and stick it out without your assistance for fear of hurting you.

"seth," you let out another breathy laugh, "'m not letting you sit here in pain for a week just because you don't want me to be sore," you explained, dropping his hand from yours in favor of pulling your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your panties.

seth's breathing hitched at the sight of your figure and you quickly tugged your panties down while he made quick work of taking his sweatpants and boxers off, leaving both of you naked in front of each other.

"just try and relax, okay?" you asked softly when you saw the way his cock was straining up against his abdomen, the tip an angry red with an ungodly amount of precum leaking from the tip.

seth nodded, doing his best to control himself as you got back on the bed and straddled his waist, "c'mere," you murmured, lifting your hips and cupping his cock in your hand which had him dropping his head back and letting out a loud groan.

seeing his frustration, you were quick to line his cock up with your entrance and sink down his length, ignoring the intense stretch that always came with fucking him.

"i just need like 10 seconds-" seth quickly said, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you down tight to his chest before you even had a chance to respond.

he didn't waste any time, quickly snapping his hips against yours. he couldn't seem to find a rhythm, just desperately thrusting in and out of your heat for a few moments before he his grip was tightening on you to a nearly unbearable level.

"oh my fucking god-" seth let out a loud groan, pushing his cock into you as far as he could before he shot his hot and sticky seed into your channel as he came undone in you.

"you've got it," you whispered, also out of breath from how rough his thrusts were against your pussy, "take some deep breaths seth," you encouraged, gently running your hands up his biceps to massage at his tense shoulders soothingly.

you kept your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it began to slow down, "there you go," you murmured when you felt his grip on you begin to soften, "you're okay," you added, sitting up when he slid his hands down to your hips.

"'m sorry pretty girl," seth whispered when you looked down at him, seeming awfully flustered over the fact that he had lasted a whopping 7 seconds inside your pussy.

you giggled, shaking your head as you slid your hands down his abdomen, "just wanted you to feel better," you reassured, running your hands over the inside of your thighs until you found seth's hands and laced your fingers together, gently squeezing them as another form of reassurance.

seth let out a shaky exhale before nodding, "can i make you cum too?" he asked after a moment, a hint of mischief returning to his brown eyes which had you giggling and nodding, just happy to know he was feeling better.

he rolled the two of you over then so he could be on top, his cock quickly hardening again inside your walls before he was thrusting into you again.

[anthemofgvf]

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.

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taglist:

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[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

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.

[cheynovak]

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

[rauchendesgnu]

"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."

[thatmexisaurusrex]

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.

[bubble-popping]

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."

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Changes chapter 46

< Previous chapter

Series masterlist

The sun was supposed to rise early that day, and Edgar and Alan had been ready for it. They had gathered their bottles with holy water, stakes, garlic, and crucifixes.

"Are you ready for this?" Alan looked at his younger brother. The boy nodded.

"Sam gave us the address. We need to go now," he grinned, "let's slay some vampire!"

They raced outside, taking their bikes and driving off as fast as they could. It didn't take long, or they found the winding road leading to a white house. On the dirty rusty red mailbox was the name Lawrence written. Edgar grinned. This was it.

They stepped of their bikes, letting them fall in the grass, as they slowly ans quietly approached the wooden gate. It was painted white, but Alan noticed some vague brown spots along the wood that didn't belong there.

He didn't want to stop and think about the possibilities as to what it might have been.

"Come on," Edgar whispered, pushing the fence open. It didn't so quietly, and for that, both boys were glad. They walked quietly towards the house, noticing the door had a dog door installed. It could be an easy way in, Alan realised.

As they got closer, they heard nothing. The house was engulfed in silence. On one hand, Edgar thought, this was good. It meant the vampires were asleep. On the other hand, any sound they made could wake them. Edgar looked to his brother, wondering what the plan was. Alan pointed to the doggy door, and Edgar promptly dropped down to his knees and crawled through it. Alan waited for a moment, checking the house again before slipping in himself.

They stood in a kitchen, yellowish cabinets looking grey in the dark. An old, rusty smell hung around the several appliances. Alan frowned. If they were vampires, did they cook their blood? Was that why it smelled like this?

He kept looking around, noticing the weird - in his opinion - things that were collected in the living room. A sized model of the boardwalk, statues of famous ride characters, several jukeboxes - all of them brightly coloured and capable of making a lot of noise. He stepped away from the living room, walking towards the hallway. He looked at Edgar, pointing towards the floor.

Vampires had to hide from the sun, and the easiest place to do that in a house was in the basement. Edgar thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. Quietly, he crept up the stairs, stopping on the landing. Left was a room clearly belonging to the girl they'd seen at dinner. The door had her initial on it. The door to the bathroom was ajar, and next to it was another door. That one must belong to Max, both brothers realised.

Silently, they looked at each other, contemplating which door they'd open. They stood there for a while, solely communicating through eyes and eyebrows and violently shaking their heads. Alan wanted to go with Max because it made more sense for him to be a vampire than the girl. Edgar, however, felt they should go with the girl first since she was smaller and easier to overwhelm than an adult male.

Edgar won.

Thorn had been resting in a deep sleep when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He laid on Julie's bed, and she was still there, fast asleep. Max, he sensed, was also still in a deep slumber. He sat up, listening intensely. Someone was in the house.

Alan walked in front of his brother as he tiptoed over the landing, slowly and quietly making his way to Julie's bedroom door. He waited for a moment, making sure he didn't accidentally step on any creaking floorboards, before he opened the door, just a little.

He peaked in. He couldn't see anything. The curtains were pulled shut. Still, he knew the room wasn't empty. Something about the way the air moved in there, the thickness of it, made him realise that they were not alone.

He pushed the door further open, gratefully taking the stake his brother offered him, and stepped inside. Edgar followed.

Both were ready to step further inside, explore the room, and see where the potential vampire girl was sleeping, when suddenly they heard a low growl.

"What the fuck was that?!" Alan whispered frantically.

"I don't know!"

It sounded again, and Edgar jumped forward, dropping the stake in the process. With a loud clattering sound, it fell to the floor.

Thorn jumped when he heard the loud clattering sound, jumping against the chest of a boy and growling loudly. He didn't mind the screams and cries of the child. His masters were threatened, this was only fair.

"What the hell?" Julie sat up, staring with wide eyes as the scene in front of her. "Max?! Max!" She jumped up, being forced back by Alan who threateningly held out his stake, holding it tightly.

"Stay back, bloodsucker!"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Vampires are evil!" Edgar grunted from underneath Thorn, who was still growling. Alan stepped closer, pushing her against the wall. The stake rested above her heart. He was ready to drive it in, to force it deep inside her, to kill her when she suddenly grabbed him, twisting his arms.

"MAX!" Julie yelled, "Max, please!"

The man came running out of his bedroom, a worried look on his face.

"Get out of here," he growled as he looked at the boys, his eyes glowing red with anger. Whether it was the fear or the fact that they knew they couldn't win, they ran off. Thorn looked at Max, a subtle look on his face, almost as if he was asking whether or not Max was okay. Julie stood there, initial shock still visible on her face.

"They know..."

"Yes, they do." Max sighed, sitting down on Julie's bed. "Did they hurt you?"

Julie shook her head.

"Are you alright?"

She thought for a moment before nodding. "I think so."

Max nodded, a tired expression on his face. "I want you to go to the cave. Tell the boys what happened."

"But David -"

"I don't know why you give that man so much power over you. I don't care what David thinks. This, those kids acting like that, it isn't a one-time thing. They'll figure out the boys are with us and go there next."

"And then i can come back?"

"As long as you do it safely without risking being burned."

Julie nodded.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you be alright?"

He smiled a soft, exhausted smile. "I will, dear. Now go inform the others."

Next chapter >

[imtryingbuck]

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 ~

[cjsarchive]

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.”

[indigosabyss]

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?"

[innerchorus]

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.

[spnexploration]

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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