#life's been rough and my anxiety has been really bad so *shrug*

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Ｇｉｒｌ Ｕｎｄｅｒ Ｙｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairings: gynecologist!seonghwa! x chubby!afab!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Scheduling your yearly check up with your OBGYN can be nerve-wracking. Especially when your doctor's Park Seonghwa. Finally getting up the courage to visit, you do all you can to conceal the not so appropriate feelings you have towards him. Not only is it inappropriate but he surely doesn't feel the same. Right?

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has a vagina and identifies as a woman. we're at the OBGYN so this is ultra vagina city. pervy Dr. Park Seonghwa, you too are a perv tbh it's mutual, shy/touch starved reader, body worship, nipple/breast play, fingering (gentle & rough), unprotected sex, cum marking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc), a lil rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), nonsexual use of the word slut (not in a bad way), it gets bitey for a second, examination kink, soft dom Hwa vibes.

♡ A/N: Listen, I can explain. It's all on @anyamaris for encouraging me to begin with. Blame her!

Important note: If you have a vagina go get it checked out regularly. Your doctor will certainly not be Seonghwa dicking you down BUT it's an important and sometimes life saving appointment sooo make it or I'll fight you. K, love you, bye ♡

♡ ♡ ♡ “I wanna be that guy. I'll wreck you right up, guy. I'll lie down face up, guy. The girl under you, guy.” ~ Lady Gaga ~ ♡♡ ♡

“Date of your last period? Any abnormal cramping or bleeding? Any chance of pregnancy?” the nurse fires off questions, tapping your answers into the laptop balanced on her hip.

Sitting on the exam table, your feet dangling off the edge, you try not to get whiplash from how quickly she whirls around the room loading a tray with supplies for your exam. The office is unexpectedly short staffed today, forcing her to play the role of nurse and human octopus. You understand how overwhelmed she must be but pray that she stops soon. Your anxiety was already bad enough coming in here. This nervous energy is not helping. 

“Last question, honey” she says, turning to face you, “Oh, have you been sexually active recently?” She cracks a playful smile, clearly expecting your answer to be something that it isn’t.

“No” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. Look at how shiny those tile floors are. Has this exam table always been this cushy? Such a marvelous generic art print that is hanging by the door.

The nurse’s eyes widen, a hand clutched to her chest in shock, “You went to Coachella and didn’t get laid?” 

“Nurse Kim! Can we not today?” you pout, in no mood to have this conversation right now. 

Being a longtime patient here has a lot of perks. Getting closer to the nurses especially has been great for you. I mean, who doesn’t like getting the appointment slot they want every single time? But the drawback is that they like you enough to pick on you. Maybe it’s their way of breaking you out of your shell, getting you to be less shy, but you wish they wouldn’t. 

Nurse Kim shrugs, miming the zipping of her lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my business.” Placing the supplies on the table, she grabs you a fresh hospital blue medical gown. “You know the deal, right? No shoes, no bra…” 

You nod along with her instructions, hopping down to kick your sneakers off. Finally she finishes and heads for the door to give you some privacy. “The doctor will be in shortly. Let me know if you need anything” she says, stopping halfway out the door. “You really didn’t bang anyone at Coachella. Wow. Girl, you’ve got to learn to live a little. You’re too hot not to slut it up!” 

“Thank you so much for everything. Goodbye. Bye!” you laugh, inching the door shut until she’s on the other side of it. 

Alone at last, you’re able to get out of your clothes and into your gown in peace and quiet. Well, “peace” might not be the word to describe what you’re feeling but at least you’re able to panic in silence. 

You really shouldn’t be as nervous as you are. You’ve been coming to this office for years. Everyone’s kind and welcoming. They always make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of. There’s definitely no part of you they haven’t seen so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Still there’s one thing—one major, heart pounding, pulse quickening thing—that makes you too nervous to function every time you’re here.

Your phone vibrates in your purse and you contemplate not answering but dig it out anyway figuring a little distraction can’t hurt. Unlocking your phone, you spot a text from your best friend. 

It reads: “Did you see Hot Doctor yet?” 

You giggle to yourself, typing back to her. “His name’s Seonghwa and not yet. Still waiting.”

“On a first name basis are we? Seonghwa. That’s even hot to say.”

“Dr. Park, I mean. His name is hot to say though. He’s hot. I fucking hate it.”

“Just give him your number already!”

“Sure. While he’s swabbing me I’ll be all ‘Hey, Dr. Park. Wanna go to lunch?’”

Your best friend responds with a meme of Megan thee Stallion sticking her tongue out. “Plot twist. The lunch is between my legs, daddy!”

You’re choking back laughter and tears, scrolling your phone for the perfect meme to send back when there’s a knock at the door. You nearly jump out of your skin, shoving your phone back into your purse. 

“Come in!” you shout, returning to the exam table just in time for the doctor to step in.

Everything moves in slow motion when Park Seonghwa enters the room. Ahem, Dr. Park. He is, as you and your best friend have come to call him, a hot doctor. The hottest doctor you’ve ever seen. His dark wavy hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, loose pieces hanging to frame a face too gorgeous to look directly at. His bone structure’s immaculate, his lips soft and pink, and his voice… 

“Long time no see. How’s my favorite patient been?” he says, flashing that killer smile of his. That voice. That smile. It makes you want to faint. 

You laugh it off, hoping not to come off as flustered as you are. “Dr. Park, I’m not your favorite patient.”

Seonghwa takes a seat on a nearby rolling stool and spins his way over to you, making a cute woo noise when he does. It gets a giggle out of you which is exactly what he wanted. 

“Who says you aren’t?” he asks, sliding in closer, his hands disappearing behind your legs.

It’s hard to breathe when he’s this close, staring up at you from between your legs. The smell of his cologne dances around you, a sweet woodsy scent that you imagine might smell even better on top of you. Just the thought awakens a familiar tingle between your thighs that threatens to make you wet the crinkly paper blanket beneath you if you carry on like this. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a doctor. He’s just doing his job. And here you are perving over him. 

“Dr. Park, anything else you need me to grab?” Nurse Kim asks, popping back into the room. Her appearance snaps you out of your trance and you force a smile to keep things normal. If you weren’t brain rotted and horny you'd swear Seonghwa had been reading your reaction that whole time. That he saw the effect he had on you and seemed somehow amused by it. But that’s factually insane. Get it together. 

The foot rests behind your legs, the reason Seonghwa reached back there to begin with, unfold with a creak. “No, I think we’re good” he answers before turning back to you, “Lay back for me and put your feet up. We’ll be done in no time, okay?” You follow his instructions, laying back on the table, readjusting yourself however he asks you to.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hands on your belly, impatiently waiting for this to be over. Though Seonghwa’s interest in what’s between your legs is purely medical, the fact remains that you hope he doesn’t find it ugly. You shaved for this, used this nice pH balancing rose water soap on it. You did everything but put makeup on it and throw it in a dress. You feel kinda silly now thinking back on it but your brain isn’t exactly logical when it comes to him. 

A few cranks of a speculum and cotton swabs later you’re done with the first part of your exam. “Good girl, you did well. The hardest part’s over” he praises, swapping his latex gloves out for a new pair. Your heart skips a beat at being called a “good girl”. He didn’t mean it that way but your body can’t differentiate between reality and how devastatingly sexy that was. Seonghwa turns to address the nurse and you quickly press your thighs together for some relief.

“I’ll send these off and go set up for the next patient” Nurse Kim says, grabbing your samples. She turns to smile at you one last time before disappearing from the room. “Remember what I said” she whispers, “Slut. It. Up.” Unfortunately, of all the things she’s skilled at whispering isn’t one of them and Seonghwa hears her.

Rising from his seat, he walks alongside you, stopping when he reaches your chest. “Just lower your gown for me for a second.”

You do as you’re told, carefully rolling your gown below your breasts. “So, slut it up, huh? What’s that about?” he teases, cold hands cupping one of your soft breasts. You inhale sharply at the contact, a thankfully normal reaction to cold hands touching you. Though for you it’s more that they’re his hands than anything.

“She thinks I need to get laid” you blurt out, caught off guard by your own bluntness.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, his fingertips pushing gently into your breast. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. She shouldn’t be judging people for their life choices.”

“I mean, it’s not really a life choice. I’m just not…I’m not a girl who…” you ramble, shutting yourself up immediately after realizing what you’re saying. Seonghwa pauses, glancing over at you, two fingers circling the perimeter of your nipple. It stiffens at the closeness, your touch starved body grateful for the attention. 

“Not a girl who what?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely interested.

It doesn’t seem that he’ll keep going if you don’t answer so you give in. “I don’t know, guys just don’t hit on me I guess. I’m not that girl.”

Seonghwa continues his examination, flattening his fingers at the base of your breast and dragging them up to your nipple. They bounce back each time, looking rounder and fuller as if he’s worked some magic on them.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily it” he sighs, moving on to the other breast, “A lot of men are intimidated by beautiful women.” 

Beautiful women? Did Park Seonghwa just call you a “beautiful woman”?

“B-beautiful?” you stutter, at a loss for what to do with yourself, “That’s really nice of you but I’m not…”

Seonghwa can’t help but smile at how adorable you are when he compliments you. You’re as good at concealing it as Nurse Kim is at whispering. Seonghwa knows that you’re attracted to him. To be fair, a lot of his patients are, but you are truthfully his favorite. Always so beautiful, always so easy to tease, and such a pretty pretty pussy that’s always wet for him. 

“But you are” he insists, both hands cradling your breast, thumbs running up the side, “You must have a mirror at home, no?” 

“Dr. Park, are you trying to make me blush?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

The pads of his thumbs graze your hardening nipple and your back arches, a whimper lighter than air escaping your lips. You catch Seonghwa quickly nibbling at his bottom lip, his eyes glimmering at the shock and pleasure painting your face. You caught him. You saw it this time. Really saw it. 

Seonghwa knows he should stop here, end the examination, and send you on your way before he does something stupid. It’s just…that little moan you let out? It’s a melody he’s been fantasizing about since the first time you laid across his table. He has to hear it again.

“I don’t know. Is it, aaah…” he breathes in, one of his thumbs circling the tip of your bud, “Is it working?” 

Slipping his left hand back across your chest, he palms your other breast, pinching your sensitive nipple each time he rolls his wrist.

“Yes, it…oh god…it’s working” you mewl, your mouth falling open, moans pouring out at the perfect volume for only the two of you to hear.

Your feet tremble in the foot rests, your legs still spread to leave your dripping, vulnerable pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. Hypnotized by the sight of Seonghwa playing with your tits, high off the electric current it sends through your body, it’s easy to forget that you actually came here for a reason. 

“I should probably finish your exam” Seonghwa whispers, doing his best to ignore the hard cock pressing against his slacks. Your body may be tempting but it is technically his job to make sure you’re healthy too. His hands gradually cease their movement, gliding down to do away with the gown that was hardly hiding to your naked body.

“Fuck, look at you” he gasps, massaging your squishy belly, tracing your love handles, and rounding the curve of your hip to reach your thigh. His fingers dig into your thigh, savoring their softness all the way up to your core.

His gaze travels back up your body to those starry doe eyes that hang on his every move, “Think I’ll need the lube or are you already wet enough for me, baby?”

Seonghwa rubs two fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal on the tip of his glove. He brings them to his mouth, extending his long tongue to lick your juices up.

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you” he hums, taking his time to enjoy the taste of you on his tongue. 

“Dr. Park, please…” you beg, thighs pressing together again, the need for his touch unbearable. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart” he apologizes, his fingers immediately returning to their place between your legs. “You want me to finger that perfect little cunt?” 

“Yes, please, I want…need it so bad.” 

Seonghwa brings his lips to yours, your eyes gleaming with lust as they meet, “You need it, baby? That bad, huh?” 

Two gloved fingers push into you, your pussy welcoming them with the tightest of hugs. “Fuck, yes, so good” you whine into his mouth as you begin to ride his fingers. Seonghwa dips his tongue between your lips, your mouths passionately crashing together. You grab the collar of his white coat, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss as his fingers work your core. Inside of you his fingers stimulate spots men who aren’t in his line of work wouldn’t even know existed. Some you didn’t even know could bring you such pleasure until now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, elbows giving out from under you, “Harder, Dr. Park, wanna feel you so deep.” 

Seonghwa catches your head before it can hit the cushion beneath you, lowering it down carefully as he draws another kiss from your lips. “Only if you promise to be a good girl and be quiet for me.” 

“I p-promise. Quiet. I’ll be…” you moan, throwing your hands over your mouth when he suddenly picks up the pace. Shifting between your legs, he tucks a hand behind your right knee and pushes it to your chest. Your palms are sweating, fingers locked together to keep you from screaming. Seonghwa’s fingers are much deeper than you thought they could go and his pace is too unforgiving for you to brace yourself for any of it.

“Ssh, ssh, you’re getting too loud, baby” he teases, coming in to kiss your inner thigh. Your juices stream down his fingers, soaking the thin paper beneath you. Hating to waste something so delicious, he begins licking around his own fingers. Between your lips. Around your clit. Anywhere his fingers send it splashing, he licks it clean. 

Your hands begin to slip from your mouth, your poor wrecked little body going too limp to keep it together. Thinking quickly, you bite down on your hand just enough to keep the noise in but you aren’t sure how long it’ll last. You’re dangerously close to coming. You can feel it and Seonghwa does too. Your hole’s so greedy, sucking him in and refusing to let go. It’s just begging to come but he won’t let it. Not like this at least.

Reaching down, he blindly fumbles around with his pants until he feels his cock spring free. He groans into your pussy as he closes his hand around his cock, rocking in and out of his own grip.

“Dr. Park, I’m gonna, mmph, aaah, fuck…gonna come” you squeal, hips stuttering against his face.

“Fuck, yes, come for me, sweetheart” he grins, rimming the head of his cock with his thumb, “You wanna come on my cock?” 

Seonghwa’s proposal has you biting down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh god, yes, fuck me please. Fuck me, Seonghwa.”

Popping his fingers free, he grabs you by your legs and drags you down until your ass hangs off of the table. “Seonghwa!” you cry out, eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you. That stretch. That one exhilarating, earth shattering stretch, is all it takes to ruin you.

“Mmm, that’s it, come baby. Give it to me” he moans, hips snapping into your fluttering core. You expect, like any other orgasm, for your high to fade after the initial peak but it doesn’t. You’re still there. And your body’s giving out. You brain’s going hazy. You can’t take it but you want to even if it makes you go crazy. 

Seonghwa’s eyes never leave your pretty face, never stop eating up how hot you are when you’re at his mercy. The sensation of his own high crashing down on him has him pushing your thighs together, the thickness of them making your pussy feel twice as tight around him.

“So fucking tight, shit, you’re gonna make me come. Where do you want it?” 

“I, ooh, I want it…want.” The words are there but you struggle so very hard to find them. You dig deep, collecting the strength needed to run your hand down your belly and spread your folds for him. Your voice is so cute and broken when you say, “On me.”

Seonghwa folds immediately, pulling out to coat your clit in the thick warmth spilling from his cock. Stopping to catch his breath, he leaves it there resting against your clit. Both of you twitching together, his seed dripping down your pussy so that no part of you isn’t marked by him. 

“Don’t clean it off” he instructs, kissing down your leg as he places your feet back in the foot rests, “Leave it so you’ll think of me when you’re driving home.” 

Easing your fingers from between your folds, you pop them into your mouth, sucking them like a lollipop. “Anything else, Dr. Park?” 

Seonghwa zips his pants up, searching his brain for any other pressing information. “That depends, are you free tonight?” 

“Hmm, let me think” you muse, staring off into space for dramatic effect. “I can be. That depends on what you had in mind.”

“Well, I was thinking I could pick you up for dinner and then…” He blows you a kiss that communicates his plan wonderfully, “Dinner.” 

You giggle, your sweet little crush on him more severe than ever, “Sure, I’d like that but, hold on, you don’t know where I live.” 

Seonghwa takes his gloves off, tossing them in the trash can by the door. “You’re my patient, remember? I literally have all of your personal information.”

“Isn’t that, like, a violation of patient privacy or something?” 

Seonghwa laughs off your comment, walking over to sneak in a goodbye kiss. “I’ve already violated your privacy once today, sweetheart. Can't hurt to do it again”

[pb-dot]

The Sisypheanism of Self Care

I don't know if the title is strictly accurate or uses words that are actual words, and neither do I care. Today's been a rough one and I'm granting myself license to be a little extra.

In the last year or so I've become acutely aware that the various mental health care I've been receiving hasn't really been hitting the mark. The talk therapy fails to function as much more than a pressure valve, although it in fairness has been a great pressure valve when I could get it. The problem is that we, that is to say, I and my doctor, former therapist, and social services caseworker haven't really made any inroads into making my life any better or breaking me out of my depression, or this spiral of unemployment, taking a job that doesn't fit my strengths, working until I have burnout and quit - repeat that I have been caught in for most of my adult life.

I was hoping there was an end coming to this time of faffing about with common sense cures for depression, my doctor currently suggests I lose some weight (I know, you're shocked) and take cold showers. In fairness, treatment-resistant depression probably isn't her field of expertise being a GP and all. Anyway, the reason why I hoped this was because I've recently been referred to the public psychiatric center that I know takes a somewhat more clinical approach to treatment, so although I wasn't holding out hope of being "cured" anytime soon, I was kind of hoping this would land me with a treatment plan of some sort. Maybe some different meds? A supplementary diagnosis of some sort? Who's to say, but a fella can dream, can't he?

So far I've talked to two separate mental health professionals who both seem deeply unsure about what to do about me. Out-fucking-standing. Oh, there were also some blood tests as I expressed I was a bit uncertain whether my antidepressants were, in fact, doing anything. I suppose that is the first thing you do in that instance, but I'm just expecting to hear that my body is treating the meds right, and the question if it does do something remains kind of floating in the air. That is, if it doesn't turn out I'm secretly immune to these as well.

Anyway, it's impatience on my end, and I'm fully aware of it. Diagnosing mental health conditions and neurodivergence is tricky and the consequences for making the wrong call can be pretty bad. That said, I'm just tired of getting mh treatment that I can't actually tell if does anything at the same time as I'm getting help getting back to work that I can't tell if does anything, and every time I talk to anyone in my life about this I can't but shrug and go "it'll pay off eventually... I hope."

It's all just such a waste. I was such a bright child in school, and although I wasn't quite as much of a standout during university, I did ok considering I was heavily depressed at the time. Hell, I'm still smart, pretty darn smart in certain fields, I would suggest, and my last formal test of my mental capabilities would agree. And yet, here I sit. Unemployed, frustrated, depressed, a walking pile of anxiety and dark thoughts so robust they almost, but thankfully not quite, should count as a philosophy by now.

Where did I go wrong? There are probably a bunch of things I could have done differently, but frankly, I also feel like Society, that old villain, has failed me in some rather profound ways. It's not just how difficult it has been getting mental health help that actually does something, or how absolutely debilitating being unemployed can be, although these certainly do contribute. My problem isn't just that my life is being made measurably worse by our old foe Late Stage Capitalism, although most of these are just made worse by that cancerous corpse of an ideology. The world seemingly has no place for me it feels like. Loneliness pushes in around me from every conceivable angle, dating is a nightmare, every job requires multi-year experience or specialized education I hadn't even heard about before reading about them, there seems to be no thought put into how exactly anyone not fitting into this cripplingly overspecialized work market is supposed to live their godfuckingdamned life, and that's not even getting into the climate shit.

I honestly hate how easy it is for me to pivot from talking about depression to unemployment. I hate how employment has to be a factor in my mental health. I hate how approximately nobody I've talked to about it, on the professional side, seems to get that I wasn't less depressed back when I was working. I hate how I can't get a job because it feels fucking impossible to be enough of a "go-getter with can-do attitude" to even make it to the interview stage when nothing feels good or worth it. I hate the fucking catch-22 of it all, and I hate that neither psychiatrist nor doctor nor case worker can even begin to unravel this Gordian knot for me, or even tell me where in the good grace of fuck I might begin pulling.

It's like they're saying "Sorry, your depression is untreatable and although we won't say it to your face, the labor market's general indifference to you should tell you that you have no place in it which in the current order of things means you have no value. Shame about that, someone probably should've told you all this before you did your best in school and endured the social ostracization that followed with being a kinda weird kid that loved books, all fueled by the fucking lie that it'd get better once you were done with school."

So yeah. I'm not having a fantastic day today, but I think getting some bile out of my system might have helped me feel a little less terrible? Better days than this will come, I'm sure. I'll try doing nice things for myself the rest of the day, although I'm not quite sure what they were. If I shitpost or rb more saucy art than usual today, that's probably what I ended up with

[wroteclassicaly]

for the hot scenario thing… thinking about eddie cumming in you and steve eating it out before he fucks you then we he cums in you eddie cleans you up. steddie brain rot is so real

HATE | No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | F*CK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

First of all, thank you! And second, you’re probably gonna get more than you bargained for with this one, lol. My brain is going to town on me, quite literally, so… I hope you like this? ;)

From the post here

Send me a hot scenario and I will rate it

Warnings: Language, NSFW, anxiety and self-esteem mentions (it’s brief), slight masturbation, Steve has a daddy kink, mirror play, squirting, handjobs, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, fluff, slow sex, rough sex, creampie, cum eating, and MORE!

~*~

You aren’t exactly sure what you did to deserve this? Maybe winning some jackpot lottery on the sexual spectrum that life offers, but you won’t complain. Not when you’ve got the two hottest guys in Hawkins—no, in the entire fucking world—at your feet, worshipping, praising, encouraging, soothing you into their sins.

~*~

Lately, you hadn’t been your boisterous self, and though you tried to hide it, your boyfriends noticed. The kind of red flag, bells tolling, alarms beeping—type of noticing.

Your calls became less audible, the desires to go out in public and have any sort of human interaction that wasn’t with your shared group of friends, becoming too non-existent for their comfort. And that’s what one of the main rules when all this started was. Comfort. Your distress was alarming, and they couldn’t stand it any longer, having sought you out. It wasn’t a simple thing, by any means, but it was a fixable situation.

You were feeling briefly lost, on the cusp of floating through the motions, unmentioned. Eddie was the first to corner you, having gotten out of band practice before Steve got off work, given the go ahead to make some headway and cheer you up. He questioned you outright, knowing that sugar coating anything isn’t the forte you abided by. You’d shrugged a shoulder, your floral pastel t-shirt blowing in the breeze of your exasperated arms, as they thumped into your lap. Your fingers had reached out to touch Eddie’s knee through ripped denim, playing aimlessly with the threads to avoid direct confrontation.

Eddie had coaxed it from you by willing his newfound patience (a trait learned from Steve), and you had admitted to being overwhelmed with the relationship. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made you feel undeserving. After all, as you had explained, how could someone like you appeal to men like them? Whilst Eddie had explained that the three of you were the most unexpectedly, oddest people in Hawkins to become linked—it worked. And why did it work, exactly?

Love. He couldn’t feel his fucking arms without seeing Harrington’s dumbass little smirk everyday, he wouldn’t be able to take in a steady breath unless your lips hit his cheek on your way out the door. Without ‘this’, as he’d motioned with ringed hands in explanation— his balance shifted. Nothing would be right if none of you were together. You had cried when he finished his statement, moisture getting caught in your lash line as he had asked, “How does all this feel for you, baby? You know we can stop if it’s not something you are really ready for.”

But you’d objected rather vocally and quickly, soothing Eddie’s erratic breathing. He understood being caught up in overwhelming moments, and the incredulous wonder of you three.

“Feels like I’m floating, or sometimes I can’t even comprehend basic, normal, everyday things, because Steve’s voice does that raspy thing when he first wakes up. Everything goes fuzzy in my head and I swear I short circuit after you come home from practice, with that smirk on your pretty mouth. And… fuck it, my chest hurts when I see you at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, attempting to keep that hair off your face as you work on campaign sheets for the kids, and Steve pulls it back for you. And I just look, I fucking see. I’m in—“

“Love?” Eddie had finished, a thumb brushing your mouth’s corner.

The veil had lifted off your mood, a phantom air so fresh and clear inside of you that you could taste and smell it. Steve had called in between customers and Eddie had pressed the receiver to your ear, watching as the insecurities poured out of your mouth, easier than the air you needed to survive. He’d kept a hand on your back, rubbing to reassure, to give you the time you need to tell Steve what you had told him, including your observations and declarations. Your shared partner was smooth and gentle, a tone reserved for you and Eddie, as he addressed the matter.

“If you both could feel how whipped I am for you, how much I love you…” Steve had cupped his hand over the phone to muffle his words from prying patron ears.

You’d blushed, squirming a little. Eddie saw, of course he did. He’d leaned by your head, cheek to cheek. “Think one of your words just lit her fuse, Harrington.”

Steve got off work pretty quickly that night. And after airing your feelings out to your boyfriends completely, Eddie wasted zero time reminding you about that word that set your inferno ablaze. Whipped.

“Sex, sex, sex. Is that all you ever think about, babygirl?” Steve had stroked your dumbfounded expression after teasing you with his words, and you—the way you encouraged them to push you further, pull you back into entanglement.

After your confession time, you were left with a need so raw and full, you’d die if it wasn’t satiated.

~*~

“Wait a second.” Eddie pauses his sturdy thrusts, his thick cock throbbing inside your overly wet pussy. You dig into his shoulders, nails scraping his slick skin, and mewl into the safe confines of his neck. “Shh, I know, sweetheart. M’ gonna move in a sec. I just want to try something.” He coos, cigarette stained breath hot on your mouth. “Harrington. I know you have a full length mirror in here somewhere.”

You can’t help the automatic reaction your body has to his words, clamping down, sucking his cock in deeper, causing it to squish against that delicate spot. Both of you groan, your legs hiking higher around his waist. “Holy Christ.” You whimper, earning a laugh from Eddie. Steve joins back in, seconds later, a long mirror in hand. He stumbles with it, earning a fond smirk from Eddie.

“And they say I’m the clumsy one.”

“Keep talking like that and see how well you can fuck our girl with your mouth full, Munson.”

Yep, that’s it.

Your head falls back onto the couch, limbs reduced to complete puddles of jello. Eddie praises your love for their filthy banter, multi-tasking Steve in helping him adjust that full length crystal by verbal instruction, until you catch a view so damned debaucherous that you’re probably going to hell when you cum. He’s still inside you, making it hard to catch your breath, a trembling vibration in your bones. “Eddie, please.”

The expanse of his semi-tall structure is on full display, those tattoos like sinful vines that you ache to climb, to taste. Licking your lips, it’s obvious to both panting men in the room that, yes, you like this. A lot.

“Oh, look at her, Harrington. She’s cock drunk and obsessed with my backside.” The metalhead spares a look through frizzy, sweat soaked curls, moaning around a mouthful of garbled words.

“Keep fucking her, Eddie.” Is a command that dips off Steve, that thick fucking cock leaking in his shiny fist.

Eddie and you watch his motions in simultaneous harmony, Eds picking speed back up his rhythm, suddenly shifting into railing you into the couch cushion—every lump and bump in worn pillowing—visible. Your lids have fluttered closed against an onslaught of distinctly, familiar pleasure. It’s happened before with a lot of grunting teamwork, often leaving you overstimulated and begging to be released and brought back into it, but this time it’s happening with only Eddie’s cock. Everyone hears it before Eddie says anything. That increasingly loud squelch that becomes a vulgar sloshing.

Eddie’s chocolate irises are gone beneath two black lakes, his mouth red and swollen from eager and sloppy kisses, courtesy of you and Steve. His hand lifts your thigh a little higher, the other motioning Steve over. “You hear that, Stevie? Our little girl is gonna squirt all over my cock.”

Steve rubs a fast palm down his dick, enjoying the aching stimulation. He tilts his head in curiosity, his hickeys visible all across his neck and collar bones. You smirk through the haze of pleasure, hand reaching out for him as he bends a little, letting you run your fingers through tufts of chest hair, amused as he adds in, “Yeah, think you can do it without either one of us touching that sweet clit, honey?”

“M’ gonna try. Eddie…?” You lift your other leg to lock them around Eddie’s back, pleading for him to go faster, but Steve is halting the motions, stepping into view and lifting your left leg onto Eddie’s shoulder, having you maneuver the other around his lower waist, moving off to the side and making sure Eddie feels every inch of his soaking cock drag across the rockstar’s backside.

With this, you can still see your reflection, but it has Eddie driving into that spongey spot at an angle so sharp, you swear you black out. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Shit, dammit. She’s squeezing my soul out, straight through my dick.” Eddie says, then whimpers and grips your jaw, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to slam himself into your cunt so hard that you feel the slip and slide of your pelvic bones, his happy trail giving your clit feather light strokes on the up. “M’ gonna cum inside her. Think I should?”

Steve doesn’t waste a second. “Soak that pussy, Eds.”

Their words bring a waterfall over your entire nervous system, a scream ripping straight through your diaphragm, and bouncing off your lungs, leaving your throat raw, and you winded. That impending climax dangling by a scrap.

“She’s getting wetter, Steve. Get the fuck over here and open your mouth. Show our girl you appreciate the show she’s getting ready to put on for us.”

Steve kneels, your leg releasing and lifting onto his shoulder, draping down that freckled back. His voice is hot and raspy, as he says, “Squirt for me, baby. Daddy needs to get wet.”

Your clit tingles with the release before your pussy feels the impact, a warmth spreading through you in a honey dripping sheath. Your muscles tighten and then relax themselves, a clear burst of your cum squirting from your cunt and around a stuttering Eddie as he fucks you through it. Steve’s pinching the meat of your inner thigh, tongue out and accepting the translucent spray, marveling in how it’s soaking his face and chin, some dripping off his chestnut tousled tresses. You can’t breath, can’t scream, you fucking cum. Eddie’s thrusts grow erratic, and you pull on his long hair, Steve slapping his ass, and he’s done for, warm spurts coating your insides in his cream.

He collapses onto your heaving bosom, panting and quivering, you struggling to take in air yourself. Steve, still hard as a rock—agonizingly so—helps Eddie slide out and off of you, kneeling completely and dragging you to the end of the couch, tongue clicking to the roof of his mouth. By this time you’ve managed to prop up a little bit, watching his back muscles move with every shift, those freckles begging to be licked. Eddie’s mirror idea may just be his best one yet.

“Oh, Harrington, you filthy slut.” Eddie knows just the direction his boyfriend is headed in, and he steadies himself beside you on the couch, palming your breasts and pinching your nipples, rings stroking back and forth to stimulate the areola.

“He’s not gonna…” You trail off.

“You made Stevie bring out the D word, Y/N. He’s going to, and we’re gonna watch him, do you understand me?”

That playful, but dominant tone has you captivated, obeying with a nod and accepting Steve’s scorching mouth. He jerks your knees apart, flattening his tongue as it licks a broad stripe up your sopping wet cunt. His mouth is drenched in yours and Eddie’s releases, Steve making sure he doesn’t waste a drop, watching you both through a very thin ring of hazel. You can’t look away from his muscular physique and every single one of those unrealistic freckles that keep you high on everything Steve Harrington. When the former prom King has managed to suck on every inch of your labia, crudely clean every cum slick crease, he lifts his head, a blob still left on his tongue.

He beckons you, Eddie pushing your sweaty back to help you meet Steve in a rough kiss, sharing that particular mixture. You run your fingers through his hair, arching as if you’re a magnet and he’s earth’s gravity personified. On a messy breakaway, saliva and remains of arousal stretch, Eddie weaving his ring covered fingers through, in awe of how it causes the jewelry to glisten. He closes his plush lips over each ring, releasing with a loud suckling pop. The three of you share a smirk, and Steve brushes his knuckles down the flushed apple of your cheek, tugging on you to help position yourself with him.

“Come here to daddy.” And he manhandles you until your ass is dangling, giving him plenty of room to grasp your ankles. Eddie, the greedy bitch that he is, reaches between your thighs and grabs Steve’s cock, slicking it up and down the seam of you. It’s got everyone in those sensual shambles.

Steve turns his head and tugs Eddie in by his throat. “Put me inside of her. Now, Munson.”

You can’t even speak human language, having given up long ago. Eddie presses Steve in, that burning stretch causing a fullness to press against your swollen walls. You hiss, toes curling, Steve’s fingers tapping across your ankle bones. “I know, baby. Daddy always splits your little cunt open, doesn’t he? Always feels like the first time, doesn’t it?”

“So fucking full.” You whisper, taking Eddie’s fingers as they’re offered, his other hand reaching to draw circles underneath the back of your knee.

“Look at us, baby. C’mon.” He demands.

Steve fucks you slow and deep, making sure you feel every ridge and curve of his cock (as if you don’t dream of being wrecked with it more than you care to admit), a slippery glide helping you find yourself matching his movements, pushing your hips into his, spreading your legs wider, letting them slide from his hold and entwining around him, thighs pressing against his tailbone. He lifts a hand beside your head, taking Eddie’s and yours in a stern grip. You’re overloaded and that coil is expanding, bursting, ready to explode and make you implode. Steve is marveling.

“That’s it. Cum for me, honey. And I’ll let you have mine.”

You fall apart, this time your vision does spot out, both of your boyfriends struggling to stay upright. Steve releases not seconds later, rowing forward and biting above your breast when he cums, layering your pussy in a sticky sheen. He doesn’t waste a moment, though, only stopping to inhale roughly a few times, pulling himself out and watching his essence and your fresh orgasm drizzle out of you. Eddie scoops down and closes his entire mouth over your cunt, devouring and sampling, nosing crudely. You let him clean you, still throbbing and recovering.

And then there is Steve, who decides he needs some more, not minding it’s his own, so he’s burying his face in between your legs again, wiggling his tongue just enough to coax more from your sore opening. Eddie cups the back of your neck as your tongue pokes out to touch Steve’s, gathering what he gives you, Eddie welcomed into the kiss next, that slurping a noisy enchantment. “Mhm, the taste of my two favorite whores.” He states, in his matter of fact way.

Yeah, you’re gonna need to hydrate and eat up tonight.

~*~

Tagging some babes: @prettyboyeddiemunson @inklore @ethereal27cereal @littledemondani @likedovesinthewnd @corrodedhawkins @thisishellfire @gothbitchshit @indouloureux @boldlyvoid @roanniom @master-of-munsons @runningmunson @munsonquinns @cowboy-kylo @pinkchubbiebunnie @pixiemunsons @munsonmunchies @manicpixiedreamcurl @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @st-eve-barnes @oliveoilthoughts @sending-love-letters @screaming-blue-bagel @spookycreepycookie-blog @gublers-ghost @munsonxdays @hellfirehope @taurusxmun @captaincarmel164 @mrsanxiiety

I tried tagging everyone on my tag list (I tagged some mutuals that aren’t on there, so I hope that’s okay?), but I couldn’t tag some of you for some reason. I’m sorry :(

[guess-my-next-obsession]

August — Chapter Four

pairing: frankie morales x f!ofc (rebecca herrera)

warnings: NSFW 18+, protected sex, loss of virginity, secret relationship, age gap relationship, risk of getting caught and all that jazz

words: 4.5k

series masterlist

“Sam—“ Becca held her hand out as though to stop him from thinking, her face full of worry, pale as a ghost as she watched her cousin staring at her and her secret lover.

“Oh ho ho ho!” He covered his mouth with his hand, laughing in shock at the pair—caught red handed.

“Sam, please,” she stepped forward, Frankie walking with her even though he felt paralyzed with anxiety.

“You…and Frankie? How? When? Why?” He continued chuckling as he watched her turn to Frabkie, eyes desperately searching his for advice on what to say.

“Listen, Sam, I know you probably think I’m some awful guy—“

“What? No.” He chuckled sincerely and stepped closer to the two of them. “I like you man, I’m just…with Becca!? I’m gonna keep your secret, Bex, I just…my cousin? You have seen her in the morning, right?”

“Wait, so you’re not going to tell everybody?” She asked, ignoring his insulting questioning along with Frankie. Sam shook his head and chuckled again.

“Fuck no! Your romantic life is none of my business. Besides, this is a big land for you, ‘cuz. A pilot! I would’ve thought you’d be fucking a busboy or a little nerd or something.” He stepped back and shook his head, looking at the two of you with amusement. “Man, never woulda called it. How fun.”

“So you don’t think they’ll take it well?” Becca couldn’t help but seize the opportunity and ask her older, much more experienced cousin for his opinion.

“My dad would be fine with it, I think.” He shrugged, and Frankie began to play over the scenario in his mind. Of course, only the worst case scenario seemed to be imaginable at the moment. “But your parents? Your mom would kill Frankie and your dad would kill you.”

“Right…” She nodded, swallowing thickly. She was fine with getting disowned, or at least that’s what she told herself, but the last thing she wanted was for anyone to look at Frankie in a bad light. He was good. A good man who only ever seemed to care and spread love around like it was easy. He didn’t deserve to be ridiculed and insulted by her overprotective mother and father.

“Well, this has been a real treat. Frankie, my guy, I don’t see it. But you seem happy.” Frankie gave him a forced smile, nodding at him in hopes he’d leave. “And Bex, good on you, kid. Who woulda thought you had it in ya?”

“Okay, Sam. You can go now.” She rolled her eyes and rubbed her temples, watching as he walked past them and into a dive bar. Once they were alone again, she face planted against Frankie’s chest, groaning. Frankie leaned down and placed a kiss onto the top of her head.

“Yeah, that was rough.” He rubbed her back, fighting back a chuckle that had only just come to surface. “But, silver lining…someone knows now. And he reacted—well, he reacted like expected, but not poorly.”

“He has two brain cells! Of course he didn’t care!” She groaned again, making him laugh as he hugged her close, swaying her as he surveyed their surroundings. Becca lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest, frowning at him. “I don’t want my parents to hate you.”

“They don’t.” He furrowed his brows and took in the genuine concern in her eyes, holding her face in his hands. “Hey, they’re not going to find out. Okay? We can tell them when we’re ready.”

“And what happens if I’m never ready?” She asked, Frankie being left clueless for once. He took his time looking at her—so young, so much to still learn, so much she felt she still owed the world.

For a moment, it all almost felt wrong, just because of the sheer amount of life he’d gotten to experience. He knew at his age that none of it really mattered—her family reacting poorly or well. Her life was her own to do whatever she wanted with it, but she just didn’t know that quite yet.

“Then I guess it’ll just be our secret—and Sam’s.” He forced a chuckle and smile onto his face even though the thought of their inevitable demise had already began to do its damage. With a soft sigh, he threw his arm over Becca’s shoulders and turned her around. “Come on, let’s head back.”

“Do you—nevermind.” Becca chuckled as Frankie pulled into the driveway, the two of them sharing an uncharacteristic silence, but not hating it. Frankie parked the car and looked over at her, the only light on her face coming from the porch all the way up the driveway.

God, he thought she was angel. He thought it when they first met at the bar, thought it when he found out she was his friend’s niece, and had been thinking it every minute since. Her olive-toned skin seemed radiant even in the darkness of the car, her hazel brown eyes like pools of honey every time she did him the honor of looking his way. He reached his hand over to cup her cheek before remembering where they were, pulling it back to his lap.

“Do I what?” He settled on, hoping the softness in his tone conveyed his admiration for her. Becca sighed and shrugged, shaking her head with a chuckle. “Tell me.”

“Do you think, and obviously it’s totally understandable if you don’t want to, especially given everything with Sam and, I mean, my mother would actually kill you if she found us—“

“Miss Herrera, I’m going to need you to spit it out.” He teased, watching as she chuckled at her own word-vomit.

“Do you think I could sneak into your room tonight?” She watched as he stared at her blankly, her teeth bared in a wince as she took his silence for rejection. “Nevermind, I just…I hate knowing that you’re just upstairs, which is basically just on the other side of the wall when—it’s okay. It’s impractical. So many things could go wrong—“

“Becca, of course you can. Though, I think it’ll be easier if I sneak into your room.” He reached over, not much care left in him anymore, and held her face in his hand. His eyes flickered from hers to the soft, blurred red pout of her lips, almost losing it completely and kissing her. “I…only care about being caught anymore because I know how it would affect your relationship with your parents. I don’t want you thinking that I care about anyone finding out, because…I don’t. I’m not ashamed of you, not…you’re not something I would ever want to hide. So, please don’t ever think that I’d ever turn down the chance for you to sneak into my bed or vice versa, querida.”

“Am I overthinking everything…with my parents?” She asked in a croaked whisper. Frankie sighed and removed his hands from her face.

“Baby, that’s not what I wanted you to take away from what I said.” He chuckled and tilted his head back against the headrest, hand raking over his face.

“I’m sorry—“

“Becca, you don’t—“ He sighed, frustrated with her inability to grasp that she wasn’t an inconvenience to him. “I just…you’re always so concerned with everyone else, with how they view you. I wish you’d stop caring about everyone else and start caring about yourself. Because the only thing I’ve ever witnessed you doing for yourself is sneaking around with me, and even that…”

“I wasn’t raised to think of myself. I wouldn’t even know what it looks like.” She sighed, hit in the stomach by his words. He was right, and although she’d never thought it herself, it was the blatant truth. She was a pleaser, through and through—even, and mostly so, when it offered no benefit to her.

She didn’t live with her parents any longer. Didn’t rely on them for cash or stability. Didn’t rely on them for emotional support—clearly. So, for what reason did she feel so selflessly devoted to being the “dream daughter”? Why was she here—with this dream of a man that somehow was a part of her reality—yet still so concerned with the possibility of being caught. Why did she even care if they were caught?

“You know what?” She turned to him with her bottom lip between her teeth, hesitant but finally realizing just how free she was. “Who cares?”

“Huh?” He furrowed his brows and smiled at her in confusion, having no idea what she was about to say given his lack of insight into her inner epiphany. Becca reached over and pulled his face to hers, her tongue slipping past his lips and into his mouth. Frankie took only a second to gather his wits before he was gripping her hip and kissing her back just as hungrily. In between kisses, he tried to remind her of their surroundings, though he could hardly think straight himself. “We…need…to…we…inside…let’s—“

“Shh,” she hushed his lips with her own, her hand migrating down his chest to his bulge, earning a gasped moan when she palmed him through his jeans.

“Cariño…we’re going to get caught,” he mumbled against her neck as his lips travelled to her pulse, nipping at the skin while she continued to stroke him through his denim.

“I don’t really care anymore,” she moaned, instantly feeling his teeth and lips sucking and biting her neck, surely leaving a hickey. “Frankie…I want to fuck you. Take me inside and fuck me…”

“Baby…” He grumbled as he tried to keep hold of what little reason he had left in his lust-flooded brain. Before she could open her mouth to beg again for what she desperately desired and more than deserved, a knock sounded on her window, the two of them jumping apart. Sam stood on the other side of her door, careful to not look inside. “Jesus!”

“Sam!” She shouted as she rolled her window down, her heart thumping in her chest at the jump scare. Her cousin finally turned and chuckled when he took in her frightened look, gesturing at the house.

“You guys gonna come inside or?” He watched as Frankie nodded, wiping her lipstick off his mouth before turning off the car. Becca glared at her cousin and stepped out of the vehicle, shoving him once she was standing. “Hey! I’m doing you a favor! You think if your mom came out here for her nightly smoke and saw that she’d be as calm as your favorite cousin?”

“First off, you’re not my favorite cousin! None of my cousins are my favorite! You guys are all awful.” Frankie grinned in amusement as he walked around the car, keeping his hand on the small of her back as she shouted and pointed her finger in his face, Sam seemingly not much caring about the attack given his relaxed smile. “Secondly, my mom smokes?! Thirdly, I was in the middle of something, asshole!”

“Yeah, I had the misfortune of witnessing.” He chuckled and swatted her finger away like a fly. Before Becca could open her mouth to curse him out again, Frankie chuckled and placed his hand over it, knowing the look on her eyes meant nothing good.

“Alright, fighter. I think you blew off enough steam for one night. Let’s go inside.” Frankie ordered and Becca begrudgingly obeyed him, though she felt she still had enough irritation built up in her to curse her cousin out for at least a century.

Sam chuckled from behind the couple as he watched them slowly start to distance themselves physically the closer that they got to the front door. It made him feel a bit bad for his cousin—the feeling strange and foreign given their usual not-so-closeness.

He admittedly held a lot of the blame for their family’s view of the twenty-four year-old, his jokes at her expense and nicknames surely not helping at the very minimum. But it was like he couldn’t see just how sad she’d been until she saw her happy for once. Though he couldn’t change the way everyone saw her overnight, he decided that he’d do everything he could to help the kid woman out.

As soon as Becca stepped inside, she was greeted by her nosier than usual mother.

“You’re home early.” She followed Becca further inside the house, Frankie and Sam in tow as they all walked to the kitchen.

“It was dead.” Becca smirked in both amusement and disbelief at her mother’s quick interrogation, looking at both Sam and Frankie for confirmation that it was actually happening.

“I thought you weren’t going out to see anybody.” She countered, earning a scoffed laugh from her daughter as she poured herself a glass of water.

“Jesus! I wasn’t.” Becca shook her head and lifted her glass to her lips, eyes shouting at Frankie to say something and change the subject.

“Uh, what did you guys get up to? Did the twins figure everything out?” Frankie asked her mother, successfully pulling her attention to him.

“Oh, we just watched a movie and drank some wine—hey, I think you…have something…um, is that—is that red lipstick?” She squinted as she pointed at Frankie’s neck, his heartbeat racing as he reached up to where she was pointing, covering the spot. Becca quickly turned around and tried to wipe off the remaining red that covered her kiss-bitten lips.

“Uh, yeah. I found them on their way to the bars and brought them with me to the strip-club. One of the dancers must’ve gotten handsy since he’s so handsome, ya know.” Sam interjected with his best performance, Becca and Frankie groaning internally at his lack of acting skills.

“You took my little girl into a strip club?” She scolded her nephew, swatting his arm before turning to Frankie and doing the same. “And you let him!”

“She’s not a kid, auntie. Look at her. Too many wrinkles for a kid.” Oh, Sam. Becca turned around, holding her hand with smudged red pigment behind her back as she shrugged.

“I…like naked ladies, what can I say?” She gave her mother an awkward grin, Frankie failing to hold in his amusement at her delivery, snickering and choking on his chuckles as he tried to calm them. Earning another glare from her mother, he straightened his grin and stood at attention, nodding as though to say he’d be on his best behavior.

“You’re never going out with either of them again. Perverts.” She tugged her daughter along with her upstairs to her bedroom, mumbling on about how tomorrow night she and her father were going out on a date and she needed input on which dress to wear. The topic was both boring and relieving. If her mother so quickly moved on from the previous subject, it meant she believed it—which meant her and Frankie were still in the clear for the evening. “Now, I was thinking this one, but…your dad likes me in red, so maybe this one?”

“I think dad would like you in anything, mom.” You sat down on the floor of her walk-in closet, half listening and responding to her, half caught reliving the sinful memories of Frankie and her in his backseat.

The evening seemed to go on much later than all the others, her parents not making their way to bed until 1 am, her uncle doing the same after having stolen Frankie away for a couple hours.

At last, around 3 am, it was all clear for Frankie to sneak out of his room and down to Becca’s. He poked his head out into the dark hallway and quietly closed the door behind him, tiptoeing to Becca’s door. It squeaked as he opened it, making him wince as he squeezed through the crack and closed it again. A lamp flicked on behind him at the sound of the door closing, Becca having woken up from an accidental nap while waiting for him. She sat up and leaned back against the headboard, rubbing her eyes to clear his vision.

“Were you asleep? I’m sorry,” he frowned as he walked over to her bed, surprised by the disorder of the room, but finding it endearing nonetheless. Becca shook her head adamantly and accepted him as he walked to the other side of the bed and sat down beside her. Becca wasted no time in climbing onto his lap, his hands rubbing up and down her sides as the pair took each other in. Her hands held his face as though he was as delicate as a rose, her eyes darting between his. Frankie’s lips curled up a bit under her intense admiration, his voice as soft as a whisper when he spoke again. “Are you…tired?”

“No,” she responded quickly, shaking her head. One of Frankie’s hands slid over the cotton of her pajama shorts at her hip to the swell of her ass, gripping it softly. “Never too tired for you.”

“Baby girl, I want you so bad,” he admitted in a pained sigh, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers, Becca’s core working against the hardness in his sweats. Frankie shivered at the sensation, fingers gripping her tighter to help move her against him. Neither could contain their soft moans of satisfaction as she sped up against him, desperate for release. He was going to to stop her and remind her that she could have the real thing if she wanted it, but decided that she deserved to use him however she wanted, as long as she wanted, over and over until she’d had enough. “Fuck, querida…take what you need.” He breathed out as Becca kept going, his eyes trained on her as she began to crumble, her hips stuttering to a halt once she’d reached her ecstasy. Her lips crashed against his as she rode it out, his hands running up and down her back soothingly. “Lay down for me.”

“I…might need a bit of reassurance.” She admitted as she laid down, the reality that she was about to do something she’d never done before finally hitting her. She knew that everyone’s first time was different, and most of her friends said it wasn’t as awful as the movies made it out to be, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was going to hurt and how bad. She’d seen his size, and it was impressive. Surely it was going to hurt—

“Becca.”

She’d been stuck in her head for minutes.

“Becca, we don’t have to.” He looked concerned as he hovered over her, his eyes taking in every bit of panic that covered her face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, baby. We can stop now—“

“No.” She shook her head and reached for his face. “I want to. I really want to. I just…I’m scared of it hurting. I know it’s exaggerated in the movies but…it seems a little scary to do something for the first time and not know what it’s going to feel like.”

“Well, we can work up to it. How’s that? And if it ever stops feeling good, just tell me and I’ll stop.” He earned a smile from her, her head nodding in agreement as her heart skipped in her chest.

He was such a dream.

Frankie leaned down and kissed her slowly, lips gentle against hers before picking up in hunger and speed, his free hand running up and down her outer thigh as it wrapped around his hip. Becca lowered her hands to her hips, tugging her sleep shorts and panties down her thighs until Frankie stepped in and took them off the rest of the way. He sat back on his ankles and tugged his t-shirt off while she did the same, her entire body bare and on full display in the dim light, sprawled out beneath him for the first time ever. Her chocolate brown hair laid in messy waves over her pillow, her smile wide as she watched him through the valley of her open thighs.

“Do you have any idea of how fucking…beautiful you are? I can’t…can’t fucking think straight looking at you.” He leaned down and kissed her knees, mumbling in a whisper against her skin. Becca shivered at the sensation of his beard as his lips kissed down the inside of her thighs, closer and closer to where she craved him most. “You’re such an angel, cariño…can’t believe you’re real.”

“Frankie, baby, fuck…” She breathed out and ran her fingers through his hair, bringing her eyes to watch him as he kissed her clit a few times. When his tongue swiped over her wetness, she nearly shouted his name, quickly covering her mouth with her hand to prevent it.

“Feel good, baby?” He smirked, chuckling against her before getting back to work. Becca chuckled and rolled her eyes, surprising even herself at her sensitivity to every one of his touches. “You know I’d love to hear you, but I’m pretty confident no one else in this house would feel the same. Can you stay quiet for me?”

“I’m trying,” she chuckled and frowned at him playfully, scratching his scalp lightly. Frankie chuckled back and kissed her inner thigh, pulling his mouth away after deciding it may be too much for right now. He didn’t move far, keeping his head between her thighs as he brought his index finger to her wetness, swiping up and down her slit until she was arching her back. “Please, do something…”

“Okay, remember. If it hurts—“

“I got it. Now finger me.” She cut him off, making him grin at her neediness. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he pressed inside of her, earning a sigh of relief as she clenched around him. “Okay…that’s not bad at all.”

“It’s just a finger, querida.” He kissed her thigh and curled his digit up against her spongey ceiling, watching as she arched her back and let a moan slip out. “Shhhh, gonna get us caught.”

“That felt good.” She praised in a whisper, moaning quieter when he did it again…and again, until he added another finger and kept going. It was a struggle being brought to the cliff of euphoria over and over and having to remain quiet—especially when she finally was pushed over into bliss.

Becca bit her hand as she shook for him, his fingers successfully bringing her to her second orgasm of the night. He couldn’t help but beam in pride at his ability to make her feel good, smirking like a champion when he crawled back up her body to kiss her through her bliss.

“I’m ready.” She breathed out, eyes fluttering open as she held his face, smiling and flushed. “I want you.”

“Okay, baby.” He nodded and leaned in for another peck before climbing out of bed and stripping out of his sweats. Becca bit her lip as she took him in—it was a beautiful sight, his tanned body walking across the room to his sweats, grabbing a condom and walking back. Their eyes met and both of them blushed, smiling as they watched him fumble with the wrapper. “Been a while.”

“I was gonna say…came awfully prepared.” She joked, biting her lip again when she watched him roll it on over his length.

“I went out and got these the other day, sweetheart. No need to get all jealous,” he teased, climbing onto the mattress and resting between her legs. Becca furrowed her brows as he ran the tip of his protected length across her slit, both faces turning serious as the contact. “Talk to me, okay? Let me know how you’re feeling.”

“Okay,” She nodded, reaching for his face. Frankie leaned down and allowed her to hold him as he carefully pressed in, her slick warm and tight as he slipped sank into her deeper. His brows furrowed at the pleasure, worried he might be the one to end up being too loud.

“Fuck,” he shivered as he was completely sheathed in her, his eyes moving from where they were connected to hers, studying her carefully. “You okay?”

“It feels…amazing,” she breathed out, near tears at the sensation of being completely filled by him. It was better than she could’ve ever dreamed, no doubt due to his ability to take his time in getting her ready. “Please keep going.”

“I’m not going to last long at all, baby. Feels so fucking good,” he warned as he withdrew his length, his head falling at the sensation, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to focus on not finishing then and there. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just glad to be feeling you.” She assured, lifting his head and bringing his eyes back to hers. When he pressed back inside, it was over. Her hands stroking his cheeks, her pretty face watching him as he spilled inside the condom, his moans coming out soft and pretty for her.

“Fuck, I don’t know why—that was fucking embarrassing.” He chuckled and kissed her cheek, more than a little ashamed about his quick release. Becca shook her head and furrowed her brows at him, soothing his worry that he’d fucked it up.

“No, it wasn’t. It was perfect. You felt perfect. I just wanted to feel you, get the nerves out. And it was perfect. Besides, you did make me finish twice beforehand.” She chuckled and watched as Frankie smiled more authentically, pulling out of her and laying down against her side. He would handle the condom situation in a minute—for now he just needed to be near her, to feel her existing beside him. “I like you a lot, Frankie. More than I probably should.”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling the same.” He turned to her with a soft grin. “I’m very glad we met, even if this is a little complicated and difficult to maneuver sometimes. You’ve…really made a mark on me. I can’t…imagine a world where I won’t want to know you.”

“You’re pretty good with your words, Morales.” She teased to cover up the fact that she wanted to cry from happiness, cuddling her face into his chest, the two slipping into a peaceful quiet while they savored their last few hours of being unbothered.

When the sun began to rise, he would have to get out of her warm bed and sneak back into his room—to leave her. But they tried not to think about that as they laid together, whispering every now and again about both the deepest of thoughts and the silliest of musings.

It was temporary thing for now—their bliss—but she hoped once the trip had come to an end and they were both back in Los Angeles, it would become a permanent thing. Him in her bed, talking through the night and holding each other close. In fact, as she drifted to sleep for the first time that night at 5 am, alone and cold in her bed, that’s what she thought about. The hope and whispered promise of their future.

Permanence.

frankie taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @tryonmyworld @berriesarepunk @laureliciousdefinition @camishadjarin @rav3n-pascal22 @fishingforpike @rocketrhap3000 @amneris21 (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added to future frankie content!)

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

➶ WHAT MAKES THE MHA BOYS BREAK (PT. 2)

pairings: mirio togata, tenya iida, katsuki bakugo, aizawa shota, tomura shigaraki, dabi, hawks, mashirao ojiro, tamaki amajiki

warnings: hinting anxiety/anxiety attacks, reverse comfort, also tamaki’s made me cry so have fun lmao 

part one with mezo shoji, tokoyami fumikage, hanta sero, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou here!

WHEN YOU COMFORT THEM THE MOMENT THEY BREAK DOWN: MIRIO TOGATA, TENYA IIDA, KATSUKI BAKUGO

MIRIO TOGATA

there was no way that mirio was completely fine after everything that had happened to him

he had lost his quirk, experienced a battle that could result in permanent trauma, and he lost nighteye-- the leader and hero that he had looked up to for so long

but when you told him that it was okay to be strong all the time, mirio had broken

he broke for the first time in what felt like years

“don’t worry a-ahbout me!” 

the saddest part about it?

he was smiling through his tears not even a few moments after his grin broke

his lips were trembling, his eyes were red and his entire body was shaking with suppressed sobs, but he had an unwavering smile.

and that... that was heartwrenching to look at.

his smile fell, his body trembled and he let out a strangled sobbut for some reason, this-- none of it had shown a single trace of weakness. it was a way of him to express very human emotions and reactions as everyone else could.

he wasn’t disappointing nighteye in anyway-- more of showing respect by letting it all out to be able to show genuine smiles in public

how come such human emotions were labeled as good or bad?

“i let him down,” mirio gasped, “i let him down, i hurt him, i could have saved him, and-”

“hey, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. it’s just me baby, it’s just me,” you cooed as you wrapped your arms around him. “shhh, it’s just me. you’re okay.”

mirio’s hands trembled as he gripped tight onto you

his chest was getting tighter as he burst into struggled breaths. he was just so... tired.

a million thoughts zipped through his head at once, but he just had to calm the storm for a while in your arms

TENYA IIDA 

it was right after the accident in hosu city, and everything, everything had gone wrong

even though he didn’t show it at first, he felt used as an advertisement for hatsume, and then losing in a battle with todoroki and felt like he was thriving on dumb luck

he just wanted to make his brother proud, that was-

-if he could, anymore. 

he felt so weak for letting himself feel this way, his head racing and chest heaving as he struggled to breathe

letting your guard down will just make things worse. tensei wouldn’t want this.

tenya’s body visibly trembled as he let out a shaky breath in his dorm room, thinking everything over in the darkness

“iida?” you asked, knocking on the door.

immediately, his demeanor changed as he shifted over to a braver face. 

“hello, y/n!”

just breathe. they’ll be gone sooner or later. breathe.

“why are you up this late at night?” he asked.

“i was just checking in on you, but i should be asking you the same question, sonic boy,” you grinned, until you noticed his hands trembling.

and for some reason, that hurt you. his face was.. so put together with a brave smile, confident eyes, and his head held up high and posture straight and firm

but when you saw his hands trembling and an odd shifting in his chest, you knew something was up

“are you okay?” you tested the words. 

tenya tried. he tried so, so hard to smile and affirm with a confident, “yes!”

but he couldn’t.

“i-i’m not- i’m not sure-,” his voice broke into a whisper. 

“i don’t know.”

you melted into a hug next to him as you took a seat. “hey, you can tell me anything, okay? it’s okay not to have your guard up all the time, it’s not weak to show emotion. just- if you want, can you tell me what’s been going on?”

tenya took a shaky breath and pushed up his glasses. “of course, thank you for asking, i will.”

KATSUKI BAKUGO

after his fight with deku, all of the willpower left in him to hold himself together disappeared 

katsuki had been exhausted after a long day of fighting, not just physically, but emotionally

he had tried to keep his head high for as long as he could, but the moment he went to his dorm room, he just... broke.

angry tears released and he choked out heavy, strangled sobs as he pounded his fist to the ground in frustration

katsuki cursed towards whoever was there, until he found you standing behind him

he was too tired to argue.

“the fuck are you doing here,” he grumbled.

“is something wrong, 'suki?” you whispered. “i was just coming by to drop off your water bottle, you left it during hero training,” you examined his face. “are you- are you okay?”

he loved you, he really did-- but today just wasn’t a good day. “mn-no,” he managed to say.

his chest was heaving and his eyes seemed to be searching the room, as if looking for an exit.

you noticed the dark circles around his eyes and the way his lips trembled. had he been crying?

you slowly cupped his face in your hands, noses touching as you two shared breaths, inhaling and exhaling together

katsuki was too tired to pull away. 

he felt so weak.

you could hear katsuki’s breath shaking but slowly dying in volume as he held him tighter

“hey,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “you’re gonna be okay ‘suki. you’re gonna be okay.”

they’re pitying me.

“this?” you said, holding his bruised hand up and motioning towards his trembling figure. “this isn’t weak.” you said, as if reading his mind. “this is strong. this is brave. being emotionally vulnerable is one of the most courageous things anyone can ever do, and you are so much more than that, m’kay?”

he nodded in response. even though he didn’t express it that well, he thought of it 

WHEN YOU PROMISE TO STAY: TOMURA SHIGARAKI, HAWKS, DABI

DABI

everyone shut up i love him

all that he’s ever wanted and asked for in life was for someone to notice him for who he genuinely was, to be free to do whatever he pleased

it was late at night and you two were outside, the moon illuminating in the darkness as you slid against the wall of the city in the back of the building

“anything interesting happen?” you asked, staring up into the moon

the night was young and it had been a rough, terrible day at work for both of you, even though you had separate jobs and shfits-- the only thing that pushed you forward everyday was being able to meet with dabi right after, at exatly 11pm. 

sure, you did it every day, and it shouldn’t have been that impactful-- but for some reason, somehow, everything about talking to him was so... exhilerating. 

he didn’t reply.

“uhhm,” you shuffled nervously toward him. “dabi, you good?”

he let out a shaky exhale, which was odd.

hold the phone.

no, really, someone hold the phone because it was ringing

“oh, sorry, one sec,” you rushed, hurrying to answer. it was one of your co-workers. “hello!”

“uhuh. yeah. oh, cool... got it, mhm, be right ther-”

you noticed how dabi’s body language immediately changed as he turned around and crossed his arms gently over his chest and stared into the sky.

this really, really wasn’t like him. 

something had to be wrong.

“uhm, on second thought,” you said. “does tomorrow at... noon work for you? i have plans. yeah. mhm, sorry not tonight. yep, bye!”

dabi’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t look at you. “who was that?”

“one of my coworker buddies or whatever. they wanted to have a drink with me, but i said no.”

“why’d you say no?” he deadpanned.

“uhhhm, well, you certainly don’t seem very... how should i say this, at your fullest?”

“but why?” dabi said. “you meet with me every day, and going with your friends is probably a lot easier than this. what’s so different about it..?”

you thought carefully as you shrugged casually, gently leaning your head against his shoulder. “if one of my closest pals were down, i couldn’t just... leave them like that. and even though i know you won’t tell me what’s wrong, i just.. i just don’t want you to feel alone, you know? like everyone in your life has left? and i- i don’t want to do that to you.”

even though dabi stayed relatively quiet for the rest of the night, 

just know that was the day he fell in love with you.

SHIGARAKI

nightmares were the worst. 

for the record, he didn’t get them often, but when he did, and actually reacted to it... they ended up terrible

he gasped, grasping at the air for his mother’s embrace only to be met with nothingness

he clawed at his skin as his breath hitched, trying to control himself

“tomura?” you asked. “...are- are you okay?”

“get away from me,” he trembled. “i’m a... i’m a monster.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in concern. “hey, hey, c’mon. what’s going on-”

“leave me alone.”

his sudden change in tone made you jump as you stepped back and you watched his figure tremble. 

“shigaraki.”

“if something’s wrong, don’t sugarcoat it. if something’s wrong, please, for the love of the world, tell me, okay? i just- i just want to see you... maybe..”

“what?” shigaraki deadpanned. “happy? satisfied? content? joyful? you people all want the same thing.”

“hopeful.”

shigaraki looked up. 

“i want to see you hopeful, m’kay? so just... please. you don’t need to tell me word-for-word, but-- if you need something, i’m here.”

he was not going to cry. nuhuh. no way. no way was he going to start crying. 

you wrapped your arms around him before he cautiously hugged back, letting himself slowly melt into your embrace, his satin gloves against your clothes

“hey. i promise you, i’m never going to be leaving. no matter how much you mess up, no matter how terrible you may feel-- you mean the world to me. please hold on just a little longer.”

HAWKS

it wasn’t supposed to happen until later, when he was actually able to get home and prepare himself for anxious feeling in his stomach to finally settle

but noooo, his mental state really just said yolo

so here he was, reliving his entire childhood with memories that he’d pushed down for so long, about to snap in a matter of seconds

“keigo~!”

your familiar voice rang through his head. 

he just wanted to be held by you.

the most beautiful part about being with hawks his that he genuinely didn’t care about his pride around you. he wasn’t insecure of what you thought of him. he didn’t freak out or try to act like he was fine when you were with him, because... why would he need to? 

so instead of putting on a brave face and getting scared of your voice as if being anxious was a crime, he melted into it.

“hey angel, i got you some food at the-”

“y/...y/n,” his breath hitched. your voice, that you often said you were insecure about-- was his safe haven. he felt safe when he heard your voice and let himself crumple. he didn’t have to worry about putting his walls up, because it was just you.

beautiful, loving, kind you. 

his love was something special that he gave to no one else.

“k-keigo!” 

even though you were far from him, your bags in hand and everything, you immediately dropped them and ran to your boyfriend

“hey, hey, baby, what’s going on?” 

he stood directly in front of you, his head down and not saying a word.

you let your breathing sync with his as you reached out to hold his hand, when he threw his arms around you before his trembling body was held in your embrace

“-hey,” you said, shocked by the sudden embrace, before you hugged back, slowly, rocking him back and forth. “you’re going to be okay.”

“you don’t have to tell me anything, just-- focus on me,”

“i’m never leaving you, okay? no matter what you do, you’re still going to be my hero.”

and hawks decided on that day that out of anything else in the world, you meant the most to him. 

WHEN YOU TELL THEM THAT THEY MATTER: TAMAKI AMAJIKI, MASHIRAO OJIRO, SHOTA AIZAWA

TAMAKI AMAJIKI

useless. useless. useless.

why wouldn’t his stupid quirk activate before? why couldn’t he be more optimistic? why was he always thinking about something else? why couldn’t he ever stay positive and cheery like everyone else?

how was everyone else so strong?

but laying in a hospital bed, in complete silence and vulnerability...

that scared him.

tamaki blinked back the sudden tears that prickled against his eyes-- nuhuh, no way was he about to cry when so many other people had it worse, no way he was going to break down when nighteye was dead, he was not about to cry if mirio could be strong and so many other people had it worse, and-

“tamaki, snap out if it!”

your cold hands cupped his face, as you stared him directly in the eyes. “what are you doing?”

tamaki jumped back at your sudden question. but for some reason, the way you said it wasn’t angrily, more like... a statement? a question? as if you were asking are you okay?

tamaki shook his head. “i don’t... i don’t kn-know..”

get away, get away, get away.

your hands brushed back a hair from his face as you crouched down in front of him, your hands still helping him cool down. they rested gently on his scalp and along his face as you felt his breathing grow uneasy.

“listen,” you began slowly. “i’m not saying you need to tell me what’s going on, but... i just- i have a feeling that you’re not doing okay. and i know that because no one was ever really there for me back then, so if you want to say anything--”

“--i’m here for you.”

tamaki crumpled then as he let the tears fall.

his entire mask shattered as his breath hitched, trying to hold back the sobs but only came out as strangled breaths. 

“hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” 

you held up his chin and rocked him back and forth, slowly. “just because other people seem to be going through bigger things doesn’t mean that you should invalidate your problems. if something’s hurting you, that’s enough of a problem to take care of it.”

tamaki began to shake as he suddenly clutched onto you, his body trembling as he nodded. 

what would mirio, nejire, nighteye, fatgum-- what would they think of him now?

“whatever is going around in your head right now will all quiet soon, i promise you, ‘mkay?”

“it’s okay. it’s okay. you’re okay.” 

AIZAWA SHOTA

“you didn’t eat,” you said, staring at the takeout that was left in its packaging. 

you heard shota mumble under his sleeping bag. “i’ll eat after.”

“after what?” you said back from the kitchen. 

you weren’t exactly mad at him, you could say-- it was more of disappointment, maybe? concern? he had always been so concerned about his students that he forgot to take care of himself-- no wonder why he was so angry lately. 

(and no, it wasn’t his resting face, he was genuinely burnt-out the last couple of days and it wasn’t getting better.)

“shota, come on,” you said softly. “or else i’m taking your sleeping bag away from you.”

aizawa’s head emerged from the bag, the light from the laptop giving a lovely display of his eyebags. “oh?”

he smirked, even though he seemed so drained.

“yes,” you said, pointing your nose up in the air and crossing your arms. “and you better go eat before i take it away.”

aizawa raised an eyebrow, but obliged.

you watched him eat, but he kept his laptop on the table the whole time.

he was looking through the profiles of all his students, and that was-- insane

despite how much had happened to him, he always thought of someone else first, putting everyone else above him.

“you’re going to overwork yourself,” you finally said. 

“amazing,” aizawa sighed back. “had no clue.”

“oh, c’mon,” you egged. “you matter too, ya know.”

you noticed how tense his shoulders were, how his gaze was fixated to the screen and the way his veins were protruding from lack of sleep, and how red his eyes were.

sure, most of the time, this was normal-- but you just had this gut feeling that something was wrong.

“i suppose you’re not wrong,” aizawa ventured. “but sometimes, you realize that students make up most of the world. i want them to grow..”

his gaze on the screen broke.

“and for them to know a world of love and kindess, not-- whatever this is.”

you looked at him before wrapping your arms around him and kissing his forehead. “but they have a teacher who works so hard already, and you-- you deserve a break. you’re always working so hard, and you have to remember that you matter, too, okay?”

you smiled sadly. “i need to go to work, but please finish the takeout for me, hmm?”

he never told you this, of course-- but yeah, he thought of your voice every time he wanted to take a break. he never forgot the words you said. 

MASHIRAO OJIRO

being forgotten was something that came way too easily for him.

everyone in class 1a was so good at everything-- they all either had good looks, a nice voice, talents, a cool quirk, technique, charisma, and he?

ojiro felt like he didn’t have anything.

but what did it matter, right? being the forgotten one was fine to him, at least. he was able to take time for himself. 

...kind of.

he was heading back from ua into the dorms, walking alone when he realized it started to rain.

picking up his bags, he ran, putting them under his shoulders so that they didn’t get wet-- it wasn’t a long walk, but it was a lot to have to run back and make sure everything stayed dry

“wait!”

ojiro turned around to find you, carrying your backpack in the air and waving your arms. “slow-” you panted, “down! god, where’d all the rain come from??”

he chuckled slightly, until he noticed your bag getting soaked, and before he knew it, ojiro called you over and said he could carry your bag

“are you sure?” you asked, in-between breaths. “i doubt you can carry both-”

ojiro laughed and waved his tail like a hand. “i can carry it.”

your face lit up. “thanks! okay, now let’s run back, c’mon.”

you two ran as fast as you could, trying not to slip as the rain began to pour even harder against your backs. 

but when you opened the doors to the dorms and your bag was completely dry, ojiro smiled.

(also y’all he’s an underrated king DO Y’ALL KNOW HOW PRECIOUS HIS SMILE IS?? PLS-)

“thanks,” you grinned. “your quirk is actually really cool. not just for keeping stuff dry, but uh, thanks. i appreciate it.”

something inside of him made his heart swell. 

“really?” ojiro asked. “do you really- is that true?”

he didn’t want to get his hopes up too quickly, but the way you nodded proudly and affirmed it was something he could never forget.

“yeah!” you said. “just because you’re not flashy as other people doesn’t mean that you’re a plain, boring person, you know that? you’re actually really cool!”

“huh. thanks,” he noted-- and don’t worry, he walked back into his dorm room with a grin on his face the whole time.

🕭 reblog | comment | like 🕭

hey bbys! reminder to go take a break and drink some water if you’re reading this! y’all are so amazing and beautiful, and please remember that you’re valid as well. what you did today was more than enough, please remember that!! i’m very proud of you for getting through today. ily <3

qotd, what song reminds you of a fictional character 👀

join my family! 

list of family members: @kirishimuhhhhh​, @xuxisushi-1​, @kirishima-my-beloved​, @msminsuga​, @farfetchedparanoia​, @satis-mangata​, @moonhere​, @renegadedeca​, @viridevi​​, @cherriiirose​​ <3

☂ requests are open for mha + hq!! ☂

[whump-town]

The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

[dameronology]

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries 

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning 

It had only been five days. 

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe. 

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy. 

 ‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn. 

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’ 

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response. 

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’ 

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in. 

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting. 

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.   

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor. 

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’ 

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’ 

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled. 

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments. 

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours. 

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled. 

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries. 

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love. 

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep. 

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress. 

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him. 

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights. 

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile. 

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you. 

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.09

Paradise Lost

10/09/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 5,013

Warnings: fluff, depression, anxiety, implied sex

A/N: Hopefully this isn’t too much of a mess. Life got me busy and I didn’t get to put this out when I wanted to. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

“Hello? Yes, how can I help you?” Her voice is still a bit on the nasal side, her hair an ice blonde. Her eyes are emerald green and her lips as red as a ruby.

She doesn’t seem to remember you one bit. It has been ten months and you’d only met her once.

“I’m Y/N? I have a meeting with Mr. Swan?” You muster up all your courage after that initial hesitation, intent on completing your mission.

“Oh, right. The no-show.” She gets up and gestures for you to follow.

Quickly you hurry to catch up, watching the way she swings her hips as she walks, the movement exaggerated by the tight gray pencil skirt she wears.

She’s surprisingly fast on her six-inch heels and you’re dumbfounded by the skill.

Stopping at the end of a long modern hallway with black marble walls, the secretary knocks on the pale wooden office door, waiting a moment for response.

“Come in, Kay.” A surprisingly young male voice speaks.

Kay steps in, stopping with her back against the open door as she leans her weight on the doorknob.

“The no-show is here for you.” Kay says, voice casual and relaxed despite the fact that she’s speaking to A.I.M.’s CEO.

“Oh? Hi!” He greets as you cross into view.

He’s most definitely young. Mid to late twenties. No way he’s older than thirty, with short and carefully styled brown hair, brown eyes, and browned peach skin. His chin is blanketed in rough stubble and two dimples crease his cheeks as he moves towards you with his hand extended.

“Y/N, right?” He asks and you quickly take his hand and shake it.

“Yes.” You agree. “Nice to meet you.”

“That’ll be all, Kay. Can you order my lunch for two o’clock?” He asks, releasing your hand but gesturing the red modern armchair in front of his long glass desk.

“Will do.” Kay agrees and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

Mr. Swan rounds his desk, long and lithe, moving to sit in his chair and takes a moment to breathe in and release it slowly, as if it’s the first time he’s sat down today. When he’s settled, he gives you a smile and places his hands on his lap.

“So, you’ve been out of town for ten months?” He wastes no time getting to his point. “Unfortunately, Y/N, I don’t have a position open for you. We’ve just filled all the open positions in marketing and taken on all the interns we could use.

“If you wanted the job, you should have shown up. You were hired. I can’t save your spot just because you decided to take an extended vacation.”

“I-” Your heart is pounding, your blood boiling. There’s a buzzing in your head because you know you can’t say what you want to. You can’t tell him that you were stranded on an island with Bucky because it’s a secret. Not that he was stranded, but that you were there.

“I’m sorry to waste your time. Really. If you’d like to reapply, we’ll keep your application on file and should a spot open up, we’ll keep you in mind.” Mr. Swan assures you.

“Mr. Swan,” You begin, forcing yourself to give him a smile. Tight and humorless, it’s more a desperate gesture than anything else. “I didn’t extend my vacation, there were problems with my passport and travel visas. I was stuck in an airport for several weeks before they put me up in a hotel until they could figure out what the problem was.

“I-I’m not asking you to give me the same position. I know that I’ve lost the chance for that, but if you could give me a job anywhere in your company, I can research my butt off.” You say rashly. “I’m not an idiot. Research and Development would be a good fit too, or maybe consumer research?”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “I don’t have anything for you. Begging for a job won’t get you one.”

“Mr. Swan-”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do. A company to run. And I’ve given you my answer.” Mr. Swan rises, reaching to refasten the button on his suit jacket. “If you don’t mind? I humored you because Pepper gave me a call to hear you out, but I’ll have to be more wary granting favors for friends. If you’ll excuse me?”

You don’t even have the chance to get up before he’s moving around to the door. He opens it up and leaves, disappearing to the right.

A moment later, Kay moves in and stops when she sees you.

“Oh, you’re still here? You should leave before he comes back. He’s an asshole but that was him being nice.” She explains, moving to his desk to drop off a thick yellow notebook.

When she turns, she stops by the end of the desk, looking at you pointedly.

You get up without word, moving out of the office feeling like there’s fire in your veins.

Loading the elevator, you turn and press the ground floor button. The cold air that blows from the ceiling sends a chill down your spine and it’s the push you need to knock you out of your daze.

As the doors shut and Kay takes her seat behind her desk, your rage overflows into one loud exclamation of, “Fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How long is this gonna take?” Bucky wonders, turning to Sam who sits beside him, relaxed as he lounges in his seat.

Bucky isn’t so unconcerned, sitting straight with one hand on his bouncing leg and the other balled into a fist on the table.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes, do you have somewhere else you need to be?” Fury asks, strutting towards them before stopping at the head of the table.

“Yes.” Bucky says, no fear or regret in his voice. “Y/N had a meeting with the head of A.I.M. today, to see if she could possibly get her job back.”

“Guess the money in her bank isn’t enough incentive to stop working?” Sam guesses.

Bucky shakes his head. “She wants to get back to normal if she can. We both do. But she’s having a harder time than I am. This means a lot to her.”

“Unfortunately for you and Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid Augustus Swan is a grade A asshole. I don’t think she’s going to come away from that meeting happy.” Fury says, pulling out his own chair to sit.

“Then we need to make this quick.” Bucky nods, leaning both elbows on the table.

“I’ll dictate how long this debriefing will run, Sergeant Barnes. Rush me and I’ll keep you here all night.” Fury threatens.

As Bucky frowns, ready to argue, Sam meets his eyes and as he swings his chair around to face him, he shakes his head to calm him and then swings it back to face Fury.

“What do you wanna know?” Bucky sighs, leaning back once again, defeated by Fury’s iron stare.

“Well, for starters, when did you notice that things weren’t exactly right on that plane?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“You were lucky.” Sam admits, walking beside Bucky at a casual pace despite Bucky’s desire to be with you already. “If that stewardess hadn’t moved you and your Mrs. to the front of the plane, you’d both be dead.”

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees, wringing his hands with anxiety. “Were you able to find him? The stewardess’s husband and son?”

“In Texas. They were in contact with the airline but even the airline didn’t know what happened so, Ross filled in the blanks without actually owning up to the responsibility of it. Blamed it on malfunctioning engines.

“They didn’t take it so well. They’ve been paid off, but that hardly makes up for the years that kid is going to live without his mother.” Sam grieves, feeling for the family.

“I’m glad they at least know.” Bucky admits. “Y/N will be glad to know they’re able to mourn her properly. She won’t be happy but at least her heart will ache a little less.”

“She’s a good woman, Bucky.” Sam reaches over, clapping his partner once on the shoulder. “But she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Bucky’s mouth turns into a small hesitant smile, shaking his head.

“Like, she’s got you whipped, dude. Whipped!”

As Sam laughs, Bucky follows, relaxing a little and grateful for the levity.

“You say that like it’s bad thing.” Bucky throws at him, but Sam takes his hand back and gestures his denial animatedly.

“No, I never said that. Honestly, anyone who says being whipped is a bad thing obviously never got it right.” Sam shrugs.

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.” Bucky pretends to be thoughtful. “How’s that possible when you’re single as hell?”

Sam stops walking, fixing Bucky with a glare before he nods, looking betrayed.

“Alright, I see how it is. Don’t forget I owe you a tracking chip, Barnes. I will literally implant one in your ass.” Sam threatens, but Bucky can only laugh as he stops to look back at him.

Sam smiles, and for a moment Bucky can swear he looks almost grateful to have him back. Although he’s opted to take a break, a long one so that he can build a life with you before he goes back to work, he suddenly feels eager to return and really get to know his new partner.

“Will you come over for dinner next week? Once we’ve had a chance to settle in?” Bucky takes a step towards the three-story townhouse, a lovely pale sandstone exterior with dark gray highlights around the windows and teal front door.

You’d chosen the color specifically and though you didn’t explain it, he knows you’d picked it because it reminded you of the waters around the island.

You had loved your morning swims. It’s only natural that you miss the water if not the isolation. And yet, now that you’ve both been back, he sees you timidity as you walk out into the world and it makes his heart ache.

“Depends.” Sam quips, “You cookin’? I don’t wanna get food poisoning.”

Bucky shakes his head, smiling. “No. Y/N will be cooking. She’s got it all planned and the menu all thought up. She’s pretty excited about having you over actually.”

“Then I’ll definitely be there. Tell her I’m looking forward to it and I hope things are okay with A.I.M.” Sam’s well wishes give Bucky a warm feeling in his chest.

His two worlds are one in this moment and he appreciates the generosity that Sam has had welcoming you into their group.

Bucky wants to keep you as far away from the danger as possible but seeing as you’ve already been blown up on a plane because of him, he’s grown accustomed to the idea that he can’t ever keep you one hundred percent safe. He’ll have to take it day by day.

“Thanks, Sam. That means a lot. I’ll tell her. Hey and uh…maybe you should ask Sharon to come? Y’know…”

Sam quirks an eyebrow, his face full of wonder at Bucky’s audacity.

“…as your date?” He finishes, an amused smile overtaking his handsome face as he turns up and takes the steps two at a time.

“That’s not funny, Barnes!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be!” Bucky calls back then wiggles his eyebrows at Sam as he shuts the door.

Eager to find you, he drops his keys on the unpacked boxes by the door, stripping off his coat slowly as his ears listen intently to the sounds of the house.

The inside is simple, a dark gray concrete floor makes up the foyer that then shifts into stunning dark oak hardwood flooring. The windows are large with thin frames made of black steel. Immediately after the foyer to the right is the living room, two bright red sofas—one full and one loveseat—are pushed against the far wall, an unassembled coffee table half pulled from its box. A rolled up decorative rug lays on top of the larger sofa.

An open concept, the dining room follows the first floor with a decently sized dining table lighter than the floors with mid-century dining chairs in pale peach. Two of them are still wrapped in plastic.

On the other side of the dining table, is the black concrete kitchen island with maple cabinets. A black stainless-steel fridge and matching chef grade six burner stove are already hooked up an in use, a small pot of what smells like alfredo sauce burning and emitting the first puffs of black smoke.

Bucky drops his jacket and races for it, pulling the pot away from the flame then shutting it off.

“Shit…” He sighs, taking the pot to the sink then freezing when he sees cold noodles, all mushed and sticky and obviously overcooked thrown in what he can clearly see is a small fit of frustration from you.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as he thinks about what he’ll possibly be able to say to make this day better for you. There has to be something that he can do.

As he waters down the sauce and begins to dump it, he makes up his mind.

He cleans the dishes first, then makes for the fridge to see what else you’ve bought to cook.

He finds the chicken that would have been for the pasta you were making and takes that out along with a few tomatoes, sharp cheddar, and beautiful red and yellow peppers.

Dinner is quick work, and though Bucky isn’t sure what he’s making will be very appetizing, he pours his heart and soul into this meal hoping that it’ll heal a bit of the darkness this day has obviously brought.

He sets the table and as he places the down two wine glasses, he suddenly hears a swell of music upstairs.

It’s beautiful, this melody, and it reminds him of a song that he knows he must have heard. There’s a full string orchestra, woodwinds, and a deep bass below. It all sounds beautiful, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s melancholic and he can only imagine the state you’re in.

Deciding to get you down here before he pulls the wine from the fridge, he heads up the stairs.

The second floor has three bedrooms two on the left and the master on the right with a master bath and the second full bath sharing the same wall.

Although the inner walls of the house are made up of insulated and soundproofed drywall, the walls of each room on the outside are exposed sandstone brick, slightly darker than that of the exterior.

Bucky makes his way to the last door on the right, listening for a moment but the music is coming from the third-floor attic space.

Attic is used as a loose term. The space is actually completely open, nothing within it yet save for the large radio system that you brought from your place. The high-tech turntable is plugged into sturdy speakers that almost make it sound as if the orchestra is in the attic with you.

Bucky steps up onto the landing and spots you standing at the far end staring up at the large skylight as the sky grows darker with dusk’s quick approach. You have your arms wrapped around yourself as if you’re cold, the large sweater you’re wrapped in making you look soft and huggable.

You take his breath away, every time he sees you like this. You’ve always been beautiful but seeing you in clean clothing that isn’t torn or saturated in sea salt makes his heart skip a beat. He likes you looking cared for. You’ve gained a healthy amount of weight since you left the hospital and there is nothing sexier than how you look now.

The stretchy tights you wear underneath your sweater hug your curves tight, thick woolen socks on your feet.

If you hear him come in, you don’t show it. Your hands are clasped around the sleeves of your sweater, clinging tightly as you struggle with whatever you’re thinking.

Bucky needs to know what he can do, but he’s afraid to make it worse.

The only thing he can think of is to hold you, so that’s what he does.

He moves up behind you, waiting a moment before he places his hands on your shoulders then traces them down along the length of your arms. The way you have them crossed also brings his arms around your body.

As you melt against him, Bucky exhales the breath he’d been holding, kissing the side of your head as you shut your eyes and sigh.

“One of the things I hadn’t realized I’d missed being stranded on that island was music.” You tell him, voice conversational despite the grief you seem to still be processing.

“Me too.” Bucky admits, listening to the swell of music with new ears.

It gives him goosebumps.

“I guess things didn’t go well at A.I.M.?” Bucky probes gently, his lips pressed against your head as you continue to watch the sky through the skylight.

“I can’t exactly tell them that I was stranded on an island after my plane blew up.” You shrug. “Honestly, the guy was a pretty big jerk but, he’s right. They couldn’t exactly hold my position for me.”

Bucky sighs deeply, hating the disappointment in your voice. “You’ll find something, kitten. I’ll help you look.”

You shake your head. “I think maybe I should just take some time.”

“I think that’s a very good idea.” Bucky admits, his lips once again pressed to your head. He can’t seem to help himself. He wants to kiss you better, but he knows it’ll only do so much.

Both of you are aware just how much you’re struggling to get used to being back home.

You fall into silence, Bucky’s arms content to hold you.

Oh, shit. Dinner.

“I made you something to eat.” Bucky whispers, then drops his arms as you turn to look at him.

“Shit, the sauce!” You exclaim, fear making your eyes dilate.

“It’s okay, kitten. I took care of it.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I’m so stupid.” You whimper.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay. Alright? Nothing to worry about.” He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles before lacing his fingers through yours to pull you from the room. “What do you think we should do with this space?”

He hopes you can’t see through his attempt to distract you.

“I don’t know.” You admit, looking back up at the space as he pull you down the stairs.

Bucky waits as you think, letting you lead the pace of conversation.

“We could just make it a multipurpose room.” You brainstorm. “You’ll need a gym? And I could use a space for reading.”

Bucky smiles, glad you’ve gotten your mind off your lost A.I.M. job, even if it is for a few moments.

“That sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to get you a nice lounge chair and some bookshelves.” Bucky nods eagerly.

As he pulls you through into the dining room, he lets your hand go to pull out your chair.

“This looks so good, babe.” You gasp, eyeing the cheesy chicken on your plate, laden with tomatoes and peppers. “Thank you so much.”

Bucky watches you sit down, your voice breaking as you thank him and then you’re shoving your hands over your face as you sob.

He doesn’t need you to say anything and there’s nothing he can say to make it better. All he can do is drop to his knees and pull you into his arms, holding you tight as you let the stresses of the day spill out.

You bury your face against his neck, clinging to his shirt tight, somehow making Bucky feel more needed here than you ever did on the island.

“I’ve got you, kitten.” He whispers, squeezing you tight. “I’ve got you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you going to do today?” Bucky whispers, eyes still shut.

He gives you a fright, making you jump with his sudden question and you turn to hide your face in your pillow as you laugh lightly.

“Holy fuck, Bucky!” You shout into your pillow and feel him shift beside you, his hand moving across your lower back. His hand over the sheets you’re using to cover yourself.

You turn to look at him, biting your bottom lip with playful anger.

“I’m sorry.” He laughs silently, puffs of air as he blinks slowly, like cat. Telling you he loves you without saying anything. “Serves you right for watching me sleep.”

“You’re so pretty though.” You tell him, reaching out to trace his nose from bridge to tip.

“Me?!” He asks, astonished by the news before he throws himself over you, grabbing your wrist as he goes to pin it up above your head.

Settling his weight on you, he breathes in and out heavily, enjoying the feel of you beneath him. With your wrist in his metal grip and his flesh hand squeezing your hip, you chuckle happily, licking your lips.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“If I’m beautiful, what does that make you?”

“Normal?” You wonder, knowing he’ll refute any disparities you make in your self-assessment. He’s biased. He loves you.

“Perfection.” He whispers, and you shake your head because you knew it had been coming.

“Nobody’s perfect, Bucky.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He clarifies, and leans down to kiss your lips slowly, just a peck.

He holds it, staring into your eyes.

“Perfect with me.” He continues.

You smile, perfectly at peace.

“You never answered my question.” Bucky tells you, throwing himself onto his left side, keeping his right arm around your waist.

“What question?” You wonder, reaching over to stroke his hair.

“What are you gonna do today?”

“Oh.” You sigh. “You’re going in today, finally?”

“Just for the day. Getting acquainted with the new headquarters. No missions yet. But soon.” Bucky nods.

“I’m gonna have to get used to being here without you.” You turn onto your side and scoot in close, pressing your nose right up to the tip of his, shutting your eyes in subdued lamentation.

“I’m gonna have to learn to leave you behind too.” Bucky points out. “I’ve gotten used to having you nearby, kitty cat.”

You laugh. Reaching up to stroke his cheek. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Remember when you woke up on the beach? Right after the plane crashed?” Bucky’s brow puckers, a little crease between his steel and ice eyes.

“I remember you yelling at me to move.”

“I didn’t yell.”

“You might as well have.”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Yes you do.”

“Fuck. You’re right, I do.” He chuckles.

“Stop hurting my feelings, Barnes.” You pout.

He laughs, pulling you close again to kiss you.

“Mmm.” He mumbles, “Baby?”

“Yeah?” You pull back, catching your breath and pulling back to look at him.

“Why is it so damn hot in here?”

“I was cold.” You force a smile, too tight, too toothy. A downright look of guilt if ever Bucky saw one. “Too hot?”

“Not yet.” Bucky mutters, crawling over you again, his hands trailing down; one pushes your white long-sleeved shirt up to expose your tummy while his other hand slides down past the waistband of your sleep shorts. “But we can fix that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky’s exhausted. He didn’t know how much energy it would take to get back into the swing of things.

As he trudges along down the sidewalk, he passes a few people and they kindly look up and smile at him, waving when they recognize him.

His interview after his rescue seems to have changed the mind of most people in the city. He’s no longer the Winter Soldier, but Sergeant Barnes.

“Hi Sergeant Barnes. Nice night?” A lilting voice asks.

He looks up in search of its owner and finds a young brunette walking by him. Dressed in a tight silver cocktail dress with sparkling sequins along the bottom hem of the skirt and a black coat much thinner than she should need in tonight’s cold.

The flirtatious tilt of her head and the sparkle in her eyes leaves him in no doubt of her aim.

“It’ll be much better once I get back home to my girl.” Bucky tells her, turning to walk backwards a few steps as he waves her goodbye.

“Lucky lady.” She tells him, pulling her bag up higher on her shoulder.

“I’m the lucky one. Have a good night, Miss.” Bucky gives her a nod and turns to be on his way.

He’s not sure if it’s wrong that he feels it necessary to mention you whenever a woman pays him this kind of attention. There are plenty who have wished him a good night without the flirting that he carries on conversations with and manages not to bring you up.

It’s almost like he uses you as a shield.

As he reaches the steps of the house, he climbs them quickly and then waits by the door with his hand pressed over his heart.

That girl really made him anxious. He doesn’t like being seen like that. It’s invasive.

When his heart is steadier, he pulls out his keys and lets himself in.

There’s a rush of hot air that chokes him. He coughs, pulling at his collar as he reluctantly shuts the door and its influx of arid air.

He sheds as much of his outer clothes as he can. Blue jacket and the gray sweater beneath it leaving him in a plain red t-shirt.

“What the hell?” He gasps, dropping his outerwear on the floor before locking the door and venturing up the stairs.

The entire first floor is empty. Dark. The smell of whatever you had for lunch still filling the house. Grilled cheese?

“Y/N?” He calls, moving for the bedroom but he finds it empty. “Baby?”

There’s a sudden rush of wind, a flash of lightning from the third-floor stairs, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

It pulls his gaze up and he follows his instinct taking the stairs two at a time.

Since moving in, after spending each day taking care of one room of the house at a time, the attic is no longer empty.

As he reaches the landing, to his left is a small home gym. Each piece picked out by him, a punching bag, mats, weights, treadmill for you if you ever decide to use it. Bucky prefers to run outside.

On the right side of the room, your reading corner. Six shelves at least seven feet tall with a step ladder to reach the higher shelves. There’s a tea table, two comfortable padded chairs, and another deep enough that you could curl into it and sit all day reading without needing to get up.

There’s a reading lamp and a colorful carpet to make the space cozier and on across a small coffee table a lounging sofa for Bucky to lay on when you’re reading and he just wants to be by you.

On the far side of the room, directly under the skylight, he spots you on a platform bed you’d had set up for what Bucky had thought was sky-watching. He can see that he was right.

Your eyes are trained on the sky above, thunder clouds flashing and echoing around the house.

Around the bed you’ve set up what looks like a semi-circle of potted trees. A mixture of four-foot palms and Cycas, all surrounding the head of the bed.

Without a word Bucky makes his way towards you, stripping down to his briefs as he goes. When he reaches the bed, he finds you also in your underwear, sheets tossed aside as you lay with your head against the pillows and your eyes trained on the window.

He crawls in, stopping over you for just a moment to smile down at you and lean down to kiss your lips.

Your hands come up to caress his ears, then up to the back of his head.

“You cut your hair.” You observe, a glint in your eye that tells him you like what you see.

He lays beside you, looking up to see what you see, and he finds a strange sense of calm fall over him.

Placing his hands on his chest, he relaxes and then reaches down to take one of yours.

“So, this is what you’ve been up to with the trees?”

“Something didn’t feel right.” You admit. “I think I found the answer.”

The heat, the sound of thunder, the lightning overhead, and now with the jade leaves of these trees filling his line of sight, bucky can almost see himself back on the island. Back when it was just them and no one in the world could hurt either of you. Where life was much simpler. Wilder. And just a bit quieter.

Even though things have gotten better, this feels like the world of two where your love was born and nurtured.

“This is amazing.” Bucky admires, giving your hand a squeeze. “I think we should get married.”

You turn to look at him, eyes wide.

“Too soon?” He checks, turning to look at you too. “Marry me, kitten.”

Bucky watches you turn onto your side. He mirrors you, wrapping his arm around you.

“Whadya say?” He waits, heart pounding despite his calm exterior.

He feels your hand trail down his side, tracing the side of his thigh before you bring it around to his butt then without warning give his left cheek a nice squeeze.

“Not the left side!” He yelps.

“I will!” You agree, giddy and the happiest Bucky has ever seen you.

Somewhere past the burn of the spot where Sam had pierced him with that implant gun, past the pain and the throbbing, Bucky realizes you’ve just agreed to be his wife.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

with this unruly heart of mine

in which we all wish our parents reacted the same way as Alcina does when one of her daughters comes out to her

title is from Unruly Hearts from The Prom because it fit

-----------------------------

MERCUTIO

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Alcina read that line over and over again, but she still had no idea what the hell any of it really meant. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions of her seat. If she kept getting caught up on the literary meaning of every other paragraph then she would never finish this damned book.

She picked up the teacup sitting on the stand beside her chair and took a long sip. The tea was of sweet cinnamon on her tongue. It left a much better taste in her mouth than the rather gross relationship between Romeo and Juliet in this book. If the short amount of time the two knew each other wasn’t bad enough, the age gap made her teeth bare and nose wrinkle in disgust. What the hell was this William Shakespeare guy thinking when he wrote this?

The soft sound of bare feet padding against hardwood brought her back to the surface of complete awareness, her focus shifting away from the book and to the late-night arrival watching nearby.

A certain fly child stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was shaggy from seemingly just waking up--or maybe she hadn’t slept at all in the first place. Unruly blonde locks were sticking up in various directions around her head, framing her face like an adolescent lion’s mane. The nightgown she wore was a size too big and drowning her thin frame.

The light from the fireplace made her golden-amber eyes look hollow.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Bela inched her way onto the cushioned chair beside Alcina’s. She pulled her knees up her chest, bare toes poking over the edge of the seat, and Alcina regarded them with a scrunch of her nose.

“What have I told you about going around the castle barefoot?” Alcina chided gently.

Bela didn’t look away from the flickering fire in the fireplace. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Something was bothering her.

Bela was a rather fickle little thing. Some days, she wanted to tell Alcina everything, every little fact of the new knowledge she had obtained from her books, all the small details of her latest stories or ideas. Other days, she put up walls and gave vague answers to questions prodded into her sensitive skin, curling into herself like a frightened snail afraid of being interrogated. This seemed to be something of the latter, and Alcina made a mental note to tread lightly to avoid upsetting her daughter.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Alcina said, waggling the book in her hands, trying to make small talk with her distressed child. She didn’t want to pry and further put Bela on edge more than she clearly was, but she couldn’t not do something about her bitter mood. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t at least attempt to help with her kids’ problems?

“I can hardly make heads or tails of anything they’re saying,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Bela raised her head from her knees slightly. “What book is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

There was a morbid snort. “How coincidental…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bela shook her head. “Lemme see. What part are you at?”

Alina pointed out the current line she had reread at least five times over without being able to discern the Shakespearean into modern-day language. Bela, however, looked it over once, scanned the other pieces of dialogue for context, nodded, then explained, “In this scene, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio are sneaking into a party thrown by the Capulets by wearing masks to disguise themselves. Romeo is upset over Juliet and says he isn’t going to dance. Mercutio then teases him over this and turns all of Romeo’s words into gratuitous sexual metaphors to poke fun at him. Mercutio ends up going on this whole rant about Queen Mab of the fairies, who visits people in their dreams until Romeo and Benvolio cut in to get things back on track. Romeo also kinda foreshadows the entire play at one point. See? Right here: ‘I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death.’ I do believe that is hinting at his eventual fate of death.”

Alcina blinked at her for a moment before smiling fondly and rubbing her head. “Such a smart girl,” she cooed. “I could have never gotten that out of this .”

Bela smiled, but then it quickly disappeared, and she leaned back into her chair, curling up and watching the fire once again.

Now Alcina was really concerned. Bela was never one to let go of praise and affection so easily. Usually, she savored it a bit longer before moving onto something else, but here she was, brushing off Alcina’s words and touch as though they were nothing.

Something was very, very wrong.

However, before she had the chance to take the risk and attempt to ask questions, Bela spoke up.

“Have you ever been in love, Mother?”

Surprised, Alcina asked, “And what brought this up?”

Bela shrugged, not making eye contact. She kept looking at the fire as though she wanted to throw herself into it. Her voice was small, so small. “Just curious.”

“I see,” Alcina nodded. She looked up, thinking for a moment as she wracked her brain of the memories of her past life. “I have been in love before. Many times, actually.”

Bela gave her a curious look, finally pulling her gaze from the flames. “Really?”

“Indeed,” Alcina confirmed. “Though, I do believe that just comes with growing up. You gain lovers, you lose lovers. Some were real, some were fantasies I made up. Some lasted a few days, some a few months, some a few years.” She took a sip of her tea again. “None of them really mattered in the end, though. Clearly.” Another sip.

Bela nodded faintly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Alcina decided to ask.

Strangely, Bela went rigid. Her claws clenched around the sides of her calves as she stared forward with pupils that were constricted into pinpricks. Sweat beaded along the golden crown of her head.

“I-I-- umm…”

Alcina furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She closed Romeo and Juliet with a bookmark to mark her page, then set a hand on Bela’s back. Her daughter was trembling.

“Bela?” Alcina said, keeping her voice soothing and low to avoid setting off the poor girl even further. “Is everything alright? You don’t look well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bela answered her, much too quickly for it to be convincing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Before Alcina could prod further, Bela shot up to her feet. She began to chew on one of her claws, flexing her free hand at her side in visible agitation. Pieces of her skin broke off into flies and buzzed around her head madly. She seemed to be dissociating in panic.

“Bela,” Alcina rose to her feet slowly, not wanting to accidentally frighten her daughter. “Bela, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bela said, even when she was so obviously far from fine. Her chest was beginning to heave.

“Darling,” Alcina said, and that seemed to get Bela to crack a bit.

With a tight whimper, Bela shook her head. “Hard-- hard to breathe--”

Instantly, Alcina loosely took Bela by the arms and lowered her to the ground. In the firelight, she could see the pallor of her daughter’s increasing panic as it morphed into a complete attack on her anxiety. Bela grabbed her wrists with her claws dug in for desperate grounding, and Alcina let her, even when it stung her skin. Her comfort was far from important in that moment.

“Alright, honey,” Alcina said. “We’re going to do the thing we’ve been practicing, alright? Do you think you can do it?”

Wordlessly, Bela nodded.

“That’s my strong girl,” Alcina said. “Alright, give me five things you can see.”

“Y-you,” Bela stammered. The words shook when they left her lips. “Your hair’s kinda bushy.”

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thank you for pointing that out, Bela.”

Bela’s fight instantly gave in at that and she hunched her shoulders in, looking ashamed. Quick to correct herself, Alcina lifted her chin so they could make eye contact.

“I was only teasing you, honey,” Alcina said. “Keep going.”

Bela nodded. “The fire; it’s really pretty. Your-- your, umm, chair; it looks soft. The book; not the best of Shakespeare’s works. And, ah-- the teacup; it has doves on it.”

“Very good,” Alcina praised. “Four things you can feel.”

“The fire’s-- the fire’s warmth. My heart in-- my heart in my throat. The floor under me; I should have worn socks.”

“I told you,” Alcina cut in playfully.

Bela swallowed thickly. “A-and, umm-- and my anxiety. It’s like a Lycan in my chest.”

Alcina frowned at that but quickly wiped it off her face for now. She stroked Bela’s cheek, gaining a spark of hope when Bela leaned into her hand.

“I feel you, too,” Bela said.

“You only needed to name five, little moth,” Alcina said, bopping her on the nose.

Bela just shrugged.

“But you’re doing so well. Can you give me three things you can hear?”

“My heartbeat in my ears; it sounds like thunder. I don’t like thunder. Umm-- the fire crackling; I like that. And-- and a raven outside. I think that’s Merlin. His cawing is kinda raspier than the other birds’. I think he may have hurt his throat at some point.”

A small smile grew onto Alcina’s lips. She continued caressing Bela’s cheek as she talked to her. “Now two things you can smell.”

“Fear,” Bela said almost instantly. Her nose twitched. “I smell fear.”

Alcina could smell it, too. The thickened dread wafting off of her shaken daughter was acrid, bitter, and unsettling.

“Umm--” Bela’s claws fidgeted, clicking against each other softly. “And your tea. Smells like cinnamon. Cinnamon makes me sneeze.”

“One more. One thing you can taste.”

“Fear.”

“Fear?” Alcina echoed, one eyebrow raised. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What does fear taste like?”

Bela stared down at her claws, which she splayed open before herself. “It-- it has a slightly dull metallic taste that’s mixed with urea, I think. Sometimes it tastes like popping a bloody, pus-filled blister in your mouth and squeezing every drop out with your teeth and savoring it on your tongue. Sucking the wound clean and swallowing it down.” She clenched her fists. “But it doesn’t get clean. It doesn’t dry out. The blister just keeps oozing and oozing until all the discharge comes pouring out of your mouth, but even then it doesn’t stop. Because you can’t force it all down. You can’t just swallow and think it’s done. That’s not how anxiety works. It keeps coming, even when you thought it was gone, and it leaves behind this awful flavor of bitter bile. It’s acidic, too, you know? It melts your chest and stomach and makes you feel like you’re sinking in your own skin.” She looked up at Alcina, and her eyes were shiny and blank. “I taste fear, Mother.”

There was silence between them for just a moment. Bela wasn’t looking at Alcina anymore; she seemed to think the floor was very interesting at that moment. Alcina was still considering her daughter’s dark words, replaying them over and over again until the subtle taste of sour gall spread across her tongue. She swallowed it down and winced when it drooled over the back of her throat like rancid molasses.

“You did it, baby,” Alcina finally said, smiling despite her worry, despite the flavor of fear in her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bela just nodded. Though she was no longer having a panic attack, she didn’t seem any less upset. Alcina considered letting it go, especially after just having calmed her down, but if something was bothering her daughter so much that she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it too hard, she knew she couldn’t just leave it be. It could escalate into something much, much worse, and she knew damn well that Bela was willing to go to such extremes, if her explanation of fear and the way she kept looking at the fire wasn’t enough proof of that.

“Now,” Alcina saw Bela tense, but she plunged anyway. “I need you to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help.”

Bela shook her head with a strangled whimper.  “I can’t tell you.”

“Bela, I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you.”

Bela was quiet. Then, slowly, she dragged her gaze up to Alcina. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Bela. I would never hate you.”

Bela nodded. “Okay.” Her claws clenched into fists against the floorboards, knuckles shaking and turning white. She took several deep breaths before forcing out, “I-- I don’t-- I don’t like people like that. Like how I’m supposed to.”

Silence.

Tears flowed freely from Bela’s eyes and she choked on a sob. Her head hung in shame as her entire body quaked. The poor girl looked terrified, and the sight hit Alcina right in the heart--though she didn’t quite get it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

“No, no-- you don’t understand,” Bela’s breath was coming out thin and raspy again. She sat up straight, claws now knotted in her nightgown, tensing and pulling. “I don’t-- I don’t like people, Mama. The way other people do. The way everyone does. I’ve-- I’ve tried, but--” She cut herself off with a whimper, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Alcina asked. Trying to discern Bela’s vague words was like trying to discern Shakespearean. “Do you think you can explain it to me, hun? Like you did with the book and the fear. I want to help you.”

Bela sniffled, then nodded. “I-- I, umm-- I don’t feel anything towards people. Like-- like that. Romantically. And sexually.”

Finally, it dawned on Alcina.

“When I read those cheesy romance books Daniela likes, I don’t get the characters’ feelings at all. Just the thought of being in a relationship like that makes me so uncomfortable and I don’t know why, and that scares me, Mama.” Bela continued, her anguish oozing into every word she spoke. “I don’t like the thought of being tied down to someone like that, but it still feels like something has been stolen from me. That promise of a future with true love and marriage and a fairy tale ending that Daniela always talks about is gone, even though I still want it. Or, at least, I think I want it. I don’t know what I want.” She sniffled, looking miserable. “It’s the same for sexual stuff. When I come to scenes with sex in them in books, it makes my skin feel all weird, like severed hands are crawling all over my body. I get embarrassed and awkward and uneasy, and I don’t understand that, either. It just makes me feel so sick to my stomach.”

There was a pause. Bela was taking several shallow breaths and digging her claws into her legs, so Alcina reached out and took one of her hands, stroking her knuckles with her thumbs.

“Breathe, baby,” Alcina murmured. “Breathe.”

“I’ve-- I’ve tried to force myself to be like everyone else before,” Bela said unexpectedly.

Taken aback, Alcina said, “What?”

Bela swallowed thickly. “With-- with a maiden. You know how I am with them- too nice, too polite. I befriended one of them. We were kinda close. After a while, she started making moves on me. I knew what she wanted for so long, but I kept avoiding it because I was uncomfortable or scared. But then I had this revelation: maybe if I did this with her, I would finally feel something! I would be like everyone else! So I did. With her. And I didn’t like it.”

“Bela…”

“It hurt,” Bela whispered. “Like I was being scraped raw. Or my body was being turned inside out. I felt so sick. Humiliatingly, I started crying during it, but I don’t think she noticed. If she did, she didn’t stop. Not until she was finished. When she was, I threw up after she left. I was so sore.” Alcina squeezed her hand, and she sucked in a sharp breath, “But-- but I had to have liked it! I got, umm--” Her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, though Alcina didn’t blame her. Having to explain your sex life to your mother would be awkward for anyone. “I got…wet. And-- and that happens when you’re aroused! So-- so I do like sexual stuff!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Alcina sighed sadly.

Bela hunched her shoulders in. “R-right?”

“Honey, ‘getting wet’ doesn’t always mean you’re aroused,” Alcina said gently. “Simply viewing something erotic, like a naked woman, for example, could trigger this bodily response. It’s also a way for the vagina to lubricate itself to help dull the pain of penetration. You can be in a sexual situation and be wet, but not want to have sex. That’s completely normal and one hundred percent okay.” She lifted her hands to cup Bela’s cheeks. “Wetness is not an acceptable body language for consent. Who were you trying to convince: the maiden or yourself?”

Bela stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and damp, breath hitched in the back of her throat. Then, she began shaking her head, pulling her hair, and weeping, “No, no-- I wanted it, I wanted it-- I know I did. I’m normal, I’m normal--”

It was truly heartbreaking to see her child in such a way. Bela seemed downright devastated over her own sexuality, to the point where she thought she was disgusting and unnatural for something that was actually completely normal.

Taking her daughter’s hands to keep her from hurting herself, Alcina went to say something, but Bela cut her off, getting to the words first.

“What’s wrong with me?!” Bela cried. “Why-- why am I like this, Mama? Am I broken? Am I heartless? I-- I love you and Cassandra and Daniela! I love Uncle Karl and Uncle Moreau and Auntie Donna and Angie and the Duke! I love reading and animals and writing, but-- but when I-- when I try to-- when it comes to sex and romance, I--” She finally gave up and sobbed.

“Oh, Bela,” Alcina said sadly. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl…” She pulled Bela into her lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth to help comfort her. Her fingers gently ran through Bela’s messy hair. “Shh, shh… You aren’t broken or heartless, sweetheart. This is an okay thing to feel.”

“You-- you don’t think I’m wrong?”

Alcina’s heart twisted at the way Bela looked up at her to say that, her eyes holding so much sadness and pain. She tucked her daughter’s head back under her chin and tightened the embrace.

“Absolutely not. Do you think you are?”

Bela answered in a strangled whimper. Alcina couldn’t help but wonder what put such a thought in her daughter’s brain--though, this was Bela she was dealing with. her anxiety was a wild, bestial thing that made her worry about the most obscene things.

“Did you really think this would change anything?” Alcina asked. “That I could ever possibly love you any less?”

Bela shrugged weakly.

“I-I just…”

That deep shame from before seemed to return and Bela’s head dipped. Alcina felt like she was going to try and pull away, so she tightened the embrace and used one hand to lift the girl’s chin.

“Hey, hey,” Alcina murmured, brushing away fresh tears on Bela’s cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you, either. And if anyone says otherwise, tell me. I’ll eviscerate them.”

That got a tiny, watery giggle out of Bela.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Alcina went on. “Sex and romantic relationships… They aren’t for everyone. And that’s okay. It certainly doesn’t make you broken or heartless.”

“B-but--”

“Hun, look at me. Do I really look like someone who will judge you for being this way?”

Bela shrugged a little. Her little body seemed to have exhausted itself of all its efforts to argue.

Alcina rocked her gently, stroking her hair the way she knew she liked it. “How about I explain something to you, hm?”

Bela looked up at her blearily.

“Your love may not be arousing or romantic, but you want to know what it is like?”

“What?” Bela asked softly.

“Your love is warm and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket during a blizzard. It’s safe and reassuring. Your love is security and shelter. Your love is noticing all the little details, like my bushy hair because it’s late at night or your Uncle Karl’s finger twitching because he’s nervous at the meetings with Mother Miranda but is trying to hide it or Cassandra’s leg bouncing because she’s full of pent up, restless energy. Your love is knowing what makes each of us tick and doing everything in your power to make us feel better when we’re upset. Your love is like the first flower showing up in the snow as winter melts away and the beginning flickers of a tender flame and the gentle fluttering of bird wings.” Alcina let out a soft laugh. “I’m nowhere near as good at details as you are, my darling. But, most importantly, your love is normal and natural and what makes you you. And you shouldn’t have to try and change that for anyone, no matter what.”

Bela stared up at her in silenced awe, tears trickling down her cheeks. Alcina squeezed her reassuringly.

“I want you to know that I’ll always support you, okay?” Alcina said. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Bela nodded, hiccuping softly. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through tiny whimpers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bela,” Alcina said. She kissed the top of Bela’s head and purred to her softly. “My perfect, perfect girl.”

[obsessive-ego]

Beetlejuice cant tie a tie

I got a little off topic, but we get to it eventually

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Nsft mentions and bonus

A day off like any other, your phone buzzes to life at 11am, you groan at the sound, but you cant sleep all day, even though you really want to. As you shift to turn off your phone, you feel the familiar dead weight, you huff.

"Beetlejuice"

Ever since you let the ghoul into your home he has made it a habbit to sneak into your bed with you, at first he would leave before you woke, but now? He just makes himself at home, claiming that your bed is so comfy and warm, and way more lovely then the couch, honestly you didnt mind, his pajamas were clean, and he kept his hands relatively to himself, and lets be real even if you protested he'd still do it, just something you got used to over time, and enjoyed, as much as you wouldnt admit it, sleeping with another person did help you sleep at night, but you weren't exactly ready to open that can of worms.

You nudge the demon

"Beetlejuice let go"

The ghoul had you trapped in his arms, wrapped tightly around your waist, as his face was buried in your hair, his legs tangled with yours, the demon was spooning.

You squirm again, this time a tad more aggressive.

"Keep wiggling like that sugar and you'll give me a boner" he groans, more mockingly then anything else.

"Let go so I can turn off my alarm and start my day" you huff

Beetlejuice tightens his grip around your waist.

"No can do sweets"

"Beej please, I need to be an adult today"

"Oh babes, you can EASILY be an adult in bed~ but fine, if you must" be dramatically let's you go fawning hurt, you simply roll your eyes as you take your new freedom and leave the bed to reach your beeping phone on the table across the room.

Following your example, beetlejuice gets up too, and with a simple snap of his fingers his black and white pajamas were replaced with his trademark suit, the ghoul straightens him self out, adjusting the jacket and tie as if he had somewhere important to be.

You couldnt help but feel a tad jealous at that, to be able to get ready for the day in a second, something like that could shave a good amount of time off your mornings before work routine.

You usher the demon out of your room stating you needed to get dressed, though he did plead to stay and help, as always, you only replyed that youd take a rain check.

Reemerging from your room, dressed and ready to enjoy your day off, you head to the kitchen to make some coffee, your morning routine was simple, normally beetlejuice would chit chat with you as you made breakfast for the two of you, but it was strangely quiet, you havent seen the ghoul since you ushered him out of your bedroom, normally this ment he was hiding and getting ready to scare you, a regular occurrence.

Now something as simple as making toast and coffee now had you filled with anxiety, why did he always do this? You know why, he thinks it's funny. Your anxiety was short lived when a little note flutters down from the ceiling in front if your face, instinctively you grab it

'Babes, off scaring, saw you got new neighbors, be back soon~ xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo'

You sigh in relief knowing that bastard wasnt gonna mess with you today, yet you couldnt help but smile at all the xs and os, corny, but that was him wasnt it.

Like any other day off you try to catch up on house hold chores, and with beetlejuice out and about you can actually get stuff done, nothing against the ghoul, hell you loved having him around, it was just hard to be productive with someone so chaotic under foot.

...

Your day off went by pretty productive, you here you were, enjoying the peace and quiet, with a cup of hot tea and a book you've been meaning to read.

"HONEY I'M HOME"

Beetlejuice appears from literally nowhere in the center of the room you were currently residing.

you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden outburst, no matter how many times the ghoul burst into your home that way, it always startled you.

You regain yourself, and with a small laugh you sigh "welcome home B"

The tips of the demon's hair turn a soft pink, something as soft as 'welcome home' from your lips sent him, how lame, a big bad demon from hell, getting all warm and soft from just a little breathers kindness, yet, he wouldnt want it any other way.

The ghoul is quick to slide next to you on the couch "ya miss me toots?~" he cooed leaning in and making an exaggerated kissing face, you snorted out a laugh and gave him a shove.

"Knock it off B, and yes I missed you, but I was more productive without you, so~" you laugh

"OH Y/N you are so mean, you would rather me be away so you can do boring breather stuff, then have fun with the sexiest dead guy you know? How cruel" the ghoul pretends to be hurt.

You laugh again "Beetlejuice, you're the ONLY dead guy I know-"

"Therefore the sexiest" he countered giving you a wide toothy grin

"You got me there I guess" you laugh and give beetlejuice a shrug.

As the laughter dies down you notice how roughed up your friend really was, more so then usual, more dirty, shirt slightly untucked, new holes in his jacket and pants, his tie undone, loosely hanging around his neck. Yes the ghoul was messy, but it looks like he lost a fight, and hell with his powers he could clean up in a second, maybe he hasnt noticed?

"Beej? What were you up to today?" You ask shyly, you didnt exactly like to butt into what the demon did in his spare time, mostly because if he wanted to share it with you he did it with gusto.

Beetlejuice freezes for a second, the shrugs

"The usual, messing with your neighbors, why?"

You gesture to his messed up clothes

"OH,  yeah, new guy down the hall fought back, you should have seen it babes-"

You sigh, not that you needed too, but you worried about beetlejuice, what if he got into a jam he couldnt get out of.

"What's up sugar?"

You flinch, beetlejuice must have caught in to your expression.

"Do you need a hand straightening up?" You mentally slap yourself at that suggestion, he can magic himself back together why would he need your help?

Glancing back up to the demon's face you swallow hard, plaster across his mug was a love sick dopey grin, his most and beard now sprouted pink patches.

"Please~" he purred, a word you rarely herd from the ghost.

You nod, slowly you start with the tie, grabbing on to the two pieces, you swear you saw the demon flinch, slowly but surely, you tie a simple tie, years of doing it for yourself for forced formal occasions, guess the info stuck.

You gently strengthen the knot, paying more attention to what you were doing, rather then who you were doing it for, if you were paying attention to beetlejuice you would have saw his wide eyes staring so intently on you, both hair and scruff completely pink, a soft smile plastered across his face.

"You know babycakes I would just LOVE to have you yank on my tie more often~" he purred

You flinch at the comment, being brought to reality by that delightful gravely voice of his, you stutter out a soft noise, unsure how to respond in your frazzled embarrassed state.

The demon continues "have ya drag me around, mmmhmmm, have my sweet little breather in charge"

You unable to think of a response, just sit in front of the demon, hands still gripping his tie, staring back at his face.

"I have to say I've thought of it often"

You DID yank the ghoul by the tie alot, to make a point and or get him to your level, him being taller then you.

"My little y/n riding me, using my tie as a leash, you being fully naked, while I'd be full clothed, sounds like fun maybe we should- urk"

That was a step too far for you, as hot as the idea way, it was till too much and too embarrassing, with a quick movement of your hand you tighten the ties knot around the ghoul's throat, as if to strangle him, not that he needed to breath, it did shut him up though.

"Harder baby" he croaked

At least you thought itd shut him up.

You let go of the tie and get off the couch, taking a step back.

Beetlejuice laughs, his soft pink hue shifting back to his default green.

"Oh sugar we done already? Not only are you kinky, you're also quick to finish" he snorts out a loud laugh.

"Cant we have one nice moment?"

"No"

You sigh, little frustrated with the ghoul's ability to ruin just about any moment, as if the ghoul sensed your mood, he was quick to jump to his feet and pull you into a side hug, you huff, still being a tad annoyed with him.

"Alright sugar, ya twisted my arm, not more dirty stuff tonight, I appreciate your help with the tie, how bout I return the favor?"

You quirk a brow, return the favour without saying something dirty? You didnt think the demon COULD do such a thing.

"Heres what I'm thinking doll, me, you, and the new neighbor down the hall, I'm gonna show you how I got messed up to start with, and play your cards right babes and I'll let ya tie me up again~" the ghoul winks at that last line, regardless of the innuendo you smile.

"Alright BJ I'm game"

The ghouls gives you a wide toothy grin

"Its showtime".

Nsft bonus

Later that night when you were dead asleep beetlejuice couldnt help but dream of you sitting on him wearing nothing but a coy smile as you rode him, he being fully dressed with his cock freed from it prison and being buried in your warmth.

You bounced up and down, yanking his tie, half for balance half cuz of the sound he made.

With a delightful dream like that, the ghoul did not last very long,

[secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer]

Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.  

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.  

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff. 

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with. 

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction. 

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could. 

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw. 

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry. 

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

~

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working. 

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F. 

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

  She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators. 

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call. 

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it. 

 Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to. 

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories. 

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

~

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

[willow-tree-writes]

❀Bet {2}❀

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: The good girl goes on a date with the bad boy and actually enjoys it. So that leads to a few more dates. A few stolen kisses. A few introductions to knew people. The catch? You might realize it sooner than later...

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me on the first part! I did not think it was going to do as well as it did. I got this out a lot sooner than I thought I would.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing

Part 1

!I don’t own this gif!

“I think this is really cute.”

You laughed a little, looking at the sundress. “Of course you’d pick that, Mom.”

She gave you a look. “Tell me it’s ugly and I’ll put it back.” 

“You know I can’t say that.” You smile at her and take the dress. It was a really cute dress, to be honest.

Your smile drops a little and you sigh to yourself. “I don’t know why I’m trying to get all pampered for this.” It wasn’t like you had actually said yes to the date. You just had no choice. Yeah, that’s right.

Your mom watched you for a moment as you played with the fabric of the dress. “Because it’s your first date. Just let yourself have fun.”

“You don’t understand, Mom.” You set the dress down. “This guy’s idea of fun is smoking, drinking, and having sex. Period, end of sentence.”

She nodded, but it didn’t seem like the information was really settling in. “If he’s so out of your line of sight, why don’t you just not go?”

For some reason, that didn’t really occur to you. He seemed so dead set on taking you out, not showing up to the date wasn’t an option.

“There’s some part of you that likes him, Y/N/N. Whether you’ll admit that to Dina or not, you can’t hide it from me.”

She gave you a kiss on the forehead as she picked up the dress and went to go check out.

----

You rubbed your fingers along the case of your phone, flipping it to check the time every minute it seemed.

3:23… 3:24… 3:25…

You were only a couple minutes early. But he still wasn’t here. And you doubt he’d ever show up.

3:26…

It was probably some prank. Him and his friends thought it would be funny to mess with a tipsy Kook.

3:27…

It’s not like you had anything to give him. The Pogues didn’t care too much for what Kooks had, especially when those Kooks can barely get by in life.

3:28…

Pogue and Kook. What stupid terms. Who even came up with those?

3:29…

You felt all the anxiety you tried to fight out come out victorious. This was going to either be a set up, or a stand up. No in between, it was one or the other.

3:30…

You looked down at your sandals as you tried to kick the sand out from between your toes. 

You were overexaggerating. You knew that. Being a minute or two late wasn’t that bad. You’ve been late to important meetings and such. So why were you so upset about this?

“I didn’t think you’d show up.” 

Your head jolted up as you watched the figure of the boy approach you. He was wearing the same stupidly goofy smile as yesterday. His outfit was simple, a grey tank top with shorts, but it looked good on him.

You shrugged a little, holding onto your phone a bit tightly. “I had nothing better to do today.” You tried to cooly answer. You wanted to make up for how he saw you yesterday.

He nodded, just taking the information even though it was clear he didn’t believe it. “Well, I hope you’re wearing a bathing suit, cause we’re heading out on the water.”

“On the water?” You repeated. “Like, on a boat?”

JJ started walking backwards, holding out his hand for you to take. “Yep.”

You were hesitant, but grabbed his hand anyways. By showing up, you agreed to the date. Whether you thought of that or not. The least you could do was go along with what he has planned.

As soon as your hand touched his, he smiled and pulled you along down the beach with him.

Strangely, his hand was soft. Yes, it had a rough undertone to it, but it’s not something you’d notice if you were just shaking it or holding it for a couple seconds. There was no way he could make his hands feel like this in one night for one girl. It had to be something he worked on daily, weekly at the least.

“Say hello to the HMS Pogue.” JJ gently took your senses from your hands back to your eyes.

The boat in question had the words ‘HMS Pogue’ painted on the side of it. It was in fairly decent shape, you made sure to note in your mind.

You glanced at him, noticing he was watching for your reaction to his friends’ prized possession. 

Giving him a smile, you look back at the boat. “She’s really nice.” Usually, you’d just say something like this to get out of the conversation. You couldn’t say anything bad, in case it came back to bite you in the butt. This this, now this was genuine.

The smile he had from before seemed to grow more sincere, though that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but a person who has been watching the teenager for years.

He let go of your hand as he hopped in the boat. Your hand felt weird now, as if you wanted his touch again, even just for a second more.

That want was somewhat fulfilled as he held out his hand to you once again. This time it was to help you on the boat. Which you gladly took.

Now the boat wasn’t huge, but for two people, it was pretty spacious. It looked like it had been recently cleaned to the best of the boy’s ability. But what caught your attention the most was the basket that was down in the middle, a blanket thrown out under it.

You glance at the boy that was driving the boat away from the dock. “A picnic?” You smooth out the back of your dress before sitting yourself down on the blanket and taking off your sandals.

“Is that not a good first date idea?” It was obvious he wasn’t the dating kind of guy. He was used to hooking up, not meeting up. This would be his first real date.

But it was also your first date.

Shrugging, you rub your hand against the softness of the blanket. “I think it’s nice.”

If you were paying attention, you might have seen the smile that cracked onto his face that held more than just the idea of his plan working. If you were paying attention, you might have seen the way he shook off that smile as quick as it came.

“Good, good.” He mutters, nodding. He clears his throat after a while, after you are pretty far out into the water. “I hope you like sandwiches.”

You look over as he sits down on the other side of the basket, opposite of you. “As long as you have turkey.”

Eight sandwiches later, between the two of you, JJ was sitting on the edge of the boat telling stories as you sat in a safer place, listening.

“So, John B actually took the bottle, and it was glued to his hand for the whole day!” 

You smile and shake your head, holding back a laugh. “That’s such a cruel prank. It must’ve hurt to get it off.”

JJ chuckles and kicks his shoes off before standing. “All I know is it was hilarious to watch him try to do the simplest of shit.”

There was a moment of silence between you, giving time for JJ to pull off his shirt out of nowhere.

You quickly redirected your eyes as a blush crept up your neck to your cheeks. “JJ, what are you doing...?”

“What? I told you you better be wearing a bathing suit.” He tossed his shirt over by the empty basket.

Shaking your head, you bring your knees up to your chest. “Well, I’m not.”

“Can’t take no for an answer, sorry.” Without much warning, he jumped down from his spot and picked you up. 

“JJ!” You squealed as he threw you over his shoulder.

He walks up to the edge of the boat. “Last chance; do you wanna take that cute little dress off before I toss you in?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

A furious blush once again covered your cheeks. “I-I am not taking off my dress…”

He shrugs. “Be that way.” Before you could ask him oh so sweetly to not toss you in, he tosses you in.

Another squeal erupts from your throat as your body comes into contact with the cold water. It was an unrefreshing wakeup call for anyone who needed it. 

You gasped for air as you broke the surface. A gasp that took in water from a splash right in front of you. 

“JJ!” You called out again as he resurfaced, laughing his ass off.

He swam over next to you. “Come on, Kookie. Live a little.”

You scoff a little and splash him right in the face. “Not when I just bought this dress earlier today.” You mutter.

He smirked as he got even closer. “‘Bought it earlier today’? As in, just for me?”

You blush yet again and look away. “N-No…”

With one hand he grabs your hips, and the other one places itself on your cheek to make you look at him. “Is Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes lying to me now?”

The tone of his voice made your breath hitch in your throat. The space closing in between the two of you made the hair on the back of your neck stand.

Surely, he wasn’t going to kiss you, right? It was only your first date. Wasn’t that kind of thing left for the end of it? Or maybe even the second? Or third? Definitely not the middle of the first, at least.

But then again, here you were, inches away from your lips touching their first boy. And you weren’t moving away. You weren’t rejecting it. 

It might have been because of the warmth that radiated off him as you both floated in the cold water. It might have been because of the way his touch made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

His lips never moved away, only closer. They didn’t hesitate, when centimeters away, to press themselves to your lips and steal any air that might have occupied your lungs.

His lips, much like his hands, were softer than you imagined. But unlike his hands, there was never a hint of roughness. It didn’t feel like hundreds of other girls have done the same as you; you felt different. Special.

Your lips danced together for what seemed like an hour. His took intricate steps, as your’s tried to follow him to a tee and only slightly tripping over yourself.

When you parted, you felt yourself leaning into him. Any doubts about kissing in the middle of the first date left your mind as you just wanted more.

JJ lightly squeezed your hips, pulling you over with him closer to the boat. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that dress too much.” He says as he slowly lets go of you.

“Yeah, right…” Biting your lip, you try not to make it evident that you craved his touch, if just for a moment more. That the cold water was unbearable without him near.

You said nothing as he climbed out of the water and into the boat. He extended his hand out for you, which you took probably a little too quickly. After he helped you in, you managed to slip on some of the water that dripped from you. You slipped right into him.

He caught you without a problem, laughing a little. “Falling for me already?”

You laughed a little along with him, but didn’t give him an answer or anything like that. “Doesn’t really seem like this was your first date.” You just would change the subject.

Shrugging, he went over to drive the boat back to land. “I’m just full of surprises.”

The rest of the ride was kind of silent. But it wasn’t an awkward silence. At least, after a while it wasn’t. Maybe it was just a little awkward for you.

Once he parked the boat, JJ hopped off, tied it down, and went over to help you get off. He made sure you didn’t slip this time.

You smile at him as you start to walk down the dock. “I actually had a really nice time…”

“What? You thought you weren’t?” He asked, fake offended.

With a shrug, you say, “Well, you’re-”

Before you could finish, JJ’s phone started to ring from in the boat.

“Hold that thought.”

You hadn’t realized the two of you were holding hands until he dropped your’s to run back to the boat and hop inside.

JJ picked up his phone and looked at the name of the caller. He rolled his eyes and answered. “What do you want now?”

“How is everything going?” Gavin’s voice made JJ want to hang up immediately.

He glanced over at you for a split second before looking out over the water and lowering his voice. “Just fine. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait!” Gavin called out before JJ could put his phone down. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend, or me?”

JJ shook his head. “No. Why the fuck would she?”

There was brief talking in the background. “Just wondering. Your money for this date will be given to you after school Monday.”

“Good.” Once again, JJ’s gaze trailed over to the girl who was standing by the end of the dock. The girl who was soaking wet from head to toe. The girl who bought a new dress just for his date. The girl he went on his first date with.

Without saying anything more, he hung up the phone. He was bound to break your heart, but he didn’t know if he wanted to.

____ ____

Tag List -  @outerbanksbabes ♛ @camillemonty ♛ @http-cherries ♛ @lonely-kermit ♛ @iccyyyybitch ♛ @Bearfacesbitch ♛ @itsagurl ♛

[red-jaebyrd]

My Brother’s Keeper

Ric hadn’t set out to make a new friend that day. In fact he hadn’t even expected to see the guy again once he had helped Ric push his busted cab to the side of the road.

Hardly anyone ever went out of their way to help others in Bludhaven. It surprised Ric when this guy, Jason just appeared as if out of nowhere to yell at honking drivers and help Ric get his cab out of the way of traffic. Ric had invited him to The Prodigal for a beer that night as a thank you. He wasn’t sure if Jason would even show up that night, but to his surprise he did.

“So what do you do when you're not swooping in to help complete strangers push their broken down cars out of rush hour traffic?” Ric asked.

Jason laughed. “Little bit of this, little bit of that, mostly free-lance stuff.”

It was a vague answer, but Ric let it slide. Everyone had their secrets, he couldn’t fault a guy he just met to have a few.

“Must be nice. Is it real lucrative?”

“The pay isn’t bad,” Jason shrugged. “I get to set my own hours and carry a gun.”

“Can’t argue with those perks,” Ric chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “So did you grow up around here?”

“Nah, I grew up in Gotham, what about you?”

Ric tensed at hearing Gotham and gripped the handle of his beer mug tighter. He really hoped Jason wasn’t another one of Wayne’s associates trying to jog his memory and lure him back ‘home’. Maybe he should just play along.

“Same, seems everyone one I’ve run into lately is from Gotham.” Ric challenged.

“Well, to be fair Gotham is a pretty big place,” Jason replied causally. “So what brought you to Bludhaven?”

Ric shrugged allowing the tension to leave his shoulders. “Let’s just say I needed somewhere new to spread my wings.”

“And you chose Bludhaven?” Jason snorted. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Shut up.” Ric laughed, elbowing Jason in the arm. “Don’t knock it. You’re here too. What brought you to the ‘haven’?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed in thought before he answered. At first Ric thought that maybe he was prying too much into this guy’s life, or asking too many personal questions.  He couldn’t help it. He liked talking and Jason was the first person besides Bea that was actually interested in talking to him.

“Gotham wasn’t safe for us anymore, so my brothers and I bailed and came here.”

“Looks like you left just in time. I heard a lot of crazy shit with the Bat was happening in Gotham. Wait, did you say ‘brothers’?” Ric’s smiled wistfully.

Jason nodded. “I have four. One was staying with our sister the last time I checked in with him and the other two came here with me.”

Ric had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family.  He wondered if he had ever asked his parents for a brother or a sister. If they hadn’t died, would they have had more children? Would he have been a good big brother to them? Wayne did have a younger son, so Ric was technically a big brother, but he couldn’t remember his life with him. When it came to the Waynes, Ric was just a son and brother on paper.

“Where’s the other one? You said four brothers, but only mentioned three of them.”

He watched as Jason scratched along a groove in the wood of the bar, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. Ric’s stomach flipped as he started to speculate that maybe something serious did happen to Jason’s family. Or maybe Ric was just making Jason feel uncomfortable with all his questions. Ric did that sometimes when he got too excited talking to new people. Jason took a swig of his beer before answering Ric’s question.

“Our older brother...” Jason answered, running his fingers along the condensation of his mug. “…he went missing a few months ago. It’s been hard on the family, especially our father and my youngest brother.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s been difficult for everyone, especially you. It can’t be easy being the one that they depend on.”

Jason shook his head. “No, truthfully it sucks sometimes, but it has its moments. He was– I had a good role model and they’re good kids. They just miss him. I miss him too.”

“Well you got them somewhere safe,” Ric clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well…relatively safe. Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing but dead ends. Deep down I don’t really think he wants to found,” Jason shrugged. “But I’ll keep looking for him. So what about you, any siblings?”

Ric knew a dismissal when he heard it. He didn’t mind the change in subject. He couldn’t blame Jason for not elaborating. It had to be stressful for anyone looking for a missing family member. He assumed this question was bound to make its way onto him.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was eight.”

“Shit, sorry man. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. You told me about your brother. I can talk about this. I did get taken into a good home, so I shouldn’t really complain,” Ric shrugged.

“But…”

Ric shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to have these people who are supposed to be my ‘family’ constantly telling me how I should be living my life.”

“Oh, I know how that is, trust me. It’s the worst.”

“Right? Why can’t I live my life how I want to? I’m an adult. They’re not even interested in getting to know me,” Ric ranted. “They just want their precious ‘Dick Grayson’ back. It’s my life now not his, let me live it how I want to.”

Shit. He went too far. He could see the look of surprise on Jason’s face. The lull of silence between them stretched and Ric couldn’t form a cohesive thought. Ric’s brain was scrambling for something else to say, anything to say, to fix the mess he just made but nothing was coming. Instead his mind started replaying all recent moments of disappointed people coming and going in his life claiming that they loved him, but not wanting to take the time get to know him.

Ric really hated his brain sometimes and how there was no filter between what he was thinking and what came out of his mouth. He needed to explain himself to Jason fast. Ric knew Jason had to have noticed the gnarly scar on the side of his head. Maybe the scar would give him a free pass at his unfiltered choice of words.

“Sorry, sorry, that uh kinda came out of nowhere. I…uh…had a bit of an accident…” Ric explained, pointing at his scar. “…I got shot a few months ago and well let’s just say my “family” or whatever they want to call themselves, didn’t take to my recovery well.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes injuries that intense can either bring a family closer together or tear them apart.”

Ric shrugged his shoulders. It had been rough having to relearn how to do everyday tasks like eating, writing his name, and walking. His “family” and friends had been there at every therapy session encouraging him with their words and overall presence. But the worst of it had been their reactions to the news that his memories of them were gone.

“I couldn’t remember them,” Ric admitted, staring at his near empty beer mug.  “They were literal strangers to me the moment I opened my eyes from the coma, and it was something that they wouldn’t accept. In the end their concern for me and my recovery just felt conditional, so I left and came here.”

“Damn. Do they at least check up on you?” Jason asked.

“The old man used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while. A red-headed chick did too, but I told her not to bother anymore. Not if she’s going to keep looking at me searching for ‘him’ to come back. Apparently the other guy they really want was a real ‘Golden boy’, that’s not me.”

Jason snorted.

“What did I say?” Ric quirked a smile.

“Nothing,” Jason smirked, and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need them.”

“No you don’t. I know they’re family, but fuck them.” Jason clinked his beer mug against Ric’s.

Oh Ric really liked this guy.

 8888

The next few weeks Ric and Jason met up at The Prodigal for beers. Some nights all they did was talk and drink. Other nights they drank and played pool. Jason became one of Ric’s favorite drinking buddies.

Ric couldn’t legitimately remember ever having a feeling of kinship with anyone like Jason before in his life. It was nice and a bit scary at the same time letting someone new in his life. Still, instead of running away from this newfound friendship, Ric embraced it.

Friendship was a concept Ric wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to again. He didn’t have many friends in Bludhaven, well friends that he remembered. Dick’s old friends wanted nothing to do with him. They kept waiting and pushing for Dick to “come back”. When he finally snapped at them that Dick was gone and never coming back, they stopped visiting him. He did have Bea. She was the only one who had welcomed him with open arms and genuinely wanted to get to know him.

Jason had been the only other person he had run into that also didn’t have some hidden agenda to “bring Dick back”. With Jason there wasn’t any pressure or demand to be anyone other than himself. He could be Ric with no expectations thrust upon him. Jason empathized with Ric’s struggle to find his identity apart from the Waynes.

This was what made hanging out with Jason so easy. The anxiety of having to censor himself, afraid he might say or do something that was so inherently not Dick didn’t exist when he was around Jason. It was such a relief and a weight off Ric’s shoulders to just exist in a space with a friend and be himself.

Once Jason had opened up to Ric, he learned that there was a whole slew of shit that had happened to his friend in just a short amount of time. Aside from his brother going missing, Jason had a serious falling out with his dad that had caused a significant rift between them causing him to take his brothers and leave. However, the most devastating news had to be hearing that Jason’s best friend had been killed while staying at an inpatient rehabilitation facility.

“I wish I had some advice to give you, but something tells me you weren’t looking for any,” Ric said.

“No, not really, just a sympathetic ear, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about your best friend. That really sucks what happened to him.”

“Thanks, man. At least we got to work one last job together before he died. Anyway, that’s enough of my bullshit. What’s up with you? You look like my little brother after seven Red Bulls and 3 hours of sleep.”

Ric sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been having these dreams lately of faceless people in weird costumes. In the dream I feel like I know them. I’m ready to say their name but I can’t talk. I wake up and by the time I try to recall the images I can’t remember them.”

“Do you think your memories are trying to come back?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ric shrugged.

“But…you don’t want them to come back, do you?”

It felt silly getting so worked up over something like lost memories resurfacing. Ric should be happy that parts of his lost past was trying to get through to him. He should be relieved that the 15 years of lost memories were finally starting to return, but he wasn’t happy or relieved. He was worried.

“What happens to me when I start remembering everything? Will I still be Ric when Dick’s memories come flooding back filling in the gaps? What if I don’t like the things I start to remember? What then?”

Jason turned in his stool to face Ric. “No matter what, you’ll still be Ric. You’ll still be the guy with the busted cab I had to push out of traffic. You’ll still be the guy that kicks my ass playing pool. You’ll still be the guy who insists on buying the first round and listening to all my bullshit. You’ll still be you, just with new memories.

“No matter what happens you are not obligated to go back to your old life or live your life by your old memories. You don’t owe those assholes in Gotham anything.”

Ric nodded allowing Jason’s words to sink in.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Jason clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

The anxiety slowly started to ebb away as Ric watched his friend leave their high top table and make his way to the bar to get another round of beers.

Ric couldn’t stop the new memories from coming. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. And when they did come he was glad to have found such a great friend in Jason. The man was right, no matter what happened, he was not obligated to go back to his old life or live his life by his old memories.

Part 2: Somebody That I Used to Know

[celosiaa]

Hi! I am obsessed with your writing, it is so so endlessly good and you. Are so. Talented. Anyway, please feel free to ignore this, I won’t expect a reply, but prompt idea of someone (probably martin) giving jon a shoulder rub, and it giving jon flashbacks to his kidnapping and him very not being ok. Could take place either soon after the kidnapping, or like in post canon (maybe even with emma?) Again feel free not to reply, just wanted to share and tell you how much I love your work❤️❤️

hi friend!!! thank you so so much for this wonderful prompt!! and your sweet message <3 I apologize that this has taken so long, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! and I hope you’re having a wonderful day!

CW PTSD, flashback, panic attack

Quiet.

Peace of solitude, silence, loneliness has always been a bit of what Martin has missed from his life. He needs it as much as the sun, as much as the breath in his lungs. Sometimes the lingering ache of it all leaves him hurting—hurting over the fact that he shouldn’t want this; he should want to be, not to fade. He should be over this by now.

But, Jon. Jon understands. He understands that need for something you do not want better than just about anyone. So when Martin needs to disappear, or begs for quiet, or takes time to meditate and drift away, Jon always keeps his worry under what he surely thinks to be a careful façade. Martin sees right through it, of course. And loves him all the more for it every time.

Days like this should build up his reserve—the quiet days, where Jon is either gone, or busy, or engrossed in a novel Martin would never dream of picking up. But something about this is off, and Martin knows it.

He knows it by the way that Jon has barely shifted positions at his desk for many hours, other than to unfold and refold his legs under himself. Surely they must be aching—Martin knows they must. So many hours in one place tend to make Jon restless, his muscles cramping and his mind running wild. Sometimes in a good way—Martin is now accustomed to listening to very excited, lightning-fast monologues about whatever Jon had found himself fascinated by that day. But sometimes...sometimes, in other ways as well. Other ways not altogether pleasant.

Martin is certain this is one of the latter type.

From his vantage point in the kitchen, Martin can see the screensaver on Jon’s laptop running across it. Jon is working on nothing at all—has not been working on anything for nearly an hour now, and yet has not moved. It sets Martin’s teeth on edge, this sort of thing. When Jon appears as himself, is present as himself—and yet, not quite. Never quite there, not really. It reminds him of the early days after they had put the world back together, coming up on five years ago now. Days when Jon was drifting…and Martin had never been sure if he would come back.

Stop thinking stop stop

Don’t go there. Not now. Focus.

His head feels heavy with fog when he stands, as it often does—and he makes his way over to Jon, careful to step a bit heavier than usual so as to give some warning of his approach.

“Jon love?” he murmurs, keeping his tone as light as possible, much lighter than he feels. “You alright?”

The tiniest of jumps, barely noticeable. Jon freezes in place for a moment, before attempting to turn his head to look at Martin—and coming to a sudden stop with a groan, and a hand pressed into his shoulder.

“Hmm. Martin.”

His voice is rough from disuse, and he lets out a dry cough as Martin kneels slowly beside him.

“What are you working on?” he asks, trying the gentlest approach he can think of—and trying not to feel affronted when Jon flinches against the fingertips brushed against the back of his arm.

“I-I—erm—I was just…” He trails off as he realizes his laptop is asking him to enter the password again. “Ah. Well. Nothing at all, it seems.”

With a long sigh, Jon tips his head against the back of his chair—or rather, he tries. The motion seems to pull something uncomfortably in his neck, and he hisses painfully as he replaces his hand over the angle between his neck and shoulder.

“Alright, love? Can I help?”

“Ah, it’s—it’s fine, I-I did this to myself, I—”

“Jon.”

“—should get back to work—”

“Jon.”

Something of it seems to cut through his downward spiral, and he manages to meet Martin’s eyes at last—the shadows beneath his eyes outlining the exhausted desperation bubbling just behind them. For what, or who, or when, Martin cannot be sure—but he is sure that he needs to coax Jon out of whatever space he’s found himself in today.

“Does your neck hurt?” he asks, creasing his brows together when Jon attempts to shake his head, and winces instead. “Right, stupid question—how bad is it?”

“It’s fine—it’s nothing, it’s my fault anyway.”

It drives Martin mad how much Jon still wants to blame himself for everything, even the mundane, even things that require none. Especially things that require none. But, instead of putting a voice to this unsolvable frustration, Martin softens for the moment, stretching out a hand to cover Jon’s own where it still rests on the side of his neck.

“Want to try a little massage?” he asks, pressing a small kiss to Jon’s temple. “Maybe it’ll loosen you up enough to turn your head, at least.”

“Hmm,” is the only reply Jon gives, eyes falling closed against the gentle warmth of Martin’s hands.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Chuckling lightly, Martin stands behind him and gets to work.

He rests his fingertips lightly on the sides of Jon’s neck at first, being sure to always remain toward the back and away from his scar. Slowly, he begins to work his fingers a bit deeper into the muscle, traveling from the nape of his neck and down, as Jon unbuttons just the top of his shirt and shrugs the material off his shoulders. It warms Martin’s heart immeasurably to see him beginning to relax under his hands. And more importantly, gives him a wonderful idea for how to make this even better.

“One moment, love,” he whispers next to Jon’s ear, pressing another quick kiss to his temple before stepping away to root through his desk for the massage oil he’d been given by a friend. Sure, maybe he’s never used it, but…lavender certainly sounds like a relaxing smell, and god knows that Jon needs as much assistance with that as he can get.

“Alright, here we are.” He uncaps the bottle and holds it in front of Jon for him to smell. “What do you think?”

Jon blinks in surprise at the new smell, then furrows his brows.

“Wh—what is this?”

“Massage oil. I’ve never used it but—well, now’s as good a time as any, right?”

“I-I…I suppose so.”

The hesitance in Jon’s voice sends up warning flags in Martin’s mind at once—and he steps to the side to get a better look at Jon’s face. A bit glazed, vacant, as he turns the bottle of massage oil over and over in his hands.

“Is something wrong?” Martin asks, cocking his head to one side in confusion. “If you don’t like the smell, I won’t use it.”

“No no, it’s not that,” he assures, closing his eyes as if to clear some picture displayed in front of them. “I don’t know. I—erm. You can try it.”

“Jon…”

“Try it, please try it. It—it should be nice.”

For all that he insists, something about this gives Martin pause. Something in his voice, his body language doesn’t sit right at all—

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, setting a gentle hand on his knee as he crouches to his eye level. “What’s going on?”

A few tense moments go by before Jon responds, the knee beneath Martin’s hand beginning to bounce with an all-too-familiar surge of anxiety. Face going ashen, he attempts a strained, awful sort of smile.

“S-sorry, I—sorry, it’s fine, just—ah.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love—is it the smell that bothered you? Can you tell me what’s happening?

His leg bounces harder, the other one beginning to join it. As he meets Martin’s eyes again, it is with a particular brand of shock and horror that tells Martin he is barely hanging on to his surroundings. It twists as a knife in his gut, pulling at his insides as his new task shifts to keeping Jon with him.

“Alright, love. You’re here with me, okay? Here, take my hand—”

He extends his own trying to pull Jon’s away from the white-knuckle grip on the arm of his chair—and Jon takes a gasping inhale, clutching at his neck in panic.

“Woah woah, Jon—”

“STOP stop stop please stop—”

Reeling from the sudden shouting, Martin pulls his hands away from Jon as if they had been burned, falling backwards from his crouch and onto the floor in alarm. The lavender oil in Jon’s hand skitters away across the floor as it slips from his hold. Pounding, pounding, pounding is Martin’s heart in his chest, adrenaline overpowering his thoughts for a few moments before he can really take action. What had happened? What had he done to make Jon feel so unsafe?

“Mm—ha—ah—”

“Hold on love, hold on,” he soothes, reaching out a hand of comfort, before thinking better of it. “I’ll be back, just hold on.”

Lifting himself as quickly as possible from the floor, Martin strides quickly towards their refrigerator, yanking open the freezer door and grabbing an ice cube for Jon to ground himself with. Or at least, so he hopes.

What happened?

What did I do? Did I say something?

Did I—

Oh.

Oh god, no.

Heart twinging with guilt, he hurries back to his husband’s side, gently slipping the ice cube back into his palm with as little skin contact as possible. If he feels like he’s back there, back with the clown, with unfamiliar hands of plastic and metal touching him, preparing him, readying him for the harvest—then Martin knows even his own familiar hands will be lost among the noise of the others. Interpreted as a threat.

God, Jon. What have I done?

“Here, sweetheart. I’m right here. You’re here with me.”

The words seem unable to reach him in this state—he blinks rapidly, staring into something unseen, unheard—his entire body trembling with adrenaline, fear, anticipation…and god knows what else. Aching, aching is Martin’s chest as he watches it all unfold, knowing that there is nothing to do but wait for the flashback to end and hope his suffering is as brief as possible.

“N-no—Nikola—”

“You’re here with me, Jon. You’re safe.”

“S-stop, don’t—touch me!”

Oh, Jon.

A few more seconds of true unawareness—before a bit of movement from his right pulls Martin’s gaze down towards the hand which holds the ice cube. As he begins to roll it around, Martin prays the sensation of it will be enough of an anchor this time, that this will be the end of it. That nothing will launch him back into the panic, just as his breathing begins to slow.  As a precaution, Martin grabs the small vial of lavender oil from the carpet, shoving it into his pocket and out of sight.

“Jon? You back with me?”

“…mmm,” he hums, after a few moments’ delay. His eyes slip closed as he attempts to control his breathing, still running the ice between his fingers while his entire frame trembles.

“Alright,” Martin murmurs, coming to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of him. “I’m right here. I’m not gonna touch you, but I’m right here.”

Eerie stillness hangs heavy in the space between them, all silence save for the shuddering of Jon’s body against the chair and the scant air moving through his lungs. And oh, how Martin wants to reach for him—but knows of course he cannot, not until it’s passed a bit, not until Jon remembers where he is. When he is. It cracks in Martin’s chest, spidering through his heart and lungs the longer the silence holds.

Come back.

Come back.

Come back.

I’m not going to leave you.

“Mmm,” Jon echoes his earlier hum, leg beginning to bounce again, stocking feet curling into the carpet. “I’m—here. Here.”

“Yes, you’re here. Here with me,” Martin breathes, nearly crying with relief as tears begin to slip down Jon’s face. “Do you know where?”

“Home.”

His voice cracks in the middle, forcing a shuddering inhale; a broken sob of an exhale as at last he leans forward, bracing his head in his hands.

“Martin.”

“I’m here, love. Home with you.”

“I can’t—” He breaks off to inhale sharply. “Can’t feel my legs, Martin, please—”

“Okay, alright, love. Head between your knees—you’re gonna be alright.”

Jon obliges at once, sinking lower, deepening his breaths, following Martin’s careful pattern toward some semblance of calm. Not quite there, and will not be for some time. The knowledge of it sits heavy in the back of Martin’s throat, and he swallows angrily at it. This is his fault; he should have seen this coming, should have spared a single thought for the wellbeing of his husband and now he cannot even comfort him—

A trembling hand suddenly brushes against his arm, searching. Asking for him—searching for his anchor. After all this time…after everything.

Martin can no longer keep the tears back—and does not want to.

“Oh, darling,” he whispers, pulling Jon into his chest at once, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his hair. “I’m here. I’m so sorry, love. So sorry.”

“Martin.”

“You’re safe. I’m here.”

Jon buries his face into the soft knit of Martin’s jumper at his shoulder, slackening so deeply into his hold that Martin nearly topples over.

“I’m safe,” he echoes, muffled. “You’re here.”

[fific7]

Go Back - Part 1

Josh Sawyer x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song Go Back by Tony Allen ft. Damon Albarn. Josh’s wife has thrown him out and he’s been avoiding his obsessive ex-girlfriend after a one-night-stand. And then he met you. Life is complicated enough, isn’t it?

Additional A/N: I found Locked In a bit confusing but Ben looked totally hot in it! Sort of like a naughty King Caspian 🔥😉 This is very loosely based on the film plot but I’ve dropped the whole ‘daughter in coma’ part of the storyline so basically have rewritten the film 😄

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults*. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

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When you see the stained reflections of city lights

But you're far away at sea, with all the satellites

And the runaways

What am I gonna do with you if you go back?

You're a runaway

What am I gonna do with you if you go back?

You're a runaway

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He quickly picked up the glass as soon as the bartender put it down and emptied it of the shot of whisky. The bartender eyed him, taking in the dark good looks, the slumped shoulders as he leant on the bar, his morose expression. “Bad day, bud?” he grunted.

Josh nodded, “And some.” He sighed and tapped the glass, it being swiftly refilled. “Wife’s divorcing me ‘cause she found out I’d hooked up months ago with an ex - just the one time! - and kicked me out. She’s making it difficult for me to see my kid. And the ex has gone into full-on stalker mode.” He downed the second whisky and asked for a beer. The barman popped the top for him and placed the bottle and a tall glass in front of him, “Rough on ya. Hope it works out, man.” He moved away to serve another customer.

Another beer later, Josh left the bar and headed the short distance down to the Charles River, sitting down on a bench next to the water and gazing out across it. It was Friday night and there were quite a few people strolling along the river. How the fuck had he got here? No home, no marriage, no steady job… his phone vibrated in his pocket and made him jump.

He pulled it out. Jesus H Christ! Would this never stop? He killed the call and went into his contacts. Found Renee’s details and deleted them. He should’ve done this months ago. When she next called back - and she would - he’d block her. If he had deleted them in a more timely manner, maybe Emma would never even have found out, he thought bleakly. But then admitted to himself that their marriage hadn’t exactly been a bed of roses the past couple of years, so maybe it was always just fated to end one way or another.

He stood up, sliding his phone back into his jeans pocket and taking one last look at the river flowing past him. Turning to leave, he heard an exclamation and a low cry of pain. A woman was half bent over just a short way along the riverside walkway, making small bunny-hops while clutching her ankle. He approached closer and asked if she needed some help. She smiled up at him, and with that simple gesture his world suddenly got a little bit brighter.

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You’d been walking briskly along the riverside walkway heading to your apartment when you turned your ankle on an uneven area of paving. A low crack accompanied this and for a few awful seconds, you thought you’d actually broken it but then realised the victim was one of your high-heeled shoes.

“Ow! Dammit! Shit!!” you cursed, hopping about like a mad March hare. A shadow fell across the walkway in front of you, and you heard a deep voice asking if you needed help. Looking up, you saw that your knight in shining armour was one of the hottest guys you’d laid eyes on for a long time. You didn’t realise that you were smiling up at him until he suddenly returned your smile.

Without so much as a second thought about stranger danger, you blurted out, “Can you believe I’ve broken the heel of my shoe! And twisted my ankle. Listen, I live just along there..” you pointed, “…would you mind helping me hobble along to my apartment? I’d really appreciate it.” The stranger smiled even more broadly at you, “No problem at all, be happy to.” He offered you his arm and you grabbed it, standing upright and then slipping off your one remaining intact shoe so you could carry both.

The two of you started a slow walk along the riverfront, your ankle still being painful enough to stop you putting any weight on it. So as you’d anticipated, you were indeed hobbling and wobbling along. “Have you got any ice at home?” he asked you. “Yes, but I also have frozen peas,” you laughed, “that’s probably the least messy thing to use as a cold compress, isn’t it?” He smiled back at you again, nodding, and you thought about how much the two of you seemed to be smiling at each other.

“Which is your condo?” he asked, before continuing. ”I’ve just moved in to one myself here very recently.” You pointed out The West End Apartments, “That’s mine.” “Nice,” he nodded, “mine is a bit further back from the water. The Towers at Longfellow.” “Oh yeah, I know them. Looked at an apartment there before I bought mine.” “I’m just renting for now. I… ah…didn’t expect to be looking for an apartment, to tell you the truth.” You glanced across at him and saw that he now had a stony expression on his face. You decided to change the subject, “Could I be a complete pain and ask you to deliver me to my door? There’s an elevator but I’m still struggling a little here.”

The smile was back on his face, “Yes, of course.”

A few moments later, and holding your Good Samaritan’s arm in a firm grip, you were ascending the few steps up to the main entrance of your condo. As you wobbled through the lobby with him on your way to the elevator, you decided it might be a good idea to introduce yourself. You’d also decided that you were going to invite him in for a drink or a coffee in appreciation of him helping you in your hour of need. And if you were honest, you wanted to try and get to know him a little.

He didn’t seem to be a homicidal maniac, after all.

In fact you got a slightly melancholic vibe off him.

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Josh pressed the Call button and stole a quick glance at her, thinking how beautiful she was. And how lucky he’d been to bump into her tonight, she’d certainly lifted his mood. He’d jumped at the chance to spend even a couple more minutes with her by escorting her to her door. She’d made him feel relaxed and at ease, which was surprising to him as he’d literally only just met her. He’d been so on edge recently that any relief from the anxiety was truly welcome.

The elevator arrived and he guided her inside; she leant against the side to take the weight off her ankle. With a little smile, she introduced herself and he told her his name. By that time, the elevator had zipped up to the top floor and they emerged into a large lobby area. He noticed there was only one door. She pointed at it, “That’s me,” and they headed towards it.

She fumbled her keys out of her bag and opened the door, turning to him and asking, “Would you like to come in for a coffee or a drink to say thanks for helping me out?” He hesitated, and she jumped in, “It’s okay, I understand if you’d rather not.” He looked at her, the small smile on her face, the little shrug she gave. Did he really need to complicate his life even more? But as soon as she’d finished speaking, he heard himself saying, “Yeah, I’d like that.” She limped through the doorway, “C’mon in then,” she said, over her shoulder.

He followed her into the apartment, seeing a huge open-plan area with floor-to-ceiling windows forming each end of the space. “Wow, this is nice,” he commented, “much nicer than mine!” She laughed, “Oh, I’m sure yours is just as nice.” He shook his head, wandering around and taking in the whole space, spotting a half-open door leading to a bedroom. Get your mind out of there right now, he said to himself. “No, believe me - mine is much smaller and without the huge amount of light you must get in here.” She walked over to the kitchen area, turning back to look at him, “What’s your poison?” “Uhh… do you have any beer?” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over an armchair.

She pulled out two bottles of local beer, “Is this okay for you?” “Perfect,” he nodded, so she popped the tops and handed one to him, before also grabbing a bag of frozen peas. She headed to the sofa, sitting down and holding the bag against her ankle; he’d followed her and sat down at the other end of it. “So, Josh… tell me something about yourself,” she asked in a non-interrogative way. He smiled, feeling a bit apprehensive as he always did now when asked about himself, “Ha, well, okay but I’m warning you, I’m not very interesting! I directed commercials for an ad agency for the past few years, but decided to jack it in recently. It all got to be too much, d’you know what I mean? So I’m doing some freelancing at the moment.” She nodded, and he carried on, warily, “I… uh, I’m in the middle of a divorce and I’ve got one kid, a daughter called Brooke. Another reason - the main one, actually - that I left my job, I wanted to spend more time with her. That’s about it, really. I did warn you it wasn’t very interesting.”

He looked over at her and noticed the small frown on her face and laughed, “I’ve put you off now, haven’t I? Which was it, the no job, the divorce or my kid?”

She shook her head, smiling, “None of them. I was just feeling a little sad for you. My parents divorced when I was younger so I know how difficult it can be all round.” He relaxed a little, sitting back against the sofa, “Yeah, it’s not ideal. My wife’s making it difficult for me to see Brooke.” “That’s your daughter, right?” When he nodded, she continued, “And you just said ‘my wife’ so that sounds like you haven’t yet really accepted that the divorce is going through.”

He took a swig of his beer and relaxed even more, leaning one arm along the back of the sofa. “Oh I’ve definitely accepted it, I guess it’s just habit. My “ex” wife, I should have said. The divorce will be final very soon so I’d better get used to saying that.” Another sympathetic look from her, “I’m sorry you’re going through that.” He shrugged, “There was a trigger for it but if I’m honest, it’d been on the cards for a while. Things hadn’t been good for the past couple of years.” Reaching over and putting the bag of peas on the coffee table and curling her legs underneath her, she said, “Is it too intrusive to ask what the trigger was? Tell me to mind my own business if you like!” she grinned.

He found himself grinning back, “Nah, it’s okay… I’d gone out to pick up more sweets last Halloween and uh, I stopped in for a quick drink on the way. I happened to meet an ex of mine in the bar and regrettably, I… um, well, we…” Her hand went up, “It’s okay, I get your drift! I shouldn’t have asked, sorry. I’m too nosy for my own good.” “It’s fine. I’m not proud of it. And karma’s got me good in any case. Not only the divorce but the ex is stalking me.” “Oh… really? And I take it you don’t want her to stalk you?” He laughed out loud, “No, I definitely don’t! There was a reason we split, y’know? At the time, I didn’t want to do the whole ‘settle down and get married’ thing, and that was her only goal. So I broke up with her. That makes me sound very shallow but I just really couldn’t handle it, she was pulling me over to jeweller’s windows and buying bridal magazines. We’d only been going out for a couple of months!” He paused, “In fact, again if I’m honest, I’m not sure I was even ready for all that when Emma and I got married.”

She leant back, sipping her beer, “I see. Well, as I’m asking intrusive questions tonight I may as well ask, why did you propose?” He looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes once more, “She thought she was pregnant. Turns out she wasn’t but I’d asked her and all the arrangements were underway by the time I found out.” “Was it a genuine mistake?” She was looking intently at him. He blew out a big breath. No-one had ever asked him that before. Thinking for a moment longer, he replied, “You know, I’m really not sure. I know that previously she’d asked about my exes and I’d laughingly told her about ‘Bridezilla’. So if she was being manipulative, I guess she knew I maybe wouldn’t go down the marriage path too willingly and it may need to be something drastic to get me there.” He laughed, a little bitterly.

She’d leant forward and put a hand on his arm, “Look, I don’t know your …ex.. wife at all and I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m sorry. Way too personal and insinuating things that probably never happened. Hey… changing the subject quickly, let me tell you my very uninteresting life story.” He couldn’t deny he was happy to move away from the previous topic, the turn the conversation had taken had unnerved him a little. His mind was still ticking over about it as she started speaking again and told him that she was a commissioning editor for a publishing house. She waved a hand around, “You’re possibly wondering how I can afford this place on that level of salary. Well, I couldn’t! - my extremely rich Daddy bought this place for me. And a holiday cottage on Cape Cod. And my car. He continually tries to salve his conscience and earn my forgiveness for him leaving me and Mom.”

Josh nodded slightly, “Ah okay, yes I confess I did wonder. I wouldn’t want to try and guess how much this place cost.” He gazed over at her, “And did it work?” “Did what work?” “Has he earned your forgiveness?” She laughed, shaking her head, “Ha. No, he hasn’t, to be honest.” Sipping her beer, she carried on, “All those nights of 14-year-old me listening to Mom crying herself to sleep? Me crying myself to sleep? Watching him create a new family without, it seemed, a backward glance at us?” She put her bottle down with a little bit of a bang, “So, no. Whatever he does or buys me, it’ll never make up for that.”

Josh’s heart sank. Was that how his daughter would feel about him when she grew up?

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A sober look suddenly appeared on his face and you realised you must’ve said something to upset him. And then it dawned on you that he must be thinking about his own situation. “Oh no! I’ve put my foot in it again!” you said, guiltily, “Look, I have forgiven him mostly. Things like that happen and always have, haven’t they? - it’s just life. There is always a tiny kernel of hurt that lives inside me and that’ll never go. But I love my Dad and that’ll never change either. So your daughter - I guess you’re thinking of her - will feel the same, I’m sure.”

He sighed, “I hope so. It’s difficult to see her right now. Emma’s making it awkward for me, a punishment I guess. Not that I don’t deserve it - I cheated on her after all - but she shouldn’t use access to Brooke against me.” You agreed, continuing, “But that’s what generally happens, Josh. It’s the one really effective weapon that the ex-partner has in their possession. My mother used the same tactic,” you shrugged. “I’m doing my best to spend time with Brooke,” he mused, “but like I said, it’s difficult. And I’m sure it’s being made out to be my fault. I used to be a bit of a workaholic.”

The conversation continued on a different tack, more work-related and how it could be difficult to get a healthy life/work balance. He was totally relaxed on your sofa now, sprawled out with his long legs in front of him. You were in the middle of telling him about a yoga retreat you’d considered going on up in Cape Cod when you noticed his head had dropped onto his chest and his eyes were closed.

Oh. He’s fallen asleep, you thought, what do I do? Wake him? But something told you he hadn’t been sleeping that well lately, he’d more or less admitted it during your conversation. So you got up and went through to your guest room, taking a blanket and a pillow from the bed. Returning to the living area, you lifted his ankles and swung his legs onto the sofa, hearing him mutter something under his breath but he didn’t wake. Popping the pillow under his head and covering him with the blanket, you headed to your bedroom and went to bed.

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Josh jolted awake, hearing his phone ringing and sitting up groggily. Where….? He looked around and at the blanket covering him. Ah okay… shit, he must’ve fallen asleep on her sofa! How embarrassing. He got up and headed to his jacket as he’d transferred his phone to its pocket when he’d got here. It stopped ringing just as he reached for it, and he pulled it out of the pocket to see a Missed Call notification from Emma. Shit!!!!

It was just after 9 and he wondered why she was calling him so early. He hit redial, and she picked it up on the second ring. “Where are you, Josh?!” she snapped as a greeting, “You’re supposed to be taking Brooke to the mall to get some roller skates, remember? She’s been ready for the last half hour, waiting for you! Did you forget?!” “No!” he snapped back, “I took a sleeping pill and I’ve slept in. I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can, okay?” He felt slightly guilty at lying to her but she was always sniping at him, and while he had temporarily forgotten about the mall trip, he could also have sworn that it was supposed to be happening the next day, not today. Emma had done that to him before, telling him he’d got the day wrong when he knew he had not.

And he certainly couldn’t tell her what had really happened. She’d never believe that it was an innocent situation. And sadly that was definitely the case, he thought with a rueful smile. He still had his boots on, never mind all his clothes. He thought fleetingly about how nice it would’ve been to wake up next to his new acquaintance this morning. He tried to ignore the thrill that ran through him as his morning wood chafed against his jeans. Emma’s voice pulled him abruptly out of his fantasy world.

She huffed, “Aww, not sleeping well, Josh? That’s what having a guilty conscience does to you.” He sighed, “Look, Em, let’s not do this okay? I’ll be over to pick up Brooke in… maybe 30 minutes.” “Alright,” she replied, “just make sure you are.”

Josh put his phone in his jeans pocket and picked up his jacket, shrugging into it and wondering what the best way would be to take his leave. If she was still in bed, he didn’t think it’d be appropriate for him to disturb her in her bedroom, bit too intrusive for their short acquaintance. Then he heard the faint sound of a shower running,

Damn! He could’ve done with using the bathroom, but thankfully it would only take him five minutes to jog round to his own condo. Just have to hold on!

Yeah, he’d leave a note for her.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Stepping out of the shower, you wondered if Josh was still sleeping. No work today, and the thought of sharing breakfast with him was a pleasant one. You were trying to be casual when thinking of him but you liked this guy. Really liked him, even with all his baggage. I mean, who didn’t have some of that? you thought, mentally shrugging.

Tying your robe, you took a quick look into the living area. Empty.

Your heart sank with disappointment. Was he one of those, then? The ‘leave in the morning without a word’ types? Obviously you hadn’t slept together, but still… you thought you’d felt a connection between the two of you.

You headed for your coffee machine, noticing a small piece of paper lying on your kitchen island as you made your way over. Swiftly you scooped it up.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Good morning - sorry for falling asleep on your sofa, what an interesting conversational partner I am, huh! I usually do better, I promise. Haven’t been sleeping too well lately and I got so relaxed I guess I just dozed right off. And sorry I’ve had to leave in a rush, I’m taking my daughter to the mall and am running late - another black mark against me! I’ll get straight to the point, I’d like to see you again. Here’s my number, I’ll let you contact me if you’re interested in meeting up for a proper date. I’m hoping you are!

Josh

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You filled the water jug and slotted it into the coffee machine, conscious that you had a huge smile on your face the whole time.

Okay, okay, you counselled yourself, this guy could turn out to be problematic. Cheated on his wife, in the middle of a divorce, could get pulled into a custody battle. You knew only too well how messy all that could get.

But maybe that’s exactly why you felt a distinct pull towards him.

YOLO and all that kind of stuff. You were going to give this a go, you decided. Heading into it with your eyes wide open and you thought you knew what to expect. It would either work, or he’d be too involved with his marital situation and cut you loose.

Either way, you were in.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

And when the harbourmaster comes

To switch off the lights (switch off the lights)

And the waiting rooms are empty

Of everyone

Does anyone

What am I gonna do with you if you go back?

Does anyone

What am I gonna do with you if you go back?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Files

Pairings: Sam Winchester x Reader

Trope: Enemies to lovers  @serenityhayato​ ( WRITTEN FOR @negans-lucille-tblr​‘s SPN FIC EXCHANGE )

Warnings: Death of a friend, Canonical Gore (werewolf attack), Cursing, Smut (rough Sam, light choking, hand job, oral if you squint- male receiving, unprotected sex), Probably sex at inappropriate times if I’m being honest

Word Count: 7500 (I am so sorry I didn’t realize until I went to post this that it had a 3k word limit… this was definitely my bad but I’ve spent a week writing this and really didn’t want to scrap the whole thing to fit the word limit. I didn’t realize how carried away I got in the set up)

A/N: I have never written anything for Sam before, much less smut, but I wanted to give it a shot. I’m sorry if it’s totally OOC. I was trying to go off the knowledge that he’s canonically pretty rough in bed. I also couldn’t imagine him being super talkative and vocal. I don’t know, I’m just kinda stressed about this one. Also, this was probably definitely an inappropriate time for them to get down and dirty but my brain was glitching on any other idea so I hope you don’t hate it! Happy holidays!

________________

Sam Winchester.

The name alone made your blood boil.

You’d met the man for the first time, just before your hunting career began and quite frankly, you weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what he’d done.

–

It was the first semester of your senior year of college, a proud graduate-to-be of your dream university. Life had been great since you got to college. Old toxic relationships with people back home had practically disappeared, you’d formed a group of the best people you’d ever met, and your academics had been going strong.

Life was going great until people started disappearing only to turn up days later, slaughtered and nearly drained of blood. Anxiety was running high all across the board. The university even turned all night classes to online courses to prevent the likelihood of someone being abducted at night. Your best friend had started acting weird. She constantly shook as if she’d drank a pot of coffee for breakfast and was always looking over her shoulder. “It’s okay, Beth,” You tried to reassure her, “I know everyone is on edge but we’re doing everything we can to stay safe. Just make sure to bring your wooden stake in case the vampire attacks.” You chuckled weakly, knowing your nerve-fueled joke was definitely inappropriate considering that four people had actually died from whoever was out there but humor was a good coping mechanism.

Beth didn’t appreciate the joke at all and had run out of your apartment, disappearing. When she hadn’t returned by seven that night, you got worried enough to go look for her. Grabbing every self defense weapon you had, which was pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a key chain that looked cute but was actually a form of brass knuckles with sharp extrusions on it, you left your apartment to look for Beth, surprisingly well strapped.  

You started with her favorite spots: a hipster coffee shop on Main Street, Taco Bell, that one bench in the botanical gardens that overlooked the pond, and the fourth floor of the library. She was nowhere to be seen. You were on the verge of calling the police or those FBI agents that had been questioning people on campus, asking some weird questions from what people had told you. You’d never spoken with them but they did say to come to them with information if anyone had any. You didn’t but they’d be a good start to finding Beth. Where to find them though? Figuring it would be best to just start with campus police, you walked across campus, looking over your shoulder every few seconds. The hair on your neck stood on end and it was impossible to feel safe. Campus police was located on the opposite end of campus and the busses stopped running early on weekdays so walking was your only choice.

“No, please!” You heard a man whimper from somewhere in the trees to your side. You stopped in your tracks and your heart dropped to your stomach. Should you help? Should you run? Should you stay here and call 911?

But then you heard Beth’s voice, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I can’t control it anymore!” And then screams. There were deafening screams of pain and you decided to say screw it. You ran down to try and protect your friend, even though you knew it was probably the last thing you’d ever do. This was stupid. What could you even do? Who knew what was down there attacking them?

When you saw them though, you stopped, skidding to a halt on the leaf covered hill. Beth was knelt over a man’s body, his backpack thrown to the side and ripped open. Though you were quiet, she must have heard you because her attention was whipped to you in an instant. Her face and shirt were covered in blood. It was obvious she’d been eating him or something along those lines.

You felt like a deer in headlights, utterly frozen in terror, denial, and confusion. “I can’t control myself anymore…” she admitted, a regretful sob hiccuping from her lips.

“Why?” You breathed out the question, silent tears falling. Whether they were for fear for your life or just the knowledge that someone you cared about could do something so horrible, you didn’t know.

Before she could answer, there was a loud bang and she fell dead. You flinched and covered your head, crouching instinctively from the gunshot. Your best friend slumped over dead and, despite the fact that you’d just watched her brutally murder some poor stranger, you couldn’t help but call out in shock and horror, “Beth!"

Two men came running down the hill, one of them to Beth’s body and the other to you. "She’s dead. Werewolf, just like we thought.” The man with short hair announced in a deep gruff voice.

“Are you alright?” The one who had come up to asked. He looked a little younger than the other, with longer hair too.

You were shaking, “What the hell just happened?"

"I know this is hard to understand but your friend over there… wasn’t human.” When he said it, you almost scoffed. Of course she was human. What the hell else would she be? Monsters weren’t real.

“You’re kidding me…” You said almost angrily. Then something hit you, “Wait, you’re those FBI detectives.”

The one with short hair walked up to you and the man talking to you. The taller one spoke again, “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. We aren’t really FBI. We hunt monsters. Monsters like your friend over there."

"She wasn’t a monster.” You said, a single tear finally falling down your cheek. Glancing over, you saw her lying dead on the ground, “Not the Beth I knew."

"Well then you didn’t know the real Beth because one look at that thing will tell you she ain’t human.” Dean told you bluntly.

Sam noticed the confusion, fear, and anger in your eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this. It was never easy to tell people they were close to the truth and he preferred to just stay out of it completely but that wasn’t an option this time. “Look, I know this is difficult to understand. But Beth was a werewolf. And yes, they are real. Most monsters are. We’ve been tracking her for weeks."

"W-was she always like this?” Your mind whirled as you struggled to comprehend, truly comprehend, what was happening.

Sam shook his head, “She was turned by a werewolf back in her hometown a few weeks ago. We tracked her from a pack we hunted down over there.” You remembered when she came back, she had a big bandage on her arm. When you asked about it, she brushed it off, saying she ate it racing her brother on longboards. It was probably the bite.

“The fact that she made it as long as she did without killing is honestly impressive. I’ve seen some turn and right away they’re slaughtering people.” Dean chimed in. You hoped their words would console you but they only served to make you angrier.

“So you’re telling me that she was attacked by a werewolf and then turned into one? She was probably terrified! She kept saying how sorry she was! You could have helped her! But you just killed her!” You screamed at them angrily.

“Your friend murdered a bunch of people. Once they turn, there’s no saving them. They’re killers.” Dean said with such conviction that it almost scared you.

Sam put a hand out to Dean, signaling for him to shut up, “There’s only one known way to stop the transformation but it has a really low success rate, is extremely painful, and needs to be administered almost right after the bite. I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out to comfort you but you dodged it, shrugging off his gesture and beginning to walk away.

“I need to go."

"Wait!” Sam called out behind you and you stopped.

“What?!” You snapped, spinning around to stare at him. It was rare that anyone dwarfed Sam Winchester but since you’d been walking up the small hill, you towered over him. The way you glared down at him made him jump.

His words faltered before he finally spoke, “You can’t tell anyone about this. If people knew monsters existed-"

"I’ll decide how I deal with the fact that my apparently werewolf best friend was just murdered by some dudes who think they’re Ghostbusters."

—

Sam saddled up to the bar next to you and promptly ordered two beers. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not sure of what you’d say to him if you made eye contact. You could feel him side eyeing you curiously. Finally, he looked over, "I’m sorry if this is strange but you look so familiar. Have we met?"

You swiveled in the chair to face him, "It’s been a while but yeah. We’ve met. Remember that werewolf at (your college)  about a year ago."

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… I knew you looked familiar.” He didn’t sound excited like people usually did when they saw old friends because he knew you weren’t old friends. In fact, he assumed you felt quite the opposite and he understood why. “I never did catch your name."

"Y/N.” You informed shortly, taking a sip of your preferred poison.

Sam rocked back on his heels, “Well, uh, what are you doing out here?” It was Middletown, Arkansas, not exactly a happening place, so seeing you of all people here seemed almost too good to be a coincidence.

“I get the feeling the same reason you are.” You answered, eyebrows rising to infer a hunt.

It didn’t take long for Sam to figure what you meant, “Wait, you’re hunting now? Why?"

"After you guys left, I was devastated. You’d murdered my best friend,” you watched him sink into himself a little when you said that but continued seamlessly, “I was left alone with the sudden knowledge that monsters existed. I decided one day that I wanted to protect people like Beth. You know, the ones that innocently stumble into dangerous situations and have their lives ruined by a bite or scratch."

The tall Winchester brother was about to say something but Dean called from a few tables over, "Sammy!” He called out, pointing to a booth on the side wall. The bar was fairly busy for it being such a small town, with people playing pool or eating fries with their gin and tonics. Music played in the background and, though it wasn’t a song you knew off the top of your head, it sounded like every other dive bar in towns like this.

Sam held up a finger to his brother, begging pardon for just a second, before looking back over to you, “Look, I’m really sorry about everything. I really am. I know it doesn’t help but I’ve lost friends who were turned as well so I know how you feel.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens, right?” Your voice sounded anything but forgiving but it also wasn’t hostile either. It was more matter-of-fact. As much as you had hated Sam Winchester for what he had taken from you, if there was one thing you had learned over these last few months it was that shit really does happen. As hard as you tried, you really couldn’t save them all.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder to see Dean wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him, clearly thinking you were someone Sam was trying to pick up for the night. Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to you, “If we’re both here for the vamp nest, then do you maybe want to come work with us?"

You thought for a moment. In all honesty, you had been under the impression that it was just one vampire wreaking havoc on the small town. Call it a novice mistake, because in all actuality, you really were still a relatively new hunter. One vampire you could take, a whole nest would be trickier. "Fine. But just so we don’t die."

You hopped off the barstool, glass of liquid fire in your hand, as you followed Sam back to the booth Dean was sitting at. At first, the older brother looked confused as to why his brother would bring his company for the night to meet him but didn’t say anything about it when you sat down beside Sam across the table from Dean.

"This is Y/N. She’s gonna help us work the case.” Sam announced, not leaving much room for objection.

Dean’s eyes studied you, “You look familiar. You’re a hunter?” He asked, trying to piece together why he recognized you.

You shrugged, “Am now but you know me from ‘bout a year ago when you guys killed my best friend. She was bit by a werewolf. Remember, that college girl?"

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… yeah. Sorry about that but she was, y'know, a werewolf. So-” he shrugged insensitively, earning him a hard kick in the shin from Sam under the table. Dean looked back with that expression of 'what?’ That little kids had when they got in trouble.

“Well, anyways, she’s hunting now and is in town for the nest. I figured working together would be our best option.” Sam tried to be a peaceful moderator but it was hard when he knew how much you loathed him. It was frustrating, really, that you wouldn’t just see that Beth had become a monster. He understood that losing friends was hard but she had been killing innocent people.

“What’s the plan, then? We want to pick them off one by one so there’s less to fight at once or-” you began before Dean interrupted.

He shook his head, chewing some fries he’d shoved in his mouth while he spoke, “Nuh-uh. Gank the whole nest at once. Get 'em all in one place and torch it."

"Okay, well where’s the nest then?” You questioned.

Sam shrugged, “We don’t know yet. That’s what we gotta figure out."

"I have a file of police reports and eye witnesses on my laptop back at my hotel. I was just gonna grab a map of the town while I was out tonight to try and see if I could draw a location from the attacks.” You hadn’t planned on actually bringing work to do at the bar. You’d mostly come to see if you could overhear any drunken tales of vampires around town but it had been pretty dead as far as crazy stories so far.

Something behind you caught Dean’s attention and he leaned in close to you and Sam, “Hey, I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.” He said with a smirk and a wink.

As his brother stood, Sam threw his hand up in exasperation, “Where are you going?"

"Hopefully for a homerun.” Dean winked with a cocky smirk before walking away. You turned around to follow Dean with your gaze and immediately saw his target sitting at the bar, a beautiful African American woman with bouncing curls and a sultry smile on her berry stained lips. Honestly, you couldn’t’ say you blamed the older Winchester one bit.

Sam let out a huff of disappointment and rolled his eyes at his brother’s priorities. “Guess it’s just you and me then…” He groaned, not at the prospect of having to spend time with you but just at his brother’s laziness. Dean always managed to find an excuse out of the research part.

“Great.” You responded, unamused. Of the two brothers, Sam was the one you had an issue with- the trigger man on the night that changed your life. “Well, we should get a start on all this so we can get out of here sooner. If you didn’t get any food, you wanna head back to my room?”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized how it sounded and you became a bumbling mess, “Wait- I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

Sam bit back a chuckle and raised his hand up off the table, motioning for you to stop, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He laughed, long hair shining in the dim light as he moved to turn away from you with closed eyes while he chuckled. It really was a shame that he had done what he’d done to you. An opportunity with such a handsome man just had to be killed by his lack of compassion all those months ago.

You slid out of the booth, “Alright, well, I guess I’ll drive. Looks like Dean will be needing your car.” You smirked knowingly as you glanced over at Dean who had the woman he’d had eyes on in stitches over something he’d said.

Sam followed your lead, “Sounds good. I don’t think I want to be in the car after whatever they do anyways.”

Your black 2007 Honda Pilot was clean enough to not be totally embarrassed about but then you saw Sam’s little snort, “A Honda Pilot?”

“We can’t all have cool muscle cars or old trucks, jackass. I can go all terrain with decent gas mileage. Besides, I’d rather sleep in the back of this than your gas guzzler. She’s surprisingly spacious.” You defended your vehicle rather seriously, running your hand across the dash soothingly. The funny thing was that you’d really never been all too attached to the car until Sam insinuated insulting remarks about it.

“She?” He quipped with a raised brow, climbing into the passenger seat.

You slammed the door shut and started the engine, “Yes, she. Dahlia.”

Sam put his hands up, resigning his teasing assault on your car. The drive to the motel was short. You never really liked travelling too far from where you were staying when you didn’t have to. Hunting on your own, especially as a newbie, made you anxious. When you pulled into the parking lot, Sam looked out the window, “You’re staying here too?”

You looked over at him, “You guys are staying here?”

He nodded and patted his pockets, looking for the room key but quickly finding the gesture useless, “Room 24. You?”

“34. You must be right under me.” You said, again visibly cringing at your poor word choice, “You know what I mean.”

Sam tried his hardest not to smile, “Wasn’t gonna say anything.” He assured. You pulled into a space right in front of room 24 and parked. Sam followed you up to your room, which was relatively untouched still. You’d only arrived that morning so, aside from your bag of belongings that was thrown onto the single queen bed, the motel room was still as you had found it.

Sam closed the door behind the two of you and you grabbed your laptop from the bag. So many rooms you’d stayed in had little tables or desks but you quickly noticed that this one was lacking. As Sam awkwardly shuffled up to the bed where you sat casually, you noticed that there wasn’t really enough room for the two of you to work on the ground either.

With a huff, you scooted over, “You can sit on the bed. Just no shoes on the covers.” You had toed your own shoes off on the floor before tucking your legs underneath you. Sam sat beside you, careful to keep a respectful distance between your bodies, while you opened the lid of your laptop and began typing away.

“Alright, this is what I have so far.” You began.

Time became lost on you and Sam as midnight rolled around and you were still discussing the facts of the case. “I’m still confused as to why the hell you think Lenora’s body turning up on Seventh St and Jason’s body turning up on Hargrove Ave means the nest is on Willow Dr.” You were getting annoyed at Sam. In all honesty, you were annoyed at yourself for not seeing what he saw because as much as you hated to admit it, he was probably right. He and his brother hadn’t earned their reputations for being wrong. But, geez, why did it have to be Sam Winchester?

“Because it’s not so much Jason’s body. The old lady, Meredith, made a phone call to her nephew, saying she was at Willow Dr, just before she attacked.” Sam pointed at the map of the town with one finger while leaning his weight back on the bed. His other hand reached back to prop himself up but you quickly flinched away when you felt his rough fingers blindly land on your own.

Sam’s eyes shot wide when you felt your sudden movement, “‘M sorry.” He said, moving his hand closer to his body.

The contact made your heart race in a way that made you simultaneously crave his touch again and be angry at yourself for feeling that way.  You cursed yourself, scooting an inch or so away from Sam’s body. Clearly, your body was just blindly reacting after being touch starved for so long. You hadn’t so much as kissed anyone since before you became a hunter. It had to just be a primal reaction, nothing more.

“I’ll just take your word for it.” You grumbled, returning to the original matter at hand. You hated feeling like you were just letting him think he was right about everything but you were getting tired. “So what’s the plan? Gank ‘em all tomorrow night?”

Sam shrugged, “We’d have to talk to Dean. Most of them will probably be hiding in the nest in the morning to avoid the sun so at least they’d be in one place. But night gives us more time to plan. Who knows when he’ll be back.”

“Why don’t we just lure them all out into the sun and watch them burn?” You suggested, thinking it was a brilliant idea. You actually had yet to deal with vamps. This would be your first case hunting them and you were actually a little excited to learn something new.

The Winchester shook his head, “The sun doesn’t kill them. Think less Interview With a Vampire and more… bad sunburn.” He explained, “Have you never hunted one before?”

Again, you got defensive, “I’m still new at this. I mostly stick to werewolves and ghosts.” Admitting to yourself you needed to learn more was one thing. Admitting it to Sam was another.

He looked over at the gun on your nightstand, “Is that what you were gonna use?” He questioned, brows furrowed.

“No, I’m not dumb. I have some wooden stakes in the car.”

It took everything in Sam’s power to not laugh at you. At you felt like the wrong way to put it. He wasn’t laughing at you. He just found your determination to be a good hunter cute in an endearing way, even if you got your information from cheesy TV shows.

“What?” You asked, almost angrily, seeing the look of amusement on his face.

Sam shook his head, “Decapitation is the main way to kill vampires. Unless you have special bullets or weapons, cutting off the heads is the easiest way to go.”

Your jaw clenched and you turned away from him, upset that he of all people had to explain something that was apparently Hunter 101. You didn’t mind learning. Not knowing things typically was just an opportunity to pick something new up but this incident just felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“You know what? It looks like you and Dean have things handled here. I’m gonna go. Divide and conquer. I’ll just go find somewhere with monsters that I know about so you don’t have to babysit me.” You stood up aggressively, voice surprisingly calm and just almost convincing enough to make him think you weren’t being petty, which of course you were. You didn’t mean to be acting childish. It was just that running into Sam and Dean had been enough to handle. Having what was still left for you to learn shoved in your face was just the cherry on top.

Sam stood up after you, exasperated, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re still new to this and everyone has to start somewhere. Hell, Dean and I are still learning new stuff all the time.”

“It’s not that. This was just a bad idea. I thought I could handle working with you but I can’t.” You shook your head, turning around just to reach around Sam’s body and grab the jacket that you’d discarded before shrugging it back over your shoulders. You started shoving the few things you’d unpacked- a gun, your laptop, and some files- back into your blue duffel bag.

Sam had always considered himself fairly level-headed and capable of dealing with difficult people but something in him snapped when he saw you packing up to leave over something so stupid, “Fine, go ahead and leave. We’ll deal with the nest without you. But you know what? Nobody asked you to get involved in hunting. You can’t just go run off every time someone dies.”

You scoffed, “I got into hunting to prevent people from dying. I got into hunting to try and save them from being killed by people like you!”

“You’re acting like we just kill everyone we come across. We kill monsters, Y/N. We save people by killing them. We prevent more people from getting turned into monsters by killing them. And you know what? Beth became a monster.” Sam’s voice raised to almost a yell as he gestured widely and aggressively.

“Beth was scared and you murdered her!” You shouted angrily, tears welling in your eyes.

“Beth was killing people!” Sam yelled at you before taking a moment to breathe, continuing more calmly, “Can’t you see that? Most of these monsters we hunt were just poor bastards in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s not a lot we can do for people like that. But we can keep them from hurting others. If we had known there was a werewolf back in Beth’s hometown, we could have killed them before they could turn her and she would still be here. Would you be angry if we’d have killed the werewolf that turned her? Would you still be calling me a murderer?”

You chewed your tongue in your mouth hard, trying to use the physical pain to distract you from the urge to cry out of frustration. Why did he have to make sense? Why did he have to confirm every rational thought you’d ever had concerning the situation? You wanted to hate Sam Winchester for what he’d done but you knew deep down that it was never that simple. You knew he had a point but you didn’t want to admit it.

Sam saw the way your jaw clenched angrily, the way your throat moved as you swallowed hard, and the way your eyes glistened with unshed tears. He took a step closer to you and reached a gentle hand out towards your arm, “I am sorry that you lost your best friend.”

For some reason, the gentle sincerity of his voice is what broke you. Tears fell down your face in hot streams as you cried. They weren’t tears for Beth’s death. Those had long been drained from you, many nights spent mourning what you’d lost. These tears were for the final snap of your animosity for the Winchester. You had spent so long hating him. You wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, but how the hell were you supposed to do that when he looked you in the eye and truly meant it when he said he was sorry.

There was a twinge of pain in his own green eyes that made you realize that he truly had experienced the same sort of heartache that you did and that he was sincerely apologetic for being the cause of it. But it was also clear that, while he was sorry for hurting you, he was not sorry for what he had done. Part of the cause for your tears was that you were angry with yourself for not being able to hate him, despite knowing that he didn’t regret killing Beth. You were crying because he was right. She had become a monster and, in his shoes, you probably would have done the same thing. You would have shot your best friend.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, voice shaky as you did.

Sam used his light grip on your arm to pull you in slowly for a hug, his large arms enveloping you in a surprisingly comforting embrace. You buried your face into his flannel, tears staining the fabric. One of his large hands gently cradled the base of your head while his other rubbed up and down your shaking back.

He didn’t know what to say anymore. Your response had honestly surprised him. The girl that he was used to receiving nothing but animosity from was now shaking in his arms and apologizing. “It’s okay,” was all Sam could think to mutter out.

He held you like that for a while, though you weren’t sure exactly how long it was. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes and you would be none the wiser but all you knew was that you didn’t want Sam to let you go and, for once, you didn’t hate yourself for it. The tears had dried, leaving only slightly stiff feeling skin in their place. Your breath had long since stopped leaving your lungs in wracked hiccups. Your arms had moved from resting on his broad chest to being loosely wrapped around his waist at some point.

You pulled back first, lifting your head from his chest but keeping your hands on his body still. Sam lifted his cheek off your head, where it had been residing in a surprisingly soft show of affection, and he gazed down at you. You were amazed by how completely you had let your rage blind you. Before tonight, Sam was nothing more than scum to you but now, looking into his eyes after forgiving him, you realized that he was easily one of the most beautiful men you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Even with the tears now gone, Sam still saw the dim light of the cheap motel lamp sparkled against the color of your irises and damn if it wasn’t beautiful. He slid his hand up from your shoulder to gently brush away a few thin strands of hair that had stuck to your cheek while it was pressed against his chest- a feeling he found himself missing. His breath caught in his throat when you reached up to cover his hand with your smaller one, pressing it gently to stay on your cheek.

Your eyes slid closed and you gently nuzzled against his hand before opening your eyes again, reaching around his neck, and oh so slowly pulling him down while you perched on your tiptoes. There was more than enough time for Sam to pull away but he didn’t. In fact, much to your surprise, he closed the gap between you faster. His lips pressed to yours, rougher than you anticipated, but enjoyably nonetheless.

The breath was knocked out of your lungs and you struggled to breathe against his lips but refused to pull away. You bit his lip gently while you kissed, slipping your tongue against his when he gave in to what you were craving.

Sam reached down under your ass and lifted you without you even needing to jump. A squeal of surprise was swallowed by his lips as he walked you both to the bed. Once his legs bumped the old mattress, he sat down, lowering you to land on his lap. Your knees fell to either side of his hips where you gave an experimental rotation of your hips against his clothed erection. He let out a strangle exhalation at the friction, his fingers digging into your ass and pulling you harder onto him. The fabric of his rough jeans rubbed delicious against your clothed core, a wetness beginning to form in your panties.

Slowly, you pressed your weight forward and Sam allowed you to push him onto his back. You laid on top of him, lips moving from his lips down his neck but he didn’t let you get far. Sam placed a supportive hand on the small of your back and managed to flip you both over so he was on top and before you knew it, he was devouring you. Lips kissed hot trails across your face and down your neck, across the tops of your breasts that were ever so slightly revealed by your v-neck t-shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his long hair and he let out a breathy groan when you tugged on the brunette locks, pulling him closer to you. Sam crawled down your body, his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to run across your burning skin beneath. He felt like heaven and hell all in one, burning with fiery lust and yet so sweet and comforting despite the fervor with which he moved.

You pushed yourself up, pushing Sam to sit back on his knees while you did, all without breaking the kiss, to shrug off your jacket. Your shirt was next, falling onto the floor with your jacket before Sam pushed you backwards again, your back hitting the mattress. His large hand started low your belly, running straight up between the valley of your breasts and then raking downwards, pulling the cups of your bra down and grazing your nipples deliciously with his calloused fingers.

It had been so long since you’d been touched like this that even the small act had your back arching into his body. “Sam…” You breathed out, eyes sliding closed at the sensation. Every flick against your sensitive buds sent a shock straight to your core that had you hooking your leg around his hip, pulling him closer into you. Your hands ran up and down his large biceps before moving to pull the sleeves of his flannel down his arms. He only pulled away from you long enough to throw the restricting clothing on the ground, his shirt joining short after.

Your mouth started physically salivating at the sight of the man before you, sculpted by the gods. Defined pectorals and rippling abs covered his torso, adorned with a symbol that looked like a pentagram inside of a sun- a symbol you were unfamiliar with. Sam didn’t give you much time to marvel though because he was back to kissing a line down your body, the light stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and chest. He stopped to revel in your breasts, wiggling his hands under your body to expertly unclasp your bra and shimmy it off you. The second they were revealed to him, his tongue was dragging across the supple sick and his teeth were lightly nibbling at the sensitive buds.

“Oh my gosh-” You let out in a breathy giggle. Sam switched breasts, giving the other equal attention. Your fingernails raked lightly over his shoulders and across his chest and you felt Sam shiver at the touch. His lips trailed lower and lower until they found the waistline of your jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, the button was popped and the denim material was dragged down your legs, taking your socks with them as they were pulled over your ankles. He kissed his way back up your legs, from ankle until he slowly inched closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

His scruff scraped along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you bit your lip at the sensation, unsure if you were trying to hold back a giggle from the ticklish feeling or a moan from the shocks it sent to your core. Sam chuckled to himself when he saw the wet patch of cloth over your clothed heat. He’d barely touched you and you were already dripping for him.

He had a wicked idea though. He got closer and closer to your sex, the smell intoxicating, and gripped your thighs tightly, possibly leaving bruises. Just when his lips were about to land on your core, he moved to the left, kissing your hip bones instead and back up your belly.

Annoyed by the teasing, you sat up, pulling Sam up gently by the hair to be face to face with you. Your ass was a few inches from the edge of the bed, toes just touching the ground, when you pushed Sam back just enough to be able to reach his pants. You hooked your fingers into the belt loops on either side of his pelvis and pulled him close to you. His forehead pressed flush against yours, “Are you gonna keep being a tease or are you gonna fuck me already, Winchester?”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made quick work of his remaining clothing and hovered over you like a predator about to move in for the kill. “You want me to just fuck you already?” He mimicked, voice low and testing. His green eyes bore into your own orbs with a challenge that you refused to back down from.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” You challenged, standing up and sliding your underwear down your legs, all while keeping unyielding eye contact with Sam. Once they left your form with a small flick of your toes, a dark smirk krept up on his face.

“Turn around.” He demanded and, while you were inwardly more than happy to comply, you didn’t want him to think he had you quite that easy.

You rolled your eyes as you did, an sinful smirk playing on your lips, “Yes, sir.” You chimed sarcastically.

Before you knew it, you were bent over at the waist, face and chest pressed into the mattress by Sam’s nearly crushing body. His hand snaked around your front, picking up some of your slickness on his fingers before circling your clit while he growled in your ear, “Don’t know what the attitude’s about. You’re the one who asked to get fucked.”

Your knees quivered at his filthy words while his fingers worked your clit slowly and painfully. His rock hard erection rubbed along your ass, teasing your entrance every now and again as he rocked his hips against your body. He stood up and removed his hand from your clit. Your hips moved back, trying desperately to chase his fleeting touch. Sam groaned when your body slid over his cock, skin burning against his own. After a few experimental tugs at his own member, he positioned himself at your entrance, giving you a few moments to back out if that was what you’d wanted. Backing out was so far from what you wanted though. You wanted - nay, needed - him inside of you and you needed him now. You were convinced you’d combust if he made you wait any longer.

His hands landed on your hips to help guide a slow thrust forward. His length gradually entered you, the searing stretch to accommodate him making your muscles contract around him. Sam hisses out a sound of pleasure, “You’re so tight.”

His first few thrusts were slow, each time managing to grind impossibly deeper into you. “Fuck, Sam.” Your fingers wound tightly in the sheets with each thrust of his hips and your eyes screwed shut as your breaths came out almost as hisses through grit teeth.

Sam used his leverage on your hips to move your body in time with his thrusts. Each motion sent your body into the mattress, the bed shaking as he pounded into you. You let out little squeaks of pleasure every now and again but Sam wanted to hear more out of the girl who’d had nothing to say to him but spiteful things for so long.

A large hand came to clasp around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but enough to guide you up. You pressed your body up to your feet sloppily on your hands but standing proved to be a difficult task with Sam still moving relentlessly into you. Your thighs were shaking, barely able to support your weight, as this new angle allowed for Sam to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. His hand stayed around your throat, tightening along the sides of your neck when he lost himself in the way you felt around him- warm and soft. You were grateful that he was letting your head lull back against his shoulder otherwise you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stay upright.

Sam’s free hand first sloppily groped around the front of your chest until it found one of your breasts, kneading it roughly. The rough skin of his fingers grazed your nipples yet again, only adding to the pleasure you felt below. The knot was tightening and it was tightening fast.

“Please-” You managed to gasp out, not because of the choking (his grip wasn’t that tight) but because the electricity in the room seemed to have stolen your voice. Sam’s hand moved from your nipples down to your clit where he rubbed fast tight circles. “Oh my gosh, yes!” You whined, reaching up overhead to tangle your fingers in his hair. You forced his mouth down to meet yours and the pressure in your core snapped. Your moans and cries of pleasure were swallowed by Sam’s lips and he could have swallowed a thousand more.

He worked you through your orgasm until your body went limp in his arms. Slowly, he came to a stop before pulling out and quickly working himself in his hands. After catching your breath though, you turned back to Sam, placed your hands on his shoulders, and used them to spin the two of you around and push him back onto the bed. His long legs hung over the edge and you settled yourself between his knees, gently grasping his member, still slick with your wetness, and worked him with your hand.

Sam lied back on the white duvet, head thrown back in bliss at your touch. Your hand felt so much better than his own as it worked up and down his shaft before coming up to circle around the tip. He was rock hard and ready to burst at any given moment. When you leaned forward to like a long stripe along the underside of his cock, he was done for. A few more pumps and Sam fell apart in your hand, painting your hand and his stomach with his seed. “Shit!” The muscles of his abs contracted mesmerizingly as the waves of his high rolled over him.

Your hand slowed as his climax came to an end, his member softening in your hand. You wiped the mess he’d made on your hand on your breasts and stomach, knowing it would be easier to keep those parts of you off the covers than your hand. With a heavy sigh of crashing relief, your body fell onto the mattress beside Sam and you both stared at the ceiling in a fucked out post-coital haze.

“So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” Sam asked after a few moments, surprising you with the genuine tone behind the semi-joking question.

You stared up at the chipping popcorn ceiling, “I didn’t for like two seconds but now I do again just because those were the first words out of your mouth.” Your voice was steady, unwavering, and Sam cringed inwardly, avoiding eye contact entirely. That is, until you sighed and continued, “But, I guess, if you wanted to take me out for a drink sometime there’s a slim chance I wouldn’t object.” This time, there was a teasing smile on your face when you turned your head to look at Sam.