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firewasabeast · 26 days

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The Clarity

The final part of my Meeting the Parents series! You can start from the beginning here, and read the final part below or on ao3. Each part can be read separately, but it makes more sense if you read them all.

They had just made it out of The Gables and onto paved road when Buck couldn't stay silent any longer. He had been staring down at the photo album, listening to Tommy sniff and suck in breaths every now and then. And judging by the fact he was occasionally swerving slightly off the road, it was easy to assume his eyes were blurred with tears.

“Tommy,” he started, his voice soft yet assertive, “you need to pull over.”

Tommy sniffed again. His grip on the wheel tightened. “No, I'm okay.”

There was no way he could drive all the way home like this, and no way that Buck was going to let him. “Tommy,” he repeated. He looked over at him, noted the red-rimmed eyes and his trembling lip. Buck reached out and touched his shoulder, stroking his thumb back and forth over the muscle. “Babe, pull over.”

Buck wasn't sure if it was the touch, or the pet name, but the dam Tommy had been building up burst. He pulled over to the side of the road just as the tears started to fall.

He leaned forward, shoulders shaking. He rested his hands and head against the steering wheel.

The photo album was quickly dropped to the floorboard. Buck unbuckled and raised the center console so he could scoot into the middle seat and wrap himself around Tommy. It was an awkward angle, but one arm wrapped around his waist, while the other rubbed up and down his back. He laid his head against Tommy's shoulder and held him.

They were like that for awhile. Silent except for the occasional gasp of breath from Tommy. Buck didn't try to stop him, didn't try to silence his cries. He just maintained his hold, and wished more than anything he could go back to the Kinard's place and knock Frank out.

It took a few minutes for Tommy's breathing to return to normal. Buck moved away just enough for him to sit up, but kept a hand on his back.

“I don't know why I'm crying,” Tommy admitted, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I'm not even sad, I'm angry.”

“That's understandable. He- He's an easy man to get angry at.”

“I don't even think it's him I'm angry at. It's me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “You? Why would you be mad at yourself?”

Another wipe of the eyes and Tommy turned to Buck, who looked all kinds of concerned. “I should have known better, Evan,” he said. “I led you in there blind, and I... I should have known better.”

“You told me they were unpredictable.” Buck shrugged. “You weren't wrong.”

“The last few times I've gone, Dad's been mostly silent. Even when mom threw that frying pan at his head, it wasn't because of anything he said, it was because he kept trying to stumble toward her and tickle her. I thought,” he let out a humorless laugh, “I thought if I brought you with me, showed them how good we are together, they'd be happy for me. For us.”

There were so many things Buck wanted to say, but none of them sounded right. None of them would fix anything.

Instead of I'm sorry or you know I love you, right the thing that came out of Buck's mouth was, “Let's get a motel.”

Tommy blinked once, twice, three times at him. “What?”

“Let's get a motel,” he repeated. “We don't have work tomorrow. Let's be spontaneous, drive to the nearest motel, do some sightseeing in the morning.”

“There's not really much to see here.”

“Oh, I'm sure there is. All the crappy motels have those stands with the brochures. We'll close our eyes and pick something.” Buck leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Tommy's mouth before moving back to his seat. “You want me to drive?”

Tommy, still trying to figure out what was happening, stared out the windshield at the vast amount of nothingness around them. “We don't have any stuff.”

“Please, we have emergency bags in both cars. Clothes, toiletries, first aid kits, whatever we need is back there.”

That was true. Seeing as they were both a bit disaster prone, they had started leaving a duffel for each of them in both vehicles. Whether it was a natural disaster, or manmade, they'd be prepared.

Still, Tommy had questions. “Why are we doing this?”

Buck reached out, wrapped his hand around Tommy's wrist, giving him a pleading look. “Does sitting at home for the rest of the afternoon sound intriguing to you? It'll be fun, Tommy. We'll be like cowboys on the run.”

*****

Cowboys on the run turned into a thirty minute drive toward an overpriced stay at a lackluster motel just off the highway named Frederico's Sleep n' More. “I don't even wanna know what the more stands for,” Tommy mumbled when they walked into the room.

Evan had intended to use the restroom and return to Tommy all perky and ready for whatever adventure awaited them in whatever town they were in now. But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom he was met with Tommy lying on top of the bed, feet dangling off the edge, not asleep but eyes closed. He looked relaxed, which was a relief, but Buck couldn't help the sadness that overcame him at the sight. This man who drove three hours just to help his parents out for the day being treated like garbage. Almost worse actually, because garbage once served a purpose, and it seemed to them that Tommy never did.

Buck walked to the bed, toeing off his shoes before gently letting his body dip beside Tommy.

Tommy, eyes still closed, laid out his arm. A silent ask for Buck to curl up beside him.

He never had to be asked twice.

Once Buck was tucked into Tommy's side, head resting on his chest, Tommy folded his arm over him. The soft scratches up and down his back had Buck closing his own eyes, humming out a sigh of contentment.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Buck asked. He rested a hand over Tommy's pec, and Tommy brought his free one up to wrap around it.

“Always.”

“Did- When you got hurt, did your mom or dad ever get you things? Like, to try and make you feel better?”

Tommy didn't even have to think about it. “No. My mom would get me a couple things for my birthday and Christmas, usually clothes. And the only thing I remember my dad ever buying me was a football when I was like ten, I think. He got pissed when I accidentally broke our window on a throw, so I didn't mess with it much after that. I did have to do a lot of odd jobs around the neighborhood to earn money for the new window though.”

“Did he...” Buck hesitated, and Tommy squeezed his hand.

“You can ask anything,” Tommy assured him.

“Your mom said he'd hit you sometimes, like when you'd get into trouble. Did he then?”

Tommy stiffened for a moment, and Buck almost regretted asking. “Yeah, he did. The belt was his favorite form of discipline.”

Buck sat up on his elbow so he could look at Tommy. “Even though it was an accident?” He couldn't imagine getting hit as a child, or hitting a child, regardless of whether the act was intentional or incidental.

Tommy squinted his eyes open just enough to see Evan. “Dad always said the best way to never make the same mistake twice was to remember the pain from the first time.”

Buck didn't even know what to say. No matter how distant and neglectful his parents might have been, he was never afraid of them. Never had to worry about being hit. He laid back on the bed, tugging Tommy over to him. They settled into their new positions, Buck with his arms wrapped around Tommy, Tommy with his head on Buck's chest and an arm draped over his waist.

“Do you remember that double wide across the street?” Tommy asked.

“Mhm.”

“Mrs. Thompson lived there when I was growing up. She had three kids, all girls and they were a few years older than me, but she liked me. She'd let me come over and do my homework at her dining room table. Her yard had grass and she'd let me play out back whenever I wanted. And when my dad would get really pissed at me, she'd let me hide out at her place until I saw the light turn off in my parents bedroom. That's how I'd know they were asleep, and I'd sneak back in my own bedroom window.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“No. I'm sure they knew, but they never bothered to act like they cared. My dad did come to Mrs. Thompson's house a couple times looking for me, but she'd always say she hadn't seen me. She'd also tell him to get off her property because his breath was gonna stink up her whole house." Tommy snorted at the memory.

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed, “she was. I used to pretend I was her kid. I'd say my name was Tommy Thompson. Thought it sounded better than Kinard. I swore that one day I'd grow up and have a home just like hers. Her girls were always happy, they all laughed together. Her husband worked a lot, but he was nice too. He played guitar and he'd let me sit with his girls and listen while Mrs. Thompson cooked dinner. Their house always smelled so good and clean. I- I wanted that so bad.”

“What happened to them?”

“Mr. Thompson died from a heart attack when I was about thirteen. That was rough, but Mrs. Thompson was so strong through all of it. She died while I was in Iraq; I didn't find out until after I got home. I was devastated. I'm not sure about their daughters.”

“They sounded like wonderful people,” Buck said. “I would have loved to meet them.”

“They would have loved you,” Tommy replied. He was sure of it too. “Anyone with half a brain would love you.”

Buck laughed at that, beginning to run his fingers through Tommy's hair.

The conversation died down there. Tommy never stayed awake very long when his head was getting rubbed. A couple of minutes and he was out like a light.

Buck couldn't sleep though. His heart still ached for Tommy, both present and past.

He was once a boy in desperate need of love. A mom to hug him, a dad to teach him. He didn't get either of those things.

He was a burden. That's all. A burden that neither parent ever really wanted in the first place. A mouth they had to feed, a body they had to clothe, a soul they had to provide for.

He was once a teenager, quiet and reserved. Too smart for his own good. Never congratulated for his accomplishments, never told he'd done a good job. Never guided down a path, but forced in one direction when he didn't make the right choices at seventeen years old.

He was once man who had resigned himself to never having love. Cut himself off to happiness and let anger and hatred bubble up inside of him. Pushed people away because the people he always cared about either didn't care about him or they left him somehow, even if they didn't mean to.

And now he was a man that, despite all of that, held endless love in his own heart. Who Jee called the “best hug giver”, much to Buck's dismay. Who would do anything for his friends, risking his own life without a second thought. Who calmed children at the scene of a four alarm fire when they didn't know if their mom had made it, and stayed with them until they'd all been reunited. Who stayed up all night when Buck was sick with the flu because the only thing that helped his nausea was for his back to be rubbed.

And everything started to make sense. It was clear why Tommy clung to the Buckley's the way he did. Why he was always ready and willing to hop on a helicopter to take Phillip to a game, or make sure Margaret was in town on one specific weekend to go to Carrizo Plain and look at the wildflowers. It made sense that he happily and quickly accepted that the Buckley's were trying, were actually making an effort to be there for their children now, even if was a bit late.

Late was better than never, and Buck had a feeling Tommy's own parents would never be making the effort that his own were.

It didn't make Buck magically forget his own turbulent past with his mom and dad. He'd still feel that twinge of jealousy when they'd laugh a little harder at Tommy's jokes, or listen to his stories a bit more intently. He'd still get a little annoyed at Tommy when he didn't notice.

But he did understand it now, which had been half the battle to begin with.

Carefully, as not to wake Tommy, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to do some research.

*****

Nearly two hours passed before Tommy started to stir. He lifted his head, glaring around the room in confusion until he remembered where he was at. He shifted so he could look at Buck, who was smiling at him softly. Buck loved how Tommy looked when he first woke up. His hair a curly mess, a little drool on his lips, eyelashes fluttering with every blink. And that rough voice when he'd first speak.

“Hi.”

Yeah. Just like that.

“Hi yourself. Get some good rest?”

Tommy nodded, pushing himself off of Buck but remaining by his side. “Mhm.” He rubbed his eyes, and did a little yawn as he stretched. “D'you sleep?”

“No. Had too much fun watching you.”

Buck was pleased by the smile that washed over Tommy's face. “M'hungry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

Buck laughed. “Go freshen up and we'll find someplace for dinner.”

Tommy leaned over, a bringing his fingers just under Buck's chin, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned cheerfully as they parted. “What was that for?”

“Just love you.”

“I love you too.”

With one final kiss, Tommy got up and headed for the bathroom.

Buck took a screenshot of the website he had up on his phone. A reminder for himself to talk to Tommy about it during dinner. During his research, he'd found they were having a tulip festival outside of Los Angeles in a few weeks, and Buck was sure his mom would like to go.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan

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jawritter · 2 years

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Carry On

Chapter 17

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3097

Warnings: Angst, and the beginnings of some changes...

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist Series Masterlist

With a deep breath, Dean pulled Baby smoothly into a gas station parking lot just outside of his original hometown of Lawrence, Kansas, putting her into park before he finally turned to look at Y/N.

The almost three-hour ride had been a very silent one. Dean kept the radio up, humming along as he always did. When they first left the bunker, he seemed to be in very good spirits. However, the longer they were in the car, the more fidgety and nervous Dean seemed to get.

She’d been with Dean damn near round the clock since the hunting accident, she’d learned his tells. The way he shifted in his seat, tapped his fingers too fast to be just rhythmically on the steering wheel, or the way he kept swallowing and clearing his throat.

Dean was the kind of person that would never really let you know if he was scared, or nervous, unless it was so bad that he didn’t have a choice but to admit it anyway. Still, she’d learned not to try and dig it out of him; because that just irritated him more, then she’d never get anything out of him. She didn’t want to ruin his surprise either, but the more nervous he got, the more her anxiety crept up right along with his, to the point that she was about to explode in her seat.

“So,” Dean voiced softly after a moment as he cleared his throat and allowed his sharp green gaze to drift out the window in front of him at the cars passing up and down the somewhat busy main street, across from them was an auto body shop, faded, and closed. It looked as if it had been shut down for several years now.

“I’m asking you to please not judge me, and keep an open mind at what I’m about to tell you, okay? If I tell Sam any of this, he’s gonna blow a gasket, and I can’t deal with that right now, I just can’t.”

“Okay,” Y/N reassured him even though she was pretty sure her heart had just jumped from her chest into her throat somewhere, damn near cutting off her air supply as she watched Dean’s jaw tighten and relax with his own nerve filled struggle.

For a beat, Dean just sat there in silence and if she listened hard enough, she was pretty sure she could hear the wheels churning away in his head until she reached across the seat and took his hand in hers.

“Before I tell you what we’re doing here, I want you to understand, this is not something I’m taking lightly, and I’ve lost more than a little sleep making this decision. My whole life, I’ve spent it doing things for other people. Whether it was raising Sam for Dad, hunting, whatever. I’ve sacrificed a lot in life, more than most people ever will, and definitely more than anyone is willing to. I think it’s about time I give something back to myself.”

Y/N sat there with his hand in hers, the sound of cars zooming up and down the road like white noise in the background on a broken television set in an outdated motel room, staring at the man she loved more than her own life. There was such a gravity of truth in what he’d said, that kept whatever she thought she might have wanted to say stuck deep in her chest, and choked off to the point it was almost suffocating as she just squeezed his hand in hers, because that’s all her body would allow her to move.

“Before Charlie…”

Dean stopped, closed his eyes for a moment, but didn’t give Y/N time to react before he recovered.

“Before Charlie died, I wasn’t in a good state. There was just a lot going on for me at that time. I wanted out worse than I’d ever wanted out, but I felt like I only had one choice in my life, and out wasn’t it. I called Charlie more than a little intoxicated. She found me about three days later at an old motel room in Salt Lake City, and she gave me this,” he said as he reached into his jacket pocket and handed her two envelopes that she took with a confused look on her face out of his battle-scarred hands.

Dean sat quietly as Y/N opened the first envelope. It was an ID, Social Security Card, and a Bank Card with the name Dean Winchester on it. There were a few different versions though that told her these were fake, and not Dean’s ACTUAL Id and other information. His age was a little older by about two years. The height was about an inch or two shorter, She assumed it was the same with the other Social Security card as well. The back card belonged to a federal credit union. When she opened the other envelope, it was a bank statement for the bank card that she had in her hand… for over $500,000.00 American dollars, and she damn near swallowed her tongue before she looked up to Dean, who sat there watching her with a very masked face.

“She gave me an out, but made me promise not to use it until I was ready to start my life over again, and leave this shit behind; not for Sam, not for Dad, or anyone else, but for me. For some unknown god damned reason, she thought that I deserved to have something in this life that wasn’t the hand I was dealt. I’ll never understand that.”

“Dean–”

“Hang on Baby, let me finish, ‘cause I don’t want to lose my nerve,” Dean said, and Y/N nodded, she was sitting there in a state of shock. He’d kept this to himself all this time. Kept it from Sam, kept it from everyone. But Charlie was so right, he did deserve it, he deserved a happy ending to this horrific clusterfuck that had become his life since before he was even old enough to understand it.

“Sam doesn’t know about this, no one does, but when I was laying on my back in that hospital bed, all I could think about was if I get out of here alive, if I get the chance, I’m gonna keep this promise. I’m gonna do this for me. Hunting is out for me now anyway, and I have you now, so it’s not like I’d be alone, cause fuck I know I can’t do this alone.”

Dean rubbed his hand harshly down his face, trying to pull back whatever emotions he didn’t want to show just yet. “You see that shop right there,” he said, pointing to the old abandoned mechanic shop that was just across the road from where they were sitting, and she nodded as she looked at the boarded up windows and the faded paint on the sign of the place, advertising oil changes and tire realignments, almost as if was frozen in a time long before either of them, just waiting for someone to come and turn the lights on again. “It was my grandmother’s and grandfather’s auto repair shop, my dad worked here too for a while before hunting did its damage on my family… I was able to buy it for less than 10 thousand.”

If it were humanly possible for Y/N’s jaw to hit the floorboard, it would have. In fact, in any other situation, her face probably would have been comical.

It was Dean’s wide eyed silence as he watched her that pulled her out of her stupor. If her mind was racing, she knew for sure Dean’s was, and even though she had a host of questions, he did say this was something he’d thought through.

“Dean, that’s—that’s awesome, I’m not gonna lie, I have questions, but that’s great,” she tried, even though those questions were quickly turning into fears that were sitting like a rock in the center of her gut as the shock gave way to those thoughts she fought so hard to repress since the beginning of his gain of independence.

“I know it’s a lot of work that needs to be done, and I know that I’ll have to hire people to help me do the things I can’t physically do, but… It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Like something that we lost that maybe we never should have. Something that was taken from us, and I want it back now.”

“Dean, you deserve this,” she assured him, swallowing the lump of uncertainty that gathered in her throat; she hoped against hope that he couldn’t hear it in her voice. “This is going to be great. A fresh start is something you absolutely need, and I have to say that Charlie would have been in approval of the choice you’ve made.”

“It’s the first thing I’ve really been excited about doing; that I can actually SEE myself doing that’s not hunting,” Dean admitted. “I always wanted to be a firefighter, but that’s out for sure, and so is being a cop or working in law enforcement, but this… this I’m pretty sure I can do with some help.”

Y/N leaned into his shoulder, and he quickly wrapped his arm around her, placing a delicate kiss to the top of her forehead, that helped chase some of the fear and anxiety away that had crept in on her.

“Does that mean you’re leaving us at the bunker because this is like… three hours away, I don’t see you wanting to drive that daily,” she questioned through the vice grip that had developed on her throat.

Dean sat her up slowly, forcing her to face him even though she suddenly didn’t want to, because she was afraid that if she did, then she’d start to cry. He was so excited when he left the bunker with her, and here she was, ruining it.

“What do you mean, ‘leave us’? Honey, I ain’t leaving you anywhere, wherever I go, you go. Unless you just don’t want to come… In which case, I’d resale this back to the city, cause you’re far more important to me than this shop or anything else that I might have.”

There was a sincerity in his voice. -it grounded her. It was what she’d needed to hear the whole time that she’d been walking with him through this nightmare and she didn’t even really notice it until he actually said it. He wasn’t going anywhere, he’d stay, and he’d let her say, and that’s all that mattered. To her, the bunker was just a concrete building with walls, few windows, and a bunch of old lore… but Dean was her home. She’d follow him anywhere.

“I’m not gonna make you give this up Dean, and I’m gonna go wherever you wanna be. I’m so proud of you and how far you’ve come already, I’m not about to walk away from this, or you.”

Dean placed a soft, almost nervous kiss on her lips that in her opinion was far too brief before resting his forehead on her own, still holding her as close to him as possible.

“Good, cause I got one more thing I wanna show you, and it’s a lot bigger than this is, so this is where you're gonna have to trust me and not judge me thing kicks in,” he admitted, “‘Cause this is the biggest thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t know what everyone is gonna think about it.”

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, cause she did trust him, she trusted him more than she’d ever trust anyone. She’d gladly put her life in his hands, and also lay her life down for him. She’d come to the conclusion, there was no her without him. If Dean didn’t exist, there was no point in her existing either.

Dean put the car into drive, and back out onto the main road, keeping one hand firmly locked in her own as he drove down the all to familiar streets that were at one point his childhood hometown. But she didn’t see any of it. Not really. She couldn’t be bothered to take her eyes off of the man sitting next to her.

For the first time since the accident, Dean looked strong. He sat relaxed in the seat next to her one arm propped on the open window as he held loosely onto the wheel, and the other laced with hers in the middle of the seat. He wasn’t sitting stiffly like he was in any pain at all, or at least very little.

There were some differences to him than the man that she’d gone hunting with on that fateful night. His hair was longer, not too long, but it looked good on him. It wasn’t a conscious decision he’d made to grow it out, it was just something that had happened, and he did mention that he did like the change when she offered to trim it a little for him. The stubble that graced his strong jaw was now a light beard that he kept well groomed and maintained. HIs color was back; he didn’t look pale and sick most of the time anymore. He’d even gained some weight. He looked healthy. He even looked happy.

It was enough to make her want to cry all over again, because she just never thought she’d see him get here again, never thought she’d see him THIS strong again. Like some of the life he’d had stolen from him was suddenly given back, and he could breathe again.

“Okay,” Dean voiced as he slowed, turning onto a residential street that Y/N didn’t recognize before he came to a slow stop in front of a house that she, at first, didn’t recognize… until she did.

“Do you know where we are?” Dean questioned, and Y/N nodded slowly as her eyes scanned the massive exterior of the home that sat in the glowing spring sunlight.

“It’s… It’s your childhood home…” she said as her eyes scanned the yard that was unkempt. It needed painting. Maybe a few gutters needed to be replaced, but other than that, the house was very structurally sound.

“Jenny, the lady that lived here with her two kids got married recently, and she moved with her husband a few towns over. When I came to look at the shop, I decided to drive by here, ya know, see if someone’s still here, if the old place was even still standing, but it was empty. So I tracked her down, and offered to buy it from her, and umm….. I'm meeting with her today after three to meet with her lawyer and have the papers drawn up and pay her for it. I’m buying it.”

For the second time that day, Y/N’s jaw hit the floor. Of all the things she thought he was gonna show her today, a change of life wasn’t something she saw coming at all, but to buy back their home… That was something she never thought Dean would do.

“Dean— Oh my God, wow, I’m… That’s fucking great!”

Dean visibly relaxed as soon as the words came out of her mouth, and she swore she saw five years fall off of his stressed out features in that moment, and a relieved smile took its place as his eyes drifted towards the home they were parked in front of.

“God I’m glad you said that, cause I know Sammy is gonna flip the fuck out when I tell him you and I are gonna be moving back here… Well, that is, if you want to… I mean, I really want you to—”

“Dean, I’m here as long as you’ll have me, I'll go wherever you go, remember,” she assured him as the shock started to fade a little, and a little twinge of excitement started to take its place.

“Are you sure you wanna do this though? Or rather, that you CAN do this? I remember the day that you refused to even come down this street for a possible hunt once.” she questioned, and Dean nodded solemnly, as if it wasn’t something he hadn't already thought about.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his green orbs swimming with different emotions as he looked back towards her and laced his fingers with her own again. “There was a time when I wouldn’t have been able to do this. But… after actually spending some time with my mom, getting to have a second chance with her over again, learning from first hand experience that someone’s story doesn’t necessarily END in death, I can. What happened to mom that night… it will forever be burned into my memory, but so will the time I got to spend with her long after the yellow eyed demon was dead.”

Dean took a deep breath as one single tear rolled down his freckle dusted cheek, and Y/N slid over into his arms, suddenly needing to be close to him.

“When I was little, after the fire, I can remember crying for hours at a time, wanting to come home. I never found a home again after that. It was motel to motel, town to town, school to school, then you walked into my life, and I had the bunker for a while; I always had Baby, but I wanna bring us both home now. I wanna put my life back together after the Hell I’ve walked through all these years, and I wanna do it right here. A place I never should have been forced to leave anyway, with you, for whatever time we have left on this Earth. I got another chance, and I wanna do things differently this time.”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, and he leaned against her as well, holding onto her for dear life.

It would take a lot of work, but this is EXACTLY what Dean deserved. He deserved to get back everything that was stolen from him so long ago, he deserved a happy ending. He wanted her there with him, and that was more than she could ever ask for.

“Jenny told me where the key was hidden, wanna go take a look around on the inside before we have to go and meet her?” Dean questioned hopefully, and Y/N nodded, a new string of excitement rolling under her skin.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot…”

Forever:

@britnwinchester

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe

@jensenslady79

@spnwoman

@stoneyggirl2

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@stixnstripesworld

@fullwattpadmusictree

@nancymcl

@christycreature

@whiskey-infused-dreams

@supernatural79impala

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@slamminmine

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@i-love-superhero-movies

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@flamencodiva

@itmejado

@thoughts-and-funnies

@teresa-67

@hearteyes-j2

@peaches007

@bobbie3939

@vulgar-library

@writercole

@fairlyspnfanfic

@sexyvixen7

@spngi

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@donnaintx

@maliburenee

@the-family-business67

@agirlwithdemonblood

@captainsoldiergirl

@twinkleinadiamondsky

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma

@impalaslytherin

@perpetualabsurdity

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles

@irmcpar

@pink-sparkly-witch

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jupiter---daydreams · 3 months

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thanks to @agirlandherquill for the tag!!

rules: for every letter of the alphabet, compose a sentence/short paragraph beginning with that letter

(im technically cheating since I'm using sentences from my wip and not making them for this challenge)

A: “And you remember the kind of impression we're going for?” Mr. Fyre speaks up again, looming over my shoulder to speak into my ear.

B: Being in a car–especially now that it's moving–sets off every nerve in my body.

C: Caleb takes it and his eyes start to flick from the photo to me to the photo to me. We’ve done this before and I know that he’s trying to see if I look like either of them. To see if there’s still a connection.

D: Despite those thoughts, feelings, and impending panic attack, I force a smile–not that they can see with my mask on, but you can sort of hear it in my voice–before I reply.

E: Exorcist stands the second that he stops talking. “No thanks. We’ll take whatever you have back to our base–Verse, you’re welcome to join us–and we’ll get out of here.”

F: Finally, he says, “Can the story be about Mom and Dad?”

G: “Glad to be here, sir. I’ve always been a fan,” I say, not a single truthful word present in that sentence.

H: Hopefully that’ll get Mr. Fyre off my back later, but knowing him, he’ll find something else to pick at me for.

I: I lay down on my own bed, too big and too empty, with a muted sob.

J: Judging from the way Exorcist clings to Emote’s side and even Null’s face is pulled into a tight frown, they certainly feel it, too.

“Kid?”

He knows. How does he know!? I’ve only known him for, what, a few hours? Am I that easy to read? Oh god, when Mr. Fyre and Ms. Monsley find out they’re going to kill me.

L: Like he doesn’t understand what training means. Then, I have the strange thought that maybe their version of training is different than Ms. Monsley’s.

My eyebrows shoot up. That was…childish.

A shocked, startled laugh comes out of Null. Apparently, I had said that aloud.

N: Nulls raises his hand, only speaking once Mr. Merced gives him an affirmative nod. “That’s not a lot of time to prepare. Why so sudden?” He asks. It's startling how serious he sounds. All joking, laid backness is gone from his voice. This is Null.

O: Of course. They–a Hero that has good cause to get revenge, a Hero that can sense emotions, and Null, too, I guess–are the ones I’m meant to be working with. Is it even possible for me to have worse luck?

P: Patrick lets the audience laugh for a moment, then he says, “Now, Verse, I can't speak for the audience, but I will when I say we've all been wanting to know one question. What is your powerset?”

Q: Right, the mission. I nod, silently returning to my area. I can practically feel the stares of the others on my back, and a quick glance back confirms it. Exorcist isn’t even trying to hide that she’s staring.

R: Right. The DNA sample that I definitely knew about and am totally not just finding out about right now. By the way, let's give a big round of applause to Ms. Monsley and Mr. Fyre for always keeping me in the loop.

She. Can. Sense. Emotions.

Get your spiraling under control.

That leaves Exorcist without anything else to say, and she huffs, crossing her arms and turning away.

Emote's eyes flicker to me and I mentally prepare myself for a lecture, but Null lets out a snort of laughter–at my expense, no doubt–and Emote swivels her head to face him instead.

U: “Uh, Emote, Exorcist?” I call out as they start to leave the table we had gathered around. They turn, expectantly. “I was wondering if I could, uh, grab your powers now?”

V: “Verse, I really don't think you respect me. And that bothers me, because I am someone who deserves to be respected. So, watch your tone,” he pauses then and I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes.

W: A thought strikes me suddenly: how would any other child react? Would they throw a tantrum? Would they cry? Would they forgive me like Caleb?

X: For good measure–extra humiliation–she puts the sharp point to my throat. It digs in with a small prick of pain, letting out a bead of blood.

Y: “You’ve been contacted by ASPI. They want you to be involved with a mission. There weren’t many details, just a time and place for a briefing meeting, and a list of the other Heroes you’ll be working with.”

Z: I’ve been threatened by enough scary women to make me ready to back off–explanation be damned– but Emote stops me before I can even start to apologize.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #tag game

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enchantinglyjade · 2 years

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Milk & Honey - Chapter 22

Masterlist

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Summary: Honey learns to adapt to life in Vegas, but is faced with a few new issues regarding her single motherhood

Warning: Swearing, mind games, that's really it

Charles and I cuddle up on the couch together watching morning cartoons like we always do. I know he’s probably overwhelmed by everything, so I tried to keep as many traditions as this new way of life could make room for.

I run my hands through his curls, while I hold the telephone up to my ear with my other hand. “Sorry I haven’t been able to call lately. You wouldn’t believe what I been through.”

“What? What’d he do this time?” Pearl asks excitedly from the other end of the phone.

I sigh. Where do I start? “Well, I talked to him about how weird it would be to stay back with her while he’s out, so he brought us to Vegas with him.”

It was weird having Marcella help with Charles. I was scared she would hate having us there and that the whole situation would turn into a competition like with Pearl and I, but she was shockingly nice and understanding. Honestly, I would’ve preferred for her to hate us. Instead, she treated Charles like a nephew or a little cousin and me like a visiting aunt, instead of the woman that used to sleep with her husband.

I don’t know how she did it. If Elvis would have pulled this shit on me, I would have smacked his ass silly. Him having a wife was enough to set me off and I aint even with the man no more. Let him walk into my house with another woman and baby, I think not. Kudos to her though.

The line goes silent, before a loud screech comes through, bursting my ear drums. “That’s great! Is it beautiful there? I heard so much bout the pretty lights!”

“No! It’s been a nightmare! Thought he’d just let me move out or somthin, but his stubborn ass won’t let me out of his sight, now I’m stuck on the other side of the country for the next 6 weeks. I miss home.” I twirl the coiled phone cord between my fingers.

“Oh, Honey. You been so stressed your whole life. Maybe you need some time away from the dirty South.”

I snort out a laugh, slumping back on my fluffy hotel pillow. “Maybe…” I sigh. “Anyway, I gotta get ready. Elvis has a whole schedule planned out for me today.”

“Alright. You better call me when you get back. Have fun~” She giggles.

I shake my head with a smile, hanging the phone back up. I hoped that anything would happen so I could get out of this day. You see, a few days ago Elvis had gone public about us.

“You don’t have to tell your fans. We can stay in hiding. Been doing it forever, ain’t nothin new for me.” I told him.

“It’s nothin you need to worry about, Honey. I’ll take care of it.”

“I thought you were so worried about your reputation? You know how much respect you’ll lose the second news comes out that he’s your son?”

“I ain’t afraid of anybody no more.”

While race was, mostly, an issue behind us, now that the world knew I was Elvis’ baby mama, I had a new reason to constantly be stared at and judged.

‘Elvis Presley’s scandalous love affair with washed up singer Honey James in ‘58 resulted in secret son.’

Newspapers soared with the information, making sure every corner of the United States was aware of what we did.

Elvis tried reassuring me that the news would settle eventually, but I still had my doubts and stayed in my suite most of the time. I couldn’t stand the idea of Charles and I getting bombarded with cameras.

Elvis was barely fazed by it and continued on as normal. He insisted that since it’s no longer a secret, and because I’m living with him now, that I should try and make myself at home with his new family, which means spending time with them daily. Said it’d help me get my mind off things, but it did everything but that.

“Come on, Charles. Dad’s waiting.”

He jumps off the bed to turn off the TV, before lazily following me out the door. I clutch my purse in my hands, waiting apprehensively for the elevator to land at Elvis’ penthouse. I nearly drop my purse from my staggering fingers when I push past the doors and see Elvis and his whole crew turned around to face me.

I wave awkwardly at the boys. Charles casually collapses on the couch across the way, used to being surrounded by the men by now.

Elvis stands from his spot, stepping towards me with an arm out. “Honey! This is Joe, George, and Charlie, the rest of the mafia. Just got done telling them about Beale back in the day. She knows all about that real music. You should tell em some of your Handy stories sometime.” He suggests with a laugh.

I hum. “Can’t. Gotta get my nails done.” I say with the least bit of enthusiasm. He chuckles at the dullness behind my words. “You sure I can’t stay with y’all?” I ask jokingly, but still praying he’ll say yes.

A grin widens on his face. “What? Tryna get out of spa day with the rest of the wives?”

‘Rest of the wives,’ I scoff. “Skip music talk to get all pretty for nothin?”

His brows furrow amusedly. “Thought you like gettin all pretty?”

“Not with the mob wives.”

“Hey!” Sonny speaks up. “What’s wrong with our wives?”

I shrug, embarrassed that they heard me. “Nothin. I just ain’t one.” And boy, did everyone know it. I sigh, concluding I should just stay quiet about the whole thing. I wouldn’t expect them to understand anyway. “Alright, I’m leavin. Watch him please.” I say to Elvis as I walk past him to the door, sneaking one last look at Charles to make sure he’s alright here. “And no cigarettes!” I point a finger at Elvis, but he just laughs.

“I only smoke cigars now, mama.” He says with a smile.

I roll my eyes, exiting through the door. Mama is just one of the nicknames from the past that he’s grown comfortable calling me again, including in front of Marcella. I, and probably Marcella too, try to tell myself that it’s just because I’m the mother of his child, but even I feel a little tingle when he says it.

20 minutes later, I find myself thrown in the middle of a salon with said wives. Most of which never spoke to me, including Marcella. She was never rude to me, but she was never exactly friendly either. As long as Charles and Elvis weren’t present, I didn’t exist in her mind, and honestly, I don’t blame her. The other women weren’t any better though. As expected, they sided with Marcella about the whole ordeal. A few would crack jokes or stare at me sometimes, but I was mostly avoided at all costs.

Clearly I did not belong and everyday grew more and more uncomfortable for me to be seen in public with them. Everyone knew who I was, the things I did, and who I did them with. I was nothing more than the accidental fling in their eyes, the side woman, and they treated me as such.

However, another thing also popped up in my time spent with them. Elvis was right about her. She only cares about his money. The only time she speaks is to tell stories about her latest shopping experience or the luxury suites she gets to stay in. She’s across the room from me right now showing off her newest diamond he bought her. She’s only impressed by the material, everything else was only a bore for her.

I get halfway through my massage before I have to excuse myself. I get eyed down by each passing woman as I cling to my towel on my way to the changing rooms. I throw my clothes back on and pace out of the salon, back into the hotel area.

Maybe I should just go out or something. Hopefully that’ll help clear my mind for a bit. Besides, Pearl was right, I do deserve to have fun. Maybe they have a cool club around here I can check out.

I take the next few minutes to race back up to my room, throw on a nice dress, and slap on some lipstick, before taking the elevator back down to the lobby. When the doors open, they reveal the last person I wanted to see.

Elvis stands in the lobby talking with a few of his boys, all but OUR boy.

He points to something down the hall, in turn seeing me in the corner of his vision. His eyes widen seeing my angry and confused form standing near the elevator, before excusing himself from his group to walk over to me.

He reaches out a hand for me, but before he can say anything I cut him off. “Where’s Charles? You’re supposed to be watching him!” I snap.

He sarcastically chuckles, eyebrows raised, taken aback by my tone. “Marcella took him swimmin. Woulda told ya, but ‘parently someone ran off in the middle of spa day.” I fold my arms guiltily, looking down at my shoes. He squints his eyes at me. “What’s goin on, Bumble?”

I take a deep breath in, about to explain myself, but deciding to hold it all in and just shake my head instead. “It’s nothing.”

He has none of that answer. “Don’t try to bullshit me now like I don’t know how strange you been actin recently.” He crosses his arms, looking down at me sternly, demanding a real answer from me.

I sigh. He’s not gonna let it go til I tell him. “Elvis, I don’t…fit in with your friends. I don’t belong here. The way people look at me- I just-...” I trail off, looking everywhere but at him. I must sound so stupid right now. All the things he’s done for me and I’m still complaining.

“Honey, what are you talkin bout? Why don’t you fit in?”

I raise an eyebrow. No one is dumb enough to not see it, to not hear what even news reporters are saying. “Still tryna protect me from the truth, huh?” I scoff. “I’m not stupid, Elvis. I know half the people here think I’m a gold digging whore.”

For a moment he acts surprised by my blunt words, but then he drops his head, swallowing hard. He knows it’s the truth, maybe a harsher version of the truth but still.

I roll my eyes, once again trying to not let it get to me. “Look, it’s fine. I don’t care what they think and I can’t convince them otherwise anyway. But I just need some me time to get away from all this for a second.” I throw my arms up in the air in frustration, searching for the door.

“Where you goin?” He asks with maybe too much interest.

I shrug. “To see the strip.”

“Like that?” He gestures down at my dress, which, even I admit, may be a bit short for a woman my age and a mother no less, but it’s not like I cared or had a man to tell me otherwise anyways.

“What’s wrong with this? Thought maybe I’d go dancing.” I ask with my hands on my hips. I can’t wait to hear what ridiculous answer he comes up with.

His brows furrow, offendedly so. “With who?”

I bite my lip, barely suppressing the wide smile forming on it. I’m bothering him, aren’t I? “Look at you all in my business. It ain’t none of your concern who I dance with, Elvis. Need I remind you, I am a single woman.” I cross my arms, standing as firm as my last statement.

Now he’s mad. “Like hell it ain’t my goddamn concern. I’m not letting no other man step in to raise my kid.” He says as a weak excuse.

I laugh at this, despite how upset I am. “Am I supposed to be alone forever then?” I question. “Besides, who said I wanted something that serious? Maybe I’m just lookin for one night of fun.” I purposely add, knowing it would absolutely piss him off.

I watch as rage boils behind his pupils. His jaw pops, as he tries so very hard to swallow down the words he really wants to say. “I just think it’s something we should discuss.”

“We’re discussing it right now.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I roll my eyes. “I have places I need to be, if you don’t mind. Perhaps we can discuss this some other time.” My words jab at him as I turn to walk out the front doors. I don’t even bother to look behind me. I hope my words leave him thinking, just like he’s always doing to me.

I have no intentions of meeting or dancing with anyone. I have no intentions of dating anyone anytime soon. I know I shouldn’t play any games with him, but how can I be blamed when he has the nerve to act like this. If anything he deserves it.

By now the sun is beginning to set and the city's lights are popping on one by one. I get maybe half a mile, before I decide to just sit on a bench and watch others enjoy the nightlife. Vegas really is a beautiful city, maybe not the best place to sit and contemplate my life decisions, but beautiful nonetheless. I don’t know how long I sit there, but for the first time in MANY days, I feel a wave of peace wash over me. No housewives making rumors, no jealousy from ex’s, and no children talking my ear off. I’m able to just simply exist and watch others pass me by, and it’s wonderful.

Then my moment of serenity is disrupted by a car creeping up on me, stopping in front of the sidewalk. For a second, I panic, assuming it’s paparazzi ready to aim their cameras at me. The window rolls down ominously slow and I groan when I see who’s behind it.

“Get in.”

I wish I had something I could throw at him right now. “Why’re you followin me?”

He talks off his sunglasses to look me dead in the eye with his blue ones. “Get in.” He demands once more.

I roll my eyes, getting up from my spot to get in the car like he asked. I sit across from him with my arms folded on top of each other, pouting at the way he’s treating me. I don’t even want to look at him at this rate.

The car ride is quiet, filled with nothing but the sound of other passing cars. I bounce my leg in annoyance, ready to jump out the second we come to a stop.

“What do you think you’re doin?” He asks irritatingly calmly, finally breaking the tension between us.

I furrow my brows. “Trying to live my life as much as you’ll allow me to.”

He looks down, dryly chuckling at my comment. “You know what, it is my fault.” I raise a brow at him, cautiously waiting for his next words as he adjusts in his seat. “My fault that I fell for your tricks.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, laughing once more. “You had me thinkin you were out with someone tonight.” So it did work! “But on my way here, I remembered, you ain’t spoken to another man but me your whole life.”

My jaw drops. He has guts to say something like that. “I had Michael, thank you.”

“Yeah, but you always thought about me, didn’t you?” I swallow, fighting hard to think of a good enough remark to throw at him. He smirks in that annoying way he does. “I wanted to further discuss what we were talkin bout earlier, but I’ve decided not to waste my breath til the day you can manage to come back here with another man. Until then, we’re not talkin bout this.”

I gulp, going quiet. Honestly, I have nothing to say after that. I hate giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right. I’ll think of something though, I just know it. He exits the car, helping me out, but not bothering to look at me. I see how it is. Thinks he’s put me in my place or something. I NEED to prove him wrong.

We enter the hotel again, about to walk into the elevator, when he’s greeted by a man.

“What it is, E.P.? I was wonderin where you ran off to.” He says, giving him a friendly smack on the back. When he pulls away he smiles down at me. He tilts his head in a greeting. “Lovely to meet you, miss.” He gives my hand a gentle shake, hesitant to break eye contact with me. I smile back at him, amused at his behavior, but there was also something about him I just couldn’t put my finger on.

Elvis chuckles, a hint of nervousness under his breath. “I actually went out to bring a friend back. You remember Honey?”

The man’s eyes widen as he takes me in. “Honey? Really? You’re kidding. You’re lying.” He exclaims with much enthusiasm.

I examine his face. Do I know him? He does seem oddly familiar. There’s only one person he could be that’d I know. “Thomas?” I reluctantly ask, afraid of being painfully wrong. His smile turns into a large grin, as he scoops me into his arms. I scream in happiness, hugging him back. Finally, an old friend that wasn’t a maniac. “Ahh! Thomas! How are you? What are you doing here?” I ask as he sets me down.

He chuckles, smoothly running his hand over his ‘fro. “Ah, just a little vacation, you know.”

I giggle. One thing I always loved about Thomas was his carefree attitude. While Michael and Elvis were always in some fight, Thomas was always there as a sort of comedic relief. He never got involved in all the drama. He felt like that safe friend to go to when everything got rough.

“What are the odds that the three of us would be here at the same time.” He says, looking between Elvis and I.

I shrug. “Luck, I guess.” Elvis side eyes me.

“You know, it’d be great to hang out with you guys some more. I’d love to catch up with the two of you bout how life’s treatin you. Not that I haven’t already seen enough about you.” He jokes, elbowing Elvis on the arms. “But you.” He looks back at me. “I ain’t got nothin outta you yet. I’d love to hear more about you and your beautiful self.” He takes my hand, leaving a kiss on my knuckles. I have to bite my lips to stop myself from giggling like an idiot, but that doesn’t stop a blush from dusting my cheeks.

Another thing about Thomas, he was the flirt. You’d think it was Elvis, I know, but you’d be wrong. Michael was always too school and career oriented to put things like romance in the forefront of his mind. Elvis, while he did enjoy things like romance, was always too shy to express it. Thomas, on the other hand, had no issue speaking his mind and attempting to woo a lady of interest, whether it was the little girls from the other neighborhoods or even their mamas, he was always flirtin up somebody.

I hum in amusement. Has he not heard anything about me? “Well, it’s a good thing I’m free tomorrow.”

He bites his lip. “Good. I’ll be waiting.”

“And who’s gonna watch Char-”

“Okay! We should be going!” I laugh panickedly as I push Elvis away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay.”

Thomas smiles, waving back at me while I push Elvis into the elevator and repeatedly push the ‘close doors’ button until Thomas is out of our sight.

“We ain’t doin this again.” Elvis demands the second we’re alone.

I smile innocently. “I ain’t doin nothing.”

He matches me with an equally as fake smile, but doesn’t look at me. “Mhm.”

We stand in silence. I glance over at him in the corner of my eye. He stares forward, determined not to speak to me, but that pop in his jaw is so ever present.

I turn back to the door in front of me with a smirk just as the doors open on my floor. “Oh shoot, I forgot to swap information with him.” I throw my hands down in fake frustration, but a smile creeps up on me in the middle of my little scene. “You wouldn’t mind passing my number on to him, would you?” His eyes snap down at me dangerously fast. The last thing he sees is my prideful smile as I walk out, glancing over my shoulder at him.

Oh, it pissed the hell out of him.

-Taglist-

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theladycarpathia · 1 year

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Empty Places Chapter 9: Clearing

Back to Chapter 8

They’re not stopped on the short drive back to Loch Nora. Billy goes as fast as he dares without breaking speeding laws in excess, while Robin keeps a watchful eye in the rear-view for cops. But there’s no flashing blue and red lights on the horizon, no angry shriek of a siren, and Billy pulls into the exact same space on Steve’s driveway as he had occupied only fourteen hours before.

They stagger up the driveway, bags in hand, and hope that none of Steve’s neighbors happen to be looking out of their windows at nearly six in the morning. Steve pulls out his keys with shaking fingers to let them all in and they drop all of their bags in the front hall, kicking off shoes wherever they land. They don’t need to say a word to climb up the stairs to Steve’s room.

Robin drops face down onto the bed with a groan the moment they get through the door. Steve considers complaining about the inevitable blood and soot stains on his bed before he drops down next to her. The bed dips as Billy joins them, his warm thigh pressing against Steve’s.

“Fuck,” Billy says listlessly and that barely seems to cover it.

Robin rolls over to join them in staring at the ceiling. There’s a large scratch down the side of her face and Steve wonders where she got it. Judging by the state of the cellar door, she probably wasn’t too careful in her destruction of it.

“So,” she says, casually. “We broke into a murder house, found ghosts, nearly got ourselves killed and tried to blow it up. Did I miss anything?” Billy snorts. It’s a hell of a summary for the space of one night.

“We also caused major property damage,” he says thoughtfully and when he moves his arm, his shoulder bumps against Steve’s. “And discovered the truth behind the Creel house case and we can’t ever tell a soul.”

“Oh yes,” Robin agrees and falls silent.

“Proud day for Mystery Spot,” Steve adds, because jokes are all they have right now. Maybe tomorrow they’ll be able to pick themselves up and really process what happened tonight but for now, they’re just three exhausted and beaten, barely just graduated teenagers.

They lie there in silence, too exhausted to move, too heart-weary to even make any more jokes. Steve feels crusty and sore, his throat rubbed raw like he’s swallowed steel-wool. He doesn’t want to think about how it got like that so he just lies there, listening to his friends breathe and watching the sun creep in through the windows.

Finally, Robin groans loudly - startling Steve awake again - and hauls herself upright.

“Okay, I need to shower,” Robin groans, tugging distastefully at her dungarees. As much as they all want to sleep, not one of them wants to climb under the covers still smelling like Creel House, dirt and blood and rust. “For like a year.”

“My parents aren’t paying that bill,” Steve quips, as she vanishes out of the door. Billy and Robin know his house as well as their own, from the cutlery drawer, to the spare towels, to where Steve’s dad keeps new packs of batteries.

“What do we do if the house didn’t burn down?” Billy asks quietly. Steve shrugs and picks at a stray thread on his bedspread. He’s not sure he ever wants to go back, even to douse it in gasoline and dance around the flames.

“I don’t know,” Steve says vaguely. He’s so tired he can barely think, his eyes feeling sore and gritty. He could so easily fall asleep but he can’t, not with Billy pressed so closely into his side. He’s covered in blood and wood chippings and whatever demon goo he was leaking at the end there but he can’t escape the fact that he can feel the warmth of Billy’s skin through his shirt, the faint movement of his breathing. And when he turns his head he finds Billy staring straight at him.

“Hi,” Steve whispers, mouth dry. Billy’s mouth quirks.

“Hi,” he says and Steve gently brushes the inside of Billy’s wrist, tangling his fingers in the strip of leather there. Fuck, he’s spent years wanting to do this, feeling the jump of Billy’s pulse under his skin.

It all feels like some weird fever dream. The torture, Henry’s voice, the black coming away on his fingers…and then Billy was there and he’s still not sure that it was real.

He’s a little afraid that Billy’s eyes will turn like Emma’s, or he’ll wake up back in that basement. Something to prove that he never escaped at all. Because this feels like the hazy moment where he stared at the Packards having Christmas.

“Are you okay?” Billy asks quietly, and Steve exhales. He feels like they all went through something they need a fucking load of therapy for and can’t ever get. They’ll get a one way ticket to Penhurst if they ever talk about the shit that happened last night.

“No,” he answers and then, because Billy looks as shit he does - “Are you?”

Billy snorts and then all the fight goes out of his face. “I don’t have an answer to that,” he says wearily.

“So, not really,” Steve says, because he gets that. “How do you feel about…the whole Neil thing?”

Billy’s chest rises and falls, something slow and jagged. Something else he doesn’t quite have the answer to.

“I shoved an ax in that guy’s face,” Billy says and his fingers bump Steve’s, warm and rough. “”And I have no regrets about it whatsoever.”

“I think if anyone deserved that, it was you,” Steve says heavily. He understands the feeling. Steve can still feel the bat in his hands, the bubbling hysteria as he smoothly brings it down onto Henry’s face over and over. If he’d had the chance to do it to the demon too, he’d have done it in a heartbeat. “Do you wish it had been the real thing?”

Billy shrugs, conflict written clearly over his face.

“Yeah,” he says quietly and Steve gives in, curling his fingers into Billy’s, wanting desperately to wipe that ashamed look from Billy’s face.

“You can feel that,” Steve says and Billy sighs.

“I know. I shouldn’t feel like shit for it. But I do,” Billy says and falls silent again.

Steve doesn’t know how to answer. Billy came back for Steve, knowing he’d have to face the Neil-demon again and he did it anyway.

But then Billy turns to look at him again and it’s clear that Billy doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“So,” Billy says casually, sliding his thumb over Steve’s skin. Steve swallows, hoping for any sort of moisture in his mouth, every drop of saliva dried up by that one simple touch. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“About what?” Steve manages to ask, very aware of the sweat along his spine, the fact that Robin is still in the shower, and that he has demon gunk still in his earlobe. This isn’t how he thought this would happen.

But with Billy looking at him like that, he’s not about to stop it.

“About your terrible, all consuming love for me,” Billy says, and he’s such a cocky asshole that Steve doesn’t know whether to kiss him or punch him.

“Mine?” Steve retorts. “What about yours?” There’s a faint flicker of panic on Billy’s face and maybe he didn’t expect Steve to remember. He’d been buried deep at the time but it hadn’t mattered. Billy’s mouth on his, the look on possessed Robin’s face as she’d sat up to warn Steve. Don’t let go of it. In the end, the thing that had drawn the demon to Steve in the first place had been the thing to save him.

“You heard?” Billy asks, and he sounds so unsure that Steve wants to kiss him all over again. He wasn’t actually awake for the last time and he’d really really like to be.

“Yeah,” Steve says, licking his lips. “I heard.”

“Is that…okay?” Billy asks slowly and Steve grins.

“It’s very okay,” he says, staring at the delicate curve of Billy’s bottom lip and Billy is sliding closer and Steve is doing the same, and their clasped hands drop so that Billy can wind a firm grip around Steve’s waist…

“You’re up, boys!” Robin says cheerfully, reappearing in a spare robe and briskly rubbing a towel through her hair. Her face is flushed with heat from the shower, barefaced and clean once more. Billy slides away and sits up, and Steve feels cold with the sudden loss of his body.

“Sure,” Steve says, unable to stop the wave of disappointment as it crashes down. But he and Billy have waited years for this. A few more hours isn’t going to matter.

But when Robin sticks her head in Steve’s closet in search of clothes, Billy gently takes Steve’s hand again. Steve stares at their entwined fingers, now entirely sure that he’s dreaming.

“Come on,” Billy whispers, and tugs Steve up off the bed. Robin hums absently as she pulls down a sweater.

“Where are we going?” Steve says, as they leave Robin behind. Billy half turns to give him a lascivious grin.

“To shower,” he says, and something dips in Steve’s belly. Maybe he’s not the only one tired of waiting.

The bathroom is still warm and slightly damp from Robin’s shower, condensation still dripping down the mirror. Her dirty clothes have been abandoned on the floor and Steve thinks that they’ll all have to be washed separately. Then he chastises himself for worrying about laundry because Billy has just locked the door behind them.

The shower turns back on, sending pulses of hot water tumbling down into the basin. Billy tugs his shirt off over his head: smooth planes of skin, the curve of muscle, the hollows of his collarbones. His jeans sit low on his waist, revealing those sharp hips that Steve’s dreamed of sitting astride.

But then the jeans come down, swiftly followed by his underwear. Steve holds his breath, drinking in every line in Billy’s back as he bends over to tug off his socks. Finally, Billy stands back up, adding his socks to the pile that Robin started.

He’s so incredibly beautiful that Steve just feels…raw. Like it’s all too much, or like he doesn’t deserve to see this. The spattering of freckles across Billy’s back, the fine hair on the back of his neck, the white scar across his knee. He’s dreamed of seeing Billy like this, just open and pure and smiling at Steve like he’s the only thing that matters.

But then Billy smirks at him from over his shoulder and the game is still on. Something about Steve’s world rights itself, allows him to find his footing. It’s still Billy. Their usual push and pull is still there, and the flicker of challenge in Billy’s eyes is enough to have Steve scrambling to undress and follow Billy in.

Steve gasps when the hot water hits him, the intensity of it feeling almost unpleasant on his skin. He hadn’t realized he was so cold, the water almost scalding against his chilled flesh. But then Billy is there, reaching past him to tug the door closed and Steve forgets about everything else.

Billy reaches up to cradle Steve’s face, rubbing gently at Steve’s cheeks with his thumbs. He’s wiping Steve clean of the black streaks still stained onto his skin, caressing across his jaw and wiping under his eyes. Steve closes his eyes and lets it happen and he doesn’t open them again until Billy curves his palm around the back of his neck. The tension hangs between them, taut and sweet, and Steve feels almost giddy with anticipation. Billy’s blue eyes are huge against his wet lashes, the blonde hair flattened against his forehead. And this time, there’s no Robin to interrupt them.

Their first proper kiss happens under the beating water, while Billy pulls Steve against him, skin to skin.

The wet slip and slide against Billy’s body is instantly addicting and Steve winds his arms around Billy’s waist determined to keep him as close as possible. Billy slides one hand down from his shoulders, until he can get a good grip on Steve’s ass, carefully caressing one cheek with his thumb.

“I’ve wanted this for fucking ever,” Billy confesses, his voice quiet and afraid under the spray. Steve tips their foreheads together, painstakingly gentle even as they rub and thrust together.

“Me too,” Steve gasps, because he’s spent years being a fucking idiot. All this time he thought he wasn’t wanted, that Billy’s flirting was nothing more than a casual joke. The idea that they could have had this hurts so Steve ignores it in favor of pulling Billy back to him. He wants to forget it all, everything but the taste of Billy, his fingers against Steve’s back, the friction against Steve’s dick.

It’s not meant to last, several years of want culminating in this desperate grasp of teeth and flesh and when Billy finally slips a hand between them, loosely fisting their dicks in one hand, Steve barely manages more than a few twists of Billy’s hand before he has to dig his nails into the curve of Billy’s hip and comes with a cry. It sounds a little like the same three words that Billy had said to him earlier.

His legs feel like they’re about to go beneath him, but he manages to reach for Billy to return the favor. He knows that at some point, Billy will have to teach him what to do. He’s a little terrified and exhilarated all at once by this idea and he presses his mouth against Billy’s neck as he clings to Steve and moans while Steve jerks him off.

He half thinks it’ll be weird after. This is his best friend and they’ve definitely just crossed that line that can’t be undone. But Billy just smiles and rubs his hand across Steve’s sticky belly.

“I think Ro will notice if we go back dirtier than when we left,” Billy points out, his voice rough, and reaches for the soap. Steve’s heart judders and he drags Billy in for a kiss, certain that this is something that he’ll never tire of.

“You’d better clean me up then,” Steve suggests and they stay under the shower until the water starts to run cold.

Robin is sitting in Steve’s bed when they let themselves back in, water still glistening on their skin. Steve wonders if she can tell what just happened, if she can see the pleasure on their faces, as they dig around for boxers and t-shirts.

“All clean, boys?” she asks innocently and when Steve turns to glare at her, she merely flashes him a smile.

“Clean-ish?” Billy hedges and drops his towel to Robin’s disgust and Steve’s delight. He pulls on his boxers leisurely, doing a tiny shimmy as the cotton slides up for Steve’s benefit. Steve’s eyes follow the fabric clinging to the curves of Billy’s rear, unable to stop the flash of interest as his eyes meet Billy’s.

“I’m going to be the third wheel now, aren’t I?” Robin grumbles, sliding down in bed and fluffing up a pillow. Steve takes the t-shirt that Billy offers and carefully pulls it on. It’s not long enough to cover everything but it does spare Robin’s eyes until he can find underwear.

Steve slides under the sheets and finds Billy close behind him. Robin’s already closed her eyes, her face still and peaceful. Steve gets comfy, Robin’s breath gentle on the back of his neck, Billy’s bare legs entwined with his. Sleep is approaching fast, a darkness at the edge of his eyelids. There’s a lot to deal with but it can wait until tomorrow.

“Lights,” someone says sleepily. There’s a fumbling, a click and then darkness falls. Someone exhales. Billy winds a hand around Steve’s waist, resting gently on his belly. Steve closes his eyes against the glint of sun beginning to peek through the curtains and allows himself to fall asleep.

XXX

Steve wakes alone.

He stretches languidly, feeling the drag of warm cotton sheets against his skin. His friends aren’t long gone, the empty spaces in his bed still faintly warm. He rolls over and buries his face in the pillow where Billy had slept and has to hide his smile.

As he stumbles downstairs, he hears voices in the kitchen, the faint sounds of the TV. He follows his nose and finds Robin standing over the stove, dropping strips of bacon into a spitting frying pan. Billy lounges at the breakfast bar, now wearing a t-shirt over his boxers. He spins around on his chair when he hears Steve and the soft smile on his face doesn’t help the strange hazy feeling of the day.

“What time is it?” Steve asks, wandering over to Billy to loop his arms around his neck. Billy pulls him in by the waist, letting Steve stand in the V of his legs. Steve drops his head down onto Billy’s, breathing in the familiar smell of his strawberry shampoo.

“Sometime after four?” Robin says, scrunching up her nose. She prods the bacon before catching sight of them. “Fucking hell, can you guys do something useful instead? I’m not your maid.”

They get up to help, because neither of them want to annoy Robin and she has a habit of burning the eggs if you let her. Billy quickly mixes up pancake batter. Steve refills the coffee maker and closes his eyes when the smell of fresh coffee begins to fill the kitchen. Yesterday almost feels like a bad dream now.

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Billy asks hesitantly, prodding his pancakes with a spatula. It’s like he’s read Steve’s mind, or at least seen the expression on his face.

“Not yet,” Robin yawns. She’s tipping the bacon out onto a plate, perfectly crispy. “I need food first. Steve, have you got syrup?”

Steve digs out the syrup from the pantry, as well as ketchup. Billy deftly flips the pancakes and Robin lays some trays. He’s a little glad that they’re not going to talk about it just yet. He’s not ready and he’s a little afraid of all the questions that might come. He was taken, and that thing camped out in his head. He’s not ready to look at it, the grotty surface of his mind now like an oil spill from where the demon had dredged up everything Steve tried his best to hide. Billy kissing him didn’t fix everything, it didn’t fix either of them. If they’re going to be together, Steve needs everything to be crisp and clear and pure.

And he will. They have to talk, all three of them. That house stripped them bare, revealed problems they didn’t even know they had. Not even Robin escaped it, her face slightly gray this morning, a hesitance behind some of her movements.

But Steve couldn’t have been saved without them. They’ve always been his twin pillars and this new thing with Billy puts that at risk. If they break up, that could mean the end of a friendship that’s lasted longer than the toy soldier that Steve shoved behind the radiator in sixth grade.

They turn the TV onto some rerun and stuff their faces. They drink coffee and orange juice, and when the plates are clean Steve grabs some popcorn. They couldn’t have eaten or drunk anything in that house for hours but none of them truly felt it until they were free. Like their sense of direction, the demon must have messed with their basic needs too. Steve doesn’t even remember feeling hungry while he was in there. They kept going by fear and adrenaline alone.

Steve licks salt off his fingers and Robin sighs heavily. She slings a leg over his, sprawled out against the arm of the couch. Billy wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, his fingers a gentle anchor against Steve’s skin. Steve has to fight the urge to fall back into sleep. He and Robin have a shift tomorrow and the thought of going in to deal with snot nosed kids like it’s another day feels bizarre.

“What do we do now?” Robin asks, as though she can read his mind. Steve shrugs.

“Nothing, for today,” he says vaguely, because he’s so not ready to start thinking about it. “Maybe tomorrow. Then I guess…we have to deal.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Robin asks, and her hand slides into Steve’s. The TV carries on, unaware of the change in mood. “Because I can’t even think about how we’re supposed to just…go back to our normal lives.”

“I think we don’t,” Billy says and reaches his free hand over to rest on top of Steve and Robin’s. “Shit’s different now.”

Robin raises an eyebrow at how Steve and Billy are curled up together and snorts. “Understatement. Are you two going to tell me how that happened, by the way?”

“Tomorrow,” Steve promises and Robin rolls her eyes.

“I was aware of Steve’s big gay crush, but how did Billy keep it from me for years?” she complains and then carefully extracts herself from the dog pile that they’ve made of themselves. “I have to pee. Someone change the fucking channel.”

Once she’s vanished through the door, Billy nudges Steve in the ribs with the hand that’s currently curled around Steve’s waist. Steve pauses in his endless flicking of channels, looking for something that isn’t bad daytime TV.

“You okay?” he whispers and Steve swallows. He stops on some old film, stalling for time.

He can cope for now. But at some point, Robin and Billy will have to go home. And he’ll be alone and he’ll remember…everything. Henry’s fingers digging into his skull. The mass grave pulsating under his skin. The curl of Neil’s lip.

He saw the demon. He knows he did. But every time he tries to focus on it, tries to recall the shape of the thing that crawled out from Billy’s skin and…every time, the image blurs like static, jarring and distorted in Steve’s head.

People shouldn’t see demons, not like that. There are certain experiences the human mind can’t cope with, things that can’t possibly exist. And Steve knows that’s what this is: not coping. He was taken and violated and tortured. There are going to be quiet moments when he remembers all that. If he’s not careful, those moments will take over his life, as good as a smear over everything like the demon forcing itself down his throat. Bitter, acidic. Defiling.

But the thing is, he’s going to have to figure out how. The last thing he wants is to give those fuckers the satisfaction of going crazy anyway.

Billy’s jaw tightens the longer Steve doesn’t say anything. Robin slips back into place, unaware that anything has just happened. Billy tightens his grip around Steve, rests his other hand on Robin’s bare foot.

They watch the rest of the film in silence.

XXX

Two months later

The bell over the door chimes and Steve doesn’t even look up. They’re like five minutes from closing, just as soon as this run of Scream lets out, and he’s been annoyed since he arrived for his shift this afternoon. He’s not sure who’s to blame for doing so many showings of the Minions film but he’s pretty sure it’s Keith.

“We're nearly closed,” he says, not even looking up. Robin clocked out earlier, and it just leaves him and Keith to close up. Namely him and only the fact that Billy is going to be here in a few minutes to pick him up is what keeps him from going all Ghostface on everybody.

But then the new arrival coughs and goosebumps immediately ripple over Steve’s skin. Somehow he knows that voice. He shouldn’t. Not when his only reference is a Christmas picture, nearly twelve years out of date, and a weird fever dream.

“Hi,” says Emma Packard shyly, and she looks as unsure as Steve does.

Steve drops the packet of twizzlers that he’d been reshelving and then curses.

“I’m sorry,” he says and scrambles on the floor to pick them up. Emma leans over the counter and watches him.

“It’s my fault,” she says softly, and pushes a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. She’s wearing a green t-shirt under denim dungarees, faded friendship bracelets around her wrists, a jacket slung over her arm. She can only be a few years older than they are. In his head, he kind of expects her to still be that little girl with the barbies and butterfly clips in her hair.

“Uhh…can I help you?” Steve asks, because he’s a fucking idiot. He vaguely knew that the Packards still lived in town and maybe he’s seen her around before. It just never meant anything until two months ago.

Her mouth twitches. “I think you can. Are you free to talk?”

Steve jerks his head over his shoulder, hearing the faint noises of the end credits. People will start shifting themselves, grabbing their coats and piling out into the night. “Yeah, I…give me five minutes. You can wait in the break-room, if that’s okay? I just have to close up.”

She agrees and Steve sneaks her in back, watches her settle onto the old couch before he dashes back out front to smile at all the assholes who probably spilled popcorn everywhere. Finally, everyone slowly empties out and Steve does a final check of the theater before locking the front doors. Keith is off in the main office and he won't notice jack shit.

He flips the sign over to ‘closed’ and tries to slow his heartbeat. He doesn’t know what she wants but there’s only one way to find out.

Emma is scrolling through her phone when he slips back in. He grabs one of the terrible plastic chairs and swings it around so he can face her.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “I still have to clean up and everything but we should have some time.”

“I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” Emma notes, her eyes flicking around their crappy break-room with interest. Family Video is a sort of beloved institution in Hawkins. People complain about it and that they should play new films, like an actual cinema, but somehow people don’t get bored of the reruns of Titanic or Disney up on the big screen. They play all of the big horror classics around this time and people come in droves. That’s not even getting started on how many times they have to play It’s A Wonderful Life at Christmas.

“It’s alright,” Steve says, his stomach curdling with nerves. They seem to have gotten away with their various crimes just fine, or so they thought. An old house burning down barely made the local news. “Pays fine. My best friend works here too.”

“Robin,” Emma says and then laughs at the expression on his face. “Look, I know who you are. All three of you. And I think you know who I am too.”

“Everyone knows who you are,” Steve lies and Emma just grins. She doesn’t look as bothered as he’d have expected her to be. They burned down her fucking house and he’s pretty sure that she knows it.

“I think you know in a different way to most people,” she says quietly. She looks up to meet Steve’s eyes and that’s when he knows.

“How did you find out?” he asks and she shakes her head.

“I track everything about that house,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. “Anything and everything. I knew that something would happen some day…and then you guys pop up, talking on your channel about how you’re going to finally do a video about Creel House. But no video ever comes and then you guys post that you’re closing your channel down. I knew what had happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, because he expects her to be angry. They hadn’t stopped to think about that, the destruction of the Packards’ lives. Steve thinks of the Christmas pictures on the fridge. He doubts there’s anything left of them anymore.

��Don’t be,” Emma says bluntly to his shock. “The house was evil. It was a nightmare while we lived there. The taps would produce black sludge, the walls bled. My mother started hallucinating. One day the lawnmower started by itself and nearly took off my brother’s leg. It got worse and worse, until finally my father put us all in the car. We left and we never went back. Not for anything.”

“But…all of your stuff,” Steve says, bewildered. He’s aware that soon Billy will be knocking on the door for their date night and Keith will throw a bitch fit if the theater isn’t swept but he doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to walk away from this, some of the answers that he’s still looking for weeks later.

They’re still in there. Burning the house didn’t do anything. They may be weak, hungry, looking for someone to feed on, but they’re both still there. Steve can feel it. The house is set to be demolished and he’s still not sure that it’ll destroy either of them. He wakes up sometimes, terrified that this will all be for nothing and the destruction of the house will let them loose into Hawkins.

When that happens, Billy wakes up to sit with him, winds a bare leg through Steve’s and strokes his hair until he’s calm enough to go back to sleep. Sometimes, Steve doesn’t want to and Billy curls up into his side while he searches for something to watch. Sometimes, he needs to forget by digging his fingers into Billy’s hips, muffling his cries into Billy’s hair.

And other times, it’s Billy who wakes up, caked in sweat and gasping for air. Occasionally, Steve’s phone buzzes in the early hours and it’s Robin who can’t sleep, afraid of spiders crawling over her skin. All three of them suffer, but they do it together.

They survived and maybe it’s something basically human that has Steve continually asking why.

“I think we’re kind of okay with it,” Emma says wryly. Steve still half expects her eyes to turn black and shiny, but they stay brown and human. “It was a fair sacrifice to make. I still think about it a lot, how we got out.”

“Why did you?” Steve asks. “How did you? I was in there for maybe twelve hours. You guys lived there for nearly six months.” Emma smiles and there’s something painful behind it. Steve has to wonder about everything that she had endured while she lived there. The Packards never spoke in detail about what happened and Steve is pretty sure that she won’t tell him the whole story, even now.

“I have a lot of theories about that,” she sighs, curling her legs up onto the couch. “I’ve done all sorts of research, tried asking my parents as much as I can. They never really want to talk about it - I think they had their own shit to deal with in there - so it’s taken me years to get anything out of them at all. But I think it would be very different if we’d been there alone. You didn’t go in alone either, did you?” Steve shakes his head. Emma tips her head back, looking distant and Steve knows that look on her face. Like she’s standing in the grand hallway of Creel House, watching the dust motes float through the air.

“I think that’s part of it,” she admits. “The night we got out…we got really close to not leaving at all. To being yet another horrible tragedy of Creel House.” She doesn’t elaborate and Steve can’t blame her for that. He doesn’t think he’ll be ever able to talk about his own experiences with anyone who wasn’t there with him.

“But you didn’t,” Steve says. The Packards fled at two in the morning, in a desperate flight similar to the one Mystery Spot had carried out only seven weeks prior. “You had each other.”

Emma nods, her chest rising and falling in a slow, deep breath. It’s taken her a lot to come here, to meet him, to share her experiences. But maybe they both need this.

“Maybe we just got lucky,” she suggests. “But I don’t think so. I think if we’d let it…let them, then we would have been torn apart by that house. We didn’t and I know by the way that you’re still here that you guys didn’t either.” Steve swallows around the lump in his throat.

“They came back for me,” he says in a low voice and Emma reaches out a hand. He takes it, her palm feeling warm and smooth against his.

“I think that’s probably the bit they don’t understand,” she says gently. Steve hasn’t missed her obvious use of the word ‘them’, that she knows exactly what is buried beneath her former family home. “Don’t, or can’t. That we love people enough to go back.” Steve nods and Emma squeezes his hand.

“I should go,” she says, perhaps sensing that it’s time. “I just wanted to meet you. And to let you know that it does get better.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, because hope is all he has right now. Hope that one day Robin won’t flinch so badly at spiders or that he won’t freeze in fear every time a clock chimes. At least now, maybe they can put the guilt of burning down Creel House behind them. If anything, Emma almost seems glad for it. It was the final nail in the coffin for the Packards to push for the house to be demolished.

“Maybe when it’s gone we can all sleep a little better,” Emma says frankly and rubs her thumb over Steve’s wrist. “Hey, can you hear that?”

Steve listens carefully and sure enough, there’s a loud thumping coming from the front door.

“Shit,” he says, leaping up. He must have lost track of time. “That’s my boyfriend.” Emma grabs her jacket and follows him out to the front door. Billy leans against the glass, rhythmically slapping the door with his hand. He looks like an indignant house cat, leaning on the doorbell because it can.

“That’s your boyfriend?” Emma asks curiously, her eyebrows raised. He can’t blame her, not when Billy’s dressed like that. The obscenely tight jeans used to drive Steve wild…which they still do. Just in a very different way, when it’s his bedroom floor those jeans end up on.

“Yeah,” Steve says, searching for the keys he hid behind the counter. He still can’t quite believe it, that he and Billy are an actual couple. They do couple things that Steve used to laugh at before, like hold hands all the fucking time, or Billy brings him coffees at work, or Steve watches shit TV with Billy half asleep in his lap. Every single second of it feels like reaching the top of the roller-coaster and plummeting all the way down. Steve never ever wants it to stop.

“Damn,” Emma says admiringly, before Billy turns and she gets a good look at his face. “Wait, isn’t that…?”

“Yeah,” Steve says briefly and jogs over to let Billy in. Billy sighs dramatically as he steps into the warm.

“Fucking hell, Harrington, do you want my balls to be blue?” he complains, pressing a firm kiss against Steve’s mouth before Steve can even shut the door behind him. “I thought you were kind of fond of them…”

Emma discreetly coughs, but there’s a bemused smirk on her face. Billy whirls around and stares at this intruder.

“Hi,” Emma says, waving awkwardly, and Steve wraps an arm around Billy’s waist. He can see the exact second Billy recognises her.

“This is Emma,” Steve says, somewhat pointlessly. Billy flicks his eyes up and down her, somewhat suspicious. They all have their paranoias after Creel House.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about your house.” Emma tugs on her jacket, preparing for the November chill outside. Another week or two and they’ll switch to festive films, and Steve will have ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr Grinch’ in his head until January.

“Sorry we didn’t tear it down sooner,” she says easily, digging a pair of gloves out of a pocket. “Steve, if you ever want to talk again, I work at my mom’s flower shop on Hanigan road. Find me any time. Nice to meet you,” she says to Billy, before she rests her hand on the door handle.

“Thanks,” Steve says, because his chest has felt lighter than it has in weeks. She smiles - a little sadly, a little regretfully at the strange bond they share - before she tugs on the door. The chime rings again but she pauses.

“Don’t let go of it,” she reminds him, her eyes turning to Billy ever so briefly, before she slips out again into the night. She’s gone so quickly that Steve barely has time to recover from hearing those words again, the door dropping shut in her wake.

Steve watches her dash across the parking lot, turning the key in the lock once more. He’s not ever going to forget again.

Billy’s arms wind around his waist, a hot breath on the curve of his neck and Steve sighs.

“I have to tidy up first or Keith will kill me,” he says reluctantly, because the adrenaline already pounding in his blood has made it so easy for Billy’s kisses against his throat to catch his interest. Billy snorts and slides a hand under Steve’s awful green vest. The scrape of fingers against his belly makes it that much harder to focus on the job at hand. It doesn’t matter what Billy does - a look, a touch, a kiss - but it takes barely anything for Steve to want him. That’s the kind of desperate thirst in his throat that he can’t get enough of.

“No, you don’t. Keith fucked off already. I saw him go while I was waiting for you,” Billy says, amused, and Steve groans furiously. Fucking Keith. He hates closing up.

“Want to go leave ass prints on his desk?” Billy suggests and Steve twists in his arms so they can face each other. He curls his fingers in Billy’s hair and possessively pulls him in for a kiss. Yes, he does. He wants to strip Billy out of these jeans and fuck on Keith’s desk, and when they get home he wants to fall asleep right next to this boy. Tonight, for the rest of his life.

“There are cameras in the office,” Steve points out, wondering if Billy has forgotten. Judging by his grin, no, he hasn’t.

“Even better,” Billy purrs and tugs Steve’s vest off his shoulders. “Come warm my balls up for me.”

“Romantic,” Steve says, but they both know that he’s not going to fight it. Keith never watches the cameras.

“I love you,” Steve says suddenly and Billy’s face goes soft, as it always does. Steve’s said it every day - that first night in the shower, the next morning curled up around each other, the first time Billy sank down on his dick - and he’s going to keep saying it. Don’t let it go.

“I love you too,” Billy says, and that’s when Steve knows that they’re all going to be alright.

#harringrove #fic: empty places #epilogue #creel house au #ghosthunters au #billy hargrove #robin buckley #Steve Harrington #wow it's over #I can't believe it #the URGE to write a hellcheer/buckleway sequel is unreal #RESTRAINT luna

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sohemotional · 2 years

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Prompt: Can you write something for Mini!Brittana, like when they were younger. I think they are really cute. Btw I love all of your fics especially the one "5 times Brittany and Santana didn't have a baby" 🥰🥰

First of all, thank you so much, Anon. You're very sweet and it means so much to know you like my fics! I’ve been so busy that I wasn't able to write for a while but here it is, finally. I hope you like it!

First Meeting

“Hi, can I borrow your pink?”

The prettiest girl five year-old Santana had ever seen was looking up at her under her eyelashes with upturned, blue cat-like eyes that were full of innocence. She was like what Santana would imagine an angel would look and sound like. Santana had never seen eyes like that.

“What?”

“I lost mine. I think my cat stole it.”

Santana was confused for a long moment, staring at Brittany in stunned silence as all other thoughts left her head other than those sparkling sky blue eyes. Then she noticed that Brittany was pointing at the Tickle Me Pink crayon on her desk and felt stupid. Judging by Brittany’s drawing and the clothes she was wearing, it was clear that light pink was her favourite colour.

She knew it would be easy to be mean and snap “No!” at the meek girl or just ignore her like she would have for anyone else but she couldn’t when everything about the girl was so sweet and soft… not to mention pretty. Her body moved automatically and she handed the crayon to the girl, receiving a smile that made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“Thanks. I’m Brittany.”

“Santana.”

Santana was confused by Brittany and too shy to approach her again even though she kept thinking about the girl, who was the first one in their class to ever talk to her.

Later that day in class she heard pitiful sniffling and then realized it was because the two meanest girls in their kindergarten class were cornering Brittany who was rubbing tears away from her cheeks. The blonde girl was just lying on the floor and looked so helpless, not even fighting back as the girls insulted her over and over again.

“You’re so stupid and weird!” Chelsea snickered and Kelsey laughed hard as Brittany looked down at the floor in shame, her lower lip wobbling.

Santana felt red hot anger. She didn’t think before she took action. She marched up to the two girls threateningly, rolling her neck and squaring her shoulders the way she saw her dad do when he was telling someone off.

“Hey, leave her alone!” She barked at Chelsea and Kelsey who screamed when Santana shoved them so hard that they tripped and fell into wet paint. As the black-haired girl expected, they were cowards and immediately started to cry, threatening to tell the teacher what Santana had done as they looked down at their ruined clothes while the rest of the class pointed and laughed at them. Santana just smirked, standing with her hands on her hips. She felt proud as the mean girls scampered away all upset then she held out her hand to help Brittany stand up. The tall blonde girl looked at her gratefully and finally smiled.

“Thanks, Santana. Those girls are so mean.”

“I won’t let them bully you ever again.”

The black-haired girl wasn’t expecting it when Brittany leaned over and kissed her cheek, pulling back with a giggle. Santana looked at her in surprise and touched her cheek in the spot where Brittany kissed. She felt that same little spark she felt the first time they talked when their eyes met again and Brittany slipped her hand into hers, lacing their fingers together without warning as Santana fell silent but didn’t pull away. She felt warm and comforted by Brittany’s touch in a way she never had felt before around anyone else. From then on, they were inseparable.

#Brittana #Mini Brittana #Santana Lopez #Brittany S. Pierce #my fics

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sashaarielle · 2 years

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Aspen: Across the River, Chap. 2

It’s now Friday and Friday nights aren’t as exciting as you think. My best friend on the other hand...

Aspen. Asp, I like to call her, she’s my best friend, well best friend is an understatement. She’s been with me ever since I moved to Windbrook. I'm a very independent person but she really knows how to bring me out of my shell and helped me meet all my friends when I first got here. She is the queen of planning Friday nights out. 3am swims, midnight movies, hiking, surfing or even just chilling at home (which those are my ideas of the perfect fridays). She has always been the go-getter.

“So what shall we do tonight?” She flops down on my bed and puts her head in my lap.

“Stay home and watch a movie?” I say hopefully “Ha! You're funny, we're going to Claire’s, her parents are out of town and she has the whole house to herself, Molly, Payton and Gabe are gonna be there too!”

I roll my eyes at her “I knew you already had something planned, why even ask me?” she gives me a sickly smile “to be polite”. I sigh and stand up, Grabbing my green jacket that used to be my dads. As we drove down my street I stare at the thick wall of trees, And my mind drifts off to Foster. Him being so friendly when we first met. Like he knew me somehow. Or surprised I was there. It’s a public park.

“I met someone the other day”

The car suddenly stops, I jolt and my seatbelt tugs across my chest. “WHAT?!” Asp says. “God, Aspen you almost just killed us”. “I literally just stopped the ca- wait that's not the point. Forest what do you mean you met someone, a boy, you met a boy? or girl? sorry you know I don't judge” We are stopped in the middle of the road and she’s staring at me so intensely.

“Yeah, a boy but it’s not like that I was walking Cooper and had my headphones on and he yelled at me from across the river”. I try to look anywhere but her “what was he doing In the woods in the first place? burying a body?”

“He was just skipping rocks, I don't know” she blinks slowly at me “Did you at least ask him his name?! You're the kind of person that would just walk away if I cute guy was talking to you”.

“First of all, ouch, second of all, yeah thats true and I never said he was cute.”

she rolls her eyes at me “oh come on, look at you, you're literally blushing thinking about it ” I sigh. “His name is Foster, He was really nice for a stranger, he told me he just moved here and asked for my name but I got scared and walked away”

“New guy? Foster? hm, I like it, sounds kinda mysterious to go along with the whole skipping rocks thing”.

“I don’t think skipping rocks is mysterious”.

She presses her lips together “It kinda is and besides, this is great! maybe you’ll see him tomorrow when you walk Cooper again.”

“Maybe I don't know, you know I've never had any kind of relationship”. She head tilts slightly “Why though, I mean guys have liked you in the past and you just never seemed interested?”

My chest suddenly feels heavy. “Yeah, I know and I do like guys and find them attractive its just--”

Suddenly a car beeps behind us making Aspen drive again. The car falls silent hoping she won't make me talk about it again. I don’t know if Im ready to admit anything yet to anyone. “ You know it’s okay to like someone, I know how you feel about that kind of stuff but it may be good to get out there”. she says as she pulls up to a red light.

I roll my eyes “you sound like my mom”.

“Well Mrs. C is never wrong” I don't say anything and we pull up to Claire’s 5 minutes later. “Well you and I are going to talk more about this later but for now I'm telling the others about Mr. Rock skipper” as she runs to the door. “DON’T YOU DARE” and I run after her.

...

OMG! I am so sorry for abandoning this story. Junior year was stressful and now I'm a senior and bored so I'm back on it! I promise to upload as much as I can!!!

#boy x girl #young love #forest #love #romace #original fiction

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discountdemonwarehouse · 9 months

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Domestic December Day 18

Prompt - Birthday

Young Quinn bakes Terzo a birthday cake as an offering of friendship.

AO3 Link SFW.

Ages -> Quinn - 11, Terzo, 14. It had been roughly a week since Terzo had been pulled from the private lessons with the other children of the clergy to assist with Quinn’s lessons. He’d been worried about this being a punishment or the other children thinking he was stupid, but the younger American was proving to be very bright, just struggling with adjusting to conversing in a new language. The casual atmosphere of lessons at the dining room table had put him at ease quickly, their tutor handling their different levels of study with surprising ease. Terzo had learned Quinn had been homeschooled most of her life, and was ahead of where she’d have been in a public school system anyways. Another benefit of the more casual lessons in the Demuirs’ apartment was snacks; Quinn’s mother would breeze through the room, delivering beverages and snacks, and though the tutor was mostly against it, he didn’t protest much. “It’s about time to take a break,” the Signore said, interrupting both children’s quiet workings. The man seemed to give Quinn a meaningful look, and she nodded. “I’ll be right back,” the girl murmured, heading off towards the kitchen. Terzo took the opportunity to stand and stretch, wandering towards the impressive collection of vinyls in the living room. Mrs. Demuir had given her blessing for him to browse them, and so long as the tutor was willing, they could play them while they worked on their studies. Quinn had told him she had her own smaller collection of vinyl as well, though it contained a number of the same albums because she had similar tastes to her father. The boy did not have a chance to get too far into browsing when the tutor called his name. “Terzo, attenzione qui, per favore.” (Attention here, please)

Terzo turned, seeing Quinn walking into the room, bearing a cake topped with lit candles. “Tanti auguri a te… tanti auguri a te… tanti auguri a Terzo… E la torta a me!” (Happy birthday to you... happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to Terzo... And cake for me!) She was singing Happy Birthday for him, in Italian, a shy smile on her face, laughing a little nervously as she finished. Terzo stared silently with surprised eyes at the younger girl before him, still holding the cake in her hands by the dining room table. How had she known it was his birthday? “I do believe it’s custom to blow out the candles, Terzo,” the Signore prompted him gently. “Oh! Certamente!” (Certainly!/Of course!) He hurried back to his spot at the table, and Quinn set the cake gently in front of him. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” she reminded him quietly. He nodded, then thought for a moment before blowing out the candles. Mrs. Demuir moved into the room with plates and cutlery, handing him a knife to cut the cake. “I hope you don’t mind that I did this… I know we don’t really know each other,” Quinn murmured. “Mind? No, this is… a good surprise. Thank you. How did you know it was my birthday today?” “I heard you talking with your brothers and recognized the word ‘birthday’ and the day of the week. Then I asked dad if he could check so I had the right day. Signore helped me with the song. I hope you like chocolate!” He looked at the cake on his plate, chocolate with vanilla frosting, decorated with small chocolate chips. “Did you make this yourself?” She nodded shyly, poking her piece of cake with her fork, afraid he’d judge her. “It looks delicious.” He ate a large forkful; the cake was perfect. “It is delicious! I can’t believe you made this, thank you.”

People didn’t do things like this for him, or if they did, it was some grand public gesture to try and curry favour. Mrs. Demuir had gracefully taken her plate of cake and disappeared elsewhere, and their tutor had taken his out to the balcony to have a cup of coffee and a cigarette. There were no grand presentations or people watching expectantly. Just a homemade cake Quinn had made purely because she wanted to do something nice for him. They ate their cake in a comfortable quiet. “I think there’s enough left that you can share with your brothers,” she offered eventually. “They’ll like that. We don’t usually do much because our father…” He trailed off. “Oh. That sucks,” she muttered. She looked over at him with a big smile suddenly. “I hope you liked this, at least.” “I do!” He smiled back. “I really do. Thank you. When is your birthday?” “Mine? Oh. December, still months away.” Terzo filed the information away, making a note to get the day from her at some point. “Hey, Quinn?” “Yeah?” “I hope we can be friends.” She smiled at him, her cheeks flushing a little. “That’d be nice.”

#the band ghost #fanfic #papa emeritus iii #ghost fanfiction #papa terzo #ghost terzo #terzo #terzo emeritus #ghost fic #female oc #female original character #young terzo #Domestic December #Domestic December 2023

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the-violet-void · 1 year

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did I ever tell the story of how I started smoking weed on here? I don't think I did, so here we go!

for a little background: I grew up the most anti-drug and alchohol kid. I would berate my dad for having a glass of wine or a bottle of beer, when I was older I would write multiple paragraphs on Facebook about how it was disgusting and filthy and everyone who does it is worth less as a person, etc.

basically I SUCKED.

then one day I find out that my brother's been smoking weed. he got arrested on my birthday for it, btw, that's how I found out. at first I was upset, because it put a damper in my birthday celebrations, but I decided to take the opportunity to learn what it was really like from him and found that it wasn't as scary sounding as the D.A.R.E. fellas made it seem.

then I started seeing videos of people using medically to great effect, and learned that no one has ever died from its use. I figured I wasn't going to smoke it myself, but I wasn't going to judge anyone for it

then New Years 2019 happened.

I was at my mom's house with my dad, brother, and his girlfriend (at the time) (K from here on) and friend (T from here on). we were just sitting in the living room hanging out, just after midnight (I think), and my brother is convincing my dad to try weed

he was successful, so we headed down to the basement. on the way down my curiosity got the better of me and I spoke up. "I'll try some, just a little". of course everyone was really shocked and my response was a really laid back "fuck it, it's New Years" which even suprised me

so we make it to the back room of the basement where they smoked, my brother packs a bowl, and tries to teach us how to use a bong. we decided it would be easier if he handled all that stuff for us and we just worried about inhaling

my dad goes first, then I take a hit. just a small one. a few minutes later I started feeling the effects and I thought they were actually rather nice so my brother asked if I wanted a bigger hit. I said yes

this was a mistake.

while he was lighting the bowl, my brother got distracted talking to K and let it just kinda go for a while. I figured it was just how long a normal hit went for so I just kept inhaling. I realized I was in trouble when T's mouth went agape as he was wide-eyed staring dead at me. finally my brother pulls the bowl and I get multiple lung fulls of smoke all at once and immediately cough the contents of said lungs up

there was a moment of silence before we headed upstairs to watch a movie. they put on this comedy that I don't remember anything about besides the scene where some guys are getting stopped by cops and the guy in the back seat thinking he needed to eat all the drugs they had, only to find out that the cop was stopping them for some menial reason and just told them to have a nice day, and the shot with the boobs in it

at first I felt ok. I started noticing that I could feel like kind of an energy moving in a certain direction, and that was cool, but things quickly went south. I found myself anxious and panicked. I spent most of the movie rocking back and forth hugging a pillow. K let me know that eating snacks can help, so I stuffed my face full of stale cheetos for a while. through all of this I found myself almost convinced that I was hallucinating everything and I was actually on the ground in a puddle of my own bodily fluids

also I don't know if the weed had anything to do with this but when I went to use the restroom I saw myself in the mirror and silently cried for a while because I was so dysphoric. it hasn't happened before or since so maybe but Idk

long story short it was awful, and I decided I would never do it again

a little over a month passed and during that time I came to understand that I had most certainly overdosed. I figured I'd give it another go, so on my birthday (Feb. 7th) that year I asked my brother for a hit. I took a slightly bigger hit than my very first one and found it very enjoyable.

since then almost every time I visited I would take a hit, increasing the dose over time and getting used to it until I was taking pretty big hits like it was nothing.

I've been in love with weed ever since

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uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years

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imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. ��Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Note

For every request I send, my love, tell me what you want from me in return and I’ll do it 😩😩

But can I request a Nat x Reader where Nat is surprise visiting her family in St. Petersburg only to find her girlfriend already there because they love her more than Nat. I can see Melina being like “she knows how to take care of the pigs”

Hello! Well, I would say i want hugs and kisses but we have an ocean between us haha Hope you like this my friend, it's short but it's sweet.

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.539 K

Dictionary> Медовый (darling/dear) | мой милый воин (my dear warrior)

All Works Masterlist

//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Sweet Petersburg - Oneshot

Natasha parked her car just outside her mother's house, the smell of recent rain in the air as she stepped out of the vehicle, a nostalgic smile on her lips to be back home after a while.

She's visiting for the weekend, St. Petersburg is cold in the autumn, but also really beautiful, and even if she didn't say it out loud, she misses her family everyday.

Nat walked towards the house, she hadn't spotted any family members, but judging by the noise of laughing and talking inside the kitchen, some of them were inside.

She left her bag on the sofa, moving to greet them when the sound of a voice made her frown. Sounded like you.

"Mom?" Nat called out loud and the laughter stopped. The next second two women were coming from the small kitchen to join Natasha in the living room, who was standing with her arms crossed.

"Tasha, darling, you're here!" Melina greeted excited as she moves to hug her daughter. But Natasha's eyes are on you, smiling shyly at her with your hands in your pockets.

"I am." She says. "I'm sorry, am I missing something? Why are you here, babe?"

She asks curiously directly at you. Before you can answer, Melina is touching your shoulder and smiling at her daughter.

"I invited her, of course." She clarifies. "She's great with the pigs, and she's such a lovely companion, Tasha."

Nat let's a short laugh.

"I know, mom. That's why I'm dating her." She says almost dry, and you roll her eyes at her jealousy. Nat is looking at you again next. "I thought you were in Turkey."

"I was." You say as you step forward, resting your hands on Natasha's hips. "I runned into Yelena there. Then she video chatted with your mom and they insisted for me to come for the weekend."

“And you didn't think about asking me to join you? At my family house?" Nat asked with incredulity, but you just smiled at how cute she looked when angry.

"Natasha, don't be like that, it's not like you two need to be together all the time." Melina intruders with a humorous gaze. "Besides, she's been here many times before."

"Wow, what? Natasha exclaim surprised, moving away from your arms as you give her a mixture of a guilty and playful look. "Are you two for real?"

Melina signs impatiently, turning away from this conversation as she walks to the kitchen, Natasha following her while complaining about not being fair that she was spending more time with you than with her own daughter.

You would have followed if Yelena didn't come into the living room with some groceries.

"Just saw Nat's car outside, didn't know she was coming." She remarks as you quickly move to help her with the bags.

"Yeah, you better keep these comments to yourself, Lena. " You say and rush to explain as the woman frowns at you. "Your sister is not pleased to know I’m used to came here without her."

"What? Why?" She asks while you two move to the kitchen, but you don't answer as you two meet Melina and Natasha again, still arguing.

"I just don't think it is fair that none of you called me to let me know that my girlfriend was around!" Natasha accuses grumpy making Yelena laugh.

"It's not our fault your girlfriend is nicer than you, poser." Yelena teases as she puts the groceries on the balcony next to you. Natasha lets go of an annoyed sign turning to her mom again.

"Mom, do something! She's mocking me!"

You want to laugh at the scene but you just stay behind, not wishing to upset Natasha anymore.

Melina sighs as she massages her temples with her fingers.

"Please,girls, don't fight each other." She asks as she ignores Natasha's protest saying that Yelena started the whole thing and moved to grab the groceries you and Yelena brought. "I'm making dinner, everyone out my kitchen!"

That's how you ended up outside, with a grumpy Natasha and a smiley Yelena, walking around the back of the house to join Alexie, who was fixing Melina's truck in the back.

"Hey dad!" Natasha greeted as you reached him, the man was under the car and lifted the vehicle in the air to smile at his daughter.

"Tasha! Hey, kid, good to see you!" He said and put the vehicle back down to roll out and stand up. "Didn't know you're joining us this weekend."

Natasha grumbles insatisfy which makes Yelena laugh and Alexei frowns in confusion.

As his girls moved to sit in the bench nearby, you whispered to him: "She didn't take well knowing you invited me over without her."

"But what's the problem with that?" He asks loudly, attracting the attention of the girls, you sign but he doesn't mind. "It's a good thing that we are having trips with you, you're part of the family now!"

Natasha wides her eyes.

"Having trips? Excuse me?" She asks angrily as she stands up. "How many times have you hung out with my family without me?"

"Well…" You started uncertainty, playing with your fingers. Yelena smirks.

"We had that trip to California last month." She counted while Alexie murmured in agreement. "Also went to Philly. She stayed here for independence day too, and we had tacos night last week. Besides that, whenever she's around my mission place I invite her for a beer." Yelena told and all Natasha did was stare in shock at her and yourself.

"Oh, don't forget China. We had that thing too." Alexie added and Natasha signed.

"You're all unbelievable." She accused as she rushed to pass through you and into the house again.

You were uncertain about following her inside.

"Well, that didn't go well." Alexei comments with an awkward posture. "I will try talk to her."

As he left, you moved to sit with Yelena.

"Sorry about that, maybe I should have left you to tell her about the trips." She said but you just signed softly.

"It's okay." You say. "It's my fault for keeping it for so long. She would have found out anyway."

Yelena murmurs and you two fall silent for a moment.

"California was really fun wasn't it?" She asks amusedly, making you smile.

"Yeah, it was."

You two exchange giggles before deciding to go back inside and you busy yourself with helping Melina with dinner.

//-//

Alexei came back alone from Nat's room with a slight grimace that made you worried.

So you decide you should talk to her yourself.

As you reach her room, you knock before coming in.

Natasha was sitting in her window, next to her bed while looking outside. In that position, you understood that she saw you laughing and talking to Yelena in the yard and by the recents events, that might not be the best.

"Are you mad at me, Nat?" You couldn't hold your words as you reached her, and she turned her head to you immediately, a confused frown in her face.

"Of course not!"

You sign in relief, taking a step forward. "Are you mad at your family?"

"Yes."

You take a deep breath. "Do you want me to stop seeing them?"

She gives a short laugh, shaking her head in denial as she extends her hand for you to grab. As you do, she pulls you towards her gently.

"Of course I don't want you to stop seeing my family, sweetheart." She says as she circles your waist with her arms. "I just got mad at them for not inviting me."

"I'm sorry, Nat." You say. "I should have said something, but they didn't and I was worried about sounding rude or something. You know how much their approval matters to me."

She smiles tenderly, her fingers caressing you gently.

"Yeah, that's why you're so sweet and polite all the time, and they love you more than me." She declares, making you frown. "It's fine of course, how couldn't they not?"

"Don't say that, Nat." You ask as you raise your hands to her cheeks. "Your family loves you very much. They just hang out with me because you're not around as much as I am."

"You think?" She questions, sounding so vulnerable that you wish you could banish all her insecurities away.

"Of course, Nat." You state. "We only talk about you, babe. All the time. And we all love to do it because we all love you. "

She gives you a shy smile before pulling you to her laps, making you giggle as she kisses your face a few times before moving away.

"Give yourself some credit, babe." Nat says with a lovely gaze. "You're a very pleasant company and I think they love to spend time with you as much as I do."

You smile before kissing her in the mouth, gently and sweet like this moment. Scenes like this are definitely your favorites with Nat. Along with late nights with her hands running through your body.

"I love you, Медовый." She whispered against your lips.

"I love you too, мой милый воин." You say and Nat giggles.

"Since when you speak Russian?"

"Your mom is teaching me."

"Okay, out."

//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x yn #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #avengers imagines #black widow x reader

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

backyard bbq party [bucky barnes]

Summary: You're a college student who hates visiting home. Bucky is new to town and works with your dad. Your mom thinks you need a break from studying and your dad thinks Bucky needs help meeting new people. Smut ensures. 4.5k SMUT

Warnings: Age gap, flirting in inappropriate circumstances, dirty talk, oral - m. receiving, Bucky is cocky and sees right through you, D/s vibes (but not really), very little Daddy kink (one mention), unedited.

A/n: I don't think I have to mention this, but 18+ please!!! Please reblog and lmk if you liked it ❤

"Hun-" your mother warmly called as she approached you, a transparent plastic container filled with freshly seasoned raw pieces of meat, in her hands, "Take this to your father, ok?"

With unmistakable disgust on your face, you still faked a smile - all for her sake and took the container from her. It was heavy and you did your best to look anywhere but at it as you crossed the backyard, approaching your dad. He was with his back at you, facing the grill, and a man - which you barely noticed at first, stood by his side.

"Dad?" you sighed, "Mom said you should make these right now"

Their conversation stopped in an instant, and the two men turned to face you.

A smile instantly made its way onto your dad's face, "Didn't think you girls would be done so fast" he commented.

You just shrugged, knowing damn well you did not help prepare the food in any way. However, your eyes landed on the man behind your dad. He was tall, definitely well built, his shirt a size too small and his eyes shamelessly boring into yours.

You fell under his spell in under a second. Or maybe he fell under yours. Something definitely happened. A switch flipped inside your brain, and you knew you'd have to work hard to not allow yourself to do, or at least try to do, anything stupid at your parents party.

His eyes trailed lower down your body, and judging by the way he fought back a grin, it was clear what he had in mind.

In order to keep things from getting awkward, his lips parted into a dazzling smile, as he extended his hand to you, "You must be, Y/n. I'm James Barnes. You can call me Bucky. Or Buck"

"Oh, yeah!" you dad smiled, "You two haven't met! James is the best damn mechanical engineer I've ever seen"

"You work together?" you squinted your eyes, "I never heard of you before"

"He just moved to the state" you father added, and Bucky nodded in agreement, his hand still slowly shaking yours.

Feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, you smiled and excused yourself, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes. I'll go now, see if mom needs any more help"

Bucky's eyes didn't leave your frame as you walked away, however you barely managed to take a couple of steps before you heard your mother's voice. "Y/n, baby? Can you go grab the glasses?"

"How many?"

"12" she responded in an instant, and then you took off towards the house.

It was dead silent inside. The house was empty, and already a mess. You took off your sandals and walked over to the cabinets above the sink, pulled out a tray and started looking for the fancy glasses your mother saved for special occasions.

You must've grabbed about 3 or 4 when a deep voice startled you, "Need any help?"

You lightly jumped in surprise, but hoped he didn't notice. "No, it's ok, thank you, though"

"Ok" Bucky mumbled, and you heard the smugness in his tone.

Unable to fight your instincts, you turned around and looked at him over your shoulder. Leaning against the wall with a small bottle of beer in his hand, he sent you a mischievous wink which almost brought a lump to your throat.

You hurried to turn around and keep gathering the glasses your mother asked for, struggling more and more with each one. When you cleared the first shelf, it was obvious you'd need help reaching the ones higher up, but you weren't about to ask Bucky. Instead, you hiked your dress up your thighs and pushed one of your knees on top of the counter, lifting yourself up just enough to reach the remaining glasses.

"Careful up there," Bucky laughed, walking over to you.

On a normal day, your palms wouldn’t be shaking and you wouldn't even think about the possibility of dropping a glass or falling off the counter. But he was too close, taking way too much satisfaction from seeing you struggling to maintain your balance. Not to mention the skirt, and the way almost all the skin of your thighs was on display for him.

"You could've asked me to help, you know?" he taunted, taking one more step towards you. There were barely a few inches separating your bodies now, and although you were sure it was your mind playing tricks on you, the heat from his body flooded your senses. He was too close. Too smug, looking at you. But the last straw was when he placed his left hand on the counter, inches away from your knee. That was when you noticed the prosthetic arm as the metallic sound of its vibranium plates overlapping grabbed your full attention. After a momentary lapse of composure, you looked into his eyes but all he did was raise his eyebrows. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Uh, it's ok" you shook your head, turning back to look at the cabinet. "Just five more"

For the remaining glasses, you grabbed them from the shelf, handing them to Bucky to place them on the tray.

When you were finally done, with a gentle grab of your hips, Bucky helped you off the counter, his hands lingering against the thin material of your dress for a bit too long. But you didn't mind. His touch burned and under his gaze, you found yourself turning around to face him, the proximity being nothing other than obscene especially if you were to take into consideration the age gap, and how you met him.

But that was 20 minutes ago. A moment not so conveniently interrupted by your mother barging in, wondering what was taking you so long. Bucky helped you carry the glasses to the table outside, and after that, you parted ways.

Even though he went back to the rest of the men gathered around the grill, your mind remained fixed on him. You found it almost impossible not to look for him every other minute, and the fact that he managed to catch you staring everytime, made the butterflies in your stomach go even crazier.

And then it took a little bit of devious and manipulative work on your part - to convince your aunt she got the wrong seat. You told her there was a seating plan, and that she was supposed to sit next to your mum. That opened up a seat left of Bucky, and since that seating plan was as unreal as your chances with him, or so you thought, you had to make sure the seat wouldn't be taken by someone else. And you didn't want to make it obvious - didn't want him to know you only chose that spot after figuring out it was right next to his. So you sprinted back into the house, grabbed your purse and placed it on the chair, pushing it as close as you could to the table, so no one could see it. Maybe it's been there for hours, even before any of the guests even showed up. Who'd know?

But of course, once the food had been served and you were all seated, you had to play your cards right. All your confidence seemed to have vanished ever since Bucky took his seat next to you. Casually sipping his beer, having a taste out every single type of food laid out in front of him, cracking jokes every now and then, and the glimpses… And the winks... And the way whenever he had to turn in your direction, his eyes would first land on you, and only then travel to the person he was having a conversation with.

But that was just the start. Soon enough, his attention was more and more directed towards you. His arm on the back of your chair. His jokes solely for you.

When you figured it was your time to make the next move, after giggling at one of the stupid puns he just made, you cleared your throat and scanned the table. "James, where did you get the olives? Can you hand me the bowl please? I can't see it"

"Oh, yeah" he said, pushing himself up to grab them for you. But conveniently, the bowl was empty. "There aren't any left, doll." he announced after settling back in his seat.

"That's ok" you smiled, ready to stand up, "I'll go see if there are any inside"

The "No" he whispered was way too low for you to hear, but his metal hand grabbing your thigh and pinning you down in your chair got the message across. You turned to look at him confused, but your plan was already going in a completely different and indisputably better direction.

"Here-" Bucky said, using his fork to pick up one of the olives on his plate. "I'm full anyway"

"Thanks" you nervously laughed, raising your hand to grab the utensil, but he stopped you.

"Open up"

Only for a second did you stop to consider just how bad of an idea that was, but you hurriedly pushed the thought aside and opened your mouth. Your eyes met his as you lowered yourself and grabbed the olive with your teeth, barely managing to hide your enthusiasm as you slipped it off his fork.

"Good?" Bucky asked.

You nodded, "Very. Thank you"

"No problem, doll"

After that, you returned to your plate - some cheese and salad left. None of them looked too appetising right now, you knew what you wanted - two things, but only one of them would be acceptable. So, you lazily gathered some salad leaves into your fork, and turned to Bucky. "Can I have one more?"

"Hm?" he muttered, removing the beer bottle from his lips and looking at you confused.

"One more olive? Can I?"

Instantly, he smiled. "What was that?"

"Can I have one more-" and when his amused smile turned into a devious grin, you realised what he actually wanted from you. "Please?"

He still wasn't satisfied so he just raised his eyebrows, telling you to try again.

"James? Can I please have one more olive?"

"Of course" he taunted.

You didn't know what you expected, of course you'd have to eat this one out of his fork too. However, this time, he didn't bother helping you at all, instead making you lean all the way into him to grab it.

"Thanks"

"And call me Bucky, ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Bucky"

As much as you wanted to keep this game going, the atmosphere around the table shifted. Even though your parents were seated at the other end of the table and on the same side, making it impossible for them to see what you were up to, you still felt like you crossed one too many lines.

When your demeanour changed, so did Bucky's. He leaned back in his seat, shifting uncomfortably for a couple of minutes, until he decided to stand up, announcing he was grabbing another drink for himself. You wanted to ask him to bring one for you too, but before you even managed to get a word out, he was already sprinting towards the house.

In his absence, you tried to calm yourself down and regain your composure, but there was only one thing on your mind. Him. So, against your better judgement, you left your seat at the table too, innocently heading towards the house.

There you found Bucky, leaning almost all the way in into the fridge, scavenging for another beer. The man emptied your dad's stash before the second course was even served.

"Whatcha looking for?" you beamed, walking up beside him.

"There's no more beer left" he announced, straightening his back and turning to face you. "I guess I'll have some water"

"I can go and see if there's any in the basement" you offered, "Or you could always go for something stronger"

"What do you suggest?"

"What are you into?"

"What am I into?" Bucky laughed.

"Whiskey?" you questioned, walking around him to open the liquor cabinet. "I hate this rum so I don't recommend it." You grabbed another bottle, "This vodka is amazing, no headaches the morning after."

"That won't be a problem" Bucky chuckled, leaning against the counter. "I'll have whatever you wanna give me"

"You seem like a whiskey kinda guy, is that ok?"

He nodded in approval, and then watched you pad around the kitchen, grabbing a glass and some ice. "What makes me look like a whiskey kind of guy?"

You took a deep breath, weighing your next words. "Rugged, tall.. handsome. Not my age." You shrugged. "Whiskey". Before allowing him to comment on that, you spoke up again. "What kind of drink do I remind you of?"

He pondered for a second, his eyes studying your every move. "One of those overly sweet girly cocktails, that has way more alcohol than my whiskey, but it's masked by all the syrups and preservatives inside it"

"Really?" you laughed out loud, handing him his glass.

Bucky smiled as he took it from you, raising it as if making a toast, and then took a sip. He licked his lips and sent you an approving nod.

Slowly, you both turned around and started walking out of the kitchen, but unlike you - Bucky stopped in the middle of the house, his voice urging you to do the same. "I'll go out front for a cigarette"

"Can I come, too?" you asked, heart beating out of your chest.

"Please" He urged you, stepping aside and allowing you to walk in front of him.

With a hand on your waist, he followed you out the front door. It was quiet, the sun shining a bit too bright for your liking.

You skipped down the stairs onto the pavement, but he stopped and sat down. Bucky spread his legs wide and motioned for you to come in front of him. After you did, with a gentle tug on your hand, he got you to kneel, one step below him.

"Want a cigarette, doll?" he asked, leaning back to retrieve the pack and lighter from his jeans pocket.

"No, thanks"

"Don't smoke?"

"Not if there isn't at least a mile between me and my parents" you giggled, placing your hands on his knees.

"Why?" he raised an eyebrow, lighting up his cigarette and taking a puff. You watched the smoke dissipate to the side, only to have your attention grabbed by him when he placed his free hand on your shoulder. "You're an adult. Have been for years. You live on your own. Why not?"

As he spoke, his fingers curled around the strap of your dress, nonchalantly pulling it down.

You swallowed thickly, but due to the way he was making you feel, you decided to ignore his action. "What they don't know, can't hurt them, right?"

"Mhm" Bucky agreed, taking another puff and then moving to play with the other strap. "So I was right?"

"About what?"

He shook his head, "Nevermind"

"Tell me!" you whined, pushing yourself up against him. His thighs completely framed your body as you closed the distance between the two of you. "Tell me!"

"Nope" he grinned, his proud smile inches away from your hungry lips.

"Bucky, come on" you pleaded, framing his face into your palms, "Tell me, please"

"No, doll-" he dismissed you, turning his head to the side to smoke. After blowing up the smoke, he threw the cigarette into the ashtray, his hands coming up around your body to rest on your ass.

"Pretty please?" you whined.

"Don't push me" he threatened, his grip on your ass tightening to the point where you almost whimpered out loud. Instead, your eyes just opened wide and you bit your lips.

"Ok" you sighed, playfully defeated, "Ok, fine. Don't tell me. But now I'm sad"

"Of course you are, doll" Bucky laughed, grabbing your chin. "I can tell how sad you are. You're not almost bursting into laughter at all"

"Shut up!" you scoffed, slapping his side, but he interrupted your antics with another rough squeeze of your ass.

Unable to keep calm anymore, you dragged your hands up his thighs, stopping inches away from his member. When you looked up to see his reaction, Bucky was already watching you.

"Can I?" you pouted.

"Stand up"

"Why-"

"Stand up" he commanded again, slapping your ass before you stood up and settled in front of him. "Take your panties off, doll"

"Here!?" you gasped, "What if anyone-"

"No one's gonna see you if you keep quiet and shuffle out of them like a good girl"

With your heart panging in the back of your throat, you slowly reached under your dress and pulled your underwear down. The feeling of cotton slipping down your legs made your shiver, and by the time your panties fell to the ground, Bucky had already stood up.

Wordlessly, you grabbed them from the floor and handed them to him, "Good girl" he nodded and then stepped out of the way, motioning for you to head inside.

You did so without any further form of complaint, determined to have your way with him by the end of the party. Dessert hadn't been served yet, so you knew there was still time to get to him.

But once you stepped into the house, you barely managed to make it past the hallway before Bucky grabbed your elbow and dragged you to the side. He forcefully pushed you into the small bathroom by the guest room, slamming the door behind him and locking it in one smooth movement.

Now it all made sense. Nerves and anxiety washed over you, but the good kind. You were bursting with emotion, shivering from every joint as your juices finally started running down your legs. You licked your lips and waited for instructions from him, ready to do absolutely anything he'd tell you to.

"Why don't you show me what you're made out of, hm? I wanna see how fast you can make me cum with that pretty little mouth of yours"

And that was all you needed to hear before you dropped to your knees in front of him, drooling like a good little girl as you watched him undo his pants. Your eagerness got the best of you. He looked divine, especially from that angle. His thick thigh inches away from your face, his metal hand playing with his belt, his hungry eyes staring down at you, his rugged breathing and the perverse view of his cock straining against his clothes.

Thank god he was fast, because you didn't know how to control yourself anymore.

When he finally pushed his underwear down and leaned against the wall, you were ready to show him what you were capable of. You wrapped your arms around him, settling your palms on the back of his thighs and sloppily took his cock into your mouth.

"Holy shit-" he cried out loud when you first sucked on his tip, bucking his hips and clenching his thighs.

Eagerly working him from between hollowed cheeks and with your tongue pressed to the underside of his hardening member, you proceeded to look up, innocently blinking at him. The corner of Bucky's mouth tilted upwards, perfectly expressing the immense amount of satisfaction he was getting.

When the strain on your neck became noticeable, you slipped his cock out of your mouth and wrapped your hand around his base. With delicate and experienced flicks of your tongue against his slit, you worked on shattering his self control, getting more and more wet as his breathing started to accelerate.

"Fuck, Y/n, you little slut-" he gasped, bringing his hand to rest on the top of your head.

You knew what he wanted, but it wasn't his turn to make decisions. Instead, you ignored his gesture and lowered yourself further between his legs, wrapping your lips around his balls. You sucked slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure that you hoped would drive him up the walls.

"Doll, so good. So, so fucking good" he panted, his cock nearly twitching in your hand as you kept pumping along the length.

Pulling back when your neck needed a break, you settled in front of him again, this time mouth open, and placed his tip on your tongue. No physical pleasure from that, but no amount of shadow could hide the pure bliss in his features. Just having you there, on your knees, with his cock on your tongue, was exactly what he needed to see.

"Come on, baby. It's not gonna suck itself" Bucky grunted, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You nodded eagerly, but he stopped you before taking him back into your mouth. "All the way down, ok? Take my cock all the way down your throat, and when you feel like you can't anymore, go a little further"

You nodded again.

"And don't worry, I'm here to help you, doll"

You wanted to mumble a 'Thank you' but didn't get to, since he hurriedly curled his fingers around your roots and forced your head down his cock.

The feeling of your throat expanding around him reached your core in no time, making you shiver under his hold. You crumbled to the floor, your knees weak from the sheer feeling of it all, blinking wearily as he kept you down.

A mere few seconds had passed before, out of nowhere, Bucky pushed you off of him and looked to the door, eyes wide with shock.

"What happened?" you mumbled, wiping your chin.

"Thought I heard something"

"You locked the door" you reminded him, "No one's gonna catch us. And that's a bit of a shame, if you ask me"

"Huh?" Bucky frowned.

"I wouldn't mind people seeing me with your balls in my mouth"

His mouth fell open. "You dirty, little whore"

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you licked his tip and looked up, "Don't act like you don't like that about me"

"I absolutely fucking love it" Bucky scoffed, "Don't know what could have possible made you think I don't like it"

"I was just saying"

"Just.. stop talking. Put that mouth to better use for me, ok?"

"Yes, Daddy" you teased and wrapped your lips around his tip again.

"You little-" Bucky started cursing as he shook his head in disbelief, before a rapid knock against the wooden door made your heart stop.

"Buck?" your father's voice echoed around the bathroom, "You in there?"

Without even thinking twice, Bucky forced you back all the way down on his cock, completely blocking your air supply.

"Yeah! I'm in here!" he yelled as you struggled to keep quiet and muffle the way your body desperately begged for air.

"Have you seen Y/n?"

"Nope"

The panic that was running through your veins had your oxygen burning faster than normal, the tears in your eyes being the first sign of it.

"I can't find her anywhere" you dad went on.

No matter how much you tried and how much training you had, in that moment right there, you found it impossible to fight your gag reflex. Before you knew it, a choked down whimper erupted from your throat, forcing Bucky to cough, loudly, hoping to cover you.

"I haven't seen her, man. But, urgh-" The way your throat convulsed around his cock made Bucky weak too, way too close to his release to be able to sound inconspicuous. "Can I- can I have some pr- privacy now? Please? Just - just a sec"

"Are you feeling ok? Do you need-"

"I'm fine!" Bucky yelled. "I'll be out in a sec"

It was not like you were able to hear anything or even concentrate, but as soon as it was clear, Bucky let you off his cock, as he fell back against the wall and you stumbled into the sink.

Gasping for air, you heaved under his stare, eyes wide in shock. "You know I could've kept perfectly quiet without your cock blocking my throat"

"Where's the fun in that?" he panted, getting ready to finish on his own.

"No!" you stopped him, crawling back to him, "Let me!!"

"Just open your mouth" he grunted, and you obeyed.

It took him approximately 30 seconds to reach his orgasm, his hot cum landing perfectly on your awaiting tongue. His moaning and his breathing, and the way his face contorted through endless expressions of pure bliss, had you neatly coming yourself.

When he was done and after you proudly swallowed all that he had to offer, you stood up to fix your lipstick while Bucky cleaned and dressed himself back up.

"Your best friend called. She's having an emergency, you need to get there as soon as possible"

"What-?" you gasped, confused for just a second before you realised there was no way that could have been true.

"Yeah, and I'm not feeling well, so I'll head home. I can drop you off if you want"

And that was what you told your parents. That they couldn't find you earlier because you were talking on the phone with your best friend, reassuring her that everything would be fine and that you'd meet her as soon as possible.

Your parents weren't happy about it, but they didn't shy away from thanking Bucky a million times for offering to drive you. After a sappy round of goodbyes and promises to visit more often from now on, your parents finally returned to the party while Bucky led you to his car.

Once you got in, you didn't even manage to put your seat belt on before Bucky grabbed your chin and forced his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. He dominated the kiss as you melted in his hold, moaning against his lips before he pulled away.

"Been waiting to do that since I first laid eyes on you"

"What stopped you?"

"Had a feeling it wasn't a good idea" he laughed, starting the engine, "Saw what you did to my dick. It was all pink. Don't know how I would've explained lipstick all over my face to your parents"

"Well, excuse me for not wearing blow job proof lipstick to my parents barbecue"

"You're forgiven" Bucky teased, squeezing your thigh as he pulled out of the driveway.

"But why are we leaving though?" you questioned, "You know I have my own room upstairs, right?"

"I know, I know.. but next time we're nearly getting caught, I don't want it to be by anyone who's seen you in diapers"

You burst into laughter, "Oh god, you're right, yeah, that makes a lot of sense! But where are we going?"

"You'll see"

Please reblog if you enjoyed this and hmu with concepts!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment.

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly.

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches.

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.”

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest.

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement.

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room.

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you.

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up.

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently.

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric?

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends.

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back.

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.”

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school.

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High.

Cut all ties now. You have two days.

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon.

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.”

“It’s none of your business, Zara.”

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders.

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym.

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle.

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left.

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand.

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning.

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door.

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings @thaticecreambish @hee-hee-haw @dearnataliealoveletter @wasteofspacze @dcml04 @bbigbbrainn @dirtydiavolo @vanhakirja @rinzyx05 @misselsbells06 @ialexabsuniverse @im-a-depressed-gay @energy-drinkk @mothra-main @i-need-hugs @dragons-lurk-here @katj733 @m4r-s @vievi @dykeragee @waterstrawberry @aplaintart @kakamiissad @myunfinishedsymphony @nagitokinnieissad @autumnpleaves @justanothergirlwithdemons @zachariethememerie @moon-asia @m0on-blue @strawberrysodababy @akikko-yataro @haikkeiji @shiningsunrises @cinnamonmochi @queen-turtle-boiii @imanewsoul @sparkling-gayyyy @angelicaschuyler-church @vixenfoxpup @ella-ivanov @shio-yuki @mosstea-png @ijustshatbricks

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marveicinematics · 3 years

Text

first time (loki x reader, smut)

Summary : Loki has been patiently waiting for the moment you’d want to have your first time with him, and it looks like tonight is the night.

Pairing : Loki x female reader.

Words : 1,640.

TW : Smut. Masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex.

Note : Based on an old readers’ request. I tried to make this one a lot more cute and fluffy, hopefully you’ll still find it good!

I’m open for request, just check the submit new stories button on my page. ♡

Sitting in front of you, head tilting to the side, Loki was staring at you with those puppy eyes he always had when he was worried about something. If you had to be honest, Loki wasn’t worried very often. But when it came to you, he was the most caring person on earth.

“I’m just scared because it’s going to hurt.“ You mumbled, shrugging before looking away. “Love, I told you it wouldn’t.“

He tried to make you feel better with a soft voice, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “You’re a man, that’s why it’s never hurting.“ “First of all, I am no man. I am a god.“ He corrected you, hating the idea of being considered like a pathetic human — or at least that’s how he called them before dating one of them. “And I will make sure this experience isn’t hurting you, do you hear me?“

Silent, you kept staring away from his face and his gaze. You knew he would get his way with you, eventually. Actually, you trusted him so much that you wanted to give in to him. But you needed more time, and both of you spent the rest of the night kissing and cuddling on the couch of your place. It had been months since that conversation, now, and you adored how he accepted each time you told him you weren’t ready to take your relationship to the next level. He helped you calm down when you panicked, thinking he might someday leave you because of this. He made a few dirty jokes only to see your reaction and make you feel more comfortable about it. He even told you a couple of times how desirable you were, to him. So that day, when he arrived home — your home, but he was spending most of his time there —, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Tonight. Let’s do this, I think I’m ready now.“ You realized how much he must have been craving to hear these words from the way his eyes darkened at only the idea of what that night could be like. You made sure everything went on with your day, only taking a few more minutes in the bathroom to prepare. Make it special, but not too special. And as usual, both of you settled down on the couch to watch TV, cuddling and sometimes kissing — you could feel how his kisses were a lit more eager than the usual. “Take your shirt off.“ You mumbled against his lips, letting him away from your grip only to watch him start to undress for you. “What about you?“ “Do you want to take my shirt off?“ You asked. Loki looked amazed. He had seen you without a shirt, before. Sometimes you came out of the shower only wearing a sport bra, or you went to the swimming pool wearing a bikini. But he had never taken off your shirt. So he did, carefully, taking time for each movement until your shirt fell to the floor, leaving you wearing a black lace bra. You felt more exposed than ever before for a couple of seconds, before realizing how speechless it seemed to have left Loki. You knew him enough to know it was hard to make your boyfriend shut up. Turning off the TV, you grabbed his hand before leading him to your bedroom. Standing next to the bed, he looked directly at you before trying to take off your dad jeans, slowly. You couldn’t help but to smile. Loki, the great god of mischief, looked almost distraught. “I can’t get them to—“ “Let me help.“ You cut him off, giggling. “It’s the damned jeans.“ Amused by how upset he was, you made sure you unbuttoned and unzipped the pants before looking at him again. Softening again, he took your pants off and laid you down on the bed. Before joining you on the bed, Loki took his own pants down, leaving both of you in your underwear. “What’s next?“ You asked softly, feeling a wave of stress rushing through you. “Are you scared?“ “Yes, a little.“ He settled next to you, as one of his hand rested on your belly. “Then let me help you relax, love.“ Slowly, he reached down over your panties — though the fabric was thin enough for you to feel everything as if his fingers were inside of them. Two of his strong digits rested between your legs, right where you needed them, and he started touching you gently, winning small sighs from you as you slowly relaxed. After a few minutes, Loki’s fingers found there way inside the underwear and in between your legs again, as he caressed your folds again. He must have felt you were starting to feel aroused, because his fingers worked harder against you, massaging your clit until you moaned for the first time, and then sliding inside of you one by one, letting you adjust. You weren’t hurting. It was only pleasure, as he predicted. “It feels so good…“ You whispered as he kept going. After a few minutes, you realized how Loki’s erected cock was resting against your hip, still covered. He must have gotten hard by pleasuring you — you found this idea extremely erotic. “Please… I want you.“ You moaned again as his fingers were still going in and out of you at a steady pace. Taking his hand out of your underwear, Loki licked them clean with a glimpse of lust in his eyes, before getting on top of you. “Are you sure about it, love?“ He asked you, visibly concerned. “You might tell me to stop anytime, all right?“ You nodded — he had told you a hundred times, at least, that he wouldn’t be mad. You felt bold for a second and took his boxers off, freeing him from the tightness of the fabric. “You’re big.“ You whispered, cheeks red from both shame and arousal. Loki let out a soft chuckle and his hands took off the matching bra and panties you still had on. It took you a minute to accept being naked in from of him, but from how astonished he seemed to be looking at your body, you knew he wouldn’t be the one to judge all the flaws you seemed to see. “Now, please.“ You mumbled, legs resting on each side of his body. Loki aligned himself before slowly entering you, inch by inch, as he was checking each of your facial expression to know when to pause. You frowned a couple of time, winced when once again you realized that he was that big. He would always stop silently, before pushing inside a little more. Finally, he was all the way in before you could realize. “It’s good, I feel alright.“ You told him, searching for his eyes in the darkness of the room. Without a word, he pulled out slowly, before pushing back in a second time, faster this time. You winced again, but Loki moaned in pleasure. The way it seemed to please him made you immediately more wet than you were before, and you eased slowly moving your hips against him. “I love it when you moan.“ You confessed to him as he was slowly going in and out, now. He smiled, one hand going up your body to cup your breast, as the other one was resting against your head. “I love being inside you, it’s heavenly— oh!“ He moaned again, and you did too, arching against his body as your hands found a place on his back. One even slid down to his ass, which seemed to turn him on even more. “Can I go a bit harder, love?“ You nodded directly, feeling how he was holding back for you. Truth was, you needed him more and more, and your body was loving each of his move. His hips picked up the pace, making you moan louder in surprise. His cock was thrusting inside you harder now, and you felt him hitting all the right spots — spots you didn’t even know existed before. “Loki, fuck! It feels good!“ You cried out, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. He smiled in contentment, his hand cupping and massaging your breasts, one after the other, enough to make your nipple hard and sensitive at his touch. “Ah, shit!“ He moaned before pulling almost all the way out. “What? Did I do something wrong?“ You lifted yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “No, god no. I’m just… going to… You know.“ You blushed again as you chuckled, before shaking your head. “I don’t want you to stop. Please, don’t stop. I still need you, it feels great.“ He seemed surprised at first, maybe for a second, but when you caught his lips to kiss him deeply, Loki slide back inside you harder, making you moan against his mouth as he started fucking you again. “Oh, don’t stop!“ You never thought your first time could have felt so pleasurable, but Loki was really one of a kind. Grabbing his ass again, you forced him to go deeper inside you, his pelvis brushing your clit at each thrust. You started feeling your inside clench around his length and the bottom of your stomach tickling, knowing exactly what it meant. You had never reached an orgasm before, but the fact that Loki was about to make you come was not really a surprised to you. Never had you doubted his abilities when it came to pleasuring someone. “I think I’m close.“ You muttered, feeling your toe curl and your back arch again. “Oh god, Loki, I’m…“ You couldn’t finish your sentence, screaming out your pleasure as you were climaxing on your boyfriend’s cock for the first time, body shaking in pleasure. “Oh fuck!“ You heard Loki swear, before feeling him reaching his own orgasm, slamming harder inside you as he filled you up. You moaned again to the feeling, letting Loki rest his head against yours. “How do you feel now, love?“ He asked you after long minutes of silence that helped you calm down and catch your breath. “Fucking great.“

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