#like we all knew exactly what he was getting at

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would’ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…” He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bonelessghoul]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Summary: In a game that costs you your blood, sweat, and tears, Young Il is there to protect you from it all. After forging you way thus far with your own strength and will, you begin to realize just how much you'd grown to care for player 001. Note: This is lowkey a tidbit of something bigger I had been working on but I was so antsy to put it out there!!

There was a moment when you relinquished everything you knew about how to be human—when survival took over, and everything went cold. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but as the curtains parted to reveal the massive room before you, the sheer vastness of it swallowed you whole. It was like a carousel stripped of its animals, the vacant platform stretching into a haunting void.

Your breath hitched as your new friends brushed by, awe painting their faces. But for you, awe was eclipsed by dread, your mind conjuring images of what would take the place of those carousel creatures.

“YN." A voice said, soft and steady, cut through your daze.

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped walking, your gaze frozen on the ceiling where the carnival-like top stretched impossibly high, its center receding into shadow. You turned your head to see Young Il, his face unreadable but his nod reassuring. You swallowed hard, nodding back as your feet reluctantly followed.

Behind you was Hyun Ju, player 120, and the odd group you had become apart of for the relay. You glanced back at them, Guam Je and her son above her with player 095 at their side. Gaum Je waved excitedly at you and you bowed your head, smile growing across your face.

“This game? We played it in school,” Jun Bae said, his eagerness to conquer bleeding into his tone. “We formed groups by hugging back then.”

Dae Ho, ever the pragmatist, glanced down at his fellow marine. “I think instead of hugging, we go into these rooms.”

The colored doors, bordered with arches of blinking carnival lights, seemed to mock you. Your heart raced as you scanned each one, already strategizing, already crumbling under the weight of possibilities.

Who would go where? How many would make it? What if one of you got left out?

These were thoughts you didn’t have before the relay; perfectly content in your own world of surviving and not having to worry about anyone else. It was almost a torturous game in itself when the survival of your new friends began to weigh as heavy as your own as you walked into this new game.

You didn’t even notice the tightness in your jaw until Young Il’s worried eyes found yours again. His look, calm but probing, was enough to pull you back.

He was another problem you unexpectedly faced here.

Once on the platform though, Gi Hun called you all into a tight huddle.

“If the number is bigger than six, we’ll get the additional people we need,” he explained.

“What if it’s smaller than five?” Dae Ho asked.

“Like four or even five?” you blurted, your voice cracking under the strain of your thoughts.

“Whatever happens, don’t panic,” Young Il interjected, his tone even but firm. “Stay calm.”

His gaze lingered on you as he spoke, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed. There was something in the steadiness of his voice, the way his words seemed to reach only you, that settled the storm within you.

“We’ll make it out together,” he said, placing his hand in the center of the group.

For a moment, you hesitated, your independence warring with the strange comfort his presence gave you. But then you took a breath and laid your trembling hand on his. The others followed suit, their hands piling over yours. As the huddle broke, your fingers brushed Young Il’s, and though you tried to pull away quickly, the brief contact was enough to remind you of what was at stake.

The platform jolted to life, a playful carnival tune echoing through the air. The motion sent a ripple through the group, and you stumbled, catching yourself against Young Il’s steady hand on your shoulder.

The music began, your heartbeat syncing with its rhythm, pounding in anticipation of the inevitable stop. When it did, the abruptness made your bones rattle. Instinctively, you gripped Young Il and Jun Hee’s arms, the three of you clinging together as the voice announced the number:

“Ten.”

Chaos erupted. Voices overlapped, bodies collided, and desperation filled the air. You clung to the five who surrounded you, your eyes darting frantically, searching for more.

“Hyun Ju!” you shouted, spotting her tall frame among 007, his mother, and 095. “We’re six over here!”

“How many are you?” Jun Bae demanded, urgency lacing his words as he tried to group everyone together and make sure it was the right number.

“Four!”

“Let’s go!”

Arms linked, you all sprinted toward door 44, a blur of motion and panic. The flashing pink lights disoriented you, but you held on tight, driven by the collective will to survive. As the door slammed shut behind you, relief washed over the room like a tidal wave.

Doubled over, you fought to catch your breath. But as your hands rested on your knees, they began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Is everyone here?” Dae Ho asked, his voice cutting through the heavy breathing.

A quick headcount confirmed it: all ten of you had made it. The knowledge brought a momentary reprieve, but your legs still shook as you leaned into the wall, your mind spinning.

Besides you, Geum Ja leaned her small frame upon yours, hand resting on your shoulder. She must have sensed the way your knuckles rattled in your skin beyond your control and from where you could see as your head hung down, her old yet soft hand covered yours.

Lifting up, you smiled with gratitude and she did the same, an unspoken relief shared between you two.

But the sudden eruption of gunfire shattered the silence and your smile, the relentless pops echoing in your ears. You flinched, your heart twisting with every shot. The weight of survival pressed down on you like a vice, and when the door reopened, it took every ounce of willpower to step back onto the platform.

There was so much blood scattered around the room, marking the spots where players left behind once stood.

Young Il waited for you at the doorway, his eyes scanning your pale face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, the wavering pitch of your voice betraying you.

In another world, you refused to reveal otherwise. As your hands still shook you were ready to march on, but you could only be reminded that the next round might not be as easy.

You didn’t elaborate and further and he didn’t push. But when your hand brushed his on the platform, he didn’t let go. His fingers interlocked with yours, the grip firm and grounding.

“Just—just try not to leave me,” you whispered, the words barely audible above the jaunty tune that started up again.

If he replied, you didn’t hear it. But the gentle squeeze of his hand said enough. Your eyes shut as you braved yourself for the platform to move and you felt cowardly for clinging on so desperately to one man when there were so many of you who needed that strength.

The music stopped again.

“Four.”

Panic set in as the six of you exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“You four, go!” Gi Hun barked, his voice slicing through the chaos as he tried to usher you with Jun Hee, Jung Bae, and Dae Ho.

Looking back in a panic, you watched with relief as Hyun Ju took the players in her group off as they had already made the perfect four.

“No!” Young Il said firmly, your eyes locking with his. “She stays with me. We will find two more.”

The group that started at you desperately sunk with some form of disappointment mixed with a deep sadness that couldn’t make sense in a time where their lives were on the clock. But to your relief, you saw another pair just beyond Young Il’s shoulders who were waving for two more people.

There was no time for arguments. You shoved Young Il toward the pair behind him, your heart shattering as you watched Gi-Hun hesitate before running with the rest of them.

“Go!” you shouted, you and Young Il racing to grab the two stragglers and sprint toward a door.

When the door locked behind you, you collapsed, panting and trembling. But the fear clawed at you relentlessly. You needed to know if the others had made it. You moved to the small window, peeking out despite the bile rising in your throat.

“YN,” Young Il said, his voice softer now. A hand rested on your shoulder. “Don’t look. I know it that they made it.”

But you couldn’t pull away until the gunfire started again, jolting you back just before you could see more blood spill the ground.

When the doors unlocked, you rushed out, your heart in your throat until you spotted Jun Hee. Relief surged through you, and you threw your arms around her, holding on tight as Jun Bae and Dae Ho joined the embrace. It felt like when you had won the relay when the circumstances at play didn’t phase your mind when you were filled with the heartwarming sensation of everyone holding each other.

It was simply pure happiness in knowing they made it and you looked around, their looks of relief making your heart ache and wring out like a wet towel.

“I knew you’d make it,” Gi Hun said, his pride evident as he patted you and Young Il on the shoulder.

Nodding proudly, you looked up at Young Il who was surveiling the rest of them and checked in on Juhn Hee. Your heart broke every time you looked at her and you tore your eyes away to head to the platform, weighed by a grief for something that hadn’t even happened yet but the instead the grief of what could happen.

Back on the platform, the grim reality settled over you again. But this time, when you tried to stand strong, Young Il took your hand first and your head whipped towards him.

Why did he have to hold you so tenderly? Why did he have to make you feel cursed with the knowledge that he cared?

His lips curved into the faintest smile as if he could see the way you tortured yourself, a small reminder that, for now, you weren’t alone and the platform spun.

The ear piercing tune rung out, haunting you as its end would signify the next number to be called and when the platform stopped, your heart did too.

“Three.”

You were overwhelmed by realization that it was a perfect number: you standing between Gi Hun and Young Il while Juhn Hee stood between Jung Bae and Dae Ho. You all looked at each other with wide grins before taking off running.

Young Il and Gi Hun practically flew across the room to a door with you tailing behind like a kite.

But the chaos around you didn’t cease even as your group aligned perfectly with the challenge, and your world shifted abruptly when a force slammed into your side in the shape of an arm that yanked you into what felt like air.

The force was so sudden, so unrelenting, that your hands slipped free from Gi Hun’s and Young Il’s grasp before you could scream.

“YN!” Their voices tore through the ringing of your ears , desperate and terrified.

Your back slammed into the floor into a sticky puddle, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as your body hit the slick, blood-smeared tiles. Stars exploded across your vision, and for one disoriented moment, you couldn’t move. But you tried to move your body regardless, unknown to where or what direction but only knowing you needed to find them.

They rushed out towards you as your vision cleared and you were still stuck to the floor. But before you could push yourself up to meet them halfway, two arms snaked under your own and started pulling you away.

“Young Il!” you screamed, your voice raw and strangled, being hoisted up and dragged. “Gi-Hun!”

Panic surged through you in waves, wild and all-consuming, but their grip only tightened. You kicked and fought with everything you had, your heels scraping uselessly against the floor.

“No! Let me go!” you shrieked, your cries echoing as you caught a fleeting glimpse of Young Il and Gi Hun running toward you, their faces twisted in horror.

But there was no time and your eyes found the clock with less than 10 seconds to spare and your entire body went limp.

“YN!” Gi Hun’s voice cracked, his hand outstretched as the pastel-colored door loomed closer—too close.

There wasn’t enough time.

Time slowed to a crawl, every second seared into your memory as the men dragged you through the doorway. Your legs buckled beneath you as they shoved you inside, your knees slamming against the ground. You turned just in time to see the door seal shut, cutting off the anguished faces of Young Il and Gi Hun.

Your captors finally dropped their arms from you, both collapsing against the walls as they caught their breath.

For a moment, the world was silent and you were petrified to look up at the door for the fear of seeing their bodies laid out by the pink guards. But seemingly at the thought of blood, you commanded its scent and looked around the room.

And then it hit you—your left side was soaked with something warm and sticky. Blood. Maybe your blood, but you weren’t sure. The metallic tang filled your nose, and your stomach churned violently.

“You bastards,” you hissed, your voice trembling with fury.

The man who slumped against the wall didn’t even look at you. The other one stood, panting, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure. You didn’t care. Blind rage consumed you as you staggered to your feet, your legs shaking. Without thinking, you lashed out, kicking the man slumped on the floor.

“You two deserved to die out there!” you screamed, your voice breaking.

“Hey!” the standing man barked, shoving you backward.

But you didn’t care. Your fist flew out before you could stop it, connecting with his face in a satisfying crack to his nose that made your entire arm go numb. He stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood seeped through his fingers.

“You stupid bitch!” he roared, his voice muffled and furious. “You’re alive because of us!”

His words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not the pain radiating through your side, not the blood staining your clothes, not the searing ache in your chest. All you could see was the pastel door, and all you could hear was the deafening silence on the other side.

“We should’ve left her,” the man on the floor muttered darkly, his voice low and bitter.

You turned your head, spitting onto the ground where he sat, your gaze burning with unspoken venom. Your body trembled with unspent rage, with heartbreak so raw it felt like it might tear you apart. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at the door. Not yet. Not until it opened again. Not until you knew if they made it.

This was why you should have stayed to yourself. You’ve become a liability to them and yourself—especially when you were consumed with so much grief for their lives that you’d rather be dead.

The world seemed to tilt, your vision blurring with the weight of it all. You stood frozen, bloodied and trembling, as the air hung thick with uncertainty. With a resounding click, the doors unlocked, and nearly ripped it off its hinges.

Stepping out among the dozens left who slowly emerged from the rooms, your breath was hitched in your throat as you slowly looked around for their faces.

“Mom!” 007 croaked.

You watched the boy choke on his sobs as his mother approached him, but on her tail was Gi Hun and Young Il. A faint feeling washed over you, shoulders sagging as something in you wanted to break out in tears.

If this were only yesterday, you wouldn’t have shed any tears but now, your eyes grew blurry as you slowly carried yourself towards them.

They had been spinning in circles looking for you and as you got closer to them, too scared to make a sound or else you’d sob worse than 007 was, your chest rose and fell rapidly to keep your choking at bay.

But your legs picked up their pace, your breath shuddering and Young Il finally froze when he saw you.

“YN!” he called.

You smiled through your tears but your lips trembled but luckily, he and Gi Hun closed the distance between you and Young Il threw his arms around you, clutching you like you’d get snatched away again.

Face buried into his chest, your arms slowly snaked around him too, the tears seeping from your eyes as quietly as you could let them.

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, voice muffled slightly.

For what? You weren’t sure—it’s not like it was your fault. But deep down you were remorseful for the way you made the others worry for you and the way you had gone feral at being separated from them but these were not things so easily spoken.

He pulled back, hands clutching your face in a surprisingly swift and comfortable manner, looking down at you with such a soft pitiful look to his face.

“What could you be sorry for?” he asked.

Gi Hun rubbed her shoulders and you lowered your eyes.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Gi Hun affirmed, nodding at her with a brief smile. “You survived and so did we. We make it to the end together, no matter what.”

It was what you needed to hear in this moment. It was okay to care so long as you all tried your hardest to survive and that’s what they had done in that moment.

You scoffed at yourself, cheeks dampened with salty tears and his thumbs swiped them away.

“I won’t let go of you this time.” Young Il said, his face challenged by something deeper as he released your face and guided you back to the platform.

“YN!” Jung Bae and Dae Ho gasped excitedly, clapping as you stepped back onto the platform.

“What happened?” Jung Hee asked sympathetically.

Looking down at your already bruising knuckles, a grim smile crept on your face.

“Nothing that won’t happen again.”

The two boys laughed like hyenas, in awe at your strength and gushing at the bruises that painted your hand like two little girls who had just met their idol.

“I think you should take up the marines when we’re out of here, YN.” said Jung Bae, earning a nod of approval by Dae Ho.

You shook your head, chuckling at their admiration.

“No, I’d like not to punch anyone else for some time, thank you.” you dismissed with a wince, shaking your hand out.

Young Il did a double take, and as did Gi Hun who leaned over behind him to get a look.

“You did what?” Young Il asked quietly, voice low as he almost looked quite impressed too.

The fleeting moment that had passed where your rage blinded you felt like someone else entirely, but you shrugged it off, eyes falling to your feet.

“I punched the man in the face when we got through the door.“

Unbeknownst to you, he smirked proudly and Gi Hun was almost a little terrified of you. But as the rest of the players gathered, there was one pressing question that hung in the air.

“What do you think the next number will be?” asked Jung Bae, the platform beginning to spin.

There was some debate, but you were caught off guard by the way Young Il grabbed your hand.

“Two.” he said, drawing all of their eyes to him.

“There’s 126 players left and only fifty rooms. There won’t be enough for everyone.”

Maybe it was blind confidence but as you looked at your friends, everyone paired up right away, and you looked back at Young Il as the platform stopped.

“I won’t let go this time.” he said.

“Two.”

Immediately, you and Young Il took off running as fast as you could off the platform and there were so many faces around you blurred by your peripheral taunting you as you fought for a room. There was no time to divert and the door you two were approaching had one individual standing before it.

“Get in!” Young Il shouted to you, releasing your hand for a split second to fight off the man who hung by the door.

Your vision went fuzzy as you entered the room the room, but at the sight of the sheer horror of someone else in the room that made your blood run cold you froze up. You wanted to warn Young Il, caught on your words like you were choking, but he had already rushed into the room and slammed the door shut.

“Get out.” Young Il demanded

“We were in here first!” the man huddled in the corner.

Something dark came upon Young Il’s eyes as the impossible crossed your minds. You hadn’t seen him lose every ounce of life in his expression and it made your own soul feel cold looking at him.

“Turn around, YN.” he said, neither commanding nor pleading—but an order you followed nonetheless.

For a split second you did listen, quick to spare yourself of the horror but as you heard the thrashing around and the choking gasps that gurgled with last breaths of air, you found yourself turning around anyway.

It wasn’t as horrifying as you thought, having watched so many people die already and knowing your own life was at stake, you couldn’t blame Young Il. Even as he sit there, arms wrapped around the players neck like he had done this many times before, you couldn’t move away.

That’s how your mind rationalized it, but your breath had quickened to hamper down the churning of your stomach.

The sickening crunch of the players neck made your hand shoot up to cover your mouth.

A life was gone and you couldn’t figure out if this was better than being gunned down or not—but it didn’t matter. The clock struck zero and you and Young Il were safe. But as he got up, letting the body slump, your soul nearly jumped out of your body.

“YN.” he said, treading carefully towards you.

Your hands started to shake again, bile burning the base of your throat.

“You had to.” you assured, the words coming out like an automatic reply. “You had to.”

The same hands that had snapped a man’s neck were back on your face, stroking the hair behind your ear. There wasn’t any words that needed saying as he looked down at you, and you had the courage to look back up at him.

“You’re safe, YN. We made it to the end.”

Tears stung your eyes, almost defiantly so. His eyes studied your face, pausing in one particular spot. His hand slid down to your neck, fingers raising chills along your spine, but they lowered so his thumb could swat away a streak of blood along your jaw line. His hand didn't move though even when your face was untouched by blood and now, only the angry tears that puddled within your eyes.

“I know we made it. But I feel like I’m losing myself as the cost.”

You were here because of school debt and medical debt on top of it, abandoned by all those who were supposed to help or too scared to stay in the first place whether by death or selfishness. It was where you two overlapped as you gotten to know each other the past two days.

The only “self” you were losing was the part of you that made it impossible to let anyone in and you’d like to think he knew that, when you told him why you were here. But even still, he stood there as defiant as yourself deep down and held you close anyway.

Your hands reached up to hang on his wrists, reveling in the way his hands felt upon your face and you leaned into it just a little. It was a comfort you had long forgotten.

“I can’t lose myself…I’d be more afraid of losing you then. I’d be afraid to feel what I’d feel if you weren’t here anymore.”

Young Il’s lips parted at your confession and he had no words, a hint of anguish crossing his eyes as his brows furrowed slightly.

He pulled your face closer to rest on his chest and while the rest of the bodies were swept away, you took the moment to let your head sink in and forget what was happening outside with only second left before this cruel and yet blissful moment was ripped away.

~~~

[insidekatmind]

We Need to Talk~ Trent Alexander Arnold

Wearning: +18,smut, I was inspired by a story I read that I don't remember.

You had practiced this moment in your head a hundred times. Every step of the conversation was carefully planned. You knew exactly what points to hit to make it clear to Trent that you weren’t happy, that things needed to change. But as you stood in the doorway, watching him casually sip water at the kitchen counter, all your rehearsed words crumbled.

He noticed you right away, his brown eyes locking on yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. That damn smile—confident, knowing, and infuriatingly irresistible.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was low and smooth, like velvet. He tilted his head slightly, a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, already feeling your resolve slipping. Stick to the plan. Don’t get distracted.

“I think…” you began, your voice shaky. Trent raised an eyebrow, waiting. His gaze was so intense it felt like he could see right through you.

“I think we could use a break,” you finally managed to spit out, your words hanging heavy in the air.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was processing what you said. Then he took another sip of water, the glass clinking softly as he set it down.

“A break, huh?” he repeated, as if tasting the words. He licked his lips, smirking. “What for, baby?”

His voice was so calm, so unaffected. It irritated you. Did he not understand how serious this was? Or did he just not care?

“For us,” you said, trying to sound confident, though your voice wavered. “We’re not… working.”

Trent stepped away from the counter, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. His movements were lazy, casual, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. The closer he got, the more your heart pounded.

“Not working?” he echoed, stopping just a few inches away. “That’s funny. Because we seemed to be working just fine last night.”

You blushed at the memory. Last night had been intense, passionate, like always. But that was the problem. All you ever did was fight and fuck. The highs were too high, and the lows were exhausting.

“Trent, I’m serious,” you whispered, but your voice betrayed your weakness. He noticed.

He leaned in, his hands bracing on either side of you, trapping you against the counter. His scent—musky with a hint of his cologne—made your knees weak.

“You think?” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “You think we need a break?”

Your breathing was uneven now, your mind foggy. You could barely think straight with him so close. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew he was doing it on purpose. He loved making you squirm.

“I…” You tried to remember what you were going to say, but his presence was overwhelming. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you two crackling like electricity.

“You don’t want a break,” he said softly. “You just want me to beg.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He was always so damn confident, so sure of himself. And the worst part? He was right. A part of you wanted him to fight for you, to prove that he cared.

“Maybe I do,” you shot back, trying to regain control. “Maybe I want to see if you care enough to fight for us.”

Trent chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made your core tighten. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

“Baby, you know I care,” he murmured. “But you and I both know what we’re best at.”

His lips ghosted over yours, barely touching, teasing. You knew you should push him away, demand a real conversation. But instead, your body leaned into him, craving his touch.

“Trent…” you whispered, your voice pleading. You hated how weak you sounded.

“Shh,” he whispered back, his hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. “Let me remind you.”

His lips finally captured yours, and you melted into him. The kiss was slow at first, teasing, but quickly deepened. His hands roamed your body, gripping your hips, pressing you against the counter. Every rational thought vanished as his mouth claimed yours.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, your heart racing.

“See?” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “We work, baby. We always have.”

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “Trent, we can’t keep doing this. We need more than… this.”

He sighed, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I know.” His voice was softer now, more vulnerable. “But you have to admit, we’re damn good at this.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for something—anything—that would make this easier. But all you saw was Trent, the man you couldn’t quit.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We are.”

And as he kissed you again, you knew the conversation wasn’t over. But for now, you let yourself get lost in him, one more time.

And here you are, fucking on your living room couch

"Always so good at riding my cock, yes babygirl?" Trent teases you as you moan and ride him harder.

He chuckled as you moved your hips, the friction causing you to clench around him. He held himself together, his own pride and ego always getting the best out of him. Trent was never the type to stay quiet either. He was always in charge. But right now he let you do whatever you wanted. Let you ride him like a horse he knew you were desperate enough to do. His hands grabbed your hips, making you move back and forth with his eyes boring into your soul.

“You’re such a greedy girl. You couldn’t just walk away, could you?”.

You whimper and shake your head as you ride him with more passion. You felt so full.

He lifted you up, throwing your body off him to make you sit back down on the couch. Trent was on you immediately, towering your body and caging you in his muscular arms. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above you, leaning down to capture your pouty lips in a bruising kiss. His body was pressed against yours, making you feel his heartbeat against your chest. And he felt yours too.he started to thrust his hips even harder fucking you

"tell me babygirl do you want to leave me again?" he asks and increases his thrusts and you scream scratching his back.

He chuckled watching you struggle, eyes on his and lips parted open, moans leaving your mouth way too quickly. Trent smirked knowing he was doing a good job at making you feel good. He could go like this all night, but he wanted to hear you beg. He loved when you didn’t hold anything

"I asked you a question babygirl" Trent whispers to you

“No…”

You mumbled under your breath, looking away from his intense glare that had you feeling the heat all over your body. You knew Trent wasn’t getting the answer he wanted. But you were stubborn and wanted him to work for it. He smiled, knowing that you were trying to play a game with him. He knew you too well. He leaned in until his face almost touched your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“No? Hmm. Should I stop then?”

"nono trent no, keep going" you started to get agitated holding him to you with your legs. Your pussy has tightened his cock more and he moaned.

His mind was always blown by how eager you were. You hated being teased and yet here you were, asking and begging him to touch you. It was cute seeing your face turn serious from being pleasured to mad when he wasn’t giving you what you wanted. Trent knew he was testing your patience right now and the way your eyes spoke loudly was making him almost lose it.

“But what’s the magic word, babygirl?”

You whimpered looking at him. "Please."

Trent watched your face in fascination as tears slipped out from your eyes. You looked so beautiful, but he knew how to put it all on hold until you were a mumbling mess under him. He wasn’t mad, he never would be. He knew you needed each other, no matter how much you tried to convince the both of you otherwise. He knew that he couldn’t imagine anyone else in your place. You were going to be the death of him like that, trying to push him away when he wasn’t gonna let you.

He wiped the tears off your hot, burning skin with his fingers. Trent always hated seeing you cry. It was like he was hurting too by watching you like that. He loved you despite all the arguing and fighting. And he had a feeling you felt the same way.

“Shhh, shh. Doll, I got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He mumbled while looking into your eyes. Trent leaned down, capturing your lips back into a passionate kiss, his hands gently caressing the skin of your arms. “Please, trust me,”

Those words sent chills down your spine like they always do. Trent never needed to say it twice for you to know that you could trust him, but he always mumbled it just to remind you that he knew. He pulled back looking into your eyes as close as possible. He had a way of looking at you sometimes.

“Can you do something for me?” and you whispered a little yes.

He smiled at you instantly answering without any hesitation. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you would give in to him. But Trent was too happy with the outcome.

“Lean back,” he whispered against your ear, “against the couch.”

Trent had something in his mind, something he wanted you to see. He had an idea, and for that he needed you to be in a different position. He watched you shifting position, sitting back and resting against the pillows. You looked at him, wondering what he was going to do. Trent’s big frame was still in front of you, caging you.

He was sitting on his knees, hovering over you. His eyes travelled down slowly, taking in your skin and curves. Trent’s hands started to trace over your naked form, his palm was soft and gentle, slowly moving down your body.

“You are perfect,” he mumbled under his breath, eyes still on you. “So perfect, darling.”

Your heart fluttered at his words.

Trent continued, his touch barely there but not faint enough to make you feel cold. He was tracing every single part of your frame like it was going to be the last time he saw you. His brain was going crazy, trying to remember every single thing about you forever. He was always so gentle with you, like you could break under his palms at any minute.

But even when he was like that, Trent always managed to be in charge. He always had to make sure you knew who was the one in control here. To remind you who you belonged to. Even when his body was pressed against yours but he was barely touching you, he was still the one making you feel like he wanted you to in that moment.

His hand gently grabbed your chin, making you look up into his deep brown eyes that could always tell what was on his mind. “Do you know how good you make me feel?” he muttered lowly, as the words hung in the air.

You moan hearing his words "Trent please" “Please, what, doll?” he asked with a smirk, “Tell me what you want, use your words.”

"please trent i need to come" you whine .

He chuckles as he looks at you. He wasn’t going to give in. Trent wanted to make you suffer and you knew that. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself for much longer either.*

“Not just yet… you’re gonna have to wait a little longer.”

Trent leaned down, his lips attaching on your skin. He left a path of kisses down the side of your neck, his teeth nibbling at your sensitive spot. He knew exactly how much it would drive you crazy, and that was his intention.

you moan and grind on his cock trying to get him to move again .Hearing you whine was his favourite sound ever. But Trent was still being stubborn and wasn’t ready to give you what you wanted. He was teasing his own patience right now and he knew he was going to give in soon.

“Tch, impatient much?” He whispered against your neck.

you whine and rub yourself harder "trent please i need it"

Trent groaned against your skin, his own body begging him to do what you said. But Trent was always too proud to give in so quickly. He liked you when you were begging. And it seemed like you were going to have to try harder to get what you wanted

“You sound so needy, doll… so desperate for me, hm?”

You moan "please daddy I need it I'm begging you" .That did the trick. Hearing you saying those three magic words was always his weak spot, he felt like he was losing control over himself. He growled and moved suddenly, caging you completely underneath him.

“Say that again.” He demanded, his eyes dark and burning into yours.

He was breathing heavily, his hands touching your curves. Trent wanted you so badly right now, but he was forcing himself to wait a bit more. He couldn’t deny the fact that watching you writhing underneath him was making him insane.

"please daddy" you groan

That was the last straw. Trent didn’t want to wait any longer, your request in the form of a word you could feel from how he was looking at you made him completely lose it. He let go of his control and gave in to his desires.

Trent roughly pinned your arms above your head, taking them in one of his big hands and leaving almost no room to move for you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth like he was trying to devour you. He was needy and eager. He moved his hips closer to yours, the tip of his length teasing your folds while he inside your pussy. You moaned feeling him fucking you in an animalistic way and you moaned loudly.

"love, I'm coming" you moan. He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours. He could feel you tightening around him as you were getting close. There was no turning back now, Trent looked completely obsessed and addicted to the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth.

“I know, doll. Go on, I’ve still got you… Come for me,” he whispered with a smile on his lips

you moan and climax. You had squeezed his cock so hard that he came too.

You both were panting now, taking in everything that just happened. He smiled, watching you breathing heavily while he tried to steady his own.

“You’re too damn perfect.” He mumbled, burying his head into your neck. Trent was completely spent and satisfied, but he hadn’t forgotten you were mad at him. “You know that I can’t let you go now, right?”

Trent leaned up again to look into your eyes, not breaking the eye contact for a second. Trent’s gaze was intense as always. “Not now, not anytime. You’re mine, always been mine, baby. There’s no way I’m going to let you pull that break bullshit again.” he added in a voice that almost sounded as a warning.

He continued, this time a bit softer as he spoke. “I’m not gonna let you go… not when we know how good we can be together.”

He moved to lay beside you instead, still not taking his eyes off of you. Trent’s face was expressionless, his eyes revealing just a bit of the thoughts running through his head.

You nod "we must try to be less superficial"

He couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up into a small smirk. Trent knew he could come off as superficial, and he knew you would call him out on that.

“You know how much I like when you call me out, doll… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm over your naked waist and pulling you close against him. You smile and huge him

He smiled back as he wrapped his arms around you, enjoying the skin to skin contact. Trent always loved holding you close like that, it made him feel like he could finally relax in your presence.

“Mhm, doll… I guess you’re forgiven for what you did today.” he mumbled against your hair, still keeping you close.

you giggle and kiss his forehead .He closed his eyes, the feeling of your sweet kiss bringing a sense of comfort, like there was nothing else in the world except for you two. There was a small silence and Trent broke it after a little while.

“Doll, can I ask you something?” he asks softly looking at you

"Yes baby" you whispered softly

He kept his arms around you, still not letting go. His voice was gentle but serious at the same time when he asked the question.

“You know that we’re going to have to talk this through, right? All the stuff that happened… all the fights, all the times we both got jealous. I…”

Trent paused and looked down at you, “I wanna do better. I don’t want us to be like this anymore. How would you feel about that?”

you smile sweetly and caress his back "i would like trent"

Trent felt a soft smile appearing on his lips as you spoke. Trent was happy to know you wanted the same thing. He knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight fix, but he was willing to work on it with you if that meant you’d be happier.

“You know how stubborn we both can get, doll. We’re gonna have to work on that too, right?” he asked with a chuckle.

You laugh "we can do it". Trent smiled at your optimism and positive attitude. Trent knew that having you on his side would make everything ten times easier. He couldn’t deny that he already felt better, like a knot in his stomach was slowly untangling thanks to your reassuring words.

“Yeah, we can do it. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’ll be worth it if I get to call you mine,” he muttered, burying his head in your hair.

You smile sweetly and kiss him in text. you loved being and you always prefer to go back to trent and fix things.

[petersparkerrs]

baby fever

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: husband!andrew garfield x fem!reader

- summary: seeing andrew with your friend's child and on screen with a daughter gave you a massive case of baby fever.

- warnings: unprotected sex, pregnancy mentioned, smutty as hell, nipple play/sucking, established relationship, rough sex

- word count: 3.1k

- author’s note: second fic on here omg i'm so excited! thank u for all the likes and reblogs or wtv they are called, i'm still trying to figure out this app lol.

—————————————୨ৎ

You’ve seen all of your husband’s films, and they didn’t usually get to you too bad. It’s perfectly fine for him in your mind to have an on-screen relationship or even sex with another woman for a film because it's all scripted, but his latest was truly different. 

Andrew’s newest work – We Live in Time – obviously both broke and softened your heart and made you sob an uncontrollable amount. Despite the somber nature of the film, the rest of it was utterly heartwarming and just so domestic.

Not just the relationship and marriage aspect, but seeing him as a father. A girl dad, if anything. 

The sight of him and Florence playing with and carrying around their adorable on-screen daughter did things to both your head and your body. Ever since watching the film at it’s first screening, you couldn’t possibly get the thought out of your head:

Andrew giving you a child, helping you grow life; Andrew being the most wonderful father to the beautiful little boy or girl that you hypothetically birthed. 

The baby fever tugged at your mind for a bit, but died down in the months following the film’s release. You thought it was gone for good, but it crashed down on you ten times harder than originally at the simple sight of your husband playing with your friend’s little girl.

Your ovaries were practically screaming at you in seconds, your body begging you to let him put a child in you. Nothing sounded better to you right now than being all pregnant and swollen because you knew you’d be carrying his child. 

Getting home from your friends, after seeing him be so gentle and caring with your friend’s child, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. The two of you showered and got cozy for bed, and of course Andrew noticed the lingering sense of distraction or thought on your face.

“You okay?” He checked, taking off his Omega watch and setting it on the nightstand while sat on the edge of your bed, giving you a borderline concerned look.

“Mm-hm.” You nodded simply, turned over away from him on your side. The scent of his fresh cedar shampoo and that amber cologne he sprayed on after the shower filled the air, helping you sense him just as he began to slide into bed and cuddle up behind you.

A pair of strong, familiar arms slid around your waist from behind, his scruffy chin coming to rest on your exposed shoulder with a quiet sigh. 

“I know you too well, baby. You can’t fool me tonight,” He whispered and peppered a few gentle kisses to the cold skin in an attempt to get you opened up, his slender fingers moving under your tank top and tracing the skin of your stomach ever so gently. “You’re all distracted since we got there earlier.”

He was too engrossed in the scent of your hair and cold, soft skin to see what exactly it is you’re distracted by now.

It isn’t until he notices your phone screen that he realizes what your mind is so preoccupied with. He was about to speak and ask again but the second his mouth opened, he heard the quiet giggling of an adorable baby coming from your phone.

The open-mouthed expression crossing his face instantly morphs into an amused grin when he puts it together and sees what’s going on. He buries his face deeper into your neck, chuckling softly and mumbling just under your ear. 

“Sweetheart.” He starts, trying not to laugh. This isn’t the first time this has happened – he’s dealt with your extreme swings of baby fever from time to time – just not anytime recently. “What’s that? You lookin’ at baby videos again or just happen to be shopping for onesies?”

His comment earned a quiet snicker from you, getting all giggly and shy when he points it out and finally notices. You scroll to the next video, acting like nothing’s up, as if your entire feed isn’t strictly baby after baby.

“Just scrolling. It’s nothing.” You cheese to yourself, reaching down to take his hand off your stomach. You lift it up to your mouth, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles for that usual bedtime comfort. 

Andrew does nothing but sit there and laugh, letting you take his fingers and do whatever it is you want with them. 

“Uh huh. Just scrolling, I’m sure. Just a coincidence, then?” He sneers into your hair, inhaling deeply to get as much of your beautiful scent as he can. Even if his nostrils seem to have built up a resistance against it from smelling it so often. 

The baby videos catch his eye as well, he just can’t help it. Anyone would get a little soft upon seeing a video of the most adorable baby girl giggling away in a onesie. Plus, it’s crossed his mind recently, and he doesn’t entirely hate the idea of thinking about a baby soon.

You simply nod and keep quiet, immersed in the little world in your head where the cute baby on the screen is yours, and you and Andrew are taking perfect care of it. 

“Come on, I can practically hear the cogs in your mind turning. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” He lightly grazes his cold nose against your ear, a shiver shooting down your spine at the proximity of his voice into your ear.

In a moment of hesitation, your body flips over to face him, the two of you becoming a tangled mess of limbs in no time. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, resting on the warm skin of your lower back to tug you closer while he murmurs sweetly against your forehead.

“Looks like your baby fever is back, sweetheart. Written all over your face.”

He’s right on point with that, but you’re not ready to admit it just yet. The idea of having a baby with him is so highly anticipated in your mind but the conversation leading up to that decision wasn’t as simple.

“...Yeah.” You reluctantly agree, voice a soft whisper against his neck while his chin comes to rest on top of your head. 

You’re almost overwhelmed by the upcoming conversation but the feeling of one hand stroking down the back of your hair and the other tugging on your thigh to hike your leg up over his body soothed those nerves. Nothing ever has to be that serious with Andrew, he’s always able to calm you down and make even the most serious of discussions so tender.

“Yeah? Is this just, like, a quick baby fever phase, or something you’ve actually been considering? You’ve gotta talk to me, y’know.” He tried to be as gentle as possible to coax the not-so-easy answers out of you and figure out what you’re thinking.

You sigh and give him a soft smile, feigning annoyance and rolling your eyes at the question. But the mock annoyance doesn’t last long, as your head buries right up into his neck to inhale his intoxicating scent and try to calm down.

“I don’t know. I’m ovulating, I can’t believe anything my mind is trying to tell me about a baby.” You chuckle quietly, your nose ghosting against his jaw ever so softly. “I kind of… maybe want one.”

He sighs back, scratching gently at the base of your neck with his long fingers. “If it’s any help, I think you’ll be a great mom. The world needs more of your genes, too.”

The soft words and the tiny kisses you feel beginning to press against your hair send you in a complete 180. The hesitance was gone at the slightest touch of his fingers – possibly because of that previously mentioned ovulation – but also from the overwhelming urge to let him just fill you up and get you so pregnant.

“Yeah? You’d be the greatest daddy. It was all I could think about earlier when I saw you with those kids today.” You admit in a rushed whisper, letting go of all the shame and worries you had regarding the idea of a baby. “Seeing you with a little girl made me want you to fill me up so badly.” 

Andrew thought there would be a bit more of a serious discussion before this, but you seem to be jumping right into the fun part. The way your quiet voice and fresh breath ghosts over his throat causes a quiet groan to choke up in his throat, freezing him in place so he has to take a moment to collect himself.

“Hm. Can’t say I hate anything related to burying myself inside of you. Especially if it means not using any prophylactics.” He responds in equal fervor, the tiniest concern still bugging him so he just has to ask. 

“You sure, though, sweetheart? This is a huge decision to be making, we haven’t even talked.” He asks, voice getting quieter and shakier while you’re already tugging at his t-shirt. “Baby…”

His shirt is off in seconds and you’re on top of him before he even has a chance to breathe, your lips making heated contact with the skin on his collarbone. Absolutely no time is wasted before your own tiny tank top is off at the hands of Andrew, exposing your soft skin. Your nipples harden under his touch and the brisk air of the bedroom, earning a groan from the man underneath you.

“We can figure it out tomorrow morning if we regret it, I don’t care.” You gasp and try to inch closer, lips landing wherever they can while his hands work earnestly over the skin on your pretty breasts. “Want a baby in me. Just.. at least need to feel you finish. I’m craving it so bad, Andy.”

The previous gentle whispers and grazes are replaced with gasps and firm grasps at each other’s skin and clothing, getting everything off without a second thought. It’s like something possessed the two of you, the baby fever turning you into captivated messes for each other.

“I can do that.” Andrew chortled, pulling the sweatpants from your hips to leave you in the pretty pair of black panties that he loved so much on you. 

The weight of the shared decision hung in the air. Not necessarily heavy, but more grounding, like a reminder of the extraordinary journey you chose to step into with him. 

Once his boxers were off and discarded without a care across the room, your lips met in a fervent, sloppy kiss. In only a moment your tongue was stuck deep into his mouth, not just kissing him but sucking on his tongue in the lewdest, most vulgar possible way.

The eager and sincere sucking got a groan out from deep in his throat, pulling you back into the reality of the moment. Your tongue left his, moving to trail down his neck carefully while your hand moved down to pull your panties off. You couldn’t even handle having them on for another moment.

Andrew sighed at the feeling of your wet cunt rested on his stomach, his hazy eyes opening to take a nice gaze down at your body while you straddled his waist. The simple sight of the wet patch forming on his lower belly from how you were already dripping made him need you now.

Normally, he’d think to ask if you were okay first, check on you a million times to make sure you felt good, and take his time to let you adjust. But tonight something primal overtook both of you, not wasting any time at all. 

“Please. Need your cock. Inside. Now.” You gasped against his neck when his thumb came in contact with your aching clit, bucking against his hand like the needy mess you were. 

“So needy for me. Can you say that again for me, baby?” He groaned, grabbing your hips with no effort to be careful, lifting you up and sitting you on top of his already throbbing cock. Precum dripped out from the tip but was gone soon enough at a simple swipe of your finger along the tip.

You sat on top of his cock, but the absence of it actually inside of you made you whine.

“Andrew. M’not joking, please.” You whined again in utter desperation for the feeling of his warm length to fill you so right and stretch you out, but his hands kept you in place for the moment. He kept quiet, biting his lip in focus while he took his cock and gently brushed it against your slick.

Feeble moans slipped from both of your mouths at the slight contact on just the tip against you, making you need more. More, more, more. Andrew did love to tease you, but he knew now wasn’t the time to mess around and rub against you like that. You’d pounce any moment now to get him to put it inside.

You knew it was finally time when his hands moved from the sides of your waist and down to give your hips a loving tap. You know what that means: to lift up. He only suspended you for a moment before absolutely slamming you back down onto him, your hips meeting and his cock being buried inside you without warning or giving you any time to adjust. 

“Andr-” You started to groan in slight pain from the initial contact, but the feeling was replaced in seconds with the overwhelming pleasure he took his time to give you. His hips pushed up to meet yours passionately and desperately, squeezing you so hard and pushing you down to get the perfect angle in the depths of your pussy.

“Shh, baby. Giving you what you asked for. Just-” His voice was huskier than normal during sex. He’s normally so gentle and slow with you, but the visceral need to fill you up with a baby right now couldn’t handle that slow of a speed. He just wanted to cum as quickly as possible. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah? Let me make myself a daddy.”

You didn’t protest one bit, shutting up at his command and sitting back while he guided your body down onto his, pushing harder than he maybe ever has during sex. Initially, you thought the erotic words spilling from his mouth would be the hottest thing of the night. But his mouth made contact with your right breast, swaying that opinion with no room for argument.

“Oh, Andy.” You whimpered, body arching and writhing every way to try to feel his pulsing cock as deep as humanly possible inside your wet cunt. His mouth sucked at your tit, teeth gently grazing the nipple and feeling it harden under his attention.

“Can’t wait to see these full of milk.” He mewled, letting his mouth come off of the right breast with a loud pop, switching to the other side. 

You never really thought of it that way, but the idea of pregnancy with Andrew was unbelievably hot. Normally it didn’t sound like such a sexy thing – swollen feet, morning sickness – but he made everything better. The thoughts of morning sex while he held and caressed your big belly, taking perfect care of you and the upcoming baby, were overpowering and all you could manage to focus on in the same moment he was balls deep inside of you.

Andrew, again, wasn’t being a gentleman. He’s fucking you dumb at this point, getting as deep as possible and hitting your favorite spot with each rough stroke. Whimpers spilled from your throat uncontrollably while the only noises heard from Andrew were the muffled groans against the skin of your tits in his mouth.

Just like he was rooting for, he felt the familiar stirring and tensing up in his gut.

“Baby, baby. Mmph- m’gonna cum soon.” He groaned and gave up on your breasts because he could hardly focus, wrapping his arms entirely around your body so you could be chest to chest during the last moments. “You sure about this? I can finish in you, right?”

You didn’t even allow yourself to listen to or process his words, nodding mindlessly like you were entirely drunk on pure lust. But he didn’t complain, obviously – it made his job a lot easier.

“Love you. Gonna- oh. Gonna make you the prettiest mommy, give you the most beautiful baby.” Groans escaped from his throat uncontrollably, his heading falling limply back while his hands squeezed at your hands with no remorse. There’ll for sure be some bruising tomorrow. 

As much as you wanted to, to make the moment more special, you couldn’t get out a single word. He’s got you completely numb and dumb in his arms while you look pretty and take him deep.

“There. Right there.” He growled into your ear, the most genuine of moans you’ve ever heard from him accompanying the filthy words while his release filled you up entirely and coated the inside of your pussy.

He rode it out slowly but pulled out to not overstimulate you, only now realizing how carried away he got that he didn’t bother checking on you or anything. It took a few moments for both of you to even catch your breath enough to breathe but he went right back to classic Andrew once he could speak. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He began worrying far too quickly, knocking you out of that gorgeous aftershock of the sex and making you snort. The moment was ruined, to an extent, but in an arguably beautiful way. 

“No, baby.” You whisper and fall down limp against him, head finding the familiar spot in his now sweaty neck to catch a break after the intense sex that you certainly are in no way used to. It wasn’t his typical well mannered self, but there was absolutely no issue in that – it may have been the hottest sex you’ve ever shared. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was fantastic.”

Both of you managed to calm down after a bit, the realization of what you’ve done finally hitting you in the afterglow.

“Oh.” He whispered, holding you as close as possible so you feel your intense heartbeats against one another. “I might be a daddy. Oh.”

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

"Okay, recap moment," you began, sitting at a table in the café with Rick, Folio, and Grace, the sun beginning to set outside and filling the room with hues of red and orange.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, he’s wanted to win you back," Rick explained again after taking a slow sip from his coffee, his voice tinged with guilt. "And he asked for my help, because apparently I’m his only friend."

"So, the psycho has been trying to get your attention all this time," Folio interjected, "and when Noah left for a couple of days, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to do something that would drive a wedge between you two."

"So, he had you leave him," you pointed to Rick, "in front of Noah’s house after he got drunk, knowing that the next morning, Noah would find him there and think I'd cheated on him."

Rick lowered his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah... that was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew Noah would be hurt, and he knew that would push him away from you."

"Noah didn’t want to listen to what you had to say because he thought what happened with Hannah was about to happen again. And now, he feels awful because he thinks it's his fault—like he can’t keep someone who loves him around," Folio continued.

"And you feel guilty because if you had realized Jason’s intentions sooner, maybe you could have stopped this from happening," Rick added, concluding the chain of events.

"Wow," Grace remarked. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah, me too," Rick agreed. "Like, why are you even still here? You had nothing to do with any of this."

"Hey! I work here too, okay?" Grace shot back. "I have every right to stay as long as I want."

“So,” you turned to Folio, disregarding the bickering between the punk guy and your friend, or whoever Grace was to you, “what do you think I should do?”

"Go to him," Folio urged. "Talk things through. Please. I can’t keep watching him like this. I don’t think he’s showered in two weeks."

Grace wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry," Rick apologized. "If I hadn’t helped Jason, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Well, that’s how things played out," you replied. "And there’s no turning back."

"But things can still be fixed if you both put aside your fears and have a real conversation," Grace encouraged.

Folio leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening. "Exactly. It might not be easy, but if you want to fix things, this is where it starts."

"I’m not sure he wants to talk to me," you said, your voice uncertain as you stared down at the table, trying to sort through your swirling thoughts.

Grace looked at you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, leaning forward onto the table. "We know he loves you, and you love him. And it’s so obvious you both are suffering now! If you go to him and tell him everything was part of Jason’s plan, and that his weird friend here explained how things really went down, he’ll listen. I promise you!"

Rick shook his head, smirking but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hey, weird friend to who, Barbie with black hair?"

Grace just rolled her eyes.

Folio sighed, but his voice grew more serious. "Look, trust me. Go to him, tomorrow. It’s been two weeks, and he’s starting to realize he let you go just because he was too scared. You can’t just sit around waiting for him to make the first move because he won't. He's in a depressive mood right now."

A silence fell for a moment as you thought about their words. Folio's eyes were sincere, and for a brief second, it felt like there was still a chance to fix things. You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling over you.

Finally, you nodded. "Okay," you said softly, "I’ll do it."

After Grace and Folio left, you and Rick stood outside the café, the cool evening air pressing against you as the sunset faded into the night. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city barely reaching you.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he avoided your gaze. "I… I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice low. "I know you probably hate me right now for helping Jason, for being his friend. I know what I did was wrong. But he was the only friend I ever had, you know? And I just... I always did what he asked, because I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I kept helping him, I’d prove I was a good friend. But looking at it now, I see I was just blinded by that need to belong. I'm so fucking stupid."

You were silent for a moment, taking in what he said. It didn’t make you angry. Instead, a sense of understanding washed over you. You shook your head gently. "I’m not mad at you, Rick," you said softly. "I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just... you need better friends. Friends who aren’t going to pull you into things like this. Friends who won’t take advantage of your loyalty."

Rick’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, but there was still a trace of guilt on his face. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he muttered.

"You don’t have to deserve it," you replied with a small smile. "People make mistakes. What matters is what we do after." You paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the next words you wanted to say. "You can come see me, us, at the café anytime. If you ever need to talk, or just... hang out. I'm sure Noah would like you too, you know? You punched Jason, after all."

He looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, as if your words were a relief he hadn’t expected. "Thanks. Really. I know I messed up, but I’m done following Jason. I’ve made my choice."

You nodded. "I’m glad to hear that."

Rick smiled, though it was a little uncertain at first. "I’ll come by sometime."

As you both turned to leave, you gave Rick one last look. "Thanks again, Rick. Take care."

And with that, you parted ways, but not with the same weight on your shoulders you had carried earlier. Things could get better—for both of you.

Noah sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, trying his best to smile as he tickled Luna, her giggles filling the air. It was a soft sound, the kind of laughter that once brought him a sense of peace, but now it felt like a distant memory.

He tried to focus on her, on her innocent joy, but the weight of everything pressing on him still felt unbearable. He could hardly summon the energy to keep up with her playful energy.

"Daddy! Knights don’t tickle princesses!” she said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize her point as she laughed.

"Oh really? So why am I doing that now?"

"Because you are a bad knight, daddy!"

Noah let go and finally dropped his hands to his sides, letting the kid breathe.

Luna, her tiny hands gripping his arm as she attempted to climb onto his lap, paused for a moment and looked at him with her big, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to one side, sensing that something was off. "Daddy," she said in her small, soft voice, "will Y/N come today?"

The question hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He froze for a second, trying to think, his chest tightening as his mind raced for an answer. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly tell his three-year-old daughter that the woman who had been a constant presence in their lives, the woman he had loved, was gone and might never return?

He forced a smile as he moved some strands of hair from her little chubby face, but it felt hollow. "No, sweetie," he said softly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. "Y/N won't be coming here for a while."

Luna’s face fell for a moment, and Noah’s heart twisted at the sight. She didn’t understand, not fully. But she could already feel the absence. She blinked and then asked, her voice so innocent and hopeful, "Oh, is she on vacation?"

Noah nodded slowly, trying to hold it together. He swallowed hard, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "She’s on vacation."

Luna seemed to accept that answer, her small face brightening again, and Noah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Was he lying to her? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Oh,” Luna said, her voice soft and wistful. “I wish I could go with her. I want to see the mountains with Y/N.”

Noah’s heart broke a little more as she spoke, the simple, innocent wish from his daughter ringing in his ears.

He looked down at her, her eyes filled with that pure, untainted hope, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wished things were different, wished he could turn back time and make the mess he had created disappear. But all he could do now was nod, his voice filled with emotion as he replied, “Yeah… me too.”

His gaze fell on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet Luna had made with you. She seemed so happy when she gave it to him, saying that you and she had one similar too that Noah couldn't say no. He wondered where you put yours. If it was lying forgotten at the bottom of a trash can or if he was on your wrist too and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you looking at it.

The pink was an extreme contrast to his tattoos in a way that made him smile and made his skin burn at the same time.

Luna didn’t seem to sense the weight of his words. Instead, she smiled brightly, her small hands gripping his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. “Maybe when Y/N comes back, we can all go to the mountains together, Daddy. And see bears.”

Noah’s throat tightened, and he could barely choke out a laugh. "Maybe," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Maybe we can.”

That late evening, you were at home, the wind outside picking up, howling against the windows.

But then, through the noise, you heard something else—faint, almost drowned out by the gusts of wind. It was a soft whimpering sound. You froze, wondering if you’d imagined it. Another sound followed, louder this time, and it was unmistakable.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart racing. Was someone out there? You opened the door cautiously. The wind whipped around you, but you could make out something small huddling near the porch steps.

A tiny, scruffy ball of fur, sat there looking up at you. You bent down, your breath catching in your throat. A small puppy—probably only a few months old—was staring up at you with big, wide eyes, the color of dark amber. The fur on its body was matted and dirty, but you could tell that, despite its appearance, it wasn’t in horrible condition. It was skinny, too, ribs showing a bit too much through its dirty fur but it didn’t seem too malnourished.

You crouched down, reaching out cautiously, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey there, little one… where did you come from?” The puppy didn’t flinch, but tilted its head at you, studying you curiously, its little tail flicking.

“Do you have a home?” you asked again, more gently this time, hoping it could understand. It just stared at you, unblinking, before it started to shuffle forward, its paws making soft noises on the porch.

“Well, I guess you don’t have a place to go, do you?” you sighed, your heart already melting at the sight of the poor thing. The puppy continued its advance, slowly squeezing between your legs and making its way into the house. You blinked, surprised, but then a soft laugh escaped you.

“Okay, I guess you've already decided where you're going to stay,” you said with a smile, closing the door behind you. You watched the little creature wander inside.

You paused for a moment, your mind spinning with what to do next. You glanced around the small space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Your fridge. Maybe there was something you could feed it.

Opening the fridge, you found some leftover chicken, cooked and ready to go. Without hesitation, you grabbed it, placing it down on a plate for the pup. You watched as the little dog immediately pounced on the food, devouring it in a matter of seconds, the sound of its chewing filling in the silence of the house.

As the dog finished, you crouched down beside it, rubbing its back, and you finally understood the puppy was a male. “What now, little one? You just going to stay here with me?” you asked, your voice soft.

The dog responded with a loud, excited bark, his tail wagging furiously as he jumped up in front of you, as if to say “Yes, please!”

You chuckled lightly. “Guess that’s a yes,” you smiled, patting the puppy’s head.

“Alright then, you can stay with me for now.”

Without thinking twice, you picked the little thing up, holding him carefully in your arms as you carried him toward the bathroom.

You turned on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water, and carefully set the puppy down.

You took your time, softly scrubbing the dirt out of his brown and black fur.

Just as you were finishing up, the puppy suddenly shook his body, spraying water everywhere. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the tiny creature soaking your clothes and the bathroom floor, but you didn’t mind. The laugh felt good, like a release, like a bit of normalcy in the chaos that had surrounded you lately.

“You really know how to make a mess, huh?” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand as the dog looked up at you, his fur dripping wet and his expression utterly adorable.

After a few more moments, you helped the puppy out of the tub and wrapped it in a towel, rubbing it gently to dry it off. He seemed to enjoy the attention, snuggling into the towel as if it had finally found a safe place. You sat on the floor with him for some moments.

Then, you looked down at the tiny creature, now dry and warm, curled up on the towel beside you, his little eyes closing in contentment. “You're a good boy,” you said softly, smiling as the puppy let out a quiet yawn.

That night, he whined until you picked him up and let him sleep in the bed with you, his body pressed close to yours, keeping you almost as warm as Noah's had.

The next morning, before going to the café, you left enough food and water around for the dog before heading out, promising to think of a suitable name for him.

When you were at work, it had started raining, and when you stepped out of the coffee shop during the afternoon, it hadn't stopped yet.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes as you reached your car.

The city streets were slick with water, and the dull hum of distant thunder echoed in the sky, but you barely noticed. Your mind was consumed with the need to reach Noah. You had to. You had already waited too much.

You got in, slammed the door, and turned the key. Nothing. You tried again. And again. The engine sputtered but refused to start, the engine light flashing mockingly at you in the dark interior. Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath and tried once more, but the car just refused to cooperate. It was as if the universe itself had decided that this was not the night for you to see Noah, that fate was conspiring against you, and all the progress you'd just made would come crashing down.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, staring helplessly at the wheel. Frustration surged inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. The rain was pouring harder now, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

But then, in that moment of frustration, something shifted inside you. You wiped your damp face with the back of your hand and exhaled, steadying yourself. This wasn’t the end, not yet. You weren’t going to give up this easily.

Noah was waiting for you. Even if maybe he didn’t know that. You couldn’t afford to let something as trivial as a car breaking down stop you.

"Fine," you whispered to yourself, the determination in your voice solidifying. "I’ll walk."

Without another thought, you opened the door, slammed it shut, and stepped back out into the pouring rain. The streets blurred with each step you took, your soaked clothes clinging to you as you began your journey toward Noah, your mind set on one thing: You needed to see him.

The rain was hitting the ground in heavy, unrelenting sheets, turning the streets into rivers when you reached Noah's house. The sound of it pounded against your ears, drowning out everything else. You stood there, drenched to the bone, the cold water soaking through your coat and clothes, your hair was wet, dripping down and sending a chill through your neck, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Noah.

Nothing mattered except Noah.

The cold air pressed against your skin, your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts spinning.

You reached the front door, the familiar house looming before you, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not when everything had been shattered, and the quiet that hung between you two was almost suffocating.

Finally, you pressed the doorbell, the sound of it echoing louder in the still night than you had anticipated. The seconds felt like hours, and then, the door creaked open.

There he was, standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t the same Noah. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his face was drawn. The person you had known—the one who laughed with you late at night, the one who made you feel safe—felt distant now, a ghost of the man you had loved.

He looked at you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence as the rain kept pouring all around you. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even move. You couldn't read him, it was like he was trying to keep you at arm’s length, afraid that if you got too close, you might shatter him further.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain what had happened, explain how everything had fallen apart because of one man's manipulation? You knew this was your fault, too.

“Noah,” you said, voice shaky as you finally met his gaze. “I... I need to talk to you. Please.”

His expression remained overall hard, a wall that you couldn’t break through, not yet. He looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening, as if he was fighting the urge to turn away from you.

But when he looked at you, his eyes were soft, as if despite everything he couldn't look at you with anger.

"What?" he muttered, his voice strained, as if a single word was causing him physical pain.

You took a deep breath.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, I—I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I thought that chapter was closed, that he was a thing of the past, that I was done with him. And I was. Because I love you and I'll always love you and only you. But he wasn’t done with me. I should’ve known. And I... I was too fucking stupid to realize he never wanted to let me go. Not really. He wanted to win me back, to tear us apart, and I was blind to it."

He just stared at you, so you kept talking. Seeing him like that was absolutely breaking you.

"He asked Rick for help, a friend of his that understood he was doing something wrong and talked to me. And Rick, he... he just wanted to be a good friend. He didn’t understand. But Jason—he used Rick, manipulated him, got him to leave him drunk in front of your house, knowing that I would let him in because I am too fucking srupid and too fucking nice. He knew that you’d think I cheated on you. Knowing that you’d be hurt, that you'd doubt me, that it would rip us apart. He had everything planned. And I—I let it happen. I didn’t even see it coming. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late, until I saw the way you looked at me like I let you down like your ex. And I've never wanted that.

And now... now I’m standing here, soaked to the skin because I always forget to bring an umbrella with me and because I care about you, trying to find the right words, but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to take back the pain I caused you. No way to undo what Jason did. But I need you to know this... I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought I could love someone.

And I’m so fucking sorry for the mess I’ve made and for letting Jason ruin everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t see what Jason was doing. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was losing you, that I was pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

I love you more than I ever knew how to say. I love you more than anything. And I need you to know that, to believe that, because it’s the truth. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I miss you. And I miss Luna. And I miss the family we built. The three of us. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Noah, don’t let me lose you. Not like this. Not because of an asshole who thought he had power on someone else's love."

After you finished confessing, Noah looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern for a moment, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered over your drenched form. "Why are you completely soaked?"

You couldn't help but smile softly, a little amusement tugging at the corner of your lips, despite the moment. "My car wouldn’t start," you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, almost as if it was a silly inconvenience. "So I walked."

Before you could say anything more, Noah’s expression softened even more, and without another word, he stepped forward in the rain. His lips found yours with a sudden intensity, and it was like everything else melted away. You smiled against his mouth, the taste of him so sweet, so right, that it felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

You had longed for the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his tongue dancing with yours, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around you for days.

His hair clung to his forehead as the rain soaked him through, and without thinking, you reached up to brush it aside, your fingers grazing the damp strands as you continued to kiss him, your hearts racing in sync. It was perfect. It was real. The kiss lingered, deepening, as if neither of you wanted it to end, until the air between you both ran out and you both pulled back, gasping for breath.

Noah’s hands were still on your hips, pushing you close to him.

His voice was low and vulnerable as he whispered against your lips, "I’ve dreamed of this moment for fifteen nights. I thought you hated me..I'm sorry I told you to leave. I was scared to lose you and so fucking jealous. I've never wanted you to leave. I love you.

I loved you from the first moment I walked into the café with Luna barely able to speak, when she raised her little hand to say hi. She didn't do it with anyone. But she did it with you. Maybe she also understood at that moment that you were going to be the most important person in both our lives."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth flooding back into your chest at the sound of his words. "I’ve walked in the rain for forty minutes for you," you murmured, your voice soft but full of certainty. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all."

He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm blanket. God, you'd missed that sound so bad. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all either," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, and then he kissed you again, softer this time, as if savoring every second, every drop of rain falling around you both.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[evergumi]

M. FUSHIGURO ⋆ no more running.

pairing ⋆ guilty!megumi fushiguro x reader

summary ⋆ megumi cant be close to you anymore at all. hes avoiding you, and you dont know why. it hurts. missing your friendship, you are determined to find out why hes doing this.. ending in a unique relationship

warnings ⋆ fluff, fluff, fluff !! one sooort of spicy kiss heh :P also lowkey angsty.. poor gumi thinks hes hurt you but you prove him wrong ! we love y/n <3

wc ⋆ 2.56k words

a/n ⋆ awww the cuties ! i love gumi sm omg my adorable boyfieee, anyways enjoy ! i lowkey dont like this buttt :((

the warm glow of the setting sun stretched across the training grounds as you and nobara exchanged quick strikes, the air sharp with the rhythm of your sparring. you moved effortlessly, feeling the rush of energy, but something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. megumi stood at the edge of the field, his posture tense, eyes fixed on you. you knew exactly where his gaze was: the scar on your neck, a permanent reminder of that day.

you couldn’t help the tightness in your chest. you’d never asked him about it, never pushed him, but you knew it weighed on him—that day. the day he was trapped inside his own body. the day he killed two people he cared about the most. the day he hurt you.

"hey, fushiguro," you called out, your voice light, teasing, but there was an edge to it that betrayed your curiosity. you paused mid-motion, turning toward him with a grin as nobara glanced at you knowingly, heading toward her water bottle where yuji was standing. "wanna spar?"

for a moment, megumi didn’t respond. his eyes stayed on you, but they were unreadable, heavy. his jaw clenched. when he finally spoke, his words were quiet. "no thanks," he muttered, his gaze flickering to the scar on your neck, then quickly darting away. "i’m… busy."

you bit your lip, sensing the guilt in his tone. it was almost like he was afraid to be near you, and that stung more than you expected. he’d been distant these past few days, but maybe it was just a one-time thing. maybe he really was busy. you smiled, brushing it off.

"busy with what?" you asked softly, the teasing edge in your voice. "you don’t seem to be occupied, fushi."

"with—uh. itadori. me and itadori were heading to the… uh… store," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

you frowned, your eyes shifting to where yuji was chatting with nobara, totally unaware of the tension between you and megumi. he was holding out a towel for her, laughing as she tossed her empty water bottle at his head. you smiled softly at the sight but then turned back to megumi.

"yuji… seems busy with his own things," you murmured, watching him shift under your gaze. his eyes avoided yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the bead of sweat rolling down his temple. maybe it was just sixteen-year-old-boy things, you thought, trying to convince yourself. but it still stung a little.

"oi! itadori! get the hell over here!" megumi called out, his voice rough, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough. yuji scrambled over with a pout, and megumi grabbed him by the collar, pulling him along hurriedly as they left.

you frowned after them, a strange mix of confusion and something else stirring in your chest. why was he avoiding you? why did it feel like he was running away from something that had nothing to do with the store?

this wouldn’t be the last time. over the next few days, you’d start to notice little things. his avoidance grew clearer. texts would go unanswered for hours, or when they were answered, they felt curt. and every time you tried to ask him to hang out, there was always an excuse.

you decided to reach out again, despite the growing frustration in your chest.

you hey fushiguro! wanna hang out today? maybe watch tangled in my dorm for the millionth time?

you smirked to yourself. tangled was your favorite movie, and you knew megumi wouldn��t be able to resist.

megumi can't, got stuff to do. sorry.

you frowned at your screen, your grip tightening imperceptibly, your smile fading.

you oh, okay. well, tell me if you change your mind!

megumi yeah, sure. maybe.

you stared at the message for a while, the vague response gnawing at you. megumi had always been blunt, but he never seemed to shy away from hanging out before. so why now? what was he busy with?

you walked to the dojo early, hoping to catch megumi before his training session. as you approached, you saw him deep in conversation with yuji and nobara, laughing about something—you couldn’t hear exactly what, but their laughter seemed genuine. when you stepped into the room, the conversation stilled for a moment.

megumi didn’t turn to greet you. he just nodded quickly, his eyes darting back to the floor. yuji, on the other hand, waved at you, totally oblivious to the tension.

"hey, you finally here?" yuji grinned. "we’re just talking about our next mission."

"yeah…" you said softly, but your eyes flickered back to megumi. "hey, fushi, wanna train?"

he hesitated. too long of a hesitation. then, he mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch.

"um, maybe later. i think i have a… thing," he said, trailing off before turning back to yuji.

your heart sank. thing? was he just brushing you off again?

you hey. you still up for tangled? we don’t have to do that if you're not comfortable, of course! i just want to hang out.

megumi no, sorry.

you oh. okay, ig.

megumi sorry. just been busy. i didn’t mean to make it awkward.

you it’s fine. just… if you don’t want to talk, it’s okay. no need to make excuses.

you stared at the messages for a long time. the words felt like a punch to the gut, but at the same time, they made your chest ache. what did you even do? was he avoiding you because of that day? the day when he hurt you? was he punishing himself for it? or was he just… shutting you out?

you walked down the hallway toward the dorms after sparring, your body still buzzing from the fight. nobara had gone off to take a shower, and yuji was probably somewhere being loud, as usual. but tonight, something felt different. you couldn’t shake the feeling that megumi had been avoiding you more than usual.

as you passed the common area, you noticed the dim light spilling from the small courtyard outside. curiosity pulled you in that direction. the quiet night was starting to settle, and everyone else was winding down. there, leaning against the stone wall of the courtyard, stood megumi.

he didn’t notice you at first. his shoulders were tense, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his gaze was lost in the shadows. he looked almost… distant, like he was trying to escape from something. but you knew—you knew—he wasn’t running from the world outside. he was running from you.

you paused for a moment, your thoughts racing. then, despite every instinct telling you to leave it alone, you stepped forward. gravel crunched softly beneath your shoes as you approached.

"fushiguro," you called, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

he flinched like your words had startled him. slowly, he turned his head, but not enough to meet your gaze right away. his eyes lingered on the ground, and when they finally lifted, they didn’t seem to focus on you. they flicked up, then down again.

"hey," you said again, trying to keep your voice steady. but there was something shaky in it you couldn’t hide. "are you gonna keep avoiding me?"

there was a long silence. then, he spoke. his voice was low, strained. "i'm not avoiding you."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "really? 'cause it sure seems like you are."

megumi shifted uncomfortably against the wall, his gaze drifting away again. "it’s not like that."

you could feel your frustration building. every time you tried to reach him, he shut you out. you stepped closer, standing just a few feet away. your voice grew sharp.

"then what is it? why do you keep pushing me away?"

he hesitated, his jaw tightening, then finally met your eyes. guilt and something darker swirled in his expression. the same guilt he’d been carrying since that day. the day he hurt you.

"come on, fushiguro! this is stupid! why are you doing this? don’t you realize it hurts me?" your voice rose, frustration spilling over.

his gaze flickered to your neck, the scar still fresh, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something. but instead, he stepped back, his shoulders tensing.

"god, just—just shut up!" he hissed.

you stopped talking immediately. the words stuck in your throat.

"don’t you realize? i can’t do this anymore!" he exploded, his eyes wild with frustration. "i can’t just—just watch you knowing what i did!"

and in that moment, you knew. he wasn’t just avoiding you. he was fighting something inside himself.

you took a deep breath, stepping forward, your pulse quickening. "fushiguro… i…"

but before you could say anything else, he was already walking away, his steps quick and purposeful. leaving you standing in the cold silence.

you stood there, the words still hanging between you, unspoken, unanswered.

and then you moved.

one step, then another, quickening your pace until you were right behind him, fingers brushing against his shoulder.

"don’t touch me!" he snapped.

you recoiled, hurt flashing across your face. so, he had yelled not once, not twice—but now three times. at you. you couldn't breathe, the question on your lips strangled by confusion and pain.

"what did i do wrong?" you whispered, almost to yourself.

megumi glanced away, a sharp look of anguish in his eyes. "i can’t. i can’t do it. i can’t come near you, talk to you, touch you, look at you."

you frowned up at him, confused. "can’t do… why?"

"i can’t go a day without thinking about what i did to you!" he hissed, voice breaking. "i see that scar, and i beat myself up over it. i… i can’t look at it. i can’t even spar with you. i can't… even stand my hand being this close to yours."

without thinking, you reached out, gently taking his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. you looked him in the eyes, your gaze tender. "look," you murmured, cupping his calloused hand with your own. "is this hurting me in any way?"

he didn’t answer.

you brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with it. "am i hurt?" you whispered, eyes closing for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. you felt his thumb twitch as it brushed against your skin. you leaned into it, your breath catching. "am i hurt, fushiguro?"

you stood there, the weight of his hand in yours grounding you, as the silence stretched between you. his thumb brushed against your scar, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles were taut as if he were about to break. you could see the guilt clouding his eyes—heavy, suffocating. you knew what he was thinking. he was terrified.

"you're not hurting me," you whispered, your voice quiet but steady. you brought his hand to your cheek, pressing it gently against your skin. "see? you're not hurting me, megumi."

he didn’t say anything at first, but his breath hitched at the touch. his eyes flickered between yours, searching for something—maybe an answer, maybe reassurance. his thumb gently caressed your jaw, and you felt your heart race in your chest.

he opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. instead, his gaze shifted to your neck—the scar that was still so fresh, the scar he couldn't bring himself to look at. you watched his jaw tighten, his gaze drifting downward like it always did when he was avoiding something he couldn’t confront.

you took a small step closer, your fingers brushing over the back of his hand, encouraging him, urging him to let go. "megumi," you whispered again, this time a little more gently, "please… look at me."

his chest rose and fell with every shaky breath, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to pull away. but he didn’t. he stayed, standing there in the quiet of the night, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

slowly, carefully, his hand moved to your neck. his thumb brushed lightly over your scar, and you could feel him flinch, just a little. but then he stopped, his hand hovering over your skin, like he was afraid to touch it too much. you gently guided his fingers down your neck, showing him that you weren’t afraid.

"megumi," you whispered, your voice softer this time, "i’m not afraid."

his gaze finally met yours, and you saw it—the hesitation, the guilt, the regret all etched in his features. but underneath all of that, you saw something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart ache.

"i’m so sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't… i can’t stand seeing it. what i did to you…"

you shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. "megumi, you’re not the only one hurting. but i’m not afraid of you. i never was. i never will be."

he swallowed, his hand trembling in yours. he was close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, could hear the soft hitch of his breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your other hand to his face, cupping it gently. "look at me," you whispered again, your voice barely audible. "please."

he did. and when his eyes met yours, everything else seemed to fade away. there were no more words, no more hesitation. just the soft, steady rhythm of your breaths as your faces inched closer.

he leaned in, your lips brushing against his. it was tentative at first, just the barest of touches, as if he were still afraid that he might hurt you. but when you didn’t pull away, when you leaned into him, the kiss deepened. his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his other hand sliding to your waist, holding you as if you might disappear.

you let out a soft gasp as you melted into him, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if you both needed this, needed to feel the connection, to feel the warmth of each other’s presence after so much distance. his lips were soft against yours, and you could taste the mixture of fear and longing that had been building between you for days.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you rested your forehead against his, your heart still racing in your chest. you could feel his pulse under your fingertips, his breathing shallow as he tried to steady himself.

"megumi," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "you’re not the only one who’s been hurting. but i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

his eyes were wide, almost searching, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. his thumb gently traced your jaw, his touch tender now, as if he were finally allowing himself to feel what had been building inside of him.

"i’m sorry," he whispered again, his voice cracking with emotion. "i didn’t want to hurt you. i don’t ever want to hurt you again."

you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "you won’t," you said simply. "i'll say it again. i’m not afraid of you, megumi. i never was."

the tension between you had finally broken. and in its place was something deeper—something real, something raw. you didn’t need words anymore. all you needed was him, and you knew, in that moment, that he needed you too.

a/n ⋆ nonnie ! ty for this req, this was so fun to write ! i honestly had trouble at the start butttttt omg the fluffy moments near the end made my heart melttt <33 i hope this was what you were looking for !

i heart the way megumi cares soooo much for yn but just wont admit it :( he literally says it but so indirectly yk ?? like he toooootally doesnt care..

thank you for reading, ily ! lmk if you wanna be tagged and remember, reqs are always open loves !

© evergumi

[shanastoryteller]

They destroy a hundred seals in thirty days, which feels like good progress until Sam realizes even if they can keep up this pace, it’s going to take them nearly two years. “There has to be a faster way to do this.”

“It took three hundred thousand years to set the apocalypse in motion,” Castiel says dryly. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It took a year from first seal to last, don’t exaggerate,” he says, pacing the length of the motel room. Cas may not need things like food and sleep, but Sam is still human at the end of the day.

He’s refusing to touch the virtue bit. No one’s keeping track of those and they both know it.

Cas gives him a bitchy look that Sam tells himself he’s not growing fond of. “Yes. Sixty six seals took a year to open. We’ve destroyed nearly twice that in a month. You are not being reasonable about this.”

Maybe not, but they don’t have time to be. Can’t Cas feel it? Like something’s bearing down on them, hot breath on the back of their necks. If there’s one constant in Sam’s life, it’s that he never gets enough time. He doesn’t see why this should be any different. “What if we killed Lilith? She’s the last one, right? As long as the first seal hasn’t been opened, killing her destroys the seal. If the last one can’t be opened, Lucifer can’t be set free. Right?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Sam kind of hates how quickly he’s picked that up this time around, but he’s only realizing now that it’s a gesture Cas learned from him, not Dean, and the first go around they hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together in the beginning. “Likely correct. But even if we could find her, I’m unsure of your capabilities.”

“Fuck you too,” he says without heat. “I killed Azazel. I killed her before. I can do it again.”

“She wanted to be killed, last time,” Cas says. “She knew her death would grant Lucifer’s freedom and she did not fight you with all her strength. Killing Azazel is not killing Lilith. They are different beasts.”

“Wait,” he says, “are you telling me that Lilith is stronger than Azazel?”

Having killed them both, that’s really not what he would have guessed. Which means that Cas is probably right. Damn.

“What is stronger, blood or bone?” he asks. “She is Lucifer’s firstborn. There is power there.”

Great. “I’m more powerful this time,” he points out. Azazel’s blood – Lucifer’s blood – is still buzzing under his skin, not quite as hot and pounding as it was at first swallow, but not fading and sputtering out like Ruby’s blood always had. Something in between, maybe, except those first few drops of blood as a baby hadn’t had any immediate affects either. It’s probably a good thing he won’t live another twenty two years. Who knows what Lucifer’s blood will have done to him by then.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I just don’t know if you’re powerful enough.”

And if he’s not, Lilith won’t even kill him. He needs to be alive for Lucifer to wear, after all. No, whatever she does to him will be much worse.

Sam.

He turns, even though he knows they’re alone. But his name had been so clear.

Sam, please!

He looks around uneasily. “Do you hear that?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Seriously?” he demands.

Sam, please, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything, please help me. Help her. Sam –

He moves, not entirely sure what he’s doing, shifting from one place to the other, not entirely sure where he’s going until he arrives.

He’s standing in an empty apartment building, a ghost howling in front of him that looks sort of familiar. What the hell?

“Sam!”

Taking his eyes off the ghost is probably stupid, but he looks behind him anyway and finds Ellen on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Jo is clutched in her arms, skin pale and eyes open and unseeing, bits of plaster in her hair and a gaping hole in the wall behind them.

“Holmes?” he asked incredulously, turning back to the ghost who’s getting steadily closer. Last time they trapped him in the basement and cemented him inside. Last time Sam hadn’t spent years researching how to banish the worst sorts of evil.

The incantation rolls off his tongue easily, half Latin and half something older than that, and Holmes screams as he burns up in whisps of smoke.

“Sam, please,” Ellen begs. “Please. You have to help her.”

How does Ellen even know him? They’ve never met before. Not here. He kneels across from her, heart clenching at Jo’s body. He’s supposed to be making things better, leaving and destroying the seals is supposed to fix things. Except he guesses he and Dean weren’t here to find Jo this time and Ellen got there too late. “She’s dead, Ellen.”

“So?” she asks fiercely. “Jim was dead. Caleb, that girl, Meg. They were all dead. You brought them back.”

He stares. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” she repeats. “She’s all I have left. Please, Sam. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring her back.”

Sam knows that desperation. He’s felt that desperation, those miserable four months when hell tore his brother apart.

But he doesn’t have the same overfull, burning power he had with the taste of Azazel’s blood in the back of his throat.

Ellen, proud, tough Ellen, has tears down her face and begging him.

She lost her husband because of his father. He can try and save her daughter.

He reaches out, gripping the back of Ellen’s neck, and pulls her towards him. She opens his mouth for him, kissing him back without hesitation. He bites her tongue, blood hot and salty, and she doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t pause, just holds Jo between them and lets Sam take.

When he pulls back, his mouth is full of blood. He leans down, pressing his lips to Jo’s, letting her mother’s blood slide between her lips and presses his hand against her chest, trying to quicken something in her that will bring her home.

She gasps under him and he pulls back. Her eyes dart around, cheeks flushed, and stutters, “What – who–”

Ellen lets out a sob and clutches Jo to her, letting out a choked litany of scolding that has Jo patting her back and making soothing noises that Sam doubts Ellen hears at all.

He sits back on his ass, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering if anyone will care if he just lays down and takes a nap. Resurrection is exhausting.

“How?” Ellen asks, looking at him with red eyes and a puffy face and so much gratitude he can barely stand it. “There’s nothing special about my blood.”

“There’s power in sacrifice,” he says, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “Not a lot. Not enough. But,” he shrugs. He’s spent a lifetime making something out of not enough.

“What did I sacrifice?” she asks. It’s curiosity, nothing more. He can tell that she doesn’t care about the answer, that it really good be anything ant it would still be a bargain well made as far as she’s concerned.

This is how apocalypses are started.

“Nothing I’m going to collect on,” he says tiredly. “But it’s not a trick that works more than once. So be careful, okay?”

That last bit he directs to Jo, who’s just staring at him with huge eyes. “You’re Sam?”

“Yeah,” he says. “How do you know who I am?”

Jo and Ellen share a look, then she says carefully, “I met your brother.”

“How is he?” he asks, almost before she’s finished speaking. “Is he – I mean,” he cuts himself off, grimacing. Sam made out with their possessed father, killed the demon, and left. It’s a real toss up about what messed him up the most. “You shouldn’t hunt on your own,” he says, switching tracks. “You need a partner, one who can show you the ropes if you’re going to keep this up. See if you can talk Dean into it. I think you two will get along.”

Jo swallows. “Uh, okay. You’re not what I expected.”

What had she expected? He’s sure the rumors about him are nothing good, if not outright setting a bounty on his head. Ellen might have been desperate enough to seek him out with Jo dead, but that doesn’t mean anything. He and Dean both ran to demons when they lost the other.

There are footsteps down the hall and he tries to muster a smile for them before he’s leaving, returning to the motel room he’d been in with Cas.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Getting back here had taken the last bit of energy he had. He flips Cas off and collapses face first into the bed, barely managing to kick of his shoes before he falls asleep.

Dean would have taken them off for him, but Dean isn’t here.

~

When he wakes up twelve hours later, it’s to Cas standing above him and staring.

He groans, rolling over and away from that piercing blue gaze. “Don’t do that.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Sam tells him. It doesn’t take long, but his voice is still strained by the end of it.

“You heard her prayers?” Cas asks.

“No,” he says, then frowns. “I don’t know. I guess. Can I do that?”

Cas is learning human expressions one by one. Judgement had come quickly and easily.

Whatever. Apparently he can do that now.

“You said Azazel was a prince of hell,” Sam says. “Does that mean there are more of them?”

“Three,” he says warily. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Think they’d be willing to part with some blood in exchange for their lives?”

Sam’s not going to survive this. He knew that from beginning. It doesn’t really matter he has to do to himself to finish it.

There’s power in sacrifice.

“This is a terrible idea,” Cas says, which isn’t a no.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[lexosaurus]

One Giant Leap for a Ghost

Hello @charmingcritter so sorry I was late!! The days really got away from me. Anyway, happy truce! I chose to focus primarily on your space core prompt, though there are sprinkles of other prompts in here!

One Giant Leap for a Ghost Characters: Danny + his Mars crewmates (OCs for the plot) WC: 3275 Warnings: None

****

"I found you!" Danny yelled, springing out from the wall.

"God damnit, guys, Danny vented into the lab again," Mike Burlak, the crew's doctor, said from his place against the wall.

Tyron Cooper, the chemist, clicked his tongue. "Always knew that kid was the imposter."

"Yeah, you wish," Danny rolled his eyes and swooped around to see what sorts of mad scientist experiments Cooper was running today. "Between the two of us, you're definitely the imposter. I mean, who knows what kinds of poisons you're making with those."

"I'll have you know I'm completing my task, Fenton," Cooper said.

"That's what the imposter would want us to think. For all I know, you're sabotaging the mission."

"Pointing fingers now, aren't we? That's exactly what the imposter would do."

"I mean, Coop's right. You literally flew in from the air vent," Burlak said.

"Next to the air vent. Commander Stewart would have my head if I hung out in the air vent unnecessarily," Danny retorted.

"Fair point," Cooper said, returning his attention to the flasks on his lab bench. "What are you up to?"

"Gonna go do an EVA soon. It's a scheduled inspection." Despite trying to suppress it, Danny felt his aura intensify with the acknowledgment that he would get to go outside of the spaceship today, shimmering as a few hazy-looking planets threatened to form in the glow.

That moment was not lost on his crewmates, who both glanced at the faded green planets and twinkling stars around him. As much as he loved it, his core could be so predictable.

Cooper chuckled. "Well, it looks like you're ready to go."

Cool embarrassment prickled Danny's cheeks, but he couldn't fight off the smile that overtook his face as he said, "Yup!"

Burlak stepped off from the wall. "I'll be on standby, then."

Standby in case something happened that required Danny's immediate medical attention. Even though as a ghost, nothing in space could hurt him like it could to the rest of his human crew, NASA was taking no chances. Not that Danny could blame them. They didn't exactly have a plethora of ectoplasmic astronauts to pull data from.

"Let's head out! Commander Stewart's waiting."

Some days, it was difficult to believe he'd come so far. Danny remembered sitting in class in high school ready to give up on his dreams because he wasn't brilliant like Jazz and there was no way that a space agency like NASA would ever accept a half-dead teen in their program anyway. But then, his space obsession wouldn't let him throw that dream away.

Literally. 

It wouldn't let him.

After all, he had a space core. His eyes reflected the stars in the Universe and his aura shone with constellations and planets. When he looked at the sky, he didn't just see the stars, but also their characteristics, distances, temperatures, and so much more.

He was born to be an astronaut.

Which is why, despite half-dying when he was fourteen, he couldn't let that dream go. And instead of wallowing in despair, he decided to do something about it.

****

"And how old are you again?" Hugo Davis, director of the Mars missions, asked.

Phantom straightened his spine as if gaining an extra inch would magically age him ten years. "Old enough to be here."

Davis's eyes swept over him, narrowing as he scratched his fingers over his scraggly mustache. Beside him, NASA's senior executive Director Moore sat with his hands clasped before him, his face as expressive as a sheet of paper.

"I received a recommendation from Wilson," Phantom explained, though Davis would have already known this. It was in his file after all.

"And you're applying because..." Davis's voice drifted off, the silence echoing off the cavernous white walls of the conference room. 

The answer to that, too, was obvious. So obvious, that Phantom wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer the question. But it was an interview, so he responded as if he didn't notice the awkward air. "Yes, I'm applying for the Artemis program as an astronaut. Between my education and career experience, I believe I'm qualified to join the Mars mission."

Davis glanced at Moore, who decided now it was admissible to take over. "Yes, I think your qualifications are of no question. Of our applicants, you might be one of the most...uniquely qualified, I'll say, to join."

Anticipation jolted through Phantom's spine, but then Director Moore opened his mouth again, and any hope was squashed instantly. 

"However," Moore said, "I think I speak for the whole of the space program when I say there are some rather apparent concerns we need to discuss."

Those concerns were ones that Phantom was perfectly ready for, he tried to convince himself as he refrained from squirming in his seat like he was back in high school sitting in the Vice Principal's office yet again for cutting class. 

"Primarily, your...appearance." Moore swept a hand out before him.

"You mean the fact that I'm legally somewhat dead," Phantom filled in, glancing at the black, glowing jumpsuit he'd shown up to the interview wearing. Better to rip the bandaid off at the start, his father always had said.

Davis and Director Moore caught eyes once again.

"Well," Phantom continued, "technically, I'm not really dead. I'm also alive, you see, which is why I think I'm perfectly qualified for this job."

The two men remained silent at that.

"I mean, think about it. I don't need to breathe, so therefore I won't need a spacesuit. And I know how you all are about cutting costs. Well, that and less mass in the spaceship."

Director Moore scratched his chin. "Yes, cutting costs with the lack of an EVA suit is quite tempting."

"And since I can fly and wouldn't need a spacesuit, I can do repairs on the exterior of the ship far more easily than any of the human engineers could. Not to mention I can cover far more ground in a sol than any rover could. You’d have far more exploratory reach around your Martian base with me on the team."

The men nodded, lips pursed in deep contemplation. Phantom could tell that he was winning them over. He just needed one final push.

"And, if you needed any more convincing..." He flared his aura, pushing the power from the deepest part of his core into the men's visible spectrum. The white glow was replaced by the swirls of an aurora, and speckled stars shone out from the light, twinkling and grouping into constellations. "Well, I'm sure you've been filled in on my file, but it's all true. My powers really do let me locate any star or planet in the Universe. All I need is a name, and I can tell you its basic features, gravity, and coordinates."

"Do you mind if I test you?" Davis asked.

"Go ahead."

"Kepler-1b."

Phantom pointed his finger in the air, and an ecto-hologram of a black planet surrounded by the light of its sun formed above them. He closed his eyes, and the words appeared behind his lids like a textbook. "Kepler-1b, otherwise known as TrES 2b, is the darkest planet known to humankind and is located 750 light years away. It orbits around GSC 03549-02811, it's got a gravity of 1.4 g's, and its right ascension is 19:07:14.035 with a declination of +49:18:59.0." He opened his eyes and grinned at the two men who were currently looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "Will that suffice?"

"I'd heard the rumors, but I wasn't sure if they were true." Director Moore's shocked expression melted into an approving smile. "I think we got what we needed. That'll be all. We'll be in touch soon."

****

Space was silent.

Space was expansive.

Space was incredible. 

Magnificent. Amazing. Utterly breathtaking, and every single other word that Danny could pull from his mental dictionary.

Space was beautiful. And it was his. Not in the sense where a ghost lair belonged to a ghost, because even Danny's space core recognized that no one could dare lay claim to such a beast, but when Danny closed his eyes and smelled the metallic particles that dusted around him, he knew that he was truly home.

They called it an EVA for the sake of consistency, but Danny was not wearing a spacesuit. He didn't need one. He was a ghost. Not just any ghost, but Phantom, the ghost that haunted Amity Park's observatory. He was born to do spacewalks.

Convincing NASA's top worrywarts that an EVA suit was unnecessary was a challenge in itself, but somehow, he managed to do it. And thank goodness for that because, without the suit, he could truly experience everything that outer space had to offer: the bone-setting cold, the lack of atmosphere, the lack of air. 

His ghost core adored it. The feeling, the silence.

"Don't get lost out there," came the amused, tinny voice of Commander Stewart through his bone-conduction CCA earpiece.

"Sorry," Danny responded, squinting into the distance. "It's just that the sun looks so small from here." He twirled around and grinned at the approaching red planet before him. "And Mars looks so huge. It's hard to believe we're still so far away when it looks like I can reach out and touch it."

"Well, it's only half the size of Earth," said Burlak. 

"I don't know if you knew this, but the Earth is pretty large," retorted Cooper.

"Oh, shut up."

"Boys." Commander Stewart's voice was sharp. There was a moment of muttering apologies before she took an audible breath and tried again. "Phantom, how is the inspection going?"

"It's...going." 

"That's code for Space Ghost over here has spent the entire time ogling Mars again," the engineer, Merissa Chase, joked.

Well, could anyone blame him? Mars was just so pretty and red and...and...

"Finish the inspection and report back," Commander Stewart said.

Danny blinked, turning back to the huge spaceship in front of him. "Yes, Commander!"

****

Danny felt the edges of the folded paper pressing between his palms. Despite his best intentions, the paper was slightly wrinkled, a casualty of his tight grip. He loosened his fingers, took a deep breath, and began. "I need you all to sit down."

Jazz eyed him curiously, her red hair slipping off her shoulder. "You okay, Danny?"

"Yeah, dude, you look pale," Tucker agreed.

"I'm fine," Danny replied, perhaps more curtly than he'd intended. He took another breath, forcing his heart to slow. "I have something to tell you all."

"What is it, son?" Dad asked. "And why did you make us take off all our weapons earlier?"

Danny glanced away. "I just don't want you to be mad at me."

Maddie stopped before her seat, her instincts seemingly kicking into high gear before she had a chance to sit down. "What is it?"

Danny shrank back, then before he could list any of the nine-thousand reasons why this was a bad idea, he unfurled the letter and passed it to his mother.

"Dear Mr. Phantom," she began, her voice catching. "Mr. Phantom? As in the space-themed ghost?"

"Just keep reading."

"We at NASA are pleased to extend an offer of employment as an astronaut on the Mars Mission team. Despite the lack of ectoplasmic entities in our employment, we feel as though the unique skills you bring as an individual are unmatched by any human. Throughout the interview process, we have enjoyed getting to know you and appreciate you letting us test the advantages that your abilities offer. We were especially impressed by your navigational abilities as demonstrated in your interview, which is a power that we believe will put your team at a huge advantage when traversing through space. It is for these reasons and many more that we are extending this position to you."

Danny tasted the words on his lips, mouthing along subconsciously as he pictured the words in his mind that his eyes had hungrily soaked in hundreds of times since he'd received the letter in the mail.

"We are eager to begin discussing the details of your position with you soon.  Should you choose to accept the offer, you will be expected to relocate to Houston where you will begin training. Your expected starting date is June fifth, and you will be asked to sign a confidentiality contract at the start of your employment. Please contact me if you have any questions in the meantime. Welcome to the NASA team."

His mother finished reading the letter, letting her final words hang in the air like dew on fresh-cut grass. Danny kept his eyes downturned, unable to bear to see the looks of confusion or—worse—realization from his parents.

This was it. This was the moment when he finally told his parents that he was a half-ghost.

"Wow, that's amazing!" Jazz said, breaking the silence. She jumped from her chair and swept him into a hug.

"Holy shit, you got the job?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah." Danny finally broke out in a grin.

"Congrats, Danny!" Sam cheered. "That's awesome!"

"I don't understand. Why is this addressed to Phantom?" Maddie asked.

The cheers died in the room, and Danny's stomach plummeted once again. He finally looked up to see the distress of his parents, and he knew that it was time. Finally, after years of avoidance, he had to stop running.

"Mom, Dad, I have something I need to tell you..."

And he began. He told them about the portal, about how in his last moments, he thought about the future he'd never have. How he woke up in Phantom's body with ectoplasmic planets swirling above him. How he tried to forget about it, pretend it never happened, but he couldn't because every time he'd look up at the night sky, all he wanted to do was transform and fly to the edges of the Universe. How he'd worked so hard all these years, doing all the right things, to set his career down this road. How despite being significantly younger than most of the applicants, he still pursued this path because he knew with all his steadfast heart that this mission, this legacy was one he was made to have.

And now, he was willing to risk it all. Applying for the Mars mission meant that he would need to reveal his secret to the world. And that was something he was ready to do.

When he finished speaking, his throat was sore with thirst. He hadn't realized how much there had been to say. And even still, he knew that was only barely scratching the surface of his life since his accident. He hadn't the confidence to meet his parents' eyes throughout his long-winded speech, but now he finally forced his head to lift, he forced himself to see the teary-eyed stares of his ghost-hunter parents before him.

But where he expected fear was nothing but love.

"Son," Jack said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so proud of you."

"We're both proud of you, honey," Maddie said.

"I can't believe it. My brother, Danny, a future astronaut." Jazz beamed. "Congratulations."

****

The descent vehicle slowed.

"Adjusted thirty kilometers east," the pilot, Parth Chadha, said.

"Right above target," Commander Stewart responded.

"Lowering now."

There was a jolt as the boosters switched off, and then they were descending again at speeds that would have had Danny's parents covering their eyes in fear. But not Danny. He was a ghost, after all, and these speeds were just another Tuesday for him.

"Slowing our descent."

Danny slammed into his seat as the boosters re-engaged, stopping their free-fall and slowing them until they reached Martian soil.

"And we've landed on Mars."

But Danny already knew that. He could feel it. And the moment they hit the ground, the air sparked with an electric anticipation that his core couldn't help but soak in like a sponge.

It took everything in him to not phase out of his seatbelt, shoot through the side of the descent vehicle, and take in the sights of Mars. But these missions had an unspoken etiquette, and so he waited. He waited for Chadha to turn off the descent vehicle, he waited for the rest of the crew to get out of their chairs, he waited and waited until he thought his core was going to explode. 

"Alright, crew, this is it. Outside those doors is the Elysium Planitia, our home for the next two months. Our priority is setting up the Outpost. Fenton and Chase, you're both on solar panel duty."

"Gotcha, Commander," Merissa said. "We better hurry it up, though, because I think if we wait another minute, Danny over here is gonna have an aneurysm."

"Jeez, I've never seen him glow like that before," Cooper said.

"Sorry!" Danny said, though he really wasn't. Because he was finally here. He was on Mars. 

"Alright, I guess we better get to it, then." Commander Stewart turned for the door. "Artemis crew? I'm ordering us off the descent vehicle."

Depressurizing took forever and a half. But finally, finally, the door swung open to reveal a sea of red dust and rocks below an orange sky. As is tradition, Commander Stewart stepped out to the soil first, and one by one, the crew followed.

And finally, it was Danny's turn.

Obeying the laws of gravity was typically a challenge in ghost form. But to obey the laws of a gravity only a third of Earth's while also battling the excitement of being on Mars was an entirely different level of challenge. But he forced his tail to form legs, and he forced his feet to descend the stairs of the descent vehicle because he wanted his first entrance on Mars to leave a real footprint. One that was his. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the elation that could come from the Martian soil crunching beneath his boot. Nothing. It was pure, unfiltered joy. One that he didn't think he could replicate for as long as he lived.

His core took over, and green tinted his orange vision, sparkling and glittering with ectoplasmic constellations and energy. He shot into the air, laughing into his CCA system and not caring who heard because he'd made it! After all these years, all the nights of studying and gazing into the night sky and thinking and hoping and wishing that he could be up there, up here, and he was finally here! 

He inhaled deeply. Mars's air was thin compared to Earth's and smelled sweet and dry like a desert. He took another breath, and hints of sulfur and chalk wafted through his nose. The smell was foreign compared to what he was used to in the sterile Artemis aircraft, but it spoke of an ancient planet, one untouched by the paws of humanity, and he couldn't help but breathe in again, and again, soaking up every inch of the air that his nose could handle.

The air was cold, too. Though, compared to the cold of outer space, it felt like Florida in July. But compared to Earth, it was frigid. Not that he cared. With his space core, he was able to handle any temperature thrown at him. So despite the fact that he'd previously reported surface temperatures to the team of -20C, to him, the air was perfect. 

"Oh no, Fenton's lost it," Cooper joked.

"You wish," he responded, feeling a grin spread across his cheeks. 

"Alright, come down here. We have to get to work setting up the outpost or else we'll all be sleeping in the MDV tonight," Commander Stewart said.

Danny scanned the distance once more, taking in the sights of red rock against the orange horizon. This was it. This was everything he'd worked for.

And it was so worth it.

"Now, Phantom."

"Coming!"

[woozinhos]

Hii! I hope your doing well! Can you do a s.coups sugar daddy headcannon with a dash of smut? If it's uncomfortable to write please do not do it! Thank you so much! 🫶🏻

Sugar Daddy Cheol

- Seungcheol loves to take control in the bedroom. He's a dominant lover who knows exactly how to drive you wild with desire. He loves to tie you up and tease you until you're begging for more.

- Seungcheol has a secret kink that he's never told anyone about. He loves to be called "Daddy" in bed. The word makes him feel powerful and dominant, and he gets off on the idea of taking care of his sugar baby in every way possible.

- Whenever Seungcheol is stressed out or feeling overwhelmed, he turns to you for comfort. He loves to lie on your lap and let you play with his hair, feeling safe and relaxed in your arms.

- One day, Seungcheol decides to surprise you with a trip to a luxurious hotel for the weekend. He wants to pamper you and show you just how much he appreciates you.

As soon as you arrive at the hotel, Seungcheol scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bedroom. He lays you down on the plush bed and begins to undress you slowly, savoring every moment of your naked body beneath him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers in your ear, his hands roaming over your curves. "And all mine."

Seungcheol's eyes darken with desire as he gazes down at you, completely exposed and vulnerable beneath him. He runs his hands over your body, tracing every curve and dip with his fingertips.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this," he growls, his voice low and husky. "How much I've been dreaming of having you all to myself."

He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth as he devours you. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily, and trails kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," he promises, his hands roaming lower and lower down your body. "I'm going to make you forget everything but me."

He reaches down and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head as he hovers over you. "You're mine tonight," he growls, his eyes dark with possessiveness. "And I'm going to claim every inch of you."

-However there’s other times where he becomes jealous it’s so hot

Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched you interact with one of his colleagues. The way the man laughed at your jokes, touched your arm, and smiled at you made his blood boil. He knew he had no right to feel jealous - you were his sugar baby, not his girlfriend. But seeing you with another man still stung.

Later that night, Seungcheol was sitting in his office, trying to focus on his work, but his mind kept wandering back to you and the man from earlier. He couldn't shake the feeling of possessiveness that had taken over him. He wanted to mark you as his own, to show everyone that you belonged to him and only him. The thought consumed him, driving him wild with desire.

He stood up abruptly, unable to focus any longer, and walked out of his office. He needed to see you, needed to remind himself that you were his. Seungcheol stormed into your apartment, his eyes blazing with a mix of desire and possessiveness. He saw you sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Baby," he growled, his voice low and rough. "We need to talk."

You looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his eyes. "What's wrong?" you asked, sensing that something was off. Seungcheol didn't answer right away. Instead, he stalked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stood in front of you, towering over you, and pulled you up into his arms.

"You're mine," he said, his voice firm and possessive. "No one else's. Do you understand?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his voice. You had never seen him like this before - so possessive and dominant.

Seungcheol's grip on you tightened as he pulled you closer to him. "I don't want to see you with anyone else," he growled, his lips hovering over your ear. "Ever."

You could feel his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers of desire through your body. You knew that you were in trouble - but you also knew that you loved it.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Tell me that you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Only yours."

Seungcheol's eyes darkened with desire at your words, and he pulled you even closer to him, crushing you against his chest.

"Good girl," he growled, his hands roaming over your body possessively. "You belong to me, and only me. I don't want to share you with anyone."

He kissed you fiercely, his tongue plundering your mouth as he claimed you as his own. You melted into his embrace, completely surrendering to his dominance. Seungcheol lifted you up and carried you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I'm going to remind you who you belong to," he promised, his voice thick with desire.

[princesseilish]

SUMMER OF 07’

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, religious topics, internalized homophobia, slight fluff

synopsis: Set in the summer of 2007, Y/N, a Yale-bound girl from a strict, religious family, hides her relationship with Billie, a rebellious small-town musician. When a photo of them together is exposed at church, Y/N faces her parents’ judgment and her own internalized homophobia. Overwhelmed, she breaks up with Billie, despite their love.

It was the summer of 2007, and the air smelled like freshly cut grass and freedom. School had just let out, and Billie was already knee-deep in her usual antics with her small-town garage band. They were loud, reckless, and unapologetically themselves. And despite your better judgment—and your parents’ strict rules—you couldn’t resist her.

Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O’Connell. The girl with piercing blue eyes and an untamed spirit. She was everything your overly religious family despised, everything your sheltered, Yale-bound future wasn’t supposed to include. But you loved her. God help you, you loved her.

That’s why, when Billie called you that night, begging you to come along to one of her band’s impromptu “jam sessions” at the abandoned lot by the old train tracks, you said yes. You always did.

The evening was wild, full of laughter and music that shook the rusted metal walls of the makeshift stage. Billie was magnetic, her energy infectious as she strummed her guitar and sang like the world wasn’t watching. But you were. You always were.

After the session, she pulled you aside, her fingers lacing with yours as she pressed you up against her truck. Her lips brushed your ear as she whispered, “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You blushed, the heat rising to your cheeks. “If I were so perfect, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t say that,” Billie said, her voice soft but firm. “This is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

For a moment, you believed her.

It all came crashing down two weeks later.

You woke up to your mother’s shrill voice calling your name. When you stepped into the kitchen, the air was thick with tension. Your father sat at the table, his jaw tight, while your older sister, Hazel, leaned against the counter with a smug expression.

On the table lay a printed photo.

It took you a moment to process what you were seeing: you and Billie, caught in a moment of intimacy. Her arm around your waist, her lips brushing your temple.

“Explain this,” your mother demanded, her voice shaking with barely restrained fury.

You felt the ground shift beneath you. “Where did you get that?”

“It was pinned to the church bulletin board this morning,” Hazel said, her tone dripping with false concern. “Everyone saw it.”

Your heart dropped. The room seemed to close in around you as your father slammed his hand on the table.

“This is unacceptable, Y/N,” he growled. “We raised you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but no words came out. The weight of their disappointment, their judgment, was suffocating.

“Do you have any idea what this could do to our reputation?” your mother hissed. “What would people think if they knew our daughter was—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

You ran.

That night, Billie sat on the hood of her truck, her flip phone clutched tightly in her hand. She’d heard about the photo from one of her bandmates, and the thought of what you were going through made her stomach churn.

She dialed your number for the fourth time that day.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Finally, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Billie said, relief flooding her voice. “What’s going on? Are you okay? I heard about the photo.”

You didn’t respond, and the silence made her chest tighten.

“Y/N, talk to me,” she pleaded.

“Billie,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

“What?”

“It’s over,” you whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” Billie said firmly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“No!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You don’t understand. My parents… everyone in that church… they know. They saw the picture.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Billie shot back. “I care about you.”

“I’m not like you, Billie!” you cried. “I can’t just… not care. My whole life, I’ve been told this is wrong. And maybe they’re right.”

“Don’t say that,” Billie said, her voice cracking. “You’re not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you. They’re the ones who are messed up for making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry, Billie,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I love you, but I can’t do this.”

The line went dead.

Days passed, and the world felt dull without her. You stayed locked in your room, drowning in guilt and shame. Your parents’ judgmental silence was deafening, their disappointment a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

You missed her. God, you missed her.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, there was a knock at your bedroom window.

You froze, your heart racing. Slowly, you pulled back the curtains to reveal Billie standing on the lawn, her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets.

“Let me in,” she said softly.

You hesitated before sliding the window open. Billie climbed through with practiced ease, landing silently on your bedroom floor.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I needed to see you,” she said. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

You turned away. “I told you, Billie. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, stepping closer. “You don’t get to decide that on your own. Not without talking to me first.”

“Talking to you won’t change anything,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes.

“It might not,” she admitted. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me to my face that you don’t love me anymore.”

Your breath hitched. “Billie, please don’t do this.”

“Why not?” she said, her voice breaking. “Because you’re scared? Because they made you believe that loving me is something you should feel guilty about?”

You turned to face her, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m scared,” you admitted.

“I know,” Billie said, stepping closer and cupping your face in her hands. “But you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her words broke something inside you. You collapsed into her arms, sobbing as she held you tightly.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered.

“You can,” Billie said, her voice steady. “And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

As she held you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, love didn’t have to feel like sin.

[slaytheday12]

Target run

summery: Fem!reader and Walker on their weekly target run.

Your weekly Target runs with Walker had become more than just an errand they were a tradition. Ever since you’d started dating, they’d taken on a whole new meaning, turning into mini dates where walker spoiled you rotten.

This week, you pulled up in front of Walker’s house just as the sun was beginning to set. He jogged down the driveway, his messy hair bouncing with each step, and slid into the passenger seat with a big grin.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“Hi,” you replied, laughing as he immediately started rifling through the glove box. “No snacks today?”

“I’m starving,” he whined, giving you the most dramatic pout.

“You’re impossible,” you teased, reaching into your bag and pulled out the candy you’d picked up earlier. His eyes lit up, and he wasted no time ripping it open.l

“You’re the best,” he said through a mouthful of chocolate, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Seriously, I don’t deserve you.”

The drive to Target was filled with music and laughter as Walker sang every song, even the ones he didn’t know the words to. When you finally parked, he jumped out and ran around to open your door.

“Milady,” he said as he bowed down in front of you, offering his hand to help you out. “Such a gentleman,” you teased, letting him pull you close for a quick kiss before heading inside.

The moment you walked through the sliding doors, Walker’s eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. He grabbed a cart and turned to you with a mischievous grin.

“All right, what’s the plan? Essentials or chaos?”

“Essentials first,” you replied firmly, but you both knew how this was going to go.

It started in the snack aisle, where Walker insisted on grabbing every new flavour of chips he could find. “We need options,” he said, tossing bags into the cart. “Do we, though?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Absolutely,” he said, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “You’ll thank me later.”

Next was the seasonal section, where Walker held up a plush pumpkin and wiggled it in front of you. “Cute, right?”

“Adorable,” you admitted, and before you could say anything else, he tossed it into the cart. “Add it to the collection,” he said, grinning.

When you stopped to look at a cozy blanket, Walker plucked it from your hands and added it to the cart without hesitation.

“Walker, I was just looking—”

“Exactly. You looked at it, so now it’s yours.” He kissed the top of your head. “That’s how it works.”

You tried to protest, but he was relentless. Every time you so much as glanced at something, he insisted on getting it for you. A cute mug? Into the cart. The skincare set you hesitated over? “You need it, babe. Trust me.”

“Walker, you spoil me to much,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s the goal,” he replied, leaning in to kiss your nose.

By the time you reached the toy aisle, the cart was overflowing. Walker grabbed a Nerf blaster and shot a dart at the floor, laughing when it barely made it three feet.

“We’re getting this,” he declared.

“No, we’re not,” you said, but he was already adding it to the pile.

Finally, at the checkout, Walker insisted on paying despite your protests.

“It’s our tradition,” he said, pulling out his card. “Just let me do this.”

On the way out, he carried most of the bags to the car, even though you offered to help.

“You carried me through this entire Target run,” he joked. “It’s only fair I carry the bags.”

Once everything was loaded into the trunk, Walker pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing softly against yours. “Best Target run yet,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

“You say that every week,” you teased, your fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie. “And I mean it every week,” he replied, kissing you again.

As you drove him back home, his hand found yours on the console, fingers intertwining. The bags rustled softly in the backseat, but all you could think about was how lucky you were to have him.

“Same time next week?” he asked, turning to you with a soft smile.

“Obviously,” you said, grinning.

You didn’t need anything fancy. A simple Target run with Walker was more than enough to make your heart feel full.

A/N: i highkey stole this from my bf and i's target runs lol.

Tags: @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[l-starlight-l]

Caught up in the moment

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Notes: first smut🎉

Summary: Nanami and you make some poor decisions that have embarrassing consequences

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

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

What was supposed to be a friendly drink after work with a few of your coworkers has landed you behind the bar in a very vulnerable position. Your arms are wrapped around his neck has he grips your hips tighter. Your lips on his as you two are basically eating each other’s faces. Nanami had far more to drink than he had planned and you have always been a bit of a light weight. Soft glances at each other through the night had just built up this sexual tension between the two of you. When you felt his hand creep up your thigh and the whispered promise in your ear you knew you weren’t gonna be making it home tonight.

You barely make it through the door before he is already tearing your clothes off. He’s more impatient than he usaually is causing you to giggle into his kiss as you try to undress him at the same time. The bedroom is a lost cause when he picks you up and your legs wrap around him, finally getting the skin to skin contact you’ve been craving. He sets you down on the kitchen counter and his kisses leave your lips. You feel his heat move to your neck, down to your chest. His hands are already cradling your boobs making you squirm in pleasure. He doesn’t stop there though he goes all the way down. You look into his eyes between your legs. His facial expression is hard and you know what he wants.

“Please kento” you say hushed as if you only want him to hear, “I need you”. A gasp falls from your lips as his tongue is on you. He knows exactly what you like and it destroys you. He makes quick work of sucking on your clit and then swirling his tongue in circles around it. When you feel like he can’t make you feel any better one of his large fingers slip inside of you. His hair is being pulled by one of your hands and the counter edge with the other. He would never let you fall but you are just trying to brace yourself and not come to early. As he adds another finger, a pressure starts to build up and you can’t form any more sentences. Only soft gasps and pleads escape your lips. You can feel his grin on you as you cum all over his face. You sit there in a daze as he keeps going. He makes sure to clean up his messes always. Before you can catch your breath he hauls you over his shoulder. “We’re not done yet” his deep almost feral toned voice says. He carries you into the bedroom and throws you into the bed ready to have his way with you.

The sun is high in the sky yet both of you are still sound asleep. What happened last night was unusual for you two but only because it was on a school night. Having to work the next day would tend to make him go light on the drinks, and rounds, but something about your outfit last night obviously made his judgment cloudy. A small snore escapes your drooling mouth as the door swings open. Nanami shoots up in bed, he’s still shirtless but thankfully found some pants last night before he fell asleep. “Nanami” a young man’s voice calls out cheerfully, “are you still sleep-“ his sentence is cut off as his eyes meet your horrified one’s. “Is that who I think it is ” a female voice says in shock over the phone. “It definitely is” Gojo confirms to Shoko over the phone. You cling to your baggy shirt you slipped on last night after round five in the shower and thank god you made that decision. Nanami stands up and shoos the amused man out of the room as you sit in bed flustered. No way that happened. You look at the clock and it’s already almost eleven. Shit shit shit. You’re so late for work. You hear kentos rough morning voice complaining, “I regret giving you my address”.

“You were supposed to met us at nine” Gojo explains, their voices carry through the door as you scrabble to get ready. “We were worried, you’re never late”. I’m so not gonna live this done, You think to yourself as you open the door.

“I was just um helping kento with a long lasting injury from a battle last week” you say trying to make this situation look less bad as you greet the first years.

“Oh I’m sure you were” Shoko says through the phone as you realize he was FaceTiming her the whole time. Her tone is knowing and teasing only causing your face to heat even more.

“Any way I’m late for work I’ll see you all later” you basically run out of the apartment shoot kento a pleading and apologetic look. You hear him scolding his coworkers as you make your way out of the building and a small, embarrassed laugh escapes your lips. At least you don’t have to keep your relationship a secret anymore. Though you wish you had told them in a less awkward way.

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

[insidekatmind]

Secret Relationship~Pope Heyward

You stretched out on your towel, the sun warming your skin as you adjusted your sunglasses. The ocean waves crashed softly in the background, blending with the occasional laughter from JJ and Pope out in the water. Kie was next to you, eyes closed, soaking up the sun in peaceful silence.

It felt like a perfect Pogue day—until you felt cold water splatter all over you.

"Gah!" you gasped, jolting upright as droplets hit your skin. You ripped your sunglasses off, narrowing your eyes at the culprit.

Pope stood there, grinning mischievously, shaking his hair like a dog. "What? You looked like you were overheating."

"You’re dead," you threatened, grabbing your towel to swat him.

Pope laughed, easily dodging the swing. "I couldn’t resist."

Kie opened one eye and chuckled. "You two are the worst at keeping things casual."

You shot her a look. "Shut up."

Pope flopped down onto the sand beside you, his wet board shorts brushing against your leg. The heat from your tanning session was immediately replaced by his cool touch.

"How was the water?" you asked, pretending not to notice the way your heart raced when he leaned a little closer.

"Perfect," Pope said, eyes softening as he glanced at you. "You should come in next time."

"Maybe," you teased. "If someone promises not to splash me like a maniac."

JJ ran up, dropping his surfboard dramatically onto the sand. "Did I miss something? Why is she threatening to murder you, Pope?"

"Because he—"

Before you could finish, Pope shot you a warning look, and you bit your tongue. JJ knew nothing about your relationship, and you weren’t ready for him to find out. Pope was right. If word got out that the daughter of Sheriff Shoupe was dating a Pogue, chaos would follow.

"Because he’s annoying," you finished, standing up to shake the sand off your towel.

JJ squinted at you suspiciously but shrugged it off. "Fair. Hey, you guys hungry? We could hit The Wreck."

Pope glanced at you. "What do you think?"

You hesitated. "Sure. I could eat."

---

At The Wreck…

The four of you sat at a corner booth, JJ devouring a basket of fries while Kie sipped on a lemonade. You and Pope sat across from each other, sneaking glances when no one was looking.

"So," JJ began, pointing a fry at Pope. "What’s up with you lately? You’ve been acting weird."

"Weird how?" Pope asked, trying to play it cool.

JJ shrugged. "I don’t know. Distracted. Secretive. You hiding something from us?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked down at your burger to avoid JJ’s curious gaze.

"JJ," Kie groaned, rolling her eyes. "Not everything is a conspiracy."

JJ smirked. "Maybe not, but you gotta admit—"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted him, and you froze as your dad, Sheriff Shoupe, walked in. He scanned the restaurant, his eyes narrowing when he spotted you.

"Dad," you greeted, standing up awkwardly.

"What are you doing here with them?" Shoupe asked, his tone disapproving as he eyed Pope and JJ.

"Just grabbing lunch," you said, keeping your voice steady.

Shoupe’s eyes lingered on Pope a little too long, and you saw Pope shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"I’ve got my eye on you," Shoupe warned Pope before turning to you. "We’ll talk when you get home."

With that, he left, and the tension at the table was thick.

"Well," JJ said after a beat. "That wasn’t awkward at all."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "He’s just… overprotective."

Kie gave you a knowing look but said nothing.

As soon as JJ got up to grab another drink, Pope leaned over. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "But this is exactly why we need to keep this quiet."

Pope nodded. "I get it. But we’ll figure it out, okay?"

You smiled softly, reaching under the table to squeeze his hand. "Okay."

Just then, JJ returned, plopping back down with a soda. "What’d I miss?"

"Nothing," you both said in unison.

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

He didn’t look convinced, but for now, your secret was safe.

You smile and hold his hand tighter under the table

Pope smiled back, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through your body.

JJ glanced between the two of you, a little too observant for comfort, but said nothing.

The rest of the lunch was filled with casual chatter, but you felt Pope's presence keenly next to you. Every passing moment heightened your awareness of him, the secret touches and subtle glances making your heart pound louder than any conversation.

When it was time to go, Kie and JJ headed back to The Chateau, leaving you and Pope alone for a moment.

"I guess I should go," Pope said, his voice low.

"Yeah," you murmured, feeling a pang of disappointment. You didn't want to say goodbye yet.

Pope studied your face, a silent understanding passing between you. He was struggling just as much as you were.

"can I at least give you a kiss" you murmur playfully touching his shoulders

Pope's eyes darkened at your words, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer.

"I think that's the best idea I've heard all day," he murmured back, his lips brushing against your cheek.

You tilted your head, your lips meeting in a gentle but passionate kiss. It was brief yet filled with an intensity that left you both breathless.Pope's eyes darkened at your words, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer.

You tilted your head, your lips meeting in a gentle but passionate kiss. It was brief yet filled with an intensity that left you both breathless.

You deepened the kiss and added tongue.The kiss, once started innocently, took on a different tone as you added tongue. Pope's grip on your hips tightened, and he pulled you even closer, responding in kind.

His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss further. It was hungry, desperate, and filled with the pent-up frustration of keeping your feelings hidden.

You were both lost in the moment, the world around you fading away. His kisses trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

A part of you knew this was risky, that someone could see. But in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All that mattered was the feel of his lips on your skin and his body pressed against yours.

You moan and give him more space "god I missed this".

"Me too," he breathed, his hands tracing down your sides and settling on the curve of your hips.

The sound of your moan had sent him reeling, and he reclaimed your lips in an urgent kiss. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" Pope whispered against your mouth.

you murmured happily into the kiss, holding him tighter. at that moment jj came back and saw the scene.The sound of a wolf whistle interrupted the intimate moment, and you broke apart to find JJ smirking at you.

"Well, well," JJ said, leaning against a parked car. "What have we here?"

"shit" you whisper.Pope tensed beside you, his expression hardening as he looked at JJ. "It's not what it looks like."

JJ, however, just chuckled, enjoying the spectacle. "Really? Because to me, it looks like you two were about to get a room."

"We weren't," you protested, your cheeks flushing.

JJ raised an eyebrow, a smug grin on his face. "Oh, come on. You two have been acting weird all day, sneaking glances, giggling... Don't even try to deny it."

Pope took a step forward, his voice stern. "JJ, listen—"

But JJ interrupted him, holding up a hand. "Save it, man. I figured it out a long time ago. You're not as subtle as you think."

Your heart sank. You had been so careful, so calculated, and yet JJ had known all along?

Pope's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists.

JJ's tone softened, his smirk fading into a serious expression. "Hey, it's cool. I get it. You two like each other, and you've been tryna hide it. But secrets have a way of getting out, you know?"

You could feel the tension in the air thicken. Pope was on edge; JJ's casual attitude irked him.

Pope took a calming breath before speaking. "Yes, we've been seeing each other. But we've been keeping it quiet for a reason. If my dad finds out..."

JJ nodded understandingly. "Hey, I get it. Sheriff Shoupe ain't a fan of us pogues."

He paused, considering something before he continued. "Look, your secret is safe with me. I won't say anything."

Pope's shoulders dropped, some of the tension leaving his body. "Thanks, JJ."

"Just don't be shocked if Kie figures it out too," JJ warned with a small smile.

You groaned inwardly. Kie was observant; it wouldn't be long before she caught on too.

"Great," you muttered. "Just great."

JJ chuckled, patting you on the shoulder. "Chin up, kid. This is the Outer Banks. Nothing stays a secret for long here."

There was some truth to that. The community was tight-knit, and gossip spread like wildfire.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. JJ was right.

Pope shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his own mouth. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

JJ flashed a cocky grin. "It's part of my charm."

With that, he turned and headed back to his car. You and Pope shared a look, relief and resignation mingling in your gazes.

Once JJ had driven off, you and Pope were left alone again. The silence between you was loaded with the weight of JJ's discovery.

"So, that went well," you said with a nervous laugh.

Pope let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "As well as it could've, I suppose."

He looked at you, his eyes serious. "We need to be more careful. If JJ noticed, Kie definitely will. And your dad..."

you kiss him to reassure him .The feeling of your lips on his immediately calmed his nerves. He relaxed into the kiss, his arms encircling you in a tight embrace.

For a moment, there were no worries, no fears. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms.

[riririnnnn]

To know that Sae doesn't think he is having any kind of fight with Rin and he, in fact, watches BLTV too makes me think that this post of mine wasn't that far from the tracks.

Yes, of course, he might not be watching BLTV solely for Rin and the reasons might also be Isagi, Shidou, Kaiser, and maybe even Lorenzo, Charles, Loki, and Noa. However, I just like to believe that he never stopped looking out for his little brother, Rin. And in a very strange way, I think he was looking out for Rin in that Snowy Night too.

First thing first, something was wrong with Sae in that flashback.

As the saying goes, "Eyes are the window to one's soul," he looks so worn out—miserable, in fact. And I highly think that around the time of this flashback, it hadn't been that long since he lost his dream—or maybe got his dreams crushed. And I got two reasons to think this way:

To repeat my words, he looks miserable, which is a given when you lose a dream, compared to his later appearance like in the U-20 match. And judging by the timeline, the flashback and U-20 match have 1 year-ish gap which is an ample amount of time to cope up and get a hold of yourself.

Rin kept close tabs on Sae through news and all. The younger Itoshi would definitely be the one, if not the first, to know that Sae was now aiming to be the best midfielder instead of the best striker. But..

...Rin didn't know shit.

Now, you might be wondering why in the world I'm focusing so much on the timeline, right? Like, Sae got his dreams crushed, then he return to Japan and confronted Rin—what's the big deal about it even if these events happened in a short amount of time?

...

And that's where you'd be wrong if you think this way.

We all keep forgetting that to be the world's greatest striker was Sae's dream first before he decided to share it with Rin. Sae has been playing this sport since he was one year old. Soccer, probably, came into his life before Rin did. Rin gave his teen years to this game, but Sae has nearly given his whole life to this dream.

Now imagine yourself in Sae's position. Imagine devoting your whole childhood and teen years to something only to not be able to achieve it in the end. Won't you be devastated? Won't you be a mess? Won't you need some time to collect yourself together? Now do you understand why the timeline matters so much? And why the timeline is such a big deal? Hm?

Secondly, Sae has never been a visibly sweet person, even to Rin.

Yes, Sae took care of Rin, but did we ever see him go, "Aww! My lil baby bro Rinnie! Cutie patootie! My baby bro <333333" Did we? He had always been rather.. emotion-less and blunt. After the above panel, too, his words were, "You can be the most amazing, after me."

He just has been like that.

Always.

That's why I have always believed that he never changed as a person, even after Spain. He has been like this from the start, which is also why I think that his harsh words in that Snowy Night was just another way of him looking out for Rin because guess who has known soccer longer? Who has gone out of Japan and seen the outside world's soccer with his own eyes?

Yeah.

In a way, Sae's dream had more weight than Rin's. The older Itoshi had soccer in front of his vision, meanwhile the younger one had his Nii-chan in front of his eyes. Despite being so focused in this sport, Sae just couldn't be it, so what makes you think Rin could've made it when his sole focus was his Nii-chan instead? Wouldn't have Rin struggled so much in the outside world with this kind of mentality?

And this is something, I think, Sae knew too—on that Snowy Night, he actually realised what Rin's real mindset was like and immediately knew that it just wasn't going to fly in the world stage. Sae was just saving Rin from the hardships he himself must've went through during his time in Spain—Sae was just looking out for Rin.

"What about those mean things he said to Rin?" you may ask, and that's exactly where the timeline comes into play—Sae was just a mess, and Rin's words were the breaking point for him.

"What words?" you may ask now, and these are the words:

Repeating myself, eyes are the window to one's soul:

Sae never broke his promise—Sae never stopped looking out for Rin.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 21: That's Been a Long Time Comin', Baby

You and Joel have a long overdue conversation. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 20, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Nothing really! Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 4.3k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

“You finally get arrested and it’s by goddamn rent-a-cops,” Tommy was beaming as he and Joel made their way from the police station to his truck. “Only you could make gettin’ in trouble this fuckin’ lame.” 

“It wasn’t a rent-a-cop,” Joel said, grinding his teeth. “It was university police.” 

“That’s a rent-a-cop.” 

“They’re real police!” Joel said. 

Tommy scoffed. 

“Not like you’re gonna have a record now.” 

“Only because they let me go without charging me with shit,” Joel said. “No idea why… Shouldn’t have even called you, wasn’t trying to waste your time.” 

“Not like you knew they were going to just let you go,” Tommy said, serious now. “I was Googling attorneys and shit, I thought I was going to have to bail your ass out for a change. Nice that they didn’t lock you up.” 

“Yeah,” Joel said as they reached Tommy’s truck. They got in and buckled up and Joel sighed, looking out the window. “Just wish I knew why.” 

He was at a loss. The police had hauled him out of your office so fast he didn’t even get a chance to find out what you were thinking, if you had anything at all to say. If he was right about the book, God he hoped he was right about the book. 

He thought - or maybe just hoped - that you’d show up at the police station. They threw him in a holding cell with a few college-aged fuckups and he watched the door, half convinced that you’d come walking in. Like if he just stared at it long enough you’d appear, come inside and walk right up to the bars and grab him and kiss him. Or at least yell at him. 

But you didn’t. 

Instead, he just stood there, watching the door, until a cop came over to take his information and  gave him the chance to call someone. Tommy got there about the same time as the same cop came over to tell Joel that he was free to go, at least for now. 

“So,” Tommy said eventually, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. “You gonna tell me exactly how you got your ass arrested by rent-a-cops?” 

Joel quirked his jaw. 

“Not saying you have to or anything,” Tommy continued. “But if you don’t tell me I will just make up some shit and it’ll be lame. Real lame. Like they caught you with a flask on campus and mistook you for a freshman lame.” 

“I…” Joel sighed. “I might have done something stupid.” 

“Likely thing for you to do,” Tommy said. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tommy said. “I’ll lay off but… c’mon, man. This is weird for you. You got me worried, you don’t do shit like this.” 

“I know,” Joel said, wondering if maybe he’d done something like this sooner - like when he saw that fucking guy kissing you years ago - maybe everything would be different now. “I… I read Goldie’s book.” 

“Alright…” Tommy said, glancing his way. “Last time I checked, that ain’t illegal.” 

“It’s not,” Joel said. “But… I’d never read it before and… Look, maybe I’m crazy, maybe it’s all fiction but it don’t feel like fiction and… I think she… she might… she might feel the same way I do.” 

“Oh shit,” Tommy laughed, grinning like an idiot. “Fuck yeah, man!” 

“I went to talk to her,” Joel said. “But she was there with her fucking husband and I overheard one of her students say he hit on her and then I went to her office and he was kissing her and I… I just… I punched him.” 

“Good for you!” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “About damn time somebody put that jackass in his place. What’d Goldie say?” 

“Not much,” Joel sighed. “Not like we got a chance to really talk. Said the book was ancient history, asked why I cared… Kept hoping she’d show up at the station but…” 

Tommy pulled up alongside Joel’s truck and he sighed. 

“Least I wasn’t locked up when I needed to get Sarah from school,” he muttered. 

“Don’t matter,” Tommy said. “I’m gonna go get her.” 

“What?” Joel laughed. 

“Not going to let you chicken out on this shit,” Tommy said. “I got Sarah, you go talk to Goldie. Actually talk to her, not yell some shit at her and then punch her husband. You’re finally - fucking finally - doing something about it. You’re finally going after what you want and I’m not going to let you give up because you got arrested by some mall cop on steroids.” 

“Tommy…” 

“I’m serious,” Tommy said. “I’ll get Sarah from school, she can stay with me tonight. Go get your girl, Joel.” 

Joel smiled a little. His brother might have more faith in him than he deserved but goddamn, it felt good. 

“Alright,” Joel said. “I’m gonna go get my girl.” 

He went to call you, just in case you unblocked him, but his phone was broken, the entire outer case bent - probably from when one of the cops wrestled him away from your office. He considered, for a minute, just going back to your office but he didn’t want to get arrested again. 

So he went home, just to grab your book. He wasn’t really sure why but he wanted it. He wanted to hold it in his hands, have something solid and yours there with him while he did this. He took a quick look in the mirror, feeling a little like the boy he was when he went to pick you up for prom. Everything felt so consequential, the way his hair fell against his forehead and the way his shirt hung on his body, anything that might help you look at him like he was something worth wanting suddenly vitally important in his reflection. 

“Right,” he said to no one but himself before taking a deep breath. “Now or never.” 

He drove to your house. He thought about getting flowers or something on the way but what if that was too much? What if this wasn’t what you wanted and something like flowers made it worse? Why didn’t he just know what to do? Loving you felt like the most natural thing in the world, why wasn’t telling you just as easy?

He came to your door with nothing but your book in his hands and he was pretty sure you weren’t home but he knocked, anyway. He paced for a minute when you didn’t answer, then stood there, clenching his jaw and staring out at the road like a dumbass before he decided to just sit down and wait because what the fuck else was he going to do. 

After what felt like forever - but probably wasn’t much time at all - Joel opened the book. 

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular but he found himself lingering on the parts where Cressida and Eli were together and, if not happy, at least hopeful. He was reading a passage where they were all tangled up in each other and while it was sensual, the intimacy of it came from the deep knowing and understanding the two shared. It was a feeling, Joel thought, that could only be found in one person. He’d spent half his life searching for it again and never found it and he wanted it, he wanted it so bad it hurt. 

“When you said you read it, I assumed it was the whole thing, not just the first 50 pages.” 

Joel’s head shot up from the book and found you standing on your walk with your house keys in your hand. 

He jumped up, snapping the book shut when he did. 

“I did,” he said. ��I was just… I wanted to read it again. Parts of it again.” 

You nodded slowly and walked up to him, stopping close enough that he could reach out and grab you and kiss you if you’d just let him. 

“I tried calling,” you said. “It went straight to voicemail.” 

“Oh, uh,” Joel passed the book from one hand to the other and pulled his phone out, holding it up as proof. “It broke, probably when I got arrested but… well, since you blocked my number, wasn’t too worried about it.” 

You frowned, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Blocked you? I didn’t block you.” 

“Think you did,” Joel laughed a little. “Believe it or not, turning up at your office wasn’t my first choice but I got a message that said your number was unavailable when I called so…” 

Your frown deepened and you pulled out your phone, scrolling on it for a moment before gaping at the screen. 

“Son of a bitch,” you swore. “That…” You looked at Joel again. “I didn’t block you, I’m guessing Gale did sometime in the last few days…” 

“Where is your husband?” Joel asked, looking over your shoulder. “Not gonna let me get another swing on him is he?” 

You laughed once. 

“He’s at the hospital,” you said. “I don’t think he’ll be showing his face here any time too soon.” 

“Good,” Joel said. “You deserve better than that asshole.” 

You smiled tightly. 

“What are you doing here, Joel.” 

“I…” he searched your face for some indication of what you thought, what you wanted, but even though he knew your face better than any other he couldn’t seem to read you. “I needed to see you, I had to see you, baby, I…” 

You bit your lip and he fought the urge to pull it free of your teeth and run his thumb over you there. 

“Let’s go inside,” you said. “We… we can talk. Just talk. If that’s OK.” 

His heart beat a little faster. He could work with that. 

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Let’s talk.” 

***

Your heart was pounding, so hard and fast you thought Joel must be able to hear it. 

But if he could, he didn’t say anything. You just let the two of you into your house and tried to force yourself to stay calm, to not let your racing thoughts get too far ahead of yourself. 

You hadn’t expected to find him on your front porch when you got home. You’d called him. You’d called the police station again but he’d left by then. You’d even tried going by his house but no one was home and you had this sinking feeling that you’d blown it, somehow. Not that you even knew what ‘it’ was but it seemed as though the moment in your office was a breaking point you didn’t know existed and it was behind you now and there was nothing you could do to get it back. 

And then Joel was there on your porch, a copy of your book in his hands, one that he was reading so intently he hadn’t even noticed you drive up. 

You hung your bag on a hook and put your keys in the dish by the door and Joel followed behind you, his eyes intent enough on you that you could feel them even at your back. 

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” You asked, more for something to say than anything else because what the fuck were your supposed to say in this situation? 

“Not here for a drink, Goldie.” 

“OK,” you said, turning to face him as you stood in the middle of your living room because sitting down felt too strange. You crossed your arms over your chest to keep from touching him. “Why are you here, Joel?” 

“I read your book,” he said quickly. “And I know it took me long enough but I just couldn’t… I thought it was gonna be about you and that fucking guy but it wasn’t and… Goldie, I need to know if it was about us.” 

Your fingers dug into your arms as you tightened your grip on yourself, your stomach churning. 

“What does it matter if it was?” You asked. “I didn’t need to ask your permission to write about my own life, that’s not how that works and…” 

“No, Jesus,” he cut you off. “I… I don’t care, you can write about whatever you want with me but Goldie, is this how you felt? Back then, when we were kids, was this -” he held up the book “-how you felt?” 

You frowned and looked at the book. It was signed, your signature broad and looping on the dust jacket. 

“Where did you get that?” You asked. “I never signed a copy for you…” 

He lowered the book, looking at the cover for a moment before looking back at you.

“I bought it online,” he said. “Some charity auction thing, years ago. I… I wanted a copy that felt more like it came from you. Stop changing the subject, please, and just… we have to actually fucking talk about this, baby, we can’t keep avoiding it forever because it hurts. Please. It’ll wreck us both.” 

“Yes, OK?” You said, louder and more forcefully than you’d really meant to and you had to take a breath to calm down, closing your eyes because you weren’t sure you could look at him and admit this. “Yes, that… that’s how I felt.” 

“Goldie…” 

“Please don’t make this a thing, Joel,” you said, looking toward your windows because anywhere was better than looking at him. “Please don’t.” 

But he didn’t let you turn away from him. Instead, he closed the small gap between you and took your face firmly in his large hand, his grip on you tight. 

“Goldie,” he said softly. “Look at me.” 

You steeled yourself and obeyed, tears already starting to build and you tried to hold them back as best you could. 

“Do you still feel that way?” He asked quietly. 

“Don’t do this to me, Joel,” you whispered. “Please.” 

“Don’t do what?” He asked, his eyes tracing your face again and again. 

“Don’t ask me to…” you took a deep, shaky breath. “Don’t ask me to be the one to ruin everything. I can’t…” 

“I love you,” he cut you off. “There, now it ain’t you, it’s me.” 

“Joel…” 

“I love you,” he said it again. “I’ll keep saying it, I don’t care. I love you. I loved you then, too, and…” 

You pulled yourself away from him, shaking your head, desperate for some distance. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. 

“Don’t do that, don’t lie to me because you feel guilty or whatever,” you said, tears falling now. “I know how you felt, Joel, I heard you. If… if things changed, then… then maybe we can… I don’t know, but don’t lie and tell me that I was anything to you back then, alright? I know it was forever ago now, I know we were kids, but it still hurts, OK? It hurts, it hurts every fucking time I look at you but I just keep living with it because you’re worth it to me and-”

He grabbed you and kissed you then, harsh and rough and forceful and your body bowed to his instinctively, curving and arching into his touch, kissing him back desperately before you remembered what you were doing here and pulled back from him. Your eyes were wide, lips swollen, cheeks wet and Joel was panting for breath, watching you. 

“Don’t do that!” You shook his hands from you and wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist. “Stop trying to distract me, stop treating me like I’m just some girl you fuck, just stop!” 

“That’s not what I’m doin’, baby,” he said. His voice was calm, sure. “Swear I’m not.” 

“Then what were you doing in your kitchen?” You demanded, trying to make yourself calm down and failing. “After Sarah’s party, what were you doing then?” 

Joel looked like he was trying not to smile. 

“What!” You demanded. 

“You love me, too,” he said. 

“Joel.” 

“S’why you’re all worked up,” he said. “I love you and you love me, too. I’ll feel better when you actually say it, but…” 

You shook your head, your heart beating a frantic rhythm against your ribs. 

“You’re being mean,” you said. 

“I’m not trying to be,” he said. “I love you.” 

“Stop saying that.” 

“No,” he said. “I love you.” 

“Then why would you do that?” You cried. “Why did you treat me like I was just… just…” 

“Just what, baby.” 

“Just a warm body!” You said. 

“Baby…” 

“That’s what it felt like!” You kept going, on a tear now. “That’s what it felt like back then when you avoided me and you told your friend how it would have been better if you’d fucked anyone besides me, that’s what it felt like every time you avoided me because you caved to whatever baser instinct you had and touched me a few months ago, that’s what it felt like when you practically fucked me in your kitchen and made it sound like all we were to each other was some way to get off and that might be true for you, Joel, but it was never that way for me! 

“And it’s pathetic! Because when we were kids, I felt so bad for all the girls you’d fuck and leave. I pitied them! I thought they were so desperate and sad and then I turned into one of them! And I… I just…” 

“Just what,” Joel said softly. 

“I just…” your voice broke and your eyes met his. “I can’t be nothing to you, Joel. I can’t.” 

“Oh baby,” he said, so gently. He delicately took your face in his hands and dried your tears, thumbs curving over the arch of your cheekbones. “You’re everything.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked away, scoffing.

“Joel…” 

“You gonna let me talk for a minute?” He asked, brows raised, his hands moving to your shoulders. “Because I think we need to.” 

You sniffed and gritted your teeth for a moment but you nodded, anyway. 

“Well, you’re a lot smarter than me but you’re wrong about a lot,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but he gave you a look and you closed it again and he smiled a little. “Thank you. Promise I’ll let you yell at me once this is all out, alright?” 

You just sniffled and nodded again. 

“I have loved you since that day on the football field almost 20 goddamn years ago,” he said. Your heart beat faster. “Pretty sure the first time I saw you holdin’ that damn gold notebook of yours I was a goner. I was just… I was young and dumb - still pretty dumb to be honest…” 

“Shut up,” you shoved him lightly. “You’re not dumb.” 

“No, I am,” he said. “Because I let my fear and my insecurity keep me from telling you all of this years ago. You were so smart and talented and driven and even then, I knew you were going to be something. Figured there wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d want someone like me so why would I try. All I’d do was fuck up what we had. But then prom happened and I panicked.” 

“You said anyone would have been better than me,” you said softly, searching his face for some sign that he was sugar coating this in some way. “I heard you…” 

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d heard me then but I know what I said. Took me a while to remember it after you told me but I did and… Look, I know… I know you think I was sleeping with those girls back in high school but… I wasn’t.” 

You frowned. 

“What?” 

“Prom night…” he sighed, wincing a little as he did. “That… that was my first time, too.” 

You looked at him like you were waiting for a punch line but none came. 

“But…” you shook your head. “You… You dated all those girls then and…” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, I was tryin’ to get my best friend out of my system. Didn’t work so well for me in the end and then all I really had going for me was that you thought I was cool and when you assumed I was sleeping with those girls I just… didn’t tell you you were wrong.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” You were so close to him you were sure he could hear your heart racing. 

“Well, that meant that I didn’t know anything about sex besides porn and the bullshit they taught us in school,” he said. “So I went to talk to Ricky because I thought he’d actually know how to handle that shit and tell me how to handle it and… I was afraid, baby. I was afraid I got you pregnant, that I ruined your life and that’s why I said it. I didn’t want to fuck things up for you, I didn’t want to trap you with me when you deserved so much better than that. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you and it wasn’t because I didn’t love you. It’s because I loved you so goddamn much that I freaked out at just the thought of fucking your life up.” 

“Joel,” you whispered, your heart racing. 

“I never thought you’d just leave like that,” he said. “I thought… I thought I’d be able to talk to you, once I had a plan, once I knew I could make it all OK, once I stopped freaking the fuck out, I thought we could talk and figure it out.”

You just stared at him, open mouthed, for a moment. 

“I…” you managed eventually. “I didn’t…” 

“I know,” he said softly, gently. 

“I thought you didn’t care about me,” you said, almost choking on the knot in your throat. “I… I thought you saw me as some stupid, geeky girl who you just… I don’t know, got stuck with one day and I couldn’t… I couldn’t face that so I left, I went to school early and…” 

“I know,” he said again before he laughed once, darkly. “I know. I… I went to find you.” 

“What?” You asked. 

“Back then,” he said. “Eventually wore Anna down, she told me where you went and… well… I went to find you. Talk to you. Didn’t think you’d just pick up if I called your new number, figured you couldn’t ignore me if I showed up.” 

“But,” you frowned. “I’d remember you coming to Brown…” 

“I’m sure you would,” he nodded. “But you never saw me. I saw you, though. You were with him. I couldn’t take that, either, so I left.” 

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your eyes searching his, so open and honest. “You loved me.” 

He smiled a little, one of his crooked smiles, just enough to make his cheek dimple. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I loved you with your weirdly good breakfast sandwiches and too much cream in your coffee and your smart-ass movie commentary and your obsession with dippin’ French fries in Blizzards - which is still an abomination, by the way.” 

You laughed wetly. 

“Joel,” your hands found his waist, fingers tightening in his shirt. 

“Never stopped loving you, baby,” he said, taking your face gently in his hand. “Not since the day I met you, not for one second. Figured I was kind of a lost cause in that department, after a while. Thought I’d have to settle for whatever little piece of you you’d give me but now… well, now I’m hopin’ that book means you feel the same way.” 

You couldn’t seem to find your voice so you just nodded, fast and sure and he laughed, sounding almost giddy, before he smiled, big and broad and all encompassing, like you’d just given him the world. 

“Think I can try somethin’ I’ve been wanting to do for about 20 damn years?” He asked. You just nodded, still speechless, and Joel stepped closer to you, closing what little gap there was between your bodies. The hand not against your cheek went to the small of your back and he cradled you to him, his eyes searching yours, his nose brushing your own. You could feel every line of his body against your own and your breath hitched, his gaze locked on yours until the last second, your eyes closing just as your lips met. 

You’d kissed Joel plenty before, more times than you could possibly count, but it had never been like this. Every other time your lips had touched his, it had been with some pretense attached - because he was rescuing you from your shitty husband or to make you feel better about being alone on New Year’s or as the build up toward some physical release. You’d never gotten to kiss him because you loved him, you’d never gotten to kiss him because he loved you. 

It was slow, gentle, patient, like you had all the time in the world instead carrying the undertones of something illicit. He was soft and warm, his hands against you like you were a delicate, precious thing. Your lips moved with his, your mouth opening along with his, just enough that you could taste him, breathe him, feel some part of him settle inside of you with a grounding certainty. He loved you. Joel loved you. 

Your arms looped around behind him, holding him close but not too tight - you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, not this time - and you kissed him the way you always wanted to kiss the love of your life. 

Eventually, breathlessly, you pulled away from each other, just enough to look into each other’s eyes again before you both laughed a little, bodies still pressed close. 

“That’s been a long time comin’ baby,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It really has.” 

“Think I can take you to bed?” He asked. “Think we have some lost time to make up for.” 

You just smiled and laced your fingers with his before leading your best friend to your room. 

A/N: I sincerely hope the end of this chapter wasn't a let down! I'd originally intended for them to sleep together in the same chapter as the confession but SO MUCH got laid on the table here it felt like adding their first time having honest, loving sex would be too much all at once, you know? But that is coming up next, I promise.

Special shout out to @dancingtotuyo, @dundienominee and @mysticnightmarewrites for helping me figure out how to close this chapter.

Hopefully, this conversation was at least somewhat worth the wait! Thank you for still being here, a small eternity after I started writing this story. I really do love you all so much!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[heartmix]

Never Be - Jack Hughes

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K+ (with lyrics)

Warning: theres angst, pre-devils Jack

A/N: inspired by never be by 5sos. this is not how i wanted to end the fic but it just went in that direction

Masterlist \ Hockey Masterlist

We'll never be as young as we are now It's time to leave this old black and white town

"Let's leave."

"What?" Lifting your head to look at him beside you on the couch to ensure you heard him right. Both of you were in the Hughes family basement enjoying a film you knew he wasn't really paying attention to. Everyone else was asleep upstairs, ditching the both of you two movies ago.  

"Let's leave, go somewhere. No turning back." He repeated giving you a serious expression. Jack was full of surprises and you've learned to love that about him but the look in his eyes tonight was different. There was no pinpointing what emotion he was feeling but you knew he needed this, whatever this was. 

"What's gotten into that brain of yours Hughes?"

"This is the last time we get to be young and dumb. By next week, we'll be both adults off to do our own thing. Just one last time being a teenager with you."

"Well, what do you wanna do? Where do you wanna go?"

"Follow me." He said holding out his hand. Glady taking it you let him pull you off the couch and straight to his car. 

Jack wasn't exactly sure where he was driving to; he didn't have a destination in mind. He just wanted to leave the town with you and soak in the few moments you had left together before his world changed. By this time next week, he would already be practicing at the devil's rink and you would be moving into your new college dorm. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he wouldn't get the chance to talk to you every day. From the stories Quinn has told he would be lucky to catch you when you both are free or when in the same time zone when he's away for games. The Hughes brothers, as close as they are were lucky to catch a back-to-back conversation when the season started. 

I've seen myself here in your eyes I stay awake 'til the sunrise I wanna hold you hold you all night I wanna tell you that you're all mine

The farthest place Jack could think of going was the lookout where the both of you were frequent visitors. He remembered the first time he took you here. It was just a few years ago when he was learning how to drive and accidentally took the wrong turn. Between the nervousness from driving and you teasing him every second of being so nervous, he ended up on the lookout. A happy accident that became both of your spots.

"This might be your last view of our spot for a while." He looked over seeing you take in the sight yourself. 

"Same goes for you, you had to move away for college."

"You had to move away for hockey." teasing back, Jack couldn't help the hint of a smirk pulling from his lips. 

A moment of silence passed through. The only sound was from nature surrounding you both. There was no telling what time it was, time seemed to not exist but at the same time moving faster than he would like. If he could take this moment with you in his arms watching the slowness of the town, he would hang it on every wall so it would make it feel like it never ended. 

"What's going on with you Jacky?"

"I'm just taking this in before leaving." He didn't want to meet her eyes, he was holding on by a thread, and with one more push, he was going to spill his guts. 

"I thought we came to terms with this changing?"

"We did. I came to terms with leaving for New Jersey, not leaving you." There it was. The thing he was trying to hold back and not tell you. He didn't want to guilt trip you and make you feel bad. This occurrence was part of growing up, they weren't the first people to experience this change. 

"Jack.." 

"You are the only constant I had in my life these few years, I don't remember a time we've been apart for a long period of time."

"We'll see each other at Christmas right? that's just a few months away." He knew what you were trying to do and although you giving him hope usually cheered him up, it didn't work this time. 

"Might as well be a whole lifetime."

"You're not making this any easier for me." looking at you he saw tears welling up in your eyes. That wasn't what he wanted to do and he wished he could take back what he just said. 

"I thought you accepted it already." 

"I accepted it until tonight. I've been trying so hard to accept it and it took me nights of crying to be okay and here you are not moving on and it's breaking down my walls." at this point the tears couldn't stop and just kept following. he's never seen you like this, breaking down about the two of you being apart. You were always the strong and level head one out of the two, so seeing this right now he wished more than anything he could be in control of time. Reversing it so he never poured his heart out or freezing it so the both of you could stay like this forever. 

"Why didn't you tell me you've been crying?" The crack in his voice snapped something in you.

"Because you're going to the freakin NHL. I was with you on draft day and saw all the excitement from everyone. How selfish would I be if I told you I was sad about you moving away from me."

"Now you know how feel when I read your acceptance letter to a school on the other coast."

A beat of silence passed before either of them said anything. This was the first time both of you confessed how you were really feeling. Jack knew you were feeling upset about the change just like him, but hearing you confess how it was affecting you tugged at his heart even more. 

"Can you promise me one thing?" Her ask almost came out as a whisper, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to say it.

"Anything you want."

"When you make it big, and you get new friends, a new life in Jersey, a girlfriend, and start a family, promise that you'll never forget me. I'll be good with one call a year or a text for my birthday. I don't think I could take being out of your life for good." The confession made him mad. What was she even talking about? Did she really think that she could be replaced so easily, after being connected by the hips since grade school? 

"Baby, what are you saying? I'm never ever going to forget you. You are my person and the only constant I want in my life. If you are down the road from me or on a different coast, you'll always be mine. Don't think for one second I'll want to find someone else. I want you and I'm happy with any way I'll get that."

"Jack you're not saying what I think you're saying." He was. He didn't want to confess it this way but hearing all the nonsense she was talking about, he needed to end those thoughts right now. 

"I am. I just haven't had the courage to tell you until now."

"I need to ask you for one more thing." The tone in her voice made him scared. Of course, she wouldn't feel the same way. 

With the last bit of dignity he had left he still wondered what she wanted to say, "What is it?"

"I need you to tell me this when we aren't about to move away from each other. It can't be at Christmas or off seasons also. I need you to tell me this when we have adulthood somewhat figured out. If you still feel the same way, tell me then." Although it wasn't what he wanted to hear, he was glad she felt the same way. Of course, she wanted to be logical while in the heat of emotion. 

"I've felt like this for years, if I have to wait a bit longer I will." A smile cracked through. He wasn't kidding. He's waited years since they first entered high school, what difference does it make if he has to wait for her to finish college? 

"We'll see."

"Can we pretend for the last few hours we have tonight? I wanted to remember this."

"You got until sunrise Jacky." With a content smile, he pulled you into his side, entangling your fingers together and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. If he had to wait a few years so be it. 

We'll never be as young as we are now As young as we are now