#setting some boundaries real quick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 5 months ago

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played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made" pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader. warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him.

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first.

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game.

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay.

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair.

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t.

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe.

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before.

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now.

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur.

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car.

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble.

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you.

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back.

“Can you… can you stay over?”

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while.

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution.

Staying away from you was killing him.

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Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you.

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you.

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl.

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you?

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor.

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient.

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out. “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything. It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat. “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him.

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his. It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron imagines #requested #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff #rafe cameron fic

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simplyholl · 10 months ago

Text

Reckless

Summary: When you act recklessly on a mission, Bucky gets mad at you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

See My Masterlist Here

You had really done it now. You made Bucky so mad, he couldn’t even look at you. You were paired together for a mission, and you acted recklessly. You got separated from him and instead of waiting for him, you found the Hydra bunker where they were hiding.

You burst in without a plan and they would have most likely killed you. But Bucky came in and saved you. On the way back, he wouldn’t look at you, speak to you, or even acknowledge your existence.

It took a lot for him to get angry. So you didn’t know how you could fix this. You were such good friends, and he always made time for you. It was going on three days and he ignored every text, call, FaceTime, and knock on his door. You didn’t even know why he was so upset with you. You had done stupid stuff during missions before.

Finally you had enough of the silent treatment, so you waited until it was his normal time to train. He liked to work alone, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone else being there and interrupting you. You made your way to the gym, disappointed that he wasn’t there, nobody was.

You were just about to leave and come up with another plan when you heard someone in the men’s locker room. You hoped it was Bucky as you entered, the smell of soap filled the steamy room. Your sneakers squeaked with every step on the wet tile floor.

You heard Bucky singing some old fashioned song. Following his voice passed the lockers, you step over Thor’s discarded shorts. You shake your head, feeling sorry for the cleaners Tony hired. You see Bucky’s head peaking over the shower door. For a split second, you debate turning around. But you want your friend back more than anything, so you continue all the way to the showers.

“James, we need to talk.” Bucky jumps at the sound of your voice. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s locker room.” He rolls his eyes, turning towards the spray of water. “You wouldn’t talk to me, I didn’t know when I’d be able to catch you.” He doesn’t answer, instead he picks up the shampoo bottle squirting some into his palm.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I just want you to talk to me.” He reaches up to wash the shampoo out of his hair, eyes closed. “I know you can hear me. Bucky, please?” You beg him but he continues ignoring you. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to. You set your phone down on the bench beside you. You reach down to take off your shoes then your socks.

You grab the handle to the shower door, letting yourself inside. Bucky’s eyes widen as he sees you in the shower with him. He makes an awkward attempt to cover his self. “Get out of here!” You walk over to him, “No! This is the only way to get you to pay attention to me!” You walk closer, “Tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

Bucky watches as the water sprays you, making your already tight workout clothes cling to your body. His throat bobs as he finally answers. “I’m not mad, I’m furious. You weren’t thinking. You never do. You went by yourself when you were told to wait, and if I hadn’t been close by, you would be dead.”

“I do stuff like that all the time, Buck. Why did it make you so upset?” Bucky takes a step toward you, removing his hands from his hardening cock. “Because I care about you! If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after that stunt you pulled.”

That was just the answer to send all your worries about crossing boundaries out the window. You press yourself against him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. When his lips met yours, it was like you were the only people in the whole world.

His metal hand makes quick work of your sports bra, ripping it right off you. The warm palm of his flesh hand meets your breast. He groans against your neck as his hands travel lower. He jerks your leggings off in one swift motion, throwing them to the side with a wet thud.

You were never so thankful that you didn’t wear panties as you were today. He reaches between you, long fingers dipping into you. You were so wet just from arguing with him, and he knew it. “All this from fighting with me, doll?” He smirks, knowing the effect it will have on you. You clench around his fingers as he curls them upward, his palm gently brushing your clit. “James” you moan, grasping his shoulders for support.

He removes his fingers from you, turning you around so fast that you don’t have time to register how empty you feel now. Bucky presses his body to your back, trapping you between him and the shower door. The cool door makes your nipples harden against it. You feel Bucky’s hard cock rub against the curve of your ass. You try to move to create some type of friction between you, but you can’t. His big body doesn’t budge. He uses his leg to spread you further.

You gasp as he thrusts into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before he plunges deeper, bottoming out. You claw at the shower door, as his thrusts grow brutal. His metal arm wraps around your waist, holding you where he wants you while his flesh hand grabs your chin. He tilts your face to look at him, “Are you going to do anything that stupid ever again?” He asks, his cock brushing that spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.

You can’t form words, it feels too good. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” Your eyes are glossy, you try to answer but you only make sounds. “My pretty baby, she’s too cock drunk to talk. Is that it, doll? Is my cock too much?” You manage to whisper yes, sending his ego into overdrive.

“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel like I do. I’ll never touch you again, if you don’t follow orders. Am I understood?” Visions of his old army days flood your mind, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. “Y-yes sir.” You stutter. He seems satisfied with your answer, holding you closer to him. His fingers dig into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises, marking you as his.

He snaps his hips one last time, burying his face into your shoulder as he comes inside you. He stays like that for a minute, catching his breath before turning you around. He checks all over your body, his forehead wrinkling as he notices the multiple marks he left behind. “Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just so caught up in the moment-��

“It’s okay. I really liked it.” You confess. Bucky sighs in relief, bringing you back under the water, he starts to wash you. “Hey what about me?” Bucky smirks, “What about you?” He washes down your arms. “I didn’t get off.” You state matter of factly. “Oh, I know. Only good girls get to cum.”

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck

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clairdelunelove · 8 months ago

Text

the way that yuuji becomes desperately eager whenever your kissing session with him manages to slip past the boundary of innocence.

it escalates into a scenario that’s directly ripped out of his wildest dreams. but don't get him wrong. he adores every and any type of kiss you grace him with. the casual kiss to his cheek whenever he brings you lunch. the comforting forehead kiss he receives when he’s had a particularly rough day. the teasing kiss nestled in the junction of his neck when his hands grip at you a bit too intimately in public. he’s over the moon. delighted and beyond grateful whenever he opens his eyes in the morning and catches a glimpse of you. whether you’re by his side or he’s waking up to a text from you in the morning. you’ve bewitched him to the point of no return. anyone can perceive it. how he’s brought to his knees by what he deems as the greatest gift in life— the opportunity to be yours. his love is unconditional, true, and pure.

so imagine the epiphany that seeps within you when your sweet, doting boyfriend starts pressing searing kisses along your neck. it started with an innocent peck. he’s always naturally gentle whenever you’re involved. delicate touches despite the calluses on his hands from labor and strength. you had gently murmured your appreciation when he agreed to meet up with you so late during the night and spend some time with you. he vaguely remembers the reasoning behind your call, a brief comment about how you 'couldn’t sleep' and how it was 'nothing to be concerned about.' honestly, you just missed him. but he sprinted the entire way anyway. a figure with blushy pink hair weaving in and out of alleyways to cut across the neighborhood streets. too quick to actually notice unless you’re innately observant. he pauses in front of you, though. your wide eyes land on his flushed face as he sweeps a hand over his forehead to mop up the sweat from the intense run. and he’s even more attractive underneath the moon’s pale glow. in fact, his devotion towards your wellbeing meant so much that, by the time he can ask if anything was wrong, the two of you are stumbling through your bedroom door.

it’s sudden. the bed creaks underneath yuuji’s added weight but it goes unnoticed by the male. or rather, it was the least of his concerns because now he’s focused on you. you’re so pretty. basked in radiance that knocks the wind out of him. causes his fingers to inch closer to you. and it’ll physically pain him if he doesn’t do anything so he encircles his arms along the curve of your waist, your hands are carded in his hair, and yuuji would be utterly stupid if he had any complaints. no, this was heaven. for some, this might’ve been labeled as a measly make out session but for yuuji— he believes that this is the bliss that people spend their whole lives trying to achieve.

he’s spiraling out of control due to your affection and soft noises. and clearly you’re not doing any better. your face burns in unabashed desire as he nips at your glossy lips and his next words have you keening.

“sweet,” his voice comes out breathy and syrupy with want, “you’re so freakin' sweet.”

lifting you by the underside of your thighs, he sets you down on his lap as a solution to close the gap. leans in to lick at your lips for another taste and pulls away with a dazed grin. there’s a dopey expression on his face. his pupils are blown wide and the tips of his ears are scarlet. vision clouded with you. feels the blood roar in his ears when he pushes the apex of your thighs down so your weight is entirely on him. a noise that borders a whine leaves his lips. and you can distinctively feel the heat of him underneath the thin fabric of your clothes. it’s hot and heavy. there’s no telling where you end and where he begins.

“this can’t be real,” he chants, like he’s in disbelief of his fortune, “please let this be real.”

and he’s reduced to blabbering now. brain short circuiting until he’s muttering about anything and everything that revolves around you. you’re soft, pliable underneath all his brawn. the contrast drives him to the brink— it always does. he lifts your hand to his face and presses chaste kisses up your arms. they’re soft, fleeting. that is, until he lays the flat of his hand against your lower back so you’re caving towards him. the squish of your chest on his is maddening. you feel like your body is on fire. wherever he touches you erupts in a warmth that won’t fizzle out and you know that you’re drowning in pleasure. but, like always, yuuji will be there to rescue you.

“c’mere, pretty girl,” his fingertips brush alongside your hair, “wanna see you some more, yeah?”

cradling your face in his hand, he squeezes at your cheeks until your glossy lips are puckered and willing. the epitome of tantalizing. his other hand snakes down to grasp onto the plush of your thigh and uses it as leverage to spread you open some more. unveil his present. you’re almost certain that the imprint of his fingers will be visible tomorrow but you can’t seem to care. his honeyed eyes are half lidded as he gazes at you. gulps to quell the tide of desire that flows within him. takes all of his restraint to be patient, let you adjust. he has all the time in the world.

vividly, he hears you panting; you’re breathless and shaky from his ministrations. falling into the delirium that yuuji casts upon you. yet, your fingers trail lower onto his abdomen, the muscles there involuntarily clench and he jerks forward to chase after your touch. he mumbles a quick apology only for his head to drop when you run an earnest hand over the same spot that has him seeing stars. a heady gasp escapes his lips, gets caught in his throat, and the obscene noise floods the room. the sticky sound rocks you to your core.

your lashes flutter, eyes opening to glance at the door that’s left ajar, and shyly mention, “yuu. the door.”

and it’s pathetic how quickly yuuji zips up to abide by your order. never allowing you to repeat your words twice because he’s actively listening to you.

“right!” he stutters, a bit too enthusiastically considering that the change of pace makes his head dizzy, “I’ll close it.”

moving awkwardly to compensate for the tightness in his lower attire, he gently knocks your knees when he stands and almost face plants as he scrambles to the door. sucking in a breath, he inwardly scolds himself for his clumsiness.

"way to ruin the mood, loser," he ruminates.

embarrassment evident in the way he catches himself before he trips due to his willingness to get back to you. so desperate, so eager to please you. naturally, you’re stifling a laugh when he shuffles back to you.

he plops down on the bed, clears his throat, and widely grins to point out the obvious, “I’m back.”

and goodness, your heart explodes just from his presence. your sweet boy. you’re even more obsessed with him. his cheeks are a glowy, reddened hue. lips kiss-bitten by your undoing. he runs a hand through his frazzled hair, attempting to pat down the parts that stick up due to your previous touches and scrunches his nose when his actions are futile. you instinctively reach out to help and his eyes immediately soften.

the boyish charm he has never fails to put a smile on your face and you’re replying before you can think better of it, “wanna continue?”

and the next kiss you share is followed by an overly eager yuuji. it's filled with toothy grins and soft giggles— inherently him. your heart swells and soars.

#itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori #itadori x reader #itadori x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori

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bleachification · 1 year ago

Text

⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY

pairing: sanji x reader

word count: 5.7k

synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

“We broke up.”

“How long? Two months?”

You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”

Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.

“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”

Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.

“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.

You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.

“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”

He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.

“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”

You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.

“Well, he must have been crazy then.”

“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.

“I’ll kill him.”

You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”

“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.

“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

He can’t.

Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.

Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.

You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.

“I’m back.”

At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.

For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.

For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.

“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.

You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.

“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.

You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.

“SANJI!”

It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.

“Marry me.”

But perhaps not logic.

“What?”

Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?

Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.

“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.

Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”

Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.

“You’re funny!” He laughed.

“That’s what you were trying to say?!”

Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.

Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.

“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.

You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.

If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.

“Think it over?”

You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”

“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.

“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.

So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.

For you, he would try it all.

Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.

Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?

Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”

That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.

“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.

“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.

Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.

You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.

“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“[Name], I–”

You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”

“Please, just hear–”

The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.

“Crew meeting, come on!”

Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.

Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.

Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?

“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.

With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.

Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”

She flips the paper over. “…and this.”

A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.

“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.

“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”

“Wait a damn minu-“

“Hold on-“

“Are we sure that’s-“

A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.

Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.

“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.

No one speaks.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”

Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.

“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.

“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.

“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”

Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.

“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.

“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.

“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.

“Luffy—” Nami starts.

“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”

“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.

“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”

“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.

“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”

“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.

“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.

“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.

“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.

Everyone else groans.

“Luffy gets.”

“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”

“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.

“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”

You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.

“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.

The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”

Nami explains the plan.

Sanji turns white.

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”

Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble.

The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.

The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.

The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.

Easy peasy.

Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.

“Why did it have to be me?”

And Sanji?

You don’t voice that last bit.

“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”

You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.

“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.

“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.

You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.

“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.

You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.

Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.

He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.

“You clean up nice,” you note.

“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.

“…Pardon?”

Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.

“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.

“Shall we?”

Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.

“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.

“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”

Disappointment blooms in your chest.

“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.

“Never mind.”

You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.

When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.

It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.

You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.

The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.

“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.

Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”

He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.

“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.

As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.

Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.

“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”

“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.

You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.

“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.

Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”

You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.

“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.

“Why? It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.

Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”

“Not a word.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”

You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.

“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”

You swallow. “No.”

He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.

“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.

“Sanji–”

A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.

“Food,” he coughs.

You blink. “Right. Food.”

“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.

You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”

He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.

A static noise crackles in your right ear.

“Can…I—“

A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.

“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.

“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”

“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”

“Understood..”

After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.

You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.

Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.

“You found it?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.

His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”

“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”

If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”

“One.”

“What’s the plan?”

You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”

Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”

“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.

Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”

His reply is immediate and final. “No.”

You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”

“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.

“Sanji. I have t-”

“No as in not okay!”

You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”

He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”

“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.

You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.

“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”

You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.

“Not happening.”

Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.

Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.

The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.

You run to the alarm amidst the mess.

“Ready, [name]?”

“Whenever you are, Nami.”

She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.

All hell breaks loose.

Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.

You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.

He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.

After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.

You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.

Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.”

You blink. “What?”

“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.

“Why?”

Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”

You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.

“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.

“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.

You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.

It is only you and Sanji now.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“[Name].”

God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.

“This still isn’t funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”

“You say that—”

“I mean it,” he interjects.

“What makes me different? What makes me…”

Worthy of your love?

Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.

“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”

He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.

“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”

Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.

“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”

The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.

“I only ask that you give me a chance.”

“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”

“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.

You raise a brow. “Do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”

Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.

“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.

Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.

You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”

It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.

“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.

You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”

Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”

“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.

Sanji presses his forehead on yours.

“It’ll be the best date.”

“And how do you know that?” You tease.

“Because you will be there.”

—

˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007

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ottosbigtop · 4 months ago

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thinking about isat. I feel like this game talks about relationships in a way that is so refreshingly honest.

There’s something so not quite perfect about the resolutions and conclusions. I can’t think of as many examples to point to off the top of my head but, the specific moment that comes to mind is Siffrin and Bonnie’s talk about Siffrin’s physical boundaries. How they work through it but Bonnie still doesn’t exactly get it, because it’s a very complex situation, because they’re young. And Siffrin still has some feelings about how Bonnie approaches them, because they’re very headstrong and quick to act even when they’re earnestly trying. But they’re trying, and they’re making progress, and that’s the important part that comes out of it.

I think that’s really what makes isat’s conclusions to some of its character vs character(s) conflicts hit for me in a way some others don’t. The resolution doesnt mean that things are immediately improved, necessarily. But there is a promise in the actions and conversations. There’s an implication that these things being addressed are things that the characters are going to keep working on even as the game comes to an end.

Even Isabeau and Siffrin finally getting their confession, although not necessarily having the same tone as Siffrin working on his boundaries or communication, is still a “let me think about it.” It’s still not giving you a solid answer. There’s no capstone that says exactly where they stand now. Relationships are and will always be malleable. Although stories have a set beginning and a set ending, real people, their relationships, their conflicts, will forever be in flux.

something along the lines of, just because isat is a narrative with a beginning and end, it doesn’t mean the relationships and their conflicts and progress are as set in stone as the ending of a story. You will, ideally, always be communicating with people. You will, less ideally, continue to have conflict, and times you feel like a conversation could have gone better, and the thought that you’ll probably have to come back to the topic again sometime. And isat delivers its relationship storylines in a way that acknowledges that, I think.

#In stars and time #I’m getting very excitable about the complexities of relationships tonight.#I can’t tell if this makes sense but I hope at least a sliver of my point is visible in here somewhere.#Text posts :0]#isat spoilers

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natsaffection · 5 months ago

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Wait and Hope. Pt 2 | N.R

Warnings: gun shots, blood, gore 'traumatized' children, just angst

Word Count: 9,8k

A/n: Okay, it's a lot..The Request you can find here.

The first few weeks after Lila, Jacob, and Mia moved in were an emotional whirlwind. Mia adapted quickly, her boundless energy and cheerful nature filling the house with light. She often clung to you and Natasha, seeking your warmth and affection, while Jacob remained quieter, but slowly began to open up. But Lila..Lila was different. You and Natasha had expected some challenges. Lila was, after all, fifteen and had been through more than any teenager should. But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that Lila's walls were still firmly in place, and she wasn't ready to tear them down anytime soon.

Natasha, who had taken on the role of disciplinarian, had set clear boundaries from the start. She was strict but fair, and the kids quickly learned that pushing those boundaries or talking back wouldn't get them very far. Lila start to respect Natasha, yet there was still a certain distance, an unspoken agreement that Natasha wouldn't push too hard as long as Lila didn't push back. But you..you were also different. You were the heart of the family, always warm, always understanding, always trying to reach Lila with kindness and patience. And that's where the problems began. Lila wasn't ready for that kind of affection, not from someone she still saw as a stranger, and her rejection often manifested in anger. It had been a long day, filled with the usual ups and downs of settling into a new routine.

Natasha had just returned from work and found you in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The tension in the air was palpable, and Natasha could sense that something was wrong. "What happened?" Natasha asked gently, stepping beside you and placing a hand on your back. You sighed, your shoulders sagging slightly. "Lila and I had another argument.." you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. "She shut me out again, and when I tried to talk to her about it, she just..exploded." Natasha frowned, her protective instincts kicking in. "What did she say?"

You hesitated, clearly reluctant to relive the exchange. "She told me to stop pretending I care, that I'm not her real mother, and that I don't understand anything she's been through." you said quietly, your voice cracking slightly. Natasha's heart ached for you, knowing how hard you had been trying to connect with Lila. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry, Detka.." Natasha murmured, her voice filled with empathy. "Lila's hurting, and she's taking it out on you because she doesn't know how else to cope."

"I know." you whispered as you leaned into Natasha's embrace. "But it's so hard, Nat. I just want her to see that we love her and that we're here for her. But no matter what I do, it feels like I can't get through to her." Natasha tightened her embrace, her heart breaking for the woman she loved. "You're doing everything right." she said gently. "It's just going to take time. Lila's been through a lot, and she's scared. She's not used to people being kind to her without expecting something in return."

You nodded as you tried to hold back your tears. "I'm so proud that the kids are bonding with you, especially since you were the one who was most worried about it. But..I can't help feeling like I'm failing somehow." Natasha pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and looking into your eyes with unwavering love. "You're not failing." she said firmly. "You're the heart of this family, Y/n. The kids are struggling right now, but they will open up. And when they do, it will be because you never stopped believing in them."

You sniffled, a small, sad smile tugging at your lips. "I hope so." you whispered. "I really hope so." At that moment, you both heard a door slam upstairs, followed by the sound of quick, stomping footsteps in the hallway. Natasha sighed, knowing that Lila was in one of her moods again. She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "I'll go talk to her." Natasha said gently. "You can finish up here, okay?" You nodded, grateful for Natasha's support. "Thank you." you whispered. Natasha gave you a reassuring smile before heading upstairs. She found Lila in her room, sitting on her bed with her arms crossed, her expression set in a defiant scowl. “Hey..” Natasha said, her voice calm but firm. “We need to talk.” Lila looked up, her eyes flashing with anger. “What?” she snapped. “What now?”

Natasha wasn’t fazed by Lila’s hostility. “You need to stop taking your anger out on Y/n.” she said, her tone measured. “I know you’re going through a lot, and I know you’re hurting, but she is trying to help you. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.” Lila’s expression faltered for a moment, a fleeting look of guilt crossing her face before it hardened again. “I didn’t ask for her help.” Lila muttered, her voice full of bitterness. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know.” Natasha responded, her voice softening. “But this is your reality now. We are your family, and we’re here for you, whether you like it or not. Y/n cares about you, and she’s trying so hard to make this work. You need to meet her halfway.” Lila looked away, her jaw clenched tightly. “I don’t need a new family.” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Natasha sighed, feeling the weight of Lila’s pain. “Maybe not.” she said quietly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you have one now. And part of that family is Y/n. She’s not trying to replace anyone in your life, she just wants to be there for you.” Lila didn’t respond, but Natasha could see the inner conflict in her eyes. She was struggling, torn between her fear of being hurt again and her deep, unspoken desire for closeness.

“I’m not asking you to change overnight.” Natasha continued, her voice gentle. “But I’m asking you to try. Give her a chance. She’s not going away, and neither am I.” Lila’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight gradually leaving her. She said nothing, but Natasha knew the message had been received. It would take time, but Natasha was willing to wait, to keep pushing until Lila was ready to let them in.

“Okay.” Natasha said softly as she slowly moved toward the door. “Take some time to cool off. We’ll talk later.” She left Lila’s room, her heart heavy from the weight of the conversation. She knew this wasn’t the end of the struggle, but she hoped it was a step in the right direction.

When Natasha returned to the kitchen, you were setting the table for dinner, your expression a mixture of sadness and determination. Natasha walked up to you, wrapped her arms around your waist, and rested her chin on your shoulder. “How did it go?” you asked quietly as you leaned into Natasha’s embrace. “It went as well as it could.” Natasha replied, her voice filled with quiet confidence. “She’s still hurting, but I think she’s starting to understand that we’re not going to give up.”

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. “I just wish I knew how to help her.” you murmured. “You’re already helping her.” Natasha said gently. “Just by being here, by being patient, by showing her love even when she pushes you away. It’s not easy, but you’re doing exactly what she needs.”

You nodded, your heart still heavy, but you felt a renewed sense of determination rising within you. “I’m not going to give up..” you whispered. “I won’t give up on any of them.” Natasha smiled, kissed your cheek. “And neither will I.” she said softly. “We’re in this together, Y/n. We’ll make it through, one day at a time.”

Months passed and Mia had quickly settled in, her cheerful nature and boundless energy bringing a light into the house that you and Natasha greatly appreciated. Jacob, though quieter, had also begun to open up and was gradually finding his place in the family. Since you allowed him to buy his own things, you both stumbled over piles of books every day,. But Lila? She was still struggling. The walls she had built around herself remained firmly in place, and despite all of your and Natasha’s efforts, she seemed determined to keep you both at a distance. It was a constant source of tension in the house, especially between Lila and you, as you bore the brunt of Lila’s anger and frustration.

One evening, Natasha was in the kitchen preparing dinner, while you were just on your way to join her. Mia was sitting at the table, doodling on a piece of paper, and Jacob was nearby, quietly reading a book. The atmosphere was calm, a peaceful routine that you had worked hard to establish. As Natasha stirred a pot on the stove, she heard Mia’s small, sweet voice call out, “Mommy, can you help me with this?”

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat, her hand pausing mid-motion. She turned to see Mia holding up her pencil with a confused expression, waiting for Natasha to come over. It took Natasha a moment to process what she had just heard. Mommy..Mia had called her mommy! The word hit Natasha like a wave, the weight of it filling her chest with a mix of emotions she wasn’t prepared for. She had been so focused on making sure the kids felt safe and loved that she hadn’t expected this moment hadn’t expected one of the children to call her by that name.

“Mommy?” Mia repeated, looking up at Natasha with wide, innocent eyes. Natasha blinked, quickly collecting herself and forcing a smile. “Of course, sweetheart..” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she walked over to the table. She crouched down next to Mia and helped her with the drawing, but her mind was spinning, her heart filled with a mixture of joy and vulnerability.

You noticed the change in Natasha’s demeanor, how her eyes were a little brighter than usual, and you knew what had happened. You reached out, placing a comforting hand on Natasha’s arm and giving her an encouraging smile. Both of you had been waiting for this moment, and now that it had come, it was as overwhelming as it was beautiful. But the quiet joy of the moment didn’t last long. As Natasha returned to the stove, she heard the front door slam shut. Her heart sank, knowing that could only mean one thing. Lila was home.

You sighed, your expression growing more serious as you stood up. “Let me handle this.” you said quietly, knowing it would likely lead to another confrontation. Natasha looked at you sympathetically. “Do you want me to come with you?” she offered, knowing how difficult these moments were for you.

But you shook your head, determination in your eyes. “No, I need to do this.” you said gently. “She needs to know that I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much she tries to push me away.” Natasha nodded, watching you with a mix of admiration and concern as you left the kitchen and headed upstairs. She could hear the music blasting from Lila’s room, a clear sign that she was trying to shut out the world.

You knocked on Lila’s door and waited for a response that didn’t come. You took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside. Lila was sitting on her bed, earbuds in, her face set in a grim expression as she stared at her phone. She didn’t even look up as you entered. “Lila.” you began, your voice calm but firm. Lila didn’t react, her fingers angrily tapping on her phone as if to drown out your voice. You moved closer and gently placed a hand on Lila’s shoulder to get her attention.

“Lila, please.” you said, your voice softening. “Can we just talk?” In that moment, Lila exploded. She ripped the earbuds out of her ears and turned to you, her eyes blazing with anger. “leave me alone!” she snapped. “Stop pretending you care because we both know it’s not true!” You recoiled slightly, the words hitting you like a physical blow. But you didn’t back down. You had heard this before, you had felt the sting of Lila’s rejection countless times. But you weren’t going to give up, not now, not ever.

“That’s not true.” you said, your voice trembling but determined. “I care about you. We both do. And I’m not pretending. I want you to feel safe here, to know that this is your home.” Lila scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. “Home? This isn’t my h-home. It’s just another place I’m stuck until you decide you don’t want me anymore..!” Your heart broke at Lila’s words, at the deep-seated pain and mistrust they revealed. You knew Lila had been through so much, that she had every reason to doubt the stability of her situation. But that didn’t make the words any less painful.

“That’s not going to happen.” you said, your voice filled with quiet resolve. “We’re not going to give up on you. No matter how hard it gets, no matter how much you try to push us away, we’re here. And we’re staying.” Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, her voice rising in frustration. “Why? Why do you even care? I’m just a burden to you, right? You’ve already got Jacob and Mia, so why do you even need me?” Lila finished, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

Your eyes filled with tears, but you fought to keep them from falling, refusing to show Lila just how much her words hurt. “Because you’re part of our family!” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “You, Jacob, and Mia, you’re all part of our family, and that means we love you, no matter what.” For a moment, Lila seemed to waver, her anger flickering as she looked into your eyes. But the years of pain and disappointment were too deep, too ingrained. She shook her head, her expression hardening again. “I don’t need your love..” she muttered, turning away from you. “Just leave me alone..please..”

You stood there for a long moment, your heart heavy with the weight of the conversation. You wanted so badly to reach Lila, to break through the walls she had built around herself. But you knew that it wouldn’t happen overnight. It would take time..time, patience, and a love that wouldn’t give up, no matter how much she resisted. Finally, you sighed and took a step back. “Alright.” you said quietly. “I’ll give you some space. But I want you to know that I’m here, whenever you’re ready.”

You turned and left the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you made your way back downstairs, you felt the tears you had been holding back begin to fall. You quickly wiped them away, not wanting to break down in front of the children. When you returned to the kitchen, Natasha was waiting for you, her expression full of concern.

Without a word, she pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close as the emotions of the day finally overwhelmed you. “You’re exactly what she needs, you know? She just doesn’t realize it yet. But she will, Y/n. I promise you, she will.” You clung to Natasha, finding strength in the quiet presence of your partner. Despite the challenges, despite the heartache, it was undeniably comforting to know that you weren’t facing this alone. You had each other, and that was enough to keep you going.

As the evening progressed, you both tried to push the tension aside and focus on the positive moments. Dinner passed quietly as Mia and Jacob chatted softly about their day at school. Mia, as always, was full of energy, telling stories about her friends and her new favorite game, while Jacob listened more than he spoke, but with a calmness that reassured you and Natasha that he was finding his way.

Lila, however, remained in her room, the door closed, shutting herself off from the world. Your heart ached every time you glanced down the hallway, wishing you could somehow reach through that door and pull Lila into the warmth of the family. But you knew it wasn’t that simple. Lila needed time, and more importantly, she needed to feel that she could come to you on her own terms.

After dinner, you and Natasha took the younger kids to bed. Mia was eager for her bedtime story, snuggling up to you with her favorite stuffed bear. As you read, her eyes slowly drifted shut, the words of the story lulling her into a peaceful sleep. Natasha tucked Jacob into bed, sitting with him for a few minutes as he quietly told her about a book he was reading. She listened attentively, offering encouragement and gentle advice, her heart swelling with pride as he began to open up more, sharing his thoughts and feelings in small but meaningful ways.

When the children were finally asleep, you and Natasha found yourselves alone in the living room, the house quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards or the distant hum of the refrigerator. You sat together on the couch, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders. Natasha wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. “You’re helping them more than you realize.” she murmured. “Just by being here, by being patient. They been through so much, and they had to protect themselves for so long. And Lila maybe doesn’t know how to let people in, but she will. She’s starting to see that we’re not going anywhere.”

You nodded, though the doubt still lingered in your heart. “I just wish I could do more.” you said quietly. “You’re doing everything you can.” Natasha reassured you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And that’s enough. We’ll keep being there for her, for all of them. And one day, Lila will realize that she’s not alone anymore.” You closed your eyes and let yourself relax in Natasha’s embrace. “Thank you.” you whispered, your voice full of gratitude. “For being so strong, for holding us all together.”

Natasha smiled, her heart swelling with love for you. “We hold each other together.” she said gently. “We’re a team, Y/n. And nothing will change that.” As you sat there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the day began to lift. The challenges you were facing were real, and there would be more difficult days ahead, but there was also hope..hope that your love and determination would be enough to carry you through.

5 months had passed since the Kids had come into your lives, and while some things had improved, others remained heartbreakingly stagnant. Jacob and Lila had gradually opened up to Natasha, and over time, both had begun to call her “Mom.” She had never imagined herself in this role, but now that she heard those words, everything felt so much more real. But you still found yourself on the outside. Mia had also completely bonded with you, with the same boundless affection she always showed. But Jacob and Lila had yet to overcome that final hurdle. They hadn’t opened up to you in the same way they had with Natasha, and every time they called her “Mom” without including you, it chipped away at your heart a little more.

You tried not to let it show, tried to stay strong and hopeful. You knew that these things took time, and you didn’t want to rush them. But as the days turned into weeks, the constant reminder of your position on the sidelines began to wear you down. In this fragile time, you received an unexpected call from Nick. You and Natasha had all but retired from active duty, focusing on raising your new family. You had only agreed to take on missions when absolutely necessary, when no one else could do the job. But this mission was one of those cases. Fury’s voice was firm, almost apologetic, as he explained the situation.

“I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” Fury said over the secure line. “But this mission requires your particular set of skills. We need both of you.” You and Natasha exchanged a look, both feeling the weight of the request. You had built a new life, a stable life for your children, and the thought of leaving them, even temporarily, felt like tearing apart the foundation you had worked so hard to build.

“We have a family now, Nick.” Natasha said, her voice strained with frustration. “You know that. We can’t just drop everything and go on a mission.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t critical, Natasha.” Fury responded, his tone serious. “I know this is hard, but you’re the best we have for this job. If there were another way, I’d take it.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the pressure of the situation bearing down on you. You had always known that this was a possibility, that your previous lives as Avengers could come back at any time. But now, with your family still so fragile, it felt like the worst possible timing. “How long?” you asked, your voice tense with emotion.

“Two days.” Fury replied. “We’ll have everything you need at the Compound. The kids will be safe and well taken care of.”

After a tense moment of silence, Natasha finally spoke. "We need to talk to the kids about this." she said, her voice resigned. "But we’ll do it." You looked at Natasha, the silent communication between you carrying the weight of your decision. You didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to leave your children, especially not when things were still so uncertain. But you also understood your responsibility, the trust Fury had placed in you, and the greater good you had always fought for.

That evening, the family gathered around the dinner table, the usual chatter quieter than normal. The weight of the day hung in the air, and even Mia seemed to sense that something was different. You cleared your throat and exchanged a glance with Natasha before speaking. "Kids, we need to talk to you about something important."

Mia’s eyes lit up with curiosity, while Jacob and Lila looked up from their plates, their expressions more guarded. "We got a call today from work." Natasha continued, her voice calm but tinged with a slight hesitancy. "There are some things we need to take care of." Mia’s excitement was immediate. "Are we coming too?" she asked, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Natasha smiled gently and shook her head. "Not quite. You will come to work with us, yes. But we have to do the rest ourselves. You’ll stay there while we’re away, and we’ll be back as soon as we can." Jacob’s face brightened at the mention of the Avengers Compound. "Will we see the Avengers? The compound?!"

Natasha nodded, her heart aching at the thought of leaving them behind. "Yes," she said. "and we’ll make sure you’re safe and well taken care of while we’re gone." But Lila’s reaction was immediate and hostile. Her fork clattered against the plate as she dropped it, and her expression hardened. "So you’re just going to leave us there?" she snapped, her voice filled with anger and fear. "What if you don’t come back? What if this is just another way to get rid of us?"

Your heart sank at Lila’s words, the familiar sting of her mistrust cutting deep. "Lila, that’s not true." you said gently, trying to keep your voice steady. "This is just for the mission. We will come back, I promise you." But Lila wasn’t having it. She pushed her chair back and stood up, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and betrayal. "That’s what you say now, but how do I know it’s true? You’re just like everyone else! Making promises you can’t keep."

Natasha reached out to Lila, her voice firm but gentle. "Lila, listen to me. We’re not like the people you’ve known before. We’re not going to leave you. This mission is something we have to do, but it’s just for two days. We will come back." Lila’s gaze fixed on Natasha, and for a moment, there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. When she finally did, her voice was quiet, almost trembling. "Mum, I don’t want you to go.."

The word hit Natasha like a blow to the chest. Lila had called her that a few times before, but the way she said it now, with such raw emotion, nearly broke her heart. Natasha wanted to hold her, to promise her that everything would be okay, but she knew it wasn’t that simple. You, standing beside Natasha, felt a sharp pang of pain. Lila had called Natasha "Mum" with such sincerity, and yet there was still a distance between her and you, a barrier that hadn’t been broken.

"We’ll come back, Lila." Natasha repeated, her voice firm but filled with emotion. "I promise you, we will come back." But Lila’s anger flared up again, defensive and protective of the wounds she still carried. "Promises mean nothing!" she snapped. "You’ll leave, and then you’ll realize you don’t want us anymore, and we’ll be right back where we started!"

Jacob and Mia watched in stunned silence, the tension at the table palpable. You felt the weight of the moment pressing down on you, the overwhelming feeling that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t be enough to ease Lila’s fears. She turned and stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind her and leaving a heavy silence in her wake. You stood there, your heart breaking as you stared at the closed door. You felt Natasha’s hand on your shoulder, a silent reassurance, but it did little to ease the pain in your chest.

Mia, ever the optimist, broke the silence with her soft, hopeful voice. "You’ll come back, won’t you?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent. You forced a smile and knelt down to hug Mia tightly. "Yes, sweetheart." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "We’ll come back. I promise." Jacob, still sitting, looked at Natasha with a mixture of trust and uncertainty. "And you’ll be okay, right?" Natasha nodded and gently ran her fingers through his hair. "We’ll be okay." she said softly. "And we’ll come back to you. To all of you."

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere remained tense, the shadow of the upcoming mission hanging over you all. Natasha and you tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but the weight of the situation was impossible to ignore. Later that night, as you got ready for bed, you could no longer hold back your tears. You sat on the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking as the emotions of the day finally overwhelmed you.

Natasha sat beside you, wrapping her arms around you, holding you close as the tears began to flow. You leaned into Natasha, your head resting on her shoulder as you let out all the pain and frustration you had been holding inside. "I don’t know what to do.." you whispered, your voice trembling. "This mission..I’m so scared that we’ll lose everything we’ve worked so hard for." Natasha tightened her embrace, her heart aching for you. She knew how much you had invested in this family, how desperately you had tried to connect with everyone, to be the mother they needed. But she also knew that some wounds took time to heal, and especially Lila’s wounds were deep.

"We’re not going to lose this." Natasha said firmly, her voice full of determination. "We’ve worked too hard, and we’re not going to let this mission take that away from us." You sniffled and wiped your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "I just wish I knew how to get through to them." you whispered. "Lila’s starting to trust you, and that’s wonderful, but I feel like.." You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. "I want to believe in us." you said quietly. "But its so hard..."

Natasha kissed your forehead, her touch tender and soothing. "You don’t have to go through this alone." she whispered. "We’re a team, remember? We’ll get through this together." You nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope in your chest. "I know." you whispered. "And I’m so grateful for you, Nat. I don’t know how I’d get through this without you."

Natasha smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You’d make it because you’re strong, stronger than you think. And we’ll make it through this, all of us, together." You sat there in silence for a while, holding each other close, finding comfort in the quiet strength of your bond. The challenges you were facing felt overwhelming, but there was a deep, unshakable love between you that kept you going.

After a while, Natasha spoke again, her voice gentle but resolute. "We need to talk to Fury before we leave." she said. "Make sure everything is set up for the kids while we’re gone. And we need to make it clear to him that this is the last time for a long time. Our family needs us here." You nodded, your resolve returning. "You’re right." you agreed. "This is the last time. We need to be here for the kids, especially now. They need to know they can rely on us."

"And they will." Natasha said, her voice firm. "We’ll do this mission, but after that, we’re done. Our family comes first." With that decision, you both felt a sense of calm settle over you. The upcoming mission still weighed heavily on you, but you now knew where your priorities lay, and you were ready to fight for what mattered most.

The next morning, you both rose early to make the final preparations. You called Fury and made it clear that this would be your last mission for the foreseeable future. Fury understood, and though his tone was brisk and professional, there was a note of respect in his voice. “We’ve got everything set up for you at the Compound.” Fury said. “And I’ll make sure the kids are well taken care of while you’re on the mission. Maria has come forward to take care of them."

With heavy hearts, you and Natasha packed your bags, the reality of leaving your children, even temporarily, weighing heavily on you. But you proceeded with a clear goal in mind, the knowledge that this step was necessary to ensure the safety and protection of the world, a world you wanted to safeguard for your children. Before you left, you gathered the children in the living room. Lila sat on the edge of the sofa, her expression wary, while Jacob and Mia sat close to their parents, their faces a mix of excitement and nervousness. Maria already waiting for them.

Natasha knelt in front of them, her voice calm and steady. “We’re leaving now.” she said, her heart aching as she looked into their eyes. “But we’ll be back soon. While we’re gone, you’ll be safe at the Compound, and you’ll have everything you need.” You reached out and gently touched Lila’s arm, your voice soft. “Lila, I know this is hard, but we will come back. We promised you, and we’re going to keep that promise.”

Lila didn’t respond immediately, her eyes focused on the floor. But when she finally looked up, there was a faint glimmer of something in her expression, something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Be careful, please.." Lila murmured, her voice barely audible.

Natasha smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. “We will.” she promised. Mia, always a bright light, hugged both Natasha and you tightly. “Don’t forget us!” she whispered earnestly. “Never.” you whispered back, your voice full of love. Jacob, who had been quiet until then, finally spoke up. “I’ll take care of them, mum.” he said seriously, his small face determined. “I’ll make sure they’re okay.” Natasha felt her heart swell with pride as she ran a hand through Jacob’s hair. “I know you will, buddy.” she said softly. “You’re so brave.”

After a final round of hugs, Natasha and you stood up, ready to go. You looked at your children, your family knowing that you were leaving behind what was most important to you. But you also knew that you would return. As you walked out the door, you glanced back one last time, your heart heavy but resolute. Lila stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. You wanted to run back, to tell her again how much you loved her, how much you would miss her, but you knew this was a moment Lila needed to process on her own.

Natasha and you got into the car, your hands finding each other as you drove away from the house. The upcoming mission was crucial, but equally important was the promise you had made to yourselves, to each other, and to your children. You would come back. And when you did, you would continue to fight for your family, no matter how difficult it became.

The mission briefing was straightforward but dangerous. A covert Hydra base had been discovered in the heart of the city, suspected of holding critical information about upcoming terrorist attacks. Natasha and you were assigned to infiltrate the base while Steve and Bruce took care of the outside world. On paper, it was simple, but both of you knew how quickly things could go wrong.

Natasha glanced over at you, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow. "We can do this. One last time." You met her gaze and forced yourself to smile confidently. "I’ve got your back, Nat. Always." Natasha shook her head, though the worry didn’t leave her eyes. "Just stay close. We go in, we go out. No unnecessary risks." You knew what she was really saying: Don’t be a hero. But that was easier said than done when it came to Natasha. You’d do anything to protect her, even if it meant putting yourself in danger.

The Quinjet landed on a rooftop a few blocks from the Hydra base. The city was always quiet, the only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and occasional gusts of wind. Natasha led the way, moving with the silent grace of a predator, and you followed closely behind her. You descended a fire escape and disappeared into the shadows as you approached the building. The Hydra base was hidden beneath an abandoned warehouse, a perfect cover in a city full of forgotten buildings. Natasha scanned the area, her sharp eyes catching the faint glow of surveillance cameras hidden in the corners. She signaled to you, and you nodded in understanding. You had to be quick and silent, any alarm would mean a swarm of armed Hydra agents descending upon you.

With her Widow’s Bite, Natasha disabled the cameras one by one, clearing a path to the entrance. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached, the weight of the mission heavy on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that you were walking into a trap. But you pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. You reached the entrance, a steel door with a biometric lock. Natasha pulled a small device from her belt, attached it to the lock, and watched as it began bypassing the security system. The seconds dragged on, each one filled with the suffocating silence of anticipation. Finally, the device beeped, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

You slipped inside, the darkness of the corridor swallowing you whole. Natasha led the way, her senses on high alert as you navigated the labyrinthine interior of the base. The air was thick with tension, every step bringing you closer to the heart of the Hydra operation. You reached a large, dimly lit room filled with computer terminals and stacks of documents. Natasha’s eyes locked onto the central console, where a data drive was inserted. "This is it." she whispered.

Your grip on your weapon as you positioned yourself by the door. Natasha moved quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she initiated the data transfer. The seconds ticked by, each one a small victory as the progress bar crept closer to completion. But just as the transfer was nearly finished, your worst fear came true. The door to the room burst open, and a group of Hydra agents stormed in with weapons raised. You reacted instinctively, firing a shot that took down the lead agent before he could pull the trigger. Chaos erupted in the room, bullets flying as the two of you fought for your lives.

"Nat, we have to fall back!" you shouted over the noise, your voice laced with desperation. But Natasha was focused, too focused, her eyes locked on the last remaining agent standing between you and the exit. She went in for the kill, but in that split second, everything went wrong. The agent, a hulking figure with a cruel grin, raised his weapon and aimed directly at Natasha. Time seemed to slow as you recognized the danger. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of her, your body acting on pure instinct. The gun fired, the noise deafening in the enclosed space.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoed in Natasha’s ears, a sound she had heard countless times before, but never with such devastating clarity. It was as if the world had frozen, everything narrowing down to that one terrible moment as you threw yourself in front of the bullets meant for Natasha. The world around her dissolved into chaos. She barely registered what she was doing as she took down the last enemies, her body moving on autopilot, but her mind was solely focused on the woman lying in a growing pool of blood.

"Y/n!!" Natasha’s voice was a rough, tortured cry that echoed off the cold metal walls of the base. She dropped to her knees beside you, her hands trembling as they hovered over your body, unsure where to touch, where to press, where to begin mending what had been so horribly destroyed. Blood. So much blood. It stained your clothes, your skin, and Natasha’s hands as she finally pressed down on the gunshot wounds, trying to staunch the unrelenting flow. The blood was warm, sticky, seeping through Natasha’s fingers no matter how hard she pressed, and it filled her with a fear she had never known before.

"Why did you do that?!" Natasha’s voice quivered with a mix of anger and despair, her green eyes blazing as they met yours. "I told you to be careful! Why didn’t you listen to me!" Your breathing was shallow, each breath a painful struggle. Your face was pale, your eyes glassy as you looked up at Natasha, a gentle, sad smile playing on your lips. "I couldn’t… let him.." you whispered, your voice weak but resolute. "I had to protect you."

Natasha’s heart clenched painfully in her chest, a sob threatening to break free as she pressed harder on the wounds, desperately trying to stop the blood, trying to keep your life from slipping through her fingers. "You’re an idiot!" she choked out, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her hands. "You stupid idiot. You should have let-" She cut herself off, her throat closing up as the truth hit her like a sledgehammer. She had failed. She had failed to protect the woman she loved more than anything in this world.

Your hand, trembling and weak, reached to Natasha’s hands, "Don’t blame yourself.." you whispered, your voice barely a shadow of its former strength. "You couldn’t have known..Please, don’t blame yourself."

But Natasha couldn’t hear you, not over the deafening roar of her own guilt. She reached for her radio, her hands slick with blood as she brought the device to her lips. "I need a MedEvac now!" she called out, her voice breaking with desperation. "She’s been shot- two bullets to the chest, she’s losing too much blood!" She dropped the radio, her hands returning to your wounds, pressing down with all her might, even though she knew it wasn’t enough. She could feel your life slipping away, like sand through her fingers, and it was tearing her apart.

Your hand, weak but determined, found its way to your chest, pressing against one of the gunshot wounds. Your fingers came back bloody, and you stared at them, a strange sense of calm washing over you. "It’s..a lot.." you murmured, almost to yourself, your voice distant, as if you were already slipping away. "Don’t look." Natasha pleaded, her voice shaking as she gently took your hand and pulled it away from the wound. "Don’t look, just focus on me. Look at me, Y/n."

Your eyes flickered back to Natasha, your gaze softening as you saw the tear-streaked face of your wife. "Nat..it’s okay." you whispered, your voice growing weaker with every word. "I love you..I love our kids..Tell th-"

"Stop it." Natasha snapped, her voice hardening with a desperation that bordered on hysteria. "You’re going to tell them yourself. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to go home, and you’re going to see them. You’re going to hold them in your arms, and you’re going to be fine. Do you hear me? You’re going to be fine!" Your eyes grew heavy, the pain and exhaustion too much to fight against. But you could still hear Natasha’s voice, that beautiful, strong voice that had always made you feel safe.

Natasha had to keep you awake. She had to make you talk, keep you focused, keep you alive. "The Kids are waiting for us." Natasha began, her voice trembling but determined. "Mia..shes probably drawing on the walls, and lets Maria wipe it away.." Natasha continued, forcing a smile despite the tears streaming down her face. "She never listens when it comes to her art. And Jacob..he’s probably curled up in that old chair, reading another one of his books. He’s so thoughtful, so kind. Just like you"

Your lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, your eyelids fluttering as you struggled to stay awake. "Lila’s probably got her headphones on, blasting that awful music she’s into these days.." Natasha said, trying to keep her voice light even as her heart shattered with every passing second. "She thinks it’s cool, even though it drives us all crazy. But she’s strong, just like you. She’ll be okay."

You managed a weak chuckle, but it quickly turned into a wince of pain. Natasha’s grip on your hand tightened, her other hand still pressing desperately against your wound. "Natasha, I’m so..proud of them.. proud of you.."

"And I’m proud of you." Natasha whispered back, her voice cracking as she leaned closer, her forehead resting gently against yours. "You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, Y/n. You’re going to get through this. You have to." But despite her words, she could feel your life slipping away, your breaths becoming shallower, your skin growing colder. Panic clawed at her insides, a deep, primal fear that she had never felt before. "Stay with me!" she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, stay with me. I can’t lose you. I can’t do this without you!"

Your eyes opened one last time, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a softness that broke her heart. "I love you." you whispered, your voice so faint it was almost lost in the air. "I’m sorry..I couldn’t-"

"Please, no." she whispered, her voice choked with sobs as she held you close, her tears mixing with the blood that stained both of you. "Don’t leave me, Y/n. Please…" The world seemed to narrow down to the sound of Natasha's frantic breathing, the steady dripping of blood on the floor, and your weakening heartbeat that she felt under her trembling hands. The walls of the Hydra base seemed to close in around her, the oppressive silence only broken by the distant echoes of their previous fight.

But then, there was sudden movement, heavy footsteps echoed on the concrete floor, voices shouting commands. The door to the room flew open, and Natasha barely registered who it was until she heard Bruce's voice. "Natasha! Step aside, let me through!" Bruce's voice was firm, but there was an urgency in it that Natasha had never heard before.

Natasha didn't want to let you go, couldn't let you go but she forced herself to move just enough to allow Bruce to kneel beside you, his first-aid kit already in hand. His face was hardened with determination as he quickly examined your wounds. His eyes met Natasha's for a brief moment, filled with something she couldn't name and didn't want to name. "This doesn't look good.." Bruce muttered quietly as he pulled out an improvised bandage and pressed it firmly against the wounds to stop the blood flow. You groaned in pain, your body jerking under his hands.

"Stay with us, Y/n.." Bruce said, his voice deep and calm, though Natasha could hear the pressure beneath it. "I need you here, okay? I'll do everything I can, but you need to hold on." Steve appeared in the doorway, his faces serious and tense as he took in the situation. Steve acted quickly, his gaze hardening as he recognized the severity of your injuries. "We need to get her out of here, immediately." he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Steve, be careful." Natasha warned, her voice laced with fear as she watched him kneel beside you. She knew what needed to be done, but the thought of you being moved, the pain it would cause you, made her stomach twist with anxiety. Bruce looked up at Steve, his face grave. "I've managed to slow the bleeding, but it's not enough. We need to get her to the Quinjet quickly, she doesn't have much time left."

Steve nodded, his jaw clenched as he carefully slipped his arms under your limp body. The moment he lifted you, your eyes shot open, and a blood-curdling scream escaped your throat, raw and filled with agony. Your hands clawed at Steve's arms, your fingers digging in as the pain shot through your body like fire.

"I know it hurts." Steve said, his voice strained as he tried to keep you calm. "But we have to move you. We have to get you to the jet." Natasha was immediately by your side, her hands reaching for yours, her voice soft and soothing as she tried to calm you. "I'm here, Malysh. I'm here. Hold on, okay? Focus on my voice. We're getting you out of here."

Your eyes were wide with pain, your breaths coming in short, gasping bursts as Steve carried you toward the exit. Natasha kept pace beside you, her heart breaking at every tortured sound that escaped your lips. "Think of the kids, Y/n." Natasha murmured, her voice trembling but determined. "Lila, Mia, and Jacob, they're waiting for us. We're going home to them. You just have to hold on a little longer."

Your grip on Natasha's hand tightened, your eyes finding hers as if drawing strength from her words. "I'm..I'm trying," you gasped, your voice barely audible, but Natasha could hear the desperation, the fear. "You're doing so well, baby.." Natasha whispered, her own voice breaking. "You're so strong. Just a little bit more, I promise. We're almost there."

The Quinjet came into view, the cargo door already open, and Bruce was shouting instructions to Sam, who was preparing the medical area for emergency treatment. Steve moved as quickly as he could, his face set in determination, while your blood soaked through his uniform. Natasha stayed close to you, her hand never leaving yours, her voice a steady stream of reassurance even as her own fear threatened to choke her. "We're almost there. Just a few more steps."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast as Steve carried you up the ramp into the jet. As soon as they were inside, Bruce was there, helping Steve to gently lay you on the medical bed. The moment your back touched the bed, you screamed again, your body convulsing with pain.

Bruce moved with controlled urgency, his hands flying over the medical equipment as the jet's engines roared to life. "We need to stabilize her." he said, more to himself than the others. He inserted an IV, pumping fluids into your body to counter the blood loss. "Her pulse is weak, Natasha, keep talking to her. Don't let her drift away."

Natasha nodded, her tears flowing freely now as she leaned over you, her lips close to your ear. "You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you. Keep your eyes on me, okay? Just look at me." Your eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain, but you managed to focus on Natasha, your lips trembling as you tried to speak. "I..love you.." you whispered, your voice so weak that Natasha had to strain to hear it.

"I love you too." Natasha whispered back, her heart breaking at the sight of your pale, bloodless face. "So much. You're going to be okay. You have to be okay." But even as she spoke, Natasha could see the life fading from your eyes, your body growing colder under her touch. And then, in a moment that would haunt Natasha forever, your eyes rolled back, and the heart monitor emitted a long, shrill beep.

"Y-Y/n?" Natasha's voice was a broken whisper, her hands shaking as she shook your lifeless body. "No, no, no..Bruce do something!" He was already moving, his face pale as he grabbed the defibrillator paddles. "We're losing her! Clear!" The shock jolted your body, but the heart monitor remained flat, its unbroken tone slicing through the air like a knife. Natasha's breath caught in her throat, her entire body filled with cold terror. "No! You can't leave me! You can't leave me!"

Bruce pressed the paddles to your chest again, his voice tight with concentration. "Clear!" Your body convulsed with the shock, but still nothing. Natasha felt something inside her break, her knees giving out as she clung to your hand, her tears falling onto your still, lifeless body. "Don't do this!" Natasha sobbed, her voice breaking. "Please..I can't lose you. I need you!"

Bruce was relentless, refusing to give up as he administered another shock. "Come on, Y/n!" he muttered through gritted teeth. "Come on." Ad then, like a miracle, there was a flicker on the monitor..a weak but present heartbeat. Natasha's breath caught, hope flooding her like a wave. Bruce immediately switched tactics, working quickly to stabilize you, his hands moving with a speed that only came from years of practice.

"She's back.." Bruce said, his voice trembling with relief but also with the realization of how fragile this life still was. "But she's not out of the woods yet. We need to get her to the MedBay immediately." The Quinjet accelerated to full speed, racing toward Avengers Compound. Natasha stayed by your side the entire time, her hand gripping yours so tightly her knuckles turned white. "You can't do this to me again, you hear me?" she whispered urgently, as tears continued to stream down her face. "Do you hear me, Y/n! You can't leave me."

Natasha held on to the faint pulse under her fingers, to the fragile heartbeat that was all that kept her world from completely shattering. The flight back to the Compound felt like an eternity, every second stretching out as Natasha watched Bruce work, her heart heavy as a stone in her chest. But she refused to let you go, refused to let you slip away again. She kept talking to you, whispering promises, clinging to the hope that somehow, someway, they would make it through this. The Quinjet landed with a jolt on the grounds of the Compound, the ramp lowering before the engines had fully powered down. Natasha didn't wait for the jet to come to a complete stop, she was on her feet immediately, running alongside the gurney where you lay, pale and motionless, as Bruce and a team of medics rushed you into the medical wing.

The blood seeping through the hastily applied bandages was a constant reminder of the bullets that had torn through your body. Natasha's hands were still stained with that blood, her mind fogged with fear and despair as she clung to the edge of the gurney, her eyes never leaving your face for a moment.

The medics burst through the doors of the medical wing, but in that moment, Natasha's breath caught. In the hallway, eyes wide with fear and horror, stood her children. Lila, Jacob, and Mia. They were supposed to be with Maria! Safe and far away from the nightmare that was unfolding. But there they were, huddled together, their faces pale with fear and confusion. They must have sensed that something was wrong, must have noticed the change in the air when the Quinjet landed.

“Mom!” called Lila, her voice cracking under the weight of fear and anger. “What happened?? Is Y/n okay??” Jacob clung Lilas arm, his face contorted with worry. “Why is there so much blood?” he asked, his voice trembling. “What happened to her?” Mia, held onto Lila's other arm, her big eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Natasha. “Why are there so many poeple?” she whispered, her voice small and full of fear. Natasha's heart broke at the sight of the Kids, standing there so vulnerable and scared. This was the last thing she wanted..that they had to see you like this, that they had to be exposed to this kind of fear. She wanted to protect them, to shield them from the harsh realities of the life she led, but there was no time to think, no time to find the right words.

The medics paused for a brief moment, a fleeting second, as they maneuvered the gurney through the door. In that instant, the Kids saw you, your ashen face, the blood-soaked bandages, the way your body lay motionless and lifeless. It was only a brief moment, but it was enough. Mia let out a small, sharp cry. She turns to Lila's to press her face into hers and Jacob's eyes widened, his grip on Lila's arm tightened until his knuckles turned white. Even Lila, who was trying so hard to be brave, took a step back, her face drained of all color.

“oh my god, what happened?!” Lila asked, her voice rising in panic. “Why does she look like that? What’s going on?” Natasha felt her throat tighten, her breath catching in her chest. She needed to be with you, needed to be by your side as the doctors fought for your life. But she couldn’t leave the kids like this, couldn’t just walk away without giving them some kind of explanation, some kind of comfort. She knelt in front of them, her hands reaching out to pull them close. “Listen to me.” she said, her voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “Y/n..she's very badly hurt, but the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her. You need to stay with Maria now, okay? I have to be with her.”

Mia's tears spilled over, her little hands clutching at Natasha's suit. “But why did she get hurt?" Jacob was crying now too, silent tears streaming down his face as he shook his head. “I don’t want her to die, mum. I don’t want her to die..” Lila, her face pale and drawn, looked up at Natasha, her eyes a mixture of fear and anger. “She won't, will she?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Why did this even happen to her and not to you?”

The question hit Natasha like a physical blow, the guilt she had been trying to suppress rising up and choking her. How could she explain this? How could she make them understand that you had taken those bullets for them, that she had made the ultimate sacrifice because she believed they needed Natasha more? But there was no time. The medics began to move again, pushing the gurney through the doors and out of sight. Natasha’s heart twisted painfully as she looked at her children, their tear-streaked faces filled with confusion and fear.

“I promise I’ll explain everything.” Natasha whispered, her voice thick with tears. “But right now, I have to be with her. Please..please stay with Maria. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” She pulled back a little and looked directly at Lila, who was trying so hard to hold it together. “Lila.” she said, her voice firm but full of urgency, “I need you to be strong now. Your brother and sister are going to need you. I need you to take care of them while I’m with Y/n. Can you do that for me?”

Lila’s eyes widened, the weight of what Natasha was asking settling on her young shoulders. She hesitated, fear and uncertainty flashing in her eyes, but then she nodded, her jaw setting in determination. “I can do it.” she said, her voice steady despite the tears she was fighting back. “I’ll take care of them.” Natasha reached out, cupping her face with one hand, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Thank you." She whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and love. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I trust you, Lila. I need to know they’re safe with you.”

Lila nodded again, this time more decisively, and took Jacob and Mia’s hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “We’ll be okay, Mom. You go take care of Y/n.” Natasha swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” she promised, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “I love you all so much.” With that, she forced herself to turn away, even though every instinct screamed at her to stay with them, to hold them until the fear subsided. But she couldn’t. She had to be with you, had to be there while the doctors fought for your life. She hurried after the medics, her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed through the doors of the medical wing, leaving her children behind, their tearful eyes searing into her memory.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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thesilmarillionblog · 3 months ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 4

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), SMUT! Halloween Party, sensitive topics, discussions, unprotected sex, jealousy, sexual tension, heavy angst, insecure and confused reader, angst, painful

Word Count: 11.1K

A/N: English is not my first language.

🎃🕸️── Halloween Special Part ──🕸️🎃 Song: 'Honeythief' by Halou.

“Can we talk properly?” Upon hearing that you wished to return home, Dean implied he regretted what he said earlier. What is done was done though.

You cut him off abruptly, saying, “I really don't want to,” and indicated the need to stop talking to Dean about the depth of your friendship with Robb. What he asked wasn’t appropriate and though he knew it, he had asked a second time with a more rude manner. “I am really exhausted. A lot.”

To change your opinion, Dean replied, “Sam invited you,” as if telling you that Sam's suggestion was any better. Your wish to return home was overwhelming.

This time, you spoke out with a firm tone. “Really, Dean,” avoiding his gaze with a turn to face the road. “The next day I'll be working too. I should definitely get some sleep. It was a very busy day. I can’t feel my legs.”

“Alright.”

Dean shut his mouth, not wanting to annoy you any longer, and considered the bond you have with Robb. Dean wondered if the son of a bitch had already made a move on you since he was quite sure he was up to something. He found it disturbing that he would have to work together with you at the hospital in the days to come.

Sighing, he took a quick glance at you and seeing that you were staring at the road while lost in thoughts. It was only a simple question; maybe he shouldn't have asked it that way, but he did not like the thought of getting on your nerves. Maybe you were simply too exhausted for a brief discussion. He didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But he felt bizarrely pleased that you and that man hadn't shared any intimate past. He wasn't your type anyway. Too tall and too skinny for your taste. Dean was sure of that.

You knew you arrived when Dean pulled over. He should have been aware of the boundaries; it wasn't that you wanted to part ways with him that way and watch him leave. You hated seeing him leave. Your mind and heart yearned for intimacy.

Dean responded, “I'll pick you up tomorrow morning,” just as you were about to get out.

“Alright, good night. Tell Sammy that I'm sorry and also worn out.”

Even if you didn't get the finest sleep of your life, at least Dean showed your home sooner than you anticipated and brought coffee. You kindly turned down his offer to have breakfast together because you would be late for work. In reality, it was primarily due to his strangely impolite behavior recently. You made every effort to remain normal and behave as though nothing had occurred between you and him. But even though you tried your best and talked to him very normally, he had been acting like a jerk, as though it was your fault all along.

That's why you made the decision to set a few boundaries despite what your heart felt. If not, Dean would end up hurting you much more. Love was an awful type of disease.

“Will you be coming tonight?” Dean asked as you turned to face him and opened the door.

You just stated, “I don't want to.” Although your anger had subsided from yesterday, you still felt uncomfortable and needed some alone time.

“Why not?” Dean softly inquired, clearly taken aback by your answer. After all, you never used to reject him for anything.

Fuck, you didn't even say no when he approached you for your first quick sexual experience. When Dean spoke, you had to learn to say no. For real. Otherwise, you had no idea what to do, even if he dragged your head between his legs right away. Your face turned red. You felt pathetic.

“Robb and I will be having our dinner tonight. Outaide. We haven't spent much time together lately,” you stated while looking at your watch. You still had some more time.

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel. There was no doubt that Robert would be a pain in the ass. Deal was becoming increasingly irritated by knowing that you would be spending the entire night with him; in fact, it was making him want to break Robert's face.

“I'll make dinner. You are welcome to bring Robb, your buddy,” Dean said. Before he could stop himself, he spoke. After all, he was never particularly good at thinking twice. “He's new here after all, and he can get to know his friend's friends by himself.”

Although Dean's offer seemed sweet and generous, you still raised an eyebrow and were ready to say no. You asked naively, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled a bit at you, seeing that you were already thinking about accepting his offer. That wasn't too difficult, he guessed. “Making new friends and having dinner together would be awesome.”

When you eventually said, “Okay,” you looked at your watch and said, “But I have to ask Robb first, then I'll give you a call. I have to go right now.”

Dean picked up your bag and handed it to you when he noticed you had forgotten it. “Okay. After you speak with him, give me a call. Take care.”

Because you were restless and kept yawning, you continued receiving warnings; thus, the rest of the day didn't go as smoothly as you had planned. You could get some relaxation at the end of the week which was two days late. It was Halloween Week after all. You had no plans though. Remembering that you had spent it in your own house doing nothing, your heart clenched with sorrow.

You didn't have enough time to chat with Robert because the emergency was so busy. In the meantime, he was consumed with his own work. When lunchtime rolled around, you managed to get his attention and told him that Dean offered an invitation for dinner. You awaited Robert's rejection. In fact, you would feel better if you avoided seeing Dean for a day at the very least. You needed some time alone for yourself. God, what made you say "yes" in the first place?

Robb, much to your surprise, accepted the offer with enthusiasm and stated that you all should spend time all together. He had also wanted to know who your pals were. If he found out that you and the Winchester brothers were ghost hunters, you wondered what kind of reaction he would have. He would suggest that you see a doctor. You'd die because of embarrassment.

You were going to tell him that you knew Dean from when he helped you a year or so ago and was skilled at fixing cars. That would be enough as an explanation. Of course, you had to warn Dean first. Your face reddened as you thought back to when he had mentioned how good you were about using your hands. God knew what exactly he meant. He was an asshole. Sometimes.

Sam shot Dean a strange glance when he placed everything he bought from the grocery store.

“What are these for?”

Dean revealed, “We have a special guest for dinner tonight.”

The fact that he had asked your friend to come to the dinner made him uncomfortable. He was an absolute stranger. Still, it was preferable to letting you and him share a night together. He believed that you two were growing more and more apart every day, and you two had too much to talk about. It seemed like Robert would be an obstable.

The more time you spend with Robert, the more boundaries you build between you and him. That wasn't right. You were, after all, a long-time member of the family. A year of hunting wasn't an exaggeration.

“Who?” Sam inquired, puzzled by Dean's peculiar behavior.

“Y/N and her friend, Robb.”

“Is she in a relationship already? I can't believe she would act that quickly.” Sam laughed out loud, enjoying the memory of his conversation with you. He was unaware that you would meet a man so quickly. Would that make him a friend or a good manipulator? As long as the result was beneficial for you, Sam was okay with both.

Dean nearly threw the tomato at Sam's big head, but he restrained himself.

“She's not in a relationship,” Dean stated calmly. “And what you mean you didn't think she would act so fast?”

Sam grinned triumphantly, assuming from his previous words of encouragement that you were already in a relationship. After all, you needed a break from your job and the anxiety it caused. You have the right to pursue your own pleasure.

“Remember the night that she spent here the day before? We had been watching TV, and I asked Y/N whether she was seeing someone. Jo and you were enjoying your little fun. Remember now? You know, we are spending time together and going hunting, but for gods sake, I've never seen her with anyone,” Sam remarked, trying to think back on every minute of your conversation.

As Dean chopped the tomatoes, he frowned, remembering the terrible night he had spent with Jo. He was still tormenting himself over the time he liked fucking her while he thought of your body throughout that moment. When he thought back on these times, Dean felt uneasy. He didn't know what had overcome him to do something that shouldn't have been done in the first place.

“And?” Dean remarked, pushing Sam to continue. Regarding the other subjects Sam had brought up, he remained silent.

“And I asked her whether she's into someone already or if she simply doesn't let people into her life. To be honest, I still don't know the answer, but I told her to see someone at least,” Sam said, beaming with pride at having offered you some helpful guidance. “I mean, she's been lonely for a long time, and her job is already too stressful,” he added. Actually, he wasn't all that excellent at managing his own life, but he was wonderful at offering advice and listening.

Dean felt a bit better when he heard that Sam hadn't seen you with anybody before, but he wasn't pleased about Sam's attempts to give you dumb advice that seemed totally useless. “She's not alone. She is one of us. And why would you fill her troubled head with such stupid ideas? Her work requires a lot of effort and energy already,” Dean said, annoyed with his brother's jerky behavior.

You were handling too many things at once; therefore, it was helpful to avoid relationships and to quit doing meaningless things like dating. It was too much for you to handle. Dean was aware of how demanding and time-consuming nursing was. In short, relationships took a lot of time. Right now, you were too vulnerable and too soft to handle a man.

Bewildered by Dean's comments, Sam tried to defend himself. “What even are you saying, Dean? She won't be living alone for very long. Her entire family is gone. She is, of course, one of us, but it's very reasonable that she would desire to start her own family as a form of escape. She is not a child to protect; she is an adult.”

Dean scowled at Sam and rolled his eyes. It seems as though his brother would never stop bombarding you with his rubbish thoughts. Dean was sure that you would listen to his brother's idiotic words and, worse, that you would take them seriously because you were too naive.

“You had to be kidding me. Why on earth are you giving her such crap ideas? She shouldn't spend her little spare time with a man for just that reason. Dealing with a man's shit is more difficult than her job, which is already tough enough. Ask your partner. She will probably whine about how annoying you are occasionally. I'm sure she has much to tell.”

“Takes one to know one, huh?” Having no idea about Dean's behavior, Sam raised an eyebrow. His brother was behaving strangely these days, for sure. Particularly about you. One of Dean's specialties was being overly protective and acting oddly tough. “Have you met her friend yet?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is he working in the same hospital with her or?” Sam asked curiously.

Dean answered, “Yes, he's a doctor.” To observe how he was treating you while at work, perhaps he should get himself a fake identity and pretend to be a doctor for a day. Dean wondered if Robert treated you well.

“They would make a great couple, huh? A nurse and a doctor. Sounds lovely enough and a bit...kinky.”

Lovely my ass.

“Why don't you help me, my lovely brother, instead of just sitting on your ass there uttering bullshit? She is your friend too,” Dean bitterly said, “I can't do the entire work by myself.” It seemed as though Sam had made it his mission to irritate Dean today. He wasn't sure if Sam was doing it on purpose. His brother was always a hopeless romantic bitch, but he never knew the ideal partner for himself and neither for you.

“Will you invite Jo?” Sam inquired, uninterested about Dean's plea for assistance. He was not even fond of kitchen stuff. It was something he never liked.

“Fuck, no. Not that we are in a relationship. We're not seeing each other anymore.”

“Friends with benefits then?” Sam seemed to find the concept disgusting. How someone could fuck another every day without feeling anything at all was beyond his comprehension. Perhaps that was the reason for your prolonged single status. But for Dean, if he was in the mood for fuck, it didn't matter if he felt anything as long as the person had a pussy.

“Fine. Good.” Sighing, Sam noticed Dean's sharp gaze as he cut the tomatoes, as if he wanted to throw the knife at him.

When you saw Robert outside after he had to wait an hour for your shift to end, you felt awkward and apologized for something that wasn't your fault. He was polite and understanding enough to accept Dean's invitation, and he also waited for you in his car.

Following you, he drove his own car to Dean's house. You tried to calm Dean down over the phone after your small argument so that he wouldn't treat you like a child and rebuke just because you were talking on the phone while driving. He was the one to call you. In an attempt to avoid ruining the night, you made an effort to settle down beforehand.

It was annoying that when you told Dean what to tell Robb about how you met him and Sam since he didn't sound pleased. It was a story about Dean helping you with your car a year ago. It wouldn't be a lie; he was skilled at repairing after all. You couldn't tell if he liked Robb. It was insignificant, though. He should treat your friends with the same politeness that you showed him, along with his hookups and everyone else, even Jo. If not, you would have to really set a few boundaries.

You were clueless about how to make an impression on him during the last several days, or even if you could win him over at all. Almost everything made him angry.

Soon after Robb and you parked, you nervously knocked on the door. He was standing next to you, and you prayed he hadn't noticed your nervousness. It was soothing that he always had an infectious smile on his face. It was nice to see someone at ease and easygoing.

You briefly forgot how to breathe as Dean opened the door. You could smell his fresh fragrance from a distance, as if you were some animal. You couldn't tell if he had recently taken a shower or had simply changed his clothing. You blinked as your eyes met, and you forced yourself to look away from the tight, dark blue t-shirt that was revealing his enormous arms. You both awkwardly stood there, staring at one another without moving. You smelled like sweat and tiredness, most probably.

All of your fury at him vanished the instant you laid eyes on him, took in his piercing look, and smelled his clean scent. When your heart was beating wildly the moment you laid eyes on him, how were you going to set boundaries? Was there any chance for it?

Sam grinned broadly and said, “Hey,” reaching out to give you a hug as Robb walked in.

Sam gave you a tight embrace and said, “Welcome home,” as Dean and Robb exchanged strange looks.

Dean was staring at him as though he hadn't even invited him in the first place.

When Sam eventually quit holding you, Robet and Sam shook hands, and Dean tried to embrace you too, grabbing you by your belly, but you just murmured, “Hi, Dean,” smiling shyly, stroked his arm briefly, and hurried inside as you literally escaped from the hug though your heart craved for touching.

You didn't think you could resist melting in his arms and forgetting all he said if he gave you a hug right then. You weren't the god's strongest soldier. Plus, you were positive you smelled awful.

Dean's fingers burnt as soon as he touched you to pull to himself to give you a hug. He tried to make things normal and wanted you to comfortable with him just like you were comfortable with Sam. However, watching you escape from his hug with a simple greeting and a light touch, Dean's body tensed. He was consumed by your timid and icy behaviour as if you hadn't talked him about how you wanted things to be normal.

It didn't calm him up to see you being touchy with Robb and Sam. Moreover, Dean was already becoming irritated. It was a bad idea to invite a complete stranger. God. He should have considered his words wisely before speaking.

You sat at the table and looked around to see whether Jo was present, but she was nowhere to be seen. When you gave Dean a questioning glance, he said nothing. He assumed you were exhausting. You moved so slowly and heavily that it was simple to understand.

Robb interrupted, “Everything looks delicious,” while Dean continued to give you serious eye contact. “Thanks for having me.”

Dean smirked widely and continued, “Don't mention it.” You exhaled a sigh of relief. "So how was your day?"

While you were fiddling with your food, Dean continued to eat, and you began to eat as well, though you weren't sure if you were truly hungry or not. You just felt a little anxious. Trying to unwind a little while, you watched Sam enjoy his food and listened to Dean and Robb. You hoped that your earlier action of trying to run away from Dean's touch hadn't offended him in any way.

Robert responded shyly, “It was exhausting enough. But there weren't any deaths today, fortunately, which is not very common nowadays.”

“I bet. It's undeniable that these are crazy times,” Dean said while his mouth was full. Dear God. “But in emergencies, I'm sure things are much more crazier. There's no denying that the staff there deserve far more respect. Especially nurses.”

You nervously smiled and said, “Thanks, Dean,” acknowledging his sincere admiration for the work you were doing. “Robb is also quite deserving of respect. It's not easy to save someone's life and to see someone else lose their life at your hands. To be honest, I deal with broken bones and bandages on people's cut bodies mostly.”

“Well, I'm grateful. When it comes to medical problems and saving lives, there is no such thing as a little or huge job.” Robert sipped on his wine and stated, “I assure you, honey, you're very good at your job. That's sufficient.”

Dean rolled his eyes, carried on with his dinner, and gave Sam a quick glance. Rather than eating in solitude and messaging his girlfriend, his brother should have supported him in interrogating the doctor. In an attempt to get to know your friend, Dean felt as though he was battling alone.

“Would you also save the life of a terrorist? or that of a rapist?” Dean inquired abruptly, and you gave him a stern look to let him know he was pushing things a little too far.

When he invited you and Robert for dinner, you expected him to act nice and fix the complicated situation with you. However, he was determined to make you annoyed with his unpredictable behaviour. If only you could find a time to be alone with him right now, you could ask him to behave. You hoped he got the message when you frowned at his face.

Sam stated calmly, “Of course he is supposed to save people's lives no matter what,” and Dean briefly closed his eyes while smiling angrily. Even if his brother interrupted in this way, how in the world was he to question the morality of this dumb? He was doomed. Sam should have shut up instead of standing up for a stranger over Dean's face.

“I would and that’s what I’m doing,” Robb said in a tone as cold as was to be expected. “Even if some of these people are terrible and don't deserve to live, I made a vow to save their lives, not take them. Although I must admit that I don't enjoy it sometimes, I still do my best to help them. It is not my responsibility to judge them, put them in jail, or have them put to execution.”

You felt the air getting heavier, so you timidly put your hand on Robb's shoulder and patted him to express your sympathy and help him feel calmer. “And that's the right thing to do even if it doesn't feel right,” you mumbled. It was the kind of thing you had to answer every day, so you hoped Robb wouldn't take offense at Dean's question and that he wouldn't take it personally.

“I don't think I would do it though,” Dean stated, fiddling with his meal at the moment. It was ridiculous to watch how he toyed with his fork now.

With a broad smile, Robb said, “That's why I'm the doctor here and you are not,” seemingly trying to enrage Dean. As he thought he was being challenged as well, he didn't back down. They attempted to turn the talk into an ego battle, so you just rolled your eyes.

Aware of Dean's short temper, you gave Robb a hint by kicking him under the table. You then apologized and asked Dean for more wine.

“Dean had also questioned me with the same questions, which I'm sure were purely out of curiosity. After all, we all receive quite similar questions every day,” you remarked softly, hoping Dean wouldn't respond negatively this time and exacerbate the situation.

“Obviously. It is all curiosity. Don't take it personal.”

His remorse overcame him at seeing your timid and anxious appearance. It wasn't as though he invited your buddy and you to hurt feelings and spoil your evening again. It felt like a challenge, though, the way Robert called you nicknames while grinning slyly at Dean. If that guy stopped acting like he was more attractive, Dean might try to be more respectful. That guy was an asshole, though. He simply knew that being around you must make Robb feel more intelligent.

He had such a punchable face, especially when he smiled.

“How did you meet?” At last, Robb asked. If nothing else, you hoped he would help you ease the situation and stop getting on Dean's nerves.

You didn't trust Dean and cut him off as soon as he opened his lips. “He helped me with my car. It was a dreadful, rainy day that included a small accident. As you are aware, Dean is excellent at fixing cars,” you made and attempt to praise him. It was true. “And I am not very good at driving in the rain as you know. In fact, he's the best.” He gave you a hand with your vehicle on many different occasions. Those were beautiful, memorable times.

“His and Sam's girlfriends are also good friends of mine.” Now that was a complete lie. However, you didn't want Robb to make any comments about romance when they were seated at the table. You were not very good at hiding your feelings, and Robert had an innate ability for reading people.

But Dean was blind.

“That's right,” Dean remarked with a cold whisper, “I'm very good at fixing things and breaking things.” He gave you a stern look.

Sam smiled and nodded nervously, for it was true that you and Ruby were close enough. You had the impression that everything was going well for him. But Dean instantly entwined, saying, “Jo and I weren't a thing.” When he used the past tense, you scowled, and he saw the look of perplexity on your face. You stopped asking questions after that. He would soon find another partner. You were surprised he dated with her that long.

You asked Robert, “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” to change the topic.

You were wondering whether Robb had any plans for Halloween because you had never spent the holiday with Sam and Dean before. He loved cosplaying and was always coming up with the funniest and most original outfits compared to other people. To him, it was much like a hobby. You were better than him at thinking of the worst possible ideas, but it was still an enjoyable activity.

“Yes, without a doubt.” Robb swallowed the piece and took a drink of wine. “My costume is ready,” he declared with excitement. “By the way, I met an old friend of mine yesterday, and he informed me that he would be throwing a party this week. God, he told me some strange things.”

“Like what?” Sam cut him off. He sounded both interested and suspicious.

“I'm going to tell you what he told me, and I really hope you guys don't laugh at me. In any case, he told me that his house is definitely haunted. Not that I buy this garbage, but in the previous three years, there have been three murders that have all occurred in the same room during Halloween.”

Your eyes met Dean's, and Robert laughed shamefacedly, as if he were having trouble believing what he was saying since he has never believed in the supernatural events. Dean's excitement-filled eyes and altered posture suggested that he was missing hunting. You two hadn't spent any time together in a while.

“It may be a serial killing,” Sam guessed. “Who has been arrested for the murders? Any witnesses or suspects?”

“That's the unusual part,” Robb stated. “Neither witnesses nor suspects are there. If a killer exists, there was not a single piece of evidence that may lead the police to them. All guests over the past three years have been thoroughly investigated, but not a single person has been identified as a suspect. Given the killings, my buddy Jordan purchased the house a year ago for a rather low price. Although they haven't had any events in a while, it appears that the owners have made the decision to get rid of it.”

Before you could say a thing, Dean inquired, “How did those people die? Has your friend provided you with any details?”

“Yeah, it is sick. Every year, the victims had been discovered in the same room, nude on the bed. There's a high chance they were killed while having sex. Perhaps it's a one-person job, but for heaven's sake, I can't say a damn thing until I analyze the victims' bodies and determine just how they were killed. He informed me that a woman had been killed in the same room years before. I suppose this is the reason why people believe the house is certainly haunted. I don’t know man.”

“And your friend wants to organize a Halloween party in the same house?” Dean asked, surprised. He was still shocked that people were so keen on doing all the wrong things.

“Indeed,” Robb replied. “But we're not going to use that room. He'll exercise caution with this. All he wants to do this week is plan an awesome Halloween party. If it's okay with you, I'd want to invite the rest of you as well. No pressure.”

“We'll be there, of course,” Dean said immediately. He was thrilled that Sam and he got the invitation.

You give Dean a nod as he looks at you to see whether you're comfortable with it. This mysterious situation, including ghosts, might strengthen your relationship with Dean and help you two become as you once were. You were desperate for it, and the thought of acting like someone else excited you. It had been a long time.

It was pleasant enough for the rest of the evening. Dean stopped being hostile toward Robert and didn't say anything to make you feel uncomfortable. While Robb and Sam were deep in conversation, he continued to stare at you. You were full, yet you continued to fiddle with your meal as you frequently glanced at Dean. That being said, you didn't know why he was staring at you weirdly. You couldn't help but imagine your fingertips lingering over his pointed jaw as you saw how wonderful he looked in his tight t-shirt and freshly shaven face. Your cheeks were hot from the strange ideas that were running through your mind.

You wished that you had also changed into new clothing. Damn. You smelled like a hospital; that much was certain. No one liked the hospital smell. Dean has often told you how much he despised that smell. Just like he made you feel exciting, you desperately wanted him to feel the same about yourself. However, one thing he didn't enjoy was the scent of your hospital.

Dean stared at you with anticipation, just after Robert had told Sam and Dean that he had to go and thanked them for their hospitality. You got the message. Undoubtedly, you had to bring up that Halloween party Robb brought up. There were things that had to be discussed beforehand.

“I guess I'll stay here for the night,” you said to Robb. “I'm too tired to move right now.”

He thanked Dean again, didn't ask any questions, shook hands with both of them, and departed the home, leaving you and the Winchester Brothers by alone. Before he went away, you gestured that you would give him a call soon.

You took a big breath once the door closed, satisfied that the dinner had gone well enough. At that point, you needed to sleep and recharge since your feet and back were starting to hurt. To get rid of your overwhelming scent, though, you had to take a quick shower first.

Sam said, “I will not be coming to the party with you guys,” before you could say anything. “I wish I could. But I promised Ruby that I would be hanging out with her and her pals that day. I cannot change the plans now.”

"It's okay." It surprised you both when Dean smiled at him and said, “You don't have to change your plans.” Sam joining him on hunting was something he was usually quite obsessed with, but this time he didn't even argue with him.

“Really?” inquired Sam. He shared your shock.

“Yes. I'm certain Y/N and I can handle this crap. It will be simple. You shouldn't disappoint your girlfriend.”

You looked at Dean's face, and you arched an eyebrow. He appeared quite serious. Sam gave him a skeptical glance. He was about to leave the room after saying good night to both of you and realizing that Dean was truly being thoughtful and kind, but you stopped him.

“Could you please give me one of your t-shirts, Sam?” You asked shyly as you assisted Dean in clearing the table, “I think I need to take a shower.” You didn't want to wait to take a shower for another minute because you were afraid Dean would smell your sweat and the hospital fragrance while he was that close.

Dean said, “I could give you—” but Sam intervened.

“Sure. I’ll put it on your bed. Alright?”

“Thanks, Sam,” you said, casting him a friendly glance.

You reasoned that asking Dean for anything to wear would be strange given what had transpired between you and him. Whether or not he broke up with Jo didn't matter. You had to establish some limits if you both wished to keep your friendship healthy. You had, after all, stepped over a pretty fragile line. It could be harmless to wear his t-shirt, but there was no reason to get your hopes up and think delusional things. You were normal before you had sex, even though you occasionally wore his clothing. So much had changed by now.

Even though Dean told you to sit down and rest after Sam left the room, you persisted in helping him clean the table. Robb occasionally attempted to get under Dean's nerves, and Dean responded with the same ferocity, but he unexpectedly played well. He didn't usually say pleasant things of people he didn't like, but he even cooked for him and did his best.

He broke the silence as soon as he noticed you carrying the last glass and handing it to him, shortly after he began to slowly wash the dishes. You were fascinated with his physique and thick wrists, yet you attempted to divert your attention to something else before he could see you staring at his body.

His abrupt question, “So, are you satisfied?” made you tense up in shame.

You naively said, “What?” not realizing what he was getting at.

When Dean turned to face you and saw your confusion, he had to force himself not to chuckle. “The dinner. I think I did well there, huh?”

You ignored the dirty thoughts that were running through your head, focusing solely on the conversation as you picked up on the arrogance in his tone. You suppressed your nervousness as you wondered whether he was intentionally attempting to make you feel shy.

“Yes. Dean, it was wonderful. Thanks for inviting Robb. I'm glad we had such an enjoyable time together,” you said genuine, smiling a little at him.

Instead of looking him in the eye as you hurriedly watched him wash the dishes, you continued to see his rough hands soaked in water. Your mind was contemplating things you'd be embarrassed to admit, even though you were trying to focus on the talk. You bit your lips out of tension and eventually turned away from him, folding your arms over your chest when he curled his fingers around a glass. As quickly as you could, you had to wash your dirty mind of filthy ideas.

“Yeah?” he murmured, surprised by the praise, which didn't appear to have enough impression. “You didn't care to give the generous hug there, though.”

Without intending to offend, Dean had to bring it up. He kept his mind occupied during the dinner with the way you left him feeling as though you were far more distant than before. He couldn't keep wondering why you were acting the way you were, even if it wasn't really that important.

Surprised by the way of the embrace you ran from he mentioned, you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The cause of it was not something that could be easily explained, almost as if discussing it was forbidden. To clear your head and avoid saying anything absurd, you took a deep breath.

“I just smelled bad. I didn't want to bother you with it,” you eventually said. Although you weren't being quite honest with him, it was accurate enough.

“What smell?” With a perplexed tone, Dean inquired about as he quickly wiped dry his hands with a towel.

You tried to say it an amused way to cover your shyness, “Sweat and hospital smell, you know,” but you were embarrassed to admit it. “You always say it makes you throw up.”

The way he complained about the hospital and its stench didn't bother you months ago when you first met him, and he brought it up immediately, but by the time you fell in love with him, you could see how much he hated it and the way he portrayed it. When your shift finished and he was around, you tried your best to be cautious and avoid physical contact. However, you arrived at the house without having had time to change into new clothing or take a shower this evening. It was one of your insecurities.

Not that you held him responsible for it. After all, everyone disliked things for various reasons. You didn't take it personally.

“What? I-” Dean questioned in a hushed voice, as if that were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. While he remembered the things he had said to you while you were close to him immediately following the end of your shift, his heart felt heavy. He didn't mean to offend you. Never.

He moved in your direction, holding the towel in one hand. You could not have merely run away from him this time since your legs did not receive any signals from your brain on how to move as he drew closer. “It's just... I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never.”

He stopped in front of you, and you felt caged, your back touching the kitchen sink. To meet his gaze, you had to raise your head. Your hands, not knowing where to rest, began to linger on the surface of the kitchen sink, where Dean had placed the towel. You knew you would touch him if you could only get your hands to move a bit. A little gasp was visible between your hands. But you could never have the guts to approach him in that way. Your hands paused there so as not to make the wrong action.

Dean smelled you now, but he didn't take a deep breath so as not to disturb you. You did smell like a hospital, but it was in a nice, fresh way. It was just sweet somehow. He didn't care whether you smelled blood and sweat. Your hair had become messy due to your job, and your overall scent made you appear...nicer. Perhaps in order to make a wise decision, he needed to have gotten a bit closer.

Stating that “I didn't say this to bother you.” To soften the air, you gave him a kind smile. “Do you want to talk about that Halloween party?” You asked to change the subject in order to break the distance a little between you and Dean; otherwise, your heart could burst because of anxiety and excitement anytime.

Dean didn't say anything as he saw you feeling uncomfortable, but his face fell. “I suppose we should first decide what to wear,” he commented, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“I have an idea for what to wear already.”

This time, you were unable to help but smile genuinely. Even if you lacked creativity, at least you had a sense of humor. That was also remarkable.

“Oh, yeah?” Curious about what you were up to, Dean chuckled. “What's your idea?”

“You'll see,” and you chuckled along with him. He was happy to see your former attitude returning. This was something he had missed.

You kept talking to Dean about what to do as Halloween Week drew nearer so you wouldn't make a mistake and ruin everything. It would place you both in a very difficult situation. For your sake as much as his own, Dean took great care to hunt down ghosts and to look after his car.

As you adjusted your costume and red lingerie, you took one final glance at yourself in the mirror. It had enough fake blood on it. While you and Dean attempted to find the ghost, you prayed that you wouldn't fall on your ass wearing the red high heels. Of course, if there was one at all. You also had to be careful when moving in the outfit because it was barely covering your legs. You were unsure whether your choice of a seductive, bleeding nurse costume was a mistake.

You knew Dean had come when he called. As you got into the front seat, your heart was racing crazily. He muttered something behind his mask, but you were too busy fighting to keep your costume from baring off too much of your flesh to understand it.

“What are you wearing?” you said, perplexed as you peered at his black cloak and mask. It was almost invisible in the darkness.

“I am Batman,” he responded in a rather aggressive manner, his hands motionless on the driving wheel as he continued to study your lace and revealing clothing. “It is expected of us to pretend like someone else. It's the concept. How are you even expected to move in this, by the way?”

Arms crossed across your chest, and you felt like you had to defend yourself. “I am pretending that I'm a sexy killer nurse, Dean.”

Sighing, Dean stopped from mentioning that you'd move more easily in a Catwoman outfit. He only said, trying not to look at your naked legs and lingerie, “Alright, sexy killer nurse. Let's go.”

Upon arriving in the house, you couldn't help but gawk at the people enjoying themselves by the pool and around the house; they were drinking, dancing, and sharing kisses everywhere they were. You could only see Dean's long cloak and mask, which covered half of his face, in the dim lighting. Whether it was anxiousness or anything else, he was biting his lips invitingly.

You said, “So,” as you glanced around the house and the entire people. Because of the loud music, it was difficult to hear your own speaking. “What are we going to do now?”

Nobody welcomed Dean or you when you entered the home. Everyone seemed to be going about their business as usual. Turning your face away, you watched other people taking cracks. Oh god.

The mood was gloomy, and the music was loud. You saw that the majority of people had frightening symbols painted on their faces. Even though ghost hunting was plainly meant to be more frightening, watching people continue to use drugs and drink made you feel nervous. The majority of their costumes were gorgeous, though, and you selected a few as your favorites. The ones you loved most were the ones with Princess Leia, the Shrek and Fiona pair, the Tree costume, the Hamburger one, Gimli, and Legolas costumes. They were exceptionally good.

Dean said, “Come with me,” gesturing for you to follow him upstairs. “We need to find that room.”

“This house is quite big though.” You took his cape in your hands and helped him move more easily. “There must be a lot of room,” you said.

As you climbed upstairs, the number of people in the corridor decreased, and Dean appeared to be looking for something. Even though you had no acknowledgment of what he was doing, you continued to follow him. You said nothing about how his cape made him appear a little funny.

Dean went past the rooms and opened each door one by one. Fortunately, though, there weren't many. “What are you doing?” you eventually said, not completely comprehending his reasons for doing so.

Dean explained, “We need to lock the door or do something else to prevent those teens from trying something funny.”

Those people trying to fuck each other in the same room where someone was murdered wouldn't be unexpected. As soon as Dean opened the doors, every person in the room complained, and he instantly apologized not to make a scene. While some of them were becoming drunk, others were acting in ways that instantly made you look away.

When one of the doors Dean attempted to get open was locked, you exchanged meaningful glances. “This room has to be it,” Dean stated with confidence.

“All right,” he said, reaching into his pockets to get a tool to unlock the door. “A little bit of coverage would work fine.”

As Dean began working on the door, you turned to face the hallway. When he eventually unlocked it, you hurried to get into the room with him before he slammed the door behind you and turned on the lights. You gave Dean an inquiring look when he locked it again.

“To avoid being disturbed,” clarified Dean, clearing his throat.

As you realized the music wasn't playing too loudly in the room, you breathed deeply. There were too many things to dwell on, making it difficult to concentrate on anything.

When you realized that you and Dean were now in an awkward situation, you just touched the room's furnishings randomly to soften the mood. While attempting to avoid staring at your body and touching any objects in the room, Dean cleared his throat nerveously.

With a silent prayer that he wouldn't break anything significant, you said, “What are we going to do now?” You could feel the tenseness and need between your legs as you remembered Rob's words.

Robb informed you that every single one of the people mentioned died during coupling. It had to have a backstory, but for now it was insignificant. While you placed your hands on the shelf, you awaited Dean's reaction, which came when he removed his mask and placed it in his pants pocket. In his Batman outfit, he looked extraordinarily good. The silence grew, and your heart began to beat.

You finally had the guts to stand beside him so as to avoid adding to the awkward matter. You both turned to face the bed and said, “Do you think we can... fake it until we make it? I mean until the ghost appears?” He was clearly uncomfortable as well.

He reluctantly answered, "I guess that's what we are going to do," which hurt your feelings. It wasn't like you had planned to risk everything to that extent in search of a ghost. Even if you thought you were exposed a bit, you avoided saying anything that might have made things worse.

With a shaky voice, you said, “What should I do?” as your heels began to hurt.

With a grunt, Dean clenched his jaw and glared at the bed. You had no idea if he felt powerless due to the situation or whether it was because he would need to set boundaries with you after this once again. After all, he had been making an effort to maintain your friendship strong and ongoing. If you were less in love with him, you may agree to let him do it with someone else if it would make him feel better, even though you didn't have the strength to do it.

Disappointed, all you could do was sit on the bed and wait for Dean to come to help you so that, when you'd dealt with the ghost, you could either go back home or join the party.

You gasped in surprise as Dean finally moved and pushed you further on the bed while holding you by the hips. You raised your head to see his eyes. Your hands went straight to his shoulders for assistance. Dean slid his body between your legs, but he was extremely cautious not to put his weight on you. You let him take control. But your legs were spread wide apart due to how you were dressed, and you could feel the chill causing your thighs to shiver with cold. He could see your underwear and your lower body if he looked at them.

In your first time, there was no electricity in the room, so you couldn't even see each other properly. However, now that there was light, you could see each other so clearly that your heart was racing. You could spend as much time as you pleased studying each line and spot on his face. He appeared much more handsome.

The room suddenly felt cold while Dean waited on top of you, staring at you as well. It was difficult not to give him a clear sign by not glancing at his lips. It was impossible to resist the temptation to moisten your dry lips.

You broke the stillness with a whisper, “Do you think the ghost will appear?” Waiting there with nothing to do but stare at each other felt uneasy.

Dean only said, “I don't know,” while eyeing your lips. “I guess we have to act a little to trigger it.”

“It's okay,” you said, quickly nodding to him. You were instantly ashamed by how eager you sounded. Hope that he didn't cringe.

As you waited underneath him, almost half nude, Dean appeared rather serious and used both of his hands to steady himself. You prayed your heartbeat was not audible to him. You were going to melt beneath his body and go completely insane.

You gasped in anticipation as Dean's head began to draw closer to yours before you could ask him another question. You fought the urge to shut your eyes. That would have made it obvious what you needed, but you carried on to focus on his green eyes. He paused and put one hand on your legs as he felt his hot breath on your skin. His fingers gently made their way under your clothing and contacted the skin beneath them. Your hips were pleading with you to lift them and give the signal, but you pressed your lips shut to avoid making an excited sound. Dean was not placing himself between your legs; he was supporting his body with his hands, but you needed to feel his weight on you again.

His cloak touched your legs as your hands moved to each side of his belly, wrapping your body. You could taste his lips if you moved slightly since there wasn't much space between your lips. You kept your lips shut and tried to concentrate on your surroundings to feel if the ghost was around. There was nothing. Even if it wasn't helping the ghost, you were definitely wasted from the start. You pleaded with the ghost deep within not to show up and ruin your night until Dean took care of you. It was only one innocent prayer.

It was uncertain to you if Dean was having as much fun as you were. He appeared dead serious.

You hardly made any motion when Dean's lips touched yours, causing you to stay still beneath him. You hesitantly opened your mouth since your lips felt dry. You had to moisten them, but there was nothing you could do. It seemed as though your brain had given up working. You were waiting for Dean to take action, not realizing that you had already closed your eyes and were uninterested in the ghost or anybody else. You inhaled deeply as your heart raced with excitement, and when his lips brushed yours, your hands gripped his back even more firmly. Instead of moistening them in an attempt to torture you, Dean was simply rubbing your lips. He seemed to be testing your patience while waiting for you to take the lead.

Without thinking twice, you lifted your head and put your lips to Dean's, parting them wildly when they were too dry.

Once your lips were parted, Dean captured them wildly with his burning lips by delicately sucking the upper lip between his, giving soft bites. He bit your lower lip the same way again. With the same intensity, he followed your lead as you grabbed his upper lip and sucked like you were starving. On his lips, it was evident that your red lipstick was ruined. It appeared as though Dean was trying to get rid of the red color on your lips by sucking and biting them.

You let out a low moan as he finally put his tongue in your mouth with such force. His tongue was slowly but firmly invading your mouth, like if he meant to ruin you under him. Your hands, unable to think clearly any more, released his back and found his neck to draw him in closer than before.

Raising your hips of expressing to Dean that you were feeling desperate for anything to calm you down as you let him take control of the situation. Dean's touches were all that you needed. You hadn't touched him since the night you spent together. Your heart clenched with pain and desires.

Your moans were silent, and Dean's torment lingered on your lips. There were wet sounds all across the room, as if your tongues were striving for supremacy over one another. Your cheeks turned red as you focused on the obscene noises that your mouth made.

You were aware that the more he touched you, the more your emotions would consume you, and that you were never going to be able to get a response from him. But you tried to concentrate on the here and now, blocking off the past and future. To feel Dean a little bit longer was all that was necessary.

Dean got the message, and with a single move, his tongue was more dominant in your mouth the moment he pressed his hardness between your legs, finally making you feel him. His fingers were pulling your underwear rather aggressively now. It seemed as though you two lost control.

Although Dean knew he should have stopped and gathered himself, he wasn't finding it any easier when he sensed you were unintentionally attempting to find the pleasure. He was going wild by your tiny nursing dress and scarlet underwear. His body was yelling for him to have the much-needed relief. Ever since he fucked Jo that terrible night, he'd craved this. His body was wildly yearning for yours. It was hard for Dean to pull away. It didn't matter at that time why they had joined the party or why they were going to kill the ghost. It was difficult to stop his body from reacting to you while he was touching you in this way and seeing how ready you were to surrender to him.

Dean drew back, his tongue finding your neck and taking delicate bites that left your lips burning. You had to moan aloud this time as he sucked the delicate spot on your neck. When Dean suddenly pressed himself on you, you both moaned and felt your pussy throbbing.

He bit and sucked the most sensitive parts of your neck before glancing at your burning lips. He was harder than ever because your lipstick had been ruined and you were still holding out hope for him to continue.

Dean carefully put his fingers into your underwear while studying your response. All you did was gaze at him needily and passionately, yet he would stop at any moment if he sensed any hesitation on your part. There was no hesitation in your eyes, though. That was plenty to push Dean over the edge.

You both let out a gasp when he pushed his fingers into your panties. Just by kissing, you were shamefully wrecked, but you hoped it wasn't wrong.

“Dean,” you murmured quietly. He was too blind to notice your love for him, but your voice was nervous and full of love that you couldn't or wouldn't put into words. You wanted him to be nearer. You needed to know that he truly noticed you.

Without uttering a word, he kept rubbing you through your wet underwear while staring straight into your eyes and driving you insane. Placing your hands on his back, you recklessly widened your legs to give him a little extra space. You needed to give him more of what was left of you to feel him more. You would never, ever turn him down. He had to know that.

Dean inhaled deeply and then, unable to contain his throbbing cock any longer, slipped your moist panties aside to check your level of wetness, exposing you while he moved your body slightly to take up a better position. After having fucked you for the first time, he was in desperate need of that. His thoughts wanted you, and until he fucked Jo, he had no idea how wonderful it truly felt. Denying his surroundings and the place you were, Dean began to unzip himself with aggressive motions. Indeed, nothing matters. That was something you both needed. Right now.

He lowered your underwear just enough to expose your pussy, just enough to make your heart fall apart. Your body was shaking from excitement, nervousness, and cold. You waited for Dean to release his hardened cock while placing your unsteady hands on his broad shoulders. You inhaled deeply and made an effort to reduce your stress. You kept your eyes on him the entire time. Considering that he didn't use his fingers this time, you assumed it would happen quickly. Perhaps it was because you got used to his size.

With a swift motion, Dean lowered his pants to allow him to properly move on top of you and free his cock. He gave himself two or three strong strokes and moved your body somewhat further on the bed. He was getting ready himself as you were trying to regain your breath and admiring his attractive features. You would provide him with anything he needed or desired from you.

It didn't matter why you had come to this house or what your purpose was. Just the you and him. He saw you already becoming lost in the moment without closing his eyes. There was no need for words.

After giving you one more glance, Dean gently put his lips to yours, but this time he didn't kiss you. You gasped at the sensation of the cock's head on your entrance. Although you were no longer a virgin, your body felt stiffened. After all, you had only had sex once in your life. You have no prior knowledge of what to do or exactly what is expected.

When you tightened up even more, Dean scowled and sighed. He could see you had become soaked and practically pouring there, and your body was pleading with him to get in, but you were refusing to allow him. He pulled back his cock's head, and then he slightly pushed harder once again. You nailed his shoulders in a panic. He immediately pulled back upon noticing your distressed expression.

“Come on, you're wet enough,” Dean pressed his lips to yours. “Relax a little. Let me in.”

Your eyes got teary a little, but you weren't sure if it was from fear of disappointing him or of doing poorly. This seemed a little more distant than the first time, for some reason. You felt vulnerable. Sighing, you pressed your head into his neck to keep your face hidden and concentrated on calming down the way Dean asked. Your hands were shaking on his back.

He praised you, “Good girl,” and carefully pushed his cock inside your pussy once more. You were overcome with emotions, even though his movements were considerate and gentle to put you at ease. Dean kept praising you and said, “You're doing so good,” when he noticed that you were beginning to loosen up and let him in. “Almost there. Just a little bit more.”

“How come you're so tight?” When he finally managed to push himself fully inside of you, Dean asked with a groan and a tinge of disbelief and confusion in his tone. He pulled back, then gave it a single shove to get his cock within. You put your lips to his neck and pressed in your moans.

Dean waited inside for a while after he completely pushed his cock to allow you some time to catch your breath. Dean was certain he wouldn't last long because of how tightly you were clenching around him. He inhaled deeply and buried his head on your neck to avoid coming too soon. He had to make sure you got what you needed.

“You okay?” When you eventually start to calm down, Dean asked softly. He held back, even though he was going crazy to move already.

You silently nodded "yes," waiting for him to continue.

Your body was hot and yearning for pleasure, but unlike the previous time, you were unable to stop sorrow from taking over your heart and making you feel nearly awful. You didn't understand what was wrong with you. Dean was all you needed, and he was right here, inside of you, kissing you the way you wanted. You were touching each other like you had always wanted. But you had a feeling that it wasn't what you had hoped for or expected.

Dean took a moment to draw back slightly before pushing again, just to make sure you were ready. Instead of closing his eyes, he made every effort to focus on his surroundings and the sounds that surrounded him. He wanted to see your lovely and flushed face the entire time and watch your desire, but he had to keep his eyes on the surroundings and not lose himself watching you since there was a strong chance that he might be stopped at any moment by a ghost. As much as possible, he had to maintain his composure and act responsibly.

You heard Dean moan in a low voice as he began to move on top of you, as if he wanted to maintain his composure and not get carried away with what was happening. You were facing his neck as he shifted on top of you, so you gently pushed your lips there as he pounded his hard cock inside of you.

Your bodies created loud noises, and Dean's hands waited on your cheeks as if he were doing his hardest to please you. His cloak concealed your bodies as your legs were wrapped around his back. You were clenching around him constantly and getting wetter by the second, but you were not able to experience the intimacy you so much craved. With desperation and affection, your shaky hands found his jaw and caressed him. Eventually, you worked up the strength to try to bring his face toward you so you could kiss him.

Dean resisted your touch, gently pushing your hands away as he accelerated his pace inside of you.

Your mind raced with ideas as sadness shattered your mind and soul; you let go hands away with shame, with a heavy heart. You stopped kissing his neck since you didn't know where to place your hands anymore and waited beneath him so that he could at least enjoy himself. You were unsure about what to do. If he led you, it would be better. He began to groan as his rhythm intensified, but you forced yourself not to touch him. Your soul was wrecked by rejection.

Even though your body enjoyed being with him and the image of his enjoying himself on your body thrilled you, you were unable to stop those awful thoughts from racing through your head. It seemed as though your soul was being torn apart. This seemed less intimate than the first time. Your eyes uncontrollably started to well up with tears as your heart began to hurt so much. Being in Dean's arms and caressing him was something you had craved, but every time you felt like you were slipping further away.

You got consumed in your own thoughts and found it difficult to get the bravery to look into Dean's face. You wanted him to feel good. You needed him to enjoy you and what you were doing.

You found yourself sobbing aloud, just when Dean's motions inside of you became sloppy and his hands tightened around yours.

Dean froze on you the instant he heard your sobbing and cautiously pulled off his cock. Dean muttered, “Fuck!” upon seeing your face. His tone and the way he was staring at you made it clear that he was terrified and concerned.

You wept, trying to draw him back with trembling hands, but he resisted. “I'm sorry,” you said. You were embarrassed to let your vulnerability ruin the long-awaited situation.

“Hey, calm down,” Dean mumbled as he hastily tucked himself in his pants to take good care of you and figure out what was happening.

Even if you stated, “I'm alright. I swear, Dean,” he just regretfully fixed your clothes and underwear carefully. He shouldn't have let things get out of hand. He was unable to remember if he hurt you by moving too quickly or too roughly. His heart was heavy with regret at seeing your teary cheeks and hurt face. He had messed up badly this time.

You felt like a spoilt child getting help from him. Your legs were shaking from anxiety and cold, and you simply felt horrible. You couldn't contain your emotions and kept crying longer since he didn't even finish, and you made him feel bad rather than satisfying him. You weren't sure if you were actually ill or just lovesick. You just ruined a chance to spend good time with Dean, something you can no longer afford.

You sobbed more because you knew he would probably not touch you again.

He said in agony, “You're trembling,” and helped you sit on the bed.

Not even your bed, nor his.

Just as you were going to persuade him, you felt so bad that you had no energy left to utter any more lies. You were sick.

Dean waited silently, contemplating the events that had transpired five minutes ago and unsure of how to respond to handle it. He was as confused about what was happening. It was possible that Dean was being harsh with you, even if he didn't think so. He glared and sighed with regret at the thought of perhaps physically harming you. All he knew was that something was wrong. He didn't speak or touch you to avoid making you feel worse.

He was lost in thought and simply waited alongside you. Then someone knocked the door.

Next Chapter

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A/N: That was a looong-ass chapter huhh.. I thought about rewriting many times, but here we are. Please, let me know what you think about this one. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! Remember writers have a praise kink, haha. ^^

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